(April '16) Prompt #1 - "Give Me Your Money!"

[Naraness]

April's 1st prompt is the phrase "Give me your money!"


This prompt was submitted by Omac (http://role-player.net/forum/member.php?u=27604)!



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please visit the rules (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=77770) thread or PM Naraness (http://role-player.net/forum/member.php?u=24919).

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[Omac]

I GOT A PET! So excited about that. This was written in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep. But, I got a new ally to help me on my adventures.

There I was staring at the gun only a few inches away from my new lizard friend’s face. I reached into my pocket to see if I could unleash power from my starfish gem, but it wasn’t working. I thought it was supposed to work when I was in danger? I looked to JJ in an attempt to see if he was going to do anything or not, but he just stood still like he was frozen in fear. I didn’t know what I could do that wouldn’t get my only known ally in this world killed.
“Give me your money!” the crook demanded.
JJ then laughed. Of all the things I thought he could of done this wasn’t one of them. JJ spun around, whacking the gun out of the enemies hand with his tail. “Aha!” He said as he twisted back into position, “Looks like you won’t be robbing anyone anytime soon. You better scram off before I have to use force,”
At first the villain was in complete shock unable to comprehend what had happened. But, then he took the whistle tied around his throat and blew into it. The ground below us shook and I could hear the footsteps of hundreds of animals. In a matter of seconds we were surrounded by many different types of dogs. “Now, like I said… Give me your money!”
“Whoa wait,” I said feeling a little braver than before, “We don’t even have anything worth taking. I mean I’m apparently the king of this nation, but I-” I was cut off by JJ slapping my face telling me to be quiet, “What, did I say something?”
The crook laughed, “So, ye the king then? I bet my master, the wicked witch, will be very pleased when I take you in. Or I could serve you as a hostage and get tons of molla. It’s perfection!”
JJ tried to smooth things over, “No, this man is delusional,” he pointed to me, “He doesn’t have a single clue what he’s talking about,”
“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed, “I’m just a lost soul. Why would I say I’m a king? Would the king really be stupid enough to announce he’s the king?” But then I realized how very stupid I was… I just couldn’t keep it a secret. I felt like telling this man, like he had some sort of power over me.
That’s when I noticed a yellow dog within the crowd staring directly at me. I could feel a strong connection to it. It’s fur looked very soft like it was well taken care of. Around it’s neck was a chain that said “BB,” and it’s skin kept making air bubbles like the entire being was made of some sort of material. I looked more closely to see it barely up to stay standing up as it slid back and forth. It was then that I realized this creature was made of butter!
I pointed to it, “What’s that dog’s name?”
“Seriously?” Asked the thief, “That’s Butterball, a gift from the witch that used to belong to the king. I think you pointing it out just proves that you’re the king. Now give me all your belongings before I sick my pets on you,”
I patted my knees, “Come here boy!” And with that the little dog-made-of-butter came running through the crowd of dogs, sliding through them at rapid speed, until he was by side. “Who’s a good Butterball?” I said scratching it behind the ear to find my hand sticky and covered in butter.
“Dogs, fetch!”
I grabbed ahold of my gem, but it was over too fast for me to react. Butterball morphed into it had a small cannon on it’s backside, also made of butter. Butterball started spinning around, once more sliding at super fast speed, firing huge balls of butter at the dogs, knocking them out like bowling pins. Most of the dogs retreated through the trees leaving just me, my new dog, JJ, and the nameless crook.
“What the hell!” Said the thief, “How is this possible? Butterball is my dog!”
Butterball rubbed up against my leg, letting it’s cannon slide back into its backside to remain hidden for a later adventure. He went over to the crook, leap up really high and using his teeth, bit the whistle from his neck. Butterball then brought it to me and I could feel a exchange of power to me. I retied the string around my neck and then Butterball simply faded away, leaving only a puddle of butter in its place. I apparently just made a new ally that I could summon at any time I needed.
The crook tried to run, but JJ caught him with his tail, flipping him upside down, holding him from his left leg. JJ demanded his name. “I’m just someone who works for the witch, I promise I’m only looking for riches under their command. If you let me go I’ll leave this region and never look back. Now that Butterball is in his hands I lost control of all my other dogs too, I knew I shouldn’t have connected their souls to the same whistle,” with that JJ let him go making him fall face first into the dirt telling him to run, “You won’t hear from me again, promise,” and with that he ran into the forest in a direction west to where we’re heading.
JJ looked to me, “You got guts kid. How did you know the dog was yours? Could you feel it?”
I nodded, “He was calling out to me and I just knew he would listen to me. Why didn’t you tell me I had a dog?”
“You also have a Cyclops maid named Nancy, but I didn’t see how it was relevant to the mission. I figured when the witch took over the castle they would have killed or captured anyone loyal to you. I was lucky to escape with my life,” he pointed north, “We have to keep moving, I’m sure that we’re close to the great dragon. A couple more miles and we should be able to arrive with plenty of time to spare,”
“You act like we’re running out of time?”
“That’s because we are. The great dragon is dying and could go any day now. If we don’t make it before that happens our quest will be a complete failure,”

