"So, remind me why we're trudging through the wastes to some dead-end shack in the middle of shit-all's vile?"
It hadn't been a pleasant walk for the trio of mercenaries. When they had left Fort Bannister what seemed like days ago on their latest job, requested by none other than Mr Tennpenny, spirits had been high at the prospects of a nice fee and a relatively small walk. However, after Hawk had bothered to read the directions and consulted her map, she had informed her less that pleased comrades that they were in for one hell of a walk.
Bull sighed, running a hand through his cropped black hair and looked over to the slightly smaller, mouse like mercenary who had spoken as they crested the next hill. His hands gripped his hunting rifle tight, going back to scanning the wastes before them. Aside from a pack of dogs and a rather angry radscorpion the trip had been rather uneventful thus far.
"For the last time Sabre; because it's what we do, it's good pay and to be quite frank I'd love it if you shut the fuck up for five minutes." Bull rumbled as Sabre glowered
"Yeah, well." Was all Sabre could think to say before the third member of the group, Hawk, piped up from her position behind the pair.
"I wish BOTH of you would just shut up. It's hard enough to keep watch, steer us in the right direction let alone put up with you two going at each other like a pair of Deathclaws." She growled, which immediately quieted both men. "Let's just get there and get this thing done."
Roughly an hour later they came across the group of small shacks that lay nestled on the slope of a rather steep gully not far from the river that cut the entire wasteland in two North West to south east. Far south it entered DC and somewhere there nestled Rivet City. Hawk scowled – that used to be her home before she was drafted into the Talon Company. It wasn't the best job, but she got a place to stay and some action once in a while so she was content.
She snorted as she slung her Assault Rifle and studied their contract while Bear amused himself by attempting to push Sabre down the bank. Hawk was the de-facto group leader, and she allowed them to look like dicks on occasion. It sure as hell broke up the monotony of sitting back at base or trudging through this hellhole.
"Damn it Bull! Fuck off!" Sabre snarled, batting the larger man away he scuttled up the bank and crouched beside Hawk.
"You sure this is it?" Sabre raised an eyebrow, scanning the group of shacks below, far down the hillside. "Come to think of it, why would Tennpenny, who lives way down there, give two shits about some backwater group of inbreds all the way up here?"
Hawk shrugged, looking to the shacks herself. Sabre had a point – why DID the old fart want someone here hit? Well, whatever the reason it didn't concern her, all that mattered was she got paid.
"To be honest Sabre, I don't know nor do I much care. But whatever the reason, it must have pissed Tennpenny off pretty badly enough he hired us. Last time he did that, remember Alpha Squad went out for the Lone Wanderer and never came back? Probably got shanked."
Bull finally joined in
"That was Mr Birkin, not Tennpenny." He grunted, not bothering to crouch down. "Anyway, this place looks deserted. Who's to say the target aint moved on?"
Sabre snorted "Tenpenny has guys all over. We'd have been notified if he'd moved on, just be glad he hasn't. When this is over we have a long walk back and I'm just glad it isn't any longer."
Hawk rubbed her temple slightly, sighing
"Alright, so we do this by the book. One per house, shoot on site. This should be a straight in and out job, you got it?" She looked to the others, sighing at Sabre "Don't say it."
Sabre sighed, standing up he started to jog down the hillside
"That's what she said." He grinned, earning a glare from Hawk as she and Bull started down after him.
When the plateau finally levelled out, the three Talon Mercenaries scanned the area with practiced ease. There were, conveniently, three shacks and each looked like shit (as most things in the wasteland did, people included). They were grouped close together and the trio where surprised that the ground wasn't mined or booby-trapped. Surely whoever the poor bastard who's cap was about to be punched would have at least tried to deter his assassins – but no such measures had been taken.
Bull moved silently across the ground with grace at odds with his size and kicked the shack door open. The wooden door snapped round and smashed against the wall so hard the entire structure shook. He scanned the interior – what he presumed to be the kitchen area was separated by a partition of flimsy wood that was starting to rot away. The interior was lightly decorated, with a stained mattress in the corner flanked by a wooden stool on which stood a radio. For it drifted a settling tune that blended into the background. No-one was home, and he could hear nothing. The effect of kicking the door open was to startle anyone inside into showing themselves, but there was no movement.
"I don't want to set the world on fire..."
Bull grunted – he was never the musical type. As he moved over to the radio, he forgot to check the kitchen – a rookie mistake, but one that would cost him dearly. As he leaned forward to turn the radio off he had the sickening realisation he had turned his back on the partition. He had a split second to comprehend something pressing in his back before with a dull thump the double-barrelled shotgun discharged.
At such range, even Bulls armour couldn't protect him. The full force had the effect of blowing a fist sized crater through his body that painted the wall above the mattress with his stomach, sending the hulking man sprawling into the stool and smashing the radio into pieces on the wooden floor and making the assailant grin.
As the big man lay face down on the floor, the killer calmly reloaded his gun and looked out of the open door. The other two shacks where out of site, but the noise would have alerted anyone else in the area, and he knew there'd be more than one.
Calmly he walked over to the door and pushed it open slightly, just enough so he could crouch behind it. In their rush to see what had happened to their comrade, even training gave way to emotion...
