All right, before I start I would just like to say that this is my very first fan fiction. I'm under no illusions that it may be good. I'm bored and have been reading a lot of fan fic on this forum, so I figured I'd try my hand.

It's set in 2278.

Chapter 1: The King has spoken.

Tommy sat outside The Atomic Wrangler. It was late at night, judging from the dying sounds of the Atomic Wrangler patrons. Tommy figured he still had some time to go, though. He trusted his old friend Aaron to arrive per his usual schedule. It did feel odd, sitting on a path outside his favourite bar. He had been doing it for four days now, as the King instructed. Tonight was when Tommy could finish this job, one he had wished wasn't a job. One to be forgotten.

"Aaron is a King" the King had told Tommy on his second night of the alien stealth and observation he was not so used to, "..but the Kings must protect those who live in Freeside. Any King who does not is no King of mine."

And that was it. Simple. The King wasn't known to order people to do things they'd rather not, but this situation was not one encountered everyday in the slum that is Freeside. No, this was closer to home. As close as possible.

Tommy looked up the street as his hand stroked his rough dark beard, towards the Silver Rush. In spite of the situation Tommy couldn't help but smile. Here he was, sitting outside a bar in the middle of the night, wearing sun glasses and inspecting his fine facial hair. Not to mention the classic King hair-do. "Cool as a f#cking ice cube", his brother would say. "Ring-a-ding." But those were the old days. Somewhat better in comparison. Somewhat worse. Tommy still had worries. He figured that one day the small, childish conflict between the Van Graffs and the Kings would escalate into something bigger than raising the raising middle fingers or spreading rumours. The Van Graffs had energy weapons. Harbingers of destruction, possessing the ability to reduce any man to a pitiful pile of ash.Tommy always had an irrational fascination with energy weapons. In today's age anybody who managed to acquire a job such as picking up sh!t from the ground underneath a Bramhin band could afford a laser pistol. However, if you were a King in Freeside, obtaining an energy weapon was slightly more difficult. Slightly more fun too, depending on who you ask. But the Kings has their own strengths, namely in numbers. And the man those numbers listened too.

Tommy was fortunate enough to be quite high up in the ranks of the Kings. Not that the King labelled anybody. Tommy was one of the King's go-to guys. Tough job? Call Tommy or Pace. Personal issues? Bring in Tommy or Pace. Oh how good life was, considering. The King was an odd one. Tommy had not seen nor heard of the King until Mr Houses securitrons rolled out of the Lucky 38 and cleaned up the Strip, tossing all his unwanted sh!t outside New Vegas. Tommy actually had the chance to join House on the Strip. He was against it. As was his leader, but Tommy's brother ensured that their tribe agreed to House's offer. Tommy stayed behind however. In the hole that was Freeside. Then along came the King. Turned things around. Best of a bad situation.

Tommy teared his eyes from the Silver Rush. He figured the time was almost at hand. The moment of f#ckin' truth. Tommy handed drifted across the leather of his holster until it reached the grip. Tommy clasped the grip and removed the gun. He studied it, as he liked to do. It truly was beautiful. The ivory grip of the 9mm showed the image of a woman. Tommy could never describe her further than beautiful. The body of the pistol was engraved with some gold design. Tommy didn't know the name. The firearm was a present from his brother, a parting gift so to speak. "One of a kind" his brother had said. "Well, almost." Angel, he named it. Angel.

The door of the Wrangler exploded open. A man wearing wearing an outfit known as the Jailhouse Rocker emerged. He was short, around 5'6, and was lumbering around like a drunk deathclaw. Tommy huddled into a dark corner beside one of the abandoned building opposite the Wrangler, although it was hardly necessary. The man wouldn't have noticed Tommy had he ran into him clutching a fat man.

Tommy emerged from his shadow and followed the King member, who was making his way to the "poor section" of Freeside. Den to addicts and vagrants. "Don't forget", the King had instructed him, "....to place the body for all to see." As the King member approached the piece of rusted metal passing as a gate between the two parts of Freeside Tommy broke into a nice jog. The man stopped and turned. Tommy slowed down and pointed Angel into the Man's face. Tommy nodded.

"Aaron."

"Tommah? Christ fwend, scared the bajaysus outta me!" Aaron broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Aaron, I'm pointing this gun into your face for a reason. G'night, baby." Aaron's face suddenly changed into that resembling a sixty year old man who just learned the secret recipe to Mysterious Joe's Secret Stew. Hard to believe he was mid-twenties.

"You cannae f'#kin to this, man. I'm a King!"

Tommy shook his head and sighed. "The King knows. He knows what you do. I've been following you for a few days now, Aaron. You slip into the [censored] Wrangler. Get high as a [censored] kite. Then go out to Freeside and rob the citizens we're to protect." Tommy placed his finger on the trigger. Aaron just stared at Tommy, wide-eyed and shaking. In no shape to provide a coherent counter-argument. Just as Tommy was about to pull the trigger aaron opened his mouth and uttered his final four words.

"You can't do this.."

"The King has spoken." Tommy pulled the trigger. His bulled slid through Aaron's forehead and emerged from the back of his head with some blood along for the ride. Tommy then proceeded to remove Aaron's Jailhouse apparel, leaving him in nothing but a vest and slightly soiled boxers. Tommy knew there was no time to feel anything. He needed a good sleep before. He had a feeling the King had some jobs to do.

Edit: Christ, that's bad.

Very good beginning other than the grammatical errors, which I'm glad you picked up. Try not to use the same word or name each sentence, mix it up with male pronouns when speaking about a man. Good job though.

The only real thing I'd like to correct apart from what Wolf pointed out, this should say 2278, not 2178.

Yeah, my senses were tingling that it seemed very early in terms of Sin City, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Oh, thanks. And thanks for the constructive criticism too. I'm not sure, it just doesn't feel special, the way a lot are on this forum.

Elvis, don't beat yourself up, the point of sharing your fan fiction is that you are building up your confidence to share your work and recieve constructive criticism to make our work better.

'You should do ____ because it improves ______' is constructive criticism
'Ew this is crap' is just rude.

Yeah, thanks. I'd just like to say that I thought your Gem of the Mojave fanfic was really great. I only responded by asking the status of the White Glove Society and I'd just like to say that I really thought it was excellent. :disguise:

Chapter two: Congratulations

Tommy awoke reeking of sweat. It was a bright morning in Freeside, so far as Tommy could tell from atop his high mattress on the double bunk-bed he shared with Pacer. The bottom half was deserted. The room had two other double bunk beds, but they too were empty. Tommy must have had quite a sleep. He hopped off his bed, and slipped into a Kings outfit slightly less blood-stained. Tommy was a well-built young advlt.Around 6'2. He had lost count of his age, but Tommy knew he was in his mid-twenties. He slipped on his "hobnail" boots he had received from the King to reduce the chances of getting shot in the feet. Pointless, but Tommy appreciated the King's attempts to help his boys with such limited resources. After shifting his feet until firmly in place, he headed down to eat his breakfast.

