Fallout 3: The Supermarket.

November 29, 2009

Music hauntingly blared from the device strapped to Jibar’s wrist as he crawled inside. He clutched his shoulder with his free hand, keeping his rifle at a firing height. The place smelt of blood and rust.

Creeping up, he took a look around but could see no one. With a sigh of relief he sat down with his back against the wall and let out a long groan of pain. A few taps on the screen and the music stopped, letting him listen to the sound of the supermarket. Far off, somewhere towards the back of the store he could hear scrapes of metal on metal: raiders.

From a pouch he drew some straps of fabric and bound the wound on his shoulder, a fortunate yet bloody graze from a bullet that almost hit his head. From another pouch he pulled out a small box. Inside were a few crumbled biscuits, tinted slightly green. He tentatively placed one in his mouth and bit down. It tasted like dust, but was filling in its own way.

He stood up, running a hand down the wooden stock of his rifle. He had ten bullets left and hoped he wouldn’t have to use them. Preferably he’d be knifing the sons of bitches hiding amongst the shelves.

First row, clear. A few ageing cans.

Second row, clear. He was crouching at the end of each, turning quickly with gun raised.

Third row, clear. Planks of wood crossed over the top as a walkway.

Fourth row, clear. More planks in criss crossing patterns.

Fifth row, clear. An empty bottle of soda in the middle of the aisle. Someone was here.

As soon as he turned into the sixth row he quickly turned back. On a plank above stood a muscular man, leather and spikes strapped to him wherever they could fit with a sledgehammer slung across his back. The man couched frequently, wiping his nose with a gloved hand.

Jibar crept forward, step by step, rifle pointing straight at the man’s head. He close enough to hear the man’s breath as he held his own, closing an eye and staring down the gun.

WABANG.

Blood was thrown everywhere as the raider’s head went spinning through the air while his body slumped down onto the aisle. Jibar quickly pulled the sledgehammer from his back and slid it under an aisle before going through the pouches across the belt. Eighteen bottle caps and a bunch of ammo. Not too bad a haul, he thought.

BOOM BOOM.

Now he threw himself backwards as chunks of the body were thrown upwards from the force of the bullets. Scrambling to his feet he slid behind a counter, a hand keeping his hat upon his head. He peeked over the side just long enough to see the raider raise her shotgun once again before dropping prone. Pieces of the counter fell upon him. On his belly he crawled backwards before jumping to his feet and sprinting towards his foe. Vaulting the counter between them as she reloaded he raised his gun and planted three bullets in her face.

Again he looted the corpse, this time finding just ammo. An intercom scratched into life beside him. “Alright, we’re back. We got some more food. Where are you?” A moment silence as Jibar thought how to reply. “Something’s wrong. Check the pharmacy.” With a sigh he looked at the sign above this counter: Pharmacy.

A plan formed in his mind as he looked down a corridor. At the end was a door to the main store, meant to be used to access the back rooms. One entrance. And he had a special surprise saved for this kind of occasion.

Neither raider knew what happened when they swung open their hideout’s door and found their legs ripped from their bodies by an explosion. The mine tore them to pieces and they were dead before they hit the floor. Jibar listened to the satisfying boom as he searched the metal boxes in the storeroom.

Not a bad haul at all, he thought.

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2 Responses to “Fallout 3: The Supermarket.”

  1. Brittney said

    This was really cool, I found it highly entertaining. =D

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