Delilah winced as a bullet blew through the corner of the wall she leaned against, spraying dust across the rack in front of her. In a crouched position, she leaned around the corner and fired three rounds at random with a captured shotgun, roaring as she did, "Ah, come on you yella-bellied scum-suckers! Not one of you's got the guts ta take me!" She ducked her arms back down as another hail of rounds hit all around the door, and the raiders outside threw vile insults back. She spat out brick dust and stared at the ceiling of the run-down gas station entrance. "If you're up there, God, now would be an excellent time to intercede."<br/><br/>The station was one of those Santa Fe style affairs, though 'Lilah had no idea that's what it was called. The adobe building had survived the War relatively unscathed, as it was well away from pre-War cities. The bullets spanging off of the walls were not helping, though, and age had cracked what nuclear fallout had not, so her shelter was only temporary at best. Already some of the rounds were making their way through, though with little energy to spare. The beleaguered woman glanced around at what had shortly before been her triumphant and swift victory.<br/><br/>Five dead raiders were propped sitting against the far wall, ammo and guns stripped off of them earlier as she had cleaned up. Behind the useless-as-cover counter were two settlers' mutilated bodies. She was going to bury them as she had planned, assuming she made it out of this alive. Between the counter and the door were three racks, forming two aisles that the former employees could look down to see people coming in. She had already looted what little was left of the foodstuffs and tools, and the particle board sheets that formed those were as useless as the glass counter for stopping bullets, not to mention them framing her for more than ten feet for the men outside. Next to her was an empty assault rifle, two pump-action shotguns, and a pile of shells and loose 9mm rounds. Sighing, she reached into her satchel and pulled out her lone frag grenade.<br/><br/>She estimated at least five outside, maybe as many as eight, hiding behind the gas pumps and concrete islands that formed two rows of very effective cover from her. At least some enterprising soul had boarded up the windows, fat lot of good though it was doing her now. She peeked around the corner of the doorway and gauged her throw, then ducked back as the next round of pot shots hit the wall. One round grazed her cheek and she cursed her stupidity.<br/><br/>The mayor who had hired her said there were only four of the bastards, though the weaklings who made up the settlement seemed rather more interested in paying the raiders off than fighting, despite having three-to-one odds. She should have expected them to lie, and she should have watched the place for the day, as was her usual habit, but it had seemed an easy job and she had become lax in her hunting as of late. She had just finished stripping the bodies and was going outside to breath air free of cordite smoke when the rest of the gang had ambled back up to their hideout. She had killed two in the ensuing confusion before they had gathered their wits and cornered her.<br/><br/>She gripped the slide of her pistol with her teeth and cocked it, the gripped it in her main hand. One last breath, and then she blindly threw the grenade, aiming for the centre of the pumps. There was the clink of it hitting the ground and the sound of it bouncing and rolling, followed by shouts of alarm. She grinned and stepped out and up, pistol in a marksman's grip, and began firing on the enemy.