Mick approached the crowd of Freesiders huddled around the gate separating the two sections of the New Vegas slum. They seemed to be crowded around a dead body. Unusual Mick thought. Not the body, the fact that anybody seemed to give a f#ck. When he reached the small mob, he realised why. Aaron, a member of the Kings, lay dead just away from the Big Man's palace, the School of Impersonation. Jesus Christ, somebody is either very brave or very stupid. Unfortunately Aaron was a very good customer of Mick's, (well, more so his partner Ralph's) and even a sort of friend. You get friendly with those who buy from your shop. And Aaron was a good kid. A little stupid. Not enough self-control, but at heart he wasn't bad. It was no surprise that the kid ended up catching a bullet, whether from the fact that he never shut up or perhaps a drug-induced attempted robbery on the wrong guy. Even so, Mick hoped whoever responsible was found and taken care of by the King.

Tommy walked down the two flights of stairs to get to the 'welcoming room'. He hoped Daryl hadn't gone on his food run yet, as Tommy hadn't eaten in about two days. Just as the thought entered his mind the African-American King known as Daryl strode by Tommy. The new King, James Tommy believed his name was, followed Daryl as he left the School of Impersonation. Goddamnit Tommy thought, but before he could stick his hand in his jean pockets to check how much caps he was carrying Pacer approached.

"The King wants a word."

"All right Pace, thanks." Tommy replied with a thick 'King' accent. Tommy had never meant to adopt the King accent as many others did, but living with fellow Kings 24/7 doesn't leave a lot of room for choice.

Tommy entered the theatre room. The King sat at the front of the room, watching one of his followers attempts to sing in a Kingly accent. His dog Rex sat by his side. . When the King noticed Tommy he beckoned him over. Tommy walked to his leader and took a seat next to Rex, who happily barked at him.

"Tommy, good work. I know you didn't want to do what you did, but what was done was necessary."

"I know King. What do you intend to do with the body?"

"Let those who felt bullied by Aaron discover it, and realise I look after them no matter the consequence." The King waved over the man on stage, Craig. "Say, you hungry Tommy?"

"Like you wouldn't f'cking believe."

Craig arrived at the table where the King and Tommy sat.

"What would you like, Tom?"

"Wouldn't be anymore Pork N Beans, ey?" Tommy enquired.

"I'm sure there will be" Craig boomed in response, and with that he walked out of the theatre to get Tommy some (well-earned) breakfast.

"Boys got a set of lungs on em', I'll give him that much." The King nodded in agreement.

"Back to our previous topic of discussion" the King began, "you did good, once more. And I'm sorry to be over-working you but a new problem has arose. The Van Graffs have a new supplier in town.... Now you know what the Kings stand for. Independence."

Tommy nodded, "Libertas."

"Exactly. But a man who lives independently has no excuses and must bear the full consequence of their actions, as we unfortunately saw last night. Their supplier, a man named Mr. Smiles, is quite well-known around Freeside. The last time he hauled his energy weapons in for the Van Graffs he killed two Followers who simply wanted to check his Bramhin for chems. Reduced them to ash. He killed two more Kings who approached his caravan, made his delivery and got out before we could regroup. Well, honestly, I didn't know anything had happened until after the bastard was out of Freeside." The King shook his head. "I'm not sure what the hell the Van Graffs are at, maybe trying to show dominance? They have at least had the courtesy to use different suppliers for the last couple o' years."

Tommy waited a few seconds to ensure the King was done before replying. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"

"This Mr.Smiles will be arriving in Freeside at around twelve PM tomorrow. You and Pace are going to gather your your Kings, kill him and any guards he may have with him and seize the weapons." Tommy couldn't really believe how forthright and direct the King was being, especially about something as sensitive as the relationship between the Kings and the Van Graffs.

"That..that will trigger an all-out war against the Van Graffs."

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's not really to relevant on the face of things. We're not...I'm not going to let him go because the Van Graffs think they can walk all over the Kings."

Tommy nodded. "Before we continue with planning, I've really got to ask... How did you get this information?"

"Y'know their current guard, Daniel?" Tommy nodded. "King."

Tommy let out a chuckle. "You snake."

The King returned the smile. "That's how the Kings roll.

"Back to the plan, who do you recommend?"

"You're choice. I'd start with the Followers. As peaceful and pacifist as they are, they're hardly going to forget an attack on their own. Then assemble your boys. Now too many. Establish a plan, learn it. Talk to Mick and Ralph about supplies.." The King sighed deeply. "Do whatever is necessary to make sure no Kings die. I'm sure this guy won't wander into Freeside with one caravan guard wearing a business suit." Tommy nodded.

"Your pork n' beans, Tommy."

Tommy looked up at Craig in surprise, after which he thanked him for the tin can and began digging into the contents.


Daryl and James walked from the School to the body.

"Everybody move!" Daryl yelled. The Freesiders obliged. Daryl and James then proceeded to hoist the body of their past brother and toss it into a ditch just off the gate. Daryl was about medium height, and quite strong. Good with a sniper, too. The whole package, baby. Daryl glanced over at the new King as they pushed the body into the ditch. He was quiet, nervous-looking and on the heavy side. Must have had a nice, privileged life on the Strip. God knows why the King accepted him. Didn't matter, though. That's what the Kings were all about.

As they began making their way back towards the School, Daryl saw Mick of Mick and Ralph's run towards him. "Great" he muttered to himself.

"Hey man, what the f'ck was that?"

"You know Mick, out of mind, out of sight, or something."

"What the f'ck is going, here? Did you kill Aaron?!" Daryl ignored him and continued walking. "Hey!" Mick ran after them again.

Daryl turned to him. "You gotta problem, take it up with the Big Man." With that he resumed walking, and wasn't bothered again.


Tommy walked out from the theatre into the welcoming room. He tossed the empty can in the bin and took his sunglasses out of his pocket, applying them.

"Hey."

Tommy looked up to see Pacer, and smiled. "Hey, we got some work that needs doing, baby."

"Don't I f'cking know it" Pacer said before sticking out his hand, smiling that damn smile that you either liked him or hated him for. "Congratulations, welcome to the big leagues." Tommy shook his hand.

I may as well try one more chapter.

Chapter 3: Peaceful Easy Feeling

Tommy scouted the scene with his Hunting Rifle. It was a mess. Bodies littered the road and path outside the building where Tommy was perched. Tommy was covered in sweat and and dust. He was panting heavily, looking for anybody wearing dark combat armour. After five minutes of crouching still looking true the sights of his rifle he determined it was safe to leave. The King told Tommy to ensure no Kings were killed. As Tommy left the building at the back of Freeside, even beyond the alleys, he approached the dead body of Daryl Harrison. He bent over the deceased King and sighed deeply. Now all Tommy could do was attempt to minimize the failure.


