@ninja-o-s
The yao guai’s roar is right there, on the other side of the flimsy metal door that you can see denting inward with each bang and rattle. The hinges are holding, but it won’t matter in a minute or two, when the claws finally tear new holes for the mid-afternoon sunlight to stream in. When you can see your death slavering at you with cloudy eyes.
You clutch your hunting rifle tighter and brace yourself against the empty store’s shelves, aiming for the largest dent. Maybe you can at least put one of those eyes out and win yourself a few more moments of breathing. You savor each breath for now, willing your muscles to loosen and your heartbeat to slow. The dust motes in your refuge hover lazily, passive observers of your final stand.
As you watch them, though, the motes begin to dance, and a hum grows in the air. Machinery grinding to life? You risk a glance over your shoulder, but the store remains still. The drone grows louder, fills the space and even gives the beast pause. You recognize the sound as it careens overhead, and even before the weight of a metal death suit shakes the ground outside, you’re gathering your possessions and throwing yourself behind the store’s counter, desperate for any bit of cover. If you weren’t screwed before, you fucking are now.
The yao guai bellows its greeting to the newcomers, and a hail of bullets rips through the front wall of the store in response. You cower, dust and metal shrapnel flying around you as the beast screams, howls. A muffled human voice shouts, and you can feel the vibrations as they slam together, locked in combat for less than a minute. Their fight sounds horrifying, but the vertibird’s constant pulse after the yao guai’s death rattle peters out fills you with more dread than you ever imagined possible.
The store’s door screeches open, the cold hands of a power armor suit bending it back. “Is somebody in here?” a woman’s voice asks breathlessly.
You clamp your hand over your mouth, but footsteps thud toward the counter anyway. You scramble to aim your rifle upward as the figure comes into view. “Not a... not a step closer,” you stutter.
The girl in power armor sets her minigun down immediately and holds her hands up. “Whoa. It’s okay. Not here to hurt you. Are you alright?”
The vertibird outside is lowering itself, you can hear it whipping up dirt as it powers down. “Everything okay, Titus?” someone shouts from outside the building.
“Fine!” The woman- Titus?- yells back. “Got a spooked civilian here, stay back.” Her copper skin is shiny from exertion, and her coiled hair curves high in a mohawk over her head. As she turns to face you again, you notice the white insignia painted on her chest piece: A rampant lion superimposed on an upright, winged sword. A familiar winged sword.
“You’re not...” your voice falters. “You’re not Enclave?”
Titus grins. “Nah. Didn’t hear about the air force base yet?” She clasps her right hand into a fist and presses it to her heart. “Brotherhood of Steel, at your service.”