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Roleplaying
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The year is 2279, the great Longhorn and Brahmin Barons of Texas and Mexico have finally come head to head for the second time over the sale of cattle in the Texan wasteland, most notably; the Corpse Coast. The Texan cattlemen have rallied around the leadership of the Falfurrias Cattlemen's Association and the charismatic and ruthless; Nathaniel Rooker. Down South the Mexican Longhorn barons rally around the Texican cattle baron Cal Jackson and lesser men like Zachary Hale in the second fight for control of the cross border cattle trade.
Part 1[]
TEAM MEXICO
Charlie Jenson sat in the small saloon on the outskirts of Matamoros. The small cattle town was alive with activity as dozens of cattlemen from both Mexico and Texas roamed the streets buying drinks, indulging itches that need scratching and otherwise enjoying the debauchery that is border towns. Outside there came the clodding of hooves on dry sand and Earth, and bursting in were three men. Charlie immediately recognized them as agents of the Jackson Family, the most powerful cattle ranching family in all of Tamaulipas. The men wore the distinctive white bandanas of the Jackson Family around their necks, and each wore a Colt Peacemaker on their hips and some long arm on their back. The leader of the group removed the dust covered bandana from his face, the man was Ronald "Ronny" Turnball, the Jackson Family Foremen.
"Listen up! I've come here to gather a group of able bodied men to help escort of a herd of Longhorns across the Bravo, the pays good boys and the rewards up in Stockton are even better" He added with a grin, leering over at a group of the local working girls, "Probably a good deal cleaner than these skanks, so what dya' say? Who heres got the balls to test those Texan's tough talk?"
Few men stood as Ronald continued to jaw. Charlie scanned the room as a few of the rougher looking cowpokes rose from their bar stools and walked over to sign on with the cattle drive. Now ordinarily, Charlie wouldn't be too inclined to partake in such risky behavior, he had had his fill of dangers when he was out hunting big game outside of town and his boss Zachary Hale wasn't exactly the type to allow unexcused absences. However, half a bottle of Sugar whiskey from out east had given him courage, and he rose to join the procession of cattlemen signing on with Turnball and his men. Thus started Charlie's entrance into the Second Brahmin Rancher-Cattlemen War.
TEAM TEXAS
The town hall was quiet as the various Brahmin Barons and ranchers grew quiet as their leader stepped into the hall. Nathaniel Rooker, the tall, slim and handsome cattle baron scanned the room. The room was filled with men of every type and description, from around Falfurrias came the more refined ranchers, dressed in dress clothes for the occasion, sporting polished revolvers and repeaters they were accompanied by small groups of mercenaries hired from the prestigious gangs of the Corpse Coast or further North from the Permian Basin. Alongside these refined ranchers stood the true bosses of the Texan cattle trade, the Brahmin Barons, these men, like their rancher counterparts were well dressed but most were unarmed and few had mercenaries with them. Most of their hired guns were off in camps that dotted the area surrounding Falfurrias as they prepared to ride against the Mexican herds and drovers. Then there were the out of towners, and the Free Rangers, these men were decidedly more rough and tumble then their town counterparts, they lacked the formal attire and many were still covered in dust from their ride into town. Most sported some sort of weaponry on their person and some even had fresh scars from brushes with the local tribals.
"Alright listen up folks" Nathaniel called, "We got ourselves a war on our hands, now those spic bastards have refused to leave us good folks in peace and now not only are they here for our market, but for our land as well! Now when those bastards come across that river we're gonna hit 'em so hard they're gonna wish they had kept their asses South of the border!"
To this a cheer echoed through the room.
"Now all ya'll get ready to saddle up, we're gonna head them off at Thompson's Crossing, Fort Brown and at Hidalgo. Kill all they send and those who survive you lynch 'em facing South! We're gonna show them what happens when you mess with Texans!" At that moment he spied the posterior of one of the young latinas handing out shots of Bourbon to the gathered ranchers, he was gonna break him off some of that before he rode off tomorrow.
TEAM TEXAS
"A very nice speech," said Marion Piper nonchalantly as he stood up, cheered, and exited the saloon. Should talk to rest of the Company before we head out. As he walked out, Marion watched the honorable Nathaniel Rooker ogle the backside of a wench and smirked. He may have hired me, but that doesn't mean I cant laugh at the man.
Marion walked out to meet the rest of Carnivore Company, who were waiting outside. Zachary, his lieutenant, spoke up.
"So where are the Barons going to send us?"
Marion shook his head.
"Somewhere around the Rio Grande. We're following Rooker from here. Get ready to move out."
As the Company began to gather up their gear, Marion took Zachary aside so he could speak to him.
"If it's possible, I'd like you to go buy a map of the region. Neither you or I know much about Mexico, so I don't want to be going in blind."
Zachary, in a coy tone, responded.
"You'll have to provide the caps, Marion."
Carnivore Company's commander punched his lieutenant in the face, sending him crashing to the ground.
"No back talk, Zachary. This is a big job, and I'm not gonna blow it because you were too picky with your caps. Now get me a map!"
Zachary nodded and limped off. Marion returned to the saloon to speak with Rooker and determine their destination.
TEAM MEXICO
Jenaro sat in the dusty tent of an old pisspot saloon drinking hot beer out of a dirty glass. The piss yellow gruel tasted like a hobo's ass, but it got the job done. If he cared to have a good time there were some degenerates behind him well into a game of poker. What little pesos he'd have would make a fine addition to their game, but he wasn't in a fun mood. The generalissimo had bested him again and again, it was getting hard to get any momentum going. His men were getting ground up against the general's latest raids. The last ambush was as flat and disappointing as the beer he was drinking, he was low on cash and men. That was the polite way of framing it, he maybe had a couple hands that could be counted on. Those wouldn't amount to much in a straight up fight, but scrappy survivors were always in demand.
There was a commotion outside from the local cattle barons, a couple big Mexican families that wanted the field hands to bleed for them. Some shit never changes, those aristocrats had been making them dance to that tired tune for centuries. Still if Texas was about to get ripped open there was potential profit in the chaos. The Corpse Coast was rich in with loot and paramilitaries that made the generalissimo look like a scout troop. If they were all distracted, he could score big. Of course, this was a line of reasoning he had been working on for a while now. The entire reason he was here was to take the fight to Texas. He despised the barons, but at least they weren't gringos, they weren't much better, but they were Mexicans. He wasn't about to die for them, but he'd kill for their pesos.
Finishing the last of the stale goat's piss they called alcohol Jenaro pulled himself from the wooden bar and motioned for his crew. Together the handful of them stumbled out into the daylight, blinded by the sun. Jenaro had a rusty lever action slung over his shoulder, it had known better days, but the gun would still shoot true. The four men with him were armed with six shooters, but they knew to grab rifles from the others as they dropped. Some of them were already scoping out likely casualties worth picking over. His band of red hooded banditos weren't much to look at but they knew how to fight in this terrain. If Texas made the first move he would butcher them as they tried crossing the hills. Well placed snipers could take out many times their own number and slink away quietly. That was how he had fought the general, and compared to him, those fresh eyed gringos would go down like a house of cards.
