Chapter 4: Junktown—December 21st, 2161
For the first time in our travels, Ian was in front of me for once. He led me deep southwest. Christmas was going to come and go uneventfully for us, but I was willing to bet that back in the safety of Vault 13, they were all getting ready to celebrate it despite their lack of water. With a sigh, I finally realized how much I missed the vault. Christmas was the first day that I had actually cried over being homesick. A few days later—three to be exact, we made it to the entrance of a rather large-looking city in the middle of the night. There was a low smoky haze over the town, and bits and pieces of wrecked cars and other useless junk made up the structures and walls. I guess this is where Junktown had gotten its name. Before we could take two steps into the city, a burly guard holding a desert eagle, much like the one that Garl had, stopped us, gesturing to our guns.
"You'd better put that away. Junktown is a friendly place, friend, and we plan to keep it that way." Ian and I quickly holstered our firearms.
I replied, "Sounds fair. By the way, what is the local law regarding weapons?" I needed to know in case we got into a bit of a scuffle. The guard finally gave us a smile, tapping some ashes off of his lit cigarette. I never really understand what was so great about smoking, but I didn't question it.
"Good you asked." He took a hit off his cigarette, staring into the night sky. "Weapons can't be drawn unless in self-defense. If you start a fight, it's your fault. Other than that, you have the right to go around armed. Just don't pull a knife or a gun unless you have a just cause." The guard continued to stand there, looking at us. I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Uh, so… can we go in?" He looked at me and coughed, probably from the cigarette.
"Sorry. Gates are closed at night. Come back in the morning." I turned to look at Ian, and all he could do was look at me and shrug. I tried again.
"I'm sorry sir, but I would like to enter your town. You can see that I would cause no harm." I gave the large man a look of sincerity, and he eyed me suspiciously a bit, which reminded me of Garl. He sighed, and looked around as if checking to see that no one was watching our interaction.
"Well I shouldn't do this…" he muttered. After seeing that, in fact, no one was watching, he stepped to the side. We thanked him and were about to walk through the trash-strewn gate, but he called after us.
"Come on in. You seem like nice enough people, but don't make any trouble." Ian and I nodded as we turned back toward the city. We only took two steps before we accidentally walked right into an officer, who wielded a double-barrel sawed-off shotgun. He was even more ripped than the guard at the gate, and had a mustache with scars running all over his body. Oh, no… We were dead. Instead of asking who we were and why were up and about at this late hour, he grinned at us and laughed.
"Ha! I always knew Kalnor had a soft spot. What can I do for you boys? I'm Lars, the chief of police in this fine establishment!" Ian and I looked at each other as I cautiously responded, eying the shotgun in his hands.
"Could you paint us a big picture of Junktown in our minds?" He nodded.
"Certainly. Me and my men here work for Killian Darkwater. We try to keep some order in this town and deal with all the murderers, thieves, and other scumbags who come in from the desert. If you want my advice, you'll also stay away from Gizmo. That fathead runs a crooked operation, but we just haven't been able to prove anything. He and his lackeys, The Skulz, will take the fall sometime soon if Killian has anything to say about it." He spat some chewing tobacco on the ground nearby at his feet with a face of disgust at the mention of this Gizmo fellow.
I nodded as thanks and replied, "Well, it's good to know that there is someone keeping the peace around here, thanks." Lars smiled at us and let us go on our way, suggesting that we stop at the Crash House Hotel for the night. He said it was up past the general store, so we thanked him and started walking north. I was going to ask him about a water chip or any vaults in the area, but I had decided that it would be a waste of time. Ian and I took note of the hospital and general store as we passed them, noticing the other smaller buildings as well. Upon coming to the building with a large flickering neon sign that said "The Crash House Hotel", we opened the door. As soon as we entered, the cute (yet tough-looking) young woman that stood behind the counter greeted us.
"It's late. Come back again some other time." The woman went back into a room, presumably, to sleep. Ian and I groaned and walked out the door, taking sight of a man in a torn green shirt and with a wooden leg. He stood over a lit burn barrel, rubbing his hands together for warmth. There were some rusty lawn-chairs next to him, and after a few seconds, he noticed us.
"Oh hi!" he said with a sigh. "Isn't Junktown the sight for sore eyes?" I took what he just said as sarcasm, quietly nodding. "Yeah…" he said, trailing off. "You know, I've never seen you boys from around here. Tell you what; do you wanna take a nap by this campfire?" Ian and I looked at each other, then back at him and shrugged, walking over to the chairs and sitting down in them. The old man smiled at us. "Goodnight" was the last word that I had heard before falling comfortably asleep. We awoke around noon, well-rested and ready to do a bit more travelling. Ian said that he was running out of food, and admittedly, so was I. So, we headed south a bit and walked into the general store. There stood a lone man with guards stationed at every corner inside and out of the store. He had short graying hair, a 5 o'clock shadow, and a clean white coat. There was a magnum at his side, and he welcomed us in. His voice had a slight southern touch to it.
"Can I help you?" He said, shifting his eyes between Ian and I respectively. I nodded politely and responded.
"Hello, what's your name?"
"The name's Killian. Killian Darkwater. I'm the mayor of this fine town. And who might you be?" I looked at his deep brown eyes and didn't hesitate to respond.
"My name's Anthony Breznican. I come from up north. This is Ian. He's from Shady Sands." Killian reached over and shook both of our hands.
He looked at me oddly. "North? Not much is up that way, 'cept desert and Shady Sands… You both from there?" I shook my head.
"No, I come from a vault, to the west." This comment caused Killian's friendly demeanor to go away, replacing it with a glare.
"Oh yeah, sure you do. And when you were a baby, your crib was a safe." Ian tried his hardest not to laugh at Killian's joke, but failed severely. Frantically, I tried to explain to the mayor about the vaults.
