Chapter 8
Depression
"Life, no matter how stressful, is not bad, even for just a minute."
-John Paul Larkin
Ever since I left Vault 101, I had at least some knowledge of weaponry from nine years of targets and bullies. I had a BB gun in the Vault, which helped me have some understanding of other weapons (that's not to say I was excellent. I learned as I went along). I had to learn what it was like to be uncomfortable.
I'm not even that good with weapons in my own eyes. The only reason I'm still alive after taking on whole camps full of people is because, generally speaking, those camps full of people usually can't shoot the broad side of a barn.
Nonetheless, the wasteland taught me that comfort is always fleeting. I was prepared for the training I was to receive in sniping to be bad.
It was hell. The first day was the most physically taxing. Before I got my ghillie suit, I had to repeat to Dimitri and Nikolai the phrases they taught me while jogging in place, lifting a 50 pound crate repeatedly, or crawling through the dry dirt on my belly.
When I started to feel it, Nikolai told me that I was getting it easy. Apparently, he swatted a bug on his nose while at attention while in training, his superior noticed, and made him dig a 6' by 3' grave for the little insect and bury it.
When Sergei came by with my ghillie suit, we took a quick break. He approached me (I was sitting with my back on the wall of Comrade's).
"Do you know how to use ghillie suit?" he asked. I shook my head.
"Don't bother, Sergei. We're teaching the Whore everything else. We might as well teach her when to make use of her ghillie suit, too."
"Fuck you, Nikolai! Come out here and face me like a man!"
I should probably mention that Nikolai was hiding in the bar the moment Sergei became visible. I quickly learned that the one thing Nikolai feared worse than sobriety was Sergei Yoblonovich. Dimitri approached Sergei.
"One more thing... lass, you and Nikolai are planning on going all the way to Vegas, right?"
I nodded, taking a long gulp of water.
"It'll take forever on foot. Sergei, do you have another means of transportation?"
"For Molly, of course. For Nikolai? He can walk."
Though I wasn't interested in Sergei (Dimitri was the one that had the crush on me), I pouted.
"Please, Sergei? For me?" I asked. He eyed me for a few seconds, but was in no mood to really argue with me. Still, the thought of helping Nikolai brought him pause, and after a few moments, he managed to say:
"...fine, but I have wife."
One could see how mentally taxing it was for Sergei to agree to helping Nikolai, too.
"You got married again? Why wasn't I... oh, yeah..."
Sergei was seething at the thought of helping Nikolai, but he continued (albeit through clenched teeth).
"I have a buddy that owes me a favor up north. He's got a few horses that he can send down... or they're really skinny brahmin... no, I think they're horses. Anyway, I have him send a few down, and I teach you how to ride them. I just don't want to see Nikolai."
I blinked. I knew horses survived the Great War (just barely), but there were none shy of what was once some place called "Canada" left, as far as I knew.
"It'll cost you what I left behind. This particular favor won't come easy."
Sergei and Dimitri started talking, and I had another twenty minute break until Sergei was no longer even visible on the horizon. Once he was gone, Nikolai came back outside again.
"Okay, let's continue."
My first day of training had nothing to do with actual sniping. All it was was them trying to see what I can do. I had training to become a covert operative for the Brotherhood, but... not like this.
Nikolai drew the most fun out of making me suffer. Times came where I could simply do no more and I had to stop. During one of those times, I was very hot and Nikolai lovingly cooled me down by pouring a bottle of Rum on me. He wouldn't dare sacrifice whatever was in his "VODKA" bottles, but once I gave him a dirty look and Dogmeat almost went for his throat, he was surprised. In his words, he was actually trying "to do good".
Needless to say, my best friend on that first night was initially sleep. I didn't even mind that I had to sleep on the floor in the back of the bar.
Sometimes, if my back is bothering me, sleeping on the floor is usually all I need to do to fix it, so I don't mind.
I was asleep once I hit the ground and Dogmeat curled up around my head sometime during the night.
That night, I dreamt about our vacation in Oasis. We swam (Dogmeat, too. I thought he was afraid of water, but I think he's just a little claustrophobic, or else he might not give me a hard time if I need to give him a bath) most of the time, but at night, I'd take out a book and read for a while just before we all lay down to sleep. I'd read it aloud so Cord and Dogmeat could hear (Dogmeat can't read, and Cord's eyes weren't so good at the end), and then we'd all get together and rest.
I've said it time and time again, but I missed him... tonight more than usual. I was crying when my eyes opened after the dream stopped. Dogmeat was still asleep, Nikolai was sleeping on some nearby flour sacks, and I missed Cord.
My God, I really missed him. Why didn't I give him morphine or something in his last moments? His last word to me was "hurts". I felt like... I could have at least helped the pain go away.
Instead, I kept trying to treat him for a few minutes after he died. What was wrong with me? I felt him exhale his final breath. I saw his eyes glaze over, his mouth hang open until I shut it for him... I kept working on him even though it was too late.
I looked at my Pip-Boy. It was 3:16 in the morning. Nikolai and Dimitri would want to continue at the crack of dawn.
I felt something warm and wet on my cheek. My sobbing woke Dogmeat up. Nikolai, meanwhile, had rolled off the flour sacks and landed face first on the floor. He still didn't wake up.
Dogmeat looked into my eyes, and I knew he felt the same way about Cord. He knew what I was thinking. I wanted to go back to sleep... but whenever I shut my eyes, I kept seeing Cord's pained face, telling me that his wounds hurt...
"Shut up..."
I kept sobbing into Dogmeat's chest, and I felt him start to cry a little with me. He rested his head atop mine and we both thought of our loss.
"I said shut up..."
We both tried to calm each other. Nikolai shot up, grabbed a gun from under the flour sacks (Dogmeat no doubt stared him down), and he ran to the back door, throwing it open with his free hand.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up! If you don't go home right now, the cannibals that used to live here will be the least of your worries!"
He was shouting at a few kids being loud outside. I think he temporarily forgot Dogmeat and I existed.
Once they didn't listen, he shot a few rounds out the door and they left. He shut the door, locked it, stuck his gun under the flour sacks, lay down again, and fell asleep.
