November 5: hey bros! I know I know, I haven't updated in a very long time. At least a month. But my computer's hard-drive died, taking the latest chapter with it, only a few words from completion. At least now, I get a fresh start. I hope I can make this new chapter even better for you, my faithful bros!
The watcher popped the joints in their neck, the movement only a slight jerk to the right, unnoticeable to even an experienced observer. Not that the watcher expected to be seen, but one could never be too careful. The watcher's head settled back into the brace at the butt of the rifle, one eye peering through the scope. Again, nothing but the most skilled reconnaissance would reveal more than the rifle's barrel, a dull, crisp gray that was less filthy than the metal of the cars that it rested against. But the sight should have been warning enough to those who could spot it.
This was no wasteland rifle, cobbled together from scrap and duct tape. The machine-tooled rifle was a .50 caliber miracle of post-atomic engineering. Every inch was upgraded to suit the needs of its master, from the extended barrel for increased accuracy and reduced muzzle flair, to the 12x scope which could spot movement from over a mile away with ease. The bullets were hollow-point incendiary rounds, designed for maximum damage from extreme ranges. On the left side, etched into the cold steel, were the words "Old Bessie".
But the rifle was only half of the equation. The greatest machine was worthless without direction. Thankfully, this watcher was no amateur. Trained eyes scanned the near distance, then gazed through the scope far downrange. Nimble fingers adjusted the focus dial on the scope, and rested easily against the trigger. And the face mask just seemed to scream "professional." The watcher had been told that RobCo had created this style of infrared goggles and re-breather as a light alternative to the T51-b contracted by the military. This particular model also came equipped with enhanced auditory capabilities, specifically designed to pick up signs of movement or voices. It didn't much matter what functions it had or where it had come from though. The mask served its intended purpose: at night, the scanning eyes could still find their prey.
Speaking of which, the watcher's eyes locked onto his newest target. Ahead, a single raider strode confidently through the broken thoroughfare. An almost-broken assault rifle was swinging from his grimy hands, and a sneer of superiority seemed to be etched onto his filthy face. Scraps of armor hung from his body, and the exposed skin was black and covered in dirt and earth and dried gore. Typical.
The raider made his way up to a building on the east side of the street and kicked the door in. Angry voices, slightly mechanical because of the amplifying device in the watcher's ears, demanded a password. In response, the raider sprayed his gun into the open door, then calmly walked into the crumbling building.
"Found them," the watcher mused quietly, patting Old Bessie's breach. The watcher slid calmly into the shadows with his rifle and stood up, safe from any prying eyes. After a much needed stretch, some myrelurk meat, and an answer to nature's call, the position was taken up once more.
An old ham radio buzzed to life in the old city hall. Two squawks*, in rapid succession, echoed through the broken halls. "Looks like they're here after all," an old, wizened voice muttered thoughtfully.
"Like you thought, hey Gaulm?" a much more youthful, energetic voice responded.
"Looks like you're in for a hike then," Gaulm responded. A rush of static interrupted the rest of the conversation, followed by two more squawks. Gaulm cussed loudly.
The young voice laughed. "They won't catch me Gaulm. You know that."
Gaulm drank deeply from a bottle of whiskey, the action having the ease of long practice. "I know, I know."
The young voice changed the subject, as its owner picked up a piece of paper and reread the message. "The Pitt is getting antsy. Ashur knows what is coming east. He says even the trogs are trying to push westward."
Gaulm drained his bottle further, exhaling heavily as he removed it from his lips. "Ashur will succeed soon. He paid the Talons well for their work in Balto, both with the slaves and medical knowledge they found."
"Those Talons will be the first to die, then."
"Ashur knows that. It's why he enslaved everyone and took them all to the Pitt. There isn't anyone left besides Talons. Still, it's a pity Balto had to die, but it's for the greater good."
"You're putting a lot of faith in the Pitt."
Gaulm finished off the whiskey in another few gulps, then tossed the bottle into the darkness. "Ashur knows what's at stake here. And we need him, or else we'll be lost. Everything will be lost."
"Do you think we've prepared enough?"
Gaulm wiped his hand through his greasy, unkempt hair. "I don't know, Than. But we've done all we can. And these raiders are much more important now than what is coming."
Than laughed and stepped into the light of the radio. His tall stature was filled in with a wiry muscle frame, and his black hair and facial stubble framed a set of piercing green eyes and an easy smile. "Okay old man, I'm off." He spun and slipped on his leather jacket in one smooth motion, slipping his laser pistol into its holster as well.
