Mariel nods in acknowledgment as Viv lays down her ultimatum.<span style="color: pink">“What I'm offering is this: free reign over the surrounding region and license to operate any activities you see fit, so long as they don't conflict with our interests. You help patrol the area and keep the hostiles off our back, and in exchange we provide you with a monthly supply stipend.”</span><br/><br/>Viv folds her hands in an arch and leans against them in thought. The offer is tempting, perhaps even too good to be true. And there are a few truths that she can't deny: raiding the Hale Corporation with men like Tyler and Deckard as their allies will eventually be a zero sum game. It will only be a matter of time before her men are exterminated or forced to relocate. And now, with the railroad becoming a growing enterprise, regular land convoys will gradually disappear in favor of faster rail transport. With dwindling options for resupply, it becomes clear that allying themselves with Hale is the most sensible course of action.<br/><br/>Then again, there is concern that with such an alliance, the Deathstalkers' autonomy will fade away, leaving them all subject to Hale's rule. Knowing this, she voices her concern to Mariel.<span style="color: #8080ff">“If we do this, I want your guarantee that we won't be a bunch of corporate stooges under Hale's thumb. We stay free agents or there is no deal.”</span><br/><br/>Mariel smirks and extends her hand to Viv.<span style="color: pink">“I think we've got a deal.”</span><br/><br/>Viv hesitantly shakes it.<span style="color: #8080ff">“I'm not guaranteeing anything. If my people don't want this, that's the end of it.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: pink">“Only one way to find out...”</span><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>Viv steps out into the main area of the cave. Off to the side, the Deathstalkers' motorcycles lean in a row along the wall. The other group's SUV sits at the mouth of the cave while outside, the storm rages on.<span style="color: #8080ff">“All right, everyone listen up: Hale's just made us an offer. In exchange for protecting his railroad, we get free reign of the region and a monthly supply stipend.”</span><br/><br/>“What's the catch?” Jarrett asks.<br/><br/>Mariel steps forward and replies,<span style="color: pink">“The catch is your activities don't impact the Hale Corporation. You're free to do your business as long as it doesn't clash with our interests.”</span><br/><br/>Vaz scoffs. “Yeah, like that's not open to interpretation. Next thing you know, everyone we hit is going to be 'connected' to Hale. Sounds like a quick way to be dependent on him for supplies.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“Those are valid concerns, Vaz. But I'm gonna be honest with all of you: we're stretched thin out here. Hale's operation is growing and pretty soon there won't be any other caravans to hit. All the trade going through this region will be by train.”</span><br/><br/>“So what's stopping us from hitting the train like Lester did?” Tecwyn speaks up.<br/><br/>Deckard chimes in from the space by the SUV.<span style="color: #bf0040">“Guess you didn't see how that went for him.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: pink">“Look, the bottom line is you've got two options: clear out or be a part of something bigger than yourselves.”</span>Mariel states bluntly.<span style="color: pink">“Hale's not going anywhere, and quite frankly, you don't have the manpower or the resources to take us on.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080ff">“I know how this sounds, but we gotta be realistic about our future here. Now that being said, I'm not agreeing to anything unless all of you are behind me. So if any one of you have any reservations about this, now's the time to speak up.”</span><br/><br/>A moment of silence follows. Then, Tecwyn chimes in first. “I'm with you, boss. If this is what you think is the best move for us, I'm behind you.”<br/><br/>Vaz answers next. “I'm with you.”<br/><br/>Jarrett and the others follow suit. When all are decides, Viv turns to Mariel and shakes her hand.<span style="color: #8080ff">“Suppose I should meet Mr. Hale.”</span><br/><br/>Mariel smiles, feeling a growing sensation of accomplishment within her. This is what she has striven to achieve ever since she signed on with Hale's operation: a united movement to restore the wasteland.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>The two groups sleep fitfully through the night, the crashing of the storm outside periodically rousing them awake. Though some measure of trust has been established, some remain cautious about letting their guard down. In the morning, leftover roach is added to powdered eggs to create a nutritious, if not somewhat nauseating breakfast.