Fallout: Trail of Tears
By; Ticktickboomshow
08/20/2017
Chapter 1: Stalkers
The rain had forced Hunter and Scarlett to take up shelter for the night in a rundown, faded blue, ranch style house. Most of the roof was intact, except for the back bedroom where a tree had smashed it's way in. Hunter kept first watch while Scarlett slept on the surprisingly well preserved bed. They had been traveling almost a month now, since leaving Seven Clans. During that time of becoming a Marshal, Hunter has been looking for the Postman and taking assignments from various eyebots that approached him. The work wasn't always constant, but the pay was decent, if mostly in Enclave Marks, and knowing he was fixing the world one outlaw at a time; helped too.
He flipped his heavy, brown canvas, winter jacket over the back of a chair, the metal plates inside making loud thuds as they struck the aged wood. It was a solid jacket that had saved his life many a times, and the various stitches and patch work confirmed it. A flash and rumble of thunder brought Hunter around toward the red door, his .44 revolver, Buena, at the ready. After a few seconds, he let out a sigh. "So damn jumpy, still coming down I guess." he thought to himself taking a fresh breath. Though he hadn't looked into the mirror hanging in the bathroom, he knew his cool blue eyes had to be overrun with red streaks from exhaustion and withdrawal.
It had been about a week since his last hit of Med-X, and Hunter was finally starting to feel a little bit better. Running his left hand through his wet dirty blonde hair, he rubbed the back of his neck and plopped down on the black sofa. Scarlett was using his duffel bag as a pillow, so he only had what was on him to keep him preoccupied. The worn and faded yellow stripped wallpaper didn't do much to help in the candle light. There was a fireplace, but he didn't have the resources to keep a fire that large burning through the night. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom was picked through and the kitchen only produced a couple cans of beans during his look through. His attention kept going back to a beat up old radio, case dented in on a couple sides and one of dials missing. Scarlett was the one with the mechanical skills, having spent most of her life in the maintenance bay, back in Vault 45.
"Well, fuck it." He rolled off the couch, picked up the sound box and put it on the dusty coffee table. He figured if it is busted up, that him poking around probably wasn't going to make it any worse; however, his luck held strong and it flickered to life. It was an episode of "The Marshal" one he hadn't heard during their travels:
Give it up Jennings, I'm bringing you in...*a set of gun fire noises went off*...You're out gunned Marshal, why don't you just get, while you can...Have it your way, The Marshal never backs down!...*an attempt to sound like feet running came on, followed by the fake attempts at gunfire. There was a series of thuds that was supposed to be intended as bodies hitting the floor*...Makes four, hope old Red-Eye can manage to carry the weight.*Clapping started after he finished that last line*
The ghoul, Jackpot Hammer, came over the radio, "For those of you who missed yesterday's episode of, 'The Marshal', tune in next time for more thrilling adventures!" He gave a cough and could be heard taking a drink of something. "Alright wasters, lets talk about our favorite topic..." He started to fade into static as the storm picked up its rage against the house. Hunter smacked the radio a couple times, but only broken lines came through the surging static. In frustration he flipped it off, sinking back into the aged sofa.
"They better not be calling me, Red-Eye." A female voice came from behind him, the source leaning in the hallway frame.
Hunter jumped to his feet, but quickly calmed when he noticed it was Scarlett. Her black skin nearly blended her in with the darkness like a charcoal portrait. In the candle light, patches of illumination danced across her youthful complexion, before settling into her brown eyes. It amazed him how well she was able to maintain her hair with the use of scavenged hair oils and a cloth headband. She refused to give up her old blue utility vault jumpsuit, being the only thing that hinted at her origins, but she had at least agreed to upgraded to a dark brown leather jacket around it.
"I don't remember taking down anyone named Jennings either, think they are maybe getting tired of waiting for us to get another contract?" He replied as he cracked open a warm Nuka-Cola and held it out to her. At 30, he figured he had about ten years on her, as he knew better than to ask a woman her true age; and it frustrated her that he treated her as if she was still a child. To him, she was a child forced into a fucked up world of blood, evil and death; enslaved from her vault's expedition party, possibly without them ever knowing what was her fate. Though he believed she was still a child, he did have to give her credit at her resolve; and the improvement she was making at handling herself with each day.
While Hunter lit one of the last candles they had discovered, Scarlett was able to get a hotplate they found earlier working, and was cooking one of the cans of beans they had. Hunter was settling in again on the sofa, thinking of taking a nap after their meal; when he heard some whooping and yelling off in the night. Taking a second to strain his ears, fighting to disinguish sounds of human activity over the down pour of rain. At first there was nothing, but then words were trying to break through the stormy night.
He quietly crept over and peeked out the barricaded window and saw an eyebot bobbing down the road out front. It had been struck hard along the the side, with at least enough force to dent a panel out of place. Exposed wires sparked out the bottom as water penetrated the damaged insulation, causing internal components enough havoc to result in a jerky path.
