(June 27th, 2269)
Ghouls. Ghouls everywhere.
"Don't do this! Don't do this to me!"
A blonde teen - a rapist - begging for his life, "It wasn't me."
A cold-blooded killer, "You're gambling with your life, boy!"
Bullets flying, loud cracks filling the air as a woman filled his scope.
Nick sat up in a flurry. Eyes glancing side to side to take in his surroundings before he allowed the first of a few ragged breaths to escape him, chest pounding and shaking. He was at the lookout his group had set up a few days ago, keeping watch on some shacks at some abandoned trailer park a few miles from Redding on Fergus' orders before he ventured into New Reno with that Gloria lady. A few people had arrived and joined up with those already inside, and no one had left other than to step outside to relieve themselves.
There was no fire, but plenty of moonlight to make out the handful of Khans and Van Graffs that were idling around him.
"Those problems, again?"
Nick turned, seeing Martin sitting behind him a few paces away, keeping alert on the perimeter. He rubbed at his eyes, "You could say that." Martin scoffed at that but didn't respond. Dry lightning was popping off in the distance to glow over the landscape Martin was watching, maybe it would stay that way, or maybe it was some rare rain moving into the arid area and thunder was soon to come.
Suddenly, Martin whistled lowly, "Someone's coming."
Everyone quickly took up arms and took positions at the ready in the direction Martin signaled. A large silhouette was heading towards them in the dark of night, illuminated by another brief stroke of dry lightning, and shortly enough the sounds of hooves carried to them in the dead silence. As the shadow drew closer, more and more of it began to take shape, and what was coming was a wagon drawn by two horses.
"It's ours, simmer down everyone," one of the road captains stated. Everyone lowered their firearms, gathering together to greet the newcomers or going back to what they were doing.
The wagon pulled up, two men sitting up front pulling the horses to a slow stop as quietly as they could, and a few more men and women piled out the back. One of the guys up front hopped down, and Nick instantly recognized him. It was Jessup. The older boy saw him too but ignored him for now.
Jessup immediately walked up to the road captain with the new arrivals in tow, "Fergus gave us the go, these guys here are from the Wright family."
"New allies," the road captain asked. A Jessup's nod the road captain smiled, "looks like we'll have ourselves a proper war now."
"What's the game plan, captain," one of the khans asked, getting the rest of the group to gather around for orders.
"Those shacks we've been keeping tabs on are something of a safehouse for the Mordino's.. Judging by the lights surrounding it among the other shacks and trailers, we'll have to be careful on our approach. There could be as many as twenty or thirty goons down there, so they've got the numbers advantage. But our goal is to hit it, kill everyone in or outside, take whatever may be useful and wipe it off the face of the Mojave." Numerous people chuckled and voiced their approval of the plan. Before long, the road captain was dividing the cadre into groups, each group given a particular task.
It ended up as five groups in total, with six or seven to each once the men among the Khans, Van Graffs and Wrights were split. The first three groups were going to push on the safehouse and clear it out, and Jessup was among them; while him and Martin were paired together with some others for last two though not in the same group. Their job was to circle around to each side, close in, and mop up anyone trying to flee.
"Hey kid," one of the older khans was rifling through a large rucksack when he called to him. "That rifle won't be much use right now, so I'm loaning this to ya." The man pulled out what Nick at first thought was one of those older model submachine guns, a Thompson .45 caliber machine gun. But that thought changed the more he looked at it and the three round drum mags he was handed with it. "This is a .22 caliber, so it's pretty quiet as is, the drum mags feed from the top, like this."
A quick demonstration was all he needed, and Nick repeated the motions in front of the man to show his understanding. "You're loaning this?"
"I've got my piece, but I'll feel much better knowing you've got something better than that pistol when the shit hits. Just while you're with us. Since you'll be my shadow, you can call me 'Jay' for now."
"Everyone, leave what you don't need. Anything goes wrong, we come back here." The captain gave the signal, and everyone got moving.
