Chapter 1: A day in the life of Mateo Pulcini

"Have you ever thought about NOT damaging the goods, Barry?!" An angry Italian's voice broke the room's silence, making Barry wince. "Goddammit, do you know how much we are behind this month? How will we produce 300 more Jet orders when we don't have the chems for it?!" An uncomfortable silence fell in the room again, urging Barry to respond sometime soon.

Barry's lip quivered as he fidgeted with his depleted brown hair, lost after becoming a ghoul many years ago. His skin was rough and patchy in shades of deep red like muscle tissue, the best looking like brown scar tissue. His brown eyes seemed bloodshot to hell and back due to his deformed look, radiation having cooked him to the bone long ago.

"I-I'm sorry, Boss. The package was alright when I received it, but I know where we can get more chems. Y'know, Louie? He's gotta bunch of the pre-war stuff, like, detergent." Barry informed his Boss. Sitting at his desk, his Boss stood up and looked Barry in the eye. His Boss, Mateo Pulcini, is one of the scariest men on this side of the Mojave. The deep green piercing eyes and black hair seemed to make him look like he was a born and raised mafia head ripped straight from an old film before the war. His black suit and black tie seemed only to complement his dark olive skin as he adjusted his tie.

"Okay, look, I'll explain this better for you. Barry, the goods you got were damaged, and now I have to make an example out of you. I don't want to hurt you because you've been with me since I started this gig. You've done everything I've asked of you, so I will need you to put on a brave face and take a beating. Okay? Just stay down when you get beat. I'll bring you a couple of wet rags and a Nuka Cola when it's over." The Boss nodded and walked toward the door.

"...I-I'll try my best next time, I-I swear," Barry whimpered, tears dripping from his scorched skin as he followed his Boss, "It's a promise, Mr. Pulcini, I s-swear."


Barry followed his Boss through the gloomy corridor, the rug-covered floorboards creaking beneath their steps. After a few minutes, they arrived in a lounge room fitted with a few chairs and sofas surrounding a stage platform. One would assume the stage was useful for announcements or party bands from the stand next to the raised area.

Mr. Pulcini stood in the center of the stage as he coughed in his fist to gather the audience's attention, dozens of his hired men, and lower associates. After his men had quieted down, they noticed a familiar ghoul standing beside the platform, hesitating to step aboard. All it took for Barry to move was the look he saw in his Boss's eyes when he glanced up at him for a fraction of a second.

"Greetings, gentleman. I suppose you may wonder why I have you gathered here today. Normally there are three reasons for gathering you here; an announcement of congratulations, board meetings, or a demonstration. Barry here is an asset like all of you, a very reliable one. As a business owner, I have to ensure all my assets are squared away, nice and proper. These assets have to make sure this company runs smoothly." Mr. Pulcini stated, letting an unvoiced question arise.

"Barry has let one thing slip. He received a package of damaged goods worth less than half the original order. While we can make up for it by purchasing or trading with another dealer to aid our business, this can't go unpunished. We have a reputation to uphold, and I wish none of you take that lightly. My family has run this business for the last 100 years. This mistake will not last." He informed the crowd, then glanced to Barry, who knelt and kept his eyes glued to the floor.

"It is with great shame and grief that I have to harm one of you, especially one who has worked with us far longer than a few decades." The Boss sighed, slipping a baton from his coat and into his hand and whispered, "Barry, keep your head covered." As Barry covered his head, he suffered blow after blow from Mr. Pulcini. Feeling his sides assaulted heavily, Barry could tell he would have more than enough bruises to remind him not to make the same mistake.

A few minutes passed as Mr. Pulcini stopped beating Barry, dropping the baton to the floor as he caught his breath. The audience in the room vacated when the Boss finished the demonstration—many grimacing or wincing at the beaten and broken ghoul. Barry lay crumpled to the floor, saliva flowing from his mouth as he twitched in pain. The look of pain and grief had settled on his face as he looked up at his Boss. Mr. Pulcini frowned as he made eye contact with Barry before he knelt and helped him stand up.

"Come on, let's get you a Nuka Cola. An ice-cold one from my fridge and some bandages."


Barry walked through a softly lit, wooden corridor, approaching a steel door at the end with a guard on either side. They both eye the ghoul for any ill intention, neither showing any lack of confidence in their stance. The one on the left, taller than the other and darker in complexion than most, spoke with a low but calm voice.

"I take it you're here to see Louie?" He asked, gaining a slight nod from the ghoul. He nodded in return and glanced at the guard on the right, who looked older and fairer skinned, using unspoken words to tell the man to stay here while guiding the ghoul inside. The hefty door creaked open, and the dark man had released the large door from its locked place to allow entrance to the ghoul. Barry stepped inside, wary of his surroundings as the next room was lit by very few neon lights, giving the room low blue and violet shades of color. The man closed the door behind them, then guided Barry along the corridor.

What was strange for Barry was how the room was slightly chilled, giving his near fully recovered bruises an incredible and relaxed feeling. He felt calmer now than he did in the past few days, still feeling the mental scarring from his punishment nearly a week prior. As the dark man noticed his Boss's guest relax, he turned and held out his hand.

"Normally, I would have searched you before letting you inside, but my Boss said he knew you wouldn't pull anything stupid. Although I believe you won't try anything, I should search you anyways to keep up the peace of mind for the rest of the employees." He stated, which got a nod from Barry once again. Barry lifted his arms and allowed the guard to search him, finding nothing but the small .32 revolver Barry used for self-protection. He gave it a once over, making sure it wasn't loaded or ready to fire, then stuffed it into one of his pockets. "I'll hand this back to you once the meeting is over, though I have to say, I expected you to have something a little more... impactful." The guard noted, to which Barry sighed.

