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Little John stared into the swirling amber abyss that was the bottom of the bottle of bourbon. He'd drank it all trying to wash out the bitter taste of despair, succeeding only in drawing in a quiet thirst in the back of his throat. With a resigned sigh, he chucked the bottle aside and let his head fall upon the bundled sack he'd been using as a pillow. Calamity Jane stirred in her sleep, the blanket falling away to offer John a good view of her backside as she scooted closer to the warmth of his body. She'd made good on her word and helped him forget his loneliness, even if it was for a few hours.
He reached out to play with her hair. Calamity had quite the bounty of red, a real work of art she was. The woman twisted about to give herself a long languorous stretch, giving John a good show of her endowments. Half-lidded eyes shot him a 'come-hither' glance, inviting him for another casual morning rut. "Come on, sugar... you know you want some of this."
She'd taken a liking to him, the very thing he was afraid of. The temptation to let her complicate his life like Molly did was strong, but Little John wasn't made of paper. He enjoyed Calamity's company, but he'd be a damn fool if he let her have her way. He'd have to stand his ground. Besides, Mama would have a heart-attack if she learned he'd been fooling around with whores again. There was no way he'd return to Autumntown with her all wrapped up on his arm like a coiled serpent. John nodded to her, throwing aside the blanket to reveal his raging hard-on. He vowed it would be the last time. Calamity milked him dry as she rode him like a saddle-free equestrian, all the while wondering why they called him 'Little' John when everything about him was anything but.
"You takin' me with you to Autumntown?" The woman asked as she pulled up her bodice and started to tie one silk ribbon after the other.
John propped himself on his elbows and struggled to catch his breath. His head swam, heavy with the effects of a hell of a hangover. Calamity was a wildcat, she done but took all the strength in his limbs and left only bare aches in her wake. He rubbed at his temple as he put one clumsy foot through his trousers, and then the other. The man struggled to dress himself through the dizzying haze, whilst Calamity seemed to have emerged from the night unscathed. She donned her dress with the typical grace the fairer sex was blessed with.
"Naw, Miss Calamity." John replied, tucking in his legs once his trousers were on. He buried his face into his hands and scraped it hard into his palms. "I'm afraid Imma gonna have to drop you and Miss Lassie off at Summertown afore we move on."
Calamity dropped to her knees and slithered across the floor to his side, a pout on her lips to feign hurt. "Now why'd you have to go off an' break ma heart, sugar? Haven't I been nothin' but good ta you?"
"That you were, that you were."
"Then why ain't you good ta me?"
John threw her an exasperated, blood-shot eyed look. He could do without the drama so early in the fucking morning. A hundred different combinations of words popped into his head, most of them to lay it out raw... too raw for the woman's delicate ears. He didn't want to keep her, didn't want to see her again, and sure as hell didn't want to hear no fuss about it. But, ever the gentleman, John kept his cool and gently told Calamity that as much fun as he had with her- they weren't an item. "Calamity, you're a wildcat. Ain't no man's gonna tame you, least of all me. Come now, let's be honest with each other. Whatever this is, it's just gonna be you and me using each other like tools. And it'll just be too damn wrong for me to do that, do you dirty."
"What if I like being done dirty?"
"I heard you hate men who do that, shank 'em real bad. That tends to make someone think a little bit."
"I don't have to shank you."
"Well, I suppose that wasn't the point of what I said." John started to inch away when she tried to kiss him, "Ain't no good for a woman like you to pitch in for a broken man like me. I thought you'd be the ruin of of a lotta good boys, but really I'm gonna be the ruin of you. You'll tire of me quick, and I'd hate for a good thing to get ugly along the way. Best we go our separate paths while we still can."
Calamity dropped the act and turned serious. She looked a little sad, but she didn't press the issue any further. She knew he'd made up his mind, "She really was one helluva gal, huh?"
John nodded, "The best."
"I say this for all the girls, you did right by all of us when you killed that pig Reese Dolarhyde and his whole family. I don't regret what we had, brief an' short as it was." This time, when she leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek, John didn't budge. "I'll treasure the memories. Always."