"Poor eyebot," Scarlett joined him at the window, being so close let a sweet smell enter his nose, "is it Enclave?"
He listened with her for the patriotic music, but the only thing they heard was the message of a sale taking place at a Robco Center nearby. "Doesn't look like it, would probably be best to let it go by and take advantage of the chance for a dry sleep tonight."
It wasn't long before his keen hearing picked up on the whooping shouts of excitement once more out in the rain. The sound of small caliber pistol reinforced the warning bells echoing in his head. A stumbling figure was struggling to outrun a small group of raiders. They kept tossing a bloody wooden bat back and forth between them, taking turns as they tried to get close enough to take another swing at the fleeing bushy mustached man. From the look of them, they didn't belong to any big time raider groups based off their light weapons and armor. Though, based off the wet beaten man in a dark blue jacket with pulled up gray hood, they were dangerous enough to spell his end.
Hunter picked up his .50 cal rifle Vista, his brown canvas jacket and headed for the red dented door that seperated the kitchen from the garage. "I'm just going to make sure the area is clear once more." He lied, unsure if Scarlett had heard the group passing outside. She gave him a disbelieving look as he swung on his jacket, "I promise I won't be long." He gave a wink and stepped out into the leaking garage, pulling the collar up tight as a few drips splattered against his shoulder. The main door had collapsed shut, finally giving into the strain of neglect and age. It was fine with him, since he wanted to keep out of sight anyway, and slid out the back doorway into the raining night.
Trying to use some of the remaining trees along the road as cover, he tailed the raider gang. A few pine trees seemed to have weathered the nuclear war, but others were just wooden relics of what use to be a forest; similar to the various cars that rusted away on the highway. Traveling roughly a hundred yards, the raiders had finally knocked down the fleeing man; using their fists to get in a couple more swings as he quit struggling to get back up. Hunter eyed them up the best he could in the raining night, using the flashes of lightning to paint a clearer, if not brief picture. One was keeping away from the others, standing back to watch over the others, holding a worn handmade .38 pipe rifle; his eyes protected by driving googles, reinforced leather chestplate and various armor pieces covered his dirty long johns. Another dirty tinged male with patches of brown mangy hair, seemed to have improvised a tire to cover his chest and left shoulder, with various thin metal patches connected by buckles to his shins. His weapon of choice seemed to be a black metal crowbar. The third male, black in skin tone had very little armor in comparison, except for a leather bandoleer and gas mask. His cloths consisted of a soaked maroon hoodie, with a faded golden UMD on the chest; his weapon another crowbar. A female seemed to be the leader, her bright green hair magically resisting the down pouring rain and holding its shape outwards away from her head, like hands giving a high five to those on either side. Her chest was covered with what looked like a heavily modified grill ripped from a car, and reinforced with pink tinted leather from some animal. The bat seemed to be her weapon of choice as she brought it down hard on the injured man. Hunter couldn't be sure that they didn't have any other firearms, but he figured they didn't have anything heavy that could pose a real threat.
The raiders laughed and kicked the beaten man as he laid huddled tight in a ball, hail starting to bounce off the asphalt like marbles. The raider with dirt stained skin wielding a crowbar went to swing it down at the balled up man, but the rain made it slip out. As it flew unguided, it struck the only female raider in the shin.
She cursed in pain and brought up the bat across his chest, "Damn it you butterfingers, I'm sick of you always hitting one of us." The others laughed as she brought it across his head, this time sending him to the muddied ground. The impact was loud enough that it could have been mistaken for thunder in the storm.
The lone black skinned raider with the college hoodie stopped laughing, "Okay, boss...I think he's had enough." He was forced a couple steps back to avoid being hit by the bat she swung at him, water striking his gas mask's googles.
"Fuck you say Chad," the winged woman asked grabbing his collar, "do you need a lesson in who is in charge?" She brought the bat up against his head and gave him two light taps, before turning her gaze to the raider holding the rifle, "What do you think, think this scum has had enough?"
Hunter couldn't hear the raider's response, he went to inch forward a little bit but was startled by something behind him. A few beeps and a click caused him to swing around, his own rifle drawn, only to be met by another eyebot.
"Enclave identification tag detected, scanning...identified as Marshal Hunter Tobin, Enclave agent in good standing. Please confirm identification with voice confirmation." The eyebot hovered there waiting for him.
Hunter tried to pull it down into cover, "Get down you metal baseball before they spot you, and put both of us at risk."
"Voice confirmation complete and identity has been verified," the metallic voice said through the speaker, "warning, there seems to be hostiles near by and message cannot be delivered in an unsecured location."
Rolling his eyes, "No shit, lets just wait them out and head back to the house so..."
The eyebot cut him off, "Starting combat operations and engaging hostiles." Patriotic combat music started to play as the fanatic robot hovered off into the night toward the dysfunctional raiders, it's laser taking shots.
