Pain wracked his body, emanating from the back of his head, and every bump and shuffle sent new shocks through him. He faded in and out of the waking world, hearing muffled voices and laughter around him but being unable to bring himself fully awake.

The crack of gunshots made him jerk in shock, the action doing nothing but sending a fresh wave of pain over his body and making his vision spin wildly. Someone screamed loudly before being cut off by a shot, and the world went still.

Dirt crunched underneath feet, and he rolled his eye up through half-raised lids, seeing only a long, tan blob. The blob folded, apparently kneeling next to him. A tan hand snaked around his neck, pulling on the dog-tag hanging there.

"No…" He mumbled, weakly batting the hand away.

Surprised, the owner pulled away, and a rough voice spoke over his head. "How interesting…"

That was the last he heard, as the darkness crawled over his vision and he left consciousness.

…

He came awake slowly, finding himself sitting against a wall. The pain had faded greatly, but the back of his head still throbbed insistently, and the world seemed to tilt and spin randomly.

The blob from before knelt next to him, his vision clearing enough to see that the blob was a man. A man wearing a tan trench coat and a brown hat of some sort. His sight was too blurry to make out more than that, except for a pair of stern, focused, but not unkind grey eyes.

"I'm surprised you're awake." The man in the hat said slowly. "With that blow you took to the back of your head, I'm surprised you aren't dead. I thought you were, actually."

"Who…are you?" He asked, trying to blink away the grogginess.

The man in the hat shrugged lightly. "A simple stranger, is all I am. Even to those who know my name. And speaking of names, you have a rather strange one. Dare, I believe it is?"

The stranger in the hat held up a familiar length of chain with a worn dog-tag hanging from it. "S'mine." Dare fumbled, trying to take the necklace back.

"It's not my intention to steal it, son. Names are very important, and it's the worst kind of crime to steal one." The stranger rebuked lightly, setting it down next to Dare on the bed. "I only killed half of the slavers in that caravan you were carried around in. The rest fled with other slaves "

Dare rolled his eyes up to look at the stranger. "…Where'd they go?" He muttered sluggishly, struggling to stay awake.

"Why do you want to know?" The stranger returned easily.

"Kill 'em. Save the others." He replied simply.

The stranger lifted an eyebrow. "You are in no condition to be chasing slavers across the Wasteland., son. Rest for now, and when you waken once more, then you can decide."

Dare's eyes fluttered as he began to lose the battle to stay awake. "Why'd you…save me?"

He saw the strange man shrug. "You intrigued me. Not many could survive a blow to head, or survive and be strong enough to still move afterwards. I'll be leaving these with you."

The stranger set a revolver on the ground, along with a small box of bullets and a combat knife. "Call it an investment." The stranger muttered, withdrawing a battered box of cigarettes from within his coat and extracting a single white smoke from it. He stuck it between his lips and lit it, the small flame fading quickly, leaving the stranger's face in the shadows of his hat. "Something for you to think on, Dare."

The stranger leaned forward, a cloud of smoke pillowing from his mouth. "Vengeance is for the weak. Justice…is for the mighty."

Dare tried to reply, but found that his mouth was unwilling to move. He fell limp, into the darkness of sleep once again.

…

He awoke with a gasp, heart pounding in his chest as he looked over the room in panic. He calmed down once he saw that he was alone, his breathing slowly coming down.

Dare blinked, finding that his vision didn't spin and his head wasn't killing him, gingerly poking at the area and wincing at the tenderness of his skull. He sighed and scrubbed his face, scanning the house he found himself in. It was dilapidated, as were most houses in the Wasteland, but the walls were closed, as was the door and the roof. It was also empty, save for the mattress he rested on and himself.

Lying next to him was his dog-tag, which he hurried to put on, sighing at the comfortable weight around his neck. He lifted the worn metal to his face and rubbed his thumb over the letters stamped in it.

D A R E

There had once been more on those tags, but grime and time had sanded them away. Dare patted the tag and looked over what else had been left for him by the strange man. The revolver used .357 bullets, if the box was anything to go by, and both it and the knife were in good condition. Next to the weapons was a leather pouch with his name stitched into the flap, and a can of Pork'n'Beans.

Feeling his stomach grumble, he grabbed the can and the pouch, retrieving a multi-tool and using it to open the can, then withdrawing a spoon. He quickly consumed the can of food, feeling the burning in his stomach fading.

