Lucy had been attempting to drink her problems away for nearly an hour.
Within that time, she had seen a whole assortment of people come in and out of the bar. They were all different colors, genders, ages, everything. Race, sex, social status, age; those didn't matter nowadays. Lucy had never seen a day that they had mattered. All her life had been lived without racism and sexism and the lot, although she had heard the stories of when those terrible things had gone rampant around the states. Race had nearly torn the country apart once, about four hundred years ago, and sexism had kept women from doing thousands of things that they were quite capable of doing. Why would color ever matter? Or sex? Lucy contemplated this notion many times all throughout her life, unable to imagine a world who noticed the stupidest little differences between their human beings; it seemed they only wanted to discriminate because they could.
The only thing that mattered anymore was whether you were good or bad. It was simple; if you did anything that could harm anyone, you were bad. If you did anything to benefit the people around you, you were good.
Lucy had had to deal with Butch when she was in the Vault, and had thought that he was the worst person who could ever live. She had always been told that the outside was horrible- worse than she could imagine- but she had never thought that it would be filled with so many bad people. Truly bad people, not just people like Butch who would tease you and throw you a punch every once and a while. The really terrible people would kill you so they could have what you were carrying, or capture children and slit their throats while their parents were watching, or shove the barrel of a gun to someone's temple and let the bullet go, only because they had given them a look. The outside was bad, but she had no choice but to stay, and she had decided she would try to make the best of it. That was, until she had met Moriarty.
xXx
"Yer from the Vault? Vault 101? Hah! How do I know that you didn't just find that suit somewhere outside? I'm sure there are a few lyin' around," he had said, chuckling. His arms were crossed smugly and his grey hair curled close to his head. She could tell he was bad, but more of a "Butch bad". He would never hurt innocent people for no reason; he only enjoyed trickery and teasing. His morals were more obvious than others.
"Lying around? No, nobody's been let out of the Vault since they closed it before the bomb dropped. My dad and I are the first ones to get out since it was shut, which is what I wanted to talk to you-" she started, talking quietly, quickly, and nervously. She had never spoken too loud and was very shy. In 101, she could go months with only speaking to her father and Amata, nodding and shaking her head to others when needed.
"Is that what they told you?" Moriarty interrupted, a huge smile swept across his slightly tanned face, "I knew they lied, but that much? Jeez." He laughed again and began to turn around, bored with her story.
"My father is James, and if you think you know everything about that goddamn vault and the people who live in it, you must know who he is and you must've seen him. So tell me where the fuck he went," she yelled, slamming her fist onto the counter, making glasses swoon and nearly fall over, the beer and booze inside of them swirling violently back and forth with the force of the vibration. The whole bar went silent, save for the radio behind the counter, which was fuzzily playing an old tune by The Ink Spots. Bill Kenny's voice sang spookily through the dead room as Lucy realized the trouble she had just gotten herself into. She was new to town, and speaking badly to someone- especially to Moriarty- was a grave sin. She immediately felt limp and her fist loosened and grabbed onto the corner of the counter, just in time, as she about fell on her face. She had gone dizzy as she felt all the blood flow from her head, and frantic panic flew around her gut. She didn't even have a gun to protect herself with, and she was never good with her fists, as she had learned from Butch's many fights.
The guitar riff drifted through the air, followed by the deep, jazzy voice.
"Maaaybeee, yooou'll think of meee when yooou are aaall aaalooone. Maaaybee the one whoo is waitiiing for yooou will prooove untruuue, then what wiiill you dooo?"
All of the angry eyes were on her, glaring and unforgiving, ready to pounce and kill like a predator to prey. Her heart thumped loud enough that she swore they would be able to hear it, yet from the outside, she looked only the slightest bit nervous, if at all. She tried to hold it all in, but worried that the shakes would overcome her any moment. She was more afraid than she had ever been in her whole life.
"James, did you say?" he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence accompanied by the radio, his back still turned to her. "And… You said that you're his daughter?" He turned around to face her, and she simply nodded her head, keeping her face clear of all emotion, though in reality, she felt like bursting into tears. He walked back to her and looked her over, then stared at her face and into her eyes for a few moments.
