Ostil watched the burning buildings and resisted the urge to kill Mutt there and then. You never burn the buildings, that was one of the few rules that Ostil had held to in his twenty three years as a slaver. Good shelter was often hard to come by and no matter how many times the previous inhabitants got snatched someone new would invariably move in. It made his job a hell of a lot easier if he knew where to find easy prey and he needed that more and more now. All the villages and towns near The Cattle Market were building bigger walls or buying bigger guns, so a raid was out of the question for a small crew like his which meant he had to travel out to the arse end of nowhere to find some idiots who thought they lived in a safe world.
But he couldn't let himself get too mad, it was a good raid he had to admit. Over thirty taken with no losses on his side, Cid had taken a shallow cut but that was it. They were good quality to boot, a lot of young ones in them, not a single invalid or fighter among them (though a couple were past their prime), hell a few of them might even be educated judging by the book cases in a couple of the houses and the Guild paid a high price for educated slaves. With this one raid he would easily cover his Guild fees and expenses for the season. Another raid even half as good as this one and he'd be in the clear for the foreseeable future. Or if he wanted the risk he could buy into the raid Skinner Sam was planning with a couple other Guild members on those refugees coming out of the west, if it went well he would be rich enough that he wouldn't need to raid for a couple years.
"Tie them up tight now." Ostil ordered Pup. The short, squat slaver grunted and went about tightening the ropes around the necks of the new captures. "And tell your brother I'll be reducing his cut for that." Ostil gestured towards the burning buildings. Pup grunted and shrugged. "Stupid bastard." Ostil muttered as he walked up and down the line of slaves, gazing into their terrified faces. "Now I imagine you'll all be hating me very much right now and I don't really blame you." He stopped and slammed his cane into the ribs into a burly man who dared to meet his eye.
"But you'll come to learn that I am a merciful and generous man, relative to my peers." He said with a chuckle. "You're all just lucky that it was me who got to you and not one of Steelfoot's sons." He paused and watched their faces for any reaction and was left disappointed when confusion was the only thing he saw. He truly was in the arse end of nowhere for them not to live in fear of Steelfoot and his boys. "Regardless, its simple: Do what you're told, no fighting, no fuss and my boys won't touch you, unspoiled goods sell for more but if you force my hand I'll sell you beaten and bruised to the Deadwater Tribals and let me tell you the way they cook their meals will make whatever I do to you seem like a massage."
"We got all we could out of the buildings, boss." Cammick called as he stumbled towards Ostil, coughing violently. "Some couple hundred caps, some medicine and a couple maps that the Guild might want to buy." Ostil nodded and walked towards Cammick.
"Split the caps equally between everyone and put the medicine in..." He stopped as an old man met his eyes defiantly.
"You won't get away with this." The old man said. "The Wanderer will come for you." Ostil slammed his cane across the old man's face, sending him sprawling to the ground. "He'll give you a single chance, turn that down and all your boys will die screaming." The old man said with a grin. Ostil kicked the man in the stomach and spat on him.
"You shut your fucking mouth and get walking. We're leaving boys!" He ordered and walked to the side as Cammick and Cid began to kick the slaves into action. Who was this "Wanderer" the old man was going on about, he wondered. Some local warlord or deity most likely, hopefully the latter Ostil thought. Deities and spirits were far less likely to show up at The Cattle Market demanding compensation for their lost people, be it in caps or blood.
"Ty!" Ostil called his second-in-command over and watched as the tall slaver limped over. "Set a fast pace." He ordered. "I want to be away from here before someone comes to investigate the smoke." Ty nodded and went about helping the others. Something about the old man nagged at Ostil. He was used to defiance, it was common in the new slaves but it usually came from the fighters and the dumb not from old men missing half their teeth and he didn't have the look of a fanatic who believed some vengeful spirit would protect him. Whoever this 'Wanderer' was Ostil would rather not meet him, not with a small crew like his. He wasn't like Skinner Sam or Steelfoot's Boys, looking for a scrap just for the sake of it. He liked his raids to be quick, quiet and if possible devoid of any shootouts with pissed off locals. They set off at a quick pace, Cid and Hunter leading the way, Mutt and Pup bringing up the rear. In short order they were past the last of the small community's farmland (and the body of the only of their sentries to put up a fight) and back onto the pre-war road they had come in on. It had a few holes and piles of debris here and there but it was a far sight easier than clambering over hills and through rivers.
