Fallout Game Merchant 2.0-Chapter 165: Cook-Cook

Six wiped the blood off his Liberator sword, his expression unreadable as Violet’s head rolled to a stop in the snow. The wind howled through the ruins, carrying away the last echoes of the battle.

Rebecca stood up, brushing snow off her coat, her eyes locked onto Violet’s lifeless form.

"Well, that was fun."

She said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"One down, way more psychos to go. Almost makes me miss Night City."

Boone reloaded his rifle with practiced efficiency.

"Driver Nephi and Cook-Cook won’t be as easy. They’re both bigger threats than Violet ever was."

Raul, holstering his Plasma Defender, smirked.

"Yeah, but we got something she didn’t—brains. Those idiots think they own the wasteland. Time to remind them who really runs things."

Roger cleaned his blade with a strip of cloth, unfazed by the carnage.

"Nephi’s a psychopath with a golf club, and Cook-Cook’s a lunatic who likes to burn things. Nothing we haven’t handled before."

Six picked up Violet’s head and wrapped it in a cloth.

"Let’s move to the next target. We’ll drop off their heads as proof once we deal with them all."

The team moved swiftly through the snow-covered wasteland, leaving Violet’s remains behind. The weight of her death settled in the cold air, but there was no time for reflection.

Their next target: Cook-Cook. A sadistic raider known for his twisted pleasures—cannibalism, arson, and worse. His infamy had caught Rebecca’s attention, and now he was marked for death.

Six led the group, the cold wind biting at their exposed skin as they trudged through the ruins. The wasteland stretched ahead, a labyrinth of broken buildings and decaying structures. The eerie silence was broken only by the crunch of their boots on frost-covered ground.

"Cook-Cook’s hideout isn’t far."

Boone muttered, scanning the horizon.

"He’s holed up in some old hotel a few clicks south. We need to move fast before he gets wind of us."

Boone’s Factsphere Sensor whirred softly in his helmet.

"No sign of movement yet, but I’m picking up a few heat signatures inside. Could be his crew, more traps... or captives."

Rebecca cracked her neck, already itching for the next fight.

"Traps don’t scare me. Let’s just put an end to this freak."

Raul kept his plasma weapon close, his wary gaze sweeping their surroundings.

"Cook-Cook’s a psychopath, but he’s not stupid. He’ll know we’re coming."

Roger let out a low chuckle, his blade gleaming in the pale light.

"Good. Makes it more fun when they know what’s coming."

Six nodded, his expression grim. "It’ll be over fast."

As they neared the old hotel, the stench of decay grew stronger. Broken glass crunched underfoot, and skeletal remains of former residents lay forgotten in the rubble. The once-elegant lobby was now a wasteland of shattered furniture and dried blood staining the marble floors.

Boone motioned for the group to halt.

"We’re close. I see figures inside. Probably his crew. Cook-Cook’s waiting for us."

Six’s eyes narrowed.

"Then let’s give him a show."

The crew spread out, moving quietly through the debris, each step calculated. Boone took a high vantage point on the upper floor, his Varis rifle trained on the entrance.

Rebecca crept through the shadows, her Punisher ready. Raul stayed close to Six, his plasma weapon primed. Roger, ever the butcher, waited for the signal.

Six held up his hand, signaling for silence. Faint whispers carried through the ruins. Cook-Cook’s men were aware of their presence—but it didn’t matter. This was a slaughter waiting to happen.

"On my mark."

Six whispered.

"We go in fast. We take them down hard."

Rebecca grinned.

"Let’s make it bloody."

Six’s hand dropped.

The crew stormed in—

And instantly regretted it.

Dirt-covered, naked captives huddled in a corner. Women, teens, children. Fiends leered at them with sickening smiles.

"Fuck it. Shoot ’em dead," Six spat.

The silence shattered under the deafening roar of weapons fire. Boone’s sniper cracked, dropping the first raider with a clean headshot. Rebecca’s Punisher tore through enemies before they could react.

Raul’s Plasma Defender hummed, burning through flesh, leaving nothing but charred husks. Roger charged in, his blade cleaving limbs with brutal efficiency.

Fiends scrambled for weapons but fell before they could draw. Some used their allies as shields, but it was futile. Others—already naked—had no defense, caught in their own vile indulgences.

The massacre ended in seconds.

Only one thing hit harder than arriving too late—

A little girl and a teenage boy sobbing over their mother’s corpse.

Then—

A shrill laugh.

"Well, well, well... looks like the party’s just getting started!"

Flames erupted.

Six barely had time to react before the fire swallowed the children whole. Their screams lasted only a moment—

Then, silence.

Cook-Cook’s high-pitched cackle rang through the scorched room.

"You think you can kill me?"

His eyes were wild, his flamethrower hissing.

"You think you can kill me?"

Six didn’t answer. Instead, he fired.

The first .50 AE round slammed into Cook-Cook’s left shoulder, making him stumble. The second took him in the gut, the force sending him crashing against the charred remains behind him. But the fiend didn’t go down easily.

With a manic laugh, he forced himself upright, his grip still tight on the flamethrower’s trigger.

"Burn, you fuckers—!"

His words cut off as Boone’s sniper round punched through his knee, shattering bone. Cook-Cook screamed, dropping to the ground. Raul stepped forward, plasma weapon humming as he leveled it at the fiend’s head.

"Any last words, asshole?"

Raul sneered.

Cook-Cook coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. His crazed grin remained.

"Yeah... I fuck your mother last n—"

Roger didn’t wait to hear it. His blade flashed, and Cook-Cook’s head rolled across the scorched floor, his manic grin still plastered on his face.

Silence followed.

The battle was over, but the cost was clear. The surviving captives—those who hadn’t been burned alive—sobbed quietly, their hollow eyes staring at the bodies of their loved ones. Rebecca’s jaw clenched as she scanned the wreckage, her grip tightening on her Punisher.

"Fucking bastard."

She muttered, kicking Cook-Cook’s severed head aside.

Six exhaled slowly, then turned to Boone.

"Mark the bodies. We’ll make sure the survivors get buried properly."

His tone was steady, but his eyes were dark.

Boone gave a sharp nod and got to work. Raul pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with hands that didn’t quite shake. Roger, still unfazed, cleaned his sword again.

Rebecca knelt beside a burned woman who barely clung to life, her eyes pleading.

"Make it quick."

She rasped, her voice nearly lost in the wind.

Rebecca hesitated only for a second before raising her gun. The shot echoed through the ruins.

The only mercy left to give.

Six turned to the survivors.

"You’re free now. Come with us, or stay. Either way, Cook-Cook’s reign is over."

Some nodded, too numb to speak. Others just cried.

The wasteland didn’t offer happy endings. Only moments of revenge, survival, and whatever came next.

And for Six and his crew, there were still two more fiends left to hunt.