How does one bond with fellow assassins? It had been a week since Luka was inducted into the Postal Order. One day he was just a free-lancing mercenary, doing assassin work for whoever would spare a few caps and the next he was scouted out of the blue with a bag of caps the size of his head.
He had already gotten a tour from a member named Lola, the group was based out of an underground mail sorting facility, hence the name. All one needed to do to order a hit was to drop the correct sum of caps and the preferred target into one of the many mailboxes that was connected to their base and the transaction would be done.
Luka was a little concerned about the safety of the whole thing, who wouldn't? From how the scout talked the Order up, it sure made it seem like they were in the big leagues with plenty who benefit from their extermination.
But he was assured that many safeguards were in place. Most were unaware of their existence and were only given knowledge of them if they were determined they were a suitable client. Even then, most never figured out how the mail was delivered, most assumed it was picked up in the middle of the night by an assassin with a stealth boy. And THEN, if an embittered client figured it out and tried to send a grenade as payment, they would be shocked when the sensors would pick that up and bounce it right back into their face.
As for finding the base itself, even Luka had to admit that it was well hidden. Even a molerat with a nest next door would have trouble trying to find an entrance.
Ever since that introduction, he spent most of the week doing busywork, waiting for an assignment. That day he was sat alone in the common area, sitting on a couch, inspecting a rifle. He remembered a few of the assassins who were playing pool a bit away from him.
Logan, a stout man who was mostly in charge of keeping the HQ in running order. Apparently he used to be an assassin too, but an injury left him not in working order, but no one had to heart to oust him. Renka, she was they're top sniper, but in the tour was way too humble to admit it. Wanda, was the mass-assassin (a massassin, if you would), if someone needed a lot of people dead and didn't care too much about noise or collateral damage. And lastly, Mad Mavon, she was the assassin with a face. Sometimes clients needed to be sure that they weren't blamed for their hit, a silent hit can just lead to speculation on who paid the bill. So, who better to do the job than the notorious serial killer Mad Mavon, she shows up kills the target, rubs some blood on her face and cackles over the dead body before fleeing into the night. Even Luka knew of her reputation, but little did he know she was actually a paid assassin or that in reality she was probably the most relaxed person he's ever met.
"Have you been out there lately?" Mavon said, "Lola said shit's been crazy."
"She's not lying." Logan squared up a shot. "Word got out quick about Maria's death. Not only is there people trying to take advantage of the Crimsons' weakness, but there's also internal strife about who's going to take over after her."
"That's probably what our employer wanted!" Wanda boasted. "And I'm sure they're not the new head, we'll get another nice sum of caps to take them out!"
Logan took his shot. "Yeah well it makes my provision trips twice as dangerous. It's gunshots 24/7 right now. Raiders feeling mighty comfortable." The cueball smacked three balls into the pockets. "Maria was good for peace… I think I'll miss her."
Out of nowhere, a fifth voice. "Sorry!"
Logan flipped as he whipped his body around to see a large thing of black power armor appeared out of nowhere. As he turned, he hit his elbow on the steel chest. "Ah fuck!"
"Oh shit, sorry!" The man inside said while laughing. He got out of his power armor and it was someone he didn't recognize. He had black curly hair and a decently well-built frame, his eyebrows were bushy and his skin was olive toned. Luka remembered Lola saying that they had another member named Salem and that he was a handful and that he would know him when he saw him.
"You motherfuck-" Logan playfully swung at his shoulder.
Salem dodged, laughing all the while. "C'mon! I'm training you to not be so jumpy!" This was Salem alright.
"Yeah, yeah!" Logan grumbled before giving the pool stick to Renka.
"I don't disagree about Maria either." He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He offered it out to everyone, but no one took him up. "But business is business and the price was right. Besides, I think her perfect world didn't have much use for us." He lit up the cigarette and leaned on the pool table.
"One could argue a peaceful world needs silent assassins more than a chaotic one," said Renka.
Wanda scoffed. "Wow, put me out of business won't you?"
"Heh, sorry." She went over and plucked the cigarette out of his hand and took a puff.
"She was developing an in-house assassination squad." He annoyedly took the cigarette back. "After all the good work we did for her. You know what! I don't feel so bad anymore! Death to that bitch!" he said in a joking tone to the group's bemusement.
All the while, Luka kept his eyes on the power armor. It was a walking oxymoron. Any sane person would have the same thought. Power armor was a piece of machinery with imposing stature and thundering footsteps. The only way it could be worse for stealth was if it was wrapped in blinking Christmas lights.
"How…" he spoke up with Salem and the gang looking right at him. "How does stealth work in power armor?"
He gave a look of bemusement even though surely it was a question he received multitudes of times. "Python, that's what I call her." He slapped the black iron titan. "This bad boy has had every modification you could possibly imagine. I have a stealth-boy attachment to the chest—and not just any stealth boy—a Mongolian stealth boy! A regular one only makes you invisible, the Mongolian variant was an experimental version that also muffled sound."
The others laughed. "Is dinner ready, Logan?" Renka said.
He checked his pip-boy. "Yeah, I think it's stewed long enough." And with that they went off to the commissary, realizing that it would be a while.
"Next, I've got the servos. Typically, they're making huge sounds to move this hunk of metal around, sounds that even the stealth boy can't cover. So, I gutted them and replaced them with my own variation. They make it heavier to operate, admittingly, and if I need to run, even Logan's got a better chance of outrunning me."
"Hey!" Logan sounded from the commissary.
Salem chuckled. He smacked his thighs. "Doesn't matter much though, it's what leg day is for." Luka had to admit they were pretty impressive thighs.
"Then a helmet with togglable speakers, sensors to tell me how loud I'm being, a couple hidden poison pricks, compartments for poison grenades." He smiled. "The rest, just skill."
"Skill, eh?" Luka got up and went over to admire it. He had to admit, but still was gobsmacked about he didn't even notice its entrance until it was already in the middle of the room.
"What? Haven't heard of infamous skill of the power armored assassin?" Luka stayed quiet, not wanted to appear rude. "Guess I'm doing my job right then." Salem smacked his back as if to tell him to lighten up.
"I do want to know though…"
"Yes?"
"Why the armor? Couldn't you do the same job without the armor?" He raised an eyebrow. "If you can do it in power armor, I think you could do it doubly well without it."
"You're not totally wrong. For every benefit, there's a downside. And I wasn't born in power armor, I can certainly function without it." He retained his cocky smile. "But the decision is simple. When shit goes down, I'd rather be in power armor than not."
"What about your skill, huh?" he joked. "How about you use your skill to not make shit go down?"
Salem's mood darkened. "What's your name, recruit?"
"Luka."
"Luka, first lesson, shit goes down." He looked him down. "If you're the best of the best, shit goes down. If you're bumbling asshole assassin, shit goes down. The second you're too good for shit to go down… you won't have to worry about shit going down much longer." His voice nearly rattled like the shaker of a rattlesnake. "Understood?"
Suddenly it was an assassin in front of him. "Y-yeah."
Salem suddenly flashed a smile. "Did I say shit goes down enough?" He smacked Luka on the back again to dispel the tension further. "Just a good thing to think about. If one of us goes down, gets caught, et cetera, it's in our code to make sure we don't both go down. I'm not going to get myself caught because you want to showboat, okay?"
Luka's cheeks blew up in red, "I'm not gonn—"
"I know, I know." He smiled. "Especially not now."
"Y-yeah."
He smacked him once again on the back, Luka felt like he was going to get a bruise there. "Let's get dinner before it's all gone." He put an arm around Luka's shoulder and they were off. "I'm Salem, by the way."