(S) Fallout: Kasper

Brazil, 2008;
In the jungles near a small settlement.

“Like I said, I’m only gonna work for the highest bidder, so hurry up gentleman.”

In the gloomy, dipilidated shack, 4 figures could be discerned crowded around a rotting wooden table. Rusty chains hung lifeless from the rafters of the small hut, like a descending
gloom upon the men. Pockets of light peeked through holes in the walls as well as from a section of the roof, now collapsed. In a corner of the shack near the door, a man sat on a wooden chair, its front legs raised off the ground as he leaned against the wall. He was the one who had spoken, waving around a semi-automatic in his hand as he did so.

“No no no no! I thought we had a deal!” protested one of the figures. He was grostequely obese and sweating profusely in the stale, humid air. He gave his forehead one final mop with his handkerchief before proceeding to crunch it in his palms in a show of helpless rage.

“Well it’s changed now isn’t it? You were gonna pay me to kill your fellow drug lord competitors. Seeing as you’re all rich maggots, why not offer me bids? The highest bidder lives, it’s that simple.”

He ended off with a chuckle. Swinging his hands and legs about, he proceeded to whistle tunelessly.

“You tricked us into coming here you son of a cᾶo!” yelled one of the companions, punctuating the outburst with a curse.

“Hurry up boys.”

The drug lords stared stupefied, surely he wouldn’t murder them so off-handedly?

A silence fell over the part of the jungle, followed shortly by a cacophony of shouting and haggling as the various drug lords struggled to outbid each other, as the same time, marking how much they felt their lives were worth.

“50 thousand!” yelled one.

“A hundred thousand more!” screamed yet another.

This carried on in a fashion until one of them, in his growing anxiety, screeched over the rest of them, his voice penetrating through the thick jungle.

“Four times their combined sum damnit!” screamed the drug lord who arranged for the original deal.

“Sold to the fattest tub of lard over in that corner.” grinned the stranger, pushing himself against the wall, getting to his feet.

The cries of protest from the other 3 men died abruptly as he shot them in rapid succession.

The clatter of bullet shells echoed thrice.

“What are you doing?! They’re not dead yet!”

“Why waste bullets on these things? Besides,” he walked towards the closest drug lord and kneeled to stare at the limp body.

“They’ll die eventually.”


He stood up, gun cocked over his shoulder as he proceeded to the door.

“Send the money to my account that we agreed on earlier, don’t forget I know where to find you if I don’t get it.”

“Wait, as least tell me your real name, your alias as ‘Friendly Ghost’ is such an irony!”

The stranger, who had already opened the shack door, turned his head to reply whilst sweeping a hand through his sandy-brown hair. The sunlight outlined his features, framing the ‘Friendly Ghost’ in a warmth glow, yet his cold smile, along with his black, deep set eyes showed a stark irony. The drug lord squinted at the face at the door and he swore he could make out a resemblance of it to a rat.

“It’s Kasper.”

Georgia, 2010;
After a militant uprising had been put down.

“So why’d you join the army?” asked Jinx, coming back around Kasper.

They were on a tourist lookout spot on the top of a hill overlooking the southern end of the Georgian state. Kasper was resting his forearms on the wooden balustrade separating him from the sheer drop to the base of the cliff. He leaned against it with hands close to his chest, staring out at the boundless fields. The fluffy magnolia clouds cast a momentary shade over the land as they blotted out the sun. A gentle wind rippled up the mountain, catching his hair in the updraft, riveting in unison towards the sky. It was the epitome of tranquility and peace.

Then the clouds dissolved, pierced by the sun. The land lighted up yet again, and the illusion of serenity was shattered. Down on the green fields below, the long grass waved in the caressing wind, and accompanying them were the bodies of the dead and dying, a fading legacy to the militant presence in Georgia. The sudden sharp contrast in color forced Kasper out of his reverie and he quickly averted his eyes to the sky.

He noticed Jinx beside him, also leaning against the railing.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I asked, why’d you join the army?”

“Well,” he started, “I got tired of my previous line of work, decided to lay back a bit and relax. So, here I am.”

Jinx barked out an ugly laugh.

“Oh come on, you call this work in the army relaxing? What were you doing before? Piloting advanced giant robotic machines? Or no, wait, let me guess, you were Agent Skully’s partner and you got tired of hunting down aliens and ghosts, that it?” He punctuated the outburst with a short jab to Kasper’s arm, as if to show that he was just kidding.

Kasper only turned and smiled that cold smile of his.

“Close, but not quite. I was a bounty hunter and a mercenary for hire. I fight for whoever pays the highest. Well, at least I fought for whoever paid the highest. I’ve been off of my groove lately so I decided it was high time for me to rest.”

“Ouhh, I getcha.”, winked jinx. “Well, don’t forget to catch some shut eye while you’re at it. Platoon moves out at 0600 hours. Can’t stay for too long, wouldn’t want to irritate our Russian neighbors over there now would we?” he jerked his head at the distant horizon with the faint mountain silhouettes, demarcating the borders of the USSR.

“Aight, I’ll catch you later then.”

Jinx turned and walked across the marble flagstones, heading for the stairs. The faded caricatures and designs on the slabs told the tale of a city, where in a long time ago, was most prosperous and peaceful.

Kasper returned to his quiet contemplation of the recent rumors about stirrings of a war between the USSR and the USA.

True, he no longer worked for the side that paid more. However, he knew that if it were to ‘come to the crunch’, he would work for the side that was winning.

With a sigh, he rested his chin on the palm of his hand, staring longingly towards the Russian mountains.

The blowing wind howled mournfully through the crevices.