While in stasis, Glory didn’t quite dream like a human would. Instead, she entered a state of lowered consciousness. Most stimuli simply didn’t register to her until she ‘awoke’, so to speak, which typically occurred on a set schedule.

There were a few things that could awaken her ahead of the schedule, though—if her proximity sensors were set to high, and suddenly went off, it immediately ended all stasis programs and jump-started her defensive subroutines. It’d allow her to ‘wake up’ quickly to deal with the problem.

In the wastes, chances were that anyone sneaking up on a ‘sleeping’ woman ill intentions.

It was one such occurrence that ‘woke’ her just as scorching day was transitioning to freezing night, the sun hanging so low in the sky that it was hidden behind the large rocks around the gas station.

Needles had been the one to shake her shoulder, a little frown on his face when Glory suddenly jerked into alertness. It was simply how she reacted when stasis ended prematurely, but she supposed that it might look like waking up from a nightmare to a human.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Glory nodded, taking a deep, even breath and pushing herself up into a seated position. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Dixon suddenly inserted himself into the conversation. “We need to move. Wilkes an’ the kid’re already scouting around.”

“Is that really safe?” Glory asked as she packed the sleeping bag away into her designated backpack. “I mean, Wilkes is all right, I guess, but the boy—”

“Wilkes is keepin’ an eye on ‘im,” Dixon said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Look, I’m not sayin’ there’s no risk, but the kid seems pretty damn determined to take out the raiders. An’, no offense, but you’ve defended stranger folk.” He shot a significant glance in Needles’ direction.

And, well, Glory couldn’t exactly argue with that.

By the time the three of them emerged from the supermarket, Wilkes and the boy—Centauri—were trekking back towards them. Centauri wore a small frown on his face, shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare with a gloved hand.

“You’re sure there was another outpost on the way to the wind farm?” he called when the pair got close enough. “Salvation Mesa?”

“Sanctum Mesa,” Dixon corrected. “And yeah. I’ve been there before. Met with their mayor an’ everything.”

The corners of Centauri’s lips quirked downwards. “I didn’t see anything suggesting a town nearby.”

Dixon shrugged. “It’s pretty well hidden.” His voice was light, but Glory could detect a hint of tension in his words. “You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

“Then what’re we waiting for?” Needles asked.

Centauri flinched at the healer’s words, but he nodded stiffly. With everyone’s agreement and approval, their once-foursome—now-fivesome—set out northeast from the gas station, the desert moon hanging in the sky above them.

***

Dixon pointed out Sanctum Mesa as soon as it became visible over the ridge ahead of them. While it was considerably smaller than Black Sun from a sheer sprawl perspective, Sanctum Mesa was vertical in a way the larger town wasn’t: almost every building Glory assessed had at least four floors to them, with staircases and ladders and sheets of metal bridging all the platforms and rooftops together.

The town was , fittingly, nestled into the base of a large mesa that had formed towards the end of the war; part of the rapid, massively destructive seismic activity that had completely reshaped what was once the United States of America. The mesa that currently loomed over them likely hadn’t been there for longer than a century, unlike the buildings themselves, which were clearly the remnant of some small town from before the War.

The mesa granted the outpost privacy, shelter from the sun, and a fair amount of natural camouflage—Glory doubted they would’ve noticed it if Dixon hadn’t known exactly what they were looking for.

“Now listen here,” he said as they drew closer. “Mesans tend to be a bit… jumpy. Eccentric, even. Just don’t make any sudden moves, and keep your hands where they’re visible. And you,” he turned to glower at Needles, “stay close and keep yer head down. With any luck, they won’t ask too many questions, but I can’t promise anything.”

Needles frowned. “Very reassuring.” He hunched in on himself, shoulders rising until they were almost at the same level as his ears, and his arms circled his own midsection in an awkward sort of self-hug.

Dixon held his hands up defensively. “Hey, my vouching for you is only gonna go so far.”

“Should we really bring him in, then?” Centauri asked nervously. “I mean, if they assume we’re with him—”

“They won’t shoot at the rest of us. ‘Least, not without getting some answers first. Plus…” Dixon turned to grimace in Centauri’s direction, “I owe cannibal boy over there. We’re not leavin’ ‘im behind, no matter how tempting it might be.”

Centauri, to his credit, didn’t argue. He merely shrugged and continued walking.

The lack of any sort of response as they trekked closer to the town worried Glory, though. Most wasteland outposts were smart enough to post lookouts that would’ve noticed their group long before this. Was it possible that Sanctum Mesa had become so complacent with their relatively hidden position that they didn’t even bother to keep a lookout?

