It had been a long walk, along the FM 8 W, a long, contrived name that probably once meant something. Cheyenne never understood why they just name their roads with words or numbers, instead it was all of these odd letters, numbers and symbols, like they were trying to confuse whoever wandered their roads.
Not that there was much of a road to speak of anymore. Giant twisters had come through the area, decades ago, tearing through everything in their path. According to Cass, some of them were One Hundred feet tall and were bristling with radiation.
It was what Cass had always wanted to see, it was why he signed on for this but sadly, he must remain disappointed. They were somewhat fortunate that they had died down, they were so grand and impressive that local tribes would worship them as Gods, praying that they would tear through valleys and destroy their rivals.
There were also windwalkers, those who claimed to command the tornadoes and believed to control them. Whether they could or not was not known to Cheyenne or anyone, she suspected even themselves.
The two tribals had put quite a bit of distance between themselves and Lindale, around two hours worth in fact. Once upon a time, this road would have been quite the journey as it had dozens of green trees and a few churches to observe. Now it was void of anything, the Churches were either abandoned or used as a squad by less savoury occupants.
Cheyenne found herself watching the 'Garden Valley' Baptist Church very carefully as they passed it by.
Thankfully, there was a long driveway between her and it, hopefully that would mean that they wouldn't encounter its inhabitants.
"It has been a long time, since we walked for so long, with purpose." Kurisu observed, glancing around the area and getting Cheyenne's attention, albeit briefly.
"I bet… Let me know if you need to stop." The Tribal said, seeming to be quite concerned for her wellbeing, given that Sulik had been looking for her for thirteen years, she imagined that he wouldn't be very forgiving of failure.
"As she watched the Church, from afar, she noticed something move in the windows, a figure appeared, the evening light shrouded his face in shadow. The light did reveal his outfit, a slightly bright duster coat, that was seemingly made of pre-war leather.
The figure just stood, glaring out across the dead fields of the churchyard, fixated on the two of them as they walked on by.
"Kurisu…" Cheyenne whispered, very faintly, so that the man couldn't hear them.
"We're being watched."
"Yes, the Spirits had suggested as such." Kurisu shrugged, indifferently, getting Cheyenne to scrunch her nose and raise an eyebrow.
"Gee, you could've told me…"
"We are always watched, Cheyenne, if I did tell you, you'd likely lose your patience with We and I."
"Lose my patience? Me?" The Chosen grinned.
"Okay, fair point…"
"Stop!" A voice called, from the church, prompting Cheyenne to draw her pistol and raise it in the voice's direction as a man stepped out of the church, hands slowly raising. The man was somewhat younger than Cheyenne and had a rather posh voice. However, his appearance was rather scruffy, his hair was bedraggled in greasy locks and he sported a rather unkempt beard.
His Duster had a number of holes and tears in it, bits of thread jutted out of the side and he seemingly had worn it a long time. Every scratch, every bullet hole, likely told a story. Some of these looked fatal, so perhaps they would be very interesting stories.
"You… You are not mourners? Explain yourselves!"
"Erm… You the Priest of that there church? Nah, we're good thanks, no dead." Cheyenne smirked, gun still pointed at his direction.
"What? Oh… No, I do not tend this church, it is merely a base of operations." The Man explained, shaking his head before looking back down the road.
"I'm… Here for the mourners, the Tribals… they live down this here road. They wait and prey on innocent travellers and then… Well, depends on what they're in the mood for, rape? Murder? It's up to them… You wouldn't have a say in it."
"Pfft… I would!" Cheyenne shrugged, rolling her armed hand around in the joint.
"They wouldn't be the first to try that shit, normally those who do get their balls shot off."
"Perhaps they will meet their match with you. Still, I'd rather not leave it to chance… Would you be interested in hearing a proposition?"
"Well, you are quite… rugged and dashing in your own way but you're a bit too young…" Cheyenne explained, doing her best to let him down gently.
"What? N-No… Just… Shut up a minute and listen. Those on the road? The Mourners? They will attack you and when they do, you'll likely be facing some pretty testing odds. So, I propose that we work together. Only, I will require you to go for more than just a few thugs, I intend to wipe out the entire tribe."