"You mean you'll pay us to kill gringos?," Jenaro said to the loudmouth gathering the volunteers. "And here I was killing them for free all these years."
That comment seemed to cause some laughter from the crowd, or at least his own men. Jenaro thought it was funny at any rate.
TEAM TEXAS
Nathan woke up in a haze, his vision fuzzy as he heard powerful shouts. It had been a long ride into town with the Brahmin, and he had dozed off thanks to a couple trusty shots of whiskey. He grasped the grip of his revolver, sensing that it might be time to get heated, but though best when he laid eyes on the tall Baron. He stumbled up, straightening out his duster and reoriented his Repeater, and slid over to one of his fellow compadres that worked for the same Baron, a tubby one as he recalled.
He hiccupped, before grasping a hold of his co-Rancher's shoulder, stammering to make out a phrase as he whipped his eyes, "W-what's that fella over there yammering about, Jim...?" His fellow Rancher Jim chuckled, clasping Nathan's shoulder tightly, "Nate, ya gotta stop takin' them shots buddy. You and alcohol just don't mix...." Jim paused, a wide grin on his face "And buddy, we're about to be killin' us some spics at Thompson's Crossing."
Nathan picked up his interest. He had heard rumors that the Cattlemen were heading over the border for Texan territory, but he'd never thought they'd be stupid enough to try. This was Texan land, and he very much wasn't going to give up a hint of it to some men who decided to tread the very ground of his forefathers. He straightened up, brushing off his duster, and began heading for the door, off to saddle up and prepare supplies.
If Cattlemen wanted to meet their maker, Nathan was happy to oblige.
TEAM MEXICO
When it came to sketchy border towns, Thompson's Crossing was one of the worst. What had once been a small village of Mirelurk trappers had over the years transformed into a seedy border town that meandered along the shallowest section of the Rio Grande River. What made the town such a happening place along the border was the shallow section of the river that allowed everyone and anyone to drive their cattle across the Rio Grande without fear of having anything swept down the river by the current. Here was the location of Zachary Hale's latest cattle drive up North to the markets in the Permian Basin.
Zachary was a hard working man, having been one of the first Mexican Longhorn barons to sail the waters of the Gulf Belt and one of the few cattlemen in Tamaulipas that exported some of his beeves to "foreign" markets in The Big East, and the Klansmen Confederacy. It was through these enterprises and other business ventures that Zachary had made himself one of the top cattlemen in Tamaulipas. As he sat upon the black quarter horse, Ranger was his name, Zachary scanned the opposite side of the river. The Texans were out there, he knew that much was fact, but the question was where they were. Returning his gaze to the herd of Longhorns splashing their way through the three feet water and the ranch hands watching their movements.
Further ahead of the herd was the cadre of hired guns he had picked up in Colonia Tamaulipas to help escort his cattle across Texas. Suddenly from up ahead of the heard there came the quick chatter of automatic weapons fire. Immediatetly his hand shot down to his revolver, a Ruger Bearcat, and snatched the weapon from its holster. He kicked Ranger into a gallop and rode to the front of the herd, on the ground in a pool of crimson blood he found one of his hired guns, his compatriots were crouched behind cover, busily scanning the surrounding hills. As he sat on his horse Zachary heaved a sigh.
"Oh get up you damned buffoons, the bastard took off" He shouted, "Now get that poor bastard cleaned up and get back to what I'm paying you for!"
With that the mercenaries scampered to their work and Zachary rode back to oversee his herd.
TEAM TEXAS
The sun beat down on Carnivore Company as they walked down the road to Thompson's Crossing and war. Marion Piper was at the front of the column and looked behind him. The company was a rather motley assortment of mercenaries, but was, to Marion's pride, one of the cheapest and most efficient groups during their time in the Corpse Coast. The individuals in the company and their reputations was a problem but didn't bother him. Our reputation is good business. It's why Rooker hired us after all.
He remembered when the day when the men from the Cattlemen's Association approached him in the company's camp outside of Calallen. Traders from farther west were common in the Corpse Coast, but these came bearing gifts. Gifts of beef and caps, enough to convince all of us fools to come down here.
Right now, Carnivore Company was trekking on foot behind the rest of the Cattlemen's Association forces, as they did not know the terrain. Marion whipped out his map to try to figure out where they where. Still no idea. Like he said, Marion and the rest of the Company was unfamiliar with the territory, so they were following the people who did.
Right then, Jebediah Micajah, the company's resident energy weapon specialist/fetishist walked up beside him. Smelled him before I saw him. At least he's loyal.
"Ta road goes on and on, Pipa. How far we from ta battle?"
Marion laughed at that. "Not long Jeb. I wouldn't want to keep you from playing with your toys."
At that, the swamper made a wide mouthed grin. Marion was greeted by the sight of rotting teeth. Disgusting.
TEAM MEXICO
Paul looked warily along the horizon again. There were no Texans yet, just a lot of bitching. It was bad enough getting every vaquero that had a gun, but then Hale went and hired every mercenary and killer he could... Not that Paul could say anything about it.
He resigned himself to another few hours watching the back end of the beeves make their way north.
TEAM TEXAS
Nathan's took a puff of a cigarette as he hide behind a jumble of Brown, what he assumed to be a bush. His hangover was still killing him, but focus was slowly returning to him as he looked onto the horizon. Various bushes and shrubs dotted the landscape, but the bright desert sun made him shield his eyes for a bit.
He shifted his gun around to his back, making sure his strap was still tight around his chest, and turned back. A few more of his compatriots were busy loading rifles and pistols, while their trusty steeds munched on whatever they could get their mouths on. He smirked, those Mexicanos wouldn't know what hit them.
He turned back and studied the crossing. With the amount of armed men the Cattlemen's Association had watch the water, and the reinforcements slowly approaching this dump, Nathan imagined those shit-for-brains wouldn't know what hit them. The amount of bullets pouring down from the banks would have them Longhorn Barons with their tail between their legs, cryin' back home to their Senoritas. He chuckled, took a quick huff, and when back to cleaning his repeater.
"Easy pickins," he thought.
TEAM TEXAS
"We've arrived," Piper whispered to his lieutenant Zachary, "tell everyone to stay quiet."
The rest of Carnivore Company were informed and were told to stay back, for now. Taking the packs of their pack brahmin, the company switched from their travel clothes to their battle clothes. Marion in particular switched into reinforced Mark II combat armor, the best armor in the whole company. Taking up his riot shotgun, walked over to one of the cowboys or whatever they were waiting in ambush.
"Hello, I'm from Carnivore Company. We were hired by Rooker, and I'd like to speak to your commander."
