The shroud continued to thin as he walked, and eventually he realized that his Geiger counter had quieted to the occasional tick of background radiation. It was such an alien idea to him that it didn't occur at first, that he could take his filter mask off when above ground and in the open. He was hesitant but he couldn't just leave it on forever, so he cautiously reached up and gingerly removed the mask, taking a cautious sniff of the air to test for chemical contamination. Nothing, it smelled unlike anything he'd experienced before. No chemical tang, but none of the smells he associated with safety either. No press of unwashed bodies, no smell of cooking fires on the back of the throat, nothing. Just fresh, clean air and a hint of plant life.

He was on the western side of the Colorado River for the first time in his life, this place seemed so strange to him. It was open and flat like nothing he'd ever known, he'd grown up in tunnels, basements and with buildings all around him. Here the land was flat and open, natural. Furthermore, he could see until vision simply failed him, that was new. Before you could see as far as the tunnel led, or until the shroud obscured everything in fog, but here there was just the horizon stretching out until everything faded and blurred into a meaningless jumble at the edge of the world. And the sky, he felt like he might fall up into it. It yawned above him infinite and black, with twinkling lights and the great disc of the moon staring down like a giant eye. He would only occasionally peek up at the sky as if worried it might snatch him up into that infinite abyss. And before him, the road stretched onwards.

His Pipboy kept him confidant at least, he knew he was on the right track, stay on this road all the way until he reached the big city to the north, simple enough. He just had to make the journey, and a little music now and then was a nice change to the whistling wind blowing over the endless plains and scrubland. He was on edge, and it took him a while to realize why he had been on edge, there was nothing leaping out to attack him. He had grown used to the dangers of the Dead City, and to the threats within the Metro tunnels, but out here there was simply nothing. Not nothing like a yawning door frame, or a broken window, that kind of nothing might hide something deadly. Out here there was simply emptiness, there was nothing here, not even anything dangerous. At least as far as he knew, he realized for the first time that for all his experience he was utterly ignorant of the dangers of this territory, or of the people he might encounter. Hopefully just being polite and respectful was universal.

Sunrise had been a shock. He knew the sun existed, he'd heard it described, seen drawings, but he had never seen it himself, only knowing it as a general brightening of the shroud overhead, turning the fog and clouds from dark grey, to light grey. But this, this giant furnace in the sky, a massive glowing orb that set the clouds on fire with dozens of colors he hadn't even the capacity to imagine, it struck him dumb to see it. It also left him squinting and half blinded, holding one hand up to shield his eyes. He had to undo his coat, normally it was so good keeping him warm but in his heat it was insufferable, to say nothing of the police Kevlar vest he wore under it but he refused to remove that in any event.

He had been walking for hours when he saw the stream, rushing along a little ways off the road. He didn't think anything of it at first, until it occurred to him that, once again, this wasn't like anything he was familiar with. Just because the water back home had to be filtered and processed before it was safe to use for anything, didn't mean that this would be a radioactive poisonous soup. He went over to the stream, never having seen water this blue and sparkling before, and scanned it with his Pipboy. No radiation beyond the norm, a small sample showed no toxins, nothing.

Making a small 'humph' of surprise, he got out the water bottle he'd been drinking from and dunked it in the river. That was refreshingly easy, he normally had to barter with the man who ran the water purifier in order to… Chase stared at his hand, the one he'd just put in the river. He capped the bottle and put it down, holding up his hands and looking at them. His left was its usual self, his right hand had changed color, it was white and… clean, he realized. Water was always valuable in the Metro, ran in from pipes that scooped it out of the Colorado, but it was always dirty and poisoned by the shroud and after filtering and purifying nobody would be so wasteful as to just dump it over themselves. He looked from his suddenly clean hand to the river, back to his hand, back to the river, and another little moment of comprehension dawned. His pack hit the ground with a thump and Chase pulled at his clothes with a sudden desperate urgency, and when finally rid of them splashed out into the first truly clean water he had ever seen in his life.

XXXXX

About an hour later, Chase was crouched down next to the river, his Pipboy perched on a rock and playing some music as he worked, cleaning every last article of clothing in the river. He still wasn't wearing anything, letting the sun dry him off a bit first. All his clothes were so filthy that trying to dry off or put something on at this point would entirely defeat the point of having bathed in the first place. For the first time he could remember he felt clean, it was almost alien. He was really surprised by how much his hair had changed color, going from a dark grimy color, almost black, to its natural thundercloud grey. He had finished the task of wringing the caked up muck and filth of years out of his clothes, some of which had completely changed color, and had set them out on rocks to sun dry when he heard a splash up the river.

All of his survival instincts kicked in at once, jumping to snatch up his AK before crouching in the long grass and listening, heart thumping in his chest. Listening intently he heard… humming? Creeping through the long grass by the riverside, he peered carefully out and saw another first. The first native of this big open country he saw was a young woman in a white shirt and jeans, with a large wheelbarrow carrying big plastic water jugs, bending down to fill a pitcher in the river. She wasn't armed, didn't seem dangerous, humming to herself as she worked. The wheels were turning in Chase's head, she didn't have provisions for a long journey, that meant people had to live near here. Maybe a place to stay or stock up on supplies?

