At least a mile east, Nipton was still a wreck as it was before, wasn't looking any fresher. Further, into the town, the Powder Gangers were still crucified with the Legion nowhere in sight. David stopped by the unyielding tire fire in the middle of the town's intersection, the crackling flames coated the town's occupants and charred them beyond identification.

The strength of his smell made it hard for him to stay around burning bodies too long, the odour of burning meat is better than rotten zombie meat, but that wasn't the point. Tactical yes, though the smell and smoke were sickening to the stomach.

The sounds of footsteps were heard over the crackling fire, listening that someone was watching him. It was near impossible to avoid David's enhanced perception; whoever it was skulking around behind him made a good job doing it, though it wasn't enough to elude him completely. David turned around.

Behind him were three legionaries, one of which was wearing a wolf head hide helmet with some quality tinted goggles; he was packing a pressing expression upon his face. From David's point of view, the legionary was light complexion, mid-thirties and sported a grim look, yet seemed calm with modest. The legionary asserted his role over the other legionaries and addressed David with strong words that sounded very convincing.

"Did you honestly think we'd never see you here, young man? You were wise to leave when you did yesterday when I saw you spying on our activities. Not bad, I do say so myself."

David felt uncomfortable and wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. "I'm not looking to get crucified. I just got here; I don't know anything…"

"Don't worry; we won't lash you on a cross like those degenerates."

David held his chest and took a long breath, "Thank God. Who are you?"

"I am Vulpes Inculta – leader of the Frumentarii."

David felt a dry mouth coming on, drying up his scattered voice, "What do you want from me?" The man was obviously from the Legion. The way he smelled and looked just spelt raping savages, a perfect embodiment of their disgusting faction.

"Only to witness the fate of Nipton, to memorise every detail. Nipton was only a message, a message I want you to pass to the people of the Mojave... especially any N.C.R. troops you come across. The Legion will teach the N.C.R. a lesson, and this is their invitation."

I got to get this guy outta my face, quick! His soothing voice is raping my mind! David's eyes widened from dilation, the calm demeanour of Vulpes' tone bored its way into his head. "Yes, sir," he stuttered.

Vulpes gave off his best smile, one not many people sought, doing so hurt his cruel nature. "Good… good. I bid you a 'Vale' - until we meet again. You may leave."

David had to get away from the doghead guy as quickly as possible, without drawing any attention. He slowly walked away then brought up the speed to a power walk – good thing he was a fast walker. Vulpes and his Legion cronies watched on his weakest if not pathetic escape out of the settlement.

A billboard. Welcome to Nevada, the Silver State, resting on the road out of Nipton didn't make much sense or didn't even matter, but it was just lovely to be on the right track on 164 Nevada.

With himself out of sight from the Legion David took a relaxed breath and strolled on the entire road on his accord, of course, it might be dangerous, but in this modern world, it's surprisingly less so compared to his.

Retaining the normal basic firearm handling, it was all in the reflexes to stay alive. Keep your sidearm handy and be the first one to shoot; it is a fair game after all until you die. That would be a shame.

Up the road were vehicle wrecks, the first one in the way was a cargo truck with its rear open to pick from. From tiny amounts of ammo which was nice but nothing to boast about, though a wooden crate with a bottle of soda inside was a real treat; flat and warm to the touch sadly.

The Sunset Sarsaparilla was a damn fine root beer, full of sugary goodness, David was craving a sweet tooth for some time now, and he mixed some whiskey into the bottle and drank it while he searched the other vehicles. It took only seconds to find absolutely jack shit with nothing of interest from the decaying wrecks. Anything moderately useful was gone.

A raider started firing at David from the hills with an automatic, rather ineffective it was with the bullets just breaking upon his armour's impact; the problem was that even more raiders quickly surrounded him. All around on the hills and sides, they just appeared out of nowhere and had a higher ground advantage.

David honed his awareness on the raiders' locations, armour and weaponry. The one behind him on the hill wasn't armoured and had an automatic; she had a terrible aim. A raider opposite him on top of another hill was their leader with metal armour, and a .357 Magnum repeater.

