And they robbed the man of his sense of humor, too? Damned monsters. Somehow that was the worst crime. If a man couldn't meet his hardships with some sort of humor, then life was barely worth living. From what he's seen, this guy just autopilots. Moments of sensation like a fucking full stomach being made of gold for him.

As promised, when they reach the tidy little house he passes off his pack to Abner. "First, hold this. Second, keep your ears open. Tell me if the woman's voice is recognizable."

When he reaches the door, the woman who opens it looks depressed. Tired. Her clothes are better than most wastelander clothes, washed to near newness with minimal grime. The little girl sitting at the table in the kitchen far behind her, paying attention to small army men she's playing with (ones she's painted pink and purple at that, so they're pretty) and seeming oblivious to the fact something traumatic had happened.

"You're from the Military Police, aren't you? Come in."

Well, from the initial reaction, she doesn't seem to recognize Abner. She barely pays him a second glance.

"Right," he says. "I'm Lt. Anderson. You were expecting us?"

"Yes, the mayor said you would be coming." And she gestures for them to follow her to the living room.