"Excuse me." He said politely, standing up.

The lady jumped and yelped, dropping her jug in the river with a splash where the current started to carry it away. Chase reacted quickly, walking over to grab it, in the Metro every personal possession was greatly valued, losing anything might be the little thing that pushed someone beyond their ability to survive, it was common courtesy that if you could save someone's stuff, you did so, and hoped they did the same for you later.

"Here, sorry I scared you." He said, holding it out for her. She just stood there staring at him. "I won't hurt you." He assured her. He had a niggling little thought in the back of his mind that maybe a naked man with a rifle handing you a jug of water was not normal in whatever community she came from. "Are you alright?"

"Um, fine." She said finally, taking the jug back, water sloshing out. "You startled me is all."

"I'm sorry about that, I heard someone else and got worried." He said simply, relaxing his grip on his rifle before slinging it over his back in an attempt to seem friendly. "Is there a station near here?"

"Uh, station?" She asked, looking at him in curiosity before looking away again quickly.

"Town, sorry I meant town." He corrected. "Someplace I can buy food or sleep?"

"Oh, well, I'm from Palm Gardens, it's just up the road, I only came to fetch some water." She said, pointing over her shoulder.

"Good, good, I was just washing my clothes, could you give me a minute? I'd like to see this place."

"Oh, sure, sure." She said, seemingly to get her composure a little.

"Great, just give me a minute. Um, are you sure you're alright?" He asked, a little concerned.

"What?" She asked, as if he'd just snapped his fingers in front of her face, seeming to startle her out of something.

"Your face is going red, are you ill?"

"Oh, um, I'm fine." She assured him.

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure about…"

"Fine!" She snapped, going back to filling her water jugs, spilling half the water onto the ground with how quick she was moving.

Chase shrugged, walking back over to get dressed and grab his gear. Surface people were strange.

XXXXX

Palm Gardens, as it turned out, was a very, very small town. Little more than a gas station be the roadside and a cluster of houses behind that. The young woman, whose name was Lila, opened up a bit more as they walked back, telling him more about her town and what life was like there.

"It's really small all told, just a few families, but really we're like one big family. The Johnson family works the farm, my folks own most all the houses, and Peter and his ladyfriend run the store." She said, pointing to the gas station in the distance as they walked nearer. "This is one of the only major roads up towards Vegas, so we get a good amount of caravans coming up from the southern stretches of the NCR."

"The NCR?" He asked, only getting a few words in edgewise.

"Did you grow up under a rock or something?"

"Something like that." He shrugged.

"Oh, well the NCR is a big country that's mostly to the West of here, all the way to the sea is their territory, we're basically on the border. And travelers and traders head on up the road to Vegas and back, and we're one of the watering holes they stop in at. My folks own the houses, see, so people stay here for a day or two to rest the Brahmin and stock up on supplies, but what with the dustup in the Mojave business has been down a bit."

"I heard on the radio, some kind of battle?" He'd never been in a fight that involved more than six people.

"Yeah, bunch of savages from the East I hear, we never really saw anything of that here though, too small and out of the way, we get along fine."

"That's good. I know a few places like that." He said, thinking back to Henry's bar. There seemed to be a good number of differences between that and this place though. No drunk people, for one. No naked people on stages either. And the only music was some mournful guitar strains coming from a radio set out on a table.

"Good Afternoon miss Lila." Said the man who had to be Peter, nodding to her. Chase couldn't stop staring at his big, wide brimmed hat.

"Afternoon Peter, look what I found down by the creek." She said, pushing her wheelbarrow of water bottles over near the curb, a woman in a sun dress coming to pay her for them and start pouring the water into a big tank.

"Well hello stranger, headed up the '95 to Vegas?" The man asked.

Chase tore his eyes away from the hat, its wide brim wobbling about whenever he spoke. "Yes, headed to Vegas, going to find some work."

"Good, good, looking to buy some supplies?"

Chase considered before nodding, heading into the gas station's convenience store, which was now decked out as a general store. He got some dried fruit, which sounded very appealing to him, and some salted meat. When he saw how cheap the food was he went back and bought three times more, nobody in the Metro would sell food for that little, but then again food was probably a lot easier to get up here, Lila said they had their own farm. And it probably wasn't what he thought of as a farm, which was a dark room where they grew mushrooms off of any rotting biomass they had on hand. He also bought a wide soft hat called a boonie, which should help keep the sun out of his eyes all day.

His pack comfortably laden with supplies, he went back out, seeing his guide still waiting there, chatting with the other woman. "You said you had rooms for the night?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, as long as you've got the caps, or something to trade for." She said with a nod.

"I have some skills I could trade. I can fix things, for one."

