Dream Job

The heavy metal doors swung shut behind Dawson Burns and the guards began locking them down.

"Welcome to Grey Town, Mr. Burns," said Sam.

"Thank you, I look forward to getting a good nights sleep tonight," Dawson replied taking his hat off and hitting it against the side of his leg to get the dust off.  He looked around at the countless shacks and huts scattered about.  It was one of the largest settlements in the country now and housed over five thousand people.

"You'll find the inn up the main road here.  The owner's name is Dan Morrison.  Tell him I sent you, he'll hook you up with a nice little room, maybe some company."  Sam winked and clapped Dawson on the shoulder before walking away towards the town square.  Dawson smirked, finding Sam's seedy personality to be amusing.  He set off down the street, his dusty, gray trench coat billowing in the high winds that always blew across the Wastes.  His heavy duty boots caused dust to cloud up with every step, but he did not mind.  He was dirty enough already, and his main focus now was getting a drink and a place to stay.

He reached the inn and stopped to look it over from the outside.  It appeared to be as sleazy and dirty as any inn in any town on the Wastes, except much larger.  Drunken men and women stumbled out, some stumbling in, already having drunk much.  Dawson walked inside and as he entered the sounds of drunken laughter and shouting met his ears.  Me sat around tables smoking, drinking, and playing cards.  Slutty women littered the place, rubbing men's shoulders and serving drinks.  Dawson approached the bar and set his hat on the counter as the bartender walked over.

"Bottle of whiskey please," Dawson said.  The bartender reached under the counter and set a bottle and a glass on the counter.  "I was told to tell you that Sam sent me."

"Ah, you must be his friend Dawson, he told me about you," the bartender said.  "The name's Jed."

"Good to meet you, Jed."

"And you Dawson.  I'll have one of the girls show you to a room, just let me know when you're ready.  Care for some company tonight?"

"No thank you."

"Suit yourself."

Jed walked away to help other customers and Dawson turned around, glass of whiskey in hand, to face the room full of people.

His attention was caught by a group of men in the far corner.  There were five of them and they were all seated around a small circular table.  They were playing a game of cards.  Many men at many tables were playing card games, but what caught Dawson's eye were the weapons they had.  They were expensive weapons like the ones that people from the big cities owned.  These men were not from around here.  All the big cities were back west, mostly in Newcalee.  Three of the men had fancy scoped rifles slung across their backs, .48 caliber pulse rifles by the looks of them.  Another man had an assault rifle leaning against his chair.  It was one of the armor piercing guns that held the deadly .22 dart round, capable of piercing almost any armor, even a tank's shell.  The last man had a shotgun sitting across his lap.  Most men who carried shotguns had one of the older double barrel shotguns or a pump-action that shot the cheap and common 9 gauge scatter-shot rounds.  But this man's shotgun was a lever-action with a magazine, and by the size of it it looked like it held 16 gauge slug rounds, pulse slugs most likely.  Each man carried a seven round cylinder revolver, .44's by the looks of them.  Their cloths were on the higher-end also.  Shiny black boots and dark pants with belts and tucked in shirts, vests and ties.  Long tench coats hung from their chairs, and bowler hats sat on the table in front of them.  They were quiet and intent on their card game, but Dawson saw their eyes scanning the room around them every so often.  They were aware of their surroundings.  Dawson downed the rest of his whiskey from the glass, grabbed his hat the the bottle and walked over.  He pulled up a chair and sat down right near them, tipped back in his chair, crossed his legs and looked at them.  After a moment the men set their cards down and turned to Dawson.

"Evening gentlemen," Dawson said cordially.

"Good evening to you as well," said the man with the shotgun.  He was clearly the leader, and his accent confirmed that they were from Newcalee.

"Where about are you all from?"  Dawson asked.

"Back west, we're on government business," the leader replied, and they all turned back to their card game as if the conversation was over.

"Is that so?  I've got family back west.  I came out here for work.  What kind of work do you do?"

"Not really any of your business is it?  Now if you'll excuse us," said another man man, his right hand twitching towards his assault rifle.

"Nice weapons you have there," said Dawson.  "You don't see fancy guns like those out here too often.  I suppose the west is wealthier though, you all can afford more."

"Yes," said one of the riflemen coolly.  "So that being the case, may I ask why you came out here for work?"  Yes, Dawson had engaged them in conversation.

"There was a particular job I wanted that I couldn't get back west," Dawson said in an almost bored tone.

"What job is that?"  asked the leader.

"Oh, none of your business now is it?"  Dawson said with a chuckle and a wink.  A couple of the men chuckled as well, but the leader did not look amused.

"Are you from Gray Town?"

"No, I came from a town called Middlelake about fifty miles north of here.  I'm visiting a friend for a few weeks."

"What's your name?"

"I would love to tell you all, if you would tell me yours."  The men glanced at each other and leader nodded.

"My name is Jason," said the the leader.

"Rick," said the man with the assault rifle.

"Mike...Jared...Anon," said the three men with the rifles.

