Bad People
Athena had worn the busted slave collar for so long she'd forgotten it was even there, the old familiar weight around her neck just more tribal jewelery. It had grown to be just as much a part of her as her fingers or toes. Once there was a time where every morning she woke up screaming, clawing at the metal and crying. That time had been long past before she came to the Crazy Horns.
When she arrived none of them asked her about it. They assumed it was decorative, adornment and luxurious adornment at that. All the Crazy Horns worshiped Athena like she taught them to worship the goddess. Every aspect of her was fetishized, from her dusky skin to her knotted dreads to the AEP7 laser pistol slung at her hip. The Crazy Horns were particularly infatuated by the laser pistol, for one reason or another they rarely if ever saw any energy weapons. Athena assumed it was ignorance, ignorance of the world as was and the ignorance of the world as before. It was not surprising to her to use energy weapons. Athena had encountered more than a few enemies who wielded laser pistols and plasma rifles. The Crazy Horns were impressed by the technological advancements, in fact they were awed and terrified by something as simple as Athena's weaponry, despite Athena's almost total disdain of her pistol. To her it represented a culture of fear, a culture of paranoia that preferred military action to understanding. Athena did not support that, a society of fear. Yet the Crazy Horns were inspired by her weaponry to create a culture of the laser. The "dancing light" they called it. They begged her to fire it into the air so they could see the light shoot upwards and disappear into the stars.
She was not impressed by this display of ignorance by the tribe. She wondered how had they not come to fear and hate laser weaponry? She was slightly resentful, with each shot she obligingly made for the Crazy Horns she began to bitterly wonder why no one had ever shot these people with a laser rifle. She had learned to fear and respect laser weaponry from a very young age, when her family was attacked by raiders and one of them was carrying a laser assault rifle. She saw her eldest brother disintegrate to a pile of smoking ash in front of her very eyes. She would never be entranced by the flashing of the weapon's beam, and it disturbed her that these people she considered her new family were so naïve.
Athena blamed it on the Canaanites. The mormons had a strong grip on the area, defending local tribes. Sheltering them from the true dangers of the waste. Thanks to New Canaan the Crazy Horns hadn't encountered a raider attack in years. Occasionally a convoy would arrive, with supplies for trade. They'd bring missionaries, too, preaching scripture to the tribe. Athena didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded like a threat to her mission. For months she would hide from mormon convoys, planning her trips back to Ouroboros in conjunction with the missionaries' visits. It was an encounter with a child, a child of the tribe named Too Much, that inspired her to take action.
They were by the stream, Athena was teaching the boy numbers with rocks. He wasn't paying much attention, drifting in and out of the lecture, playing with the rocks instead of counting them. Occasionally his eyes flicked to her neck. She could feel the question coming.
"Why do you wear that necklace?" he asked innocently.
"I can't take it off," She bent down to his level to demonstrate. She pulled at the slave collar, demonstrated the mangled lock.
"Why'd you put it on?"
"I didn't put it on. Someone put it on me. Some bad people made me wear it and now I can't get it off," she tugged at the collar with more urgency. The metal bit into the back of her neck.
"Bad people?" Too Much asked, clearly unfamiliar with the concept.
"Bad people," she instinctively placed a hand on her gun, "The world is full of bad people, people who want to hurt, and kill, and make people their slaves. Force them to do things they wouldn't do," she elaborated, "Put them in cages, tie them up."
The young boy wrinkled his nose. "I don't think you're telling the truth. I think you're making stuff up."
That was when Athena realized it was time. She was here to educate these tribals, and she was going to educate them. She was going to teach them the true face of the wasteland. She was going to teach them fear. She was going to teach them respect, of her and her pistol.
It was fairly easy to convince the tribe to ambush the New Canaanite convoy. They believed everything she told them, that they were being poisoned by the traders, being poisoned in body and in mind. It was a fairly simple matter to convince them to rid themselves of this corrupting influence.
They killed about half the convoy, and the other half surrendered. They ransacked the supplies, forced the remaining New Canaanites to their knees. Athena spoke to the tribe.
"I come from a tribe, myself. A different tribe than the Crazy Horns, or the Canaanites. I come from a tribe of conquerors," she told them. She executed each of the Canaanites, one at a time. Dissolved each and every one to a smoking pile of ash.