The ruins always had a taste to them.
Ash could never quite describe it.
Rust in the air, smoke lingering in broken windows, the faint tang of blood from battles long forgotten. The closer you got to the heart of D.C., the more the city seemed to breathe its own decay.
He walked at the head of a ragged line—two scavengers who had begged for an escort back through the ruins after nearly losing their lives to a mutant ambush. They were half-starved, carrying little more than packs of dented cans and water that smelled of copper. Ash didn't ask questions. They'd paid what they could, and sometimes it wasn't about the caps anyway.
At his heel padded Dogmeat.
Not a pup anymore, but not quite grown into her frame. Her ears perked at every creak, every shifting shadow. The scars of that junkyard had long faded, replaced with a wary loyalty that kept her close.
When the echoes came—guttural, booming roars shaking through the broken streets—Ash felt the scavengers freeze behind him. Mutants. A warband, by the sound of it.
He stepped forward.
The twin revolvers hummed as his fingers slid to the triggers. Eight shots in each, their cores pulsing faintly with waiting light.
The first mutant appeared, huge and snarling, an iron pipe for a weapon. Ash raised one pistol, fired—its chest exploded in a shower of burning light. Dogmeat barked, snapping out of her fear, circling with low growls as another mutant lumbered from a wrecked storefront.
"Move," Ash ordered the scavengers without looking back.
They obeyed, scrambling for cover.
The street filled with chaos—green giants pouring in, their war cries rattling the rusted cars. Ash moved through them like a shadow with teeth. Every pull of the trigger felt like a rhythm, every step a note in a song only he knew how to play. Dogmeat darted in and out, nipping at ankles, distracting mutants just long enough for Ash to turn their roars into silence.
Then came the thunder.
Brotherhood rifles cracking in the distance. Power armor slamming through rubble. And at the center of it—Sarah Lyons.
Her armor gleamed with fresh scrapes, her rifle spewing precise fire as she barked orders to her squad. She was younger than most of the soldiers at her side, sweat darkening strands of her blonde hair until it looked almost brown, her face smudged with grime but burning with focus.
Their eyes met across the battlefield—recognition sparking immediately. She gave a sharp grin, half relief, half disbelief.
"You again," Sarah called over the roar of gunfire.
Ash answered with action, diving into the fray at her flank. Together, they cut through the wave.
The Brotherhood squad had seen sharpshooters before, but none like him—fluid, precise, like he already knew where each mutant would swing. Sarah noticed it, even as she fired shot after shot, her breathing ragged in the heat of the fight.
When the last mutant fell, silence pressed down heavy. The scavengers peeked from cover, trembling. The Brotherhood regrouped, rifles ready, but more than one soldier kept sneaking glances at the drifter who holstered weapons that glowed like bottled starlight.
Dogmeat padded to Ash's side, tail wagging weakly as she licked blood from her muzzle. She tried to look fierce, chest puffed, but her eyes betrayed the youth still in her.
Sarah walked forward, helmet tucked under her arm. She was still catching her breath, but the grin tugging at her mouth stayed. Her gaze dropped to Dogmeat, and her tone softened.
"Cute little thing, isn't she?"
Dogmeat barked once and wagged her tail, the tension of battle melting as if Sarah's words had given her permission to be young again.
Ash glanced down at his companion, then back at Sarah. He didn't smile, but something in his eyes eased—acknowledgment, familiarity, the kind of bond forged only under fire.
The ruins still reeked of smoke and blood, but for that moment, it almost felt like peace.
The soldiers spread out, dragging mutant corpses away from the street and setting up a perimeter. The scavengers Ash had escorted hurried to thank him, but he only gave them a short nod, his eyes still scanning the shadows for stragglers.
Sarah wiped grime from her cheek with the back of her glove, then stepped closer. Without her helmet, she looked more like a girl Ash's age than a commander—though the steel in her posture said otherwise.
"You've been busy," she said, voice carrying a note of teasing over the quiet. "Last time we met, you made carving through mutants look easy. Looks like you haven't slowed down."
Ash adjusted the strap on his holster. "Work finds me."
Her eyebrow arched at that. "That's one way to put it." She gave a glance at the revolvers, lingering on their strange design, then back at him. "I've seen soldiers with years of training who can't keep their heads when it gets this bad. But you…" She shook her head, a hint of disbelief softening into something more like intrigue. "You fight like you were born for it."
Dogmeat huffed and leaned against Ash's leg, as if to remind them both of her presence. Sarah crouched slightly, letting her hand hover just enough for the pup to sniff. Dogmeat gave a cautious wag, then pressed her head forward for a scratch. Sarah chuckled.
"And apparently, you've picked up a partner since last time. Where'd you find her?"
"Junkyard," Ash replied simply. "She found me, really."
Sarah smiled, faint but genuine. "Cute little thing. Braver than most recruits I've trained, too."
The quiet between them stretched, but not uncomfortably. Ash finally broke it, his voice even: "How've you been, Lyons?"
Her eyes flickered with a pride she didn't try to hide. "Alive. Busy. Father's got me running more ops now—supply runs, rescues, holding lines we've got no business holding. The city doesn't sleep, and neither do the mutants." She glanced around the ruined street, then back at him. "But you probably know that better than anyone."
Ash's gaze drifted past her, toward the spire of broken buildings clawing at the sky. "I've been… working. Bounties. Caravans. Whatever keeps me moving."
She studied him a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Still drifting, huh?"
His silence was answer enough.
Sarah gave a faint shake of her head, more amused than critical. "One of these days, you're going to have to pick a side. Can't fight every battle from the shadows."
Dogmeat barked once, as if punctuating her words. Ash's lips almost curved at that—almost.
Sarah straightened, sliding her helmet back under her arm. "We're heading to GNR for resupply. You should come with us, at least until the city opens up again. Safer in numbers."
Ash weighed the offer in silence, the ruins around them humming with the stillness that always followed bloodshed. Finally, he gave a short nod.
"Alright."
Sarah smiled—not wide, but with a satisfaction that carried more weight than she let on.
For now, their paths were the same.