Chapter 2: Blue Pajamas
I feel a cold sweat running down my face as three men walk into the smoke-filled den. I am currently holding an unloaded gun at a thug who claims I owe him caps for the misdeeds of one of my crewmen, Creeper. I feel the effects of the mentat tablet I took earlier finally kicking in and I begin to think of a way out.
To my relief, I recognize one of the three men that walk in to be Seth. Seth is what some would call a town guard. I might be able to get out of this after all. His job is to keep the peace after all.
"What's going on here? Seth says as soon as he see's my gun.
"This fuggin trader owes me money, Seth. His man on tha floor over thar has done me wrong!" The thug bellows, spit dribbling down his repulsive face.
I calmly holster my gun and regain my composure.
"This man is lying and deserves to be shot for being as rude as he is. If he says one more thing I swear you'll never see another caravan come through this shit-hole town again." Of coarse I don't have that kind of authority to make such statements, but I know they won't risk being left high and dry with raiders attacking every other day.
Seth only thinks about it for a few seconds before he points his rifle at the thug.
"Jimmy, apologize to Mr. Winner and hope to god he forgives you." Seth says.
The thug looks at Seth incredulously with his toothless mouth gaped open. I grin ear to ear.
"No need for apologies, just don't le it happen again." I say as I step firmly onto Creeper's wrinkled hand.
"Ahhmm….Wachu doin at ma hansh." Creeper slurs in pain.
"Winner, allow me to escort you to the gate." Seth says to me while Creeper slowly pulls himself up.
After Beamer and Boxer load Creeper's drunken ass into a cart, we begin to set out. Seth and Aradesh apologized for the trouble and I tell them it was fine as long as it didn't happen again.
My crew falls into formation as soon as Shadysands fades behind us. Beamer lags behind a little to guard the rear and Boxer scouts ahead of us. Cecil is swatting flies from his smelly hide. Bislane is sitting on one cart reading her new book that I'm sure she will read a million times. Handsy is staring off into the distance daydreaming.
Creeper is slowly sobering up and stumbling beside me.
"Heh heh…Dum-asses think they can scare us. They got lucky." The old drunk says.
"No…you got lucky, old man. I almost left you back there. I swear, next time you pull some shit like that-"
"I ever tell ya about the time me an yer daddy took on 30 men durin the Merchant Wars back in 2126? We was just kids…but damn if we weren't the toughest sons of bitches. Took em out just the two of us. Musta had four women that night, heh heh." Creeper reminisces.
"You have told me and last time you said it was 20 men. Look, I'm being serious, lay off the booze or I'm cutting you loose." I warn him.
"Awww c'mon, lighten up Whiner. You wouldn't do that to your old man's best friend would cha?" Creeper chuckles nonchalantly.
I hate that name.
"Alright, listen up. We are paying the Khans a visit before we head home. I want all of you on your best behavior. No screw ups like last time." I warn the group.
What happened last time essentially boils down to Creeper being his usual self, but I bet your really wandering why traders like us are meeting with raiders in the first place. Its simple. With war and violence a lot of money changes hands. The raiders want guns and supplies to terrorize small villages like Shadysands. Which leads to Shadysands wanting guns to defend themselves. Which leads back to the raiders who need even more guns. I'm not proud of it but its necessary to generate the caps that I desperately need.
In exchange for the guns, Stimpacks and ammo, The raiders let us pass through their territory with impunity, plus a few caps for big deals. Now, just because I do these dirty deals doesn't mean all the other caravans do. In fact, it works in my favor if other caravans are attacked by the raiders. Less competition, more work for me and the Crimson Caravan don't get suspicious of the secret deals going down behind their backs.
Like I said before, I'm not proud of it.
"We should just get rid of the old drunk. Does nothing but causes trouble and drink." Handsy says, his eyes glued to his binoculars.
"Well, if I was to get rid of crew members because they caused trouble I would have none left. Or should I remind you of the trouble you have caused, kid." I say with a lop-sided smile. Bislane looks up from her book and gives Handsy a dirty look.
The tale of how Handsy got his nickname is a amusing one. One night, while out in the wastes between trips to Junktown and the Hub, I woke up to shouting. Soon after, Handsy was running past me with his pants around his ankles, Bislane running after him with a belt. After the excitement died down Bislane told me of how she caught him masturbating near her while everyone was asleep. The next day, we teased him until he got the nickname Hands-in-my-pants. This eventually led to the shortened version: Handsy.
"I don't cause nearly as many headaches as that sack of…wait…I see someone coming." Handsy says suddenly concerned. I snatch his binoculars and take a peek to the west.
What I see is a lone figure dressed in blue heading our way. You rarely see anyone traveling alone in these parts. I give back Handsy's crappy binoculars and whistle loudly three times. Immediately, Beamer and Boxer pull in closer to the caravan and we come to a stop.
"Beamer hide in the cart with the rifle, if he tries anything stupid waste him. Boxer you stand next to me and look angry. Handsy get in the cart with the binoculars and make sure he's alone. Bislane get ready to make a deal, he'll probably be needing supplies. Creeper you help Bislane. Cecil…go up to him and find out what he's about."
