The Broken Banks [Closed] [M] [Slow]

Grandma closed her ancient eyes, as a cocktail of foreign scents travelled on the coastal breeze. The familiar stench of stale sweat and rotting tobacco was probably Grizzly, whilst the strong hint of “wet dog” spoke for itself. More worryingly, there was the unmistakable tang of gunsmoke.

“Dem doggy bwoys raised a ruckuss an’a half, fo sho,” said Grandma to Tigru casually, gesturing to the horizon with her bony hand. “Ah bet mi eyeteeth I sniffin’ bloodstank ‘fo de day is throo.” She shrugged, and scratched her ear thoughtfully. There was little point in being tardy. If the Wolves wanted her badly enough, they’d find her. After all the Banks was relatively small once you got the measure of it, whilst the Wolven ingenuity and determination were both without depth or measure.

Grandma grasped Tigru’s hand in hers, the veins of her skin forced into the merc’s fingers like knots of rope. “G’wan noo. I naa spendin’ ‘rise to ‘set breathin’ in dis shit. Take me to mi bwoy Amos.”



“An Enclave squad such as yours?” Hauser practically kicked the words from his mouth. “We number over a thousand. Soldiers and scientists. All working towards the glory of the Reich. From the Brotherhood of Tennessee to the Cannibals of Nashivlle, no squad holds fear for us nor ever shall!”

Mussolini cringed. The Enclave easily matched Hauser’s zeal. Storm Trooper pride was not the way to go here. He stepped nimbly in front of his superior to address Alfonso. “Staff Sargeant Hauser here is descended from Brotherhood . I am formerly Enclave. The Storm Troopers are a union of all pure wastelanders. Vault Dwellers. Enclave. Brotherhood. Institute. Such divisions are meaningless to us. All that matters is blood and unity. The predacious tribal and cowardly raider have had their day. Now the true humans must come together for one thousand years of glory.”

It was basically the Fuhrer’s speech word for word. Mussolini thought he might have left a bit out. Before he could remember exactly, the Wolf captive piped up. The man was terrified, so his speech was punctuated with fear. He said something about the Gate. “Did somebody give you permission to speak, tribal dog?” Hauser snapped. But then a horn sounded, as if to give credence to Ding-Ding’s statement.

“The tribal is right,” said Mussolini. “We should take shelter in the city. Although I doubt you and your squad would get past the gate in that armour. Plus, we have no guarantee this isn’t a trap.”

“He’s right,” said Hauser. “We need to act now. Plus that tribal may alert his brethren once inside. Cut his tongue out of his head” he said to Alfonso. “We cannot have him talking once inside.”

The Storm Troopers waited for Alfonso’s reaction as the rain beat down.



As the chime resounded within Manteo’s walls, Zoller’s fingers lingered by his gun. When it was clear that the Wolves weren’t going to follow the gong with a bullet to his head, the Commandant relaxed and took in the scenery.

Drunkenness. Revelry. Smoking and Gluttony. Zoller often thought that Reinhardt overdid her propaganda out of enthusiasm, but he had to admit that this was pretty close to the mark. This festival, whatever it was, a the sum total of everything the Fuhrer despised about tribals. But despicable or not, subterfuge was subterfuge, and it needed to be absolute.

After a brief visit to the pub with the Jukebox, Zoller re-emerged with a beer in his hand and continued his search of Manteo City. Navigating the mass annals and nooks of the settlement took no small amount of time. Zoller kept his head down and navigating through the throng of Wolves like a ghost. He was not lucky enough to overhear any conversations about Darwin, or give him any indication of the whereabouts of any HQ. The Commandant looked up to the heavens and spat. He was running out of time, and he knew it.

The crowd bled from the bars of Manteo, as Zoller continued his directionless hunt through the city.

North Carolina’s Coastline

The coastal storm made one final flash of lightning. Soon thunder rumbled across the Broken Banks for the last time this day. Clouds stayed and the rain continued, but it had lightened considerably.


Mist began to creep across eastern North Carolina, collecting slowly in the absence of strong winds. It smothered the low lying regions, covering some of the swamps and moors. Many Natives went inside for now, knowing that the thrashers become feisty in this weather.


The sun had began it’s descent behind the Western horizon, bathing the coast in a surreal orange light as the rainfall receded. Swamp thrashers crawled out from the dirty water, eager to attempt catching the last rays of the sun or a foolish person. Blueshell mirelurks emerged from the sand and mud, chittering and clicking to each other.


One of these mutant crabs made her way wearily up the steep beach near Kitty Hawk. The deathjaws and the Wolven snipers had left many corpses behind this day. Timidly making her way to the bridge’s end, she stepped on the strange grey material. The creature waited uneasily for three minutes, then her caution disappeared. The blueshell then clamped down on the leg of a bandit with her powerful fore-claw and proceeded to drag him down the beach quickly.


