Whale of the Wasteland - Level 5 (Patreon)

Chloe has been captured by Gizmo in a botched attempt to spy on him for Killian Darkwater. He secrets her away to the back of his casino and hooks her up to a mysterious machine.Meanwhile, Ian recovers from his scorpion sting only to find his companion missing.

Chapter 12

Ian woke up in the dry, dusty, half light of the crashhouse bedroom. His body ached, and his mouth was dry, but the mattress was soaked through with sweat. He sat up, wincing as his joints cracked and his shoulder ached. He checked his wound. It was healed now, and only inflamed around the edges of the pale scar tissue. Evidently, all of the venom had left his body, along with most of his water.

He got up, retrieving his leather jacket and his gun from the desk in the corner. There was no sign of Chloe, but her bag was sitting on the chair near the desk, along with her overalls which were draped over the back. Ian raised an eyebrow. Was she running around Junktown naked?

He stepped out of the bedroom and into the lobby. The woman behind the counter looked up at him, barely interested.

“Have you seen the woman I came here with?” he asked. “Stocky, red hair, kinda dorky looking?” 

“Haven’t seen her since yesterday.” She didn’t even look up from the paperback she was reading.

“Any idea where she went?” The woman just shrugged and kept on reading. Ian sighed and decided to change tact. “Anywhere I can get a drink around here?”

“The Scum Pitt is open all night if you got the caps. If not, there’s a hose out back.”

“Great. And does this place have a shower?”

“Like I said, there’s a hose out back.” 

Ian dropped a single cap on the counter before heading out into the arid night air. The Scum Pitt seemed like a good enough place to ask around. A sleepy little town like this didn’t seem particularly dangerous, but nowhere in the wasteland was truly safe. He’d find his friend, or at the very least, find out what had happened to her.

+++

Chloe lay, tied to a king sized bed with leather belts around both wrists and a ballgag in her mouth. The gag had been hooked up to a shop-vac, which had been juryrigged to a giant tub of BlamCo Spaghetti. The machine hummed away as gallons sauce and noodles oozed through the tube and into her mouth. As much as she hated being forced into this predicament, she had to admit, there were worse things to be stuffed with.

Noodles slowly slid through the tube and down her throat, filling her stomach and causing it to swell. Her belly had expanded enormously, but Izo had been courteous enough to remove her belt and unbutton her shirt. Now her belly expanded to the size of a basketball, under her blouse, the lower half was exposed to the air and she could feel it swelling even larger.

Gizmo and his cronies hadn’t been into the room in hours. She wasn’t sure just how much food he was planning to shove into her before giving her a break, but she was positive she’s already consumed at least three boxes’ worth of the stuff. Under normal circumstances, She’d be near bursting, but Chloe wasn’t feeling any discomfort at all. It was probably a side effect of the growth hormone from Vault 15. She’d need to see a doctor if she wanted to learn the full extent of the damage, but she’d already killed the only one in Junktown, and right now she had more pressing issues.

Her feet were free; that was an advantage. She could probably use them to pull the hose out of her mouth, though that wouldn’t do anything to free her, and Gizmo would likely be mad when he did inevitably return. Her resources were limited. The room was full of stuff. Boxes and dressers and filing cabinets. None of it was in range of her legs. She tried to get her feet up toward her wrists, but her stuffed belly limited her flexibility. 

She’d spent the past few hours trying to think of clever ways to escape. Maybe kicking off one of her shoes and using it as a tool, or breaking her glasses and cutting the ropes with a piece of the lens. These all felt like bad plans, and she was ashamed to admit that the one that seemed like it had the highest chance of success, was the one that most relied on brute force. 

She kicked both her legs up into the air. Then again, and again. Each time she did, the bed lurched. She just prayed that the shop-vac was loud enough that Gizmo and his goons wouldn’t hear her. Finally, she managed to build enough momentum to flip her legs over her head, performing something like a reverse summersault. Her legs ended up pressed against the headboard and her face was smooshed uncomfortably into the mattress, which her stuffed belly squashed into the bed, making her feel nauseous.

