Contract #1

The first contract sounded like something you'd like to do. Getting involved in something that could knock you out of action didn't seem like a risk worth taking now that you had someone so...attached to you. Plus, doing something super physical in the snow could be more fun, too.

You gather your gear and start getting ready for whatever task lies ahead of you and your decision. You feared leaving anything of actual value behind, but now you've been here for so long without anything terrible happening to your room, you knew you could travel a little lighter than you had in your first couple of months. You used to bring a couple of different weapons on your adventures, but now that a basis of trust has been made, you figure you can be lighter on your feet.

You had embarked towards the Sage Lodge, which was only about a 30-minute hike beyond the road and took you to the town with Tiny's Tavern. The landscape you were beginning to recognize had drastically changed overnight. Most of the ground still had a thin layer of snow; the trees had also winterized, along with the rest of the brush. The forest after a snowfall, even as light as the one that happened overnight, made it eerily quiet. The crunch and occasional "sloosh" is all that gave you company.

After about 15 minutes, you broke the treeline and entered a meadow - which was also covered in a fair share of snow. Evidently, no one had traveled this way in a long time. The road had no tracks aside from the regular wildlife that occupied this side of the country. You didn't even see boot prints. That surprised you the most. Montana saw a lot of traffic. Russians, Canadians, Montanans- the unofficial invasion through Alaska eventually bled into Canada. Even though that happened nearly 30 years ago, the battle left (already) war-torn battalions deep in Canadian/American wastelands - now cut off by their motherland, they found themselves trapped far from their homes and families.

Blink

Alright, history buff. Let's focus on what you're doing here—no need to dive into the books.

You shake your head and clear your throat. Whenever you found yourself outside and strolling, your mind had its way of recalling why the north was so...terrible. You halt any further thoughts and adjust your sling as you made it further up the hill you were just now aware you were mounting. The gear on your webbing felt like it weighed a ton. You were suddenly a lot happier that you decided to take the light load that you did. This could have been very troublesome otherwise.

The meadow stopped. You started to journey inside the forest once more. The snow here was less noticeable; the trees had ensured the floor was mostly clear. But as the snow melted, it pooled to the ground, making a mess of the trail. Your leather boots started to sink deeper into the terrain, making the trip seem much more brutal than any other you've taken thus far. In this area, at least.

Finally, up ahead, you could see another clearing. The closer you got to it, the better you could make out building shapes beyond the vegetation. You rolled your thumb under the strap of your rifle and ran up front to where the trees stopped. The Sage Lodge was right where it was supposed to be. Everything else around it was cleared, too. It still sparkled somewhat due to the sunny surroundings, but there weren't many trees or hills. It was flat, an odd change of sight considering you just cut through several sections of thick forest.

Without a reason to stop, you continued. In this area, you could see another road leading to a single path leading to the building you were going up to. It had some signs of use; further down that path, where another part of the forest was, another path connected to it. That one had seen some use as well. Horse dung, spent casings, and boot prints lead away or towards the lodge. This was also a good sign; it meant that whoever was here intended to find shelter or seek information. There wasn't any evidence of a firefight or recent skirmishes.

A short walk later, you made it up to the lodge. The building looked remarkably put together, regardless of nuclear war or not! It stretched a fair ways left and right. Where you walked up, however, looked to be the central part of the structure. The front was mostly glass, which you could see through. There were still some barricades, but they didn't seem to be for protection, mostly hastily put-together repairs for the rapidly approaching winter. You reached for the door and gave it a solid tug. The door responded by opening without resistance. You walked into a decent-looking lobby. It was cold and wasn't very well-lit.

"Anybody here?" You asked, making your way towards the center. An unlit fireplace sits black and cool. Facing the fireplace were a few well-cushioned red chairs. A coffee table stands clear of dust and objects. The rug, in a delicate state, covered the floor. You inhaled, smelling pine and black coffee. You look up and see the other side of the lobby - a glass wall showing the entire world. "Who the fuck runs this joint?"

"I do," a man's voice comes from nowhere. I'm the owner of this lodge."

Your heart leaped, but you kept your cool. You turned slowly. You knew by the tone of his voice he didn't mean any harm. You cock your head and smile. "Sorry. I just walked in. Didn't see anyone..."

"No worries," the man replied, stretching his hand to you. "You're a contractor, aren't you?"

You nod. "I'm here for the snow removal."

He looked at you confusedly, so you chased your comment with another response. "Heard you're somewhat worried about being picked at. What gives with that?"

This time, he nods. His grip on your hand is loose, but you shake it nonetheless. "Yes, yes- that's right! I was starting to think no one was going to show up. It's been a while since I listed that request at the board."

“Most of the independent contractors have turned in for the season. Either returning south or pitching their tents,” you say.

"Despite that...What's your name?"

You shrug. "Warren. You need a last one, too?"

"No," he says. "I'm Sullivan."

