Fistful of Caps (Oregon Trails) [FULL/FAST]

...Her grip tightened on the blade, and she admittedly felt uncomfortable without her gun in her hand. The inner streets were too quiet, and the only light Catherine could make out was coming from the Pig a few blocks away. As she approached another crossroad, Cat Fyre became tense. Bootsteps and the smell of tobacco.


An Enclave Sergeant, his cap pulled snugly onto his head- marched down the road. A NCR service rifle was held loosely over his chest with one hand, the other swinging down by his side. Two other Enclave soldiers marched with him, these two appearing more alert and prepared. The Sergeant had experience though, and believed that nothing could harm them now. They had already secured the town. One of the Privates stepped forward at the Sergeants bellow. "Put one down here kid-" He ordered gruffly, gesturing at the road.

The private stepped forward, and pushed something into the dirt. He then began walking to the other side of the road, holding the other end. The trooper drove the spike down into the dirt.

Cat watched quietly from the darkness, her pupils inhumanly wide. Trip wire mines. Killed everyone in Tull, made it look like tha NCR, then wire tha town tah blow when someone fahnally investigated? What tha hell are they up tah?

The sergeant had an old cigarette in his mouth, hanging out of the corner. It was the only light besides the moon, and gave his face a red glow to it. He was old compared to the other troopers. Perhaps the leaders second in command. The Sergeant wasn't aware of anything going wrong however, and felt safe and complacent.


There was little time to think, but Cat always had good instincts about this sort of situation. Her body seemed to know what to do even when her mind wasn't present. As the sergeant turned and his two soldiers followed, the woman emerged from the alley and raised her hand high in the air. She would have to take the guards first.

It would be difficult to drop the escorts and close the distance to the officer before he could yell or fire. Not impossible. The Oregon wind gave a single gust of encouragement to her back. The blade was slung in the blink of an eye, whispering down the street to the back of a goon's head. Before the first blade had come to rest, a second was in flight. The sound of his comrades dropping dead would cause the sergeant to turn. Breathing deeply, Cat abandoned stealth and broke into a run towards the sergeant, vaulting over the trip-wire and bringing the blade down to his neck.

Corporal Alfie Fitzwalder took another puff on his cigarette, resting his hand over the strap of the NCR Service rifle. He had pulled guard duty for the first night of patrol, and the stars were shining overhead in the irradiated Oregon sky. Not that the Corporal took too much time to appreciate it. He hated this damned territory, the blasted, dry land. The endless grunting of brahmin. The screaming locals who were agitated at their town being destro-

Oh wait. There are none. We killed them all.

He grinned to himself, letting the cigarette hang loosely in his lips at the thought. He was a pure sadist at heart, enjoyed the work too much. Enjoyed the screams of the mutie scum. Did he consider himself a sadist? No. He considered himself a good, honest, hard working American. And it would be so much better if all these damned Commie Mutants learned that he wasn't going to tolerate any of their -shit- in his America. Until then however, nothing said he couldn't enjoy putting a bullet in a few idiots heads who dared stand up to the Enclave. Or even those who simply got in the way. He was blissfully unaware of the Sergeant and his patrols deaths, and of his own impending doom. He reached up, scratching his neck as he considered trivial things, unaware of the cross hairs of fate lined up on his head.

He whirled around at the sudden sound of an explosion, the cigarette falling out of his mouth as his jaw dropped. He moved to unsling his rifle, and then found himself face down in the dirt. His last thoughts before his brain died were wondering how the hell someone had gotten past the patrols.

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The Sergeant reached up as the lithe gunslinger tackled him, grabbing her hand with the knife in it and trying to bring his knee up to hit her inbetween the legs. He was a veteran, a sturdy man despite his age. And he wasn't about to let some damn girly-girl take him down without a fight. His hand curled around her fist, and he'd move to slam his head forward into hers after the knee, regardless if it worked or not.

However, he soon found himself distracted by an explosion from the Dixie Pig, and Cats knife would slide into his throat, causing him to begin choking and gagging on his own blood unless she finished him off.

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Earl had slid underneath the Dixie Pig, sliding through the shit, piss, and vomit, without a complaint. He knew what had to be done, and he knew he couldn't trust Daniel to handle it himself, and so he found himself with the stick of dynamite in his hands. He turned it over, examining it before looking around the room he found himself in.