"This one speaks of a dance we know too well, Chosen, the steps well known as the Enclaves'." Kurisu warned, getting a firm nod from Cheyenne.
"Agreed… Genocide isn't our thing buddy…"
"You're from Vault 13, aren't you? They will look for your vault and if they find it? It could be your people who are hurt." The Traveller pointed out, gesturing to her jumpsuit, though Cheyenne just shrugged.
"Vault 13 doesn't exist anymore, if they want to screw with its current inhabitants, they can be my guests. I'm sure that'll go well for them…"
"Well… Whatever the case, they hold grudges these folks and they've been nothing but a burden for years now, ever since that bastard, Troels took over."
"Troels? Like… the little goblin people?" Cheyenne asked, seeming somewhat amused.
"No, as in a man, who's too smart for his own bloody good. A man who manipulates people into doing whatever he wants. He's been exiled from most civilized places and now he's taken to the roads, manipulating tribal folk into raiding caravans for him." The Traveller explained, folding his arms and glaring.
"You… Seem to know a lot about this Troels." The Chosen One pointed out, getting an irritable sigh from the Traveller as he shook his head.
"We used to travel together… Not long ago in fact but like most who deal with him, I was betrayed. Believe it or not, this is no vendetta of mine, the fact that he is running this town of scumbags is merely coincidence. I have… a personal stake in this, however, it's not to do with my own history. It's more… Well, it's a little less self-centred than simple revenge."
"Mmmhmm… Why don't I get the feeling that you aren't telling me everything?" Cheyenne asked, sounding almost genuine in her sarcastic curiosity.
"Well… You know what they say about bullshitting bullshitters, right?" He pointed out, with a faint smirk, getting Kurisu to raise her brow in confusion but she refrained from asking.
"Well… If they are preying on travellers, we should probably help. It's bad enough that Travellers have to fear the war, they don't need this shit as well."
"Quite right." The Traveller agreed.
"Before we go, I feel introductions are in order. I am Carver, busybody and underwhelmist, at your service."
Cheyenne smirked a little, letting off a faint laugh.
"I'm Cheyenne and she's Kurisu."
"Beautiful names… Tribal names, I take it? Cheyenne is a… Cheroke name, if I recall correctly?"
"Erm… I'm from Arroyo, never heard of a… 'Sherrokey.'" Cheyenne admitted, gently rubbing her neck before Carver laughed a little at her ignorance.
"There was a time where this entire land was ruled by tribals… Whole societies, made up of their own cultures. It wasn't just a pale imitation of a dead age, like it is now. It actually meant something."
Carver paused, falling silent, with a wistful sigh, shaking his head as her looked back to the road.
"Let us move on, I… could talk about Tribals all day."
As he lead the way, Cheyenne found herself being grabbed by Kurisu, a tight vice-like grip around her arm.
"Be careful with this one… Lots of bad Karma, shrouds him like smoke…"
"There is something off…" The Tribal agreed, with a quick nod.
"There is a light… obscured by impenetrable darkness… He carries it like a burden." She added, letting Cheyenne go, who gave her a grateful nod.
"C'mon, let's not keep our dark shadow man waiting!" She assured her, stepping after him as he drew a repeater rifle off his back and began to load it, cocking it as he went.
"So." Cheyenne began, getting his attention as she walked alongside him.
"Could you… Tell me a bit about these guys?"
"The Mourners? Sure… They've been around since the Great War, used to keep to themselves, until Troels came along. They live in a place known as 'The Teardrop" Carver began as they passed some collapsed pylons on the side of the road, which were once contained in a compound before the largest of them was knocked down and crushed the others, almost reaching the road, it was that tall.
"They believe that the tear shaped pond, in the ground is an actual tear, shed by their Goddess. They claim that the bombs of the War were her tears and they blighted the land on impact, after so many years of fighting, the Goddess could take it no longer and supposedly died of a broken heart, abandoning the earth."
"That's… Depressingly beautiful." Cheyenne admitted, as nonsensical as it was.
"It is… Of course, they don't exactly do her justice by murdering everyone they see. They claim that, because their Goddess is dead, they no longer need to worry about her wrath. They believe that those who survived the apocalypse are little more than savages and that this is a purgatory. When the tear dries up, then and only then will they be allowed into their afterlife. I guess that translates to 'murder and rape a bunch of caravan drivers and hopefully the Goddess will get over it someday.'" Carver shrugged, he seemed almost scornful in his cynicism towards them, he spoke almost with disgust.