"No, no! It's called a vault. It protected us from the war! It's been full of people for 80 years!" Killian stopped glaring at me and (hesitantly) continued to act friendly, laughing a bit.
"Heh… Don't feel bad. Ain't the worst story I've been told… So, what can I do for you?" I began to look around the store. It sure had a lot of stuff.
"Do you own this store?" I asked, curious. The man nodded.
"You bet! Not as big as some in The Hub, but people usually find what they're looking for. Take a look around." Ian and I began to go from table to table, looking for some new or useful supplies. I was hoping that I could get a better weapon—In case finding a water chip would prove to be harder than expected.
Suddenly, I man with dark skin and a bomber jacket waltzed into the building. He seemed like an ordinary shopper that first, so Ian and I paid him no heed, but then he pulled out a rifle and aimed it at Killian.
"Gizmo sends his regards!" the gunman shouted, firing a shot. The bullet went right through Killian's shoulder and hit the wall behind him with a loud audible "ping", causing Killian to fall to his knees in pain. Ian pulled out his two pistols, and I loaded my SMG before spraying a volley of bullets at the gunman, a few of which nailed him. One hit him in the leg while a few hit his abdomen. The would-be assassin hissed in pain before glaring and turning to face me, rifle aimed in my direction. He fired a few bullets at me, but I ducked behind the table I was standing at and reloaded. I heard him come around the corner, avoiding all of the bullets that Ian or any of the guards shot. Just as I stood up, he kicked me in the face, knocking me back. I reached for the gun that I had dropped, but he sat his boot on my stomach, putting the rifle barrel directly in front of my eyes. Just as he was about to fire and end my life, a loud "boom" was heard. The man fell off of me, and Ian and I turned to look at the source. There, Killian stood with a shotgun in-hand. He reloaded the shotgun, barking orders at his guards, then at me.
"Breznican! Shoot the bastard! Finish him!" Finish him? I looked at the helpless gunman, who had dropped his rifle. There were bullet wounds everywhere except for his head and I felt bad, watching him crawl out of a pool of his own blood. I had never taken a human life before, and I had hoped that I didn't have to.
The man took my hesitance as an advantage and got up, yelling "Dumbfuck!" Just as he was about to grab his rifle, I squeezed the grip on my SMG until my knuckles were pure white, and I pulled the trigger, shooting him multiple times. Bullets whizzed right through his shoulders and stomach, much like his first shot did to Killian. The man began to scream in agony as the final bullet from the burst sent his head flying off and causing it to land a few feet away, rolling out the door.
Oh my god… I had killed a human being… I had taken his life mercilessly. I leaned down, and much like I had done when I first killed a rat, I threw up in the middle of the store. Killian walked over to me, holding a pad on his wound. He patted me on the back, smiling before noticing the pool of vomit and gagging.
"Listen…" He said, applying pressure to the pad as Ian looted from the attempted-murderer. "Thanks for saving my life. It's a mighty brave thing to do. Now, it looks like we have a situation here. I know that Gizmo's behind this, but I need proof. You interested in helpin'?" The words of the gunman screamed in my head "Gizmo sends his regards!" Wasn't that proof enough? Well, probably not, but I'd love to help this kind man in any way that I could. Ian looked at me, and I looked at Killian. Then again, I really wasn't keen on taking another human life, so I responded "Me? What do you need me for?" He reached into a nearby cabinet and sighed, fishing around for something.
"Now, if I get proof, the people of Junktown will kick him out. Way I figure it, you'll need to either plant a bug at his place, or wear a wire and get him to confess to you. Think you can handle that?" As he said this, he pulled a few things out of the cabinet and held them out to me. I breathed heavily a bit. "Woah… Sounds kinda dangerous…" He retracted his hand with the items still in-hand.
"I'm not gonna lie to you," he said, calmly. "It will be dangerous… But I'll owe you one, and Killian Darkwater always repays his debts..." His voice seemed to trail off a bit at the end, making that simple sentence seem cryptic.
"What do you mean, 'pays his debts'?" He looked at me up and down with a smirk on his middle-aged face.
"I'll tell ya what. Anything you want in the store, even the most expensive, it's yours. No charge. If it's a gun, I'll give you all the ammo that you can carry. Does that sound fair?" My eyes lit up. Perhaps, a bit of espionage would be worth it. I nodded confidently, causing Killian to breathe a sigh of relief.
"All right," he muttered. "I owe you. Here's the bug and the wire tap. You let me know when it's done. And good luck." Before we left the store, the man handed me the two items and sent us on our way up to northern Junktown. The second we walked out the door, Ian handed me the dead gunman's rifle. There was a blood splatter on it from when I fired the SMG at him and shot his head off. Ian began to explain the gun.
"Turns out, this baby is a standard hunting rifle. It uses .223 caliber rounds, so here's a few that I managed to pick up in Vault 15. Here, hand me your SMG. I'll just keep my pistol and give you your pistol back as a sidearm." After trading weapons and ammo, we continued walking north.
After a few steps, Ian and I found a house with a black vicious-looking dog sitting in front of it. There was a couple standing a few feet away from the canine as it slept in front of their house. I approached the man, who appeared pretty irate. I waved to him, but all I got in response was an annoyed look.
The man, apparently named Phil, spoke up. "Mister, I would be really thankful if you could get rid of that damn dog!" He pointed to the animal that was lounging around at his front door. Looking at the dog, then back at the irate man, I asked him why. Phil snarled. "Because it won't let us back into the house, that's why! Now will you help or not?" I resisted the urge to punch Phil in the face for being a whiny little bitch, but I opted not to.
"Isn't it yours?" I asked him. He spat on the ground.
