CHAPTER 26: DEBTS TO PAY.
"A man in debt is so far a slave." -Ralph Waldo Emerson.
The fighting rings continued with new matches, defeated fighters laid in a back room clinic with doctors tending to their wounds. Radcliffe left the clinic after given a stimpak for his injuries, yet the soreness would linger for awhile. In his hand was a sack of caps, forty two hundred of it jingling around as he entered the locker room area.
He tossed his boxer pants into a hamper bin and peeled off his tattered boxing tape into a trash can. A brief shower followed to get the blood and sweat off before going to his locker where his clothes were stored and went to a changing room. After a few minutes he stepped out, glad to be back in his normal wear.
The clothes had a dark brown color, the leather worn but still holding firm. He wore a black long sleeve shirt covered by an elbow long vest of thick leather that showed numerous patchwork of replaced pieces. The shoulder guards were made of rounded metal riveted to the leather and covered in scratches and small dents. Filled between the layers was strips of metal, bulletproof vest fibers, and plates of ceramic. A zipper went down the front of the vest with an equally long strip of leather with snap buttons to cover it. Covering his forearms were crude gauntlets with rectangular pads of harden leather and metal studs all over the top. He wore black gloves with the index fingers cut off and the tips on the rest. His dark brown pants had pads at the knees with two pockets on the left and one on the right. The upper right of the pants leg had a special pocket meant for holding something different.
His custom made clothes offered a large amount of protection with pockets to hold a lot. Radcliffe finished tying his steel toe boots and looked himself over in the mirror, admiring what he saw. He fixed his hair back into six unwoven dreadlocks, each held by three clasps to keep them together. All that remained was his weapons to collect.
The next room over that was once the employee lounge had been converted into a weapons storage, one of many throughout Paradise's Raid. A middle age clerk sat on a stool behind a built in counter, the room behind him had a gate stretching from floor to ceiling. The gruff man flipped through an old magazine to pass the time. His eyes rolled up to Radcliffe, who stood in front of the counter with his finger zooming down on the table bell.
The storage clerk lashed his hand out and placed it over the bell. "That won't be necessary."
"I just wanted to make sure you knew I was hear and that the bell is working." Radcliffe took his hand back and smiled.
"Smart ass." the man closed his magazine up. "Here to get your stuff back?"
"Nah! I just love looking at your crusty, pockmarked face."
"Just shut up and give me a minute..." the clerk turned around and opened up the gate door.
Radcliffe rocked back and forth on his heels until the clerk came back with his arms full. The first item he placed was tactical hatchet with a recently sharpened blade. The Raider picked it up and twirled the handle in his hand.
"Something for up close and personal." Radcliffe traced his thumb on the side of the blade before sheathing it on the right side of his pants leg.
The next item was a Ripper with an extended blade and its plastic sheath. "I took the liberty of sharpening the teeth. Trust me when I say you don't want a blunt Ripper." the clerk handed it over.
"Thanks. Clearly you want a tip from me." Radcliffe smirked while attaching the sheath to the back of his belt and securing the weapon to not slip out.
"I have a gun under this counter!" the clerk grumbled. "Speaking of guns..."
One of Radcliffe's guns was placed on the counter, an AMT Hardballer Long Slide. He picked it up and chuckled to himself and gave the seven inch slide a quick kiss.
"Now this will make someone think twice. I love this fucking Hardballer." he took the holster for it and strapped it on.
"You just like the sound of its name..." the clerk retorted.
"Your point?..."
The final weapon was lifted onto the table, an M249 SAW LMG with bipod legs, extended stock and scope. Radcliffe lifted up the weapon with one hand and looked it over.
"And here's my big baby. Who needs to be a good shot when all you got to do is shoot more bullets!" he peer down the scope and pulled the trigger of the empty gun.
"I fixed the legs, so they won't dangle around. And I replaced the cracked lense in the scope." the clerk placed the carry strap and five box magazines and ten Hardballer magazines on the table. "That will be three hundred caps for the repairs, I'll let the blade sharpening be free."