We managed to calm each other down eventually, and Dogmeat stayed awake until I got to sleep again.
0.-
Very little time was wasted on the second day. Nikolai offerred me toast for five caps, and when I gave him the caps, he held up his drink and said "To the Brotherhood Whore and her almost-dog!"
I thought it was cute, but those five caps were all I had on me (I always keep a few with me).
After breakfast (Nikolai eventually relented to my puppy eyes and toasted some bread, which I spread some honey on), we were outside again. This time, I was given a crash-course on how to make use of a ghillie suit. Dimitri was in the bar, so it was just Nikolai, Dogmeat, and myself. Dimitri had set up a few dummies at various ranges for me to practice my weapons on sometime during the night, and we would be making use of them today.
"Ghillie suits are only useful if you use them right. If you are in an area where tall grass and shrubbery are prevalent, you take tall grass and tie it into these little notches... like this."
Using his own ghillie suit, he started taking some weeds that were growing in the dirt and began tying them into his suit. There were so few around us that it was kind of stupid, but he was just showing me so I could know later.
Either that, or he honestly thought that would make him invisible.
"However, sometimes grass not so tall, or it's not all over the place. If you're in a wasteland, mud will camoflauge you, too. It might even cool you down a little... for about fifteen seconds. Ghillie suits get hot fast."
I nodded. He stared at me. "You realize that these aren't going to be the best choices in every state, right?"
I nodded again. He gestured to my ghillie suit. "Put it on and meet me here again. We're going to go over moving behind enemy lines."
I started putting on the ghillie suit, and he was right. It wasn't long before I started to get hot in it. It was heavy to wear, and I wasn't looking forward to lugging it across the country. I really hoped that I could pick up horseback riding. As it turned out, horseback riding was one thing all Spetsnaz learn in Russia. It's one of their main methods of transportation, apparently.
When I returned to Nikolai, he stared at me for a moment.
"Why did you put that on?"
"You told me to."
He blinked, and his face grew angry. "Don't screw with me, whore."
"Nikolai, you actually told me to put this on about two minutes ago."
He grew angrier for a second, and then went into thought. "Did I?"
I nodded uncertainly. He nodded in return. "That's right... I forget sometimes that you'll do almost anything I say."
"Don't push it, Nikolai."
He turned to the dummies. "Right, whatever. First and foremost, there's the old lady hobble. You basically hunch your back a little and walk otherwise normally. When you're blending in with your surroundings well, it's effective. Just move slowly. And be prepared for a back that's screwed six ways to Sunday in the future if you overdo it."
For good measure, he started walking like he described and I imitated, though my muscles were still sore from the day before and they cried out as I taxed them so. I must've done it right though, because Nikolai didn't have anything smart to say.
"Next, it's your standard crouching walk. I'm sure you've done it before. You were with those Brotherhood pigs for so long, I figure avoiding being seen is a common thing for you. Either that, or bending over a table-"
"Nikolai."
"Right, so the standard crouch is the second position. Again, it's very effective if you blend well with your surroundings. This technique may screw up your knees for the future, which may force you to do the old lady hobble as you age, which will screw up your back, and depending on how severe the back problem is, may get you to do the final technique."
Nikolai dropped to his stomach and lay on the ground. "Go prone, and crawl forward slowly. This is what you do when you're not blending so well, or you're being searched for and they're not exactly certain of where you are. This is the only technique that won't totally mess up your joints or back. Unless you die."
I nodded understandingly. Nikolai did the first, second and third technique, and I imitated (and was sweating a little). He nodded his approval.
"It's up to you to know when to use each of those movements."
I nodded, still sweaty. I was inwardly disappointed, because I hate being sweaty, especially since my next bath wasn't likely to be in my near future.
I wouldn't say anything to Nikolai, though. If I can't be in my ghillie suit because it makes me sweat, then mine is already a lost cause.
After the ghillie suit crash course, we went over the sniper rifle. Nikolai taught me about the small dots in the crosshairs. He called them 'mil dots'. They're used for aiming if you're firing from very far away, or if the wind picks up. They're for compensation purposes. We talked about when to do what with the mil dots for several hours, and then started talking briefly about one of the things I can target: the "deadly T". It was the eyes, between the eyes, and down the nose to the mouth, so it formed a sort of capital "T". Nikolai said snipers aim for it because it's the general area of "important stuff", by which I think he meant the brain stem, for the most part. All torso shots are fair, too, but they rely on blood loss or trauma to kill, if you don't hit a vital organ. If hit correctly, the deadly T means the target will die before he or she hits the floor. I didn't actually fire at all until we were done. Nikolai first asked me to load my weapons without the suppressors. I did so, and he had me go prone a distance away from the dummies. They were 25, 50, and 75 yards away, respectively.
Nikolai looked at the dummies. "Okay, here's how this works: I'm going to shout out a target, and for each one I want you to take a shot as directed. Each time you get a bullet in the right spot, I give you one bullet in return so it didn't go to waste. Each time you miss, I don't give you a new bullet because you don't deserve it. I'll call targets until I get tired. You're using .308 rounds, so the SRS will hold 7 bullets."
I nodded, but stopped him before he started. "Can we do a few practice shots before that? I've never fired this weapon before."
He shook his head. "No, you figure it out as you go along. The Legion won't let you practice shooting its numbers, so why should I?"
I was silent, and I loaded the weapon.
"Live ammunition," I said. He nodded. I scoped in all three targets. I've sniped before, but I don't do it often.
"Favor right: Target, 50 yards!"
As quickly as I could, I zeroed in on the dummy 50 yards away. I aimed... and fired.
Bang!
The weapon kicked, and I jolted. I wasn't startled by the kick, but the report of the gun itself. I didn't expect it to be that loud.
My bullet caught the target in the left side, but it was a graze. I just barely hit it.
"No good. Try again, modify aim."
I glanced up at Nikolai, and saw him watching through a pair of binoculars I'd only then noticed. I looked through my scope again, and I fired again.
The gun didn't fire. I thought maybe the gun was jammed, but I pulled the trigger again to see.
Click.
I looked at the gun in confusion. Nikolai tapped the bolt with his boot.
"Is bolt action, Brotherhood Whore."