The day before: "All right Tommy, I'll go talk to Jim and organize the boys. We have five now: Colm, Scally, Tony, Carl and Lenny. Tony is probably out most valuable asset. Boy knows how to pull a headshot better than most Kings. I wonder if five is enough?"

Tommy nodded. "Maybe you should ask Daryl? The more men, the less chance of mistake."

"Yeah. I think he's babysitting the new Strip boy."

"As I say, the more the merrier."

Pacer chuckled. "Aight' Tommy, good luck with Mick."

"Yeah man, I'll see you later."

Tommy turned and set off towards Mick and Ralph's.


"Hey, got any money?" Tommy looked to the voice and saw an old bearded man. The Old Man smiled, revealing blue, tooohless gums. "I'll give you a blwjob for some caps, or maybe some psycho?" the Old Man grunted at Tommy. Tommy snapped his fingers shut and struck the Old Man in the face.

"The [censored] is wrong with you?" Tommy resisted the urge to unholster Angel and pistol whip the fool in the face. He grabbed the Old Man by the thorn rags he wore on his withered body.

"Go get a [censored] job. Become a merchant. Go help the Followers. Rob caravans with the Fiends. I don't give a flying [censored]. But if I ever hear your voice again I'll slit your [censored] throat." The Old Man cackled right in Tommy's face. Tommy smirked and let go of the Old Man. He looked behind him, towards Mick and Ralph's. Suddenly, just as the Old Man felt that his beating was over, Tommy swung his leg, his hobnail boot making contact with the his temple, creating a thud sound. For his own good, Tommy thought and headed off towards Mick and Ralph's.


"Why would I help you"? Mick repeated.

"Hey, what the [censored] is wrong with you?" Tommy enquired. Normally Mick complained but eventually caved in and gave the Kings a great discount, as they only asked when it was essential, but Mick showed no signs of wanting to help Tommy at all.

"Do you want to know why Ralph and I stay in Freeside?" Mick asked.

"We just...love the smell of decaying corpses?" Ralph interjected.

"Shut up, Ralph. Tommy, Ralph can forge passports. Even if we didn't have the caps necessary to enter the Strip, which we do, we would have no problems. So I'll tell you why. Freeside is independent. We get to keep all the caps we make, and do as we please. But now you've got your boss ordering the execution of those who, what? Need help. This isn't why we're here, and I see no reason to help the Kings."

Tommy, not too surprised that Mick figured out that it was indeed the King who decided to have Aaron buried, quickly started running out of options. He was going to attempt to persuade Mick by claiming that there mission was for Freeside, which it was, and that this would severely harm the Van Graffs in the way of stock, which it would. But it sounded as if Mick was considering leaving Freeside.

"Look Mick, I was born in Freeside. Grew up here. I could be living a life of luxury on the Strip right now with my old tribe, but I'm not. I'm here, striving to protect Freesiders, along with every other King here. If I thought for one second that the King was leading Freeside in the wrong direction I'd get the [censored] outta here and make my way to the Tops. But I'm here, and if you don't believe in the King, or what he has to offer, that's fine. But right now we need your help. I know you remember Mr Smiles. He's coming back to town. We're gonna make sure he doesn't put his products in the hands of the Van Graffs. If you won't do this for the King then at least do it for those who were killed the last time Smiles was here."

Mick took in what Tommy said, but shook his head regardless. "Tommy, I'm not refusing to serve you. And I'm not doubting the King. I'm just weighing my options. No discount, Mick and Ralph's no longer does discounts."

Tommy sighed. Worth a shot. " All right, can I see the special items?"

Mick looked at Tommy intensely for a moment or two before responding. "What special items?"


Tommy met Craig outside Mick and Ralph's. He informed him of how much the guns and ammo would cost, and sent him to retrieve the caps. The King would be surprised to hear of the amount the equipment cost, and would probably assume that Tommy had purchased brand new top-quality repeaters, and perhaps some C4 to boot. The truth was that Tommy got four 9mm SMGs, a Hunting Rifle and some ammo. And all were in pretty bad condition.

Tommy met Pacer by Old Mormon Fort.

"Pace."

Pacer held up his 9mm SMG. "What the [censored] is this?"

"Listen, Mick's pretty messed up at the moment. Aaron really got to him." Pacer scoffed.

"This is Post Apocalyptia for [censored] sake, and he's crying over a drug-addled scumbag? These'll do, so long as they don't blow up in my [censored] hands. Jim convinced a couple of Followers join us with some stimpacks. And I recruited Daryl and the Rookie." Tommy nodded.

"We should prepare".


There was no doubt that Mr Smiles would be nervous entering Freeside, especially when nearing the School of Impersonation. Unfortunately for him there was only one path to the Silver Rush. Why the Van Graffs didn't collect the shipment outside Freeside: to give a big ol' middle finger to the Kings. The plan was, however, that Mr Smiles would never reach the school. Tommy was to hide on the second floor of a building about halfway between the Old Mormon Fort and the gate. Pacer positioned half his boys on one side of the road, using a collapsed building as cover. The other half hid in an alley opposite.Pacer, Daryl, Tony and Scally held the newly purchased SMGs while the rest had 10mm Pistols. Except James. The New King had a .357 Magnum. On Tommy's signal the Kings would rush the Caravan from both sides, leaving nowhere for Smiles to flee. The would continue shooting until Tommy gave the order. The signal was to be a shot from Tommy's Hunting Rifle, hopefully one that put a nice hole in Mr Smiles' skull.


It was about seven o'clock in the evening. Tommy was sitting on the floor in the building, looking down on Freeside. Soon Mr Smiles would walk right into a trap and be butchered at the hands of the Kings. Sweet, sweet justice. Most of the Locals were told to leave the area, but some drunks and chem addicts still lay at the side of the roads.

Tommy heard the gates to Freeside open. He ducked into the building and hugged the wall beside the hole where glass once formed a window. He waited for about a minute, just listening to the footsteps of what sounded to be at least six or seven people. They were taking there time. Tommy was absolutely certain who they were and his heart began beating violently. His stomach felt as if he swallowed a Cazadore egg and it was beginning to hatch. At last the footsteps sounded closely to Tommy, right below his Sniper Nest. He took a deep breath and peered out the window. Mr Smiles looked older than the last time Tommy had the misfortune of seeing his face. He was bald, quite wrinkled and had taken to growing a nice white beard. He was indeed travelling with six guards, each equipped with Metal Armour.