<br/><br/>Climbing aboard their respective vehicles, the two groups assemble outside and head back to Cheyenne. Mariel radios ahead in order to update their status, and to alert the guards to the arrival of additional guests.<br/><br/>The skies are remarkably clear, with the bright sun offsetting the morning chill. Drifts of dust that gathered in the night occasionally make for difficult terrain along the road, but the SUV plows through them with little effort, allowing the convoy of motorcycles to follow safely in its wake. A few hours pass before they finally make it to Cheyenne's outer wall. When they pass the front gate, they're greeted by tower sentries and a large contingent of guards.<br/><br/>The SUV parks in the courtyard just inside the city walls. Behind it, the Deathstalkers idle down their motorcycles and dismount one at a time. As they all stand in the courtyard, Percival Hale approaches from down the street, escorted by men in heavy armor. Tyler thinks to himself how the man's presence has almost grown more regal since the last time they spoke, while the guards seem more numerous. As Mariel and Viv walk forward to greet him, Tyler notices something off – something distinctly sinister about his surroundings.<br/><br/>By the time he reacts, it's already too late.<br/><br/>The sound of gunfire echoes across the courtyard walls. Vaz, Tecwyn, and Jarrett fall to the ground, their skulls blasted open by high-caliber sniper fire. The other Deathstalkers are ripped apart by machinegun fire at ground level, their hands barely able to reach for their weapons. Tyler and Deckard both draw down but find themselves at gunpoint from every angle. Molly and Tank simply hit the ground, shielding their heads, completely panicked.<br/><br/>Mariel turns to Hale and shouts,<span style="color: pink">“Percy, what the hell?!”</span><br/><br/>Hale grins as his personal guards aim their rifles at Viv, the only remaining raider in the courtyard.<span style="color: orange">“You did your job perfectly, Mariel. Congratulations.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler holds his aim on Hale, his dark blue eyes full of silent fury.<span style="color: #336666">“What is this, Hale?”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: orange">“As for you gentlemen, you played your part magnificently. I'll be sure to throw in a bonus with your payment.”</span><br/><br/>Viv turns to Mariel and shouts,<span style="color: #8080ff">“You bitch!”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: pink">“I didn't--! Percy, goddamn it!”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: orange">“You didn't honestly think I'd throw in with a bunch of bandits, did you? Come on, now.”</span>Hale regards Viv with a sinister smile.<span style="color: orange">“As for you, my dear, I think you'll make a fine example of what happens to bandits in my territory.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #336666">“Don't do this, Hale...”</span>Tyler utters coldly, his aim still trained on the corporate president's head.<br/><br/><span style="color: orange">“Tyler, please... You're an impressive man, I'll give you that. But take a look around you. This isn't a fight you want to have with me.”</span><br/><br/>Deckard glares, his Rossi shotgun trained on Hale's guards.<span style="color: #bf0040">“What's our play, Ty?”</span><br/><br/>Hale replies,<span style="color: orange">“Your play, gentlemen, is to take your payment and go. Unless of course you want to see the inside of a prison cell. I'd rather not resort to that, of course.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: pink">“Percy... Please.”</span>Mariel pleads, placing her hand on his shoulder.<br/><br/><span style="color: orange">“First rule of business, Mariel: be ruthless to your adversaries and generous to your employees.”</span>Hale looks at Tyler and Deckard.<span style="color: orange">“So what's it going to be?”</span><br/><br/>Gritting his teeth, Tyler lowers his weapon in silence. Deckard hesitantly follows suit. The armored guards step forward and grab Viv by the shoulders before dragging her off.<br/><br/>Mariel simply stands there, her hands trembling with shock.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>As evening approaches, Mariel sits in her room silently. A map of the old railroad sits before her on her desk as she attempts to distract herself from the events that had transpired earlier. Were Hale's actions unduly cruel and heartless? Or was he simply being pragmatic about a group of people who were for all intents and purposes lawless savages?