"I'll ask papa if he has anything broke you could take a look at." She said cheerily.

'Papa' turned out to be a very large man in his late sixties or so, blonde hair whitening towards grey. He was nice enough, though his voice was loud enough to hurt Chase's ears when he spoke, and more when he laughed. He also had a tendency to slap people on the back when he laughed if you stood too near him, so Chase kept his back pressed firmly against the wall whenever he was in the same room as the man.

It turned out the little settlement got some of its power from a series of small wind turbines, and one of them was breaking down, so Chase spent most of his evening standing up atop a platform, with his hands buried in a generator's guts until it finally started working properly as the sun began to set.

"Hey, got it working?" A familiar voice asked.

"Yeah, seems to be going fine now." He said, dropping to the ground. He'd hung his coat and pack in the room they'd given him, working in an old pair of military fatigue pants and a white shirt, it was strange to keep the beating sun off.

"Oh good, papa will be real happy, hey we're about to have dinner and you're invited to join, so come on."

He blinked, surprised. "Will you charge me more for that?"

"No, just being friendly, nobody else is staying here right now so I think my folks just want some company."

He mulled it over, but free food was free food, so he followed.

XXXXX

The dining room was large, well lit, and cozy in a way, with a big oval shaped table in the middle. The lady of the house had conscripted her children to carry plates and cups out, and set out a big pitcher of brownish liquid that he thought had to be tea of some kind. Eventually the whole family was sat down together, mother and father, an older son, a small boy and Lila.

He had never eaten with company, really, so this was an alien and vaguely terrifying experience. There were so many rituals and apparently important social niceties. First you had to wait until serving dishes were passed around, then wait until everyone had everything they wanted until you started eating, and you couldn't just reach over for things, you had to ask someone to pass it to you. Still, his repeated mumbled apologies seemed to keep them from getting angry at him, the mother of the family in fact reacting like he was a small child who was just not learning the lesson being taught.

Eventually he got the hang of it, and while the tea was sickeningly sweet, it was actually kind of nice. The meat at least tasted the same as most everything he'd eaten before, so it was nice having even that little bit of the familiar in this place.

"So, you're from down south of here, but not the NCR?" The older son asked.

"From a place called Bullhead, it's to the east mostly." He responded before getting another bite.

"Never heard of that place, do many people live there?"

"Yes, but everyone lived underground, the surface isn't safe." He explained, drinking more tea.

"Radiation?" The father asked knowingly.

"That and the ghosts. Uh, monsters? Look like people but all withered and burned?"

"Oh, ghouls." Lila responded, after their momentary confusion.

Chase shrugged. "Yes, there are lots of them there, it's not a safe place really but people live there, most don't know anything about what it's like out here, this is all new to me."

He finished his plate and looked guiltily at the serving tray with more meat on it, the mother smiled and offered him some more. "It's nice to see someone appreciates my cooking." She said with a laugh.

"It's very good, reminds me of home a little." He complimented, taking more.

"Oh, did you raise pigs in Bullhead?" Lila asked, seemingly constantly wanting to talk about something with him.

"Pigs?"

It was Lila's turn to be confused. "Um, big round animals, about this tall, raise them for meat?" She held her hand over the floor to indicate size.

He blinked, looking down at what he'd been eating. "Um, some yes. I thought this was… Chicken." He said lamely as they looked at him. "It tastes like chicken."

Thankfully that awkward moment passed without further comment, and Chase spent a little time describing some of his more dangerous forays to the surface for family, their youngest very excited. He seemed to think it had all been some fantastical adventure but it hadn't seemed like that at the time, it was just a job with risks.

Eventually dinner was done and he helped with the dishes, before retiring to his rented house for the night. It seemed wasteful to have this big house all to himself, but there wasn't any reason not to use it, there was nobody else staying there at the time. He was sitting in a chair so padded he thought he was sinking into it when a knock came at the door.

"Lila." He said simply as he opened to see her.

"Hi, Chase. Um, can I come in?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

He stood aside, closing the door for her. "Is there something I can do for you?"

They chatted for a bit, she seemed nervous but there wasn't any danger here, no threat as far as he could tell, sometimes glancing out the window to make sure nothing had followed her to reveal why she seemed nervous. Perhaps he was just oblivious, or used to different cues, but it wasn't until she stepped inside his reach and placed a hand on his chest that he realized why she was here, he nodded without a word.

"Just don't tell my pa, alright?" She asked as she followed him to the bedroom he'd rented.

"Not a word." He promised, removing his shirt. "So what do you want?"

"Excuse me?" she asked as he turned, her body language looking like someone who had stepped off the top of a staircase expecting one more stair.

"For this, from me, what do you want?" He asked, pointing to the bed.

He could see the gears turning in her head, and she didn't seem to like what they ended up making. "What do you mean, are you implying, that you would, that I'm a… !" She glared at him, her pose going from eagerly expectant to enraged in a few heartbeats.

Chase was visibly confused, frowning and taking a step back. "Are you alright?"

