Dust. Grime. Filth.
From the moment she'd set foot inside the supply shop, she wanted to sneeze. The whole room was badly cluttered—disorganized with anything and everything strewn around carelessly. Some supply shop, it was. The whole place just looked like a wreck. Standing on one wall, was a man, tall and not paying much attention to Ellie. He'd given her a quick and scrutinizing glare when she walked in, but nothing more. One other person fiddled around, sweeping and rearranging items, making an even bigger mess. The woman didn't seem phased by the vaultie's presence until Eleanor cleared her throat, trying to expel the dust that'd collected in her lungs.
"Oh! Hello there!" she piped. Her demeanor immediately annoyed the other girl. "What can I do for you, stranger? Oh! You're that kid from the vault everyone's been talking about!"
She already wished she had let the Overseer maim and kill her. If everyone was going to beat the whole "kid from the vault" thing to death, well, she'd rather spend an eternity burning up in the crematory.
"Yeah," she said quickly, slightly rolling her eyes. The other woman didn't notice, too tasked on examining everything about her.
"I haven't seen one of you in ages! It must be hard for you out here!"
"Sure."
"You know, I'm writing a book! It's about how to survive out in the Wasteland. Maybe you could give me something for a forward!"
Oh, fuck. She knew right then she was about to get tangled up into something she really didn't want to deal with.
"I'm Ellie."
"Right! I forgot to introduce myself. How stupid of me! Moira Brown. I'm pleased to meet you!"
Again, the tall girl rolled her eyes, now trying to make her annoyance known. And again, it didn't work. She simply stood by the door and watched as this clearly insane woman rounded up a scrap sheet of paper and pencil, eager to take notes.
"So! Tell me about yourself! What's it like living in one of those vaults?"
"Well—" Oh, this was great. She leaned on the counter, resting her chin in a cupped hand. "In all honesty, it's terrible. The light gave me headaches. The food is older than anythin' I've seen out here so far. The people are batshit crazy. They make ya go to work when ya turn ten. It's cold 'n' cramped. Everythin' smells like stale soap and antiseptic—"
"How terrible!" Moira interrupted. Ellie peered at her writing, large and sloppy letter scrolled across the paper. "But I guess it'll make for a great forward! Nothing wrong with letting people know to stay away from the vaults!"
"Sure. Hey, is that a vault suit up there?"
"That old thing? Some lady came through here a long time ago. She was like you. I told her I'd alter it for her, but she never came back. Poor girl must've died out there."
Ellie nodded, still eyeing in suspiciously.
"Why don't you take it. I'm sure she doesn't need it anymore!"
Caught off guard, the old suit had been tossed at her. She didn't want the thing, really, but the pauldron had caught her eye. She wouldn't say so, strangely not wanting to offend the other woman.
"Thanks, I guess," she mumbled, folding it up. "You don't have anythin' extra cheap here, do ya? I ain't got a lot of mo—caps right now."
She maybe had ten bottle caps on her person, scattered at the bottom of her bag. At least back in the vault, no matter how screwed up it had been, she didn't need to worry about buying food and water. Guns and ammunition weren't needed. Clothing was provided. She had a home. But now? Now she was alone. She had no one to help her. No one gave two shits about what became of her. This was one fucked up way to have to grow up and face reality.
Moira mumbled as she checked over what appeared to be a list of what she had in stock, nose twitching like a rabbit's. "Well . . . considering your situation, I'll give you a couple things free! But, you might want to try scavenging around for supplies until you can get on your feet."
Ellie blinked a few times, face void of all expression. The other woman scattered a few ammo clips and bottles of water on the counter. Fuck. She'd need to find a bigger bag.
"Scavenging? Where? How?"
"Sorry! Again! Whoops, I keep forgetting. You go out, and—look for stuff! Hm. You can check out the old Super-Duper Mart! It's not too far from here. If you travel East from here, you should find it with no problem!"
"Okay. Thanks."
Cramming what she'd been given into her bag proved difficult, as everything near spilled out. She had to force the buckle closed to keep the contents within. With that she left without another word. She then wondered where she'd sleep, bathe, brush her teeth—all of the small things she one had taken for granted. She felt hollow and lost. Daddy wasn't there to guide her. In the end, he wound up to be selfish, leaving her alone and in danger. She thought that he meant well up until she emerged from the tomb she once called home. What kind of father put their child in that much peril? With a huff, she decided it was time to pay this Moriarty a visit, and perhaps find a place to hunker down for the night, though it was not even noon.
