The next morning, the thugs or as the locals call it, "bandits" arrived in the town. They all shared a look of lacking discipline. When Six arrived to be escorted she was armed, yet none of them told her to leave her weapons behind. The same raider was there as well, and she later found his name was Flanx, she saw his gaze on her weapons and the backpack.
"What's in there?"
"Offerings to your chief and advanced pay."
"That's so. How about some for us then? We are escorting you after all." A raider said.
"That's fine, but I'm still telling your boss of the total amount and inform him that you four took in your share." Six said with a shrug.
"Shut up Tee." Flanx said. "Come on little girl, try to keep up with us."
The four bandits walked in front of her as they bantered. None of them seemed to care that she was behind them fully armed. Not that Six would rather have them be vigilant. Even Fiends and bandits had at least a sentry. To be fair they were high or drunk… or both. That however was not the point. They knew what to do, because they weren' the top dog in the cage.
"So, your chief's a tough guy?" Six said.
"The toughest." A raider said. "He fought off a huntsman before."
"He almost lost though."
"Don't say that infront of the chief you dumbass." Flanx slapped the head of the young raider. "He can still kill you so don't try anything funny. He has aura."
"I didn't come here to fight, only to negotiate." Six said.
"Be glad that he's willing to, little girl. You wouldn't last a minute. We survived fighting the Brawnwen tribe." Flanx said.
She was glad Flanx was a raider. That scruffy hair, elongated face, it would look good when it would twist in horror when she gunned him down.
"Never heard of them."
They stopped. Each had an incredulous and a scowl.
"You don't believe me?" Flanx said accusingly.
"I didn't say I didn't believe you. I just haven't heard of them. I'm not from around here." Six said calmly.
"They're the fiercest tribe there is, well not as fierce as but fierce. Every frontier town in Vale just give them anything they demand. Us too." Flanx added hurriedly.
Six didn't point out the obvious.
Six could not find the word for the tribe's home. She expected wasteland raiders high off their minds. Instead, she saw makeshift tents like the Great Khans. All of them were doing some kind of work. Be it sewing, cooking, training or crafting. A large campfire warmed a large metal pot that spread a savory aroma. As she walked across the camp the bandits glowered at her, some quietly observed in the background. There were men, women, and children.
Children.
Youngest she saw was about six years old, helping their mother carrying woods. The word 'tribe' lit inside her mind. She tried to push down the guilt of what she would commit. The children would grow into bandits, they also had to die. At least, that was what she had told herself.
The bandits, one by one began to circle around her as she came close to the largest tents. A tall, muscular man parted the flap that covered the entrance of the tent. For a man that was taller than Lanius, he hardly looked threatening. Scars on his face did tell her the chief fought before, and knowing that they called themselves tribes he was elected by being the strongest.
"You're Courier?" The man said, his voice was low and was monotoned.
"I am." Six said.
"Then let's talk."
The interior was humble for a raider chief. Other than the bed roll and a small table, there were small decorations of feathers and animal bones. She saw an ax and a large pistol leaning on the wall. Six and the chief sat at the small table, the distance was too close for her liking. The chief's calloused hand poured from a small teapot.
"No thank you."
The man's thick mustache twitched.
"It's rude to deny hospitality."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not here for it in the first place." Six said.
She stared down at the chief's square shaped, buzz cut head.
"If your sole plan is to intimidate me into accepting your offer." Six slathered thick sarcasm in her words. "It's not gonna happen. So, how about-"
"Give us seventy five percent of your crops, lien, and medical tools in turn you'll get us to protect you."
Six paused, taken aback by the blatant demand. Goodsprings would be hostage, not a partner.
"They won't accept that. I won't accept that. Every three months they can give you fifteen percent. There are more people in Goodsprings than your tribe. They can give enough that your tribe won't have to worry about food. Keep them alive, and you'll get a steady source."
"Seventy five percent of your crops, lien, and medical tools." The chief leaned close, "Or, my tribe will kill everyone, and I'll gut you slow. You got two days."
Six stood up.
"I see that you're in no mood to be civil about this."
She saw the man's muscles tense up. Six left the camp and returned to Goodsprings.
/-/
The town hall erupted. People were either panicking, riled up, or resigned to their fate. Six leaned on the wall at the back. Despite her place in the frontier town, this was not her business.
