Wasteland - Chapter 4 - Junktown and Raiders - IC

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OCC- Ok we need more story for this chapter. Here is what is going on.

IC-
Decker had been pleased to get Cadian. First was that business in Junktown, then the problem with Cadian.

The Hub was a commercial center, the gears and chains were the motor of commerce in the region. But gears and chains needed grease. Decker provided that grease, making sure the men worked, the Brahmin were available, that good got delivered without problems. And for that they paid a price. Fail to pay the price and discipline was delivered.

The merchants had gotten resistant. They had begun recruit their own gangs of thugs to protect their cargos and their lives. And then they stopped paying the protection to Decker. They had begun to organize, their caravans had become strong and they had shared information. And this new threat, these disappearing caravans had been more incentive for the merchants to get protective. Arrogant selfish merchants who didn’t want to share their good fortune, made possible by Decker’s efforts.

This business in Junktown. Gizmo and Killian. Two low-life entrepreneurs. Together they had made a water hole into the beginnings of a thriving town. Killian dominating the commerce that produced the wealth Gizmo providing the entertainment and the gambling that took up the profits that Killian produced. Two vultures sharing the spoils.

That would have been fine for Decker.

Gizmo was still small in the way of things. Eventually Decker and Gizmo would have had a talk.

And if Gizmo became uncooperative, perhaps Izo could be persuaded with a better deal.

Or the Skulz.

Tthe Hub merchants had been faster. They had seen an opportunity in Junktown that Decker hadn’t, and they planned to take over. Junktown might eventually become competition for the Hub and the Hub wouldn’t allow that. The waterhole that was Junktown was prime real estate, and the Hub merchants would grab it for a steal. Better yet, they would buy it out from under Killian by taking advantage of Killian’s own greed. Deviously simple, co-opt Killian with a better deal, take advantage any advantages between Killian and Gizmo.

Divide and conquer.

And leave Decker out of it.

In fact, from Junktown the merchants would have a center out of Decker’s reach from where they could launch their own attacks. Here in the Hub, they were under Decker’s eye. He could intervene when necessary to keep his adversaries divided. But not in Junktown.

Not that Decker didn’t have his connections in Junktown. Decker had one constant that he had counted on, the vice of man and his capacity for selfishness. So the deal between Junktown and the Hub, Morbid’s little investment in Iquana bits, would pay off. One needed eyes everywhere, and Morbid was too fearful to be disloyal.

In the meantime, it was time to create problems among the merchants in the Hub, to divide their happy little collective. And the new guy had seemed to be the right agent for that little havoc. No connections, no relations, an unknown.

But he had proved a bit too professional, a bit too grisly.

One had to be careful not to overplay violence least it come back and haunt you. Perhaps the violence against the merchants had been a bit too extreme.

Rather than divide amongst themselves, the merchants had begun to tighten their circle.
Hightower was a problem that would have to be dealt with. But the man had gained a small collection of his own goods. Perhaps Hightower was thinking about becoming his own gangster. And two gangsters were one to many.

Rather than weaken the council, the water merchants had gotten stronger as the other merchants had begun to turn to them. Now Greene and the Hub cops were trying to build a case against Decker.

As if they could.

People knew the value of silence. There was no one that couldn’t be gotten to.

Not even the thieves’ guild would speak against Decker.

Of course, Decker might have used Kane to get rid of Cadian, but that would have been a waste of talent. Decker hated waste.

Man’s oldest emotion was fear. For Decker it was an ideal political weapon. Why kill what you can use, why destroy what you can exploit.

Better to send Cadian to Junktown. He would bring instruction to Morbid.

Cadian would be Decker’s fly in the Hub ointment, a wrench in the merchant’s plans for Junktown.

If these attacks on the caravans ended, the merchants would be back to their competitive selves and giving him less trouble. Perhaps it had something to do with these Children of the Cathedral.
________________

Roadrunner had coated Brute’s cuts with a salve made from the meat of mutant fruit which had eased the sores on his body. She had been soft and willing, but Brute was still in great pain. Saul’s fist had been harder than Brute had anticipated, and the burly boxer had enough skill to overwhelm Brute’s own superior strength.

But now the small group had cash in the way of caps. They had bet on him and had won. They could restock supplies from Killian, replenish ammunition and water, and even pay for what information they needed. Even medical supplies could be obtained and the group would no more have to depend on Morbid and his dubious skills.

The thought of Morbid made Brute wonder about Ivan. Rob had stayed behind to take care of the big man, but Brute had developed an attachment to the man who had carried him out of the hell under Vault 15.