Radcliffe huffed to himself and counted the caps from his sack and gave a little tip. After that he stuffed the ammo into a long travel bag he owned that was filled with random junk and threw the bag over his shoulder and held its drawstrings.
"Take care, old timer." he waved while turning to the door.
"Tell me something, are those caps enough?..." the clerk's eyes looked to the sack at his hip.
Radcliffe sighed through his nose. "Not even close. I keep forgetting how much I owe. And I'm not a kid, I recently turned twenty six for fuck's sake..."
Knowing Paradise's Raid very well, or at least the parts that mattered to him, Radcliffe wandered out into an open market area filled with small shops. His stomach grumbled from hunger, a big piece of meat is what he craved. The Raider liked the more smaller food stands, less menu options and something simple and filling. Radcliffe came up to an open butcher shop that was one of the most cleanest ones in the areas. He watched the butcher cut meat for a few moments before looking to the hanging jerky slabs with names above on the inside.
Radcliffe licked his lips upon seeing a long slab of pork jerky. "How much for that slab over there?"
The butcher hacked off another slice of the meat he was cutting. "Twenty caps."
"Twenty?! Can't you go a little lower?..." Radcliffe protested.
"The meat's as long as your forearm. I can cut it up to reduce the price."
"Screw it, I'll pay. I'm starving..." he counted the caps and placed them on the counter.
The butcher wrapped and tied the jerky in brown paper and handed it over. Radcliffe held the jerky tight and went off to find a place to eat. During his time living in Paradise's Raid for the last five years, Radcliffe knew his way through a number of the back alleys where few dared to go in. Mostly because the people who ran Paradise's Raid didn't want people skulking around or hiding, and every now and then a critter would dig its way in. But Radcliffe didn't mind the back alleys, it was a place he could chill out and get away from the endless partying. And avoid certain people for a little while.
Radcliffe sat down on a small flight of steps and smiled while opening the brown paper. His teeth sank into the first big chunk and ripped off a piece and chewed noisily. He was about to take another bite as a sudden thud made him stop. The sound came from across the alley and around another turn, Radcliffe reached for his Hardballer and pointed towards the noise.
"Looks like another mole-rat or radroach got in..." Radcliffe said to himself while looping his finger on the trigger.
Another thud echoed, followed by a metal trash can rolling in on its side and coming to a stop. Radcliffe sat ready, his finger starting to squeeze as many footsteps reached his ears. The cause behind the ruckus finally came out from the turn, it was four little children. A young boy with short black hair and looked to be around seven, a dark skin girl with long pigtails and around six, and another five year old girl with blonde hair. The blonde haired girl held a swaddled baby boy in her arms, no more than a few months old.
The boy opened the lid of another trash can as the two girls stayed close to him. Radcliffe figured they were looking for food. And he didn't need to be told what kind of kids they are, the only kids in Paradise's Raid were children of passing traders and caravans, or children conceived from unwanted pregnancies between a prostitute and customer. Those unfortunate children always have bleak futures, they either end up growing into that line of work of selling their bodies or as simple laborers to keep Paradise's Raid running. Either way, the settlement ended up as both their home and prison with little to no knowledge of the world beyond.
Radcliffe holster his gun and slowly stood up to not startle them. The children didn't noticed him yet, they were too focused on digging through the garbage. But his quiet step landed on a shard of glass that crunched into pieces. The children turned to him with terrified gasps, the boy stepped in front of the girls to protect.
The Raider stayed still to not scare them off. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you..." he took a step towards them.
A tin can went flying, Radcliffe quickly blocked it as another tin can hit him in the chest. Next a pebble hit him in the leg, followed by a piece of a glass bottle hitting his shoulder as he moved forward.
"Will you stop it? I told you I'm not going to hurt any of you!" Radcliffe finally got close enough to stand over them. "What are you kids even doing here?"