Quick steps led her to the saloon. Not surprisingly, it was just a tad cleaner than Moira's shop, though it reeked of alcohol and smoke. Just her kind of place. Quietly, she observed a woman and some strange looking man bickering over a radio. Oh god, he didn't have a nose. What kind of shit went down in there? It took her a good while to notice how scarred and deformed he was: something she'd never seen before. With her interests peaked, she approached him cautiously.
"Excuse me," she mumbled. He didn't respond. He had no ears! She shook her head and looked past it all. "H—hello? Excuse me!"
The man jumped, and tried to play it off by turning to her and resting his forearms on the counter.
Ellie slid onto a barstool before speaking, bag clanking and smacking her leg with force. She winced, and proceeded to mirror the man's stance.
"What?" he asked, voice snippy and raspy. He must have taken her expression as disgust. "Ain't ever seen a ghoul before?"
"A—a what?"
"A ghoul."
"No? I can't say I know what you're talkin' 'bout."
He looked genuinely surprised, shocked even.
"Not all of us got to hole up in one of them cushy vaults when the bombs fell. Most of us look like rotting corpses now."
"O—oh."
"You really haven't seen a ghoul before?"
"No. I—I'm from a vault," she said, cringing as the words passed through her lips.
"And you're not gonna look at me funny? Make an asshole comment? Yell? Freak out?"
"I wasn't plannin' on it, no. I ain't got nothin' against ya."
She shrugged and sputtered, rubbing her arms.
Gob himself just stared at the girl, confused as all hell.
"You need a drink, smoothskin?"
"What?" she said, tilting her head. "Fuck, nevermind. Look, my dad came through here not too long ago. I was told he was up here talkin' to that Moriarty guy. Did ya see him?"
"Yeah, I think I did. But Moriarty would know more about it, especially if he talked to your dad. He should be out front. Can't really say much else. I'll have my ass handed to me."
"Fuck. Okay."
Eleanor had wanted to avoid contact with the man Simms had told her about, but now it seem like she had not choice. She stood, bag swinging around and tumbling into her leg once more. Flinging open the door, she quickly decided that she'd greet this man as though she knew him personally, to test the waters. As the bartender—Gob, as she overheard—said, he was standing right outside, chain-smoking himself into oblivion.
"Moriarty!" she near yelled, a hint of threat hidden in the word.
"Well, if it isn't the wee baby girl, all grown up!"
God damnit.
"What the fuck do you mean?"
No. She wasn't going to play nice.
"I remember when you were just a little thing, kickin' 'round in your daddy's arms."
"Cut the shit. If you know him, where the fuck is he?"
"Ah, I can't give you information without gettin' somethin' in return, now can I?"
Her eyes rolled, almost involuntarily. She could almost feel them bulging out of her skull.
"I swear on the fuckin' ground I walk on, if you don't tell me where the fuck he is I will burn your fuckin' shit hole to the ground."
"Easy there, lass," he stammered, backing himself to the railing he previously leaned against. "You do something for me, I'll do something for you."
"No, fuck you," she spat, cracking her knuckles as she did. A notable change occurred in the mans face, as she towered above him. He may have actually been scared. She really wasn't going to let up. "I ain't a fuckin' toy. Where the fuck is he?"
"He was here, yes, but now he's not. Simple as that. Now are ya gonna leave me alone?"
"No. Where is he. Tell me where the hell he went and I'll leave you alone. I'm not playing along with your bullshit games."
"Said somethin 'bout goin' into the ruins t' find that diskjockey Three Dog," he replied, nodding over in the general direction. "He clearly didn't raise ya all too well if your talkin' to an old man like ya are."
"No, the selfish piece of shit didn't. Thank you, and goodbye."
She turned on her heel and stomped away, feeling both accomplished and defeated. She'd scored another lead, but was nowhere near to finding her father. Her pace slowing, she walked down the edge of the crater, looking for anywhere to go. She thought of that two-headed cow, and made her way toward the beast, sitting yards from it in the dirt, but close enough to actually examine it. The thing had no hair, replaced with a thick, ruddy hide. Tumors covered the skin, bubbling and filled with greenish-yellow liquid. She assumed she should've been shocked by it, but she oddly wasn't. The beast looked—down—for lack of a better word. How she found common ground with an animal was beyond her, but that common ground was there. She felt like livestock, wallowing in pity for herself. But it had food and water and a place to sleep and someone to care for it. She had—nothing, beside what Moira had given her. Maybe the crazy lady wasn't all that bad.
Humbled by a fucking cow—cows.