Good day everyone, Launces Mechanist here with another new story. As always, please review and let me know what you think of it.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN THE FALLOUT UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Prologue: A Hunting We Will Go...
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Date: January 15th, 2285
Location: Old Town of Robeline, Louisiana
Time: 0845 (8:45 AM)
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A loud banging on the door barely registered to the soundly sleeping Drew Durr. Ignoring it once, he proceeded to return to sleep; however, the banging happened again, louder this time. This time, Drew scowled and cursed to himself.
(I swear, if it's them Doverson boys banging on the tin with a sledgehammer again I'll give'em a cussin' they won't soon forget.)
Out of instinct, he grabbed the pistol belt by his side and drew the old .357 revolver and checked it, making sure it was loaded. He sighed when he saw two spent rounds and four live ones. The two spent rounds used to bring down a bobcat that had entered the town last night. Drew reminded himself to check with Abraham Miller, the town trader, about a new box of bullets. He didn't need .357 bullets due to his having another weapon stashed in the house, but of all the weapons, the revolver was his favorite.
When his family first went into the Natchitoches Parish Vault in the Great War, his great-great-great-great grandfather had been a police officer and was placed in charge of the Vault security. His service sidearm was the weapon he used.
The banging once again got Drew's attention and, red-faced, he stormed for the door. Throwing it open, he expected the see either Tom Doverson or his younger brother Max. Instead, he came face to face with Marshall Dobson, the so-called 'law' in town. Dobson looked at him with a stern expression.
"Old Tack says you slugged him last night after you shot that bobcat. He woke up just a few hours ago with a large lump on the side of his face. Martha's screaming bloody murder and wants you locked up. However, because I don't trust them two nitwits as far as I could throw them, I want to hear your side of what happened." Drew sighed, he knew this would happen this morning. He looked Dobson in the eyes and nods.
"I slugged the bastard because of what he's been doing. You know about him killing dogs or cats that come onto what he calls 'his property'. He then feeds the carcasses to the wild animals out there. Most likely his wife is in on it as well. I warned them time and again that feeding those beasts will make them think food is here. He heard me shoot the bobcat and ran for me cussing and flailing his fists. He tried to grab my weapon and I slugged him. I've lost three dogs to him and his 'sport' and this time I caught him in the act. He strung up a dog, probably the one the MaCall boy 'lost', and swung it over to the woodline. As soon as that bobcat came out I fired two bullets. When the cat dropped dead, he swung down from his back porch and confronted me. I don't know what Tack and Martha told ya, but my story's the truth."
Dobson nodded and looked satisfied.
"That goes along with what Newton told me and what Miss Jane heard. She told me she heard you shoot what sounded like a bobcat and then heard Tack cursing you as if you'd just tried to shoot him. I'll see the mayor and ask him what he wants to do. This ain't the first time Old Tack and his 'beloved' wife have done something stupid but this sure takes the cake. I was prepared to write up the charges: Killing of domesticated animals, feeding of said animals to wild beasts, attempted assault of a town hunter, attempted cursing..." Drew cocked an eyebrow at this.
"Attempted cursing? How the Hell does someone attempt to curse?" Dobson laughed.
"That goes back to what Miss Jane said she heard. She said that Tack uttered the first few syllables when she heard something sounding like a..uh.. 'a frying pan slapping a fat pig's ass', then...blessed silence. If you try to speak to Tack, you'll only get mumbling from him. Apparently you made him live that old expression to 'bite your tongue'." Noticing Drew's expression, he elaborated.
"Your haymaker made what few teeth he had left clamp down on his tongue. Doc Collins spent the better part of the night and this morning trying to make sure he doesn't choke on his own blood. Either way, I came to get you. Will said he needed your help hunting. You know the backwoods and old trails around here. He's already talked Abe into setting a weapon and some rounds aside for you, though, knowing him he's only set aside enough rounds for you to kill a few deer with and not enough to bail you out of trouble should you run into something else out there. Louisiana Militia radio reports say that slavers and raiders have increased their patrols in the area, you may have to avoid your regular hunting grounds. The Natchitoches garrison is sending out squads to look for them but so far no luck. We've got two squads heading towards us to bolster our strength but they won't arrive until tomorrow. Just wanted to tell you this before you set out. Good luck, and happy hunting."
Dobson and Drew shook hands then he turned and headed up the hill towards the mayor's house. Drew on the other hand walked down the old Highway 6 from his home to the general store at the base of the hill.