A sense of guilt washed away Brute’s desire for sleep. Best to check on Ivan. But his bones and muscles ached and resisted, and he was slow to get up. Roadrunner’s soft touch coaxed him back to bed.

A breeze through a crack in the door. Perhaps one of the others had come in to share their room at the Crash House. Melvin getting away from Sinthia

Brute whispered to Roadrunner, “Be quiet. We have a stranger.”

She nodded and reached for the knife she kept nearby.

Brute reached down to the pistol that he kept under the bed.

“It’s not there.” Spoke a voice.

“Strangers aren’t welcomed.” Replied Brute. “And I can do equally and with greater job the damage my gun could deliver with my bare fists.”

The voice chuckled, “No doubt fighter. I saw you best Saul today, and that was no mean trick. But I come not do bring you harm but possible fortune.”

“Then why approach like a rat.” Brute had figured were the voice was and judged that a quick leap and Brute would be atop of him.

“Because I bring a cheese that others might covet. Parties I work for might have need for your employ. But the work must be done with great discretion least the wrong parties learn of it and take offense.” Said the man.

“Sounds dangerous.” Said Brute.

“It is, but less so than what you are pleasantly thinking. I would hate to use the gun I have trained at you. And the girl might reconsider throwing a knife least it fail to penetrate my armor.”

“If I am to be a clandestine agent, than who would be my patron?” Asked Brute.

“That would be telling. Suffice for now that I give you information and we will watch your acts. If you do as we wish, we will be in touch.”

“So speak your information and be gone.” Said Brute impatient.

“Dr. Morbid is more than he appears. He has a connection south of here, in a place called the Hub. But he serves not the ones who rule the Hub, but a different species of vulture. You may wish to check your man, soonest. That is my payment for listening to this. This you should know. The partnership that gave birth to Junktown is being undermined by those who are threatened by us. They seek to exploit a difference between our founding partners and take over. If they do so, the partner’s future will be but lucky to be a wooden box in a shallow grave.”

“That is not my affair.” Said Brute.

“No, you come in search of your own treasure. We know. We might be able to help.” Said the man, as he was stepping out.

“In exchange for?”

“We want you to stop the plans of the Hub. We’ll be watching what you do next.”

The stranger slipped quietly out the door. As soon as the door had closed, Brute went to the door and gave chase. But the stranger had already disappeared.
 
Ivan had spent the night in rest, the small slug from the rifle having been removed and placed on the table. As he sat there, the anasthetic had worn off a bit more and he could see clearly. He saw a small figure hunched over near Rob.

"Just one for the road..." Whispered the voice in the corner. The smarmy little midget, Ivan was sure. No matter, Ivan felt better than he had the past few days/nights/waking moments, and his hand clenched slightly. The straps creaked, ever so slightly, as Ivan turned his head. The short man had a hypo jabbed into Rob, and that in itself was not Good News. Ivan relayed the Good News to his (soon to be) flock, in between drinking copious 'holy water' and consecrating with raider blood. Being like a bug under a miscroscope wasn't fun. His hand tugged on the bindings, prodigious strength loosening them as he felt around for a proper instrument, his hand settling on a scalpel. Slowly starting to work, the leather straps on his wrists were sliced with the medical-grade tool. His eyes then settled back in to rest, slits all seeing as he waited for him to return.


Time passes, Ivan stirs slightly and the midget returns with a bonesaw. "So hungry, hungry hungry, I want a snack. Big man wont miss much from buffet-body. I want chicken, I want....liver... Buffet drinks too much anyways. Drunky McDrunk, he he he!" A maniacal gleam was beheld by Ivan, a cry of rage and revulsion emanating from his throat, and, in that instant, Russian giant and disturbed midget tangled in horrible, bloody parody. A prosthetic mannequin was overturned, and Ivan started to thrash at the midget with scalpel and a plastic leg.
 
Carib had broken from his family, which he would introduce to Brute and the rest when he went to check on Ivan. The Russian had become a friend, much like Richard. The Desert Eagle had been holstered as he was told by Junk Town security, he also had a tactical strider knife, with razor end and a serrated edge behind. It was neatly rapped in threading, which was sheathed on his chest and a compact version of the mossberg 590 was slung across his back. He had a few scavenged shells, buckshot and few slug rounds.

He hoped for a job so he could buy better weapons and ammo.

As Carib reached the bleached hospital, he walked inside the door, and noticed Couger and Wolf were playing a card game of watch me. Doc Morbid was nowhere to be seen. As O'Reilly entered, his foot falls made no sound as he passed the two. He doubted they would have objections against visiting, but if they did, Carib would hurt them. It would not have been the first time.