The watcher, with about a half-second's warning, rolled to the left, just as a bolt from a laser pistol blackened the earth in the previously occupied spot.
"Sharp as ever, you are!" Than exclaimed, grinning at the figure of the watcher. The watcher faced him from the ground with Old Bessie raised, the barrel pointed straight at Than's head. "Well, I'm here. Where are they?" Than asked, oddly nonchalant about the gun to his head. The watcher held the weapon steady for a few seconds longer, before lowering the rifle to the ground and rolling over, pointing the gun towards the building the raider had entered earlier. "Thanks a bunch!" Than exclaimed, spinning on his heel and trotting down the drive towards the raider stronghold.
As Than approached the building, he sped up slightly, now running outright. Almost immediately after his change in speed, several raiders in scraps of armor stepped from the front door of the building. One who appeared to be the leader, who wore a helmet with an animal skull on it, stepped forward to challenge the still running Than. "That's far enough, boy!" he yelled in an arrogant tone, obviously used to being heeded. Than just kept running.
"H-hey! Stop!" the raider repeated, leveling his revolver at the rapidly closing figure and firing several rounds. The shots were appallingly inaccurate, whizzing several feet away from Than, who laughed and drew his laser pistol in response. Unlike whatever the raiders probably had stored, this pistol was in great condition. A precision attachment focused the beam, making it much more accurate and powerful, as well as more energy efficient. Etched into the side, in a familiar style, were the words "Fatal Law."
A small buzz of energy from the weapon was all the warning the raiders had before their leader's body turned into a pile of ash. Cussing in surprise, the left-most raider tried to draw his weapon, but found that his arm was suddenly a smoking pulp. Then he ceased to find anything as his brain and spinal cord were vaporized by a laser to the head. The only remaining raider saw what had happened to his buddies and instantly came to a decision. "Fuck this!" he yelled, ducking down and putting his hands over his head. "Please stop shooting I surrender!" he cried.
Than slowed his pace and calmly approached the blubbering raider, placing his precision pistol against the man's head as he drew near. "Tell me what you're doing in there. Don't spare any details, and don't try to tell me you weren't involved, I don't care either way."
The raider gulped at the dismissive tone of his voice spoke quickly as a result. "W-we came here from the west, after our old turf got taken in a war. We thought that the city would be a good place to scavenge and steal from anyone without getting caught."
"I didn't ask for your life story. Get on with it," than ordered, none of his good humor present in this exchange. He primed his pistol, and the weapon hummed softly with the rush of energy.
"Okay! Okay! Don't shoot me!" the raider pleaded, and when death didn't come, he hesitantly continued. "W-we have slave pens inside, people… women we've captured and kept… raped…" he mumbled the last part. "We… we've also been stealing energy weapons from the Brotherhood of Steel."
"Really?" Than asked, suddenly interested. "How have you managed that?"
The raider gulped, then explained. "Back before the Great War, the government turned the railway from Chicago to Cincinnati into a subway system, so it could go faster and much more often."
"Ask me if I care," Than stated.
"W-we've set up a road-block in the tunnels, further back than the Brotherhood are willing to patrol. We stop their shipments back and forth from Chicago to Sin'Nati, and take… some of what is sent both ways. Not enough to get caught, but we've gotten quite a stockpile."
Than nodded. The idea made sense. "So why haven't you been using these pilfered weapons?"
The raider gulped. "I… I'm not exactly supposed to… tell you…" he said, getting quieter.
Than laughed, a cold and merciless sound. "Right. So, why haven't you been using your pilfered weapons?"
The raider raised his head, looking into Than's eyes for the first time. There was fear there, wild and crazy. "After we set up the roadblock, our Ham radio started coming on by itself. Not many people heard what it was saying, but apparently the boss took it into his room and had everyone else who had heard it put to death."
"And did you hear it?"
The raider's face fell. "We… the boss was gone one night, and a few of us… snuck into his room and waited…" it was obvious that he didn't want to continue. Than tapped the pistol against his skull as encouragement. The raider hastily glanced around, like he was fearing the appearance of some assassin or killer. "A voice came onto the radio..." he began, the reluctance dripping from every word. "He sounded… like he had been educated somewhere, learned to speak from professionals almost."
