Chapter 16

It did not take long for Jessica to find Rag, leader of the Furies. He was holed up on the ground floor, not far from Krong. He had set up a little throne for himself; a couple of desks slid together with a chair on top. His sniper rifle hung on the wall behind him, above his head and to his left. To his right was a magnificently horrible machine. A motor and handle system leading up to a set of horrific spinning axe blades. It looked like a piece of industrial equipment, but Jessica had no doubt of the horrific damage it could inflict upon the human body.

In the raider's arms was another interesting weapon: a jet-black American assault rifle with a scope on the top and a silencer. She had seen similar weapons in Mick and Ralph's secret stash. They were never for sale, even to her.

Seeing Rag up close, Jessica realized that he was horrifically scarred. Pale and red burn marks covered his face and chest. Sometime in the past he had either been caught in a fire, or suffered from a horrific amount of radiation exposure.

On a small table beside his chair was a number of pre-war books: the D.C. Journal of Internal Medicine, the Big Book of Science, and Guns and Bullets. The few other Furies sitting and standing around him were nakedly ogling her, but their Leader was surveying her with a sharp, dispassionate eye.

He addressed his crew first, "Allah yinze calm down, eh?" he shot her an almost pleasant smile, "I wondah'd when you'd wander down street-side ta see me."

"Did you?" she asked.

"Saw you at the Sacrifice this mornin'," the raider explained, "yeh don't look like yeh belong heyah."

Jessica sighed, and glanced around the room at the peeling paint, dirty cots and desks, and the even dirtier raiders collected amongst it all. She turned back to Rag, "What gave it away? The smell?"

"Hah! Yer too well fed innat. Most a dese boys dey go down to da sacrifice dere. Look forward to maybe one solid meal every few days an' scraps da rest of da time. Even da wimmin we're all skin an' bone here but you?" he leaned back in his chair, "You got tits. You got curves. Yer hair ain't all ratty. You eat real well."

"Well thank you for noticing," Jessica said, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice, "I do try to keep in shape."

"Who are yah?"

"I'm a… messenger. Diplomat. General problem-solver." Jessica spread her arms welcomingly and gave him her most winning smile.

"Really?" Rag asked, wholly unmoved, "Dah only guys we're a problem for are dah Legion."

Jessica's smile faltered.

"Boss," one of Rag's assistants took a step towards her, "what do ya say me an' the boys take her out back and-"

"Don't touch her!" Rag snarled, suddenly enraged, "Nun'o'yinze fuckin' touch her! No one!"

His entourage took a step back, confused.

"Thank you." Jessica said, and meant it.

"It ain't courtesy." The raider's chair creaked as he leaned back in it, "dis ain't dah first time some stranger wandered into my home, innat. It didn't end well last time."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Jessica said as sympathetically as she could, eyeing the gigantic auto-axe which hung from the wall.

Rag cracked a cynical smile, "Sure ya are." He nodded to one of his more level-headed captains, "Search her."

Jessica flinched as the man approached, but to her surprise, he was professional, patting her down for weapons. The man located her switchblade and her 10mm pistol, and placed them both on the desks at Rag's feet. The raider king leaned forward in his chair and stared down at the weapons. He looked back up at her, "that's it?"

"That's it." Jessica promised.

"Yeh wandered into a raider stronghold with just that?" he asked, in a voice of bewilderment.

"I told you. I'm not a warrior, I'm a diplomat." She told him, "and now that you have me completely at your mercy, perhaps we could talk?"

He stared at her, eyes narrowed, "Is that how it is? You're at our mercy? Lemme tell ya sumthin': No one wanders into a place like this without a lot more guns, or a helluva trick up their sleeve. Something big's goin' down. What's your part in it?"

"I'm here to talk about the terms of your surrender and survival." Jessica replied evenly, You have no idea what's waiting outside your door…

It was a credit Rag's intelligence that he didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile.

A messenger came to the compound gate at dawn: a single Legionary, bearing a letter in a sealed white envelope. He walked slowly forward, unarmed and hands in the air. In his left he held a white flag and in his right he held the letter. On order from the lookouts, he halted ten paces before the gate.

Dozens of weapons – miniguns, hunting rifles and assault rifles were all trained on him. The compounds residents glared at him with tired, angry eyes.