She glared daggers at him. "No I'm not alright, did you think this was a brothel?"

"No, but"

"Do you think I'm a whore or something?!"

"I didn't, but"

"Do you think this was all about money or something, that I'd be so low as to"

"Please stop yelling!" He said, taking another step back. Maybe it was his expression that made her stop mid rant, even if his words didn't. Half confused, half scared, brow twisted in a knot of uncomprehending worry. "I'm sorry I insulted you, I didn't understand."

Her towering rage dissipated almost as quick as it had come. "What, what do you mean?"

"I just… didn't think you'd want to do that for… nothing." He said lamely, looking away. "I'm not used to. I mean that I thought you would want something from me, since this is your place, I can't say no without losing the bed, so I thought you wanted more payment from me, I mean… I already ate and I have the bed so I thought…" He cut it off before he made things worse. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand, this place is strange to me." He said, sighing. It was true, he just hadn't expected her to just offer that, out of the blue, no strings attached. He'd never had sex without money changing hands first."

She looked sad, rather than angry. "I. I'm sorry too, I didn't mean, I mean your ways are different, I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you, you didn't know what I was doing."

He nodded, turning away. "Maybe you should just go, I don't want to cause more trouble and…" he wisely shut his mouth as she pushed him down onto the bed.

As the night went on, he decided once again that surface people were very strange, but eventually decided that he could probably get used to it.

XXXXX

He said his goodbyes the next day, the people here very friendly despite him only staying in a rented room for the night. He gave Lila a smile, and said goodbye without even blinking to her father, before he continued his road north long up the lonely road. He saw some interesting animal life off the beaten path, big lizards that walked on their hind legs, skittering about. There were some giant ants pulling meat off a dead Brahmin to carry back to their hill somewhere in the distance, birds wheeled overhead. For the most part the road was clear and open and empty, nothing cluttering the path or distracting him, simply walking along and listening to the music from his Pipboy, trying to learn as much as he could from the news broadcasts and PSAs between songs.

He spent the next night in a rather larger town called Calnevari, which was fascinating for being much more active. More people to observe, some local news to overhear, he talked for a while in a bar with some locals and tried to get a feeling for the area. Sadly his bed for the night did not come with a pretty girl, but he took what he could get. He still slept better than he ever had before, and set out the next day northwards.

His first sign that he was coming up on something different, entering this Mojave territory rather than just open countryside, was when he saw a number of large blocky shapes in the road. He'd heard of these things, but he'd never seen one, he'd only even glimpsed a few robots back in the Metro but those looked woefully small and weak compared to these big rolling ones. A patrol of four was moving along the road, their single tires humming as they rolled along, the patrol halting while one turned towards him with its television face.

"Greetings traveler." The stoic soldier face said in a tinny voice. "Be advised that the town of Searchlight is not safe, and is currently classified as a radiation danger zone. Please observe the signs and move around the town at a safe distance."

"Thank you, uh, I will." He said, looking the machine over.

"Welcome to the Mojave, enjoy your stay." It said, before turning abruptly and rolling off again.

Searchlight felt familiar at least, it looked equally dead to his own home. Beyond simply being damaged, there was a strange way to feel that the life had gone out of a place. But while Bullhead looked dangerous and at times even enigmatic, Searchlight was just sad.

He dutifully observed the radiation warning signs and picked his way around the town, until the land looked less sick and he found his way back to the road. Signs of life started to pick up again as he saw a strange outline on the horizon. Coming closer revealed that the giant lizard was not in fact dangerous, but was a sign or tower of some kind, it seemed absurd to him but again, surface people, weird. He spent a night in the hotel there, before he continued heading on north.

The patrolling robots grew thicker, and he had to check his map more often to not get lost in the mostly abandoned, heavily damaged buildings. He asked one of the bots if this area was safe, and it informed him that he was in a secured zone, something called the Fiends had been driven out, and he was assured they were in no danger. He kept his rifle in hand all the same as he made his way along.

The number of people walking about surprised him at first, they weren't inside their town or rushing about, but walking around, maybe going to visit people or to do business. The simple ease with which people moved about was surprising to him, but this place seemed better by the day. Cheaper food, friendlier people, not trying to kill you every hour of the day. He wondered if they realized how good they had it. Eventually he followed his Pipboy to this McCarran place, stopping for a minute to admire the big spire with the circle on the top that peeked over the sturdy scrap metal walls around the city proper.

"Visiting, trading or joining?" A sentry standing outside the gate asked as he walked up.

"Joining." He replied, slinging his rifle.

"At least you look like you know what you're doing." He said, turning and pushing a button, the gate trundling open. "Head on into the main building and go to the recruiting desk, can't miss it.