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The bell at the door rang as Drew came in. As usual, Miguel was sitting in the bar side of the store enjoying some hard tack biscuit, radhog bacon, and powdered eggs for breakfast. Will was gazing at some new stock Abe had just gotten in from the caravan and Abe himself was busy reloading some bullets. As the door shut, Abe turned and looked at Drew, the man's perpetual scowl unyielding, but he nodded to the table by Will.
As long as Drew had known the merchant, he always scowled. The only time he had ever seen him smile was when he had closed a nine-hundred sixty seven cap deal with a traveling mercenary. Normally he only made about four-hundred caps in a standard day; primarily by selling bullets.
Doc Morgan had his clinic nearby and easily made a fortune-a-day selling his Stimpacks, Radaway, Rad-X, Med-X, and Antidotes. The good doctor was also known to occasionally prescribe alcohols such as whiskey or moonshine as painkillers, disinfectants, and sterilizing agents. The doc also made vast amounts of red wine to help bolster hunters and civilians from the effects of radiation from the nearby ruins of the city of Many.
Across Highway 6, Bruno had his gunsmithing shop and made a variety of weapons which he then sold either directly to the customer or sold to Abe.
As Drew walked towards the table, Will saw him and smiled, walked over and shook his hand.
"Mornin' Drew. I'm sure glad you're comin' with me." Drew nodded at his old friend and nodded to the table.
"So, what kind of firearm did you get Abe to set for me?" At that moment, Abe harrumphed loudly and walked over to him.
"This here's a one-of-a-kind weapon I bought during my last trip to Natchitoches. It's a rotary 4-10 shotgun. See the cylinder there? It holds six 4-10 shells and functions like a revolver. It's rifled to allow the accurate firing of slugs and is also modified to fire a broad spread of scattershot. This is easily the most expensive weapon I have and I'm a little apprehensive about just giving it to you. However, because I myself am low on supplies, I have decided to let you have a field trial with the weapon. I need to know how the weapon functions in the hands of a capable hunter." The merchant turned, grumbling about something then turned back.
"If it does well, I may consider letting Bruno take a look at it and make several copies of the gun. I expect that two 'skilled' hunters such as yourselves can bring home a lot of game. I'm planning on getting my smokehouse up and running soon for the summer months. Here's a box of extra shells, you boys bring me five radhogs and I'll put you both down for a once-in-a-lifetime offer: fifty percent off bullets for one week and plus, if you like, I'll throw in a shotgun for each of you once Bruno makes the copies." Will looked at Abe as if he'd sprouted wings and called himself an angel.
"You ain't ever given anything away for half off much less free. What's the idea and what's wrong with our standard fifty cap per animal bounty?" Abe's scowl deepened and his eyes narrowed and he lifted a finger.
"First off, your 'bounty' is a little too high for my liking. Second, if you two bring me back those animals, I'll have enough meat to make so much jerky, brisket, and barbecue to easily make up the loss of a few shells and two shotguns and then some. Now then, if that will be all, I have some more rounds to load. A repeat customer needs these 7mm rifle rounds reloaded and ready." With that, Abe went back to his reloading bench. Drew turned to Will.
"Well, that explains it. So, you think this job's worth it? I mean, we've got to go hunting anyway, but still, will it be worth some of Abe's roast hog?" Will looked at him like he was crazy, his mouth nearly watering at the thought.
"You kidding? Of course it'll be worth it! Besides, if we actually got a cap reward from the grinch we'd be paying him back for an order of brisket. No matter the job, this'll be worth it. Even though Miss Jane's roast pork is cheaper." This brought another deep harrumph from Abe.
"It may be cheaper, but remember these words: you get what you pay fer and you can't put a shine on shit. Now git!"
Laughing, Drew and Will left the store, weapons in hand and set out for the woods.
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(four hours later)
Drew lined up the bead on the radhog that was on the other side of the small creek. Easily, he pulled the hammer back on the weapon and steadied his breath and pulled the trigger. A loud 'bang' echoed as the shotgun fired; the slug sped through the air and struck the massive hog right behind the shoulderblade and the hog dropped a second later. He smiled and signaled to Will to bring the cart up. Not wasting any time, Drew jumped into the creek and waded across to where the hog was and slung it over his shoulders, then waded back and nodded as the wagon arrived, Will on the seat and his horse, Charger, pulling it. He swung the boar into the wagon and climbed up by Will. Nodding he turned to him.
"That makes fifteen: ten for Miss Jane and five for Abe. We won't have to worry about pork for a while. Let's just hope Abe is good on his word." Will smiled and held up something, a device that Drew recognized immediately.