[AngelFire]

The air was thick, from the smoke outside of the abandoned warehouse, and tasted like dust. Had she gone to the right place? Mika wondered, as she continued through the dark entrance. Thick mounds of dust caked to the ground, making it so visitors had to step up or down when entering or exiting a room. Beams of light under closed doorways, shocked the stark darkness, leaving lines onto the opposite walls. The noises on the other side of the door, told Mika she was defiantly in the right place.

The world had been plunged into darkness years ago, when the Earth’s star flickered out of existence. Nights were colder and so were days, humanity hungered for the suns light warmth again. Mika shook her head, trying to get the tangent thought out of her head, as she approached room 438. Using the small beam of artificial light, Mika reassured herself she was at the right room. From what the smuggler said, she wouldn’t want to accidently wander into the wrong room, where something horrible could happen to her. Knowing she was in the right place Mika knocked on the door, with more certainty.

It took a few agonizingly long minutes for the door to crack open, revealing the brightest blue eye she had ever seen. The person was much taller than she was, five o’clock shadow broke the smooth skin of his face as he observed her quietly. What was his name again? She wondered, sitting there, silently waiting for him to address her. Lawrence. That was the name she was given, probably an alias, since many others didn’t permit others to know their real name.

“Mika?” his gruff voice pierced the silence of the halls.

She nodded, unsure if she should indeed answer him, or wait till it was more pertinent. Lawrence shut the door again. The sound of a chain lock came in a muffled sound, as it dragged against the wooden doors. If Mika had any doubts of what she was about to do, now was most defiantly the wrong time to express them. Luckily she’d always been that girl who didn’t second guess her decisions. He opened the door and stepped aside. His apartment was beautifully designed, but best of all it was bright.

Mika shielded her eyes from the bright shocking her darker orbs. She was born the year the sun disappeared, and hadn’t gotten a real chance to ever have her eyes adjust from the darkness. Lawrence quickly shut the door behind her, but not without handing her a thick pair of shades before doing so. She was grateful for that, but refrained from putting them on. It burned at first, though the longer she stood there, the less the light seemed to hurt.

“Don’t over exert your eyes.” Lawrence said, walking into his white kitchen. “You can make yourself go blind by doing so.”

With open view Mika took a moment to analyze her new companion, if one could call such a person that. His dirty blond hair feathered around his face, long in the front and seemed to much shorter in the back. His bright blue eyes danced around her features, while her darker ones did the same thing, though both did it for a different reason. Lawrence was used to these calls, and could easily see a newbie from miles away. This Mika person is most defiantly new at this, and most likely will never call for his service again after this. He had a way of always being right about this, he would also have to go about this delicately, so to not scare this skittish creature.

“You’ll need to put on the sunglasses to keep the lights on.”

