10 Minute Tales, Part 2

Oct 5 - Salvage

He glanced up. Through his filthy goggles and the biting sandstorm, he could make out the silhouette of the building. He grinned slightly, drawing a pistol and approaching the door. It was locked, but the window was already broken. He frowned slightly; it may well have been looted already. Still, he was here now, he had to check. He stepped through the door and drooped down, careful to avoid the broken glass. If that thing shattered, he'd be in more danger than a simple cut or two. He glanced around, slipping into one of the aisles. It had been stripped of food, but the shelves themselves were still in place. He could hear footsteps and muted conversation, neither very far away. He gripped his gun a little tighter, one eye out for food - and the other for enemies. He could see movement on one of the aisles. He wouldn't yet attack, not while he still had the advantage of surprise, so he silently made for the back room. If he could take out the leader, the others wouldn't be so active. Hopefully...

-----

To his relief, the journey was accomplished with almost no issue. His only problem was that somebody might have noticed a tripwire he caught. But he hadn't heard anything from it, at least... he opened the door as quietly as he could, stepping in. The resulting room was dark thanks to a lack of windows, but that hadn't bothered him before. He gently pushed the door to as quietly as he could, bringing a matchbox out of his pocket. He lit one quietly, shielding the delicate flame with his other hand. The door clicked slightly as it closed behind him. He finally relaxed, straightening up and looking around. It seemed as though he was alone, so he started to loot the room. An office, maybe? Whatever it was, there wasn't much left. He checked a desk, muttering to himself. There were a few disused bottle caps in one draw, and another had an unloaded pistol. He took it all, stashing the pistol into a hidden pocket.

"Enjoying yourself?" a calm voice asked him. He turned and pointed his gun in the direction, frowning in determination. How had he not noticed the woman? She wore what looked like an old Safehouse suit, mostly red with one yellow stripe down the arms and legs. It had been improved with thick leather pads around the joints. Supported by one hand was a large rifle, rusted with age but definitely dangerous. He kept his cool, but the fact she was there had surprised him. "I hope you've seen everything you're after."

"... where did you get the caps?"

"What does it matter?" she shrugged, standing up. He stepped back, gun pointed squarely at her chest. "If people are going to use those things for money, of course they're going to be of interest to the boys."

"So you stole them."

"I guess you could say that. If you were narrow-minded." She pointed the gun at him suddenly, grinning. "Let me open that mind right up for you."