That armour won't help you run faster. With that though Tommy swung silently towards the window and was beginning to take aim when he heard someone shout down the road. "NOW." A bullet whizzed by Tommy. He jumped in shock and for cover. Gunfire erupted on the ground below him. He regained his composure and crept back towards the window. Tommy didn't know what the [censored] was going on and he didn't intend to work it out. Right now he needed to focus on getting into a position where he could fire on the gun battle but also avoid taking a bullet from what he assumed was a sniper across the road. Meaning this attack was known before it began. Tommy shook his head. This was no time to think. Tommy couldn't help but hope that he was mistaken about the sniper across the road.

Tommy looked out from beside the window at what was happening. In the confusion the Caravan had been able to advance to the gate and take cover behind their own wagon. Tommy couldn't see Mr Smiles, and assumed he had gone through the gate and left his men to deal with the Kings. But there was only three guards, the rest must have carried the weapons through the gate and to the Van Graffs. [censored]. Tommy began firing rounds onto the guards taking cover behind there own Bramhin and Wagon. He didn't look to check how his fellow Kings were doing, he really didn't want to know. But Tommy could hear a substantial amount of gunfire and the Caravan Guards seemed to be being ignored. Seriously, what the [censored] was going on? Tommy hit a woman in the head, killing her instantly. The remaining guards ducked down, realising the Sniper had missed. Tommy continued firing on top of them, just hoping the Sniper hadn't locked onto him again. Tommy took a brief pause, and a guard, foolishly assuming Tommy needed to reload, popped his hand from beyond the wagon. Tommy aimed and fired, the bullet going straight true the man's head. Tommy pulled back towards cover behind the stone wall and pulled the .308 calibre rounds from his jacket pocket and reloaded his Rifle. There was only one guard left, so Tommy fired a round into the Wagon and looked over to the rest of his team. Tommy couldn't see Pacer's squad , which was composed of Scally, Colm and Carl. The second squad seemed to be perfectly intact however. Tony, a small Caucasian man of broad build and unusually bright, blonde hair, was firing from behind a trash heap in the middle of the road, but Tommy couldn't see what at as whoever he was shooting at was in an alley between two rows of buildings. Daryl ran from the alley where the men were originally hiding, firing his 9mm SMG as he did, until he jumped for cover behind the trash heap. Lenny was further left of the trash heap, and wasn't even attempting to fire on whatever Daryl and Tony were with his flimsy 10mm. He was just pointing it at the alley, waiting for someone to come a bit closer. At first Tommy couldn't see James the New Guy, but he looked up towards Old Mormon Fort and saw James passing the gate in a sprint. What the [censored] was he doing?

"HEY!" Tommy looked down at Lenny who was roaring like a mad man and firing his gun at the abandoned wagon. Jesus Christ, I forgot about him. The last guard, who Tommy presumed was aiming up a shot on him, was now firing on Lenny. Daryl looked towards the two and retreated from the trash heap, towards James. His SMG probably jammed. Tommy turned his attention back towards the last guard was trying to duck in and out of cover to avoid Tommy and fire at Lenny. He was failing at both. Tommy took the shot, clipping the guard in the neck. He fell to the ground.

Tommy looked over at Daryl and Tony, Tony had stopped firing at whoever he was firing at and laid down behind the trash. Daryl was talking to James, yet Tommy could still hear the exchange of gunfire. Must be Pace's team, thank [censored]. Tommy looked to Daryl, who was fidgeting with his SMG. The new kid, sweating like a pig, lifted his .357 Magnum to the back of Daryl's head. Tommy, unable to believe what was happening, raised his Hunting Rifle and aimed it towards James. The New Kid still hadn't fired, and Tommy had his shot lined up. He pulled the trigger and heard a click. The [censored] gun jammed. Tommy, having no clue on how to clear a jam quickly slapped the rifle and yelled "RETREAT!" James looked towards him in shock and fired his Magnum, instantly killing Daryl. Lenny and Tony ran for cover in the alley they were hiding in.

Tommy dropped his Hunting Rifle. He was considering running to the dead guards when he saw Pacer's squad run from the alleyway they were shooting in. All seemed to be alive except there was no sign of Carl. A group of four dark combat wearing men emerged from the alley and began shooting at Pacer's fleeing squad. Van Graff Thugs. One noticed Tommy. With no functioning weapon Tommy up and run to the door, down the stairs and out the back of the building he had been hiding in. He decided to bring the Hunting Rifle with him, it would be foolish not to. He was not out the back. He could hear gunfire out the front. Tommy looked around for a place to hide out. He could attempt to run the Old Mormon Fort, but he would never make it. The only other place for temporary refugee seemed to be the building beside the one Tommy had camped in. He ran to it and broke in the backdoor. He then proceeded to climb the set of stairs and sit down in the corner of the closest room. Tommy banged on his Hunting Rifle and pulled on the charging handle. The round ejected and Tommy released. The fire outside had ceased. Tommy, almost certain he was going to die, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When Tommy woke up he scanned for Van Graff Thugs. After seeing none he went outside to check the casualties. Daryl, Colm, Scally and two Follower doctors, one had stitched Tommy up before, Jenny he believed. No sign of Pacer. I guess I'll have to search for him. And hopefully not just his body.

Hot Damn, this is good...You weren't thinking of giving up where you? I hope not, this story deserves a finish. I love your characer Tommy and you've got a good vibe going for yourself for ya. Some things I might do...

1.) Break up the last few paragraphs into bite size pieces,

2,) Proper comma placement in dialogue.


becomes



3.) Better timed spaces...


becomes


.

To make who is talking easier to distinguish.

Other than that, all good my friend.

Thanks for the reply man, I feared this thread had gone dead. I will continue the story and take aboard all your advice.

Chapter Four: Sit and Dream

Tommy approached the alley outside the window he had been camping in not an hour ago. Couldn't have been more than an hour, Tommy thought as he turned the corner, hunting rifle raised. There was no sign of anyone living, however there were a number of dead bodies. Two were soldiers in metal armour... Smiles' men. One was wearing black combat armour... Van Graff's man. And the final apparent casualty was an African-American King.

"Go easy, friend," Tommy muttered to the corpse of Carl. He then stood up from his crouch next to his old friend and observed the surroundings. The metal armour and dark combat armour apparelled folks were on one end of the alley, Carl on the other. It's obvious who Tony's side were firing now, the [censored] ambushing team.

Tommy sighed deeply. He wondered if and when the King would send reinforcements. Every so often Tommy would hear distant fire. He decided to resume his search for Kings, primarily Pacer. He turned from the alley out to the side of the road where he had been during the botched attack. The botched attack he was in charge of. A pang of conscience hit Tommy, so suddenly, so painful, it nearly knocked him over. The King had placed these men's life in Tommy's hands, and they were littered on the streets, nothing but bullet-riddled soon to be rat food. If Tommy had been more careful, had checked the alley exit, they may have been saved.

