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Just as I finished looting the corpse, an explosion went off right beside
me and my vision filled with white. Coming to, I realized what had hap-
pened. The car the raider had used as cover had begun to burn when it was
hit by stray shots. It had continued burning as I looted her corpse, and only
exploded just now.
The explosion had crippled my right leg and left arm. I couldn't aim
or move properly like this. I looked through my pack and found a Stimpak
healing device. The chemicals flowed through my veins and healed my
limbs enough to make them usable again. I chugged a Nuka-Cola to shore
up my strength.
As I approached the Super-Duper Mart's front entrance, I noticed
three corpses strung up in front of the store, twisted into grotesque poses.
These weren't just casual murder victims—they were raider trophies on
display. It seemed that the raider in the parking lot wasn't just passing
through. The Super-Duper Mart was a raider base.
I reloaded my pistol and entered the building.
The store was dark inside. Sunlight struggled to penetrate windows
caked with centuries of grime. A few of the fluorescent ceiling lights were
still burning, forming yellow blobs of light in the choking dust. Shopping
carts were scattered randomly over the floor, and the shelves displayed
rows and rows of nothing.
I saw no one from my position at the door, but I knew they must be
there. I crept into the room, using the dark to stay hidden. As I edged up
to a checkout counter, I noticed a lone raider patrolling across the tops of
the aisles, weapon in hand.
I snuck closer, took careful aim, and fired my pistol. The shot skimmed
past the raider's head and thudded into the rear wall of the store. Return
fire erupted from all around as raiders emerged from the woodwork, alert-
ed by my attack. I retreated back to the checkout counter as bullets pinged
around me. I found targets and fired, killing several raiders.
Two attackers approached from the left. One fell quickly to my pistol.
The other aimed a gigantic rifle at me and fired, hitting the counter in
front of me. I threw four rounds at his chest. One of them hit, but he kept
coming, his rifle making great crashing sounds as it tried to tear off my
head.
I retreated behind a pillar, desperate. Looking through my inventory, I
found the assault rifle I stole from the spike-wearing raider in the parking
lot. I readied it and waited. As the rifleman came into view, I put eight
rounds into him in one long burst. He fell with a clipped scream.
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