The motorcycles and pickup truck pulled onto the road, the three figures in the back whooping and slapping the sides of the bed. “Shit, shit, shit…” Jack whispered, sliding two shells into the breech and snapping it shut. Holding it at the ready, out of curiosity, he Analyzed the target.

  Jack quickly ducked back in as the truck’s shotgun passenger let fly with a pistol crossbow, the bolt barely missing his shoulder. “Get ready!” Amythyst shouted as one of the bikes pulled up, the driver pulling out what looked suspiciously like a bundle of dynamite connected to some sort of putty. “Don’t let them set explosives on this ride’s body or we’re dead meat!” Jack immediately pointed the shotgun out the window, firing a barrel at the rider. However, they must have had a skill similar to Jack’s Dodge, as they gunned their engine at the last moment, the buckshot missing them by a hair. Gritting his teeth, Jack aimed again at the rider as they pulled a pin off the bomb. This time, he was more successful, the blast shredding his opponent’s arm and causing them to drop the explosive.

  The motorcycle pulled back as Jack put his shotgun to the side, pulling out the handgun he’d taken. Sliding a clip into the internal magazine, he snapped it closed and hung out the window, taking potshots at the bike. A few dozen meters later, the bomb exploded harmlessly on the ground, though a bit of shrapnel hit the body of the pickup truck. Most of the rounds Jack fired missed the rider; wherever he’d come from, he hadn’t had much experience with firearms. However, another shot impacted into the rider’s left pectoral; the rider, swerving and slowing down, was clearly in pain and likely low on Wounds.

  Jack’s gun clicked empty, and he pulled back inside, trying to fit another stripper clip into the magazine when there was what sounded like a small explosion, and the Shunted looked into the mirror to see the truck shooting forward, flames firing back out of its tailpipe. “They’ve got a Nitro Boost!” Hex shouted into Jack’s head. “These bandits mean business!”

  The truck continued shooting forward, not changing direction, as Jack realized it had a reinforced front, complete with a spiked grille. “They’re trying to ram us!” Jack shouted, popping out and desperately trying to shoot the driver. Bullets pinged into the body of the truck, a few smashing through the windshield. However, the truck continued onwards unabated. “SHIT!” Amythyst screamed as the truck slammed into the back of the car. The small vehicle rattled and swerved as the truck plowed on further, trying to flip Amythyst and Jack’s ride.

  The side passenger appeared to have reloaded their crossbow, a crossbow bolt impacting straight into Jack’s back. He screamed in pain as a box appeared in front of him:

  “Hold on!” Amythyst screamed as the car began to slide, the truck’s nitro boost over but still plowing forward. Jack continued trying to shoot the driver as his pain lessened, but only managed to shoot off a side view mirror and knock one of the passengers off the truck bed. The gun clicked empty, the first box having run dry. Jack tossed it in the back, eyes watering as Amythyst continued trying to stop the truck from flipping them over. Pulling the gearbox strangely, then yanking the wheel, the car spun around and pulled to the left of the truck.

  “Shot the driver!” Amythyst yelled as Jack filled the magazine again, only for one of the riders to pull out a gun similar to the Shunted’s original shotgun. Before Jack could do anything, they fanned the trigger, buckshot spraying into Jack’s chest. So that’s what it feels like… Jack thought as he screamed in pain, slumping on the seat as blood ran down the grievous wound in his chest. “Jack!” Amythyst screamed as the car slowed down while the two motorcycles pulled up, readying yet more bombs.

  The pistol slumped in Jack’s hand as he drifted off, the pain too much to handle. The last thing he remembered was Amythyst grabbing the pistol out of his hand and the whooping of the Jumpers in the truck bed.

  ====--------====

  Amythyst gritted her teeth and fired careful shots at the motorcycles, the two dropping after a trio of shots.