Dixon raised a hand suddenly, freezing all of them in their tracks. He wore a stiff frown, his head cocked lightly to one side. “Something’s not right.” He sniffed the air with a frown. “Their perimeter’s down.”

“Perimeter?” Centauri asked.

“They use these hidden electric coils around the edge of town to form a sort of invisible fence. They can turn it off to let people in, but anythin’ unwelcome that gets too close gets zapped.”

Glory quirked a brow, impressed in spite of herself. “Clever…”

“Always figured they were a bit too reliant on it,” Dixon said.

“How can you tell it’s inactive?” Needles asked.

“You can usually smell it when you get close,” Dixon said. “Sorta an ozone smell in the air, right on the tip of your tongue. But right now…”

The rest of the group sniffed the air in turn, and Centauri muttered, “Nothing.”

“Exactly.”

If there truly had been an electromagnetic field in the air, Glory would’ve sensed it long before any of the rest of them could smell it, but she couldn’t exactly tell the others that.

“Is it possible they simply… forgot to turn it on?” Glory asked.

Dixon shook his head. “In twenty years, I’ve never heard of Sanctum Mesa not having their perimeter up when strangers came to town.”

Needles gazed at the eerily silent town, a small frown on his cracked lips. “Where do they get their power?”

“The old wind farm. It’s nowhere near as efficient as it probably once was, but it still works. At least, it did last I heard.” Dixon scowled. “If someone wanted to knock out Sanctum Mesa’s power, the wind farm’d be a good target.”

“We don’t know what happened yet,” Glory protested, though even she could admit that the circumstances were suspicious, to say the least. She didn’t strictly reject the existence of coincidences, but they tended to be dubious, at best. “There could be a perfectly innocuous explanation.”

Dixon snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He readied his rifle and began a slow trek into the still town. Moments later, the rest of them followed. Centauri went first, reaching for his sniper rifle as he scurried ahead, though Glory doubted it would help, both thanks to the boy’s relative lack of skill and the cramped confines of the town.

Wilkes went next, reaching for their own guns with a confident, practiced flourish. Glory and Needles went last, and Glory’s hands hovered over her own weapons, though she waited on actually drawing them until a threat was properly identified. Needles, the only technically unarmed member of their little band (if one didn’t count the truly alarming number of hypodermic needles he kept on his person), hid behind Glory, using her as a shield in the event that they met a hostile force.

That likely should’ve annoyed her more than it did, but for some reason, it didn’t bother her.

Maybe because he was the only member of their group that she could truly trust. He’d seen what she was, and had been more awed than horrified or disgusted. Most importantly, he had yet to tell anyone else.

True, they likely wouldn’t have believed him, but he still could’ve tried.

She’d rather imagine her contentedness was practical in nature, though: keeping the only medically-trained member of their group alive should’ve been a priority all around, after all.

The dusty streets leading deeper into Sanctum Mesa were barely wide enough to fit two people shoulder-to-shoulder. The buildings, which hadn’t appeared all that large from the outside, now towered over Glory in a way that was almost disorienting. It was like an optical illusion; small on the outside, massive once those walls were crowding in on you.

Peering around, Glory could make out a scattering of suspicious-looking coils half-hidden inside the outermost buildings. To anyone unaware of the town’s perimeter, it probably would’ve just looked like more scavenged architecture.

They followed the narrow road all the way to the little courtyard outside the largest building that Glory assumed belonged to the mayor. Judging by the benches set up around the space, and a hopscotch court etched into the corner, this tiny area had functioned as a park, playground, and town square.

Lowering their weapons, the group stared around themselves, from the inside of the court to the buildings around them. It reminded Glory of the garden atrium in Father’s compound, though the foliage had been replaced by garbage and all the various implements of human existence. Still, the one part of the town missing was the humans themselves.

“We’re too late,” Dixon breathed.

Something sour wriggled in the pit of Glory’s chassis. “How many people lived here?” she asked softly, not wanting to give away their position on the off chance that anyone was still lurking nearby.

Dixon’s jaw clenched, his voice strained when he answered just as softly, “Almost three hundred.” He let out a harsh breath, glancing around their little group towards every dark corner that might hold a threat. “We should split into two groups, search for clues or anyone left behind,” Dixon said.

Glory nodded. “Good idea.”

“I am not getting partnered with the cannibal,” Centauri stated outright, his voice completely firm.

