Fall Out Rpg

It was the middle of the night when Marcus, tears still streaming down his face, crawled quietly out of camp. He took nothing with him but a hide bag full of Brahmin (giant two headed cow) meat and a bottle of radiated water. He was naked, save for a leather kilt and the tattoos of his tribe.

Marcus was an eighteen year old male, and tomorrow he was to undergo the ritual torture which made him a full member of the Nightstalker Tribe. The torture was one which his sister had not survived. He had watched as she was raped and beaten to death by the overly enthusiastic tribal members, hopped up on scotch and drugs. He did not want to suffer the same things she had.

What he wanted was to find a saner people to dwell amongst, to find a group with the power to punish, and then to lead them back to destroy his fucking tribe. He wanted to grind the leaders head into the pinchers of a giant scorpion.

With his chocolate skin, he was almost invisible in the night air of the Mojave Desert. His dread locks were tied back with a black leather band. On his hands were brass knuckles, which he had shrouded with loose leather gloves, to hide the glint.

It took half an hour to pass far enough away where he could start to run, but when he was free, he took off running like a coyote. All night he ran, on and on, until the harsh light of day came up. He walked for almost an entire day, and was ready to collapse from heat exposure and thirst, when he spotted a line of Brahmin being lead along an old paved road by a Crimson Caravan trader and four heavily armored guards. He looked at them, and took another step, before collapsing. The trader ran toward him shouting, but he could not longer hear her, as he was dead to the world.

OOC: Here is our OOC Thread: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?p=51261454#post51261454

Please post a character there, before you jump in.

Colt Jackson

5'11'' Black hair, cold green eyes, tan complexion, not the biggest soldier but tough, a true survivor if there ever was one. Ex Marine charged for striking an Officer. He didn't regret beating the hell out of his commanding Officer Reeves Montero, taking out refugees was beneath the Marine code of honor. The tribunal was a relatively short one, the verdict was an obvious one dishonorable discharge.

Before he could be escorted off base, he knocked out the three MP guards hiding them in a cargo container. Stripping one of the guards he put on his MP uniform, using to security card he broke into the weapons facility. Gathering his personal gear he was fully outfitted for survival, rips the insignia patches from his field uniform angrily.

Loading a transport vehicle with survival supplies, he climbed behind the wheel drives to base gate. Showing his falsified identification the to tired guard, he ran it through the scanner passing for a Lt. Dunn. Outside the base perimeter Colt went off road into stealth mode, driving into the setting sun toward the Wasteland compound he knew of with ex military.

Driving well into the night Colt power indicator began to flash, giving the console a tap with a gloved hand. Swearing under his breath at the EPV (Electric Powered Vehicle) being there's notorious for power cell malfunction. Maybe thirty minutes of drive time available the beacon of a NCR outpost is seen, turning off stealth mode so he could be seen and not be blown away by a jumpy trooper.

A half mile from the gate the EPV began to buck as the power cell was almost depleted ''C'mon baby get me to the gate.'' he coaxed as he pulls up to the outpost gate. Two troopers atop the wall leveled there weapons at him, showing his Falsified ID to a third trooper approached him hand on his pistol. Taking Colt's ID scanning it he found everything was in order, with a wave of the troopers hand the gate opens as he gave the ID back. ''Park in the inspection zone Jones...once there your gear will searched.''

Creeping through the gate, the EPV had a total system failure as it reached the inspection area. Colt grins, knowing all data would be lost with what he'd done to it, climbing down out of the dead vehicle his gear was searched. Given the OK he gathered his gear that was loaded onto a cart, heading out to find food a cold beer and a room.

He needed to ditch the NCR MP uniform and buy civilian clothes, Colt steps into a shop, selecting a gray duster, matching pants, shirt, sand colored jacket and dust scarf. He paid up stepping into a changing room, removing the uniform, he dresses and exits to shop. Passing by a waste bin, disposing of it, as Colt made his way into the Aces & Eights Bar and Grill, taking a seat at a corner table.

Dropping his pack and weapons against the bar's wall, a leggy redhead waitress took his order of food and drink. She smiles before walking away with an extra sway of her hips, she returns with his food and a beer. ''I'm about to starve thanks miss?'' With her corset top her pushed up breast jiggle nicely when she laughs. ''You're welcome and It's Inara you?''

Colt took a sip of his beer before answering ''Jackson Colter.'' She gave him an appraising once over. ''Pleased to meet you Jackson...if you're starving for more than food look me up.'' He nods with a grin taking a bite of his food, Inara seemed satisfied with that as she went back to work.