...
...oops? I wordlessly went for the bolt, and then I took my eye to the scope again.
Bang!
I missed completely this time, but at least the weapon fired. Nikolai sighed to himself, but I couldn't really hear it. My ears were ringing. I dug into my backpack while Nikolai lectured me and took two cotton balls out to stuff in my ears.
"What the hell does the Brotherhood see in you? Alright, fine. Fade right: Target, 25 yards!"
(Oddly enough, I could still hear Nikolai easily. The man was loud, which made me wonder what force of nature made him a covert sniper.)
I moved to the target like he said, and I pulled the trigger, aiming slightly to the right.
Bang!
This time, I managed to hit the right spot (and I didn't go totally deaf). Nikolai wordlessly nodded, and dropped a .308 round next to me.
"Favor left: Target, 25 yards."
Once more, I readied my weapon, scoped in the target, and fired. Again, I was successful.
"Don't get too full of yourself, Whore. I can fire that weapon with my eyes closed."
I looked up at him. He glanced down at me while he dropped a bullet by my side. "I didn't say I'd hit the targets, but... look, just... shoot."
I looked back into my scope, waiting for the order.
"Favor right: Target, 50 yards."
I took aim again, and I thought I'd have the shot... but again, I don't snipe often, and it's been a while since I actually did.
Bang!
Once again, the bullet went wide. Nikolai sighed loudly and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
"Honestly, if you can't hit stationary target 50 yards away, how do you expect to hit moving target 300 yards away?"
I looked up at him. "Give the order. I'll get it."
"Your funeral... fade right: Target, 50 yards."
I didn't fire straight away. I watched some grass to see which way the wind was blowing, but I had no way of telling what the speed was. It was out of the west, and didn't feel too bad. I compensated by aiming a quarter mil off target.
Bang!
I grazed the outside of the dummy.
"I saw what you did. You're getting the idea. Do it again."
This time, I compensated a little more (put the target just off the crosshairs), and I pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Finally, I caught the target in the intended area. Nikolai nodded and dropped a bullet by my side, but said nothing about the shot.
"Fade left: Target, 25 yards."
There wasn't much to say that time. Before I fired, I glanced at Dogmeat. He wasn't really bothered by the sound, by the looks of it. I figured that had something to do with his condition.
My eyes remained on the sensor at his neck, and I made a mental note to talk to him about it tonight.
"Whore. I gave you a target."
I nodded. "Right, just thinking."
"Think on your own damn time."
I didn't respond, targeted the dummy as ordered, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Now, I was out. Nikolai stopped me before I reloaded.
"This goes without saying, but if you're in open firefight and you're using sniper rifle for whatever reason, remember that it's quicker to switch to your sidearm than it is to reload."
I nodded. "Even so... learning to reload quickly wouldn't hurt."
I started reloading the weapon, but Nikolai standing over me staring made me kind of nervous. When I was done reloading, I looked up at him.
"Eh" was his professional opinion.
"Eh?" I echoed. He nodded. "Da. You were like my second wife: You got there, but I'd still shoot you... the cheating bitch..."
"I love you too, Nikolai."
He looked back in his binoculars.
"Deadly T: Target, 25 yards. There's a bottle of blood inside his head. Hit it right, and we have a fireworks display."
I found the target in my crosshairs, but glanced up at Nikolai.
"...Do you mean red wine?"
"No. We have a bottle of blood. Why do you need to know where it came from?"
I stared up at Nikolai for several seconds, and then decided that he seemed like the type to have a bottle of blood handy. He was a borderline bloodsucker, anyway...
I digress. Even on the closest dummy, the headshot would likely be difficult.
"Whore, I can spot for you in the camp here in D.C, but once we split up, I can't hold your hand anymore until New Vegas. It's up to you then to make decisions of where to make your shot, when, and how."
I nodded while aiming, but I could hear Dogmeat sigh in what I think was relief. He really didn't like Nikolai.
Bang!
The only reason I got the shot where it needed to go is because I was imagining several desirable things: peace and quiet while I travel (at least, compared to being around Nikolai Rascalov), and I was pretending the bullet was being fired at Caesar.
Nikolai still didn't offer any means of a compliment (not that I expected him to). He simply called another target after dropping another .308 round by my side.
"Favor right: Target, 75 yards."
Admittedly, I hesitated at first. Sniping isn't as easy as it sounds. You may have to compensate for any variables: wind, humidity, distance, the coriolis effect... even if you plan to shoot someone through a wall, you have to consider what the wall may do to the bullet's trajectory. Now, imagine your target walking, or running. It all comes down to your talent.
Bang!
Needless to say, I missed completely. Nikolai didn't have a smart comment for me this time.
"Fade right: Target, 75 yards."
Bang!
I overcompensated, and the bullet went wide to the left.
"Come on. Fade left: Target, 50 yards."
I started aiming for the target with a sigh of relief.
"Nikolai, where's my inspirational quote?" I asked. I fired, and the bullet went wide.
Bang!
"I've got an inspirational quote for you: You can't do it."
The wind picked up, so I went for the same target (Nikolai didn't give me a new one), and I aimed in the direction of the wind a little more. I fired, and the bullet found the target.
He dropped another .308 round by me, and I reloaded my SRS as quickly as I could, but it only being my second time trying quickly to reload, I fumbled a little and dropped the clip. Nikolai stared.
"Really?"
I nodded, picking it back up. "Everybody makes mistakes, Nikolai. Even you."
I fell onto my rear, Nikolai yanked the Beretta Tomcat from my ankle holster, and he pointed it at me with one hand.
"But this mistake could have killed you. You just gave the enemy an extra second to fire."
He grabbed my SRS, and walked up to one of the dummies. Then, he put my gun in the dummy's arms, and took a few steps back.
He held up my Beretta Tomcat, and fired. The first two shots missed the dummy altogether; the third caught it in its waist (the left side). He knocked the SRS out of the dummy's grasp and looked at me.
"That's you."
With that, he dropped my Beretta Tomcat by the SRS and walked back to his spot.
"Pick up your weapons, reload, and do it right this time."