The carrion gulls had also noticed many corpses outside the fortified settlement. A few gulls flew onto the bridge, waddling through puddles of rainwater mixed with blood. Once they had began to feast, the other gulls nearby joined them. More blueshells emerged from the salt water, drawn by their sister’s bounty. Ten minutes after the storm had weakened, the bridge to Kitty Hawk became a feeding frenzy.







“The raid on Kitty Hawk failed because of simple mathematics, Frederick. Nothing more. None of our tech was utilized in that little scuffle. It's just a small border town, you see.” Oxford responded, then allowed the young man to continue.


"I'm the doctor of Stumpy Point, the only one there with adequate medical knowledge to patch the boys up. I'm sure any doctor here could do a better job then me. I also have a hobby in the scientific field, I work with any laser or plasma weaponry the bandits pull up from somewhere."


“I see.” Oxford said distantly, staring at Frederick has he placed a pair of thick glasses on. “You’re probably correct, with our remodeling of the Banks Hospital and medical contracting, we have created quite a medical staff.“ the strange man said, finishing his Nuka-Cola and reaching for something in his lab coat.


“But, Frederick, you worked on the energy weapons the Bandits had found. Then you must have tinkered a bit with the Storm Troopers energy weapons, correct?” Oxford continued, producing a remote control from his coat. Pressing a button on the device, a bang was heard, then a hum. The sound of something burning from the next room.


A moment later, a Mr. Gutsy floated out from the other side of the bay, it’s thrusters keeping the robot airborne. A Wolf in a white coat followed it, scribbling on a clip board. The woman did not acknowledge Frederick.


“That is Professor Lincoln, on account that he's so obsessed honesty.” Oxford said triumphantly from the desk he sat upon. The robot approached them. He did not introduce his assistant. Metal Mug seemed uninterested in the machine, standing guard near the door. He must have seen the thing a hundred times before. Must have heard that tired joke a hundred times as well.


Oxford drawled on. “ The Professor has a few modifications from your standard Mr. Gusty, and I've tweaked is programming a little. It took me weeks to get him running correctly. I was working on a few other projects at the time, so... never mind that."


"Frederick, his real usefulness comes on his appendages, you see. The one in the back? It’s a thematic lance. Capable of super-heating whatever it contacts almost instantly. When applied to metal, it is a mighty industrial tool indeed. And when applied to human skin, well, it melts the stuff like butter.” Oxford continued absently, running his fingers through his messy hair.


“So , Frederick, I need your help. I need to know everything about the SS’s tech. Every single detail you know or even strongly suspect. I know the Bandits acquired what small number of energy weapons they had from the Storm Troopers. And frankly,” Oxford continued, producing a second bottle of Nuka Cola from his refrigerator and popping the cap off with his pale thumb. “I understand that you yourself are a man of science in spirit. You also seem like an honest guy.”


“Unfortunately that alone is not enough to make me certain that you’re telling the truth, and the whole truth. As a result, the good Professor will see to it that you are more than honest with me.” he concluded, taking a long swill of Nuka-Cola and adjusting his thick bifocals.


The Professor floated between Frederick and Oxford, it’s four appendages waving slowly like an octopus in the sea. The Professor’s thrusters were relatively quite, and the sounds of various electronics surrounding them all but drown it away. The rear arm wielding the thematic lance gave a quick spark. The forearm, wielding a sturdy pincer-clamp, opened wide. Metal Face sidestepped nonchalantly, blocking the control panel to the lab’s door. The woman in the white coat readied her pen, as Mean Mug produced a snub-nosed pistol. Oxford chugged the Nuka-Cola, then tossed the bottle in a metal can.


“So, Fred. May, I call you Fred?” Oxford went on, producing a pipe from his pocket and stuffing it with tobacco. “Please tell me everything you know about the SS and their tech.” he asked. On cue, Professor Lincoln sparked it’s thematic lance once again and rotated it’s clamp. “Try to remember every detail, Fred.“


Oxford paused, noticing Frederick's unhappy reaction. “I don’t mean to be cruel, Fred, but the boss is really ridin’ my ass on this, you understand? Lives are at stake, and I have to do whatever is necessary to find the information that may give us and extra edge against these creeps.”


The woman in the coat had approached Fred from the side as the Professor’s clamp closed quickly around Frederick’s neck. The robot stayed behind him, seemingly on standby mode. The clamp was wide enough that it place no pressure on his throat, only acted as a collar. Although, as Frederick probably suspected, it could clamp more if it were commanded to do so. The woman pricked his arm with a syringe, injecting a thick liquid into his shoulder before walking away.


Oxford puffed on his pipe smugly, releasing smoke from his nostrils. “You were explaining to me what you know about the tech and weapons possessed by the SS.” Somewhere behind Frederick, the Professor’s lance sparked.