It was the basement of the Dixie Pig, and it was dimly lit by a single, dirty lantern. On all sides of him were sloppily stacked ammunition crates, stolen from the NCR. Those weren't what he wanted however, and his eyes squinted against the shadows, looking for the one thing in particular that he needed to make this work....and then he found it. His dark brown eyes lit up, and a grin twisted onto his face as he walked over to a single box in particular. It was small, unassuming, and placed (for some odd reason) near one of the supporting beams. Inside the box were a dozen sticks of dynamite. More than enough for what the Gunslingers had planned.

He placed the stick of dynamite down, and removed a cigarette from his pocket- fishing around in the pockets of his jeans with dirty hands before removing the roughly handled smoke. He stuck it into his lips, and then struck a match, cupping his hands around it and lighting the cigarette. He then crouched down, over the box, a thin trail of smoke emulating from his lips, and struck the match against the fuse of the dynamite stick.

He quickly grabbed the now lit dynamite stick, and dropped it in the box with the others.

Then, he ran.

His boots scrambled against the dirt of the basement as he began to pull himself up from the ditch..and then, he fell back down. The wet soil in that region had made it easier to slide in, but now he couldn't pull himself out. His eyes went wide, and he looked around for another exit...but could only find one.

He took a deep breath, the gunslingers mantra repeating in his mind as he tugged up his bandana over his mouth and nose, and withdrew one of the six shooters from its holster. He then jogged over to the creaky wooden staircase of the Dixie Pig, running up it and kicking open the old, rotting door.

His thumb pulled back the hammer of his revolver, just as various Enclave personnel turned towards him. Without a moment of hesitation the young rancher turned rebel turned gunslinger fanned the hammer of his revolver, squeezing the trigger six times. Seven men fell down, five dead, one wounded, and one merely knocked down. A soldier behind the counter, his uniform messy and rumpled- obviously drunk, removed his own pistol and fired off a shot. It went wide, and high, going above Earls shoulder and slamming into the wall. Earl didn't bother reloading, beginning to run for the door.

As he started to push through the swinging doors of the Pig, he felt himself grow weaker. His jog became a dive, and then he was down in the dirt. The rebel grit his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden stinging in his body. He was vaguely aware of a soldier shouting infront of him.

Then, there was the explosion.

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The Lieutenant had been sitting down at one of the tables, not behind the counter. His cap was off, on the table. A few of his fellow soldiers had been sitting around the table with him, and they had been quietly observing the pool game going on across the room by the basement door. All was going well. Everything was going according to plan. The man felt a smile twitch at his lips, and he scratched at his chin. Nothing could stop the Enclave. That was well known. But yet...he felt uneasy. There was a feeling in his gut that something was going to happen, a storm was coming.

This feeling had caused him to send out two extra patrols, six men total, outside of the Pig, besides the Sergeants patrol. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it'd pay for there to be extra men in the town in the event of a firefight.

"Sir, could I interest you in something to drink?" One of the soldiers chimed in helpfully, offering him a bottle of the towns swill that they dared call whiskey. He had been raising a gloved hand along with the shake of his head to politely decline, when the door to the basement suddenly was kicked open.

The Lieutenant was able to register the dirty, rugged appearance of the new arrival as the soldiers playing pool turned around. Then, the shooting started. The crazy man had somehow gotten seven of his men down, and the idiot at the counter had somehow missed.

Without missing a beat, the Lieutenant withdrew his 10MM, pushing aside the table and aiming it. He squeezed the trigger three times, and saw a burst of blood from the rebel.

He ran forward, getting outside the door with two others when the Pig exploded.

Bullseye had hoped things would not go badly, but it seemed his hopes were wasted. His finger squeezed the trigger slowly, waiting for the explosion when gunfire echoed out of the Dixie Pig. His finger squeezed, though the surprise had his aim off and it tore through the smoking soldiers neck, rather then his head. An instant later, Earl came crashing through the front doors, a splash of blood coming from his back. The other guard had his gun ready as Earl hit the dirt, and began yelling moments before Bullseye's second shot took the top of his skull away. He couldn't see Cat from his vantage, but he could only worry about himself at the moment.

