The Wastelander Series: Part 1 "The Sunset"
A collection of snapshots from hell



Sweat ran from the lone, rough-looking, leather-clad Man's head in small rivulets and added to the blood at his feet. The fading light of the blood-red sun outlined the Man in golden hues, his short dark hair was slick with sweat and showed matting from scraqes along his scalp- this was seen easily as the man was bent slightly at the waist while his chin rested on his chest- the leathers creaked, as his sides heaved up-and-down when he gasped for deep breaths.

The Man was scarcely holding onto a shotgun that rested on his cracked-leather thigh, it had been modified for quick-loads and even quicker death. The breach was cocked open and two shotgun shells at his feet drifted smoke lazily into the air.

The Man's piercing hazel eyes never stopped moving, scanning- he stayed in that same pose- assessing the situation he was now in, and would most likely die from?

His right hand slowly, ever so slowly reached for his last two shotgun shells in his leather belt pouch.

How long has it been since I last slept?

You can sleep when you're dead.

That's a comforting thought...

They were standing just a few feet away from the Man, and were armed with various mechanisms of death. One could only guess why they stayed their hands when they clearly had the advantage in numbers. Perhaps they sensed that death was near, and was not particular about who it took that day.

Three versus one now. My odds are improving by the minute.

The purple mohawk scumbag on the right had a four foot long shaft of steel- the end was a metal ball of twisted iron spikes- it was clearly a home-made version of a two-handed mace he was hefting as he danced back and forth from one foot to the other in a slow motion pre-fight ritual.

He's going to be the first to jump?

The mohawk shorn woman with black smears below her eyes was crouched down on her haunches to the left of the others- she smiled; in a wicked "will-[censored]-your-corpse-for-food" way that the Man has seen a time or two out here in the Wastes. She had a small caliber pistol suggestively dangling between her legs that looked about ready for the scrap heap.

The pistol is a bluff, she's out of bullets. The Cutter she's hiding behind her back is the real threat.

The last antagonist in the center of the other two was the biggest, ugliest augmented Raider the Man had ever seen. The towering black giant held a thick chain of rusty steel in one hand and an ancient pre-war sword in the other. The assorted steel and leather armor displayed jaw bones on his armbands, Shoulder-pads with skull spitted spikes, and various bones overlaid across the chest. The eyes of the glowering giant were enhanced with cybernetics- and glowed red in the waning dusks light.

"Fer' what ya' done to Mynx an' Beetle were going to bleed ya' real slow!" the giant growled; his fists clenched and unclenched in a pseudo-hypnotic pattern the Man noticed.

The other two thugs grunted and snarled their responses.

The Man's eyes shifted briefly to one of cooling corpses sprawled on the broken pavement of the freeway- the one nearest the three raiders was missing most of the head- bloody gore, hair and skull bits were violently splattered all over the ruined car next to the body.

The other dead man was lying in a broken jumble at the bottom of the chasm some sixty feet below the freeway with a meat cleaver buried to the handle in his chest.

Both had thought they could send the Man straight to hell with little trouble or fuss.

Hell awaited many fools with open arms.

"Ain't ya' got sumthin' worth sayin' 'fore we send ya' on a'head?" the evil-eyed giant said laughingly.

The Man raised his head and glanced over his shoulder as a broken piece of pavement cracked off and tumbled end-over-end soundlessly into the chasm until it struck the ground far below with a clatter.

"Yeah?" He said as his eyes shifted back to the three before him.

"I [censored] hate mohawks!" he shouted.

The Man slammed the two shells into the breach of the shotgun as the mace wielder charged towards him- spraying spittle from his cracked lips as his war cry echoed across the void.

Sidestepping the charge and dropping into a semi-crouch the Man took the weight and momentum of the mace wielder and used it against him as the swing of the mace cleanly missed the Man in the overhead arc. The Man simply shoved the attacker in the back pushing him off balance as he tried to stop before the edge and sent him screaming over the jagged ledge of the freeway to fall to his death far below.