Done with his meal, Dare found a battered box of cigarettes next to his bed, which recognized as the strangers. It was missing one smoke, but otherwise full.

Why did he leave this behind? He wondered, slipping the pack into his pouch with the bullets. Standing up, he glanced at the revolver, wondering why a sense of dread was permeating his thoughts.

A realization dawned and his face went pale. "Shit!" He shouted, sprinting out of the house.

The sunlight shone in his face, and he stumbled as the light, combined with the dizziness of moving so suddenly took its toll. He quickly shook it off, scanning the area. He found trails of blood on the cracked and barren earth and followed them to a pile of bodies that he recognized as the slavers that had attacked the caravan he was traveling with.

Ignoring the stench, Dare searched through the bodies, growing increasingly desperate as the items he was seeking refused to turn up. "No! Fuck!" He cried out, punching the ground angrily.

His guns, his precious guns were missing, probably taken by the fleeing slavers. Besides his tag, they were his most precious items, the weapons his parents wielded in life and what he used after their deaths.

Breathing heavily and scrubbing away the tears threatening to fall, Dare took note of the way the slavers had died. His Sniper's Mind, as his dad called it, found it impressive how most had died by a perfectly centered head-shot or a bullet through the heart. It was made by a higher-caliber gun.

Dare, gathering himself, searched through the bodies once more, this time identifying items he would need or find useful. Among the bodies, he found a hunting rifle that was in workable condition, with twenty shots, and a SMG that would fire, but desperately needed a new firing pin and a pair of clips for it. Along with that, there was also a worn, well-used baseball bat with a bloodstain near the top, along with three Stimpaks, and a syringe of Med-X.

Setting the weapons aside, Dare stripped the leather armor off of a body, and making sure that the area around him was empty, he quickly pulled it on, tightening the belt and adjusting his pouch next to the one built-in. He stored the SMG in the empty pouch, slung the rifle on his back and holstered the revolver, feeling comforted by the weight of weaponry on his person.

As Dare began to strip the other bodies of clothing, he occasionally patted his gun to make sure it was there. It was due to his military background.

His father had been a sniper, one of the best, or so he claimed, and his mother had been a Ranger. Both had taught him how to use a rifle and smaller arms since he was a kid, and how to maintain weaponry in general while he was growing up in the Pacific North-Wasteland.

Shaking the memories away, he rolled up the clothes, and with careful placement, stored them in his pouches, though it was tight fit. Standing, he scanned the horizon, finding what looked like a lump of dark metal with a turbine in the middle.

Shrugging, Dare set off towards the lump. It might be a settlement, but if it wasn't, he could use it as a landmark and climb it to get a better view of the area.

As he traveled, he took in the sights, not as if there was that much to see. Sparse, grey grass and almost colorless dirt, interrupted by faded concrete and the occasional shallow, murky pool of irradiated water.

He skirted around a destroyed school, and found the remains of a gas station near two houses that looked empty, but livable. Near the long-dry pumps was a vending machine, the white and red, though faded, still proudly proclaiming the Nuka-Cola that might be inside.

Licking his dry lips, Dare approached the machine and felt along the door, noting that it was still closed and hadn't seemed to have been opened before. He jammed his knife into the crack and pushed, the old lock easily giving away, exposing the two dusty bottles inside.

Smiling to himself, he took the bottles, storing one away for later while cracking open the other, making sure to save the cap. The luke-warm bubbly liquid quenched his thirst, and he smiled at the sweet taste, storing the bottle. You never knew when a glass bottle could come in handy.

The smile dropped as gunshots rang out, joined by crazed shouting. It was coming from the direction of the metal lump. Dare quickly jogged towards the noise, sliding behind a rock and scanning the situation.

The lump was definitely a settlement, and it was being attacked by raiders. The settlement was being protected by a Protectron, a bipedal security robot usually equipped with a laser for defense; there was also a sniper hidden in the metal, taking potshots at the small band of raiders.

Dare slowly slid out from behind the rock and snuck up to one of the raider's, who was hanging back with a hunting rifle, firing at the Protectron.

Gripping the bat, he quickly brought it over the raider's head, pressing against his throat. The raider struggled, gurgling as the life was choked out of him, but Dare didn't let up until the rifle clattered from his hands and he fell still.