Nick followed along with his group, the youngest one of the bunch, as they swept wide until no one but them were visible to the naked eye. The moon helped to avoid tripping over desert shrubs and rocks, they were still a good distance away, but making noise and revealing themselves wouldn't doing anybody any favors. Sticking close to the man who'd loan him the .22, the group eventually made it into position by some large boulders some twenty-five yards from the safehouse.
A radio was playing loudly inside, one couldn't make out the lyrics sung, but the tune was drifting beyond the walls to where they laid in wait. Another bout of dry lightning flashed as the overhead storm drew closer, and the shacks making up the safehouse consisting of three buildings glowed into being through brief glimpses apart from the orange lights glowing from inside and along some of the exterior, one taller two-floored shack and two single floor shacks flanking the sides was the main point of attack. Some waist-high wooden plank and sheet metal fence made a patchy, broken up perimeter around the safehouse, piles of garbage and junk were scattered about the ground around the buildings. On his side of the taller building, there was a single backdoor.
"You gonna be able to handle this, kid," the older khan, Jay, asked in a low tone.
"What makes you ask," Nick replied back just as low, not taking his eyes of the compound.
"You didn't sleep much out here. You jumped awake in a fright when you did and I heard your friend. Saw the shakes when you loaded that piece I gave you. I got something that'll put your mind in the fight, rid the nerves, make a real Khan out of a prospect like you. I need to know you're not gonna crack."
"I don't think I need whatever it is, I'll be fine."
"I beg to differ," Nick felt the man nudged his shoulder as he said that, and he looked to see the man holding what looked like a syringe with a plunger switch at the top and two canister tanks attached to each side. The whole device no bigger than the man's palm, "If nothing else, you'll sleep good at the end of this."
The sound of sleep, undisturbed sleep, sounded very appealing.
"You want to show your stuff to the road captain and earn that top patch? Act like a Khan."
Nick looked up at the man, then back to the device. He took it in his hand, and with some instruction, used the concoction. Almost immediately, he felt a strong sense of warmth start rushing through every muscle in his body. He felt light, he felt like he could run over to the safehouse, slap the back door three times, and make it back before anyone could even utter a word to stop him. He didn't know what he took, but the trembling that had stuck with him since he woke up was gone.
He never felt more ready for a fight in his life.
Gunshots cracked the silence and riddling the buildings, muzzle bursts were flashing into existence and disappearing across the black background all around the compound, and men within the safehouses were shouting and returning fire in short order.
"We're under attack!"
"Who the fuck is it!?"
"They're fucking everywhere!"
More dry lightning showed silhouettes advancing on the safehouse, making their way through the shabby fences, "They're pushing into the yard! Light 'em up!"
The Khan beside him laughed aloud, no fear of being heard now, "Here we go, kid."
Jay left cover and started creeping closer while waving for Nick to keep close. The others were slowly pressing forward in a slow crouch, spread wide so that no two were bunched too close together.
Just as they were a few feet from the building, a man came busting out the back door. Nick's escort put him down in a flurry of bullets that slumped the Mordino thug against the wall. A second man came next. The older Khan went to fire, but then started slapping and cursing at his rifle.
Nick hip fired the submachine gun, the recoil a little heavier than he expected but still hitting his mark. The second thug took some small caliber rounds to the leg that tripped him up, swearing as he hit the ground. Another couple bursts from the .22 ended his life as he floundered about in a spattering of dust kicked up by stray rounds.
The older Khan cleared the jam and took cover beside the door, Nick taking up the open space on the other side of the door frame. "Good work, kid," the man nodded, "stay on my ass, but keep doing what you're doing." The man pushed inside and began clearing the building.
Nick followed him in, covering whichever side was opposite of his escort's pointed barrel. The man was sure-footed, stepping over the bodies of dead mobsters looking for others in a haste, and dropped another of Mordino's before long who wasn't expecting him. Nick kept following, when he saw one of Mordino's men wounded and fumbling with the blood gushing gunshot in his side. The two's eyes locked, and the gangster tried raising his pistol on him.
A hail of .22 put a stop to that.
