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Guest
Guest
They reach Diego in the afternoon. It's in the nick of time, Rayne is puffing on his last nub.
Sheriff Coyle walks up to the gate guard.
The guard nods to the sheriff and they have a little conversation. The guard doesn't seem all too happy that the bankrobbers have been killed.
The guard eventually turns and yells over the wall.
"OPEN THE GATES! THEY'RE BACK!"
The huge iron gates swing open and the whole town lies before them. The Sheriff and Rayne march in first, followed by the guards, and the four pall bearers coming in last with the two corpses between them.
It seems like half the city has crowded together at the gates. The citizens form a thick ring around the party. Some turn around and puke at the sight of the grotesque corpses, but most of them are crying.
"Make room! Nothing to see here!" Sheriff Coyle yells as he pushes his way through the crowd. Rayne follows him.
When they are out of the crowd, Rayne looks around. The city reminds him a bit of San Francisco, but the resemblance is only superficial.
A quick look down what appears to be the main street tells Rayne where he should go after he collects his reward. It's a building with a sign that says:
Mill's guns, ammo and tobacco shop.
All-in-one, Rayne thinks with a smirk, but he's dragged away by sheriff Coyle.
"I suppose you want your reward?" the sheriff asks. "Just come to the guard station."
Rayne follows Coyle into a small building. The inside is dim, and old "wanted"-posters decorate the walls. Rayne recognizes the men on one of the posters as the poor kids who are just now on their way to the cemetary.
Coyle opens a wallsafe and takes out some money, which he slams on his desk.
"You know, what, kid? I like you. That's why I'm giving you the whole booty as your reward. Fifteen thousand bucks."
Rayne picks up the money and sticks it in his belt.
"Hey, thanks a lot. Very much. And... I'd prefer if you didn't call me kid."
The sheriff laughs.
Rayne turns and walks towards the door.
"I'll just take a look around the city. So long, sheriff."
"Bye, kid."
Rayne walks to the all-in-one store and opens the door. As soon as he's in, the clerk looks up and hides away the Cat's Paw he was reading.
"Hello! I'm Mill."
The clerk looks to be in his early forties. The worn, scarred face witnesses that he's been through a lot in his younger days.
"Show me what you got."
Mill stands up.
"Well, what are you looking for? Light or heavy?" he says.
Rayne thinks abit.
"Do you have a pistol more powerful than this?" Rayne asks and shows the clerk his Desert Eagle.
"Well... you could take a 14mm, but it's only a marginal difference, if you ask me. You'd have to go for an energy pistol, if you want some real action."
"14mm's are so damn unreliable. Yeah, I think I'll go for an energy gun, try something new."
"Okay."
Mill reaches under the counter and pulls out a green-tinted gun with electronics and wiring all over it. Rayne almost pants at the sight of this menacing pistol.
"This one's a HK PL7 plasma pistol. Shoots superheated gas that can melt through deathclaw skin like butter. Runs on energy cells. This one'll cost ya five thousand bucks."
The price recalls Rayne to himself.
"Hmm... think we'll say four thousand."
"Five thousand. Any less and I'd be runnin' red."
"Four thousand five."
"Five."
"Okay then, five. How much for two hundred cells?"
"Umm..."
Mill picks up an ancient calculator and types in some numbers.
"Eight hundred bucks."
"Eight hundred!? Shit, that's expensive ammo! But it's ok, I got enough money."
"That's five thousand eight hundred. I can give ya, say one thousand for your Eagle and a buck for every shot you got."
"Fine with me."
Rayne unloads his Eagle and puts it on the counter. It's a bit sad to part from his old fellow, but those thoughts are washed away by the look of the NEW fellow.
He drags out all his .44 bullets, counting them as he puts them on the counter.
"forty-four, five, six, forty-seven bullets." Rayne counts.
"Okay. That'll make it... (Mill uses his calculator again) four thousand seven hundred and fifty-three dollars."
Rayne puts the money on the counter. Mill reaches under and takes out a load of energy cells. Rayne grabs the pistol and the ammo, puts the plasgun in his empty holster and the cells in his belt.