The snarling woman came at him next; she dropped the facade that the pistol was even a viable weapon of choice as she pulled her long rusty knife from its concealed sheath on her back and closed the distance between them.

The deafening concussion of the twin shotgun blasts shattered the stillness of the night air

The double-ought rounds hit her above her left knee and lower thigh nearly severing the leg. The shocked woman fell with a blood curdling shriek of pain and agony. She held her ruined leg with both hands now- the knife laying forgotten next to her- trying to stem the blood that was spewing out like a frothy crimson fountain from between her fingers.

She twisted her head around to look up at the cyberpunk giant who had not moved at all.

"Kill Him!" she screamed and slumped over in a bloody heap; dead from blood loss induced shock.

"Well, well?looks like we got our'selves into a bit 'o mess now din't we?" the giant growled as the panting man cocked open the shotgun breach and let the last two expended shells clatter to the pavement.

"You can walk away?just leave. I won't kill you." The Man said to the giant Raider. As he patted his belt searching for more shells for the shotgun. The words barely carried across the few feet between them as the wind moaned to the early night sky.

"That is mighty kind of ya' Mista'- but I be pro'posin' a much betta' deal" the giant responded as he whipped the chain across the few feet separating them, the end of the chain had a sharp three-pronged hook on the end of it.

The Man tried to dodge the chain as it snaked out to his legs but his reactions were slower now and the chain wrapped around his left boot and bit deep into the leather.

"When I be done with ya'?I gonna [censored] ya' skull real good!" he said as he jerked the chain with such violent force the Man was thrown off his feet and landed on his back with a dusty, body slam to the pavement that nearly knocked the wind out of him and sent the shotgun spinning and clattering towards the broken edge of the freeway to hang by the trigger guard on a rusty finger of rebar.

The giant Raider laughed crazily as he wrapped his end of the chain around a door post of a derelict car long since rusted into a heap of junk.

"You an' me- we gon'ta have sum fun!"

"I promise- I won't be gentle?"

The giant cracked his knuckles as he moved the sword from one hand to the other and then cracked his bull-thick neck with a sharp twist, and moved across the few feet to the prone Man.

The Man’s name was Max, not that it would matter in a few more moments anyway- a giant cyberpunk with a four-foot sword was about to turn him into a bloody-meat shish-kabob. His story was not very unique or different from the thousands that came before or will come after him. The only justice he found out here was meted about by himself, and that was right by his own personal code. The one thing Max did know- without a doubt, he wasn’t afraid to die…

He’d already been to hell.

***

They came at us in a quiet rush, ten or so- overpowering me, beating me down until I could not move- I tried to save her; I tried to take as many of them with me as I could, knowing what they would do to her…to us. They took turns [censored] her, beating her…laughing when she screamed, laughing when she cried- if she was silent they beat her or used Things on her until she made the screams or sounds they wanted out of her. When her spirit finally gave up, and let go - I wept…I wept as I saw her glassy, terror-wrought eyes and realized that she was smiling.

She didn’t smile because she was trying to be strong for me- she didn’t smile for any other reason except she knew that she was dying- and she was not going to feel any more pain and suffering.

The way her crimson stained, broken teeth gleamed in the firelight; as her blood-caked lips curled into a smile…

That look haunts me even now.

***

With a primal roar of hate-filled-pain- Max twisted his body to the side and scrambled to his feet just as the sword came down where he once was with sparks and a sharp metallic crack. The chain stopped any further movement away from the monstrous Raider that swung the steel, but it did not impede his movement to the stanchion that held the chain. Max huffed as he raced across the pavement and grabbed at the chain wrapped around the door post of the wrecked car. He quickly glanced back and noted the raging giant was closing on him with the sword raised in both hands for a powerful downward stroke.

***

When the murderous Raiders realized the “Split Tail” fun had died- their rage noticeably subsided, like a switch being thrown- it just stopped. They threw Max into a shallow [censored]-pit filled with debris and scrap metal and crucified him on a rusty steel girder in the shape of an “X” with railway spikes and left him to die.