Nodding his thanks, Chase went inside, looking around at the camp. The parking lot was full of tents and sheet metal buildings propped up against the walls. There were recruits running laps or doing other exercises, some soldiers on guard duty, but the place felt empty, the ranks still needing to be filled, bunks ready and waiting for recruits to fill them. Entering the terminal building, and taking a moment to stare at the planes hanging from the ceiling, he saw the line of new recruits talking to people at what were once the ticket counters. He walked over, sitting down across from someone free. "I want to join the Army." He said simply and clearly.

It turned out to be a little more complicated than that, there was a whole interview process. He thought the man behind the counter might have been getting annoyed, as whenever he was asked if he had ties to this group or that group the process had to stop for a few minutes as the man explained who each group was. The Fiends, the Brotherhood, the Legion, so on and so forth. The questions about why he wanted to join the army were more simple, 'to get paid'. Eventually he'd signed everything that needed to be signed, feeling a little nervous about signing up for a tour of duty rather than just a job. But still, it was a steady job, and a damn bit better than anything he'd enjoyed before. After that he was sent into the inner courtyard, over to a large tent with a red '+' sign on the side, for a physical.

"So what is this for?" He asked curiously, as a middle aged man in a long white coat looked at him, in a smaller sub room of the big tent.

"Just a checkup, have to make sure you're in proper health before you join, can't have any diseases or medical issues causing problems." He assured him.

Oh, well that was simple enough then. The doctor asked him about his medical history, which was just a long list of Chase saying 'no' when asked about various medical issues. He had never really been sick beyond the occasional cold or fever, and he'd always gotten over it himself. The only exception was to the questions about whether he was sexually active, and how so roughly. Those categories were always 'yes'. Though he couldn't see why anyone cared.

That annoyance over with, and having learned several words for very frightening diseases he wasn't sure he was glad to know existed, and finally got around to the physical part of his physical. Stripped again and found satisfactorily lacking any serious damage, though sporting enough scars to show his dangerous profession, everything seemed routine until the doctor got out a little mirror on a stick and stuck it into his mouth.

"Huh, that's odd." He said thoughtfully.

"What's odd?" He asked, though his mouth was open and his tongue pushed down, so it was more like "Hwups obb?"

"Hmm." The doctor said, leaning in. Chase was not someone given to nerves or embarrassment, but this had to be the most awkward moment he could remember, two separate sticks shoved in his mouth, someone mumbling to themselves while looking at his teeth, and he had no pants. The pay had better be everything promised. And that food had better be good, he thought to himself. Eventually the doctor pulled back though, letting him speak properly again.

"You have a bit of unusual dentistry." The doctor said, cleaning his tools and setting them down. "You come from… Bullhead yes?" He asked, checking his notes. When Chase confirmed it he nodded. "Interesting, and would you say you're a normal example of people there?"

"I suppose so, I've never noticed any real differences." He said with a shrug, though to be honest whenever he was inspecting another human body it wasn't ever in a medical setting. Usually a brothel, or a kitchen, but he'd never noticed any oddities.

"Interesting." He said, taking some furious notes. "The first three molars on the top and bottom jaw, behind the canines, have been replaced with more incisor teeth, and your incisors and canines are somewhat enlarged, compared to the average for a male of your age and build."

Chase felt over his teeth with his tongue, counting the three sharp teeth behind the big sharp one. "That's not normal?"

"No, not in regular humans. If you're a good example of people where you come from, you might qualify as a minor divergent subspecies."

"So you're saying…"

"Congratulations son, you're a mutant." The doctor said with a chuckle. "That would explain your somewhat unusual hair color I suppose, most your age don't have natural grey hair. Don't worry, you can still join, despite that oddity you're otherwise entirely healthy for a human male of, I'd say 22 years old. I deem you fit for service, the mutations seem basically cosmetic though I would like to do a more in depth study of your population at some point, see if anything else is different under the hood."

Still a little surprised by the revelation, Chase shrugged and got dressed in the simple fatigues he was given. "You wouldn't like my home doctor, and I don't think it would like you."

XXXXX

Chase's first week in the Army was difficult. Not the training, that wasn't too difficult. They were overseen by a surprisingly old man who called himself Master Sergeant Johnson, but despite his advancing age seemed to be made of much sterner stuff than most of the recruits. He carried himself like a fighter, it was in his bearing, his body language, the way he spoke, Chase could tell this was a man of longstanding experience.

There was a lot of running, and a lot of jumping, climbing, and other such exercises on a large obstacle course set up within the inner court of the terminal, that was easy for him, his body hardened and skills sharpened by his long years of braving the Dead City and all its perils. Classes were also interesting to him, though there weren't enough of those for his liking. He soon learned that the recruits here came from all over the Mojave region, which seemed very large to him when he'd realized the scale on the maps they were showing in class, so everyone had to be taught about everything around the Mojave. He learned about the different towns, the important resources and locations. Helios, Hoover Dam, the Vaults, trade routes, water pipelines, farms, all the important things that their society needed to keep working. He learned about the major campaigns the region had seen before, of the NCR and the Legion, the Brotherhood and the various raider factions that continued to cause problems for the outlying settlements.