Mika nodded, quickly tossing on the odd plastic glasses. The world instantly darkened, though not as much so as before. Both were now very content with their surroundings, Mika needed this time in the light, after twenty-four years in the dark. Lawrence allowed the woman to wander around his home, this gave him time to think of what to say. Business is business, though not to those new to such a world. He had to wonder, what in this young girl’s life caused her to take such a step.

“H-how do you have so much light?” Mika questioned, touching the blacked out windows.

“My line of business,” he shrugged, not many people outside had light. “Where are you from?”

“Nowhere really,” she paused, glancing at the man behind her. “I’m really just another shadow, consumed in darkness.”

This woman standing before him look thousands of miles away, though physically she remained the room. The delay was due to questions, so many in fact, she wasn’t sure exactly where to start. Lawrence remained silent as he prepared drinks for the two.

“Did you see it?” Mika questioned, now full of confidence. “The sun, before it died.”

“Yes, I was ten when it disappeared.” He smiled, revealing white pearls. “Would you like to start talking about business? Or are you still uncomfortable?”

The words came out harsher than he meant them to, but time is an important part of his job. Mika nodded again, remembering exactly why she was here. Her eyes dropped to the cup she held in her fingers, unsure of how or when she was given it. Words escaped her at this moment, how should she word this? Being that this is how he made his money, she could just say it out right….. But would that be taken the wrong way? She didn’t take joy in doing this, and she most defiantly didn’t want it to be taken that way. So many were in danger, and that’s why she was here, for those she loved.

“Let’s start with this, do you know what I do?” Lawrence asked, taking the time to lock his gaze onto her.

“Yes, I am fully aware of your occupation.”

Mika’s words took him by surprise. Earlier she was a shaking thing, content with staying in the corner, but now she demanded his attention. She would make a wonderful addition to the team, if he ever considered taking on an apprentice. He shook the idea out of his head, she was still skittish.

“Why are you calling on a person with my skills?”

“The Turbine gang has taken my brother.” Her gaze slowly met with his. “I need the leader and ALL his men dead.”

Anger intensified her gaze, as she explained what had happened to her brother. They had tortured him to death, not realizing they had the wrong person. That is why she, a restless mouse, needed an assassin. Lawrence nodded, he already knew he would accept the job from the moment he opened the door. He just needed to hear why she was going about this route.

“I’ll take care of it. There are two ways you can pay me, since that will be your next question.” he paused, glancing at the small backpack in her hands. “You can apprentice me, or you can give me your money.”

1177 words

[Kris]

Chapter 6- (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=80602&p=2764957&viewfull=1#post2764957)

Chapter 7-

The three following days I was busy studying my new apartment. I couldn't believe that these magnificent 4 walls (with a roof!!) were all mine. Well, almost mine. My new 'roommate' Reggie, had invited himself into 3 rooms out of the remaining chambers, which again, wasn't that bothersome because there were many other rooms to spare.

What bothered me was the fact that he was a longer and often kept to himself. We shared much of the food in the kitchen, but we hardly set together to dine in the same room, and he was often busy with his i-pad. I often wanted to ask him more about himself but he didn't speak and I felt too awkward to ask. I was sure at one point he will come to me and start to ask me about Jack but that didn't happen too.

Well, it took Jesus three days to raise from the grave and I wanted to dig out his skeletons by then too. When he took a shower on the fourth day (There are two bathrooms and two different places for shower), I peeked inside his rooms. The first one was a training room of sort filled with a little more than few second hand equipments, like worn training mattress, and torn out punching bag. He wasn't much for cleaning, but the place looked organized.

The second one, not far from the bathroom looked more or less like a study room. He wasn't kidding when he said he was only a temporary resident. Again almost deserted room aside of a big blackboard with marks and charts and a desk with a computer set on. I peeked a little to notice few pictures, all of Jack in certain periods of his life. I didn't know he used to be with the air force when he was younger. I was also surprised to learn he actually had a long hair period too at some point in his life. I chuckled, some people were just meant to be bald, he looked ridiculous with that much hair and big round face.