"You wouldn't mind slowing down for a bit, boss?" Ty asked, coming level. "My leg is killing me." He added. Ostil gave his second-in-command a sympathetic glance, the bullet in his leg made every trip longer but Ostil didn't have the heart to fire Ty, the old slaver had been reliable throughout all his years and saved Ostil's ass on more than a couple of occasions.
"Just a bit longer, Ty. We'll stop for a break then." Ostil told him, eager to leave this area behind him. They continued on for a short while until Ostil noticed Ty's increasingly ragged breath. "Short break boys." He called. "Five minutes." Ty nodded his thanks and sat atop the hood of a ruined car, rubbing his leg.
"You could let us go now and the Wanderer might even let you go home." The old man said as he met Ostil's eye once again. The Slaver sighed and put is hands on his hips as the old man's neighbour tried to shush him.
"You simple or something?" Ostil asked the man. "How many times do I need to tell you to keep your mouth sh..."
"He's right you know." Another slave put in, a young woman who would probably fetch a high price. "The Wanderer's killed people that would make you piss your pants like it was nothing." Ostil tightened his grip on his cane, resisting the urge to crack it across the woman's face.
"You see Hunter over there?" He asked, pointing to the lanky youth who was drinking from his canteen. "He used to run with Skinner Sam and I don't doubt he picked up a few tricks that could make your Wanderer beg for death." Ostil decided not to mention the fact that Hunter left Skinner's crew out of disgust at the man's ever growing sadism. "Next time any of you speak up I'll have him start on grandpa over there." He gestured at the old man. The whole group settled for glaring at him, which suited Ostil fine. When the time was up they set off again but went for less than ten minutes before Cid held up a hand and the small column came to a halt.
"What is it?" Ostil asked. Cid pointed down the road.
"Someone in the distance." He shouted back. Ostil frowned and screwed his eyes, barely making out the shape of a human in the middle of the road.
"They moving?" He asked. Cid shrugged.
"Can't tell, don't look much like it though." Ostil considered it for a moment then waved them on, it wasn't like he could have hoped to have to road to himself for the entire journey. They drew closer and Ostil could make out the man in more detail. He stood alone by the looks of things, milling in the middle of the road. He carried no weapons that Ostil could see, though he wore a heavy coat that could easily concealed one. A blanket was spread out beside the road, a backpack, rifle and two canteens placed on it. Ostil let his hand rest on his pistol as they came close to the man and everyone else began to finger their weapons nervously.
"Been waiting for someone to come along." the man called with a smile. It was an easy, warm smile but one that did not reach his eyes.
"You a trader?" Ostil asked, eyeing his surroundings. He could see no-one else but the ground rose up on his left and there was more than enough concealment in the form of bushes and dead trees on it.
"Of sorts." The man held his palms open to show he was hiding nothing. He might have been called handsome once but his face was scarred and weather-beaten now though there was still a certain sharpness to his features. "I offer an exchange." He said as the small convoy came to a halt before him, the slavers fanning out.
"What is it?" Ostil asked him.
"Their lives." The man said gesturing to the row of slaves, all of whom stared at the ground in silence.
"And in exchange?" Cammick said before Ostil had the chance.
"Yours." Silence fell on the group as all the slavers looked at the man as if he was mad. "I'd also be grateful if you would lay all your weapons down on that blanket there." Ostil gave a long, forced laugh.
"You got balls I'll give you that. You alone?" He pulled back the hammer on his pistol.
"I'm never alone." The man's hands were still open.
"You a godly man?" Ostil asked with a snort. His men were worried now but none raised their weapons without orders, he had trained them good that way. Caused a few less unnecessary bloodbaths.
