Cory Hammond sprinted across the open plains of the Capital Wasteland, hunting rifle in hand. The raider he was chasing had seemed to get what he wanted, until Cory had turned around and pulled the grenade out of his pocket, and hunted him down. It was turning to dark, a bad sign, thought Cory, and the raider seemed to be nowhere in sight. Bogged down with rage and self-annoyance, Cory slowed to a light jog and ran towards a small settlement, in the middle of nowhere, named Delton. It was a small town, but Cory liked the way nobody asked too many questions and whatever you were looking for, the famed Delton Black Market always had it. He had bought a room there above an inn, the Delton Arms, where he liked to stay if his services weren't required.

He stopped to catch some breath, however he knew that soon the feral's would be out looking for something to eat and he didn't fancy being the Special of the Day. He noticed something glinting in the sunset. A helmet? Hell, yes it was! Cory slowly reached to grab his hunting rifle. Hopefully, the raider didn't have a scoped weapon. Cory expertly swivelled around and raised his sights to where the target was. Nothing. He brought down the iron sights and had a good look around. Nothing. He was about to turn around, whenever the thought hit him. The raider had taken his helmet off! Cory cursed himself for making such a simple mistake, but it was too late. The raider fired a round, which hit Cory straight in the thigh. A yelp of great pain came from his mouth, as he fell to the ground, clutching his rifle for dear life. He could imagine the raider, grinning as his prey was left there with no hope of surviving him, or he impending doom of the nocturnal animals. 

With no hope left, he tried to roll himself under the rock, but the pressure on his thigh was terrible. He was just a sitting duck, waiting to be picked off. A though then hit him, like a truck hits a cat running across the road. The raider would've shot by now, which meant that he was coming to gloat and most likely put a bullet in his head. Cory grimaced, and put his hand inside his jacket. His 10mm submachine gun was there. It would soon be needed. As he wrapped his sweaty and dirty hand around the handle, the raider was already in front of him.
"Have fun?" gloated the raider, deliberately strafing him, to try and cause Cory more discomfort. 
"[censored] off." replied Cory.
The raider took a step back, and drew a 10mm Pistol. Cory smiled to himself, and quickly pulled out his submachine gun and let over 10 rounds fire into the raiders face, in less than two seconds. 
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