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Post by Endicott on Dec 7, 2013 19:58:10 GMT -5
The Dixie Pig was quiet today. Abe was drinking shots of Scotch solemnly by himself, his custom-tuned shotgun placed beside him. From the Jukebox, "If I didn't care" by the Ink Spots was being played. It brought a tear to Abe's eye.. his Ma had always loved that song.
'You're getting soft, man. Quit it.'
An NCR recruit wandered in, looking lost and green. Abe ignored him, and the trooper did the same. He had probably heard about the various brawls his buddies had gotten in with Abe and the crew. Abe wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and stood up, walking over to the bar.
"Put it on my tab", he murmured drunkenly to the bar tender
"That's 62 caps, Abe. If you don't pay up soon, I'm gonna'-..."
Abe cut him off.
"You're gonna' what?" he snapped.
"I'm... nothing"
"First time you been right all day" he chuckled as he left.
He stumbled outside, shotgun in hand and looked at Earl. A drunken smile of confusion and blind love appeared on his face.
"If it ain't my faaaaavour-it' newphew!" he screeched, slurring and spitting all the while. He stumbled towards Earl and placed his arms around him, hiccuping and wobbling.
"I know I don't.. *hic* don't say it 'ften enough, but I love ya' boy.."
He began weeping, hearing the rest of "If I didn't care" quietly drift off before the news report. He let go of Earl, and smiled as if waiting for something.
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Post by GuardsGhost on Dec 7, 2013 20:16:34 GMT -5
[[Talon, we're skipping you for the night. Posting order will be this when you get back on to post: Me->Meta->Immortal->Endicott->Sal->TalonBirdy]]
Earl turned away from the Legionnaire threatening him quite blatantly to his uncle approaching. He gave a slight smile, mixed with a grimace. The smile at the sight of one of the biggest influences of his life, and the grimace at the fact that he was currently staggering around drunk.
"Hey Uncle. Good drinking at the Pig?" He grunted as the arm came around his shoulders, "Yeah, yeah Uncle Abe. I love ya too. I know you do."
He eyed the man out of the corner of his eyes, now supporting him. "Want some water uncle? Help you sober up?" Due to all the distractions, he was unable to figure out where Cat had gone.
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Dec 7, 2013 21:12:44 GMT -5
Catherine Fyre awoke to the sound of breaking glass. The Sequoia jumped from her lap and aimed at the door, but after a few seconds Cat regained her senses. It seemed that whoever was inside the abandoned office building did not know she was there. Yet.
Rising from the ancient leather chair quietly, the woman brushed the dust and grime from her back. Cat stretched slowly and then relieved herself of the wedgie that had formed as she slept with her boots on the desk. Popping her back with a quiet sigh, Cat listened to the sound of more breaking glass from a nearby room.
Moving to the door, the gunslinger stood before it and raised an eyebrow. Producing a small, dirty can from her pack, Catherine dripped motor oil onto the rusty hinges of the ancient door. After a moment, she opened it silently. It did not make a sound.
Catherine stood in the debris filled hallway, watching Bullseye from the shadows. His back had been turned to her, fortunately. He looked... different. Her gut told Cat that this man was from the Mojave. After a few moments of studying the man's skill with the throwing knives ( which she thought might match her own ), Catherine spoke.
"Hey there, handsome." She said. As Bullseye turned, he would find a .44 magnum aimed at his chest. He would recognize the weapon as one possessed only by the NCR elite. Behind it stood the woman in the weathered duster, hat casting just enough shadow to hide her eyes. A smirk crept across her face. "Easy, now. No sudden movemunts. ...Who are ye?" she asked in a low voice, using her free hand to pull the unruly blonde hair behind her back and out of her way.
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ShockHelix
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Post by ShockHelix on Dec 7, 2013 21:51:45 GMT -5
"Hey there, handsome."
Bullseye was taken by surprise by the voice behind him, focused on destroying the bottles on the shelf. The broken glass of the window was dirty, but he could make out the distinctive shape of a gun in the reflection. He turned slowly, keeping the knife in his hands still and pointing backwards, so she wouldn't think he intended to throw it at her. "Easy, now. No sudden movemunts. ...Who are ye?"
