A/N: Review please! No, seriously, even if it's bad. I need to know what I should fix or elaborate on :). Enjoy!

Further Explanation

Now, if you were to ask most of the people around what had happened 30-40 years ago, you'd get a few different answers. Some folks would tell you what their parents or the church told them; that the world was a dark, nasty place and that someone, somewhere, decided enough was enough, so the slate was "wiped clean." Others would tell you what they heard from around the bend; that one continental power got pissed off at another, and they decided the answer was bombs. Some richer, and therefore more educated, people would give you an actual textbook definition. Either way, no one really knew exactly what happened, how long ago it happened, or why it happened.

There were two kinds of humans left. The old generation, and the new. The old were, as the title would suggest, older. They were around when the world began to fall apart, and they were responsible for what little livestock, plant life, and technology survived the fallout. You ask someone from the old generation about life after the war, and they'd sit in some handmade wooden rocking chair, rambling to you for hours. They'd tell you all about how they "hiked up their britches" and "went to work." Work being rebuilding houses, breeding more animals, planting and farming, and... regaining the population.

Which, yeah, that sounds rather disgusting and unbelievable, but those left behind were lonely and stubborn people. Options were thin on the ground, they hadn't been pleased in a while, resources were practically nonexistent, and, well, there really wasn't anything else to do. They didn't have an education or a job to worry about anymore. How else were they going to occupy their time rebuilding the earth, if not with a family?

Those from the new generation were children at the end of the war, or very shortly after it. They don't remember much of the anything about the war, but they remember the Alliance coming to power. They remember attending specialized schools on how to build houses, or how to build computers, or how to cook, or how to solve crimes, or how to understand the new legal system. One group of people were trained in one job, and as soon as they had their education, they set out to work.

Some of the new generational people can stretch their brains and remember, ever so foggily, fire and running, and dirt and hiding. Aside from that, they couldn't tell you anything about WWIV, and they'd excuse themselves, saying that they have important business to attend to. Almost all of the old generation will clam up, get very pale and misty eyed, and tell you that they didn't want to talk about it.

People learned to deal with "what is" and not "what was." They kept their heads down, their work going, and their mouths shut.

Chapter Two: Into the Wastes

She loved days like this.

Misty green eyes combed over the bright, clear sky before them, and the young woman breathed in the pure air. Well, as pure as you could get in those times. A smile graced her thin lips, and a sweet, quirky yodel sounded from her throat.

Jessica Albarn watched her beautiful Quarter Horse stallion trot towards her, shaking his head up and down as a sort of greeting and whinnying. No horse in the world held their own against Bullseye. His coat was a deep chestnut brown, his eyes an onyx black, and his hooves faster than any other horse Jessie had ever seen. She grinned at the sight of him.

"And where the biscuits have you been, mister? Hm?" Jessie asked, patting her horse's neck affectionately. As a response, she was given a snort and two stomps of his hoof. "Ah, out lookin' for the ladies, Bullseye?" Another snort, and Jessie laughed. "I'm only teasin' ya!"

Effortlessly, she lifted herself onto her partner's back and looked around, becoming serious. "Alright now, buddy. Time to buckle down and ride. Sheriff says he needs supplies an' we're the only ones who haven't been at this town in a while. So we won't be recognized as easily, get it?" A nod. "But we still need to be careful as a hound on the hunt, understand? No funny business, Bullseye." Another whinny, and Jessie scowled. "Hey! I'm always careful around bars!"

Usually the Sheriff came to town, but, seeing as how his bounty was raised another $5,000, he had to lay low for a while. Jessie was his next in command, and as such, took on this particular deal as her job. As they entered town, she felt slightly empty without her usual black trench coat, wide brimmed hat, and blood red bandanna. She had to leave those behind since they were kind of conspicuous everyday wear. She also had to leave behind her revolver and colt peacemaker, which really bothered her. Still, she had Ol' Reliable under her shirt, her 1876 Outlaw, which she never left home without, and a knife stashed in one of her boots. No matter what went down, she wanted to be prepared.

Upon reaching her destination, she dismounted. She tied Bullseye to the decaying wooden railing beside the beat-up old tavern and told him to stay put like a good boy. Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath, put on her Outlaw facade, and marched through the doors. A few people looked at her funny, and Jess figured them to be tourists. The townspeople didn't send her a second glance, which was good, but Jessie detected a gentleman whose gaze was upon her a second too long.

She squinted and scowled, but went up to the bar and took a seat. She nodded at the tender, knowing a friendly face when she saw one. "Howdy, Slink."

Jessie had known Stanley "Slink" Dogwood since she was little. He was a good friend of her older sister and cousin, and was around her family often. After a certain nasty incident involving the Alliance, Slink became a father figure to her; an extension of the family, and he hadn't really left her side or stopped caring for her since. She hadn't seen her beloved friend in ages, since the last big Outlaw meeting a year and a half ago. Still, Slink was, and always would be, as reliable as they got in these dark days.

The older gentleman smiled and greeted her earnestly, his voice ragged and accent heavier than the usual western man. "Well, howdy, darlin! Ain't seen yer pretty face 'round these parts ever!" He wiped his hands on the towel he carried around before shaking hers. He pecked her cheek, and Jessie graced him with a smile.