The remainder of the day went like that. I fired and fired at targets until Nikolai was satisfied with my performance. I actually got an impressed "huh" out of him. It was towards the end of our day, when he called a shot on the 75 yard dummy, and I skulled it.
He tried to get me to do it again, but it was a lucky shot.
We retired to the bar that night. Dimitri had prepared a steak for Dogmeat and I, along with whatever Nikolai drank. I turned down the drink and asked for water instead, and Nikolai took the bottle of Vodka from me.
"You know, that's bad for you," I said. He nodded.
"So is trying to fight your way to New Vegas to kill Caesar, Whore."
I turned completely to him, plopping a piece of steak down on a plate for Dogmeat.
"What did I ever do to you, Nikolai? Why do you hate me?"
"If I hated you, I'd have put a bullet between your eyes when we met, and you'd be rotting in a dumpster somewhere right now."
"Okay... well, why the heavy drinking?" I asked. He glanced at me.
"Some people find that a just a few hours of sleep will get them through the day without breaking down into tears. I find that just a few bottles of Vodka will keep me from breaking necks."
"...Is Russia really totally rebuilt?" I asked.
"There is nothing more beautiful than the sunrise over the plains in Mother Russia," said Dimitri. "It is what it once was again."
Russia didn't take as much damage as places like America. It's just such a large area, and the population is scattered so much that it's not really worth it to try and destroy the land. Cities were mostly targeted, and the survivign population simply moved to the rural areas until everything calmed down.
"Why did you leave if it is what it once was?" I asked.
"Nikolai, Sergei, and I... we were soldiers. Civil conflict broke out in nearly all our cities. The one we grew up in, Volgograd... it stood against these rebellious fools. Rebels, who would sooner see the motherland as a wasteland again than adopt our government's orders."
Dimitri trailed off, and Nikolai took over. He didn't even look at me while he spoke, but he wasn't being rude. He was in the moment.
"We were given leave to arrest rebels, but not kill them. It wasn't until about 5 months into the worst of the conflicts that brothers waged war against brothers, wives killed husbands, parents killed children... soldier killed soldier. The first rebellion took Moscow by total surprise, and turned the town into a shadow of it's former glory."
"Spetsnaz was sent in to restore order," said Dimitri. "We fought alongside our friends, all from Volgograd, along with others we did not know from Moscow to the plains. The trip to Moscow... it was long and painful. Stronger men than I died walking. Horses, brahmin, wild dogs, men... seeing these creatures frozen to death was not unusual."
Nikolai nodded. "Each day of the trip, our company's superior officer, Sergeant Reznov, always said "When the man in front of you dies, take the essentials from his pack, and when you die, the man behind you does the same. When he dies..."
"...of a 2000 strong chalk... only 419 made it to Moscow. Of those 419, 184 survived the massacres there. Of those 184..."
"...19 survived the trip back to Volgograd. Sergeant Reznov shot himself midway through return trip. His body was left for the wolves."
Dimitri got Nikolai another drink. I looked down at Dogmeat, and he was eyeing the two men with a begrudging respect. Sure, Nikolai was a horrible person, but he knew how to tell a story.
"After order was restored, Nikolai, Sergei, and myself were discharged. We took to black market schemes under a well connected known terrorist named Andrei Faustin. It is he who ran Nikolai and myself out of Russia. Sergei started his own services in import/export. If you like, he can take you to Russia. You won't have to go after the Legion there."
I shook my head. "No, I'm not letting the Legion get away with its conquest."
All was silent for a few moments. "Did Andrei want Sergei gone, too?"
Nikolai nodded. "Faustin tried on several occasions to kill Sergei Yoblonovich, but he equals Andrei in connections. It's a game of chess now."
"Faustin no longer tries to have Sergei killed, but he does do whatever he can to weaken Sergei's influence. Likewise, Sergei does the same."
Once again, it was quiet. We'd been the only ones in the bar for the entire story. I weighed whether or not to tell one of my stories, but none of mine involved the deaths of nearly 2000 men. Even on its worst days, the Brotherhood never lost more than a few hundred in one battle in D.C.
That night, I sat outside with Dogmeat for a while. I couldn't sleep. We'd spend a few hours tomorrow training some more, and my crash course in sniping would be complete. After that, we'd attack the nearest Legion Camp.
I was tired, but I couldn't sleep yet. I searched through my backpack for the goggles I was given for Dogmeat's condition, and I found them. He stared at them.
Dogmeat knew what they were. I could see the recognition in his eyes. His stare gradually went to me, and I smiled at him.
"Dogmeat, we're going to be walking a lot. Some places we stop may require me to see through your eyes. I've never done so before, but I'd like to try so I can get an idea of how it works. Would you be comfortable trying this with me?"
He licked my cheek in response, which I took to mean 'Yes'. I looked at the goggles, shrugged, and put them over my eyes.
E.E
It was disassociation gone physical. I was standing on four feet, yet I was sitting on my rear. I had no thumbs, and yet I had thumbs. The top of my skull felt foreign, and yet my head felt fine. I was male, and yet I was female.
I was essentially in two places at once. At first, I couldn't move Dogmeat without moving my own body. I'd try to put a paw forward, and one of my arms would do the same. It wouldn't be such a big deal, except if I tried to scout through Dogmeat, and I myself was following him while I did so, it would sort of defeat the whole purpose of the goggles.
I could feel what he felt, hear what he heard, smell what he smelled, and see what he saw. It took me only a few minutes to understand how to get Dogmeat to move but my own body to stay. I simply had to think. Control meant telling each leg mentally to move.
Parts of his psyche worked on my mind. By that, I mean I could feel his instincts telling me what to do in the event of a fight. No, they didn't outright control my actions, but... the only way I can really describe what was happening is by saying his instincts were almost a voice in the back of my (his?) head.
The goggles were not meant for especially long range. A sticker on the side mentioned a 3 mile limit on the goggles. Any further, and the connection would terminate, and for the connection between our minds to terminate from distance could lead to any number of consequences: it could shatter my mind, leaving me catatonic, it could lead to a seizure, it could lead to mild nausea, it could lead to heart palpitations, it could lead to death, or on a rare occasion, the one wearing the goggles does not return. The connection terminates, and he or she remains part of the subject.
