I opened my eyes. Bright, hot sun was the first thing I witnessed forcing my eyes shut again. I was lying on something hard like a large rock. I turned over slowly realizing all the little pains my body endured. My head was pounding; the left side of my face felt like it was on fire. My ribs were cracking, my thighs were sore, and when I attempted to open my eyes once more I noticed my knuckles were raw.

I continued looking at the ground on all fours because my body felt like a super mutant used me as a baseball bat and the sun was still too bright. I stayed in that position for a while wondering what the hell happened. As I looked around I noticed an empty bottle of whiskey. It turns out I was laying on my gun; an old, dinky .38 revolver. All the rounds were used up apparently.

I finally worked up the nerve to face the brightness and the pain. I slowly stood one limb at a time regretting every movement. When I eventually was up on my two feet I holstered my revolver and felt around to see if I was missing anything. The bottle of tequila was still there and it looks like I only took a sip. My Pip-Boy, in all its glory, stayed attached to my left arm even after what had occurred the night before. I noticed there were some pretty serious burns on my exposed skin. Probably the acid rain.

The town wasn't too far off; you could barely see it behind the evaporating water. I made the trek back considering what may have happened. Apparently someone didn't want me in town, or alive for that matter. I wasn't too concerned with this; somebody usually wants you dead in the Wasteland.

When I reached the town the mood suddenly changed. Anybody who hadn't taken notice of me yesterday sure did today. And those who had weren't happy to see that I was alive. I figured the only place I'd be welcome was the Genie's Three.

When I approached the entrance to the bar I noticed the door wasn't attached to the wall anymore. I stopped at the threshold to observe the damage: from the looks of the splinters where the hinges used to be it seems that someone may have torn it off with their hands. It couldn't have been me because I'm just not that strong…someone bigger.

"Good to see you're alive!" the ever-so-friendly voice of Redding greeted me as I made my way in. He was cleaning the counter with dirty rag. "Well, you had some fun last night, wouldn't you say?"

"I would if I could remember." I looked around the bar. Yesterday it wasn't much of a place to look at; there were drunks sprawled everywhere and today was no different except all the chairs and tables were busted. The railing to the stairs that led to the second floor was broken as if someone fell through. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not the whole story. But I can give you something that'll clear things up." He went under his counter and brought a black bottle without any labels or markings. "It's a little something I concocted up for people trying to remember where they left their clothes." He poured a dark liquid into a large glass. "Now, you gotta drink that all there, buddy."

"Great." I gave him a look before I grabbed the glass and sniffed its contents. I nearly burst into tears and vomit. The smell was stronger than a brahmin with four heads. "Bottoms up." I drank the putrid liquid wondering what the hell it was in the first place. When I finished I forced the remaining ooze down my throat. I didn't bother asking what it was from fear of what it may be.

That's when my head began to spin; not a nauseating spin, but more of the spin you get when someone fires an assault rifle next to your ear for an extended period of time. The ringing in the ear was there, too. That's when it all came back to me