Sabre and Hawk both heard the gunshot and sprinted from their respective shacks
"Shit..." Sabre muttered as he glanced over to Hawk, who certainly looked calmer than he knew he did. Usually there wouldn't be any reason for this reaction from either of the Mercs, but they'd known each other (and been shot at enough) to know that wasn't what a hunting rifle shot sounded like. And there'd been no return fire, so best case there'd been a scuffle, the target had been surprised and missed. Worst case...
Sabre pushed the thoughts aside as Hawk stopped at the entrance, and he swore he could see tears in her eyes. Hawk NEVER cried for anything or anyone, not since he'd met her.
"Bull..." She whispered softly, her Assault rifle going slack in her hands. She took hurried steps inwards, crouching over Bull's corpse and shaking him like a child wanting their mother. Sabre stepped in after her and scanned the area – no movement, but the way he was laying meant...
Sabre spun round just as the door whipped by him, slamming against the frame. A figure, cloaked in shadow, stood up with fluid grace and before he could raise his rifle or even summon the words in his throat to shout a warning, blew Sabre's skull apart with a blast. The headless body toppled backwards.
Hawk spun round with a battle-cry and raised her rifle. She fired a burst but missed, the man having stepped aside and crossed the room before she could adjust her aim. She swung the butt of her rifle for his head but he raised a coated arm and caught it in his grasp, twisting it away from her with a flick of his wrist. Then a gloved fist collided with her face and her world went black.
Slowly consciousness returned. Hawk blinked through a teary haze and tried to move, but found her arms immobile. She shifted – so where her legs. Her head hurt like a bitch, and for a moment she couldn't remember why she was here.
As the fog lifted from her vision she craned her neck and looked around. Beside her was a set of wooden stairs that presumably lead to a trap door. She noted with worry that they where coated in blood but she didn't feel any pain besides her head so she assumed she was okay.
The sounds of sawing came to her ears and she looked around for the source, when it finally clicked in her muddled brain that she was stark naked. She blushed – she was a hardass, sure, but she was in a strange place, tied down (it looked like heavy duty chain, her wrists and ankles where starting to chafe. She was tied down to a bed, but this one appeared to have been jury rigged – the posts she where bound too appeared to be nothing more than support beams of crudely torn metal, and the mattress she was lying on was discoloured and worn, from what she could see.
Now the sawing stopped. The chains offered enough slack for Hawk to shimmy up into a rough sitting position and she almost screamed.
The same man from earlier – the would-be target – was at the opposite end of the basement, his back to her. He was dressed in a long black coat and gloves His weapon, a sawn-off double barrelled shotgun, lay disassembled on a work bench to his right. A long, thick mop of hair rolled down to his shoulders like the coat of a yao-guai and, much to Hawk's horror, she could pick out the unmoving form of Bull sprawled on the bench in front of the man. The sawing abruptly stopped as the man turned to face her, grinning. He placed a ripper on the bench beside his shotgun, not bothering to clean it.
His eyes and nose where hidden behind a mask that only covered up to his upper lip. His mouth was twisted into a sneer that turned Hawk's blood to ice, and his eyes that shone a bright blue flickered down her entire body head to toe, not missing anything. That made Hawk turn a brighter shade of crimson.
"Your friends," He spoke suddenly, making the woman involuntarily jump "disappointed me. You are supposed to be fabled Talon Mercenaries, capable of tackling any job. Yet they died no better than dogs. But they taste a whole lot better." He grinned darkly as Hawk's eyes widened.
"You sick fuck! You-"She got no further as with a growl he crossed the room and backhanded her with such force her vision exploded into stars.
"Do not." He snarled "Insult me. I do what I must do to survive, as do you." He immediately calmed down, brushing a stray strand of brown hair from her eyes, lovingly. She was shaking now.
"Please, let me go..." She whimpered as he sighed unhappily, wagging a finger.
"I am afraid I cannot do that. For one, you would simply come back in greater numbers. Over the years I have lured a great many people here, both for my own amusement and for food. Wild creature, edibles ones at least, are scarce around here as I am sure you noted on your way here."
Now it all made sense. The note had been delivered on the back of a trader, which, though suspicious, checked out in Tenpenny's existing handwritten notes. Now she realised it wasn't Tenpenny at all, not in any of those past jobs. It was this sick bastard to get more people to come.
Hawk's gaze wandered to her dead comrade who she could now see had been carved open with apparent skill. She'd never seen many people like this man work, but those she had did not match up to him in precision – he'd cut the best parts of him out like Brahmin. The thought made bile rise in her throat.
"Who... are you?" She asked finally and, after a long pause "And what do you want with me?"
"I am but a simple man trying to make my way in the world. You can call me Mort, my real name is not important."
"Mort?" She whispered
"In an ancient language it means death. Quite fitting, Hm?" The masked man spoke again, a soft smile playing on his features. He was evil, pure evil. Hawk had seen and met a great many cruel people in her time but none – not even the mercs themselves or those scum raiders – made her feel this way. She felt utterly terrified of this maniac
"As for what I want with you?" He whispered, his smile becoming sickening again "My amusement." He licked his lips slowly and Hawk screamed.
Outside, darkness fell.
Authors note!
Well, I'm officially a twisted person I've always had this idea, in varying stages, in my mind and finally decided to write it. This will be a series, though I'm not sure on how long it will be. Well, i hope I've fleshed out Mort and Hawk well enough, they'll be the stars of my series. This is rated M for a reason, as you got a glimpse of in this chapter. I'm delving into the depths of my mind to create my own memorable serial killer of Fallout, so i hope you stick along for the ride! Tell me what you think!