He copied her style of speech, much preferring it to the raider talk he had become accustomed to. "My apologies miss. Thought this buildin' were empty. M'name's Bullseye, or so far as ma friends is concerned." He studied the pistol for a moment, a revolver that looked suspiciously like one a certain sergeant had been carrying.
"Tha's a nice revolver ya got there ma'am. Looks an awful lot like a friend o' mines back in the Mojave. Sergeant Hatfield by name. Good fella. I don't reckon your NCR to is ya? Might' save me a lot o' trouble. So watcha' say ya put that gun down 'n we talk this out like decent folk." If not he might have to kill her, so he shot her the most trusting and innocent look he could muster. It would be a shame to mar such a pretty face, and he didn't feel like wasting a stimpak on such a pointless bullet wound.
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Post by Endicott on Dec 7, 2013 22:32:53 GMT -5
"I think that's a *hick*... a good idea" Abe slurred.
Presumably, Abe and Earl then went to fetch some water for him in an attempt to sober him up. Several bottles of water later, Abe (although still intoxicated) seemed to be a little more coherent and aware.
"Alright, boy... anythang' we gotta' do today?" Abe asked with reluctance.
While Abe awaited an answer, he removed a cigar from his pocket and lit it with his cigarette lighter. After a few drags, he began coughing and eventually just stubbed out the rest on the ground.
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Post by GuardsGhost on Dec 7, 2013 23:15:32 GMT -5
Earl had simply taken him to the Dixie Pig, saying hello to Carl and ordering some water. Carl poured him without charging much. Though Cat had not mentioned it, Carl was infact a Devil sympathizer. He gave them free drinks, and they kept the NCR from messing with his saloon too much.
After the water, Earl pat Abe on the back, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Nope Uncle sir, you missed all the fun earlier today. We grabbed ourselves a few NCR rifles and some ammunition and supplies. Should allow us to rely on the town a bit less, which is good. Don't want to bring the NCR down on Tull after all. The bleedin' bastards'd do it when we were outta town, come in, shoot up the place, leave." He spat to the side, hitting a dry piece of dirt and refreshing it for exactly half a second.
He'd dig into his pockets, pulling out a Coyote 'baccy chewing leaf, and sticking it into his mouth, beginning to chew on it. "There's a stranger in town. Girl, Cat Fyre. Wants to get us to talk to the NCR. I'm thinkin' about hearin' her out. She's a tough one." This last bit said with a hint of respect, "made of steel seems like. Seems she also genuinely wants to help out. I think she's bein' naive though. Thinks talking will solve this problem. But, outta respect, I'll palaver again with her."
He paused, considering something as he chewed. "Yep. Palaver a second time. I want you there though. Last time, she locked me up and made it clear she would shoot me if I didn't tell her something. So, I'd prefer a little assurance with me, you sober enough to shoot straight Uncle if things go to hell?" He asked, beginning to walk towards the abandoned house at an easy walk, thumbs hitched into the belt of his outfit. He had long ago removed the bandoleer, and was now just wearing the blue and white shirt, tan pants, and brown cowboy boots that made up his outfit. Clearly visible as always however, were the six-guns of a cold blue steel, brown butts sticking out from the holster within easy reach. Across his belt rested some spare ammunition for them, and Abe would know that his nephew knew how to use them, say thankya.
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Dec 8, 2013 0:07:18 GMT -5
"My apologies miss. Thought this buildin' were empty. M'name's Bullseye, or so far as ma friends is concerned." Cat noticed the man studying her revolver. He knows what it is. she thought to herself. Most folks have never lived to see a Sequoia and tell the tale.
"Tha's a nice revolver ya got there ma'am. Looks an awful lot like a friend o' mines back in the Mojave. Sergeant Hatfield by name. Good fella. I don't reckon your NCR to is ya? Might' save me a lot o' trouble. So watcha' say ya put that gun down 'n we talk this out like decent folk."
"We'll talkh jus' like we are, mistah Bullseye." she said in her country drawl. It was clear that the woman was all business, despite her calmness. Her body language gave her away, standing with her knees slightly bent and her right boot farther back than her left."And ah ain't NCR. Burned that bridge long ago, I reckon." she said with a hint of remorse. There was obviously a long story there. "Ah ain't a rebel, neither, if that's whut yer thinkin'." she continued, careful to keep the gun trained on his heart. "Mojave gal, born n' raised. But 'nough 'bout little 'ol me, let's talk 'bout you." she continued with a coy smile.