Coming towards the manhole, Carib slid down the rusted ladder with speed. And what greeted him was a sight that made his guts wrench and Carib reach for his IMI Desert Eagle .44.

No silencer, no time. Carib lined at the arm, since he saw Ivan thrashing out with his scapel. He was going to make a kill, but saw that Ivan was in the line of fire.

Carib just fired and the room echoed loudly as the hammer stroke the casing which ignited the primerer, which ejected the bullet at a thousand or so feet per-second and the round stroke mark, knocking aside the arm of the midjet. The man stumbled backwards and fell.

The Water Pirate dropped from the ladder and drew his knife and beban to cut away the bounds of Ivan. He helped his friend to take a seat and he waited for Couger and Wolf to come down, widowmakers drawn.

Even Doc Morbid came. Carib turned and drew his pistol, he drew a bead on the old Doctor. Ivan was still drowsy, affects from the expired drugs which were used on the Russian.

"Now... give me a reason, 'Doc' why I shouldn't kill you and the midget fuck who was about to carve up my friend?"
 
Caribe heard a click from behind him. The sound of a hammer being pulled back. A hammer to a pistol that was no doubt pointed in his direction.

There was someone else in the room. Someone who had been there the whole time, who had blended in the dark and who Caribe had not identified.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to kill the doc. Not over a midget. Especially not over a misunderstanding. Why not put the gun down?"

"Then you shoot me."

"I could shoot you now." Said the man calmly.

Caribe hesitated nowing that a would get him killed.

And while he hesitated two more men came down the ladder into the room.

Caribe glanced over at Ivan. The big man was awake and watching Caribe, waiting for the moment to pounce.

Caribe blinked.

Ivan was quick. He came up with a knife, stabbing it at one of the men. But the man's reflexes had been quick and had moved out of the way. The knife went into the man's upper arm instead of his chest, the wound not as deep as Ivan would have hoped. Meanwhile the other guard hit Ivan in the back of the head with the butt of a shotgun. Stunned, the big men went down again. The shotgun barrel had come around and was pointed at Caribe.

Caribe had also moved, quickly, getting around Doc Morbid and behind him, bringing up the pistol so that it was pointed at Doc's head and the Doc's body was between him and the calm man.

But Caribe was also aware that the wrong end of a gun barrel was pointed inches from his head.

Caribe could not see the man, his face still hidden in the darkness of the celler.

If the activity had jolted the holder of the gun, his voice didn't show it. Still calm, he said. "Now, now. For a nuke cola peddler you can move well, but not so fast as I can pull a trigger or a bullet can pass through your eye and out the back of your head."

"I'll kill him." Said Caribe.

"Everybody got to die sometime Caribe. But where does that get us? You kill Morbid, I kill you, we kill your buddy. The midget, well maybe he gets more meat. Otherwise, I see no profit in it. I think you should draw down your firearm and we start over. Call it good faith."


"You first."

The man chuckled. "Fine. Have it your way then."

Surprisingly, the man brought down his pistol. Caribe glanced at the others. It was so damn dark in the celler. He had little doubt the other weapons were pointed at him.

"Now." Continued the man, "Maybe you should let the doc go."

"Why would I do that?" Asked Caribe.

"You could call it courtesy. Or a sign of good faith. But maybe because the Doc might be able to save your life."

"I've seen the doc's medicine. I can find better." Said Caribe

"Yeah, well, so what if the doc is a quack. It ain't medicine you need but information."

"Such as?"

"You're a marked man, Caribe. Made some enemies in the Hub, and there is a man here who aims to kill you." The man in darkness said. It was nothing Caribe didn't already know.


"You perhaps?"

"If that were my purpose you'd be dead by now."
Of that Caribe had few doubts.

"So what do you want?" Asked Caribe.

"What I want? Well, I'd like us to start over and put this little mess behind us. I think we could work us out a partnership."

"A partnership?"

"A trade of services. I give you your assassin and you give me some assistance." Said the man.

"Assistance for what?" Asked Caribe. He could feel Doc Morbid sweat, smell the man's stink.

"We have mutual interests at stake. Parties of the Hub, those same parties that want you in the ground or feeding vultures, want to take over Junktown and remove possible competition. That's not in the interest of my employer. I might add that should they do so, your brother will not gain access to the well here, which is why he's here. In fact, it would not surprise me if those same parties did not choose to dispense with your brother and take over business in their own interest."

"So we have a mutual interest." Said Caribe.