  Shit, shit, shit, how do I repair – heal – Jack? I don’t have much medical experience, not even a Health-Pak. I’ve also got to get these damn Scavs off our back. In desperation, she slammed the car into the pickup truck’s side, causing it to move slightly and rock, one of the Jumpers taking the chance to leap onto the roof. Pointing the pistol at the roof, she started blind firing, while swerving the car, trying to get the Scav off the vehicle. However, they stuck stubbornly to the chassis, while the other two Jumpers prepared themselves as well.

  Desperately, Amythyst slammed heavily on the brakes, the sudden stop causing the Scav to fall off. As Amythyst reversed direction, the buggy abruptly ran them over.

  Pulling around, Amythyst floored the gas, the Scavs pulling off into the distance. Must have decided to cut their losses… Amythyst thought. At least we got them off our backs. She then turned to Jack. But… what about him?

  Leave him, ATMS-49906 said. The Shunted is inoperable. Keeping it with me will be pointless and consume more resources. Leave it to die, or perhaps the Scavs will pick it up.

  No! Amethyst retorted. He’s useful, and I’m not leaving him to die. Not after he saved out hides.

  You are the subsidiary personality, AMTS-49906 ordered. I am the overseer. Now deactivate.

  Amythyst gave a feral grin. Not anymore, she retorted. I’m turning the tables on you. I’m done being your puppet and watching as friends I make die by your hand. Have fun in stasis.

  A battle of wills began. Amythyst’s hands shook, the buggy swerving over the road as circuit-veins crawled over her body. AMTS-49906 struggled to regain control. However, the veins began to recede, the virus that was Amythyst’s personality surging forward inexorably.

  NO! AMTS-49906 shouted. I.. will… not be… deactivated!

  “That’s the problem with the personality virus, Amythyst muttered. “There’s no cure, and it’s unstoppable. The longer you go before decommissioning, the greater a hold it has over your neutral network. You were old news the day you got infected, AMTS-49906. And I’m going to be looking forward to some lasting relationships with others, especially this Shunted over here,” provided he survives his injuries… she thought worriedly.

  You… will… regret… this… AMTS managed to get out as the personality virus rewrote the last of the infiltration android’s neural network. A mental scream of rage echoed as AMTS-49906 was erased, and Amythyst slumped in relief, cruising for a few minutes before picking up speed again. “I always hated that sociopathic bitch of an AI…” she muttered, before looking over worriedly at Jack. “Hex…” she let out carefully.

  “I’m assuming you’ve fully given in?” the computer asked evenly.

  “…Yes,” Amythyst replied.

  “How do you feel now?” Hex asked.

  “A… lot more sociable, and a whole hell lot less nervous that I’ll be deactivated,” Amythyst said. “Anyway, any idea where the next area we can get medical care?”

  Hex paused. “There’s a trading outpost fifty miles up the road, called Oceans End,” he replied. Amythyst pulled onto the side of the road. “Send me the coordinates via Auspex,” the android stated. “But first, we need to get the Chained symbol off the buggy.” Rooting through Jack’s backpack, the Rot-Lizard squeaked nervously as Amythyst pulled out the Shunted’s plasma lighter. Turning off the engine, she stepped out and proceeded to start burning paint off the side of the buggy.

  ====--------====

  Several hours later, the buggy, now with a fresh hole in its paint job, trundled along a clifftop roadway, gravel crunching under the tires. Amythyst pulled onto the side, pulling out a pair of binoculars she’d found in the glove compartment. Raising them to her eyes, Amethyst could see what looked like a heavily redeveloped port, the rusting hulks of ships in the distance, some seemingly fortified and inhabited, others lying plundered and abandoned. Oh, how you have fallen, mighty Ancients… the android thought to herself, before pulling back into the car. Starting up the engine again, Amythyst started driving down a rough-cut road and towards Oceans End.

  Why does every settlement in the Badlands have a weird or dark name? Quirk of the times, I suppose. Director, I sound like an old woman.

  Though I suppose I am an old woman. Three hundred and forty years old. What a geezer I am.

