Author's Note: Finally, after the longest wait ever, this part is complete! First of all, I would like to apologize to my readers for the ridiculous amount of time that has passed since my last update. I was hoping to get a lot more done over the summer, but writer's block and distractions are a deadly combination... Plus the fact that my writing program decided to shit itself and not let me open anything so I had to switch to a whole new program -_- Thanks for being a douche OpenOffice...
Thanks to Scryo117 for adding this story to alerts :D And thanks to all my reviewers :)
I also uploaded my second on-going story about an evil Lone Wanderer, it's titled From The Vault (title is subject to change)and it's a continuation with the LW from Bye Bye Butch but you can find it on my profile if you want to read it, obviously :P
As always, enjoy!
Wasteland Survival Part 12
Burke sat hunched over his desk, his hands busily going about their work, when he heard the door hesitantly open. "What is it now? I'm quite busy," He barked, angrily slamming down the screwdriver and steam gauge assembly.
Jabsco approached the desk where Burke was busily making something. "It's Jabsco, I nee- what are you doing?" He asked curiously, changing his words after he saw that Burke was making something.
Burke picked up his tools, continuing his work as he spoke. "As you have been failing to bring me results, I am taking some precautions."
"What are you talking about?" Jabsco asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the bizarre contraption in Burke's hand.
"I've been working on a few little... projects."
"Cut the shit Burke. What are you doing?" Jabsco asked, losing patience and quickly regretting it after he remembered his last visit. He bit the inside of his cheek and went silent.
Burke gave him an icy glare. "These are special bombs. If you haven't noticed, I was trying to keep a little furtiveness. These are unlike other bombs, whose reason for existence is to kill, destroy. When detonated, these bombs are to sedate and stun," Burke explained sharply. Jabsco realized he had been holding his breath as Burke finished speaking. He quietly let out a sigh of relief.
"That's pretty pointless. Why would you want a non-lethal bomb?" Jabsco asked, confused.
"If our little... problem, comes here. I would at least like to watch as he dies," Burke responded simply.
Jabsco gave Burke a look. "Anyway, the main reason I came here is to tell you my new plan for the target. If you can get me some more copies of the target's picture, I can send multiple teams after him."
Burke slammed down his tools again. "WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE?! A FUCKING COPY MACHINE?!" He roared, his face turning bright red.
Jabsco had no idea what the hell a copy machine was, but he responded anyways. "I'm sorry, but this is the best way," Jabsco said firmly, flinching back slightly from the volume of Burke's voice. He produced the drawing from the collar of his Metal Armor, holding it out to Burke. He snatched the drawing away from Jabsco, putting it near his tools.
"Fine. I'll see if Gustavo's technician finally got that copier working. I'll have them ready in a bit. Go get something to eat or go to the bar," Burke said, calmer this time as he waved a dismissive hand at Jabsco.
Jabsco turned to leave, his jaw clenching and unclenching as murderous thoughts raced through his mind. "Oh, and Commander?" Burke called.
"Yes?" Jabsco hissed, turning to face Burke.
"How's your finger?" Burke asked in a smooth, almost smug tone, his back turned to Jabsco as he sat at his desk.
Jabsco looked down at his left hand, seeing the cleaved off pinkie of his hand and glove. He gave the back of Burke's head an icy glare. "The doctor couldn't do anything," He said in a cold tone.
"That's a shame," Burke said in a voice oozing with mock sympathy. Seeing red, Jabsco gave Burke another glare. Looking to his left he saw an expensive looking bottle of wine on top of a filing cabinet. Jabsco took a daring move and snatched the bottle of wine, turning on his heel and walking out the door, all in one fluid movement before he slammed the door behind him.
As Jabsco exited the tower without waiting for Burke to make the copies, he made a vow to himself. After he killed this Wastelander and collected his pay, he would personally and slowly kill Burke, then Talon Company would raze Tenpenny Tower. Nobody fucked with Commander Jabsco. Nobody.
