Chapter 1: Danse Macabre
A storm of bullets rained about Preston Garvey as he cranked his Laser Musket to full charge, kneeling for cover on the balcony at the Museum of Freedom in Concorde. He could hear Sturges yelling obscenities from inside the dilapidated building. Pushing desks and shelves over to block the entryways as raiders shot 38. rounds through the walls, trying to score hits on the harried refuges.
Standing up to his full height, legs shoulder width apart and musket to shoulder Preston fired a single aimed shot, minuteman style, at a bumbling raider who had been firing his auto pistol with no trigger discipline at all, now hastily trying to reload. A sizzling thunderclap and a rough laser blast penetrated the tribal bandit. He didn't even have time to scream as he dissolved into dust. More gunshots and Preston ducked back into cover. Only this time no hail storm of bullets. Surprised, Preston peeked over the railings and saw a man and his dog had occupied the raiders attention.
The scene reminded Peston of old Silver Shroud comics as the mystery man wearing a blue jumpsuit and a brown duster dashed from derelict car to an alley way, avoiding gunfire as he drew a pair of melee weapon from the inside of his jacket, a makeshift stun rod and a tire iron fashioned into a hatchet. One of the raiders rushed the alley eager for the kill only to get jolted by a back handed Stun Rod swipe, and finished off by an over hand hatchet slash which ripped the man from shoulder to hip. Grabbing the dying raiders harness to hold him up as they stood at the entrance of the alley with his left hand, the stranger snatched the raiders auto pistol with his right and fired 3 round bursts over his shoulder. Unable to process the sudden reversal, Preston stood slack jawed as the man in the blue jumpsuit systematically destroyed the few remaining raiders.
Just as he was about to voice his appreciation to the stranger for his aide, Preston heard the door splinter and explode behind him as raiders broke through their flimsy barricade. Panicked Garvey turned towards the stranger looking up at him from the street.
Preston: Pick up that laser musket and help us. Please!
Preston spun on his heel and disappeared back into the museum, gunfire and thunderclaps trading back and forth told the tale of what went on inside.
The stranger stared at the doorway for a moment, then turned his back on the Museum of Freedom and made to return the way he came. But a big dog impeded his path.
The Stranger: This isn't any of my business. I only fought those freaks because they attacked me first.
The dog tilted it's head to the side questioningly.
The Stranger: No. These guys are on their own. Not. Happening.
The dog barked. Then stood up on its hind legs, forepaws dangling in front.
The Stranger: Fine. But if they follow us home, you're taking care of them.
The dog barked again, this time it's tongue lolling out happily.
The stranger retrieved his melee weapons, and concealed them inside his duster, along with a variety of pistols, knives, and ammo clips attached to hard points he had crafted to the inside of his coat. The dog sauntered up, dragging a double barrel shotgun in it's mouth. Smirking to himself the man took the gun from the dog and rubbed it's head affectionately.
The Stranger: Good Boy.
Turning on his heel, he checked the shells loaded in the gun as he walked into the museum. Upon entering he brought the gun up chest level and cleared the lobby mentally, as he swept to the right corner of the room. His ear perked as conversation drifted into the hall from the next room.
Raider 1: I aint dyin for gristle. He can suck a big fat one.
Raider 2: You'll be dead either way if Jared finds out we let the Psyker slip through our finger. At least we get chems this way.
Picking up a tin can off the ground, stranger slung the metal object to the other side of the room, distracting the raiders. Stepping out into the open he let the brave raider have both barrels. The other raider, cowardly but recovers fast, armed with a pool stick made to swing on his assailant, but stranger blocked the strike with both hands, one on the barrel and the other on the stock.
The Stranger: Batter Up!
Stranger slide his right hand down from the stock to the barrel of the gun and swung it like a baseball bat. Connecting with the side of the raiders head he knocked him flat on his back. Letting the momentum carry the gun to an overhead strike, he brought the gun down hard on the raiders cranium, leaving bits of skull and brain littered beside a broken shotgun.