That was an isolated incident occuring to one man in the pre-war world, whose self ended up stuck in his dog for life. Most of the time, it's one of the other possibilities; typically a seizure followed by unconsciousness. It still makes for a popular story inside the Vault and out.
That's not to say I wanted to go outside the three mile limit. Of all those things that could happen to me, Dogmeat's fate would be the worst: he'd cease to be (his mind, that is). A note included with the goggles mentioned that I should take care to avoid injuring Dogmeat, because since we are linked, I will feel whatever pain he feels, though his injuries may not appear upon me.
Should he lose consciousness for whatever reason, I would do the same. Should he die, there was a chance of his ending up as a part of me. The goggles were likely rare before the Great War, since they were just a philosophical and scientific nightmare. Body Theorists and Dualists alike would hang themselves if they had to describe these scouting goggles. I am wearing the goggles. Who am I? Dogmeat, or Milly?
I did spend an hour or so figuring out how to trot along, walk quickly, run, and sprint (I even accidently got into a fight with a mole rat, and Dogmeat's instincts saved me from getting him hurt). I have to say, it was a good time. Seeing the world from his eyes was fascinating, and running around as quickly as he can was a blast. Still, I made sure not to do it too much, or Dogmeat might be too tired for tomorrow.
After I was sure I had a decent grip on how to do what, I returned to the bar (I didn't go too far off, anyway). I lay down. This time, I commanded my body to take off the goggles (and in so doing, raised Dogmeat's front paws to his head).
The goggles came off, and Dogmeat and I were staring at each other, very confused and very, very disoriented.
He recovered first, taking his paws off his head and standing up. He seemed to smile at me, as if he wanted to tell me he was alright.
I returned his smile, putting the goggles away and wrapping my arms around him. Dogmeat's always been a good sport for me. Of all who expressed sympathy for me on the day my Dad died, Dogmeat was the kindest. He was there for me for as long as I needed, and though he's a dog and I'm a human, I could almost feel the desire for human speech coming off of him. He wanted to tell me it would be alright, not simply be there for me to cry into.
After I put the goggles away and released Dogmeat, we walked back inside and lay down for sleep. Our sniper training in the morning would not take long. Most of tomorrow would be spent training in horseback riding.
It was often said that the Legion would tear itself apart if it got what it desired. That doesn't mean that greed would get to them, it means that their desires would destroy them. They desired expansion. As they expanded, their numbers would grow thinner to compensate. They would literally tear themselves apart.
At least, that was the idea. None would count on the Legion managing to get enough recruits as they expanded to continue to exist. Their numbers were stretched very thin, but when all thought they'd destroy themselves, they still managed to exist.
Caesar's Legion was like a sheet covering the USA, pinned down in some places to avoid blowing away. They forced some to serve in their armies, while others became slaves. Known dissenters were crucified. They wanted Manifest Destiny.
I wasn't keen on allowing that to happen. Should I die, at least I die fighting.
Not that I planned on dying. I'm just saying.
That night, I almost felt the sadness wash over me as it did the night before, but when that happened, I'd just look at Dogmeat, and I knew that I could get through it.
That night, I dreamt of a Tranquility Lane sequence that was actually tranquil.
.-.
It was at 9 in the morning that I learned how to horseback ride (though riding itself was different, I had a natural balance after riding so much on Cord's back). The three hours before that was a final crash course on sniping basics, but we wanted to spend most of the time learning how to ride horses.
There was no sign of severe mutation among the horses of the world. They had bald spots and could move quicker and take more punishment, but that was the extent of their changes. Still, their faster movements and higher endurance came slowly. They only barely escaped extinction.
Even with the small bald spots, I fell in love the moment I saw that horse. I used to be told that I'm a sucker for animals, and I guess that's true, because I was also told that a twinkle in my eye was always my tell. If anybody saw that twinkle, they knew that I was already thinking of a name for an animal.
Of course, I don't keep many animals (just Dogmeat, and I didn't count Cord to begin with since he was a human under very strange conditions). I will name them and feed them from time to time, though (provided they don't try to kill me).
Nikolai may have seen that twinkle, and he looked at the horses. "Whore, try not to get attached. You'll only hurt yourself if you have to shoot it."
I didn't say anything to him. I simply walked up to the horse I chose. He was big with a brown coat and white socks, and his eyes were big and brown, but I could see courage in them.
His name was solidified in my book when Nikolai fired his pistol into the dirt to see how the horses react to gunfire (this is after Sergei left, of course). I named him Fortitude.
Nikolai called his "Horse".
As I said, Sergei had left after bringing us the horses. He didn't even say a word to us. He just wanted to get as far away from Nikolai as he could. I could tell that it was exceedingly difficult for Sergei not to go inside the bar and shoot him, though to be fair, I found it exceedingly difficult not to go inside the bar and shoot Nikolai.
Before we started, I was told the basics of horseback riding. Nikolai told me that it was sort of like carrying a very full glass of vodka. If I look down at the glass, I'm more likely to spill the drink (or in this metaphor, I'm the Vodka, and if I look down, Fortitude is more likely to spill me). However, if I look straight ahead, that's where I'm going to go.
Dimitri told me that I was still youthful, and so I should not have an issue. I was 23 at the time (Nikolai was born in 2250, so he was 31, but if it was up to his liver, he was born in 2250, so he was 70).
He wasn't implying that I'd be a natural born horseback rider. He simply meant I shouldn't have much trouble actually mounting the horse. He was right; I got onto Fortitude's back with relative ease. However, Fortitude didn't like me on his back, so he bucked me and I hit the ground with a "thud" the first time.
I landed on my back (thankfully I wasn't carrying my equipment this time. I had a feeling that would happen). I was sore, and for a moment needed to catch my breath. The fall knocked the wind out of me, but I wasn't horribly injured.
I could feel Fortitude's eyes on me, as well as Dogmeat. I heard footsteps, and saw Nikolai standing over me holding a bottle of scotch.
"Are you well?" he asked. I nodded from the ground, but made no move to stand yet.
"Yeah, just give me a second."
"Oh. I thought you were going to be unconscious. I was going to pour this on you."