The force of the maneuver caused the tube to pop out of her mouth, spilling spaghetti all over the bed. She was committed now. If she failed to escape, she’d likely be in more trouble when Gizmo returned. She pressed both feet against the head board, and pushed with all of her might. Chloe had never been known for her feats of strength. She was more inclined to use a tool as a force multiplier rather than her muscles to solve a problem. Still, the bedframe was over a hundred years old and made of wood. With a loud crack, one of the bedposts splinted and broke and her right arm finally came free.

“The hell was that?” Gizmo yelled from the other room. “Izo, check on the girl.”

Chloe began undoing her restraints, breathing heavily behind the ball gag. In a few seconds she was free. There was only one door into the room. But there was a tiny window up near the ceiling on the far wall. She ran to it and ripped away the paper covering the glass.

The room was partially underground, and she could see the dark, dusty streets of Junktown outside. Gizmo was still yelling outside the door. Izo was fumbling with the lock. She pushed open the window and pulled herself up. She was nearly free. Within a few moments she’d be half way to Killian's shop and she’d never had to look at Gizmo’s fat face again! She wrigged her front half through the tiny opening she pulled herself forward, and came to an abrupt halt.

She was stuck. Her doughy middle, full of pasta and padded with blubber, was just too thick for this method of escape. She whined from behind the ball gag and pulled harder. No dice. She was well and truly stuck. She heard the door open behind her and Izo’s footsteps rapidly approaching. She tried to scream for help, but all she managed to do was spray spaghetti through the ball gag and into the dirt outside.

Izo grabbed her around her thighs and tugged. She was yanked back inside and tossed onto the bed. The bed groaned, seesawing unsteadily, and her belly, the source of all her troubles, wobbled with the impact; mocking her.

“Hell of an escape attempt, girlie.”

She looked through the open door to where Gizmo sat at his desk, watching her. He hadn’t moved since she'd last seen him. Maybe he couldn’t without help. Was she going to be that big when they were done with her?

“Izo, tie her down tight this time, and turn the machine to its highest setting.” 

Izo nodded. He grabbed the hose from the floor. Chloe felt her eyes go wide as he shoved it back into the ballgag and turned the dial on the machine as high as it would go.

Chapter 13

Chloe stared up at the wood-slat ceiling above her while the shop-vac in the corner continued to pump gallons of spaghetti into her mouth. Izo had bound both her arms and her legs this time, giving her very little ability to move. She’d spent the past hour trying to form a plan, but to no avail. Her mobility was limited, and she had no tools. All she could do was lie there and consume more and more pasta.

She looked down at the pale dome of her belly. It had risen several inches since the feeding had started. Each labored breath through her nose sent tiny jiggles across the surface as it expanded, rounder and fuller, threatening to eclipse her view of her feet. Peachfuzz covering the surface stood on end as she came to terms with just how fat she was getting. 

Even if she did escape, she would be carrying at least twenty extra pounds of chub. If she didn’t escape soon, she could expect to grow even more. Surprisingly, she wasn’t feeling full. Something about the growth hormone she’d been exposed to must have been supercharging her metabolism. No amount of shelf-stable pasta could fill her. She tugged ineffectually at her bindings.

At this point, a rescue seemed to be her best chance at escape. She could only hope that Ian would recover enough to find her and find a way to free her from Gizmo’s clutches, though how long that might take was unclear. 

As if in answer to her prayers, she heard a rustling by the window she’d attempted to escape from earlier. Izo had papered it over, but someone was pushing it open from outside. She looked up, hoping to see Ian’s stupid, bearded face, but was surprised to find the snout of the dog from earlier, sniffing around for more of that spaghetti from her botched escape. She yelled a muffled exclamation at him and the rest of his head poked through the paper, open mouth, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth the moment he recognized her.

He easily shredded through the rest of the paper and jumped down into the room, landing on the hose of the shopvac and tugging it free from Chloe’s ball gag. It popped free and began pumping the sauce-drenched pasta onto the wooden boards, which the mutt happily licked up.