Dropping the body, he snatched up the rifle along with the clips on the corpse and took aim at another raider, this one with an SMG spraying bullets at the sniper. He centered the sights on her head and pulled the trigger, the rifle kicking against his shoulder as her head sprayed blood and brain matter, the body slumping over a rock.

He quickly cycled rounds, turning the gun on another raider. But before he could shoot, the raider's head exploded from the sniper's shot.

Taking a deep breath, Dare sighed and looted the bodies, using parts from the rifle to fix up his own and doing the opposite to the SMG. He also acquired five Stimpaks, and a few doses of Psycho and Jet, though he wouldn't take the drugs.

As he made to move the bodies, a sharp whistle interrupted him. Looking up, he spotted the sniper waving at him. "Hey! Let Deputy Weld handle the bodies! Thanks for the assist, too!"

He waved back, calling out, "Can I come in? Since I helped?"

The sniper nodded, waving him forward. "Course! Just don't start any trouble!"

Dare strode past the Protectron, who greeted him with a stilted "Welcome to Megaton, the safest town around."

He jumped as the turbine below the gate began to spin, and the two plates of metal slid up, exposing the gate. He waved to the sniper again and entered Megaton, taking in the sight of homes cobbled together from various metal pieces. People moved through the town, simply living life. There was even a working pipe system, though it was leaking.

All in all, it was a very well-off settlement.

His eyes fell on the distinctive shape of a nuclear bomb sitting in the center of the crater, with an old man standing the definitely irradiated puddle around it, seemingly giving a sermon.

Dare started when a strong hand fell on his shoulder. "And who might you be, stranger?" An older black man asked, peering sternly at him from underneath a cowboy hat, a salt-and-pepper beard decorating the lower half of his face.

"Um, sorry." He apologized for some reason. This man just seemed to emanate an aura of respectability, just like the military men he'd met in his life. "I'm, uh, Dare. I just…came in. Looking for a place to sleep and trade. Maybe some information, sir."

"'Sir'?" The man said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. The gesture inadvertently drew attention to the shiny badge pinned to the front of his duster and the stock of an assault rifle peeking over his shoulder. "Haven't seen manners like that in awhile. Name's Lucas Simms, I'm the Sheriff of this little town. And mayor, when the need arises."

Dare nodded and shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Polite as well?" Lucas muttered under his breath. "Just so we understand each other: cause any trouble, and I shoot you."

"Understood." He replied carefully.

The sheriff clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Now, if you're lookin' for a place to rest for the night, the Common House always has room, and if you want to trade, you'll want to go to Craterside Supply and see Moira Brown. And, if you seek information, you're best bet is Moriarty's Saloon." He explained, pointing out the buildings.

"Thank you. A question?" Dare asked, pointing at the nuke. "Is that thing armed?"

Lucas laughed, patting the younger man on the shoulder. "You're far from the first person to ask that question, son. It's inactive. That thing won't be going off anytime soon."

Dare nodded to himself, warily eyeing the bomb. "Thank you for the information, Sheriff."

"Stay out of trouble." Was the older man's reply, as he walked off.

Dare adjusted the rifle on his back and sighed, trudging towards the round metal building, the nose of an airplane on top of it with letters spelling out 'Supply' on top, and the words 'Craterside Supply' painted on the door in white.

Upon entering, he found that the interior was rather clean, though the odd array of items scattered around clashed with it. A man in mercenary clothes leaned against a wall next to a workbench, cradling a shotgun and shooting meaningful looks his way.

His attention was drawn to a woman as she leaned a broom against the counter and stepped behind it, greeting him with a cheerful smile and an equally happy, "Hello! I'm Moira Brown, and welcome to Craterside Supply! How can I help you?"

He gave her a short wave. "Hi. I've got some stuff to trade."

"Alrighty then!"

Bemused by her attitude, Dare laid out his acquisitions, selling off the clothes he pulled off the slavers, along with the SMG, baseball bat, and the drugs. In return, he bought a pack and twenty rounds for his hunting rifle.

Thanking the eccentric woman for the trade, he exited the shop and patted his growling stomach. Looking around Megaton, he spotted a short building with an open front and a few people sitting on stools. He shrugged and made his way down, taking a seat at the counter.

A woman in a yellow jumpsuit approached him a friendly smile. "Now, I know I've never seen you in Megaton before. Let me guess, you're just passing through?" She asked sardonically.