"Well, I'm fine. How about you, Nikolai?"
He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the scotch on me anyway. Then, he turned away and walked off.
"Oh, I'm fantastic now."
I stood up (and spit the scotch out of my mouth), and I saw him already on his horse. I looked over my shoulder at Fotitude, and saw a look on his face that almost said "Don't even think about it".
I let out a sigh. This was going to take awhile.
Revolution! Revolution!
It took six hours for her to get acquainted with the horse, and by "acquainted" I mean she had a vague understanding of a few ways to move with the horse.
It was one of the things she wasn't good at, but it was necessary if she wanted to go as far as she wanted to go.
She didn't actually acquaint herself totally with the horse in those six hours. It was more of me managing to convince the horse that she meant no harm. This horse (he was nameless until Milly got to him) was from "Rush-Uh", and I don't know exactly what happened to him there, but his trust was more difficult to win than the trust of most humans.
Most of her movements on his back (she called him Fortitude) were fairly sloppy, but once I managed to get him to behave himself with her, he'd compromise if she did something wrong. He wouldn't do what she wanted, or else she might think that it was right, and if she had to ride another horse we'd be up a creek without a paddle, but he didn't ignore her or punish her either. He'd sort of meet her halfway- he'd start doing what she wanted, but would stop so she knew she was wrong.
In a sense, the horse was training the human.
By three in the afternoon, Milly had a loose understanding of what she was doing right and wrong. By nine in the evening (she wanted to attack the funny-dressed men at midnight), she had enough of an understanding to know how to make Fortitude gallop, and also how not to fall off when he was galloping.
I wasn't so unfriendly with Fortitude, but he wasn't Cord. He had a dry sense of humor. Most of my jabs were lost to him, so I stopped bothering trying to really connect with him. He'd be our partner during the trip. It didn't seem like he'd be anything more to me.
Nickel-Eye, once Milly got down the basics, started firing a pistol around her. I thought for a moment that he was trying to kill her, but when I looked closer I took notice of how he was holding the pistol. He was always aimed slightly off. As it turns out, he was teaching Milly how to ride while under fire.
The final thing we did before we took a brief rest before the attack was make sure Fortitude was capable of carrying Milly's belongings and run at the same time. That took very little time, as Fortitude was a strong horse. He looked like half of his duty was to carry people and luggage alike.
Now, we were resting. We had three hours left to prepare for the attack. Milly, Nickel-Eye, Dimitri and I all waited inside the bar. After going over the plans once more, Milly kept to herself, I stayed by her at all times (as I typically try to do), Dimitri wouldn't be going with us, and Nickel-Eye was at the bar, but he wasn't drinking the smelly stuff.
I knew then that this may be one of the most dangerous things we've ever done. When we attacked the bad tin men at their base, one of the funny dressed people (Milly calls them "Legionaries") shot and killed another because he spoke out of turn. The tin men (the Enclave tin men) were bad, but I don't think they ever killed a member because he or she misspoke.
I looked at Dimitri, the bar owner. The entire time we knew him (a few days), he never closed his bar before 10, he never rigged the front and rear doors with shotguns, and he certainly never put on body armor while eyeing the doors with an AK-47 in his hands.
Everybody really thought that these Legionaries were a big deal. Even so, Milly and I experienced an attack by the Legionaries before. We wouldn't be dissuaded, no matter what was said.
Finally, I looked up at my human. She was handling the goggles the good tin men gave her that make me sleep. They said that those goggles let her see through my eyes. I didn't really understand what they meant, but I trust her totally, and so if she needs to use them, she can feel free. I know she would do everything she could to keep me from harm.
Sure enough, when we tried them out the night before, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, my paws were over my head and I was a little tired, like I'd been running. I had no new injuries, and I tasted blood in my mouth; the blood of a mole rat.
The way she eyed me while we waited was bothersome. My condition may not have bothered her, but the way she eyed me told me something: she feared endangering me again. I could tell that she almost wanted to leave me behind while she did what she wanted to do, but that's not going to happen. I wanted to tell her that I wouldn't leave her side willingly, but I don't have the human tongue, and so my words are the equivalent of esoteric noises.
I took some solace in the idea that this trip meant seeing places and going places I've never seen or heard of before. The man who puts his voice in my human's wrist machine says that going where we were going may be more dangerous.
I couldn't see past the adventure, though. I knew Milly shared at least some of my enthusiasm for the chance to see new places. She was called the "Lone Wanderer" after all, and though she's never alone, she rarely passes up a chance to wander around. When she has to stand still, she'll typically shift her weight from foot to foot, trying anything to show her desire to move again.
It's why she'd prefer to walk on her own when we wandered for the sake of wandering. Cord always asked if she wanted to ride on his back, but unless we were in the middle of doing something for somebody (or for the good tin men), or unless she was sick or injured, she'd usually say no.
It was this independence that impressed most. She had the option of covering much ground quickly (and she always had that option up until his death, because Cord was always happy to give her rides).
For what she had planned, though, we had to cover very large distances. That's why she needed the horse. It may not be as fast as Cord was, but it'd cut the trip down a lot, and we'd need it cut down if we wanted to meet with Nickel-Eye in "New Vegas".
The device on her wrist beeped a few times. It was midnight. Milly had prepared her belongings in advance, but didn't take them out to the horse yet just so she could be sure she was ready. She even tied grass into her "gill-ee" suit in case she used it.
"It's time," she said. She gathered her belongings, disarmed the trap on the front door, and walked to Fortitude. Nickel-Eye followed not much later with his belongings: a "gill-ee" suit, what he called a "Dragon Of", his handgun, a knife not unlike Milly's, and a backpack full of necessities. A bottle of the smelly liquid was poking out of his backpack. He called out to my human.
"Hey, Brotherhood Whore."
She turned to face him. I growled lowly. He tossed a small black thingy at her.
"Download that chip to your Wrist-Man. It's an emergency radio frequency. I have radio in backpack. We will keep in contact once we leave D.C like that."
She nodded. "Fine, but it's a Pip-Boy."
"In Russia, it was Wrist-Man. Chip should work on it regardless, though."
