Memories

As Jazz left the raider camp she had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Much like the feeling she had after her fellow Vault dwellers started killing each other with the survivors abandoning each other to make their own way. She hoped it turned out better but she prepared herself mentally for being left alone again.

She thought back to right after she left the Enclave officer's body she looted. She had no clue which way to go. She had no idea what to do with the rest of her life. She let the wind guide her. The wind led her to a small settlement. There wasn't much there. Most of the people there watched her like a hawk. As night descended she jumped into a pre-war dumpster for shelter. She was awoken in the middle of the night to the sounds of gunfire. She looked out. She saw the settlement being raided. Before she could decide what to do she was grabbed and yanked out of the dumpster by a raider. She grabbed his knife and stabbed him in the throat.

The next thing she knew it was the next morning and the residents were praising her as a hero. The mayor gave her a bag full of bottle caps. "We use those to buy things." She found it beyond strange to use bottle caps as money. The woman in charge of the general store gave her some food for free. Everyone had something for her. For the first time in her life she felt like she knew what she was meant to do. She began taking whatever job she could find to help people, if people couldn’t afford to pay her in caps she took, food, clothes, ammo, whatever they had to offer.

As she remembered her first raid, she remembered a voice it was very distinctive. She thought she heard it back in that raider camp she just left. She stopped and look back, the camp was long out of sight. "Could they be the same raiders?" She started walking to home again. "Nah. It couldn't possibly be them?"
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As they left Father Mudge's town Paloma thought back to her childhood. As a child of no more than six a traveling entertainer arrived in Shady Sands. He used a revolver and could do trick shots. Ever since then, she has been obsessed with revolvers. As soon as her dad thought she was old enough and responsible, he got her a revolver.

She practiced for hours every day with her revolver. She tried to do trick shots but could never figure it out. After she graduated from school, she was tempted to seek out the guy who ignited her love affair with revolvers until she found out he was killed in a small community that was hit by raiders but was saved by a Vault Dweller.
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As the Last Chance Squad walked back to base Marabella thought of her first mission with the Jophiel PMC it was supposed to be what her adoptive father called a milk run. Milk runs in her experience had a fifty-fifty chance of turning into disasters. This one turned into a disaster. The person in charge stepped on a landmine and got his legs blown off. His body parts set off several more mines. The rest of the squad started freaking out, they were all fresh recruits. Marabella took charge and led them to safety out of the minefield. She only lost one soldier who lost his mind and started running wildly into the minefield, he ended up much the same way as his boss, legs blown off and then landing on more. If he hadn't died when he did she would have shot him in the back.

After navigating the mine field. She recommended that every single one of the people in the squad she took over be put back through basic training with a drill sergeant that could either whip them into shape or send them packing.