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

"I don't trust the woman," Martius said in a lower tone, once she had wandered out the door. "I do not think it wise to meet in private with one not of the Oregon Caesar's cause. She is armed and full of wiles to discover our secrets, as are all members of the female race," the big man continued, eyes still fixed on the spot where the woman had disappeared.

"The Oregon Caesar's Legion would be lessened without you," the Legionnaire cried suddenly, clapping the other man again upon the back. "The Oregon Caesar's forces cannot stand the blow of losing a valued centurion." The hulking man tapped the hilt of the machete at his hip for a moment before making up his mind.

"I shall go with you to the meeting," he said at last in a matter-of-fact tone. Someone had to be Earl's bodyguard from the dangerous wiles of the woman. Her feminine charms or something. It was a bit hard to really string it all together coherently, what with all the booze in his system. Still, his mind was made up. "I give you my word of honor, I shall remain silent during the meeting and not kill the woman... unless I have to."

"We are decided then! Let's go," Martius said, gesturing towards the exit and beginning to make his way in that direction, clearing a path for Earl.

Earl exited the Dixie Pig only to be greeted by an empty street. The woman in the duster was no where to be seen. An old man walked slowly across the dirt road, making his way to the ancient general store. A patch of devil grass swayed lazily in the wind.

"In here, Earl." the woman's voice called from a small house just round the corner. As Earl entered, he found an aging woman sitting on a rocking chair. Of course Earl knew of the woman. Her name was Marigold Haglock. Her husband has passed away a few years back, and she's been scratching out a living in Tull every since.

As Earl entered the dusty house, Marigold gave him a nearly toothless smile and a shrug. When the door began to swing closed, Catherine appeared behind it. The woman was leaning against the wall, a cigarette in her left hand. Her right hand hung limp, dangerously close to the handle of the heirloom gun.


"Earl Walker." she said with a gracious nod, sliding the deadbolt across the door frame. Catherine leaned her head slowly to the side and back, tossing her blonde hair behind her. The young woman's shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing her collar bones to the heat of the small house. They glistened with sweat, accenting the silver locket that hung from her neck. A thick bead of sweat ran down Carts temple, then her neck, before finally disappearing into the collar of her shirt.

"Hope you don't mind Mrs. Haglock sittin' in on this little palaver. She was gracious 'nuff to allow us tah speak here."

"Name's Cat Fyre. Reckon ah trekked a hundred miles tah find this place. Still got Mojave sand in mah boot to prove it." she said quietly, looking him over with a surreal calmness. "And you, well, ah didn't know who I was lookin' fer 'til I got here t'day. Awefully decent folks 'round here, s'far as ah can tell. They sure seem tah like you, Earl. Makes me wonder why yah risking all their lives starting a fight with the NCR and helping the Legion." Catherine practically spat the word out. She made no move to pull on Earl, waiting patiently for his reply as she leaned against the dirty wall.

Earls hand had been already lowered towards his own six gun before entering, and upon being trapped he almost drew. One thought stayed his hand, and Cat would notice his eyes shoot over to the old woman as his fingers twitched, itching to draw. He forced them to his sides, with considerable effort, and began to sweat. "You've got a cheap way of palavering ma'am. I come here without any men, and you trap me in here."

He undid the straps of his holsters, slowly so she could see what he was doing, and then tossed them to the ground. "I ain't going to fight you in here, not with an old woman who used to watch me play catch with a few other boys watching where she could be put in the line of fire. But ah'll remember this one..."

"As fer why I'm doing this? Because we have to. The NCR's left us no choice. They send their troops here in force, with rifles at the ready....all because we don't want to lose our land to some well dressed men from the west with armed bands of men enforcing their will. If we don't sell, they burn our crops, run off cattle, beat up men and women. Only a few days ago my brother in law took a fist to the face from some barons armed guard. And you think the -NCR- stops that? They -let- it happen. They then rush in troops and call us rebels when we resist, kill men and women who did nothing but fight for what was theirs, and you're asking -me- why I'm fighting?"

He had an incredulous look at her last question, "The Legion? You been listenin' to Martius? He's some washed up Legion deserter we think. Ended up here one day and started claiming that the leader of this here revolt, whoever they are, is the 'Oregon Caesar'. If we didn't need all the help we could get, he'd probably have been sent packing as a loon. We ain't helping the Legion though. Don't even know much about the Legion besides what Martius has taught us and what the NCR propaganda says. Who you think the boys are more likely to listen to? The feller fighting and sweating out there with 'em? Or the fellers we're shooting at?"

Earl shook his head, "I wouldn't expect some mercenary to get any o' this though. My Pa was killed, NCR did nothing. My Pa's land was stolen -twice-. NCR did nothing. This is about family. The family of the men and women gettin' taken from their homes to fight for the same government that allows their wealthiest citizens to take all the land for themselves from the people they seek to rule."

Earl finished his little speech, pulling off his hat and revealing the ragged brown, perhaps black, hair that was on his skull. He appeared healthier in the dim light rather than the scorching sun. Hard eyes stared at her, seeming to be almost slits from his glare. The light reflected off the well preserved revolvers that Earl carried with him, those that were now resting in their holsters on the floor.