Sullivan starts to walk towards the windowed wall. You follow and stand beside him, enjoying the rest of the compound. There are other buildings, smaller ones, but they share the same material and color as the building you are in. Sullivan points at the one furthest away from the lodge. "It's that building over there attracting the most problems."

"So, what's the task?"

"It's going to sound stupid," he tells you. "I just want you to spend a few nights inside the building and find who keeps breaking into said-building."

"That's not the worst thing I've done for someone, Sullivan." You look around. "How many people do I need to look out for?"

"I believe it's just one person, at the most 2. They haven't done anything destructive - and they only steal a few items, but it's very inconvenient for me to deal with. Not to mention, my small staff is getting worked up."

You sigh. "Rightfully so. You don't know what you're dealing with here. Could be a lot of trouble."

Sullivan sighs, too, relieved to know you understand. "I don't want it to be terrible, but I'd offer you a room here tonight and a free meal for your efforts for as long as you are here."

"And the payment for a completed contract?"

"I'll pay you well, I promise. But I'd like to get a professional's opinion on the situation first."

"If they come back tonight, I'll tell you what it's worth."

You go back to the fireplace and sit down. Sullivan follows you and crosses his arms. "You aren't going to...gouge the price, are you?"

"Sullivan, contractors who lie get bounties set on their heads. I don't intend that to happen to me anytime soon," the man smiles at your statement and nods.

He backs away and calls out a name. "Lindsay!" He looks back at you and chuckles. "We're running a skeleton crew. There are only 4 of us inside the lodge until spring. We're not really open to the public."

"Doubt you get very much traffic up here. This road leads nowhere that's populated,” you settle into the couch and cross your legs. "I've gotta...think for a bit. I could use a cup of coffee - maybe a sandwich. It's kinda late in the day now."

"Of course, of course! Make yourself at home. Don't be shy! No question will be remarked as a waste. My staff and I will help out in any way possible. Do you wish to stay here or...?"

"I'm going to stay here for a while. Unless you want me to go to a room now, you can just, uh, get me something to eat here. I’m just going to get my thoughts in order,” you look around as you say this.

Sullivan, once again, nods. "I'll let the others know then. I'll return with some food for you."

"Take your time, there's no rush."

As Sullivan leaves, you hunch over.

What kind of fucking thief returns to the same place?

You purse your lips together and think for a few seconds. You slide off your gear and start retaking stock of everything. You probably overpacked for this contract...

...Lindsay eventually arrived with your free meal. She was a young-looking girl who still must’ve been in her early teens. She had dark brown eyes and choppy short hair that matched. Freckles dotted her narrow face, accompanying her tiny nose. You exchanged greetings with her, but before she could get away from you, you stopped and asked her what she knew about their unwelcome guest.

“Nothing really,” she told you. “I haven’t seen them, and neither has anyone else here.”

“What is it then? A ghost?” You offered with a smile.

Lindsay smiled back but shook her head. ”I have my suspicions.”

“Yeah?”

The girl shrugs, looking around to check for anyone else. She then leans in and whispers: “I think it’s someone who works here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” she sighs. “To begin with, it’s because this place is so well-stocked. Sullivan keeps a tight stock of everything. Weapons, tools, food, and he’s probably got dozens of them.”

“Why steal from the boss, though?”

“Again, mister. He’s got so much of everything they probably doubted he’d notice.”

“But now that he has, why keep doing it?”

“Winter is rapidly approaching. They might even have a family they’re trying to get prepared.”

“Thanks, kid.” You take a bite out of the sandwich that she provided. “If there’s anything else, let me know.”

Lindsay gives you a subtle bow and steps away, back to where she came from. The contract didn’t ask you to kill anyone, but now it seems like you’re going to have to be a lot more careful. Blowing the head off of one of Sullivan’s employees wouldn’t bode too well for your review. Whatever the case, you only had a few hours before your desired camping time. You take your food and rifle as you step out and head toward the warehouses to understand better what you are dealing with.

The warehouses were both locked up. There was one window for each building, near the main double doors. They didn’t open, and breaking it would cause a lot of unnecessary noises, for a cat burglar at least, and would alert the entire place of their entry. You try the door but immediately find a hefty lock on it. Despite all the money and security, you find that the padlock is actually old and dated.

You grab the lock and look at it. You’re no lock-picking lawyer, but even you’d be able to get this open within a minute. Pit this against an expert; they’d get it pulled apart in half a second…

This would have to be corrected if Sullivan wanted to fix this problem permanently. You go to the other warehouse and find it identical, besides the lock being bigger and much newer. There must’ve been a reason why this one had the newer/better lock and the other one didn’t, but that wasn’t part of your contract. You’ll just focus on the lesser of the two. Until then, it was prep time…

You trek back and relax in the lounge room. You were watching the sunlight trickle out from the sky and the landscape beyond the glass barrier. You asked Sullivan what else he could offer about the intruder, but he didn’t tell you anything new. You found Lindsay and asked her about the intruder, too, but she didn’t know what else to say either… what you do realize is that it’d be best to spend the night inside the warehouse that’s been (more than likely) picked at the most.