"He's nearly awake."

Cassie leaned over the body of the young man they had lashed to one of the Brahmin. She had poured enough water into him to start a garden, but with his tribal markings did not trust him enough to not keep him under guard and tied up.

Reynolds, her chief guard, grunted and cocked his weapon. He was long, lean fellow with a craggy face and a long gray beard.

"Stand down soldier," she said playfully, bringing a grin to the ex-NCR Ranger's face. "He's not likely to attack me all tied up like he is.

Cassie was a slender slip of a woman, with a young, but weathered face. Her gray eyes looked her young prisoner over, taking in his long lean muscles. He was a pretty one, to be sure. She was dressed in a gray khaki outfit with a crimson scarf wrapped around her head and neck, and covering all but her eyes. She carried a 10mm pistol on one hip and knew how to use it well.

Up ahead was the NCR outpost town of Dry Gulch. Her favorite watering hole, the Aces & Eights Bar and Grill, waited ahead. She would turn the lad over to the NCR patrols there, if she couldn't figure out how to make a profit off of him. He would make a fine prostitute, but the NCR did not allow slave trade.

She had heard that Ceasar's Legion did a brisk trade in slaves, but so far all advanced scouts from the Crimson Caravan trying to establish trade with them had been robbed and killed.

They approached the outside of the bar with their six Brahmin in tow.

Having eaten his fill Colt orders another round of beer, removing his duster reveals two shoulder holstered .50 Cal automatics. Standing he hung the duster on the back of his chair, seats himself again tips it back against the wall. Innara brought Colt his beer setting it before him, she lingers a moment so he motions her to join him. ''Thanks I'm on my break...mind if I smoke?'' He nods as he lifts his mug taking a drink.

She lights up blowing the smoke away from him, crosses her long shapely legs idly kicking his left foot. For Dry Gulch Innara was beautiful, more likely as not this came with a price. Colt didn't judge, but was not about to pay for her services. He could look though, being it was still free to. Until the powers that be decide to tax looking, with this insane world it's a possibility.

So that's just what he did, not that Innara minded this at all. ''Like what you see Jackson?'' An obvious question a cheeky one uses, especially with his intense green eyes on her. ''I'd be a fool to say no Innara...it's free to look right ?'' Her smile reaches her pretty hazel eyes, as she laughs softly at his statement and question. ''Depends on what's happening.''

Colt raised his brows with a deep chuckle hearing this, he slowly shakes his head and took another drink. ''Ah...just as I thought...it's not free.'' Innara goes for the old innocent little angel look, only to get the giggles placing her hand on his arm. ''If you think I have a price darlin...that's only when time are really bad. Colt thought to himself hmm she really likes me.

''Well...I apologize Innara for assuming you have a price.'' He felt a little bad but not overly much, being NCR outposts had plenty of independent prostitutes. "It's alright Jackson it is a NCR outpost...I just like you. I know a good man when I see one.'' Colt shrugs with a grin at the idea, that she knows he's a good man. ''Many would disagree with you about that'' Innara slides her chair closer to his, leaning on her elbows with a smile. ''Fuck that shit.''

Marcus stumbled as he was shoved through the door of the bar by one of the guards. His hands were tied behind his back. A bald man with a tired air looked up from behind the bar. "We don't serve tribals in here."

The guard shrugged. "Then don't. He's just here so's we can keep an eye on him, before we go turn him over the soldiers.

Marcus bristled at being called a tribal. He knew himself to be one, as he looked around at all the folk in their fine clothing, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being pigeon holed. He stepped backwards sharply, stomping down the guard's instep. The guard, a ruddy fellow with bleached blond hair, howled in pain and brought his rifle but up to hit the lad.

Cassie's sharp voice shouted out. "Hold it there Rosco. I figure you had that coming to you for being so rough with him. Now shut the fuck up and sit down while I buy you a beer, or so help me you'll be banned from every Crimson Caravan company there is.

With a disgusted grunt Rosco sunk into a chair. Marcus stood there awkwardly, unable to sit with his hands tied behind his back. He noticed a pretty red head talking with a man at a table. He envied the man for the woman's attentions and for his freedom.

Setting his beer down Colt frowns seeing the Tribal appearing young man was shoved through the door stumbling. Noticing he didn't show the ceremonial coming of age scars, he must have just been a runaway. Catching the awkward look on the young mans face, he's expression one of envy and loneliness as well.

