For What It's Worth
Feb. 4th, 2009 02:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyThere were stairs set into the side of the crater, held in place by long metal spikes. Ellen picked her way up the crater before parking herself on one of them and rubbing at her face with both hands. First that man Burke in Moriarty's, then Moriarty himself, then Confessor Cromwell- what was it about the Wasteland, anyway? Did it just turn people evil, or nasty, or crazy?
... no. No, it wasn't just the Wasteland. The Overseer, or Security Chief Hannon, were no better than any of the people she'd met out here so far as she could see. Doc Hoff had been an odd sort of fellow, but nothing like evil or crazy, or even as unnerving as Moriarty; the Wasteland might've made him a cynic, but he hadn't seemed like a bad man. And there were good people out here, surely...
"Well, we're still breathing," came a familiar voice as a shadow fell over her. "So I assume you haven't done anything too foolish."
Ellen glanced up, dropping her hands. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. Hello, Sheriff."
"Sorry?" inquired Sheriff Simms, tilting his head. "For what?"
"I didn't notice you there. I probably shouldn't be sitting around here like this."
"Well, it's not the safest spot in the world," Simms allowed. "I was going to suggest you find somewhere else to take your troubles, though. The Brass Lantern serves some mighty fine food, if you don't mind hearing Confessor Cromwell's ravings."
Ellen shuddered, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Simms smiled wryly. "I see you already met our resident preacher. He'll leave you alone if he thinks you're praying to the bomb, so's you know. Might want to come back when he's asleep anyway, though. None of the other crazies're willing to preach the way he is."
"Maybe in the morning," Ellen said. "Is there someplace in town I can rent a bed?"
"Common house is kind of full at the moment," said Simms, "but there's always Moriarty's-"
She sat up straight at that as the memory struck her. "Mr. Burke," she said.
"What about him?"
"He- I spoke to him, in Moriarty's," Ellen said. "He wanted- Sheriff, Mr. Burke wanted me to blow up the bomb, not disarm it."
All the congeniality went out of Simms' expression. "He what?"
"I'm serious, sir," Ellen said. "Mr. Burke offered me caps and some kind of reward to rig the bomb with a 'fusion pulse charge' so he could detonate it."
"Oh, that tears it." Simms reached over his shoulder and drew his gun. It looked like the kind of thing Ellen had seen in the hands of Chinese soldiers in photographic images from the battles at the Anchorage Front. "Come with me, kid. You're about to get an education in Wasteland justice."
Ellen gulped, but came to her feet. You didn't say no to a man with an assault rifle and a look like the one on Simms' face.
The door to Moriarty's saloon slammed open. Ellen caught sight of Moriarty behind the bar, his eyes wide at the sheriff's furious visage. "BURKE!" snapped Simms, stalking past Gob and a couple of startled patrons. He stopped in front of a familiar figure in a shadowy corner. "Explain your business in Megaton."
Exactly what the Sheriff expected of her Ellen didn't know, but she didn't want to get in the way. She stepped sideways, circling around just far enough to get a clear view of Mr. Burke. The man's eyes were as flat and unreadable as the tinted lenses on a power armor helmet as he matched the sheriff's gaze. "I'm sorry?" Mr. Burke said. "Sheriff, what are you on about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about," said Simms, unmoved. "The bomb. You're trying to set that thing off. Have you lost your god-damned mind?"
A murmur of surprise and shock went up from the other patrons. Mr. Burke seemed quite content to ignore it. "Sheriff!" he said, his tone sliding towards congenial. "I'm afraid there's been a- hmm- misunderstanding. Someone has surely been spreading rumors. I'll be sure to address the situation- personally."
He might have flicked a glance in Ellen's direction at that. She couldn't say for sure. She did, however, feel a good deal better once her hand was resting on the butt of the Overseer's pistol.
Simms, however, only grew more grim. "I'm placing you under arrest, Burke," he said. "At least until I figure out what the hell's going on around here."
There was a moment's expressionless silence. Then Burke said, "And I'm afraid I won't be able to oblige your request- Sheriff." Ellen had never heard a word so loaded with contempt. "I have pressing matters to attend to. Now. Step aside."
"This isn't open to discussion," Simms retorted, assault rifle still leveled directly at Mr. Burke's chest. "You're coming with me."
Mr. Burke sank back in his chair. "Why do you knuckle-draggers always insist on doing things the hard way?" he fairly snarled. "Very well, Sheriff. Lead the way."
The hairs on Ellen's neck were prickling already, but a sharp pang of do something! ran through her as Simms turned to leave. Burke rose from his seat slowly-
BANG.
Simms whipped around again as Mr. Burke's body slumped to the floor, an oddly modified pistol falling from his lifeless fingers. He glanced from the corpse to Ellen, who had gone pale and trembling. The Overseer's pistol was still smoking in her hand. "I'm sorry," she said when she saw Simms looking at her, "but he was going to-"
Simms didn't speak. He did, however, turn his gaze on the rest of the bar patrons. No one said a word- well, almost no one; from somewhere in the back came a murmured, "Better him than me."
Heaving a sigh, Simms turned back to the trembling young woman. "I must be getting slow in my old age," he said. "Thanks for saving my hide, there."
I'm not in trouble? Ellen wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come out. All she could do was nod.
"If he had a next of kin, I'll be a mole rat's uncle," said Simms. "You're welcome to whatever he's got that you can carry. Probably saves Moriarty the trouble of finding a buyer. As long as you're in Megaton this time, your dinners are on me."
Ellen squeaked out her thanks. Simms just smiled. "Good luck," he said. "And be careful around that bomb."
