Pope 4

 This was far from the first time Pope had woken up surrounded by angry villagers. Even the swords weren't that unusual in the year 2250, becoming more and more popular as ammunition became scarcer and scarcer.

“Can I help you folks?” Pope said groggily, pushing his sunglasses up and one of the sword-points away from his face.

A short woman with curly hair and a homemade javelin stepped forward. “You can tell us what you're doing here,” she demanded.

“I was just hiking to Column-town,” Pope explained. “It was after midnight and I bedded down here with the sheep and whatnot. Hope that's not a problem”

“Two problems” the woman narrowed her eyes. “This IS Column-town and those aren't sheep”

Pope looked down and saw that he was actually laying amongst chickens. Chickens that the cat had apparently been enthusiastically chasing all night. VERY enthusiastically.

“Ah,” Pope said. “In my defense, I was very tired. How can I begin repaying you?”

“Leaving town would be a good start” A pencil-thin man from the crowd suggested.

“Unfortunately, that's one thing I can't do,” Pope declared, climbing to his feet. “If this is Column-town, then I have business here. This is where they said they sold my car. Not their fault, of course, they thought I got stepped on by a Boarder”

The crowd parted for an older gentleman, heavyset and muscular. “Your ‘chariot’ was taken as payment for our own debts. Yours is best paid by going on your way. Rex really likes his chickens”

Pope nodded in respect to what must be the Mayor. On the Empty Earth, that title carried much the same kind of respect and authority that ‘king’ once had.

“If you insist,” Pope conceded. “If you'll just point me towards-”

“Not possible” The Mayor interrupted. “For your own good, it's best you just leave it”

Pope scratched the back of his head and gave an awkward smile. “I don't know if you noticed or not, but my ‘chariot' is quite valuable. I can't just part with it. I can work here as long as I need to, I have friends who can -”

“Column-town has no need for a drifter or his friends” the Mayor interrupted again. “We need defenses, men and arms, weapons and soldiers. And now chickens. Can you give us these things?”

“Just who did you owe money to?” Pope muttered, before giving a sharp and respectful bow. “This drifter is just one man, but a capable one your honor. Just what do you need to defend against?”

A chuckle ran through the crowd and Pope could see they weren't convinced. “A demonstration perhaps?”

The Mayor recognized an opportunity for free bread and circuses when he saw it and nodded in agreement after only a few moments of thought. 

“Alright then, a duel. No no, we don't have the ammo to spare for that” Pope frowned and disappointedly slipped his pistol back in his jacket. “How well can you handle a sword?”

Pope shrugged. “Fair to middling”

“Excellent” The Mayor declared, pulling his own elegant rapier and gesturing for the pencil-thin man to give Pope’s his. “I am as well. This will be a contest of equals”

The entire crowd moved to a vacant lot off of main street. The sun had just now fully risen and Pope wondered if he was the only one wishing they could have breakfast first. 

The Mayor had sold himself short as a swordsman. He moved with surprising speed and agility, his blade glinting dangerously in the sunlight. His feet work showed that he had had some formal training while his form showed he had had practical experience as well. A formidable opponent, that had Pope on the defense for the entire fight. But as the drifter tripped over his own feet, still managing to deflect the Mayor’s swing, the larger man stopped and studied his opponent shrewdly.

“Have you ever been a teacher, Mr. Pope?” He asked.

“Of a sort, yeah” Pope answered, picking himself up.

“So you know what it means if one of your students gets every answer wrong on a multiple choice quiz” The Mayor said, eyes twinkling. Pope shook his head. “It means they actually knew every correct answer. There’s simply no way they’d get them all wrong unless they were purposely trying to seem more foolish than they really are”

“Oh?” Pope said, still breathing heavily, with a lopsided grin. “Maybe the kid just has rotten luck”

“Maybe” The Mayor shook his head. “What I know for a certainty is that you are anything but ‘fair to middling’.”

“Unfounded flattery,” Pope declared.

“You’re literally holding your sword like a professional fencer” The Mayor pointed out, making the drifter frown. “Baron Vazqueler has your car and I dare say you’re the one man I know who might get it back from him. But if you’re really interested in paying Rex back… a Man of your particular talent might just be what we need after all”

Pope readily agreed and found himself one fifth of an elite strike force by noon. The Mayor was leading them of course, accompanied by the pencil-thin man and a surly Rex. The curly-haired woman bid her husband a heartfelt goodbye and made the others promise to bring him back safely.

“We’re not entirely sure what they are,” The Mayor explained as they marched out of Column-town. “Just that they seem to come from a mall in the old city, and that they’re the reason we don’t have sheep. Or shepherds, for that matter”

Pope nodded thoughtfully, spotting the cat creeping along in the bush next to the old asphalt road. “Next time, if you feel like a midnight snack, I’m making YOU do this” he hissed at it.

The cat shot him a dirty look and slinked away.

“I think it’s aliens,” Rex declared. “A parting gift from the Strangers to punish us who didn’t go with them”

“You always think it’s aliens” The Mayor said grumpily. “There are plenty of things native to Earth that eat sheep”

“It might be the Baron,” The pencil-thin man suggested. “Trying to make us completely dependant on him”

“We already ARE completely dependent on him” Redx muttered.