"It was the 'pet' of a traveler. When the traveler died, this damn dog just plopped his furry ass on my doorstep and wouldn't leave. He's been there for days." Now that took some true loyalty. By now, I should be asking Ian to hold me back just to refrain from beating this douche's sorry ass, but I managed to collect myself.
"What did the traveler look like? Who was he?" Phil scratched his head trying to remember details.
"Oh, the guy was tall, dark-haired with a little graying around the edges. He was dressed in all black leather, like that's a good idea in the desert." He began to laugh at his own sarcasm until he noticed that I was basically wearing what he was describing and shut his mouth, cleared his throat, and continued. "Oh, and he carried a shotgun. He had a funny accent. That dog was his constant companion. Followed him everywhere." Hmm… I had an idea based on his description, but… I dunno…
Breaking the awkward silence that had formed, I asked him again. "Who was he?"
Phil looked at me oddly and replied, "Hmm? Oh, right! I don't know. Some guy. He came from the east, he said. Like anyone could get past the dead-lands to the east." The asshole rolled his eyes before continuing. "He ran afoul with Gizmo, trying to interfere with Gizmo's business." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously before continuing. "So, Gizmo had a couple of his boys beat him up and throw him off the casino roof. The traveler broke his damnfool neck and died. The dag was pissed." Looking past Phil, I spotted the dog. As if on cue, the dog glared in our direction and growled viciously, causing Phil to jump a bit before calming himself. "That's it!" he yelled, rolling up his sleeves. "I can't take that mangy mutt anymore!" He stomped over to the dog, and was about to do something drastic (probably tell it off or smack it), but he never got to. The dog jumped up as he got closer and snapped, biting Phil in the ass causing the man to run off, yelping like a pussy. The second Phil got back; he glared at me and muttered, "I hate that dog…" I shrugged my shoulders and figured I'd try my plan out now. Walking over to the dog, I slowly extended my hand.
"Err… Hey, boy!" I whispered, zipping up my black leather jacket a bit. "I know I'm not your old owner, but… I think I come pretty damn close! So, what say you? Let's travel together!" The dog looked at me funny before standing up and stretching. Phil stood and watched in surprise. My new friend panted happily as he barked and strutted in circles around me. "Do you want to go bust Gizmo, boy?" The dog growled, and then barked. "Then let's go!" After that, a new friendship was created, and Ian and I finally had another travel companion.
"So…" Ian said, scratching the dark mutt's ears. "What're you gonna name him?" I watched the dog dance around me happily.
"Hmm…" I began to mutter. "What about Dogmeat?" The dog barked happily at the idea of his name, which caused Ian to look at me with a smirk on his face.
"He seems to like that name, eh Dogmeat?" the dog barked again, causing me to laugh.
"Well, I guess that's that. His name's Dogmeat then."
After carefully tucking the tape recorder into my pocket, which didn't muffle the microphone and also made it invisible to the naked eye, the three of us walked past the large spinning neon sign that read "Gizmo's" and walked into the large casino. There were tables, slot machines, and people everywhere. I spotted a few of what I assumed were Gizmo's guards here and there. Walking past the first room, our group found a second room that was pretty much the same as the first. Lights flashed and loud sounds were heard. You could hear chips falling into the coin returns. We nudged our way past a couple and walked through the door, finding a simple office. There, sitting in a chair behind a wooden desk, was a large rotund man. Dear lord was Gizmo fatter than I had expected! Then there was a large bulky and intimidating guard standing next to him. The guard seemed to show no emotion other than anger, wore the same metal armor that Garl had on, and wielded a massive sledgehammer. I wondered just what kind of shit we were getting ourselves into.
"What do you want? I'm a busy man." The fat pig announced, detecting our presence the moment I had entered the room. Dogmeat growled, but Ian held his mouth shut for a bit before Dogmeat got the idea and shut up. I calmly and casually walked a bit closer to him to get a good recording and stuffed my hand in my pocket to hit the record button. Gizmo's guard watched me like a hawk, ready to swing his hammer if he had to.
I said calmly, "I'm here to discuss your attempt on Killian's life." The fat slug glared at me over the mention of Killian's name and ran his pudgy hand through his bald scalp.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" he snapped. This guy was onto me, I could tell… Maybe I just needed to break him.
"Oh, really?" I retorted with a sly smirk. I could hear Gizmo's heart beat faster with anticipation. Or maybe he was having a heart attack. Either way, I wouldn't be surprised, the hog.
"I don't know who you are, but I don't take kindly to strangers walking into my office and accusing me of things they know nothing about." He squeezed his large hand, and a loud pop from his knuckles was heard. Hiding my grin, I went straight for the kill.
"Hey, okay, if you don't want him dead, then fine! I'm just tryin' to be helpful." Just as I had turned to walk out the door, I heard his chair scoot out with a squeak as he stood up and reached out towards me.
"Hey, wait!" Just what I wanted to hear. I turned back around. "Really?" Gizmo cackled like the beached whale that he was before looking at his guard and smiling. "He's gonna help me?" Gizmo giggled a bit more before giving me a more serious, yet still casual, look. "What kinda help are we talking about?" Pulling out my 10mm pistol and my knife, I began to twirl them as if I was an expert.
"I was thinking maybe a knife in the back or a bullet in the head." After putting my weapons back into their holsters, I could imagine Ian breathing a sigh of relief behind me.
"Well, how can I trust you?" His voice got a bit lower. This question threw me off-guard. I needed to think quickly, but then I thought back to when I shot the head off of his previous assassin.
With a gulp, I said, "Believe me, I've been around. I've killed before." Hoping that he'd believe me, I maintained my straight face.
Gizmo thought for a bit, then looked up at me and responded with a smile, "Hmm… Alright, we can do this… but you work for me. You'd better know that nobody ever double-crosses Gizmo… And lives to talk about it." The fat lard pointed his thick finger at me as if he was training a dog. I gave him a nod and stuffed my hand back into my pocket, holding the tape recorder a bit closer to him since the next detail would be the most important.