Chloe felt panic rise in her chest, she turned to the door and stared, but apparently, Gizmo hadn’t heard the commotion. She looked back at the dog. He was a welcome companion, but beyond accidentally disconnecting her from the freeing hose, he was not enormously useful. She thought for a moment and started to form a plan.

She looked at the belts binding her arms and blew hard into the ballgag, spraying spaghetti and sauce all over the leather.She then turned back to the dog, and began verbalizing as best she could around the rubber bit to get his attention. 

After several agonizing seconds of muffled shouting the dog looked up from his feast and looked at her attentively. She motioned to the spaghetti soaked belt with her head, and tried to make clicking sounds with her tongue to beckon him over. The dog trotted over, confused, but eager to please. He sniffed at her face and began licking her, before she shook him off, nodding emphatically at the belt. 

He turned his attention to the food, sniffed briefly and began lapping it up. Chloe tugged at the belt, snapping it near his face. The dog took the bait, grabbing at the sauce covered leather and pulling playfully as his tail wagged. Chloe tugged as well and he bit harder. The more she pulled, the more excited he became as his teeth sunk deeper and deeper into the material. Finally, it snapped. Chloe’s arm came free and she pulled off the ballgag and took her first breath of the dusty air. 

The dog wagged his tail and barked as she untied her other hand. She reached over and  patted him on the head and rubbed his back, shushing him before he barked a second time.

“Good dog! Good dog! Quiet now,” she whispered before leaning forward over the ball of her belly to untie her feet. She stood to stretch and take inventory of her expanded body. Her belly felt huge and out of place on her frame, and she placed both hands on its surface. She could feel it churning as it digested the massive meal that she’d just escaped from. 

She looked up at the open window. There was no way she could fit through that now. Leaving through the door wasn’t a better option, with Gizmo right outside watching the door, and Izo not much farther. She was unarmed, and even with the dog for support, she doubted she’d make it as far as the casino proper.  

She looked around the cluttered room. Boxes and crates were piled on top of old metal filing cabinets. Maybe there was something that she could use as a weapon. She likely didn’t have long before Izo or one of his goons came to check on her, and if she was caught, she likely wouldn’t get a third chance to escape. With her resolve refortified, she set to work, digging through boxes, setting aside anything useful she could find. The dog supervised her search, providing morale support in between bites of spaghetti.

+++

Ian entered the Scum Pitt and looked around. It was too much to hope that Chloe would be sitting at the bar having a Nuka-Cola, but he was still mildly disappointed to confirm that. He took a seat himself, still scanning the room, and found the bar was full of your standard low-lifes. Riders, caravaneers, and one guy in a gasmask and trenchcoat. Ian recognized the patch on his shoulder, identifying him as a desert ranger. He offered him a nod, which the strangers reciprocated.

The bartender was busy serving drinks to a group of travelers from the Crimson Caravan company, and the only other server was being accosted by a local thug. Ian watched as she tried to move away, but the man she’d been serving grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. Ian looked over. The bartender hadn’t seemed to notice.

He sighed, getting up from his seat and approaching the server.

“Come on, baby. I’m a member of the Skulz.” The ruffian slurred his words as he pulled the woman closer. “You wouldn’t want to get on my bad side, would you?”

“Excuse me?” Ian interrupted. The gang member spun to face him, but Ian ignored him, keeping his attention on the server. “I’m out of cigarettes. Do you got any Grey Tortoises? I’ll take Clipper Ships too, if that’s all you have.”

The woman pulled away from her assailant and took a step back, taking a moment to fix her hair before answering.

“We don’t sell smokes here, sorry.” 

“Yeah, shorty,” the thug spat. “They don’t sell smokes, so why don’t you buzz off?”

“Could you check in the back?” Ian asked, completely ignoring the man between them.

The server smirked and nodded, turning around and heading through a door in the back. The Skulz thug stood agape, turning from the now closed door to Ian.

“What the hell, man? You cock blocked me.”

