GreatBritainBill (DeadCerberus)
``Finished my count Boss! Got 14 cans that are still good here.'' The voice came from her left. Cassidy didn't know exactly what `mon it came from, but he sounded a bit younger than she was. Probably some dumb punk in his late teens. Didn't matter, all these fuckers were dead meat.
Things hadn't been going great recently anyway. After the Highwaymon had been stolen somewhere in the ruins of Jubilife, she and Tone had been stressed as hell, and it turned into a big fight. Eventually Tone just freaked out and the Scrafty stormed off on her own. At the time Cassidy hadn't felt like chasing after her.
So once more she was on her own, vehicle-less, hoofing it on foot east, for lack of anywhere better to go. Only a day or two's walk from Mt. Coronet she'd eventually decided to bed down in the crumbling remains of a pre-war ranger station. Throwing down a old blanket to lie on, Cassidy supposed she must have been more worn out from the fight and the hike then she'd thought, cause when the raiders had burst into the shack and blindfolded her she had barely started to stir. Ordinarily she would have jumped to her feet at the first sign of trouble, but she was groggy. It was only when they bound her hands and strung them up to a rafter, leaving her balancing on her toes, that she finally woke up and realized what was happening.
``Few days of food, some potions, a nice shotgun'' She could hear the sound of one of the bastards breaking her gun open and examining the barrel. If they didn't back off she was gonna shove that thing up their ass and pull the trigger. ``And a couple dozen shells for it. Pretty good haul for one dumbfuck who didn't even put up a fight.''
That would be the boss then, probably a Machamp given that when he had tied her up she had felt four hands. They were clearly raiders but the question was, what type? Psycho's would have already slit her throat and then decorated the shack with her blood and flesh. So these thugs were probably either slavers, hunting on a lonely trail instead of on a well travelled road, or some pack of green amateurs.
Currently, she was leaning toward green. They might have gotten the drop on her, and put her in some basic bindings, but they had also made some real rookie mistakes. Going straight to looting her pack, not reinforcing her bindings, or interrogating her to see if she had any allies nearby.
Well, there wasn't anyone nearby (thanks Tone) but they never confirmed that.
``Yeah the food is nice and all Boss, but we've also got this thick cut a' meat here too.'' A raspy female voice chuckled, while a sharp finger jabbed her right in the boob. Ugh, dude or chick, raiders were all the same and all apparently interested in the same thing.
``Hehe, yeah. She's definitely been eating better you Crash, if ya know what I mean.''
``Shut your fucking mouth Scratch! Or I'll start carving some meat off your ass!''
Cassidy could hear the impact of what must have been Crash's fist impacting Scratch. She had a little chuckle at that. Most raiders, except for the bosses, tended to be pretty strung out and scrawny. It wasn't the first time she'd caught some envy from one over their physical `discrepancies'. Usually right before she gave them some new holes or they ran screaming for momma.
But right now she had an opportunity, afforded by these amateur's. It was going to cost her for the near future, though not nearly as much as doing nothing would. While Crash and Scratch continued to argue in the dark beyond her blindfold, and the boss seemed to be rummaging through her pack, she reached inside herself. It had been quite a while since she had grabbed for the psychic power inside and it always came hard to her for that reason.
Extending out, the minds of the other three came into focus, like little blue flames in the darkness. An experienced psychic maybe could have put them to sleep, or shocked their minds to pieces right then, but Cassidy had never received very much training or had much chance to practise.
Using moves just took up too much energy, that was why swords and guns had been invented in the first place. Anyone relying on moves would run out of power before the end of anything other than a small skirmish. In the days before the bombs that wasn't a big deal. Mon's could spar all they wanted in practise and tournaments and then just grab a hearty meal and some rest, or head to a centre. But when most people were, at best, a few days away from starvation anyhow using moves could be suicidal. What took exponentially more energy? Breathing out a torrent of flame or pulling a trigger?
Cassidy didn't have a trigger in hand right now, but they couldn't scoop out her brain till she was already dead. She'd never got the hang of advanced techniques like hypnosis or psyshock, but telekinesis was another matter. So she let her invisible hands roam, blindly groping around the room.
The first thing she found was right where she had remembered it, and nearly made her start laughing out loud at this groups sheer stupidity. Her backup knife, right where it always was, slipped in a band on her thigh.
``Oh, you complete and utter morons'' she had to whisper, luckily unheard over the commotion of Crash and Scratch. They were so confident that just tying her up made her helpless that they had left weapons ON her body. How had these morons managed to survive, let alone get the drop on her? Still, one small knife wasn't going to solve this issue so she reached out further, already feeling the sweat start to drip from the unfamiliar strain.
What else was there? She knew her machete must be around here somewhere, and her cooking knives! They would have still been out of her pack after last night. Her shotgun was a no go, not only was their boss probably still holding it but with her level of telekinetic control she'd be just as likely to end up shooting herself as one of them. Her cooking skewer maybe?
``I'm not seeing anything else in this pack'' The gruff voice of `The Boss' suddenly called out. ``Hey you two, knock it off before I knock your heads together! Scratch, you found anything else she's hidin?'' The sounds of the scuffle almost immediately cut out, clearly the two jokers knew who their king was. ``Uh, no boss. Nothing. Heh, hey maybe she's hidden something down her chest eh? Could have a revolver hidden in all that!''
``True enough boy! Well...'' The heavy footsteps of the boss tramped their way over to her. His disgusting hands (yep, four of em) were once again roaming over her body like they owned it. ``Well Green Hair, how bout it? You tell us where some more goodies are and maybe we just strip you naked and leave you here instead of finding you a buyer over in Hearthome?'' The laughter that followed was both predictable and disgusting. Back when she was a kid Hearthome had been a centre of culture in the region, nowadays the pageants they put on were of a much more depraved sort.
``Keep touching me and you will fucking regret it.'' She whispered through clenched teeth. It had the intended effect as the boss leaned in a bit closer. ``What was that Greenie? You'll have to speak up if you want us to hear? Or did someone already cut your throat?''
``I said'' Cassidy finally let the built up energy cut loose. Her backup knife flew from its band, cutting the Machamp across the chest, all while the rest of the cabin turned into a storm of chaos. Loose cans and debris flew everywhere, her cooking knife and machete whirling like a steel dervish, while her skewer jabbed randomly into the air. Either Scratch or Crash started to scream, maybe both of them, and Cassidy could feel the telekinetic impact from her knives hitting... something around her. As the hands flew off her body and the sound of feet stampeded toward the door, the ranger station reverberated with Cassidy's voice.
``Touch me again and you will FUCKING REGRET it!''