Here he stopped, looking fearfully at Than. "He knew who we were. He greeted us by name!" Than raised an eyebrow, but gestured for the man to continue. "He told us that we had to keep taking weapons from the Brotherhood, or else…"
"Or else… what?" Than asked, though he thought he knew the answer.
"We asked that question…" the raider muttered, defeated now. "Everyone but me suddenly vanished into a puddle of green goo… I was horrified and ran out of the room… I didn't want to die…"
Than was tapping his foot now, his mind actively running through this new information. "Wouldn't your boss have noticed the goo in front of the radio?" he asked absently.
The raider shrugged. "He didn't mention it. I assume, if he did see it, he probably guessed everyone was dead."
Than's foot continued to tap as he considered all this. Someone obviously was in the market for these energy weapons, and they wanted as few people to know about it as possible. He listed off a few of the most likely candidates. The Brotherhood of Steel certainly had the motive, but they would've just killed the raiders after discovering where their weapons were going. Talon Company certainly had the nerve and means to scare a few raiders. But again, subtlety was not their forte. No, this was the doing of someone who wanted to remain unseen. Most likely, this was not the first time an old Ham radio had suddenly come to life in Sin'Nati.
Than sighed, and focused back on the raider who was still cowering before him. "So, I have two options. You've given me what information I've asked for so that I won't kill you. Yet, anyways." The raider nodded, knowing he didn't have anything else to bargain with. "So," Than continued, "Here's what we'll do. You're going to tell me how to get into that building." Sensing a glimmer of hope, the raider raised his head. "When you do, I'll let you go. Understand?" The raider nodded, liking the idea of living for awhile longer.
Than finally scrambled onto the top of the building, then looked over the side and waved at the raider. "You can go now!" he called, and the man turned and disappeared into the rubble surrounding the streets. Than turned back to survey the roof of the building. According to the raider, this had been an old hotel that the raiders had taken for its food and beds. Most of the roof was flat, with an old generator that hummed softly as it pumped electricity into the building. At least there would be lights. Than hated the idiots who liked to surround themselves in darkness. Scary and enigmatic no, more likely to blunder into a wall and give themselves away. Than had seen Gerard in action, and while he was nowhere near as good as that man in the shadows, he was better than some two-bit raider's attempts to scare off the local scavengers.
Than strode across the roof of the hotel and opened the door, then sharply whistled twice into the open air. The watcher, listening for such a signal, understood. Than had ten minutes before the building was shot to hell by Old Bessie. Than set his watch and slipped inside silently, down a flight of stairs to the top floor, where the raider had told him most of the occupants had made their home.
Than strode softly among the halls, checking each room and pocketing the useful salvage. Mostly it was just some pre-war money or some scraps that the raiders had collected, caps or metal or electronics or otherwise. Usually the rooms were empty, but on occasion he stumbled across an occupant, who was swiftly dealt with by impaling them with laser fire. Than made his way through the hotel silently, never raising the alarm or making his presence known to the raiders before he was ready to kill them.
After clearing the top floor, Than made his way to the elevator in the middle of the hotel. The raider he had released had informed him that the stairs were collapsed on most of the floors, and most levels were abandoned. Besides the top floor, the lobby was used as a guard-house and living area, and the basement was kept heated and lit for their leader, a man named Makarov. Than planned to clear out the lobby to prevent reinforcements from heading to the basement before he was done with Makarov. This involved locking the front door, and would most likely also require some quick gunplay and flashy combat moves.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Than stepped into a dimly lit lobby area, his pistol ready. "Who the shit are you?" demanded an irate raider, stumbling forward waving a pool cue. Other raiders glanced up at the newcomer, several reaching for their weapons as they too failed to recognize him.
Than shrugged and sprinted forward, passing the surprised raider before he could swing his clumsy weapon. Than's pistol was up and firing, hitting chests and heads and limbs, incapacitating three raiders in the span of two seconds. Before they could respond, Than had leapt up and over a nearby bar, putting ceramic and thick wood between himself and the remaining raiders. He had glanced around during his rush through the room, and had noticed five other raiders in the room, which was basically a large lobby that seemed to span this whole floor.
"He went that way, get him!" called the same man with the pool cue, and Than heard approaching footsteps. He popped up and shot two of the closest raiders, turning them into ash and scaring off the rest in the half-second before he was back behind the bar. "Shoot him!" shouted the pool-cue-raider, who seemed to be the leader. Immediately, bullets began pounding the stone and wood that Than was hiding behind.
