Walking into Covenant, Mason noticed how pristine everything looked as if the bombs hadn't dropped. The only thing to indicate them falling were the clothes the people were wearing, and while it seemed like a lovely town, something felt off. It wasn't natural for people to be this nice two hundred years after bombs falling. Nearing a store, a man with leather armor and a blue shirt approached Mason.
"Need help?" Mason asked, cautious of the man.
"You from around her? Hope not, I've had enough of these hicks."
No, but Mason found it odd that the man seemed troubled by something. "Got a problem with these people?"
"All the fake smiles and the fancy talking puts me on edge. Sooner I'm out of here, the better. You know anything about Stockton's Caravan?" the man asked, Mason not being able to say yes to that.
"Can't say I do," Mason answered, scratching the back of his neck. Were normal mosquitoes a thing?
"I just can't catch a break," the man sighed before continuing. "I signed on with Old Man Stockton to find his lost caravan. What's left is just outside of town. Their last stop was here, so I've been trying to put together the story. But I keep getting the run-around." The man thought about something for a minute before saying, "I got a proposal for you. Help me find Stockton's people and we split the reward. At least one survivor walked out of that massacre. And I intend to make good on my contract."
"Who are we lookin' for," Mason asked. "Need to know the details."
"The big one is Stockton's daughter, Amelia. I didn't find any bodies of the feminine persuasion. So, uh, there's hope. If we find her, Stockton's offering a heap of caps."
That was... interesting. Stockton's daughter was involved, and this guy couldn't find her body. Mason knew that these people should at least have an idea of what happened. They didn't have an excuse.
"Fils de pute. I'm in," Mason told him, hoping he'd be able to save one person.
"Here's all I got on the caravan," the man said, handing Mason some details on the caravan. Pocketing the information away, Mason listened to what the man had to say. "I don't got proof, but Covenant's involved. Somehow. I'll keep poking around. But let me know if you find anything."
Mason walked into the store with the man walking away, stepping up to the woman behind the counter.
"I hope Swanson didn't give you too hard a time at the gate. If you ask me, I think he takes his job too seriously." He was wondering what the guy's name was. Would've been nice to learn from him instead of this woman. "But welcome! Everyone around here calls me Mrs. Fitzgerald. But you, cutey, can call me Penny."
"Don't call me that," Mason muttered. "You're too chipper." Her attitude wasn't natural. A small settlement like this, they likely act like any other settler regardless of protection.
"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Mr. Grumpy Pants. You here to shop? I'll make sure to give you a good price."
Mason didn't wake up in a bed; he woke up on a bench. Even then, she was too cheerful for this place. "Alright," Mason said, looking through what she had.
"Best deals around," Mrs. Fitzgerald said, as Mason began setting what he'd buy and what he'd sell on the counter. He had decided to pick up a combat helmet called the 'Destroyers' helmet, a shotgun called 'Justice,' and a few pieces of armor and shells. Selling her ammunition that was unnecessary, leather armor that was useless, and a few guns and grenades he didn't need, Mason only had enough due to what he sold.
"Enjoy your stay," Penny said, her tone already annoying Mason as he put the stuff away.
"Got time for some questions," Mason asked her, taking his helmet off.
YOU ARE READING
The General: Reunions
FanfictionEverything's been taken from me. My home. My wife. I didn't expect to get frozen and wake up two hundred years in the future. But now... someone's taken my son. And someone's going to pay. AN: Currently being rewritten.
