A/N: I don't own Fallout. Still.
A/N 2: I edited the story from here through Collapse and the original way these events unfolded are safely out of the internet and safely in my hard drive. Basically, the following chapters, especially the 'Crossroads' ones were altered so I'd be satisfied with my characters'... um, characters and their development. In essence, these changes are minor plot-wise.
'He's so amazing!' She'd constantly keep thinking while spending lonely nights in her dad's manour without him. His hair was long. he stood out because of that, for a while, until everyone else started wearing it that way. That's tyhe kind of man he was - one people actually wanted to follow. He could've had anyone and he had chosen her. That made her life a whole lot brighter. Of course, daddy would frown at a Hightower seeing a lowly mercenary so he insisted on making them go slow, like him having to leave so often wasn't already a wedge. But she endured, she always would, with patience and honest work.
'She's so amazing!' He'd constantly think spending lonely nights by the campfire in the the wastes. He'd passed by many women in his life, all head over heels in love with him but once he would decide to give someone a chance he'd soon find them too plain, too dumb, too needy or something along those lines. It wasn't that they weren't good enough, it was just that they never made him fall head over heels and he was thus always aware of their annoying quirks. But it wasn't like that with her. She was clearly visible above the ocean of other women all around him. Educated. Honest. Interesting: many things. She was one of a kind and despite her father insisting on them going slow like him leaving so often wasn't already a wedge, he would always endure, with patience and honest work.
And when they were together it was special: like there was a world of pleasure beyond this one, and only the two of them were allowed in, only when they were together. it was a dimension words would forever fail to describe. It was exquisite, private, thrilling and calming, sleepy and insomnia-inducing. It was the proof of them being meant for each other. He named her his and she named him hers and thus the nights were filled with sensations the body couldn't even fathom, much less reproduce as memories.
'I'm going north.' He said and smiled, and she leaned in and kissed him as always. They said their goodbyes and he was off. She kept looking at the caravan, becoming smaller and smaller, her city behind her.
It was a minor revelation to see them being devoured by the horizon, and an ill omen.
She frowned. 'You bring back my man alright!' She threatened the wasteland.
A gentle breeze passed her by and at that moment she realized how quiet is the sound of a dream shattering.
The Hub
2161-01-01 01:19 PM
At first, it looked like a dark spot on the horizon and, as they kept walking, it eventually turned into a big dark pile of junk with some 'farmlands' surrounding it. Finally, as they entered the Hub, Matthew beheld the old, mostly still intact pre-war buildings with some scrap shacks in-between. The town was a little bit humid: just a little, but it was immediately noticeable. The streets here were dirty and full of various nooks and crannies, as well as foreboding small allies branching off the settlement's main streets, which were for the most part the remains of actual pre-war streets. Even from afar Matthew could tell that the Hub was a very large settlement, if someone were to drop Vault 13 in the middle of it nobody would even notice. Matthew also noticed, though a bit later, that none of the buildings had a second floor, though it looked like some once did. He took a better look and found old, abandoned piles of smashed concrete in the darker nooks of the town. All in all, Matthew's first impression was that the Hub was very big, dirty, and confusing.
It was a while before he directed his attention from the buildings to the people walking among them. They were a very diverse crowd: there were farmers in animal skins shuffling around exhausted, there were well-armed and armoured mercenaries walking in confident yet idle strides, as well as traders in relatively clean pre-war clothes, their jumpy eyes failing to miss the smallest detail of the city they were leisurely walking through, and some working people who were not in agriculture: these people wandered around in dusty dirty clothes with black rings around their eyes and a constant worried expression. Matthew took a look at his companions: Tabitha in her trench-coat striding self confidently, Ian in his leathers, savouring each step of the way, grinning to finally see his home, and Tycho, the silent ranger with an unreadable facial expression, simply a man you knew you didn't want to fuck with just by looking at him. And then there was Matt, and Dogmeat pacing by his side. He smiled. He probably looked like the child of this family.
The settlement got slightly cleaner as they moved deeper into it. In the Market District the scrap shacks disappeared and the architecture of the pre-war part of the town could be seen in all its glory. The buildings were dark grey, almost black, with claustrophobic-looking narrow windows. They were heavily ornamented and some of the corners of the buildings were shaped into columns, statues or bas-reliefs, faded by weather and time and constantly reminding any who walked among them that there has been a war, that many people died and many things were lost. Even though the Market District was also single-storied the plain landscape of the area and the many ruins surrounding the district erased all traces of the fact that there was a wasteland around them but some sand by the side of the road that was carried here by the wind and swept aside. All that could be seen standing here were the dark buildings and the blue skyline, like this place was nowhere.
There were increased patrols of the city's guards in the area - men clad in green composite Combat Armour, their faces hidden behind tinted visors. There were more passers-by in the district than there were residents in all of Shady Sands and Matthew felt intrigued and a tiny bit scared at the same time. He thought that this was probably a very easy place to get lost in.