His target appeared outside the Pig, with two guards in tow, and then the explosion hit. The building itself seemed to lift into the sky as fire and debris blew from every window, shattering glass and splintering wood in a haze of smoke. The force of the explosion was enough to knock the Enclave Lieutenant and his men across the ground, and Bullseye took cover behind the window's wall. Even from here he could feel the heat from the explosion.

Poking back around to the window, Bullseye saw the Enclave in the street scrambling to their feet, and he quickly lined up a shot with the Lieutenant's kneecap. The gunshot rang in his ears as the bullet left the barrel, shattering the officer's knee and sending him to the ground in pain. Despite the chaos, his shot had given away his location, and the Enclave open fired on the second story of his building. He hit the ground as bullets ripped into the old wood of the building, sending chunks of wood and dust into the air. Carefully, he crawled across the ground towards a doorway, scrambling to his feet as he moved away from the gunfire. As he reached the other room, the gunfire stopped, and he quickly made to one of the windows.

One of the two soldiers had disappeared, with the lieutenant still clutching his knee in the dirt below. Without hesitation, Bullseye lined up his shot with the other soldier, who was sprinting for one of the LMG's mounted on the ruined truck. As the man climbed into the truck, he squeezed the trigger, but an explosion from below shook the building and his bullet ricocheted off the metal truck, missing the Enclave soldier by inches. His caution in the mine had paid off at least, as he could hear the groan of the other soldier below. His window was lost however, as the gunner swiveled his weapon towards the building. With barely any time to react, Bullseye sprinted to the other side of the room, sliding over a metal desk and ungracefully dragging it with him down to the floor as the second story of the ancient building became a haze of death and lead. As he slammed into the ground, the thin metal of the desk his only protection, the glass he landed in was less then kind, slicing his face and driving into his side. Bullseye's groan was inaudible as bullet after bullet destroyed everything in the room.

Daniel began walking around the outside of the Dixie Pig towards the far corner from the radio tower. Once around the corner, he hugged the wall, and mentally prepared himself for-wait. Frag mines. Shit. They got sloppy though. There looked to be a gap large enough for him to walk through just a few metres from the wall. He backed up, and slowly went through. Daniel returned to the wall as soon as he wasn't blown up. Then he began preparing himself.

"Daniel, the Enclave is no longer, we're the last of it."

His father's words carried more meaning then he originally thought. He remembered his father and his team as pure, merciful soldiers, fighting for the restoration of the United States. These men just wanted to kill everyone in Tull. Not happening even if Earl had to be the last man standing.

Daniel's preparation was cut short when he heard yelling and gunshots, followed by an explosion. Not any explosion, the Dixie Pig blowing up. He had some fine memories in that place, sad to see it go. But it was time to work.

Daniel turned the corner, and mentally tagged a few of the "Enclave", They had not seen him yet, but that would end soon. Beams of red seemingly painted the night, and physical red was spilt. Daniel let out a war cry, and charged into the fray, firing his gatling laser at any usurper that popped into view.

Daniel watched Cat approach Earl, her elegance with her revolvers was something to be admired, she could shoot better then any of the boys. He was distracted for mere seconds, mere seconds was all it took for a single officer to take advantage of him. a 12 gauge shot pinged off of his chestplate. Daniel let off a small cry, and painted the man red. There was no physical damage on Daniel, the armor made sure of that, but he sure felt it.

Sal, check your PMs and edit your post please.

    The Lieutenant stared back at the woman and her shiner, the large revolver shaking much like his own hands. Her emerald eyes seemed to bore into his mind as his vision became hazy and his senses faltered. "You... pathetic... worm... You think... ...you haven't saved anyone. You.. think... you've changed any-"

    His words were cut short as the heirloom weapon fired. The bullet traveled past his ear and caused the dirt behind him to jump into the air, dust rising around them in the breeze. The Lieutenant held his left ear and squealed as blood began to drip slowly from inside it.

    "Last chance." Cat growled as she pulled the hammer back again with her thumb.

    Earl found his own revolver as his wound began to throb, then looked around the square with tired eyes. The Lieutenant grunted, but said nothing. Then, he began to laugh. The man knew he was bleeding out. He would never give these dirty wasteland muties what they wanted. Upon realizing the Lieutenant's decision to remain quiet, the woman took a step towards him and delivered a forceful boot heel to his nose. Falling backwards, he then stopped laughing and began whining and coughing.