A raider next to her had light armour, and a 10mm pistol and the last raider shifted around the corner ahead with a sledgehammer, and he had no armour equipped. Seconds after figuring the odds all of the raiders fixed on him, with the one with the sledgehammer coming at him first.

The raider swung his hammer towards David's face like an amateur, so clumsy without any regard for balance. Naturally, he twisted under and behind the raider, who had too much velocity and darted forward.

As he was just about to finish the last drop of his whiskey mixer, the raider's leader destroyed the bottle with a single well-placed shot. The one shot that was destined to end his life struck his alcoholic beverage instead. Alcohol saved his life.

With a snarling glare, David locked eyes with the scabby looking bitch before relocating his focus on the bastard swinging around the hammer. With the raider swinging the hammer down near David's feet, near missing his head, David had to remove it from the raider's grasp. A second swing came forth at David's face, but a well-timed parry separated it from the man's clutches.

There wasn't much retaliation coming from his buddies on the hills, just seemed to enjoy watching the idiot get his ass beat. David soon spoiled their entertainment by using their idiot as a human shield and facing them with his Browning HP; the very instant she put away her rifle. They didn't care about their allies in the slightest. Jerks. Bullets began to fire.

At the time David began exchanging shots with the woman on the front hill, the one on the hill behind was peppering his entire backside with gunfire, even though his human shield died in the crossfire, David felt like he had a good thing going on.

The back portion of his combat armour was a weak point; it was strong enough to break any small calibre gunfire to a slight tickle. Handgun rounds were no exception.

An explosion detonated as David's feet, knocking him down on his back and losing his shield advantage. He felt a shredding pain from the jagged shrapnel, tearing through the kevlar between the plating of his armour. Blood seeped through the fabrics, and all sense of his right leg was gone, that was hardly a problem.

He reloaded his Browning HP and aimed the raider behind him on the hill. The first round was a warning shot; the second nailed the bitch right in the eye. He never expected to kill her that quick. Didn't even try to kill him when he was down, lost a good opportunity there.

The leader and the other raider were out of sight by the time David got back on his feet to survey the area. He needed to switch to his M16 for the extra range to keep an eye out for her. The very instant the leader popped her head out from a covering boulder David fired at her, but not as quickly as she fired her grenade launcher.

The single 5.56mm round David discharged skimmed the 40mm grenade the leader fired, diverting the angle to detonate behind David. His entire back and body were consumed in flames as napalm covered his person, even his armour couldn't help him. His armour's threshold had its limits and caught alight.

He dropped his rifle at his feet and did everything he could to pat down the flames. After full seconds of patting the flames were extinguished, but the sudden aflame put David into a real blistering fury as he raged in his pursuit of the leader by the hill. "Fucking delinquent!" he shouted, "Trying to set me on fire!" He forcefully threw his voice in an attempt to strike fear.

The moment she went to finish him off, David gunned her down with his swift Browning HP's quick draw. Two quick shots to her face and she died in an instant, David's sudden outburst ceased over the time her corpse rolled down the cliff. Her body mangled before him. "Congratulations, you killed yourself!"

David went to the corpse to see what she had on her. Apart from a new .357 Magnum repeater to add to his arsenal, there was nothing of value on her person, a scribbled note in her pocket was exciting. Young merc: mid-twenties, Caucasian, blue combat armour, high threat. Ambush? It was a hit list, they weren't wrong about the details but who put a hit on him this early out in the wastes? He's already kicking asses and taking names.

Hurt badly around his right leg from the grenade, David couldn't stop the bleeding without medical help; the leg was critically wounded. Riddled with shrapnel, and bled like a meat sack from the open artery. And from that, he lost all feeling in his strongest leg, forcing him to drag it along up the hillside like dead weight.

Wasn't noticeable during the heat of a fight, easy to forget when you're dragging along a dead limb. Beyond the horizon, a ranch that was most likely a small decent farmstead back in its heydey is now a long-abandoned farm with nothing of interest.

