[hr] [center] [i][b][url=https://78.media.tumblr.com/80f6236a4f7c554fef5ea1427f8f01b6/tumblr_nywvd4gc4p1ruazzko1_500.png] [b]Thunderfoot[/b][/url] Interstate 80 - Salt Lake City - The Airport Fortress [/b][/i] [/center] [hr] [b]"The son of Thunderbird, bandit, looter and enemy of the Khan!"[/b] Thunderfoot groaned in pain, as he felt the kick against his wounded knee, forcing him down onto the ground, and leaving him with a pumping pain, where the sickle of the trike had cut his flesh. Twenty men stood behind him, seven 80s member warriors, proudly wearing the holy blue sign on their chests, their war-clubs in their belts and their guns or spears resting easy in their hands. The rest were Khan warriors, broad and tall, wearing the leather armor of the great Khans, the fancy Pickelhaube and Bandanas wrapped around their neck and mouths. Close to a hundred people were in the hall, yet most of them where followers and khan officals, counting caps, keeping books, or feasting on the long table of Jessup, master of Salt-Lake City. Some had shouted insults at him, as he had been dragged into the halls, yet it was late at night, so most had retired to feasting and drinking anyway, seeing him as little more then an additional entertainment. Breathing heavily, he felt his hands bound behind his back, as his head had been lowered in front of the master of Salt Lake City, Jessup, who rested on his throne of white metal deep in the halls of the fortress. The old men of the market claimed, that the metal once was part of gigantic birds, that flew in the sky, carrying people in their belly, yet few believed such foolish rumors. After all, how could a bird be made from metal? [b]"He thought he could buy our loyalty, mighty chief, yet we have taken the Khans gasoline, and sworn oaths to your leader! "[/b] The chief on his throne snorted, before tapping his fingers on the armrest of his throne. Thunderfoot could spot the marks on his arm, scars on his veins and the bloodshot eyes. Leader or not, this man was a slave to the needle, like so many khans were. [b]"He didnt met your price is what you really want to say, aye? Well, matters not! You done well by bringing him here. Papa Khan himself has been rather infuriated about the constant assaults on caravans under his protection. Bringing him the head of this bandit will sate his anger! How do you want your payment? Gasoline, Caps, Ammunition...?"[/b] Thunderfoots eyes wandered over the court of this petty king, while his disgust grew. Once the Khans had been a gang to be feared, yet now his eyes fell of fat bellies, lecherous men and bureaucrats of the "Follow of the Apocalypse", who hushes along, scribbling on terminals and measuring profits from the trade hub. Cockroaches, occupying the sacred highway, soft and decadent! Feasting of fresh brahmin beef, drinking heavily and filling the hall with smoke. Little did they knew, that they had brought in the end to their ways, blind to the trap. [b]"Blood!"[/b] Thunderfoot jumped on his feet, the bounds falling from his arms, held open with wire, as he pulled out the dagger from the sleeve of his jacket. [b]"Guards!"[/b] Jessup screamed, yet the very warriors who had brought him in, raised their guns, yet their aim was on their fellow Khans. Their thunder filled the hall, as screams came with them, with men and women alike ducking for cover, yet most where cut down in the hail of flashing bullets, spewed from the thunderdrums and thunderpumps. Some fell, screaming in pain, clutching onto wounds, as the chaos broke out in the hall. Yet Thunderfoot only had one target, as he crossed the distance to the throne, before burying the blade in Jessups side. Taking hold of his gray hair, he turned him around, the blade now on his throat. [b]"Order your man to stand down! NOW!"[/b] Jessup gasped in terror, croaking out something, yet nobody even noticed his attempt at forming worlds. While the Followers ducked for cover, tossing over tables, caps and papers alike rolling over the floor, some Khans returned fire. One of the Khan warriors, that had brought in Thunderfoot fell over, the helmet falling of, exposing an 80s Mohawk below. With a sigh, Thunderfoot slashed the Master of Salt Lake City´s throat, before tossing him over. [b]"THE ETERNAL HIGHWAY CALLS FOR US!"[/b] The following battle inside the halls was bloody, as the close spaces did not allow for an reload, as both Khans and Mem-bar warriors clashed with enldess fury. Yet Thunderfoots men stood with the back to the wall, in the middle of the enemy camp. There was no way out for them, and their bravery was born out of desperation. Their bellies were empty and their future misty. The khans had places to run to... Barring the door, Thunderfoot looked at the mass of Follower hostages, and wounded Khans, while his stomach turned, as he looked at his own losses. Five of his group, including him, had remained without wounds. His heart pounded, as he turned to Burned-her-hair, who held onto his bloody club, his back against the barred door. [b]"Keep this door closed and barred, even if the whole NCR army wants to break it open, you hear me?"[/b] Not sure if Burned-her-hair was able to hear anything anymore, he moved pass him, towards the wounded that kept the hostages in check, penned in the middle of the hall. [b]"You think you will get away with this boy? Papa Khan will roast you on small fires for weeks! We still have a thousand men in this city!"[/b] Thunderfoot stopped, glaring at the speaker, a wounded Khan, whom a young Follower was bandaging. [b]"You even old enough to shave, you whelp? You think you can take the city with 20 men?"[/b] Walking in, Thunderfoot went down on one knee, to look the warrior into the face, before slowly shaking his head. [b]"No, not with 20...but with 500!"