Sorry for the update for those who waited, im active duty so im either swamped or resting. Hope youre having a good day :)
It had taken five days to get the girls back home. Two days for them to rest and recuperate. And three to get where they needed.
They'd taken clothes from the Brahmin packs, and the boots off of the dead men's feet. At first they'd been disgusted, but after walking barefoot for the past few miles, anything was better than bare foot on blazing sand.
Shane went to quite a bit of trouble getting enough water for the lost women, but it was a necessary action for their survival.
They'd been through hell, and had narrowly dodged the bleak existence that Shane had known intimately.
His forearm burned at the thought but he banished the pain just as soon as it came.
Shane had never been to the town of Cactus Springs hadn't even heard of it before he was given the contract for it. It was like any California town nowadays, freshly built buildings and lazy, rear detachment troopers fiddle-fucking around.
The only prominence was an almost blindingly white manor at the apex of a hill. The rolling crests surrounding it, covered in agave and other such crops.
Still being a betting man, he wagered his benefactor was there.
To Shane's disgust, that was likely why four women could just be taken so easily, and he blamed poor preparation for the seven freshly dug graves outside town.
Each had an NCR issue helmet on them, dog tags hung from the ramshackle cross, clinking in the desert breeze.
The townsfolk gave the returned women a reception Shane had seen a dozen times or more. Tears of relief and joy as girls were swept into the arms of their loved ones. Parents and siblings embracing their family member, their distraught melting away with every kiss and hug.
Shane stood far from it all, the only thing he could embrace was the M16 still cradled in his arms. The rifle itself brought its own memories, and he stifled the sorrow that felt like a fist around his heart.
A woman, attractive in a farm girl sort of way. Grasped his helmet in her shaky hands, and planted a kiss right on his metal cheek.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" She fired off rapidly.
Shane chuckled uncomfortably as the woman embraced him, body armor and all.
"Not a problem ma'am." He drawled.
He could've been saving four nuns, but it didn't change the fact he'd done it for money.
But to them, regardless of his motivation, he'd brought them back their girls.
Men shook his hand, women hugged him or offered the same, children looked up at the former Ranger star struck.
Despite the crowd conveying their gratitude, Shane's focus was on the big house above them all.
A man and a woman, each easily middle aged and beginning to grey, stared from their balcony with pure disappointment etched into their features.
A sharp whistle silenced the townsfolk.
Features that eerily reminded Shane of a rattlesnake peeked from the black of his widely brimmed hat. His well tailored suit was likewise black, saved for the pale blue vest he wore.
His smile was thin, and held an air of haughtiness that the former Ranger did not care for. And even though his hands were behind his back, he still eyed the man's gunbelt suspiciously.
The glint of his pistol was offset by the menacing machete that was strapped to his leg.
"Mister Shane Walsh..." The man greeted, his voice as smooth as top shelf whiskey.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" The former Ranger drawled, thumbs going to his belt buckle as he sized the man up.
"My Christian name is Lucius Merrimack Kelly... I am the head of security for the Eberly Distillary corporation." The man explained, a slight bow to his posture.
"Never heard of you." Shane said evenly.
"I understand your reservations with a stranger Mister Walsh. But I assure you, if you begin to trust our mutual employer, it may prove lucrative." Mr. Kelly maintained his confident smile.
"There is the matter of my fee." Shane reminded.
It felt wrong discussing such matters in front of the very crowd who had called him selfless not even ten minutes ago.
"Follow me Mister Walsh, and all your questions and inquiries will find their answers." Mr. Kelly chuckled as he waved Shane to follow.
Even with a ten-thousand payout, he still felt uncomfortable following this man.
As to be expected of high profile people, Shane was disarmed at the entrance. His shoulder holsters, gun belt, and magazines were all taken. He'd reluctantly handed his M16 off, and was similarly relieved of his helmet.
Even after taking away pounds of gear, they still frisked him, and Shane internally smirked as they missed a knife and pistol he'd hidden.
His grey eyes flecked over the guards cautiously, the bulk of their chest suggested body armor beneath the suits they wore. Clutched in their hands was a myriad of weapons, from lever actions to assault rifles.