"I don't like other guns as much. Small caliber revolvers have always been my go-to weapons, plus it was one of the first guns my dad gave me before the war." The guard noticed the tiny hitch in the ghoul's voice as he mentioned his father, then patted him on the shoulder as they walked around a corner. As they walked down the hall, the neon lights seemed to be replaced by the regular overhead fluorescent lights as they approached a set of dark oak double doors.

Inside the door, they could hear a radio playing relatively fast and harsh music. It was Louie's favorite type of music as it included screaming and heavy drumming, though it also sometimes contained long melodic rhythms and low bass guitars. Barry recognized it as a new type of music from northern California.

"That's Rock, er, Hard Rock... right?" He asked, unsure if that was the right genre. The guard nodded as he knocked on the door.

"Mr. Carlisle, your friend has arrived." He stated, then waited for the music to lower and got a positive reply from his Boss before opening the door. Barry had to blink to adjust his eyes to the new room, lit by a small lamp and a spinning color globe in the corner. Louie's metal desk was quite large, painted in a cacophony of colors to mimic his time being higher than a Vertibird when he took samples of his drugs. A large wall in the back housed several shelves containing many books and knickknacks. The table under those shelves had several chemistry sets and Bunsen burners, though one was for cooking up a small pot of stew for Louie to eat in a bit.

"Hey, hey, hey! Barry! Good to see you, man. Do you want a puff of some new stuff?" Said the man inside upon seeing Barry, his upbeat and always happy voice ringing with glee. Louie was a pale, white man with light grey hair. He was in his mid to late 20s, sporting a thin yet handsome look with his sleek jawline and welcoming round, green eyes. His teeth were all perfectly straight and white. The dimples in his cheeks could disarm anyone before they even drew negative thoughts. He seemed to be wearing a vested suit with a doctor's jacket instead of a suit jacket, complete with a stethoscope and pen in the pocket.

Barry smiled softly at Louie, then stepped across the ragged rug and sat in a spare wooden swivel chair in front of the desk.

"I'm fine, Lou. Thanks anyway." He said, relaxing into the padding of the chair. Louie shrugged and got a Sunset Sarsaparilla from inside a small refrigerator, setting it down in front of Barry.

"Well, here's a drink instead. You have to be thirsty for having to walk all the way here," Louie stated, which Barry nodded and sipped at the drink. The guard stood off to the side of the room so they could focus without him in view.

"Hey Lou, I'm here on business for Mr. Pulcini." Barry started, "So, um, here's the deal. We had a shipment from our previous dealer, which the shipment damaged. So we didn't even get half the product needed for the month. We could help each other by buying from you, sponsoring you to other companies, and maybe making our previous dealer get his buyers to move over to you. Effectively denting their reputation while yours only gains from it." Louie lifted his bi-focal glasses and hummed to himself, thinking profoundly or making it look like he was thinking deeply.

"Y'know, that would be a good idea to me, Barry. Though, I might have to ask a little more out of that, like protection for my runners. I don't exactly have the biggest and best armor and guns for my guys." Louie stated, which made Barry pause for a moment.

"Perhaps we can arrange for that, Lou. It kind of evens things out because we should protect those who help us. We can settle the payment with Mr. Pulcini later. So, are we in agreement?" Barry asked, holding out his hand to shake Louie's to seal the deal.

"That's a deal, Barry," Louie explained as he vigorously clasped his hand and shook it quickly.


Soon after some conversation and final goodbyes, Barry had been escorted out of Louie's company and back to the streets. He decided now was a good time to reload his revolver in an empty but clear alley so that he would be safe on his own. After holstering his potent weapon, he turned the cornerback to the main street and walked on with purpose. Most construction in Deadwood uses reclaimed wood or stone. After the bombs dropped, many destroyed buildings across the town were helpful in reconstruction. The city earned the name of Deadwood for the many dead, but sturdy trees adorned it.

The most prominent building to date was the town hall, as it was the first building to be reclaimed for the use of its small provisional leadership. However, being inside the NCR's territory meant they had one of their lackeys in the Mayor's seat. Taxes were something that Barry hated, not just because everyone had to pay a monthly or bi-monthly tax, but every item sold, or service bought had a tax on each account before and after the sale. Most people get taxed even before they get paid by their job. It enraged him, but not as much as the slavers or raiders that wanted to take everything for themselves. They were his number one hated thing in the world.

Barry shook his head and proceeded down the long walk to Mr. Pulcini's office building, which was once part of a major hotel chain before the war, though he couldn't quite place what name. Despite this, it was called Pulcini Inc., after his family name for the past hundred years. It had two wings used as offices and living quarters, while the back of the building, used to host a large pool, was cemented over and used as a storage room. Behind the large hotel were their distribution and security buildings, detached from the main building by open-air hallways. When Barry stepped into the courtyard in front of the hotel, he could see where the renovations took place and where fresh paint was on the walls.

As Barry walked up the main steps, he could see through the open door and into the very regal and expensive lobby. The paintings on the wall are from a post-war artist whose renditions matched DaVinci's painting styles. Barry always liked those, and it gave him a small hope for a peaceful future where he could retire and have an adoptive family. The thought soon vanished like an image of his father's last moments drew upon him and made him grimace, shaking his head as he walked the dark corridors.