"Of course. But first, I need to know why you want him dead." This question seemed to catch the big guy off-guard, but nevertheless, he responded.
"Heh. That's easy. I want 'im dead because he cramps my business!" He sniffed a bit of snot back into his large nose and sighed. "So, will you do him for me?"
With a confident nod, I replied, "That's why I'm here. He'll be dead before sundown."
Gizmo smiled at me as if admiring a successful protégé and clapped his hands. "Good! Return with the dog tags that he wears around his neck as proof. And we never had this conversation; you don't mention this to anyone. No one ever double-crosses me. No one." His face became serious again and sent me on my way. As soon as the conversation ended, I hit the "stop recording" button from my jacket pocket and nodded to Ian and Dogmeat. I got a nod back in understanding, and they walked out of the casino right behind me.
The three of us ran back to the general store and opened the door. There in the middle of the shop, with a bandage wrapped around where he got shot, stood Killian Darkwater. He greeted the three of us and even acknowledged our new friend, Dogmeat. "So," he said, petting Dogmeat. "Did you get the evidence?" Ian and I nodded while Dogmeat barked. Killian gave us a grin. "Which? Bug or tape?"
After tossing him the tape recorder, I spoke up and said, "The confession."
We heard him mutter, "Let's hear it" as he hit play and we listened to the conversation that Gizmo and I just had. You could clearly hear my voice, though Gizmo's was a bit muffled. Nevertheless, you could still clearly hear him organize the assassination of Killian Darkwater. "Well," he said after the tape was finished. "That's the first time I've been happy to hear his voice. Thanks friend. Now, time for you and me to take care of the other business." Other business? At first I had forgotten that Killian offered me something from his store in return. After quickly browsing his wares, and noticing that there was still a massive bloodstain on the ground where the fight took place, I handed him a shotgun that I picked up off a nearby table—the same one that he had used to shoot the assassin.
"I'll take the shotgun and ammo." Killian nodded and loaded it before opening a nearby box and setting a case full of shells right next to it.
"Well, thanks again," he said. As I was about to turn around he stopped me. "Oh, listen! I'm gonna take the guards up and run Gizmo and his cronies out of town. We could use another gun…" I could already tell where this was going. "You up for it? Might be good for a laugh." Ian and I snickered at the last sentence, trying to imagine Gizmo getting shot in the stomach in slow-motion, having his belly jiggle violently with every round that goes into him. I looked at Ian to see what he had in mind. Since he shrugged, I turned back to Killian and nodded.
"Sure. It'll be worth it just to see him try to walk more than ten feet." Now it was Killian's turn to laugh. After he was done, he coughed a bit then went right back to business.
"Go talk to Lars at the guard station, he'll fill you in. And listen, this town owes you… A lot." I nodded at Killian's words and polished my shotgun a bit before walking out of the store.
"So…" I said to Ian, looking at my shotgun. "I assume you want my hunting rifle now that I have this baby?" Ian laughed a bit.
"Nah, I can't use rifles to save my life. I'm only good with pistols and knives. I'm a pretty simple guy. Keep the hunting rifle and the shotgun. This SMG is good enough for me." We nodded and continued walking towards the guard station. Lars took one look at us and waved.
"Hey guys! Ready to kick Gizmo's ass?" Ian pulled out his SMG, Dogmeat growled, and I took out my double-barrel.
With a nod, I responded, "You bet! Let's nail that tub!" Lars grinned at my enthusiasm and led us up to the general store.
"The rest of the guards will meet up with us here in about 5 minutes. Everyone locked and loaded? Got stimpaks within reach?" Ian and I nodded. It was time to take down Gizmo!
Mere minutes after discussing the plan, Killian pulled out his pistol and kicked down the door to Gizmo's Casino. Everyone in the building was now aware that in a few minutes, this place would be a warzone. Some took the hint and evacuated while others stayed and continued gambling as if they hadn't noticed us—OR maybe they legitimately hadn't heard us barge in. The small group consisting of Killian, Lars, Ian, Dogmeat, a few guards, and I all advanced towards the back. Killian kicked the second door down that led to Gizmo's office. Gizmo sat up surprised and eyed Killian suspiciously, reaching under his desk after noticing that I was amongst the group. He must've caught on that I double-crossed him and that we're here to arrest him. Killian slowly raised his pistol to Gizmo.
"I'm here to take you in, Gizmo. This time I got the proof I need." Gizmo scowled at this, and his bodyguard, whose name was apparently Izo, gripped his hammer tighter. Gizmo made a laugh that surprisingly sent chills down my spine.
"So, it comes down to this, eh Killian? I never could put up with your stink, and now I'm going to put an end to it!" With that, he raised the pistol that he's been concealing and fired it directly at Killian. Unfortunately for him, Killian had quick reflexes for an old man and dove out of the way, firing a single shot at Gizmo, which hit him hard enough to collapse onto his desk. I pulled out my shotgun and fired it twice at the fat bastard while he collected himself. You could hear him mutter "Ooh, my ribs…" To be honest, I don't know to this day if he was referring to the ribs in his anatomy, or if he ate way too many barbecued ribs that day. I'd assumed the latter. Izo grunted and ran up to me, raising his foot while I was still focused on Gizmo.