...
Ray and Jericho dragged Sarah into the hotel room, gently placing her on her bed. "Oh God, you're bleeding!" Ray pointed out a large cut that was now staining through a rip in her shirt. Sarah glanced down at her stomach, seeing the rich crimson staining the white fabric.
"I'll take care of it, just give me the bathroom for a bit. Jericho, if you try to peep, I'll shove your eyes up your ass," Sarah grumbled, managing to stand with little assistance.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Ray offered as he gently helped her to her feet.
"No. I got it. I didn't get to Sentinel by whining over every little bruise and scrape," Sarah said assertively as she limped to the bathroom.
"You sure?" Jericho asked, his eyes following her.
Sarah had made it to the doorway of the bathroom. She supported herself against the door frame as she spoke. "Look, I'm not one of these little princesses that need rescuing, so stop worrying. I can take care of myself," She said firmly. "If I can kick Jericho's ass, I'll be alright," She tacked on in a more joking tone, even managing a grin. Ray and Jericho gave small grins of response and watched as she shut the bathroom door.
"Those stupid muties fucked my leg up pretty good," Jericho said with a slight groan, walking with a small limp, although it seemed he was holding a lot of the pain back. He sat on his bed, bringing his leg closer to examine it. Blood stuck his Leather Armor to his leg, and made it smell not so pleasant. "Oh damn! Jericho, you better sanitize that with some of the alcohol, I'll get some medical supplies from Sarah," Ray said as he watched Jericho struggle to roll his pants leg up. Ray grabbed a bottle of Vodka from the glass cabinet, the glass now slightly cracked in a small area from the Super Mutant's ransacking, and tossed it to Jericho. He caught the bottle easily and mumbled a thanks.
Ray gave Jericho a nod and turned to the bathroom door, giving a small knock. "Um, kinda half naked and sewing myself up in here?" Sarah called, followed by a small, barely audible whimper of pain.
Ray awkwardly cleared his throat. "Jericho's leg is ripped up, can you spare a Stimpak and some bandages?"
"Yeah, hold on," Sarah responded. There was a fumbling sound followed by a "God damn it!"
Ray looked at the door. "Umm, everything okay in there?"
"Yeah, the First Aid Kit just decided to fly off the sink. Here," She finished, the door opening just a crack as Sarah pushed the supplies out.
"Thanks," Ray said, taking the items before making his way over to Jericho. Somehow, Jericho had hobbled out the door and now sat on the hot concrete, his pants leg rolled up to his knee while he doused the back of his calve with the Vodka.
"How's it coming?" Ray asked as he handed the supplies to Jericho.
"It burns," Jericho said, baring his teeth a little as the alcohol burned through the wound. Jericho sat the supplies next to him as Ray walked into the now dead battlefield.
"What should we do with all these bodies?" Ray called, nudging a Super Mutant with the toe of his boot.
"Fuck if I know. All I know is they can't be laying there, and they're going to be a bitch to move," Jericho replied with a grimace as he injected the Stimpak into his leg.
"Burying them would take to long and burn too much energy. Burning them would be like painting a target on our foreheads," Ray said, thinking aloud.
"Let's stash 'em in one of those gross rooms up top," Jericho offered, glancing at said rooms.
"And how do you suggest we get them up there? They weigh like six hundred pounds," Ray grunted as he tried to lift one.
"I don't know," Jericho grumbled, getting a little irritated with Ray's questions as he wrapped the bandages around his leg.
"Alright, I'm back," Sarah said, hobbling through the doorway to join Ray and Jericho. "How you doing?" She asked Jericho.
"Fine, just got caught by one of those dumbass nail boards," Jericho explained as he motioned to his bandages. "What about you?"
"I've had worse," Sarah said with a sigh and a shrug, taking a seat on the concrete.