The first thing the group did was walk down to Mitch's 'All-n-One' General Store and trade off the goods they got off of the dead raiders. Matthew appreciated how cool it was inside of the buildings even in the afternoon. The guns they were selling were repaired nicely by Ian, tough there were now four of them instead of six once Ian broke down some of the crappy 10mm pistols for spare parts. Alas, neither the guns nor the chems they found on the junkie raiders yielded a good price in this cut-throat merchant town.
While they were in the store waiting for Mitch and Tabitha to finally agree on the final price, Matthew briefly brought up his Pip-Boy and noticed it was already the year 2162. He was briefly reminded of his mission, and mildly fascinated by the fact that while Christmas was impossible to miss in the vault, out here he didn't even remember it was supposed to be winter. The world had truly been set on fire and changed.
The next stop was the Crimson Caravan Headquarters, another one-story building on the north-western edge of the district, looking a bit more unkempt than the rest. The vault dweller recalled Ian once saying that Crimson Caravans was the toughest merchant outfit in the wastes as they travelled the most dangerous routes, and he supposed the unkempt appearance should've gone pretty well with the bad-ass reputation. Indeed the world has become a strange place.
The room they entered first must've been the reception area for whatever purpose the building served before the war as well as right now by the small weathered wooden counter and a woman buried in paperwork behind it. The rest of the spacious hall was filled with tables and chairs and served as a socializing area by the amount of people sitting around the fairly unkempt place, drinking whisky and chatting. The woman behind the counter looked up at the newcomers and smiled once her gaze drifted upon Ian. She turned her head to one of the people sitting around. 'Dad!' She called out and a stocky man turned around and looked at her, then followed her gaze and looked upon Ian, then smiled and stood up. Most of the rest of the people did that too. Their reactions were different shades of surprise and joy.
'Ian!' The man approached the merc and shook his hand heartily. 'Welcome back you no-good slacker!' He laughed.
A storm of laughs and greetings ensued as the people enveloped the newcomers, or, more specifically, Ian. More mercenaries walked out of the rooms deeper in the building and joined in the greeting. Matthew and Tycho took a few steps back and allowed the long-awaited return of the man take place before them, the vault dweller unable to do anything but smirk seeing his friend back in the place where he belonged.
The man who greeted him first was Demetre Romara, the owner of the Crimson Caravans, and Ian introduced his companions giving Tabitha a glowing recommendation in the process. The woman stood there with a slightly disinterested expression, obviously trying to keep appearances. Tycho caught the guards' attention as well. These men have travelled far and wide and have heard of the legendary Desert Rangers of Nevada. Tycho didn't provide many details in his answers to the many questions the awed guards asked, but he kept a calm manner, as well as what in the wasteland probably passed for a pleasant demeanour. Matthew retreated even further back and stood by the door and watched the scene through a crowd of guards, a little envy crawling its way into him. He could only hope that one day he could be one of these people: strange people, yes, but good, tough people who earned their keep by the sweat of the brow and putting their lives on the line. People that looked after one another and were glad to see one of their own return. Dogmeat sat down by his side, its eyes shooting curiously between the many unfamiliar people in the room.
'God, these guys keep coming at him more than the girls!' The vault dweller heard a woman say in a rough, confident voice next to him. Turning at the speaker he saw the stranger who was just behind the counter a minute ago: a tall young woman with a small faux-hawk-minus-the-gel and a tight-fitting black leather outfit. The girl's hair was a light shade of brown and despite probably being quite young she looked tough and weathered, mostly because of the confident, almost daring look she sported and the amount of dust on her face. The woman turned to Matthew and looked him up and down, as if evaluating. Before Matthew could register that, she gave a cocky smile with the edge of her lip and looked him in the face. 'I like what I see.' She stated, and Matthew suddenly got the feeling she might have not been measuring him up as a merc, but as a piece of meat to warm her bed.
Despite all of the apathy and uncaring he accumulated during the last few days he still found himself uncomfortable, his thoughts returning once again to Evelyn.
'You came here with Ian.' That was not a question. 'I'm Keri.'
'Matt.' He offered his hand with uncertainty. She shook it firmly.
'So who's the girl Ian's complimenting?' She asked, looking at the two figures standing closely together, as if they were one. 'Ian found himself a sweetheart out there?'
'No…' Matthew raced to determine what he could say and not screw things up for Ian. After all, he didn't know anything about his life back here and he could do him harm unknowingly. 'She came here to work for Crimson Caravans and… Well, he's telling the truth. She's the best.'
She looked at him as if evaluating. 'And you?'
'I've other business. I was just along for the ride.'
She looked briefly at the desert ranger, relating something about the rangers' life with detachment that evoked respect from the caravan guards.