No, what was difficult was the regimented lifestyle, keeping to the schedule, waking up and going to sleep at the exactly specified times, every hour of every day was planned out and any deviation, no matter how small was punished. He had been angrily reprimanded for getting something to eat outside the allowed times, he'd had to run laps for that but he didn't really see how that was a punishment. They'd cut his hair down to a fine stubble, but they did that to everyone, he didn't much care since he'd just cut it with a combat knife to keep it from bunching up in his helmet. What really annoyed him was how they locked up all his gear and personal belongings in a trunk, including his Pipboy, he rather liked having that thing. They promised him he'd get it back once he finished basic training, so he didn't get that mad though.

The food was good at least, and the bunk comfortable, he heard the other recruits complaining about both constantly but it was a lot better than what he was used to so he simply tuned them out. Clean water, bread, corn, beans, potatoes, carrots, some dark meat called beef. When he'd seen cuts of white meat he'd made sure to ask that it was pork, just to avoid confusion. He'd tried a brown drink called coffee and found that he liked it, but then found he had difficulty blinking for an hour afterwards.

Finally they left the walls of McCarran to do something more practical, it had been two weeks since the training had begun, they'd been given rifles and pistols, dressed in their fatigues and headed out into the wider world, evidently they were going to go practice survival skills out in the wilderness. He was carrying his rifle, a 5.56 service rifle with a wooden stock and leather sling over his shoulder, a 9mm handgun in its holster and a small backpack on his shoulders. The new uniform felt strange, but it was functional enough, rugged fatigues, a dull green coat worn over a Kevlar vest, a belt with numerous pouches and a leather chest rig holding spare magazines for his rifle, a hard helmet and a long cloth to wrap over your neck and face to prevent irritation from wind and blown dust as well as wide clear goggles to protect the eyes. After having worn essentially the same set of clothes for years it was difficult to get used to, the weight felt wrong.

"You alright man? You're walking like you've got tacks in your boots."

He turned, seeing another of the recruits next to him, the only thing visible under his uniform were his blue eyes.

"I'm fine." He replied simply, walking on.

After a few minutes of silence he spoke up again. "People talk about you, you know."

"What?" He asked, surprised, looking over to the other trooper again.

"I mean, you eat alone, you don't talk to anybody, you always seem like you're off in your own little world. Nobody can decide if you're nuts, hiding from something or just have a huge stick up your ass."

Chase frowned, "I don't have anything up my"

"I mean being an antisocial jerk." The other trooper quickly corrected. "I mean, like that just there, how do you not know what that means?"

"I'm not from around here, we talk differently where I come from." He replied tersely, annoyed that he'd flubbed another local phrase.

"Where from?" Despite his annoyance this person wasn't going to leave him alone.

"South, place called Bullhead."

"Is it nice there?"

Chase slowly turned his head to stare at the other recruit, giving him a long, withering, silent stare.

"Shit, I was just trying to be nice." The other man said, looking away before speeding up and walking up the column, leaving Chase feeling upset for reasons he couldn't quite identify.

XXXXX

They made camp that night in a rocky gulch out in the wasteland, pitching their tents and setting up a guard rotation to keep a constant watch on the surroundings in case anything should try to slink up on them in the night. There was no fire, the sergeant worried that the light might attract something they didn't want coming their way. Chase was slumped against a rock eating a cold can of beans and thinking to himself. He had never been bothered by what people thought of him before, people had thought well of him back in the Metro. He was reliable, dependable, he never went back on a deal, that was all that mattered. He lived alone, bothered nobody, and when he wanted to have company he went to Henry's bar, where company could always be found, even if you had to pay for it first. That was all anybody had cared about, he did his job and wasn't a threat, but here?

These surface people were social in a way he wasn't used to. They ate together, would naturally cluster together to talk, and if you didn't do that with them they seemed to assume you disliked them for some reason. His whole unit, some twenty people, slept ate and showered together, they were always together, every hour of the day, and now that he looked back he was the only one who didn't talk to anybody else at seemingly random times. He realized that they really did those things together, not just at the same time, but together, it was a communal exercise every day.

The others exchanged jokes, stories, casual insults and compliments with the same breath, it seemed a waste of time to him but they liked it. He was harmless, non-threatening, he did his job, but that didn't seem to be enough in this new world, it wasn't enough to simply be useful, you had to be likable. He stood up and walked towards the edge of camp, seeing the trooper from before standing sentry on a small hill.

"We lived underground." He said out of nowhere.

"Huh?" The trooper asked, seeming surprised.

"In Bullhead, we lived underground, the surface was radioactive and poisoned, it wasn't safe."

It was unusual at first, just to talk about something that seemed pointless. This man would likely never see Bullhead, but he still wanted to know about it. Chase told him the basics, the tunnels, the basements, how they had carved their own tunnels between different networks, connecting the Metro lines with the city's utility corridors and the long dried up sewers, each becoming a new community of people looking to stake a claim to uninhabited territory. Eventually he started rambling on at length about the different stations and warrens, one was known for its mushroom farms, and another near the river had hydroelectric power turbines, about the Dead City and its inhabitants.