TEAM TEXAS
Nathan turned and stood, staring down the character before him. He looked up, tipping his Stetson in wonder. The kid had a fairly nice piece of armor on him, looked like it cost a couple thousand caps, he thought, nodding instinctually. Fiddling with buckle, he spoke up.
"That shotty ain't gonna do you any good here son, less you think you're getting an foot away from a Vaquero," he said, chuckling a bit and shaking his head. He took a look at his team, a rag tag bunch at best, and took a look back at this living mystery smirking like a coyote.
"Guessin' yall are the Mercs we've been waiting on? Good to see yall could make it down here nice and spiffy." He looked back towards the river, carefully scanning the horizon for any smoke trail. "Name's Nathan, but I ain't the head honcho in this bunch here. More like the sitter if ya ask me." His compatriots groaned and chuckled at his statement, his grin widening further.
TEAM TEXAS
Marion Piper smiled at that. "Well my name's Piper and yeah, we're the men Rooker hired to come down here to fight the wetbacks. I'm guessing he hasn't arrived yet, so I guess it will be just you and me for now." Seems like a yokel, but he's all I have to work with for now.
Zachary and the men finally showed up in their combat gear, all emblazoned with their signature cow skull. "Zach, get the sniper trio into position alongside the rest of them. Us up here will wait until we pick off some of them." He hefted his riot shotgun. "After that's over we'll go down there for some cleanup," looking at the old rancher, "and then I'll show how good this gun can be, rancher. "
TEAM TEXAS
Nathan smirked, "Sure Pipe, sure...". He began to pace over to his unit, shouting out orders and taking command of these ragtag yahoos. Boss wouldn't want his best men slackin' off after all. "Alright quit yer yammerin' and get positioned, we need to prepare for when them Longhorners get to the killzone men." He rushed to his bush, taking his repeater in his hand and aiming down it's iron sight, watching as the cool river ran quietly down the stream, soon to be filled with blood of bastard men. Bullet, his trusty steed, rustled behind the large brush; Nathan clicked with his teeth to settle the Obsidian male, trying to settle the worrisome beast. Bullet was a majestic ride: calm even in the toughest situations and as fast as his namesake; but he was a nervous Nellie and a loud one at that. He grimaced, That horse is goin' to be the death of me.
There was nothing he could do now except hope Bullet wouldn't fuck up the trap. The element of the surprise was the best thing they had with them...
TEAM MEXICO
It happened all at once. There was a sudden crashing of gunfire as dozens of guns opened up on the cattle herd at once. Zachary's hand quickly shot down to his Bearcat and he lifted it from its holster, as bullets kicked up around Ranger, the horse began to buck and Zachary rose him over to a rock. Tying his beloved horse up to a cactus, he sprinted back out onto the trail, loosing two rounds into the surrounding rocks as their ambushers continued their deadly stream of lead. He watched as his cow hands, and mercenaries alike were cut down in the hail of bullets.
Behind him his Trail Boss, a slim fella named Hoss ran up to him.
"Get down Boss!" Hoss cried as he tackled Zachary to the ground, "I didn't come this way to have my pay tossed down the shitter because my boss got his head blown off!"
With that Hoss ran off, Battle Rifle in hand he fired off a round claiming the life of an ambusher. From his prone positions, Zachary scanned the area, those cow hands who hadn't been killed were busily corraling the excited cattle and his mercenaries had meanwhile faned out to cover, returning fire. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, glancing over he saw several of the ambushers making a bee line for the pay rolls lashed to their Pack Brahmin. Zachary jumped to his feet and ran towards the pay rolls. Bringing up his Bearcat he squeezed off two rounds, one going through the lead ambusher's neck. The man collapsed in a mess of blood, clutching at his throat as screams of pain gurgled through his torn throat. The next ambusher was a bit more responsive, but he to fell with a bullet in his chest. The third and final ambusher turned to run, and caught a bullet in his shoulder. Moving up to the fallen Texan he put a single round into the man's head. Turning towards his herd and cowhands,
"Move them back towards Thompson's Crossing!" He yelled, "And get a runner over to Doolittle!" As he shouted his last order he felt a sudden pain in his side, looking down he saw his shirt soaked with blood and a large hole torn in his shirt. Aw hell.
TEAM MEXICO
When the bullets started firing, Paul ducked, which saved him the fate of several of his compatriots. His shotgun was no real use where he was, and he was liable to get killed in the meantime. With that in mind he rolled under the supply wagon, and saw a few of the ambushers come out. Grabbing his shotgun he sent three shells of buckshot towards them, dropping the pair where they stood. He heard shouts and curses and the drivers began to restore some semblence of order.
He rolled out from his spot, shooting off another few shells into the bushes, until he heaed the order to pull back. He gladly began to fulfil it, but saw the Boss go down. "Shit." He said to himself as he threw his scattergun to his back, and ran over to the collapsed Rancher. He grabbed the man and threw him over his shoulder, and ran.
TEAM TEXAS
As the first shots rang out, Marion Piper took a deep breath in. Going up to his snipers' position, Piper watched as the Mexican longhorn herd and its guards were ripped a new one by Texan gunfire.
Now it seemed that the Mexicans' were firing back, with several bullets spiraling past him and his men's heads.
"Shoot their horses, shoot the mercs and the drivers! Don't let them regroup! The cows and cowhands can wait til later!"
With that, several nearby gunshots rang out to Piper's left. They must have counter attacked. Looking over he saw Damion nearby, getting his signature flamer ready. Piper yelled over, "Come with me," and at that Damion nodded.
Both of them crouched and left the sniper positions to check out the situation. After passing through some prickly bushes, they were greeted by a grisly sight.
Five Carnivores were down and bleeding, probably dead. The rest, led by Zachary Bell, were engaged in a firefight with the Mexican ranchers and attempting to recover the bodies of their comrades. Damn those Mexicans. Most of the Mexicans in question were now retreating, wounded. "Let's get down there, men." His men cheered in agreement. They still don't want to die, but this job is the one that'll make us rich.
Most of Carnivore Company burst out of the bushes and started advancing on the retreating Mexicans. Piper fired his riot shotgun at the backs of the ranchers while Damion fired up his flamer and got ready to roast. Jebediah howled like a madman as he unloaded his gauss rifle. "Break them!"
TEAM MEXICO
When the shooting started Jenaro ducked behind cover. He was far from the fighting but it didn't pay to take unnecessary risks. The rancher was a more reckless man, full of that old school Mexican machismo. Jenaro admired the man for his courage but he wasn't about to throw his life in with this fool hearty recklessness. The Texans were already on them and they weren't about to be cowed by a show of bravado. The enemy had picked the opening engagement well, but they had waited too long. If they had waited until the cattle were crossing the river, they'd have had them but instead the Texans let them cross, a big mistake. Still, credit where it was due, this was a classic bandito setup, snipers in the hills and here they were all bunched up as a big easy target.