'Yeah, when you're lying or evading it's best to use as much truth as possible.' She smiled. Matthew tensed up. 'Don't worry,' she laughed, 'I'm a good friend of Ian and I see you're coming from the right place.' She looked into Ian again and sighed. 'The man has a knack for hurting people. He can never see it, though, and he'd do anything to stop it if he did see it. I see he's poised to strike again.' She said cryptically.
'What do you mean?' The vault dweller asked meekly.
'You'll see, unfortunately.' She said evenly. Ian noticed her standing beside Matthew and let out a loud greeting. 'I'll see you around.' She said to Matthew without turning to look at him and approached Ian.
Tycho came over, tapped Matthew in the shoulder, and the two men and the dog left the building. Matthew felt as if he was released from a choke-hold.
'They're throwing them a party.' Tycho stated. 'Right now, binge drinking until first light.'
'Not your cup of tea?' The younger man asked. The ranger shook his head.
'Is it yours?' He asked in return. Matthew shrugged.
'I'll return to them in a while, they'll be drunk and I won't be so uncomfortable.'
Tycho frowned just a little. 'Yeah. That water thing shouldn't be hard to find.'
'Water thing?'
'The chip you need to save your people.'
'Oh…' Matthew completely forgot about that. That was kind of dumb on his part. Was the ranger frowning at him? 'Yeah, not a lot of places where it could be… I'll get to it.' He gave the ranger a fake smile, turned on his heels, and walked in a random direction, realizing it would've been smarter to ask someone for some sort of a pointer. Regardless, he kept on walking, trying to escape the uncomfortable situation. Dogmeat followed him lazily.
'Since when is being reminded of your quest an uncomfortable situation?' Matthew asked himself. 'There's not thinking about it in order not to feel bad, and there's also getting completely distracted from something this important.'
His guts turned. He was doing a really shitty job. The clock is ticking.
Matthew closed his eyes and dismissed those thoughts. 'They're not helping. I won't find it paralysed with despair. I need to keep going with a clear head.'
The vault dweller concentrated on the buildings around him and the signs of various shops. The twisting sensation in his gut receded very slowly.
He returned to the party at the Caravan Office around midnight without having moved an inch forward in his search. The party was in full swing, though Ian and Tabitha were nowhere to be found. He drew a bottle of booze from his own pack and started looking for them, too uncomfortable to start partying with complete strangers.
A drunk mercenary informed him as to the location of the room his friends were in and he hesitantly entered.
It was Demetre's office, a neat and tidy place with a big desk and a set of file cabinets by the wall. Kirren, Ian and Tabitha were sat in front of the desk and Demetre, a serious figure despite the booze in his hand, sat behind the desk.
Ian nodded for Matthew to come on in, looking somewhat worried. Dogmeat slowly walked into the room and Matt closed the door behind it. Kirren's eyes lit up and she extended her hand, calling the mutt. Matthew sat down on a chair by the wall.
'Come on closer.' Tabitha said, visibly irritated. 'I want you to hear this.'
Matthew did so reluctantly, not certain of what was going on.
'So basically,' Tabitha summed up the conversation up to that point, directing her words at the owner of the caravan company, 'you have a shitload of people missing, other caravans are in the same situation, and you're doing the wait-and-see thing?'
Not a muscle moved on Demetre's face.
'That would be the case, yes.' He confirmed. 'The caravans we sent out disappeared without a trace. We have no leads at all.'
'That doesn't happen.' Tabitha said evenly. 'There is always something, a rumour, a wild theory – always something to grab and start investigating from.'
'I'm afraid my people heard nothing; I asked them for just that.'
'Your people didn't. And other people…?' She was almost accusing him.
'We cannot really investigate that.' Demetre was keeping his composure well. 'One theory I do know of, you see, is that it's a caravan competition thing. Everyone suspects everyone else.'
'Even though everyone's been hit?'
Demetre nodded. 'It's to draw away suspicion, they say.'
Tabitha sighed. 'So the caravan business is paralysed, then?'
'Yes. We're sending out maybe one caravan in four compared to our previous activity.'
Tabitha sighed. 'I'll see it solved then. After all, I'm not one of you guys yet.' She stood up. 'I'm sorry but I think I should go to bed now, it's been a long day and tomorrow isn't shaping up to be shorter.' She looked at Ian. 'Where are we staying?'
'As associates of Ian James you are welcome to stay here.' Demetre said, his voice still business-like. 'Yet we cannot offer anything except beds for free, I'm afraid.'
Tabitha nodded. 'That's plenty. Thank you.'
She walked out of the room. Demetre sighed and released the tension in his shoulders.
'I'm sorry.' Ian said. 'She can be… difficult at times. Price of excellence. Right Matt?' The merc turned to him and the vault dweller recognized it as a plea for support.