The bar remained silent, Ella Fitzgerald's voice now flowing from the speakers, filling every bit of awkward space throughout the building.
"I'll be damned," he said, "you've got his eyes. And chin. And hair…" He looked around the room, glaring at the staring civilians, who immediately got the message and went back to their conversations and drinking.
"Where's my dad?" Lucy asked, unable to hide the choking sadness which was welled up in her chest. She began to cry, yet Moriarty didn't seem to care. He simply watched the tears fall down her face in disinterest, waiting for her to stop.
When she did, he took a deep breath and began to talk.
"Listen, you may be James's daughter and all, but I have a business to run and a rent to pay, and I can't just give away information for free…" he grinned that same smug smile, stabbing her heart with grief.
"Money? I don't have any money. We didn't use money in the vault," she said, feeling the tears arising into her eyes again.
"Then you'll have to get some from someone who owes me. There's a shack in the deserted town next door, outside of the Vault. It's called Springvale. Go into the shack and talk to the girl there. Silver. She… she, er, owes me big, let's just say that. So you need to go get the three hundred caps from her, and give them to me, and then I'll give you the information. Got it?" He put his hand to his mouth, spit in his palm, then held it out to her. She looked at it, disgusted. He coughed, raising his eyebrows.
"That's gross," she said, crinkling her nose at his wet, dirty palm. "And that's unfair. He's my dad, for God's sake, and I need to find him." He chuckled and shrugged, beginning to turn around.
"Too bad. I was feeling so generous, too. I didn't want James's little daughter to go without him any longer, and I just couldn't help but give you such a good deal. But if you don't want the information, that's fine, so be it. Won't worry me sick, won't shorten my life. It's no skin off my bones."
"No. Stop. Fine. I'll do it." He turned around and offered his spitty hand, grinning evilly at her. She grimaced and spit a bit in her own, grabbing his palm before he took it away again. They shook three times, and he let go, nodding his head once and turning around. She rubbed her hand on her jumpsuit, trying to get the disgusting spittle off of her hand.
"Gob. Gimme a whiskey. Now," he commanded, pushing the grotesque man behind the counter. "Hurry up, zombie."
Gob sighed and grabbed a glass, quickly polishing it and pouring the deep amber alcohol into its interior. Lucy hadn't noticed him before, and emitted a frightened sound before her hands flew to her mouth, shutting any other noises out. Gob glanced up at her and sighed again, shaking his head as he slid the glass to Moriarty.
Gob's skin was in tatters, a grey-green color with splotches of red where his skin was nearly all off, and he had a very little amount of hair, it being a dark brown color which hung limply on the top of his head and a bit on the sides. He didn't have a nose; instead was the nose of a skeleton, two holes in his skull. He obviously felt as miserable as he looked, and Lucy felt guilty that she had done something so offensive.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," she apologized, stressed and depressed enough already. "I really didn't mean to, I swear. I'm from Vault 101, I've never seen… I've never seen someone like… Um…" she stuttered, unable to think of an appropriate way to explain and only making the situation worse. Gob shook his head.
"Never seen someone like a zombie? Is that what you wanted to say? Want to throw a glass at my head? Put a bullet through my temple? That's how you kill zombies in the old stories, you know. A bullet through the head. Go on, I know you want to. I'm just a ghoul, after all. No longer a human, am I right? I'm worse than trash. Am I correct?" he growled, clenching his teeth and looking down at the glass he was now polishing. He rubbed it furiously, squeaking noises coming from the friction of glass and cloth.
The radio cut out, the fuzziness taking over the music. Gob yelled and slammed his fist on the top of it, doing no good to the reception. He grunted and shook his head, picking the glass back up and continuing to polish.
"No. No, that wasn't at all what I meant to say. Not even close. Please, I'm scared and I don't know what to do out here. I don't want to make enemies. I would never want to kill you because of what you look like. That'd be ridiculous," she said, leaning on the bar with her palms. Her voice was full of worry and grief, and Gob could tell that she was being honest. He gave her a weak smile.