Eventually the other man started talking too, his name was Roberts and his family were ranchers, raising creatures evidently known for having big horns, trading meat and milk and wool. It was strangely relaxing, just letting his mouth run with someone who wasn't any danger to him, it wasn't often safe to open up like this to someone in the Metro, you never knew what would make someone decide they wanted something you had, or that you might be a threat best dealt with sooner than later.

He was listening to his companion talking about the trade caravans and their routes when he frowned, his survival senses tickling the back of his mind. "Wait, I think I see something." He said, squinting out into the darkness, unslinging his rifle. He heard voices, could barely make them out by moonlight. Roberts pulled out a set of binoculars and checked, cursing under his breath. "Fiends." He breathed, "A dozen or so, might be looking for us, I'm going to warn the others." Roberts turned and started going back to camp at a jog, leaving Chase alone.

A dozen or so, but by all accounts Fiends were stupid, too strung out to fight smart, and he had the element of surprise. Rifle in hand, he crouched down to get cover from the bushes and scrubland grass and stalked off into the night.

XXXXX

These Fiends were loud, brash, and poorly equipped. Only about half of them were armed with ranged weapons, an eclectic mix of battered energy weapons, improvised rifles and small handguns, the others had knives or random objects that could serve as clubs. Their clothing barely qualified as such, and could only be called armor if you squinted and were drunk, it left at least half their skin exposed at any time and seemed to be made of random leather pads and metal plates held onto the body with leather straps. Chase listened from where he crouched behind a rock as they swore and cursed at each other, wandering closer to their camp with murder on their minds, it seemed they did indeed know where they were and were coming with the sole intention of killing them in their camp.

Rather naturally, Chase did not like this plan, and edged around the side of the boulder to hold his rifle steady, sighting in. He wasn't terribly fond of the service rifle they'd given him, it had a smaller magazine and used less powerful rounds than his AK 47, but it was an accurate weapon and by no means a bad rifle. Besides, their pitiful armor couldn't hope to stop any kind of rifle round, against this weapon they might as well have been naked for all the good the random spikes and belts would help them.

He waited until the group had wandered past him before he opened fire, putting two rounds straight into the back of the nearest Fiend with a gun before methodically switching to the next target, squeezing off three more rounds.

As he listened to the cries of anger and shrieking curses, he quickly turned and skulked back off into the night, running low to avoid being an obvious target. He heard the shouts of the Fiends behind him, cursing each other and calling out angry threats. He dropped to the ground, laying perfectly still and silent in a cluster of tall flowering plants that helped break up his outline as he listened to the crunch of approaching footsteps.

The Fiend wasn't even bothering to disguise her approach, holding a machete in her hand as she approached, seeming jumpy and twitchy, probably the chems. She was wild eyed, lips drawn back in a snarl. "When I find you," She hissed angrily. "I'm gonna eat your spleen!"

Chase slipped out of his hiding place and tackled her to the ground, slamming his combat knife into her neck as he took her down, holding the raider down until she stopped moving. Don't tempt me, he thought to himself as he wiped his knife on her shoulder pad and replaced it at his belt.

The gunfire started up a few seconds later, almost two dozen service rifles opening up in concert. The Fiends were all standing around in the open looking for him, they weren't ready for the sudden attack from the opposite direction. For all their anger they were very stupid, and his diversion had achieved what it was meant to, blunting their advance and making them waver while Roberts went for help. Chase stayed on the ground until the shooting stopped, not wanting to catch any stray rounds or be mistaken for the enemy. It didn't take long.

When it was over, he slung his rifle and stood up, walking back towards the camp. "Is everyone alri-"

He was cut off as the Sergeant stormed forwards, grabbing him by the uniform jacket and almost hauling him off his feet. "What the fuck were you thinking, going off on your own!"

Chase blinked, he hadn't expected that, hadn't he done well?

"You ran off without orders, left your platoon and engaged the enemy without orders, you could have gotten yourself or someone else killed!" The man shouted, shaking him in his big fists.

"I thought that" He tried to say.

"You thought shit, recruit! You thought you'd just run off and do whatever the hell you wanted! Get your act together and follow the chain of command, if you're going to just do whatever the fuck pops into your head at any moment of the goddamn day, you're a liability I don't need. Now wash that blood off your uniform before it stains and you disgrace it any further!" He shouted before shoving him aside, leaving Chase to stumble back to camp, too shocked to even get upset.

He didn't talk to anyone until they had returned to McCarran.

XXXXX

He had expected on some level to be thrown out of the training program after that, but strangely nothing seemed to happen. Training ramped up steadily, they drilled with more weapons and tactics in mockup houses made of sheet metal and plywood, trained first aid skills, jargon and call signs, and a hundred other things. Chase started making at least a small effort to get along with people, sitting with them during meals rather than sitting alone, and just listening to them talk. It seemed to be working to some degree at least, there wasn't the hint of resentment like there used to be, so he took it as a small victory. It was a little over a week after their ill-fated training mission that something out of the ordinary happened.