The children stepped back, fear running through their bodies. Radcliffe noticed that their clothes were practically rags with shoes starting to fall apart. The blonde girl had a tiny backpack with a teddy bear arm sticking out, he thought it must be full of stuff for the baby.
Radcliffe started reaching his hand down to them, the children trembled as it loomed above their heads. He stopped as the fear in their eyes brought up an old memory, something that came every now and then. He remembered being just like the boy, an angry man towering over him, a sharp slap to the head that hit hard enough to bleed. Before he realized it, Radcliffe's hand rested against the side of his head. He closed his eyes and sighed before more old memories came to surface. Slowly, Radcliffe kneeled down until he was at eye level with them to try a new approach.
"Okay, let's try again. My name's Radcliffe. What's your names?" he asked them with his best smile. The kids seemed to calm down, but still kept quiet. "Are you kids brothers and sisters? That's probably unlikely, or very possible." he coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm not very good with conversations. I get it, you kids don't trust adults. That's okay, I don't trust adults either. And I'm one myself..."
The dark skin girl giggled when he said that, but the boy still stood firm in front of them as the baby in the blonde girl's arms started to stir. Radcliffe tried to think of something else to say as grumbling stomachs changed the conversation.
"Hungry, huh?" he asked, holding the brown paper in his left hand. Starving eyes looked to the piece of jerky meat sticking out from it and he could see them practically drooling for it. Pity took hold of him, their skinny bodies could be seen through their ratty clothes. Slowly, he offered the wrapped jerky to them. "Being hungry sucks a lot. You kids need this more than I do. Here, take it..."
The boy looked cautiously at the food, not sure if it wasn't a trick. But hunger made the child push caution away and reach both his skinny arms out and snatched it. He ripped off a big piece and handed it to the girls who took pieces and ate them quickly as the boy took his own bite.
The kids devoured several more bites as the baby in the girl's arm started to fuss more, indicating he was starting to get hungry too. Radcliffe slowly stood and took a step back, for whatever reason the kids seemed protective of that baby. The children decided to leave and turned away from him, the girl with pigtails held the meat as the boy scurried to a nearby air duct grate and opened it. He waved for the girls to go in first while holding it open, his eyes never leaving Radcliffe, worried he might do something. But Radcliffe just kept his distance until the boy entered the duct and pulled the grate close.
Radcliffe watched the boy disappear into the dark duct with the sounds of echoing thumps fading away. Paradise's Raid may be what its name is on the surface, yet anyone who stayed around long enough knew it held horrible secrets built upon discarded people and debt. And anyone who crossed the people in charge often spent years paying off what they owe in any way possible or simply disappeared. He couldn't imagine what kind of future was in store for those kids, but at least he helped them stave off hunger for a day or two. Radcliffe just turned and left the back alley to piss away the day.
()()()()()()()()()()
Louis finally reached a more open space outside the factory. And just like the entrance, the sky was blocked off by a manmade ceiling of canopies and supports. Still no luck on finding his friends, but at least the area of markets seemed to be filled with more reliable people to ask for directions.
"Damn, how could I have lost them like this?" Louis said to himself and looked to his Pip-Boy. "Too bad you can't track them. That would be nice."
"Hey, asshole!" a sudden angry shout from behind.
The Vault dweller sighed and slowly turned around to three angry looking men. "And here's more trouble..."
"We saw you give Radcliffe those knuckle dusters!" the one on the left accused.
"Because of you, we lost all our caps! We're completely broke!" the one on the right curled his fists.
Louis' hand slowly drifted to his holster. "Sorry you lost. But I'm not sorry for helping someone who was being ganged up on. It isn't right..."
"Well, bitch, nobody's coming to your rescue." the one in the middle reached for an old nightstick at his side. "We're gonna beat your teeth out!"
Louis took that threat to heart and pulled out one of his Colts and pointed. The men quickly backed off with their hands up in surrender.
"Shit! Does he have a bunch of caps on him to pay?!" one of them spoke with a quiver.