"Maybe," Dare replied with a shrug. "I just got here. I need to get my bearings, though I would like to buy some food."

She crossed her arms. "That, I can help you with. What can I whip up for you, Mr.?"

"Dare. Uh, Iguana Bits, please? And a can of Pork'n'Beans, to take." He replied, withdrawing his cap pouch, which brushed against the bottle of cola. "And can you slip this in your fridge?"

"Sure thing. That'll be fifteen caps. I'm Jenny Stahl, by the way." She answered, brushing back a few strands of orange hair.

Dare slid the caps to her, and she walked off to make his food. Someone sat on the seat next to him, and he peered up to see a man with an eye-patch and a head wrap giving him a friendly smile.

What is it with this town where everybody seems to be smiling? He inwardly wondered, shaking the man's hand.

"Hey there, I couldn't help but overhear that you're new here." The man greeted. "Name's Billy Creel. If you don't mind me askin', where're you from?"

Dare blinked. "I'm from the Pacific North-Wasteland, the Ruins of Seattle."

The man drew back, thoughtful frown on his face. "Well, I can't say that name rings a bell with me. Where is that?"

"West. Far west. It's on the other side of America." He explained, playing with a fork. "I traveled with a caravan for a couple of years to get here."

"Wow-ee." Billy whistled. "That's quite the distance. I haven't seen anyone else new around here, where's your caravan?"

Cold anger seeped through him and into his expression, making Billy draw back warily. "We were attacked by slavers. I was the only one who got away." He turned a narrow gaze on the other man. "Do you know anything about them?"

"Slavers? Naw, man, sorry." Billy apologized with a shrug. "You'll want to talk to Colin Moriarty, in Moriarty's Saloon. If anyone'll know, it'll be that scumbag."

Dare nodded. "Thanks."

They sat in silence before Jenny came back with his food and chilled cola. He popped off the cap and gave it to her, digging into his food eagerly.

"Well, time's come for me to go. Maggie awaits." Billy announced. "Dare, good luck with your slavers. Jenny…I'll see you later."

Jenny giggled and waved at Billy, fluttering her eyelashes. Dare quirked an eyebrow at the two before shaking his head.

After he finished his meal, he made his way up to Saloon and found it in short order. Inside, there were several people, though the most notable was the man behind the bar. He appeared to have the flesh peeling from his bones, and his voice sounded like he chewed gravel for fun.

Dare approached the bar. "Hey there. I want to speak to Colin Moriarty."

"He's in the back, and he won't be coming out until tomorrow." The Ghoul replied, cleaning out a glass.

"I can't speak to him? It's important." He insisted, leaning on the counter.

"Sorry, can't help you. I'd rather not get smacked around for nothin', kid." The Ghoul answered.

Dare sighed angrily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Well, not everyone is all smiles and friendliness.

"You're not gonna yell at me?" The Ghoulish bartender asked in what seemed to be surprise. "Or throw anything at my head?"

Dare gave him a questioning and slightly peeved look. "No. Why would I do that? I can understand not wanting to get beat, I won't hold that against you."

"Huh. Well, my name's Gob. If there's anything else I can do for ya, don't hesitate to ask." Gob replied.

"Can I get three fingers of scotch?" Dare shot back.

"Sure thing, pal."

He paid the ghoul and took his glass, looking for a place to sit. As he walked into another room, his attention was drawn to a man who was very out of place among the Megaton people.

He wore a grey suit and tie, with glasses and brown hat. "My, my. Just when I had all but given up hope."

His voice was an odd mixture of glacial and gravelly. "My dear boy, I am very happy to make your acquaintance. I am Mister Burke."

A shiver went up Dare's spine, though he hid it well. This man is dangerous, he thought, and I get the feeling he has something important to say.

"And you, well, you are not a resident of this," He sniffed disdainfully, "Putrescent cesspool. That makes you a rather valuable individual."

I have to play this very carefully. "Mister Burke, is it?" Dare asked politely, "Would you mind if I took a seat? I find myself…enthralled."

A cold smile spread over his lips, and he tilted his head at the seat across from him. "Finally, someone with a modicum of civility and common sense. Please, have a seat."

Dare sat across from him, taking a sip of his liquor to steel his nerves.

"I represent certain…interests," Burke began, "And those interests view this town, this…"Megaton," as a blight on a burgeoning urban landscape. You have no connections here. No interest in this cesspool's affairs, or fate. You could assist us in erasing this little accident off the map."