I heard steps and I felt like a burglar caught in an act. I dashed outside only to find Reggie cleaning in his face with only a towel covering his loins. He quickly run into the next room without realizing that was his third room.

"So then he said...".

I heard muffled voices coming from my small hideout inside his closet. He was not only drying his hair but also speaking on his mobile.

I knew I was already risking it, but that guy was piquing my attention. Anything about him was a big mystery. Jack didn't talk much about his life but he did mentioned few relatives. From what I saw in his study room, Jack and Reggie were very much connect, and if I should take him by his words, Jack was indeed turning out to be some kind of father figure to him.

I wanted to learn more about that blond that entered my life like a storm. I shoved the door to the side, just a little so I could see.

"Give Me Your Money!"

I heard him scream again on the phone, but the rest was still muffled and I couldn't figure much of it. I leaned in some more.

"I told you, I'm taking some time off, there are some personal stuff I need to take care of..."

Who was he speaking with?

"Yeah... I will be on the case, I promise".

I leaned in some more on that crucial moment only to realize he dropped his towel and moved for the closet. Maybe it was a fear of being discovered or the fact I was blushing like crazy watching a dandling thing heading my way, but I soon lost my balance with it a few shelves I knocked down with me.

I knew it would be stupid to hope I wasn't heard at this point but I still did.

"Okay, I'll call you back!".

There was a moment of silent and with it growing hope.

"I'm covered you can come out now...."

And with it hope was gone.

***

Reggie was moving his thumbs as he was bowing his head, unsure what to say. He was fully dressed now if you wondered, and he set in my opposite direction, on the sofa in the living room.

"Care to tell me what this was all about?", he asked at last, giving me an annoyed expression.

I honestly didn't even know where to start or what exactly should I say. I felt like whatever I was going to say was going to come off really bad. Something that only experiences stalker would say. But I was really curious. I still am. Who is this guy, why was I brought here, when does he intend to open some kind of conversation with me.

I almost missed Tobi at that moment. The guy never stopped blabbering but it never felt lonely with him.

"Caramel", he said after he noticed that my gaze almost dug a hole in the floor.

"What?", I looked surprised.

"My favourite...", he added.

I was lost. And I'm sure I was looking as such, by how he dug his face in his head in frustration, "Ice Cream", he added.

I still didn't follow.

There was another awkward moment of silence before he got up, and left the living room, soon returning, dressed with a coat, "Get dress, we gonna pick some ice-cream", he gave a soft smile which seemed like a mix of understanding and bitter sadness, "Nothing like a good ice cream to break the ice".

I felt somewhat relieved, but I was still confused. Nevertheless I decided to take the ticket out of "hall of shame" he just offered me and I dashed into my room, digging some proper coat out of the luggage and suitcases (I still didn't unpacked), and I was joining him by the door.

"After you", he said opening the door for me, and we were outside soon after.

[Griff]

It was a cold windy day in the city of New York. Drizzling weather plagued the area, the evening mist spraying in the faces of the many workers walking between their job and the Metro. The slowly setting sun caused shadows to be cast in every direction, but many of the neon lights limited the darkness’s reach.

James was walking down the main road. The ground was littered with trash and several unidentified liquids. The crowds were just starting to filter out, many of them running to escape the rain. Surprisingly, the smell of damp trash and urine doesn’t appeal to that many people.

Pulling his dark blue hoodie over his short brown hair, he tried to cover his face from the irritating dampness. He attempted to cover his bag with his arms as he pulled it closer to him, but it didn’t work very well. His obese figure caused more water to fall onto him, further plummeting James’s mood.

Turning into his apartment building, he slowly clambered his way up the steep steps, each footstep echoing across the dingy structure. The cracks in the foundation slowly growing as old and new water stains littered the off-white stucco ceiling.

