Colt, Boone, and Veronica arrived at the enormous gate to Freeside. They were tired, hungry, and thirsty. It was a long journey from the 188 Trading Post to Freeside and it took the trio a good three hours to get there. But Colt thought they shouldn't complain; it would've been longer and more exhausting if the roads weren't so well protected thanks to the NCR and Brotherhood of Steel.
But just because the NCR and Brotherhood protect the roads, doesn't mean one won't encounter the odd pack of raiders. In the trio's case, they encountered a group of Fiends on their trip. The group of four or five of the drug crazed maniacs were a bunch of stragglers that the NCR seemed to have missed in their attack on Vault 3. Based on the direction they were heading, they were trying to get as far away from their home vault as they could and, just as predicted of the druggies, they attacked the three travelers on sight. Even though they were outnumbered, Boone, Veronica, and Colt, with proper coordination and use of their skills, took out the group with ease.
First, Boone, with the skillful aiming he was renowned for in First Recon, landed a well-placed .308 round right into the Fiend leader's cranium, sending a fine red mist into the air. The other Fiends became disoriented and confused with their leader gone and they didn't know what to do.
That made Colt's job easier as he, thanks to the trigger discipline that he developed over his travels and his M16's incredible accuracy and power, placed three rounds a piece into two of the Fiends. They dropped, three red dots in each of their chests, and fell dead on the ground. That left two more Fiends who thought it was a brilliant idea to run to the trio with a baseball bat and golf club… it turned out that it wasn't a good idea.
Veronica, skillful with melee attacks, landed a punch on the Fiend with the bat, breaking his ribs as the heavy gauntlet landed on his chest. He fell to the ground with blood gushing out of his mouth from the punctured and injured organs in his torso. Veronica, then, turned and landed a punch on the other Fiend's skull, causing it to depress and show a dent in his head. He died instantly and fell to the ground, dead.
The fight lasted little more than five minutes and showed that teamwork actually works. The three worked well together and did so in such a way that it could be considered as art… an hour or so later, the three arrived at the gate to Freeside.
The gates creaked as they opened, exposing the three to the slums of the outer part of New Vegas known as 'Freeside'. Boone and Colt shouldered their weapons, Colt gave up his free shoulder so that his assault rifle could have a home, and they walked in. Veronica just looked down at her gauntlet, shrugged, and followed the two men.
"Careful around here," Boone warned, talking to Colt who had never been to New Vegas or Freeside, "These people will sooner kill and rob you without even a second glance."
"I'll keep my hand on my holster," Colt said, reassuring him.
They walked farther into Freeside, the big metal door, pieced together with scraps of metal and debris, closed behind them. An enormous, ruined building was to their immediate left; probably home to the junkies and the other miscreants that Freeside was known for. The rest of the buildings were boarded up or destroyed completely. Well, all the buildings were out of commission except for one; a store with a sign just above the door that read, in mismatched neon letters, "Mick and Ralph's".
"Hey, what store is this?" Colt asked, pointing to the building. It was kind of dumb question as he thought about it... there was a sign just above the door.
"Oh, that's 'Mick and Ralph's'," Veronica answered, "Ralph sells general items and Mick sells weapons and the like."
"'General items'? Like alcohol?" Colt asked.
"Well, I imagine he sells that, yeah."
"Good, I need a drink," Colt made a beeline for the door.
"What about the whiskey in your bag?" Boone asked, referring to the three bottles of liquor Colt purchased at the 188 Trading Post.
"I'm more of a scotch kind of guy. That whiskey was for Cass."
Colt laid his hand on the handle, opened the door to the store and walked over the threshold. A cool breeze of air greeted his face; it was a great change of pace from the extreme heat of the wasteland. The store was dark and relatively cool compared to the Mojave. In the center of the store were two rows of old floor freezers, they were probably there before the War and most of them contained weapons, ammo, and sorted apparel. Shelves, holding a mix of items ranging from sensor modules to teddy bears, dotted the walls. Two other men occupied the store, one behind a counter to Colt's immediate right and the other towards the back. They both looked up and smiled at their new customers.
Colt was soon followed by Veronica, who shortly glanced around the store and then made a beeline for a mannequin displaying a dress. He left her to looking at the dress and approached the man behind the counter. The man was wearing a dark red shirt and had well kempt hair.
"Hello," the man said as he extended a hand and introduced himself, "My name is Ralph. I deal in general goods and my partner, Mick, deals with weapons. Now, what can I do for you this fine, fine day?"
"Yeah, nice to meet you. Colt," Colt shook Ralph's hand, "Now, down to business… you got any scotch?"