"You sound as if you… hate their culture." Cheyenne suggested, she didn't blame him but it was interesting to her.
"Yes, though Hate is a strong word… They are merely God fearing people and that is what I detest. There is no love in the relationship, everything that they do is out of fear, a knee jerk reaction in response to 'ancient texts' that were probably written by some dumb shit head, who was too high to even proof read what he wrote, nearly one hundred years ago. It's that nonsense that's gotten so many people hurt and killed, it's that nonsense that acts as a key to dishonest bastards like Troels, who use their fear of a divine power to create atrocities.
I hate their culture but if it was just culture, I could accept it but it's not, instead, they insist that everyone should suffer, because they're a bunch of superstitious primitives. This country was built by such fools and equally destroyed by them."
Cheyenne broke away, by now she'd zoned out, it had been a while since she'd met anyone with such a passionate hatred for… well, anything really. She almost admired it, in a land where everyone just looked tired and run down. Including her, she supposed…
She found herself observing the nearby wreckage of the houses that she passed, none of them had held up very well. They weren't very sturdy to begin with and few things could survive an atomic blast, especially not little matchstick houses like these.
She noticed that a few shacks survived, shacks that looked quite cozy… She often considered living in a place like that, one day, when she's too old and fat to fit into her power armour.
The way that they were positioned… she wondered if these people were tribals before the war. Four small huts, banding together, like a couple of animals huddling for warmth. She imagined that there was a strong sense of community in there.
She hoped there could be one again, someday…
As they passed it, Kurisu found herself fixated on a few mailboxes, strewn out onto a small iron bar. They were pretty rustic, one of them had fallen off and was nowhere to be seen and another had a huge hole in it. Still, Kurisu found it somewhat intriguing for a brief moment before breaking away from it, shaking her head.
"They'll never trap anything in those." She sighed, approaching Cheyenne from behind.
"Perhaps a bird?"
"Heh… Nah, those are mailboxes, you used to put packages and letters in there for people to collect."
"I… See?" The Tribal said, though she didn't sound too sure.
"Nowadays, people use them as drop boxes, sometimes as toilets… as I once witnessed in Klamath."
"They seem a bit obvious and inefficient for either." Kurisu shrugged, not really seeing the practicality of it.
"A lot of things of the old world are obvious and inefficient… That wasn't always what they were going for." Cheyenne agreed, with a heavy sigh.
It was at this point that Carver jogged on ahead, stopping just short of a trashed car and kneeling down beside it.
"Ah… Here we are, the gate is just ahead."
"Gate?" Cheyenne asked, kneeling down beside him and getting a sharp nod.
"Yes, we're going around the back, to surprise them. At worst, we'll be able to take out Troels before we have to flee."
"Flee?" Cheyenne asked, with a faint smirk.
"That's not usually how I roll but it's nice to have a contingency plan." Cheyenne shrugged as she hopped over the gate, watching as Kurisu also did so, she didn't seem as agile as she looked, most likely due to a lack of practice.
"I always have a contingency plan, it's saved me more times than I care to admit." Carver sighed, rolling his shoulders back as he stopped to get his bearings.
"This way, try not to be in the open, they'll spot us easier."
"Yessir." Cheyenne shrugged as she stepped up after him, Kurisu found herself fixated on the building, there was something… odd about it. Conflicts of the soul burned, brighter than a second sun and there seemed to be a great feeling of fear, resonating throughout the camp.
Not dread or terror… just anxiety.
She shook her head and ran after them, not wanting to botch their operation, through her lack of focus.
The three of them had a long walk from the gate, to the large shack-like building that lay at the end of the road. It seemed like Carver had quite a lot on his mind as he made his way along, constantly eyeing his repeater rifle and turning his attention back up to the target again, trying not to get distracted from the task at hand.
He found himself being grabbed from behind, a slender but firm hand wrapped around his shoulder and held him back.
"Stop, guard!" Cheyenne hissed, taking a vice-like grasp of him and forcing him to stand still as a guard stepped out, from behind the wall, turning to look towards the path. It happened within the blink of an eye, the guard quickly lost his docile look and quickly raised his weapon, running and shouting frantically.