Jenaro didn't like to read too much into these signals but it did seem like they were dealing with bloodthirsty irregulars, not professional soldiers. The generalissimo would have never blundered like this, and that gave Jenaro hope. This battle may go differently, seeing as he was on likely equal footing with the enemy. With a whistle Jenaro signaled to his men to take position with him. With the sniper bullets flying he wasn't moving from cover. Instead the five of them would take cover behind a few rocks and let the rookies take the first hits. Some call it cowardice, but Jenaro considered it smart. You have bold mercenaries, and you have old mercenaries, but there are never bold old mercenaries. He coined that saying himself, it made him grin and was in no way similar to any other sayings that may have existed in a fantasy book in the generalissimo's library.
The outcome of the opening salvo wasn't hard to see coming, they were a band of irregulars themselves and without clear instructions they began to retreat. Men will kill for gold, but good luck convincing them to die for it. No one wanted to be fish in the barrel here. The Mexican side was retreating and that was bad news. It meant having to recross the river, if that happened the Texans could be on them and break the group for good. If this was going to have any chance of working, it would mean Jenaro would have to step up and do something. He was hoping to avoid standing out and being different but that wasn't an option today. Fortunately, the Carnivore Company was going to make it easy.
Snipers from the Carnivore Company gave up there position in an effort to break the Mexican forces. In a full on charge, the group was heading right for them. It wasn't the play he'd make, but it wasn't a stupid call. You had to press while you had the advantage. A great tactician once noted that once routed a smaller force could keep a much larger force in retreat and in such a way a small army could defeat a larger one. The Carnivore Company wasn't the stuff of great tacticians, but it didn't matter, their instincts were on point.
"Alright boys, we're going to hold this rock pile," Jenaro announced. "We need to give the others time to regroup. Hit these bastards hard and don't get yourselves killed."
It wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan. From cover Jenaro hit the charging mercenaries with his lever action while his men fired with their small arms. It looked like one or two had managed to find an old bolt action rifle among the dead. That certainly helped in this fight, giving the group extra range. If the Carnivore Company wanted to rush down to them, Jenaro was going to make sure they took a few casualties first. They may have shotguns and flamethrowers, but that didn't count for shit until you got close and they weren't close yet. With any luck they'd smarten up and rethink this move, but if not he'd fight it out close and bloody.
TEAM TEXAS
Marion Piper's reinforced Mark II combat armor was now pitted with bullet marks as shots bounced off of him. Good thing we packed on the armor. Most of the company with the exception of the snipers and Hacks-like-Deathclaw (because he's a chem-addled crazy), had basic combat armor and were mostly untroubled the ranchers' sidearms. However, now two more Carnivores had been dropped by rifle fire as they ran towards the line of ranchers. Jedediah was the only making a solid impact at the moment with his gauss rifle. They're lines still aren't breaking. Better loosen them up before we get closer.
As he ran, Piper yelled over to Zachary, "Loosen them up with a grenade!" Nodding on cue, Zachary reached down to his belt, unhooked a grenade, and threw it towards the line of ranchers. They were met with a resounding "BOOM".
"We're finally in range for the flamer and shotguns, let 'em have it boys!" With that, Piper fired his shotgun at one of Mexicans trying to get back up after the grenade, sending the man sprawling.
TEAM TEXAS
"PIPE YOU STUPID SONOFABITCH!
Nathan swore under his breath as he loaded his Repeater, watching as the idiot and his band of fools charged down the river bank into a hail of gunfire. It had only been a couple of minutes and the whole riverbed had turned into the bloodbath. Men were going down on either side of the river, Poor bastards were lying face down in the cold water; and screams filled the air on all around him. Nathan had been in some pretty bad gunfights in his day, and put to rest a few poor souls, but this was by far the worst. His hands shook repeatedly as bullets fly by his head, a few rounds dropping out of his hands onto the dirt. Shit he thought, biting his lip furiously. Now wasn't the time to get the jitters.
"Loosen them up with a grenade!"
Nathan peaked over his newest rock cover, watching as one of Piper's men hurled a frag into the Mex lines. A smile widened across his face, crazy motherfuck-. Before his thought was finished a bullet sliced through the skin of his left arm through his duster, blood splattering on the ground. He cursed out as he fell to the ground, trying to tend to his wound the best he could with a piece of cloth.
Lucky shot
TEAM MEXICO
Zachary shoved an elbow down into Paul's shoulder.
"Goddamnit let me down! I ain't dead and I'll be damned if I'm gonna go out like no bitch!" He dropped off Paul's shoulder, "Get back to the fightin' boy!"
Brandishing his Bearcat he took aim at Texan that had sprinted into the river among the Texan's charge. He squeezed off a single round and sent a bullet through the man's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Turning to face the oncoming mercenaries of Carnivore company, he loosed two shots at the attacking mercenaries, bringing one armored mercenary down with two shots to the gut. As he scanned the melee he spotted one of the mercenaries shouting orders to the others, taking aim he waited until the merc had filled his sights, and he squeezed the trigger. The Bearcat clicked empty. Zachary immediately began to reload as one of the mercs broke from the group and charged him, frantically attempting to reload Zachary fumbled a few rounds.
However the merc was upon him before he could fit the last bullet into the chamber, Zachary brought his elbow up and struck the merc in the chin, he followed this up with a solid punch to the man's neck. To his suprise the merc shrugged off the blows and came back with a sharp hit to Zachary's side, followed by a sharp kick to his legs, bringing Zachary down. The merc gathered himself, as wild kill-lust filled his eyes and brought his shotgun upon Zachary.
"Adios you Mexican pig" The merc said defiantly,
Zachary clicked his revolver's action closed and looked up at the merc,
"Same to you"
Zachary squeezed off a round and fired again and again into the merc, sending several bullets flying up into the man's weapon, arms, legs and crotch. The man howled in pain as he fell back, Zachary promptly jumped on top of the merc and proceeded to bludgeon the merc, not stopping until the man's face was a bloody pulp. Stepping up from the fallen merc.
"By the way" He said to the corpse, "My mother was cajun."
TEAM MEXICO
"Ooof". Paul groaned as he dropped the rancher, and took a spill himself. "Crazy bastard." Paul didn't have much more then pay invested in this job; he was born and raised in Texas by a Tejano mother and Texan dad, and then lived in Mexico for most of his life; he didn't give a damn where you were from, both places got blasted centuries ago; he sure as hell didn't care for these cattle. But that feeling came again; the mix of dread and peace that came whenever he took a hard job.
"This mught be where i get it then." He muttered to himself as he rose up, unslinging his shotgun and his travel bag. He ejected the current drum and loaded the with slugs, yanking the reciever back with a look of satisfaction. He put the half-empty drum in his bag, when something screamed by, exploding through a vaquero behind him. Paul jerked his head around and saw one of the Texan mercs with a weird rifle.
Ignoring Hale struggling with some thug, Paul jogged a few feet closer to the front, taking cover behind a rock. When he heard another shot scream by, he stood up and finding the merc closer than expected, sent four slugs at him.