“Jade.” Thiago smirked a bit, walking closer. “You went and got yourself shot. That wasn’t a clever thing to do missy.” the fisherman teased as the rain lightened.


Jade shook her head from side to side, causing her dirty blonde hair to slap her face. “Nope.” she said, adding a silly smile. It was obvious that the drugs were still in her system. Considering the amount of pain she would be in otherwise, it was probably for the best.


“Good thing you showed up, or I wouldn't here.” she continued, a serious tone creeping into her weakened voice.


Kim chuckled at the truth of the statement, helping a wounded carpenter into the wagon. She aided the man in sitting down, then turned to Thiago and Jade.


“Orders are to take any survivors or wounded we find to Whalebone. There a few good doctors there, and plenty of beds for rent. It streets might be a little difficult to navigate during the Festival, but Kill Devil Hills is now off limits.” The soldier and medic explained. Kim hopped out of the covered wagon and picked up her radio. After a moment of speaking in a hushed voice, she walked back to the wagon.


“We’re moving out in five.” she said to the group.


Jade regarded the fisherman, a worried look burning in her tired eyes. “Thiago… will you go with me to Whalebone? I mean, I know you probably want to go home after all of this…” she moped, “…but Whalbone is a big place. I don’t want to be there alone. I don’t have any family or anything…” she trailed off, breaking into a sob.


“She’s hyper-emotional. Side effects of the drugs and the trauma. Be back to normal by mornin‘. Well, as normal as the girl ever was. She‘ll be in a lot of pain, but the doctors in Whalbone have meds they‘ll give her to take for a few days. As soon as the major damage is beginning to heal, a stimpak or two should close the wound and rebuild the muscle fairly soon. Of course, there will be scarring.” Kim said bluntly while loading another injured Wolf onto the wagon. “She’ll be given a room to stay in at not cost.” The medic concluded, picking up her gear and throwing it over her shoulder. “Part of her benefits as a guard.”


Roth approached from the alley, his assault rifle in hand. Behind him, the slim man with the wrapped weapon followed casually. “Sweeper Team is almost here. Bodies will be removed by tomorrow morning. Besides the few teams staying here, the town’s on temporary evacuation. Ready to move?” Kim’s commander asked calmly as the rest of his team and another brahmin-pulled wagon approached from down the street. Injured Wolves well enough to walk followed the group. Most of them appeared to be stunned.


“In just a moment, sir.” Kim replied, adjusting her belt and the strap on her own weapon.


Jade looked up, wiping her eyes with her uninjured arm. “I understand if y-you want to get home, Thiago. It’s been a f-fucked up day. I’ll be fine. Like she said… I’m hypah-motional…” the girl concluded, doing her best to look under control.


Roth waited quietly, gazing across to the West. He was not looking for the setting son, but visualizing the horrible people who dwelled on the other side of the salt water. His grip tightened on his rifle.








Alpha Team paid no attention to the man and the old woman spotted by Clint. Alpha Team was focused on keeping up with their hustling leader. Alpha ran swiftly across the sands, despite wearing full power armor. She pushed the suit to move more swiftly than it was intended, causing her legs and arms to burn with muscle stress.


Big-Un’s metal boots pounded across the wet dunes, leaving deep tracks behind the mountainous soldier. He was ready to kill bandits.


Clint caught up with his commander, sporting the lightest gear of the Team. He pulled his goggles down to his neck, wiping the rainwater from his face with his forearm. “Alpha, orders just came in. Seth is to be taken alive. I talked to Darwin himself.” Clint said loudly as they ran. He knew Alpha didn’t give a shit, but he was bound by his rank to relay the information.


“Clinton, didn’t we have a conversation about this a few days ago?” Alpha responded in a dark voice.


“Understood.” Clint replied, falling back in formation with Alpha Team




Alpha treaded across the dirt road in trademark camouflage power armor, sighting the gauss rifle at maybe-Rachel-Seth’s chest. Behind her came Big-Un, his minigun bouncing off his right hip as he jogged. Following the two Wolves was Alpha Team, the Wolves’ heavy assault squad. All were geared and armed impressively. They created a horseshoe formation around Nag’s town square, training their weapons on Seth and her escorts. The emerged from the alleys and nearby houses, guns trained on the suspected bandits.


“It‘s over, Seth.” Alpha’s voice growled from the power helmet’s speaker. The electronic scope of the gauss rifle surveyed Rachel’s chest for a moment, then Alpha was ready to devastate her with an electromagnetic round. The rifle was fully juiced.


“This is gonna work one of two ways, bitch.” Alpha continued, “Easy way? You and your knuckle-draggers lay down your weapons now, walk slowly out of the crowd, and accompany me to Manteo City. This option will allow one, maybe two of your friends to come along as well.” she explained, as the refugees kept quiet in fear and confusion.