"Sarah, we have to do something about these bodies. If we leave them out here, someone would know they are fresh and might come looking to investigate. Jericho suggested we put them in the hotel rooms up top. Any idea as to how we get them up there?" Ray explained, still trying to drag the Super Mutant.
Its skin was very bizarre. Tough and leathery, yet kind of greasy. With a grunt, Ray gave another rough pull. His hands slid off of the abomination's disgusting flesh, causing him to stumble and nearly land on his backside. Ray quickly caught himself, seeking retribution by delivering a strong kick to the dead mutant's face. Of course, Jericho burst out laughing, while Sarah looked as though she was holding her laughter back. Ray shot them a glare, "So what do you think?" He asked again, a bit more sharply.
Sarah's face fell back to her usual businesslike seriousness. "It's impossible to lift them up by hand, even with all three of us. Maybe we could try to build a pulley or something and push them in there?"
"We don't really have time to build shit, sweetness," Jericho responded, looking at her matter-of-factly.
Sarah shot him an icy glare. "I can build shit quickly," Sarah sniped back, her eyes boring into his.
Jericho broke away from her gaze with a small huff, looking down at his leg.
"You two can argue later, how about we do something about these Mutants before someone comes along?" Ray broke in, his voice colored in urgency.
...
*A few hours later...
Ray tightened the rope around the Mutant's torso, grimacing from the smell emanating from it's dirty body. "Okay, pull!" He called back to Doc Hoff.
Sarah had been in the middle of constructing some strange looking pulley when Doc Hoff's caravan came through. The good doctor was obviously less than jazzed to see Ray and Jericho (mostly Jericho) but he grudgingly agreed to help them move the Mutants. He was obviously curious as to why they wanted to hide the Super Mutants, to which they replied that they just wanted to keep a low profile. Doc Hoff gave a shrug, said he also specialized in confidentiality, and agreed to help.
Doc Hoff ushered his Brahmin forward, the strong beast beginning to drag the Mutant closer to the Hotel. The Mutant dragged across the ground, leaving behind small amounts of blood that leaked from its bullet wounds. When the Mutant had been dragged close enough to the hotel, the rope was untied, tossed over a protruding horizontal pole that used to support a roof to the upper walkway, and then retied to the Mutant. Then, Sarah, Ray, and Jericho had to reach out and grab the dangling abomination and pull it inside the hotel. Repeat this three exhausting times and all the Super Mutants had been placed in the upper room with the dead chem junkie.
The trio leapt from the walkway, Jericho heaving a sigh and hobbling to sit down on the concrete. "I need a fucking smoke," He gasped, heaving himself on the sidewalk and fishing for his cigarettes.
"Well then, what do we owe you?" Ray asked, glancing at Doc Hoff.
The doctor looked them over, giving Jericho a distasteful look. "Well I can only assume you don't have much, so just help me get this rope back on my Brahmin and we'll try to stay out of each others' way for awhile," Hoff said, once again glancing at Jericho. Jericho caught him this time and shot the doctor a glare as he slowly blew smoke from his nostrils. Doc Hoff looked away, awkwardly clearing his throat and adjusting his tie.
"Uh, just ignore him, that's what I do," Sarah said, breaking the awkward silence, "We also have some things we would like to sell, if you're interested in buying."
"Things of what nature?" Doc Hoff inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Alcohol along with a few weapons," Ray responded.
"I'll gladly buy the alcohol, but weapons are a trickier item. I don't usually carry them, but I suppose it would do business good if I carried some ordinance," Hoff mumbled, rubbing his stubbly chin in thought, "Alright, I'll take a look, but I'm not going to guarantee anything."
Ray gave a nod and jogged towards their hotel room to retrieve the items. He made the trips by himself, not that he minded. With an apology, Sarah had gone to sit near Jericho as she had begun to ache from her injuries. Soon, all the weapons and other items had been laid in front of Hoff. He looked over the weapons, three Nail Boards, one Missile Launcher, and a Baseball Bat. The Super Sledge had been claimed by Jericho, though Ray doubted if Jericho could even swing the thing without breaking his back, along with two bottles of Whiskey that had gone "missing." A few bottles of Vodka would be kept for sanitization of any wounds. Three bottles of Wine, two bottles of Scotch, a bottle of Vodka, and a bottle of Whiskey were also laid in front of Hoff.