He climbed four flights of stairs, reaching his destination after what seemed like an eternity. James stepped up to his door and turned the key in his lock, the door opening with a loud creak. The peeling paint on the doorframe shedded onto his carpet, leaving blue streaks on the surrounding walls and floors.

Looking around his small apartment, he took notice of the overdue bill papers lying on the small table and walked past them to his fridge. James opened the white fridge, grabbed a cold bottle of beer, and walked over to his couch. He set down the bottle of beer on the side of the couch and pulled off his shoes, throwing them down on the dirty carpet. He sat down in his green fraying polyester couch, sinking into the cushions as he grabbed the beer and the tv remote sitting next to him.

Pointing the tv remote at the small television set a few feet away, he watched it slowly stutter to life. Static filled the air as the screen began to illuminate, displaying an old family sitcom. James grumbled and pressed buttons on the remote, mindlessly flipping through channel after channel. It went from black and white shows to news, it even went to a Disney channel. After a minute he flipped to a game show, and he begrudgingly left it on. It was better than any reality show that was on at this hour anyways.

The screen showed a game show set. The walls were full of black panels, it created the impression that the room went on forever. The floor was a dark neon blue. It was highly reflective and created a mirror-like surface. The game show host walked out, his dark brown shoes clacking on the echoing surface. His black suit rippled on the reflective floor, the red sharply pressed shirt lost most of its color on the floor, and his striped tie shined brightly from the light beaming from overhead.

His aging wrinkled face didn’t stop him from looking good on camera. He was coated in makeup, from foundation, blush, James could even swear that he could see eyeliner. The host smiled, his straight, almost pearly, teeth sparkled in the camera. Brushing back his grey luscious hair, he began to speak.

“Welcome, folks! You know the drill, we’re live in Los Angeles for this episode of-”

“Give me your money!” the audience finished, smiling and clapping with vigour.

“That’s right!” the host returned, smiling with an intense charisma few could match, “For our first event, look at screen number one!”

A large flat screen rose out of the ground to the right of the host. The large glass screen was flicking between security cameras, following an old man. It was night, and the old man was bundled up in several coats, his small frame trying to protect itself from the cold. He was shivering and was about to turn the corner when suddenly a larger man jumped out in front of him, pointing a gun at his stomach.

“Give me your fucking money!” the man yelled, his swearing being bleeped out by the television show as the audience and host looked on in anticipation.

“I-I” the old man stuttered, trying to get over the surprise, “I don’t have anything!” He yelled out, one part in terror and one part in rage.

The larger man pushed the old man back and towered over his small frame. “Don’t fucking lie to me old man,” he growled.

“H-Here!” the old man grabbed a wallet out of his pocket and grabbed a handful of ones and loose change, “That’s all I have, honest!” he was quivering in fear.

The large man grabbed it out of his hands and ran away, running for a few blocks before turning to the security camera and smiling, holding up the money he got.

The audience was cheering and clapping, and on a larger monitor a bar began to fill up, with the number $3.89 above it.

“That was lovely!” the host cheered, skipping in jubilation as the first screen lowered, and a second one rose out of the ground. This time the screen was following a young woman. She was dressed in a school uniform and was walking home quickly. She was so focused on getting home she didn’t notice an old man sneak up behind her and point a gun to her back.

“Give me your money,” he whispered through gritted teeth, grabbing her wrist so she couldn’t run.

The girl yelped, and struggled, attempting to run away. “I don’t have any!” she cried out.

“Liar!” the man barked and shoved the gun up to her face.

She continued to fight and bit the hand that grabbed her wrist, using his surprise to trip him. The man stumbled, and the gun went off, recoiling and twisting the man’s hand at an odd angle. The loud bang deafened him.

The girl slumped over on the sidewalk, her crimson blood dripping onto the concrete and spraying on the man’s face. It stained her uniform, the blood staining everything it touched. Her face was frozen in an expression of surprise, her cold lifeless eyes were wide open. The bullet went through her head. The man fell to his knees in shock, whispering while tears began to run down his face, “I just needed money for my fami-”

The screen shut off and sank back into the ground, the audience booing at the subpar attempt.