<br/><br/>One thing is certain: the feeling of being party to his actions makes her skin crawl. And yet, despite this, she can't help but find a part of her agreeing with him. Hiring mercenaries always carries a measure of risk, especially when those mercenaries don't wish to obey orders. And despite her misgivings, she realizes that he hadn't explicitly given her leave to make that kind of offer; she had simply been acting on her own initiative. Maybe it was an overstep on her part? Maybe Hale was right? After all, he is trying to rebuild civilization, and there is no room in civilization for outlaws.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #bf0040">“I don't like this.”</span>Deckard utters lowly as he packs his bags.<span style="color: #bf0040">“This isn't right.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler says nothing. He simply continues taking inventory of his gear. Deckard frowns and snaps at him,<span style="color: #bf0040">“Goddamn it, Tyler!”</span><br/><br/>Tyler abruptly stops what he's doing and looks up at Deckard.<span style="color: #336666">“What do you want me to do about it? Huh? We're outgunned and this very much isn't our problem.”</span><br/><br/>Deckard, exasperated, rolls his eyes.<span style="color: #bf0040">“Oh isn't that just fucking convenient. Doesn't matter that she didn't have it coming. No, we got paid. Job's over. Time to roll out.”</span><br/><br/>Tyler scoffs.<span style="color: #336666">“I don't need a lecture from you. Last time I checked, you were just another fucking merc. Do a job. Get paid. Move on.”</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #bf0040">“And last time I checked, you didn't pussy out when you saw something wrong happening. You actually had the balls to do something about it. But you know what? Fuck it. Let's just leave her to get tortured.”</span><br/><br/>Slamming his fist against the table, Tyler curses under his breath. Deckard's right, and Tyler knows they can't leave her to her fate. But the odds seem insurmountably stacked against them. It's a grim situation – one he's not sure they can overcome.<br/><br/>With a sigh, Tyler looks down and utters,<span style="color: #336666">“Obviously we can't just walk in and bust her out.”</span><br/><br/>Deckard nods, a faint outline of a smile creeping across his face at Tyler's coming around.<span style="color: #bf0040">“We might not have to.”</span><br/><br/>The pair look at one another as a single name comes to mind: Molly.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #bf0040">“You good with all this?”</span><br/><br/>Molly swallowed nervously, her eyes darting back and forth between the two muscle-bound men. With a short, quick nod, she gave her answer. Tyler gave a sympathetic smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, <span style="color: #336666">“Just stick with the plan and you'll be fine.”</span></span><br/><br/>Viv lies stretched out in her cell, staring at the ceiling. A single, stinking bucket in the corner and a dirty plate with scraps of undercooked rodent decorate her 5x5 accommodations. The guards outside say nothing. They stand like statues, immobile and indifferent. They continue to stand unfazed until the short, unassuming woman enters the jail with a medical bag. It's Molly, the town midwife. When the guards stop her, she clears her throat and says in her small, almost childlike voice, “I'm here to give the prisoner an examination.”<br/><br/>The guard is wearing a helmet with the visor down, but it's not difficult to imagine him raising an eyebrow in response. “Examination?”<br/><br/>“I... had my suspicions that she was with child. If she is, Hale needs to know. It'd look really bad if he executed a pregnant woman...”<br/><br/>Reaching down, the guard takes out the keys to the cell and motions for Molly to follow. As he unlocks the door, Molly turns to the guard and says, “Some privacy, please.”<br/><br/>The guard turns and leaves, and Molly waits for them to be alone before pulling a small scalpel out of her bag. Viv arches a brow.<span style="color: #8080ff">“What is this?”</span><br/><br/>Looking over her shoulder, Molly nervously adds, “When you see the moon from your cell window, call for the guard. Get to the motorpool as quick as you can. It's by the water tower.”<br/><br/>Sliding the blade across the ground, Molly says audibly, “We're done here!”<br/><br/>The guard comes back, and Molly stares Viv in the eye. Quickly, Viv palms the blade and sits back on her cot as the cell door opens. When the midwife leaves, Viv is left to ready herself for the task ahead. Cautiously, she glances at the window of her cell, waiting for the moon to rise.