"It's just that nearly everyone who comes here treats me terribly. Some of them don't even think I'm a human anymore. I forget that there are good people like you out in this world." He smiled bigger and looked back down at his work, finishing with one cup and going on to another.
"Why are you still here then?" she frowned.
"I owe Moriarty a shit load. I have a feeling he's never going to let me leave." He frowned and shrugged, setting the glass down and pouring some liquid into it, then placing it on the counter in front of her. "Drink up, it's on me. Oh, and here are some caps. In case you wanted to buy a weapon." He gestured to her lower body, indicating that he had noticed her lack of gun, while digging a few bottle caps out of his pocket and laying them in front of her. She looked at them in confusion, then looked back up at him.
"Bottle caps?" she asked, picking one up. It was rusty and extremely old; the Nuka Cola logo was nearly totally rubbed off, the white lettering had turned to a more tan color, and the red paint was chipped, showing the grey metal underneath. He nodded his head.
"That's what they use for money, nowadays. The old money is useless. Nearly all of it got incinerated. It's only paper, anyways." He smiled and picked up another glass, starting his work again, rubbing the surface until it was shiny-clean.
"Thank you. Thank you so much," she said, surprised at how quickly he had taken to her. He nodded and kept his smile.
"You'd better go talk to Silver. It's getting pretty late. Run by Moira's and get yourself a weapon, though. Just in case. You know?" He glanced up at her with the same smile, but she could see the little sense of worry in his eyes.
"Is Silver dangerous?" she asked, her gut twisting a bit in her stomach.
"Silver? Oh no. Not really. Er… Not entirely. Just… Just be careful. You'll be fine. Promise." He didn't look up again.
Lucy then made her way out and towards Moira Brown's shop. The sun was beginning to set, but the sky was a pretty blue, and people were still wandering about.
She opened up the door and was greeted by the stench of burning meat and something that closely resembled the sweetness of perfume, and blue-green fumes were expelled out into the air outside. She stumbled backwards, coughing from the disgusting smell and the amount of smoke that she had accidentally inhaled, which tickled and stung her lungs at the same time. An innocently sweet voice flew from the building while Lucy tried her best to recover from the shock.
"Hello? Oh, I'm really sorry about the gas, I swear it's mostly harmless. I think. I'm pretty sure. Maybe. I don't really know. Come on in."
Lucy coughed violently, holding onto the rail which kept her from falling down about a story's length to the ground. Megaton was built with scrap metal, and the buildings were, for the most part, high above the ground, with pathways made of more of the thick scrap metal to guide you through the maze of houses and shops. She finally recovered and decided that she would have to go in and face this Moira girl, since she needed a weapon. She hadn't liked the nervous look in Gob's eyes when she asked him if Silver was safe.
"Oh, there you are silly. Come over here. That's good, stand right there. Now, hold your hand out," Moira chirped, smiling and waiting for Lucy to follow orders. She had deep red hair which was tied into a loose bun and fell out every which way, and her skin was ghostly looking, almost as pale as Lucy's. She was really quite pretty, too, but she looked too crazy to be exactly attractive. Her eyes were bloodshot and bags were underneath them, dark and pronounced.
"Excuse me?" Lucy nearly whispered, scared once again.
"Your hand. I need to look at it. Come on. Please? Pretty please?" she begged. Lucy reluctantly held her hand out, and was immediately seized by Moira, who stabbed a pin into her palm. The metal needle sent an excruciating shock through her arm, around her chest, and then into her gut. Lucy's stomach heaved, causing her last meal to come up all over the floor. She fell to her knees and shook, holding her stomach and rocking gently back and forth. Moira sighed.
"Darn. I was hoping that you'd turn purple. Maybe I didn't do it in the right place… Can I see your hand again?" she asked, crouching beside Lucy's cringing body.
"What? No! Never! No!" Lucy exclaimed, falling backwards and crawling away like a crab, "Why did you do that? That was painful!"
"Well, it wasn't supposed to be," she said, getting up from her crouching position and picking up the pin, which had fallen on the floor in Lucy's confusion. "I must've done it wrong. Can I pretty please try again? Just once?"
"I don't want to be purple!" she yelled, trying to get back onto her feet, "who would? Why are you doing this?"