"Indeed." Said the man.

"How can I trust you?"

"I'll let you leave with your life. And you can take your big friend with you. In fact, I'll have the boys take him out. Boys? Take this man over to Marcelles Crash house. They have a room there."

On instruction the two guards lifted up Ivan's body and carried him up the ladder leaving Caribe alone with Morbid and the calm man hidden in darkness.

They watched each other in silence until the man said. "Trust is the cornerstone to every relationship."

There was little else to do, so Caribe let Morbid go.

Morbid fell and then scampered to the other side. "Kill him." Morbid gasped.

"Shut up, Doc." Said the man. "You can leave if you wish. The Doc and I have matters to discuss privately. But come by tomorrow and I will give you your assassin. Call it a gift."

Caribe nodded and climbed up the ladder

"When I come back, who should I ask for?" Asked Caribe

"Just ask for Cadian. I'll be waiting for you."
 
Ivan woke up in the Crash house, jolting out of his bed. His eyes were fierce, and he did not like being taken for a sucker twice in two nights.

"Caribe, tovarish, I owe you my life. Those men...their lives are like bad dreams. When I get up, *poof* they shall no longer exist..."

He murmured, patting himself to see that, indeed, he had his holy water. "Now, I need to take some REAL medicine, and then I shall be ready." he had already sat up, sipping from that vaccuum flask. Where or how he had refilled it, no one would know except Ivan. Probably better to keep it that way, in fact. He smiled to Caribe, whetting the knife he had found on his "special rock". Idly, he wondered where his gun had gone off to, and whether he could scavenge another. The caliber of the 14mm was big, noisy, and powerful...a perfect fit for him.

"Men like us, we are not to be played for fools. Nyet, I will not allow you to be hunted like some....animal or Raider. Metal hurts, but Ivan has strong head. Must be, from carrying around strong brains, in fact.

He chuckled slightly, then his eyes became dark again.

You tell Ivan where this "assassin" is and the walls will be painted a second coat, yes?"
 
Carib sat next to Ivan and patted his friend on the shoulder. He took some comfort in the words. Hell, when you fuck with a lot of people, don't expect to be liked very much. The Water Merchants were cut throat, but they knew if they had even touched his brother or a hair on his family and he would be in the Hub killing all of them.

Then again, a death mark isn't something easy to live with. Is it?

"Thanks," Carib managed a faint smile. "Means alot. But as you see, its a tough bitch of a wasteland out there. If they touch my bro... well, lets say The Hub will burn. No one fucks with an O'Reilly. Mutant or a fucking death claw."

He holstered the Eagle, the brother of the Eagle was already tucked away in the docker's clutch. Doc Morbid got off easy today, but Stryfe would fix his wagon someday. As for the Cadian guy, Stryfe wasn't sure what his angle was. If he was from Hub, he could be one of Decker's people. That was probably the only reason he had known the man.

"As for Assassin. I got my supicions... In the mean time, gonna catch some zzz, and find out what Cadian is peddling."
 
Ivan nodded, settling back into a moth-eaten chair. "Very well, you rest. I shall keep guard this night as I have, how do you say, had enough 'rest' already. As for your family...your fight is my fight. Same as for the rest of our wandering entourage. I have nothing left, otherwise."

As Caribe settled in, Ivan rummaged around the room, faintly suprised to see his stuff after all. He took out the 14mm and started to clean it.

How thoughtful, for Cadian to give him back all the weaponry Ivan might very well use to kill him. He idly wondered where Brute and the others were, and what he would do after this. Brute mentioned something about a chip, but of what Ivan had no clue. These people were his first real family in a long time, and, well, he didn't want to see them split up.

Hey, maybe one of those islands in the pamphlet survived the Fall...it was a nice dream to consider, Ivan decided. A vacation in paradise, wouldn't that be grand. Maybe they could all hijack a boat somewhere and live like those Swiss Robe people or something he read about. No fun to be alone again.
 
Roadrunner was sleeping by Brute's side, but he was still thinking about what the man had said earlier when he heard Caribe and Ivan return.

Quietly he got up an put on his pants, careful not to awake the sleeping roadrunner. She had been having nightmares, though she would not remember of speak of the dreams in the morning. But she would speak in her sleep, strange words mumbled and unclear, except one, "flame."

He watched her sleep peacefully, her mouth open slightly, her eyes fluttering behind her brown lids. She was haunted by something unseen and mysterious. He felt a tremor of fear, for her that was chased by some mysterious ghost in her dreams, and for himself who feared most of all that he might lose her.

