******Las Vegas, that evening*****

A group of civilians and traders had assembled outside the Japanese pagoda, unarmed, for the most part. They were lead by Rembrandt and a saber wielding Danny. Three Japanese soldiers, lead by a warrant officer strode out in their khaki uniforms, their pencil this mustaches covered in dust.
“What do you dogs want?!” the warrant officer barked.

“We be here tae discuss tae tariff” Danny said flatly.

“The Emperor's tariff is not up for discussion, go home.”

As the warrant officer said that, a gout of flame spewed from a gap in the mob, setting the Japanese soldiers on fire, causing the pistols on their hips to explode resultig in much screaming, then silence as the Japs died. “Wrong answer” said Jethro, stepping out of the crowd, flamethrower in hand, gas tanks strapped to his back over the long, dusty, trench coat he always wore.

The mob rushed into the base of the pagoda, which turned out to be the guardroom and armoury. It was a good idea if one needed to get out patrols, quickly, but it was very bad to have loaded Arisaka rifles on loose gun racks against the wall when an angry mob stormed you HQ.

“Anyone here know how to use a gun?” Jethro inquired. Before a trader could speak up, he put in “who lives in Vegas?”

Four men stepped forward, with one of them ahead of the rest. “We were a fireteam in the National Guard, before the Japs forced us to disband.” the man a their head said.

“Great!” replied Jethro. “You four will help me and Rembrandt storm the higher levels, while Danny organizes the traders into blocks of 4 and supervises construction of proper fortifications by the townsfolk. Those gates keep out savages and mutants, but they won’t stop a Japanese heavy platoon.”

The group let out a chant of “U.S.A!” and went off to see to their duties, except the four who remained with Jethro and Rembrandt.

Jethro grabbed a grenade fro the corner, pulled the pin and threw it upstairs, resulting in several ghoulish but satisfying screams.


the small group ran up the stairs, to find that SNLF troops were pouring down the stairs, one of the ex-guardsmen let loose a shot, causing the trooper at the head of the line to drop dead. The Japaneses returned fire, killing the guardsman just as Jethro let loose a stream of crackling, orange fire, burning up the wave of Japanese troops. One of the other ex guardsmen, their leader, bent over the dead man and whispered in his left ear “Godspeed.”

“You three, secure this floor” burst Rembrandt, just before charging up the corpse strewn stairs, a red hot katana taken off one of the SNLF troopers in hand.

Upstairs, yelling could be heard, Japanese and English curses filled the air, metal clashed, and eventually, Rembrandt let out a scream. Jethro sped up the stairs, dreading what he might find. What he found was Rembrandt sprawled on the floor, not dead but with serious leg wounds, a Japanese officer, of decent rank looming over him, holding an elegant katana that probably exceeded the Japanese military’s length regulations.

“Maybe we can talk this over” said Jethro, a hint of concern in his voice.

The officer said something in Japanese, and Jethro remembered higher ranking officers didn’t deal with American “dogs”, so they didn’t learn English. Realizing this, Jethro whipped his omnipresent Colt Dragoon revolver out and shot the officer in the chest.

He got down on one knee next to Rembandt. “Are you O.K?”

“I live, but those swords hurt worse than tommy guns” Rembrandt groaned.

Jethro helped Rembrandt to his feet and supported him. “You’re free now, all of Vegas is free, and no one can take that away. Now let’s patch you up.“

*******Las Vegas, the next morning****

As Jethro said his farewells to Danny and Rembrandt, the sun rose bringing light over the horizon as the townfolf raised a Confederate Naval Jack over the town.

“It was the only flag we had” said Rembrandt, who was on crutches.

“It’ll work great” said Jethro.

“Where will ya be headin’, laddie?” asked Danny

“Out to Texas, maybe, you know me, I’m a drifter, a restless soul” said Jethro. With that, he revved his motorcycle and headed East, leaving a trail of dust.

So, do you like it?

@Napoleon: Alas, I lack the proper platform to play Fallout.

Love it. Best chapter so far, IMO. I like the blowtorch descriptions quite a bit.

Very good chapter keep it up!

SEASON 2: Revolution Overdrive
New characters, new setting, 1,000% MORE TANKS
Time to kick this revolution into overdrive

Coming sometime in late-mid september

Can't wait to see what happens next.

Then don't wait!

SEASON 2

*******Oregon, New USA Territory*******

The 50 men of the 7th Motor Dragoons had assembled in the ancient, bombed out farmhouse. They stood at attention in their ragged, green and brown “uniforms”, listening to the the CO brief them.

“Now before I tell you about your mission, I’ll remind you of our proud history. The Revolution was started by a salvager known only as Jethro, who had seen the cruelty of the Japs first hand, and decided to do something about it. He incited a rebellion in Las Vegas, where he lead a strike on the local Japanese command center, killing the SNLF troops occupying the city and winning freedom for the city. He went out to San Antonio, Texas afterwords, where he fell defending the refortified Alamo against a company of Nazi Grenze Räubers. But he inspired thousands of people, he showed them that the Japs aren’t invincible. Which we’re about to prove again today” the briefer said with almost religious fervor.