Hoff grabbed the bottles, stuffing them into the large bag of supplies that rested on his Brahmin's back. "I'll give you...eighty caps for the alcohol," Hoff began, retrieving a small bag of caps and tossing them to Ray.
"EIGHTY CAPS? YOU TRYING TO RIP US OFF, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!?" Jericho suddenly roared at the doctor, throwing his cigarette to the ground as spittle flew from his lips.
Hoff flinched at the sudden outburst, but quickly composed himself. "I suggest you contain your...traveling companion, before I have my mercenary put him down," Hoff said firmly, his eyes boring into Ray's. The mercenary cocked his rifle at that, his cold, dead eyes giving Ray a glare and rolling to focus on Jericho.
Ray spun on his heel to face Jericho. His gut was telling him that Hoff had had enough of Jericho, and wasn't fucking around. "Jericho. Shut the hell up and let me take care of this!" Ray barked, surprised by his own anger. Jericho scowled, but said nothing. He picked up his cigarette, taking a long drag and rose to stalk back to the hotel room, dragging the Super Sledge behind him. Ray rolled his eyes and turned back to Hoff. "What do you think about the weapons?"
Hoff made a small clicking sound with his tongue as he thought. "Well," He said finally after a few seconds, "I'm not going to sugar coat it, they're beat to hell, and would honestly be better off as firewood."
Ray sighed, his shoulders drooping a little. "But," Hoff suddenly said, "I see potential in the Missile Launcher. It's in horrible condition, but if I spruce it up, I bet I could sell it for at least five hundred caps, or trade it to another caravan for extra medical supplies. I'll give you one hundred, but not a cap more."
"I'll take it," Ray said with a sigh. He was exhausted and in no mood for further negotiation. Hoff motioned for his mercenary to pick up the Missile Launcher before he turned around and began fishing for another bag of pre-sorted caps in the large haul that the Brahmin carried on its back. After finding the correct bag, he handed it to Ray. "Now, let's keep out of each other's way for a while," Hoff stated firmly, glancing towards the hotel room once again. He gave Ray a brisk nod and walked away at a quickened pace. The mercenary gave Ray a glare and followed suit.
...
Ray went into the hotel room, laying on his bed.
"What time is it?" Jericho asked, his voice dripping irritation as he struggled to get the door back on its hinges.
Ray grabbed his bag and pulled out the battered wristwatch that his father had made. "3:15," Ray stated simply, his eyelids feeling like they each weighed a ton.
"God damn stupid fucking muties comin' in here, fucking everything up," Jericho griped as he tightened the screws on the door rougher then necessary. Ray sighed at Jericho's volume and turned away from him, shutting his eyes tightly and letting sleep swallow him.
...
Voices faded in and out, sounding strange and warped. Ray slowly opened his eyes, listening to the unfamiliar, muffled voices. He sat up, seeing only the reddish brown door of the hotel room. There was a shotgun blast, tearing through the handle of the door spraying wood and the door's construct all over the floor. Ray jumped back, diving for weapons that were no longer there. The door was kicked in by a black boot, matched with all too familiar black Combat Armor. Four Talons burst in, waving their weapons and shouting. Sarah and Jericho jumped up, eyes widening at the sight of the mercs. The lead merc brought his Combat Shotgun to eye level, aiming at Sarah's head.
"No!" Ray shouted, diving at the merc. The merc squeezed the trigger once, sending buckshot into Sarah's head. Brilliant crimson could be spotted with the muzzle flash. "No!" Ray howled again smashing into the mercenary. The merc swung the gun and hit Ray roughly backwards, sending him toppling over the coffee table. The merc fired again, catching Jericho this time. "No! Sarah! Jericho!" Ray was shouting, the loss making him feel as if he was filled with lead. Ray began to push himself up, ready to kill the mercs with his bare hands, his face filled with anguish and murderous rage. The merc planted his heavy boot against Ray's chest, stomping him back to the floor.