Truth be told, she meant every word. And when the two doves were heaped upon the doorstep of the Nest to reopen what Reese had closed up, Calamity waved Little John goodbye and moved on with her life as madam of her own establishment. All the money the Jacksons had taken from the Dolarhydes were given to the women. Never again would they have to slave away under the thumb of a taskmaster. They would cater to a clientele of their own choosing, a place for a hardworking dove to find shelter and good business. That was as much of a happy ending as anyone could get in the Wasteland.
But for Little John, his wouldn't come just yet.
"Mick!" He called out to the old station-master whom he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. "Howdy, ya old coot! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
The old man was clutching a wireless receiver connected to an old radio inside the station. He didn't look happy, he looked like the telltale sign of trouble. "John, Autumntown's under attack!"
All mirth left John's face and he strode forward to get close to Mick, "Attack? By who?"
"Crowes, John!" The station-master cried, "The damn Crowes!"
And just like that, John was off like a hurricane. The horses and the old trucks couldn't get fast enough through the Wasteland. The Jackson boys rode hard for Autumntown till their mounts were out of breath and their engines had blown a gasket. Even then, they were already too late. While the boys were away dishing out some good old fashioned frontier justice, the Crowes attacked the Jackson home. They were led by Simon Crowe, who felt that the Jacksons were too cowardly to stand up against the Dominion and used that as an excuse to strike first. And when they did, they struck hard. They burned the hanging scrap gardens and rode down anyone in their path. Women and young children were roped on horseback and dragged behind thundering hooves. The Jacksons fought back, trying to match the attack with their numbers but the Crowes had already come and gone before they had a chance to regroup.
"Pa! Mama!" John cried out, squinting through the stinging smoke of burning houses.
The heavy bus gate that acted as the first line of defense had been smashed to pieces by a well-placed shot from a rocket launcher. The Crowes had ridden inside and hauled off a good amount of goods along with dozens of Autumntownies to use as hostages for the long war. Among them was Mama Jackson. Her trusty robotic steed had been reduced to a smoking heap of scrap when the marauders invaded their home. Big Daddy had been wounded in the fight, sustaining a heavy blow to the side of his head when he tried to keep them from taking Mama. From the way he'd been hit, it looked like he was in danger of losing an eye along with a big chunk of his skull. A Dominion medical bot was tending to his wounds, courtesy of the armored convoy parked outside the town. The patriarch of the clan was arguing with the Dominion judge when Little John got there.
He was surprised to see Kitty in Autumntown, though there was hardly any love lost between them as demonstrated by her typical cold demeanor. The judge narrowed her eyes at John but never broke her stride when answering Big Daddy's questions. "As I recall, it was you who chose to isolate the clan instead of cooperating with the Dominion. We are not obligated to intervene, Mr. Jackson."
"Then why the hell are you still here for?!" Big Daddy thundered, "So's you can rub it in, say 'I told ya so'? Look lady, do I look like I give a damn 'bout your obligations? My daughter's been kidnapped, lots o' my people are kilt, and now my home's a burnin'! If you ain't here to help, get the hell outta my sight!"
"Oh she's gonna help alright." Little John declared.
"Really?" Kitty threw him a disdainful arch of the brow, "How'd you figure that?"
"You like playing the hero of the story, don't ya?" John offered, "Well here's your chance. Help me save Mama and the good folk of Autumntown. I guarantee we won't be so isolated for long if you do. Besides, I reckon you've been itchin' to shank the Crowes for what they've been doin' to your people these past few weeks. Am I right?" The judge stared him down for a full minute, as did the other Dominion soldiers. John allowed a hint of a smirk to form on the corner of his lip. He knew she couldn't resist the idea, it was just too perfect. By then everyone knew about the attacks along the border where the Crowes kept hitting Dominion supply lines.
"You know your way around the mountains?" She asked while crossing her arms.
John nodded, "You know I do."
"Alright." Kitty nursed the handle of her holstered pistol, "You ride with us, John." She barked at the hirelings trying to follow him inside the Centaur, "I wasn't talking to you lot, back the fuck off!"