"Anythin' else?" Mill says.
"Yeah. What can you give me for this baby?"
Rayne lifts his semi-automatic shotgun over his head and lays it on the counter.
Mill inspects it.
"Hmm. 12-gauge semi-auto Winchester, standard ammunition type. Hmm yeah, I think i can give ya... say 2000, and two bucks per shell."
"Yeah, but I don't have any shells."
"Ok then. How'll ya take the pay, cash or hardware?"
"Hardware. How about that one, the hefty-looking one."
Rayne points into the gunrack behind Mill.
Mill turns around and takes out a large automatic rifle. He puts it on the counter and smiles.
"Oh yeah, I see you're experienced. This is a damn fine piece of work. M88 medium machinegun. Caliber 5.56mm in a 100 round clip. You can set the rate of fire to your likin', just by flickin' the safety, so you don't need to burn uneccesarily huge piles of ammo. Best part is that it's gas operated, so recoil won't be a prob. But... this'll cost ya, man. 6500 is as low as I can go."
Rayne can't hold back a grin.
"Oh, I think I've got enough money." He takes out his thick cash wad, takes a rough count of around 50 green paperslips and slaps them on the counter.
"There. That should cover it." he says, his grin now clearly visible.
Mill smiles too. "Hey, maybe I shoulda upped the price abit. Just kidding. Now how much ammo do you want?"
"Well... the cash I just gave you should cover a clip-bandolier too. I want six extra clips, 600 rounds.
"Ok." Mill turns, picks up a clip belt and lays it on the counter, which is beginning to get pretty crammed now. Then, he opens a drawer below the gunrack and takes out six long, curved clips and several cases of ammo. He cuts open the boxes and starts filling the clips with 5.56mm.
"Now will THAT be all?" Mill says when he's done.
"Maybe. How much does it come to?"
"Um... 6500... minus 2000... two bandoliers 50 a piece... 700 bullets 2 dollars per... that makes 6000. And you just gave me 5000, so that'll be one thousand dollars."
Rayne takes out ten green bills and puts them on the counter. He straps the clip-holder to his waist and slings the M88 by its strap over his head. He's amazed by how light it is.
"While you're at it, you might as well trade in that one too. That gun is far too simple for a traveller like you." Mill says and points down at the Uzi in Rayne's belt.
Rayne takes up the Uzi and weighs it in his hand.
"Well, i don't know. It's been good enough for me. But if you have any better SMGs, then maybe."
"Oh, the plasma pistol I gave you has a full-auto mode, didn't you know?"
Mill takes the PL7 and shows Rayne the safety.
"So you've already got a good SMG, but i can take that Uzi for 1500, if you want."
"Okay! Well, yeah."
Rayne puts the Uzi on the counter, but then he looks up at Mill again.
"But if the plasma works as an SMG, maybe I should invest in a more powerful pistol. I like having both an SMG and a pistol. Are you sure you don't have anything better than a 14mm?"
"Well..." Mill looks down and drags out the answer. "Ok."
Mill slides his hand down his own holster and pulls out the meanest pistol Rayne has ever seen. It's black, and it's at least a foot long. Much bigger than a .223 pistol. And it looks to be really heavy, and pack a really heavy punch.
Rayne's mouth is half-open in awe.
"What... what the hell is that?" he manages to stutter out.
Mill smiles heartily at Rayne's amazed gaze. "Oh, I wasn't always a shop owner, you know. Used to be a caravan guard. Got this one from a shop in San Bernardino. Damn fine town, Bernardino. Nearly untouched by the war. One of the biggest cities I've seen. You should go there sometime.
"Yeah. Well, do you know what this gun's called?"
"What you see before you is a Magnum .55. We had a nick for it in my caravaner group. We called it the Negotiator."
".55 Negotiator. Heh."
"It's got a ten round clip and blows through heavy armor much better than that plasma pistol. Combat armor is no match, at least if you've got armor piercing bullets."
"Yeah, bullets. Where can you get bullets for it?"
"I have a little workshop in the back room. I fiddle abit with making bullets and such. I can make pretty good quality bullets for this one, but I don't think you can get'em anywhere else, no."
