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Offer

Recording by Scribe Ellison

One afternoon with no warning a couple of guys grabbed me from the scrap pile and hauled me off. I didn't get much chance to look around but the raiders were out in crowds, whooping and laughing as I was rushed past.

"Give us a good show, slave!"

And I was tossed through a door that slammed behind me. Slammed very solidly, muffling the noise of the crowd outside. I stumbled, went down on hands and knees, and picked myself up to find myself in a train station. A long room with high windows and an actual train along one side. On the other side of the room was some kind of check-in desk, with a beam of sunlight coming through the roof to illuminate the row of objects lined up on it. Guns. My guns, my armor, and the leather harness I wear the holsters on. I reached out without thought, checking my weapons for damage or tampering. They felt good in my hands.

The station's speakers crackled. "I saw all the gear you came in with, bought it all off Dixie when I bought you." A man's voice, slow and deliberate. "Prewar ten-millimeter, with a recoil dampener, custom grip and silencer. Guess you like having eardrums. Laser rifle, looks like Brotherhood of Steel tech but someone's done some interesting things with the lenses. I'd ask who modded your guns but this is a one-way conversation."

I looked up, finding the old rusty speakers in the ceiling and something that might have been a camera, while my hands finished checking my pistol and loaded it. I got my harness on and holstered the pistol and started the same process on my laser rifle. It had fewer moving parts so it would only take a minute.

"I've got the rest of your kit here. Pip-boy. It work? Dixie says the screen went dark when she took it off your arm. And some jewelry. Memento of someone special? You can have it all back, and the key to your collar, but you have to do something for me first. Survive the Gauntlet, and I'll have an interesting offer for you."

Of course whoever it was hadn't given me back my weapons out of the goodness of his heart. Gauntlet. There was a sign at the end of the room, pointing the way in. This was going to be bad. But even injured and tired, bad while armed was better than bad in a cage.

I assumed the place would be sealed leaving me no choice of exit but I had to check for other ways out. The train was parked tight into the building; there was no space around it for me to squeeze through. The walls were deceptively sturdy and the windows were small or out of reach.

I probably jumped a foot when another voice blared from the speakers, "Attention all my favorite undesirables, this is Red Eye with Raider Radio bringing you a news bulletin! In case you haven't noticed, looks like we got ourselves some fresh meat to run the Gauntlet!"

Raider Radio? They have their own radio station?

I was looking at the ceiling considering that when the first man said, "And don't think you can get out some other way. You ain't got that collar off yet, and I'm holding the control. Your participation in the Gauntlet isn't exactly voluntary—but have fun, and put on a good show."