“Or, there’s always the hard way. It’s when you try something stupid, like ‘negotiating’, or killing a towny or go downright retarded and shoot at me. In this instance, Alpha Team and I execute every one of you scag fucks like the swamp-roaches you really are, and don’t lose a wink of shut-eye.” she snarled, applying pressure to the rifle’s trigger. “Make you’re fuckin’ choice, sister.”


The rain continued indiscriminately, soaking Wolf, Bandit, and innocent alike. A green laser sight extended from Sig’s assault rifle, moving from Seth to her escorts and back. He spit a loogey on the wet sand before him. Clint hung from a window, his pistol aimed at maybe-Rachel-Seth’s head. Alpha rested the massive rifle on her knee, watching Rachel’s face through the scope as rain water ran down her helmet.


“Today, Seth! Execution or cooperation?” Alpha barked from her helmet’s speaker, causing some of the refugees that remained in the square to cower in wait of gunfire. Some of the homes nearby close their storm windows. Waves crashed onto the shore just east of them.







“I am afraid that loyalty may be sorely misplaced, if you are not careful, my lady.” [/b]William replied. A few members of Ghost Team interpreted the words as a threat, and tightened the grip on their weapons. “These animals, as you call them, we call them the Lost Ones. They have forgotten what once made them strong, as did our forefathers." William continued as Marilyn stared into his eyes.


"In truth though, I can agree with you on many things my lady. Truly man is primal in nature, but this is why honor is so important. We have many similar events ourselves. Tournaments, Melees, Feasts, Balls. Harvest Festivals. All are aimed towards a similar goal, but still we always hold to honor.” the young man continued, receiving a few puzzled looks from Ghost Team and the guards.


Chau stood quietly beside Angel, sensing the girl was working her magic. A dopey smile crept across his absent-minded face. Chau did not have too many feelings in general, but he enjoyed the days he was assigned as one of Angel’s guards. It added a little spice to his normally mundane security tasks. Giving a glance to Angel, he returned his attention to the young man in power armor addressing Marilyn.


“However, I find good and evil are much more relative then at first glance, and again, this is why honor is important. Do the Lost truly understand that they do evil? Are they intelligent enough, even with their inability to speak. Whether they know right from wrong, they break the same rules that our forefathers did. The innocent must be protected at all costs Lady Marilyn. Perhaps though, in some way you are correct, as it took centuries and the destruction of the world for us to realize the true error of haste and judgment, prejudice and monotony."


William continued his speech, obviously strong in these beliefs. "Forgive me if I overstep myself, and truly I understand the need for tradition. But perhaps it would be wise to consider another reason for celebration. This internal beast you speak of. These primal urges. They are the same urges those bandits whom assault your town feel. The same as those Lost who rape and murder simply because they know nothing else. You say the Wolves celebrate the beast within, yet you have come so far away. Rejoice that you control such primal urges, not that they are there. For that is where the honor lay my lady. That is why your society has risen from dirt and blood." A bit of tension grew in the room. One Wolf shifted his weight to his other foot anxiously. A look from Ghost kept him still.


Ghost tilted his head slightly as he turned away from the anxious soldier, spotting Hardwin rubbing his temple as his associate continued to speak. Heavy steps echoed from the Grand Hall.


"My lady," William explained, "I would hope that relations could grow between us, and perhaps we can help you come closer to the light. I cannot guarantee anything - such decisions are for my King and Council, - but I feel there is much you could learn from us... However, I cannot hide the truth, that your use of firearms is troubling, and your lack of well maintained gear and architecture. I mean no disrespect, but have you no skilled blacksmiths? Truly I-"


"Hide? Why would I hide anything, that would be dishonorable...." Hardwin interrupted during William’s closing speech, drawing many questionable glances. The man in power armor‘s face became was troubled. He looked at Marilyn questioningly, his mouth working to find the words.


"You have a Magician with you." the words pierced the minds of the Wolves.


Chau’s distant look snapped to one of murderous attention. Beneath his poncho, the Ripper he wielded was unlatched from it’s hook. His finger slipped to the throttle and he positioned himselfbetween Angel and Hardwin, close to the girl. Marilyn’s pair of guards shifted closer to Angel, one of them quietly pulling the slide on his firearm. Ghost shook his head a moment too late. His man across the room pumped his shotgun. The tension grew. Ghost readied to reprimand his men.


“Stand down.” a voice echoed into the room from just outside. It was deep and deliberate, although slightly distorted by the speak from which it came.


A suit of Enclave made Advanced Power Armor entered the room, and the Wolves grew very quiet. All of them, including Marilyn, gave the leader of the Wolves a slow and deliberate nod. The man stood in the doorway, his armor’s glamour dwarfed by the well-polished steel of the guests‘. What it lacked in shine, it made up for in pure intimidating style. Of course, that’s how it’s manufacturers had designed it to look. Dark. On it’s left breast plate was a blue wolf paw, a symbol that had been weathered much over the last seven years.