The merc said nothing, his dark, yet familiar face blank. Ray closed his eyes and pushed back against the boot with a grunt. The merc put more weight on his boot, forcing the air out of Ray and making him feel like his chest was about to cave in. Something wet dripped on his face, causing him to open his eyes. He touched his face, rubbing the stuff between his fingers. Blood? He looked up at the merc with confusion, gasping at what he saw.
It was the Talon that Jericho had saved him from back in Megaton, complete with the hole in his head, courtesy of Jericho's old shotgun. The merc smiled, showing decaying teeth. "Hey Ray old pal! Remember me?" He said cheerily in a gravely ruined voice close to that of a Ghoul's. Ray could only gape at the dead merc. His skin a deadly pale, the hole in his head dripping blood and gray matter, bits of his skull showing. "Burke just wanted me to say hi! And see you in hell!" The merc continued, leveling his Combat Shotgun at Ray with the last word. He pulled the trigger, white enveloping Ray's vision.
...
Ray jerked bolt upright in the bed. Panting and covered in a cold sweat, he looked about the room. His compatriots were in their beds, sleeping peacefully. He put his face in his palms, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. The room felt too hot, too stuffy. He swung his legs out of bed, heading to the hotel door and pulling it open. He stepped outside, taking in the cold morning air. It must've been around 5 A.M. The night chill still in the air, only the edge of the sun rising above the horizon, making the landscape look somewhat eerie. Ray sat outside the hotel room, propping himself up against the hotel wall to the left of the door.
He let out a small sigh and folded his arms behind his head, looking at the lazily rising sun. His eyes caught a small barely noticeable glint on a cliff, there, then gone. His stomach did an uneasy flip and his arms slowly lowered back to his sides. His eyes scanned the far off cliff, struggling and slightly squinting to see the glint again. It never came, but his instincts were screaming at him. As much as he tried and wanted to play it off as paranoia, his instincts had never led him wrong. He rose to his feet, his scanning the horizon as he backed into the dark hotel room.
...
The Talons looked out from their perch on the cliff, their scouter taking interest in a hotel. "What the hell are you looking at?" Another Talon barked at him.
"Something that's gonna make your day," the scouter responded, his grin stretched across his thin lips as he lowered the binoculars from his squinty eyes.
The other Talon, who was the leader in this small group, strolled over to his compatriot. He was a smug looking man known only by the name of Rilon, and he was as crooked as they came, even for a Talon. Rilon looked at the young scouter before snagging the binoculars from his hands and raising them to eye level.
Looking through the lenses, he scanned along the hotel and there, sitting by a door with his arms casually folded behind his head, was the man from the drawing, the target, in the flesh. Rilon let out a victory cry as he saw the target lounging against the wall. "Target confirmed boys!" He said proudly, handing the binoculars back to the scouter, who raised them back to his eyes. The others talked and celebrated a bit too early, while the scouter watched the man for a moment. The target suddenly turned his head the slightest, his eyes boring into the scouter's through the binoculars. The scouter let a small gasp, lowering the binoculars. "Are you sure he can't see us?" He asked Rilon, who gave him a cold look.
"I'm positive. Why the fuck you reacting like that? I know this is your first job, but he's just a Waster for fuck's sake," He snarled.
"He looked right at me though," The scouter responded, "What if he gets away?"
Rilon gave him a deadly glare. "Shut your fucking mouth. Now. You want to be a Talon, you can't be acting like a little bitch," He spat, looking at him with anger, before he stormed angrily past the rookie scouter, in the direction of the hotel. "You better grow up right now, because we're gonna blast this dumbass," He concluded in a dark and satisfied tone.