'She's full of initiative and headstrong.' Matthew nodded. 'And Ian is right, it is the price of excellence.' He paused and thought. 'Or rather the reason for it.'
Demetre nodded. 'I guess we'll see if Ian's praises were well-deserved in time. In the meantime, I can already think of a thousand ways her employment here can cause trouble.'
'I'll look after her.' Ian said. His boss nodded and a silence fell on the room.
Kirren, who has been scratching Dogmeat behind the ear happily the whole time withdrew her hand from the mutt and sat up straight.
'I like her,' she said.
The Hub
2161-01-01 09:44 PM
Tycho sat down on an improvised bar stool in front of Iguana Bob's Iguana-on-a-Stick stand, his guard all the way up: he didn't dare take it down in a desert oasis of thieves and scoundrel. He ordered a whiskey from the outdoor canteen as the proprietor was used to serving drinks here: some people didn't want to have them in the Maltese Falcon, the local bar with a criminal reputation.
The iguanas were cheap and not particularly delicious, and only the most destitute of residents dined here. Tycho bit down on his piece of awful-tasting meat and leaned back on the counter, his back to Iguana Bob and his eyes to the dirty passers-by of this 'hub of civilization'.
He sighed. How long has he been with this group of ragtag travellers? A week? He couldn't tell, he could never tell these sort of things, but he knew it was way too short… and yet he cares about them surprisingly much. It's not like someone who constantly wanders the wastes can get easily attached to someone else, but Matthew… He saw himself in that young man, he saw the virtues he was taught as a child. He saw an shy and scared young man in need of guidance and he was happy to provide it… But with each fight he seemed to lose those virtues, that respect for life, and in the young man the ranger saw himself as he went through the loss of these virtues. Ultimately, of course, Tycho came to find that every Desert Ranger, including him, had lost them: that was another lesson, one the wasteland taught, one that his family couldn't have possibly hammered into his head. Of course, it was because of that instilled respect for life that Tycho didn't become no better than any common thug, but he still refused that the twisted remains of the world could teach him an indisputably good and righteous lesson. It was, after all, shaped by the people, and, for the most part, the worst kind of people. And Matthew… He might see his already withering hesitation as a weakness, but in time he would understand what he'd lost, but it would be too little too late, and just remembering how it felt for him… It made him want to ensure no one ever lost that again if he could do anything about it.
But how can he accomplish that? No solution was in his sight. He could not tell him how to feel, and he didn't really know how to steer him the right way. And by the looks of this 'oasis' the wasteland itself will steer him the wrong way.
'You… Wouldn't happen to be one of the desert rangers, would you?' A calm and soothing voice of a woman shook Tycho out of his silent musings and he found himself approached by a young woman of average height and average body build, which was quite rare in the starving wastes. The woman looked to be in her late twenties and had her thick black hair combed well and twisted into an elegant bun at the back of her head. She wore a rather stylish dark blue pre-war dress that would have looked like a gown if it wasn't for a plain but beautiful black leather belt around her waist. The woman looked smart and serene, her large blue eyes soothing to even look at.
'Tycho.' The desert ranger nodded.
'Wow, you really are a desert ranger. It's a pleasure and an honour. Welcome to the Hub. It's a true delight to have a person like you here.'
'Thank you. This is a most welcoming community.' Tycho said as politely as he could.
'Thank you for the compliment; we do the best we can to make every newcomer feel welcome here…' The young woman eyed the Iguana-on-a-stick 'canteen' and for a moment a glint of sadness appeared in those blue eyes. 'Of course, we are far from being a perfect place… but we're trying. The Hub Society of Citizens is working diligently in order to make this little oasis a better place for everyone.'
'Rebuilding even a patch of civilization from the ashes of The War takes time. Do not feel discouraged if it doesn't happen overnight. It doesn't.' Tycho always hated having to play the upright and unwavering do-gooder in front of admirers. He knew better than to think he was one.
The woman nodded courtly. 'Yes, we understand that only long-term plans can help rebuild this place, and that's exactly the way we're going. Of course, it would really help to have the support of more citizens of the Hub, even if only the caravans would join us we could do a lot more for this place.'
'And what is exactly your Hub Society of Citizens?'
'Oh, we are a group of citizens concerned with the future of our home. We are primarily the wealthier persons here, like traders and bigger farmers. We encourage all citizens to join, but it appears that some are too poor to invest time in our society… Alas, we do try to familiarize ourselves with their concerns and represent their interests the best we can.'
Tycho nodded slowly. The girl meant well, but the ranger felt she was either all talk, or a bit too naïve: her Society didn't sound like anything more than a fancy game, though the polite and admittedly beautiful woman was one hell of a face for the cause.