Tommy shook his head. No time for this. As he was about to make his way across the road where the bodies of those he had basically killed were strewn, he heard something. The crunching of rubble under a foot. Tommy stifled his breath and looked in the direction where the sound came from.

Another sound. Rubble under a foot. Slow movement. Tommy raised his rifle to the the crop of ruined, inaccessible buildings blocking him from seeing the one making the sounds of slow walking. Tommy was stood in the middle of the alley, knowing that if he moved he would be heard, and Tommy didn't have a clue who was scrounging beyond the alley.

After about two minutes of silence, Tommy began creeping towards a small heap of rubble, vaguely resembling cover. He kept his hunting rifle pointed towards the opening of the alley, occasionally glancing towards the heap. As he came close he turned to the heap and broke into a jog. Just as he was abut to dive into it and readjust his hunting rifle back to the open in the alley, Tommy's hobnail boot became caught in a small gap cut into the pathway. Tommy lost balance and fell to the ground, losing grip of the rifle and letting out a very audible grunt. As Tommy's face collided with the heap of rubble he was supposed to use as cover, the advancing steps of someone were rounding the corner. Tommy didn't look to see whether it was a friend or foe. He just jumped for his hunting rifle, which had fallen behind the rubble.

Automatic gunfire tore through the air, narrowly avoiding Tommy. Tommy clutched his rifle and pressed against the rubble. The footsteps hadn't ceased.. they were still coming towards Tommy. Suicidal bastard, Tommy thought as he lunged from cover and pointed his rifle out towards whoever stood there.

Running at Tommy was a huge Asian man, with a tattoo on his face and a ponytail, wearing black combat armour. The man attempted to stop as he saw Tommy, and almost lost his balance. Tommy lined up his shot, but the man jerked up and, with an assault rifle (odd for a Van Graff thug) in one hand, let off a burst of fire. Tommy didn't even bother to try and duck out of the way, and the fire nailed him in the chest. Just before it did, Tommy took his shot.

The automatic fire knocked Tommy to the ground. Black clouded his view. Tommy hit the ground, not even feeling the pain as his skull slammed against a rock. Tommy slowly and with great effort raised his head, to see the Asian man lying on the ground. Tommy then passed out.

~~~

"Listen ass hole, this House cat wants us to take the Strip, we take the Strip, dig?"

Tommy sat back, watching his brother and Bingo argue. The Boot Riders were gathered around a fire, drinking and discussing the fact that twenty securitrons had rode up and offered the Boot Riders a casino in the soon to be reformed Vegas Strip. The men were largely in agreement. Tommy was not. He didn't trust this House, nor did he wish to leave Freeside.

"Tell you what, Bingo. How about we settle this honourably? Battle of the Knives?"

The gathered members burst into a drunk choir of woos!Tommy stood up and chucked his empty whisky glass into the fire.

"Please, Benny. Bingo's big. [censored] bigger than you. Reconsider, brother."

Benny ignored him and continued to stare at Bingo. Bingo smiled.

"Agreed, boy. You win and you take over Boot Riders. You can send them wherever the [censored] you please."

Bingo removed knives from his coat pocked. Tommy stood up. "DON'T [censored] DO THIS. PLEASE!" Tommy yelled. The whisky had certainly gotten to him, but this was his brother. Despite Benny wanting to enter the Strip, it was Tommy's brother. Benny looked at Tommy and smiled. "Don't worry, baby. Benny's no fink." Tommy shook his head and stormed from the camp. When he had rounded a building he removed his [censored] from the rags we was wearing and began urinating. Bingo's gonna win. And I'm gonna [censored] kill him," Jimmy thought before he hiccuped.

Cheers came from the camp. [censored]. Tommy stuffed and ran towards his tribe. Boot Riders crowded the body, blocking Tommy's view.
"Move," he screamed, shoving his brothers out of the way, only to see Bingo lying on the ground, his neck slit open. Tommy looked up at the grinning Benny, utterly bemused.

"Who wants to inform House that we cordially accept his offer?" Benny asked, smugly.

~~~

Tommy regained conciousness. He was being dragged on the ground. He looked up to see who was dragging him, but he could only see a white coat.

"Unhand me," Tommy mumbled.

"Shush, you really need to retain all your strength," the man carrying Tommy urged.

"Who are you," Tommy asked, ignoring the man's previous response.

"Look, my name's Arcade. Now go back to sleep."

Tommy mentally shrugged and drifted out of conciousness.

Dude this is awesome :celebration:

Ha ha, thanks man. I guess I'll continue it for a while longer :biggrin:

More, more, more! I love this! Gang wars, hidden relations, and why was that asian Van Gruff using a assault rifle? When are you updating, its almost been a month!

Thanks :thumbsup: I didn't see your post..

Chapter Five: The Followers of the Apocalypse

Tommy awoke in a small tent. He could make out through his blurry vision that there was three bodies surrounding him.

"Tommy, you okay?" Tommy looked up to see the silhouette of a huge man, with great muscles, a strong jawline and short, stuck-up hair.

"Never better, Craig," Tommy replied, repositioning himself on the small, ripped mattress he was laying on.

"Where am I?" he asked to the three people around him.

"Old Mormon Fort," a voice replied. One that Tommy recognised. “You eh, you kinda got shot… a little.”
Tommy rubbed his eyes and looked at the man who’s voice he somehow recognised. The man had blonde hair. He was tall enough, he wore glasses and a white coat.

“What is your name, friend?” Tommy asked the man. Suddenly a memory hit Tommy, one of this man dragging Tommy's shot body through the slums of Freeside.

"Arcade Gannon, I’m a Follower, doing research and whatnot... not that my occupation would particularly interest someone who has just had three bullets removed from their chest." Arcade coughed awkwardly and continued. "I was checking on my friend, well, more of an acquaintance I suppose. He was dead, lying among other dead. I went looking for suvivors, and found you. I brought you back here and ah, well, here we all are."

Tommy nodded.

"Thanks you, dearly. I do not know why you helped my last night, but whatever the reason I am in your debt."

Before Arcade could respond Tommy began attempting to stand up. The three people around him rushed to hold him down.

"I wouldn't try that," Pacer muttered.

"Okay, I get it. No movement," Tommy said, falling back on the mattress. He looked to Pacer. "What happened with you?"

"[censored] if I know. They obviously knew what was going down, though I don't know how. We were overwhelmed and I ran, ran fast. And when I stopped only Colm was still beside me, they must have gotten Scally and Carl." Pacer closed his eyes and started massaging his forehead.

He sighed and continued. "We then met up with Lenny and Tony in an abandoned house, Van Graff guards were littering the streets. We knew we just had to make it to the other end of Freeside, because there the Van Graffs wouldn't have their men running around. So, we started making our way towards the gate, slowly. After a while, we heard shots. It was near the gate, so we ran and found some Kings and Van Graff thugs shooting it out. The King copped and sent them in to look for use. We ambushed them, but those [censored] guns.."