"Ok. So I'd have to come back to you to refill it? How many bullets can you sell me?"
"You know kid, this gun is a memory from my young days. I never would have parted with this if it wasn't for... (sigh) you remind me of myself when I was young. You really do. I have around a hundred rounds for it. You can get'em for five bucks a piece."
Rayne seems like he didn't notice the part about reminding from old days.
"Five bucks? Ok, if that's what you need. How much for the piece itself?"
"Six thousand. (Mill smiles) Hey, I'm not goddamn Santa Claus! That makes 4500 with the Uzi, and 5000 with extra bullets."
"Fine. I need that gun."
Rayne pulls out five thousand dollars and puts them on the counter. Mill opens a drawer and lifts out a cardboard box filled with huge, home-made bullets. He empties the box on the counter.
Rayne lifts up the Negotiator. It's damn heavy, but it feels just right in his hands. He practices aiming and notices that he's completely steady, as if the gun was custom-built especially for him.
"I bet you and me are gonna be close friends." he whispers to the gun as he unloads the clip, fills it with bullets from the counter and holsters the gun.
"There are still a few empty slots in my clip belt. You don't have a couple spare mags for this baby, do you?"
"Sure. I've got four, and you can have them all."
Mill takes out four magazines and fills them up. Rayne sticks them in his belt, and fills up his belt pockets with loose ammo. All this weight on his hips and his back makes him feel like a walking armory, and he likes it.
"Thanks alot." Rayne says. "Well, I guess that's it. I'm pretty stocked up now."
"Thanks for the trade. Come back when you need some .55."
Rayne turns around and walks towards the door. As he strides across the floor with all his new gadgetry like a mechanical aura around him, he fumbles in his belt for something. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks. It's like time freezes. Then, he whooshes around and darts back to the counter.
"Cigarettes." he mumbles in a raspy voice.
"Sure."
Mill chuckles under his breath as he turns around and grabs a large pack of tobacco and some rollable paperslips.
"That'll be $8."
Rayne puts the money on the counter, says bye to Mill again and heads for the door, already rolling a new smoke between his fingers.
Sheriff Coyle walks up to the gate guard.
The guard nods to the sheriff and they have a little conversation. The guard doesn't seem all too happy that the bankrobbers have been killed.
The guard eventually turns and yells over the wall.
"OPEN THE GATES! THEY'RE BACK!"
The huge iron gates swing open and the whole town lies before them. The Sheriff and Rayne march in first, followed by the guards, and the four pall bearers coming in last with the two corpses between them.
It seems like half the city has crowded together at the gates. The citizens form a thick ring around the party. Some turn around and puke at the sight of the grotesque corpses, but most of them are crying.
"Make room! Nothing to see here!" Sheriff Coyle yells as he pushes his way through the crowd. Rayne follows him.
When they are out of the crowd, Rayne looks around. The city reminds him a bit of San Francisco, but the resemblance is only superficial.
A quick look down what appears to be the main street tells Rayne where he should go after he collects his reward. It's a building with a sign that says:
Mill's guns, ammo and tobacco shop.
All-in-one, Rayne thinks with a smirk, but he's dragged away by sheriff Coyle.
"I suppose you want your reward?" the sheriff asks. "Just come to the guard station."
Rayne follows Coyle into a small building. The inside is dim, and old "wanted"-posters decorate the walls. Rayne recognizes the men on one of the posters as the poor kids who are just now on their way to the cemetary.
Coyle opens a wallsafe and takes out some money, which he slams on his desk.
"You know, what, kid? I like you. That's why I'm giving you the whole booty as your reward. Fifteen thousand bucks."
Rayne picks up the money and sticks it in his belt.
"Hey, thanks a lot. Very much. And... I'd prefer if you didn't call me kid."
The sheriff laughs.
Rayne turns and walks towards the door.
"I'll just take a look around the city. So long, sheriff."
"Bye, kid."
Rayne walks to the all-in-one store and opens the door. As soon as he's in, the clerk looks up and hides away the Cat's Paw he was reading.
"Hello! I'm Mill."