The boy reloaded the submachine gun while Jay covered the stairwell leading upstairs. Once he had his shadow back, the elder walked up the stair slowly and rifle ready.
"We give up, we give up!"
At the sound of voices, Jay called back up to them, "You best unload and toss whatever you got down the stairs if you know what's good for you!"
In a matter of moments, a few firearms were tossed down the steps. Jay waited a beat, and then went up the stairs.
Waiting for the two were three more men, on their knees with hands high above their heads trying to surrender. A few more bodies. Spent shell casings and empty magazines littered the floor, and a fourth man off to the side applying pressure to a fifth man who wasn't looking too good. The shooting had settled some, save for a few one-off shots here and there, but things sounded as though they were finally cooling down.
"Hold 'em here, kid. One fucking move, you blast all three, ya hear?" Nick trained the gun on them as ordered, and Jay moved to the window facing the yard to check on the progress of the others. "Lot of dead Mordinos tonight! Looks like we're in the clear. Everyone's cleaning house." Jay walked away from the window, making his way back to the stairs without even paying the captives a passing glance.
"What about them?"
"Do 'em in kid."
Nick ignored the resignation in their eyes, he wasn't looking to have more pleas and cries fill his dreams. In one long pull of the trigger, he swept the barrel back and forth across the men kneeling before him, watching only long enough to know they were good and dead in crumpled heaps. With one swift pivot, he kept the trigger squeezed to gun down the last two Mordinos.
Everything was quiet save for the last jingles of spent casings bouncing off the floor to roll to a stop somewhere inside the room. Smoke was hanging in the room, the few windows doing what they could to filter it out into the world, leaving behind the heady smell of gunfire. Blood slowly seeped from the assortment of dead goons, and it was starting to pool around his boots.
Turning to walk away and head down the stairs, he found that older Khan waiting for him at the bottom, leaned up against the wall with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. The man looked up at him halfway down and nodded his head, "Good work, kid. You did good tonight. Head outside and wait, I'll sing your praises to the captain."
Nick stepped over more bodies, paying them no mind at all on his way out. As soon as he stepped out the door, the rest of the contingent was rounding up survivors and salvaging the spoils, loading whatever they wanted into the from camp. Someone had brought it down, he just couldn't figure when with all the fighting.
Martin was lined up with some of the others, lined up in front of the Mordino survivors. When the Road Captain ordered their deaths, Martin just followed along. More bursts of gunfire and soon the only ones left alive in the entire compound were those Nick had stormed it with.
Taking a seat off to the side, he just stared directly up at the sky. The lightning was long gone, leaving behind clear night skies dotted by too many stars to count.
He didn't know how long he sat like that, until Jessup broke his trance and the strain in his neck became apparent.
"Jay says you're quite the killer, Petty," he said, sauntering up with a bottle in hand. He threw back a swig, "you made a good showing to a vet like him. That'll go a long way to earning that top patch. Guess Chance and Bren were right about you, after all."
Jessup kept talking, but other than noticing him, Nick never gave him his attention.
"Hey, Petty," Jessup said, snapping his finger right in the boy's face. Nick flinched, finally looking at the teen. Jessup reached into his vest pocket and whipped out a glow stick and snapped it to life. The teen grabbed Nick by the face and held the glow stick close. "Jesus, the fuck did you take!? Your pupils are like dinner plate!"
"I don't know what it's called," Nick replied, trying to swat away Jessup's hold and the glow stick that was blinding him.
"But you did take something?"
Jessup's face was unusually serious. He'd never really seen Jessup serious about anything, most of the time it seemed like he was the more mature one despite being some four years younger.
"Probably juiced up on some Psycho," Jessup said, this time to himself. He tossed the glow stick to the side and hoisted the boy to his feet. "Come with me."
Jessup lead him back up to the camp, the walk being severely quiet and uncomfortable for the boy, seeing Jessup act the way he was.
"Collect your shit, when the wagon comes back, hop in the back and sleep it off. I'll take care of your horse."