Dixon sighed in exasperation. “Fine. You come with Wilkes an’ I. We’ll head west, check out that side of town. Glory, you an’ Needles check the east side.” He nodded them toward the appropriate direction, though Glory’s internal compass made the gesture unnecessary, strictly speaking. “Be careful,” he hissed. “We have no idea what could be lurking around here.”

“We will,” Glory said, and Needles nodded by her side.

Dixon gazed at them for a moment before turning to leave, followed closely by Centauri. Wilkes paused just long enough to offer Glory and Needles an odd little two-fingered salute before turning to follow them.

“Shall we?” Needles asked, and Glory nodded. Together they set off down the empty street, between tall, twisted buildings. Just to be safe, Glory upped the sensitivity on her audial sensors slightly, until she could hear the rapid pitter-patter of Needles’ heartbeat without strain.

Hopefully, that would alert her of any scurrying around in the nearby buildings. And if it just put her more on edge than usual, well… that’d be preferable to being oblivious.

The first whisper of sound that wasn’t their breathing or Needles’ heartbeat came from a tall, narrow building to their left. Crafted from the same dull red brick as the rest of the town, reminding Glory of the ‘wild west’ imagery she’d seen in Father’s mainframe.

Inside the store, through the big windows at the front, Glory could see the shelves upon shelves of bottled water locked away behind the counter. She looked over to Needles, who looked just as bewildered as she felt at the sight. Tentatively, they stepped inside, a soft bell chiming to alert the empty building to their presence.

The rest of the store looked ransacked, with containers and things for sale scattered across the floor and dragged from their proper places. But the water—arguably the most valuable items in the building—were still in their locked cabinet behind the counter.

“What.” Glory hadn’t realized she was speaking until the word had escaped her mouth. But, well, it perfectly encapsulated her feelings on the situation. “Wh—Why would they just leave this behind?” She glanced over at Needles, who looked just as confused as she felt. “Is this normal?”

“Not that I know of,” he said with a frown. “Sometimes, when I was a boy, my father would tell his congregation to leave certain heretic settlements ‘unspoiled’, but it was usually in reference to small camps without much of anything valuable.”

“Why?” Glory asked in disbelief. She’d always been led to believe that supplies were in high demand in the desert. Why would the cultists choose to be picky?

Needles shrugged helplessly. “Something about self-sufficiency and loyalty to the Outsiders alone. I never understood it, but the elders weren’t exactly asking a child for tactical advice.” He huffed a breath and slid his backpack off his shoulder, setting it on the counter before stepping around to rummage through the drawers.

“What are you doing?” Glory asked, coming to stand beside him.

“Looking for… ah-hah!” He held up a keyring triumphantly and turned to unlock the cabinet. The first couple of keys didn’t fit, but the third one did. As the cabinet swung open, he began loading bottles rapidly into his pack, and once it was full, turned to Glory. “You too, come on. We’ll need as much of this as we can carry.”

Glory sighed and obligingly slid her own pack off her shoulders, setting it on the counter next to his. He immediately began filling her pack with water as well, leaving Glory to take in the rest of their surroundings.

She turned her attention to the counters. Or, more specifically, the cupboard underneath them, which turned out to be locked. Glory groped around for the keyring Needles had discarded after opening the cabinet, and tugged it over once her fingertips brushed cold metal. Tugging it down, she tried the keys against the cupboard keyhole until she found the right one.

“What are you doing?” Needles asked behind her.

Glory shrugged. “I’m curious. What do the people of Sanctum Mesa use as currency?” Father’s information on wasteland economies had been… scant, to say the least, and Glory hated having incomplete information.

Needles huffed a small laugh. “Is this really a priority right now?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

She finally found the right key, and the lock clicked open. She could feel Needles over her shoulder, also peering down to look as she pulled the cupboard open. Seems like curiosity got the better of him, too.

Glory’s brows arched at what she found inside the cupboard, and Needles let out a soft, pleasantly surprised hum.

Books.

All manner of old world technical books, from electricians’ manuals to in-depth computer handbooks.

“Where did they find these?” Glory found herself asking, voice hushed. She tugged one book on welding and circuitry loose and began flipping through the pages; worn, but in decent shape, and still fully legible. A quick check of the rest showed them to be in similar states.

The people of Sanctum Mesa were starting to impress her more and more. “Think we can take these with us?” she asked.

Needles’ lower lip pouted as he slowly shook his head, looking as pained by the realization as Glory felt. “Necessities first,” he said. “We can lock the cupboard when we leave to keep it safe.”

Glory didn’t bother pointing out that a simple locked cupboard would in no way deter a stubborn enough raider clan.

