A/N: [Insert basic Author's note to avoid Copyright infringement]
The door creaked open as the life from outside overtook every nook and cranny of the first floor of the police department. Three forms seemed to block the sunlight as we entered the building. After signaling to one another, two of the forms left to search the other two floors. That one form stood there before ripping off the cap of a red stick. Standing there, I stroke the top of the cap against the red stick, igniting the room with the red glow of a flare. I then placed the cap at the bottom of the flare. Walking around the spacious room, Clarke, as I came to be known by my travelling cohorts, decided to head towards the basement.
Opening the door, I immediately tossed the flare to the bottom of the stairs. Whipping out the Colt Navy my brother got me, I began to slowly descend the stairs. Leveling the revolver towards the abyss being barely lit by the flare, hoping for nothing to surprise me and make a wrong decision of scaring the shit out of me.
Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs I bent down to reach the flare when I noticed the big letters spread across a door frame. Sub-Level Armory. I knew those words oh too well. Lifting the flare I made my way towards the door.
Sitting on the door was a small, simple padlock. Patting down my pockets, I realized I left my lock picks back in my duffle bag. Deciding not to go back I leveled my revolver at the padlock. The padlock seemed to explode as the .38 Long Colt bullet ejected itself from the casing and hit the lock, completely destroying the locking mechanism.
I removed the broken lock and tossed the flare into the middle of the Armory. My jaw seemed to drop to the floor as I noticed exactly what inhabited the gun racks and lockers. I went from rack to rack, shooting off all the locks. I then went to the last shelf and removed a couple of the shotguns off the rack labeled "shotguns". Realizing they were labeled, I read the tag on the barrel. Mossberg 590 Mariner. I then racked the shotgun to make sure everything was still working. It wouldn't have been the first time a shotgun broke on me for being faulty.
Setting the shotgun back onto the rack, I opened one of the lockers hoping to find a bag. Upon opening it I was flooded with the sight of ammunition boxes. Looking at the bottom of the locker I saw a bag. I began to fill the bag with the ammo in the locker. I then grabbed the other bag and began to put some of the weapons in the bag. After packing some of the weapons I realized I really wanted some of these. So I decided to pack away some weapons for himself.
I then got right down to business by stuffing my bags with two Smith & Wesson 4506-1's, one Glock 17L, a stainless steel 6" Colt Python, an 8" Colt Anaconda, surprisingly a Taurus Raging Judge Magnum chambered in .410 bore, a Remington 870 Field gun with a raised barrel, a Winchester Model 1897, and a Thompson Center Arms Contender.
Upon finishing, I put some extra rounds for the weapons I wanted into each bag. I then picked up the dying flare and began his long trek of bringing all the bags to the front door.
After finishing my task, I began to check every desk in the first floor offices. In some desks I found a couple of pre-war candy bars and .45 caliber ammunition. The most disturbing of things was when I found a piece of paper that had the letters HDSP adorned the top. Skimming the paper I began to realize what it stood for. HDSP or High Desert State Prison. I decided to bottle that information for until the Rangers needed to know.
After searching every desk, I made my way to a locker room. Searching the lockers I found some pretty great loot. Like a Tactical Modular Dual Pistol Shoulder Holster. I also found some old gear all labeled S.W.A.T., even some stainless steel Beretta92FS Inox's. I then popped another flare and began to make my way to the one room I hadn't checked…the Captain's office.
Opening the door I noticed what looked like the outline of a man in the office chair. I drew my Navy revolver, but realized I haven't reloaded it. I opened the loading gate and used the ejector rod to, as you guessed it, eject the spent rounds then reloaded it. "Don't be foolish kid" a voice whispered.
I noticed the figure in the chair was pointing a Browning Hi-Power 9mm handgun towards me. Me being the overconfident bastard I am, decided to not drop my weapon. "You better drop that hand cannon, boy" he shouted. "You tryin to test your luck, boy".
"I don't know, are you" I said with a sly grin. He flashed his teeth as he sneered. "You asked for it, chump". In that split second he rose from his chair and at the same time we fired the first round in our weapons. The 9mm round from his semi-automatic pistol lodged itself into my left should. The .38 LC round lodged itself into his skull. His eyes bugged upwards as he fell into the chair.
I walked over to the chair and searched the man's pockets. He didn't have much, but what few caps he had I pocketed. I then went on to search the desk. I had found something that intrigued him. Holding the object, I began to memorize things about it.