Pacer shook his head. "Tony had taken a 9mm SMG, not sure if he had it originally or picked it up but.. the [censored] thing exploded in his hands. He fel from cover for only a second before we pulled him in but he got.."

"It's all right, man," Tommy said, assuringly. "What about Smiles?"

"He got hit running to the Silver Rush, the King says. He made it, but he may have died there, who knows?"

Tommy took in the information before speaking again. "I know how the Van Graffs knew about the attack. The new kid, he's the one who shot Daryl."

Pacer looked at Tommy, his face first in shock. Slowly it contorted into pure anger. Craig spoke first, though.

"[censored]."

"What is it?" Tommy asked him.

"We found the new kid, he was shot up by the gate. We had em' pulled in. He's at the school now." Craig pulled a pistol from his holster. "You wait here, I'll sort this out."

"The [censored] am I waiting here, I'm gonna slit that [censored] till' he screams," Pacer roared, walking towards the tent exit.

"No, you need to stay here with Tommy."

Pacer stopped and turned, facing Tommy. "Yeah, you're right." Craig nodded and ran from the tent.

"I'll just... I'll just go," Arcade mumbled.

"Pacer, we need to go to Mick and Ralph's," Tommy said, watching Arcade leave. "I need have a word."

"I agree with you, I'd like nothing more that to put a bullet in his head, most of the dead King's are in their current condition because of that [censored], but the King forbids it. He told me to wake you up and bring you to him. And not to blame Mick for our current.. situation."

Tommy nodded. "All right, if the King wants it that way, I've no issues."

"I don't like this anymore than you," Pacer whispered. He then walked to Tommy and began helping him up. As Tommy was being lifted up he prepared himself for the pain, but he never felt it. He knew it should hurt, but Tommy could hardly feel anything. It was as if his chest was numb.

"Jesus Christ, Pace. I can get up myself."

Pacer ignored him and continued pulling until Tommy was on his feet. Tommy stumbled around the tent for a moment before collapsing. Pacer approached his sprawled body and chuckled.

"Perhaps we should wait for the med-x to wear off."


An hour later, Tommy emerged from the tent. He was walking on his own, occasionally tipping onto Pacer. The med-x had indeed worn off, but so too did the pain resistance it brought. Tommy's chest was stinging painfully as he looked around Old Mormon Fort. Men and women in white coats and the odd combat armour roamed the courtyard. There seemed to be six tents in total, and some drunks and addicts walking around. The Kind spoke highly of the Followers of the Apocalypse, but Tommy never had any need to visit them.

A woman with spiked up hair approached Tommy from one of the tents near the back of the courtyard. Tommy would have found it hard to distinguish her from a raider had she not been wearing a white coat.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked. "You were shot yesterday, in the chest. Or have you forgotten?"

Tommy chuckled. "Ma'am, I am extremely grateful for the help the Followers have given me, and everybody in Freeside. However, I have business elsewhere."

"You need rest."

"I will rest in my bed."

The woman frowned disapprovingly and shrugged. "I have enough patients, I suppose. And we are a bit short staffed."

Tommy shook his head." I apologise about the loss of your followers last night. I do feel quite bad. You are perhaps the only group of people in the Mojave who act put of compassion and kindness, and you end up in this [censored]hole."

"It's not so bad, I suppose. Who else needs our help more than those forgotten?"

Tommy looked at the woman for a moment. "What is your name, miss?"

"I'm Julie. Julie Farkas."

"Julie, thank you. I must take my leave." Tommy turned from the woman and looked to the gate that leads to Freeside.

"Thank Arcade, please Julie," Tommy called behind him as he began making his way to the gate.

"Will do.. Tommy was it?"

"Indeed," Tommy replied, opening the gate.

Once they were outside and the gate to the Old Mormon Fort was shut behind them, Pacer grabbed Tommy by the arm.

"Let's see the King."

"Yeah," Tommy whispered, looking up at the flag above the Fort, of a black cross against a white background. Despite the pain in his chest, and the predicament he was in, Tommy couldn't help but smile.

Chapter 6: The Old Man

Tommy walked behind Pacer through the beaten up streets of Freeside. Things seemed worse somehow. Worse than they had only hours previously. As Tommy and Pace walked up the road directly beyond Old Mormon Fort, Tommy heard a whooping cough from behind him. The roads were almost completely empty. People had ran to take cover during the shootout, and were now hiding in abandoned buildings, under rubble, wherever.

Tommy turned to see who it was who had wondered back onto the silent street. The face was one Tommy recognised, even if it took him a moment to realise.

“You, the old man?” Tommy squinted and approached the old, collapsed body. Pacer stopped behind him.

“Hey yo, Tommy. The [censored] you doing?”

Tommy waved him and continued towards the Old Man. Once at the body, Tommy leant over it. The Old Man’s eyes were closed, but he was breathing. The sight of the Old Man sent an image through Tommy’s mind. The small, almost unnoticeable smile Mick had flashed when Tommy had paid him for the faulty weapons. Anger flooded him, his hands clenched.

“Hey!” Tommy threw a kick at the Old Man, making contact with his forehead. The Old Man jerked, his eyes widening. He jumped from the crumbling gravel, and steadied himself before Tommy.

“The [censored] you doing? Get off these ---“

Tommy was interrupted by a loud, screeching scream, emitted by the Old Man. Tommy hopped at the noise, causing the Old Man to burst out into a fit of laughter.

Tommy’s eyes blurred. An image of a dead Daryl struck Tommy’s mind.

“Hey man. [censored] you. I ain’t got nothing to live for, man. Whole world’s going to [censored], moreso than it already has. Maybe for a blwjob…” The Old Man broke back into another round of hysterical laughing.

All the muscles in Tommy’s body were clenched now. He closed his eyes, focusing all willpower on not throwing a fist at the Old Man’s face. Why bother? Tommy thought back to the path of dead Kings. Young men, killed over a gun shipment.

Tommy opened his eyes. A calmness overcame him as he reached into his jeans and withdrew Angel. He pointed it to the Old Man’s temple and pulled the trigger.

“The [censored]!” Pacer yelled, running next to the Old Man. His brains splattered upon the ground next to him.

“Vagrants, [censored] Freeside up, man,” Tommy managed, holstering Angel. “Scum.”

There’s something wrong with you, friend,” Pacer muttered, prodding the Old Man with his boot. “The King isn’t going to be pleased.”

“[censored] it, I got Kings killed last night, he’s hardly gonna care about an old chem addict.”

Pacer shook his head. He stood from the dead man and walked to Tommy.

