Steve strode determinedly towards the looming silhouette of Tenpenny Tower. A grim slash represented his mouth, and a filthy scowl dominated his eyebrows. A pair of rough-looking guards blocked the gate inside.
"Whaddya want?" the taller of the guards snarled, taking a long drag on a cigarette. He looked like he hadn't cleaned himself in months, and his combat armor reeked of alcohol and piss. He coughed, hard, before regaining his composture and leaning against the ramshackle wall.
"Revenge, justice for my friend, and free ammo off any of you bastards who try to stop me," Steven growled, and raised his silenced 10mm. Before the gruff mercenary could utter another word, Steven had fired three bullets into his face. His nose burst apart as the projectiles tore into his brain, killing him before coming out the other side in a spattering of red goo.
The other guard, a short, beefy thug, attempted to grab his assault rifle in time to defend himself, but Steve had expected the clumsy move and whirled around to quietly end the other guard's life with a quick shot to the neck.
Guns for hire were hard to come by the in Capital Wastleland. Hell, human contact was hard to come by in the Capital Wastleland. Steven estimated he had at least an hour before anybody noticed the dead mercs, but it was better to be on the safe side and act quickly. Taking out some frag mines, he laid them around the gate, and in a wide circle around Tenpenny Tower. They blended in quite well with all the dry grass and dust. Escape was not an option.
Steve didn't just want to sneak in, assassinate Burke and get out again. If he'd wanted to do that, he would have simply scaled the tower, offed Tenpenny and his butt-buddy/bodyguard in their sleep, and climbed back down with a grappling line. He wanted to send a message out to the Wasteland – the law was back, and more brutal than ever before.
Steve noticed a scruffy hobo watching him set the deadly traps with sad, hopeless eyes.
"Water..? Please…" the dehydrated beggar rasped, barely conscious. Steven gave the man a sympathetic smile, and tossed him a bottle of Aqua-Pura.
"After I'm done here," Steve told the jubilant drifter, "you can have this tower. Just watch out for the mines."
Leaving the speechless tramp to guzzle the uncontaminated water, the Wasteland's vicious lawbringer strolled inside Tenpenny Tower's courtyard. A grand marble fountain stood as the centerpiece of the entranceway; on the right a group of dilapidated bunk beds housed most of the Tower's security, whilst on the left a few tables and chairs were scattered about evenly. Smashed bottles of whiskey, cigarette butts and empty ammo cartridges littered the ground. Steven activated a plasma grenade and almost casually tossed it to where most of the guards were sitting, smoking and talking.
"Hey, what the fuck are you –" a sentry just inside the doorway began, before Steven cut him off with a hail of bullets, spraying him with the Xuanlong. He didn't bother to aim down the sights – speed was crucial to his success. Less than half a second prior to the sentry hitting the floor, the grenade detonated in a bright-green explosion of hot gas and goo. The stunned guards were vaporized by the high-tech missile. Steven heard screams from inside the building as the dust and plasma settled around him. Stepping past the corpses and flecks of green sludge, he pushed through the doors into the Tower lobby.