"Scotch? Yeah, I got scotch," Ralph swiveled the barstool he was sitting on around to a fridge that was right behind him, "Now, personally, I prefer vodka. But, hey, a man can pick his own poison," Ralph pulled out a bottle of light brown liquid and showed it to Colt, "Will this do?"
"Yeah, that'll be fine."
"Thirty caps."
"Damn, that's steep. For a bottle of scotch?"
"A man's got to make money," Ralph said, smiling.
"Alright, just one minute," Colt turned to Veronica, "Hey, Veronica, you want anything?" Veronica was still standing in front of the mannequin with her hands clasped together, gawking at the dress being displayed. The dress was a faded pink with a dark red ribbon around the waist and a skirt that fell down to barely skim the wearer's feet. "Veronica, can you hear? Do you want anything?" Colt thought he knew the answer… and he knew it would leave a giant hole in his funds.
Veronica turned to Colt and pointed at the dress, "Can I have it?"
"You want a dress? A pink dress?" Colt questioned, an eyebrow raised.
"Just because I like punching things doesn't mean I don't want to look pretty," she said, rolling her eyes, "Can you please get it for me?"
Colt looked at Veronica, who had her hands clasped together and was trying to buy him over with wide eyes. Colt smiled, "Really? You think that's going to work on me?"
'I don't know, is it working?" Veronica asked, her eyes widened even more.
"Fuck…" Colt whispered under his breath and he turned back to Ralph, "How much for the dress?" Veronica's eyes lit up and she scurried over to Colt's side, eagerly waiting for the price.
Ralph looked at Colt, Veronica, the dress, and then back at Colt. A wide smile crossed his face, and that's when Colt realized the price was about to skyrocket. "For you… two hundred caps."
"Right, just the bottle of scotch then," Colt said, digging into the pouches on his belt, looking for thirty caps.
"Oh, come on!" Veronica whined as she grabbed Colt's arm and began shaking it up and down, "I won't ask for anything else, just please get me the dress! That asshole, William, never bought me anything! Not even food! Just please buy me the dress! Pretty please?"
Colt looked at Veronica once more, her dark brown eyes were even wider than they were before, if that's even possible, and her lower lip was trembling. Colt looked down and sighed, "Go outside to Boone, dig into my bag, and bring me two of those little black bags that are at the bottom. Oh, and ask Boone if he wants anything."
"Yes!" Veronica exclaimed as she jogged out of the store to retrieve the bags of caps.
Colt turned back to Ralph, "Two hundred caps? For a dress? You're a real asshole… you know that, right?"
Ralph just smiled, "A man's got to make money."
Veronica remerged with two small black bags, which contained just about two hundred caps each, and handed them to Colt. "Boone said he would like a bottle of water and I would like a Nuka Cola."
Colt nodded as he took the bags in hand and turned back to Ralph, "Alright, the bottle of scotch, a bottle of water, a bottle of Nuka Cola, and a bag of Potato Crisps. How much is all that going to be?"
'That'll run you up to a hundred caps," Ralph answered as he set the named items on the counter, "And the dress will run you up to three hundred caps."
Colt placed the two bags on the counter, "There are two hundred caps in each bag. You can keep the change."
"I'm going to have to count them out."
Colt chuckled softly, "Be my guest." If I have to pay two hundred Goddamn caps for a dress, your ass has to count them out, Colt thought to himself, thinking it was equal enough punishment for Ralph's extreme prices.
Ralph sighed, untied the small individual ropes that held the bags closed and dumped out the mountains of caps. He continued to pick through them, two by two, until he counted out an entirety of four hundred caps.
"Seems to be in order," Ralph said, counting out the last two caps, "Alright, everything's all yours."
Veronica let out a high pitched squel as she rushed over to the frilly pink dress. She delicately lifted the dress off of the mannequin and neatly folded it up.
Ralph tossed a brown paper bag to her, "Wouldn't want a two hundred cap dress getting ruined, now would we?"
Veronica placed the neatly folded dress into the bag and walked to stand by Colt, who was placing the rest of the newly bought items into another bag.
"Thank you for your patronage," Ralph said, smiling as Colt and Veronica left the store.
Boone was waiting outside for the two, leaning up against the wall to the left of the door. He stood up straight when Colt and Veronica emerged. Colt dug into the brown bag and pulled out the water for Boone and tossed it to him. Then he pulled out Veronica's Nuka Cola and tried to hand it to her, but she was too busy gawking at the dress to even notice.
"What's in the bag?" Boone asked, taking a gulp of water. Veronica opened the bag and held it out for Boone to peer inside. "A dress?" He took a second glance, "A pink dress?"
"Ugh," Veronica grunted, rolling her eyes again, "Just because punching things is a hobby of mine, doesn't mean I don't like to look pretty when I'm doing it," Boone just looked at her. "Forget it!" Veronica said in frustration as she closed the bag shut, snatched the Nuka Cola out of Colt's and began to down it in violent gulps.
