The Chronicles of Coyote

Prologue

The sky was black and the only lights were those from the celestial stars above. The Brass Lantern had shutdown for the night, but Moriarty's Saloon was still bustling with people and noise. I sat on the rooftop of the Church of the Children of Atom, checking over my light equipment. My breath was calm, I was always calm before a kill. I double checked one last time, before I slowly slid down the water pipe, and moved to the door of the church. I grabbed the tools necessary to unlock the door, it was an easy lock, and I was inside in no time. My pistol rested silently at my hip, my already tanned skin was blackened out so I would go unrecognized or seen easily. I looked around the main room, the podium where the ridiculous speeches of Confessor Cromwell or Mother Maya spoke.

As I made my way upstairs, I quickly stopped at the slightest sound or hint that someone was near and moving. When I moved from the stairs, I saw several rooms that sheltered the fools that followed Confessor Cromwell and Mother Maya. For the moment, they were not my problem. So I continued to move, finding my way to Confessor Cromwell's room. Mother Maya was laying on the other side in a separate bed. Quickly, I unholstered my pistol and placed the silencer at the end before I fired several shots into Confessor Cromwell's chest. Two of which landed in his skull. I looked in the direction of Mother Maya, she still slept where she was. The crude silencer had worked as planned. I made quick work of Mother Maya as well, putting two 10 mm rounds into her head before I made my quick exit, moved down the stairs, and made my way to the door leading outside.

My job had been accomplished, Confessor Cromwell and Mother Maya both lay in their beds soaked in blood and grey matter. Confessor Cromwell and Mother Maya, they were just the beginning, my life as a unforgiving mercenary for hire would soon be known through out the Capital Wasteland. My name would soon be sounded as a word not spoken by those who did not want my presence. Children would run in terror and fear when my shadow was cast before them. Those brave enough to challenge me would crumble before me, being left to suffer and rot in their own pool of blood. The name Coyote, would be feared name throughout the Capital Wasteland.

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Short? Yes I know this, but the Chapters will be much better and longer. It is a Prologue after all.

Me likey. Can't wait for the first chapter.

Yes it is indeed short, but a very good intro nonetheless. Let me start with this.



I absolutely love this sentence. Really, I do. This was a very good opener. I honestly don't even know why, but it just flows really well. Continuing on, you overuse commas just a bit, and many of the improperly placed ones can easily be replaced by a semicolon, like the following example.



The first comma you have can be replaced by a semicolon, whereas the second in the next sentence should be removed. The one before "and" is fine. Commas are a very common mistake, and it shows that you're a good writer than I'm resorting to commonplace grammar errors. That said, there are a few sentences that could be structured better. Like the following.



The first sentence can be easily fixed by replacing the first comma, again, with a semicolon. The next works fine until the end. Specifically, "go unrecognized or seen easily". I would remove the "seen easily" as the first part already covers it, and that can be confusing. The sentence after is again fine until the end. I would replace the word spoke with recited or something similar, as the word doesn't fit and it breaks flow.



Okay, so everything else was fine. Just simple mistakes, really. Things easily overlooked and easily fixed when pointed out. I have no issue with anything but some questionable grammar, which is very good. I come down hard on the matter only where there's nothing else for me to critique. So, improve on that a bit and it'll be excellent. I also happen to really like your character already. The overwhelming amount of "hero" characters is staggering for a series more about cruelty than anything else.

I'm not the biggest fan of first person, but I think it fits well here. Honestly, it probably wouldn't have had nearly as strong of an impact in third person, because of how badly it would break flow if not done precisely right. So, very good.

Waiting to see more,

David

Chapter 1

I sat in the bar, my drink just sitting there resting inside the dirty glass. The entire place was full of drunks and people with nothing to lose but their lives, but not me. I sat quietly looking around while people shouted and talked with one another about the odds and ends of the Capital Wasteland, which in reality was just every day life.

"Did you hear, about that little group of people who travelled to Minefield? It was a small little group of people, they weren't allowed in Megaton, and I guess didn't dare go through the city ruins to get into Rivet City. I guess there were about twenty or so? Now, most of them have been killed or dragged off by the creatures or slavers. Minefield isn't what it used to be, but I wouldn't go near the place." One man said taking a swig of beer as his friend he was talking to, did the same.

The man's friend didn't really seem to say much, he was shocked at the news. The two men finished their beers, and they quickly payed their due before walking out, while I, still sat quietly alone staring into my glass of Whiskey. I brushed my hand through my jet black hair, that had been turned into a small Mohawk. My tan skin gave the red and blue paints that covered my chest and parts of my face, a darker color, making me look like a fierce warrior. My broad toned body wasn't like the others, I ate well and drank well. Everyone in the bar acted as if they were tough and strong, but me-I just minded my own business. My small modified 10 mm pistol resting at my side.

"Going to drink that?" A man said sitting next to me. He was a tall man; taller than I was, but he didn't seem to be so familiar with my ora of anger and hate for others.

"Yes," I said quickly before I took a large swig of the whiskey, drinking it all. The man looked at me, I could already feel the alcohol flowing through as he waved to the bartender to get me another. I looked at him, my face emotionless as I began to get irritable from the alcohol.

