Fallout: Still I Roam

'This has been a really shitty day,' I thought to myself as I brought my bound hands to my lip wiping off the blood that was currently painting my pearly whites and turning them into pearly reds. Hearing footsteps behind me I turned my head only to be met by a forceful open palm strike.

*SLAP*

"Argh," I verbalized as I felt my lip slide across my teeth again, "Pthoo," I spat some blood to the side before shooting a glare at the one who hit me. I glanced down and internally was relieved to see my boots were fine.

"You son of a bitch, you killed Marvin, I'll kill you, you piece of shit!" A man with tears in his eyes screamed before being dragged away by another who was part of his group. They wore vests along with jeans, they looked like a barbarian mixed with a biker, and they smelt twice as bad.

Smirking evilly I snarled back, "Your brother was a bitch and so are you. I wonder if you would whimper like he did after getting your hand blown off by a .44," I laughed, "Seriously the thing hung off his mangled stump like a molerat from the mouth of a hungry deathclaw," I watched as I continued to agitate the already pissed-off Khan.

"YOU MOTHER-" His yell was cut off quickly by his friend shoving a hand to cover his mouth.

"Chance you dumbass keep it down! Are you trying to wake the entire town? Can't you see this brat is just trying to rile you up!" Seemed that at least one of them had more than two brain cells to rub together.

"Damn you must be the smart one of the group seeing as your head is for more than decoration," I said spitefully.

"Don't listen to him Chance," his friend ignored me and continued to focus on the asshole named Chance.

I could hear more footsteps from behind them. There were three sets that I could distinctly pick out amongst the chirping of crickets and wind blowing through... the graveyard.

It was the first time I had taken the time to look around at where I was sitting. I was in a cemetery surrounded by tombstones made out of wood and some stone. A series of lanterns were the only sources of light throughout the area, besides the glow of a full moon bearing down like the eye of a massive creature, watching to see what would come of my situation. I made sure to make my boots coil underneath me, doing my best to keep their exposure to a minimum.

"So this is our friend who has been evading us all week?" I snapped my attention behind the Khans upon hearing the voice. The voice wasn't that of a Khan, it was far too... slick. Like the voice you would expect from a swindler rather than a desert hillbilly. It was distinctly male, and unique, I had heard quite a few voices that I could tell from a glance belonged to a conniver rather than anyone 'honest'. But this one was more deliberate it carried the arrogance the others had multiplied by ten. Yet there was something more, it lacked the laziness that I knew from scam artists, it was a determined sound that made you think that no matter what, this person would come out on top, as if-

"Well, well, well, what's a kid your age doing running courier routes in the Mojave? Shouldn't you be, stealing chems or banging other girls your age?" The owner of the voice asked standing in front of me in a black and white checkered suit wearing a bored expression. The man looked like a mobster to the bone complete with a greased haircut that came to peak at the front.

"Well, well, well shouldn't you be I don't know stealing money from old people or rigging slot machines?" I asked watching the third and newest Khan come out from behind the other two, he stood beside this black checkered jackass.

"That's only on Tuesdays kid," he said putting a cigarette in his mouth before lighting it. He sucked in before blowing a cloud of smoke out and pulling the white stick out of his mouth and relaxing it between his index and middle finger, "Listen, kid, I am in a bit of a hurry, so lets cut to the chase," as he spoke his eyes dialed in on me, "You were given a package to deliver to the Vegas strip, where might that be?" he asked.

I solemnly glanced around as I took the moment to remain silent, 'These guys have only left me alive because they need something. The moment they have what they want, I am dead,' I decided to lie, to try and bluff my way out and also buy time. I sighed deeply covertly disguising my glance to make sure my boots were still snug, "I don't know what you are talking about, I am on a delivery for 'the Tops' casino on the strip. And for your information the contents of the package are confidential,"

He smirked, "That so? You are headed to 'the tops', huh?" he took another puff from his cigarette. He scratched his face, staring at me all the while. I started to sweat, something I said was wrong, he knew it was a lie, but how?

He sighed before shaking his head, "Unfortunately for you kid, you are looking at the incumbent manager of 'The Tops'. Nice try, but I know you are actually headed to 'The Lucky 38' and I also know your little 'package' you were carrying is actually a little platinum chip," he said matter-of-factly.

My eyes widened, 'How did he-?' I wondered in surprise

"Yeah, I wanted to do this the easy way but you just had to go and lie to me," he shook his head in mock disappointment, "Jessup, Chance, he has the chip on him. Find it," he said turning to walk away before stopping in stride, "And rough him up while you're at it, I hate being lied to," he then strode off into the darkness.