"I've been called a god by a few." The man said and Ostil laughed genuinely this time, slapping his knee and turning to Ty.
"Whats the name of that fat man who lives in that mansion on the hill past Russo's? Uses the Deadwater Tribals as muscle." Ty considered it for a moment.
"The one that holds the Yao Gaui fights? Blackjack Polter." He said.
"That's the one, wasn't he always paying well for crazies? Well bag this one boys cause we've got a live one." Ostil said with a chuckle. "Tie him up." He snapped at Cid and Hunter who glanced at him uncertainly. Cid pulled a rope from his belt with his left hand while his right rested on his pistol and the pair approached the man nervously from either side.
"No sudden movements now." Cid warned. "Or i'll put a bullet through your heart faster than you can blink." The man gave Cid a smile, maybe he truly is crazy the slaver thought.
"Drop!" The man roared suddenly, his hand shooting into the inside of his jacket and the slaves all threw themselves to the ground. He drew a short double barreled shotgun out but Cid drew faster. In a heartbeat the pistol was leveled and the trigger pulled. The gun boomed and bullet came thundering out, tearing through the man's jacket and spinning away as it hit the black armour underneath. The man's reply came a half second later and sent Cid crashing to the ground his chest bleeding in a dozen places. The man twisted and dropped to one knee, Hunter's shot sailing over his head. He pulled the trigger again and Hunter's head snapped back, his face a bloody ruin.
"Shit!" Ostil shouted, drawing his own pistol as the man dropped his shotgun and ripped open his jacket to unveil the black power armour chest plate beneath and the sub machine gun hanging from his shoulder. He gripped it and began to raise it as Cammick sighted his own rifle. There was another boom and the side of Cammick's skull exploded outwards. The big slaver pitched forwards as the man opened fire, putting a dozen bullets into the torso of Ty, who was still struggling to get his own sub machine gun free from its holster. Ostil fired four times, missing twice and hitting armour on the others. He tried to remain calm and aim a shot at the man's unprotected head. One moment he was about to pull the trigger and put an end to it and the next his pistol was tumbling to the ground as a bullet tore through his wrist. He dropped to his knees with a suppressed cry, clutching at his arm when he heard a blood curdling cry. He twisted around and saw Mutt writhing on the ground, screaming as he held his hands to his face. Pup lay next to him, a single burn mark in the centre of his head. A laser slashed down from the slope and put an end to Mutt's screaming.
Ostil turned back around to see the man standing over him, sub machine gun leveled at the slaver's skull.
"You the Wanderer?" He asked when no bullet came. He still clutched at his bloody wrist, trying his best to stop the blood flow.
"Some call me that." The man said. There was a rustling to the left and Ostil watched as two men emerged from the bushes and made their way down the slope. One had a laser rifle slung across his back and the second still held his sniper rifle in his hands.
"Nice shot." The one with the laser rifle said as they made their way down. The second man shrugged.
"If I ever miss at this range put me out of my misery there and then." He said with a boyish smile that betrayed his real age. He looked to be sixteen at best, a fucking child by Ostil's reckoning. He almost had his hand blown off by a fucking child.
"Jason, cover him." The Wanderer gestured at Ostil. "Hoyt, free them." he pointed at the slaves and with that he walked away, pulling a flare gun from the inside of his jacket and firing it into the sky. Jason, the boy sniper slung his rifle over his shoulder and opted to go with his pistol instead, aiming it at Ostil's chest.
"Can I have some medicine?" The slaver asked, ignoring the insults and spitting of the newly freed slaves, who under Hoyt's orders did not murder him on the spot.
"Suppose you should." Jason said. "Can't have you dying on us. There's always got to be one to take the message back." He added but made no moves to fetch any.
"Not supposed to be the leader though." Hoyt said. "Boss says they'll just get more guys and come back, needs to be some little rookie."
"Well its not my fault he's the only one we got, you killed the wounded guy." Jason snapped back, obviously feeling like he was being blamed.