Though a little hut proved to be just out of place enough for David to fix up his leg, a medipak he had in his rear pocket from 2021 still had the equipment to pry out stray bullets, shrapnel and similar ailments. He just needed a place to sit in peace and go to work. A small farmhouse at the top of a small hill was promising to do this.

The wooden shack wasn't much, one room with a stove, some lockers and a bed. The bed tidy enough for David to sit on to tend to his bum leg. In his medipak were the perfect tools to remove the fragmented scraps in his leg.

Tiny pieces of metal were embedded snugly into the tender meat. Using some forceps and some good whiskey to sterilise the wound, it wasn't tough to remove the large pieces of shrapnel crippling his movement. Spiteful it was to let the blood gush out of his lacerations, the artery damage was out of his control. He needed a particular type of precision - one of which he lacked.

Being more of an exploiter of body damage in combat or social events, when it came to actual internal damage it wasn't a high point of his, all David could do is use the first-aid spray and clean the wounds with some dry patches and bandages.

With a shot of morphine for good measure, David sprung back on his feet with all the movement feeling better than ever. Was numbing but safe to walk on. His metabolism can fend for itself, so he walked it off.

The I-15 or Highway 95, whatever road it was it was the longest route to Vegas, arguably safer in comparison. David will never trust collapsed billboards ever again; two legionaries were skulking behind one far down the north road towards Novac.

With light black armour and .357 repeaters they didn't pose much at first, the last thing David needed was a fight with his bum leg out of action. David took a hard turn off-road northeast, trying to act natural than to limp around looking suspicious around the legionaries. David wanted to avoid raising his notoriety level.

Old train tracks along the small complex, outside a signpost, stated it was N.C.R. Ranger Station Charlie, there was no one in sight. Though David fixed up his leg very well, still walking with no blood loss, the grinding pain was nothing less than irritating.

Could cause some severe damage if left untreated, crippled speed is one thing, but amputation is not fun at all. His leg was still okay, though, got most of the shrapnel out of the flesh. A doctor would be helpful.

Following the tracks, nearly a mile off, civilisation was in an eyeshot, a tiny town as small as Goodsprings. Maybe lower than the fair town but only Novac has a large T-Rex statue that uniquely sticks out above the rest, how else did David find Novac if it wasn't for that dinosaur. The sign outside the quiet town said NO VACANCY, makes sense.

Without the A, N, C and Y, the sign just said NO VAC – Novac. No saloon here, though it had an apartment complex opposite the gift shop with plenty of grateful people around, the place was a sure thing. What troubled David was the fifty-foot green T-Rex masquerading as the town's gift shop?

Just a statue and harmless as fuck, it brought back some bad memories of Mag Agent Torture from 2021 during Operation: Beverly Hills. That towering behemoth was over fifty or so feet in height and was so close to ending Beverly Hills. Despite the enormous size of the beast, it was only the second worse B.O.W. David ever faced.

That was a dreadful experience itself; the entire operation was a living hell. The Tyrant virus leaked and contaminated the city streets; armed forces attacked the high school and forcefully evicted people from their homes.

The people that weren't infected ran for their lives, avoiding the streets completely. Then there was Mag Agent Torture. There wasn't much of Beverly after he arrived. Enough about that, that was then, this is now.

The gift shop was minuscule, tidy and had many trinkets and souvenirs placed neatly on a few shelves opposite the counter. Behind the counter was a friendly, balding, African-American man, mid-thirty or so. He noticed David was new and didn't hesitate to prey on him right away as any good clerk does.

"Welcome to the Dino Bite gift shop. My name's Cliff Briscoe, and this is my store. How can I help you?"

David shook his head and sighed. "What do you sell here, exactly?"

"Glad you asked sir. What I sell here is an array of general goods, although I take great pride in the sale of the T-Rex figurines. Just in time too, there's still some left. How many can I interest you with?"

"T-Rex figurines?"

"That's my bread and butter, sells like snack cakes. I also have an assortment of the REPCONN factory souvenirs – rockets, things like that nature."

"What about guns and ammo?"