Then he turned and stalked out of the saloon; but other than Gob's murmur of "Aw, jeez, now I gotta go find the shovel again," nobody really seemed to care what had just happened.
... no. No, it wasn't just the Wasteland. The Overseer, or Security Chief Hannon, were no better than any of the people she'd met out here so far as she could see. Doc Hoff had been an odd sort of fellow, but nothing like evil or crazy, or even as unnerving as Moriarty; the Wasteland might've made him a cynic, but he hadn't seemed like a bad man. And there were good people out here, surely...
"Well, we're still breathing," came a familiar voice as a shadow fell over her. "So I assume you haven't done anything too foolish."
Ellen glanced up, dropping her hands. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. Hello, Sheriff."
"Sorry?" inquired Sheriff Simms, tilting his head. "For what?"
"I didn't notice you there. I probably shouldn't be sitting around here like this."
"Well, it's not the safest spot in the world," Simms allowed. "I was going to suggest you find somewhere else to take your troubles, though. The Brass Lantern serves some mighty fine food, if you don't mind hearing Confessor Cromwell's ravings."
Ellen shuddered, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Simms smiled wryly. "I see you already met our resident preacher. He'll leave you alone if he thinks you're praying to the bomb, so's you know. Might want to come back when he's asleep anyway, though. None of the other crazies're willing to preach the way he is."
"Maybe in the morning," Ellen said. "Is there someplace in town I can rent a bed?"
"Common house is kind of full at the moment," said Simms, "but there's always Moriarty's-"
She sat up straight at that as the memory struck her. "Mr. Burke," she said.
"What about him?"
"He- I spoke to him, in Moriarty's," Ellen said. "He wanted- Sheriff, Mr. Burke wanted me to blow up the bomb, not disarm it."
All the congeniality went out of Simms' expression. "He what?"
"I'm serious, sir," Ellen said. "Mr. Burke offered me caps and some kind of reward to rig the bomb with a 'fusion pulse charge' so he could detonate it."
"Oh, that tears it." Simms reached over his shoulder and drew his gun. It looked like the kind of thing Ellen had seen in the hands of Chinese soldiers in photographic images from the battles at the Anchorage Front. "Come with me, kid. You're about to get an education in Wasteland justice."
Ellen gulped, but came to her feet. You didn't say no to a man with an assault rifle and a look like the one on Simms' face.
The door to Moriarty's saloon slammed open. Ellen caught sight of Moriarty behind the bar, his eyes wide at the sheriff's furious visage. "BURKE!" snapped Simms, stalking past Gob and a couple of startled patrons. He stopped in front of a familiar figure in a shadowy corner. "Explain your business in Megaton."
Exactly what the Sheriff expected of her Ellen didn't know, but she didn't want to get in the way. She stepped sideways, circling around just far enough to get a clear view of Mr. Burke. The man's eyes were as flat and unreadable as the tinted lenses on a power armor helmet as he matched the sheriff's gaze. "I'm sorry?" Mr. Burke said. "Sheriff, what are you on about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about," said Simms, unmoved. "The bomb. You're trying to set that thing off. Have you lost your god-damned mind?"
A murmur of surprise and shock went up from the other patrons. Mr. Burke seemed quite content to ignore it. "Sheriff!" he said, his tone sliding towards congenial. "I'm afraid there's been a- hmm- misunderstanding. Someone has surely been spreading rumors. I'll be sure to address the situation- personally."
He might have flicked a glance in Ellen's direction at that. She couldn't say for sure. She did, however, feel a good deal better once her hand was resting on the butt of the Overseer's pistol.
Simms, however, only grew more grim. "I'm placing you under arrest, Burke," he said. "At least until I figure out what the hell's going on around here."
There was a moment's expressionless silence. Then Burke said, "And I'm afraid I won't be able to oblige your request- Sheriff." Ellen had never heard a word so loaded with contempt. "I have pressing matters to attend to. Now. Step aside."
"This isn't open to discussion," Simms retorted, assault rifle still leveled directly at Mr. Burke's chest. "You're coming with me."
Mr. Burke sank back in his chair. "Why do you knuckle-draggers always insist on doing things the hard way?" he fairly snarled. "Very well, Sheriff. Lead the way."
The hairs on Ellen's neck were prickling already, but a sharp pang of do something! ran through her as Simms turned to leave. Burke rose from his seat slowly-
BANG.
Simms whipped around again as Mr. Burke's body slumped to the floor, an oddly modified pistol falling from his lifeless fingers. He glanced from the corpse to Ellen, who had gone pale and trembling. The Overseer's pistol was still smoking in her hand. "I'm sorry," she said when she saw Simms looking at her, "but he was going to-"
Simms didn't speak. He did, however, turn his gaze on the rest of the bar patrons. No one said a word- well, almost no one; from somewhere in the back came a murmured, "Better him than me."
Heaving a sigh, Simms turned back to the trembling young woman. "I must be getting slow in my old age," he said. "Thanks for saving my hide, there."
I'm not in trouble? Ellen wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come out. All she could do was nod.
"If he had a next of kin, I'll be a mole rat's uncle," said Simms. "You're welcome to whatever he's got that you can carry. Probably saves Moriarty the trouble of finding a buyer. As long as you're in Megaton this time, your dinners are on me."
Ellen squeaked out her thanks. Simms just smiled. "Good luck," he said. "And be careful around that bomb."
Then he turned and stalked out of the saloon; but other than Gob's murmur of "Aw, jeez, now I gotta go find the shovel again," nobody really seemed to care what had just happened.