The caravan trader that happened upon Max the next gray, cold, morning sheltered and nursed the man slowly back to health. He was good and kind to the shattered man and could see he was not just physically broken, but his spirit was as well. The will to live was strong in this young wasteland warrior, but the reasons to continue weren’t there anymore.

Something else had taken its place.

Something black that grew unclean and foul ate at his very soul- the hate Max felt, fed the blackness at first- but soon it will need blood and worse…

As the weeks passed, shadows brought nightmares for Max, the trader would find the young man sometimes sitting off alone by himself- staring at his healing scarred hands that had once been pierced and broken by the spikes that held him to the crucifixion. He knew it was best to also let the warrior heal his wounds on the inside, the way each man has to- the old trader understood the way of the world today, vengeance was often served to those that least expected it. And the old man knew Max was coming to terms with what sacrifices truly meant to ones soul.

Months passed, and on the night before he left the trader- the old man told an old pre-war story to the young warrior as they sat sharing the campfire in a ruined building. The yarn was of a young man, much like Max- who made his living working with wood; he was a prophet and a healer- and he was crucified for his love and belief.

Then he rose from the dead- and the wicked truly knew what a god’s wrath was.

Max stared across the crackling fire at the old trader as he listened to the tale of this carpenter- he realized, he too, had risen from his own grave- but unlike this fabled messiah, Max would not show mercy…

***
The warrior glanced at the starburst scars on the back of his hands as he pulled on the chain one last time to have it come rattling loose from the door post. As he turned and pulled the chain taut over his head, the swords downward progress was halted, Max twirled the chain around the sword in loops and pulled with all his remaining strength- the maneuver caught the Raider off balance; sending him headfirst into the ruined junk heap of a car with a thunderous crash and the sword having been wretched free of the giants grasp- went flying over the side of the elevated freeway railing.

***

The Raider had never seen someone move so fast yet not seem to be moving at all- this Man moved as if time was standing still just for him- The giant could see it all in a slow-motion fashion as if he was looking outside himself- and could not stop the succession of moves that seemed to be fated to happen.

He could feel the chain being wrapped around his bull neck loop-after-loop, he tried to clear his foggy head from the blunt force trauma the impact with the junked car had caused, but he was unable to clearly see now through the blood and as he tried to stand he found his legs were weak and his knees would not hold him.

“I-I…want to…go now…You said you’d let me go…I ain’t done nuthin’ wrong to you or yours!” he said weakly as blood poured profusely from a deep gouge in his head.

He felt the Man pull him from his knees to stand in front of him- his head at the same level with the warrior because he could scarcely stand at all. The man reached down and fiercely pulled the grappling hook out of his leather boot and tossed it behind the giant to land with a clatter inside the destroyed car.

***

As Max tossed the hook into the car- he pulled the chain which brought the face of his enemy even closer to his and he quietly, calmly asked…

“Tell me what it feels like…”

“Wha?! Feels like? What are you …talkin’ ‘bout!?” the giant responded slowly.

“What does it feel like?” Max asked again with rage trailing his words.

“TO! FLY! YOU! PIECE! OF! [censored]!”

With each word punctuated, Max pulled violently on the chain holding the giant by the neck- the Raider’s arms wind-milled back and forth as he tried to regain his balance- but he could not stop his momentum and slid over the broken side of the freeway…

The chain links rattled as the slack played out and snapped tight as the grappling hook caught the door post with a metal-shrieking lurch.

Max walked over to the edge of the broken freeway and looked down at the swinging corpse of the giant Raider- the bull neck had snapped like a rotten branch from the full weight of the giant. The lone warrior regarded the corpse swinging back and forth like a pendulum counting down the hours left in the cool night air.

Wow... your good. Awesome story. But I have a question, is this all just one veiwpoint? Because that flashback or whatever in the second post (in the beggining) had me confused..