TEAM TEXAS
Shit, Marion Piper thought, retreating isn't what it used to be.
Apparently, the Mexicans were now pushing back with appropriate force and taking its toll on Carnivore Company. Almost half of the Comapany was dead or injured while the rest were continuing to press the Mexicans. Piper saw Damion unleash his flamer once again, sending several Mexicans running away, screaming and aflame.
Jebediah and his gauss rifle were also doing well, taking down a few other shooters. However, more just seemed to keep coming. There's only about eight of us left standing. We have to press them now.
At that moment, Piper saw something that horrified him. Zachary, his friend and lieutenant who he had gone through hell and back with, was having his head bashed in by some injured wetback. His vision became a red haze. No. You'll pay for that you sonofabitch. Running up, Piper pulled out his Chinese pistol and began to fire shot after shot at the man.
"Die, you bastard, die!"
TEAM MEXICO
The blast rocked the defensive line Jenaro was holding. It threw his men into cover and gave the hulking Carnivore brutes a temporary reprieve from their counter attack. Combat armor was a poor choice, it weighed them down, they'd be tired and dehydrated in any drawn out scenario. Bloodlust was fueling them now, but they'd be exhausted if this kept going. They wouldn't tire before the flamethrower started cooking them so Jenaro signaled for an orderly retreat.
Flames licking at their heels they moved back to where Zachary Hale was recovering. The man had been shot and that wasn't good for morale. Countering that bit of bad news was the mercenary with his brain pulped. He must have thought the injured rancher was easy pickins. Hopefully Zach would have a plan up his sleeve because this battle was starting to devolve into a brawl and there would be a mountain of bodies on both sides before the day was out if something didn't change.
"I admire your courage, but I think this crossing is a lost cause," Jenaro told the man. "There's other places we can go through, even if we can push them back it'll be at a high price. Why don't we let those fancy Texans march with their special armor for awhile, the sun will punish them worse then we can here and now. I could take a few horses and see if we can't get the Doolittle Regulators to meet us at Fort Brown. From what I hear the two aren't big hombres."
Pistol fire broke up the meeting and Jenaro was scrambling to get out of the way. Seeing as Zachary didn't say no, that must have meant yes. He wasn't about to expose himself to more gunfire to get clarification. Either the regulators would meet them at the next crossing or he'd go home knowing it was a lost cause. In the chaos horses were easy to find, the former owners were either too busy fighting or already dead. Grabbing a few rides Jenaro mounted an old hunting pony and spurred it into a gallop. They tore south to go around the fighting, he wasn't risking a charge through the enemy. That would mean a slightly longer trip but the lower risk was well worth it.
Looking at the Mexican bandito, Zachary couldn't help but agree.
"Tell your men to form up along the otherside of the bank and give covering fire so the rest of us can get out" He yelled at Jenaro, "And spread the word that we're falling ba..."
Zachary never finished his sentence as several bullets came whizzing by, ducking Zachary looked up at the charging Texan and after placing two fresh rounds into his Bearcat he squuezed off two rounds at the attacking merc, striking him in the shin and chest plate. Turning to Jenaro,
"Lets get the fuck outta here!"
With that he sprinted back to his now anxiously bucking and neighing horse, he saddled up on Ranger and kicked him into a gallop, racing across the bank shouting his orders to the surviving men and cow hands. The herd of Longhorns had by this point been reversed and the cattle raced back towards the safety of the Mexican side of the river. Quietly Zachary hoped that Jenaro and his men were in position to cover his men's retreat.
TEAM TEXAS
"Come back, you bastard!"
Piper kept on firing round after round of bullets after the retreating horseman, but none fell true. Mexican bullets even longer off his body armor. Damn them. Damn them to hell.
Nearby, the remaining unmounted Mexicans had seen their leaders retreating and were being "cleaned up" by the Carnivores. Hacks-likes-Deathclaw was chewing on someone, which side was unclear, and Damion was accepting the surrender of several cowering wetbacks while menacing them with his flamer. It was unclear where Jebediah had gone, maybe he went of to hunt some more "prey".
Marion looked around and saw carnage. Dead and wounded men from both sides, tens of dead cattle lying around, and the remaining Texan ranchers and mercenaries sifting through the corpses. The Mexicans on horseback were fleeing back over the border. It's over. We should count our losses. And mourn the dead. Zachary, why did it have to be you?
"Don't pursue across the river. We've killed enough of their men for one day."
With that, a small cheer went up among the remaining Carnivores. This isn't over, wetbacks.
The Texans had won, for now.
TEAM MEXICO
With the surviving Mexicans now back across the river, Zachary led the hodge podge of mercenaries, cowhands and steers back through Thompson's Crossing and back south towards his ranch outside of Matamoros. As he rode he concoted a plan, the cattle were his bread and butter and if he couldn't move his cattle to the markets in the North he'd be forced to either compete in the local markets or move further South into Mexico to find buyers, and that would mean either dealing with the stuffy Brits or selling to the Ganaderos. However he had heard of places further South of Tampico and the Saltlands, distant Capitals in need of fresh meat, tribes of people in need of cows to form herds from, and remnants of governments and gangs of bandits all looking to buy supplies. One place in particular resounded in his mind, Mexico City or the Capital District as he had heard it called, but he'd been told the place had run amoke with warlords and slavers.
Thus he knew what he must do, he realized that the safest route into Texas was through Fort Brown, whose local militia controlled the sole surviving bridge that led into Texas from Mexico. At Fort Brown he and his herd would rest for a spell and hire up a horde of armed guards, and with any luck the Doolittle Regulators would be backing up the cattle drive as it moved North. With this extra firepower Zachary fully expected to either shoot or peacefully ride into the Corpse Coast where he could sell off his stock and return to the safety of his home down South. However, first he needed some time for R & R back at his home, and before he did that he need to pay the remaining mercs that had survived the ride.
TEAM TEXAS
"Easy now, you son of a bitch....", Nathan groaned, grimacing as the medic bandaged his tightyl arm, pulling pot shots on the chicos below with his '76 Revolver. Men dropped into the cold water below him, as the blood pressure began to rise inside his body, forcing more of the red goop to slide out of the medic's newly placed bandage, "...and hurry up with that shit!" He popped open the loader, loading it with his newly freed left arm and hand, keeping track of his rifle off to the side. The Mexicans were getting close now, and this was no time for pea-shooter antics...
"What in the fuck?" Nathan sneered in awe as he saw the remaining Longhorners turning south with their tails in between their legs, heading off to god knows where. He stood up, grimacing once more as a sharp joly rolled through his wound. He picked up his rifle carefully, looking up as the he watched one of Pipe's misfits chewing down on manflesh. He felt a bit of queasy, looking away to prevent himself from hurling chunks. Tribals, what sick bastards...