Whoever these Eberly people were, they were loaded, the homestead he found himself in was so clean he felt filthy just looking at it.
Everything seemed to be made of rosewood and marble, and he felt like he was tracking dirt just by stepping on it.
The plush softness of it all was suffocating to the man. The former Ranger rarely allowed himself the finer things in life, as to avoid going soft. The last time he became complacent and comfortable, ended with him getting shot in the head.
"Ah! The man himself!" A voice boomed.
Shane's gaze centered on the man he saw on the balcony. Up close he saw he was a barrel chested man, who despite his obvious years walked with a vigor reserved for a far younger man. From underneath his bushy grey brows his eyes twinkled and his smile was broad under his graying whiskers.
This could only be Mister Eberly.
Shane's hand was in a bone crushing grip before he could even mutter a greeting.
"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Walsh! Augustus Eberly, a pleasure."The old man greeted happily.
"Likewise Mr. Eberly." Shane greeted back.
"Please follow me, sit!" The man insisted.
Shane was ushered into a poshly decorated parlor, dark wood was tastefully lain about. The woman who Shane had seen from afar was seated on a couch, next to her was a young man, easily mid twenties, a younger copy of his father.
Shane's eyes lingered on the Eberly family cautiously as Mr. Eberly made a quick beeline for the bar.
Scanning the room, the former Ranger eyed a family portrait. Each of the three Eberly family members sat, stoic faced and immortalized.
Save a beautiful blonde girl, a female counterpart to her brother, who was absent from the room.
Mr. Kelly shut the door quickly, to provide privacy for the group.
'Three soft targets, Kelly is armed.' Shane thought.
He eyed the exits to the room, the glass doors lead to the very balcony Shane had seen them earlier.
If this went sideways he'd be ready, he'd always be ready.
"You a tequila man Mister Walsh?" Mr. Eberly asked, his smile inflected in his voice.
"Bourbon, sir." Shane responded.
The man grunted in disappointment but poured, and returned, handing Shane a tumbler of bourbon.
"My wife, Diana, and my son Daniel." The man explained proudly.
"Mister Walsh." Mrs. Eberly greeted, taking Shane's calloused hand in a dainty grip.
"Sir." Daniel said curtly, his hand finding Shane's. His eyes disturbed Shane, vacant, and blank.
"Please sit." Mr. Eberly insisted.
Shane reluctantly did, adjacently to the family. Mr. Kelly firmly stood in Shane's peripherals, hands folded.
"I won't insult your intelligence Mister Walsh, by now you know that we are your employers." Mr. Eberly droned as he sipped his drink.
Mrs. Eberly grabbed a saucer of tea, their son did nothing but sit and stare.
To the older woman, her exterior was cool and calm, on the inside she was terrified.
The man that sat before her stared her and her family down, his wolffish features unsettled her, all angular and sharp. His black hair and beard accented the scars that littered his face, the fabled gunshot he'd taken to the head cleaved his skull starting at the temple.
But his eyes.
Those were the most disturbing feature of all.
Haunting chips of grey,dark like foggy glass, lifeless and cold.
The eyes of a killer.
Regardless, she sipped her tea and hoped her short smile didn't seem too nervous. Even as the pleasantries of business continued, she feared for her life.
"If anyone could afford my services it doesn't surprise me to be you." Shane praised, ignoring his bourbon as it sat on the table between them.
"Well for my family we expect nothing but the finest. And you have delivered as per your contract." Mr. Eberly said.
Mr. Kelly retrieved a tray from a cabinet, caps neatly set in leather bags covered the entire surface. A big, elegant looking "E" was printed onto each bag.
"Five thousand." The old man announced.
Shane's blood ran hot, his nostrils flared, and his grip tightened.
"The contract said *ten* thousand." He growled.
Suddenly, his contingency plan to kill everyone in the room became all the more appealing.
He noticed the old woman flinch, and Mr. Kelly tensed in the corner.
'No you're better than that.' She would say.
Was he really though?
"There is a reason why we paid for you to retrieve those girls, and you did so perfectly. However, one was missing, that was your true objective."