Glory returned the welding book to its brethren, then noticed a small, metal lockbox on the shelf beside them. Using the smallest key on the keyring, she unlocked it as well, revealing a collection of old world computer parts: chips, motherboards, other assorted boards, power supply units, even wiring and connectors.

Glory gazed longingly at her pack. Surely there’d be enough room just for this.

Needles noticed her gaze, and shook his head firmly. “No. Necessities first.”

Feeling duly chastised, she shut and locked the lockbox once more and returned it to its shelf. Just as she turned to close the cupboard as well, though, she paused, noticing something on the lower shelf that had somehow escaped her notice earlier, distracted as she had been by the books.

A pair of welding goggles rested on the shelf beneath the lockbox. Glory hadn’t the faintest idea why it was there; it certainly didn’t seem as valuable as the rest of the cupboard’s contents. But, what did she know? Perhaps the shop’s owner was a welding fiend, and to him safety was as valuable as gold.

Not that gold was truly valuable anymore, either, but the point still stood.

Glory glanced back to Needles, who had his back to her. Her gaze drifted up to the goggles on his own head. The two pairs weren’t identical—for one, the pair in the cupboard was smaller overall, but also sported a narrower band and lenses, and was also ever so slightly darker than Needles’ pair. But, the two were undeniably similar.

Not for the first time since she’d left Father’s compound, a bizarre, impulsive idea slunk into Glory’s processor. But, this was the first time she didn’t immediately dismiss said idea out of hand.

What would it harm, after all? If nothing else, it’d provide her with eye protection in case of a sandstorm, or something similar, which certainly weren’t unheard of in the area.

Giving in to her more impulsive side, she snatched up the goggles and slid them atop her own head, the lenses resting just above her brows. She shut and locked the cupboard, then stood, dusting off her pants. She and Needles ended up turning to face each other at the exact same moment, and he’d just begun speaking when he noticed her new acquisition, his words trailing off into surprised staring.

“What are you…”

Glory forced herself to relax, reminding herself that he wasn’t Father—she didn’t require his approval. Even if it would make her feel better about her most recent decision. “What do you think?”

“It’s… fine,” he said.

Glory’s expression shuttered.

“No, no! That sounded—” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “It looks good on you. I just… You just caught me off guard.”

“That was not my intention,” Glory lied.

“I know,” he assured her. “It looks good. It suits you. You look… ready to weld. Or saw. Or… something. I don’t know.” He swallowed.

Glory gazed at him. “They reminded me of you,” she said.

His eyes widened, cheeks turning red. Redder than Glory could remember ever having seen them before.

“Are you feeling all right?” Glory asked. “Facial redness can be a sign of—”

“I’m fine!” he squeaked.

Glory clenched her jaw, the interruption raising her hackles like never before. But, she couldn’t quite bring herself to snap at him; not when he looked like that. Glory had never really understood the concept of ‘cuteness’ before, beyond the fact that it was a trait typically assigned to juvenile mammals. Certainly not to grown men, at any rate. But at that moment, Needles did indeed look ‘cute’.

“We should— We should— Ah—” He cleared his throat and nodded back towards the water cabinet. “We should finish packing for the journey. No way to know how much we’ll need, after all!” He grimaced.

“We’ll need food, too,” Glory said.

“Water is most important,” he protested.

“Yes, but you’ll need food, too, if you want to keep your strength up. You, Dixon, Centauri…”

Perhaps it was manipulative, but Glory figured that reminding Needles of the others relying on him would urge him to see her perspective. Reluctantly, he nodded, and turned towards the rest of the store, his gaze landing on one of the rows of toppled shelving. Like the water, the packaged old world food remained untouched.

Needles’ stomach growled, audible even with the distance between them. His cheeks pinked lightly, but Glory said nothing. It wasn’t as if he had any control over his own stomach, was it?

He came out from behind the counter and approached the shelves, grabbing a handful of preserved meal bars from the old world.

Glory didn’t even want to think about how much preservatives must’ve been injected into the food to keep it relatively edible for so long. But, well, she wasn’t the one who’d be eating it, so she kept her disgust to herself.

Needles gazed at the bars in his hand momentarily before he tore into one, letting out a soft, satisfied moan. Glory wondered when the last time he’d gotten to eat proper, normal food had been.

Something blared in the back of her processor, reminding her that Needles had likely tasted human flesh at least once—after all, Ghost didn’t seem the type to have special meals fixed just for himself and his brother, and Needles hadn’t been very high on the social pecking order to be able to demand it for himself.