"Guns? I, uh, well… Yeah, I sell guns and ammo." Cliff sighed, but still kept his disappointment behind his smile, "People don't buy the T-Rexes like they used to. Doesn't matter just glad to help the people."

"Another day, Cliff, another day. Can I see what you got for sale?"

"Take a look."

David bought 20 gauge slugs and buckshot for an excellent price, just a single cap for a shell – probably because they're shit, the bore was lower quality and size. He had plenty of ammunition in reserve after buying some cartridges for his Model; every weapon served a purpose — shotgun, rifle and explosives.

On his way out, David bumped into another man, just glared at David. "Watch where you're going, kid!" he harshly snapped with a scowl.

"Pardon me, sir. I don't want any trouble."

The other man just mumbled under his breath and headed straight upstairs. David muttered to himself, mostly around the man being a prick. He wasn't subtle; the man heard David clearly and unslung his bolt-action rifle from his shoulder sling and aimed at him.

David had already pulled out his Model from his back and stood off with each other. The man was shaved with thick sunglasses on, apart from his red beret which hid his baldness. In fatigues he was a soldier of sorts like N.C.R., being mid-twenty, and relatively gruff. David didn't want to piss him off any more than he needs to. He had to fold before things escalated.

"Got something to say to my face kid?"

David felt like the bigger man and withdrawn his Model back into the open space between the armour plates on his back. "Is an apology is out of the question?"

The man mumbled and slung his rifle back over his shoulder. "You're not worth the ammo anyway." He then went on upstairs.

David's trigger finger felt itchy, due to the man's recent insult, but he took short breaths to calm himself. "Jeez! What's his problem?"

Cliff came out from hiding behind his counter. He wasn't scared, just in cover. "You don't want to go around pissin' Boone off like that newcomer."

"Boone?"

"Craig Boone. He's not the nicest guy around, we know, though he means well for Novac's safety."

"Yeah… I'm the new guy. Sorry about that."

"He can be a stubborn man, give him time. With his loss and all, I'm not surprised…"

"What loss?"

"His wife left him a while back. Poor guy has never been the same since."

To be honest, Sam leaving me would mess me up as well, David thought with weary eyes. David headed upstairs after Boone and was stopped by Cliff.

"Where are you going?" Cliff asked.

"I'm gonna talk to him."

Upstairs Craig was just watching the town's main road, from north to southwest. It would seem like he's focusing internally on the road like a hawk, probably to drown out the real world, or to something he holds to himself. He heard David come in, this time he was a bit calmer than their last encounter; even if he didn't even face David back.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people kid, especially me. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to apologise for my rash behaviour downstairs."

"Least you got stones, I'll give you that."

"Craig Boone, is it?"

Boone finally faced David "I'm busy here, make it quick," he said less harshly.

"I'm just here to apologise. Other than that there's no other particular reason why I'm up here."

"I that case I think you should leave."

"Jeez, do you treat everyone around here like this? I'm just trying to say I'm sorry."

"You must be new to Novac."

"Yeah, I'm the new guy. Why do you ask?"

"I need someone to help a personal matter. You're a stranger. That's a start."

"What could you possibly want from me?"

"I need someone to investigate around town about my wife; was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch up here. They knew when to come and what path to take, and they only took my wife, – Carla. Someone set it up; I need to know who."

"You want me to find her?"

Boone snarled. "My wife's dead. I want the bastard who set her up."

"Okay. I'll investigate what I can, but if I find anything, what do you want me to do?"

"Bring them out front of the nest here during; I work nights." Boone handed David his red beret. It was made of silk and felt like it was brand new.

"This beret will be our signal, so I know you got the bastard. I'll take care of the rest from there; I owe Carla that much."

"How can you be sure the culprit is still here?"

"I know everyone in Novac. If anyone suddenly leaves town, it'll make it easy for me to single them out. That's why I chose you as a stranger to help me. So can you?"

"I'll do everything I can, Mr Boone."

"Thanks. I'll make it worth your time. Until the job is over, we should never speak again. No one in town knows I know what happened; I pretend to believe Carla' left me'. Best no one ever knows; otherwise, they'll be after me next. I'm trusting you here, stranger."