When darkness fell and the lodge staff started to turn in, Sullivan found you resting by the dwindling fireplace. He sat next to you and asked if he could do anything more. You looked at and shook your head, but something returned to your memory.

“I meant to ask earlier, but it had left my mind. Why do you have one warehouse that is better protected than the other? Got some weird sex dungeon that you’re hiding?”

To your surprise, Sullivan becomes tickled by your comment and laughs. “Of course not! That warehouse has a tunnel that leads to the main building. I… I’ve been meaning to get the same lock for both buildings, but it isn’t easy to find good quality locks out here without searching for a decent trader.”

“Right,” his reasoning was solid enough, so you didn’t poke any further. “I’ll take some blankets and a pillow. I’ll be spending a night in the warehouse without the good lock. That ‘settle right with you?”

“I believe that’s for the best. Please don’t go unarmed.” He warns, fishing out the right key from a key ring.

“Wouldn’t need to tell me twice.”

The idea of being trapped inside a tight building with someone who could be hostile made your stomach churn. So when you fingered through your bags and pulled out your handgun. You then cursed yourself for not bringing something more seated for a gunfight. Nonetheless, you stack what you have before embarking towards your room for the night.

You inserted the key and twisted the lock until it opened. You walked in and looked around - triggering the automatic lights to flash on. This was exactly how you imagined the interior, perhaps a touch cleaner. But we’re boxes everywhere, all closed and secured by their latches. Solid enough - you can’t complain about it being disorganized or anything of the sort. You closed the door behind you and took a gander around. You suppose the weirdest thing was that it was more like a barn - there were stairs that led to a second level, but there was also a ladder that led directly up. You took the ladder.

On the second level, you found a cot, which would be your bed. Next to the cot were some magazines and books. It looked like someone was here, or at least had been here at one time. At first glance, you thought perhaps the intruder was poking fun at their actual occupants, but as you got closer, you realized it had been like this for a while. You didn’t notice it that well from the outside, but this was probably a guard station of some sort. It had a small slit window that gave you a good view of the entrance. The magazines were also dusty and left behind a faint print when moving.

You sat on the cot and exhaled. The sound of silence was incredible in here. You flipped through some of the magazines' pages, hoping to find something to pass the time, but instead, all you saw were some old pin-up pictures. They jogged the memories of Delilah.

You put away the magazine and huffed—time to get comfortable. The inside was cold, so you kept your boots and coat on. You could feel the tip of your nose starting to numb, so you even put on a mask before entering the sheets. Great fucking choice. You mumbled, knowing that there was a lodge just a few yards away that was both heated and far more comfortable than the flat mattress you were laying on top of.

After some time of laying there, you stare at the metal ceiling. The sight carries you to sleep. For however long, you are sound asleep; which probably means you were only out for about an hour or two; all what you knew for sure is that the automatic lights were now off and there was a somewhat muffled sound coming from the ground floor.

You strained your ears and shut your eyes. It sounded like the lock was being played with. Either Sullivan was giving you a weird visit, or the unwelcome guest of the lodge was making a return. It doesn't take too long for the lock to become undone. The lights taint the room with the same orange hue that you were used to before you fell asleep.

You remained still, even as you heard the door shutting. You can listen to the footsteps below. They are slow, soft, and steady. You stir from the sheets and sit up. You look around and reach for the handle of your pistol before you start to stand. You advance to the edge, expecting to see someone husky and armed. Instead, however, you know a girl. You were dressed perfectly for the less-than-inviting weather outside. Leather brown boots, a flight jacket, and khaki-colored pants. This...must’ve been someone from some kind of outfit, probably working outside the line of duty. From this distance, you could tell that her hair was a lovely shade of red. Perhaps the lights were making it seem more orange than it was.

The longer you watched the girl, the more detailed you gathered. You weren’t sure how you missed it initially, but that was no ordinary human either...That was a mutant or one of the NSH creatures. Poor girl must’ve been introduced to radiation from a young age somehow. Protruding from her red/orange locks, two long hairs stuck out. You quickly gathered she might hear you moving around, so you froze where you stood and quietly hid behind a box on the second level. Behind the cover, you poked your head out and showed a bushy tail, orange like her hair, but the tip was white.

The grip on your pistol tightened. You've heard some gnarly rumors about these people. You had dealt with a fair share of them before, but much like regular people, they tend to differ in other parts of the world. Japan had a generous population of these creatures, as did Germany and other European places. Despite the United States and most of the other Americas being battered by nuclear warheads, they didn't get too many of their breed. However, they were usually in the bigger cities and used as slaves or proper servants. What category did this "girl" land in?

Giving her a chance might give you more information about her story and where her masters are, but if she's trained as well as she looks, you might be signing your life away. You cup your weapon and point your thumbs forward, directly the barrel of your pistol outward...She doesn't know it, but she's knocking on death's door.