'Speaking of the Society, I must attend one of our meetings. We're searching for avenues to fund a more thorough cleaning of the streets so that this place could really look like the oasis in the wastes that it is. It is a rather difficult task, to be honest, but we are making progress, I believe. It was very nice to meet you, mister Tycho… I…' The woman's gaze froze on nothing in particular, like she just got a good idea that made her start thinking. 'Actually… now that you are here, perhaps you would like to contribute to the welfare of this community? I do believe we can offer you something as a payment.'
'I'm afraid I'm a drifter, I will not stay long and cannot offer any help with your society…'
'Oh, yes, I understand. But there are many ways a person can make a difference, and some may appear very small. There are a lot of people out there in the wastes that choose to live outside of the law and, to be honest, common human sense. One of the farmers, Irwin, just recently was forced to abandon his farm when these immoral people took over his farm. We simply cannot let this injustice continue. Irwin is an honest, hard-working man and, as I hear, pretty handy, I believe he can offer you a very tangible reward and you would contribute to the Hub's well-being…'
'Say no more.' Tycho smiled. 'It is my duty to help those righteous people who need it. Just tell me where I could find this Irwin.'
The edge of the woman's delicate lips slightly ascended to a faint, pleased smiled.
'Irwin has currently found shelter in the more run-down relics of the past architecture that way.' Her smile slowly faded away. 'A shame about all those slums, really, as if the East Side wasn't already an arrow to the heart. And it is also a shame we cannot offer any proper arrangements for the poor man… I believe there are quite a few things we have failed at.'
'I will see Irwin the first chance I get, miss…'
'Oh… My sincerest apologies. Rhonda. Rhonda Hightower. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Tycho… I believe I'm running late… Thank you for your generous deed.' The woman gave a slight bow and hurried to the West Side, the one Tycho identified as the home of the rich folk around here. With the woman gone, Tycho ordered some Scotch and took a good swig. Really, the woman, though she meant well, was really either a big phony or really clueless. Admittedly, figures like her would have a tremendous effect on most people, but the ranger had seen way too much to fail to disregard it.
He stared into the slums at the direction Irwin was said to be found in blankly, a rather unpleasant thought entering his head.
The woman, probably genuinely well-intentioned, was marked as either a ditz or a liar by him… Does his departure from the morals of his childhood really stretch that far? Is he really that much of a callous, wasteland-twisted person?
He took another big swig. For a brief moment he considered that having never met Matthew would probably have been a bit better for his peace of mind as so many demons were currently surfacing. And all he could do was drink. A dead end.
The Hub
2161-01-03 02:27 PM
The four and a half companions made their way back to the Hub from Irwin's farm under the harsh noon sun and decided to chill out at the Crimson Caravan Headquarters. Matthew disappeared almost immediately upon arrival. Walking through the streets of the Hub Matthew couldn't exactly tell how he was feeling. While the brand new world and a brand new goal seemed invigorating to him, his reason for being here coupled with Tycho's sudden and probably reasonable distaste of him were weighing heavily on him, so he made the effort to look his earnest this time.
The merchants at the centre of the settlement didn't even know what a water chip was, and they probably wouldn't have told him anyway as the first reaction he would get in each shop would be a threat to make sure Dogmeat does not decide to go number two on the merchandise. There was one merchant who didn't mind, some woman who sold guns. Upon hearing about a 'water chip' she relayed Matthew to the Water Merchants because both names had the word 'water' in them. The vault dweller immediately dismissed that, reasoning that all they did was pump water and haul it around the wasteland, but the more unbearable the heat became and the longer that sick feeling in his gut remained, the more desperate he was becoming. At the end, he was proven right: while the Water Merchants knew of a water purification chip, they had no idea where one could be found and relayed him to some undoubtedly nice place called 'Necropolis' with an explanation being something like 'they don't buy our water so they must have their own, so it's obvious they have a whatchacalledit!'. Matthew decided not to go into details about the probability of some community calling themselves 'Necropolis' getting their water using Vault-Tek equipment.
It was an hour before sunset when Matthew decided to call it a day. As he dragged his feet through the dirty oasis he couldn't help but feel powerless. He couldn't find the water chip, even in the place about which it's told that 'if you can't find it here, you won't find it anywhere'. He wouldn't be able to accomplish his task; he didn't know where else he could look. He didn't know if one could be found. He didn't know if all of his searching wasn't just a fool's errand. How can any wasteland community ever possess…
He stopped. Maybe he wasn't looking for a wasteland community. The first place he was told to look was Vault 15… Because that was the only vault the residents of Vault 13 knew of. But if he could find another one…
'Yeah, right.' He thought sarcastically. 'Like that's gonna be easy.' If information regarding the vaults was easily accessible even Vault 13 would have already received wastelander guests...
'Hey!'
Matthew turned around and saw a rather beautiful young woman approach him. The way she held herself made it obvious that she knew just how beautiful she was, and, more subtly, that her beauty was something she relied on to get her food on the table.
