HIGHWAY BUTCHERY BY DESERT RANGER CARACAL. EDITED BY KOKU.
LOCATION: THE ROAD LEADING TO NIPTON.
DATE: JULY 19TH 2273.
TIME: 3:30PM.
TEMPURATURE: 93°F OR 34°C.
The long roads of the Mojave leading from town to town were always the reason for high turnout of Caravan guards, as the dangers involved put off and sometimes killed a lot of the newbies involved. From the smallest gecko to the most aggressive deathclaw it was hell outside if you weren't prepared.
The heat was immense and sometimes even felt like it baked the people there. To wander outdoors was a death sentence if you didn't pack the water needed to keep yourself hydrated, as food was something you could live without for about a month, but to come out here without the needed hydration would kill you in a day or two.
Joseph however wasn't foolish enough as he had himself an intended path from Primm to Nipton, and he had recently stopped off in the abandoned police station to check his 12 gauge pump gun and see how long the path would be now. By his estimates he'd be in Nipton by 4:00 PM if he kept the planned path up, so a break here was not going to be a danger to him at all. After a quick snack and piss after a fast inspection, Joseph reloaded his shotgun and slung it on his back. Soon after he exited the decrepit police station and resumed his journey to Nipton.
The deserts here were surprisingly, strangely beautiful, though he still longed for the gardens and fields of his home. Regardless he wasn't going to return there for some time and he knew it would only be due to dire causes. He didn't wish to get a Vault Dweller's welcome by sheer mistake, and wandering the Mojave was beautiful regardless so he could continue being a freelancer as long as he needed.
Eventually he hit the intersection leading to the Mojave Outpost and Nipton, and with a scowl at the statue that he hated so much, turned foot to Nipton and began walking there instead. The caracal briefly admired the dry lakebed that was rumored to have some old treasure, and confirmed to have a solid lot of ants in there, before his eyes took notice of the nearby ruins of the pit stop. The caracal thought it was empty for just a bit till he saw a glint of metal. Shit. Joseph began running to his left immediately as a bullet came screaming at him while he unslung his shotgun.
It was goddamn Jackals, and they were here to tear at his ass by the looks of things. The fuckers seemed to number 6 in total, four humans, a fox and a wolf. Fucking great, well now he had a chance to turn in some loot for sale. Joseph turned the safety off with a thumb flick and aimed as he fired two shots after stopping near the wall, hitting two of the jackals with ease as 00 buckshot sent them crumpling onto the ground.
The others seemed to respond with fear as they dove away from the caracal, who quickly took advantage of his cover as he fired four more shots, killing three of them as a result. Two humans and the wolf were down for the count and the fox had been knocked out of the fight via buckshot destroying his right tibeia. Joseph hid behind the wall and put the buttstock up on his hip, grabbing all the shells he could from his ammo pouch. The ranger rapidly jammed them into his shotgun's magazine, before racking the pump and poking his head out from behind the wall.
Four shells in the gun and he didn't know if he got all the Jackals. A single shot that hit the wall several inches away from his headf told him no, and the caracal saw his target. A battered, horrified fox who clearly expected an easy kill, now standing in the bodies of his brethren while holding his gun in a paw that barely held onto it. his other paw holding onto the wall in an attempt to stay upright. Joseph's final shot killed the vulpine with a solid hit to the chest, the fox crumpling to the wall dead as he dropped his half broken 10MM.
Joseph reloaded his shotgun in full and swept the area, confirming all of them were dead as hell before he looted their corpses for all he could sell and use. He looted the mediocre armaments, ammunition and other scarce supplies of the Jackals who rolled snake eyes at the proverbial table.
Eventually at 4:11 PM he had arrived in Nipton, a place he never really trusted. A town of the desperate at best, a town of the untrustworthy at worst. The caracal made his way to the general store first and purchased himself a few supplies while selling what he looted, making a decent sum off of the sales. Some of the town's prized workers made some whistles and hollers at him, though he paid no mind to them. Joseph wasn't in the mood and he was not gonna buy services from Nipton anyways.