"This gun in mah hand, sir, is a Ranger Sequoia. I acquired it honestly, before yah ask. And Sgt. Hatfield, yah say? Can't say ah 'member him. What're yah doin' in Tull, Mistah Bullseye? Mojave's a long way from here." The woman said slowly, taking a cautious step towards him. The light peeking through the boarded windows illuminated her face just enough to show the man her blazing green eyes and a few light freckles. Although her clothes were the likes of which a ranger man might wear ( and once did, in truth. ), there was a very feminine quality about her. Despite her best efforts to subdue it. Catherine never learned how to be a girl. Only a killer.
"C'mon now. I won't bite. And neither will tha Sequoia, 'less you make ah move fer that pistol or one o' them knives. I don't mean yah no harm, stranger. Just curious as tah why another out-lander 'sides myself is here..." Bullseye would have noticed her own collection of throwing knives hanging from the left side of her belt. They looked to be of fine quality. Catherine narrowed her eyes, unsure if the man was looking at her knives or her crotch. She decided she didn't care, so long as she got the answers she needed.
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ShockHelix
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Post by ShockHelix on Dec 8, 2013 0:30:30 GMT -5
Bullseye slowly lowered his hands, motioning to his belt then slipping the knife back in place before crossing his arms. "Well miss, I'm'a trust ya, seein' as you got me at gunpoint. 'Fraid I still didn't catch'ya name. But since ya curious n' all, and you say you ain't no rebel. Mista' Hatfield hired me and a number o' other mercenaries come on up here and try and deal with this little rebellion. Brahmin Barons hired a few themselves from what he told me. Now I ain't partial to neither mind you, but a lass like yourself might do well to get out o' town."
He turned his back, growing more at ease since she hadn't shot him yet. He slowly cleared off the old bottles on the rotting cabinet before grabbing more bottles off the ground, placing them atop the wood while he talked. "Afraid this place 'bout to 'come a warzone, whatever them NCR Folk say. I can see ya partial to 'em, so I figure ya know what I'm talkin' about. Sendin' a bunch o' mercs up here just gonna stir the cookpot. They're just lookin' for an excuse to ride on up here in force."
He finished setting a tenth bottle on the dresser, then turned to face the stranger again, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "'Mojave girl born and raised....' You a ways from home yerself missy. What's a firecracker like you doing in a town like this?"
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Salvahkiin
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My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
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Post by Salvahkiin on Dec 8, 2013 0:42:42 GMT -5
Daniel tossed and turned in bed, unsure on what to do. He rose from the cot, and walked to the armory, and stared at his father's armor, and then he got into it, very carefully and slowly. Daniel also grabbed his hunting rifle, and walked out of the bunker, and sealed it. He began the trudge back to Tull. The town was great, not like the peace and quiet of the bunker, he saw Earl, Martius and Abe walking, he stood behind them.
"Earl, Martius, Abe."
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Dec 8, 2013 1:46:16 GMT -5
"Well miss, I'm'a trust ya, seein' as you got me at gunpoint. 'Fraid I still didn't catch'ya name. But since ya curious n' all, and you say you ain't no rebel. Mista' Hatfield hired me and a number o' other mercenaries come on up here and try and deal with this little rebellion. Brahmin Barons hired a few themselves from what he told me. Now I ain't partial to neither mind you, but a lass like yourself might do well to get out o' town."
He turned his back, growing more at ease since she hadn't shot him yet. He slowly cleared off the old bottles on the rotting cabinet before grabbing more bottles off the ground, placing them atop the wood while he talked. "Afraid this place 'bout to 'come a warzone, whatever them NCR Folk say. I can see ya partial to 'em, so I figure ya know what I'm talkin' about. Sendin' a bunch o' mercs up here just gonna stir the cookpot. They're just lookin' for an excuse to ride on up here in force."
He finished setting a tenth bottle on the dresser, then turned to face the stranger again, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "'Mojave girl born and raised....' You a ways from home yerself missy. What's a firecracker like you doing in a town like this?"