"You here to surrender?" Quinn called out.

"I carry a letter from my Frumentarii," the Legionary called out, "I'm here to talk about the terms for your surrender and survival."

Across the compound, murmuring broke out. Red was smiling in relief. Up in the sniper's nest, Jason and Quinn exchanged worried glances.

"I could just shoot him." Quinn said quietly.

Jason thought for a moment, and glanced back at the others. His people were looking hopeful and murmuring to one another. He said, "The Legion is weaker than we thought. I did a lot of damage. They wouldn't negotiate if they didn't have to."

"All the more reason to hold our ground." The ghoul suggested.

"Or bargain for safety while we have the advantage?" the Wanderer asked, "They won't be weak for long. They can just hold us here and get reinforcements from Rivet City. They only have to hold us for a day or two, then they can overrun us."

"So we fight them now!" the ghoul declared.

"How?" Jason asked, "leave the compound? We lose our fortified position and the ammo stores. If they catch us in the open…? No." he sighed and ran a hand down his beard, "Red was right: we should have left when we had the chance."

"No, you were right. The Wasteland is our home and we need to fight for it."

Jason looked at Red, crouched by her barricade with weapon in hand. She shot him a pleading look. In the largest shack behind them, they heard her daughter Gabby begin to cry.

"I don't want to risk another shoot-out if I don't have to." Jason said, "Let him deliver his letter."

The Legionary was allowed up to the gate. The Wanderer met him there, and the white letter was slipped through the bars. The man stood a moment longer, staring wide-eyed at Jason.

"What?"

"You butchered a hundred men." The soldier said, his voice a mixture of disgust and awe.

As he slit the envelope open, Jason glanced back up at the legionary. He said, "and I'll kill a hundred more if you fire one more shot at my friends. Go and tell your bosses that."

The soldier drew himself to attention and then marched off proudly.

"What does it say?" Quinn marched up beside him. All around them, the rest of the wasters were staring curiously.

"Haven't read it yet…" Jason murmured. Jason unfolded the letter, which was written in thin, neat lettering.

To the fighters of the Northeast Outpost,

You have fought well, and stood your ground against the Imperial might of Caesar's Legion. You have displayed courage and resolve beyond compare, and we salute a worthy foe.

But you cannot win.

Our reinforcements are already on their way. You are well-armed and well-fortified, but your ammunition is finite. Your supplies are finite. Your lives are finite. The Legion is infinite. Even time is immaterial to us. If you have supplies for ten years, we will merely take you in the eleventh. It matters not. Kill as many of us as you wish, there will always be an army at your gate.

What we offer is not so unreasonable: Peace and security. We have no wish to fight you. In fact, we are here for your benefit. We merely want the Wasteland to be safe and civilized under the protective umbrella of Caesar's Pax Americana. And so, we offer an alternative to this useless bloodshed: Our quarrel is not with you, yet you harbor in your number a criminal whose presence we cannot tolerate.

Turn the Lone Wanderer over to us, and Caesar will show you his mercy and friendship.

You have until this evening to decide. We pray you make the right choice for a better future.

Yours, with the utmost respect,

Frumentarius Krupp

Frumentarius Martin

The math was complicated but the goal was simple: at forty-two raiders, Rag's Furies made up more than half the raiders in Krong's Kastle, and they had by far the smartest leader. With thirty-six raiders, the Pyschokillas were the next largest gang. Then the Greenfists with twenty-five. Together, the Greenfists and the Pyschokillas outnumbered the Furies. With Krong on their side, it would be an easy victory. But that would still leave probably close to two dozen raiders plus a disgustingly powerful supermutant for Septimus to deal with.

So the question became simple: which combination of raider clan and supermutant overlord led to the most carnage?

"Don't forget the plan, eh?" Rag said, leading her through the ground floor of the hospital.

"Plant the kid in the Psychokilla's den." Jessica said, nodding. "Get Krong and the Greenfists after them. You and the Furies and I just walk out while they fight."

"Yah sure the Legion will take us?" Rag asked doubtfully.