Glowing lenses of an illuminated amber tint masked the man’s eyes. His right eye held an extension of these lenses, consisting of three telescopic logistic cameras. The lens cluster rotated left, then right, before zooming slightly in on Hardwin’s and William’s faces. These lenses reminded many people of the eyes of insects, and the sensors and tubing on the back of the helmet bore a striking semblance to horns or antennae.


“Marilyn. Angel.” he said to them both, his lenses zooming in on the two women from across the doorway.


“Hello, dear. Welcome home.” Marilyn replied, smiling wide. She placed a gentle hand on Angel Bentworth’s shoulder, giving the girl a reassuring squeeze. No harm will come to you, Angel. Try to read them while Darwin has their attention.


“And you all,” the leader said warmly while making his way across the room. He stopped near the covered table. “…you must be the strangers that I have heard so much about. My name is Darwin.” the helmet continued. Darwin raised his right gauntlet and rotated it once. The soldiers exited the room immediately, leaving only Darwin, Marilyn, Angel, Chau, Ghost, and the foreigners. Ghost Team and the guards returned to the Grand Hall, resuming their guard of the capital building.






The mercenary stood beside the old woman on a sand dune, watching the bustle further into town. The rain dripped from his leather hood, and some trickled from his stubbly chin. She made a few comments and an prediction of the events to come in Nag, suggesting they leave. Thunder rumbled across the Banks, and the waves crashed against the old Pier behind the two.


Tigru responded to Grandma with a grunt and a nod. Taking one last look at the town of Nag and the people gathered in the square, the man turned and began to trudge down the slope of the wet sand dune, his cloak whipping violently in a sudden gust of wind. He has a suspicion Grandma would be a nimble traveler, despite her age. He had been right. The old woman kept up with the middle aged mercenary well, and they made good times trekking across the grassy dunes and dark beaches.


The odd couple made their way up in Broken Banks, passing the settlements along the way until they had finally come to Kitty Hawk.


At this point, Tigru became noticeably irritated. “Kitty Hawk was attacked. This town is still crawling with wolven soldiers. “Teams”, they call them. “Experts“ the say.” The tired merc laughed obnoxiously. “Let’s call it what it is. They’re death squads.” he concluded dryly. Although he had been speaking to Grandma, his eyes were locked on the town before them, and it’s massive gates that separated them from the mainland.


He allowed a moment to pass, waiting for a response from Grandma. Then, he spoke again. “You’ve got a gate pass. That’s what the townies say, anyway. That would make getting out of here much easier.” Tigru added, watching a caravan of soldiers and injured prepare to depart from the town.




Roanoke Island
South of Manteo City


Ding-Ding cried out in fear and panic as his arms were held behind his back. The rain dripped into his eyes, and this accompanied by disbelief caused him to blink rapidly. He squirmed in the grip of the Claudia. They were going to take his tongue.


“Wh-what the fuck, man!? Shit.” he wheezed heavily. “You’re all fuckin’ nuts. Nuts! Your going to walk into a city crawling with soldiers! What he hell are you going to do!? Trust me, they know how to deal power armor! The weapons they have!” he blurted as the woman held the struggling Wolf in a show of great strength. “You gonna knock on the fuckin’ door, genius? Walk down main street!? Fire your fuckin’ plasma shit into the air and yell: ‘this is a stickup’!?”


Ding-Ding squealed as Robert approached him, pliers in hand. “Pliers!? FUCK! YOU!” he emphasized as his struggles increased to the young man’s limits.


“Your gonna rip out my fuckin’ tongue! I’ll die of blood loss you ignorant fucks!” he screamed as the man with the pliers closed in. “Wait!? Just fuckin’ wait, man!” he pleaded. Claudia chuckled. “FUCK OFF!” he squealed in response.


“I’m your best shot at doing whatever your doing! I know the city in and out! I have all the information you need!" Robert was in front of the terrified man. “You need me and my tongue! I mean, just fuckin’ wait! Stop! FUUUCK!” he sobbed.







Zoller wandered through the crowded streets as the rain slowed and nearly stopped. Few had noticed him, and the beer he held in his hand had been enough for a suspicious guard to disregard his presence in the city. Scattered through the crowd were Wolves of high rank, and their families. The city was a haven for the elite, and their exotic attire added to this idea. A pair of twins holding cigarettes walked past Zoller, giving him a nod of acknowledgment. One of them winked. Their heels clacked loudly on the street as the went.


The Trooper passed a grassy lot. Inside it, a large group of Wolves were playing with an oddly shaped brown ball. The passed it back and forth, shouting gibberish and tackling each other in the rain. Laughter was often heard from the scattered spectators sipping their drinks. It may have been strange to the Trooper, but the participants were obviously having a good time. Music drifted from a piano nearby, The tune was lively.