Catherine Fyre shifted her weight to the other hip, obviously thinking about the man before her and his motives. The heirloom weapon was steady in her hand. Had they met in another area of the Wasteland, Cat would have showed him her skills with the big irons, obliterating the ten bottles and the wall behind them with the same weapon that had "settled" the Mojave. But this was not the place to show off. Hell, folks in Tull would hear those cannons blasting even with the ruined office being so far south. And they would come with guns of their own. Shit, Cat. The hell you care to impress the guy fer? Get yer head on straight, girl. she mentally scolded herself.
"Catherine. Catherine Fyre." she woman replied. For some, the name had great meaning. For many, it had been the last name they had ever heard. She was one of the most recognized and notorious guns for hire in the Mojave Wasteland.
"If yah knew me, mistah Bullseye, you'd know that leavin' jus' ain't gonna be an option for me, no more than it would be an option fer yerself." the woman added, tossing her hair to the other side of her back with a slow jerk of her neck.
"And ah reckon ah ain't partial to the NCR. Just the Rangers. But do yah blame me? Was a Ranger's hand whut saved mah dying mother from the Legion. And it was a pair of Rangers who saved me from becoming a damn mindless whore in the Gomorrah, then taught me jus about everything ah know today. So, Mista Bullseye, I ain't a NCR gun working the lines, I just have a certain respect for the Desert Rangers of the NCR." she finished. "My only allegiance is to mahself and the money." She explained in a soothing, calm tone.
"And mah business in Tull is work related, thank yah kindly. I'm one of those other mercs, mistah Bullseye. Hired tah trek mah skinny ass ah few hundred miles intah the middle of hell's half-acre to find a man and take care of some substantial grievances. But enough 'bout my work. Let's talk 'bout yers." Cat said, giving him a friendly smile while still pointing the magnum at his heart.
"How are you going to deal with the rebellion?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.
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ShockHelix
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Post by ShockHelix on Dec 8, 2013 2:26:11 GMT -5
Bullseye let her finish talking, then ignored her question, grinning like a handsome fool for all he was worth. "Well, I'll be damned. So yer Cat Fyre. Hatfield warned me 'bout ya. Told me you might be up here. Called ya a Blonde Widow. Personally I don't see it. This 'bout the most rousing conversation I had in weeks, beg ya pardon."
He laughed a bit, moving off the wall and looking out the window to the street. "Well miss Fyre, I reckon I figured I'd kill that Walker fella' - sure you heard o' him. But the more I been thinkin' 'bout it, more I think it ain't a good idea. Yesterday I heard talk they workin' with legion fella's, and any man willin' to go that low needs to be put down. But I reckon in the right way. You take out the leader, things just gonna get worse."
" 'Stead o' comin' a corpse, he'd become a martyr. Don't matter who kilt 'im. I know we gettin' paid, but s'far as I see it, just ain't no way we can do nothin' bout it at this point. NCR jumpin' at shadows, locals workin' with the legion. You mark my words miss Fyre. All they wanna do is shoot each other. All anyone ever wants to do is shoot someone."
He eyed the barrel, she still had yet to lower it, and approached her with crossed arms. "Now you still got that gun on me, ya wanna shoot me? Ain't done nothin to ya ma'am. We workin' the same job here, so how abouts I make you a little wager. I'll go stand by that wall over there, so a you can see me" he said, motioning to the wall next to the rotting cabinet. "You take out 5 bottles, with as few knives as ya can. I'll lend ya mine if you use all six o' yours. Person who does it with the least number of knives wins. If I win, you put that gun away, I'll get us some whiskey out my sack, and you can tell me what makes a pretty thing like you take up mercenary work. If you win, I'll grab my things and get out, and hopefully solve your little revolution problem without you needin' lift a finger."
He eyed her waist and the knives upon it blatantly, "Choice is yours miss Fyre, though I'd prefer we work together since we gonna be tryin'a get the same goal anyway."