"Good to meet you all, the name is Dawson, Dawson Burns."

"Pleasure to meet you as well Mr. Burns," said Jason, "now would you care to tell us what you do for a living?"

"Well, if you're really that interested, I'll humor you.  I'm a courier.  I actually first got hired back west in San Diego.  I was sent out here to work for the American Republic Corporation.  I move items and packages up and down the east coast for them, sometimes on my own, sometimes in caravans.  What about yourselves?"  Dawson hoped they would be more obliged to tell him what they were doing here since he had been open with them, if not totally honest.

"Like we said before, we're doing a job for the government," said Jason.

"Which government?" asked Dawson, "I mean there technically are two you know."

"The Newcalee Republic.  And the NR and the ARC work together, despite their separations."

"They do indeed.  I often work with other couriers from the NR.  So let me guess.  You work for the NR, you're on 'government business' and you won't say what exactly.  You're mercenaries right?"  Jason paused then nodded.

"Yes," he said.  "We're looking for someone, our orders are to bring them back."

"What did this man do?"

"That's classified.  We're not supposed to discuss our mission with anyone, but you may be able to help us.  In fact we're headed north to Middlelake.  We had to stop at Gray Town to meet an informant.  Unfortunately he hasn't shown."

"You're looking for someone in Middlelake?  That's a small town.  I haven't been there long, just a few weeks, but I already know everyone there, that's how small it is."

"Good, then you might be more help than I thought.  You probably know the guy we're looking for."

"It's a possibility yes," Dawson said with a smile.  His hand slowly and stealthily moved to his waist to the handle of his .45 automatic pistol.

"Like I said, we're not really supposed to talk about the mission with strangers...but seeing as you'll be able to help us, I don't see any harm in it.  The man we're looking for, well we have no idea what he looks like.  But we know he goes my the name of Murdoc.  He's a contract killer.  We've never been able to get a hold of the people who hire him, but we've got plenty of evidence to nail him.  He's nothing more than a hired murderer.  He's a bounty hunter, he kills whoever he gets paid to kill.  The government does its best to keep that sort of stuff from being practiced."

"Times have changed you know, the world isn't what it used to be.  Law is a little different now."  Dawson said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"The government thinks otherwise.  The NR is trying to restore the country to what it once was, in terms of law and politics anyway,"  Jason said with a frown.  "Law is in the hands of the government, not of vigilantes."

"Well that could certainly be a bad thing.  I think the way government was before the fallout is sort of what caused the fallout in the first place, wouldn't you agree?"  Dawson asked.

"Well, I was only a little kid before the fallout, I don't remember much of politics and government," Jason replied thoughtfully.

"Well, I wasn't very old either, but I was old enough to understand that the government had no clue what it was doing.  Governments were good at one thing, starting wars and turning their countries into socialistic hell-holes.  I see the government trying to work its way back to that.  I don't think that's right."

"Well, whatever the governments plan may be, do you still think it's right for a murderer to go free?"

"This man is not a murderer, you yourself said he is a contract killer, or a bounty hunter."

"Same difference.  Either way we've been told to retrieve him and bring him back to Newcalee to await trial.  Are you going to help us or not?"

"Sure I'll help.   You say he goes by Murdoc?"  Dawson stood up and put his hat on his head.

"Yes," said Jason eyeing Dawson.  Jason had an uneasy feeling and was moving his hand towards his revolver.  "Do you know him?"

"Oh yes, I know him alright.  But I'm afraid he won't be able to return to Newcalee with you.  He has other plans."  In a fluid motion Dawson pulled his .45, shot and killed each man with a single shot, and then returned his gun to his holster.  The whole inn had gone quiet.  Every eye was on Dawson, but no one moved.  Jed stood frozen, a mug of beer in one hand and a towel in the other.  Dawson turned to everyone and smiled.

"Don't mind me, I'll just be on my way."  He grabbed one of the .48 caliber scoped pulse rifles and any extra ammunition as well as cash from the bodies.  "The rest of their stuff is up for grabs, they've got some nice stuff on them folks."

Dawson walked to the entrance.  Before he left he pulled a gold coin from his pocket and tossed it to Jed who was at a nearby table.  "For your troubles," said Dawson leaving.  As soon as the door shut behind him he heard a rush of footsteps as the people inside ran to grab what they could from the bodies of the Newcalee lawmen.

As Dawson walked down the road his friend Sam came running up to him.

"What the hell happened Dawson, I heard gunshots from the town square," he said.

"Yes...I had a bit of trouble at the inn.  Looks like I won't be able to stick around as long as I was hoping."

"Well before you go, your number one employer wants to see you.  He has another job for you."

"Good.  I'll see him and be on my way.  You might want to think about getting out of town as well.  The NR is looking for me, and probably anyone associated with me.  The ARC will probably be after us soon as well."

"It was only a matter of time," Sam sighed shaking his head.

"I knew this job wasn't going to be easy," said Dawson with a chuckle.