“Relax, I did you a favor. Go home, and try to sleep this off. You’ll feel less stupid in the morning.” Ian turned to sit back down, but the man grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him into the counter. Ian grunted as his chest collided with the bar, the wind knocked out of him. He winced, and opened his eyes, just in time to see a knife plunge into the bar next to his face. 

“No one fucks with the Skulz, man. We’re the baddest in the wasteland. I’m gonna cut your beard off and use it to cover my bald spot.”

Through the pain, Ian had a moment of clarity. He’d obviously overestimated how inebriated this man was, and underestimated how dangerous. He was strong, pressing Ian’s face against the counter with one hand and plucking the knife free from the wood with the other. Judging by the way he held his knife to Ian’s cheek, he meant to make good on his promise.

Just when Ian was about to accept the possibility of a non-consentual shave, someone came up behind the thug and grabbed him by the shoulder, throwing him aside. Ian looked up to see the desert ranger from earlier, the glassy eyes of his gasmask staring down at him. The ranger offered him a thumbs up before taking his arm and hauling him to his feet.

The Skulz gangster scrambled to his feet and held up his knife.

“You think this is funny? I can take you both. I’m with the Skulz. We’re the baddest in the waste–” 

The man was cut off by a gunshot that took off the bottom half of his jaw. He made a sick yelp as his tongue slapped against his neck before another shot blew through his temple, and he collapsed onto the ground.

Ian looked over to the bartender, who stood, holding a pistol, smoke pouring from the barrel.

“Thanks for helping to break that up, Tycho.” He replaced the gun in its holster on his hip.

The ranger pulled down the gas mask, letting it hang around his neck, revealing a sun-chapped face adorned with a thick grey moustache.

“Always a pleasure to assist.” He responded, his voice deep and jolly. He turned his attention to Ian. “Brave of you to intercede for our lovely Trish. He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he?”

Ian rolled his shoulder, and stood up straight, trying to regain some composure.

“No, he took me by surprise. I didn't expect him to be so strong.” 

“Next time, hook a leg behind his ankle before trying to push him off. Doesn’t matter how strong he is if he can’t keep his balance.” Tycho winked at Ian and the younger man felt himself flush. He averted his gaze down to the floor boards.

“Probably addicted to Buffout,” The bartender said, walking over and handing Ian a mug full of beer. “I’m Neal by the way, did you come here just to make trouble, or are you here to drink too?”

“I’ll take a beer if it comes with information. I’m looking for my friend. A woman with red hair and glasses. Her drink of choice is Nuka Cola.”

“Chloe!” Neal exclaimed. “She came by yesterday asking about some old tech. I told her to talk to Killian down by the general store.”

“That’s perfect, thank you!” Ian downed the mug of beer in a few deep gulps and then flipped a cap toward the bartender as he got up to leave.

“Hold on, kid,” Tycho interrupted. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder shoving him back onto the stool. “Not that I don’t trust you, but what is it that you want with the lady?”

Ian met Tycho's grey eyes, shrouded by overgrown eyebrows. Those eyes were kind and full of concern, but there was a violence behind them. Ian had no doubt that this man wouldn’t let him leave if he gave the wrong answer.

“Chloe saved my life. I can’t leave town until I’m sure that she’s okay.”

Tycho nodded. “Good enough for me. I’m coming with you. You need someone to watch your back, at least until you find your friend.”

He replaced the gas mask over his face and started walking toward the entrance . Ian looked to Neal, who shrugged. Evidently, Ian didn’t have any choice in the matter. He followed the old man outside and the two men headed toward the general store.

Chapter 14

Chloe tossed another box of dry pasta over her shoulder as she dug through one of the cabinets in Gizmo’s back room. She’d managed to find a box of ten millimeter ammo, but the closest she’d found to an actual weapon was “Guns and Bullets”, an old firearm enthusiast magazine. Other than that, she’d found an old lighter, a set of dice, and a bag of caps.

Most of what Gizmo hoarded back here seemed to be packages of spaghetti. It had gotten to the point that each time she lifted a new box, she could guess by the weight and the way it rattled how much of it would be pasta.