''Innara bring another of what I'd just had please? That youngster looks hungry I intend he gets fed.'' She looks at me with a raised brow ''You sure you want to get involved with the Crimson Caravan?'' Colt nods. Innara stands to go tend to the new arrivals getting their food and drink orders.

Sitting up Colt tips his chair back down onto the floor, with his heavy booted foot kicks the chair beside him in the kids direction. ''Looks like your captives tired...how much he worth to you?'' He knew that he'd get dirty looks and remarks from the thugs and Aces & Eights owner, he didn't give a damned what they thought being Colt was addressing the female leader.

Colt's .50 automatics safeties were off the holsters unsnapped, if anyone wanted to start any shit he'd end it. His cold green eyes measuring up the woman being she was very capable if she could lead a Crimson Caravan. Also the obvious thug she called Rosco gets a wary eye kept on him till shown non hostile. Lifting his glass slowly sips his second beer awaiting a reply, he wasn't liking seeing a human being truced up like property.

The bald man frowned. "If'n ya intend to feed that... thing, at least do so outside. Inarra, don't go serving him until his ass in on the sidewalk." The owner's hands set down the glass they were cleaning and disappeared under the bar.

Cassie tensed. This whole situation stank. It was obvious that the man was looking to make an issue of her having taken the tribal prisoner. Didn't he know that tribals were to taken captive and turned over for processing? She still couldn't figure out how to make a profit out of this whole mess.

"What do you mean, what is he worth to me? You know well as I do that there's no trading in human flesh in the NCR. I'm gonna turn him over right after I have my drink.

Her older, more trusted guard moved to stand beside her, his hands away from his weapons, but his eyes drawn into slits.

"I'm well aware of NCR rules...just wanting to set another Human Being free.''Colt just ignore the bigoted owners loud mouth, Innara wasn't going to get herself fired so she looks at Colt apologetically.

''I'm well aware of NCR rules you'll get paid the minimal fee for processing...I am willing to double that if that's alright with you Miss?'' Sitting his beer down on the table in front of him, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. He hoped he had found someone reasonable, that had a little more regard for others freedom.

He awaits the leaders reply before he spoke to her again ''Unless you're a Crimson Caravan leader that is..worried..about bending without breaking the rules? Colt was willing to just forget the whole thing, if she refused so be it, at least he tried. ''If so..forget giving another person a second chance at freedom.''

Cassie considered for a moment and then pulled Marcus towards him. "O.K., ya got yourself a deal, but you better get him dressed in decent clothing right quick, or the NCR will be down on you for harboring a tribal."

She took out a knife and cut Marcus's bonds, half expecting him run away. Instead he stared at the bartender with angry eyes, though he spoke not a word.

Cassie. "All right, hand over the bottle caps."

Colt nods to the Caravan leader reaching into his pocket, withdrawing the proper amount tossing it to her. "Over here kid...never you mind about the bartender. We're leaving...out the back door. Standing Colt pulls his dusty from the back of the chair, tossing it to the young tribal man.

''I expect your silence as you naturally except mine?'' Stepping over between the tribal and the bartender, Innara assumed was a safe distance from him. Handing her the price of his food and drink with a tip. ''See you around Innara.'' She smiles accepting his payment.

Colt gave the bartender a deadly look of warning, turning to look the tribal in the eye and nods to the door. ''Move out...we have to find you decent clothes.'' Stepping over to retrieve his pack he and the kid strode out of the Aces & Eights.

Marcus nodded and put on the offered coat. He pulled it closer around himself and followed Colt out of the back door of the saloon. The back door opened onto a fence surrounding a small herd of Brahmin. They were milling about and mooing. The stench was ungodly, to say the least.

He didn't try to talk until they were a good ways away from the saloon, and standing in the shadows of the back of a barn.

"Thanks for that back there. Seriously." He didn't know this man from Adam, but already he had shown him more kindness than his own mother.

Colt drew his sand scarf up over his nose to block out the foul stench, the beasts of burden had moved out of there way. Listening to the kid Colt opens the paddock gate, holding it open for Markus to step through latches it afterwards. ''You're welcome...I saw a human being that was being treated like an animal. Couldn't just stand by and accept that situation kid.''

Walking down a dark alleyway to get up wind of the Brahmin, Colt stops, turning to lean again the wall. ''Names Jackson Colter...what's yours kid?'' He told Colt his name as well. ''Lets get you a decent set of clothes.''