He focused his mind on other things, something more understandable. Namely, what the hell those Mexicans were up to. He headed over to bullet, pondering the question as he trudged through the bloodied dirt. Chicos couldn't be defeated so soon, bastards barely even had the cattle stock scratched. So what in the hell are they plannin' next?
TEAM TEXAS
Well this is a fine mess, isn't it? I got out of this thing with barely a scratch but almost a third of the Carnivores are dead of severely wounded.
Marion Piper sifted through another corpse, this one Mexican. A picture of a woman and a child. How quaint. He tossed the old photo aside. Maybe some of actual worth this time. Would kill for a Nuka-Cola right about now. Here we go... There was some good ammo on the man and a water canteen.
Getting up from the corpse and drinking some of the water, Piper walked over to Zachary. His head was a bloody red ruin but that was it. The rest of him was as Piper remembered him. Unfortunate, I guess. I was rough on him but he always did as I said. I'll have to find a new lieutenant. Hard to find.
It was not until then that Piper realized he was getting a bit teary eyed. Can't have that. Damion came up behind him. "You okay sir?"
Piper wiped his face and looked Damion in the eyes. "Burn the bodies." Damion nodded and prepped his flamer.
With that Piper saw that old man walking onto the battlefield, looking rather scruffy and bandaged. What's his name again? Nathan, right. I should talk to him about what we do next. Selling the captives to slavers, securing Thompson's Crossing, or getting a proper drink, the works.
Going into a light jog, Piper went over to the old rancher, who looked like he wasn't particularly excited to see him.
"How you doing, old timer? Any word from Rooker?"
TEAM MEXICO
Dust kicked up in small clouds as Jenaro led his team towards their destination in Doolittle. Their surefooted ponies were bred for running in rough terrain. Stallions may be faster on open plains but that would be a mistake in this case. The Texas were far from defeated, and it would be a mistake to underestimate their ruthlessness. The cattle were a huge liability, it made the Mexican mercenaries slow and that gave the Texans the ability to outmaneuver them. It was a major tactical disadvantage, and that would have to be overcome if these cattle were getting sold in the Corpse Coast anytime soon.
The Doolitle Regulators could be just the edge they'd need to push through. The idea of overcoming the odds by throwing wave after wave of bodies at the enemy was an unpleasant prospect. It meant that he'd be expected to throw caution to the wind and risk his own life to take down these beasts. The Texan ranchers had managed to assemble a gruesome army of thugs and criminals. Unlike the Mexican side, these men had no class, they were tattooed up junkies. Their unpredictability made them dangerous, there was no telling how they would react in battle. Fortunately, once Jenaro got these guys to meet up with the rest at Fort Brown he could safely dump the problem on them. It wasn't any secret that the Falfurrias Cattlemen's Association had a line of enemies around the block, the regulators would probably join them for free just to be rid of them once and for all. The Regulators could take the hits and the glory Jenaro was getting paid one way or another.
It wouldn't be much longer until they arrived at Doolittle. The going was a little slower because they were avoiding trails. Once they actually arrived in town they'd send the regulators south while they rested up a bit. A warm beer sounded good right about now and it wasn't like it make that much difference if they stopped and had some lunch. All they had to do was steer clear of any Falfurrias mercenaries and alert the good guys. It was a simple plan but getting anywhere alive was going to be a challenge on this side of the river. All Jenaro could do was be cautious and hope for the best.
TEAM MEXICO
"Fuck!" The gunslinger exclaimed as another Gauss round screamed by his head. The merc with it seemed to be toying with him at this point, having the high ground and Paul trapped in a small ravine about half a mile from the ambush. Paul initially had chased the merc, wounding him with one of the slugs, but the merc quickly turned the tables. He hid behind some rocks and waited for Paul, and managed to get a good chop in at the Tejano, taking a chunk out of the man's knee. Paul rolled down the slope, crawling towards the ditch he was presently trapped in. He checked his drum; he had five slugs left, another drum with six shells of buckshot, with another two dozen or so loose in his bag. While he weighed his options another round screamed towards him, lodging in the earth just above his head, causing dirt to rain on him.
Paul rose to a kneel and took aim with his shotgun, sending three slugs towards the sniper, with one looking like it grazed his arm. The shooter dropped his rifle and grabbed his arm, giving Paul time to switch drums, leaving the previous one in the dirt as he stood and tried to run as best as he could. he was about fifteen feet away when the merc fired a rushed round, it flying (somewhat) safely off to the side. After seeing the Mexican still alive, the merc threw the rifle at him and rushed as he drew his machete. This is what Paul was waiting for however, and batted the energy weapon away, comfortably unloading the remainder of the drum into the chest and face of the mercenary. While the chest plate of the armor looked like it might have held, his face was little more than hamburger over nervous tissue, though it was still in a 'head' shape.
Putting his gun on his back, Paul bent down to the merc and pulled off a bandanna and wrapped it around his leg. "Hell ofa fight." he said to the body, as he limped his way over to the rifle. He examined it briefly before taking that too with him.
Part 2[]
If one this was for certain, there was a helluva lot of people in this drive. When he had been hired on by Ronald Turnball and the Jackson Family mercs he had expected to be joining two, maybe three other mercenaries. Instead he counted well over thirty mercs, all on horse back and all headed North towards the cattle markets of the Corpse Coast and the Permian Basin. It wasn't just the sheer number of people involved with this drive, it was also the names attached to it, up ahead was the king of Mexican Longhorns himself; Cal Jackson and somewhere else in the herd of people and cows was Zachary Hale and even one of the Perez Family was tagging along.
Up ahead of the herd he could see the toll bridge the locals at Fort Brown operated, the bridge had once been a highway overpass, with six lanes all toegther. Now about two of those lanes were collapsed and the locals were still in the process of repairing them, the rest were clogged with ever kind of traffic, from foot weary cowpokes and refugees fleeing North from the fighting between La Ciudadela and La Legion de la Gente, with others moving South with fresh arms and other goods to be sold in the various markets of Tamaulipas. People spoke Spanish, English, slurs of the both that people referred to as Texican and an odd dialect of English was occasionally heard from merchants that had travelled from Tampico.
Charlie didn't like the looks of some of these Mexicans, they watched them with cool, calculating eyes and it didn't seem all that unlikely that they had been hired by the Texans to watch the bridges for them, in any case it seemed doubtful that they'd try anything, yet he still kept his duel Peacekeepers close. Up ahead past the toll bridge, he spotted the red bandanas of the Victorino gang and their leader Jenaro Victorino and his men waiting to join up with the drive along with a hlaf dozen members of the famed; "Doolittle Regulators". One of his good friends was a member of the Regulators, so when they joined up he shouted to the man he recognized as Andy Adkins.
"Hey buddy!" Charlie shouted to Andy,
Seeing his friend Andy rode over to Charlie, "How's it going Charlie? Its been awhile"
"Its been going good, you still praying to those screwy idols?" Charlie said half jokingly, Andy was the one member of the Adkins-Rivera Family to have fallen in with some of the Lipan and had adopted their faith.