"Anthony!" Lars yelled. "Duck!" I turned my attention to Izo and moved out of the way just in time to avoid a high kick. The second Izo set his foot back down after missing his target; Lars fired a buckshot at him, knocking the brute to the ground. Dogmeat ran over in front of me and started to bite and claw Izo so that he couldn't get up. While Izo attempted to get Dogmeat off of him, Ian raised his SMG and fired directly at his chest, tearing several holes through the metal armor and ending the bodyguard's life. Gizmo recovered from his injury and fired his pistol at me in all the chaos. The bullet went right through me and hit the wall behind as I screamed in agony. Grinning, Gizmo then turned his gun and shot Killian, hitting his uninjured shoulder. Killian grunted in pain, but nonetheless raised his firearm and shot Gizmo, blasting him in the stomach. Bone shrapnel from his ribs pierced his stomach fat and tissue. The casino owner was finally dead. The guards all looked at Killian as he lowered his firearm and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
"Nice job, boys." He said, breathing heavily. "Let's get out of here." Quietly, I picked up Gizmo's gun and passed it to Ian, who looked at it for a bit.
"Hmm... Yep, this is pretty good. I can use this." I also took the little bag of money that Gizmo had on him before leaving with Killian and the guards. And so, Gizmo was dead (may the bastard rest in pieces). His casino was shut down without an owner, and Killian lived to guard this town another day.
"You're going." Ian said to me a few minutes later.
"Urgh… No I'm not!" I replied defiantly. "I do not wanna go to the damned hospital."
"Too bad," he said, taking my arm. "Let's go." All I could do was sigh and let him drag me to the doctor's to treat my bullet wound.
"What about stimpaks?" My friend glared at me.
"Those things only heal so much. Gizmo broke your ribs with that shot. You were lucky that he didn't hit your heart." And so, he dragged me to Doc Morbid's shortly after collecting our reward for killing Gizmo and Izo. As soon as we walked in, we were greeted by two intimidating bodyguards, one named Cougar, and one named Flash. In the room to the left, there was a menacing-looking man in a white lab-coat and bottle-cap glasses. He nodded to acknowledge our existence and walked over us.
"Hi." He said. "I'm Doc Morbid, how can I help?"
Ian smiled at him, responding, "Hi Doc. I'm Ian from Shady Sands. My friend here got…" Ian was cut off by the doctor, who smiled at the mention of Shady Sands.
"Shady Sands eh? You tell my former pupil Razlo that I said 'hello'!" This guy taught Razlo?! Woah, he must be good. Ian nodded.
"Will do," he said. "Now, my friend here got shot by Gizmo, and he busted his ribs." The doctor nodded, taking notes.
"Ahh, okay. Alright, well let's have a look…" After a quick examination, he pulled out a calculator and started working on a price. "Okay, well, I can fix you up for a low price of 343 caps." My heart sunk.
"343 caps?" The doctor nodded.
"You can pay for it, can you?" I nodded slowly. True, we did just earn 600 for busting Gizmo.
"Yeah," I said, a bit upset. With that, the doctor fixed me up. Needless to say, by the end of the day I felt good as new, but regardless, the doc said that I had to stay overnight, so Ian and Dogmeat stayed at the Crash House Hotel and left me for the night.
Everything seemed to be going perfectly well, but then… "That" happened…I woke up late at night with an upset bladder. I went downstairs looking for the bathroom, only to find what looked like a factory. There, in front of an operation table stood a midget, and he was sawing the flesh off of a human leg. I resisted the urge to throw up and contemplated turning and running, but he turned to look at me.
"What you down here for?" The being eyed me suspiciously. Stumbling for words, I thought quickly.
"Uh, your boss sent me down." The midget looked a bit upset by this, but then went back and continued to saw.
"Body parts almost ready to go to Hub" he said. I resisted the urge to ask why, but I instead continued to act as if I was in on it.
"Yes, that's why I'm here." All that mattered was that Doc Morbid was running a very morbid operation. Anyone? No? Okay… The small human, named Gretch based on his nametag, spoke up.
"Iguana man Bob send you… He happy. Lots of good meat!" I couldn't take it anymore. The operation looked like it could easily be covered up, and besides, no action would be taken against Doc Morbid—He was Junktown's only doctor! I guess it was up to me to take action. Running up to the midget, I grabbed him by the neck and started to strangle him.
"You little fucking scab! I'm gonna cut you up and sell you as meat!" Picking up a nearby scalpel, I jammed it into both of his eyes. Unable to scream in pain or yell due to me strangling him, Gretch shortly collapsed and died from a lack of oxygen. I reloaded my shotgun and got ready to do the unthinkable.
After I had climbed back up the stairs, I walked up to sleeping doctor and jammed the shotgun into his mouth. Before he could react, I had already pulled the trigger, causing his headless corpse to fall off of the cot as brain matter splattered the walls. While the hospital was soundproofed against the outside world (no doubt to hide the screams of pain and agony), I was not safe to anyone that was inside the hospital. The loud noise quickly woke Flash and Cougar up. As soon as they had gathered what happened, they started to run towards me. Just as they were about to hit me, the door opened and Ian, Dogmeat, and the man in the green shirt from a few nights before were all standing there. Ian emptied the SMG into Flash while Dogmeat started tearing Cougar to shreds. In a matter of minutes, both were dead. "How did you know?" was all I could force from my mouth. Ian pointed to the man in the green shirt.
"John here is one of the doctor's victims. They cut off his leg and replaced it with a wooden one." The man hobbled to me.
"It was horrible!" he said, crying. "I didn't want the same to happen to you, so when I saw that your friend and dog here dumped you off at Morbid's, I felt the need to warn them. Thus… Here we are." I nodded and put my gun away, taking the leather armor off of the two corpses that lay before us and trying it on.
"Well, the threat is now gone. But, who is this Iguana Bob fellow that they sell the human parts to in The Hub?" Ian piped up, picking up the shotgun shells that Cougar and Flash had dropped, and handing them to me.
"He's a salesman that sells Iguana-on-a-Stick. Supposedly, at least… I knew that guy was fishy! What do you say we do, boss?" I thought for a moment.
