|
|
|
[this is a piece written for a character of mine on Fallout 3, fallout is not owned by me, I am merely using the setting and characters][all errors will be fixed upon completion of the work]
A Tale of Two
Dogmeat drew a heavy sigh as she moved her gun. She sat on the roof of a tall building that in it's glory would have been magnificent but in the Wasteland everything looked like s**t. The buildings were partly or mostly destroyed and those that looked intact had fallen into disrepair on the inside. Everything was calm and still, a sort of eerie peace. Her name was Kate one of two daughters, she had become a symbol for all that was good and just in a desolate and unjust world. At the moment, she was waiting for a high priority target to show his face. He had enslaved and murdered hundreds probably thousands, he could not be left to live. Kate was a Regulator, a Law man by almost any difinition of the word. She could recall some of the books she had read when she first left home, of time long gone. Men who rode on things called horses, rounding up criminals, she felt like those men. Dogmeat looked up, she moved to grab her gun, but she could see nothing. She patted the dog on the head and slouched back. It had hardly been a year since she left home
home....she often wondered how things were going there, she hoped Amata had made a better overseer than her father...but she would never really know would she? Both she and her sister had been exiled into the wasteland, but that was the price she paid for doing the right thing, a price her sister had not been so willing to pay.
Suddenly Dogmeat stood, Kate's attention imediately snapped to her task. She grabbed the scoped rifle and brought it up to her shoulder, peering through the scope she could see five people walking out of the building, four were small time players in the slave market, but the fifth was her target, he called himself Eulogy Jones, he was the leader of the slavers, and had eluded her since her first failed attempt on his life. The crosshairs fixed themselves on the man's head, she took a deep breath and looked up trying to get a sense of the wind, after a few moments she looked back into the scope. She took her time and picked the perfect time to shoot. Squeezing the trigger the metal was cold, the silence seemed infinite as time seemed to draw to halt. And then, suddenly in complete contrast to the moment before the loud bang of the rifle echoed through the abdoned buildings, the recoil had pushed her arm back enough that she had lost the man in her scope, quickly and frantically she moved the rifle back, searching for the body. It was only a few moments, which seemed like an eternity in her mind, before she found the sprawled body of a man, the other four men had taken off, probably the instant they heard the shot was her guess. Her task now turned towards confirming the kill and taking the finger of the man. She gestured for Dogmeat to follow, and quickly strode down the stairs to the next level, a small and meger camp had been set up, the only interesting thing there was a pack with an old rifle leaned up against it. She set the scoped rifle down and grabbed the other, slinging her pack across her shoulders she headed back down the stairs, as quickly as possible. The building was several floors tall, it took her several minutes to get down, but when she did she took off running, the dog right at her side. She quickly ducked behind an old bus.
It was strange how much this reminded her of her first encounter after leaving home. She could remember it vividly. The weight of the pistol, the way her heart raced, the utter fear creeping into her mind. Her sister was there, how frightened she was. Kate had always been the brave one, the one who stood up against Butch and his crew of wanna-be thugs, the one who stood up against the overseer.
The old rifle felt like an extension of her body, she was so used to it now. The old rifle was a lever action repeater, ancient is a term that some have used to describe it. She found it to be more reliable than the highly technicle Lazer and Plasma rifles the Brotherhood and others used. It also did considerably more damage as well. The gun like her brown duster had become a symbol, not one of peace but of justice. She had done enough to be labeled a hero by the local radio station, and a menace by all those that stood to lose. She leaned around the side of the bus and scanned the area, it seemed unlikely the slavers would have left. It would be a safe assumption that they were aware of who had shot the man, and unfortunatley she was still too far out to see the body. She brought her rifle to her shoulder and moved forward, keeping low to the ground, Dogmeat close to her side. Suddenly assult rifle fire poured out of an old shop front. She dived behind a low garden wall. Quickly peering above the wall she could only just see the front. She laid her rifle across the top and laid down a bit of supressing fire.
 Xilidian the Prophet · Mon Mar 16, 2009 @ 06:41am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
