Chapter Two: The Wayward Wind

May 8, 2218

Outside Pipestone, Manitoba, Assiniboia

Patrick, relieved of his backpack and all his arms, including his trusty .44 Magnum, was now waiting as patiently as a prisoner in a hostile place could, expecting his number to have finally come up. After all, you don't mess with the Indians of Assiniboia. Ever since the War, they had established themselves as a huge political force, taking advantage of the power struggle to reclaim their ancestral lands and old time traditions. The problem was that after centuries of European domination, and then the destruction of the War of 2077, that it was impossible to revert exactly to pre-Columbian times. Not that they didn't try, this teepee of Brahmin hide an example of what they tried to reclaim.

Patrick cringed as the rope around his wrists cut into his flesh. They knew how to tie things up, that was or sure. After all, better to make sure that their Chief, whomever he was, was going to be safe up against an Assiniboian. That power struggle the Indians took advantage of? Yeah, Assiniboia wasn't to happy about that, as much as they are about Brandon becoming gangster haven. But what can you do?

"Well, I can't do anything," the young man muttered, leaning against the wooden post that held up the shelter. They somehow even managed to take the switchblade that Patrick had hidden on his body in case of emergency, which was particularly annoying. Might have been able to sneak out…

Then again, the Indian was a noteworthy trapper and hunter. They would have found him, nine times out of ten, and he would be killed there instead of having his chance with a plea bargain.

At last, before the sheer boredom and terror could conspire to make his do something foolish, the tent opened up, and in walked both an old man, and an even older women. They both were symbols of what they wanted to do, but couldn't quite achieve, wearing traditional leather and bead garments, along with old pants and t-shirts. However, the seriousness on their faces was enough to make Patrick shiver, expecting them to decide his fate here and there. The wrinkles on their dark faces made them seem older, especially in the darkness of the tent, while they both had imperviously stern expression to keep their emotions at bay.

"Greetings, young Assiniboian," the old man stated in a deep, booming voice. "I am Chief Wolf-Who-Stands-Tall, and this is our Shaman, Quiet Owl. We are here to talk with you."

Patrick looked around, expecting an executioner to come along as well. "What punishment are you going to take on me?"

The old chief shook his head. "We see no need to punish you, for you mistakenly slept on the lands that we use. They are not ours alone, but belong to everyone, something our warriors often forget.

"However, since you are here, we have a small favor to ask of you."

Patrick sighed softly in relief. Well, Death was going to have to wait again.

"What do you need?"

The Chief held up his hand. "Before I tell you, a test to see if you are worthy." He pulled out Patrick's switchblade from a pocket, and set it two feet away from the tied up Assiniboian. "Get yourself out of those ropes."

Patrick looked down at the knife, out of reach. "Are you serious?"

Neither the Chief nor the Shaman replied, instead facing Patrick with their stone cold glare. Patrick sighed, and began contemplating what to do. After a moment, he realized his legs were untied, something that completely escaped him when he was concerned with life and death. He looked to see the leather boots he normally wore were still on, but he still managed to kick both his legs out, and used his left foot to kick off his right boot. Now only in socks, Patrick stretched his foot as far as possible, and managed to hook on the knife.

With a grin and a silent cheer, Patrick started pulling the knife closer to him, folding his legs up again. When it was within range, he leaned down and picked it up with his teeth, and carefully dropped it on his shoulder, and then rolled the shoulder to knock the knife back, where it fell on his hand, and landed on the ground.

Now so close, he reached for the knife, pressed the button to allow the blade out, and started cutting the rope. Within moments, the rope snapped, and both his arms were free.

The Chief nodded sagely. "You have many talents, young wanderer, and such talents are useful to all, both great and small throughout the world. The question is, will you use it for good, or evil?"

Patrick using the knife to cut away the rest of the ropes on his wrists shrugged. "I'm not a man that plays sides, Chief Wolf-Who-Stands-Tall. I do what I can to survive in this world."

The leader of the Indians here on the Rezz shook his head. "Everyone must choose a side, sooner or later. The small slepy of true neutrality is hard to ride, if for no other reason that is too small. All I can hope is that you see it for the best to do what is right.

Patrick stood up. "I understand."

The Chief rose, and clasped a calloused hand on Patrick's shoulder. "I don't think you do, but time will tell. But, before you go, may I ask a favor of you?"
Patrick stopped, and turned. "What do you need?"

Chief Wolf-Who-Stands-Tall looked sad, when he at last spoke. "A young woman, by the name of Deer Wing, has vanished from out village. She is a good hunter for her age, but has yet to learn the need for silence and stealth. And she has been missing for many days now. I have sent warriors and hunters to look for her, but nothing has been found. Can you please help us find her?"

