» Wed Aug 12, 2009 10:41 am EDIT: I went through and corrected all the various spelling and grammar errors I had. It actually wasn't too bad, considering this was my first draft. If anyone spots any mistakes I missed, please let me know.
"So what are we going to do with him?" asked Devan, the youngest member of Jamie's band of raiders.
"Why don't we kill him? If we kill the Lone Wanderer, everyone will be talking about us. We'll be famous! None of the other raiders will dare try to trespass on our territory," Mark responded.
Lousie, Jamie, and Armand listened carefully to what Mark was saying. They were talking about the famous Lone Wanderer, who they had found wounded out in the wastes. He had a massive gash across his stomach, and would have bled to death if the raiders hadn't intervened. From the looks of the wound, Jamie would guess that some Yao Guai had attacked him and then run off. Why it would abandon a meal was beyond him, but it had left his little group of raiders with quite the predicament.
Before Mark could continue, Lousie interrupted. "Kill him? Are you out of your mind? Do you know the kind of response that would cause? A response of Regulators and mercenaries to hunt our asses down, that's what! Don't let dreams of glory get to your head. We're not here to be famous, only to survive."
"Listen chicka, surviving is all well and good, but think about it. Don't you realize the kind of respect we'll command with the other groups of we kill him? We'll expand, take more territory, get more members. No Regulator or mercenary will be able to get close to us. They'll have to send in the Brotherhood to even come near us! And do you really think the stuck-up fools in power armor care enough about him to send in a squad after us?" Armand countered.
"Yes, yes I do. No, I know they will. After everything he's done for the Brotherhood, they're indebted to him. It would be insulting to his memory if they didn't hunt down his killers. Those Brotherhood bunch are obsessed with their honor. They wouldn't let something like this stand."
"Aw... But Lousie, think of how much power we could have." Devan whined in an irritating tone.
"No, that's enough all of you. The decision is up to me." Jamie said, finally deciding to intervene. Father, what would you do? Would you kill him or let him go? You were always more ruthless than me. I don't think I have it in me to kill someone like this and potentially cause everyone's death. "We let him go. I'm not putting us in danger like that. Lousie was right, all that matters is our survival."
"No freakin way man! This is my chance to get somewhere, and I'm not giving it up just because you all are a bunch of cowards!" Mark exclaimed, pulling a 10mm pistol and aiming it at the body of the unconscious former Vault Dweller.
Before he could pull the trigger, gunfire exploded behind him. Bullets whizzed past Jamie's ear as he dived for cover behind an old couch they had scavenged from a furniture store. He heard someone screaming in pain and more gunfire, then raised his head above the couch to take a look. Mark was on the ground, with a bullet wound to the back of the head. Lousie had been hit in the leg and was crying as she rolled across the concrete floor of their lair under a decrepit bridge. Armand has been hit several times in the chest and was laying still in a pool of blood. Devan had taken cover nearby, behind a refrigerator and was loading his assault rifle. Footsteps could be heard echoing across the area, and when they stopped, Devan leapt from his hiding place and sprayed into the darkness where the bullets had come from. When he ran out of ammo, he pulled the pin on a grenade and lobbed it out into the dark. An explosion soon followed, and then, silence.
"Hey, I think I got him! I got him!" Devan exclaimed, turning around to look at Jamie. A moment later, the sound of a Chinese assault rifle sounded, and Devan fell over, dead. Three bullets to the back. Jamie went back into cover, and put on his hockey mask, hoping desperately that the thing might, in some act of divine will, save his life. He loaded the only three bullets he had into his .32 pistol, and said a short prayer as the sound of footsteps got nearer. As he was getting ready to jump up and shoot, he could hear someone mumbling.
"I swear these raiders are getting younger and younger every year. [censored] wastes are worse than I remember." The voice had an odd accent to it, and though Jamie couldn't place it, he could swear that he had heard it before. As the man began walking again, Jamie pushed these thoughts out of his head, jumped up, and aimed at the man who appeared to be a mercenary. He was wearing leather armor, but no helmet. Jamie decided to go for the head, and though he couldn't see the man's face, he knew he was staring at him in shock, with the realization that he was about to die. Jamie fired all three shots in rapid succession, but the first two missed. The first came within an inch of his cheek, while the second went wide. The final shot did hit him, but not in the place Jamie had expected. It hit him in the shoulder, on the only place the man had any armor, a sheet of metal. The bullet bounced off, and the man then raised his assault rifle and emptied his entire clip into Jamie's body. He didn't miss a shot. With each hit, Jamie was forced back a step, until he hit the wall and slid down it, leaving a blood trail on the concrete.
Jamie could only watch as the man walked over to the Lone Wanderer and checked his pulse. Satisfied that he was still alive, he pulled him up onto his shoulder. Jamie tried to talk, but couldn't make a sound as blood pooled in his mouth. As his eyes began to blur, the man stepped briefly in front of him, into the light, allowing Jamie to see his face. He struggled to make a sound, any sound, but the only thing he managed was a gurgling noise. Still, this was enough for the man to realize that Jamie was still alive. He corrected this problem by putting the barrel of his gun up to the left eye hole of the hockey mask and pulling the trigger once. And then Jamie and his band of raiders was no more.
--------------------------
As the Lone Wanderer slowly woke up, he could make out the figure of Jericho leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette.
"What... What happened?"
"Dunno. From your wounds, I'd guess a Yao Guai caught ya unawares, but I found you in the middle of a small raider camp. Who knows what they would have done to ya. Probably would have tortured ya for information."
"Well thanks."
"It wasn't even exciting. Just a bunch of dumb kids thinking they're all powerful because they can ambush an unarmed wastelander or some guy who goes out into the wastes to look for scrap metal without a weapon." Jericho said, giving him a pointed look with the last comment.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Walter said he desperately needed some to fix up some of the pipes, or else they might bust."
"Bah. You're too kind for your own good, you know that?"
"I suppose. Hey Jericho, didn't you say you had a son?"
"Yeah, I sent him off to Rivet City. Kid was never ruthless enough to be a raider. He was too kind to survive out in the wastes. A lot like you, actually. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go clean off my boot. I think I stepped in something while I was dragging you back here."
"As long as you didn't drag me through it too. Oh, Jericho, one thing. What did you say your sons name was again? I might have met him while I was in Rivet City."
"It was Jamie."
"Hmm. Nope, never heard of him. Oh well. Next time we stop over there, we'll take a look for him."
"You know, that actually sounds nice. I wonder if the kid ever made something of himself?"