[/b] [hr] [center] [b]Shinji / Interstate 80 - Salt Lake City - The Western Gates [/b][/center] [hr] The sound of alarm had been the sign Shinji had been waiting for. Entering with the Vanguard that had brought Thunderfoot as a captive into the town, they had stayed near the gates, in local taverns, watering holes and shadowy corners, making sure that nobody was getting to close, to spot the holes and blood sports on their leather jackets. The loud sound of large metal plates being beaten with hammers, and Khan warriors Jumping to their feet, made Shinji rally his men with nods and signs. The traders and civilians of the city, fearful of the alarm quickly closed their shops, and retreated into their homes, barring doors and shutting windows. Far of children were crying, as men rushed pass the group, that made their way to the gate. Huddled around a fire-barrel, a group of warriors and guards was posted, who slowly turned to the arriving warriors. [b]"Halt! Gate is closed during states of alarm! What the hell is going on in the fortress?"[/b] Shinji grinned below his bandana, as he stepped closer. [b]"You got problems with your ears, man? What is go..."[/b] Shinji´s fist smashed into the face of the leader, filling the silence of the shock with a wet sound of a nose breaking and a jaw being smashed. Head first, the leader stumbled backwards, tossing over the fire-barrel, as the 80s threw away their looted Khan Jackets. 80s Mem-bar warriors lacked the pure endurance and traditions of honorable close combat of the Khans, who´s martial abilities were famous across all of west america. Yet they had the surprise on their side! The roaring warcry of the infiltrators hailed through the night, as they came upon the guardians of the gate, flashing daggers and clubs. Fools all over america, never having layed eyes on battles, may have illusions about the "honor of close-combat", yet a mere glare on the vicious brawl for the western gates, would kill any such notions. Shinji was the first on the wall, after tossing one of the guards down from it, onto the dusty street below, where he remained for a second, trying to get up, before a 80 jumped onto him, cutting his throat with a roaring cry. [b]"OPEN THE GATES YOU FOOLS!"[/b] Shinji bellowed out his order, as he pulled out the signal from his belt. The Flare-gun was old, the red plastic brittle. Aiming for the sky, he fired the signal into the night, looking away, as a blazing star was born, red like the morning sun. Down below, and on the walls, the flare gave light to brutal melee below, exposing men in the dance of death, slashing and cutting, punching and choking. Then, the croaking of the gate, as the mighty wings opened... Then, from the distant far, a second flare, fired up, giving light to the horde. Hundreds of bikes, roaring loudly along the sacred highway, ready to retake their birthright! Shinji tossed the flare away, as he glared down, seeing new Khan warriors arrive, only to freeze on the sight of the mighty dust cloud, drenched in red by the flare above, speedily making its way to the gate. With them, came the warcry of the 80s, the imitation of an engine, with one battle-cry mixed in: [b]"COAST TO COAST!"[/b] The 80s were upon Salt-Lake City! [hr] [center] [i][b][url=https://78.media.tumblr.com/80f6236a4f7c554fef5ea1427f8f01b6/tumblr_nywvd4gc4p1ruazzko1_500.png] [b]Thunderfoot[/b][/url] Interstate 80 - Salt Lake City - The Airport Fortress [/b][/i] [/center] [hr] Resting on the throne of white metal, the new master of Salt Lake city, glared down onto the rows of captives, that were brought into the halls, guarded by Mem-bar warriors. Thunderfoots men were loaded with loot, be it new weapons, armor or trinkets. Most proudly presented their loot, proclaiming their bravery and the men they had slain, while others relied on the younger warriors to watch the saddle bags of their bikes. Yet there was a typ of loot, that was far harder to take stock off. For Thunderfoot had allowed each Mem-bar warrior to take two slaves from the population of Salt-Lake City...with a few exceptions! The head of Jessup, an expression of terror on the pale face, was resting on the third step up to the throne of white metal, with most of the captives trying to evade the dead glare of the head. Most of them were traders, hailing from the realm of the bull, the city of light and sin, the great republic and the Brotherhood-land, be it the one in the east or the one in the north. A few had wanted to raise protest, yet a particular brave trader from Reno, had met his end, after insulting one of the guarding warriors one time to many. [b]"I have given orders to have you be spared from slavery and allow you free passage from this city, when we will leave it behind! I lay claim to all your goods, your cattle and any ammunition you carry, if you hail from the NCR! Take solace in the fact, that i let you leave with your wives and children, not putting the leash on their necks as would be my right by conquest!"[/b] A storm of angry shouts came up, yet a shot into the air silenced the captives. [b]"They, who hail from the city of sin and lights, may give up half their goods to my Mem-bar warriors, who would otherwise murder you, steal your goods and enslave families!"[/b] Raising up, Thunderfoot crossed his arms, as he looked down on the mass. [b]"All, who are from the realm of the Bull or the Realm of Steel, are to give up 500 caps or 100 pieces of ammunition or a gallon of gasoline as a tribute ! If you can bring up neither, a tribute of equal value is accepted! All of you, are to tell that the 80s are here to reclaim their birthright, that is our sacred highway! Respect this right, and Thunderfoot, son of Thunderbird, will be your friend! Deny it, and your home shall share the fate of Salt Lake City!"[/b] The 80s in the hall broke out in a loud cheer over this, hailing and crying out. [b]"THE ETERNAL HIGHWAY! COAST TO COAST!"[/b] The traders took the news differently. Some seemed glad to be spared the fate of slavery, like the mass of huddled figures in the pens outside the fortress, yet other grimly glared, whispering curses. [b]"For the children of Joseph Smith among you, you will have found no hostility from my Mem-ber Warriors during the raid! This was by my express order, for i wished your lives to be spared. Yet, i demand a single tribute from you..."[/b]