    Popping out from a broken window, a trooper placed his sights on the loud woman who had booted his commander. As he readied for the shot, he was struck in the head by a magnum round. Earl allowed his weapon to hang limp by his side, smoke rising from the barrel.

    "Like fukin' radroaches..." the injured rebel said as he attempted to stand on his own. The pain had not fully set in yet, but soon it would be overwhelming. "Stay with us, asshole." he added in the Enclave Officer's direction. "Daniel, would yeh kindly give 'im a stimpak?"

    Cat turned her gaze to Earl and nodded. "Hurry or he'll bleed out. Bullseye got his knees." She shot a look back at the rickety, bullet ridden building across the square. "Earl, Daniel... find some cover and question him. An' be careful. Ah reckon there might be more o' them 'round Tull. I gotta find Bullseye."

    Earl nodded to the woman, having expected as much. "We'll be over at tha stable house. Hurry up." the rebel said with a wince as he looked to Daniel. "Bring him with us, Dan. We still need answers from him..." Earl concluded as he fished some healing powder out of his pocket and slapped the open paper over his wound. The hoped it would ease the bleeding until they reached the stables.




    Catherine ran painfully across the debris covered square of Tull, careful not to slip on the spent casings of the flaming, machine gun sporting truck. Glancing at the turret in the back as she passed, the corpse of the gunner was mutilated beyond recognition. The dynamite had ignited mere inches from his foot, and Cat felt a dark satisfaction as she left the wreckage behind her.

    As she reached Bullseye's chosen structure, the door was no longer necessary. A support beam had broken during the turret fire, causing a corner of the building to collapse inward. Stepping carefully across the rubble and into the first floor's main room, Cat called out for the mercenary. 

    "Bullseye?" she said, scanning the dusty gloom as she reloaded her weapon. "You better be alive." she added as she stepped slowly around a broken dining table. Catherine groaned as she spotted a corpse hanging from a hole in the ceiling of the first floor. As she approached the mutilated body the woman breathed a sigh of relief. The remains above her were that of an Enclave soldier. "Say somethin', pardner, so ah know yer not dead." Catherine said quietly as her swollen eye scanned the building for signs of access to the upper floor.

    A flaming wooden beam fell end over end from the roof high above, sailing through the hole in the first floor's ceiling and smashing down across the rubble behind Cat as she moved. The beam had been close enough that it had grazed her duster. Dust filled the first floor as the building groaned ominously. Hurry. her mind whispered over and over. Stumbling painfully over some furniture, cookery, and a broken bottle of Nuka-Cola, she found the damaged stairs.

    "Bullseye?" Cat repeated said as she hopped over a few broken steps and began ascending the leaning staircase. As she climbed the groaning steps, weapon in hands, her own vision began to dull. She was exhausted, bleeding from her wounds, inhaling too much smoke, and thoroughly battered. Hurry. she reminded herself, shaking her head back and forth in an attempt to stay awake. "Bullseye?"

    

     
    

"Daniel, would yeh kindly give 'im a stimpak?"

Daniel didn't agree with letting him live, not for long, at least. But if it helped them get some information on the fuckers, the fuckers that killed his family, then he'd gladly keep him alive.
Daniel stabbed the stimpak down above the man's knee, in the thigh.

"Hurry or he'll bleed out. Bullseye got his knees."
"Earl, Daniel... find some cover and question him. An' be careful. Ah reckon there might be more o' them 'round Tull. I gotta find Bullseye."

"Good luck."

"We'll be over at tha stable house. Hurry up." the rebel said with a wince as he looked to Daniel.
"Bring him with us, Dan. We still need answers from him..."

"Gladly."

Daniel lifted the Enclave Lieutenant over his shoulder, and assisted Earl in walking as fast as they could towards the stablehouse. He pushed the doors in, and then sat the Enclave Lieutenant on a stool. Dan looked back at Earl, checking on him.

"Do you want me to start interrogating?"

Dan grabbed a whip, a riding crop, and a rather large screwdriver. He sat them down on a table near the stool, and waited for the signal.