“We’re too small time for him to bother with parlor tricks,” The Mayor said. “If he wanted Column-town, he could have it”

“Is the new guy talking to a cat?” The pencil-thin man asked.

“He started it” Pope insisted.

The old city loomed into sight, one of many such monuments to a time when the Earth teemed with people. Decayed skyscrapers slumped over in the distance. A single Boarder stood in silent vigilance among them. Brick and concrete and wood and rebar wore away in the sunlight and weather. Broken glass and metal was strewn across the streets. You could almost hear the whisper of ghosts, though Pope sighed with relief when it turned out to just be the wind.

The mall sat on the outskirts, silent as a tomb. It had once been boarded up, though someone or something had shredded the wood to splinters. The small party moved forwards cautiously, hands on sword hilts.

The air inside the old mall was stale and thick with dust. It was brighter than expected, sun pouring in from the broken skylights, but deathly still. Anything of any value had long been taken by scavengers, leaving the walls and floors bare and empty. Something moved on the second floor and the party halted, listening.

Suddenly, something silver burst from the shadow, giving a terrible screech as it lunged towards the Pencil-thin man. The Mayor responded with lightning-fast speed, knocking it out of the air with a swing of his sword. But whatever “it” was was barely stunned, jumping upright and scurrying back into the shadows as another one leaped at Rex.

Pope moved to intercept but was slammed into by a third creature. Instead of fighting it, Pope let the momentum carry him into a roll, dropping his sword and coming up holding his pistol instead. He fired, but there was a loud bang and whizz as the bullet ricocheted off in a shower of sparks.

The creature moved to scurry off, but Pope was already on top of it, holding it in place and sticking the gun’s barrel right against its head, emptying the entire clip. The final shot finally cracked the shell, the creature falling still as a purple liquid pooled beneath it.

Pope stood up, panting again, studying the fallen creature. It resembled a meter long shrimp of some kind, with a single red eye and no limbs, but a mouth full of enough teeth to shame a shark. The silver scales that covered it were as tough as body armor but clearly did not slow the creatures down at all.

Pope looked back at the small group. The Mayor and Husband of the curly-haired woman were currently being very thorough in making sure the second creature was dead, slicing its body to ribbons. The pencil-thin man warily watched the shadows, ready for any more attacks. “Told you it was aliens” groaned a blood-splattered Rex.

And then they heard it: scurrying.

LOTS of scurrying.

The Mayor and the others looked at each other, faces pale as death. The magnitude of the nightmare they had walked into froze them in place. The first creature took the opportunity to leap at them again, but Pope skewered it to the wall with a well-timed throw of his sword. They had soft underbellies apparently, that was… something.

The Mayor regained his senses and got his men up, helping the pencil-thin man carry Rex. “Come on Pope!” He barked, but the drifter shook his head.

He ejected his pistol’s magazine and pulled another one from his jacket, this one glowing with a soft emerald light. He pulled the hammer back as he pulled his sunglasses on.

“Are you insane?” The Mayor demanded. “We’ve got to go NOW!”

“Yes,” Pope agreed. “You do”

The first wave of creatures arrived, a dozen of them hurtling from the second floor in a shower of teeth and death. Not one hit the ground alive.

Pope’s pistol sang with a crackle of energy, spitting green bolts of fire that sliced through the creatures and tore them in half like they were made of paper. Their remains scattered across the floor, smoldering like they had been left in the oven too long.

The Mayor stared at Pope with an open mouth as the dirty-haired drifter pulled a second pistol, ejecting its magazine as well and replacing it with another energy cartridge. “You were wrong about one thing, your honor: your town has one shepard left.”

Another wave of creatures, a hundred or more, came surging down the staircase on the farside of the room. Pope gave the Mayor a respectful bow, then turned on his heel to face the oncoming tide.

“I’d get out of here if I were you” He called over his shoulder. “And thanks for the tip!”

The Mayor and his men bolted for the door, trying to ignore the horrible alien screeching and sizzle of burning flesh. They ran as far from the mall as they could, before Rex had to be let down to rest. They all turned and stared at the mall, flashes of green occasionally visible from the old building’s broken windows. As the sun set, the building seemed to shudder and go quiet, the scent of burning ozone heavy on the wind.

The pencil-thin man slowly approached the Mayor. “Do you… Do you think there’s any chance?”

“I don’t know” The Mayor said with grim resolution. “But just in case, we’re coming back here next week with enough gasoline to burn this thing and anything in it to the ground. You’re just going to have to do without a generator this winter, Rex”

“Fine by me” Rex grunted. “I’m giving up the life of a chicken farmer, for some rest and relaxation”

As the men of Column-town gathered themselves up and headed back towards their village, on the far side of the mall, a figure emerged.

Dirty, tired and bleeding, but victorious, Pope stepped out into the fading sunlight. He carried his jacket slung over one shoulder, torn and ripped by the creature’s claws. One pistol, completely drained, was stuck in his belt while he carried the other aloft. He had lost his tie somewhere and his pants were stained with purple splotches, but the sunglasses were triumphantly carried unbroken in his shirt pocket.

The cat ran up and sat in front of him, staring up expectantly.

“You don’t want to know” Pope gave it a tired smile and started off deeper into the old city. “Come on: The Mayor said Baron Vazqueler was this way”