Muscles still aching from the Saul's merciless pounding, He tip-toed to the door behind which Ivan and Caribe spoke, and gentle knocked.

His knuckle had not struck thrice when the door opened violently and he saw Caribe's gun pointed at his head.

"Am I interrupting something?" Asked Brute.

Caribe poked his head out, looked around, and then pulled Brute (rather undelicately given Brute's damaged body) into the room. "I thought you were someone else."

"No friend apparently." Said Brute.

"I have an enemy in town, and perhaps a friend."

"Indeed. Enemies already?" Asked Brute. "That was fast."

"I think they were waiting for me to show up."
Said Caribe. "I had a strange conversation with a stranger tonight who offered a deal."

"As did I. Someone paid me a visit tonight who also made me a strange offer."

Ivan chuckled. "Perhaps you should compare notes of all this strange going ons, nyet?"
 
After the fight Zeke went to go find Brute in an effort to befriend him and congratulate him. Through the whole trek Brute had never once said a kind word to Zeke, and it was getting on his nerves.

Zeke entered the hotel and walked down the hall searching for Brute's room. About halfway down the hallway he heard the russian guy and Carib speaking to Brute.

Zeke rapped loudly on the door, the voices stopped, he rapped again and it swung open. In the blink of an eye he was suspended off the ground with a knife to his throat by the russian.

Hey what the hell man. I am friendly remember.

He was dropped roughly in the center of the three men and the door was slammed behind him.

Zeke began to get nervous

So yea, Brute I came to congratulate you on the fight. You did a damn good job and........He saw the gaunt faces and drawn weapons.Ok, what the hell is going on. Care to elaborate?
 
In a flash, Brute suddently thought about Zeke.

"Yes, I heard you won your fight tonight as well. Congrats." Said Brute.

Zeke nodded. "Thanks, so what's up."

"Tonight, after the fight, I was approached by a stranger telling me that Dr. Morbid works for someone down south in the Hub. Apparently someone down there is planning a hostile takeover of Junktown and this guy down south is working through Morbid in some way."

Caribe nodded, "It gets better. I stopped on Ivan here only to find a midget cannibal about to cut him up. I shot the shrimp, and almost put one in Morbid's head when I had a strange meeting of my own with someone named Cadian. It's my guess that this Cadian guy works with Morbid and probably a mean fucker named Decker down south."

Zeke nodded. "Decker, yeah he's a bad fucker who controls the underworld in the Hub. No one speaks bad of Decker. And lives."

Caribe nodded. "Yeah. Furthermore, this guy told me that someone is planning to take out my family."

"We need to watch the family then." Said Zeke.

At that moment a knock came on the door. Ivan was faster than his size would suggest, moving panther like across to the door, opening it, reaching out and pulling in Melvin's afro head, a knife to his throat.

"Yo my brothers, I think you all need to loosen up that aggression with a little punnani." Said the man.

Ivan let him go.

Mevling combed his afro back. "Shit Iv. I thought only the brothers were that good with a knife. So waz up?"

"There's a plot to overthrow Junktown by members of the Hub. Also, some midget tried to kill and eat Ivan, there is a killer hunting Caribe, Caribe's family is in danger, Roadrunner has been having twisted visions of danger and we are being accosted by mysterious strangers who aim to drag us into convoluted plots of politics and corruption. I think that's it." Said Caribe.

"Shit." Said Melvin, "You fellows draw trouble like honey to bees. It's bad shit brothers. I hope we can work this shit out."

"Da. Bad Shit."

Melvin got up and reached for the door, "It's good you got it covered. I'll be next door tapping Sinthia's ass when you need me."

Melvin left.

"That guys brains are in his pecker." Said Zeke.

"Yep." Agreed Brute, with a laugh. Than realizing he hadn't said one good word to Zeke, or hardly knew the man, Brute felt suddently guilty. It hadn't been intentional that the two didn't speak. The occassion had not arisen and their first meeting had not been a smooth. Yet Zeke was dependable and a good comrade. It was time to make amends. "It's good that you're here."

"Thanks." Said Zeke. "You know. I was beginning to wonder...."

Brute cut him off, understanding the man's emotion and sensitivity. "You know I love ya man."

"You're not gay are you?" Asked Zeke.

From the next room Roadrunner called out. "NO! He's not gay."

The men laughed and that eased their tension.
 
Carib laughed along too, and to his surprise he was actually having a good time. Take assassins, corruption and politics out of it, and Carib would say it was the best time of his life.

"Anyhow. I gotta tend to my family. Come... Let me introduce you. Have a good home cooked meal. Get to see my people in their best element. And you will see my better side."
 