Chloe finished ransacking the cabinet and turned her attention to a new pile of boxes. The first two on top were spaghetti boxes, but as she went to lift the third, she found it heavier than she expected. She pulled it open, hoping to find a pile of ordinance behind the cardboard flaps. Instead, she was greeted by various lead pipes and odds and ends, which clanked heavily against each other as she sorted through them.

In the hands of someone like Izo, one of these pipes might have made a decent weapon, but Chloe doubted she’d have the ability to seriously harm someone with one of these, even if she did have the inclination.

Finished with his meal, the dog walked over and looked into the box, sniffing the dusty pipes inquisitively before sneezing. Chloe pet his ears, shushing him. She picked up one of the pipes experimentally, grabbing a metal cap from the box and screwing it on to the end. The spark of an idea ignited in her head.

“I think this might work!”

The dog cocked his head at her, eager to help but helpless to understand. 

Chloe set to work. Step one was simple. She emptied out three boxes of pasta into a pillowcase and then stomped on them until the noodles had been pulverized into a starchy powder. Next, she emptied all the fuel from the lighter, pouring it over the noodle fragments until they were soaked.

She kneaded the mess into a kind of loose dough, which she then used to fill three of the lead pipes. The last step was more involved. She disassembled the bullet cartridges and carefully removed the gun powder, mixing it with her spit and plastering it to the underside of three of the pipe caps from the box.

In just a few hours, she’d managed to assemble three pipe bombs! Now all she needed was a way to ignite them. She turned her attention to the shopvac. Chloe had placed the hose inside its spaghetti tank to avoid slipping on spaghetti while she worked. The constant hum of the motor had done a fair job of masking the sound of her tinkering, but now she needed its components. 

He finger hovered over the off switch. It was possible that as soon as she hit it, Izo would come into the room to investigate. She remembered how his strong arms snaked around her softer midsection as he pulled her bodily from the window. He would only be rougher if he found her building explosives.

She took a deep breath, tried to calm her heart rate, and flipped the switch. The engine died with a few final buzzing clicks. She waited, listening for motion from behind the door.

“You say something Izo?” Gizmo’s gruff voice asked, barely muffled by the thin slats of wood. “Ah, forget about it, I must be hearing things.”

She let out a sigh of relief. The work wasn’t quite over yet. 

She unplugged the vacuum from the wall and began stripping the wire until she had enough to run to all three bombs simultaneously. Then she removed the power switch and attached it to the wire. She now had three bombs and a detonator. Ideally, she’d be able to test one of them before relying on the others, but that wasn’t an option. 

She secured the bombs to the door and set up the detonator at the far corner of the room. She then hauled the mattress off of its bedframe to place between her and the explosives. Now she had to wait. Gizmo wasn’t much of a threat, but Izo was. Her best chance to escape was to set off the bomb as soon as he entered the room. She huddled with the dog, petting him both for comfort and to keep him quiet. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to wait long. 

+++

Killian’s store wasn’t open this late at night. Closing duties involved sweeping, securing the caps and restocking the inventory for the next day while Lars stood guard outside. He’d just finished organizing the ammo boxes when Ian and Tycho stepped into the shop. Lars followed close behind, shotgun at the ready.

“These men wanted to talk to you,” he said “I’ve disarmed them, but I’ll wait here to be sure they don’t try anything”

“Well, sleeping beauty is awake!” Killian dusted off his hands and stood to greet his guests. “Thanks Lars. I’ll be okay. Go ahead and wait outside.” 

Lars nodded and closed the door behind them. 

“I’m looking for Chloe,” Ian said. “Do you know where she is?”

Killian sighed. “Yeah, I do. She’s at Gizmo’s Casino, or at least she was the last time I heard from her. She went in wearing a wire and got made. I don’t know what happened to her after that.”

“You sent her in there alone?” Ian demanded. “And you abandoned her?” He took a step forward, but Tycho placed a hand on the younger man’s chest to stop him.