"I'll see you tonight then."

"I hope so."

Just like that David's little adventure to Vegas went from a simple journey to an investigation of a missing person case. With little experience in handling cases like these, David had to start at the bottom, even being in S.T.A.R.S., David didn't care for the paperwork.

Any proper investigation calls for the questioning of key individuals on their alibis; he started with Cliff Briscoe downstairs. Cliff had just finished polishing his tidy counter before addressing David, with a smile.

"Welcome back. Can I get you anything?"

"What can you tell me about Boone's wife?

"Guess you did talk to him. Well, we never really spoke much. Boone was the one who'd do most of the buying around here. One time she was in the store alone but didn't stay very long. Had a disgusted face the entire time, like she smelt something foul. As far as I can remember, the gift shop smells fine… It is my pride and joy."

"Thanks for your input, Cliff." David nodded. "That's good to know." He left the gift shop.

Cliff was instantly confused with the sudden questioning. David heads upstairs and comes back down to question him; something was off. "Come back soon…" he said to himself, now alone in his disappointment.

Carla Boone sounded like she was from some higher class heritage and might be from a well-kept family that hardly talks, even to loved ones. Not fully ruling out as a suspect, Cliff Briscoe was as harmless as he looked, just not plausible. There was a whole town of key people to investigate, many more stories to put to question.

Outside the gift shop was the apartment complex, a man in the similar clothing of Boone was seen coming towards the gift shop, looked N.C.R. also. He was calm, relaxed and spoke his mind once David stood by him. Like his cousin, he looked like a stoner and was far too comfortable for the occasion.

"What's going on, man?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Manny Vargas, security detail."

"Security detail? Then you must know Boone."

"Yeah, I know him, we worked together a long time in the N.C.R. We settled down here for a while now. I'd introduce you, but uh… We're not so tight right now."

"Why?"

"I couldn't put up with his wife, Carla. Never saw eye-to-eye on most things, leading to long arguments. One day she went missing, and he hasn't said a word to me since."

"Shit, that's horrible. What did you argue about?"

"Why do you care? Who are you?"

"Uhm… I'm a private investigator. Detective Inspector Me's the name," David lied.

"Inspector who?"

"Me."

"You?"

"No… Me. Carla's parents hired me to investigate her disappearance. Is there any information you can give me about your relationship with her?"

"For a start, I grew up bad to the bone like my other cousins; we were some bad eggs. Got in a gang, loved it. Then something happened in the time during, and from there I just couldn't take it anymore. So I enlisted in the N.C.R., created a future and brought my best friend to share it with. Then there was this woman – Carla. She was too good for this place and was planning on taking him away to Vegas. Never really understood what he saw in her…"

"Sounded like you never liked her. Did you have anything to do with her leaving?"

"Never cared for her. When I heard Carla was gone, I felt like I owed someone big time. I figured Boone would come around and let her go, but he hasn't. If she left him, I don't know what to do, he really cared for her, and I just don't know what to do. I never felt so insensitive. If he doesn't find the truth, things will never be the same."

David frowned. "Some people find it hard to let go." He folded his arms and looked around nervously. "Love can do that to a man, break them down to snivelling little wrecks. Make or break them, that's what I'd say. Who'd benefit most with her leaving?"

"Pretty much, everybody. That girl didn't have one friend in this whole town, only Boone. Just stayed in her room all day moping, she'd only leave to be rude to everyone. You wouldn't have liked her."

"She does sound like a bitch. Shame… I suppose I'm holding you up, we all got things to do. Goodbye, Manny."

"Yeah. See you later, dude."

Wanting Carla dead or having her leave is a huge matter of convenience for Manny, couldn't wait for her to leave on her free will without taking Boone. Manny would have to do that on his own terms. No solid proof, though, just a motive, but that's all it takes these days. Can't just confront him over speculation that would seem suspicious. David headed to the apartment complex reception centre.