“Well folks, you know the rules,” the host said, his charismatic words calming the crowd, “When you kill, you don’t get to stay on the show, better luck next time!”

He grinned and turned to the camera, “We’ll come back after these few messages from our sponsors!”












[m139]

To begin with, it had been a rather boring day. The sun had rose, as it always did, and the alarm clock had beeped about an hour afterwards- a noise just as loud and as unwanted as ever. And the owner of the hand that eventually managed to find the off button did what they always did on mornings like this. The owner lay face down on her bed, for what was ten minutes but seemed like less than one, and let out a long, drawn out sigh. And then, she pushed herself up, and half swung, half fell out of her bed. Time to begin the day.

The morning routine, too, was very boring. Go to the closet, put on boring clothes, because no work place wants to see those beautiful evening gowns. Brush teeth, because it is better to go through motions than to go through the ordeal of a dentist appointment. And put on boring makeup, to hide the fact that you could honestly care less about a day as boring as today.

And wait, there is more before we even leave the house! Stomp/fall down the boring staircase, which should definitely be carpeted with something less boring than the grey green it was. Make a cup of coffee, because it is, according to common people, good to be awake for a boring day. And while your at it, eat cereal. The boring, plain, cornflakes. All the others have too much sugar.

It was the beginning of a boring, day all right. A very, very, boring day.

Nothing happened besides the ordinary. Outside, the sun shined down, the birds chirped in the trees, and wisps of clouds floated across the sky. And the subject of our story came out into this boring, ordinary day and saw none of it. She just walked over to her car, and did what she always did: first, she unlocked the door. Then, she buckled up and started the engine. Soon, she was out of the driveway and off to work.

The drive to work, just like everything else, was immensely boring and plain. Drive on the small side streets, merge onto the highway (almost getting cut off by some idiot driver), getting through traffic and avoiding those weaving crazies. No traffic jams to make it all annoying, but neither was traffic especially light. Just normal, boring traffic.

And when she got to work it was just normal, boring work. Like usual, coworkers greeted her, and like usual, she responded back in turn. But it was all words. Words, words, words. No substance. All of it on the surface. Boring, boring formalities. And the work, too, was boring. Sit, stare at a screen, write on some papers. Nothing exciting here, just something to do from eight until five to get another paycheck. A paycheck for what, exactly? Well, a paycheck to buy stuff necessary to live another day. Another boring day.

After what seemed like quite more than four hours of boring tasks and meetings, it was finally lunch hour. Not that lunch hour, in general, was ever exciting. No, it was just as boring as the general day. Same monotony, just in a different place. Still, it did necessitate some change. And change involved getting up, going back to the car, opening the car door, starting the ignition, etc, etc. Just another boring day.

She drove to the same dinner she always did on Tuesdays, and ordered the same, boring, usual. No use trying anything new to try to break up the day. It would probably end up in disaster. And so, she ordered the same chicken caeser salad, light on the dressing, and a glass of water. Nothing else. Just the same, boring meal.

It was brought out at the same speed it always was. Not to fast, and not to slow. She watched the people as she waited. It was the same people who were always there on Tuesdays, ordering the same thing they always did, or a different thing, as they always did. And of course, everyone sat in the regular pattern, as if their were assigned seats. Yep, same all around. Boring, boring, boring.

When the food came out, she ate the food at the same pace that she always did, chewing each bite carefully, then swallowing it. All part of the routine to continue life.

Since it was a second Tuesday, she stopped at the gas station on the way back to work, as she always did. She pulled into the almost empty filling lot, and turned her head slightly at the sight of a truck there. A break from the routine: usually, she was the only person who filled her car here at this time.

And that is what she proceeded to do. In a rather bored matter, she parked her car in front of pump number two, just as always, and got out of the car, pulling the handle to open the gas door before shutting the bigger door and locking it as she did. In a rather uninterested manner, she pulled the credit card out from her wallet, and swiped it. She pulled it out, apparently to bored during this process, for her credit card fell from her hands and onto the ground.