The nightmares hadn't ended since her arrival at Junk Town. Road didn't like it. She would get up sweaty and fearful as if she knew something terrible was going to happen, and it would happen soon. Junk Town stood like a scrap of meat caught between two jaws.

In one hand, the legitmet face of the Hub sought to run the place, but with tyranny behind the scenes and the destruction of Carib's kin. The second face was the underworld, which would keep the status quo.

Then there was Morbid. Something wasn't sound. And the Cadian.

The Wild card in the deck.

Getting up, she went to Brute, slinging her arms around his waist. Such love would have been looked down upon within the Vaults. As a spec and gringo hooking up would have been the gossip.

"I wouldn't mind a good hot meal."
 
Melvin had been doing his own investigation of Junktown, primarily, where were most of the girls.

In a town like Junktown one would expect more hookers or available women. So far the only girl he had met was Sinthia, and while she was fine, Mevlin found it all curious.

In his years at the vault he had learned a few things. One, was to watch the man and the other was to move carefully.

A quick pickpocket to get some money to pay for brother Ivan's surgery was nothin. There were other treasures to snatch in Junktown, even if the greatest treasures lay between a fine woman's legs.

In circulating around town he had learned a few things. It was Gizmo's and Killian's town, it was their project. A lot of folks talked shit about Gizmo and he had heard the rumors that Gizmo liked to get it on with children and animals, but Melvin didn't think much of it. Maybe it was true. To each his perversions. But people liked to talk shit about others, and if they had to, would make shit up.

Gizmo and Killian's partnership was becoming frayed, the town becoming too big for the both of them. Killian wanted more commerce, and more commerce meant the Hub. Gizmo wanted to keep the Hub away, no doubt because folks in the Hub would want a cut of his business. From what he seen and heard, the Hub was where the power was at.

Things were starting to heat up.

There was something else. He had seen glimpses of Rover colors. Unifoms discarded, rumors on the Skum Pitt. Some of the Rovers had come to Junktown but where mainly out of sight.

But that didn't explain the rather shortage of whores working the town.

And the more he thought about it, the more Melvin didn't like it. His boys were out in the open while the bad men were lieing in wait, maybe setting a trap.

He was lucky to find Sinthia and he was excited to have her. It had been awhile and Melvin needed to quench his desire. But when he undressed her he saw the bruises on her body and his hunger for her body transformed into something else, something sweet and gentle. When he took her, he did so softly and tenderly, more concerned with pleasing and warming her than satisfying his own hungers. When it was over he wrapped his arms around her sweaty body, smelled her fragrant hari, and held her close for a long time.

"It's been a long time since someone has been so kind to me." She said, barely a whisper.

oc- more later.
 
Melvin relaxed, let his hand slide down the small of her back, feeling her spine and the warm places that would titilate her.

"That's why they call me Dr. Love Supreme, baby. The white boy's nightmare, and the poor girl's dream." He said.

She chuckled at that and reached down to reawaken his arousal, which needed little stimulation.

"Who did you this pain baby?" asked Melvin.

"I'd rather not talk about it." She said, her voice hinting at her lust.

"It ain't right." He said, " Man shouldn't do that to a woman."

"He had a little pecker." She said. Then she began to move her head down but Melvin stopped her.

"Man with a little pecker might get off on violence. Might hurt more women. That ain't right." He said.

"Might? No he has. Him and his buddies." She said.

"Buddies?'

"Yeah. They came in a few days ago and were drinking at the Skum Pitt, but then they moved out to Gooktown, where all the orientals live, and took up a place. They beat up one of the Asian whores something bad, and the Asians won't have nothin to do with them. So they hired most of the rest of the girls." She said.

"Why would they go there?" Asked Melvin.

"Asians mostly keep to themselves around here, with that language they use. No one understands them. But no one bothers them either. I think they're hiding out. Least that's what some of the girls say." She said.

"They are here to do a job like a robbery then?" Asked Melvin.

"I think they plan to snuff out someone. A nuke cola peddler I think." Said Sinthia.

"Ah shit." Said Melvin. It was Caribe they were after. A group of men fitting the description of Rovers, out of cash and looking for a job, had been hired by whoever was pissed off with Caribe to take him out.

Quickly, Melvin got up and began to get dressed.

"Don't you want me suck your dick?" Asked Sinthia.

"I'll be back later baby, and we can get busy." Then, dressed, Melvin left the room to go after Caribe.