"Not my fault either." Hoyt said lamely "Stupid fuck tried to push the other guy out of the way, the laser grazed his eye. I had to put him down - Can't expect a blind man to make it back."
"But he still had the other eye." Jason pointed out, earning a blank stare from Hoyt for a few seconds.
"Shit." He muttered. "I didn't think of that." Jason threw back his head and laughed. Ostil began to feel lightheaded.
"Medicine, please." He begged weakly. "If you ain't got a stimpak just give me a bandage or some painkillers at least." Jason at least had the grace to pretend to look concerned unlike his companion.
"Boss!" He called to the Wanderer who was in conversation with the freed slaves offering them lodging at the nearest Regulator station until a new home could be found for them. "He might kick the bucket unless we give him a stimpak."
"So?" The Wanderer asked as he walked over.
"What about the message?" Hoyt asked.
"Fuck the message, we don't waste medicine on scum like him. Seven missing guys might serve as message enough." The Wanderer said.
"Holder says we should always send a message plus he could still be of some use." Jason put in. The Wanderer considered it for a moment and squatted in front of the slaver.
"You ever heard of the Wanderer or the Regulators?" He asked. Ostil shook his head.
"Not until today." he admitted, wishing he'd found some local guide before the raid.
"Where are you from?" The Wanderer demanded his brown eyes locking onto Ostil's.
"The Cattle Market, slaver settlement maybe a week and a half away to the west if you know where you're going." Mostly true, Ostil thought, this man had no wish to hear about his farm and its nearby town that lived under The Cattle Market's protection.
"Anyone going to try and avenge your boys?" Ostil's first instinct was to lie, to say it was water under the bridge, live and let live and all that but he felt that with a man like this that probably would get him a bullet to the face rather than medicine.
"Half the guild hate each others' guts but they don't take too kindly to someone killing one of them." The Wanderer nodded, considering it.
"Last thing. The name Boyd mean anything to you?"
"Nope." Ostil answered weakly. "Can I get some medicine now?"
"I got everything I need. You want to send a message or not I don't care just get it over with quickly." With that the Wanderer turned away. He went to the freed slaves, who were now stripping the dead of their possessions, stopping only to spit some bloody phlegm onto the ground.
"You okay, boss?" Hoyt asked, stepping towards him, offering his canteen.
"I'm fine, no point worrying yourself." The Wanderer waved him away. Hoyt rejoined Jason and gave Ostil a contemplative glance.
"Toss a cap for it?" Hoyt suggested to his partner. Jason pulled one from his pocket and flicked it into the air, catching it without taking his eye off Ostil. He took a glance at it.
"Sorry." He said and before Ostil could even follow what was happening there was a bullet in his skull.
Jonno Boyd scrapped the mud off his boot and wondered if killing potential employers was some kind of faux pas in the mercenary business. It wouldn't help his reputation at least and that was everything to a mercenary, or so he'd been told.
"Please don't." Gib gestured to his shoes. "You'll muddy the carpet." Jonno sighed and met Gib's eyes with a glare.
"I'll do worse than that if you don't get to explaining." Jonno promised, resting a hand on the machete that hung from his belt. Gib sighed and placed a tray of coffees on the table.
"As a said before I can't pay you much now." Jonno picked up two cups, passing one to Pope, who to Gib looked closer to being shaved Yao gaui than a man in size if not temperament . "But you'll get all when the job is done." Pope took a protracted sip from his coffee and lay the cup down.
"Its half now, half when the jobs done. Those are the rules, always have been." He said. Gib's eyes darted between the two of them, wondering if this was what passed for good cop bad cop in the wasteland.
"I don't have enough for half now, I can get together a fifth at best but there's more than enough to cover your fees and expenses in the vault." Jonno's eyes narrowed.
"Why the fuck do we need you then if we can just hit him by ourselves and come away with more?" He asked the older man.
"The same reason Cress and his guys are still there, only I know the way into the vault." Gib said with a smile, one that disappeared when Jonno half drew his machete.