"I don't know, to be honest. Just thought that I had figured it out. It's alright, though. What did you need?" she asked, smiling. Lucy stared open mouthed and shook her head, fully on her two still shaking feet. She made her way to the counter.
"Those fumes. This stench. What's up with that?" she asked, resting her bleeding hand on the surface of the table.
"Oh I'm sorry dear, let me get you something for that," she said, looking at the wound she had given her, "would you like to try my experimental insta-heal? It's like a thin sheet of skin that you put over wounds. It blends into your flesh and dissolves and knits everything back together again. I think it has a good chance of working. If not, I have some bandages you could have."
"I'll take the bandages, thank you," Lucy said, trying her best to smile but still wanting to lash out. Moira returned the smile whole heartedly and passed her some bandages from under the counter. She began to wrap her bloody hand up tightly, to stop the bleeding.
"I was trying to experiment with the healing liquid in a stimpack and some chems. I wanted to try to make something like a… a super stimpack. A superpack. A superstim? Superchemstim? Stimchem? The name isn't definitive yet, but the progress on the product is going pretty well so far, I think."
"Why would you want to mix the damaging power of chems and the healing power of a stimpack?" Lucy inquired, "It would clearly only lead to a powerful addiction to the stuff. It doesn't make much sense to me."
"Yes, but it may do something else. You never know. Maybe the effects of it would be multiplied by twelve million. Maybe it would create a super human. Maybe it would be instant death. This could be the discovery of the century!" she squealed, jumping and clapping her hands once. "Anyways, those fumes were just the byproduct of, oh, about three stimpacks, some buffout, about a baker's dozen med-x, and some top-secret chemicals of my own. I'm sure the gas isn't poisonous. You'd probably be dead by now if they were!" She erupted into giggles, shaking her head with a humongous smile from ear to ear. Lucy was terrified.
"Listen. I need a gun. Do you have one?" she asked, wanting to get out of the store as fast as possible, before Moira could test on her again.
"A gun? I have plenty of guns!" She reached back down and brought up a large box, opened it, and turned it around for Lucy to see. It was full of guns.
"I have a whole assortment, see? What do you like?" She tapped her fingers on the wood and waited patiently for an answer.
"Is this an energy pistol?" she asked, picking a bulky pistol up from the cluster of guns and holding it gingerly in her hands. Moira nodded. Lucy examined the piece, reading the warning label on the side of it and tracing her finger along the many pieces which held it together. She had read about energy weapons from an old book in her father's office- the medic's office, of course- and had been fascinated by them since she was a small child. Never did she know that she would ever have the opportunity to see one, let alone hold it, and forget being able to buy it. It was like a miracle had come true.
Lucy was always intrigued by science and medicine, as was her father, although he didn't share her enthusiasm for certain weapons, especially explosives. He understood why she enjoyed the energy weapon book so much however, as it had a lot to do with science and was made with the help of the finest scientific advances to happen in decades. Father and daughter got along very well. The thought of him brought tears to her eyes, but she pushed them back, determined not to cry in front of anyone else.
"I'll take it. Will this be enough?" she asked, holding out the caps. Moira nodded and took half of them, closing the box as she did so with her free hand. She handed her a handful of energy cells- ammo for the gun- and smiled as she said her goodbye. Lucy was thankful to be out of the place.
Lucy arrived at Silver's place just as the sun was beginning to really set; the sky had turned a burned orange color, and the horizon was yellow, which faded into purple. The sun peeked half up from the mountains, thin, small rays radiating outwards from the burning orb. It was gorgeous, and had Lucy not been covered from head to toe with nervous shaking, she would've been able to appreciate it more than she had. It was her first sunset, after all, but she was so scared that her only realization of it had been when she contemplated whether she had actually entered hell -considering the deep orange-red sky- rather than a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
The shack was in shambles; made of rusted tin and rotten wood, which fell away here and there. It was ugly, which matched the whole world around her. All of Springvale was completely destroyed and in pieces all over the place. Even after so many years, it was still in such terrible disrepair.