"Nope, I'm praying to the one true God nowadays Charlie, how about you?"
"I believe in the sand I walk on Andy, and thats about it" Charlie responded with a grin,
"Glad to see nothings changed old buddy" Andy replied,
"Same"
TEAM MEXICO
Jenaro sat astride his hunting pony as Fort Brown moldered in the distance. Perhaps he was too close to judge it properly but it just didn't strike him as being that impressive. It was just an old Texas fort in an ideal strategic position. Then again everything was going to get compared to the Distrito Capital, now that was an impressive architectural achievement. The Spaniards really took pride in their construction, the styles themselves were a hodgepodge of multiculturalism. Columbus discovered the New World right around the time when the last of the Moors were driven out of the Iberian Peninsula. Many of the colonizing nobles were from the southern parts of the country and they used Berber and Turkish influences in the construction. One of those tidbits learned from copying books over and over and over.
This fort by contrast substituted that romantic style for tetanus. It was all blocky and rusted, while efficient and defensible there just wasn't any passion in it. Doolittle by comparison was a better experience, it had its charms, but sadly no time to stop. The Cattleman had insisted on riding out immediately, and well here they were. Ever efficient, the regulators spurred their mounts and galloped off to join the ranchers arriving in the distance. It was likely unneeded, the Texans would be foolhardy to try something here. This was the first crossing they should have attempted, there were defenses and a local militia presence to help shift things in the Mexican's favor. These Texans were a bold lot though, a hard enough strike mid transport would finish the company. It would be a hell of a gamble, but in that confusion and with cattle panicking everywhere they could take out the herd and the fort at the same time. It would remain to be seen if they'll hit now or wait for the cattle to get away from here and hit them on the road. That was the regulators problem and they could hash it out together.
"Well, there they go," Jenaro muttered wheeling his horse around.
"Hey aren't we going to join them," one of his bandits muttered.
"They got enough muscle for right now, and besides we still haven't gotten lunch."
"Its 9:30"
"A bar then, whatever, we'll rejoin them in a bit. We know where they are going afterall"
Kicking his pony into action, the bandito group rode off northeast into the back country. A treacherous area full of rocks and molerat holes that could snap a horses leg. Jenaro though knew these ponies were build for this kind of terrain, they were nature's ATVs. Going quite through the brush was the only way they'd have a chance of avoiding combat. This was something that they had quite a bit of practice at in their raiding. It was a matter of keeping low as possible, staying in shadows, riding over rocks to minimize hoof prints, and other backwoods country tricks. If the Texans wanted to continue this fight they would be a loud and noisy column. You can't exactly move gracefully in Combat Armor, its one of the drawbacks.
TEAM TEXAS
Nathan had managed to hobble his way out into the battlefield, pondering the bloody sight before him. Bodies were still lay everywhere in the low river bed, stiff and lifeless as the water carried their leaking blood to unknown waters. His boots splashed further into the current, until he came upon a ghastly sight. A young Mexican lay on his back, his clenched fist tight against his chest. Nathan knelt down into the cold water, pulling open the dead man's fingers. He found a small golden locket cradled in his hands , a tiny button serving as its sole locking mechanism. He pressed the small button, and the small locket popped open. It was split into two glass planes: one featuring the beautiful hand-drawn portrait of a senorita, and the other with the etched in words:
Eres mi todo.
-Maria
He looked back at the man, his face eternally blank, as his lifeless eyes stared into the uncaring sky. Aw hell, Nathan thought, grinding his teeth in rage, why the hell did you need to be here, kid? He got up, kicking at the water in anger, as he tried to keep in tears. What the hell were any of them doing out here in this god forsaken land?
"How you doing, old timer? Any word from Rooker?"
He turned and saw the young kid, Pipe, staring at him smiling like a coyote. He shook his head in disbelief, a small droplet running down the side of his face. "Nothing much kiddo, 'cept getting older by the second. I...we might be getting a move on in a minute, best to saddle up."
TEAM MEXICO
Paul wistfully watched as Jean and his gang rode off, thinking they were the only smart ones. He knew little about wasteland politics north of the border, but fighting the Texans in Texas seemed kind of suicidal to him. Though his leg reminded him he might not have that long anyway, with another flair-up of pain in his knee. He traded off the rifle to another in the drive for some stims and shells, but so far whatever was on the blade seemed to live through the medicine. He was bumped back to the present by the wagon underneath him, managing to talk Hale into letting ride with the supplies for a while. He relaxed, if the Texans tried something now, the fort would probably step in. With that he laid back on the floor-boards.
TEAM TEXAS
"Nothing much kiddo, 'cept getting older by the second. I...we might be getting a move on in a minute, best to saddle up."
On that, Piper agreed. Leaving so soon?
"Sounds good to me, friend. However, me and my boys would like to pay the town of Thompson's Crossing a little visit, just to catch any stragglers and secure the town, nothing harmful to the townspeople of anything. After all, I doubt Rooker will-"
Before Piper could finish his sentence, the rest of the Carnivores walked up, loaded up with loot and captives. Piper knew this must be serious if they were interrupting him during a serious conversation. "Excuse me for a moment."
With that, he turned to his fellow Carnivores, specifically Damion.
"What is it?"
"It's Jeb. We found him... and you just might want to see him for yourself."
After a few minutes of walking through the battlefield and occasionally cutting off a good side of beef from some of the dead cattle, Piper and the other Carnivores came upon a ditch.
"Jeb's down there, sir. Deathclaw's fixing him up as good as he can, but we don't know. He looks pretty damn ugly."
"Not like he looked that good to begin with," said Piper as he descended into the ditch. Jeb's down there. Hacks-like-Deathclaw was crouching over someone, Jeb. Presumably hearing Piper approaching, Deathclaw jumped up and turned to him.
"Boss!"
Hacks-like-Deathclaw's psycho had worn off by now, but the blood of the men he killed was still splattered all over his face. Deathclaw'll never change. He never did have a taste for beef.
"Jeb, he took shot to the face. Blow lot of it off. I use healing powder, but-"
"Here's a stimpak," Piper handed Deathclaw one of his own, personal stimpaks, "it'll do more good."
Without losing a beat, Deathclaw turned back around, crouched, and plunged the stimpak into Jeb's face. A grunt came from that. Deathclaw motioned to Piper. "Come see."
Jeb looked like shit. His nose and half his face had gotten blown off. Palme of the naked blood and flesh was still exposed but most of it was quickly scabbing over. An eye was gone too, a dark empty socket.
After a few minutes of silence, Jeb's "repairs" were finished. His face was uneven and he had nose holes now, but he was visibly breathing.
"Put him on one of our new horses. We're going to sleep the night in Thompson's Crossing. Let's go!"