"We'll figure out when we get there. For now, let's just find a place to sleep. Let's try the Crash House again…"
And so, after a parting ways with John and a quick walk, we knocked on the door. There was a long pause, and the woman that had thrown us out the last time stood there. "It's late," she said. "Come back again in…" I cut her off.
"Please, let us stay. We have money, so we're good for it. Isn't that enough?" She looked at each of us, and eventually shrugged, yawning.
"Eh, why not? Do you want the night package or the week package? Most customers go with the week package, so I would if I were you." I pondered it a bit. We weren't really hoping to stay in Junktown much longer, so I just chose the night package. After leading us to our room, the woman left us to go to sleep, and within minutes, Ian, Dogmeat, and I were out despite the obviously fake and obnoxiously loud moans from the hooker in the next room over.
The next morning, I was awakened by a frantic receptionist. She was shaking me and looked absolutely terrified. "Oh, thank god you're awake!" she began to cry. "Some crazy guy has Sinthia held hostage and he's gonna kill her! You've got to help!" I scrambled to my feet at this news.
"What?!" I yelled, putting my leather armor on and grabbing my shotgun with Ian and Dogmeat still sleeping. "Where?" Despite not knowing who this Sinthia was, I felt that I had to save her. The receptionist pointed to the next room over, and I ran in. The guy standing there was a thug that I think we saw in the raider camp. He stood in the middle of the room holding the scantily-dressed hooker by the neck and holding a pistol to her head. He looked just as nervous and as upset as the receptionist.
"That's it!" He yelled, his hand with the gun trembling. "Don't come any closer! I'll off her, I swear!" I highly doubted that, but I might as well not test him.
I stood tall much like at the raider camp and yelled back, "Don't do it!" A look of fear took over his face.
"Or what?" he retorted. "She's just a whore." He pressed the gun harder on her head.
I quickly answered with "She has as much a right to live as you do!" that threw him off, and he struggled to come up with a reasonable response, resisting the urge to open fire. Probably mostly because he knew that the second he pulled the trigger, he'd have signed his own death warrant.
"N-No!" He yelled. "No way! Not this bitch!" He looked truly terrified, and a silence overcame the hotel. I quietly took a step forward, and he jumped, startled at my movement. Sinthia was crying hysterically as he contemplated what he'd do. "S-Stay back! I don't want to hurt her… But I will!"
Calmly, I muttered, "Don't. Or I'll have to hurt you." My words seemed to send a chill up his spine, and he nearly dropped the gun in fear. He quickly collected himself.
"Try it, and I'll shoot her head off… Now, what you were saying?" I needed to think.
"Okay, but you've got to keep talking to me." He nodded to show me that my proposition seemed fair.
"I'll keep talking as long as you do… But try anything tricky…" He nudged the woman for emphasis. "She'll take the fall." I gulped, feeling the tension rise. We both thought for a bit, ready to negotiate our terms of release. "…Where do we go from here?" he asked me, which caused me to shrug my shoulders nonchalantly.
"You tell me. You're in charge." This statement caused him to betray a slight smile, and he breathed in deeply before exhaling easily.
"I want some money, and I wanna get out of here peacefully. No one follows me." Just as he said this, I interjected.
"No money, but you can just walk away. Nobody will do anything, I promise." The wimpy thug thought for a bit, pondering his options. In the end, he had decided to go with things my way. Thank you for the lessons in negotiating, Albert.
"That's okay, I guess". With that, he holstered his pistol and walked out of the hotel peacefully as promised. The woman, who was breathing heavily, looked up at me. "Th-Thank you for saving me." I gave her a sincere smile and helped her up off the floor.
"Hey, it was no problem. Are you okay?" The young blonde prostitute gave me a small smile, and nodded.
"Yeah, I'm not hurt. Thank you so much." I gave her a nod, and was about to leave, but then she closed and locked the door before I could get out. She eyed the ground shyly, playing with her feet. "Umm… Don't tell anyone I did this, but for you… My services are free." Before I could ask what she meant, she had me pinned up against the wall and began to kiss me vigorously. I laid her on the bed, and pulled my shirt off, pulling her close. You could imagine what my next forty minutes were like.
As soon as I had finished getting dressed, I opened the door and kissed Sinthia goodbye. I had promised her that I'd return again someday to save her from her crappy-ass job, and return I would. Just as the group was about to leave the hotel, the receptionist stopped us. "Thank you for what you did. I'm sorry for waking you up rudely. You deserve a good night's sleep." She handed us the room key. "But don't ask for another freebie". I gave her a nod and walked back into the hotel room that we had spent the night in. Sinthia asked for the day off so that she could sleep right next to me. I held the poor young girl close and fell asleep, comfortably surrounded by my friends and loved ones.
We left the hotel and headed north. Ian said that he was really craving a beer at this point. There was apparently a bar, called "The Skum Pitt". It was only open at night, so of course, the place was packed. We all sat down at a table and waited for the waitress to be readily available. An old bald man with mutton chops and goggles showed up and sat next to us. He wore a leather vest with a normal shirt, worn with age underneath. There was a gas mask hanging from his neck, and he wore matching leggings that were protected with metal plates. He waved to us and sat down at the one empty chair.
"Hey boys!" The man greeted. "Never seen you around these parts before, but I heard of what you did. That bastard Gizmo had it coming!" I gave him a grin and thanked him, asking what he wanted. "Now, don't you worry. I'm gonna be the one offering to buy you guys a drink. What would you like?" Ian ordered a whiskey while I asked for a simple beer. The man nodded and approached a waitress. "Two whiskeys and a beer, please." The young waitress nodded and went to the bar quickly. The stranger reappeared in the seat that he had just left. "Ahh, but where are my manners? The name's Tycho. Tycho Cassidy. What brings you two here?" Just as Ian and I explained why we're here with Tycho nodding in interest, the waitress sat down the drinks and picked up the caps that Tycho had left on the table. As soon as she was out of sight, Tycho whispered to us. "I hope you don't mind if your beer is well-watered. They treat alcohol here like it's a potted plant!" I snickered before looking at him interest.