"Man, forget this! It's not worth getting killed over!" the other spoke before fleeing.
The last two slowly backed up with their eyes still on the gun before spinning around to run. Louis watched them flee, trying to figure out what the man said.
"To pay? Pay what?..." Louis wondered before hearing footsteps behind him.
He turned around to see a different Itinerary Man stood with his clipboard close to his chest. "That's unfortunate. Seems like I won't be collecting a death payment after all." he turned and walked off before Louis could ask what he meant.
"Death payment?" Louis holstered his gun. "We have to get out of here soon, I don't like how this place is run one bit."
He decided to check out the next factory before backtracking to the first one in case they had already reached that location too.
()()()()()()()()()()
Radcliffe flushed the toilet and exited the bathroom stall after relieving himself. To have working plumbing in the Wasteland was a rare treat, and Paradise's Raid made sure people knew that just so they could come to see the comforts of the world before the war. He walked up to the sinks with the long stretch of mirror covered in cracks. Even though the plumbing was regularly maintained and the bathrooms kept clean, the walls were covered in graffiti, curse words, crude and perverted drawings, and a surprisingly nice painting of a sunset in the corner.
Radcliffe washed his hands and splashed some water in face. He looked at his rough complection in the mirror, the years of fighting left him hard and rough to the point he sometimes didn't recognize himself. But that paled in comparison to his youth, long before coming across this settlement.
The door to the bathroom flung open and closed harshly. Radcliffe looked in the mirror and saw two men in black padded clothes. He recognized them as High Lookers right away, and meeting one in person was never good. Especially for him.
Radcliffe reached down and picked up his pack and to them. "You guys look like you want some privacy. I'll leave..." he casually spoke and walked up to the door between them.
The High Lookers didn't react in any way to his comment. Instead, their arms raised and blocked the door. Radcliffe stopped sharply and bumped into their crossed arms.
"Uh, guys, I'm flattered, really. But...I'm just not into guys. No judgement here. Anything goes in Paradise's Raid. live and let love, or something like that."
The High Lookers suddenly grabbed him by the upper arms and held tight. Before Radcliffe could even react, the two brutes carried him across the room and slammed him against the long mirror. It cracked into many branches with several shards falling to the dirty floor.
"Hey, no means no! If you guys are into rough stuff, then go to the Red Light District! There's bound to be something for your weird taste!
The bathroom door swung open, two more High Lookers came in and took their positions by the sides as one held it open. A sharply dressed man stepped in, the door was closed behind him.
"For crying out loud, Radcliffe, do you ever shut the hell up?..."
The Raider felt his body turn cold upon hearing that voice. He looked to the slick haired man, who had a harden look in his eyes. Radcliffe swallowed and kept his composure to not show any weakness against one of the people that ran Paradise's Raid.
"Seymour, how's it hanging? Did you get a new suit? Maybe a tan? Oh, I know, you recently got la-"
The two bodyguards slammed him against the mirror to silence him. More pieces of the glass clattered to the floor.
"I'm not in the mood, Radcliffe..." Seymour slowly approached halfway across the bathroom. He reached into his suit and took out a prewar cigar and cutter. He snipped the end and lit it, taking a deep drag and blew out a cloud of smoke. "I really hate coming down here to deal with business. Especially when I'm forced to track you down to the bathrooms. It's not a good image..."
"For you or me? Because you know how people like to talk. And a bunch of guys in a bathroom for so long only makes it worse." Radcliffe gave a suggestive wink.
"Unbelievable. You just keep digging your grave deeper and deeper, Radcliffe. No wonder everyone thinks you're an asshole." Seymour squeezed the cigar tight and exhaled smoke from his nose.
"People think I'm an asshole?!" he asked genuinely surprised.
"I can see that you're going to be difficult. So I'll cut to the chase," Seymour took another long drag with his cigar. "You're in debt. And I mean a lot in debt. And I've been generous to let it last this long..."