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Dec 8, 2013 4:15:50 GMT -5
"Well miss Fyre, I reckon I figured I'd kill that Walker fella' ..." No. She couldn't let him kill Earl. Earl was the piece she needed to solve the puzzle. Cat needed Earl alive. "- sure you heard o' him. But the more I been thinkin' 'bout it, more I think it ain't a good idea. Yesterday I heard talk they workin' with legion fella's, and any man willin' to go that low needs to be put down. But I reckon in the right way. You take out the leader, things just gonna get worse."[/i]
" 'Stead o' comin' a corpse, he'd become a martyr. Don't matter who kilt 'im. I know we gettin' paid, but s'far as I see it, just ain't no way we can do nothin' bout it at this point. NCR jumpin' at shadows, locals workin' with the legion. You mark my words miss Fyre. All they wanna do is shoot each other. All anyone ever wants to do is shoot someone." Catherine did not respond, but in her heart she knew he spoke the truth. All these people wanted to do was kill each other.
He eyed the barrel, she still had yet to lower it, and approached her with crossed arms. "Now you still got that gun on me, ya wanna shoot me? Ain't done nothin to ya ma'am. We workin' the same job here, so how abouts I make you a little wager. I'll go stand by that wall over there, so a you can see me" he said, motioning to the wall next to the rotting cabinet. "You take out 5 bottles, with as few knives as ya can. I'll lend ya mine if you use all six o' yours. Person who does it with the least number of knives wins. If I win, you put that gun away, I'll get us some whiskey out my sack, and you can tell me what makes a pretty thing like you take up mercenary work. If you win, I'll grab my things and get out, and hopefully solve your little revolution problem without you needin' lift a finger."
He eyed her waist and the knives upon it blatantly, "Choice is yours miss Fyre, though I'd prefer we work together since we gonna be tryin'a get the same goal anyway."
"Well ain't you a punga?" Cat said quietly, her green eyes trying to pierce his own. "Alright then. A pissin' match it is. Git over by that cabinet whur I can leep an eye on ye." she said, motioning to the cabinet near the bottles with the stainless steel barrel.
Catherine Fyre watched the mercenary named Bullseye walk over beside the cabinet. "Stand straight, I don't want ye tryin' anything funny." Cat said gruffly. She waited until Bullseye had stood against the wall before using her left hand to draw one of Rico Fyre's throwing blades. The weight was comforting to her hand, but the memories it brought back were not so kind to her heart.
"I want yah to listen tah me very care-full-y." Cat said slowly, the magnum at her hip but still pointing at Bullseye. "Don't move."
With a twist of her left forearm and wrist the first blade sang through the dusty air, stopping deep in the wood beside Bullseye's right ear. The second blade stopped just above his right ear, A third blade stuck in the wood above Bullseye's head. Had he not cut most of his hair away days ago, it would have taken some. The fourth blade landed heavily in the wood, millimeters below Bullseye's privates. Catherine did not pull the fifth or sixth blades. They were not the same make as the first four, and she did not trust them here.
Walking towards the man, Cat Fyre spun the heavy magnum dexterously around her fingers before dropping it into her holster. She approached Bullseye slowly, a genuine smile across her face, The woman tipped the brim of her hat up so that he may get a better look at her eyes,
"I showed you my throwin' arm, and you showed me yer guts by not pissin' yerself, whimperin', or panickin'. Good 'nuff fer me. We ain't got much time as it is..." Cat stood in front of Bullseye, staring into his eyes. Of course he was upset, but Cat began pulling the blades from the wood around his head anyway. Cat then grasped the blade between his legs, giving him another coy smirk before pulling it gently free. She attempted to disguise her amusement over the entire episode without succeeding. The woman then spoke is a soft, sultry tone"And I watched yah from the hall for a while before I spoke, Bullseye. I already know how good ye are with yer knives. Now that the foreplay's over, we have alot to discuss concernin' our friend Earl... so how 'bout that drink?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
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ShockHelix
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Post by ShockHelix on Dec 8, 2013 15:16:30 GMT -5
Bullseye walked over to the cabinet , folded his arms, and stood up straight. Something in her voice told him he wasn't going to like what came next- a knife thudded into the wall next to him, and he grew as cold as stone. That dumb bitch! he thought. The second knife embedded itself in the wall, and he raged inside. He barely noticed the third knife. I'm gonna take one of her fuckin' knives, and shove it so far up that stupid blonde's.... He took a deep breath and calmed himself, realizing what was happening. This was a stunt Bullseye would pull himself, and actually had on an occasion. As she approached, he stared right back at her, the flames of anger in his eyes slowly being replaced by amusement. Blonde Widow indeed. The smirk she gave him had him smirking right back. Might actually enjoy this.[/]
"So how 'bout that drink?"
