Lucy squinted through her binoculars, adjusting the focus as something caught her eye—a splash of vivid color against the endless brown and gray of the wasteland. "That can't be right," she muttered, lowering the binoculars to wipe the lenses on her Vault jumpsuit before looking again. "Is that... pink?"

She'd seen plenty of strange things since leaving Vault 33—mutated creatures, settlements built from pre-war ruins, people surviving in ways the Vault manuals never prepared her for. But pink? That particular color had no tactical advantage in the wasteland. If anything, it was a beacon announcing "Here I am, please shoot me!"

Lucy hesitated, weighing the risk against her curiosity. The Vault survival manual was clear about investigating unknown variables: approach with caution, maintain distance, assess threat level. But it said nothing about bright pink anomalies. As she approached, the pink blob resolved into a human figure—a woman perched on a rocky outcropping, seemingly repairing something. Her outfit was a patchwork masterpiece of salvaged pink fabric. Lucy stopped in her tracks, momentarily forgetting all her wasteland caution protocols. The stranger looked up, tensing at Lucy's approach, one hand moving to a weapon at her hip. "That's close enough," the pink-clad woman called out, her voice carrying a weariness that belied her colorful appearance.