The men tensed up, but John kept things civil by calming his people down. The judge wasn't the best at diplomacy, but her tough talk was respectable enough to let slide. He boarded the IFV with Snowball and joined the convoy, giving the best route through the mountains leading into Wintertown territory. While driving up the narrows, John noticed the amount of firepower the Aegis personnel were prepping up for the fight. Once again, he would act as their guide. Once again, he would play a pivotal role in the battles to come.
"Why didn't you want my boys to come?" John asked, "They got just as much right to try and bring their families back home alive. Plus, they're pretty handy in a fight."
"They'll just get in the way." The woman replied, offering no other explanation.
"And what about me?"
"You're an asset, Mr. Jackson. Not one of my preference, but you're what I've got."
"I see your disposition ain't improved one bit since we last met, Your Honor." John remarked at Kitty's sour attitude. He kept talking, even when she wasn't in the mood to share. "How's Nobby, by the way? I noticed he ain't with you."
"Nobby's where he needs to be." The judge replied curtly as she brass checked her mag-rifle. The chamber clicked with a loud crisp noise as her experienced fingers tapped the release, "As am I."
"Just so we're clear, I want my Mama in one piece- alive and well." John declared, "Do with the Crowes what ya will."
"Noted."
Simon Crowe expected to be congratulated for his attack at Autumntown.
He received a grand welcome from all the clansmen when he and the boys rolled into camp. He couldn't have expected anything different, it was the Crowe way. He stuck it into their enemies just as the patriarch would've done. Wayne Crowe, disturbed from his meeting with all the clan lieutenants, stormed out of his tent to see the ruckus. Surprised and wide-eyed, he looked the captured bunch over and slowly strode forward to meet his distant cousin. Among those that the raiding party have taken prisoner was the wife of Big Daddy Jackson, it was there that people started to see that it wasn't a victory- it was one glorious fuck up.
Simon wasn't one of them, "Hey Wayne, come on and take a gander! Got some stock to fix up your warning totems!"
Wayne's answer was one hard sock in the younger man's throat, sending him coughing and doubling over in shock.
"You stupid sumbitch!" The patriarch roared over Simon's crumpled form. He delivered a savage kick to the man's side, then another to break a few ribs for good measure. His next words were a storm of spittle and obscenities stumbling over each other, "You fucking dimwitted shit-for-brains retarded fuck! I done told yall not to attack Autumntown, I told yall! What the hell did you think was gonna happen next? The Jacksons know all our camps, our hidey holes and outposts! You done gone and led 'em right up to us!"
"B-But boss..." One of Simon's sycophants tried to defuse the situation, "W-We killed Big Daddy Jackson on our way out, shot down most of the folks who worked the jet-trains. Ain't no way they're gonna sniff out the trail, we got it covered good!"
"Dumbass, I don't believe you clipped Big Daddy right one bit! Bastard's tougher than the lot o' ya put together, and there ain't no way you can kill all who'd seen our trails in one raid." Wayne stopped to grab Simon by the ear, like he did when he was a little pup. He snarled at the whimpering man, "Listen here, you fucked-up half-wop... you're gonna go and un-fuck this thing. Strap all the bridges and passes you went through with dynamite, wait for the Doms or whoever followed you up, then blow 'em to hell. I don't care how long you have to wait, but you get this one chance to get back in my good graces, y'hear? Kill 'em all, not a one survives."
"Y-Yes sir!" Simon stammered, clinging on to the older man's arm like a lifeline.
"Say it again!" Wayne bellowed.
"Stick 'em with dynamite, wait for 'em, then blow 'em up!" Simon whimpered, "I-I got it, boss!"
"You will die today, Simon." Mama Jackson announced from the back of a Crowe's saddle, "I've seen it."
"Shut your mouth." Wayne pointed a threatening finger at the psychic, "One more word and I'll cut your tongue out."
"You will die too." Mama replied nonchalantly, "The entire Crowe clan will die before the week's over."
Unnerved, but certainly furious over her defiance, Wayne slowly unsheathed his knife with murderous intent. "I warned ya, I fucking warned ya."
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