Cheyenne kept her gaze fixed on the map as she slowly traced her finger along the route to Carbon. There was little by way of civilization between this small farm and the city.
"Inquisitor?" An older voice asked, getting the tribal to shudder as she looked up, not expecting anyone to come in. She chose this barn for its isolation, her only companion was a brahmin, who couldn't read or navigate, so her secrets were safe with him... or her... or whatever it was.
The sliding door on the barn was quickly snapped shut as the older man brought a small, metal cup, hobbling towards her. He reminded her of Lenny, the Ghoul she met in Gecko, a man who was often disregarded by most but his needle work was impressive and his counsel was always appreciated.
"Oh, Horace." She murmured, forgetting her cover story. She managed to earn herself free room and board here by telling the owner, Horace, that she was Caine's 'Inquisitor.' She had no idea if Caine even had Inquisitors but the old man seemed to buy it.
Most would rather trust a con artist than unintentionally turn one of Caine's agents away, especially one with a title like that.
"I brought some Brahmin milk, shorry it's not anythin' better but..."
"No..." Cheyenne interrupted him, giving him a kind smile as she broke her gaze away from the map and looked up to him.
"Thank you but... Maybe you should have it, you look like you could use the calcium."
He was somewhat deformed,due to his old age, he hobbled and it looked like his legs were merely scaffolding. They kept him upright but clearly weren't fit for purpose.
"I... No, you're our important guest of honour." The man insisted, though Cheyenne just laughed his determination off.
"Please, I'm merely a freeloader. My work may be important to Caine's empire but so is yours, we need our farmers strong, right?"
"I..." He paused, falling silent, with a faint sigh.
"Forgive me, miss but... I'm struggling to believe that you're... An agent in Caine's service. They normally just take what they want, they aren't usually as kind or as patient as you are."
"Heh, mere thugs. It's true, I'm one of a kind. I'm more or less allowed to do what I want, if it means success for the mission. I've always found that being diplomatic, leaving people with a positive impression of you, it works significantly more than being a... well, a thug." She paused, thinking on it a little, perhaps she was being herself a little too much here.
"I could lamp you around the head, with the blunt end of my spear, if it makes you feel any better."
The Old Man chuckled faintly, it was rather unnatural, given how depressed and sickly he looked, one would think that laughter was impossible.
"I'm pretty sure that my head would cave in."
"Then drink the milk, we don't need farmers with weak bones." Cheyenne insisted before looking back down to the map.
As she did so, the door opened up and John stepped inside, noticing as the old timer knocked the metal cup full of milk back.
"Inquisitor?" John slowly stepped inside, finding it difficult to keep a straight face, when referring to her as that. She really did have a silver tongue and a sharp mind, to pull that cover story off...
"We secured a route to Carbon yet?"
"C-Carbon? Why'd you need a route there?" The Farmer stuttered.
"Slaves..." Cheyenne paused, clearing her throat.
"Some workers escaped, they're likely holding up the road and are willing to attack whoever comes their way. We're trying to find a safe route from here to the Capital, without arousing too much suspicion."
"Oh? Slaves escaped?" The Old Man paused, gently rubbing the stubble on his face with his entire palm.
"Well, I hope that they don't give you too much trouble."
"No trouble at all." Cheyenne shrugged, with a smile.
"We'll be posing as simple travellers but I'd rather take a route that doesn't take us through a deserter's known territory."
"You thinkin' the underbank?" Cass asked, getting a stern nod.
"It's risky but... It'll do."
"Excuse me but, I have dishes to wash." Horace murmured as he shuffled out of the barn, heading back towards the country house and leaving Cass at the door, which quickly closed behind him.
"How do you do that?" Cass asked, almost disapprovingly.
"Lying to people? Keepin' a straight face, whilst you do it?"
Cheyenne just shrugged.
"I don't enjoy it, I'm just good at it. We can't trust anyone out here, especially not those who are afraid of Caine. We have to use that against them, it might seem dishonest but..."
"Nah, I... I get it, better they don't know what's really going on." Cass agreed as he stepped forward.
"Mrgh... Stinks in here. What made you shack up with this Brahmin?"
"I needed to be alone." She admitted, with a heavy sigh.
"I keep thinking about the people that we left behind... I keep thinking how pissed I would've been, if someone escaped the oil refinery but left my Tribe to die."
"This ain't our home, ain't our fight or our problem... Yeah, it's complete shit, I hate it and I'm fighting every fiber of my being but...
We can't make the world's problems our own, we got ourselves a mission that's tough enough and we should be focussing on that."
"We should but... I dunno, it's not like they need me, back home."
"Still, this state is a mess... I'm amazed any of it is still standin'."
Cass found himself sighing again as he turned around, heading back towards the door, he was beginning to feel tired and he knew that, no matter how swimmingly it went, tomorrow would be a big day.
Cheyenne fell into a deep sleep that night, engulfed in strange scenarios of her old life, back in California. She couldn't remember the dream, she found something, tried to work it out and after waking with a start, she was quick to accept that she never will know.
The one thing she wondered was the loud crunch, was that real? It seemed it but...
It was at this point that she heard the sound of thundering feet, racing across the courtyard, outside. Cheyenne was quick to roll out of bed, snatching the knife from under her pillow as she got into a defensive stance.
To her surprise, they didn't come for her...
She then heard some familiar yellings, in the distance. Prompting her to rush over to the Barn door and peer out of it, watching as her two companions were dragged outside and thrown to their knees on the ground, forced to have their hands over their heads.
Their surrounding captors had some rather high quality combat gear on, they weren't Cain's people, unless they were his death squads. Mind you, death squads don't usually take prisoners and they usually customise their armour with spray paint.
"You said there was three! Where's the third!?" He snapped at Horace, who quickly pointed to the barn, prompting Cheyenne to step back.
Last time I'm nice to anyone, whilst under cover...
"Aimes, Shlip!" He commanded, gesturing to the barn and getting a firm nod as they rushed towards the barn doors. Cheyenne simply sighed, tightening her grip on her makeshift blade.
She watched as the barn doors slowly rolled back, prompting her to shuffle off, behind cover, waiting for an opportunity. She crouched down in the dark, taking a deep breath as she readied herself, feeling a slight sting of pain as the crappy handle dug into her flesh.
"Come out with your hands up!" Shlip called as he slowly shuffled inside, scanning the room with the sites of his rifle and taking a deep breath as he moved along. There was a fifty/fifty chance here, that she or he would have the advantage. Sadly, lady luck was a petty bitch and had him turn to the left instead.
Cheyenne quickly lunged forward and grabbed hold of the rifle, prompting him to lift it up as he fired, sending the shot ringing past the Tribal's ear, deafening her and shaking her head up. It was at this point that the barn door was dragged open and the second of the two soldiers burst inside and struck her across the face, with the butt of his gun, cutting and bruising along her cheek bone and sending her straight to the ground, with a heavy thud.
Both Aimes and Shlip surrounded her, pointing their guns at her and keeping her pinned to the ground, much to the tribal's annoyance. She simply scowled as she was dragged...
"Bring her back with us!" The Commander called as he marched towards the from door, peering inside.
"Wolfey will want a word with this one..."