"More like let it build up..." Radcliffe muttered.
"Shut up! For starters, your debt is seventy thousand caps! I'm sure you would have a hard time keeping track of the exact number, so I made it easy for your sake..."
"Seventy thousand?! You gotta be shitting me! There's no way!"
"Oh, you think?" Seymour reached into his vest and pulled out five sheets of folded paper. All of it containing Radcliffe's debt. "Ever since you've stumbled into Paradise's Raid, we've been keeping tabs on all your spending that you owe. For starters, owe over five thousand caps on Candi..."
"That's bullshit! There's no way anyone has that much prewar candy! Let alone spending that much on it!" Radcliffe interrupted.
"Candi with an 'i', you dumb fuck! From the Peppermint Deathclaw club." he continued reading off the list. "You've accumulated debt from dozens of food stands. Spent thousands upon thousands on ammo at the Shooting Farm. Guzzled down gallons of booze at bars, for awhile I was worried you would die from liver failure. And your gambling debts make up for almost two fourths of this fucking bill!" Seymour shouted with rage that reverberated off the walls. But he took a deep breath to calm down. Before he ended Radcliffe's life and lost all those caps in the process.
"Shit, I've really lived up to this place's name." Radcliffe smirked proudly. "I deserve an award for that..."
"And if you weren't balls deep in the asshole of debt I would have had your head a long time ago." Seymour folded the paper and put it away and approached him. "But that will only mean you getting the last laugh..."
"Hey, I prefer living any day..." Radcliffe shrugged.
"Don't get so cocky. Your popularity in the Fighting League would only be a loss in revenue." Seymour took one last puff before putting the cigar out on Radcliffe's vest, twisting the stub with hot ashes falling to his boot. "So here's the deal. I'm giving you...what's the month, March? I'll give you until August. Seventy caps in full. And I don't care what you have to do to get it. Fighting or selling your ass, either way we want that debt to be paid off."
"You can't be serious!" Radcliffe struggled against his captors. "There's no way I can get that much in that short of time!"
"Not our problem. You should have known better, it's not our fault you have no sense of control with your spending." Seymour scoffed bitterly. "If you haven't spent years here in a drunken stupor half the time, your debt might not have been so bad. Consider yourself lucky I'm giving you this long."
"Wow, I feel so lucky already..." Radcliffe rolled his eyes to that.
"Don't...push me..." Seymour warned, his fist balled up. "I got better things to do than keeping an eye on you." he turned back towards the door and spoke to his bodyguards. "Come along, gentlemen. We have other business to attend to..."
"What, is it their feeding time?" Radcliffe pointed to all four men and laughed.
The two holding him collided their fists into his stomach. Even with his armor, Radcliffe had the wind knocked out as they let him fall to the floor. He landed on his hands hard and heaved from the pain.
"And, Radcliffe, don't try to run." Seymour turned his head slightly. "If you leave Paradise's Raid, I will send people to find you. And the guards all around the perimeter have been made aware of your situation. They have orders to shoot you, but only to injure. You're no good to me dead..."
Radcliffe coughed again and spat on the floor. "Wouldn't dream of it..."
The door slammed closed with an echo, Radcliffe sat back up and leaned against the wall of the bathroom. He hated to admit it, but he knew this day was coming sooner or later.
"This day turned shitty in a heartbeat. First someone rigged that fucking fight, and now Seymour is getting up my ass. The only good that came from this was when that guy-"
He suddenly remembered the guy in the blue jumpsuit. And even more so, the device on his left wrist. A rare item for collectors all around, a Pip-Boy.
"That's right! He had one of those Vault things!" Radcliffe scrambled to his feet. "A Pip-Boy! I've heard of people that will pay up to thirty thousand caps just for one of those!" a grin came across his face. "It might not be enough to pay my debt, but it's a big chunk."
With a plot forming in his mind, Radcliffe exited the bathroom. "I just got to find that guy and lift that thing off him. Good thing I know my way around, someone's bound to have seen him."