My eyes slowly turned to the two enraged Khans who now had matching crooked smiles, "Shit," I mumbled under my breath before the hurt rained down.

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"I-Is, huff, that all, h-huff, you got," I gasped for air as my head rolled around my sore neck before finally propping it up on my shoulder. I was now stripped down to my underwear and white t-shirt covered in bruises from the beating I had taken. My clothes were wadded up in a pile beside the hole that they had dug for me, but my boots were placed neatly on top.

"Damn it! Benny, have you been lying to us you cheap fuck? This little shit didn't have no 'chip'," the one they called Jessup yelled at the man in a checkered suit stomping over to his side.

'So his name is Benny,' I made a mental note before spitting out some more blood and smiling, "See I told ya, I am just a humble courier trying to make his way through the Mojave wastes," 

Benny stood there for a moment scratching the back of his head before turning to Jessup and asking, "You checked everything on him? No piece of article hasn't been looked through?" he spoke slowly as he seemed to be thinking.

"For the hundredth time yes Benny! Now, what do we do with this punk because he's not our guy!" he shouted angrily.

I smiled,' Seems Plan A will work, they probably won't kill me because they will use me to sniff out the other couriers. While I do that I will find a way to escape and link back up to finish plan B. It's a bitch for the other delivery guys but I can only look out for myself,' I thought and took one last glance at my boots while no one was looking.

But Benny's next words made me want to vomit as my heart dropped, "No," he shook his head, "This is definitely our guy, and he has what I want," The Khans and I were confused as we looked at him waiting for him to go on, "That look," he pointed at me, "I have seen it before. It's the look of a crook in my casinos. One that's cheating and thinks that he almost has it made...until he doesn't," he then shot a look at the one thing I hoped he wouldn't.

"Those boots he wore, earlier he was giving those the eyes of a long lost lover, did you check them?" Benny spoke before smirking at my now pale face.

"No, we didn't," Jessup said now grinning evilly

He walked over to the pile of my belongings and plucked my pair of boots from the pile. First, he felt around on the inside, "Well what do we have here?" he said as he pulled out the sole and showed a plastic poker chip raising it up high in the moonlight for all to see the 'Lucky 38' emblem on the center of the coin. He tossed it over to Benny who caught it with his off hand and inspected it.

He stared at it for a moment fiddling with it in his hand and rubbing it with his palm, "Ya know I thought this would be made out of metal," he said before smiling throwing it in the air and catching it, "But who cares?"

He placed it back into his pocket before lighting a cigarette and standing still, watching me. More sweat rolled down my face with every second I sat there facing him while he calmly smoked his cigarette. My mind raced trying to come up with some way of getting myself out of this pit, but it only came up blank. So, I sat there in a seat where minutes felt like hours and the moon hung in the air like a witness to a story just beginning.

"Hand me that pistol," he said grabbing my .44 magnum with both hands while keeping the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, "I gotta admit kid, that was some real nice gun-slinging earlier. I woulda hired you in a second," he flipped over my revolver, " 'Doom' huh? Kinda cheesy, but I remember this thing being a prize for a shooting competition at an NCR base over by the strip," he fiddled with it and seemed to aim down its iron sights treating it like a toy, "You must've won it... or you killed whoever did?" he asked with a wisp of intrigue.

"Well it doesn't matter anymore," he threw the gun into the hole beside me. Discarding it like it was a piece of trash. Afterward, he went back to his silence and continued to stare at me like a painting while smoking his cigarette.

Finally, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out, "Time to cash out," he spoke with a certain calmness in his voice.

"Will you get it over with," one of the Khans whose name I had not heard said in impatience

Benny put his hand in the air signaling for him to stop, "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" he then reached into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket and pulled the chip out showing it to me in his fingers, "You made your last delivery kid. Sorry, you got twisted up in this thing,"

'I won't beg for my life,' I finally accepted as he pulled a silver engraved 9 mm pistol from his coat.

"From where you're kneeling this must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck," he drew his pistol and aimed it squarely at my head. 'Is this it?' I asked myself as he pulled back the slide of the handgun.

"Truth is, the game was rigged from the start," he finished before pulling the trigger. There was a small pause and then a fireball at the end of the barrel of the weapon. Time seemed to slow down as I watched the slug pass through the air heading for my brain seeking to rip through it. It chugged along and all I could do was witness my own death.

'Ain't that a bitch,' and everything went black.