This is early as I am off on a TA Selection Weekend on Friday afternoon and so it was easier to post this tonight.
Also I'd like to shamelessly encourage you lot to check out my new fallout story 'Redemption'. Picked up a couple of pointers from here and I was keen to implement them so I started a new story. Still Intend to finish this one though so will update every friday as usual.
Sarah's fingers drummed impatiently on the bar as she waited impatiently for the Wanderer and Gallows to join her and Glade at Moriarty's. She had been waiting in this damn bar for two days now and her patience was beginning to wear thin, the only reason that she wasn't furious at this endless waiting was because of what had happened when she had left Harith.
She had broken that slimy turd Dez's nose when he, upon finding she was leaving, had tried to grope her. Pouring all her frustration and anger into one punch she had smashed her fist into his face, heard the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking and walked away from his unconscious body with a smirk on her face.
So luckily for Gallows and the Wanderer her good mood meant that she was willing to live with a light delay but if the indeterminable waiting stretched into a third day, her mood would sour and god help the bastards then.
She looked across at Glade who unlike her seemed to be enjoying the time they spent in this bar, then again Glade had always been able to walk into any room and be best friends with everyone there when he left again. While she had sat by the radio, nursing a drink and scowling at anyone who attempted to talk to her, he had been joking and laughing with whoever happened to be sitting next to him.
She sometimes found herself envying people like Jack…the Wanderer and Gallows who seemed to be able to laugh so easily, people who never seemed to be alone. It was a talent she had never seemed to possess.
The creaking sound of the door opening ripped her from her melancholy thoughts and she whipped round to see if they had finally arrived. She smiled as she saw Gallows step into the dim light of the bar but her smile quickly turned to a frown when the door slammed shut behind him. Why the hell was he alone? Where was he?
As Gallows stepped closer, she began to worry more as she took in his battered appearance and the stiffness with which he carried himself. Gallows and…the Wanderer were two of the toughest guys in the wasteland but by the look of things Gallows looked pretty beat up. Maybe there had been more to that explosion that she had had thought. Unable to contain herself she blurted out the question that had been racing through her mind since Gallows had stepped into Moriarty's alone.
"Where is he?"
Jack felt two pairs of hands grip his arms tightly as they hauled up in a effort to get him upright. Pretending that he was more injured than he was Jack began to collapse again but the hands holding him prevented him from doing so. A deep voice to his left spoke hurriedly to someone in front of him in a strange language that Jack had never heard before.
Whatever the deep voiced man had said it had certainly been controversial as an explosion of voices followed his statement, gradually getting louder as men shouted over each other. He felt one pair of hands drop, glancing up he could see their owner gesticulating wildly, occasionally slamming his hands down to point at Jack. Seeing the vindictive expression on the man's face Jack really hoped that he lost the current argument which he was beginning to suspect was about what they were going to do with him. That suspicion was confirmed when he saw another man pull his fist across his throat, apparently a universal gesture though one that did bode well for Jack.
An older man, in his late forties maybe the mud smeared across their skin made it hard to guess at their age or even read their facial expressions, lifted his hand and smacked the man who had suggested killing Jack round the back of head. Jack decided he liked this new guy and as the man shouted down the rest of the men this feeling was only reinforced. From what Jack was able to work out from his gesticulations the older man wanted to take Jack somewhere to the West. As they calmed down and further attention was drawn to Jack, Jack felt it would be prudent to keep pretending his injuries were worse than they were and he slumped down again, held up only by the iron grip on his left arm.
A chorus of voices answered the older man's and apparently they had agreed to his plan, whatever it was as another pair of hands gripped his right arm and they began to carry Jack west. It was kind of relaxing, Jack thought, being carried it was certainly better than walking everywhere though they could definitely carry him more comfortably. It was probably best he didn't mention that fact to the guys carry him however, somehow he didn't think they'd apologise and put him on their shoulders. Still all in his entire plan was going quite well if Jack did say so himself.
To a casual observer Jack's 'plan', if making it up as you go could be called a plan, was going disastrously. As soon as he was within reach one of the 'Radmen' had smashed him in the head with the butt of a spear. The weapon, though outdated, had been used effectively and Jack had been knocked unconscious.
Looking about now as they half-carried, half-dragged him across the wasteland Jack noticed that all of their weapons were similarly old-fashioned. The Radscorpion armoured men were carrying a motley array of spears, axes and most bizarrely bows and arrows. Jack was beginning to revise his, admittedly fleeting, suspicion that they were in league with whoever was paying off the mercs and raiders. No, apparently it was just Jack's lucky day and he had a bunch of badly dressed tribals to deal with. That was Jack's last thought before he drifted back into unconsciousness, the blow to head taking a greater toll than he had initially thought.
"I don't know" Usually Gallows would've shrugged his shoulders, avoiding any need to speak, but from the look on Sarah's face he knew that she would not have reacted well if he had done that, taking his reluctance to speak as nonchalance about the Wanderer's fate. Although if Gallows was honest he didn't overly care about the Wanderer at this point in time, it wasn't that he didn't like him because he was one of the few people Gallows actually liked. It was the fact that the Wanderer was a tough soldier and could take care of himself, right now there was a mission to complete.