Bullseye laughed, brushing past her and heading for his rucksack. "Why miss Fyre, I believe the foreplay's just startin'." He opened the rucksack up, taking out two of the old glasses and setting them on a desk, before grabbing the bottle of whiskey out of his bag. "You certainly is a little firecracker ain't ya? I think you n' I might actually git along." He pulled out one of throwing knives slowly as not to alarm her, then placed it on the side of glass bottle of whiskey and slid up in a quit motion, popping off the cork that held the liquid inside.
"As for that Earl fella', well, way I hear it, gonna have to think outside the vault. He's admired, but he's makin' missteps. Heard something about crucifixions them Legion feller's so fond of. All we gotta do is.... Push things in the right direction." He poured them both whiskey into the glass, them set down the bottle on desk and pointed the knife at the bottles. With a flick of his risk, the knife flew from his finger tips and embedded itself into the rotting wood, making a creak as the rotting cabinet shuddered and it's leg bent inwards. He raised his glass to clink it with Cat's, then took a long drink.
"Now, I only see three options. As much as he seems to be in charge o' this little rebellion, I keep hearin' stories. Some goddamn Oregon Caesar, a NCR Lieutenant gone rogue. Hell I even heard one about it all be run by some Enclave feller what want revenge on the NCR. Problem is, if Earl ain't actually in charge, ain't gonna stop the rebellion. So we gotta convince him somehow to convince whoever his boss is that this little rebellion ain't worth it. 'Course, what I hear, I don't reckon he' go for it. Workin' with Legion fella's and what have you."
"Second option, is we spread some rumors, start turnin' everyone against the rebellion. They already done crucified some poor folk, and shootin' kid soldiers out on their first run. But, if they ain't gonna turn at Legion, I don't know what they'll turn at. Hopefully keep the bloodshed low."
"Last option, and well, way I see it the best one. NCR needs a reason to roll in here and just put 'em down. I ain't partial to the NCR myself, and truth be told I ain't sure this little rebellion ain't such a bad thing...." He trailed off at a creak of wood, and the whole cabinet began clattering to the ground as the leg gave way, toppling to the ground, all ten bottles shattering with their impact on the floor. His knife stuck out of the wreckage as he poured them another drink, and he grinned mischievously. "You give 'em a reason. Give the NCR some way to come clean up. They already want to shoot each other. We give 'em a reason to hate each other, and we can sit back and watch while your ranger buddies roll in and do what they do best. We just gotta' find the right place to bury our knife, if ya catch my meaning." He eyed the broken cabinet on the ground, and grinned.
"Ain't none o' these folks know what it was like in the Mojave. Ain't none of 'em ever seen a real war. Mark my words miss Fyre, you show 'em a real war, and they'll fall in line like every other territory in the NCR. No one ever wants a war Cat. They just don't know it 'til it starts."
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Dec 8, 2013 16:26:21 GMT -5
Bullseye laughed, brushing past her and heading for his rucksack. "Why miss Fyre, I believe the foreplay's just startin'." He opened the rucksack up, taking out two of the old glasses and setting them on a desk, before grabbing the bottle of whiskey out of his bag. "You certainly is a little firecracker ain't ya? I think you n' I might actually git along." He pulled out one of throwing knives slowly as not to alarm her, then placed it on the side of glass bottle of whiskey and slid up in a quit motion, popping off the cork that held the liquid inside.
She spun a rotting wooden char around, sitting in it reversely with her legs on either side of the backing. As he handed Cat her drink, they knocked glasses together amiably. Catherine though they might get along as well, but the woman said no such thing. There was something about him that still made her uneasy, despite the growing fondness she possessed for him already.
Bullseye continued by explaining the rumors he had heard so far concerning the Oregon Devils and the uprising. He went on to outline his thoughts on a few different ways to handle the situation, talking to Catherine as if they had known eachother for a long time. Cat mused to herself how Bullseye seemed like someone she had known long ago. The thought helped her relax, along with the whiskey. As he sent his own blade into the rotting leg of the cabinet, she smirked.