______________

Further away-

Discrimination and bigotry was still alive and well in the wastes and had found a place in Gooktown. There the small number of Asian residents resided, lived and worked out of site and out of mind of the rest of the Junktown residents.

Outcast from most of society, they had learned the importance of privacy and secrecy. When the others came to hide, the orientals spoke little of it. It was enough that the local boss knew and accepted it. To do more was to invite violence.

So no one noticed when the small but well muscled Asian man slipped up the stairs in back of Madame Loo's to the apartment above. When he reached the top he gave a quick knock.

The door opened a crack, enough room for a pistol to be aimed at his head.

"Yeah?" Said the man behind the gun.

"I bring news." Said oriental.

"Speak." Said the man, impatient and gruff.

"The boss sends me." Said the oriental.

"My boss?"

"From the Hub." Said the oreintal, nodding.

"Yeah, so?"

"He says to tell you, the Nuke Cola man is here with his family. He say he want you to do the job immediately. He say he no more want to pay for whores."

The man pulled back the hammer on his gun.

THe oriental quickly added. "My boss says we watching you, protecting you. But we own Gooktown. I think it bad idea to shoot messenger. You got message."

The man with the gun paused. "Yeah. Tell him the job will be done within 24 hours."
 
While Melvin was busy talking with the vivacious Sinithia, the rest of team were gathered inside the humble abode of Ryan O'Reilly; inside the galvanized home of the O'Reilly's, the group was gathered around a wooden table where various plates of food and drink were set.

The scarlet hair of Rachael, Carib's sister in law and their son stood by Carib who sat on the right hand side of his brother. Ryan was bring the baked pig rat with an apple in its mouth. It looked like a perverted version of suckling pig. It sat in the bowl of gravey and sauce. The aroma was mouth watering.

The table was well set, plates, forks and knives and drinks. Some Nuka Cola, and a bottle of Booze. clean glasses and some steaming spahgetti in a glass bowl.

Ryan was a tall man, dark hair and a scar running across his cheek. He had earned that when he and his group had been ambushed at the pass towards Hub. A bullet kniced him. Carib had been their and had saved his life. Brothers.

Now looking at his older brother, he gave a smile and patted his shoulder. "Thanks for coming. And I welcome your friends."

Carib rubbed the head of his god sun, a child who lost his ability to speak when he was bitten by a glass viper. He was now a silent child with an expression that made up for it.

In the corner were crates of Nuka Cola. Fresh and produced via the secret formula. The hub had tried to squeeze his brother for bringing nuka cola back. That same mentality: if we can't make it, you won't either.

The Water Pirate had made trouble for the Merchants when they tried to squeeze Ryan. And the wrath of Carib was well known. Having worked with the likes of Decker; Carib was a man who had been doing merc work since he was old enough to leave home.

Ryan took a seat at the head, Rachael's palid hand touching his. "Will you lead the prayers, Master Brute. As the victor of the match, I hope you can impart strentgh to us today?"

Carib gave an encouraging smile. The light of candles was waving in the wind.
 
Prayers? Brute was momentarily confused at this since he knew little of faith. It hadn't been part of Vault society.

Yet he had heard others pray in the wasteland.

No come up with something you fool. He looked to Roadrunner for help, but the girl did little but give him an affectionate squeeze.

Trying to think of something he cleared his throat, and then began.

"We give thanks to this food and this company. That we may remember this fellowship and draw strength for it during these dark hours. That we may use the strength and power to live well our lives. We give thanks for this opportunity for another day of friendship and for those blessed, love, until that day when our burnt world is healed and spring comes again. Amen."
 
Amen

Zeke unfolded his hands, and grabbed a piece of brahmin steak and sliced it to pieces. A few bites later Zeke was firmly in heaven, and began to sip at a Nuka-Cola to wash it down. The chair creaked a bit as he leaned back and stuck his thumbs in his belt.

Hey Ryan that is a pretty mean scar ya got there man. How exactly did you come across is?
 
Ryan smiled as he broke the home made bread between his hard hands. "Well... ol' FMJ saved my face when we were ambushed by raiders. Peddling Water and Nuka Cola ain't no easy, task, boyo. It's dangerous business. But, me and Carib are sworn by the guns of our father. We peddle till we die." Ryan looked to his wife, who stared at him and gave a weak smile, but he saw the pain. The mute child smiled at his father. Blue eyes. Ryan smiled with pride and rubbed the child's head.

Carib was munching away at some of steak, his mouth lined with gravey and his mouth filled with meat.

"What of the merchants, Ry... I hear they're stirring down south. And I suppose they aren't too happy with me. Especially after my last stunt." Carib said after he swallowed the piece of flesh, which was cooked to his satsifaction.