"Isn't that the old Pipboy I found? You actually fixed it?" Will nodded.
"Try it on, see how it works."
Drew fastened the Pipboy to his left arm and turned it on. The bioscanner beeped as his biometrics was detected and read. A little figure came on the screen and several bars stretched from the figure. A voice piped up from the screen.
"Biometrics confirmed: Vital systems normal, non-vital systems normal, blood pressure 150/75, pulse 74, normal, bloodsugar levels 146, breathing rate:relaxed. No injuries or diseases detected. Radiation: 0 Rads. All systems normal." Drew looked at Will curiously.
"I thought Pipboys were silent, except for radio and audio logs or holotapes?"
"Not this one, look at the casing, that one's a Series D Pipboy 3500. According to what I know from the old Vault records, only seven thousand were made and they were distributed across the deep south and the far north. These devices have audio confirmation of health and also have a variety of other systems including a distress beacon and even a transmitter compatable with Ham radio signals. Speaking of radio, turn on the radio, Miss Jane never got her radio fixed and I want to hear what's going on in Natchitoches."
Drew laughed at his friend and turned on the radio and keyed to the Natchitoches radio station, all the while making a mental note to see about fixing the radio at Miss Jane's cafe. For a moment, there was static and then a voice came through.
"Okay ladies and gentlemen, this is good ol' Danny Boy Rhodes, one of the four Rhodes Radio brothers and the DJ for Natchitoches and the entire Louisiana area. It is a sunny day today, minimal cloud cover. Temperature is a warm pre-summer eighty-five degrees and the fishing is wonderful so long as you don't mind the radigators and the gar. First off: the news:
There was an an break-in today at the militia fort on Old River Road, a blackout allowed several individuals to sneak on base and break into the armory. Several carbines, grenades, bullets, and uniforms were stolen. Militia squads are on the lookout for anyone impersonating a militia soldier and outlying towns are requested to check their turntable schedules and be wary of early militia arrivals or unknown convoys. Guess they needed heavy firepower for something; I don't know about ya'll but I'm staying away from dark alleys for a while.
The militia commander for Natchitoches has stated that anyone impersonating a militia member will be shot. My tip to everyone: do NOT buy military surplus at this time. That goes double for you Homer.
There was a terrible accident in Natchitoches today as the old Keyser bridge collapsed this morning. The bridge was loaded with people heading to and from work. The Copperhead Mercenary Company has been called in to clear the area around the collapsed bridge of radigators, rattlers, gars, and mirelurks while rescue teams try to find survivors. The public outrage though is understandable, as the bridge has not been serviced since the Vault opened years ago and workers had written down numerous reports the bridge was in danger of failing. Not one hour after learning the bridge fell, the mayor was ordering city workers to build a new bridge on top of the old one to restore foot and horse traffic to the Keyser Avenue area. Roughly three hours after the mayor made the announcement public, he stepped out the door to his office and was showered by eggs. Talk about going a bridge too far.
In other news, the outpost towns of Natchez and Bellwood have broken off contact recently and militia squads sent to investigate have failed to check in. Rather than risk more soldiers, General John Beauregard Weathers of the Louisiana Militia has requested access to the old Fort Polk armory in order to gain access to both spare suits of Power Armor and other military weapons. So far the request is up in the air.
Our last story for the day, merchants along the intact stretch of the old I-49 from Natchitoches to Alexandria report loud noises along the Pineville and Chopin turnoffs. Militia squads from Alexandria and Natchitoches are currently arguing over who's jurisdiction that stretch belongs to. Sounds to me that there's something other than deathclaws and radhogs in them woods...
Okay, that's it for the news for today, and now, by popular request. Here is that old song that you all know so well, here's the man in black, good ol' Johnny Cash singin' Five Feet High and Rising'.
With that, the DJ ceased and that familiar tune started playing. Will smiled and began to sing along with the radio. Drew sat back in the seat and enjoyed the ride back to town.
Once they reached the outskirts of town, Will stopped singing and gasped in surprise. Drew went wide eyed as he saw a sight he'd hoped he'd never see. Flames erupting from several buildings and gunshots echoing throughout the hillside; Robeline, their home, was under attack.
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Well everyone, here's my Fallout fanfic. As always, I hope ya'll like it and again, please rate and review. Also, I may put some new stuff in the story that has never been seen before in the Fallout series. What surprises? You'll have to read to find out, but your guesses are welcome.