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What happened to Timebomb.Timebomb was going to take position for the guard Dusty as he was ill. he had borrowed Dusty's gun and placed landmines on the bridge. He was ready when some super mutant's charged through the bridge getting hurt. Some people lived others were captured. After that Timebomb took it upon himself to rescue his friends and kill they're captors. Little did he know they had troops in the HQ everywhere. He went in with a hunting rifle he looted from mutants and it did not end well. He got battered and shot. He got rescued by a few people who masked they're identity with ease. He was left on a medical bed in Red's office as the rescuers did not have medical training. Timebomb was still laying their when he thought if anyone help. He later heard a door open. He had very little perception of what was happening. He heard a female voice and a little walking. He was worried over if she was looting or trying to help. He felt gentle hands touch his forehead and he was knocked out and later awoken by
Creepy"You sure about this?" I asked Cywren as she stared at the large metal door of vault 106. My goggles rested safely on my forehead
"Yea, I'm sure" She said as she walked over to the vault door control panel. She typed in the password that she had learned from scribe Rothchild back at the brotherhood of steel. The giant, gear shaped door began to open. Suddenly, a strange, red mist shot out of the control panel, and into Cywren's face. "AAH!" She yelped, stumbling backwards, and landing on her behind, which started Quasar into a barking frenzy.
"Cywren!" I cried, (Probably more scared than she was)
"I'm fine" She said as I helped her to her feet. "Thanks Time bomb" she said as she brushed herself off. I could feel myself blushing, but luckily, I don't think Cywren noticed. We could hear Copper's giant footsteps echo across the tunnel walls.
"Is everything okay?!" he asked in his loud, gravely voice.
"Yea, were fine" I glared at him.
"Good, I am glad" He turned away. I immediately f
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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