Colt pulls his sand scarf down, drawing a thin cigar from his shirt pocket, placing it into his mouth to light it up. Taking an old beat up zippo lighter from his pants pocket, clicks it open flicking the roller it flames, pale green eyes revealed. With a metallic snap he closed the lighter pocketing it, exhaling the smoke through his nose the wind carries it away.

''By the way just so you know...I'm not some freak into raping anything and everything.'' Colt let his words sink in a moment before speaking again. ''I don't expect anything out of you but one thing...and that's don't waste this opportunity'' With that said Colt walks off up the alleyway, flicking cigar ashes of his sleeve and stops at a surplus shop.

Marcus had been fearing just that thing. In his experience of the world, everyone was out for themselves. The fact was that he still did not trust Colt. Still, he could not look let the opportunity slip past. After all, he had nothing else going for him, in this strange new world he had entered.

"Marcus, the name's Marcus." He sputtered out, hurrying to catch up with Colt.

The surplus store was a hodge-podge of items, from weapons, to chess boards, to environmental suits. It all looked strange to Marcus. He was unsure what most of the stuff on display was or did.

Entering Heck's Bazaar Colt heading directly to the clothing section, turning to Markus with measuring eye. Pulling a tan duster from a hanger, holding it up in front of the solidly built teen. ''Pick anything that's tough but comfortable Markus.''

Pushing the jacket into his hands Colt walks away, stopping at a glass case of assorted knives and daggers. The tribal recurved daggers were known for being well made, he needed to get rid of his NCR issue knife. Reaching behind him removing the sheathed blade, placing it onto the display case for Heck.

''Trade?'' Was all the short dusky wrinkle faced paunch bellied Heck asked me, jerking his head slightly in Markus direction. ''Runner kid?'' Heck pulls up his merchant coat sleeve, shows his tribes identity tat. ''It was 30 years ago when I ran.'' Colt taps the glass over the tribal dagger and sheath. ''Yeah this for that Heck.''

''Hmm...good eye Ranger...twenty bottle caps more to trade.'' Giving his friend a notorious haggler a sly grin. ''5 caps...that's a new blade.'' Heck tugs his graying goatee dark eyes twinkling shrewdly. ''15...my best tribal dagger.'' Colt puts 10 bottle caps beside his sheathed knife. ''10...that's all it's worth.'' Heck takes the tribal dagger and sheath from the case, taking the 10 caps with raspy chuckle at his friend.

''You must have been descended from traders my friend.'' Colt lifts the 18 inch dagger from the case with his left hand, spinning the blade in his palm he felt it was perfectly balanced. ''Maybe so my friend. Markus come over and meet ol' Heck here...he's saved my ass more than once.'' Heck chuckles again offering his hand to Markus.

Marcus held out his hand to shake Heck's hand. He immediately liked the older man. Besides, Colt was the first decent human being he had ever met, besides his dear sister, and any friend of Colt's was a friend of his. The old man shook hands firmly and then looked Marcus over.

"I'm betting you don't even know what your looking for in clothing, seeing as you've run around most of you life as a tribal. Let me help you out."

Soon Marcus was clad in worn jeans, a gray button down shirt and a brown leather vest. He had tried on five pairs of boots before settling on a pair of black dress shoes with thick soles. They felt sturdily made, with steel toes, and Colt had said sturdy was important.

Marcus looked over the weapons on display, seeing tribal daggers. His eyes were drawn to a pair of black leather gloves with sharp metal studs. His entire life he had always fought with his hands and feet, so it seemed like a natural choice, though he hated to ask Colt for more, after the man was already out caps for him and his equipment.

It was good to see the kid take to the old man, being he was once tribal himself. ''Heck old friend...have a little Brahmin stew left over do you?'' Heck turns to Colt with a nod ''Yeah...you two hungry? Colt was now turned around leaned against the counter, using his newly purchased blade to indicate Marcus. ''The bald bastard at the Aces & Eights refused service...should have seen the fear in his eyes when Marcus gave him a look.''

Heck chuckles as he lead Marcus to a corner of his shop. "That's ole Elias grimes...his bark and breath is far worse than his bite.'' Colt noticed Marcus eyeing the spiked gloves, realizing he's a hand to hand fighter. ''Marcus...speak up if you need something kid.'' Heck had a lost and found section in a corner, that's where the two had to be going.

Colt twirls the tribal dagger before sliding into its scabbard, unbuckles his belt sliding the leather through the scabbards slot. Buckling his belt again he follows Markus and Heck, collecting his duster along the way he slides it back on. ''You'll have the ladies after you now dressed like that kid.''