“You blame yourself for that [censored] and what will happen? It wasn’t your fault, mourn their passing and avenge em’. Smiles is still in Freeside, dead or alive. I want to see his corpse, with you laughing by my side. Remember what you did Aaron for, man. Freeside is the Kings’ turf, for better or worse.”

Tommy conceded, nodding. No use living in the past, not when you can only atone in the present.

“All right, man. On to the King." He just hoped he could control his temper and block out the images.


Pacer and Tommy continued through the crumbling building and collapsed rubble that made up Freeside. While never a lively settlement, the mornings in Freeside were normally when you would see Kings roam the streets, on their way to the school. You’d see addicts making their way to a dealer, or to meet up by that well sheltered ruin to share past stories of how they robbed the Khans for a fix, jumped a group of NCR rangers and other assorted [censored], laughing all the while.

But on that bleak morning there was nothing.

“Where is everyone?” Tommy asked. “Hell, I know it was bad and all last night but we got thugs robbing and killing every other weekend.”

Pacer chuckled. “In early today. Nobody’s [censored] around Freeside today, every King wants blood for what happened. The locals probably don’t feel too safe wandering around without Kings about.”

Tommy felt somewhat comforted that his brothers were waiting by the King.

"Hey, Pacer. You ever wonder why there's no women in the Kings, aside from groupies," Tommy asked as they neared the gate leading to the slightly less rundown section of Freeside. "You think the King's like that Caesar guy, y'know. 'Cept not gay."

"There's been one or two. Guess they just don't want to fight, the Kings ain't sixist or nothin'."

Tommy kicked opened the gate. "Yeah, I like the groupies and all, but it'd be cool to wake up next to a female."

Pacer shrugged. "There's plenty around. After I put a bullet in Gloria Van Graff's head I'll take you to the Atomic Wrangler, show you some. And I didn't know that Caesar guy was gay?"

Tommy emerged through the gate. Looking up he could see a mix of locals and Kings covering the streets. He had never seen the front section of Freeside so crowded.

"Then you've obviously never seen his soldiers," Tommy called back.


Tommy and Pacer slipped through the crowds. There were about fifteen Kings standing outside the School of Impersonation.

"Hey hey hey, Tommy!" Tommy looked to the voice, seeing Tapper.

"Tapper," Tommy greeted, approaching the man. "How's it in there?"

"The King is pissed, man. He wants this Smiles [censored] dead," Tapper said, removing his 10mm from its holster. "The Van Graffs haven't come out of their little store since last night. But the King doesn't want any more casualties on this side. He wants us all here. The Freesiders gathered when they us trying to catch some rays outside the School, undisturbed"

" 'Aight man, I've got an appointment with the man himself. I'll see ya' later."

"Good to see you okay, Tommy. You too Pace."


The lobby was full of Kings. The door to the theatre was shut. Tommy shuffled in between them to the door. Pacer opened it and the two entered the room. The King was sitting in his usual spot, petting Rex. Craig was sitting at the table next to the King's.

"Take a seat, boys," the King called back. "We got things to discuss."

Oops, I posted before the post was done. Will edit later.

HUZZAH! Me likey :thumbsup:

Thanks dude :disco:

I'm finishing this, God Damnit!

Chapter 7: New California Republic

Tommy and Pacer did as the King asked, and approached him. There were two chairs pulled up next to the table at which he was sitting. Tommy sat opposite the King, Pacer to the left, opposite Craig.

The King merely sat in his chair and looked up at the empty stage. He was not smiling, there was only a look of sadness upon his face. One that Tommy was certainly not used to seeing on the King.

He sighed and pulled his eyes from the stage, returning from his thoughts.

"Tommy, first off don't blame yourself. I do not know if you are or not, but I'm sure the loss hit you hardest. If you are to blame anybody let it be me."

Both Tommy and Pacer began to disagree when the King raised his hand. "Don't," he muttered.

"Now, about this Mr Smiles. I want him dead, but I do not want the lives of my Kings to be threatened. For this reason I have decided to leave him, and act as if this never happened. Well, the Van Graffs will be... I may occasionally attempt to sabotage their weapon shipments, or something of the like. I will not engage them in open conflict, however."

Pacer looked as if he was about to protest, but he remained silent nonetheless. Craig too seemed unhappy with the decision.

"What of the boy, the traitor?" Tommy asked. He wanted to have the Van Graffs, along with Mr Smiles, ripped limb from limb. He was somewhat surprised at the King's decision. He was backing down, and after such a vicious attack. It did nothing for the anger within Tommy, although the King confirming that he did not hold Tommy responsible for what happened was comforting.

"Dead, I put the bullet in him myself," Craig answered. Tommy nodded. As it should be. The fat [censored] had inflicted an amazing amount of damage upon the Kings. If Tommy could have he would have made the bastard suffer slowly for the deaths of the good men who had fought to protect the citizens of Freeside, as well as redeem the poor protection that had occurred when Smiles had first come to Freeside and murdered innocents.

After a moment's silence, the King spoke up: "now, about Mick. I'm sure that you are---"

"I'm sorry," Tommy interjected, "and I apologise in advance for your virgin ears, but this is [censored] up. I mean you no disrespect King, but you can't do this. Those boys, your boys, deserve nothing more than vengeance. Their memory will be marked with a bullet in the skulls of Smiles and the Van Graffs. If you take issue with this I'll walk into the lobby out there and ask who wants to assist me in my mission. I thought you wanted blood? I do, and I'm sure I'm not alone."

The King sighed. "We began this. We attacked. What happened was retaliation, and the result of a rushed and poorly constructed plan. It could have been avoided." He lurched from his seat, knocking it over. "The Kings are my men. I will not ask them to endanger themselves for petty vengeance. That is not some---"

"Don't ask them," Tommy interrupted. "There will be no need. The Kings run Freeside. Not the Van Graffs. Now, if you have an issue I will walk out to the Kings, state your concerns, and ask them if they wish to carry on regardless. Then, if we have sufficient numbers, we will march to the Silver Rush and charge it..."

"You will most likely be slaughtered!" the King protested angrily.

"Then we will be slaughtered," Craig boomed.

"Then we will be slaughtered," Pacer repeated. The King sat back in his seat, defeated.

"Do as you will," he muttered.

"You are still the King of Kings," Pacer reassured, patting the man on the back.

"Indeed," Tommy said, getting up from his chair. "This is for you, whether you want to believe it or not."

With that Tommy made his way from the theatre out into the lobby, where about fifteen Kings stood, chatting to one another.

"Hey yo!" Tommy roared, gaining their attention. "I'm off to the Silver Rush. I need.. say.. five Kings to come with me." Too many and we crowd each other's shot and if this is a total slaughter at least there will only be a relatively small number of us. "God knows, they could be holed in there with a whole army of guards. Nobody has to do it, I'll happily go it alone. Talk it out amongst yourself, then the five go into Pacer and Craig," Tommy announced, before shuffling his way to the door. He turned the door knob and as he was exiting he could hear his fellow Kings begin arguing for the privilege.