She pressed the black thingy into a slot on her wrist machine, dialed a few buttons, and then talked into it. The wrist machine, that is.
"This is Milly. Nikolai is a jerk."
"Don't push it, Whore."
She smiled, and mounted Fortitude. Nikolai did the same for his horse, and we were off in the direction of the first of many Legionary Camps.
Y-Y
In 2277, a Legionary named Marcus helped us defeat the bad tin men in a big complex (I forget the name, but I remember that it was once a base for human made flying machines. I think it was called Alan's Air Machine Base or something). He and a group of Legionaries backed us up while we fought our way inside one building in the flying machine base, Milly pressed some buttons, and then we left. The base blew up as we left, but I later found out through Cord that the Legionaries were gone. It was like they never showed up.
I bring up Marcus because that night, we found the first Legionary compound. We left the horses back a bit, and we all took cover behind what may have once been the wall of a building.
"Stay here a second," said Nickel-Eye. There was enough grass for the "gill-ee" suits to be effective, so Milly quickly put hers on (Nickel-Eye had us stop, and he put it on earlier on a hunch).
Though it was very dark, I was able to see clearly through my shiny eye. I saw Nickel-Eye crouch not far away from the wall, and hold his binoculars up to his eyes. He scanned the landscape a bit before pointing slightly right with his finger. He carefully returned to us.
"The camp is that way. I count at least eight on patrol, three asleep, and I see one Legionary in Centurion armor. He'll be the one you want to kill."
Milly nodded.
"The intel says his name is Marcus. We're acquainted."
Nickel-Eye ignored her, and turned away.
"Keep close, or I will leave you behind."
Nickel-Eye started walking slowly, but he stayed low to the ground. He held the binoculars in one hand and his pistol (with the "surpresser" on it) in the other. We all walked quietly for about a minute before Nickel-Eye quickly waved us to the ground. Milly and he made use of their "gill-ee" suits. I wasn't very easy to see outside of daylight, anyway, but I lay down for good measure.
My ears were able to pick up Legionaries talking. They kept saying things about "Caesar's will".
It wasn't long before they walked up the hill we were on together. I could smell the anxiety coming off of Milly.
"...for a long time."
"Caesar has plans for the resistance, but I think he wants us to establish full control of D.C. first. To do that..."
"I know, the Vault Dwelling Profligate must die. That D.J seems to think she's leaving D.C. Maybe we scared her off."
"No, he thinks that she's off to kill Caesar. I say let her try."
They passed within 10 feet of us and didn't see us. Once they had their backs to us, Nickel-Eye rolled onto one side, and made a slashing motion across his throat with one finger to Milly, and then he pointed at one of the Legionaries. He holstered his pistol and drew his knife, and Milly did the same.
Using their footfalls and conversation as cover, Milly and Nickel-Eye attacked their targets. Milly severed the brain stem so the death was instantaneous and without pain. Nickel-Eye sliced his target's throat, the backs of both of his ankles so he couldn't walk, stripped him of his weapons and tossed them out of reach, and left him to die.
Milly didn't say a word, but Nickel-Eye's method of killing disgusted me. I put my teeth to his target's throat to speed up the death, and then quickly caught up to my human.
Both lay down again, but they crawled forward on their bellies. I stayed low, and kept at their speed. All the while, I kept my eyes peeled for any threats.
We continued for about an hour in that fashion. It wasn't such a long distance to the spot that Milly would shoot from. We just spent most of the time inching forward, and freezing when necessary. Most patrolling Legionaries stuck to the main camp; those other two were out doing who-knows-what.
When we finally got to our spot, Milly drew her sniper rifle (what she and Sergei called an "SRS"), loaded the weapon, and uncovered the scope.
"Okay," whispered Nickel-Eye. He lay down next to her and held his binoculars to his eyes. "No suppressor... hold fire, let me find the leader... egh, Legionary scum..."
While he looked through his binoculars, Milly made adjustments to the scope on her rifle by turning a little knob on top of the scope itself a bit.
"I've got him by the burned out bus, your 10 o'clock. Sight him with your scope."
Milly turned the rifle slowly, paused for a few moments, and gave Nickel-Eye a thumbs-up.
"Yeah, I see him."
"Don't shoot. Wait for a clear shot..."
...
"...hold..."
I could hear Milly's heart beating quickly.
"...hold..."
She took a breath to calm herself.
"...alright. Wind speeds are about 15 miles per hour coming out of the North. I say... compensate one mil up by half a mil right. Fade left."
She moved the rifle, which is what I assume Nickel-Eye meant by all that.
"I've got the shot..."
"Fire when ready."
All was silent for a few moments, and Milly squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet left the barrel with an explosion, though lately these events haven't bothered my ears much. From my viewpoint, I was able to barely make out a figure collapsing at the camp.
"Good effect on target-"
The gunshot was answered by an even louder explosion, and this one was fairly close.
"Time to go," said Nickel-Eye. We didn't need to be told twice. The Legionaries knew where we were. It was time to leave.
We started to run back to the horses-
Revolution! Revolution!
I think it was beginner's luck. I caught that bastard in the heart. In the moment I had before the first grenade launched at us, I saw Marcus fall and his body show no further signs of life.
After the explosion (one of the Legionaries had a grenade launcher or a bazooka), we started running for the horses. The downside to shooting at night was the muzzle flash was... obvious.
Well, obvious enough to be seen in contrast with the dark, anyway. Otherwise, the Legionaries wouldn't be trying to blow us up right now.
We ran no more than ten steps before another explosion hit, and this time it was much closer. It sent me into the air and Dogmeat flew a little, too.
...suddenly, I couldn't hear the gunfire anymore. My ears were ringing, my sniper rifle was on the ground a foot away, and Dogmeat was dazed not far from me, either (he didn't look harmed, but I couldn't tell for sure because my vision was swimming, too). I thought that the explosion injured me badly, but I was just a little out of sorts from being so close. I didn't know that at the time, though. I thought that this was my first and last kill in regards to Legionary Centurions. I drew my Beretta Tomcat (my USP .45 flew from my holster and landed not far from my SRS), and waited for Legionaries to start approaching. I had no idea where Nikolai was, and I was intent on going down fighting. If they got me alive, they'd either crucify me, or sell me into slavery, and I don't even want to know what they'd do to Dogmeat.