()()()()()()()()()()
Louis entered the next factory over, filled with hundreds of people partying. The last two hours really drained him, there was still no sign of his friends and it began to worry him. The second factory housed endless choices of bars and dance clubs to entertain for hours on end. Music pounded in his eardrums, drunks staggered around or slept on the ground without a care. The Vault dweller came up to a nearby bar, its sign buzzing in bright words, The Smelting Dive. Louis thought to himself that it had something to do with one of the old factories being a forge. He cleared his dry throat, searching built up a thirst, so with a sigh he entered the open entrance.
Across from the street, Radcliffe's search for him came to an end. He checked the small medicine bottle in his hand before stuffing it into his pocket.
Louis carefully took in his surroundings, Raiders sat at tables and bar stools with countless empty bottles and glasses scattered near them, and they kept demanding more. A jukebox played a scratched record of dance music, but the people inside proved to be louder. Every few seconds Louis would hear the sound of glass shattering against the floor or walls, a rowdy place to drink. He approached the bar and took a seat on an open stool and waited to be served. A minute later the bartender came over, but before he could order a drink the bartender placed a bottle of whisky onto the bar counter.
"Uh, I didn't order this..." Louis pointed to it.
"That's because he bought it." the bartender pointed behind him.
Radcliffe came up and sat down next to him with a big grin. "Hey, how's it going? Name's Radcliffe..."
"I know. I watched the fight." he replied.
"Oh, right, I guess I took one too many blows..." the Raider chuckled awkwardly.
"So I'm guessing this is your way of paying me back for helping you?" Louis asked as the bartender placed two glasses with ice on the bar counter.
"Booze is great for all kinds of occasions..." Radcliffe popped the cork off and poured them both a glass.
The two picked up the cups and clicked them together. "The name's Louis..."
"Hmm, never heard that before..." Radcliffe said before taking a big gulp.
"It's rare..."
"So is seeing a Vault dweller." his eyes quickly glanced at the Pip-Boy. "I hear you people wear blue jumpsuits with a number on it. You guys live in your own paradise underground."
"I suppose that's one way of looking at it..."
The two sat quietly for a minute, downing their drinks until Radcliffe finished and refilled his. "If you don't mind me asking, are you traveling? I can't imagine a Vault dweller would come all the way out here just to see Paradise's Raid."
Louis finished his drink and placed the cup down. "I'm just passing through. I've expected to see all kinds of weird things out here, but not a place like this..."
"Oh, you're talking about all the Raiders around here!" Radcliffe turned a little in his seat and looked to the room filled with Raider gangs. "And I know every clan that hangs around here. For starters, see those people over there?..."
Louis turned and looked to the table he pointed at, the group of Raiders wore clothes made of leather belts sewn and looped together with a number of hanging strips and buckles. Making them look like poor attempts at mummification.
"They call themselves the Belters. All their suits are made from belts and buckles, I don't even know where they get so many belts." Radcliffe took another sip.
"They certainly are...creative." Louis cleared his throat.
Radcliffe pointed to the next table over. "And those people with the red tinted goggles? They call themselves the Red-Eyes. Word of warning, do not, under any circumstances, take away their goggles. They will go fucking insane!"
"Like I would. Do they see everything in red?" Louis wondered.
"Probably. And see those women over there, the ones in the corsets, leather thongs, thigh high boots, black cloaks, tattoos, crazy hair and piercings?"
The Vault dweller looked to the table with eight women, two of them making out. "They're...really hard to miss."
"They call themselves The Sisters of Wicca. And they do not allow men into their fold." Radcliffe grinned as the two kissing started to get more heated. "At least not men..."
"I get it." Louis took another drink. "Do they or even you know what Wicca and Wiccan is?"
"Some kind of religion, right?"
"Uh...sort of..."