Thanks! I appreciate that feedback!- Yeah it was his flashback to the events that turned Max into the man he is now...Can you give me more detail on why it was confusing? I would like to fix it if I can

Man, that was pretty sick. Good story, hope there are more to come!

Amazing story! You should write a book! :goodjob:

Life after Death: Part 2 “Jonestown”
Old Friends, New Enemies






He’d been here a time or two before, on the outside, looking in- it had the same smells, the same shabby, rigged-together look and feel, the same repulsive, lice ridden, scumbags that plague every shadowy hole in this god forsaken wasteland.

The newly painted sign declared the latest town name in a cryptic scrawl over the metal gate that led into the walled-off town. Directly below that sign was a wooden board with the words “Under New Management” neatly stenciled across its surface. Armed guards on the paraqets nodded to the lone traveler as he passed through the monstrous metal gate into the town. Even if the name was different- Max could see that not much else had changed.

Or had it?

Now that Max was inside the thick soot and grime streaked concrete walls, the new name to the old town was just one of many alterations he observed. There were numerous renovations, additions and modifications to the town’s defenses and infrastructure, since the new administration had taken over- they were keeping everyone very busy it seemed.

Welcome to Jonestown…Max

Max seemed to recall a pre-war yarn about a place in a far away land named as such. He would wager that the denizens of this [censored]-burg were once ill-fated for that same destiny as well, if they had not radically changed management recently.

He noted the high noon sun blazed warmly despite the dreary winter sky as he passed through the checkpoint into the town proper- the rolling clouds coming from the north were pushing the winds before them and surprisingly, the sounds of poorly built tin roofs and loose doors could still be heard as they slammed and banged in a sporadic, metallic cacophony.

I bet they’ll fix that [censored] soon enough too.

An elevated guard station built out of reclaimed steel girders and metal plating that also served as a heavy weapons platform was just a few feet inside the checkpoint, Max could see the hive-like activity surrounding the station- the gun emplacement was new, the dual .105 turreted cannon that was dominating the platform was the pride-an-joy of the new regime in this town, Max had only seen two of these bad boys before- both, were in the care of The Brotherhood of Steel. Much like the other two he had seen, this one was also a topic of much interest and discussion with new visitors- Max could see even from this distance that someone of import and his entourage in tow was being given the grand tour.

The town has hosted for many years a well-known event, which brings traders from far-and-wide to the relative safety of the well protected, stabilized township, not only to hold their semi-annual Sales Convention, but to reaffirm contracts and dispute trade distribution routes with the Traders Confederation.

Nuclear war can kill everything; except cockroaches and salesman it seems.

As the young, rough-looking leather clad man sauntered through the “downtown” area of Jonestown- he noted the painted [censored]s were out in record numbers- leaning against the walls, on the street corners, hawking their diseased, worn-out wares. He took note of a dozen or so dirty-faced little ones racing laughingly around newcomers engaging them in distracting, noisy, rough-housing more for misdirection than for actual fun. How many rubes were pick-pocketed unsuspectingly by these little thieves the man speculated to himself.

Max would narrow his eyes and use his best “thousand yards stare” when one of the rambunctious pick-pockets would venture too close. They gave the hardened man with the shotgun slung to his hip, a wide berth; from his looks- he would not brook any of their mischief.

***

The hub of town consisted of an open-air Bazaar for traders and caravans, displaying all types of wares, food, weapons and gear for trade or sale. A number of well-armed guards were posted and patrolling the Bazaar to discourage “sticky fingers” and the occasional petty thief.

The aroma of well seasoned meats roasting over smoky fires and a mixture of other stomach-rumbling inducing odors were carried on the winter winds to drift along seeking to entice customers, who gladly parted ways with precious caps to dull their rumbling cravings.

Max ignored for now his hunger pangs and moved deeper into the Bazaar- he was looking for a particular piece of hardware and wanted to make sure he had enough caps to barter with, in case he found what he was looking for.

A loud bellowing voice carried over the droning of haggling voices shouting; “Great Harold of Oasis! Max! Yo! Mad Max! They’ll let anyone into this dump I reckon!”