Inwardly, Dare felt a chill. They want to detonate the nuke. He took another sip of his drink, directing veiled looks of disgust at the walls around him. "Go on. I'm listening, and very interested."

The approving smile on Burke's face sent a feeling of shame through him, even though he was acting along. "The undetonated atomic bomb for which this town is named is still very much alive. All it needs is a little…" He chuckled darkly. "Motivation."

He patted the briefcase sitting next to his legs. "I have in my possession a Fusion Pulse Charge constructed for a singular purpose-the detonation of that bomb. You'll rig it to the bomb, and then you'll get paid. Handsomely. What do you say?"

Dare finished off his scotch. Whoever wants this done has access to a lot of resources. 'A blight upon a burgeoning urban landscape', so they want Megaton gone for some reason. Financial, maybe? "I would be tinkering with a very dangerous weapon," He reasoned, "And it could draw the wrong kind of attention. If you threw in, say, five hundred caps to the payment, as hazard pay…then, I don't see a reason why I should refuse."

Mister Burke smiled widely, reminding Dare of a satisfied shark. "Well played. An extra five hundred caps, in addition to the base fee, when Megaton lies in ruins. Here's the Fusion Pulse Charge." He slid the briefcase along the floor. "Place it in the bomb. When you're done, meet me at Tenpenny Tower. It's southwest of here, well out of harm's way. You can't miss it. Any questions?"

Dare shook his head. "None at all. Have a nice night, Mister Burke." He stood and left, taking the briefcase with him.

"And to you as well, my dear boy." Burke replied, laughing quietly to himself.

…

Dare stared at the cracked ceiling of the Common House, trying to ignore the lumpy feeling of the Fusion Pulse Charge under his pillow. I could make a lot of money…but can I really sacrifice my morals, and all the people living here for that? I could use the money to track down the slavers…but I'd be damning a town full of people. And for what? Caps?

He turned, switching his gaze to the wall. Sleep would not come easy that night.

…

The sun beat down on his head as he walked towards the building in the distance. Burke was right, he couldn't miss Tenpenny Tower; it was the tallest building for miles around.

I really should get a hat, He grumbled to himself, wiping the sweat away from his forehead.

As he trotted over the dry land, he marked several nearby ruins as places to scavenge later. Arriving at the Tower's base, he found a ghoul in leather armor barking angrily at an intercom.

"Fine! If that's the way you want to play it, you damn smooth-skin, then I hope you're ready for the consequences!" The ghoul shouted, stalking off.

Dare watched him go with a raised eyebrow before approaching the intercom himself and pressing the button.

"What do you want?! I already told you to fuck off, ghoul!" A voice came over loudly.

"Uh, I'm not a ghoul." He replied. "I'm here to see Mister Burke."

"Oh really? And what business do you have Mr. Tenpenny's right-hand man?" The voice asked sarcastically.

Dare sighed, rolling his eyes. "I did a job for him. He told me to meet him here when I was done, and I am." Assface.

"Huh. Burke did tell me to look out for a person. Name."

"Dare."

"Come in. Try anything funny, you die."

He didn't bother to answer, and simply waited for the gate to swing open. Inside he met a man in combat armor, with a rough, no-bullshit face. "You're allowed in the tower, but not your weapons. We're confiscating them, and they'll be returned to you once you leave."

Dare nodded and set his rifle, revolver and knife on the table in front of the man, allowing another guard to quickly frisk him for anything concealed.

Once he was declared clean, he was allowed into the tower.

Despite the years of wear, the inside of Tenpenny Tower was rather opulent, with electricity and clean floors. Every person he saw, who wasn't a security guard, wore clean Pre-War clothes and looked well-washed.

Compared to the Wasteland outside, it was a rather jarring shift.

Dare, in his dark-colored and rough-patched leather armor stuck out like a sore thumb among the clean populace. He blinked in shock when the elevator dinged, and a man in a sweater vest stepped out.

They have a working elevator? He marveled, stepping the small room and hitting the suite button. Just how much damn money is in this place?

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, and Dare nearly stepped back when he came face-to-face with Mister Burke. "Ah, I see you've found your way to wonderful place, my dear boy. Mister Tenpenny is very eager to meet you."