"So, what's your story?" He beamed, finally able to talk about his life.
"Well, I come from out east, in what used to be known as Nevada." I nearly did a spit-take with my drink.
"Seems dangerous! How'd you survive all the dangers?" Tycho grinned from ear to ear, taking a sip of his drink.
"It was dangerous! Luckily, my grandfather was a desert ranger way back when, and he ended up passing all that he knew to my father. In turn, daddy taught everything that he knew to me. So to speak, I know enough not to drink glowing water." Tycho took another sip. This man seemed to know it all, and considering he had a shotgun by his side, I was willing to bet that he was pretty good with rifles.
"Wow…" I said in awe. "You must be pretty knowledgeable."
Tycho grinned proudly, ready to boast some more. "My family taught me everything that there is to know about survival in the wilderness. For example, don't drink water that is totally clear and free of moss, insects, or other bugs and vegetation. No water other than irradiated water is that clean in the wilderness. Lots of other things to look out for too…" I took another sip of my watery drink.
"Mm, like what?"
"Well, if you're interested, I could go over some pointers…" I smiled and gave Tycho a nod, letting him teach Ian and I about several survival tricks. No wonder this man survived a trip from the east. By the end of the lecture, Ian knocked impatiently on the wooden table, and I was still intrigued. Tycho finished up still as energetic as before. I thanked Tycho and was about to get up, having finished my drink, but he stopped us. "Hold on a minute, you two! You never told me your names." I turned and looked back at him.
"My name is Anthony Breznican. This is Ian." Tycho nodded and waved us good-bye. As quickly as I had walked away, I turned back around and spoke to Tycho again. "Hey, I was wondering… I'm gonna be leaving pretty soon. Care to accompany me on my travels?" With a huge grin on his face, Tycho took his shotgun and slung his arms around me and Ian's shoulders.
"Ah, thank you, boys! I'd be happy to! Where are we going?" I told him that we were planning on staying for maybe another night, to which he nodded and sat down with us. All of a sudden, we heard a loud screaming and saw a large brutish guy slap a girl so hard that she fell.
"You fucking bitch!" the guy yelled, spitting snuff on the floor before walking towards her. Just as I reached for my shotgun, there was a loud "boom" and a hole suddenly blew into his chest. Desperate trying to breathe, the scoundrel fell to his knees and died. I looked towards the source of the blast as did everyone else, and saw the old bartender armed with a shotgun.
"You damn cretins keep away from my waitress. Get the fuck out of my bar, and if I ever see you bastards again, I'll kill the whole lotta ya!" A large group of thugs then, slowly but surely, were seen exiting he building, surprised and disgruntled.
You could easily hear one of them muttering, "You haven't seen the last of us, Neal". Tycho leaned in to whisper to me.
"Those are The Skulz. They think they're a gang. Don't get me wrong, they're a threat, but they're not as bad as the Khans or the Vipers." Watching the shaken waitress return to her job, I'd decided to help stop The Skulz.
"Well, I think I heard Lars mentioning them when Ian and I first got into town," I whispered. "He said that they were about as bad as Gizmo." Tycho finished his drink and took us over to the bartender, Neal.
"Neal," the desert ranger addressed the barkeep. "Do you think that The Skulz are bad news?" The old bartender grunted and set down the glass that he was cleaning before nodded slowly.
"Those bastards are gonna end up picking a goddamned fight that they can't finish, and then they're gonna get their brains blown out. Maggots." With a sigh, he continued washing some dishes. On the table, I noticed a small silver trophy.
"Hey, Neal?" I asked curiously. "What's this trophy for?" Tycho slapped himself in the face, probably because I had said something stupid.
With a sigh, the old man looked me in the eyes with his own, betraying a sorrowful look, and said, "That's not a trophy. That's an urn. It contains my wife's ashes." There was a mournful silence that had taken over the atmosphere, and I apologized.
"I'm sorry to hear about that, Neal." The old man sniffled a bit and nodded.
"It's okay," he said. "She's in a better place now." We said our goodbyes and went to Lars at the entrance to Junktown.
"Lars!" I called, getting the man's attention as he took a drag on a cigarette.
"Anthony! Friends! Hey, Tycho! What're you doing with these guys?" Lars addressed our latest addition to the team.
Tycho looked back at us and responded, "I'm finally gonna get out again and seek some thrills like old time's sake." Lars nodded and looked at us.
"A noble cause, Cassidy. A noble cause." Lars took a drag on his cigarette and offered each of us one. I was the only one to decline. Lars looked at me up and down. "So, why are you here at this late hour, Breznican?" I briefly told him about the fight at the bar, and he nodded, sighing at the mention of The Skulz. "Well…" he said, thinking for a bit. "I suppose if you could figure out as to when and where they plan to start trouble next. Then the guards and I can stop and arrest them." I nodded at his plan.
"So," I said, concocting a plan. "Where is their base of operations located?" Lars began to catch on to my idea.
"Their HQ is in the back of the Crash House." The burly guard took a drag on his cigarette. With a nod and a handshake, we left for the local hotel.
Once we got to the Crash House, I ordered a room for the night and asked to see Sinthia after paying the gang a visit. We headed to the back and opened the door only to see a large group of thugs either smoking, drinking, shooting up Psycho (a psychoactive drug), or playing pool. I saw a man in a black leather jacket that looked much like me and Ian's. He spotted us and approached our group.
"Why the fuck are you here?" he asked lazily. "I'm Vinnie, the leader of The Skulz." I stared into his unconcerned bloodshot eyes and cleared my throat.