"Fuck..." Hunter brought up his own rifle, his hopes dashed of using his revolver, and took a shot at the raider holding the pipe rifle. The large round pierced through the hostile's wrist, and tore into his leather padded chestplate until it settled deep into tissue. Pulling his head over to the side as he ejected the spent casing, he noticed the injured man with a bushy mustache, taking a swing at the leader with the recovered crowbar. The hit found a home across her back, but it only seemed to enrage the leader, and she returned the attack with a blow across his gut sending him into the mud.
The eyebot pressed on its own attack, turning the maroon and gold raider into ash. With the rifle armed raider dealt with, the eyebot managed to get three more shots off; with only one of them striking the female raider, before it was creamed by the baseball bat. It spun off out of control toward the ground, shots going wild in all directions. One of them nearly hit Hunter, which made his own shot go wide of the leader.
"Stupid little bot." He thought while he swung his rifle to his back and pulled out his revolver, the leader assaulting him like a pissed off Yogi. "Crazy bitch," Hunter put two rounds into her chest, "just die already." Much to his displeasure, his words and rounds seemed to have little effect as she swung the bat at his head. On the back peddle he dodged the strike and managed to grab the bat on her swing back. His hand stung from the impact, but he held it firm in his grasp as she tried to yank it free. Not wasting any time he brought up the revolver to her face; however, the raider grabbed the barrel with her teeth and yanked at it. Hunter squeezed the trigger, but she had managed to maneuver it in a way the shot only took out a few teeth and some of her cheek. "Holy shit, you are a crazy bitch!"
Her bloody smile was twisted and not just around the hot barrel. She had let go of the bat and lunged both hands around his throat, knocking him to the ground and clenching down like a vise-grip on an aluminum can to his windpipe. Her head thrashed the revolver around as she tried to squeeze the life out of his throat. Blood and mud splattering him in the face, adding to the rain in obscuring his vision as he tried to fight back. Suddenly, she released her grip on revolver and let out a scream of pain as her body rose up away from his.
Hunter smashed the bat against her head, let it go to wipe the blood from his eyes and finished the crazed raider with the last three shots. He scrambled back away from her and up to his knees. The rain had gone on long enough that he sank in about an inch. Breathing heavy, he snapped the cylinder out and began frantically reload it, only noticing that he wasn't the only one kneeling next to her body.
Franklin, the beaten man from the road, was only a few feet away from him.
"Lucky crowbar," Franklin raised the metal bar and wiggled it, before taking a shot to the shoulder.
Hunter brought up his revolver as another burst of shots echoed in the stormy night, striking the lone raider they had lost track of during the fight. Taking his eyes from the bleeding chest of the dying raider and seeing Scarlett he called out "Hold your fire!" He crawled over to Franklin best he could in the muddy landscape of the ditch. "Let me take a look."
Franklin cried out and resisted Hunter's attempt to remove his hand from his wounded shoulder, which after Hunter succeeded in getting a clear look at it; wasn't all that injured.
Hunter pushed him back toward the ground, "It's only a graze, stop your crying. What the hell are you doing out here in the first place?" He stood up and signaled toward Scarlett that he was fine, then made his way toward the Enclave eyebot. Without waiting for an answer from Franklin, "Think you can fix it?"
Scarlett kept her R91 assault rifle at the ready and kept making glances toward Franklin who was still nursing his injured shoulder, "Are you sure about him?"
Without looking back Hunter grunted a yes and knelt down taking the eyebot in both hands. "Usually they can take a couple hits." Rolling it over, must have done something since it sprung to life once again and hovered up in an unstable pattern. A crackle came from the speaker, but it wasn't audible enough for him to make out. "Umm, I don't understand anything you are trying to say."
A hiss and crackle came through again, as the little bot crashed again toward the ground still beeping and buzzing as it once again got up.
Scarlett took the little hovering bot in her hands, "Listen, your gyros and speaker system are damaged, let me give you a look over and maybe I can repair you alright." It gave an buzz and two clicks, which she took as a refusal, "Fine, run your scan and try your own self repair you stupid little machine." She let go of it, and then started off toward the other eyebot broken open on the ground. The Enclave bot began the unstable flight path again before falling to the ground, this time giving a beep in surrender.
After doing a quick patrol around the house once more, Hunter retreated back inside ready to nurse his bruises and hopefully finally hear the message. Inside he was surprised to see that Franklin was elbow deep inside the broken down eyebot with Scarlett. He was talking that strange science talk that she did as well. "Hey, you know that funky geek stuff too?"
"Well, I mainly just tinkered around on the protectron at the trading post in Laporte, but I always wanted to open up one of these things." Franklin explained with excited curiosity.
"Well whatever, we should be good for tonight." Hunter rested his rifle on the floor and plopped down on the sofa once again, "I'm just going to close my eyes for a second then."
There wasn't many things that could bring Hunter out of a deep sleep, but apparently the sound of a revolver being cocked back was one of them. Luckly, so was the sound of a couple Radmares whining across the street as they were dismounted earlier, and Hunter already had his own revolver drawn from it's holster. When the door between the house and garage burst open, Hunter was on the floor and weapon leveled on the old man.
