The tint of the meticulously washed window always made the orange Alabama sunsets seem so much brighter. The sunbeams stretched across the carefully cleaned room and landed on faithfully restored furniture in the waiting area of the caravaneer's building. A captivating man in a dress shirt and vest was scrubbing the counter around the cash register, lifting a clipboard to wash under it as the Brahmin mooed outside.
"Alex!" The man yelled.
A scruffy boy around the age of 17 came barreling through the door from the supply closet. "What's up, Mr. Hart?"
Hart grabbed the clipboard and threw it to his young employee. "Can't quite do inventory without knowing what you're looking for. Maybe you'll find a razor in there." Hart said, cracking a sly smile towards the boy.
He sighed and walked back into the supply closet as another man in leather armor walked into the building.
"Guy Hart!" He shouted with a hint of an Irish accent.
"Well, if it isn't Dave O'Malley. I thought you'd be back on Wednesday."
O'Malley took a seat at the counter and motioned to the various bottles of alcohol behind Hart. "That's where the bad news comes in. What's left of Guntersville couldn't scrounge up enough caps for supplies. Raiders hit them hard last week and they aren't recovering too quick."
Hart seemed concerned as he poured his friend a drink. "How many are left?"
"Little over a dozen, down from 30. Crops are burnt, can't get clean water. They won't last another month without handouts."
"So we give them a handout. This is the first time they haven't had their caps, and it's not their fault."
O'Malley chugged his drink before slamming it down on the counter. Hart glared at him for missing the coaster.
O'Malley shrugged. "You're the boss. If you say they get free stuff, they'll get free stuff."
He stood up and began walking out. "I want payment for the trip in full. No cut in my pay because we didn't sell any at Guntersville."
Hart placed the bottle back on the shelf after wiping it with his rag. "Your pay is getting a minor cut for the whiskey you just got on my counter."
The Irishman waved his hand as he pushed open the door. "A good drink's always worth it."
He stopped before leaving. "Also, news along the vine is we're getting a shipment all the way from Bunker Hill this week. Supposed to be real expensive."
Hart chuckled. "You get what you pay for. And you tend to pay for a lot when a town pops up around your business."
O'Malley walked out laughing.
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The stench of hard worked Brahmin filled the air as the large group made its way farther southwest to Hartwood. They had just started across a large bridge. A lumbering super mutant clad in solid steel trekked alongside, seeming very calm.
The large green man turned to the man wearing a cowboy hat and a pair of glasses next to him and began speaking.
"Scorn's feet hurt."
The man turned and tipped his hat up to fully see Scorn's height. "Yeah? Mine hurt too. We still got about a day's travel."
"Scorn want to break for night. Sun going down."
"Is that right? I'm so sorry." The man began to speak up. "Hey fellas, big green here wants to stop for a spell! How about we take ourselves a little nap? We don't have a deadline to meet, right?"
A few of the other caravaneers yelled insulting words at Scorn. Someone towards the end of the caravan yelled. "Stop being such a fuck, Adam!"
Adam stopped walking and turned around. "Fuck you too, asshole! Let's hope I don't find out who said that, or I'll have Harry dock your fucking pay!"
"Scorn thinks tiny man should calm down."
Adam, moderately enraged, decided to intimidate the super mutant beside him.
"Oh yeah? Adam thinks ugly green fuck needs to shut the fuck up before he-"
The man was quickly shut up by a powerful fist right to the center of his face. He was immediately knocked on his back, out cold and oozing blood from the swollen mess that was his nose.
An older man with grayish hair accenting the slicked back black hair walked up. His face was riddled with scars and the scruff of a man who hadn't shaved in a week, along with a dark eyepatch. "Stand back, big guy. You fucked this guy up pretty bad. He might be coughing up teeth for a week."
The super mutant's brow furrowed at the obvious statement. "He made Scorn mad."
"Relax," The man chuckled and reached into his long, black coat. "I'm a doctor."
At that moment, a shot rang out, sending some caravaneers into a panic and catching Scorn in the back. If he wasn't wearing armor thicker than a man's arm, it might have phased him. He immediately spun, removed his trusty Radium Rifle from his back, and began firing in the direction of the shot.
"Hey, buddy." He heard the doctor behind him say.
As Scorn turned to duck behind a car and reload his outlandish rifle, the doctor was standing with a devilish smirk. He had pulled something round out of his jacket.
"Catch." He said, as he threw it to him. Scorn caught the object, and after opening his large hand, he had noticed it was a frag grenade. The pin had been pulled. Scorn looked up in confusion.
The doctor gave a short salute and a small laugh. "Bye bye."
The doctor began running to the eastern edge of the bridge to meet up with the raiders that had ambushed them. One by one, Scorn watched the man who had betrayed him kill the caravaneers he had been hired to protect.
Before Scorn could move to stop him, the grenade exploded, blasting him off the side of the bridge into the waters below.
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Fallout: Connections of Fate
FanfictionA spinning tale in the wasteland that is the Commonwealth. Interesting characters that have had their lives changed by grand events come together and meet new people and reconnect with familiar faces.
