So I've been away for awhile as many of you know. This just came up the other day, and if any of you read and wrote with me on Greyditch, eventually you might realize who this guy is. Now it's not exactly the most exciting start, but if you enjoy, comment.

The Peacemaker

A Note - Entry 1

He stood over the man. Blood did not drip from the hole in the head, it flowed out like oil oozing from a container. The shooter held the smoking gun in his hand. The fumes of rotting bone and flesh filled the air. It did not phase the shooter.

The living man holstered his long barreled .44 magnum. The steel slid against the leather of the holster. He walked forward, the dirt crunched beneath his boots with each step. The living knelt down and watched the red flow from the newfound geyser.

Red started to pool on the dead man's neck, and it dripped down unto the dirt. Beyond the head was a note in the right hand of the deceased.

A storm was brewing. Wind began to pick up. Dust rose and slapped against the living's face. He pulled a tan handkerchief from a belt loop. He wrapped his face and shielded his eyes with aviators.

The note was ripped from the hand of the dead. The wind carried it up like a feather. He plucked it from the air like a flower from a meadow. It was hardly legible. A few words could be read, "Watch... Peacemaker... Rendezvous... Ma-"

The man folded the note and pocketed it. A gale force wind slapped him in the cloth-covered face with a new layer of dust. It tried to pick up his cowboy rattan hat, but with no avail.

The man appeared in his early thirties. He did not speak about his age often. Talking was something he did when around others. When the carrier came by he did give him a warning to stop or he would die. Obviously, he didn't listen.

The man set off, goal in mind and heart raised up. He would find his target there, amidst the ruins of the nation's capital. As he marched on his right hand rested on his long barreled .44 Magnum. Etched into the barrel were the letters the flowed to make a title: The Peacemaker.

Home - Entry 2

He walked on in the storm. His brown pantaloons were tucked into his brown boots. The brown poncho that he wore flapped with the wind and looked like wings in the dim sunlight.

Things earlier had gone south, quickly...

-

The wayfaring stranger stood in on the threshold of the building. He could see the figure of a man approaching. The specter was running, as most messengers would these days.

Things had been picking up in the area. More eyebots hovering spouting Enclave gibberish. Brotherhood roaming in larger packs; their rejects as well. Seemed as though the two groups were seeking the same things, with two similar means of achieving the objects.

The wayfaring stranger could now tell it was a man running his way. The mysterious stranger was right on the path that was taken. The wayfaring stranger wondered how.

The messenger was now closing in, about a 100 yards away now. A molerat approached the messenger from behind. It waddled forward to eat at the ankles of the running man. 90 yards away, he pulled his magnum from it's holster.

The messenger could see a silver gleam from far off and realized that it was probably not a piece of scrap metal. He veered to the left to try and move away from the specter ahead. He could not hear the pursuing molerat over his breath.

The wayfaring stranger had a lock on the target. He pulled the trigger. The shot rang out across the capital land. The rodentia stopped in it's tracks and fell to the ground. It picked up dust and alerted the Man in frog of it.

The running man stopped, he'd heard a shot but felt no pain. The male checked himself and felt no unwelcome hole in his body. He felt for the chinese pistol given to him by the hooded man. It was there, still, vexing him.

He turned around and saw the molerat. It did not move, breath, or do anything at all. It just lay there, dead. A sheltered life in the vault does not prepare one for death by bullet.

About 80 yards away stood the crusader. The messenger approached him slowly. As he did, he could see the stranger slowly lower his weapon.

The wayfaring stranger did not holster the weapon. He examined the letters as he pulled a round from the bandolier around his chest, under the poncho. The round was placed into it's chamber as the messenger finally approached him.

A hand was extended in thanks, "Well thank ya stranger. I did not see that molerat coming up behind me. Name's-"

The stranger cut him off, "Your name is unimportant to me."

The messenger smiled politely, "I'm sorry?"

The stranger held a cold, calculating grimace on his face. "Did I stutter?" The round was in the chamber, and he spun it shut. The letters on the barrel could clearly be seen in the widening messenger's eyes.

The fear was palpable. The messenger realized who was before him. He pulled the pistol from his pocket. "You are the, the guy he spoke about. K-"

He cocked his magnum with the sight of the Chinese pistol. "There is no need for you to die today. You just give me the note and I'll let you live."

The messenger shook his head, "How do you know about that? I need to deliver it, I have to-"

"No, you need to give it to me. I don't want to kill you now, but I'm not above it..." He did not aim on the messenger.

This did not comfort the messenger, and he frantically fired on the man across him. The man suddenly pulled the note from his pocket and turned to flee.

The Peacemaker aimed on it's adversary and fired on the man that now had his back turned to him. He shook his head as the smoke arose from the weapon.

-

The protectron stood outside the gate, "Welcome to Megaton, enjoy your stay."

The stranger nodded, "Thank you." He tipped his hat to the greeter as he entered the town he called home.

Yuss, Wolfman has returned! And hey, you made two characters in Grayditch! :stare: Only one of them's in his thirties, however.

Anyways, this looks promising I picked up one or two spelling errors, but the only critisism (however it's spelt) I can give it to name the characters soon (unless you plan not to, for some reason). I found it a tad confusing when reading the second entry, with the messenger and stranger (even tho they are two completely different words :/ )

Aw, no "Stay Classy"'s? :sadvaultboy:

I like the similes and personification used!

Until next time,

Auf Wiedersehn!