"You got tha merc part right, Earl. And let me say, all modesty ahside, an expensive one. People who are serious 'bout their business hire me, Earl. And mah current employer is ah very serious man. If by chance ah wouldn't get the job done, he'd just send more. And even if they don't get the job done, eventually the NCR is gunna roll into town with murder in their hearts and full support of many folks in tha southern region. I know yah don't want these folks in Tull gettin' hurt, Earl, and neither do I if ah can help it."

Earl blinked at this, folding his arms as he listened. He heard the calm in her voice, and thought she might be speaking truely. His eyes narrowed at her next phrase, raising a brow. Knowing it was true, but, knowing something else as well. He kept his silence however, she had let him say his piece, he would let her say hers.

When she finished, and began to leave, Earl tipped his hat silently back at her, grabbing his holsters and starting to strap the guns back tohimself. Their weight was a great comfort to the man. He had been disarmed, and backed into a corner and had been

Defenseless. She could have shot me right there, and would have probably been able to fight her way out of town completely.

He sighed, walking out the door after saying his goodbyes to the Old Miss, and looking for Martius. "Martius. You can come out now, she's gone."

[[Posted so Talon can respond]]

Catherine walked down the dirt road slowly, her gun bouncing off her hip. She had to keep a clear mind, and Cat knew how dangerous the situation in Tull could get if her plan backfired.

It hand't taken long to get to the abandoned office building. Cat studied the ruin, and for a minute or two only the patches of devil grass moved in the wind. The woman was exhausted, having made it nearly five hundred miles from the Mojave to Tull. She had lost track of the time. Feeling satisfied with her assessment of the building's exterior, she walked inside slowly.

It was uninhabited. Catherine took a long drink from the bottle of water in her pack, then inspected the structure. She poked around for any unscavenged supplies. Finding a chair in one of the offices, Catherine then propped her boots up on the desk and pulled the revolver that had belonged to Vigo Fyre. She soon fell asleep, gun aimed at the closed door.

[[Talon, since Meta posted before me on accidnet, it's your post.

3 days prior, beyond the Oregon border south of Tull....

Bullseye crested the hill, his torn clothes fluttering in the wind. He'd left his raider armor in a hollowed rock by a creek where he'd washed out the blood some days ago. The abraxo cleaner still made his skin itch, and the wind stung his raw skin, but at least the burning had stopped. He'd cut his red hair almost down to the scalp, and with the sun bearing down on him now he regretted it.

In the distance, he saw what looked to be a trader traveling with a Brahmin and a guard. It took him two hours to catch the man, for which he received a warm welcome of rifles trained on his head. He held his hands up, a bag of caps jingling on the right. "So much for the northern hospitality I've been hearing about."

"You look like you been in the waste a while there stranger. No tellin' what a man like that'll do."

"Gambled the clothes off my back in New Vegas, wife left me for my gambling problem.... And her new husband ran me out of town..." It was a complete fabrication, but the scavenger and guard put their weapons down.

After a short while, he'd negotiated for a rucksack and some food and water for the caps he had, and while the merchant was counting them out, he began turning one of the caps over in his head. "How about.... How about a bet."

The scavenger stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder, and Bullseye could see the greed in his eyes. "You don't have any more caps friend."

Bullseye frowned, then fingered one of his pistols. "How about... If I lose. You get one of my pistols. If I win I keep the caps."

"What's the bet?"

"I bet that if you throw a cap in the air, I can shoot it before it hits the ground. No drawing my gun until you throw it?"

"Three caps. And if you lose I get both pistols?"

Bullseye did his best to look conflicted, scratching his head. "I can't shoot three caps... That's crazy. No one can do that."

"That's the bet. And I'll throw in some decent clothes. Got a good shirt and pair of pants in the pack."

"I... I... Uhh.... Shit alright."

Bullseye set himself while the scavenger pulled three caps, confident as could be. Even the guard looked amused. They both assumed that they'd pulled a fast one on a haggard gambler with no self control. The scavenger laughed, and with a swing of his arms threw the caps high into the air, sun glinting off the painted metal. Both their eyes followed the caps.

Bullseye's gun left his holster as soon as the caps left his mans hand, and in a flash the gun fired. And then a second time, and then a third. The caps fell to the ground, untouched. The scavenger and his guard were not so lucky. The first bullet had taken the guard square in the back of his head, blowing out his eye and leaving his face a bloody mess. The second went through the scavengers chest, collapsing his lung, and the third blew out his shoulder, rendering his gun arm useless. The scavenger fell to the ground, gasping for breath, and bullseye spun his pistol in his hand before sliding it into his holster.

He pulled out the caps and tossed them at the scavenger, landing on his chest as blood spewed form his mouth. "Well. Looks like you won the bet. Shame. I don't think you'll be needing this caps anymore."

Bullseye knelt beside the man, pulling out the scavengers combat knife an picking at the edge with his thumb, testing the sharpness. Without a word, he drew his knife across the scavengers neck, and he gurgled one last time as the blood drained from his body.....