The remains of the United States of America festered for decades under the nuclear sun. Splintered groups all formed, trying to heal the land and its people in any way they could. Others emerged from the smoldering ashes and continued to spread the disease of violence. They killed and killed, but like a mutated bacteria, they always returned, just under different names and faces.
These were the raiders. No matter what location of the broken country you were in, the raiders would be there as well. No matter how many settlements people tried to build, there would always be a raider gang who terrorized caravans, stole people as slaves, and killed simple survivors without mercy.
Everyone was willing to kill to survive. Raiders were only the survivors who didn't care how far they had to go in order to live.
That's why Zora never wanted to stay in the Combat Zone as she grew older. Years past and her uncle remained the same; sitting at the same bar, frowning with his same old ghoulish scars.
Zora V. had decided one year that she had enough of the mundane routines of manning the Zone. She stole a large number of caps and left, not knowing who she would become, only that she was free to live for herself.
Now she stood in front of the Zone again, three years after she had run away from her Uncle's bloodshot watch. He'd finally see who she had become.
She secured her shotgun on her back and made sure her two pipe pistols were loaded and holstered at her side and against her back. A brown hood rested around her head and a red bandana wrapped around her mouth, as she tried to hide as much of her face and skin as possible.
She wanted to surprise her dear old uncle.
Taking a deep raspy breath, she pushed open the door to the Zone. There was no going back now.
As always, a heavy layer of smoke wafted up in the air as the cigar smoking patrons huddled around the bar and other tables, mumbling and drinking with each other.
A man she didn't recognize manned the bar and he was chatting up a woman who leaned in close, their voices a sultry murmur.
Tommy sat at the bar, looking around at the patrons and drinking a shot of whiskey. Good. It would be easier with him out in the open.
Cait sat in the cage, just like when Zora had left. The fighter's arms were heavily bruised and blood dripped from her nose, but Zora could tell from the unconscious man in front of her, Cait had won.
She approached the bar and placed a small bundle of caps onto the scratched surface of the bar.
"Bartender?" She looked at the couple, still whispering in each others ears, the woman giggling occasionally.
"Bartender?" Zora coughed and jingled her caps in front of him, finally catching his attention.
"What? Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?" The man complained in a nasally voice with a thick Boston accent.
She turned to Tommy, "Are you fuckin serious? Your service is terrible."
Tommy glared at the Bartender, "Come on, show the woman some respect, she's one of our patrons," he gestured angrily at the man who finally whipped up a glass of vodka, slamming it down in front of her.
Tommy grumbled and wiped of stray drops of alcohol, finally looking at the newcomer.
"Or more like a new patron. I don't think I've seen you here before. Welcome to the Combat Zone."
"Finally. I take it that you're the owner?"
Tommy grinned with pride, "You're right young lady."
Zora smiled. He didn't suspect a thing.
She took out her pipe pistol and rested it on the counter as she started wiping it down.
"Woah, I don't know about where you're from, but we have a strict no gun policy at the bar and in the Zone. I can take your weapons from you and give them back when you decide to depart, how about that?"
She nodded towards the bartender, "Is he new? I thought you'd have a hardened bartender in such a fine establishment."
"Yes, he is new..." Tommy hesitantly answered.
"Who was the old one again.... Blaze? Where is he?" Zora tilted her head, enjoying watching the gears move in his head as he tried to understand where she was headed.
"Blaze worked here, but he died ten years ago.... How did you know him? I don't remember you from back then?"
"Oh, he was like an Uncle to me."
"What? Wait, no-"
"Yes. I'm back." She stood, pistol in hand, and pulled back her hood and bandana, smiling as he sat in shock.
"Y-you're... a ghoul? You left and- no you stole my caps-" He stuttered with his words and stood, stepping away from her, unnerved by her blank eyes and her cold smile.
"I guess turning into a ghoul runs in the family Uncle Tommy. And it's too bad Blaze died all those years ago, he was a better uncle than you were. And I'm not too fond of his replacement."
