Begin Recording

The Disciples

Recording by Scribe Ellison

The raider guarding the door said, "Watch yourself, boss. We sure will." He opened the door and the stink hit us. I made an involuntary noise and Deacon gagged.

The Disciples lived in filth. Curated, arranged filth. Bodies hung from the ceiling, dripping juices and bits of meat. There were heads on stakes and patches of dried blood on the floor with god knows what squirming in them. And a bunch of raiders in masks just hanging around, sharpening knives, chatting, staring into space stoned on jet. Even eating, somehow.

The inside of the mountain was huge, an indoor night when outside it was only afternoon. The Disciples had built shacks and bridges connecting to the steel structure of the mountain. And apparently they hauled bodies up and dropped them, because we saw bodies impaled on bouquets of scrap metal spikes.

Between two of these stood a stocky woman in a mask with metal wings, holding court with two lieutenants.

I heard Dixie's drawl, "This's bullshit. We should be runnin' this place not some greenie Gage bought offa me! He didn't even pay that much!"

The big man with knives sticking out of his helmet rumbled, "What do you care, you made enough to pay Maddox back. You can do whatever you want with the next lot you catch."

The woman in the winged mask spoke, "We're giving him a second chance. Gage screws this up, he knows we'll skin him alive. So shut up and be patient." Her voice was—cultured. Silky and patrician, with a whip crack at the end. I tried to place the accent, it wasn't upper stands but something similar.

Dixie snorted. "And what about you big guy? Nuthin' to say on the matter?"

"Long as she doesn't get in my way, don't much care."

"Yeah. Figgured as much."

The queen snapped, "Both of you get out of here. Make sure the others get the message." She looked up and saw us, tipped her head in welcome. So you're Gage's little pet project."

"Pet project?" I asked.

"Gage didn't say anything? Apparently we're not good enough to run this place ourselves. Gage wanted to bring in his own little puppy to replace Colter. Guess training a puppy is easier than getting us to do what he wants."

"Puppy? Thought I was the Overboss." I shot back. Beside me I felt Deacon fade back, letting me handle the conversation while he went unnoticed and had a look around.

The queen, focused on me, didn't seem to see him go. "You survived the Gauntlet, you killed Colter. With Gage's help of course. So sure, you're the Overboss. But that title hasn't meant anything for a long time now. Everyone knows we all wanted Colter dead. 'Course if I had my way it would've taken longer. With those burns he could have lingered for weeks of agony."

My throat clenched at the memory. The woman probably saw it. Her words didn't match the cultured voice, but did match the solid body in a heavy leather jacket and spiked shoulders. Her mask covered her whole face, forehead to nose with curved spikes coming down over her chin. It looked like solid metal. Clearly she could see me, but I couldn't imagine how. She sighed behind her mask. "Let's get this meet and greet over with. I'm Nisha. I lead the Disciples. We've only got one rule around here and that's keeping the peace of this… 'alliance.' Otherwise the way we see it the world stopped caring about rules when people started dropping bombs on each other."

I was startled into actually saying what I really thought, "This world needs rules. Otherwise we'll never recover."

Nisha waved a dismissive hand. "Rules are dangerous because people start to trust them. They make you think you're safe but once you turn your back, you're dead. Colter thought the rules made him untouchable. He found out he was wrong. Although I could give him a little credit, he built the Gauntlet after all. Of course it was total shit at first. We spiced it up a little."

This time I managed flattery over honesty. "I thought it was pretty impressive."

"Good to see the new boss at least has some taste. I might let you keep your head on your shoulders after all."

"Appreciate that." I said weakly. "So tell me about your people. Who are the Disciples?"

Nisha smiled, her mouth the only part of her face I could see. "Come see, Overboss."

So I walked with Nisha. She was shorter than I am but the other Disciples looked at us and glanced away out of respect for her, not me. Nisha had this simmering violence in the way she moved. Her people were afraid of her. I was afraid of her, very aware that I wasn't in any shape for the fight that every instinct screamed was coming. We walked up a ramp onto one of the bridges between shacks, hanging from the steel structure of the mountain. The platforms up here had mattresses, some occupied, chairs and the little junk constructions that some people like to build while high.

"The Disciples are people who see the world as it is. We don't cover anything up, we don't pretend. We aren't like those spoiled rich kids who think caps and influence matter, or those savage animals who can't behave in public. Bullshit. This is the world, and we're the ones who refuse to forget it."

She gestured out at her kingdom, the huge cave dripping with blood and foulness. There was something up here at the end of a bridge, a sort of altar. A table with candles on it below a spiked metal circle with human hands and eyeballs impaled on it, along with a couple of still-wriggling ants. Looking down I saw people, slaves chained to a wall. I think my whole body twitched with the need to do something about it when there was nothing I could do. Nisha was watching me closely and I tried to cover it with a cough and another question. "How many of you are there?"

"Eighty? Maybe seventy. It varies. They're yours to command, or they will be once I'm sure you'll support us, keep your promises. Make sure the Disciples get more than our fair share of the territories."

