Two klicks east of Freeside, Mojave Wasteland
March 13, 2245
Shawn and Cole Tyler are taking cover behind two low, jagged rocks, almost lying down on their stomachs to keep themselves protected. They rest their shoulders against their rocks to keep from going completely prone. The hot desert sun beats down on their backs. Bullets whiz past, kicking up the Nevada dust around them. One sparks against the rock Cole is behind. He flinches, and a beam of sweat runs down his bald head, onto his face, which may have been handsome at one time but is now full of scars from previous fights. With every shot that comes close by he clutches his sweaty hands tighter onto his brush gun. Shawn, even paler than Cole, tries to fire around the side of his rock with his 9mm SMG, none of the shots coming even close to the enemies. He is not the “fighter,” or the “brawn,” the one who did the “real business.” No, he was the smooth-talking, wisecracking, lady-killing deal maker. In fact, the only real thing he was good at in combat was quick draw, which was an invaluable thing his brother taught him. It had saved his life so many times. Now, his light-grey suit, sunglasses, and brown faux-hawk hair are all dirtied by sand. He flinches at the sound of a roaring voice.
“You will pay for what you did to Papa Khan!” a giant of a man in armored leather screams as he begins to walk dramatically through the middle of Khan raider crowd, making them seem puny in comparison. His dark muscles and veins bulge as he fires a gatling laser.
"And how the FU(K did they get a hold of that?" Shawn screams over the continuous stream of laser fire.
“Not important right now. What is important they’ve got a huge tactical advantage over us and we’ve gotta get out in one piece.” Cole replies, trying to sound calm and cool.
“You know what would have been more important? Maybe you not pissing off the Khans like this in the first place!”
“You’ve got to stop dwelling the past, brother.”
“A bit hard when the past is up our ass, trying to kill us with heavy weapons.”
Cole ignores him. “We need to retreat out of this cover, it’s too sh!tty,” a bullet and streaks of lasers fly by inches from his head, as if to prove his point. “G-laser’s a great weapon, but he’ll chew up all his ammo before long. If we retreat we can keep the fire on us and drain their cells. We’ll go slinky-motion. I run first.”
Shawn loads a fresh clip into the submachine gun and pulls the bolt, hearing the familiar chick-chick sound. "You know, getting shot at isn't normally part of my plans..." He waits for the sound of a motor dying down, and hears it after a few seconds.
“Go! Go! Go!” Shawn’s voice cracks on the third “go” from his sand-parched throat. Nevertheless, he raises the gun and sprays at the five Khan raiders. They have trail carbines, cowboy repeaters, a 10mm SMG, a laser pistol, and of course, the dreaded gattler.
At the stream of automatic fire, the Khans scuttle for cover, dust kicking around their feet. Cole makes a break for the somewhat larger rock behind him.
“Safe!” he calls, now going into his own spree with the brush gun. He fires six shots, slips it onto his back, and unholsters two .357 magnum revolvers from his belt, both with long-barrels and HD cylinders. He unleashes more powerful bullets at the enemy. One raider standing near the middle slips out of cover, just in time to be shot in the leg. A cry of pain escapes his lungs before he falls down, a blood pool quickly forming, dark red seeping into the ground.
Shawn has been running back, struggling to insert the clip while running. Even the gun is dusty now, giving it a worn-out look, even though it is in almost pristine condition. In this way, the duo continue to retreat. Cole hits a Khan with two torso shots, effectively taking him down. In one of Shawn’s wild sprays, he scores a lucky headshot on another.
“Running low on ammo!” he reports just a few moments afterwards.
“Keep running!”
Cole takes more shots with his revolvers, muzzle flashes and smoke rising from the barrels. Shawn runs, but instead of reaching the next cover point, he is nailed in the chest by a repeater. He falls down, flaring up dust around him. Cole immediately rushes over, grabbing him by the collar and desperately running backwards.
“Fu(k you!” Shawn yells as he begins to fire his 9mm pistol wildly, SMG clutched in his left hand. The clip empties, drops to the ground, and the chamber pulls back. Still running under heavy fire, with yellow streaks whizzing by and hurting his ears, he hears the revving of a motor, the last thing he needed to hear. He throws his body over his brother’s, expecting white-hot spots to be burned into his back. The first few shots are off, but as lasers start to hit Cole’s bounty hunter duster, the fire suddenly dies down. The Khan is out of ammo. Ignoring the pain, Cole continues to drag his brother’s body uphill, finally finding a decently large rock and taking the high ground. He makes sure that Shawn is completely out of harm’s way, noticing the red stain dripping down this suit. He begins to load his rifle.
“I’ve got something special for you pricks...” he mutters to himself. “.45-70 Government SWC Hand Loads. It costs me about ten caps to make every one of these, and I’m gonna make sure I make every cap worth it.”
Using a flatter side of the rock as a rest, he lines up a careful shot. He puts two bullets in one raider, and then empties the rest into the laser-wielder, who was now charging at him with his bare fists. Blood was definitely leaking from various wounds, but the enraged giant didn’t show any signs of stopping. Cole saw that behind were empty syringes and inhalers. Between the time he had run out of ammo and Cole was dragging Shawn, the j4ck4ss had injected himself with about every drug in the Mojave. He was hopped up on Psycho, Jet, Med-X, and Buffout all at the same time. Cole turned to his trusty revolver, deciding that a fatal headshot would be needed to drop the goon.
As he lined up his shot, the monster of a man continued to converge. He was only twenty feet away now. Cole lined up the shot right over his forehead. No need to rush, but no need to stall either... he pulled the trigger.
Click.
“Sh!t.” was all that escaped his lips. Instinctively, Cole reached for his trusty combat knife, and lunged from the top of the rock. He landed with his feet on the man’s chest, and they both grunted as they lost their balance and fell onto one another.
If you want chapter two, all you gotta do is ask.