A man passed by Zoller, sporting a vest with various gems adorning it. His beard was well groomed. The man raised his bottle of whiskey as he passed Zoller, giving him a drunken smile. As he disappeared into the crowd, the young Trooper noticed something he had been trying to avoid. Across the street, a unit of four Wolven soldiers made their way south, each bearing a blue paw print on their armor. One spotted Zoller as they passed, pulling his ballistic mask down to his neck and studying the man as his pace slowed. His face was covered in stubble, and it was clear his nose had been broken long ago. The soldier paused as his companions continued down the street, obviously planning on addressing Zoller.


“Dante, you made it!” a young woman sporting a large hat exclaimed from behind Zoller. She exited the open door of the bar and rushed to him, taking him in an emotional embrace. Without pausing, she pulled back and kissed him deeply while holding him tightly. She drew back just enough to speak. “Play along if you don‘t wish to speak to that armored gentlemen across the street.” She said quietly, her crimson hair falling over her left eye.


“I didn’t think you would come, with the storm… and what with the attack! How fortunate, though! I see you had no trouble finding your pass.” she said loudly as she took a step back. “It’s been ages, babe. I don‘t know why you have to go off gallivanting around the ocean.” she added with a shift of her hips. The soldier remained on the other side of the bustling street, squinting his eyes and watching the couple.


The young woman tossed her ginger hair over he shoulder, giving Zoller a sly look. Her jade eyes glowed as the streetlights kicked on across Manteo. Somewhere in the distance fireworks boomed, and sparkling embers descended. The light rainfall had stopped many of the celebratory explosives, but not all of them, it seemed. The woman took Zoller’s right hand in her left, giving it a gentle squeeze with her black glove. “Our usual booth is free. Let’s have a drink.” she concluded loudly, turning and attempting to lead Zoller into the jazzy bar behind them.



“Scarlet. Call me Scarlet.“ the woman said. The booth she had referred to sat in the far corner of the establishment. It’s cherry red seats accented the woman’s hair as she sat across from Zoller. A server came to the table and placed a cold beer in front of Zoller. Condensation ran down it’s glass sides and onto the table. In front of Scarlet, she placed a shot of thick, black liquor. The woman in the wide-rimmed hat dismissed the waitress with a nod, then produced a cigarette from her purse. She lit it with a match, then tossed the smoking stick into the ash tray near the wall. Taking a deep hit from the tobacco, she exhaled. Green eyes gazed deeply into the young Troopers as she asked the question. “Who are you?”

“Ehhh, someone else would’ve come and saved you. Maybe some handsome guy packed with muscles riding on giant molerat.” Thiago joked, a small grin on his face, behind his bushy moustache and beard.

As Whalebone was brought up, Thiago looked away for a moment in thought. Where the hell was that place? He asked himself, before glancing back over a Kim, giving a sort of nod in understanding at the closure of the hills.

When Jade started talking to him, Thiago gave a small snort. “What good would saving your behind from assholes and the ‘Jaws have done if I let you go wandering all drugged up through the streets of some place you’ve never been to. I can go home at any time I want the only thing waiting for me there is a bottle and my gull.” Thiago reassured her drug addled sobbing, moving to settle in the corner of the wagon, so he took up as small a space as possible. He had planned on just going straight to bed, well, maybe after a drink or two. He felt like a sleep, he’d never been in a battle with another human before. Fighting a deathclaw was also new, not exactly something he was going to jump at the chance to do again. But… rewarding in a weird way.

Thiago gave a short nod at Kim. “I’ll stick with her for now. If only to see her first battle scar,” Thiago joked.

Thiago glanced a bit over at the battle-worn Wolves and slowly got to his feet. “Jade, I’ll follow on foot; one of those guys could do with getting taken along in this thing… ” Thiago spoke, waving a bit at the car, and hopping off the end, and into the mud. He thought about those that’d been killed, and how lucky he was to come off without so much of a scratch. How could he have ridden in the wagon, when guys who actually did most of the fighting were walking behind?

Walter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand at the mention of the savages they had met. He had done something foul that day, all in the name of Camelot and his own quest. He did not regret an instant of it, but it was still an unpleasant memory. He too believed those particular savages needed to be put down, or at least rehabilitated. At her news of the Fuhrer, and the prediction, he raised one of his eyebrows, taking on that infuriatingly indifferent look he could get on his face, as if saying 'oh, is that so?'.

"Perhaps. Do not make the mistake Bronwen, of hoping these Stormtroopers are any less likely to shoot us dead than the last groups. If they do however, I promise to make them very well acquainted with fire of our own, though it is long they have long stopped realizing the importance of I assume."

