.𝟓𝟎 𝐁𝐌𝐆-𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
Apologies for being gone for so long. I've received my diagnosis for my mental condition and have been on meds for a while. Many things have happened in my life and it was a really dark time for me.
To make up for the time I haven't been active, here's a fic of our lovely Mizu in Fallout NV Au. Fallout has been one of my favorite games and I thoroughly enjoy the lore.
Relearning how to write fics has been difficult so I'll try to take it slow, but I hope I still make something that makes you all happy. Please tell me if you want me to continue this.
Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*
warning/s: not proofread, extremely short, she/her for mizu, a bit of violence and blood
Hot, dry, dirty, and filled with the stench of radiation. As if the blazing heat of the sun wasn't enough to send someone into a heatstroke, the creatures that roam around the sandy terrain would send anyone running—if they still could.
This wasn't some sort of rainforest or desert they had in the old world. There were no trees, no rain, no small bugs.
The creatures that roamed this godforsaken land were brutal. Designed and man-made because god was merciful and only a demon as hideous as man could replicate its own cruelty.
Every second spent under hot scorching sun was a second closer to death. Heat and radiation enveloping your very existence until hell felt like a dream better than the suffocation of to wake up suffering in this shit hole.
Mizu was no stranger to the dangers of the Mojave. In fact, she must be more acquainted to it than most. From the moment she was born, she was told by her mother to hide her real identity, to be a man and never a woman, to shave her hair and bind her chest, to be tough.
Softness was not weak. It was dead.
Captured. Ravaged. Tortured. Violated. Sold. Killed.
However, a creature more cold-blooded roamed the radiated wonderland. Something much more unfeeling than the tough shells of a deathclaw and much more resilient than the muscular structure of a supermutant.
Cunning, smart, and cold.
This creature had desecrated more corpses than an abomination and was smarter than the chip of a Mr. Handy. Its hands had ripped more limbs than hordes of ghouls could ever do with their weak raw arms. Never even batting an eye to the loudest of cries and most tearful of pleas.
A danger the dull buzz of a scintillation counter could not measure.
A creature Mizu should have been more familiar with than most.
That creature was man itself.
"Fuck," the blue-eyed traveler cursed under her breath. Each gasp of air felt heavier than the last, burning through her lungs. But she couldn't stop here. Not when Fowler's lackeys were just around the corner.
How could she be so stupid?
This was supposed to be such an easy journey. Travel on foot to The Strip, track Fowler, slash his head clean off.
Maybe the radiation had finally mutated her brains off and made her think a group of 'merchants' would be kind enough to provide her temporary security while she repaired her armor and weapons. That maybe, the stories they shared as they laughed were true and real humanity could have been found in a den of hedonism and debauchery.
It was foolish to think that man could be kind to someone like her.
Each drop of blood dripping from her wound stained the dry sand of the Mojave. It was only a matter of time until Fowler's men found her. Clutching her katana as tight as her weakened hands could, she peeked around the corner, trying to come up with a sensible plan despite her pain-hazed mind.
Fighting against the pain, Mizu carried herself in whatever shadows the sun could provide, hoping to escape for the meanwhile. Her hand clutched the knife wound on her side. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and let death embrace her, but she knew she couldn't.
She couldn't die here. She couldn't.
Not until Fowler was dead.
Begging for his life in front of her.
Apologizing for creating her.
A mistake. An abomination made from the blood of the Brotherhood and some wastelander. Her own faction threw her away, rejecting the idea of tainted, ruined blood in their halls, in their ranks, in their power armor. The reclamation of America didn't include a monster like her.
Mizu knew she had no place in this world. Even in a place that was never meant to be, she was a much more blasphemous existence that the Elders could not stomach.
Her breathing grew more stuttered as the amount of footsteps down the street grew. The sound of the mercenaries barking orders growing more incoherent as the bleeding from her wound continued to grow worse.
'Hurry,' she thought to herself, continuing to limp towards the gates, hiding herself in the shadows. 'I can't die here. Not yet.'
The crimson beneath her feet bloomed further with every ragged breath. Static was blurring her vision as the cold sweat covered her back.
"There he is!" she heard them shout. Immediately, Mizu's legs picked up the pace, pure adrenaline running through her veins. The sound of gunshots could be heard before the cracks of cement and wood as they shot at her location.
Heavy footsteps followed her as she ran to escape. She was so close but her vision was growing darker fast. Hand reaching out to what hope she had left.
A choked gasp passed through her as a hand suddenly reached out, grasping at her wrist, and pulled her in before the loud clang of the gate being closed. The shouts and gunshots from Fowler's lackeys could be heard from the other side.
Before she could point her katana at the stranger, she was already being pulled further away from The Strip.
Your pace grew more frantic as you looked back at the bloody mess she had been trying to stop. "Just a little more, okay?" you tried to reassure her. "There should be a med stash somewhere here."
She wanted to rip her wrist away from your hold and protest. Mizu didn't trust you a single bit. You were some stranger meddling in her business. Who knows if this was another ploy to get her to trust you?But for some reason, she could not find it in herself to fight back. It was as if her body instinctively knew that you were someone safe.
The stutters in her breathing grew more frequent as the sensations in her body grew numb. Static-like tingling crawled through her arms down to the tips of her fingers and toes. The noise soon dimmed as her vision tunneled.
'No,' she thought to herself, struggling to keep herself awake. 'I must kill him. Even if it leads to my death.'
A soft thud startled you, head turning to look at her before jerking in surprise. "Hey!" you called out to her, kneeling by her side, hand lightly slapping her cheek. "Don't pass out on me now!"
Her cold hand reached up, trembling and pale. Her cerulean orbs could no longer focus as the bright Mojave sun blinded the sky above her. You could hear every breath she took and each one causing a rack of anxious waves to pass your system. "Hey! I said don't—"
"I'll kill you," she rasped out, eyes blurring as images of Fowler's smug smirk flashed through her mind, "I swear...".
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