Needles took another generous bite of his new discovery and turned to Glory, happily holding another bar out toward her before he remembered what she was. Sheepishly, he lowered the offered bars to his side and swallowed his current mouthful. “Er… sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

He glanced between her and the proffered meal bar, and his brows furrowed. “Can you eat?” he asked, slowly withdrawing the offering. “If you needed to, to pass as human?”

Glory grimaced. “Technically, yes. But I would have to eject the foreign material eventually; preferably before it began decomposing inside of me.”

“And… how do you… eject?” he asked tentatively.

“Orally.”

“Ah.” He sounded relieved, and finished the last of his bar, only to immediately move on to another.

“Save some for the others,” Glory said. “Or Dixon and Centauri, at least. I’m still not sure if Wilkes eats.”

Needles huffed a laugh into his meal. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty here.” He went to work tucking more of the preserved food into his pack and the many deceptively spacious pockets around his hips. “They must’ve been stockpiling this place for years.”

“Where from, though?” Glory asked with a frown. “I didn’t notice any major old world structures on the way here…”

Needles hummed distractedly. “Wastelanders always find a way.” Despite the words, he didn’t sound contemptuous or dismissive, but rather admiring.

A soft scratching noise from outside the store drew Glory’s attention, and she jerked. Her grip on her weapons tightened, but she forced herself to relax and listen.

“What’s wrong?” Needles whispered.

Glory nodded outside, across the street to the building directly in front of them. A house, judging by the flourishing flower boxes hanging outside the few windows Glory could see.

She hadn’t known that any plant life could survive in the desert. But, maybe, in the shaded areas, more biological diversity could be found.

Not that it mattered.

The front door swung free in the meager breeze whistling through the street, and Glory noticed that the lock had been removed. No, not just removed—it looked as though it had been blasted off the door itself.

Worrisome.

Glory heard the sound again, louder, and this time accompanied by a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the very foundation of the building they were in, loud enough that even Needles heard it. He stiffened, eyes widening, and turned to Glory. Almost in unison, the two of them ducked down low and hid behind shelving on opposite sides of the store, hiding from whatever was in the house.

The long, ear-piercing squeal of rusted door hinges made Glory grimace, and heavy footsteps thumped through the doorway and padded down the short staircase to the ground. The low, rumbling breaths of a large creature made Glory’s own, simulated breaths catch in her throat, and she and Needles shared a dire look.

The creature growled again, and Glory dared to lean out around the shelves just far enough to peer out the shop’s front door at whatever was lurking outside. What kind of creature had snuck into town while the perimeter was deactivated?

The heavy, quadrupedal body was covered in thick, matted fur that pricked questions in Glory’s lower processes as to how it managed to maintain thermostasis. It began sniffing the air, and a noise somewhere between a large cat’s growl and a dog’s bark escaped its muzzle. Glory had only heard that noise before in recordings stored in Father’s mainframe, but she recognized it instantly—the sound of a ripperbeast smelling its prey.

The epitome of the Benefactors’ lack of regard for earth’s ecosystem, the ripperbeast was a genetically modified, lab-grown hybrid super-predator spliced from cougars and coyotes, and was generally much larger and much, much more aggressive than either of its parent species.

Originally kept only in the badlands before they escaped northward, they were vicious hunters and infamously difficult to kill without the Benefactors’ high-impact weapons, which made them the perfect terror weapons to use against ‘rebels’.

The only true weakness they had was their solitary nature, and dwindling population numbers. There weren’t a great many prey animals to eat in the wasteland, after all. But, somehow, they managed to just evade extinction.

Tenacious abominations.

Needles sat with his back to the shelving, his hands clamped tightly over his mouth in a desperate hope that the ripperbeast wouldn’t hear his breaths. It was a common reflex performed by humans, and utterly futile—ripperbeasts hunted primarily through scent.

Heavy footfalls trailed closer as it bounded up the steps to the store and pushed in the door. It sniffed at the air, growling low in its throat as it did so. Or was that a purr?

Needles let out a barely-audible whine.

It first turned to Glory and blinked at her, letting out a low, rumbling growl. It face was… unnatural. Glory had seen pictures of both cougars and coyotes before, and this was both somewhere between the two, and utterly alien. Its eyes were by far the most eerie of its features, somehow far too intelligent for its animalistic body.

A hump on its back, between the shoulders, held nutrients and water—the perfect adaptation for a monster designed for the desert—and each of its paws were a twisted amalgamation of two different paws connected by thin graft of wrinkled brown skin, giving the monster its characteristic eight-clawed scratch.