'You the man who's going around asking about a water chip?' The girl asked, obviously already knowing the answer and just wanting to be done with it, like she considered the vault dweller nothing more than a daily chore to take care of. Matthew simply nodded.
'My employer heard that you were asking and told me to go fetch you. Let's go.'
'He knows where I can find...' Matthew's stomach caught fire. Here it was, finally, the ray of hope. The woman looked at him as if he was retarded.
'No.' She replied sarcastically. 'That's why I'm here, to tell you he doesn't. Come on now, he doesn't like to be kept waiting.'
They almost made it all the way back to the Crimson HQ when the woman stopped in front of some sort of a bar and motioned for Matthew to go in.
'I'll watch the dog for you.' The woman stated irritated. 'The boss would kill me if I allowed some wasteland mutt into his office.
The vault dweller commanded Dogmeat to sit and went inside after managing to catch a glimpse of the name of the place, 'The Maltese Falcon'. It was one of the dirtier places in the wasteland, filled with silent, sullen patrons, but Matthew didn't get a good look at them or the bar itself as he was immediately taken to the office of the girl's employer, which was in the basement.
The small room reeked of dust and booze. There was a single small window there and the narrow ray of light fell through it on the chair that was placed in front of a table, the other man, presumably the woman's employer, who sat on another chair on the other side drowned in the shadow of the room's twilight. Matthew slowly approached the chair and sat down, an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach.
'So we meet at last,' a slow, gravelly and confident voice reached him from the shadows before him, 'the famous vault dweller, here in my office. My name is Decker.'
'Famous...?'
'Not famous enough for me to know your name, or should I just call you Mr. Impolite?' The voice scolded.
'My name is Matt.'
'Hello, Matthew. Yes, you are rather famous, at least among people who keep their eyes and ears open.' Matthew heard a silent shuffle of feet behind him, guards taking position by the door, probably. 'I heard of your exploits in Junktown and how you took care of Gizmo.'
Matthew was about to object he had little to do with it but then remembered how the guard back there thought Ian was the vault dweller. This was bad.
'Gizmo was one of my partners...' The voice continued and Matthew suddenly found himself on the verge of panic. 'Well, not as much a partner as a partner-in-crime. Always thought himself mightier than he was, the fat tub of lard.'
'I was told you...' Matt attempted.
'Yes, the water chip.' There was more than just a hint of satisfaction in the man's voice. 'I do happen to know where to find it but information, as I believe you have already found out, isn't free around here.'
The vault dweller could only nod.
'I have everything I'd want right here,' Decker said, shuffling in the shadows, probably leaning back, Matthew thought, 'except for quality work. You seem capable. So... You see what I'm getting at?'
Matthew nodded. 'What do you want me to do?'
Though on the verge of freaking out Matthew was still conscious enough to know that whatever the man demanded of him Matthew was in no position not to deliver, even if he suddenly found no need for the water chip. And judging by everything he'd seen and heard of the man that little task he was about to give him was going to be something Matthew won't feel like doing in a million years.
There was a brief silence and the vault dweller could almost feel the other man's eyes upon him, evaluating. 'You performed well in Junktown,' he finally said, 'but Junktown is a simple town of hicks. Before we get to the real business I would like to see if you can accomplish anything in the delicate environment of the Hub.'
Matthew swallowed. 'How can I do that?'
'There is a man who has been hindering my business for years, attempting to question my methods. His name is Daren Hightower. I want him dead.'
Matthew had to check if he didn't start shivering. He knew it, he knew this meeting bode only ill.
'It would seem you are still quite reliant on the help of those comrades you've gathered.' Decker continued. 'I think you should probably discuss this with them... So, will you do this for me?'
Matthew nodded shakily. 'I will.'
He almost felt Decker smile at his response. He shuffled around and stood up, then slowly walked around the table and up to Matthew, the small ray of light finally hitting his face and revealing it to the younger man. He was a balding and elderly man, but seemed to be of strong build. And the eyes: despite having the face of a fifty-year-old the man had the eyes of a twenty-year-old. Or more like an animal, he thought, a dangerous animal on a hunt.
'It's a deal, then.' The man smiled and extended his hand. Matthew slowly stood up and shook it, his heart almost coming out of his throat. 'Well, it's been a pleasure, but I believe we both have work to do.'
Matthew nodded. He felt like he had to say something but couldn't so he started towards the door. The two guards who stood on either side of the door moved sideways and blocked his path.
'One more thing,' Decker said and Matthew turned around slowly to face the man. He looked almost rabid. 'I believe this would go without saying but from my experience I have learnt it sometimes doesn't. Don't try to screw me over. I am not a patient man and I am not a forgiving man. But I am a powerful and merciless man. You would do well to remember it.'
Matthew nodded. 'I will.' He said, barely audibly. The men moved aside and Matthew returned back to the surface, putting all his strength into walking up slowly instead of making a run for it. As soon as the sun and the fresh air hit him he felt scared and tired beyond measure. He got himself into deep mess.