Before Nick could respond, a blazing glow caught his eye and drew his gaze back down to the compound. The two story shack was set aflame, and in the glow, he could see others hurling molotovs that burst into infernos against the two remaining shacks. The sun was finally starting to break over the Horizon casting a soft orange glow signaling the birth of another day in the Mojave; but the fires, the final deed to their actions, burned brighter than the coming dawn.
"Today's the twenty-eighth, isn't it, Petty," Jessup asked, though he already knew the answer. He should by now.
"Yeah," in the far distance on the opposite side of the rising sun, more little glowing dots sparked up across the land that surrounded the New Reno territory.
"Happy Birthday, kid" was all Jessup said, almost under his breath as though fighting whether or not he actually wanted to voice it, before he made the trek back down to regroup with the others who'd be on their way back in just a few moments.
Nick just stared at the dozen dots, the twelve candles marking the celebration to his birth like one of those old-world traditions he'd read about.
"Yeah," Nick said, finally feeling the rush start to leave his body and his limbs growing tired by the second. "Happy birthday to me."
(NCR Frontier)
(Bren and Chance)
The small hamlet was left in shambles. It was a tiny community, just a few settlers trying to make a go at building a homestead. They never seen them coming, never got a chance to fight. The Slither Kin would get their slaves to sell, and the few brahmin the settlers had were going back to his father, until they could arrange a transport to get them back to Bullhead. It was a small score, and putting fear into the hearts of the NCR once news eventually broke was the biggest victory to be had on this raid.
"You ready to head back to the war camp?"
Bren felt Chance's presence, him and his horse, as the duo came up beside him and his own.
"Yeah, we'll need to report to the chief so he can scratch this hovel off the map. The sooner we're back, the sooner he'll have another task for us."
"Right, right," Chance said, patting at his horse to settle the steed. He took a moment, watching as the Slither Kin lead their new acquisitions along in rope binds with the Khans watching their backs for potential threats before speaking again. "You know what today is, right?"
"The twenty-eighth, and yes, I know what you mean."
"Think he's doing alright?"
"If he isn't then he'd probably be dead." Bren looked at his friend, and his friend was looking right back, "I don't think he's dead. Besides, Fergus is with him, and Jessup."
"You really think Jessup would look after him and that's assuming they're together?"
"I think Jessup would tease and harass him while he's doing it, but yeah, I do. And Petty's a tough kid, we both know it. Hell, we've seen it." He thought back to Tylor, back in the medical clinic. The kid took a life and was still walking, he hadn't lost his shit in the panic when ghouls were swarming.
Bren did wonder, though, how much of that was an act and how much was actual grit. It was a lot for a kid who'd just today turned twelve. The Mojave wasn't tolerant or kind to the weak, and kids had to become adults real fast out here. That was their reality and that much rang true regardless of what one's upbringing was; city-kid, farmer, khan, it didn't matter. The only things that were different were the methods and responsibilities that are demanded.
Granted, being a Khan meant living life by the gun, and there were plenty who couldn't hack it. It came with dangers many wouldn't ever face, but that was the life they lived. Same went for these settlers, except they were the ones on the raw side of this life.
The sides could always change, and often from right under one's nose. One day you're harvesting crop, and the next, you're giving it up because someone else is waving a gun in your face.
"I hope you're right," Chance sighed, taking a pause to sweep some of his blonde locks from his face, "because shit's just going to get darker from here, if it hasn't already."
"We'll see him again. I know it. Frankly, for being the guy that talks him up the most, you sure are being a worry wort."
"Exactly, if I talked him up that much just for him to die, what's that say about me, huh," Chance said, trying to lighten his own mood.
"That's one way to look at it. Come on, let's get out of here."
As the two turned their horses and took off, neither ever noticed the glint of sunlight come from the hills above them.
After the Khans had cleared out, and the hovel abandoned as a little ghost town, a scout stood from their perch overlooking the area, stuffing a pair of binoculars away into a travel pack. With a quick hand signal, three others stood from their hiding places to regroup.
Soon, they were gone just as quickly as the Khans, heading in the opposite direction back into more civilized lands.