"And what's to stop us from making you spill the beans?" He asked. Gib stopped mid sip and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I assumed you to be of greater moral character than that." Jonno's face screwed up and his knuckles went white around the machete's handle. He knew why the older man had assumed and it made him what to ram the machete into Gib's face all the more.
"We'll take the job." He said, relenting and sliding the machete back into its sheath. "Due to the lack of advance the fee goes from three thousand caps to thirty six hundred, that suit you?"
"Perfectly." Gib said, relaxing. "We need to do it soon though." he added as Jonno downed his coffee.
"Why?" Pope asked.
"Cress is an impatient man with a fondness for explosives, it's only a matter of time before he tries to blow his way into the vault and when he does it'll set off the TNT and all the ammo we were storing in there and tear the entire building apart." Gib said, mimicking the blast with his hands, sending some coffee sloshing over the rim and onto his precious carpet.
"Sounds fun." Jonno said as he stood up and put his cup back on the tray. "I'll leave Pope to work out the precise details but if you could sketch out a map of the building I'd be grateful." he added as he made his way to the door. Gib assured Jonno that he would and set about fetching a pen and paper as Jonno opened the door and left the small shack that passed for a home. Outside four men and women lounged in the shade, enjoying the protection the canopy gave them from the midday sun. Tomlin and Beth played a game of blackjack closest to the door, a small pile of caps heaped on a water barrel. Milky lay on his back, his cap pulled down over his face with the sound of some tune being hummed that Jonno didn't recognise coming from underneath.
Caroline sat apart from the others, her sniper rifle in pieces on the trestle table before her as she cleaned it in a manner that bordering on ritualistic now. Only when every single part was found to be spotless and free of fault would the rifle be pieced back together again and then stripped down once more for a final once over.
"So we taking it?" Tomlin asked without looking away from his game.
"Yep." Jonno said, sitting down next to him. "Five hundred a piece for you lot." Tomlin smiled at that and lay down his cards triumphantly. Beth swore and threw hers down.
"And how much for you and Pope?" He asked, taking his winnings and dropping them into his pouch.
"Eight hundred." Jonno answered. "Perks of leadership." he added with a smile. Beth was muttering numbers to herself.
"Thirty... thirty six hundred." She said after a few seconds, eliciting a sagely nod from Tomlin as he tried to give the impression that he had any idea whether the number was right or not. "So why are we taking on Cress for thirty six hundred when you turned down that escort job for four thousand last week?" Beth asked.
"Cause the escorting would be boring as shit." Jonno said, scrapping the last of the mud from his boots. "Plus I heard that Richter used to run with Cress." Milky's humming stopped and Caroline paused halfway through reattaching the scope.
"How long ago?" Milky asked, pulling up his cap.
"Left a couple months ago, Cress might know where he went." Jonno replied. Caroline finished with the scope and lay down the gun.
"So when do we hit them?" She asked.
"Soon as everyone's ready." Jonno said. Tomlin sighed and leaned back.
"Can we at least know a bit before we go charging in there?" He asked. "Like how many are there?"
"Fifteen as far as we know." Jonno shrugged. "Gib says Cress' got a few Deadwater Tribals running supplies for him though, so they could be there as well." Tomlin sighed again.
"Shit. Well no matter, most raiders are strung out junkies - its discipline and tactics that take it, not numbers." He said, trying to reassure himself.
"Most of these guys are ex-Talon Company." Jonno told him, earning a chuckle from Milky.
"You got to be fucking kidding me." Tomlin shook his head. "Ah fuck it, its not like I had anything planned for the rest of my life." Pope stepped outside, stuffing Gib's map into his breast pocket. Gib stood behind him, looking like a nervous child compared to the giant mercenary. Pope picked up his shotgun from where it leaned against the shack, pulling off the drum magazine and looking inside. He slammed it back in and turned to the group with a grin on his face.
"Lets go kill some bad guys."
Thanks for reading, please leave a review if you enjoyed it, or if you didn't still leave one. It's always good to have feedback.
Plus the usual stuff about how I don't own Fallout and all that.