He shivered as he followed the creepy man. They passed through an opulent suite before stepping out onto a balcony that gave a wide view of the Wasteland. In the distance, he could spot Megaton.

Burke withdrew a clean and polished ten millimeter pistol with a silencer attached, setting on a small table next to his hat before he stepped onto the balcony, greeting an elderly gentlemen in a bright-red robe with a clean and obviously cared-for sniper rifle leaning against a cushy chair.

"Mr. Tenpenny, this is the young man I was just telling you about." Burke introduced, gesturing towards Dare.

The old man gave him a wide smile, clapping his hands. "Ah, you must be 'Dare', then! The one who rigged that damn blight on view to disappear! Good, good!"

He nodded to him respectfully. "Yes, sir. The bomb is rigged and ready to detonate."

Tenpenny giggled. "Excellent!"

"Yes, very good!" Burke praised with a cold smile. "The detonator switch is all set. Why don't you do the honors?"

Dare shook his head, deferring to the older man. "I simply placed the charge, sir. You're the one who convinced me and came all the way to Megaton and back. It'd only be right for you to do it."

Burke gave him an appraising look, before smiling. "Why thank you, my dear boy. Don't mind if I do."

He approached a metal briefcase, unlocking the latches and opening it up, revealing a switch and several buttons. "Do you mind if I count down, sir?" He asked Tenpenny.

"Oh, no, go ahead! I can't wait to see this!"

As Burke began to count down from ten, Dare took a few subtle steps back and grasped the object he was looking for.

"3…2…1!" Mister Burke cried, throwing switch.

It clicked, but nothing else.

A mechanical cough sounded from behind him, and Tenpenny gagged. He turned quickly, coming nose-to-nose with the barrel of his own pistol.

Dare pulled the trigger, the ten millimeter bullet piercing through Burke's glasses and his left eye, embedding deep in his brain. The body crumpled limply against the railing, and he turned to look at the gagging Tenpenny.

He had grabbed the silenced pistol as Burke threw the switch and shot the elderly man in the throat.

Tenpenny desperately scrabbled at his neck as the crimson liquid spilled over his fingers.

"You are a sick son of bitch," Dare said, almost casually, kneeling next to the dying man. "Wanting to wipe out a town full of innocent people, just because they were blocking your view? I'm doing the world a favor. And I intend to do more."

He pointed the pistol at the man's head, but hesitated. "You deserve this."

Dare stepped away and watched the old man fall still, and the light fade from his eyes. Once he was sure Tenpenny was dead, he frisked the bodies of both men, finding a few keys and the payment he would've received if he had actually rigged the nuke, and not given the Pulse Charge to Simms.

Dare grabbed the sniper rifle and set it against his shoulder, looking out into the Wasteland through the scope and making slight adjustments, smiling at the familiar weight of the sniper.

His smile fell when he remembered that he couldn't leave with it, not in plain view. Quickly, he looked over the railing and spotted a dead tree near the ground. He stripped the robe off of Tenpenny, wrapping the rifle and the pistol, along with the contents of the ammo box nearby (thirty-five .308 sniper ammo and two grenades) in the robe, before securing it further with Burke's jacket.

He carefully dropped the bundle off the side of Tenpenny Tower, watching as it snagged in the branches of the dead tree.

Dare made to leave, but stopped when he saw the fedora on the table. He paused, thinking. Well, I do need a hat. He reasoned, before snatching the hat and sticking it in his pack.

He made his way out, snagging a few caps and food items. The hard-faced man sneered at him as he took his rifle, revolver and knife back.

Once he set foot outside of the tower, he quickly stepped around the building and pulled the bundle from the tree. He set the silenced pistol in his pouch, slung the sniper rifle on his back and the hat on his head, carrying the hunting rifle in his arms.

Looking up at the balcony, Dare smiled to himself and set off into the Wasteland.

…

…

…

A/N: Been in my mind for awhile now, so I decided to write it up and see what happens. I think it'll be interesting to write, seeing as most of the characters I write about are more frontline combat, and Dare's a sneaky-sneaky sniping type.

I think it'll be fun.

Now, Dare's not the Lone Wanderer, he's an OC. A companion. An Original Companion.

Dare's also not his real name, but I'm holding back on that one. Have to generate interest somehow.

Also, this won't be replacing any of my other projects. I'll write here when the mood strikes, but I can't say the frequency.

I hope you like it, though.

Stay Awesome.

~Soleneus