Seemingly, this was just as boring as if it was meant to happen. She bent down to pick it up, and did so. But as she began was about to straighten up, she heard a voice.

"Stop."

She straightened up anyway, and looked at the person who had spoken. He was shaking all over, and in his hand, he held a gun.

"Stop, I said." he went on, "Or I will shoot." He held out the gun even closer to her.

The woman slowly raised her hands. Suddenly, a boring life did not seem half as bad as before.

"Give me... Give me your money."

She nodded, and began to reach towards her purse.

"No! No!"

She stopped.

"Always show your hands, I will just take your purse."

He began to move forward, and she just stood there.

And then, another car pulled into the filling station.

A man got out, and looked at the scene. He turned to the one with the gun. "What do you think you are doing?" he asked questionally.

"Stay... Stay back. Or I'll shoot." he waved the gun back and forth from the new arrival to the woman.

"Sir, I don't think that is necessary." he took a small step forward.

"Stay back!"

The two of them continued this farce for a little while.

Meanwhile, she was backing away from all this, each time the man moved forward, she would take a step back. She was trying to get to the other side of her car, with the hope of being able to get away. She longed to be back at work, she longed for the daily monotony. For none of that could happen if she was dead! None of what was happening seemed all so bad now...

"Stay! I tell you stay!" he was shaking his gun widely, for the other was just a few steps from him.

"You don't need to do this!" he then lunged forward to tackle the other.

There was a beauty in the sun rising in the morning. The cereal was not all that bad. People really did care-

BANG! BOOM!

The shot and subsequent explosion echoed through the air.

[dakkagor]

"That's right folks, just give me your money, and all your troubles will be over! My miracle medicine, my pre-war panacea, my complete cure, will fix all your problems! Radiation rotting you away? No problem! Ugly chemical burns scaring away the babes? An easy fix! Just take three tablets for a week, and you'll be right as rain, strong as a brahmin and healthy as a vault dweller! That's right folks, this miracle of ancient medical science is your's for just one hundred caps!"

Jackson had been sitting at the back of the crowd, listening quietly. People were already holding up bags of caps and grasping towards the impromptu stage, built out of barrels and lumber. On it, the trader in his prewar doctors clothes continued to strut up and down espousing the benefits of his cure. Jackson had seen it all, and wasn't convinced. Originally from a midwest vault, he had wandered the wastes for over a decade, and had heard every con before. And as the Sheriff for the nearby town of Goodhome, he felt he had a duty to keep an eye on this mob, and the conman ripping them off. Already it was beginning to get ugly, with fights breaking out and people dropping their caps, causing people to scramble on the floor. One woman, holding a little girl close, was knocked to the floor by two armoured mercenaries arguing over whether to buy the 'cure' or not. Jackson surged to his feet as the woman screamed in the press, and fired his heavy pistol into the air.

"Alright people! If you want the mans drugs form an orderly queue!"

The crowd, nearly a hundred people, turned to him as one, and seeing the heavy custom pistol dangling from his hand, moved back. He flicked his gaze to the man on the stage, and for a moment he thought he caught a flash of unbridled rage across his sun scorched features. Then, the false smile was glued back in place.

"Thank you Sheriff! Thank you! Why don't you come on up and help keep these fine folk in line?"

Jackson watched as the crowd became an orderly queue, and about half of them slipped away. He paused to help the woman and the little girl to their feet, and then he clambered onto the stage.

"Thank you Sheriff, though I don't believe I've had the pleasure. . ."

"Jackson." He looked around the stage again. The crude banners, the stacks of crates, the female ghoul now taking caps and handing over brightly coloured cardboard boxes. He also finally eyeballed the three guards. Rough looking guys in leather armour, with sawn down shotguns and machetes. The tattoos, blue swirls that looked like tentacles, marked them out as ex-raiders, probably the Coldstone gang.

