I would like to formally state the Doc Mitchell of Goodsprings, Nevada, is not, has never been, and will never be, a cannibal.
Me, Calabasas? I am. I have been ever since one of the casino people swindled me when I was there on leave. I don't trust the casino people nowadays. They don't trust me either. I count cards. That was why I was in the fancy dinner where they serve bona-fide human flesh. It was a big secret. I wasn't technically allowed to leave the casino without swearing to secrecy. I jumped out a window and ran. Those White Gloves are far too fancy to slum it out in Freeside. I am not.
But you probably don't really care. After I broke the bank at the Atomic Wrangler, I sauntered back to somewhere NCR had people stationed, so they wouldn't kill me desertation. NCR is tough. They don't take shit from anybody. I wound up right outside of Primm, where a bunch of people were discovering new and exciting ways to do absolutely nothing. I was a bit in awe of them. So, after maybe a week of drinking, telling old war stories (of which precious few of us actually had), and maybe every so often betting some guy that he couldn't shoot at the Powder Gangers from however long away, we saw someone coming through. Nobody came through anymore. I looked at said person through my fancy binoculars. Clearly, it was a woman. Also, she was practically naked. She wasn't wearing any shoes. That was good. People joined the NCR sometimes purely because the recruit's outfit included some shoes.
"Oi! Miss, stay to this side. Staying to the other side is going to get you killed!" I yelled. She made a rude hand gesture, and stayed way too much on the other side. She had red hair. It was flowing, Godiva style. It was impractically long. That was bad. She wouldn't want to cut her hair to join up.
"Hey, Cal? What you looking at?" said some guy. Hell, I don't even think he had a name. Just "NCR Recruit" to me.
"Some half naked dame is on the wrong side of the road." I answered. I liked the word "dame". It was feminine without being demeaning. I also liked the word "broad" for when I wanted to be demeaning. "I'm going to convince her to join up, or at least stay on the proper side of the goddamn road." I said, hopping down to the highway.
"Miss, you are on the wrong side of the road. I will repeat, please stay on the right side of the road. If you require food, clothing, or medicine, the NCR will happily provide them for you." I said. God do I hate repeating myself. The woman stopped walking.
"I am looking for a guy in a checkered suit. He shot me in the head. You will tell me where he is, or so help me God I will kick you somewhere extremely painful. Do I make myself clear?" She snapped. Obviously enough, she did. I understand that now.
"Jeez, Miss! Wake up on the wrong side of the grave, or something?" I am not clever. This is evidenced by the fact that I was promptly kicked somewhere very unpleasant. My vision swam and I felt the searing, red hot pain of a thousand... oh, I don't even know. It hurt. Really, really bad.
"Roger." I coughed out after I was done rolling on the floor in indescribable agony. "I haven't seen anyone like that. But the head of one of the casinos, Benny, is well known for his checkered suit. I'd look there, if I were you." I seriously cannot believe that nobody else ever made that short mental connection when she asked. You'd think nobody ever went to Vegas on a high powered monorail. That'd be ridiculous.
"Righty-oh then. I'll be leaving." She said as she turned towards the road. A little while down some Jackals had taken over a little building and were now murdering gleefully anyone who came by. I didn't tell her that. Instead, she looked back at me and said "Hey, some of those Powder Gangers are camped out in that town, yeah?"
"Um, yes. Obviously. They broke out of NCRCF and are now holed up in a cheesy Old World hotel with accompanying deathtrap. What's it to you?" I said, bewildered by what, exactly, she was attempting to say.
She shrugged. "D'know. Maybe go in there and wreck a few guys. Save the innocent from subjugation by the atrocious scum of the douche-bag pond. Take their weapons and armor, maybe find a way to improve life in the waste-" she giggled, before losing composure and promptly falling into hysterics. "Oh, Christ, I can't say that with a straight face. But seriously, I'm going in there for equipment."
I couldn't believe her audacity and or bravado (Please choose whichever one you find best). Still, as far as I knew, there was no actual rule against this. It was just a really bad idea. "Sure, you could do that. Although, if you're in need of some equipment, new recruits get an exceptional bonus package consisting of-"
"Stuff it. I've heard this shpeel before. Not interested." She interrupted, rudely. "I could do with some NCR backup though. I.E., you're coming along with me. Don't give me a 'but I need to file the paperwork' bullshit, literally nobody cares." She took all of my many arguments and tossed them out the window.
"If it makes you happy, I'll go with you. Only, might I add, for the purpose of stabilizing Primm in anticipation of an eventual NCR takeover oh shit." I had said too much. I think. Was it an open secret that we were going to wrest New Vegas from House , or was it some closely guarded military secret? I can't even remember now, but it's of no importance.
"Nice. I'm Arden, by the way."
"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Arden. Calabasas, NCR Trooper, at your service. Begrudgingly."
"Let's kick ass."