Max turned and scanned the crowd for the unseen voice that had hailed him, and recognized an old friend from his past.

“Tucker! You old Pol’ Cat rapist! – What brings you down from the highlands?”

With a hearty laugh and solid clap on the shoulder Max exchanged the age-old wasteland greeting with the short, stocky, bearded man.

“Ah! Well, you know Max, since my Edna passed on- I ain’t got much need to be tendin’ a Brahmin Farm, it was her farm any’ how… I ‘ave been roamin’ with Tank and his crew of misfit’s fer…oh…three winters now I reckon.” The older man confessed to Max.

“Why I can recall how you was full of piss-an-vinegar when I’s last laid eyes on ya’…I see that little Missy finally dun figured out you was bad news and made tracks eh ‘ccordingly!” Tucker laughingly said with no ill-intent.

Just like Tucker- never knows when to shut-up!

The older man noticed Max startled when he mentioned Sydney in passing. Max regained his composure immediately and said to Tucker with a trace of a hard-edge in his voice; “Just like your Edna, Tucker. I don’t have to fret about Sydney no more…”

The younger man turned his steely hazel eyes away from the elder man and looked across the busy Bazaar at nothing in particular.

“Ah fer [censored]’s sake Max- Ain’t I a [censored]-bird [censored] ‘ole!” Tucker grabbed his cap and threw it down in the grimy street and continued; “I didn’t know about ‘er Max; I swear to ya’- after you two ‘eaded out, we lost track of ya’!” The old man paused and then added; “T’aint right, she was a good girl and mighty easy on the eyes too!”

A few seconds passed and Tucker continued; “I surely did think the world of that young gal- you know’s I did!” the older man professed sincerely to his friend.

Max leaned in closer and put his hand on Tucker’s shoulder and said; “Ain’t nothing to be frettin’ over Tucker- what’s passed is past… I would ask- if you just let her go, don’t need to mention her no more. She’s gone on ahead- and I …I don’t want to…to… remember…” Max choked out the last words roughly as he wiped away some unseen dust that had gathered in his eyes.

“Ah-yep…of course Max…” Tucker said as he too looked away quickly at something that was of sudden interest a few feet away. The old man hastily bent over and scooped up his cap and started to wring it in his hands in a worrying fashion.

“So… what’s the good news then Tucker? Where’s the action at in this newly bow-tied [censored]-burg?” Max asked with an old devil-may-care grin and no sign of the dark temper that had appeared moments ago.

The older man’s face visibly brightened when he saw that his friend was not genuinely cross with him after all and slowly settled his cap back on his balding pate as he stated; “Well sir- I reckon that the big shin-ding the town be havin’ tonight is the place to be! I hear even the [censored]s will be free for a fella to git his needs taken care of, if he has a mind to takin’ that service- and I means to partake at least a few rounds anyway! Plenty of eats and drinks as well- should be some hootin’ and hollerin’ boot scootin’ fun tonight!”

Nodding slightly and looking around the Bazaar, Max asked Tucker quietly; “Who’s the meal ticket then? Where the Caps flowing from?”

“I reckon it must be that new fellar, names Holden, if I recall, he’s the one that dun turned this place ‘round…folks say he’s got a G.E.C.K.-like touch or so it seems- things just seem to happen when he’ takes over!” Tucker declared matter-of-factly.

“There’s been talk ‘bout the camps that he’s the one who single-handily bought that monster of a cannon from the Brotherhood and then parked it at the gate- paid in cash too!”

Tucker continued; “If ya was to ask’s me Max, and ya did…so… I figure he’s some sort of import’ant big-wig from up north- maybe from that Pitt area or the Common Wealth- he sure dun look nuthin’ like a local to me- with his high-flutin’ clothes and fancy way of talkin’…”

Tucker leaned in even closer to Max and whispered; “Try an’ stay as far from them fellars as you can Max…” Tucker looked-over to the armored security guards posted around the Bazaar; “A few folks gone ghoulin’ ‘round these parts an ain’t come back- and word is, it ain’t owed to no ghoul rot neither…If you cross them, you just stop bein’…” Tucker emphasized the last words with a hard stare at Max.