"Excuse me?" Shane raised a brow, but otherwise kept the edge in his voice.
"Our daughter... our Hannah." Mrs. Eberly said, her eyes shrouded with worry.
The older man's smile finally died at the mention of his daughter.
He took a single calming breath, perhaps what they explained would be to his benefit.
"Tell me what happened." Shane asked, downing his bourbon in a quick flourish.
"It was two weeks ago. Men came to this town, armed men. During a work party we hold at the end of each quarter." Mrs. Eberly explained.
"The troopers tried to stop them, but these men were not raider types. They were trained professionals." Mr. Eberly drawled, obvious distaste in his voice.
Shane would hardly call the troopers in town real soldiers. For all he knew he was dealing with dangerous amateurs, not real professionals. The weak looking troopers in town were probably easy game for a run of the mill raider. The band he'd wasted were nothing like what was being described.
But, the former Ranger would keep an open mind regardless.
"They killed the troopers and took the girls. It all happened so fast, I didn't expect it to go the way it did. They took what they could and left." Mr. Eberly described.
"Did you get a good look at them?" Shane asked, fingers interlaced as he leaned into the conversation.
"Yes, they wore military style uniforms, not unlike what the troopers wear." The aged man explained.
Nothing like the rag wearing band he'd killed, those men would've burnt the town down if they had the numbers and taken everyone.
A lot of information was not matching up.
"Sounds to me like whoever nabbed her was not the crew I ran across earlier." Shane thought aloud.
"All we know is that they're heading East... where exactly from there I don't know."
Shane had no idea where they'd go either. The Legion was crumbling, that left the markets up north or further into the south.
He did however, know someone who might know, that'd be his first stop for intel.
If he was going there he needed to have more than an M16.
"We know about your reputation Mister Walsh, and we know it needs a... boost so to speak." Mr. Eberly began.
His ego was stung at the words, after Benny had shot him in the head, his legend was shoddy at best.
A former NCR Ranger, a legend in the bounty hunting world and in the military.
And he was taken down by a goddamn Casino Manager.
Turns out being the now storied "Courier" only meant so much having had assistance along the way.
The Courier was a hero built upon by the combined efforts of him and his friends.
Shane Walsh was a reputation he'd built all by himself.
If he was to return to this line of work, he needed to rebuild his reputation. He used to be a go-to and now no one remembered who he was.
Shane Walsh didn't mean anything anymore, his name was synonymous with old news.
He needed to have that reputation back, he needed to be on top.
If finding this girl was how it happened then so be it.
"I'll need a picture."
Twenty thousand caps.
It is bullshit what people say about their loved ones. You can put a price on anything no matter what.
The Eberly family was willing to pay twenty thousand for the safe return of their daughter Hannah.
Shane had bit the bullet, accepted the risks days ago, and now he needed the information that would make or break this job.
The former Ranger would never admit it, but to see the tears of relief on that old woman's face was a reward in and of itself.
He was outside New Reno for that exact reason.
And Shane despised New Reno.
All the charm of Vegas and double the scum. Neon lights were a solid two miles away. And even from here Shane could smell the rot and almost gagged. It figured that *she* would be here.
Nicole "Nix" Maxwell was someone he had a storied history with.
Whether or not she would cooperate would either take some convincing or none at all depending on her mood.
Her usual haunt was a roach nest of a saloon aptly named Underworld.
That rathole of a bar had stood for far too long for Shane's taste. But it was a necessary evil for intel and he had to admit, the drinks were cheap and strong.
Shane was not a welcome patron by any means, the clientele of that watering hole had either lost people to Shane or had been put out of work by him.
A great deal of them would be targets one day, and Shane made sure he committed every face to memory.
If he had his way, he'd get an M60 and just light up the entire place and burn it to the ground.
But that would mean he owed the city, and that wouldn't do.
His sense of whimsy did however enjoy the old style shutter doors that were the entrance. Patrons smoked out on the deck, and as soon as they eyed the black armor of an NCR Ranger they finished their drinks and left.
The former Ranger chuckled to himself, and advanced to the entrance.