His eyes scanned the camp, and he nodded in approval. "We are close Brownen. Closer to finishing our quest than ever before. We stand at the precipices of a great change for our people, chin up. As pointless as this may seem, just talking to savages and cowards, but it will change everything. Of that, I am certain." Walter whispered to her from beneath his hood, "And when we return, we will be honored and remembered for what we did out here. That too, I am certain. There will be water if it is willed. I see you're getting the camp ready to move? Excellent. Would you like to get ahead of the Knights and let them catch up, or can you bear their 'insufferable' company for a bit longer?"

He mused, teasing her as he pulled out his deck of cards and began to shuffle them. He played with the deck, the blue backs of the cards moving in an unnerving flash as he did so, and as she watched, he pulled out a single card, holding it up. A grin grew onto his face, revealing the whites of his teeth and his eyes blazed with amusement. "A King. Fitting, as we go to meet one, though he goes by a different title. Do ye not agree Bronwen?" This particular trick of his was one of his own, and often was just looked on as him being superstitious.

After asking this, he just as quickly put away the deck and clasped his hands behind his back. "And, if fortune is on our side for once, perhaps he will not make us consume any local delicacies. I'm quite done with that after the last group, though I suppose if I must I'd do it again. The look on the Paladins' faces was amusing enough." This last part said with a wrinkle of his nose and a slight gag. It was obvious that he did not enjoy the thought at all.

"You have a Magician with you."

Angel showed no reaction to this. She hadn't needed to, for the Wolves showed just as much reaction to it as she needed. Some of them went from passive observers, to aggressive threateningers (yes, that is a word....sort of....not really). Angel looked around at all of the Wolves and was momentarily concerned that there would be a fight right here and right now. If that were to happen, she'd hide and try to interfere with the thought processes of the strangers, which would hopefully hinder their ability to fight.

But, before things could escalate too far...Darwin came home.

He walked past Marilyn and Angel and greeted them. Angel seemingly just nodded to him, but under it all, she said more...

Hello, Darwin. Glad to see you again. I will listen closely to them, and anything that they try to hide, I will tell you.

Angel turned her mind towards the thoughts of the strangers and began to open her mind's ear...

Don't worry, Marilyn. I won't disappoint you.
_________________________________________

Paxton Michaels continued to saunter along, not really having any clue as to where he was or where he was going. He walked along, his eyes darting wildly for no reason, not caring where he was or where he was going. It was the same old routine of absolutely no rhyme or reason. Every now and then he'd hear something or see something and he'd chuck the first explosive he could grab at it. They'd blow up (or not, because sometimes he didn't pull the pin), he'd laugh, and then keep going, remembering (occasionally) to check for the Ghost Lady. She was bad. She had hurt him. And she sometimes tried to creep up on him. There had been times where he would turn and she had been bearing down on him and he had run.

"Scary!" Paxton shouted randomly. He turned to look behind him and when he gazed back towards the front, he almost had run into a tree. "Stupid tree! Ugly tree! You're mother is a whore!"

A twig broke under his feet. He screamed and whirled behind him, lobbing three grenades, actually remembering to pull the pins.

"AAAHH! GHOST LADY!" He screamed. "BADBADBADBADBADGOAWAWAYAWAYAWAY! DIE! DIE DIE DIE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The grenades exploded with a boom, and Paxton stared at the smoke for a moment. Nothing happened. Guess the Ghost Lady hadn't actually been chasing him. Or maybe she had been! It was hard to tell sometimes cause she was so sneaky. If she was, did that mean she was sneaking now?

"Good question!" Paxton yelled at a rock. He stared at the rock. "Go away, rock!" The rock called Paxton a bloody dope. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! YOU'RE NOT EVEN A REAL ROCK! YOU'RE A STONE!" He kicked the rock away. The tree next to him giggled at this. "Don't laugh at me!" Paxton sneered. He grabbed his blowtorches and pointed them at the tree. "Burn tree!"

And then, for the next few minutes, Paxton Michaels would spend spewing flames at a tree. Why? Because it had laughed at him? Or was it just the way it laughed? Had it even laughed at him or at the rock?

"Good question!" Paxton shouted and went on working.

According to Storm Trooper Propaganda, touching the skin of a wastelander made one unclean. Whilst idiots like Hauser took it literally, Zoller had always assumed it was another one of Reinhardt’s zealous little dictates to discourage the guards from raping the prisoners. After all, a lonely soldier performs his duties so much better than a happy one.