"Where do you think the Mighty Caesar gets his army? The Legion is made of Raiders and Tribals." Jessica assured him smoothly, "The Furies will fight right in. You just have to prove yourself." We're always looking for strong warriors like you…

"Right…" he said uncertainly. They drew to a halt in a dark alcove beside a stairwell leading downwards into the hospital's basement. The walls were stained with blood and marked with the green hand insignia of the Greenfists. An enormous bloody net full of fresh bones sat in the stairwell's corner, with a sizeable puddle of blood underneath it.

"Lovely," Jessica remarked. Rag nodded. She asked, "do you still remember your lines?"

"Hail Kai-Zarr. True ta Kai-Zarr. Long life ta Kai-Zaar. Blah blah blah…" he said, waving a hand.

Jessica smiled to herself, "Oh yeah. You'll fit right in."

He pointed down the set of stairs, "Down dere is Krong's kitchen. Dere are two men: Kook da Cook and Briggs da Butcher.

"Gee," Jessica said dryly, "I wonder what their jobs are…"

Rag gave her a serious look, "Briggs has killed more fresh meat'n anyone else heyah, and rumah has it Kook samples the meals before Krong gets them."

"A killer and a cannibal."

"A butcher and a cannibal," Rag clarified, "Briggs knows how to take apart a man."

"Okay… well um. I'm going to go say hi…" Jessica told him, wondering not for the first time why she kept putting herself into these situations.

"Good luck wiv that." Rag told her, "come find me once ya got the girl planted wiv da Psychokillas."

She watched the raider boss walk away back into the maze of hospital hallways. Her pistol was heavy at her hip, and she was reassured by the feeling of the switchblade in her breast pocket. She turned back to the staircase and took a deep breath before starting down into the basement.

Jessica gave the gore bag a wide birth. She held her nose as she tried the kitchen's door handle. It was locked. She glanced back up the stairs to check and make sure she was alone, then pulled a lockpick and her switchblade. The lock was tricky, but she had enough experience to feel the sweet spot. She used the tip of her switchblade to ease the mechanism around, and the door opened with a satisfying click.

The room beyond was full of shadows, and the moment the door opened, a great putrid stench wafted past her. Jessica quickly stepped through and closed the door behind her, pocketing her lockpick and switchblade.

She could hear heavy breathing and clanking footsteps, along with a shrill voice, chirping away. She turned the corner into a large room with massive concrete columns, and pipes. Old generators clanked away, occasionally emitting sparks, or a jet of hot steam. The edges of the room had chains hanging down from the ceiling, some with hacked up corpses hanging from them. Cages with corpses and living wastelanders were stacked in the corners.

A enormously fat figure wearing a makeshift gas mask, with a fireman's helmet on his head, and a thick leather apron around his waist, was working at one of the hanging corpses. Even as she watched he grabbed a ripper from his belt and tried to start it. The machine struggled and sputtered, but chugged to life when the giant grunted in frustration and slammed it against the wall. With his tool running properly, he held the corpse steady and used it to saw off an arm, which swung down on its own hook to dribble blood on the floor. Jessica cringed in disgust as, with slow, deliberate movements, Briggs the Butcher carefully unhooked the arm and laid it on nearby table, slipping the sleeve away and picking up a carving knife to part flesh from bone. She could hear his breath rasping through the gas mask as he worked. Once again she asked herself just what the hell was wrong with the Capital Wasteland.

In the centre of the room was a large fire, with a pot and a grill above. It was surrounded by spindly shelves, stacked high with food and cooking ingredients of all sorts. A tall, limber, shirtless figure danced around the firepit, singing merrily as he plucked ingredients off the shelves and tossed various unknowable, vaguely organic chunks into his stew. On the grill beside the pot, several long strips of meat sizzled and dripped. They smelled vaguely like pork.

"He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin!" the figure sang, "He just hackin' and wackin' and smackin! He just hacks! Wacks! Chompin' that meat! Badaa daa daa! Doo doo doo dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee doo dee dee doo!"

Jessica glanced back at the butcher to see him laying strips of muscle on the side of his table, tossing the bones into a large open net. She searched the cages surrounding them, and spotted the child curled up in a whimpering ball in the far corner of the room. Jessica noted, with considerable curiosity, the open exit on the far side of the room. Was this a sewer system, or a maintenance access tunnel of some kind? Where did that exit lead?