"No, they aren't happy. Asked me two months ago to sell the nuka cola formula and to join them or retire. They even sent a nice package of caps. I told them they can stick it."

"I think the family should leave town for a bit... stuff is getting hot and I won't have my family suffering for me. The merchants want Junk Town. And Decker's sent an agent to check me out. Seems your suspicions were correct about me being marked for death."
 
Ivan eagerly dug into the proferred food, smiling and chatting it up all the while with Carib's family. He was boisterous and loud, his face slightly pink tinged from the copius amounts of booze he had drunk. Yet, it was an occassion to celebrate nonetheless, as Uncle Ivan had good stories and, amazingly, still polished manners despite his gregariousness.

"You worry much, Carib my friend. Our family will protect your family, and then you let Ivan help take care of this bloodsucking parasite. One good squeeze and will pop like melon. I promise. "

He had the hands for it as well, heavy and calloused, though the mind was also fairly agile. He jested, making light of a darker situation. In truth, he expected the others to guard the family somewhere safe, and, the fates willing, he would get revenge for what had occured.

"I must ask though, do you in fact have any Nuka Cola here now? My throat be parched from this most excellent food. Phenomonal, better than those preserves I had as a young boy. Funny man in white hat ont he front, but the noodles were good."
 
Vedpose awoke in a strange bed. She didn’t recognize it but it had that familiar disgusting smell of stagnate sweat and lust. It had served as a harlot’s bed on more than one occasion that much was curtain but how she had come to be in this bed was not such. She thought back trying to remember what she had been doing last and where she had been. She remembered being hit by the raider and coming to Junktown and then Brute insisted on her seeing the local Doctor to check and clean her head wound. After that she went to the boxing match to watch Brute and Zeke. That was the last thing that she could remember.

How she had come be here was a complete mystery though she a good idea of who had brought her here. Kyrie….. Kyrie had no doubt brought her here to continue the psychological games she had played before, games she played right under Ved’s nose when she was too blinded by emotions, love mostly, to be mindful, but that seemed to be the way that emotions played upon people’s perceptions. The one you love may never be at fault in your eyes though they are in reality a hideous monster bearing their fangs and preying upon a fresh kill. Vedpose, as she would soon realize, had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment

As she lied the bed staring up at the ceiling, she realized that she couldn’t move. In fact, her paralysis so much that she was even unable to move her eyes off of their fixed placed on the ceiling.

“You’re wasting your time my sweet love. The drugs I gave you won’t be wearing off for quite sometime now.” It was, as Vedpose had suspected, Kyrie. “We need to clear up some things, things we should have taken care of before our last parting.” Kyrie continued on with pointless ramble for awhile and then she grabbed a ceremonial looking dagger from a table and grabbed Vedpose’s arm, slowly cutting small yet painful incisions into the skin. Vedpose was surprised that she could still feel the pain even though she was unable to move. What came next was an even bigger shock.

Kyrie began to chant some kind of spell in almost a whisper. She then places her mouth over the cuts over Vedpose’s arm, after they had begun to bleed, and took Ved’s blood as she would water. Vedpose had never felt such an unpleasant and revolting sensation before, and inside her, a mortal fear began to over take over. She was scared, scared to the point of tears. The saltine solution dripped off her face and on to the dirty sheets below as she could feel part of her own life force leaving her body and entering Kyrie’s. How long did it last? A minute? An Hour? Vedpose was to scared to know.

“See, our love is stronger now, but we must not dwell in it now. Later we shall and unto the ending of the earth we will be together.” Kyrie placed a damp rag, possibly soaked in an ether solution, over Vedpose’s mouth and all went dark.


Vedpose awoke sometime later outside with her back placed resting against a well. How long it had been since Kyrie left and how long she had been here were a mystery to her but apparently someone had seen her. A small child was prodding at her with a long sharp stick, likely checking to see if she was alive as children sometimes do. When she move the child ran to his house to fetch his father who happened to be a member of the local policing force. As the child’s father walked towards her, Vedpose tried to stand up but she fell back into the dirt too tired to stand up even speak beyond whisper.

The child’s father spoke, “You are from the party that recently came in from the wastes, are you not?”

Vedpose nodded with a kind of half blank stare in her eyes. Her eyes were focused on the man but at the same time they seemed to be looking right through him.

“We need to get you to old Doc. Morbid. He’ll fix you up good as new.” Vedpose shook her head no and in a barely audible breath she whispered, “Friends,” before passing out once more.
 
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