"What can I say? I been busy, Slink. How's it been here?"

Slink shrugged and scratched his greying mutton chops. "Eh, drags on and on. Business ain't too rough, but days go slow as molasses since the new law limiting alcohol supplies an' such."

Jess nodded, casually glancing at the stranger she had seen earlier. He was only sitting a few seats down, but something was off about him. He was dressed far too nice, and he seemed a bit stiff for the atmosphere. Shame. He was easy on the eyes too. "Anything unusual today?"

Slink shook his head, wiping the counter some. "Nah, not 'round here, hun." But he lowered his voice to just above a whisper as he wiped near her hands. "But I'd watch the suit if I was you." Jessie looked at him, confused, but when he jerked his head ever so slightly to the right, she realized he was talking about the same young man she had been eyeing.

She nodded. "Can I get my regular, Slink?" He gave her a look, and Jessie added, "I ain't gonna drink more than one, I swear!" Slink let out a hearty laugh and poured her a glass of whiskey. She thanked him and just before she took a sip, asked, "Seen him yet?" He shook his head as a response, and she let the alcohol warm her blood. Jessie exhaled, relaxing a bit.

"Hello."

She perked up, startled, hoping she hadn't missed spotting her expected company. She saw that the "suit" was looking at her, but she glanced behind her just to make sure she wasn't mistaken. Stupidly, she replied, "Huh?"

"I noticed you drink whiskey," the Suit replied, and he motioned to his own drink. "I have the same."

Jessie blinked, confused and completely on edge. "Yeah... It's my favorite."

The Suit smiled weakly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how stupid I just looked. It sounded better in my head."

Hm. At least he admitted it. Jessie smirked. "It's alright. I've heard worse."

The man looked angry at himself. "Damn. Guess I'm added to that list now."

She shrugged, swirling the liquid in her glass. "I dunno. Was that intended to be a pick-up line?"

He made a face, embarrassed. "Not really. More of a greeting, or a conversation-starter."

"Ah. Well, it kind of worked, if you count this as a conversation."

The Suit brightened ever so slightly. "Well, good."

There was a moment of silence when Jessie was just watching him from the corner of her eye. He was shorter than most men, but his presence still emanated a sort of power. He held himself in such a way that it commanded respect for some odd reason. She couldn't quite explain it. He was dressed in all black, and placed on his left wrist was a very expensive-looking watch. Maybe he was a lawyer? The man wore his hair very short and had quite the pair of lovely blue eyes. She hated being so interested, and she couldn't stop herself before she asked,

"You're not from 'round here, are ya?"

The man chuckled, snapping his fingers dramatically. "And I thought I had everyone fooled."

"The attire doesn't help you none," she pointed out before taking another sip of her drink. "That watch stands out like a sore thumb too."

The man scowled, looking at himself and muttering a few curses. He turned to her. "I suppose that means you know me as the tourist then?"

"More like the rich fella who might be lost," she said somewhat playfully.

He smiled... oh, and what a smile. "Well, I can't have that." He then proceeded to extend his hand to her. "My name's Larry."

Larry? That was not his name.

As she reached out her arm and took his hand in hers, she could tell the name wasn't the only thing he was lying about. "Nice to meet ya, partner."

Now, Jessie hadn't had the best of luck... ever. She had a barrel of unpleasant memories and a handful of crude scars to prove it. She understood that she had to be twice as cautious in any given situation than the average Outlaw. She had actually triple checked with her contact, Slink, and the Sheriff about this particular outing. Apparently this still wasn't enough.

For it had to be then that her awaited visitor walked into the bar. It just had to be that exact moment, where her hand was in Larry's (which was quite large and warm, really). Out of all the moments her benefactor walked in, it had to be that one.

Jessie couldn't really explain how exactly the next few chain of events happened. It was all so fast. She turned to see her expected company, felt a very slight, but very distinct twitch of Larry's fingers, turned back in time to see Larry try to cover the recognition in his eyes... Then she was up and out the door in a flash, literally dragging the interrupting company with her.

"What the hell? Jessie, what's going on?" The portly gentlemen asked, irritated and alarmed.

"Shut it, Hamm!" She hissed back, running into the alley behind the bar. She stopped, talking quickly. "Listen, I think there might be a problem here. Can we meet again later?"

Hamm looked disgruntled. "How long is later?"

Jessie thought for a moment. "Give me two hours, tops. Meet back here at five, alright?"

Hamm adjusted his suit and bowler hat. "Fine, Jess, but you owe me double now."

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close. "I just saved your life, you greedy pig!"

BAM!

Jessie and Hamm were thrown backwards as the pile of wooden crates beside them burst open. She was thrown against the side of the building next door, hitting her head rather hard, hearing her back crack, and feeling something sharp cut her cheek. Jessie swore, shaking herself off, and forcing the strength to pick herself and her companion up off the ground. "Meet back at five!"

Hamm was white as a sheet of paper. "But what about-?"

"Leave him to me," she said, determination filling her veins. "Now run!"