The feel of it, the weight of it, even the different words etched on each side of the gun. LAR Grizzly on one side and Mark I on the other. I had hit the jackpot coming here; this place being unopened increased the value of the still stainless steel weapons.
I then picked up the other accessories, a silencer, a barrel bushing compensator, and a couple extended mags. 'This Captain had great taste'.I then made my way back to the front door and joined the other recruits.
After showing the Rangers our spoils, we continued on with our journey. I had thought about telling the guides what I had learned about the acronyms on the jumpsuits, but instead suggested another route out of the town. While traversing the road i could tell we were being stalked. After crossing an overpass near the edge of town a group men wearing those same orange jumpsuits, jumped from every nook and cranny in the hills just to get close to us. We unloaded round after round into them while making a steadfast escape from an unwanted firefight. We exited the area with our new loot heading off towards Broken Hills.
We walked on until we reached the mining town. As we entered the town the Rangers made it their number one priority to get the rooms for our travelling group. The Rangers also told two recruits, luckily I wasn't one of them, to situate the brahmin and our gear into a local corral.
After getting enough rooms for themselves and us recruits, the two Rangers went off to the local bar. Once the two recruits finished their tedious task, they decided to have their last night of fun together before starting their training.
Whereas the other three recruits stayed in and got some extra sleep. I on the other hand decided to do some trading. Taking the bag of weapons I didn't want, I wandered the town looking for some place to shop. Asking a passerby, he pointed me to Doc Holliday's. I strolled in with a sense of swagger. Walking the sort of stride a man walks when he knows he's going to get paid.
After a long debate over receiving a discount because of our love of revolvers, I was able to sell most of the weapons, save for a couple Ithaca 37's,a Mossberg 930,some Mossberg 500 AT's, some Colt MK IV's, three HK MP5-PDW's,one PPK, and an old flare gun. While I was bartering with "Doc" Holliday I was able to get himself 15,000 more caps, an old brown duster and a wide brimmed high crowned hat(for insulation and shade when out in the wastes), and medical supplies(mostly Med-x and Stimpaks). I then made my way back to the hotel to get some much needed rest. I gave the Rangers the caps I raised and the leftover weapons and made my way to my room.
I woke up earlier than usual, even for me. I decided to use this time to clean my Colt Navy, Python, Anaconda, and Taurus Judge Magnum. I grabbed the few supplies I got off Doc Holiday and began to whip up a nice cleaning solvent and gun oil from Abraxo, flower, yeast, turpentine, water, and a few mushrooms.
I dipped an old bore brush I found into the solvent and began to feed it through the barrel of the Navy, twisting it as I followed the rifling of the barrel. While cleaning the barrel I took a tooth brush and cleaned the outside of the cylinder and the ejector rod with solvent. Finished with the barrel, I pushed the brush through each of the cylinders. Then I wiped the gun clean with gun oil and began the task of cleaning the other revolvers.
Later that day our group left Broken Hills on a straight shot for Redding. Redding, like Broken Hills, was a mining town. Though the miners at Broken Hills mined uranium deposits, miners in Redding mined for plenty of things ranging from gold, silver, and some even indicated finding coal ores.
As we entered the town the two Rangers, Wallace and Chadra, made sure our tickets were in order for catching the NCR's new steam train. It was definitely a modern marvel. Using some engineering techniques picked up from some Super Mutant's steam powered trucks, the NCR finally had a reliable source of travel between its major city-states. The Rangers chose two recruits to make sure our supplies and bags were on the train and ready for transport. Once again, I wasn't one of them.
While walking through the town I remembered that Declan had came here personally to get a contingent of implants to further better his performance as a Made Man. Seeing as how I had some extra caps and time leftover, I decided to get one.
Walking in to ole' Painless Doc Johnson's shop, I was kinda brought back by the sight of blood spread all across the Auto-Doc table. "What can I get for ya son" the old man asked. Trying to focus on Doc Johnson from the sight of blood, I realized the old surgeon must be at least 72 since Declan had came here about 20 years ago.
"Are you interested in an implant son or just some all natural, fine healing" he asked.
"I was wondering exactly what kind of implants you have" I started. "You see my brother had gotten a total bionic uplift from you a couple years back".
The old man rubbed the medium sized beard sprouting from his chin with a perplexed look on his face. "You're that feller Declan's brother".
"Yes sir" I said, subconsciously beginning to twiddle my fingers around waiting for the old fart's response.
He reaches down and picks up what looks like a battered clipboard and struggled as his wobbling hands tried to place his spectacles atop his eyes. Handing the clipboard to me, Doc Johnson began to list off some implants.