It probably led nowhere good, knowing the Capital Wasteland; right into ghouls or more raiders or another giant supermutant. Still… options.

She chewed her lip, trying to think through her situation. She needed to get the child out of here, and fast.

Fight? No. Both raiders could probably tear her to shreds. Besides, after watching how easily the ripper had taken the limbs off of that corpse, she couldn't bear the thought of the enormous gas-masked figure coming after her with it.

Sneak? No. Briggs the Butcher seemed well occupied shaving chunks of flesh from the corpse, but the cook at the firepit was moving far too erratically. And what would happen if she got the child free? Would the little girl know to stay quiet? Would she scream, or just make noise by accident and draw the attention of the two freaks.

Distract? With what? And any distraction which would take their attention long enough for her to steal away with the child was bound to bring more raiders, and lots of questions.

Jessica sighed; there was really nothing for it, then…

She squared her shoulders, straightened her mussy hair and smoothed out her rumpled clothing. Then she threw open her arms and, with a grin which lit up the room, stepped boldly into the firelight. "Kook! Briggs! Such a pleasure to finally meet you gentlemen in person!"

"We surrender you, they let us live," Shorty said, addressing not just Jason, but the crowd which had gathered in the compound's large meeting hall, "One of us or all of us? It's just simple math, buddy."

"Like you can do math, Shorty." Red shot back.

"I can't believe we're even considering this…" Quinn snarled, "How many times has Jason saved us?"

"Well now he can save us one more time!" Timebomb exclaimed, bouncing his child gently against his chest.

"By turning himself in? Even if we hand him over there's no guarantee they'll let us live." Red argued.

"Better than if we don't!" her husband shot back.

"This is absurd! We are a community!" Leo exclaimed, "We should decide this as a community."

Everyone gave him a confused look. Jason stared at his mutant friend. "Leo?"

"You are my Brother, Jason," the Supermutant said, "And I do not wish to hand you over to those savage men, but everyone's lives are at stake here. Everyone should have a say. Do you disagree?"

The Wanderer sighed and looked away.

Leo said, "Long ago on this very soil our founding fathers fought and bled to make sure that every man had a say in how his country was run. One man. One vote. That is civilization, so let us carry that noble idea forward. Let us vote."

A general murmur of agreement passed through the crowd.

"Those of us who wish to keep the Lone Wanderer with us and fight it out?" Half the room raised their hands, including Quinn and Leo.

Jason stared at the floor.

"Very well," said Leo, "Lower your hands please, and how many want to turn him over to the Legion and chance throwing ourselves upon their honor and mercy?"

Half the room raised their hands, including Shorty and Timebomb.

"Alright, we won!" Shorty exclaimed.

"Learn to count, asshole!" Quinn shot back, "it was an even split."

"Six and Six." Leo affirmed.

Every fell silent, unsure of what to do next.

"Can we take a second and think about what we're doing here?" Quinn said, "this is the Legion! When have they ever shown mercy?"

"Rivet City's still here," Timebomb said, "and Megaton." Several people nodded.

"Besides, Three Dog likes them. He says nice things about them all day long on GNR." Shorty added.

"You would too if they tortured you otherwise, Shorty!" Red spat, not meeting anyone's eyes. Leo's gaze was fixed on her.

"They don't want to kill us!" Timebomb said, to a general murmur of agreement, "They just want us to follow the rules. It's just abominations they want to kill."

In the corner of the room, Jason's scowl deepened.

"Doesn't help me and Leo much, does it?" Quinn asked.

"Sucks to be you then." Shorty shot back.

"Sucks that it was an even break, asswipe!" Quinn snapped, "And Jason hasn't voted yet!"

"Neither did Red." Leo said. Everyone looked at him, but he was watching Red, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Red…" Leo said quietly, "Red, you have not raised your hand yet."

The young woman was shaking, and refusing to look at anyone. Tears flowed freely down her face, yet she made no more noise than a sniffle.

"C'mon, Red!" Timebomb urged, "think of our kid!"

"How much safer will Gabby be without the Lone Wanderer there to protect her?" Quinn quickly followed up.

"I – I think…" Red began

"Yes?" Quinn asked.

"Hurry up!" Shorty barked.