Max nodded to Tucker and clasped forearms again with the old man and stated loudly for the benefit of any ease-droppers of the two men;

“Sounds like a plan to me old friend- I reckon I’ll meet up with you later, I need to find me a new rifle- and I plan to get a gander at the merchandise before the rubes get here and buy up all the good stuff.”

“Alright then Max, You need to find me before tonight- just ask ‘round fer Tank’s camp- folks‘ell know where we is.” Tucker replied with a gaped-tooth smile.

“See ya’ ‘round old-timer!” Max called back over his shoulder. Tucker snapped his hand in salute as he watched the young man stride away.

That was the last time Max saw Tucker alive.

***
(To be continued)

It just seemed like it was another part of the story. You could've put it in italics or something.

The Wastelander Series: Part 2 “Jonestown” Cont.
Old Friends, New Enemies


The weather was rapidly turning brisk as Max continued his search throughout the Bazaar; he came across many weapons of value- but could not locate a particular rifle type he was looking for. The crowds grew in size and volume as the day marched on into the late afternoon- Max had visited most of the stalls and vendors in the Bazaar several times.

Max finally gave in to his constricted belly’s objections and enjoyed a light meal at an outdoor caf? across from the Bazaar. The man ate quietly taking in the sights and sounds with his senses and soon lost himself in the way the sun’s rays cast golden projections of light on the wall from the half empty beer bottle on the table.

***

“Say it to me please?” the young brunette woman pleaded huskily as she moved her lithe nvdeness across the young man’s defined chest. The piercing blue eyes of the woman stood out even in the low golden light cast from the window as the sunset splayed across the ramshackle room.

“You know you will always be the one for me… you have my heart and soul.” She whispered eagerly as her lips and hot breath lightly caressed the man’s ear.

“I love you…Max”

***

I love you too baby…

Max slowly turned the bottle on the table sending the scintillating projections rotating across the shadowy wall of the caf?…

I miss you so much Sydney…

The solitary Wastelander sighed to himself and looked off towards the now setting sun, his aged leathers creaked as he slowly stood and with a cat-like stretch worked the stiffness and kinks out of his tall, lanky frame ending in a satisfying grunt. The young man slapped a few caps on the table and by habit placed his right hand deftly on the butt of his shotgun, hitching his rig to a more comfortable position, the man spat a slew of beer into the gutter as he strode out into the street slipping into the masses; disappearing within the flow of human passage.

***

The fading sunset cast the sky in burnt sienna with streaks of violet as it quickly became early evening, the tempest clouds parting temporarily as the light flared one last time before the blanket of night was spread upon the wasteland. The bustling Bazaar was lit by generator powered street lamps and halogen torches; casting deep shadows into corners and alleys while sending baneful glaring arcs of pallid light stabbing into the night.

As if by chance- Max happened across a vendor stall he had not noticed before- he noted it was located some feet away from the main traffic and seemed to still be in the process of setting up shop. A young boy and an older man appeared from within the vendor tent; the boy resembled the older man and seemed to be enjoying helping his father in the work as they set out for display various odds-an-ends, along with a few crates of weapons and rifle cases.

“Hello there sir, might we interest you in a fine weapon or perhaps a knapsack or bedroll of such make that you will never have to own another in your life?” the young boy proclaimed proudly to Max.

Max smiled despite himself, he liked the manner in which the young boy’s confidence flowed easily from him; “I reckon I would take a gander at your rifles there, and any others you might have in the back Young Master Barter Man.” Max replied to the young boy with a compliment reserved for traders that were well renown and regarded as masters of barter ship amongst the Traders Confederation.

The boy beamed a toothy smile back at his father who bent down and whispered in the boy’s ear. The young boy ran back into the tent and came out in a moment later producing a soft cover rifle case; the hand-stitched case was well made and displayed curious images and symbols across its surface.