The clerk looks to be in his early forties. The worn, scarred face witnesses that he's been through a lot in his younger days.
"Show me what you got."
Mill stands up.
"Well, what are you looking for? Light or heavy?" he says.
Rayne thinks abit.
"Do you have a pistol more powerful than this?" Rayne asks and shows the clerk his Desert Eagle.
"Well... you could take a 14mm, but it's only a marginal difference, if you ask me. You'd have to go for an energy pistol, if you want some real action."
"14mm's are so damn unreliable. Yeah, I think I'll go for an energy gun, try something new."
"Okay."
Mill reaches under the counter and pulls out a green-tinted gun with electronics and wiring all over it. Rayne almost pants at the sight of this menacing pistol.
"This one's a HK PL7 plasma pistol. Shoots superheated gas that can melt through deathclaw skin like butter. Runs on energy cells. This one'll cost ya five thousand bucks."
The price recalls Rayne to himself.
"Hmm... think we'll say four thousand."
"Five thousand. Any less and I'd be runnin' red."
"Four thousand five."
"Five."
"Okay then, five. How much for two hundred cells?"
"Umm..."
Mill picks up an ancient calculator and types in some numbers.
"Eight hundred bucks."
"Eight hundred!? Shit, that's expensive ammo! But it's ok, I got enough money."
"That's five thousand eight hundred. I can give ya, say one thousand for your Eagle and a buck for every shot you got."
"Fine with me."
Rayne unloads his Eagle and puts it on the counter. It's a bit sad to part from his old fellow, but those thoughts are washed away by the look of the NEW fellow.
He drags out all his .44 bullets, counting them as he puts them on the counter.
"forty-four, five, six, forty-seven bullets." Rayne counts.
"Okay. That'll make it... (Mill uses his calculator again) four thousand seven hundred and fifty-three dollars."
Rayne puts the money on the counter. Mill reaches under and takes out a load of energy cells. Rayne grabs the pistol and the ammo, puts the plasgun in his empty holster and the cells in his belt.
"Anythin' else?" Mill says.
"Yeah. What can you give me for this baby?"
Rayne lifts his semi-automatic shotgun over his head and lays it on the counter.
Mill inspects it.
"Hmm. 12-gauge semi-auto Winchester, standard ammunition type. Hmm yeah, I think i can give ya... say 2000, and two bucks per shell."
"Yeah, but I don't have any shells."
"Ok then. How'll ya take the pay, cash or hardware?"
"Hardware. How about that one, the hefty-looking one."
Rayne points into the gunrack behind Mill.
Mill turns around and takes out a large automatic rifle. He puts it on the counter and smiles.
"Oh yeah, I see you're experienced. This is a damn fine piece of work. M88 medium machinegun. Caliber 5.56mm in a 100 round clip. You can set the rate of fire to your likin', just by flickin' the safety, so you don't need to burn uneccesarily huge piles of ammo. Best part is that it's gas operated, so recoil won't be a prob. But... this'll cost ya, man. 6500 is as low as I can go."
Rayne can't hold back a grin.
"Oh, I think I've got enough money." He takes out his thick cash wad, takes a rough count of around 50 green paperslips and slaps them on the counter.
"There. That should cover it." he says, his grin now clearly visible.
Mill smiles too. "Hey, maybe I shoulda upped the price abit. Just kidding. Now how much ammo do you want?"
"Well... the cash I just gave you should cover a clip-bandolier too. I want six extra clips, 600 rounds.
"Ok." Mill turns, picks up a clip belt and lays it on the counter, which is beginning to get pretty crammed now. Then, he opens a drawer below the gunrack and takes out six long, curved clips and several cases of ammo. He cuts open the boxes and starts filling the clips with 5.56mm.
"Now will THAT be all?" Mill says when he's done.
"Maybe. How much does it come to?"
"Um... 6500... minus 2000... two bandoliers 50 a piece... 700 bullets 2 dollars per... that makes 6000. And you just gave me 5000, so that'll be one thousand dollars."
Rayne takes out ten green bills and puts them on the counter. He straps the clip-holder to his waist and slings the M88 by its strap over his head. He's amazed by how light it is.