The order of priorities was clear in Gallows' mind, the mission always came first especially when it was a mission as important as this. The notebook he found had yielded some names and Gallows believed that if they managed to track down some of the names then they could start making some damn progress. However he doubted that Sentinel Lyons would see things the same way, she had feelings for the Wanderer, it seemed to be goddamn obvious to everyone but her and the Wanderer and if there she believed that he was alive she'd order them all to go after him.
So Gallows made a decision, it was actually what the Wanderer would've wanted Gallows reflected wryly. After all he had gave that cryptic message about him being dead if he wasn't at Megaton and the Wanderer knew how important this mission was. The Sentinel would be pissed as hell when she found out what he had done but Gallows knew he could take it. All the mattered was the result, if getting their meant breaking the Sentinel's heart then so be it.
"Pretty sure he dead though" There it was out there now, there was no turning back. A couple of days would be wasted while she grieved but this was Sentinel fucking Lyons, soon that grief would turn into raw hatred and then they would get out there, kick some ass and get the mission done, no matter what it took. She could be furious at him when the Brotherhood was safe.
She could feel the tears welling up at corner of her eyes and she blinked furiously trying to dispel them. She wasn't going to fucking cry, she wasn't a child, she was a goddamn fucking Sentinel and Sentinel's didn't cry…especially over traitors like him…like Jack. Fuck she was going to cry, bolting up from her bar stool she made a dash for her room upstairs, it was one thing to cry, it was a whole over thing to cry in front of a crowd. She didn't know how or why, frankly at this point she didn't care, all she knew was the one man who'd she believed would always be there, looking out for everyone was gone. The worst part about was that it had took his death to make her realise her feeling for him. Muffling a sob, she flung the door closed behind her and flung herself onto the dirty sheets, finally letting the tears run freely. She heard a knock on her door
"Fuck off" There was only one person Sarah wanted to see right now and he was dead. She waited until she heard the retreating footsteps and the she let herself sob into her pillows, her cries wracking her whole body.
This really isn't my day today, Jack thought as he regained consciousness for the second time today, the pounding headache had continued unabated. He winced as his foot smacked into a particularly large rock. They were climbing a rather large hill and as the guards got more tired they let Jack hang lower and unfortunately for Jack the hill had quite a few rocks littering its slope. The sooner we get to the top of this hill the better thought Jack, as he began to get annoyed with continuous bumping and jarring.
As they crested the hill, his guards began to chat in what sounded like a happy tone. His curiosity aroused Jack looked up to see why they were so pleased.
"Holy shit" Jack exclaimed, receiving a light blow to the back of his head for his trouble. Jack didn't notice the blow though, so engrossed was he in the sight that unveiled before him. A camp numbering in the hundreds stretched out before, it was a city hidden in the desert.
As he was dragged through the makeshift streets of the tented city Jack fervently thanked his lucky stars that he had decided to try and find a peaceful way to deal with these 'Radmen'. He was confident that he had made the right decision because of what he saw, which was not a city full of blood thirsty raiders and savages but a encampment full of civilians, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons. Without the barbaric armour and the mud masks they looked like normal people, people you wouldn't look twice at if you walked past them in Megaton or Rivet City.
He drew quite a crowd as he carried through the streets, eventually his guards made a protective circle around most likely in reaction to hostile yells that could occasionally be heard over curious murmurings of the people that lined his way. They passed a line of soldiers that prevented the crowd from following them and in the significantly clearer streets Jack began to notice that the tents were larger, of better quality and the people were dressed in finer clothing, apparently he had entered a more opulent district of the tented city.
As they approached what Jack assumed to be the centre of this canvas metropolis Jack noticed a wooden palisade rising up, manned by more of the scorpion clad soldiers. It was a well maintained wall with no tents pitched within 50 yards of its walls, giving a clear line of sight to its defenders. Apparently someone here knew the business of war very well.
The guards at the gate looked curiously at Jack, who had to hide a smile as he imagined what they saw. A bedraggled man covered in mud and blood dressed in, what would be to them, strange clothes. His head had began to clear and Jack felt able to fight if he needn't to but still he kept up the appearance of being badly injured, it was the only advantage he had after all.
They dropped him roughly in a muddy courtyard and proceeded to make a lose circle around him, off duty guards who had been milling in the courtyard came over to stare at him as he lay flat on the floor but they were prevented from getting to close by his guards. Just over the babble of voices he could hear a door creaking open, absentmindedly wondering who the hell had a door in this maze of tents Jack lay his face down in the mud but its soon jerked up again as a loud shout pierced the night and everyone fell silent. Apparently, Jack thought with a grin, the boss had arrived.
Don't worry I'll soon be getting rid of the name 'Radman', Jack's taste in names is awful perhaps funny at first but his joke soon wears thin.