"…I think that we-"

"Stop!" Jason barked. He rose slowly to his feet. The crowd fell silent. In a dead, monotone voice he said, "I'll do it. I'll give myself up."

Red's mouth snapped shut and she stared up at him.

"Fuck's sake, Jason…" Quinn said, shaking his head.

Yet the Wanderer's attention was on the young woman in the red jumpsuit. Staring into her eyes, he said, "I wore your bandana, Red. All that time it was your bandana."

"I know…" she replied quietly, shame flooding her voice.

He addressed the room at large, his eyes wandering over each of them in turn. "I brought you all here. I wanted to make a home for everyone. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be free, and you all trusted me enough to come to this death trap… I've felt pain before. I've been tortured before. I've been shot, stabbed, burned. Whatever they plan to do to me, I'll survive it. But none of you have that option. You're all vulnerable because I made you vulnerable." He pointed halfheartedly at Red, "she begged me to leave after the first patrol found us and I refused. I was angry and I wasn't thinking clearly and I should have listened but I didn't and now… I wanted this to be a sanctuary, but it's a deathtrap. If we run away they'll cut us down. If we stay their reinforcements will overwhelm us. And I… I put you all here. At least this way-" he stopped and swallowed, "-this way there's a chance for you."

"Not all of us!" Quinn reminded him sharply.

"We have basements and hiding holes underneath the buildings, Quinn." Jason replied hollowly, "just let the Legion sack the place and sneak out when they're gone. We did plan ahead. It's the best option on the table. You all aren't just the closest family I have in the Capital Wasteland, but the last. I will not watch you tear each other apart and I can't watch you vote to kill me. I just… I can't. I'll surrender."

"My friend…" Leo rose to his feet, towering over the Lone Wanderer. The Supermutant gently embraced his friend and said, "You are loved, Jason Howlett. And you are a good man."

They stared at each other for another moment, and then he turned towards the door, handing the Xuanlong assault rifle over to Quinn.

"Hey!" the Ghoul protested and tried to give it back, but the Wanderer was already walking out the door. The gaze of the silent crowd followed him.

Quinn chased him right out the door, "hey, hey Jason!"

Yet the Wanderer ignored him and trudged somberly towards the compound gate. Outside, he saw the Legion army, silhouetted on a distant ridge where they had gathered to watch. When they spotted him, they broke out into cheers which echoed across the morning wasteland. Quin caught up and kept pace, protesting desperately, "Look, ya don't have ta do this, Jason! She didn't vote yet."

"I don't want to know what her vote is." Jason replied in a flat tone.

"Just hold on a second!" Quin ran around in front of the Lone Wanderer and planted himself between Jason and the gate, his hands on the Wanderer's chest, holding him in place. "it ain't just your life at stake here, Pal. They don't like me or Leo either!"

The Wanderer stared at his friend, dead-eyed, "I told you: hide in the panic basement until the Legion leaves, and head north. Red and a few others will probably go with you. Just get out of here. Get out of the Wasteland, Quinn."

"Jesus, Jason! Listen to yourself! You're going to just let the Legion roll over you? You set this place up to be free of'em!"

Jason shrugged, defeated, "And I'm not. I never will be. Maybe this is just how it is, Quinn. Maybe I don't get to win. They turned Three Dog and Megaton, and killed Dogmeat and made Jackrum throw me out of Bannister, and Lucy was fucking Kodiak so I couldn't stay with the damned brotherhood anymore. Vault 101 sure as hell wouldn't take me back…" he bit his lip and looked away. "This was it, Quinn. This was the last holdout. I thought they'd never come this far north. No one comes here. If I can't escape them here, then… then maybe I just can't escape. Dad always wanted to civilize this place. Maybe the Legion is how that happens. I can't watch all of you die, Quinn, and I won't watch you vote for me to die either." He pointed back at the shack they had exited, "half of everyone here is from Big Town, Quinn. Big Town is why I became the Lone Wanderer in the first place. To help them. To protect them. It was always Red's bandana."

The ghoul watched him helplessly as the Wander stepped aside and continued on his way. The rest of the community filed out of the building to watch in silence as Jason stepped unarmed through the gate and continued towards the rising sun and the distant Legion picket line.