"While you're at it, you might as well trade in that one too. That gun is far too simple for a traveller like you." Mill says and points down at the Uzi in Rayne's belt.
Rayne takes up the Uzi and weighs it in his hand.
"Well, i don't know. It's been good enough for me. But if you have any better SMGs, then maybe."
"Oh, the plasma pistol I gave you has a full-auto mode, didn't you know?"
Mill takes the PL7 and shows Rayne the safety.
"So you've already got a good SMG, but i can take that Uzi for 1500, if you want."
"Okay! Well, yeah."
Rayne puts the Uzi on the counter, but then he looks up at Mill again.
"But if the plasma works as an SMG, maybe I should invest in a more powerful pistol. I like having both an SMG and a pistol. Are you sure you don't have anything better than a 14mm?"
"Well..." Mill looks down and drags out the answer. "Ok."
Mill slides his hand down his own holster and pulls out the meanest pistol Rayne has ever seen. It's black, and it's at least a foot long. Much bigger than a .223 pistol. And it looks to be really heavy, and pack a really heavy punch.
Rayne's mouth is half-open in awe.
"What... what the hell is that?" he manages to stutter out.
Mill smiles heartily at Rayne's amazed gaze. "Oh, I wasn't always a shop owner, you know. Used to be a caravan guard. Got this one from a shop in San Bernardino. Damn fine town, Bernardino. Nearly untouched by the war. One of the biggest cities I've seen. You should go there sometime.
"Yeah. Well, do you know what this gun's called?"
"What you see before you is a Magnum .55. We had a nick for it in my caravaner group. We called it the Negotiator."
".55 Negotiator. Heh."
"It's got a ten round clip and blows through heavy armor much better than that plasma pistol. Combat armor is no match, at least if you've got armor piercing bullets."
"Yeah, bullets. Where can you get bullets for it?"
"I have a little workshop in the back room. I fiddle abit with making bullets and such. I can make pretty good quality bullets for this one, but I don't think you can get'em anywhere else, no."
"Ok. So I'd have to come back to you to refill it? How many bullets can you sell me?"
"You know kid, this gun is a memory from my young days. I never would have parted with this if it wasn't for... (sigh) you remind me of myself when I was young. You really do. I have around a hundred rounds for it. You can get'em for five bucks a piece."
Rayne seems like he didn't notice the part about reminding from old days.
"Five bucks? Ok, if that's what you need. How much for the piece itself?"
"Six thousand. (Mill smiles) Hey, I'm not goddamn Santa Claus! That makes 4500 with the Uzi, and 5000 with extra bullets."
"Fine. I need that gun."
Rayne pulls out five thousand dollars and puts them on the counter. Mill opens a drawer and lifts out a cardboard box filled with huge, home-made bullets. He empties the box on the counter.
Rayne lifts up the Negotiator. It's damn heavy, but it feels just right in his hands. He practices aiming and notices that he's completely steady, as if the gun was custom-built especially for him.
"I bet you and me are gonna be close friends." he whispers to the gun as he unloads the clip, fills it with bullets from the counter and holsters the gun.
"There are still a few empty slots in my clip belt. You don't have a couple spare mags for this baby, do you?"
"Sure. I've got four, and you can have them all."
Mill takes out four magazines and fills them up. Rayne sticks them in his belt, and fills up his belt pockets with loose ammo. All this weight on his hips and his back makes him feel like a walking armory, and he likes it.
"Thanks alot." Rayne says. "Well, I guess that's it. I'm pretty stocked up now."
"Thanks for the trade. Come back when you need some .55."
Rayne turns around and walks towards the door. As he strides across the floor with all his new gadgetry like a mechanical aura around him, he fumbles in his belt for something. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks. It's like time freezes. Then, he whooshes around and darts back to the counter.
"Cigarettes." he mumbles in a raspy voice.
"Sure."
Mill chuckles under his breath as he turns around and grabs a large pack of tobacco and some rollable paperslips.
"That'll be $8."
Rayne puts the money on the counter, says bye to Mill again and heads for the door, already rolling a new smoke between his fingers.