Another low growl escaped its throat, and it sniffed at Glory. It blinked, as if surprised, then turned around to face Needles.

“No, over here!” Glory blurted, grabbing a nearby empty soda can and tossing it at the side of the monster’s head. It growled again, more fiercely this time, and turned back to face her.

“Run,” Glory hissed to Needles.

Still watching the ripperbeast, Needles stood and vaulted over the counter, yanking open the rickety door to the rest of the building, and hopefully to a backdoor or some other alternate exit. The ripperbeast turned to track the fleeing scent, but Glory grabbed one of the shelves and hefted it over her head before slamming down on top of its head.

“Pay attention to me!” she shouted.

The blow from the shelf sent it sprawling to the floor with a mournful howl, but it squirmed around and clambered to its feet again quickly before turning to face Glory.

It stood up from its half-crouched stalking position, revealing its full height.

It was almost taller than Glory herself. If it pushed itself onto its hind legs, it’d be twice her height!

Blinking rapidly, Glory glanced between the monster and the front door, calculating at several times the speed of light. Her confidence in her own ability to escape unscathed was… murky, at best.

Still, she had better chances than, say, Needles. Who might still be in the building.

She dropped the shelf and ran, racing for the front door. The ripperbeast’s roar shook the entire building, causing rickety walls to collapse and light fixtures to crash to the floor. Glory ignored it all, shielding her head with her arms, as she barreled through the door and landed in the street with a grunt.

She rolled to the side just as the ripperbeast landed where she’d just been lying. If she hadn’t moved, it landing on top of her might’ve been enough to crush her chassis. She rolled a few more times and leapt to her feet just as the ripperbeast lunged again with a snarl.

This time, she didn’t get away fast enough. It landed on top of her, claws digging into her chest. Damage warnings blared in her processor—pressure warnings and chassis wall damage alerts. She couldn’t do anything but shield her head, which housed all her most important processes, as best she could, and hope this thing didn’t maul her to non-functionality before she could find some way out.

It sunk massive teeth into the front of her jacket and pulled, yanking her into the air, before tossing her a short distance away. She landed on her front with another grunt, and struggled to get to her feet. Unfortunately, it had managed to damage her right knee enough that it refused to function before the ripperbeast returned, sinking fangs into her shoulder.

Glory yelped in dismay and struggled, reaching up to poke and prod at the monster’s nose, eyes, anywhere she could fit her fingers. It didn’t have much effect. But, by then, the monster had gotten a taste of her coolant filling its mouth, and it dropped her with what she imagined was a disgusted huff.

Glory landed in a heap, and couldn’t really move. Static-filled groans escaped her as she tried to crawl to safety. She managed little more than a one-armed shuffle away from the monster.

Unfortunately, rather than lose interest outright in something that couldn’t be a meal (as she’d expected and hoped), the ripperbeast almost seemed angry by her deception, and it raced forward to maul her again.

“What the hell is goin’ on over he—WHAT THE FUCK?!” Dixon’s yelp of surprise and fear echoed through the ghost town, immediately followed by gunshots.

Thankfully, the ripperbeast’s attention turned to its new attackers. Unfortunately, Dixon had likely seen her. Which meant…

Hands grabbed at her shoulders and rolled her over. She let out another staticky gasp as she gazed up at Needles, who wore a frown of concentration. Looking around, he wrapped his arms around her middle and dragged her away, down one of the narrower alleyways in that part of the town.

“Did— Did they—”

Glory’s voice was too unsteady and filled with static for her to get her desperate question out, but Needles seemed to anticipate her concerns.

“Dixon was a bit distracted by the ripperbeast,” he stated in a voice fraught with tension. “I doubt he noticed. And the others were behind him.”

A rush of relief flooded Glory’s system, and she let her head knock back lifelessly against the rocky ground.

“Hey, hey. None of that. Stay awake.”

“I technically can’t— can’t sleep,” Glory rasped.

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Talk to me.”

“Vocalizer too— too taxed to— to speak clearly—”

He shook his head again. “Don’t care. The others’re busy, they won’t hear. Talk to me.”

Just as he said, the sound of wild gunfire a short distance away temporarily reassured Glory that the others wouldn’t round the corner and overhear her. But still, the anxiety that ate away at her circuits every time she considered them (especially Dixon) learning her secret rushed back with a vengeance.

“Talk to me,” Needles implored. “Please.”

He tugged her jacket open, revealing the largest gashes. Glory was brought back to their first meeting, to the cannibal that had also met the wrong end of a ripperbeast’s claws, and she half-hysterically recounted the story to Needles as he worked. He wanted her to talk, but he didn’t necessarily ask for coherent speeches.