Max squatted on his haunches before the boy, as the young trader unwound the leather pull string to the case. The boy looked back over his shoulder at his father and smiled briefly as he pulled a well maintained, military issue sniper rifle from the case.

“This rifle is blessed sir, it was recovered from a secret location outside old Detroit…” the boy’s father stated with a sense of reverence.

“It is said,” the father continued. “As it was passed down from generation-to-generation by our great, great, grandfather who found it buried within a collapsed U.S. Armory. The rifle was always coveted and kept sealed in the original case. It was only recently when a raider party had intercepted a caravan that the weapon was put into action- and the results were no less than awe inspiring as you can note on the case; we collected over ten confirmed kills that eventful day! The father said proudly. “The weapons recovered from this secret relic site have all been unique in some way, but all shared one commonality. They were all in pristine working condition, like they were just cast and manufactured that very day. Notice the carbon alloy stock and barrel- these may seem standard, but in truth they are well designed and as anyone with an expertise in weaponry can see- such as yourself good sir; this rifle was produced by a Master Weaponsmith.” The father stated smugly.

Max noted the craftsmanship of the weapon and he knew right away this was the rifle he was looking for, he just hoped he had enough to barter with for such a exceptional find.

“It looks to be in good condition overall- what caliber is the rifle, a .308?” Max asked coolly trying to contain his excitement over the discovery to the father as he continued to run his hand over the weapon.

“You have a keen eye indeed sir- it is a .308 caliber HK MSG-90 sniper rifle with 25x50mm long range M1scope…this rifle will always strike swift and true.” The father replied with a boastful smile to the younger man.

“May I?” Max asked as he reached out to the boy as he held the rifle lengthwise in his arms.

The boy carefully passed the beautifully maintained weapon over to Max, and asked “Would you be interested in purchasing this superior weapon today sir?”

Max racked the receiver bolt and visually scanned the inner barrel and breech, nodding his head absently as he removed the empty magazine and slapped it back into the rifle with a satisfying click. Flicking the caps open on the scope Max glassed the surrounding town and was surprised when the guard tower near the gate jumped into view as if it was right in front of his nose. The clarity was crystal-clear and sharp.

Max pulled back from the scope and said off-handily to the traders; “Does …oh say… five hundred and fifty caps for the rifle sound fair? The case is included?” Max asked the two traders with a look of nonchalance.

“Sir?” the boy asked with a look of sadness on his face as he held his hands out for the rifle, Max passed the weapon back to the young boy as he stood up and casually crossed his arms across his chest. As he awaited a response from the traders Max had a notion he had terribly underestimated the value of such an excellent weapon.

“I suppose we would have to pass the word along with a caravan headed west- to let mother know we are not going to be back in time this winter- because this gentleman would take the money out of our pockets for such a rare and unique find!” the father stated sardonically to his son.

The trader continued, “I am sorry we wasted your time sir- I can see you are only window shopping after all…” the older man bent down and quickly bundled up the rifle with the case.

Max knew by cutting too low he had offended the traders deeply; he countered his offer almost immediately.

“What I meant to say was I could put down five hundred and fifty caps NOW…to hold the rifle till the morning when I have access to additional reserves at that time. I apologize for not being clear when I made that remark earlier…” Max replied ardently. “Of course the remaining balance of say…three hundred caps should secure this deal, yes?”

The father and son both turned and smiled at the rough-looking gunslinger. The father countered with; “Ahhh… a misunderstanding then sir, not to fret. I would hate to think of parting with a family heirloom for any less then one thousand caps.” The father replied stoically as he laid the case open again and swiped a cloth fondly down the length of the barrel and stock.

Max rubbed his bristling beard in an absent minded fashion as he grudgingly countered the traders offer; “I see…I see…I would be a starving, vagabond at that price…Master Trader, I would like to purchase this weapon, however- my funds are rather stretched thin. I could offer say, nine hundred caps with the express understanding the case and four boxes of ammo are thrown in as well.”