“Mighty unkind to send a visitor into the lion’s den like that, Darkwater. I trust you had a good reason.” 

“Hey, she was the one that got Gizmo’s attention. I gave her the bug so that we could get some evidence to shut him down for good. The only evidence that we have now is that Gizmo knows I’ve got it out for him.”

“And that he kidnapped someone,” Ian interjected. 

“Kidnapped at best,” Killian pointed out. “We don’t know if she’s still alive.”

“She’s alive.” A voice said from behind them. They all turned to see Sinthia standing by the entrance.

“Sorry to interrupt. Lars let me in.” 

“What brings you in, Sinthia?” Tycho asked.

“I heard you were looking for Chloe. Gizmo’s got her locked up in the back room of that fortress of his.” 

“And you know this how?” Killian asked. 

“Izo’s got a crush on me and he likes pillow talk. After she went in there, I set to work on him to make sure that she’s okay. Apparently, they’ve got her hooked up to Gizmo’s spaghetti thing as some kind of fucked-up punishment.” 

“We’ve got to get her out!” Ian turned looking for support from the people surrounding him. “We can’t leave her there. I don’t know what this spaghetti thing is, but I doubt that an Italian dinner is the worst he has planned for her.” 

Tycho and Sinthia seemed on board. Killian was the only hold out.

“Kid, I feel for you, but Gizmo’s got a lot of influence in this town. I can’t just march a bunch of guards up there based on the testimony of one of his goons. No offense, Sinthia.”

She snorted, clearly offended, but didn’t press the issue. Ian was about to say more when the door opened for a third time and a tall man with dangerous eyes and a long coat entered.

“God damn it, we’re supposed to be closed! Is Lars just letting everyone in now?”

“Gizmo sends his regards.” The newcomer man lifted a rifle from under his coat and aimed it at Killian’s head. Killian ducked, just as the man fired. Ian whipped around and punched the assassin across the jaw. The man recoiled, and Sinthia had time to stomp on his foot before he could turn the gun on Ian. 

He yowled and the gun went off again, shooting a hole in a bag of feed corn on a high shelf. Tycho ran behind the man and put him in a full nelson, while Ian took hold of the rifle. He wrenched the weapon out of one of the would-be assassins’ hands, but with that hand, the man grabbed Ian by the throat, lifting him off the ground, even as Tycho tried to force him to the ground. 

From the corner of his eye, Ian watched Killian dart in close with a folding chair. He smashed it down over the man's head. He crumpled, blood spurting from the new dent in his head, and the four of them stomped on his body until he stopped moving. 

“How was that?” Ian asked between labored breaths. “Is that good enough evidence for you?”

“Yeah.” Killian responded, opening up the bloody folding chair and sitting down to catch his breath. “Yeah that’ll do I think. How’d he even get inside?”

He paused for a moment and then scrambled to his feet to run through the front door. The rest followed close behind. Outside the store, the silhouette of Lars' body stood leaning against a wooden wall. In the half light he could have been mistaken for a living person but not up close. The knife which had slit his throat now pinned him to the wall. Drops of dark blood spilled down his chest and his head hung forward, chin resting on the hilt.

Chapter 15

Gizmo’s casino didn’t sleep. The slots and tables were open all night long, and gamblers from all across the wasteland came to lose their hard earned caps at his unbalanced roulette wheels and loaded dice. Now, as the sun began to crest over the dusty horizon and paint the sky pink and orange, the casino began to settle down. The party atmosphere became more somber, and the den of sin began to show its more grimy edges

Ian and Tycho entered casually. Ian had replaced his leather jacket with a pinstripe prewar suit. Tycho retained his armor, following close behind, shotgun held at the ready.

“Two guards by the entrance, two at the back and four more on the floor.” Tycho whispered as Ian approached a craps table. 

“That’s a lot of muscle. No way of knowing if he has more in the back.”

“At least one. Izo. Big son of a bitch. Probably worth two of these mugs.” 