"He is here! He's come for us!" He called, bounding off, back into the camp.
"SHIT!" Carver snapped, quickly shouldering his rifle and drawing a crowbar from his coat.
"Cover me!" He demanded as he rushed to the door, wrapping the crowbar around the door handle and pulling as hard and firmly as he could.
"C'mon you piece of shit… pull!"
"Hey… Erm… Carver? Maybe I should give it a try?" Cheyenne suggested, raising her pistol and shooting the nearest guard as he came running around the corner, clearly these guys weren't very familiar with cover.
"Almost… Got it…" Carver wheezed, keeping up the pressure.
"I would've had it by now!" Cheyenne snapped, growing impatient as one of the guards peered around the corner, prompting her to fire another two shots at him.
"Almost…"
"Fuck's sake, move!" The Chosen One snapped, shoving him out of the way, with a light shoulder barge and stepping in, both hands wrapped firmly around the crowbar and pushing down on the door knob, prompting it to break off and fall to the floor.
Carver quickly readied his repeater before turning around, blasting at the guy behind cover and knocking him to the floor as he backed into the building, Kurisu was quicker to slip in, knowing that she was the most likely to get hit out here.
As Cheyenne slipped inside, she quickly peered around in the nearest rooms, aiming her weapon into them, not finding a soul in them. They didn't even have anything worth looting in them, just building materials, among other things.
She quickly noticed that there was rope in the far corner of the room, bunched up in small piles. The Chosen quickly knelt down, picking it up in bundles and throwing herself back to her feet, running back out, immediately noticing that Carver was doing everything in his power to keep everyone out as they forcefully threw themselves against the door.
"Here! Got the rope!" Cheyenne informed him, pressing her hands against the door, to hold it shut. Carver was quick to grab the rope, bundling it together and wrapping it around the door knob and tying it to a nearby fire extinguisher holder, threading it through the loop that the trigger once jotted out of.
"Got it!" He called, allowing Cheyenne to step away for a moment before they broke away, they ran back into the storage room and grabbed a crate, pulling it back out into the hallway as Kurisu held the door open, to make it easier for them. It was a close call as the rope was just about to give way but thanks to Cheyenne's freakish strength and Kurisu's larger build, they were able to push the crate against the door. It slammed shut, with a click, allowing the two tribals to collapse back down to the floor, panting heavily to catch their breaths.
"Christ… So much for… Whatever the hell that was supposed to be." Cheyenne sighed, swallowing and gasping a few times to keep breathing.
"Okay… That could've gone better but… hey, didn't have to take out everyone at once."
"Not so sure about that, they'll be coming around the front." Cheyenne warned, rising to her feet, with her pistol at the ready.
Carver was quick to nod, rifle at the ready, he turned around and marched deeper in, stepping into the door at the end of the corridor.
"Do you think throwing in with him was a mistake?" Kurisu asked, rising herself as she stretched.
"Heh… Sort of? Still, he's right about these guys. They're definitely gearing up for war."
"Spirits say that not all is clear to us yet." Kurisu pointed out as she looked down to the tribal.
"Be careful."
"Heh… and here I thought it was just my cynical ass, who didn't trust this guy." Cheyenne sighed as she stumbled after Carver, into the next room.
"Let's see what they've got."
"Troels!" Carver yelled, the building didn't do a good job of carrying his voice, a fact that he knew, so he just kept marching forward.
"Come out and face me!"
By this point, he'd stepped out, into the back room. The room once served as a canteen of sorts for the workers, in this farmer's market. It was scarcely decorated, with plain white, slightly scorched walls and torn up carpets that were paper thin.
The room was kept for its original purpose, an eating area and crèche for the younger children as evidenced by the toys on the floor, hand crafted from animal furs as well as a few scavenged teddy bears and rattles.
Carver quickly found himself turning back towards the large, painted wall behind him. It would seem that the people were busy, whilst he was away, painting a mural to the Goddess. She was leaning over, shedding tears that flooded the pond, at the center of their camp. A pond that served them all, by keeping them alive and giving nutrients to their crops.