Patrick looked back at the Chief. "Is she your daughter?"

"My grand-daughter."

Patrick stroked his cheek, realizing suddenly that he hadn't shaved in a while. "I can keep my eyes out for her. Where was she last?"

"To the west, hunting. Maybe you will find something our warriors did not." He grabbed the younger man's hand. "I know you said you are not a man who fights for any side, but find it within you to help us now."

Patrick paused, and began thinking about it. He wanted to get as far away from Melita, and the gangsters, and possibly all of Assiniboia. Start a new life in Ontario or Alberta, far away from here. But, at the same time, he owed these people for not killing him… and if he found nothing, well, at least he tried.

At last Patrick nodded. "Alright, I'll look."

Patrick rode Demon through the prairies of the Rezz, going west. The equine snorted as he walked along, wondering why they were no longer on the somewhat easier to cross highways (no matter how wrecked they were), and in the tall grasses that hid the old barbed wire fences, gopher holes and other traps for the octoped.

"Just for a bit longer… I haven't seen much of anything either," Patrick replied, patting the neck of the ill-tempered beast. The slepy seemed to accept it, for a few more meters, before an unseen drop startled him.

"Whoa!" Patrick called, pulling on the reins to prevent Demon from falling. One thing about eight legs: much more stable riding over these bumps. Not that the slepy liked it either way.

Patrick pulled the now agitated equine to a halt. "Alright, settle down. I'll walk from here."

He swung off the horse, and landed on the ground with a thud. Patrick took a moment to stretch, as his legs were getting stiff form riding on the beast.
The man looked over his shoulder, and paused. Right at the base of the hole his steed nearly feel in, was a small duffel bag, along with some other effects. He knelt down, and started looking at what he saw. The bag held some food, namely fruits and vegetables, and the ever popular pemmican, which was easy to make and store. But what caught his eye was the beading, along with a bow and arrows. The Indians were especially good with archery, bullets being at a premium.

"Damn, is this that girls place?" Patrick muttered, before picking up the bag. He turned it over, and saw, stitched in the canvas, "DEER WING."

"Well, that answers that question… now what?" he mumbled.

Demon nickered softly, before he began pawing at the ground again. Patrick looked over to the slepy, and saw a piece of paper by his hoof.

"What did ya get there?" the human pondered, before picking up the note. It was only half a note, with a large chunk of it ripped off.

…the girl to Virden Market, and ask for Marcus. You will be paid after the whore is in Brandon safely.

-The Boss

Patrick looked at the note for a long moment, before looking back to where the duffel bag was. Now that he looked closer, he could see quite a few foot prints around, and some blood. All signs of a struggle.

"Well, I guess we go back to the Rezz, and figure out what to do now."

The chief, needless to say, didn't take it well.

"The Spirit's be damned! I swear on my father's grave, I will get her back! Those god-damned fuckers! I… I…" he stammered, before his head fell down, and he began tearing up.

Patrick winced as the chief, alone in his tent, hurled abuse on the gangsters of The Syndicate. No denying it, he loved the girl. The alcohol, and he must have been drinking it a lot in the past few days (if the empty bottles in the corner said anything), was getting to him now.

The tears only ran for a moment, before the wizened man took a few deep breathes, and poured himself a glass of whiskey, before inhaling it and getting himself another. Nothing like booze to soften the blow of pain, Patrick knew all too well.

Chief Wolf-Who-Stands-Tall turned to Patrick, the stone face returning, but now with red, bloodshot eyes. "Look, I hate to say this to you, as you are trying to get away, but can you please find my girl? Do whatever you need to, just please find her!"

Patrick looked at the old man, pleading for help. He had no idea what to do now, torn between trying to save himself, and save this girl. After all, if she was in Brandon, there were only three things Deer Wing could look forward to: prostitution, slavery or death. And, from what Patrick had heard, the first two wouldn't be able to contain her…

The young man looked over. "This is going to be very dangerous. You're asking me to poke my nose into the den of thieves and murderers, a group of which want's my hide. If I go, I can't even guarantee my own safety. But, I will see what I can do."

The old man looked up to Patrick. "You serious?"

Patrick offered a small smile. "Hey, you were the one that told me to do the right thing, and this is that thing."

Chief Wolf-Who-Stands-Tall burst into tears again, but this time of joy. "Oh thank you! You have no idea what this means to me!"

Patrick nodded, and began to stand up, but the chief pulled him down again. "Wait, before you go…" He stood up, a bit wobbly, and made his way to the back of his tent, stumbling over himself. He at last reached the back of the teepee, and pulled out a small cloth bag. He turned around, and walked back to his spot on the floor, and handed the bag to Patrick.