Lucy knocked lightly on the door, her closed, sweaty fist shaking uncontrollably. She threw her hand back from the door and held her hands to her chest, trying to still them by pushing them hard to her body, not wanting to show her fear when, and if, Silver opened the door.
Nobody answered. Lucy debated in her mind, then reached forward and knocked once again, a bit louder. Still, there was no answer.
She needed the caps. There was no doubt about that. She was willing to do anything to see her father again, and this wouldn't get in her way.
She tried to open the door but found it locked. She pushed at it a bit, using her shoulder to try to break it open, but she found it stubbornly shut. She sighed, made sure her gun was at her hip, and kicked the handle with all of her strength. It snapped off, busting the lock, and allowing the door to open.
She pushed it open, stepping into the hazy, smelly interior. A freshly lit cigarette was left smoldering in an ash tray next to an old, badly burned and tattered red couch. Or, she guessed it had once been red, as it was now a deep mahogany brown-ish color. A busted tv sat sadly in the corner, glass broken in shards and the antenna bent at awkward angles. There was wallpaper sloppily thrown on the walls, all of it burned terribly and tinted grey and brown. The pattern had pistachio green and sandy-tan stripes, with dark green diamonds and gentle swirls throughout them, and was hung miserably and limp on the crumbling walls.
"Admiring the décor, bitch?" someone called from the room ahead. Lucy couldn't see the owner of the voice, but knew it was Silver.
"I'm here for Moriarty's money," Lucy stated, her voice barely able to come out of her throat, which was clenched up from her nerves. Silver chuckled, and her footsteps radiated through the small building. She was wearing heels- the steps came in click-clack's, slowly making their way toward her. She took her sweet time, only further twisting the knot in Lucy's gut and aggravating the butterflies in her stomach. Silver made her way to the doorway and peered in, grinning evilly at her with cat's eyes. Her hair was a dirty blond and was styled to the side of her head, going into huge, delicate curls. Her lipstick was blood red, and she had grey eye shadow professionally put onto her eyelids, complete with dark blue eyeliner and mascara. Her cheeks were dusted with a pale pink, her skin was a pretty tan, and she had dark green eyes. Only she could pull the look off; it would've looked hideous on anyone else. The attitude she presented herself with made it work.
"Aw. Are you his new whore?" she hissed, her voice sly and almost jazzy. "You are pretty. Walk forward a step or two, let me see you in some real light."
"I just need the caps," Lucy squeaked, trying to sound as brave as she could.
"Come on babe, just a few steps forward. I won't hurt you," she whispered, walking more into the room and leaning back on the edging on the door, her leg bending instinctively up, her foot resting on the wall. She pulled a bottle out of her pocket, opened the top, poured two capsules into her palm, and dry swallowed them within the span of three seconds. She almost replaced the bottle into her pocket, but paused. "Want one?"
"I want the caps," Lucy insisted, now stepping forward.
"You are pretty," she remarked in her smooth, loud yet quiet voice. She crossed her arms and smirked, "So you're his new girl, huh? How are the boys in the bar? Treat you well?"
"I'm not a whore," she said, "and I came here for the caps you owe Moriarty. I'm not leaving without them."
Silver looked the girl over. She was young- very young- and her pale skin shone with youth, without so much as a small wrinkle on her face. She had long, light brown hair with a copper undertone, and shining brown eyes. She was pretty, pleasurable to the eye, but not exactly gorgeous. Nobody would swoon over her because of her looks. Maybe her personality, but not her looks. She had taken her jumpsuit off before leaving Megaton and was only wearing what she had underneath it- short brown shorts and a white tank top. She had thrown them on when she realized she would have to escape the vault, in the fear that she wouldn't be able to find other clothes. She was thankful for them now, as she would've hated more confrontation about her and who she was from Silver, and wearing a 101 jumpsuit would've been a perfect way for her to inquire her further.
"No. Those caps are mine. That man, that terrible man, he doesn't deserve them. He doesn't deserve anything."
"I'm not leaving without them," Lucy repeated, resisting the urge to run away.
"Hmmm," she laughed, shaking her head and crossing her arms, "You may look smart, but you're acting pretty dumb. I'd suggest you turn your pretty little ass around right now and walk yourself out that busted door, so I won't have to haul the remains of your mutilated body out myself."