"I'm telling you man, there's something up with them," Tapper laughed, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'd say those Garrets get into some incistuous unions, y'know?" Mark kicked him, too laughing. "The [censored] is wrong with you, Tap?"

"Look, all I'm saying is they have the look."

"Didn't know there was an inbred look?" Tommy challenged. The three were sitting on a curb just outside the school.

"Whatever," Tapper said, tossing his cigarette on the ground before the twelve or so Kings standing out on the road. "I'm just saying, perhaps they're a bit too close."

Tommy looked at the men standing on the road. Some were showing each other their weapons and boasting, others were talking about their girls and how they would treat them at the Wrangler once the business with the Van Graffs was over. Tommy pointed at the closest, a small Caucasian. Damo, he thought. He then looked to the King next to him. Steven

Challenging himself to naming them all, he continued. Tim Marco. Jimmy. The other Carl. Robert. Glen. Dom. Marcus--

"Hey, Tommy," Tapper piped up, interrupting his thoughts. "What happened out there? What happened to the others? Daryl, Colm, Scally? The rest?"

Tommy looked at him, and then at Mark who was no longer had a smile on his face. Instead he was staring at his feet on the road before him, listening intently for an answer. Tommy then heard the sound of a door behind him. "What do you think?" he mumbled, before jumping up from the curb and looking to the seven men emerging from the school.

"Chris, Daniel, Cameron, Brian and Justin," Tommy shouted with a grin. The five men smiled back. "How did you decide?" Tommy asked.

"The five with the most ammo," Chris replied.


Tommy, Craig, Pacer, Chris, Daniel, Cameron, Brian and Justin all walked down the large alley towards the Silver Rush. They all had their weapons out, Tommy was clutching a 9mm. As they walked by the Atomic Wrangler, Pacer announced the plan.

"Tommy, Craig and my good self break the door. If they are prepared, we'll know about it. If we get bombarded with energy ammo, all of you run to the door. Then start blasting like crazy. If something different is going on in there and we instruct otherwise, have one wait in that building," Pacer pointed to a crumbling structure opposite the Silver Rush. "Nice camp spot, and hard to get to. Two more wait by the door, and one rushes in after us. Got it?" Everybody confirmed.

Tommy and Craig jogged towards the Silver Rush door, taking cover either side. Pacer stayed with the five other Kings for a moment, discussing who does what depending on the plan, before joining up with Craig and Tommy.

"All right," he said, checking his 10mm, "you boys ready?"

"Yup," Craig confirmed. Tommy breathed in and held it, mentally preparing himself. This attack is more [censored] up and scrambled than the last. How can it not end well? Tommy nodded nervously. "Ready, chief."

Pacer looked back at the other Kings. "'Aight, plan is I open the door. Once I do, you two peek in. Try and gather what the [censored] is going on in there. If there's too much, we run back for reinforcements. If you think we can handle it, say so. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Got it."

Pacer nodded and closed his eyes. He approached the door, Tommy and Craig both pushed hard into the walls either side. Pacer placed his hand on the doorknob. "[censored] Van Graffs," he whispered, turning the knob in one swift movement. The door unlocked, and Pacer gave it a hard, sharp kick. It swung wide open, and Tommy raised his 9mm. "Move." Craig stuck his head in the door for a moment before pulling back. Tommy did the same.

"Is it just me," Craig asked, pushing back up against the wall, "or did I see a man in a suit?" Tommy, while only getting a glimpse, did believe he saw a lone man in a suit in the main room of the Silver Rush.

Pacer raised his 10mm. "On me." He took a stride into the building, Tommy and Craig quickly followed behind him.

"What the [censored]?" Pacer said, asking nobody in particular. Sitting at the table where the Van Graffs normally put their energy weapons on presentation was a man wearing a pre war suit and hat.

"Why don't you boys lower them weapons now? the man sitting at the table said.. Pacer lowered his left arm and pointed outside, keeping his right arm suspended and training his 10mm on the man. "Tell the Kings to wait out there. Tell em' there's no worries."

"No problemo," Craig said, as he made his way from the Silver Rush throwing confused glances towards the man. Tommy walked by the gates blocking the hallway by the door from the main room, down to the stairs, where he could get a good look at the man.

"The Van Graffs didn't say anything about men charging in here and totting weapons at me, so how about you holster them?" he asked again, eyeing Tommy's 9mm. Tommy shoved Angel into his trousers and walked towards the seated, well-dressed man. "How about you," he grabbed the man from across the table and lifted him from his seat, "tell me who you are and what you're doing here?"

"Let me down, please," the man pleaded. "I'll tell you what you need to know."

"Tommy," Pacer ordered. Tommy let go. "Talk,"

"Well, my name's Don Hostetler. From the NCR, Crimson Caravan to be more precise. The Van Graffs and the Crimson Caravan have been working out a deal, and they asked me to this for them," Don Hostetler explained, readjusting his suit, "as a sign that we have given up our past.. indifferences and are now friends."

"What exactly do you help them with?" Pacer asked from behind the gates.

"Well, we give them some weapons and caps. They give us some weapons. Scratching each other's back, pretty much. Rough times ahead for all, it'd be no doubt for the best to bury old rivalries and focus on the big picture now, no?"

"You outfitted some of them for the ambush?" Tommy asked, remembering the Van Graff thug almost killing Tommy with an assault rifle.

"What the Van Graffs do with the weapons is of no importance to me," Hostetler shrugged.

"So, why the [censored] are you here?" Pacer asked.

"Well, I'm beginning to wonder that myself. In any case, the Van Graffs asked me to send on a message. They wish to meet up for a.. parley."

"Where?" Tommy asked.

"Here, in an hour. They slipped out to some abandoned warehouse, south I think. You wait here with me, and they'll come in. You two talk about whatever you want to talk about, and I leave this place."

"No," Tommy grunted.

"Tommy, go inform the King."

Tommy turned to Pacer. "Pace.."

"Tell the man," Pacer demanded, holstering his own weapon. "And get another five boys."

Way to be man!

Very nice, I mean technically you could end it here but you could also keep going. Either way, it feels very nice to finish something. And I just realized there are no other straight up King fanfics, congratulations on being unique

I like how you show the loyalty of the King and his men and the development of the story. Though I found it somewhat lackluster in some parts, overall I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

The major bump that I found was that it has more dialogue then detail and unless your doing a script, that hardly ever works out well...

But go Kings!

I agree. I don't think it's that good, and it's become kind of a chore to write it, but I will finish as it's my first fanfic.

Thanks for reading and the input, man.