She turned around and looked at the bartender and emptied half her magazine into the woman who flirted with him. Her shots rang out and the woman barely opened her mouth to scream before she died, slumping over the bar.
The bartender screamed, stepping back in horror.
Tommy reached for her gun, but she whipped it around, bashing it into his head.
She then emptied her magazine into the bartender, laughing as she pulled the trigger.
The patrons of the Zone screamed now, trying to run out, but froze as a group of raiders walked through the doorway, blocking the only exit they knew of.
"Everyone shut up!" Zora yelled over the chaos, straining her damaged vocal cords.
"This is how it's going to go down."
She walked over to her gang and paused, inspecting her raiders, then turning to look at the terrified crowd.
"Everyone's going to hand over all their caps and valuables."
They stood, frozen in fear.
"Don't make me yell again. We could kill you all and loot your bodies if you'd like."
With that, the customers all emptied their pockets and handed over their cigar boxes and cap rolls and bags. Many were flustered with embarrassment that they were powerless to stop the robbery. One even cried as the precious caps he earned from bets were all taken away.
"Thank you for cooperating. Now, my friends will make a pathway and you all can walk through it to the exit. Don't come back looking for your goods. I think me and my gang are going to be here for a long time." Zora motioned to her gang and they split down the middle.
They knew what their boss had planned.
The patrons slowly walked past the menacing group of raiders, slightly confused as to why they were being let free.
Zora nodded at her gang, and they raised their weapons and started firing into the crowd. Screams rang out and multiple patrons fell dead in their tracks, and only a small few were able to run fast enough out of the door and into the Fens.
A raider or two started to run after them, but Zora barked an order to stop.
"We don't want all of them dead. Those few survivors will flee to Diamond city or Goodneighbor, or whatever rat's nest they find. They'll spread the word that the Combat Zone has new owners!"
The mangled Raiders yelled in victory, raising their guns, their blood pumping after their fresh kills.
"Boss," One stepped forward. He had wavy slicked back hair and sideburns, and a choppy shave that never seemed to disappear.
"What Walt?"
"What do you want us to do with those two?" He pointed behind her and she turned, spotting Cait kneeling down with Tommy, both of them hiding under the bar from any stray bullets from the massacre.
"Cait, glad of you to join us."
"Fuck you, Zora."
"Hmm you're not really my type," she smirked, enjoying the feeling of accomplishment. The Combat Zone was finally hers. She had the control she had wanted for years.
"Maybe..." she looked back at her gang and pulled aside the tallest, beefiest one, "maybe he is. How about you give us another one of your shows and fight my friend here."
"I'd rather die than become one of your playthings."
"I'm not giving you that luxury," Zora answered coldly.
The man walked over and gripped Cait by the arm, causing her to cry out and struggle against him. He pulled her, with difficulty, into the arena on the stage and threw her in, closing the gate behind him.
The raider's dispersed, exploring the Zone and all the goodies that came along with it.
"How could you?" Tommy spoke, leaning against the bar with a stained handkerchief against his forehead where she had gun-bashed him.
"I've been planning this for years, Uncle Tommy. I just had to build up a gang of my own in order to take what should have been mine all along."
"You're not my niece anymore. You stopped being family when you left this place for your greed. Your mother never wanted this for you. I tried, and I failed." Tommy sighed, knowing that nothing he could do would bring back his business or the people she had killed.
"Shut up. You've always been a coward. You never opened this place to real business like my gang here. You lost out on a whole lot of caps and power."
"I didn't want any power. This is my home, Zora-"
"And it still is! I let you live so you can keep on running this business. You play the entertainer and announcer while my gang and I let you live. It won't be that hard. You'll just have to deal with a more violent clientele," she smiled and started walking to the front row of worn out couches.
The two contestants both injected a dose of Psycho and cried out, pure adrenaline rushing through their veins.
Zora let Walt sit next to her, and they watched the two meatheads brawl under the harsh stage lighting, their sweat glinting off of their now-bloodied skin.
Everything was falling into place. Something good had finally been granted to her from the Wasteland.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