"Take this…" he said, pushing it into the Assiniboian's hands. Patrick took it, and opened it up, revealing an old and worn piece of electronics, with the motto "Pip-Boy Model 3000" on the side, along with multiple buttons, dials and switches, along with a blank screen. Patrick turned it over, before accidently hitting a button at the top, which made the device come to life. A picture of a cartoon boy showed up, with different bars to show many different things about a person."

The Chief smiled. "My family was part of Vault H, north of Winnipeg. When they came out, they came back here, and my great grandfather used that till the day he died. However, it was then passed down for generations, but we never used it. But it will help you more than me."

Patrick looked down at it. "Well… thank you. I'm sure I can find some use for it." He smiled again, before slipping the device over his left arm, and then tightened the straps to make it fit better.

The chief stood up again. "I hope when you come back, you will return with good news."

Patrick stood up as well, as shook hands with the chief. "As do I."

Pip-Boy Model 3000A
Note 7778: A (Brief) History of Assiniboia! (Updated: May 9, 2125)

Greetings, new citizen/resident of the Dominion of Assiniboia. If you are reading this, you are most likely from a town that has just agreed to come under the jurisdiction or protection of our fair nation. And again, welcome!

To help you settle in your new role as part of the great nation, let us tell you a bit about ourselves.

1. Before Assiniboia

Before the War of 2077 (or the Great War, Great Fire, End-of-Humanity-As-We-Knew-It, etc.) the United States, in a bid for world domination, took over Canada to use the dwindling resources for their own use in fighting the Chinese in Alaska, and later the Chinese mainland itself, not to mention for their own use at home. Garrisons were established in the major cities, and the leaders of the old Dominion were forced into hiding, and all resistance was destroyed by the power-armoured men. Once such leader was former Manitoba Premier Duncan Cooper, who, a few weeks after the two hour war, led an armed revolt against the leaderless, demoralized, and shrinking American garrison. After a short fight, the garrison surrendered, and Premier Cooper declared the annexation of Winnipeg over.

However, the Nuclear Winter that followed the war has harsh, and lasted for many years. Once fertile farmland was made useless by irradiated snow and winds. This lead to a great glacier rising from the north to cover most of the northern part of Canada, as much as seven-tenths of old Canada! However, even before the war, most people lived in the South within a couple hundred miles of the American border, so it was not as bad as it could have been. But the old mines and hydro-electric plants of the north are now inaccessible, so only the more limited resources of the South were available. However, the ingenuity and perseverance of Canadians in general, and Assiniboians in particular, allowed us to thrive and prosper, but not before sacrifice had to be made.

2. Creating Assiniboia

From this start, Premier Cooper quickly set out to establish a government to care for the people of Winnipeg, starting with rationing and healthcare, and then protection from a myriad of mutated creatures that started appearing. This was no easy task. Refugee's fled to Winnipeg, and the food supply, already rationed, came under huge strain. With the lack of major agriculture, a crash program to grow food with greenhouses and inner-city gardens began. Thousands died from radiation poisoning, starvation and everything that the new Wasteland threw at the people. From just over a million people in 2077, Winnipeg's population dropped to nearly 300,000 in the first two decades.

But Cooper was not to be dissuaded. On January 1, 2081, the Dominion of Assiniboia was declared, including the city of Winnipeg and surrounding areas. Although rationing and martial law were still in place, things were looking up. The old Royal Canadian Mounted Police were reformed as the Royal Assiniboian Mounted Police, and they now protect our great land from outside threats. This, in a world were banditry, slavery and murder are all problems, raised Assiniboia as a shining beacon in the sky.

3. Expanding Assiniboia

So, from it's small start in 2081, Assiniboia began to grow outwards. Strategic targets, like old military bases (such as the old Canadian Camp Shilo, and the American Fort Headingly), as well as the old hydro dams were first priorities, and using the resources of Winnipeg, many were restored to working order. As well, many towns sought protection with the RAMP, and Assiniboia was generous to provide said protection, only asking for some levies in return to support them. In time, many of these towns, including Steinbach, Mordler, Porlapra, Selkirk, Vault H and many others joined Assiniboia with such other places like Boissevain, Killarn, Virden and Melita currently under our protection but outside our juridstiction. Settlers also push east and north, seeking areas to prosper, and if they want, Assiniboia goes with them.

With our commitment to Peace, Order and Good Government, the Dominion of Assiniboia is the most stable country in the interior of North America, and the most free. All religions are tolerated, and local government is preserved as much as possible. Your business is your own, and the government sees no need to interfere in your private lives. Heck, even though it hasn't happened yet, you can leave Assiniboia. But why would you want to?

We may not be perfect, but who is? But we do our best, and you are proof of that. So welcome to Assiniboia!