“No use waiting then.” He tossed his dice, which came up snake eyes, and tossed a few caps to the dealer. They approached the guards at the back door and came to a stop several feet away so as not to present a threat.

“I need to see your boss,” Ian said, as authoritative as he could muster.

“What for?” The taller guard barked, eyeing Ian up and down.

“I’ve got information he’s gonna want to know about what went down last night at Killian Darkwater’s general store.”

The guards shared a nervous glance and quickly opened the door. Ian nodded at them and he and Tycho stepped inside. The air in Gizmo’s office smelled strongly of tobacco and pasta sauce. Gizmo sat at the back in his desk, his prodigious girth spilling over the surface in all directions. Izo stood guard nearby, his metal armor polished to a shine, and his muscled arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“What do you want?” Gizmo slurred through his jowls, staring down at Ian, his beady eyes glinting in the chasm created between his forehead and his fat cheeks. Ian approached, still cautious and careful not to tip his hand too early.

“Your assasination attempt on Killian Darkwater failed. Thought you might like to know.”

In the back room, Chloe looked up. That had been Ian’s voice! Ian was in Gizmo’s office! She’d spent the night eating pasta and reading the gun magazine. The dog curled at her feet. She had kept the detonator at the ready, but no one had bothered to check on her. She listened intently, trying to follow the conversation and look for the best moment to interject.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gizmo growled. 

Ian was unfazed by the denial. “Then let’s say hypothetically, someone was sent to kill Killian Darkwater. They failed. Now, whoever sent him needs to find someone new who can finish the job.”

Gizmo laughed. It was a deep, mean sound with no joy behind it. “Okay. Fair enough. But Killian’s slippery. How do I know I can trust you?”

“Let me show you.” Ian started. He reached into his jacket for his pistol, when he was seized from behind by powerful arms. The guards from outside the door took hold of both him and Tycho, disarming them in the process and tossing their weapons to the floor. Gizmo’s vile laughter filled the room again. 

“You must think I’m an idiot. I know who you are! You came into town with the girl. You think you can waltz in here and kill me in my own casino?” 

“I got the idea from you,” Ian growled. “I suppose I’m the idiot, since your plan didn’t work either.” 

Tycho didn’t struggle. He looked up and spoke calmly. “Let us go, Gizmo. Killian darkwater has a half dozen men outside. They’re ready to come in shooting as soon as they hear gunfire. Your only chance is to give yourself up.”

“You’re bluffing,” Gizmo spat. “Killian doesn’t have the stomach for that kind of thing, but just in case… Izo. Beat them until there’s nothing left.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

It was the first time that Chloe had heard Izo speak. She knew that he was standing directly outside the door. Without hesitation, she hit the detonator.

The explosion sent the door flying off its hinges and propelled it into the far wall of Gizmo’s office. It smacked against the wooden slats with a loud splat, and then fell to the ground, revealing a roughly Izo shaped smear on the wall. 

All hell broke loose. Tycho elbowed the guard that was holding him in the stomach and flipped him over his shoulder. Ian tried to break away from his captor, but the guard got the upper hand and tackled him against Gizmo’s desk, pressing his face down against the smooth mahogany. The second time his cheek had met a cool, hard surface.

Gizmo drew a long-barreled pistol from his desk and held it up against Ian’s temple. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, worm.” He gurgled as he cocked the hammer. 

Suddenly, a large dog burst from the back room and leapt over the desk, biting onto Gizmo’s fleshy throat. Ian took the opportunity, hooking his foot behind his assailant's ankle and pushing off the desk, knocking the guard to the ground. 

“Ian!” Chloe yelled from the doorway as she stumbled out into the fray.

“Chloe!” Ian yelled back, beaming. She was bloated, and covered in pasta sauce, but she was alive, and that was better than he’d hoped! He grabbed Gizmo’s gun from where he’d dropped it on the desk and tossed it to her. “There’s more of them on the way. Cover the entrance.” 

Chloe caught the gun and readied herself behind the desk. Gizmo coughed and sputtered as he sank to the floor with the dog continuing to maul him. 