"I'm Jack Harrow, it's good to meet you stranger?" He said before pulling out a flask, and taking a swig himself. The bartender quickly returned, handed me my drink, and left to attend the other more riotous patrons.

Jack looked as if I was going to say something in return, but I kept my mouth shut, and took a large swig of my new whiskey. I could tell he was starting to get worried by the way I acted towards him. He wasn't sure if I was friendly, but he could tell that I wasn't very pleasant.

"Well stranger, I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find someone?"

"Find who?" I finally muttered as I took another swig of whiskey. The bartender had given me a deep drink. Jack looked around, and fumbled with the inside pocket of his jacket. He wore a business like suit, but it was torn and had several stains from either the wearer before or from him.

"I'm looking for a mercenary. I've already hired three others, but I need a fourth one. Do you think you could help me find someone?" He said pulling out a small piece of paper, written on it were several instructions. I only got a glance at first, but he quickly put it away when he realized I had seen the exposed words written in bold, "WANTED: DEAD..."

"Who do you want dead?" I asked as if it was no big deal. To me, no question was off limits; anything that popped into my head at the time, I would say if I felt like it. I cracked a weak smile, then gave him a serious look.

"Are you interested-" Jack said looking at me curiously.

"If it pays good, and I have no restrictions." I said quickly cutting into his question. "I have no problem killing if that's what your going to ask. I've killed plenty of people, not just for pay; but also sport. Many in the Capital Wasteland need to be silenced, and I am the one to silence them." I said taking a swig of my whiskey.

"Well, the pay is good. Five hundred caps, or more? Depending on how the job goes, I can pay you and the others twice as much."

"Others? What are their names?" I asked finishing my whiskey. The alcohol was flowing through my body, warming me up as if I wasn't already warm enough in the humid, and sweaty bar.

"I don't know their names off hand, but they're in need of some assistance. I think that they're just some rookies in the gun-for-hire business, and I'm looking for a veteran? I'm guessing that would be you?"

"Sure would. I have no problem killing, and I'll even kill you if you try to rip me off." I said in a deep dark, and serious stern tone. My right index finger, suddenly inches from his face. Jack looked at me, nodded and pulled out his flask, chugging whatever it was he was drinking, down quickly. "Let me grab my gear from across the street. Uncle Roe lets me crash here from time to time. We don't get along well, but he knows not to try, and mess with me." I said getting up and walking out of the roofless cafe, I didn't bother to pay, I always did as I pleased in the small settlement of Canterbury Commons.

Jack smiled and nodded in agreement. I didn't smile or do anything to signify his expressions, I just walked out and ran across the street, quickly opening the door, and sprinting up the steps before I walked into my own private room.

Inside was a beaten and broken mattress, under it was a large footlocker. I quickly grabbed the locker, and pulled out a ring of keys I carried from time to time. I flipped through the keys, finding the one that unlocked my footlocker. Inside, rested a Black Steyr AUG, with a fully loaded clip connected. I quickly grabbed it, looking it over a couple of times, checking for anything missing or needing to be adjusted. It was a good weapon, light, easy to shoot, and it could get banged up without much problem of having a misfire the next time.

I already had my 10 mm pistol, but I put it away, and pulled out my more reliable MP-446 "Viking" pistol. I had scavenged both weapons off a dead Wastelander while traveling from the Point Lookout area, to the Capital Wasteland. Luck for me, I only came across his body, and didn't have to fight him to get the weapons. I strapped the pistol on my waist, and grabbed my strong and reliable KA-BAR knife that I had had since I was a child.

After changing into my Combat pants, I walked out, suddenly realizing that Jack was standing outside the door. I quickly reacted instinctively, stepping back and my fist connecting to his cheek. He fell to the ground, I took a quick breath and recovered from the small incident. I looked at him angry, he laid there on the floor, his cheek bleeding a bit as he looked at the blood on his hand.

"What the hell was that for?" He said in a raised tone. I quickly stepped over to him, my anger suddenly shot up as I aggressively pulled him off the ground, standing him up straight.

"Don't [censored] do that again. Next time, I'll put a bullet in you, or a blade?" I said spitting a bit as I pushed him out of my way, and walked back down the stairs. He looked at me worried, unsure of how I would react with the others. I slammed the door behind me, Uncle Roe looking at me, but with no eye contact as I stood in the middle of the street, waiting.

Jack walked out, his cheek red and bruised already as he motioned for me to follow him. He tried to talk, but his cheek was in to much pain.

"We'll take my small wagon. I live over in Minefield." He said looking at me before wincing at the pain his cheek had given him.

"[censored] Minefield!" I said a little shocked. "Aren't you all supposed to be dead or wiped out or something?" I added as we walked up to his small two seat wagon. It was crude and made out of metal and wood, that was still usable. His seats were tattered and worn. I got up on the passenger side, my Steyr close in hand. I looked back at Jack who was still wincing at the pain before he said anything.

"No, we're not all dead, but we have had some problems? Lucky for us, we live close to Canterbury Commons. Now we don't have so many attacks. The mines that once littered the place, are now either dead or used up.... But that's not the job." He added as he whipped the two Brahmin that pulled the crude wagon.

I looked at him, tired of questions and stupid answers. I sat back in the beaten and worn seat, closing watching the wasteland as we moved down the small pass, towards Minefield.