“Nice set up you got here.” He inclined his head to the stacks of crates. “Where did you find these?”

“An abandoned medical facility, just outside the Boneyard. Damn near cost me an arm and a leg to get in there, let me tell you Sir!”

“Right.” Jackson was not impressed. This guy had apparently come a long way to sell his crap, which made him even less likely to believe it was anything special. Guys like this moved from settlement to settlement, peddling poison and knowing that by the time the locals had figured out they had been conned, the caravan was long gone and hitting the next bunch of saps up.

“Hey Doc, tell you what.” He smiled. “Seeing as I am helping you keep the peace, why don't you kick me a box or two of this 'Panacea'.”

The doctors face lit up. Gotcha, thought Jackson.

“Certainly my good sir, anything for a law man! Chloe, be a sweet heart and throw me a box would you?”

Later that evening, Jackson arrived back in Goodhome. It was an old settlement, built around a church on a hill that had once overlooked a major town. With the river at its back, the initial survivors had been able to build walls, clear space for crops and build new buildings. The church itself functioned as the hub of the community, town hall come hospital come trader camp. Jackson had arrived here just shy of two years ago, met a girl, married and finally settled down. As he walked into the church and removed his hat in deference, his wife Sandra, heavily pregnant now, came up to him.
“You where out for a lot longer than a few hours Jackson.” She poked him in the chest. “What kept you?”
“This.” He retrieved the box from his pack and handed it over to Sandra, who turned it over with a puzzled look on her face.
“Pre-war off brand chems?”
“There was a caravan at Traderstone selling these. Claimed they were a miracle cure.”
“Jackson, how much did you spend?!”
“Nothing, I swear.” He held his hands up in defence as his wife advanced on him. “I got them as a sample for you to check out. I think the conman is heading this way and I want people to know what he is actually selling.”
“Alright buster, you are off the hook this time.”

The next morning, Jackson roused and briefed the militia. He posted Bunny up in the north church tower with his sniper rifle, Michelle on the east watch tower, and Jake on the west tower. Jackson himself had his old, pre-war assault rifle and was sitting on the gate.

Just before noon, Bunny shouted that he could see a small caravan coming down the road. Soon Jackson could see it himself. Two brahmin, the doctor, the ghoul, and the three guards. As they got close to the gate, Jackson stood, shook out the cramps, and stood to meet them. He enjoyed the look of consternation that the Doctor was wearing as the caravan closed

“Sheriff Jackson? Is there a problem?”

“Yep.” He inclined his head to one of the brahmin, which was loaded down with the crates from before. “We checked that shit you are peddling, and it is nothing more than mentats laced with med-ex and a kick of jet. Its poison, and you ain't selling it in Goodhome.”

“Now, no need to be rude. Its an honest to goodness miracle cure! There must have been some mistake in your analysis.”

“No mistake.” Jackson tapped his assault rifle and his gaze flicked to both of the triggers with the Doctor. “The jet looks like something the Coldstone Raiders might brew themselves. You don't happen to know the Coldstone gang, do you doc?”

“I. . .erm, you see, the thing is.”

The three raiders moved first, pulling up their sawn down shotguns. Jackson rolled to one side as Bunny, Michelle and Jake all opened up. In a hail of bullets, two dropped immediately. The third lunged forwards towards Jackson, but he was faster. From his kneeling position he drew his pistol and fired twice, dropping the raider.
As he rose to deal with the doctor who was now turning to run, the ghoul jumped up. She had a length of cable and wrapped it around the Doctors throat, choking him. For a second the Doctor clawed at his throat, before Jackson shot him in the chest.
“You got some explaining to do, I reckon.”
The ghoul, breathing hard and now covered in blood, looked at him before pulling down the collar of her shirt. An explosive collar was wired up around her neck.
“Or maybe not.” Jackson looked over the dead raiders. “Tell you what, you head on in, and we'll get someone to diffuse that bomb around your neck.”