I had to ask, "I've only seen adults. What happens to children born here?"

"We eat them."

"No you don't, you're playing Shock the Overboss. What do you really do?"

Nisha smiled behind her mask. "Very good. Nobody here wants the burden of a baby, so in the rare event that one comes along we give it to the Operators to sell."

I opened my mouth, realized I didn't want to know, and closed it again. I'd ask the Operators. Below our perch on the bridge I caught sight of Deacon, who'd found a terminal and was fiddling with it unnoticed by two nearby Disciples who were sprawled on filthy mattresses surrounded by chem paraphernalia.

Nisha's 'real world' wasn't one they could face sober, apparently.

"And what do the Disciples need from their overboss?"

"Respect. Progress. Our fair share." Nisha's voice was steel under the silk. "When you take the rest of the parks, we need space. If the other gangs get a bigger slice of the park or a bigger slice of the take, we won't be happy. And if we contribute more than the other gangs we expect to be recognized for it."

A familiar voice says, "And we wanna have some fun! Hiya boss!"

I turned. "Hi… Dixie."

"Thanks for takin' care of Colter! Looks like you came out on top!"

There was no hint of worry or guilt in Dixie's voice, or the grin I could see under her mask. It seemed not to have occurred to her that I might be angry about how I'd gotten here. "Were your stories about your travels true?"

"Some prob'ly. Forget what-all I said. Really had you going though!"

That hurt. It shouldn't have, compared to everything else, but it did.

Nisha said, "We done, boss?"

"Sure. We're done." I was ready to be out of here. I went back down the stairs to the ground and Deacon appeared beside me.

Nisha had gone another way but Dixie was following me. "If I'd'a known what Gage was planning I'd have charged him double on you! Made plenty on your friends though. A real scary guy bought them this mornin'."

That made me smile a little. The approach of the exit did too. Then came a horrible moment. One of the bodies draped over the spikes gasped and curled a hand. He was impaled in half a dozen places but somehow still alive. I jolted to a stop. Froze up completely for a second as every instinct said I couldn't let this person suffer while rational thought argued that a mercy killing here would lose whatever respect I had with the Disciples. Luckily Dixie didn't notice. She leaned close to the dying man's upside-down face and said, "You still hangin' in? Shouldn't'a stole from your own gang!"

Deacon nodded at Dixie and made a little turn away gesture with one finger. I stepped away a little and asked the first thing I could think of, "Hey Dixie, how'd you end up here?"

Cheerfully she said, "Slit my daddy's throat 'cause he never could keep his hands to hisself and my mama's 'cause she ain't never stopped him then everybody ran me outta town. Wandered a while 'til Nisha found me. Seemed like we were kindred souls."

But at least she'd turned to look at me. Behind her I saw Deacon's lips move and his hand went up to the dying man's face and down again. It took a moment then Deacon stepped over behind me like a good bodyguard and the thief died. Dixie didn't notice; I wouldn't have if I hadn't been watching when his eyes went flat.

And then at last there was the door and I said some forced cheerful goodbye to Dixie and we were out in the fresh air and sunlight. I kept walking and Deacon seemed just as determined to get far away. Dixie hadn't followed us out so I felt ok to squirm and try to shake the smell off my clothes. "I want a bath. I barely touched anything and I want a bath."

"Carrington has things to say about leaving blood lying around."

"So does Doc Jenna. What did you..?"

Deacon reached into his pocket and showed me a vial with two pills left in it. "Standard agent gear, last resort. Works real quick. Institute can't make a synth copy without a brain to scan."

"God." I hugged myself and tipped my head up to the sunlight. I was also realizing my ankle was definitely done for the day and being in pain was not helping the feeling that everything was terrible and it would never end.

"On the brighter side, Carrington isn't making them anymore these days. And I got this too. Scanner holotape. We can read everything from their terminal. I didn't see anything else worth..." He paused as if hunting for the word, then just shrugged.

We stepped onto the outside elevator and I said, "I think I'm going to kill them all and the world will be better off." And it was an awful thought because I never think that way.

Deacon pondered that while we rose into the air. After a few minutes he said, "I've been a raider. Commonwealth raiders join the life and leave if they get a better chance. I think these gangs gather people who already see the world like Nisha."

"You heard that?"

"That was interesting."

We reached the top, both drew weapons and went back to back for a quick scout of the overboss' home. A minute later we'd made sure nothing nasty was waiting for us and there was no sign anybody had been here. Once the elevators were locked safely in position I washed my hands, got out of my gear, and dropped onto the sofa to get my shoes off and my ankle up. "Ooh, that's better. Now we know why this place smells."

From behind me where he was washing up Deacon said, "After some consideration I'd be happy to see the Minutemen gloriously stomping over that gang, possibly to the sounds of patriotic radio."

I muttered, "Don't insult our radio musicians, they try hard." but mostly I was trying to shake the awfulness out of my brain and think clearly about how dangerous the Disciples were to us now and about how the mountain might be cleaned out once they were gone and how I might actually be able to eat after all now that the smell was wearing off.

Deacon added, "Wonder what the other two will be like."