The dog came up beside the stranger and gave him a curious stare.
The Stranger: Don't look at me like that. You lick your own ass.
The dog huffed and ran up the stairs. Cursing and screaming followed.
The Stranger: Too sensitive for a guard dog.
The Stranger following the screams wound up in a big open spaced room with several levels. Found the big dog latched onto a screaming junkies arm. The man was beating at him with a tire iron.
The Stranger: Hey Asshole. What are you doing to my dog?
Stranger reached into his coat and pulled out a 10 MM pistol. Without pausing to draw a bead he fired, and the back of the raiders head painted the wall behind him. Another level up a similarly dressed raider noticed the commotion and fired buckshot at the eccentric gunman, causing him to dive for cover behind a small table with drugs a knife and a skull on it. The raider fired again, Blowing the skull to pieces and knocking the knife down in the strangers lap.
Raider 3: Never should of come, mother *Funk*
The knife from the table was now lodged in the mans head. The stranger smirked, his hand still extended from the throw.
The Stranger: Reload. Reload then brag genius.
More gunfire, another thunderclap. The funny man who thinks he's a cowboy could be seen now. He looked wounded. And tired. They wouldn't hold out much longer. Hopefully there weren't that many left. The stranger was feeling tired himself. Glancing down at the ground, the Museum of Freedoms current kill streak leader noticed an inhaler of jet.
The Stranger: When in Rome.
The dog laid down and put both paws over its eyes. The stranger inhaled deep, and everything went blurry. Holstering his pistol, the high as a kite stranger whipped out his rod and hatchet, gave them a little flourish, and ran up the stairway to the next level. Incomprehensible battle cries coming from his mouth. The raiders on the top floor shifted their attention from Preston to the maniac trying to cut himself through the top floor entry way.
This cost them dearly. Even wounded and tired Preston Garvey is a crack shot when given time to aim. (AN: LOL BULLSHIT) A fully charged laser musket blast snuffed out the less psychotic of the two raiders. (The one who realized literaly anything besides a pool cue would make a better weapon) The other raider distracted by the minuteman's counter attack barely managed to get his stick up in time to block Strangers dual wielding over hand strike. Now with weapons locked the raider stared into the face of death itself.
Stranger: Promise me money!
Raider 4: But I'm broke!
Stranger: And POWER!
Raider 4: I'm wielding a f%#$ing poolcue!
Stranger: Tell me you'll give me anything I want!
Raider 4: *sobbing* Fine, Ill give you anything, just stop yelling at me!
Stranger kicked the raider backwards through the balcony and 2 floors down.
The Stranger: I want my blueberry muffins back you son of a bitch.
Preston was in fear for his life. He was out of ammunition and stuck in a corner facing a madman who could only be swayed by muffins. And now that madman was turning his attention on Preston.
Preston: Um
Stranger: Quiet.
Preston was suddenly looking down the barrel of a 10 mm.
Stranger: This is a one way conversation till I say otherwise. Do you understand.
Preston: ...
Stranger: You can tell me you understand.
Preston: I understand.
Stranger: Who are these S + M perverts?
Preston: What?
Stranger shoved the 10 mm barrel in Prestons mouth.
Stranger: WRONG ANSWER!
An angry bark from behind made stranger look back over his shoulder.
Stranger: What?
The dog growled and shoot it's head.
Stranger: Fine.
He returned his attention back to Preston and took his gun out of the terrified cowboys mouth.
Stranger: My names Nate. What's your name.
Preston mentally debated giving his name to a psychopath, but decided not to test Nate's patience.
Preston: Preston Garvey, I'm with the Commonwealth Minuteman.
Nate: Well Mr. Garvey, todays your lucky day. I'm gonna help you get out of this mess.
AN: Well I had fun writing that. More so than my first attempt at FF. So yeah, the chapter title has nothing to do with the character Danse. I just like the classical piece by Camille Saint Saens. Has a real manic vibe that fits with what I see in Nate. R+R, but I'm not gonna hold a gun to your head or anything. Dogmeat won't let me.