Thread: Wasteland Flame (PsionicCuttlefish & jd97)

The bandits were getting closer to circumventing Markus' limited cover, but he wasn't going to give up. It was becoming more and more inevitable that he wasn't going to survive this one, but he was going to do his damndest to make the bandits pay for every scrap of his salvage. He leaned out the front end of his Dunerunner and let loose a few shots from his autolaser rifle, then shimmied to the back end and leaned out that way to let out a few more shots. But even then, the bandits were just keeping him too well pinned-down. He couldn't stay still long enough to draw a bead on any of the bandits. Then he heard a loud booming sound echo through the ghost town. Markus flinched and thought they had thrown a grenade at him, but nothing hit his Dunerunner aside from more small arms fire. But then he realized something strange...the sounds of bullets pinging off the other side of his armored Dunerunner started lessening, and the shouts of the bandits suddenly got more frantic. Markus then leaned out the front end of his Dunerunner again, and this time, found that the bandits were...turning away from him? He caught glimpses of something flitting from building to building, behind the line of the bandits, taking them out. Too fast to be a shambler, too tall to be a mutant-dog. Had a speed-shredder found its way this far out too? Well, Markus wasn't going to let this chance go to waste, whatever it was, and took the chance to take a bead on one of the bandits. He pulled the trigger on his weapon and the rapidly-cycling laser drilled a hole in the bandit's head. More booming sounds of a different pitch echoed through the town again, this time sounding like a really big gun, but again, nothing was hitting his position. And the bandits were fleeing. Markus stood up and took aim at the bandits, and managed to hit several of the running ones, but missed at least two. Dangit. That's not good. Markus finally took the opportunity to dart from his cover towards the buildings to find out just what was going on. Probably stupid, given the circumstances, he should have just repaired his Dunerunner and made a run for it, but Markus was a curious person and had an intellect to match, but not much in the way of sense. He wanted to know just what had taken out the bandits. The gun-toting scientist carefully advanced, checking around each corner with a small hand-mirror before moving forward, until he finally saw a standing person among the bodies of the bandits. Not a speed-shredder. Markus moved out of cover, holding his rifle at the ready, and the figure whirled around, raising a pistol his direction. Markus' eyes widened as he saw the face of his 'rescuer'. An Anthro! A live Anthro! Markus knew about Anthros from before the bombs dropped, six years ago, and knew that the Anthros had been typically traded as sex toys, though he'd never met one himself. What was an Anthro doing out here? More to the point, how had an Anthro torn apart all these bandits like nothing? Markus then realized said Anthro was severely injured, mostly by the fact that they then fell flat on their face. Well, Markus wasn't going to leave it at that. This Anthro just saved his life, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to return the favor. Markus ran back to his Dunerunner and opened up the cargo compartment, pulled out a medkit, and ran back over to the Anthro. He pushed them over onto their back Oof! they were heavy! and realized for the first time that the Anthro was female, by the rather significant swell of her chest under her combat vest. Markus noted two major injuries, one in her shoulder, and one in her side. He glanced over and saw the likely culprit--a dead bandit clutching an anti-material rifle. The armor must have deadened the bullets somewhat, but that alone couldn't account for why the Anthro wasn't dead already...but that was no matter at the moment. Markus took two foam-sprayers out of his medkit. The first bottle he applied in both injuries was an anti-bacterial spray, and the second was a foaming blood-coagulant. He then followed it up with two bandages tied around the wounds. That should keep the Anthro from bleeding out until he could get her back to his home. C'mon, don't die on me... Markus muttered as he then ran back to his Dunerunner to check the damage. Fortunately it was minimal, just a severed power conduit to one of the wheels, and it was a simple jury-rig to reroute power. He then hopped in the Dunerunner and drove it back over to the side of the downed Anthro, where he then worked to try and pick her up and get her into the backseat. It was tough, with him being a scrawny guy and her being dead weight and built like a brick, but he eventually managed to get her into the seat with a minimum of agitation to her injuries. Alright, stay with me, stay with me, keep breathing just until we can get home... He muttered again as he drove off into the desert. Once back into the bunker that Markus had appropriated as his home, he enlisted the help of several of the robotic waldo-arms from around his lab to carefully lift the Anthro out of the Dunerunner more delicately than he had gotten her into it, and transferred her to a bed he could operate on. Markus then set about stripping off her vest and other accessories, in order to keep everything away from the wound while he worked. He was a prodigy, and knew a bit about surgery due to knowing how to install cybernetic implants. With surgical tools in hand, Markus then went about extracting every metal fragment he could get, then proceeded to stitch her back up... Markus leaned back, sighing and pulling off the bloody gloves from his hands. He had done the best he could to repair the damage and get the Rottweiler Anthro out of immediate danger. He had also managed to pull some of his lab equipment to distill a nutrient solution, which he then set up into a jury-rigged IV drip. Also with a cooked up makeshift heart-monitor, Markus examined the Anthro's current status. Her breathing was still very shallow, but her heart was still beating with good regularity. Which was a little suspicious. But in any case, Markus settled into keep a close monitor on her, as the next few hours would be critical. Markus also couldn't help noticing, now that his own heart was slowing down from all the excitement and he was really able to take stock of things...that the woman had a hell of a body, divested of most of her garments. Her biceps were twice as thick as his own scrawny arms, her abs were very well defined, and--Markus blushed a bit--she had one rather impressive rack. Markus shook his head, covered her up with a blanket, and willed himself to ignore all that. This was important, her life was at stake, he couldn't let himself be distracted by such things... However, Markus couldn't help but consider several things that he had learned about her. First was her exceptional physique in the first place, for an Anthro. Second was during surgery, he found her muscle density to be ridiculously above normal and rather hard to operate on. But the biggest tip-off was the simple fact that the antimaterial rifle didn't core her. Markus had heard rumors. Allegedly, there was a program to develop 'Alphasoldiers', who had increased strength, endurance, reaction time, toughness, and healing rate, among other things. Now, Markus had to consider that maybe the rumors were true. Particularly as the hours wore on into a day, the Anthro seemed to be healing up exceptionally well. If she did have an increased healing rate, she'd likely be ravenously hungry when she woke up. When the Anthro finally regained her senses, she would be able to take stock of her surroundings and situation. First, there was a lot of pressure on her sides and on one shoulder she was heavily bandaged around the waist and shoulder, and her arm was in a sling. She was also wearing only undergarments, with a light blanket drawn over her body. A monitor was beeping softly next to her, and there was a needle in one of her arms that fed from a bag of clear fluid. All around her, she looked to be in some kind of laboratory, with esoteric machinery and cobbled-together technical equipment littering the room. There was a table next to her, which had all her normal clothes folded up on it--washed of blood and with holes sewn back up--along with most of her accessories, but not her main weapons, plus a plate of food rations. And, just beyond the table, was a man sitting in a chair. He was slumped down, with head against his chest, while he snored softly. A mop of black hair adorned his head, and a pair of rectangular glasses were set over his closed eyes. He had a round, boyish face, slightly smudged with oil, and he wore a long white labcoat, though it was slightly browned from extensive travelstains. He continued to snore.