“Can your skin withstand stitching?” Needles asked.

Glory thought for a moment. Sutures hadn’t strictly been tested on synthskin, but it was supposed to mimic human skin as much as possible. “It probably can’t hurt,” she finally decided.

“Is your self-repair working?” he asked. “Because, I’m not sure what all I can do for you.” Even as he spoke, Glory received repeated puncture warnings as he stitched the largest of her gashes shut.

Glory squeezed her eyes shut, her vision flickering with damage warnings and alerts that her nanites were taxed to capacity, forcing her to run through and set priority repairs. Coolant leaks, those went at the top of the list. Then major damage that could let foreign bodies into her chassis. Then minor cosmetic damage, including damage to her synthskin. Chances were, the nanites would have to recharge for a few hours before getting to the synthskin.

Wonderful.

“Glory?”

She only then remembered his question, and grimaced. “The nanites’re working, but they’re overtaxed.”

“What does that mean?”

Glory’s eyes flickered open, her gaze landing on Needles’ concerned face. “It means they’ll get to the biggest, most dangerous damage first, like coolant leaks and holes in my chassis wall, but then they’ll have to recharge for a few hours before moving onto the more minor damage.”

His lips turned down at the corners. “But… won’t that give it away?”

“Not if they get to the major damage.” Glory gestured vaguely towards her injured side. “The synthskin is designed to camouflage itself when damaged, mimicking blood and healing tissue, and eventually, scar tissue. It’s just when my chassis is showing through or I’ve got coolant all over me that it doesn’t work.”

Her nanites reported 80% repair completed on the largest damage, and she tugged her shirt out of the way again to demonstrate. “I am the culmination of centuries of cybernetic research,” she said, voice completely flat and toneless. “Look on in awe.”

He gaped at her side, which had no doubt been repaired enough to look no different from an ordinary, sutured human wound. The synthskin camouflage system was, admittedly, one of the few systems Father had to develop himself from scratch, as as far as they knew, none of the Wartime androids had ever looked as human as Glory.

Needles’ voice was breathy, barely more than a whisper, when he at last spoke. “That’s… remarkable!”

“You should be complimenting my father,” Glory muttered. “He designed it.” The corner of her lips pulled downward, and she found herself staring blankly up at the dusty blue sky. “He designed all of me. Every last millimeter.”

“Hey.” Needles grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle, yet firm, shake. “Designed or no, I think you’re remarkable. Not your father—you. I don’t even know him.”

He made me. The thought certainly wasn’t alien to Glory, and it made her shudder internally each and every time. I only exist because of Him.

The air between the two of them was tense and silent, and Glory realized abruptly what that meant—no gunfire. She hoped that meant that either the ripperbeast was dead or had run off. She didn’t want to think about the other possibility.

“Glory!”

Dixon’s raspy shout filled Glory with a bizarre sense of comfort. But seeing the marshal storming around the corner towards them, his rifle slung haphazardly back over his shoulder, with a look of rage on his face completely undid any relief that hearing his voice had brought Glory.

“You!” he shouted, loud enough to no doubt be heard all across Sanctum Mesa. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“A—About what?” Glory asked.

“About what? Is that a joke?” He shoved Needles aside and knelt in front of her. “Needles told us ‘bout yer little stunt, getting the ripperbeast’s attention so he could run away. Real fuckin’ heroic, ya moron!”

“I—I didn’t—”

Glory worried he was about to hit her. His hand trembled by his side, hand curled into a fist. Needles stood anxiously to his left, holding out a hand to placate him; utterly ineffective, of course.

Dixon reared back, and Glory braced.

Rather than a punch, like she’d been expecting, She felt rough arms cup her shoulders and yank her forward, off the wall she’d been leaning against.

Glory’s eyes fluttered open in shock as Dixon wrapped warm arms around her. She wasn’t sure what to do. Father had never done anything like this, of course, and had forbidden any physical contact beyond what was absolutely necessary.

She knew humans needed physical contact; that they craved it, and had a million different ways of achieving unnecessary contact with their peers. A hug was just one of those methods. But knowing that didn’t change the fact that Glory just wanted to close her eyes, shut herself down, and hibernate for a few hours. Hopefully, with the others around, she’d be safe.

Dixon tugged her up onto her feet, groaning under Glory’s weight before she quickly pushed up herself. When they were at last standing, he ducked his head onto her shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again, kiddo,” he whispered roughly in her ear. Not rage, she realized; fear.