"Yeah, ah already met tha Legion mutt workin' with Earl. Call's 'imself Martius. Prick's a real dandy. Ah got a bullet with his name on it, if yah don't mind me sayin'." Catherine replied at the mention of Earl's Legion contact. It was clear there was no part of the woman that cared for the Legion or Martius.
"Second option, is we spread some rumors, start turnin' everyone against the rebellion. They already done crucified some poor folk, and shootin' kid soldiers out on their first run. But, if they ain't gonna turn at Legion, I don't know what they'll turn at. Hopefully keep the bloodshed low." Bullseye continued, drink in hand.
"Yessir. Might work. Folks down south already be snortin' about these damn fools killing NCR men and Barons like a bunch o' damn crazy muties. People 'round here don't like the NCR neither, but ah ain't so sure they support working with the Legion or outright murder. Really workin' them troops over, from what I heard. Body parts erywhere. One or more of these rebels is a few Mentats shy of a full tin, if yah know what ah mean." Catherine replied while taking another swill of the whiskey. She cleared her throat quietly, effectively masking her cringe at the burn.
"Last option, and well, way I see it the best one. NCR needs a reason to roll in here and just put 'em down. I ain't partial to the NCR myself, and truth be told I ain't sure this little rebellion ain't such a bad thing...." He trailed off at a creak of wood, and the whole cabinet began clattering to the ground as the leg gave way, toppling to the ground, all ten bottles shattering with their impact on the floor. His knife stuck out of the wreckage as he poured them another drink, and he grinned mischievously. "You give 'em a reason. Give the NCR some way to come clean up. They already want to shoot each other. We give 'em a reason to hate each other, and we can sit back and watch while your ranger buddies roll in and do what they do best. We just gotta' find the right place to bury our knife, if ya catch my meaning." He eyed the broken cabinet on the ground, and grinned.
Catherine Fyre had caught the man's meaning. And the knife in the support had been a good visualization. She gave him a slow nod of approval, slightly impressed by his demonstration using the cabinet as the rebellion example. Clever indeed. He was as trig a man as she had ever met, Cat guessed. She would need to keep an eye on him. And that's it. The merc was dangerous to Cat in more than one way, even though it hurt her pride to admit it.
"Ain't none o' these folks know what it was like in the Mojave. Ain't none of 'em ever seen a real war. Mark my words miss Fyre, you show 'em a real war, and they'll fall in line like every other territory in the NCR. No one ever wants a war Cat. They just don't know it 'til it starts."
"So yer tellin' me yah want to start the war to end it?" She asked, licking the whiskey from her teeth. "That's quite a stretch there, mistah Bullseye. And ah need Earl alive, fer know." she added, thinking of all the ways it could backfire. "How would yah prahpose would we do this, then?"
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Post by GuardsGhost on Dec 8, 2013 16:32:06 GMT -5
[[Alright folks, Posting Order is now this: Me->Immortal->Meta->Endi->Sal->Talon (post when you can), posting order is as fluid as always, but we're going to stick to this for a bit]]
Earl turned around and saw Daniel. He blinked. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and squinted. Then he blinked again. Finally, after a few seconds of just shocked silence, he spoke. "Daniel....what the flying fuck are you wearing?" He just looked....confused. It was obvious he had no idea what Daniel was wearing, what it symbolized, or what it even was. Just some scary black armor as far as Earl was concerned.
Earl started to say something else, but then froze as the sound of knives thunking into wood was heard. He turned to the abandoned house where Cat was staying at and drew his revolver. He stared, waiting for some other noise, but heard none, shrugging. "I'm gonna go up there and talk to Cat. You boys wanna come? Dan, I'll fill you in on our way u-"
What he was saying was cut off by a sudden shout, "NCR APPROACHING TOWN!"