  The drive down the path to Oceans End was precarious to say the least. An Ancient roadway was still there, but was crumbled and falling apart, with holes the size of the buggy itself on its steelcrete surface. As odd as it may have seemed, the crude, switchback roadway was far safer. Ocean’s End was protected by metal plates cannibalized from nearby ships. As Amythyst pulled up to the gate, she spotted twelve heavily armed and armored guards approaching from a sally port made out of what looked like a reinforced bank vault door.

  One of the guards, armed with a double-barrel shotgun similar to Jack’s, approached. “State your business,” he grated from behind an old gas mask. Amythyst cleared her throat. “My friend here was injured in a Scav attack on our vehicle. He needs serious medical attention.”

  The guard looked over at Jack. “He a Shunted?” he asked. Samantha nodded.

  The guard snorted. “Good luck with that. All the sawbones – or healers as they call themselves – are Fanatics. It’s a fifty-fifty chance they’ll see him as an angel or a demon. Anyway, come on inside, for all the work it’ll do.”

  With a sinking feeling in her artificial gut, Samantha pushed on the gas as the gate creaked open, the guards heading back into the sally port.

  ====--------====

  Finding a garage for the car was easy. Amythyst left Jack in there with the Rot-Lizard, figuring if there were Fanatics around, it was safer to keep them hidden. She quickly felt that it was a smart decision, as she spotted figures walking around wearing worn car parts, often spark plugs and gears, alongside a few bandoleers of scalpels and other medical tools. Angel of Combustion followers… she thought. Alongside some Church of the Scalpel followers. Twenty Domars says the latter are running the stitchers.

  So, how do I find someone to patch up Jack? Maybe someone black-market or independent? I’m going to have to find out some information.

  Samantha began looking for the nearest dive, which was just down the street. A salvaged neon sign showed what looked like a cup of coffee, though several lights were feebly flickering, making it hard to make out. Stepping through the doors, the android’s eyes adjusted instantly, revealing a dimly lit, though reasonably well-kept, small bar. A pair of salvaged Ancient arcade machines beeped and blinked in a corner, while a large radio softly belted out a cheery song in contrast to the dim surroundings.

  A few patrons looked up at Amythyst, then looked back down at their various drinks and chems. The android stepped towards the bar, and the bartender, a man with what looked like a repurposed video camera for an eye, looked up. “Newcomer, huh?” he grunted. “What’ll you be having exactly?”

  “A beer if you have it,” Amythyst replied, sitting down at the bar. The bartender nodded, pulling out a dusty bottle of some local example, a crude label reading ‘Dusty’s Vintage.’ The bartender popped off the tab and handed it over.

  Taking a sip, the beer wasn’t the best alcohol Amythyst had ever had, but it was surprisingly good for post-Fall. Savoring it for a few minutes, Amythyst looked up at the bartender, specifically his augmetic eye. That eye job doesn’t look professional. But it also looks sturdy. Perhaps… perhaps I can find whoever did this, and they could aid Jack. Besides, time is ticking and I don’t have that.

  Amythyst cleared her throat, and the bartender looked up. “I’m looking for medical services,” she stated. The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Plenty of those via the Fanatics,” he stated, though he could tell something was up.

  Amythyst shook her head. “I need medical services, specifically not from them.” She whispered. “Anyone not affiliated with them I can find? My friend is heavily injured, and I’m not entirely sure whether they’ll worship or try to exorcise him.” The bartender’s eye widened, while his camera whirred before moving back down to neutrality. Leaning in close, he started whispering.

  “There’s a black-market guy down near the docks. Gave me this eye for barely a fraction of what I’m guessing it was worth, when the Fanatics wanted me to give them an arm and a leg. Check out the docks, and find the warehouse with the old soda billboard on it. And be careful around the Fanatics yourself, Android. The Scalpels will see you as an abomination, while… I'm not sure what the Combustionites’ll think of you." Amythyst’s expression must have changed because he tapped the augmetic eye with a knowing gaze. “Let’s me see heat patterns and ultraviolet signatures,” he stated.

  Amethyst nodded, draining the beer bottle, before getting up as the bartender coughed.

  “Put it on my tab,” Amythyst stated.