"Chase, come with me." And since it was the Master Sergeant speaking he got up and did as he was told, leaving the rest of the platoon in the barracks to look nervously at each other as he walked out. He kept his cool as they walked across the parking lot, worst case scenario he was out of the program and would have to find work elsewhere, not that bad really. They entered the terminal building, but instead of passing through they went up to the second level, he hadn't been expecting that. He'd never been up here before, this was where all the offices for the more important people were. He was led past offices, filing rooms, radio stations, until finally to an office door which a plaque clearly proclaimed as belonging to the commanding officer. "He's waiting for you." Johnson said simply.

Steeling himself, Chase went inside. The office was simple and Spartan, a terminal on a desk, one window overlooking the Mojave, a rifle on the wall. The man behind the desk was a figure he'd only ever glimpsed from afar, but he hadn't known who it was. He wore simple fatigues and a red beret, his eyes hard and face carved from granite.

"Sit down." He said tersely. Chase obeyed without hesitation.

"I am Commander Boone, CO of this base and in overall command of the Army's formation." Chase remained silent, not sure if he should speak yet. "So, Chase, I've been hearing a lot about you. You left your platoon, took on a dozen Fiends single handed and somehow are still alive. You've behaved perfectly during your training, but you didn't wait for orders. Why?"

Chase had been giving the matter great thought, pouring over it in his mind over and over again. "There wasn't time to talk to the Sergeant, the Fiends would have been in the camp by then, I wanted to stall them and make them waste time looking for me so Roberts could get back and warn the others." He didn't tell the other half of the reason, that he simply hadn't thought to defer to another's judgement to make a decision, he wasn't used to listening to anyone in a crisis, or relying on anyone else to stay alive.

"I see, so you put yourself at risk, acted on your own initiative, tried to use the situation you saw before you." The eyes were as hard and judging as ever, there was no warmth in that voice.

"Yes, sir. There wasn't time to waste trying to do everything I was supposed to, if I'd followed the rules then the Fiends would have marched right into camp following Roberts, someone might have died."

Boone stared at him, long and hard, it was the kind of gaze Chase used to make people shut up and go away. "I reviewed your progress reports, Johnson has a lot to say about you." Chase bet he could think of what the man had to say, probably guess which curse words he'd used. "He said it's a waste of time training you, you already know how to fight, how to survive." Chase was surprised, it might have showed. "He said that you're the only man in your barracks that doesn't bitch and moan, that he might as well have you sit out the physical training because if he actually challenged you the others wouldn't keep up. He has to treat the recruits like greenhorns, rookies, but you're not are you?" Boone's gaze felt like it was reading his soul by this point. "You've got experience, you're dangerous, quick and smart, it's why you're still alive. There's not much we can teach you because you've been teaching yourself all your life, and for a lot longer than any of the volunteers outside. You're used to relying on yourself and you do it well, but you don't do well with direct oversight, you don't fit in with the others and you can't operate properly with a big chain of command, it's counter to your nature."

Chase was a little nervous by this point, he'd never thought about any of these things, but as Boone spoke he had to admit they were all true.

"So that just leaves the question of what to do with you, because you don't have a place in the Army with the rest of those recruits out there. But it would be a shame to waste someone like you, so I'm going to offer you a different option." Chase leaned forward slightly, all ears. "There's a different unit in this Army, not everything can be solved with marching boots and massed soldiers, not every problem requires a full mobilization. There are some things that have to be done quietly, in the dark, with just a few people. The quiet things, the things you need done in shadows. Or missions that go beyond your own borders and require someone who can operate without oversight for extended periods, live off the land. I think you would be a good fit for that, you can be useful there. What do you say?"

Chase processed this as best he could, thinking for a good minute before he responded. "What's the difference, from the regular Army, how will my time be different?"

"You'll get better gear, you can chose your own equipment, you'll be paid more and get other perks and benefits. One other question though. When you joined you told the interviewer you were chasing a paycheck, what I'm offering requires a certain dedication."

"I always follow through on my promises." Chase said coolly. "I was known for that, I don't back out of deals, I don't double cross, when I sign on to do something I see it done. You don't know me, if you knew me then you wouldn't doubt me."

Boone held his gaze for a long silent moment, each staring silently at the other.

"You're in." He said eventually. "The unit is called the Mojave Special Operations Commandoes, M-SOC for short. You're being pulled from your current training regimen, we do things differently in M-SOC. Get your gear from your barracks and say your goodbyes, then report to your new barracks, and Chase. Don't disappoint me." He said, giving him another stare that could bore through steel.

"I won't sir, thank you sir." Chase said, standing and saluting like he'd been taught, which Boone returned.

As he went back to get his gear, he grinned to himself, it seemed that his life in the Mojave was about to change for the better.