"And those two tables across from each other? See the people wearing skulls on their faces? They call themselves the Skull Catchers. I hear they rank their people by what skulls they wear." Radcliffe pointed to their headgear. "The ones with human skulls are the grunts, and those that wear animal skulls are higher up, group commanders and so on. And I hear the leader wears a Deathclaw skull."
"Earlier I saw one of them arguing with another Raider group that had all kinds of bones woven into their clothes."
"Ah! Those are the Bone Harvesters. They gather all kinds of bones and wear them for armor." Radcliffe pointed to the table over. "The Skull Catchers and the Bone Harvesters have been feuding for decades. Each side claims the other stole their idea for their bone theme. And I've heard the fights have been real bloody. There was even a rumor about a man from the Skull Catchers and a woman from the Bone Harvesters falling in love and ran away together years ago. That really set the clans off."
Louis scoffed to himself. "Wow, a Wasteland Romeo & Juliet."
"You motherfuckers!" the bar went silent after the table of the Skull Catchers was flipped over.
Both Raider clans stood inches from each other with knives and broken beer bottles in hand. The only sound was the scratchy record playing from the jukebox.
"You guys love your bones so much? How 'bout we shove them up your fucking asses!" the one wearing a Brahmin skull shouted.
"Bring it on, skull fuckers!" the group leader of the Bone Harvesters twirled his knife.
"Sweet! We're about to see a fight!" Radcliffe fully turned around from the bar to get a better view.
"Isn't anyone going to stop this? Those people will kill each other!" Louis looked around the room and noticed everyone wanted this fight to go down.
Before either side could throw the first punch, another Itinerary Man stepped in as if out of nowhere and got between the groups. "Excuse me, fighting is allowed in Paradise's Raid, but if there's any death involved it's two hundred caps per kill." he informed them. "Now wouldn't you people prefer to spend those caps on more useful things like food, alcohol, and gambling? Much more satisfying than killing each other in a brawl."
Both Raider groups looked to each other and silently stood down, they didn't want to risk getting their groups in trouble. The Skull Catchers picked up their table as the Bone Harvesters went to the back corner to keep their distance. The bar went back to its usual loud ruckus with disappointed groans all around.
"Ah, party foul!" Radcliffe threw his head back. "It's always so fun to see those people fight."
"Well I for one am glad nobody got hurt." Louis frowned and went back to his drink. "There's no point in senseless fighting."
"If you keep thinking like that you won't last long out here." Radcliffe reached into his pocket and pulled out the medicine bottle. "No offense, but even Paradise's Raid will get you if you're not careful."
Louis topped off his drink. "I've been on the surface longer than you think. And we've been traveling for quite awhile."
Radcliffe needed time, just a few moments to slip the pills in. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that the Wasteland is a terrifying, and this area is some of the scariest places around. Why do you think so many people come here?"
"I can hold my own in a fight. And I've got people who have my back." Louis turned back to the Raiders to learn more. "So what's the story with those people?"
"The ones with the bird masks and feathers sticking out around their necks?" Radcliffe looked to said Raiders. "They're the Raven Scourges. Don't get in a fist fight with them, they like to fight with metal talons on their fingers." he kept the bottle hidden under the counter and started twisting the cork with his thumb and index finger.
"Just how many different Raider groups are there?" Louis asked to the seemingly endless varieties.
"Like dozens. Literally dozens." Radcliffe quietly popped the cork off. "And see those people in the corner with the white makeup and colorful paint all over their clothes?"
"Are they...dressed like clowns?!..."
"Yep, they're the Party Clownz. Back before the war, clowns would go to children parties and kill them. Which is pretty fucked up if you ask me."
"That is not even close to being true!" Louis sharply placed his drink down. "My god, who came up with that?"
Radcliffe kept searching the room for more Raider groups. He needed to keep him distracted. "And look over there! The ones with black and orange dyed into their uniforms, they call themselves the Maverick Tigers. And those people with the lights all over their armor, they're the Bright Seasons."
"Wait a minute, those are Christmas lights! What are they using to power them?"