The young boy looked to his father whose turn it was now to give a counter offer. The older man leaned against his tent pole and fished out a small black book bound with a leather clasp. The trader licked his thumb as he flipped page after page until he finally found what he was looking for with an exclamation. “Aha! You are in luck; we do have in inventory the ammunition for the rifle as well. I could part with say…three boxes, the case and rifle for nine hundred and twenty five caps…that sir…is my final offer.” The trader stated emphatically with a flip of his book cover.

Max smiled and said; “You got yourself a…”

“I’ll bid nine fifty for the whole lot, and even give you a smile for free” came a ghostly unseen feminine voice from behind Max.

Recognizing the voice, Max turned to face the new bidder and said accusingly; “[censored] it Kass! I didn’t realize with your particular skills that you would even know how to use a rifle! This is my barter- keep your hands out it!”

Out of the shadows a tall woman slowly came into view, she was curvy, but muscular. Her leather snug hips swayed back-and-forth with the fluid grace of a panther, and the tight fitting corset of chain and leather barely contained the tanned globes of her ample briasts. The young woman wore her blonde hair cropped short and spiked- her face which was painted in the style and manner befit a woman of her status was remarkable. Even the trader and his son gawked at the woman with gaped-mouth appreciation. Behind her in the shadows Max could dimly see the outline of her well-armed personal guard, constantly at her side.

The trader recognized an opportunity when it presented itself and quickly said to the pair, “I will open this to Dutch auction, the new bid is nine fifty, sir do you wish to counter the lady?” he asked.

Max knew he was not going to get out of this situation without financial pain. To even hope that he could outbid the woman was futile. He quickly said to the trader, “One moment, I would have a word with the lady…”

Max stepped back from the vendor stall clearly agitated and motioned for the young woman to join him, “What do you think you’re doing Kass? Max asked quietly as he glanced over at her guard who moved quietly behind his charge.

“I am getting even for the unjustness you inflicted on me, in the one of two ways I know how Max…the other method doesn’t seem to work on you so this is what I am left with!” she replied coolly. Her gray-blue eyes flashed as she smiled at the young man.

“Look, Kassidy- I know…I know I hurt you, it was not my intention, you know how I am, how I live- what kind of man I am…you have a great life at your father’s… Tower, but it is just not the life for me!” Max said to the woman quietly but sternly.

The arcing light from the halogen torches sparkled across the smile that flashed as Kassidy stared at Max, her hand lightly touched the man’s chest as she replied, “Max…I always get what I want…and you, above all should know that. If this rifle means anything to you, you will show me some gratitude- and spare some time for me.” The final words were emphasized as she leaned in with a forceful thrust of her briasts against the chest of the annoyed man.

The woman turned and stated to the two traders watching the proceedings still with mouths agape, “Nine seventy five is my last bid Master Traders, the offer will not be countered. Wrap up my goods and send the charge to my account; you will be paid in cash of course.” The young woman continued as she indicated with a nod of her head at Max. “My man here will hand deliver it to my wagon…tonight.”

Kassidy Tenpenny stopped abruptly and looked demurely over her lithe shoulder at Max and said; “Don’t keep me waiting too long Max- I would hate to have to send my men to fetch MY merchandise.”

Max watched the beautiful heiress saunter off into the night; he noticed the personal guard was still staring at him from the shadows. Standing with arms akimbo, the guard knowingly smirked at Max as he turned and slowly followed after his employer.

As Max walked over to the vendor stall the pleasantly pleased trader leaned close and whispered, “It could be worse young sir- she is quite the stunner, and obviously obsessed with you…I do envy your predicament.”

Max replied almost rhetorically as the trader wrapped up the rifle and ammunition, “It’s not love she has for me, she thinks she can have whatever she wants- whenever she wants it, and damn the price or consequences. Her father has made it very clear to me what the price is…and I am not willing to barter for it.”

***



(To be continued.)