Earl whirled around to the direction of the sound, and sure enough, a dust cloud was approaching. Something was heading towards Tull, and quickly. Earl squinted underneath his hat against the sun, and then his eyes went wide at what he saw. A truck. An old national guard truck repainted tan with the bear of the Republic on it was heading their way. On the top of the hood rested the flag of the Republic, tied to the hood. The normally open back had been covered in metal plate to the best of it's ability, increasing the defense. In the back, sitting down or standing up on the two machine guns on either side were NCR Troopers. 24 of them squished together. On either side of the truck, on foot, were 24 other troopers. They were all equipped with the standard issue service rifle of the NCR, and had the M1 Casa styled helmets on their head rather than the typical soup bowl helmet. Puttee's stomped into the dirt as they marched, tan cloth wrapped around their mouths and noses to keep out the dust from the truck.
"Shit." Earl muttered. Already, a few of the Devils in town were getting themselves holed up near windows. Most of them were in the saloon/ People in the street had paused what they were doing to watch the NCR approach. "This is about to get bad. Daniel, get the fuck somewhere they won't see you in all that. Uncle, stick with me." Earl ordered, "Martius go with Dan. I have a feeling the NCR isn't here to palaver." The engine of the truck roared closer as it past the first few buildings in town. Already, NCR Troopers were hopping off and knocking on the first few doors of the first few buildings, demanding questions and keeping their rifles trained on people. After a minute, it'd become clear as to what they were doing.
They were disarming people. They were asking questions. Already, a group of people had been rounded up towards the truck, and were being questioned by a Sergeant with two guards, both of these armed with the 'Grease Gun' 9MM submachine gun.
Earl slipped into the abandoned house, into cover, revolver held by his side as he waited. Could be worse. They're just asking questions. So long as nobody does anything stupid we'll be fine. He repeated this to himself under his breath, pulling Abraham into the abandoned house with him. One hunter was giving an NCR trooper a hard time about handing over his bolt action rifle. And who was to blame him?
"Now listen 'ere soldier boy! I need this rifle! I go hunting! I provide meat for Carl Sanders over there at the Pig. If youtake away my rifle, I can't go huntin'. If I can't go huntin', I don't get paid. If I can't get paid, I can't feed my family! Even if I don't get paid, I can at least hunt with the rifle and bring in some food fer 'em. I don't have any other weapons, just this rifle!" The man looked to be in his fourties, had a rough beard, and was pissed. He was a good foot taller than the poor young NCR trooper, who was stammering a response.
"I'm sorry sir! But it's only temporary. Your weapons will be returned to you at a date specified to command!"
"Fuck that!" Things were getting tense out in the streets as more people were grumbling against NCR demands.
And then, there was a shot. Clear throughout the day, interrupting everything. The rebels in the saloon thought it was a signal, and Earls eyes went wide as they swung around from cover, opening fire on the NCR troops in the road. Gunfire flooded the air, bullets whizzing against wooden structures and into the sand. The NCR began firing back, one of the troopers with the submachine gun moving to fire, only to be cut down...his finger still clutching the trigger. The bullets slammed into the civilians next to the truck. The man to the right of the sergeant thought that's what they were supposed to be shooting at, and began firing as well.
Screaming.
Gunshots.
Blood.
The twelve civilians next to the truck were all dead, despite the Sergeants screaming. The NCR soldiers took cover behind the truck or the houses, firing up at where they were being shot at. The Lieutenant, a man still in the truck with a beret on his head waved his pistol at the saloon. The right machinegunner on the truck had been staying in cover, but at the Lieutenants orders began firing his gun at the saloons windows. More glass shattered, and now there was screaming from the rebels, one man falling from the saloon window waving his hands and bleeding. A stick of dynamite flew out of the window, exploding next to the truck and rocking it, but not damaging it. The rocking caused the machine gun fire to go wide, and the bullets tore up parts of the old womans house that Cat and Earl had previously palavered in.
Earl swore, seeing Daniel, who he had ordered to get somewhere hidden beginning to be fired on. Luckily, his armor saved the man and the bullets just clinked off the black power armor. Earl darted out from the building, joining Daniel by cover, revolver held in both hands as he pressed himself flat against the wall. "WE NEED TO GET THE BOYS OUT OF HERE DAN!" He shouted, looking at the saloon.
"Fuck!"
He popped around the wall, firing off two shots with his revolver quickly, not sure if he hit anything, and not caring. The bloody noise! It was horrible!
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