Than sighed. These idiots really had no idea how to fight. They were focused on shooting his cover, instead of waiting for him to appear. In less than a second, Than popped up, the two raiders who were tearing away at his cover, then slipped back behind what was left of the bar. All that was left was the leader with the pool cue. "If you run I'll shoot you," Than warned from behind his cover. He heard" the weapon fall to the ground with a clatter.
"Come and fight me," the raider taunted. "Put away your pea shooter and let's have a fair contest." Than rolled his eyes, guessed it was a trap, slid his weapon into its holster, then stood, his hands up. Which was ironic, considering his opponent had a .44 magnum pointed at his chest.
Than sighed inwardly. There was a 50-50 shot he could turn this guy into ash before he was shot himself. He didn't like those odds. He decided it was better to play it safe and stall for time. Calmly, slowly, his hands still up, Than stepped from behind the bar, staring at the raider. He was a particularly ugly specimen. His face was sallow, probably liver failure from over-drinking. His skin was grimy everywhere, and his hair was limp and slick with grease. His nose was a pulp, having been smashed so many times it was a wonder that the raider could still breathe with it.
The raider sneered at him. "Caught ya huh?" he demanded. "It's always the same with you scavers, honor and fairness and whatnot. I should kill you right now," he went on, his eyes moving away from Than's for a moment to consider the option. Than was still moving slowly, now heading towards the windows at the other end of the lobby. Slowly, slowly…
"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" he prompted the distracted raider, still stalling as he started backing up now, his back to the windows .
"Why the hell would I want to know that?" demanded the raider, pulling the hammer back on his revolver and setting the bullet.
Than spoke quickly, almost to the windows. The raider was following him now. "No ordinary scaver could've wiped out all of your men. Think about it! Don't you know what's here?" he put urgency in his voice, counting down in his head. 15… 14… 13…
"What are you talking about?" demanded the raider, looking around now like he expected to see some glorious pre-war tech just spring up. Than was barely listening to him now, as his back was to the windows. 8… 7… 6… he counted, now stepping slightly to the side.
"It's just outside" he breathed, and the raider stepped forward, shoving him out of the way and glaring out from the hotel, into the street before him. Than let him get pushed away, counting 3… 2… 1… as he fell to the ground.
The raider exploded. Simply put, one moment there had been a man, the next there was a bloody pulp smeared against the far wall, and two feet, the muscles that attached them to the legs torn to pieces, still standing where the raider had been
Than fired a shot from his pistol into the ceiling, the slowly stood up from his position beneath the windows. He turned out into the street and waved, grinning at the watcher he knew could see him. "Thanks," he mouthed, before turning on his heel and running back to the elevator. Time to visit this Makarov.
And here is where I respond to my awesome reviewers!
SarikOstheim: I don't really agree with you, in regards to the actual Brotherhood. The Brotherhood in F3 was atypical, much more outward focused than its parent organization in California. Keep in mind, they want pre-war technology more than anything. Unless the Talons have a bunch of it suddenly, then they'll be largely ignored by the typical Brotherhood I hope to portray here. That being said, the Talons will have a major role to play, and don't be surprised if the BoS does as well =) Also, I plan to use the Boomstick for awhile, but I do have in-mind ways to upgrade it, don't you worry.
Jdboss1: Yeah, I wanted to make a fresh area, one we don't normally hear about in Fallout =D And yeah, the enemies are more likely to surrender than run at you with a stick like in the fallout games. The first girl you mention is Olivia, the second is Charlotte, the third is to be named. Yes, you're correct in thinking they'll be central to the plot in the future =) Depending on your bartering skill in fallout games, pre-war money can be worth anywhere from .5 caps to well over 10 caps apiece. It doesn't have a set value yet in the economy I've created, but rest assured, Derek has a use for the money he collects. And, as told in Fallout New Vegas (and before, when I had the original response to your review that was wiped by my crashing hard-drive) caps aren't just pressed metal, they all have insignias and serial numbers and special markings that make them unique. While I think the Pitt could possibly have a bottle press, they probably don't have the know-how to create infinity caps. Instead, they can create lots of guns to sell for lots of caps to buy their slaves to make more guns to sell for more caps and so on and so forth. =D
Review review review! It's good for you!
*for those of you who don't know, a squawk refers to a person on a radio or walkie-talkie pressing the speak button. The listener hears this action as a specific noise the radio makes to indicate someone is about to speak. Before this, people had to say things like "over" whenever they were finished speaking into the radio.