As soon as he pushed through the shutters all the revelry died. Slavers, mercenaries, raiders, chem pushers and even other hunters all had their eyes on him.
The room turned arctic and Shane clenched his fists and prepared to draw his iron.
"Shane Walsh~." A voice cooed.
Lovely.
Slowly, with an almost predatory gait, Nix descended the second floor stairs. Her bleached white hair was a sharp contrast to all the drab color in the room, cut asymmetrically with her eyes and lips accented with black makeup.
At 5'3 she barely came to his chin and walked like she was a giant. Her bright green eyes stared at him with the spark of an admirer and the hard edge of a rival.
"Nix." He greeted.
"Back to the party everyone! Shane's not going to do anything stupid. Are you Shane?" She teased.
"Just here to talk. Nothing else." He said with finality.
That seemed to placate enough of the patrons enough to continue drinking, albeit fearfully.
Not all of them though.
A trio of them, each tall and angry, brandishing guns of varying size all walked up.
"Ah ah ah, sorry boys. He's off limits." Nix hissed to them.
"Get out of our way Nix, that piece of trash killed my brother!" The lead one growled.
"You'll have to be more specific. I kill a lot of brothers." Shane said evenly.
"You bastard!" The man cried, pointing his shotgun at Shane.
In a flash, the Ranger's own rifle was leveled at them He really needed more than just an M16 if the rest of the patrons wanted to dance.
"Gentleman gentleman please, level heads?" Nix asked, voice so mockingly sweet Shane wanted to gag.
"Get the fuck out of the way Nix. I will shoot through you to kill this fuck." The leader growled.
"And now you went and said it." Nix sighed.
Before the man knew it, his neck was sliced open, the blade was shaped like a tiger's claw and twice as sharp. Blood spurted out in fast jets as the man hit the floor.
The other two were dropped with two shots from Shane's pistols, all three were dead before they hit the ground.
Nix spun her karambit knife along her trigger finger before she wiped it off on the leader who was currently drowning in his own blood.
Some laughed at the idiocy of the trio for trying to take them on, some clapped at the display.
Most stayed silent.
"Come with me." She said with a wave of her hand.
"Sorry about the mess Dave." She is chuckled awkwardly to the barkeep who just shook his head.
Shane was lead into her modest room, and was more on edge in there than out there with the thugs and killers.
"Want a drink? Some music?" She asked.
"No." He ground, crossing his arms.
"Well you're not here to drink and you don't want me to set the mood at all. So you do want to talk." She deduced, a teasing smile on her face.
"I didn't walk all the way here for a booty call Nix." He sighed.
"A girl can dream." She said wistfully.
"I'm looking for a girl." Shane announced.
"Why keep looking, I'm right here." She jested.
"Not like that, it's work." He scoffed, withdrawing Elizabeth's photo.
Nix eyed it for a nanosecond.
"Never seen her before." She shrugged.
"You're a piss poor liar Nix." He growled.
"Uh no, I am a fantastic liar. I haven't seen her but I know who might've." She said as she poured herself some tequila.
"Who?" He asked.
"Uh uh uh..." She tutted, "Quid pro quo handsome."
He sighed for the umpteenth time.
"What do you want?" He asked, voice trailing as if suffering.
"You can start by taking off that helmet and looking me in the eye like a man." She said before sipping her drink.
Reluctantly, he complied.
Grey met green and she smiled.
"There's those beautiful eyes." She traced his jawline, "And that handsome face."
The only people alive that called him "handsome" were either whores who wanted his money, or Nix.
"Who's the man?" Shane asked again.
"What do I get if I tell you?" She giggled.
"What do you want?"
Very poor choice of words on his part.
The hellion's eyes flicked from him to the large bed and she grinned hungrily at him.
"No." He deadpanned.
"I'm not gonna beg honey, it's your loss. Both with work and play." She laughed.
"You get one kiss." He sighed.
"A kiss and a thousand caps."
"Deal."
One of Eberly's bags of caps was put onto her dresser, and a pair of lips collided with his, desperate and hungry.
When Shane found Hannah he hoped she was grateful for the sacrifices he'd made for her.