One Legionary started up the hill with an assault rifle, but before I managed to pull the trigger, Nikolai ran into view with his pistol and fired a few times into the Legionary's torso. Once he was down, Nikolai fired randomly down the hill, and ran to me.
"h...yo...ing?"
He slapped me around a few times, and that brought me around again. He grabbed my hand and brought his face a little closer to mine.
"I said, 'What the hell are you doing?' Pain is a design flaw. Stand up."
Nikolai pulled me to my feet (the explosion actually caught a ditch nearby, and so none of us were injured). Dogmeat got up, too, and I quickly grabbed my weapons.
We ran to the horses and rode off, though my heart was still racing even after we were safe from their gunfire.
All in all, the actual escape took no time once we reached the horses. The Legion was no doubt expecting me to try and kill their leader, but I think they prided themselves too much on the knowledge that I prefer head-on problem solving. None of them expected me to try a stealth approach. Absolutely none expected me to escape on horseback.
I had the feeling that this was the first and last time I'd catch the Legion by surprise. The word may get back to Caesar that Marcus was dead. Without Marcus, his men would have no direction. I figured they'd destroy themselves, and I was right. I found out later that the remaining Legionaries in D.C killed each other fighting over who would run things until Caesar got them a replacement.
Caesar would be slow to replace downed Centurions. Nikolai and I both knew that much. The consequence of his widespread control was the fact that his numbers were now thin. If you walked into a Legion controlled territory in the past, you'd know it for sure. Now, you could walk into the Legion's territory, and their numbers are spread so thin that they have very few patrols. The most heavily guarded place in a Legionary territory is the camp that controls it.
That's not to say you won't see Legionaries patrolling here and there. The reason so few have outright rebelled against them lies in the fear of the unknown. It is known that the Legion is spread thin, but it is still able to survive. The main reason behind that survival is its scouts. A popular phrase is "The Legion has eyes everywhere". You never know who is a scout and who is another civilian. Get caught even looking at a Legionary camp funny by a scout, and you're either dead or a slave.
The point is, my intel suggests that Caesar's Centurions are spread so thin that they are an exact number to a territory. That is, there are 12 major Legionary camps, and twelve Centurions active at any time. Caesar would have to look at his idle troops in depth, and decide carefully who should lead a territory I just finished in. Centurions are just shy of Legate (the highest rank in the Legion I know of). We'd be disrupting around ten of those camps. The last two were beyond New Vegas, and since Caesar is in or near New Vegas (he's in what he calls "The Fort"), all I'd have to do to destroy those last two camps would be to kill Caesar and his current Legate, Lanius.
To kill both of them would crush the influence Caesar's Legion has now. Like with Talon Company, they may still exist in small numbers, but no longer would they be feared. They'd be shamed forever.
Additionally, I was hoping that, since most of their territories were against them, killing their Centurion masters might trigger a larger scale rebellion. I didn't expect all territories to rebel after I kill their Centurions; a few support the Legion. However, places like D.C would push the Legion back if it tried to rebel again.
There's even evidence in the intel I have of a city in the Mojave called "Freeside". It's the only part of New Vegas that did not fall under the banner of the bull. It's controlled by rebels. Caesar would reward anyone, affiliated with the Legion or not for destroying that rebellion, but he simply can't afford sending what few men he has idle to try and eradicate that threat. Likewise, the rebels can hold Freeside, but they can't afford to send their thin numbers to attack Caesar.
That's where Nikolai and I would meet: Freeside. We had a deadline, too: each of us had half a year to get to Freeside, which meant killing quickly and quietly, and making the trip meant riding nearly endlessly.
If one of us did not show up within 182 days of when we started the trip (today being 17 December 2281), the other would make the attempt on Caesar's life, hopefully with backup from the rebels.
We rode nonstop until about an hour before dawn. From here, we were to split up. Nikolai would take a route North, destroying the leaders of the camps I wrote down for him (he insisted that his Spetsnaz training would keep him on track, but I gave him a map, anyway). I would go a little South, and I'd destroy the camps in my way, as well. I didn't need a paper map, on account of my Pip-Boy and its map properties.
"Okay, stay in touch on radio, Whore," he said. I wordlessly nodded, and I looked at the map on my Pip-Boy.
"Right, your first target is..."
"The nearest camp to us is in Cleaveland, Ohio. Or what was once Ohio."
From some films I've seen involving pre-war Cleaveland, it no doubt looked like crap even before the bombs dropped.
Nikolai was looking at me, waiting for me to tell him where I was headed next.
"Oh! Uhh... my first target now is in Nashville."
Nikolai kept staring. "Listen to me, Whore. If you screw up, I'm not going to be around to hold your hand. If you get caught, you'd do well to give that puny Beretta Tomcat a try on your own head. You do NOT want to be a prisoner to Legionaries."
I didn't flinch. I was actually sort of touched. That was the closest I'd ever gotten to hearing Nikolai say "be careful".
From there, we both went our seperate ways. I decided to ride off for a few hours before taking a break for sleep. Before I even left D.C, I looked back one final time at the place that was once my home.
Just a few hours of riding, and I could be back in Megaton, sleeping in my bed. I could beg Elder Lyons to take me back, and protect D.C from the Legion if they tried to retake it again. As for Nikolai, he could take care of himself... if I wanted to back out.
I spurred Fortitude into a gallop. Destination: Nashville, Tennessee.
End of Chapter
10,556 words.
Milly being able to see through Dogmeat's eyes is mostly a petty jab at Daniel Dennett. Told you. Weird.
This is a very wordy chapter, I know. It's meant to cover a lot of information, though. I'm not exactly a huge fan of this one, but it's a necessary evil.
As for Milly's training, I tried to keep it mostly on-par with what I know about sniping. (Favor is a real sniper's term, but I forget the other one, so "Fade" may not be right). As for the horseback riding. I danced around actual lectures from Nikolai on the subject because I don't know the first thing about horseback riding.
Thankfully, next chapter should be shorter than this. It covers the death of the Legionary leader in Nashville. Y'all come back now, ya hear?