“You…bitch” he managed to choke out of his ruined throat. Chloe winced and fired a single merciful shot between his eyes before turning her attention to the door. 

Tycho finished off his guard and retrieved his shotgun, and Ian managed to retrieve his pistol just as the first of the casino guards entered the room.

Chloe fired, the bullet from Gizmo’s pistol obliterating his shin and sending the guard to his knees. A blast from Tycho’s shotgun took his head off. Another man followed close behind and Ian unloaded five shots into his chest before he stepped through the door. The guard that Ian had been grappling with moved to get up, but the dog growled in his face and the man thought better of it.

Patrons screamed and began running from the casino, some of them took the opportunity to scoop up piles of caps on the way out and others simply fled for their lives. The remaining casino guards found cover behind game tables and overturned furniture.

“Give yourselves up!” One of them yelled. “We have you outnumbered.

“Not quite!” A voice boomed over a megaphone from the casino entrance. “This is Killian Darkwater. Me and my boys have the place surrounded. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up, and I promise to show mercy.”

Gizmo’s goons sat still for a moment, shocked. Finally, one of them threw his gun down and raised his hands as he slowly made his way to the exit. He was followed by another and another. In a few moments, the casino was completely empty and Killian himself walked inside.

“Ian? Tycho? Did any of you folks survive?”

“We’re all accounted for!” Chloe shouted as they exited Gizmo’s office. Tycho held the surviving guard at gunpoint and passed him to one of Killian's men as they entered the casino floor. Killian blinked as he caught sight of the heftier redhead. 

“Chloe! Wow. You’re looking healthy.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She reached down to grab a roll of her midsection. “Gizmo was trying to fatten me up to be his plaything. Thankfully, he won’t be able to try that on anyone else.”

“Chloe shot him.” Ian explained. “You feeling okay, Chloe?”

“I think I can live with it.” she sighed. She’d seen more death in the past few weeks than she’d experienced in her entire life in the vault. None of it was good, but for better or worse, she was starting to come to terms with having to pull the trigger.

“He’s dead?” Killian’s face darkened. “That makes things more complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Ian asked, rolling his shoulder, flashing a look of concern to Chloe.

“If he was alive we could have a trial. That would go a long way to swaying public opinion against him. As it stands, a lot of people are going to be really mad that you killed him.”

“Let them be mad,” Chloe scoffed. “Gizmo was a psycho. He had to go.” 

“Can’t say I disagree.” Killian admitted. “Still, this isn’t the hub. We’re a small town, and it’s going to take everyone working together to rebuild after this. That can’t happen if people are looking for revenge. You have to go.” There was a moment of silence between the two groups. Chloe and her band of misfits, and Killian's posse of deputies.

“You can’t be serious,” Ian said finally.

“I’m deadly serious, kid. You can stock up at my general store, but then you have to leave immediately, and I don’t want to see either of you in Junktown again.” He turned his attention to Tycho. “Of course you’re still welcome, Tycho.” 

The older man stared from behind his gasmask and finally responded. “No thanks, Darkwater. This whole business has left a bad taste in my mouth.” 

Killian sighed. “Suit yourself.”

Killian's deputies escorted them to the store where he resupplied them with stimpacks and provisions. Then, the three of them and their dog were led at gunpoint to the Junktown gates and ushered outside. The gate slammed closed behind them. Armed guards glared down at their troop from the scrap-built walls.

“Of all the lousy, ungrateful assholes…” Ian trailed off. 

“Don’t take it personally. That’s the wasteland for you.” Tycho patted him on the shoulder. “So, are you folks headed toward the hub?”

“That’s right,” Chloe perked up. “We’re looking for a water chip to save my vault.” 

“That sounds like a worthwhile adventure. You mind if I tag along?” 

“Of course not! We need all the help we can get!”

The barked and wagged his tail, running in circles around them as they began their long journey south. Despite everything, they’d managed to survive the wasteland, and now there were four of them. Even with her widened waistline, Chloe felt confident that together they could handle anything that this irradiated world had to throw at them!