Against all her common sense, she muttered, "I'm not leaving without them."
Silver pulled the gun out of nowhere. She shot her revolver and missed by mere inches, misjudging the angle she had planned at pointing at. The drugs weren't helping at all, either. She would've much rathered to have just handed the caps over and lie down for a nap, but the little bit of coherent mind she had left in her state told her that was the wrong decision.
Lucy was frozen for a mere moment, then grabbed for her gun, thrusting it out of its holster and trying to keep it steady in her two sweaty, trembling hands. She let a bullet go- the red energy charge burst out of the barrel of the gun with an electronic zap- and she hit Silver, square in the head. A better shot than someone who had been practicing for years.
Silver hit the floor with a painful snap, and just like that, it was over. She was dead as a doornail.
Lucy fell to her knees and looked at what she had done, shaking and sweating all over. She hugged herself and let out a faint screech of surprise and terror at the scene in front of her, as if she were watching through someone else's eyes. As if those weren't her hands. As if she hadn't just killed someone. But she knew she had- yes, those were her hands, yes, that was her body, no, it wasn't just a film she was watching back in class in the Vault- and she shrieked again and again, shaking her head and letting tears flow painfully down her cheeks. She had thought she would do anything to find her father, but this?
Good versus evil, once again. But was she good? Or had she been demoted to being a terrible human being? Had this made her a monster, who would kill and murder and rape?
"She tried to kill me first."
Was it ok then? Was it really?
No, she didn't think so. Not at all.
xXx
And so, she soon found herself back at Moriarty's, drinking more than an alcoholic with an endless supply of booze and only a day to live. Gob watched over her, worried and concerned, but unable to think of what to say or how to help. She had gotten the money, all right- all three hundred caps for Moriarty, with about two hundred extra, which she was using for all the drinks. Gob didn't want to know why she had so many extra, or how for that matter, and decided that he would just let her drink until she passed out or threw up. Unless she looked too sickly before then, at which point he'd just cut her off. This option was unfavorable. He didn't want to find out if Lucy was a mean or a nice drunk quite yet, and by her expression, she didn't look too happy.
Lucy looked up from her whiskey, frowning. Gob had been staring at her the whole time she had been there, unless he was serving a drink, and quickly looked away from her eyes.
"I killed her, Gob. I killed her," she slurred, tears running down her face. She didn't even give a shit that she had promised herself she wouldn't cry in front of anyone else, especially not when she was drunk.
"Damn," he replied in sympathy, the only thing that could come out of his mouth.
"Gob, how many people have you killed?"
"I don't even know anymore," he replied, sighing, "The trip from Underworld was rough. Lots and lots of raiders and hunters and ghoul haters out there. It was either kill or be killed, you know? The wastes are full of people, and a lot of them aren't too good. You just have to do what you can to stay alive. If that means you have to kill someone, so be it. Know what I mean?"
"But killing is terrible."
"It is. But if you're doing the killing, it means that they won't be doing the killing to anyone else. Or the hurting, or the raping, the list goes on. I guess you're kind of saving people by killing people."
"Am I a bad person?"
To this, Gob laughed, shaking his head.
"You're too sweet, you know that? No, you're not a bad person. You're one of the few good left in the world. Nowadays, you're a blessing to this mutation filled earth. It's obvious you didn't want to kill Silver, but you had no choice. That doesn't make you bad. That makes you brave."
"Promise?" she asked, a smile now on her face.
"With all my heart," he said, ruffling the hair on the top of her head. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then took the drink away. "I think it's time you went to bed. There's a room through the back hall back there, with a mat on the ground. You can sleep there for tonight, if you want. Sorry if it's messy in there. I don't clean much."
"Thanks again," she said, still smiling, rubbing the last of the tears out of her eyes. "You're a really great guy. I'm glad to have met you."
"And I, you," he grinned, "Now go on, before you pass out."
Lucy went and lay down, soon falling asleep, dreaming only of explosions and sunshine.
And so concluded her first day in the world of the Capital Wasteland.