A/N: Special thanks to Tedsini, Cressida Isolde, Malus Ex Machina, and Teufelszeug for commenting / fav'ing. :)
Part 2: Hollow Man
A gentle scraping noise filled the decrepit courtyard. Kiera was gathering Sierra Madre chips of out an empty water fountain. The chips were worthless pieces of plastic and paint, but they were the only currency the Sierra Madre's vending machines would accept. Nearly every pocket of her jumpsuit was filled with chips. They jangled with each of her steps, and weighed her down, but she always seemed to run out of them when she needed them.
Kiera was always in need of chips. The dead casino had very few supplies and the vending machines had provided her with nearly all of her food since her arrival. Not good food - no Bighorner steaks or fresh Agave Fruit - only Prewar freeze-dried goods. She had survived for six days on Blanco Mac and Cheese and Dandy Boy Apples.
The only other worthwhile scavenge inside of the Sierra Madre was what had been left behind by the old man's previous collars. Those doomed men had tucked away small cashes of food, water, chems, and weapons in scattered secret stashes. Some of them had also spray painted graffiti on the streets and villa walls, pointing out safe paths over the cloud, or the location of a hidden stash, but other times, the graffiti was a ruse that would lead you straight into a booby-trap.
Kiera had no idea why anyone would go to the trouble of setting up booby-traps for future collars. Between the ghost people and the red cloud of death, the Sierra Madre was already a death trap. All Kiera wanted to do was escape. She didn't give a damn about any lost treasure.
A ghost person grunted from one of the catwalks high above Kiera. She pulled out her pistol and removed the magazine to re-check her ammo. She only had two rounds left. Her backup weapon was a Cosmic Knife, but it was practically useless.
Kiera reloaded the pistol and cocked the hammer back. She studied her hands - they looked a bit off. Her skin was blotchy. Large patches of her hands and arms were bleach white and dried out. Ashen. It was a side effect of the cloud. Although only visible in areas of high concentration, the cloud blanketed the entire Sierra Madre. Any visitor like Kiera would be poisoned by it slowly, just from remaining in the city.
I need to get out of here. I need to escape. I have to escape. . . .or I'm going to die.
The mantra had been running through Kiera's mind for six days. Time was running out. She was sure the blotchiness had already spread to her face and the rest of her body. She had a bad cough too. And frequent bouts of dizziness.
I - I need a stimpak.
Stimpaks had been impossible to come by in the Sierra Madre. Kiera had found one tucked away in a trashcan shortly after her arrival, but had to use it after her first encounter with a ghost person. She'd stabbed the horrible creature to death with close to fifty knife strokes, but it nearly killed her before she dismembered it, bludgeoning her entire body with a spiked, bear trap gauntlet.
The vending machines would probably dispense stimpaks if you had the correct code. You needed a code for the machines to dispense anything. Kiera had only found the codes to return prewar cigarettes and clothes and to purchase junk food and vodka.
Kiera sat down on the side of the water fountain to get a moment's rest. She noticed that one of the crumbling structures ahead of her seemed to glow. There was a light on inside of it.
A vending machine?
Keen on lightening her load, Kiera crept over to the building with her pistol drawn. There was a large hole in the building's outer wall through which the white light flickered. She approached the hole on her hands and knees, trying to sneak up to it. Once she was right next to the gap, she popped out of cover with her pistol raised, aiming into the building's unseen interior.
The building had apparently been intended as some sort of shop before the war. The walls were lined with empty display cases. Behind the front counter, just next to the register, was the image of a middle aged man made of glowing white light.
A hologram.
The old man had warned Kiera about security holograms - invulnerable ghosts that could kill her with beams of concentrated light. The hologram inside of the ruined shop didn't seem to be one of those. It looked more like the holographic woman in the fountain by the casino entrance. The woman whose ethereal voice had unwittingly lured Kiera from the slums of Freeside to the fabled Sierra Madre.
Kiera kept her pistol drawn, pointed at the hologram. It stared at her blankly. She approached it cautiously, and when she was only a foot away, she waved her hand in front of its face.
The hologram's glowing eyes followed her movements.
"Ha. . .hello?" Kiera croaked.
The hologram didn't respond.
"Do you have anything I can buy?" Kiera pulled a wad of chips out of her pocket and placed them on the front counter. "I - I have chips. Lots of chips."
The hologram said nothing.
"Can you talk?"
The hologram remained silent.
Kiera ignored the hologram and searched its shop for any worthwhile scavenge. There wasn't any ammo inside, but she found a parkstroller outfit and a carton of cigarettes. She tucked both items under her arm and then walked up next to the hologram and raided its register for a few bills of prewar money.
"Thanks."
Kiera debated exiting the way she came, and weaving her way all the way back to Salida del Sol and a known vending machine. The trip would be long and dangerous. She'd have to carry all her chips and scavenge with her while trying to sneak past legions of ghost people. A very bad idea. Her eyes wandered around the empty shop and she noticed a staircase towards the back.
Puesta del Sol must have its own vending machine. Every other section of the city does. I'll just have to find it.
Kiera slowly ascended the stairs, keeping low and out of sight. The staircase ended in a small room with a hole in the wall. The hole opened onto a terra-cotta catwalk that stretched over a cloud-filled courtyard.
The stench of the cloud was pungent from the catwalk, but it wasn't concentrated enough to be lethal. Somewhere in the red mist below, a ghost person groaned. The sound made Kiera shudder. She crept across the catwalk and over to an adjacent, three story structure.
That building had been a house before the war. Kiera had just entered the kitchen. She was certain that the ground floor would be saturated with cloud. She saw a set of stairs that led up to the third floor. On the wall next to the stairs, someone had spray painted an arrow.
Kiera followed the arrow, and slowly walked up the stairs to the third story.
The third floor was just one room. A bedroom. It was dark inside, but the cracks in the walls let in just enough light for Kiera to see. The bedroom had a dresser, a bed, two recliners, a wardrobe, and a night table. On top of the night table was a caravan shotgun and two boxes of buckshot. On the wall behind the night table were three spray painted arrows, pointing down at the weapon.
Finally! A decent gun!
A smile crept across Kiera's face. She casually walked over to the night table. After taking two steps, she heard a loud snap. Something had grabbed her leg. She looked down and realized that she had just stepped on a bear trap.
Fuuuuuck!
The trap looked like the jaws of a shark. Two rows of jagged, metal teeth had clamped down on Kiera's right leg. The force of the trap snapping shut had shattered her tibia. She jammed her hand over her mouth so she didn't scream and then trembled from the mind numbing pain.
Kiera dropped what she was carrying and used all of her strength to free her mangled leg from the bear trap. She then collapsed forward onto the floor, crying.
She remained motionless for several minutes, wallowing in her pain, while tears steamed down her face. The pain was almost unbearable and she didn't have any vodka or med-x to dull it. Her leg was broken. She knew it. She glanced up and could see the table with the shotgun just a foot or so away. Having nothing else to do, she began to pull herself on her hands and knees over to it.
When she put her hand forward, she felt it brush up against something. She pulled it away and focused on what she had touched.
A tripwire.
Kiera followed the tripwire with her eyes. It had been rigged between a bed leg and the wall next to the night table. Anyone trying to take the shotgun would have walked right into it.
Why? Why would anyone-
Kiera saw something scrawled onto the wall next to the end of the tripwire. The graffiti was very low to the ground and partially obscured by a chair, so you couldn't see it unless you were lying flat on the floor. It was only meant to be seen by those whom had already been wounded.
It read:
"The treasure's mine assholes!"
Kiera's lips curled into a snarl.