The ranger soon entered the hotel and made his way to the counter, where a bored looking Cheetah behind the counter soon sprung up and spoke.
"Afternoon sir! Are you here for a room?"
He said with as much false excitement as he could muster, clearly not wanting to sound like he would rather do FUCKING ANYTHING than this job.
Joseph could see through this paper thin facade and spoke calmly and simply.
"Yes, I'd like any room you have open for use, and I would like it for the week."
He said as he set down a bag of caps, which had the full amount for the week.
"O-oh of course, here!"
The cheetah said, taking the caps and handing the caracal a key to room 4.
"Thank you, oh, and here's something so you can have a night out, you look like you need one."
Joseph said, before taking a fair sized bag out of an inner trenchcoat pocket and placing it into the cheetah's paws, leaving the building to head for his room. The cheetah opened the bag up, and to his shock it was a bag of 50 caps, and a bottle of whiskey. The cheetah silently thanked the ranger before beginning to make plans in his head for the night.
The caracal walked to the building right behind the main hotel office, and opened the door to his room. The smell of must and a lack of occupancy took hold, and he could tell he was getting what he paid for here. The place was pretty bare, a couch backed against the wall, a table in front of it, a rug below it, a drawer backed against the other side of the wall and a bed in front of it. It also had a bathroom and the distinct vibe that the place hadn't been used in ten years at the least. Figures, well at least he had lighting and what appeared to be functioning plumbing.
Joseph sat on the couch and unslung his shotgun, unloading the old girl and putting the shells in his pouch, taking his gloves off before disassembling the old pump gun. The caracal thoroughly cleaned and dried up the insides of the shotgun where he could, cutting through the carbon as he essentially returned the pre war gun to the best state it could be. He didn't do the same for his revolver, the old iron may be a bit grimy but he didn't need to clean it so quickly. So he left it in the holster for the moment.
The ranger got up soon after and cleaned his paws with the water and a bar of soap he bought from a trader a year ago for 100 caps. Drying them off with the old hand towel nearby made him cringe from how dusty it was, but he was able to get his paws clean. Joseph returned to the couch and put his gloves on, before reloading the shotgun and slinging it on his back. He got up, and walked out of the room to see just what work he could find here. He didn't like Nipton, but finding work here was a breeze, so he was able to stand it just.
He made his way to the general store once more, passing the human shopkeeper who was busy looking over his past earnings for taxes, and walked to a board with various job postings on it, eyeing the various opportunities as he thought of just what to grab. Prostitution, gun for hire, bounties, another one of the goddamn mayor's incredibly stupid running for office advertisements about how a vote for his opponent was a vote for communism, and so on.
Eventually, Joseph found exactly what he was looking for, a caravan guard position that seemed to pay well. So he walked back to the counter and looked down at the old shopkeep, a 67 year old asian man named Ken who'd been running the shop as part of the family for at least 40 years.
When Joseph approached the old shopkeep, the elderly man looked back up at the ranger with a slight grin.
"Find a job, here to buy more ammo or just here to pester me with shitty offers for the shop?"
He asked, clearly having seen his fair share of bullshit from his life behind the counter.
The ranger chuckled a little before speaking.
"Thankfully I am here for a job, the guard position with Happy Trails Caravans."
He said, before the shopkeep looked up at the ranger, nodding slowly as he spoke.
"Ooooh, so you're looking for a position on the Salt Lake run, well from what I've heard they've been more receptive to mutants like you in recent years so I guess the job is within consideration. I can help you meet with Jed tomorrow for the position, so don't worry about missing on caps. In the meantime, care to buy some more supplies, or care for a game of Caravan?"
The old man asked, with Joseph shaking his head as he made his way to the door.
"Good on supplies, never was good at Caravan in the first place and I don't care to learn yet."
He said, waving the old man goodbye before leaving the general store, and making his way to the hotel once more to rest for tomorrow. The Salt Lake run would indeed be something he'd go on, that was for sure. He'd never like the spot, but he'd know it and its people, even if just on the outskirts before Salt Upon Wounds and his tribe cut passage off by burning New Canaan down and salting its earth.