"Don't know. A battery?" Radcliffe swiftly raised the bottle up from under the counter, holding tight to not drop it. The opening loomed above Louis' glass, he gave it a gentle shake and let three pills fall in. The pills began dissolving in the drink, but if Louis turned back to it right now, Radcliffe's plan would be ruined. "And look over there near the entrance! Wearing all those sport equipment and gear, they go by the Sport Lords."
"Let me guess, they fight with sports gear like baseball bats and hockey sticks and so on?"
Radcliffe glanced back at the drink, the pills were almost gone. "You hit the nail on the head. Speaking of which, those people by the jukebox with nails sticking out of their armor. They call themselves the Nail Drivers."
"I wonder if they've ever heard of tetanus?..."
"And right over there, that group with the weird Mohawks? They're called Moe's Hawks. Their leader's name is Moe." Radcliffe looked once more to the glass. Finally, the pills have dissolved away in his drink. "Finally..."
Louis heard his quiet word. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"Uh, finally, that's about all the different Raider groups. At least in this bar..." Radcliffe laughed awkwardly and leaned back in his seat.
Louis faced the bar and grabbed his drink, the glass raised inches from his mouth. Radcliffe did all he could to prevent himself from smiling, easy caps only a drink away. But Louis stopped, a curious look came across his face.
"You've told me about all these Raider groups, but you haven't told me yours. Does it have something to do with that tattoo on your back?"
Radcliffe clenched his glass, it almost shattered in his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked away. "My group...isn't around here. I'm kinda on my own."
"I see." Louis looked down at his glass and frowned. "Out in the open where they're free to do whatever they want."
Radcliffe didn't like his change of tone. "What's that suppose to mean?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about something." Louis lifted his glass again to finish it.
Radcliffe smiled, his plan back on track as the rim of the glass touched Louis' lips. A sudden bark startled the two, they turned around to see Cavall run up to Louis with his tail wagging from excitement. Radcliffe almost jumped out of his stool upon seeing a dog that big, and it surprised him even more when the hybrid leaped up to greet Louis.
"Hey there, boy!" he scratched him behind the ears. "Did you track me down?"
"We all did." Doug called out while moving through the crowded bar with Victoria and Joe trailing behind.
Louis got off the stool to greet them. "You guys found me! I've been looking everywhere for you."
"So were we." Victoria said. "It took us awhile to get Cavall to start tracking you down."
Joe looked to Radcliffe, a suspicious glare in his eyes. "Who's this guy?"
The Raider cleared his throat and outstretch his hand to keep in character. "The name's Radcliffe! How you all doing?"
Joe didn't return the handshake, his frown never leaving his wrinkly face.
"Joe's got a point, Louis. Who is this guy?" Doug began to look at Radcliffe with the same suspicion in mind.
"Right, I kinda helped him in a fight." Louis answered with an awkward smile. "Where's everyone else?"
"They're outside the bar. This place looks too packed for all of us to be inside at once." Victoria answered him.
"Alright. I better go see them, I'm glad we all finally found each other." Louis said, completely forgetting his drink and heading for the exit.
The group followed him as Joe gave Radcliffe one last look before turning away. Radcliffe's shifty smile disappeared and replaced by frustration of his prize slipping away and quickly gulped down his drink.
"Well, fuck. Now what do I do?..."
He turned his head to a Raider standing near him. "Uh...are you going to finish that drink?" he eyed the full glass on the bar counter.
Radcliffe huffed and slid the drink towards him. "Knock yourself out..." he answered while getting up and taking the whiskey bottle. No matter what, he couldn't let that Pip-Boy get away and followed Louis and his group.
The Raider took the drink and downed it in seconds. After that he walked back to his group at a nearby table. But just as he reached for his seat, the tipsy Raider's vision went blurry as his wobbly knees gave out and landed face forward onto the table and slid off.
His group watched him crash to the floor, the leader at the head of the table scoffed and took another drink from his beer. "Fucking lightweight."