He continued “Today you will mount your motorcycles for the usual business, you will shoot the wheels out from underneath Japanese armoured cars, what’s unusual is the remainder of the mission. Tanks won’t shell the armoured cars. Instead, you will be issued explosives and extra matches, with witch you will blast open the cars, searching for a letter and a store of high quality weapons that the Japanese have elected to send to a certain Harry Robertson, a clan leader on the east coast who seems to hold a position of power in the ongoing “clan wars”. This would normally not matter to us, but if a power on the east coast grew enough, it would pose a threat to the resurgence of the United States. You are to capture the convoy at almost all costs possible, you are not to retreat until the objective has been achieved or your numbers have been reduced to twenty or less.”

David McDowes filed out with the rest of the troops, to mount his cycle and carry out the mission. After driving their cycles through an abandoned field, past what looked like a wrecked irrigation device, the group reached a grove of dead trees , and stopped. Dust could be seen down the road in the distance, from what was presumably the Japanese convoy

“No tanks a clankin’, this’ll be a duck shoot!” one of the soldiers muttered, noting that the iconic sound produced by Typhoon tanks’ solid metal treads was not present.

“Don’t get too confident Joe, the Germans have started sharing tech with the Japs, so you can’t be sure they don’t have better guns” David replied.

“Shut op thae both o’ ya! Ye’ll scere off them cowards bafore thae can get within a mile!” the Colonel piped in. The Colonel, Danny MacBoone, had personally known Jethro, and had been a merchant, often trading with Jethro before the revolt.

“Yes Colonel MacBoone, sir!” the two men replied softly.

Just as the short live conversation ended, the Japanese convoy, consisting of several armored cars and a vault car began to pull through the bombed out woods, on their way too an air station. The dragoons pulled out of the trees, their engines humming to life as they began letting out rebel yells! The air was filled with whooping, screaming, and gunshots as the Americans pulled up along side the armored cars, whipped out M1911s and other pistols, and began shooting out the Japanese tires.

A burst of machine gun fire hit Joe, who fell to the ground with a grunt and a thud, but continued to fight, emptying his magazine into a gunner, and then pulling out his knife, making a gory attempt to remove the bullet.

All the cars, except one of the armored cars had been stopped, their crews killed. Several men set up a guard detail, while a few others prepared to blow open the cars. A loud bang was made as all the charges went off simultaneously.

The armored cars contained nothing but the bodies of several Japanese soldiers. That was what they expected of course, but when they entered the vault car, they had another thing coming.

“What’s in thae car?” Danny asked.

“Not a blessed thing, sir, not a blessed thing” a corporal answered dissapointedly.

“Not at all? Send thaet thare trooper to chase down thae last car!” Danny ordered, pointing to David.

“YES SIR!”

NICE! You're getting really good! I like how you've included Harry in it now.

Wonder what's in the last truck...

Awesome story man!

Thanks, here's the next entry in season 2, slightly shorter and more calm

It was times like these that David felt most alive. The wind whipping against his face, his olive drab Harley-Davidson motorcycle roaring with hunger for the road beneath him. As he passed dead, dry, trees, David gunned the engine, his bike letting loose a war whoop that would make the Sioux nation jealous.

McDowes caught up with his target, the armored car, and began to glide up to the vehicle’s side. He raised his pistol, and drilled the Japanese gunner in the face, not even giving the man time to realize he had died. The gunner’s body went limp, slumping into the car.

Time seemed to slow down as David aimed for the tires, and before he knew it, he wasn’t aiming at the wheels of a car.

A much younger David was in a meadow, holding a Colt single action Navy revolver, his father supporting the 10 year old McDowe’s arms from behind, helping to steady his aim. The man let loose a proud laugh as his son pulled the trigger. The gun let loose a bang, another bang, and third one, and David was back to the present.

The armored car had hit a tree, three of it’s tires flat from David’s gunshots. David pulled over, turned off his bike, and dismounted. He retrieved a satchel charge from the motorbike, took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, and placed the charge on the rear of the car.

BOOM!

The back of the vehicle was now a smoldering pile of scrap metal. David gingerly stepped through the slag, eager to see what was inside. At first his eyes were pulled to gold coins strewn across the floor. Then he looked around, noticing several machine guns that appeared to be based on an MG-42 platform, many small, brass, bullets, and what looked like a compact printing press. But remembering that none of these were what he was here for, the trooper looked around, and he noticed a small, wax sealed, letter, it’s edges slightly scorched from the explosion. David picked up the letter, and shoved it in his old, oil stained satchel.

Best. That was a great chapter!

BTW, I'm going to ask we add you to the group, along with Baylego.

One thing: wouldn't the bullets in the car explode because of the satchel charge? Bullets + fire = You die, usually.The military usually stores them in fireproof, bulletproof metal containers. I have a used one the army stored pistol ammo in.