"There's the basic NEMEAN variety," he started. "ya know the Dermal Impact Armor, the Dermal Impact Assault, and the Sub-Dermal Armor".
He then began to pick away at something hidden in his beard. "If that doesn't interest you then might I interest you in some old PHOENIX implants" he asked. "I have the PHOENIX Armor implants, Armor Assault enhancements, and the Monocyte Breeder. And if you aren't interested in that I have some bodily implants I got shipped in from San Fran".
Like I have some old Hypertrophy Strength accelerators, Optics Enhancers, Logic Co-Processors, Reflex Boosters, Probability Calculators, Empathy Synthesizers, and an old Nociception Regulator". I read the clipboard up and down, trying to figure out how many I could get with the $35,000 caps in my possession.
After finally coming to a decision I told Doc Johnson what I wanted exactly. "I'd like the Reflex Booster and Optics Enhancer for the physical implants, then the Dermal and Sub-Dermal enhancements".
The Doctor grew a wicked grin as he realized how much pain I'd be in by the end of the day. "Please, step into my chop shop (cough cough) I mean my office".
5 hours later
Doc Johnson had finished the operation some two hours ago, yet he left me sitting on the medical bed so I could at least have some time to heal and for my body to adjust to the implants. He had stumbled upon one of the Rangers and told them to drag me to my bunk at the hotel and to have me in a constant rest for 4 more hours before I could move by myself.
After situating me in my bunk they went back to drinking at the local bar, The Malamute Saloon. That night I was gifted by some implacable dreams. They seemed familiar for the most part. That is until I saw something quite awkward. As I stood out in the wastes, surrounded by men wearing an assortment of leather and metal armors, a giant blue light began to shine from the sky. The light then crashed on top of the men, instantly disintegrating them.
The dream then flashed forward to show me meeting with an old woman wearing a blue jumpsuit under a leather jacket. She talked sweet, but she had a flame in her eye which showed the many things she did before becoming a leader.
As the lights around them flashed brighter, I was brought forward to something that seemed wrong. As I stood in this dark hallway, illuminated by a dark red light, a pre-war stasis bed then rose to reveal an old, grimy, pickled body. "No," a voice called. "You will doom the Mojave and the world". Two bullets then pierced it's skull. The barrel still smoked, as I looked down at my hands and saw they were covered in blood and oil.
The red flood lights then flashed blinding me and sending me forward again. This time I was brought to the site of an aging bald man wearing patchwork armor. The man was lying in his bed, IV in his arm, nasogastric intubation tube in his nostril, and Autodoc connected to his head. A blonde man wearing what looked like a lab coat patrolled the room and inspected the various medical instruments.
"You are my most favored Praetorian" the sickly looking man started. "Now go, you know what must be done". The scene then transitioned to me suffocating an NCR Ranger. After finishing the deed, I opened a rucksack and began to assemble a MSG 90 7.62 sniper rifle. Once constructed, I began to take aim and line up my sights. Through the scope I saw the back of a man's head. To the man's flank were two NCR Veteran Rangers. Deciding against taking out the Rangers, I pulled the trigger. The man's speech was immediately ended as the bullet pierced the back of his skull, spilling brain matter over the participants in the audience.
It then transitioned to me facing the NCR's most famed warrior, General Lee Oliver. "Surrender now son" Oliver said. His NCR Ranger escort brandishing their weapons; I knew no one would make it out alive.
As I stood there I looked my life over and realized all of the inhumane mistakes I've made. I then drew my Navy revolver and aimed at Oliver. The Rangers instantly opened fire, peppering my chest with rounds. My legs then contorted as I slowly began to drop to the floor.
I let the revolver drop from my twitching hands. I slumped to the ground as I felt the blood pour into my lungs. The blood rushed into every nook and cranny opened by the Ranger's rounds. I then fell back and began to look up into the amber colored sky. My vision dazed as I was greeted by the sight of Oliver shaking his head at him in disbelief. "Tag 'em and bag 'em boys".
My eyelids grew heavy as I watched Oliver pick up my revolver and stuff it into his waistband. They began to slowly droop down and shut as the Rangers grabbed me by my arms and legs. They carried my corpse off to the pile of dead bodies stacked next to a cliff. One of the Rangers tried to dose the bodies with kerosene, but realized there were too many. He grabbed the lighter he found off the new Legate's body. He stroke the metal against the flint and tossed the lighter onto the pile.
The NCR emblem embedded on the lighter burned away as the flames engulfed Clarke's body and the hundreds of Legion soldiers.