Skysniper

 Puck was quietly observing the landscape around him when he swore he heard the cry of a human. Straining to hear, he could make out one word: help. "There's someone calling for help!" he told Maria, and she tried to hear the cries, then shook her head. "I don't hear a thing." she said truthfully. Puck knew he heard someone crying out, and followed the direction of where the voice had been coming from. "Help! Help!" the voice called out again, and Puck went faster. Whatever was happening, it had to be serious, and wasted time probably went a few more bodies rotting in the Mojave. When Puck found the source of the cries, he was met with

 Larissa was panting heavily, her body covered in wounds. The bodies of mutilated Deathclaws were scattered around the Junction, including the body of the Mother Deathclaw. Larissa felt Rex, her cyberdog, licking her wounds in an effort to clean them. Larissa could not bring her arms up to try and stop the bleeding or try to heal herself. The Mother Deathclaw had torn her arms apart, and they barely had any use. Larissa felt only the pain, agony, and hot blood pouring from her. She was in a grimacing state. Larissa dragged herself to the rocks, a bloodstain trail following her like a menacing brother. Speaking of brothers, Larissa wondered wh

 Puck felt the dancing moonlight on his icy skin, remembering slightly the comfort he felt in the light of the moon, as if it were telling him he was totally safe. Only Puck wasn't. The town called Primm had been taken over by escaped convicts and Puck was determined to bring order back to this town. Though he never tried to get in the way of other people's problems, he couldn't bring himself to abandon Primm. Slowly, Puck crept along in the shadows, away from the light, as if he were seen by the convicts, Puck wasn't going to get out of the situation without a few bullet wounds. Puck could hear somebody speaking in a low voice, which he coul

 In the Mojave, nights were always blasting cold, winds ripping through skin and the air chilling anyone caught outside to the bone. Puck was well aware of the numbing effect of the cold, but he was not worried about freezing. He was worried about this man in the checkered suit, the one holding the engraved gun, the person who had stolen the Platinum chip from and bound Puck. Puck shouldn't had been so careless, should not have been caught so easily, bound, gagged, chained like a feral dog. He was no dog....but Puck couldn't say he was anything. Small, insignificant, that was Puck. Only he didn't care right now, for Puck was fearing for his l