The Hub
2161-01-02 9:10 PM
When he returned to the Crimson Caravans office, shaken from his encounter with Decker, the first thing he saw upon entering the building was Ian alone in the reception area, hugging a woman unfamiliar to Matthew tightly. Ian gave the vault dweller the briefest of glances before they broke their embrace. Matthew started towards the door into the small bunk rooms beyond where the company was staying.
'I missed you. You were held up in that place up north so long…' The woman's voice was silk.
Matthew entered the corridor behind the door and was startled to find Tabitha standing there in the shadows, her hands crossed on her chest, her facial expression unreadable. She glanced briefly at the vault dweller and then back to the two people. Matthew went in and tried to walk past her. Without averting her gaze Tabitha grabbed his upper arm gently and stopped him.
'I was wounded and couldn't return here quickly…' Ian smiled faintly.
'But you're back here now, finally.' She smiled back. 'And nothing else matters.'
Matthew realized that if Ian doesn't mention Tabitha now shit is going to hit the fan real bad.
'There's… Many things I want to discuss with you.' Ian smiled. 'How about we meet up in some… nicer place, this evening.'
'Sorry.' She smiled. 'Make it tomorrow evening. I'll be looking forward to it.'
'Very well.' He nodded. She smiled again, leaned in slowly, and put a gentle kiss on his lips. 'See you tomorrow.'
With that she turned around and left. Matt watched her go and thought she was the prettiest woman he'd seen up here. When he looked behind him Tabitha was already gone.
He stood in the shadows for a second, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to simply drop on a bed and sleep the day through, but something inside him told him there's trouble brewing and he'd better see to it. The decision, however, was made not by him, but by Ian who noticed him standing there and motioned with his hand for him to come up. He did so reluctantly and sat down with the merc at one of the tables, Ian unscrewing the cap from a whiskey bottle the moment they sat down.
'Pretty, isn't she?' Ian asked smiling. He took a large swig and handed the bottle to Matthew. He took it and noticed how he could barely feel he was holding anything at all.
'What're you playing at?' Matthew asked more coarsely than he intended. He didn't even notice it thanks to the fatigue. Ian's smile faded.
'Guess there's no point trying to sugar-coat it?'
'No.'
Ian scratched his brow and stared off into the table. 'She's my… girlfriend.'
Silence fell between the two men. The whiskey in Matthew's hand remained motionless.
'What are you going to do about it?'
Ian didn't even look up. 'Break up with her, I guess?'
'You guess.'
The merc's head snapped up. 'What's wrong with you? It isn't like you to act this way.'
Matthew stared back at him, feeling completely disoriented, like he wasn't even here, like he didn't even exist until that moment, his memories and feeling of self completely shrouded. He put the whiskey back on the table, untouched. 'I could ask you the same thing.'
He stood up and walked into a bunk room and fell on a random bed. He was almost asleep when he heard someone come in and sit next to him.
'What did he say?' He heard Tabitha ask.
Many possible answers to that question went through Matthew's head at that moment and the one he chose was not one of those but an answer formed at the same time it was vocalized, 'Shit.'
The Hub
2161-01-03 2:37 PM
The small yard behind the Crimson Caravans office was nothing but a collection of clutter, bordered by the dirty crumbling walls of the old buildings. The windows were covered with rags, obviously the homes of the poor. Alas, the yard was quiet, and as Matthew sat there on a barely standing bench with Dogmeat sleeping peacefully on the ground by his feet he couldn't help but think that this was the most lonesome place in the world, just like his life right now.
Sleep wasn't any good for his mood. He was shocked into a complete apathy before, but after sleeping it off he only felt tired, scared and alone. He could've ran to Ian, Tabitha, and Tycho for help, but he couldn't. If he did, he would've admitted he was worthless, so that was out of the question as well. That was probably a mistake, and he knew it. Besides, things between Ian and Tabitha are about to go to Shit Town. There was simply nowhere to run to.
He could just embrace it, though. Tabitha would tell him to. He could just kill Daren and become baptised as a wastelander, he would take his first step in becoming something in this barren ghost of a world. Besides, that was the only sensible thing to do. What is the life of that one man, a stranger, compared to the population of Vault 13? One would die for many. That was the rational way to go. It wouldn't be Matthew's whim, it would be… destiny, Daren's destiny to die for the people of the vault with Matthew not as the killer but rather as a tool of destiny, a representative of the Vault. Just that, a tool of his quest and his people. It wouldn't be on his conscience, it would be on the collective conscience of Vault 13, the unfeeling entity… right?
'Quiet, isn't it?' He heard someone speak behind him. The girl he met the first time he was here, Keri, suddenly appeared in the yard and sat down beside him.