"Everyone please!" Gordot said pleadingly. "Calm down, we need to discuss this with a clear head."
"It's insane they want seventy five percent of basically everything!" A town person said.
"We barely have enough to feed ourselves!"
"We need to fight them back or it'll be like this forever!" A young man said.
"Don't be stupid we'll all die!" An older woman said. "We need to leave, find a new place."
"Where? There's no other fertile land and Vale's too expensive!"
"Maybe call a hunter?"
"We can barely get a signal from Vale's CCT. What makes you think we can call them."
"Somebody has to!"
Despite the town elder's plea everyone argued with one another. One group held each two young men back from what could have been an entertaining fist fight.
"That's enough!"
The head militiaman, Harland, shouted sternly. Silence cooled the boiling tension.
"Six, what about you?" Harland said.
Everyone gazed at her with hope. Six sighed.
"There are three options. One, you accept it and try to live. Two, you fight and roll the dice. Three, get the hell out and live somewhere else."
"That's not an option at all."
"It's what you got." Six said. "Look, I'm an outsider in all of this. You all have your choice to make and I won't cast a vote on it. Harland, it'd be best to have your men be on the lookout especially."
"I thought we had two days." Harland said.
"They're raiders." Six said. "Don't believe their words. They'd sell their own children to get high on chems. I'm going to bed."
"Before that Six, I need to talk to you." Harland said.
Six's home was an attic of the town's unused storage room since the new one was built before her arrival. On the floor were her weapons. This Machine, her two revolvers Lucky and her custom made revolver Misfortune along with her twin .45 pistols. While she wished she could have more, she was lucky to have them here in the first place. Suddenly, she heard a knock.
"Hello, Six?"
On the other side of the door was Doc Mitchell, Harland and Gordot.
"Evening." Six said.
Gordot and Harland looked at one another nervously. Gordot's gaze broke off from Six's confused smile.
"Six… we got what you wanted."
Inside a small basket were all manners of chemicals. From household appliances such as baking powder, window cleaner, to chemicals only doctors could have all inside a container, separated, harmless. Harland then gave a small stack of lien.
"Your advance, like you requested." Harland said. "You sure you know what you're doing with these chemicals?"
"She does." Doc Mitchell said, "otherwise I wouldn't give them to her."
Harland sighed.
"I hope your plan works."
/-/
If not for her helmet, the darkness would have swallowed up her whole. Six, armed with her new gas grenades and guns, walked toward the camp. Six crawled through the thick foliage and used the trees as cover. Six emerged from the bushes, and slit a bandit's throat. Before the other bandit could react, another blade stabbed through the back of the bandit's neck. There were no shouts, only a muffled gurgle.
Rinse and repeat. The killings were easier due to how thinly spread out the sentries were and their lack of a radio. As she closed her distance from the camp, she saw the soft orange glow of the campfire. Six planted one foot and grabbed a nearby branch, with a quick heave she began to climb up a tree.
Feeling safe was one hell of a drug. She could hardly believe that they could sleep all so peacefully. Was Remnant that much of a peaceful world despite the grimms? Six dismissed her thoughts, then landed on a crate near the tree she climbed up on. Six twisted a dial on each of the gas canisters. Five minutes was plenty of time to spread the canisters.
Six walked by a mother and a child sleeping nearby the campfire. An elderly man, a young man and a girl. Normally, their deaths would have been slow and painful like the legionnaires of the Mojave. Children, no matter what they would become, did not deserve a grisly fate.
Six climbed on the tree and waited.
And waited.
Hours passed, and when the sun began to rise Six hopped off the tree and returned to the camp. The sleeping bandits were motionless. Six kicked a nearby body. The corpse did not respond. However, Six was not careless. By the time she finished her work, she sat on a log where the campfire was. In front of her was the same mother and child with a fresh slit on their throat. Six looked down at her hands, then back to the corpses.
"Should've left the damn tribe with your son, lady. Don't blame me for it." Six said.
She wiped her bloody hands and knife from a rag she found hanging on a rack. She lit a cigarette and looked up at the morning sky, dyed the gentle orange hue of the sun. A breeze softly swept across the camp, with only Six to appreciate it.