"I'd like to join your gang." He looked at me as if I was an elephant in a classroom and laughed hard.
"You?" he said, pointing to me. "You want to join The Skulz?" I shot him a glare, to which he took a step back. "Woah, okay kid! Settle down. How are you gonna prove yourself to us?" I shrugged my shoulders.
"Give me a test. Any test, and I'll pass it. I recently heard about your bar brawl down at the Skum Pitt, so if you need help getting revenge…" Vinnie eyed me cautiously.
He nodded, saying, "Okay, let's assume you're competent enough to do a bit of thieves' work… Would ya?" Not knowing where he was going with this, as long as I didn't have to assassinate any innocent people, I'd be good to go.
I shot the leader a confidant grin and nodded. "What do you need me to do?"
About four hours later, I picked the look on the door to the Skum Pitt. Looking to the left and to the right, I snuck in. I could faintly hear snoring coming from the back room. It must've been Neal. Poor guy. I approached the bar table and admired the intricate silver urn, gilded with lines of gold. I picked up the cup that contained the ashes of Neal's wife, and snuck out of the bar, heading towards the hotel. Upon arrival, I saw Vinnie, The Skulz, and all my friends waiting for me. I handed Vinnie the urn and crossed my arms. "Yup," he said. "This is it, all right. We're gonna make that old cock suffer for his last few hours." I nodded, awaiting for him to reveal the plan. "Okay," he finally announced to everyone. "On the first order of business, please welcome our latest recruits! Anthony, Ian, Tycho, and Dogmeat. On another note, tonight at exactly midnight, we will invade the Skum Pitt and kill off Neal." The large crowd began to cheer and for the sake of fitting in, we did too. I felt truly terrible. That was when I had learned that sometimes you had to do a truly terrible thing to be a good person. We headed back the guard station while The Skulz were suiting up, and I ran over to Lars once I spotted him.
"Lars! Lars!" I called, approaching the officer. Before he could respond, I blurted it out. "The Skulz are planning on offing Neal tonight at midnight!" His look turned into one of surprise.
"What?!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, thanks for telling me. I'll have the guards set up by then. Care to join us?" I gave him a nod and began to set up. I could tell that this would be our last adventure in Junktown.
The time was 11:59. Kalnor, the guard that let us into Junktown, spotted them on the horizon. Several Junktown guards pulled out spears and others pulled out rifles. The second that they saw us, they began to fire, approaching the bar at a rapid pace. The first volley of bullets took out two guards—Kalnor and another guard that we've seen guarding the jail. Those bastards! We shot back in retaliation. Lars threw his spear, which pierced the neck of a Skulz member. Tycho and I fired our shotguns, taking down two more members of the Skulz. One got in around the side and fired a single shot aimed at Ian. Time stood still. I ran back into the bar and jumped in front of Ian, taking the hit in the shoulder.
"Ah, damn!" I muttered, holding my shoulder. I turned to face Ian, jamming a stimpaks into my arm. "It's my turn to save you!" He looked at me, shocked that I'd take a bullet for him, but then he grinned and nodded. He raised his SMG and shot the hell out of the gang member. Just as Ian helped me up, I saw Vinnie approaching Neal.
"Look at you, old man," he said, snickering at the old bartender, which in losing his wife's ashes, lost the will to live. "You're just a self-righteous bartender that moans and goes on about his wife. Sucks to be you." He raised his pistol. "Say your prayers." He pulled the trigger. Neal closed his eyes, waiting for the end, but the end didn't come. He looked up and saw that Lars took the bullet for him, much like I had for Ian.
Lars looked back at him with a large hole in his chest and said, while coughing up blood, "The job of a guard is to protect the citizens… I will die knowing that I've done my job." With that, Lars slumped over, dark crimson spreading throughout his armor. Rage built up inside Neal, causing him to pull Vinnie close and punch the bastard in the face. He took the gun right out of Vinnie's hands and beat him over the head with it, causing Vinnie's head to bleed rapidly. The old man held the barrel of the gun up to the gang leader's head. He cleared his throat.
"Now," he said. "What was that about it sucking to be me?" Neal pulled the trigger, ending Vinnie's life. The gang leader's head exploded from the gunshot just before his limp body fell onto a wooden table, smashing it. I slowly approached the corpse and pried open his hand. The urn that contained the ashes fell into the palm of my hand. I ran over to Lars and jammed a few stimpaks into him, but it was too late: Lars, the police captain, was dead. I looked up at Neal as the remaining guards took Lars and the other bodies of those that had died away, presumably, to be buried. I handed him the urn, which caused tears to well in his eyes.
"Here," I said. "I found this." I guess I neglected to mention that it was I that stole it in the first place, but whatever. Neal began to cry tears of joy.
"Thank you," he whispered. "You and your friends will never pay for a drink in this bar again!"
We partied the rest of the night away, mourning those that had died, and celebrating the defeat of The Skulz. To say the least, my days in Junktown were rather bittersweet. The next day, we said goodbye to everyone. I promised Sinthia that I would return, told Killian to take care, and gave Neal a hug. I had realized that all of these people were my friends. I wouldn't trade them for the world. We stopped at the general store one last time before heading out. Killian gave me a pretty good New Year's deal and ended up selling me most of his stock in return for some weapons and armor that we'd pick up off some of the Skulz.
...
A/N: Aaaaaand if you thought THIS was long, just wait until I finish writing "Chapter 5: The Hub". Oh, the Hub. If I recall correctly, a viewer requested that I do something for Loxley, the leader of the Theives' Circle. I was originally going to leave him out of the story, but I worked out a plot detail that would allow me to logically include him in the story. :) Stay tuned for possibly one of the longest chapters in this story: The Hub.