The people down below seemed to do well out of her misery, though none benefitted more than Troels. The exploitative prick…
"Seen anyone?" Cheyenne asked, stepping into the room herself and getting a good look at what had been left behind.
"No, I…" The traveller paused, sighing heavily with a shake of his head.
"Troels is in the office on the other side of this building, the area outside is pretty exposed and if they learned anything from their combat training, they'll be lying in ambush."
"Combat training?" Cheyenne asked, curious as to how he could know that.
"Yeah, Troels… He taught them a lot, y'know? He taught me a few things as I taught him… Well, that's a comforting thought, isn't it? I helped create this tribe, just as much as he did."
"Yeah…" Cheyenne agreed, folding her arms and glaring at him suspiciously.
"Still, we need to move on, we'll have to make a break for his office."
"With the ambush outside?" Cheyenne scoffed, not liking her odds against what was essentially a firing squad.
"Well, it's either this or be starved out or wait for them to come to us. Don't worry, I… if you follow my lead, we should be fine."
"Kurisu, you should stay here. If we die? You need to get out of here and find your Brother."
"We know the risks, we still have no fear. We be no safer here than we would be out there."
Carver stepped towards the door and cocked his rifle before charging into the fray, he was immediately met with a number of gunshots, as predicted, the traveller was facing an ambush. However, they weren't smart enough to have knelt at the bottom of the ramp that he was on or maybe they were too afraid that he'd just shoot one of them and kept their distance. Either way, he hopped the railing on the ramp, quickly crouching behind a crate as he took a breath.
"We'll go one at a time, don't stop for anything Kurisu!" Cheyenne warned her as she ran out herself and leapt the barrier, rolling into cover as Carver broke free and sprinted towards the next bit of cover, a concrete pillar.
"Kurisu!" Cheyenne called after her as she made a break for Carver's pillar and Carver made a break for a crate, bullets flying straight past his face and behind his head, not knowing if he was going to be hit or if he'd get lucky but knowing that it wouldn't matter, either way, if he wasn't fast enough. All he could do was be fast and stay behind cover.
Kurisu followed and leapt down, behind the first bit of cover, a large wooden crate, that was seemingly empty but quite sturdily made. It would seem that they were designed for heavy goods and could take quite a beating.
She watched as Carver ran ahead, straight into the office on the far side of the warehouse, diving into it as the bullets narrowly missed his foot. He was ready, with his rifle, incase Troels lay in ambush, however, he unfortunately had to remain disappointed.
"Clear!" Carver called, prompting Cheyenne to break cover and sprint for her life at the office, beckoning Kurisu to follow. Kurisu was somewhat quicker than Cheyenne, being slightly younger and more physically agile. The two of them were quick enough to avoid getting hit and found themselves piling into the office area one after the other.
"Don't stop, keep going before they circle around us!" Cheyenne warned, clambering to her feet and rushing into the next room, shoulder barging it open, with her gun at the ready. Upon bursting in, they immediately found themselves met with a figure, a lanky balding man, with a slightly crooked nose, thin bleached hair and blank, vacant brown eyes, who stared hopelessly at them. He immediately threw his hand up, his bucked teeth shook furiously in sheer terror as the two women and his old friend burst into the room.
The smell was obvious immediately, however, the darkness of his pants was a clear indication, that some functions had been sacrificed to keep him standing and to avoid collapsing out of sheer terror.
"Sh-Shit…" He blurted, hands trembling as Carver stepped in, kicking the door shut behind him.
"Yeah… 'Shit indeed.'" The Traveller grunted, ramming the stock of his gun into his gut and causing the terrified man to heal over and vomit up some form of yellow paste that was most likely food at some time, though it didn't smell like any food that Cheyenne was familiar with.
Carver struck Troels across the face again, this time sending him to the floor and knocking him into his chair.
"Carver, don't kill me! I'm sorry, okay?" He snivelled pathetically on the floor, his broad southern accent grew more and more whiney as he showed how distressed he was.
"Shut up!" Carver snapped, pointing the barrel of his gun at Troel's face, however, the cocking sound that he head did not come from his own. He froze and looked to the right, immediately noticing that he was staring into the barrel of a .223 pistol, aimed straight for his head.