'Just peace and rubbish.' The girl continued. 'Only old folk and women come here, unless the house it too packed with drunks, in which case they don't come here for quiet.' She motioned at the empty bottles of booze that lay in the yard. 'Thus the name, Old Woman's Garden.'
'You're thinking, then?' She started once again since Matthew remained quiet.
'Trying to.' He finally replied quietly.
'Good.' The woman complimented. 'Good to see some people actually think these days.'
'Don't the others?' Matthew pursued without interest.
'As I said, old folk and women.'
'Well… that's sad.'
Silence fell between the two.
'What're you thinking about?' She asked.
Matthew tried to think of a way to convey his troubles without disclosing too much. 'I'm sort of stuck. I… need something done but I don't know if I can do it…'
'Do it.' The woman replied evenly.
'What… You… don't even know what it is…'
The woman sighed, as if in irritation, but Matthew had already noticed that little of her actual emotion was ever visible. He actually doubted there ever was one.
'Not doing things is the problem with people these days.' She said, taking in the sight of rubbish in the yard. 'They need things done but simply cannot do them, they just wait for it to be delivered while they sit around and make excuses. That's all I ever hear from people: excuses. Nothing ever moves forward because people are too damn dumb or cowardly to act. That's why we're stuck here in a huge pile of wasteland shit instead moving forward eighty years after the bombs fell.'
Matthew sat hunched, looking at his hands. 'What if the thing I need to do is cold-blooded murder?'
She looked at him. 'And what will you achieve in result?'
'Save over a thousand people from certain death.'
She thought for a moment. 'Are you sure that both deaths are really certain and there's no other way?'
'Yeah,' he nodded, still looking down, 'their time is running out and the thing I need to save them is nowhere even in my sight.'
'Do it, then.' She shrugged, staring off into nothing in particular again. 'It might sound mean but a thousand lives is worth more than one.'
Matthew sat silent, trying his best to squeeze out the words, 'I don't want to be a murderer.'
She looked at him again and he couldn't bear to look at her.
'Do you want to let a thousand people die instead?'
He shook his head.
'Besides,' she continued, 'you can keep silent about the nature of your trouble but as I understand they sent you out to get whatever they need to keep surviving so it's not that you're doing the killing. A higher purpose is doing that.'
Had he heard someone talk like that back in the vault he would've been concerned, but right now it sounded more like someone was reading his thoughts exactly. He failed to feel concerned about it.
'Thanks.' He nodded, still looking down.
'You're welcome.' She replied plainly. 'Anything to get things moving.'
She patted him on the shoulder and walked back inside, leaving him to his grim thoughts.
Evelyn turned over on the small dirty bed she found herself in. The whole room reeked of dust and mould, and barely any sunlight got through the 'curtains' of the room, which were nothing more than a pile of tattered rags put one on the other and then hung crudely above the window. Her hand slowly trailed down her right leg until the fingers felt the bandage. She touched the bandage softly, wincing after most of these touches. She finally stopped and let her hands drop by her sides. It was her fourth day in the bed now, and she felt like complaining to every living soul that entered her small room. Though she didn't feel she had the right to: these people took her in and took care of her. Besides, Mark in the other room had a matching bullet wound on his left leg, and his has festered, which was unsurprising given the sanitary conditions of this place.
Slowly, she reached into her backpack and retrieved her Pip-boy, her probably most valued belonging, and started scrolling though the files until she found what she was looking for. A picture of Matthew.
She smiled.
It was a shame that she had to hack into the vault's resident listings to find such a trivial piece of her beloved. Not that such things mattered in a cooped-up community, but now she was glad she did. Her fingers ran down the monitor where her lover's cheek was displayed and her smile broadened.
'Matthew.' She mouthed, smiling. 'Matthew' She kept repeating the name until the power off and put down the device, rolled on her other side and fell asleep.
Almost a bottle into Tabitha's surprisingly abandoned whisky supplies Matthew finally remembered to remove his Pip-boy - something he should've done days ago. It was a chore to do that, but once it was off of his hand the man felt lighter and truly free. It was the last bit of vault he had and he would've cast the thing away if it wasn't so damn useful.
'You're useless now that I'm trapped here.' He stated to the machine. It didn't respond.
He was about to put it down until he remembered he had a picture of Evelyn somewhere in it. It took him a while to find it, and once he did, he was almost surprised he wasn't overcome with melancholy from looking into her face. Truth be told he felt maybe slightly sentimental, like he was glimpsing upon a random piece of his past. She was pretty, she always was and always will be, but now she was miles away, both literally and figuratively.
He powered down the Pip-boy and threw into his pack absent-mindedly as he finished the bottle and lied down on his bed. Dogmeat woke up, climbed into the bed, and made himself comfortable beside its master. Matthew stroke its back slowly until he drifted off to sleep, thinking that the dog was much dearer to him than that old heavy machine.