Author's Note: When I began publishing this story, I aimed for posting two chapters per week. However, I do work in retail, and as you are aware, the holidays are upon us. Two chapters per week are not really feasible right now. With that being said, until the holidays are over, I will only be posting one chapter per week. Enjoy, and please continue to send in reviews.
(One month later, Goodsprings, NV)
It had been nearly a month since Mark and Amata had their emotional reunion and left the Capital Wasteland. The east coast chapter of the Brotherhood had left the Mojave and had moved onto California. Mark and Amata had settled in a small town called Goodsprings. It wasn't a big town by any stretch of the imagination, and it was barely on the map, which was perfect for someone who wanted anonymity. They had a general store, a saloon, a doctor, and a few residents that herded brahmin. Mark had taught Amata everything that he knew about maintaining and using various types of weapons, as well as training her in hand-to-hand combat. She had taken a job guarding the town with a spitfire named Sunny Smiles. They moved into a small, unused home in the middle of the town. It wasn't much, and a little derelict, but they worked as much as they could to fix it up.
Mark had found a job as a courier for the Mojave Express. He didn't do it for the caps. He had plenty of those, and they didn't spend a lot living in the town. Mark had only made one delivery so far, and he had started to learn the lay of the land, as it was. He also created a workout regimen to help him keep in shape, as well as helping the residents of Goodsprings with any odd jobs they needed help with, mostly just to stay busy and to get to know everyone better. It was 5:30 pm, and Mark was in the saloon, and he and Trudy, the bartender, were reminiscing about how they prevented an all-out assault on the town.
(2 and-a-half weeks earlier)
Mark had just returned home from making his first delivery for the Mojave Express. He had delivered the package to the Mojave Outpost, where the New California Republic had set up shop. Mark went into the saloon to get a drink when he saw Trudy arguing with a black man wearing a powder blue jacket that said NCRCF on it. "I'm not gonna ask again," the man said. "Hand over Ringo and maybe my friends and I won't burn this shithole of a town to the ground." "I'll keep that in mind," Trudy said sarcastically. "Now, if you're not gonna buy anything, get the hell out."
Mark stared at him as he brushed past Mark and walked out the door. Mark sat down at the bar. "Hey, Trudy, what the hell was that all about?" "Oh, hey Mark. It seems that when you were out of town, this trader, Ringo, comes into town. He said he survived an ambush on his caravan. He said there were some men after him. I gave him a place to lie low. He's up in the abandoned gas station on the hill." Mark could see where this was going. "So I'm guessing that that guy was one of the men after him?" "Yeah, his name's Joe Cobb. He's one of them Powder Gangers. You know about them, right?" Mark nodded. He said, "Do you have some kind of plan to deal with this, or what?" She shrugged. "Some of the others, like Sunny, would probably help him if he asks, which he hasn't. Personally, I hope he slinks out of town in the middle of the night, and takes them with him." Mark thought for a minute. He knew that even if Ringo left, these idiots wouldn't leave. "I'll go talk to him, see what happens." "Much obliged, Mark."
Mark walked up the hill to the old, dilapidated gas station. The windows were boarded up, but there was still space to look out and shoot a gun if necessary. Mark raised his arms in the air, and called out. "Ringo, my name is Mark. I know you can probably see me. I am not with the Powder Gangers. I'm coming in. Do not shoot. I am here to help you." Mark kept his left arm raised and opened the door with his right hand. The only light in the room was the sun, but Mark could see the inside was dirty and musty from two hundred years of disuse. He kept his arm raised as he shut the door. He looked around and saw Ringo pointing a gun at him. "Ringo, if you are going to shoot me, you better make that first shot count, because you won't get a second."
"Sorry," he said as he holstered his gun, "I'm just kind of jumpy." Mark lowered his arms. "Ok, Trudy told me what happened, but I'd like to hear it from you." "Ok. I'm with the Crimson Caravan Company. We were on our way back to our headquarters near Vegas when the shooting started. Not even a 'hands up' kinda warning. We took out a few of them, but I was the only one who survived the attack on our end, and then I ended up here." "So, what are you planning to do? Do you have any kind of attack plan?" He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "I was kinda hoping they'd forget and just move on." Mark sighed and rubbed his temple. "Ringo, they're not gonna forget. They will find you eventually."
"I know, I just- I'm not a very good fighter. Hell, there are at least seven of 'em left. I can't take them all on by myself, and the two of us ain't much better." "Ringo, it isn't just gonna be the two of us. Trudy told me Sunny wants to help, and my girl, Amata, she'll probably help. We can probably get some of the others to help, too. Just wait here, and let me see what I can do." He looked at Mark with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You really think we can do this?" "I know we can." They shook hands. "Thanks man. I'll wait here for you." Mark left the building, and as soon as he shut the door behind him, he saw Amata and Sunny passing by. "Ah, just the people I was looking for. You ladies up for a fight?"
A half-hour later, their impromptu militia had been set up. Amata and Sunny were lying prone on the roof of the saloon, as they both had hunting rifles, and were the two best shots besides Mark. Anyone who didn't want to fight was in the back of the saloon, and everyone else, including Ringo, was behind the barricade. They set up a makeshift barricade in front of the saloon, using whatever they could find. Chet, the guy who ran the general store, even donated some armor and weapons, although getting him to give some up took some convincing. They were ready to go when Mark saw the Powder Gangers approach. Mark stood up from behind the barricade. "COBB! I'm giving you one chance. Leave, and you and all of your friends live. Stay and fight, you all die." Mark had a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and if anyone Mark fought with from D.C. was there to see that look, they would have known that the Powder Gangers were truly and utterly screwed. They did not heed his words, and continued to advance. "All right, don't say that I didn't warn you." He threw his right hand in the air. "Light 'em up, everyone." Gunfire erupted all around him.
Two of the Powder Gangers fell instantly from headshots courtesy of Amata and Sunny. The rest dove for cover. Mark took out a frag grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it in the general direction of their attackers. He then grabbed his assault rifle and started firing. A few minutes later, the gunfire had stopped. The only Powder Ganger left was Joe Cobb, and he was on the ground, writhing in pain from a bullet to his right hand. After Mark made sure everyone was ok, he walked over to Cobb, seemingly radiating power. Amata, who had come down from the roof, saw the powerful way in which he carried himself, and an aroused moan escaped from her mouth, and she thought she saw Sunny drool a bit. When everything was cleaned up, Amata knew that she was going to drag Mark back to their house and have her way with him.
"Cobb, I gave you a warning, and yet, you insisted. You don't fuck with my home. If you do, you fuck with me, and I'm a guy you don't wanna fuck with. I guess you learned that lesson the hard way." He leveled his pistol at Cobb's head. "Any last words, Cobb?" Cobb looked around at his fallen friends, then back at Mark, a scowl still on his face. "Who the hell are you?" Mark just smiled at him. "Me? I'm no one special. I'm just a courier." Bang.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. In case anyone missed it, the whole scene about them fighting the Powder Gangers was a flashback. Please review, and I hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving. Until next time.