He’d been worried about her.

“I’m… sorry.” Slowly, she raised her own arms to gently rest her hands on his upper back. “I wasn’t thinking.” It wasn’t a lie.

Dixon snorted roughly as he pulled back. “Yeah, no shit.” He turned to Needles, leaning halfway on his side exactly where he’d fallen when Dixon had shoved him, and winced, holding out a hand. “Sorry, kid.”

Needles grimaced, but accepted the offered hand, letting Dixon tug him to his feet as well. The marshal then turned back to Glory with a much softer expression; one Glory couldn’t quite read.

It was only then that he seemed to notice Glory’s new pair of goggles, and snorted. “Like the look.”

Glory reached up to adjust them, centering them on her own head as best she could without a mirror. “You think so?”

“No.” He chuckled some more. “Looks stupid as hell.”

Glory scowled.

“I like it,” Needles protested.

“‘Course you do, kid,” Dixon sighed.

Glory glanced around him to the end of the alley, where she saw Wilkes and Centauri standing their with their own weapons still held in their hands. Centauri, at least, looked surprised. And a little unwell. “You’re still alive?”

Glory blinked confusedly at the question. “Obviously.”

“I saw what it did to you! No one could survive that!”

Glory shrugged awkwardly, holding herself as if still injured. “Thank Needles. He got me out of the way and patched me up.”

Needles scratched the back of his neck awkwardly when all eyes were suddenly on him. “It was easy, really. The damage caused by the ripperbeast was minimal, compared to what you might expect.”

That reminded Glory, “What happened to it? How did it even get into the town?”

Dixon shrugged. “Probably wandered in after the perimeter got shut down. ‘M guessin’ you two prob’ly startled it.” He nodded outside the alley. “You wanna see?”

“Ehh…” Glory shook her head. “No, thank you.” She shuffled forward, and Needles sprung forward preemptively to take part of her weight. “Did you find any survivors?” she asked Dixon as they limped past.

“No.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Found food still on the tables. Only been gone a few hours at most.” All traces of his previous good humor gone, he turned to kick a nearby pebble, sending it flying away. “We were so close!”

“Any bodies?” Glory asked.

The scowl that crossed his lips told her the answer to that. He huffed a stiff sigh, and turned to face her, still with the scowl firmly in place.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“We need to keep moving,” he said.

“I know.”

He shook his head. “You need to rest.”

Glory’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t know what to say. Insisting that she wasn’t that injured would only draw suspicion, but they couldn’t wait any longer, and she couldn’t just stay behind while the others moved on without her.

Needles glanced between the two of them, visible in Glory’s peripheral vision. He worried at his lower lip for a moment before uttering, “The damage was minimal. For a ripperbeast attack, I mean.”

Dixon scoffed. “What is this? I crack a rib, I’m on bedrest for the day. She gets mauled, and it’s business as usual?”

Glory took the opportunity Needles had given her and tugged up the hem of her shirt, revealing her midsection. The red claw marks might’ve been alarming on their own, but given what she’d just been through, it’d look like a miraculous escape.

Dixon let out a low whistle. “What happened? We got a blind critter?”

“Something like that,” Glory lied. “I just played dead. It didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t actually hurting me.”

“Well, thank god fer that.” Dixon huffed a sigh. “All right. Lord knows I’d be the biggest hypocrite of them all if I told you to stay behind and bed down in the mayor’s office. But take it easy, kiddo. And let the rest of us handle any trouble, at least for a while.”

Glory nodded immediately. “Deal.”

Dixon glanced to her left, toward Needles. “Keep an eye on ‘er, doc. Lemme know if she starts having trouble.”

“I will.”

Glory sniffed, glaring at Dixon. “I can hear you, you know.”

“I know.” He beamed at her for a second, before his expression promptly returned to its usual, somber scowl. “Centauri says he saw ‘suspicious movement’ at the old wind farm ‘bout a day ago. Didn’t check it out ‘cause ‘e had no reason to think it was muties.” His expression twitched. “No offense, Doc.”

Needles’ brows jumped in surprise. “Er… none taken.”

“Anywho, if that is our troublemakers—an’ judging by the state of Sanctum Mesa’s power grid, or lack thereof, I’d be willin’ to bet on Gertie’s grave that it is—we’ll hopefully find out more when we track ‘em down.”

Glory nodded. “Sounds like a plan. When do we leave?”

Dixon nodded to the rest of the town. “Take fifteen. Grab whatever supplies you can and meet back up here. Then…” his lips curled into a cruel grin, “we’re going mutant-hunting.”