Zoller was lonely. And tired. And shit scared. All he wanted was to be back in Stumpy Point drinking in the lodge, a desire barely kept in check behind a dour expression of almost total neutrality. The woman was elfin and green eyed with hair the colour of fresh fire. By the time she had embraced him, Zoller’s plasma pistol was almost grazing the woman’s thigh. But then something happened. Zoller lost himself. For about two seconds or so, Zoller closed his eyes and pictured what a fine thing companionship would be. To finally live simple in the world the Fuhrer had promised him so many years ago. In those seconds, he kissed the girl back, his wet black locks matted against her long ginger ones, his stubble tickling upon her cheek. Such moments were to be harvested like nuts for winter, and Zoller held on to it until the woman pulled away.

“Play along if you don‘t wish to speak to that armored gentlemen across the street.”

In a heartbeat, Zoller had regained his mask. He reacted as if about to shout a bemused protest, but couldn’t be heard over the crowd. Instead the Trooper merely shrugged with a gentle smile– one of the best from his repertoire – and took her hand. A resounding boom cracked across the sky, causing Zoller to tighten his grip suddenly. Fireworks. Only fireworks. He was getting tired. He allowed the woman’s hand to breathe a little more freely in his palm, relaxing the grip as they entered the bar.

“Scarlet. Call me Scarlet.”

Again, Zoller gave no reply. He studied the woman with the cold eyes of a soldier, whilst the rest of his face did its best to look bemused. Scarlett took out a cigarette, and scrutinised Zoller as she smoked it.

“Who are you?”

Zoller didn’t reply straight away. He unfastened his travel satchel, and took out a carved wooden pipe the size of a Viking drinking horn. Stuffing in damp old tobacco from a rusty Mentat case, the Trooper embarked on the tiresome process of fixing and filling the pipe, talking as he did so.

“The name’s Rufus. Not Dante. I think the celebrations have gone to your head, Scarlett. I don’t go galavanting on the oceans. As a matter of fact, this is my first day on the waves. Tilbert over in Boat 11 got himself shot by bandits. I found the body, and suddenly it looks like I’m the new captain of the SS Shit-Rig. Simply put, it’s been a weird day and Sweetheart, you’ve just made it a lot weirder.” He smiled a little wider, sealing the sentiment with an appreciative nod. “But I’ll drink to that.”

Zoller toasted Scarlett, taking a slight sip of beer before calmly lighting the pispe. Now it was time to determine was she knew. His response had been good. If the Commandant could have exhaled the word “your move” in smoke, he would have. A mini mushroom cloud would have to suffice.



The Old Woman and the Mercenary made their way through the war-torn town. An hour earlier, this place had been Armageddon. Grandma could still taste the smoking cartridges in the air. She sniffed the air, pulling a face.

“Kitty Hawk was attacked. This town is still crawling with wolven soldiers. “Teams”, they call them. “Experts“ “Let’s call it what it is. They’re death squads.”

Grandma made a low sarcastic whistle through her gap teeth. She appeared to take issue with Tigru's sentiment. "Death Squads, huh boi? Dat right?" The old woman spat out a loogie. "Ya get yaself out in de wastes and see all dere is to see. Den talk t;me about death squads!" She lowered her voice conspiratorily. "There's worse in dem woods dan Wolves, boi, and dey don't hand out no passes neither!"

She reaches into her bag, and pulled out a bloodstained, crumpled pass, and waved it in front of Tigru's face as if to make a point. Then she stopped. The smell of stale blood was simply too much, and Grandma found herself tottering in the direction of a caravan full of wounded, tugging Tigru's hand.

"Dere's folks hurtin' plenty," Grandma opined. "Take yo' leave as it please, Missr Mercenary, but ya gettin' paid if you stay by my shadow."

And with that the old woman bustled toward the injured, one hand rustling though her medical bag prematurely.



As Claudia and Robert prepared to go to work on the tribal, Hauser felt the disapproving glare of Zoller in his mind's eye. He intervened, sliding the end of his plasma pistol between Ding-Ding's neck and Claudia's blade.

"Wait!" he cried crisply. Mussolini blinked, his sweaty bald head glinting in the rain. Clearly Sargeant Hauser was having a moment of genius. He snorted. I guess everybody gets one.

"The tribal scum is right," Hauser admitted. "You're not going anywhere in that armour. The Wolves would devour you, and then turn their guns on us. And as for that Deathclaw," he pointed blindly, not able to meet the creature's gaze. "It's far from subtle. I am afraid we must leave you then. Finding shelter in Manteo is your responsibility." He paused . "Unless..."

The Trooper turned to the terrified Ding-Ding, and then to his fallen comerade. With a cold flourish of steel, Hauser's own blade was digging into Ding-Ding's finger, kissed by fresh pearls of the man's blood. "You. Schweine. You will tell us about the gates. Any alternate entrance our friends here could use. Any distractions we could use, any smugglers nooks and crannies we could make use off." He turned to the impassive Enclave Soldiers in their masks of tech and metal, then back to Ding-Ding. With a smile, he angled the blade and pushed it a little deeper.

"At the risk of sound redundant, please make your answers genuine."