Colt just snickered as he popped the cap to his bottle of scotch and drank some of the liquor. The hard liquor cooled his throat and intestines as it passed through his body. Colt removed the bag of potato chips and sat on the ground, leaning against the wall of Mick and Ralph's. Veronica sat on his left, still taking large sips from her Nuka Cola, and Boone joined them, sitting on Colt's right.
Colt tore open the potato chip bag, releasing the saltiness of the outdated Pre-War chips into the air. They tasted worse than they smelled. They were salty, bland, and stale, but he still ate chip after chip, trying to get some kind of sustenance in him. Instead of satisfying his appetite, the chips just spoiled it and he handed off the rest of the bag to Veronica.
"Oh, thanks, I love Potato Crisps," she said with a hint sarcasm as she grabbed the bag.
Colt stood, bottle of scotch still in hand, and began to survey the area while taking sips from his liquor. At the end of the street was a few more destroyed buildings, their roofs caved in and windows busted open from the overwhelming debris that had piled up inside the buildings. A junkies were sitting on the ground, shaking back and forth, waiting for their next fix. They would have to avoid the junkies; at least if they didn't want their pockets picked.
A few yards down, the street they were on joined together with another street to make T-intersection. Since many peopled were taking the right turned, he thought the best way to go was right. Colt polished off the last bit of scotch in the bottle and discarded it in a trash bin right next to the door of Mick and Ralph's.
Colt walked over to right side of Boone, leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and tilted his hat to shield his face from the sun. While waiting for Veronica and Boone to finish their drinks, Colt tried to think of some ways to confront this "William Hans". In the middle of his train of thought, he felt a slight tug at his revolver's holster; as if someone was trying to lift the silver weapon off his person. Looking down, he saw an old junkie trying to take the revolver out of the holster.
Colt let out a loud breath to try and scare the junkie away, but he just continued to try and wiggle the revolver free.
Its no use, Colt thought to himself, He's going to keep to keep doing it until he gets the fucking gun. Well, time to make a scene. Colt swiftly and quickly grabbed the junkie's left arm and forced him to the ground, making him eat pavement. The junkie let out a sharp yelp as Colt put pressure on his arm, making it bend at an odd angle. With the harm Colt caused the junkie, he wasn't without harm himself. His quick movements had caused his stitches to open and searing pain to spear his calf. Ignoring the pain, Colt focused on the thief.
"Stealing that revolver would've been the last thing you would've done. Understand?" Colt forced his knee more onto the man's arm. It started to bend even more underneath the weight of the full-grown man.
"Yes! I understand!" The junkie answered, trying to force himself up, but he was just forced back down.
"Next time, don't try to steal another man's family heirloom so you can get your next fix. Understand?" Colt asked once more as he forced another wave of pain into the junkie's arm.
"Okay, okay! I won't steal again! Just, please, let me go!" The junkie cried once more.
Colt, sensing the staring eyes and the crowd being drawn, released the junkie from his grip. The junkie stood himself up and stumbled forward, griping his injured arm and glaring at the man who had humiliated him.
"Now, get the fuck out of here before I kill you," Colt said coldly as he started to go for his revolver's handle. The junkie stumbled backwards at the fact the Colt was reaching for the weapon and ran away.
"What was all that?" Veronica asked as his disposed of the empty bottle of Nuka Cola and bag of Potato Crisps in the trash bin.
"Yeah, you caused a lot of commotion, Colt," Boone commented as he stood and tossed his empty bottle to the ground, "let's just hope that little 'exchange of words' doesn't rile up the Kings."
"'The Kings'?" Colt asked as he tightened his holster to his belt, making sure no one else could steal it.
Colt removed Cass' pendant from his pouch and slipped it around his neck so that he could keep it safe. As the pendant came to rest on his chest, he felt a certain twang tugging on his heartstrings and a warming sensation overtook his body.
"The Kings are Freeside's local gang. They run the show around here," Veronica answered as she bent down and took a look at Colt's calf. The blood from his now open wound started to seep through the cloth pants, "Now, we're going to have to be extra careful. Since you're a nobody around here, no offense, that junkie is probably going to get the Kings on you."
"So, what, you want us to go confront the Kings or something?"
"No, I'm just saying we have to be careful now. Wow, that wound is really gushing," Veronica said, examining the origin of the blood, "We should go have it checked out."
"How are we going to do that, exactly?" Colt asked, wincing at the stinging sensation of Veronica lifting up the calf plating.
"The Old Mormon Fort," Boone answered, walking towards Colt, "The Followers of the Apocalypse will do a hell of a better job than I did at fixing that bullet hole of yours."
"Then I guess we should get over there."