The sun waned in the sky as the evening heat turned into the cool night. Riding in such plain and dull a landscape was a boring and ardous task and the only real solution to the monotony was to drown your boredom in hard liquor, and Charlie was three bottles of cactus whiskey into this task. So as he lolled in his saddle as the little pony trodded alongside the herd of Longhorns.
However what he, nor anyone could've guessed was who was watching the massive herd of cattle and cattlemen from the darkened grass. The Sandcreek don't usually target Mexican cattle drives, but a herd of this size was entirely too lucrative to be passed up, and as the night darkened the dozens of Sandcreek, hidden by the grasses and darkness, slowly began to creep up on the train of cattle. However they had no intention of attacking the Mexicans, they were waiting for the Texans to ambush the Mexicans and their Regulator allies. Than when the battle had reached a fever pitch, they would strike, taking the two sides by surprise and taking the herd of Longhorns, for themselves.
TEAM TEXAS
"Sweet Jesus" Nathaniel exclaimed as he scanned the massive herd of Longhorns, "I count at least 500 head and that ain't even the whole fucking herd!"
"Figures those two-faced sonsabitches from Doolittle would be helping out the Mexicans" Spat Nathaniel's oldest son; Jeremy.
"Boy! Don't you speak about the Regulators in such a manner...they're just doing what they think is just, no matter how mislead that idea may be" Nathaniel retorted, "Mind you that I was a Regulator at one point"
"I didn't mean it like that sir, it just that they're Texans! They ought to be fighting with us!"
"Well if that mentality is true son, than the Thunderfoot, Flat Foot and all the other Lipan tribes of Texas ought to be down here helping us out" Nathaniel replied, "Besides there are only so many Regulators, we kill off six and they'll drop the whole issue like a bad habit, you'll see"
"If you say so Pa"
Behind him the night sky darkened and the small group of Texan mercs had already built a small fire to cook some Gecko on. About twenty minutes later, the wind kicked up the tall grasses that grew around them causing them to rustle, in the distance the rumble of Thunder carried through the air, causing their tied up horses to neigh nervously.
"Storms coming mister Rooker, you think we should take shelter?"
"Relax, its a few miles off, just keep the horses in line and keep an eye out"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw some of the grass move, a quick bolting movement. Nathaniel quickly turned his head and glared at the section of grasses, scanning the area quickly. Odd he thought. He made certain his pistol was well within reach, and peering over to his Pancor Jackhammer assuring that he was well armed.
TEAM MEXICO
Paul breathed a little easier as night came; the heat of earlier began to clear and the pain began to dull a little though his knee was still an unpleasant color. "You oughta get that looked at." Gomez told him, gesturing with his bottle of tequilla before taking a deep swig. He was one of the cook's assistants and a decent dice player, though the bumps of the wagon might account for that.
"You know, I didn't even notice that before, thanks." Paul told him in a flat tone before he too took a pull from the tequilla. "Alright." Paul exhailed. "The point is five." As he threw the dice again.
TEAM TEXAS
Having only been on horseback once or twice before in his life, Marion Piper was unused to riding and was rather clumsy at it. This showed as he headed the Carnivores column heading into Thompson's Crossing.
Carnivore Company had managed to wrangle three horses from the retreating Mexicans and their new riders were the commander (Piper), Damion, and Hacks-like-Deathclaw who had demonstrated surprising riding skills. Behind them were the dozen or so other Carnivores on foot guarding the Mexican POWs. The baggage train and Jebediah slung over a Brahmin's back brought up the rear.
Thompson's Crossing's small town, thought Piper as they entered town, and even smaller because we're here
As the Carnivores entered the town, people began to visibly run off the streets to get away from them.
By the time they had gotten to the town's saloon, the street was empty. Demounting, Piper yelled to the men in rear, "Find a barn or someut to put the prisoners and set up some guards. I'll check in."
Piper walked into the saloon, still in full combat armor, and walked up to the bar to talk to the saloon owner. A lot of wannabe cowboys in here. None of them Mexican, though.
The saloon owner seemed to be trying to keep his cool as he asked, "What can I do you for today?" Piper replied back, "I'll need about twelve beds tonight and a stable for my horses."
The saloon owner nodded. "And what will be your form of payment?"
Piper sneered at that. "I'm working on behalf of the Falfurrias Cattlemen's Association. If you want compensation, go ask them."
You're not going to refuse me. I've got too many men and you can't afford to turn us away.
The saloon owner maintained a stiff upper lip and nodded. "Alright. Six rooms then. I'll get them ready."
That night, as the rest of Carnivore Company slept, Piper did not. The gunshots and screams were still with him and only usually left about three days after a battle. Damn ghosts.
TEAM MEXICO
Above Jenaro storm clouds stretched out for miles like an angry leviathan. Flashes of lightning in the clouds were ominous warnings of the events to come. As long as it didn't hail though it should be fine. Jenaro wasn't one to shy away from the rain, but it sure did spook animals. The ponies would be harder to control, but between the setting sun and the bad weather they'd be just fine. Those were ideal conditions for what was about to happen, it was time for Jenaro to collect his fee. The promises of a paycheck didn't bring him north it was rich Texan ranching family loot. With the two groups busy fighting down at the fort no one would expect a hit in the Falfurrias Association's backcountry.
The ponies came to a stop outside the boundaries of one of one of these such ranches. With the storm coming the slaves were busy corralling frightened animals while the woman were shutting up things to ride out the bad weather. They were distracted and ideal for a raiding. The men of fighting age were off fighting the Mexicans, it was a shame really but deserved. They might think that its perfectly fine to hire a bunch of drugged up tribals to do their dirty work while they sat back and watched from safety in the reserve. He'd come home to find his life's work burned to the ground.
"See that," Jenaro commented to his men. "Slave sweat build that home and barn for them and put a fortune in caps in the safe. Its about time we liberated all of that from them. We'll strike their chains, take their valuables, and give their women a hot Cosby."
Donning his red hood Jenaro signaled the charge into the homestead. Galloping ahead his men charged and started to corral the ranch folks. With the men off to war there wasn't a need for gun play here, but that wouldn't always be the case. Jenaro had picked this ranch as an easy first start. Something to get his men's moral up and to boost his numbers. There were three slaves here, they'd be freed and given horses from the barn if all went to plan. In an instant the excitement was over, there wasn't a fight to be had here. Jenaro swung down from his pony and took an assessment of the situation.
"Doesn't look like we'll need four people to guard a bunch of women," Jenaro commanded taking charge of the situation. "You'll all have time for your Cosbys. Right now I want one of you to get their safe open and another to free those slaves, and when you're done with that I want the house and the barn in flames."
Turning to the slaves he said, "Congratulations you're now members of the most infamous group south of the Rio Grande, you'll have more money than you've seen in your lifetime before this is through. There's quite a few more ranches that we're going to visit, loot, liberate and burn. We're doing a nice fast raid to the coast, hitting juicy targets along the way. That's a lot of slaves, a lot of money, and a lot of Cosbys to give."