The reception was a small room with nothing important, just furniture and vending machines that barely worked. Dusty and hardly well-kept to any decent expectations. A woman in her late-thirties with prescription reading glasses glared at David's slightest movements, shortly after he entered.

"Welcome to Novac. You look tired, son. How about you relax and let this little town take care of you?"

"I'm new here ma'am."

"Oh my, you are new here. Pardon me; my name is Jeannie May Crawford; I take care of the folks here at the hotel. Don't be a troublemaker and have a pleasant stay."

"I recently bumped into that Boone at the gift shop, and he was acting all rude. What's the problem with that guy? He just started on me for no reason."

"That sounds like typical Craig. His problem is that he lost his wife not too long ago, poor dear. I know he thinks she got kidnapped, but I'm sure she got tired of waiting and just got up and left on her own. Ever since she arrived, all she wanted to do was to leave for Vegas. Could never tie her down."

"She sounded nice…" David leant on the reception desk. "Tell me about her."

"She was easy on the eyes but not on the touch, couldn't get close to her; her attitude just wouldn't allow it, only had eyes for Boone at the time. She never grew on this place, wanted the big lights of Vegas, to party live the rich life. Tried to take Boone with her, must've got tired of waiting for him one day and just left him."

"Damn… What a shame. Certainly took a load off my mind. Guess that's all then. Cheerio ma'am."

"Don't be a stranger now." David left the apartment reception.

David went to a small public canteen a little further out of town, just for a place to eat and rest. Jeannie's statement wasn't enough to confirm any culprits at this point, due to the lack of evidence, there were no real culprits or motives.

It was harder than he thought, especially when every key person disliked the victim; they were all suspects. Back in the department, he'd see his cousin Joshua handle these sorts of cases in his sleep; they were that easy to him. With his I.Q. tipping over two hundred compared to his one-twenty or thirty, he just didn't have the mental capacity to sit behind a desk and solve cases like Josh used to.

When David crossed a corner pathway towards the canteen an elderly man walked into him, he had a great big bushy beard and wasn't alright upstairs, a tiny bit senile. Mostly mumbling, muttering and rambling about spies, he was quick to question David with a dire sense of paranoia heaving over his sickly gruff voice.

"Who sent you? I don't know anything by gum."

"I don't mean any harm…"

"We'll see about that. You come any closer, and I'll jab you in the gums with my stickin' knife."

David took a step back and threw his voice a bit further to the old man. "We'll talk from here then!"

"You sure? It's hard to hear you there sonny."

David placed his head in his hands in frustration. "Aaargh! My fuckin' life!"

"Okay. Just come on up a little closer. Not too much, though, they got spies all over."

David stepped closer to the old man. "What do you know about the abduction of Carla Boone?"

"Seen it all. One night shadowy folk skulked into town, saw one go into the lobby too. Could be to use the john or to take something, mighty interesting if you ask me."

"What did they look like?"

"Cannibals, they came to eat us! I kept out of sight, I know better."

Cannibals? Like, zombies? This can't be right. David choked. "Who were they?"

"Molerat men. They come up from the underground to steal our women with promises of riches and fancy mud mansions with all the designer appliances."

David threw his arms in the air and stared at the Old man with a slumped posture. "No shit, really?"

"There was a tank as well! Rolling down the path with an army of giant ducklings, all sent from the moon. It was all under government control of the Commonwealth. Stealing our hair for wigs to sell it to our children."

"Okay, this is clearly a waste of my time, and it's getting ridiculous."

David left without another word to the crazy old man. He had lost his sanity long before his birth, that was putting it lightly. It turns out senile was an understatement for the old man, what these "molerat men" looked like wasn't necessary.

Never did like old people too much. But how he described the night it happened, one of these shadowy figures went into the lobby – the same types that most likely took Carla. David chose to investigate the room after hours, Jeannie probably wouldn't like him turning the place upside down for shadowy figures. She'd never believe him.

Before questioning more people, David sat at the canteen to finish the rest of his lunchbox's contents, and to wait for Jeannie to leave the lobby. Mmmmm, cold instant mash for lunch. He sighed. "I miss Charles' Takeaway…"