"You don't lay another hand on him, until you explain why we're here… Not the crap story you gave earlier, I want you to tell me exactly what's going on!" Cheyenne demanded, causing the Traveller to pause, with a heavy sigh. He didn't take his sites off of his prisoner.
"Alright, fine… I wasn't entirely honest, I admit that but I didn't want anything to get in my way, I didn't want anyone thinking that this was me grabbing at power, because it's not!"
"What're you talking about?" Cheyenne asked.
"This man isn't the mastermind you said he was, he's a fucking idiot."
"I know he's a fucking idiot, he's my fucking idiot!" Carver snapped, turning his attention fully to Cheyenne now.
"I found this man, half dead and dragged him all the way from Round Rock! I took bullets for him, shared everything that I had with him and like a fucking fool, I thought that would mean something!" Carver paused, shaking his head as he looked down to the pathetic wretch as he curled up on the floor.
"I even… loved him at one point. He was my companion in every sense of the word." Carver scowled, shaking his head and spitting on the quivering Raider.
"I was always worse off for having him, he held me back, ate my food, fucked up the most simple of tasks but none of that mattered to me. I could help him, so I did and… Then we found ourselves here.
I hoped to help the Mourners, help them to survive long term. Instead of being primitive raiders, they were supposed to be more! They could've been like the New Canaanites or your people! Instead? This piece of shit, staged a coup! He told them that they could be more efficient raiders, instead of decent human beings! Not only did he betray me but he also sent this clan to a path of certain death! Once the NCR or the Legion roll through here? This tribe will die! Hell, if an adventurer with a decent gun and armour set rolls through here? They wouldn't survive the night!
This idiot didn't see the bigger picture, he just thought about having a tent full of concubines and veins full of med-x!" Carver immediately broke away from Cheyenne and kicked Troels in his left buttock, whilst he was down, prompting him to moan in a fine blend of misery and anguish as the pain shot through his body.
"He's a fucking dumb animal! He doesn't know any fucking better, than to just take and take! He doesn't care what it does! He doesn't care who it hurts! All the thinks about is his fucking self! He has no concept of empathy, compassion or… hell, even preservation, for himself or anything else around him! He's a dumb, piece of shit and I cannot move on, knowing that he's leading these people to their deaths!"
By this point, he was practically bawling, almost incoherently but he finished by staring Cheyenne down, taking several deep breaths in frustration before allowing himself to calm a little.
"Just… Please, let me take care of him? I cannot live, knowing that I inflicted him onto these people, onto this region. I… Understand your frustrations with me but for everything that he and I were? I cannot just walk away from this, I need to stop him, the only way that I'm sure I can be affective."
"You hope to kill him? Tell yourself it isn't out of hate?" Kurisu asked, sounding almost like she was daring him to tell himself that.
"It's not hate, not really." Carver sighed, shaking his head.
"If… Things could be the way they were, if we could be in that tent of ours again and if we could just… This isn't easy for me to do, I'd give anything to see him smiling at me again, to feel the warmth of his body against mine. It was… a wonderful summer, we spent together but now winter has come for the both of us and I need to ensure that it ends here."
Cheyenne paused, sighing heavily as she scratched her head, what a fine mess she had gotten herself into.
"Alright… You know him best… If you think it's what's best for him then…"
"No, please!" Troels yelled as Carver subtly nodded to Cheyenne, the Traveller slowly paced over him and crouched down by his side, gently taking his hand.
"Please man, you can't do me like this! Not in my own piss!"
Carver paused, looking away as he swallowed.
"I'll… Never forget our time together Troels. I'm… I'm sorry that it came to this."
"I… I didn't mean for any of this! I just want it to be like it was!" Troels blurted out, squirming a little.
"I know…" Carver whispered, sympathetically before pulling the trigger on his rifle. Troels just shook furiously before falling still, perfectly so. The bullet had shot through, under his chin and had blown a small chunk out of the top of his head, killing him instantly. Carver found himself gasping and letting out some soft shudders of pain as he let Troels' hand go and fall back to the floor.
"I'm sorry for making you this way, Troels." He whispered, gently dragging his hand over the dead Raider's face to close his eyes before rising up to his feet.
"Let's… Let's get out of here." He whispered, seeming quite shaken from the ordeal.
"I never want to see this place again."