Meet McKinley

You slept soundly that night, despite the thoughts of your new contract keeping you company. If at all anything, if you find out it’s FUBAR, you can quickly backpedal out - he didn’t seem like the man to hold grudges.

The tavern that morning was close to being empty, so it was easy to spot your could-be employer. He still looked rough, but the night of rest had treated him well. Even his swollen eye had healed notably. You shook his hand, giving him a morning exchange before sitting down. He pulled some papers from his coat and slid them towards you.

“The agreement of our conversation last night and the formal details,” McKinley said.

You took the papers and read the contents:

[Caravan guards taken hostage in a nearby town! A dozen bandits have taken the supplies and the survivors of a passing caravan. They have decided to hold them ransom.
Whoever will accompany me in saving the hostages and be rewarded accordingly.
Only experienced Contractors/Bounty hunters should take notice of this contract due to its extremely dangerous nature. Advise with the poster for further details.]

“Sounds like you didn’t depend on me that much.” You take a pen from your breast pocket and sign your name on the sheet of paper before sliding it back to McKinley.

The man shrugs and brushes back his hair. “You could have decided to overdose last night for all I knew. Glad you didn’t, though.”

“Of course.” Some stale air builds before you break it. “So, what’s your plan here?”

“We’ll hike up to the town now if you’re able to, scout the area and iron out a proper plan for tonight. When works best for you?”

“As soon as possible. I have nothing waiting for me here,” you tell him. “All I’d need to get is a rifle, and I’ll be ready for the hike.”

McKinley smiles bitterly. “I don’t suppose you have something I could have in the meantime?”

You pause, knitting your brows. “How much did you lose in that raid, exactly?”

He becomes bashful and doesn’t reply. Perhaps the subject is too fresh to bring up so casually. You retract some of your unspoken questions and store them for later. In the meantime, you suppose you should get your new employer a weapon. If the situation is as bad as he’s making it sound, then you’re probably outgunned as it is. You go ahead and give him a spare carbine that had seen better days but was more than suitable for the approaching task. You break away from the village and proceed through a well-used trail. This is the road you arrived on. It looks less beaten because of the lack of travel, however. You and McKinley walked in general silence since there was nothing to talk about. You didn’t really care about him, and he didn’t care about you. The morning was cold, and the trees looked a little bit frosted over. It was heading towards the end of October. Further south, around the same time, you recalled the weather is still warm and forgivable - nothing like how it was currently where you are now.

After a couple of hours, you finally broke away from the trail. He was now taking you in a different direction. This trail looked even less used than the road you just took. Smaller caravans used this route...You think. You couldn’t recall what you saw when you partied up with the group that brought you here. It wasn’t very long before you spotted signs of a firefight...A violent firefight? There were craters, a few scattered dead bodies of both humans and horses; broken barrels and crates litter the ground alongside the dead leaves and branches.

McKinley stiffens as he walks through. Some of the bodies on the ground have flipped over and are partly stripped. Shoes are missing from most of the dead, as well as their jackets. Some of the bodies have also been mutilated, but that much can be expected if these raiders were trying to send a message. For the most part, it seems to be effective. You didn’t deal with raiders all that often; they aren’t precisely organized in these parts, which tells you these aren’t guys who are local.

You pass the wreckage, going inside the forest. McKinley looks over his shoulder before he speaks to you. “They took me through here. Watch your step.”

Just as he warns you this, you nearly trip over a body. His outfit is red and punctured. He’s different from the other bodies in the open - you quickly piece together that must’ve been one of the attackers. “Got it,” you grimace back.

Another 30 minutes pass in silence. Both you and your “companion” have tensed considerably since entering the treeline. The proximity of danger feels incredibly close. Every so often, you walk over a campfire with rusted cans and cracked bottles, candy wrappers, and empty brass casings. Then, finally, beyond the brush, you see a breakthrough from the forest and tall grass. McKinley sighs and kneels to the dirt.

“We’re here,” he confirms. “Stick close behind me.”

“Anything in specific I need to be looking out for?”

“I don’t recall them mentioning any patrols while they were beating the shit out of me. Their attack was thoroughly planned as well as their ransom requests...It wouldn’t be unrealistic for them to have some kind of outer watch or defense, though.”

“Got it. I’ll keep my eyes peeled then.” You trail behind him as he crouches and pushes through the brush.

You are led to a ledge. More evidence of a camp lays here, as well as a generous overlook of the would-be ghost town below. The structures look older than when the war happened. They also look modified, with odd additions of enforcement placed along the walls and windows. In total, there are about a dozen buildings, each of different sizes and shapes. However, there is no indication of what they are as far as you can see from this distance, at least. You can easily spot a few (armed) men walking in the streets below.

“Ah, Good Lord, McKinley.” You mutter. “A storm of fuck will be unleashed on us as soon as we’re spotted.”

“Well, let’s try not to get spotted then.” He sighs. “Best to make our move at nightfall. Until then, let's come up with a plan.”

Your stomach churns. “Better be foolproof. I got a horrible feeling about this already.”