"W-w-why me? He's probably a scout for robbers. I-I-I…"
"Just do it! Beamer's got a rifle on him if he makes a move. Now hurry!" Always complaining that one is. Stuttering prick.
Soon, Cecil is shuffling off towards the stranger, muttering to himself every step of the way. I would normally send someone with more intelligence, but I need everyone else right where they are. I lean up against the cart and try to look intimidating, which is pretty much pointless when you have an ex-boxing champ standing next to you.
Soon I watch Cecil's stick-thin body come to a halt as he greets the stranger in the strange get-up. So far so good I think.
"What's he doing Handsy?"
"Uh…It looks like the mystery man is not packing any heat. He's pointing towards the east like he's looking for something." Handsy observes. Better get a second opinion to be safe.
"Beamer?"
"The kid is right, although I've never seen someone wearing what this guy is. He looks too clean if you ask me." Beamer replies in his usual gruff tone, sweat trickling down his ebony skin. Only rich people are clean. Time to make some money.
I whistle to catch Cecil's limited attention and wave at him. He nods and starts walking back with the stranger following closely behind him.
I light up a cigarette and begin to munch on a mentat. The fact that this guy is all alone in the desert, wearing some kinda blue pajamas and is only carrying a small bag makes me feel uneasy. As soon as he is in talking distance, Bislane goes to work.
"Hello there, stranger. Need some supplies? Or maybe some directions? I would be more than happy to help you with either." Bislane purrs, her words smothered in sweet honey. Most men become stupid and spend more money than they probably should when she is doing her thing. I can tell she senses this guy might be loaded with caps.
"Uh…hello, my name is Dr. Evan Ledger. I come from…well…out west. I am searching for a chip. A water purifying chip to be specific." The stranger responds in a polite tone.
My crew exchanges looks with each other and I decide to step in.
"A water purifying chip, eh? Sounds like vault-junk." I say, noticing a slight twitch from the stranger at the word vault.
"Yes, it is vault technology. Do you know where I might be able to find one, perchance?"
"Perchance? Water chips? Boy, you a chem-reliant or something?" Creeper interrupts. He receives a swift kick to the shins from one of Bislane's thin legs and whimpers off behind one of the carts.
"Hmmm…lets do some business first, then I'll see if I can't remember something." I reply. The stranger doesn't look pleased, but hey, information doesn't come free.
"We have guns, ammo, water, stimpacks…maybe a new outfit might do you some good, handsome." Bislane says with a charming smile.
"Sure. How do we go about…transacting?" The stranger asks. Bislane shoots me a confused look before continuing.
"…well…If you have something of value, you can trade it to get something you might need. Or you can pay with caps…" Bislane replies as if talking to a child.
"Uh…caps…?"
This guy is hopeless.
"Bislane, how about you get our friend here a gun, a box of ammo and a flask of water." I interject before the poor sap has a chance to further embarrass himself. "I can tell your new to these parts so…how about you just take them free of charge as a welcoming gift."
"Wow…that's very kind of you…I'm sorry I didn't get your name."
"I'm One-Eyed Winner and the beautiful woman fetching your gifts is Bislane. The rest of these sad-sacks are unimportant. If you head east of here you'll come to a village called Shadysands. I've heard that they originally came from a vault so they'll most likely have what your looking for. But, be careful not to step into a radscorpion nest or get pinched by a bunch of raiders. Always keep your gun cocked and locked."
"Right…I'll be sure to do that, Winner." Evan says as Bislane hands him some supplies. "I won't forget your kindness…I'll repay you some day."
"Don't mention it." I say as the stranger heads east with almost fanatic fervor.
After the weird stranger leaves our sight, we pack up and continue heading south towards the Khan's camp. Something about that guy bugged me.
"Free of charge, huh? That's a first." Bislane muses as she opens her book.
"Eh…he had nothing worth trading anyway and to send him away empty handed would be a death sentence. Plus, something weird about him, like he's destined for greater things or something."
"Haha…sound just like your daddy. Always on about destiny and love and this and that…chip of the ole block you are." Creeper mutters.
"He's probably dead already. That stuff you gave him could have bought me a hooker in Junktown, boss." Handsy chirps, his eyes once again glued to his binoculars.
"You wouldn't know what to do with a hooker even if you had the caps to buy one, kid. Probably last two seconds I'd wager." Beamer says laughing.
"Nah-uh. I can go all night, baby." The kid boasts, swaying his hips back in forth. "This one time I had two bitches-"
"You're a virgin. You told me so last week." I remind the boy. If I didn't stop him, he could go all day with his bragging.
"I once had a nice belt buckle." Boxer mumbles.
"Uh…that's nice Boxer." I tell the giant.
Boxer says random things sometimes. Gizmo told me it started after he received an uppercut to the jaw back in his glory days as a boxing champ. Said it knocked his brain loose. I don't care as long as he swings his sledgehammer when and where I tell him to.
"You think Garl's going to agree to stand down?" Beamer says after a short silence. He brings up a good question.
"I hope so." I say to the old sniper. "Its not going to be easy to convince him with that bitch by his side. You guys need to be quite and quick with unloading the goods. That goes double for you Creeper."
"Best behavior, I promise."
"Bislane, I want you to stay with the carts this time." I say to the pale beauty.
"Why…you think there's going to be trouble?"