Chapter VIII:
Not my kind of town
Boone
The night was settling. While there would be no moon tonight, it would only make the hunt all the more satisfying. I handed the keys to the Dino-Mouth perch to Cliff Briscoe, and began heading out the door.
"Hunting again, Boone?" Cliff called from over my shoulder. I turned and faced him, my eyes slitting into a casual glare. Despite this, Cliff continued his rather condescending crooked grin that he almost always wore.
"So who is this time?" he continued, "More Vipers? Maybe some ragged down tourists who just happen to cross your troubled way."
"Legion." I replied. He arched an eyebrow at me.
"How can you tell, especially in this darkness?"
"Years of experience fighting them in the dark. Crimson was always easy to spot."
"So how long are you gonna be gone?"
"They were 4 miles out when I saw them. Heading south. I'll be back the day after tomorrow."
Cliff then began shaking his head, revealing a long bald dark head with only patches of gray hair on either side of his head.
"Boone, this has gotta stop."
"Why should it?"
"Well, because people are starting to get worried…"
"What people, Cliff?"
"Okay fine. I'm worried about you, Boone."
"You shouldn't be."
Much to my surprise, Cliff slammed his fist onto counter, and almost began to shout:
"Damn it, Boone! You have got to stop doing this, man! I know why you're going on these hunts. Killing more Crimson will not bring back-"
"Don't you dare say her name, Cliff!" I snarled at him, which caused the normally gentle man to jump back in fright, "Don't you ever say her name."
"Boone, do you think your wife would want you to keep on doing this? To keep killing in her name? You're just gonna get yourself killed!"
"I don't think she cares anymore, Cliff. She's dead."
With that, I marched out the door, the swinging door the only reminder of my presence. I adjusted the straps on my rifle and as well as my red beret. A minute later, I was past the fence and into the night, the neon letters of NO-VAC blaring behind my back…
Gideon
I slid out of the casino entrance, followed by ED-E, Meyers and Primm Slim. It had taken me roughly twenty minutes to reprogram Slims internal systems, activating his hidden law enforcement protocols. An interesting fact I had learned about the Protectron model robot is that they were originally built to be essentially cops and security guards. I remembered reading somewhere that the robots were reserved for a support role only. That would do fine either way.
Quickly, we passed the sandbag walls that the Troopers had set up in front of the Bison Steve Hotel. I knew that the convicts wouldn't risk a gunfight with men who had basically machineguns, now that they were whittled down to less than fifteen. However, the Troopers on the street would serve as the perfect distraction.
"Are you sure there's a side entrance to the Bison Steve?" I asked Slim.
"Sure is," the odd mechanical voice replied, "Used to be the old platform they used for the rollercoaster. Well, when it was actually upright."
I could see what he meant. Most of the rollercoaster had fallen to piece around its self. Fortunately for us, there was still a section of the coaster left that led to a platform on the second level. Quickly, we headed up the rollercoaster and onto the platform. In front of us was an old wooden door.
"Weapons check!" I said to the band of desperados. In truth only Meyers and I needed to. I pulled out the Browning and Colt, and did my usual manual check of the weapons. I then brought out my newer weapon, even if it was temporary. Out on the wastes, range and good line of sight made Lowlight am excellent choice, but not in the enclosed claustrophobic close-quarters nightmare that the hotel had in store for us.
I had been forced to switch to an older model S&W M76 9mm SMG. It wasn't the most accurate of weapons, but in CQC's, it was a good choice. This one had the extended eight inch barrel, as well as the foldable stock. I checked its long, 30 round stick magazine, along with the back up two I had in a pouch. I then unfolded the stock and held it firmly in shoulder, my left hand using the magazine as a forward grip. I checked over my shoulder to see how Meyers was holding up.
He had his .357 revolver in his holster, wielding the two over/under barrel Olympia caravan shotgun. He was also adjusting a bandolier of 20 gauge slugs over his shoulder. Both weapons I had pawned off of the now deserted NCR outpost, and I doubt they'd come looking for them. He nodded and we geared up to breach the door. Funny enough, as he was getting ready to kick down the door, I stopped him and opened the door; it had been unlocked.
I brought my weapon up, and swept into the hallway, my aim sweeping left and right. Meyers came in second followed by the robots. I checked the Sensorium (love saying that), confirming no targets in the vicinity. However, I had been right about this place; this sham of a building. The place was literally falling apart; with holes in the floor board and in the walls, paint peeling and the wood rotting. Overall, this building deserved to be condemned and burnt to ash.
The only thing I hadn't counted on was the darkness. It was almost pitch dark in this place, and unnervingly quiet. I switched on the Pip-Boy light, the green hue adding to the yellow from Meyers's flashlight (tapped to the barrel of his scattergun). Overall, the building was three stores high, and to save time, we agreed to clear this floor together and split up, man to robot, to clear the rest of the building. ED-E and I would take the third floor, Meyers and Primm the first.
"Watch your footing, this floor's liable to fall," I whispered to the man and machines. Meyers nodded and the robots beeped in acknowledgment. I brought my weapon to my shoulder and took point, Meyers staying close to my left and the robots forming a rearguard. I moved forward and came to a corner. The Sensorium started beeping softly, and I held up my hand in the 'stop' gesture.
I checked the Sensorium; two tickmarks were moving ahead of us, at a patrolling pace, around the corner. I signaled the party behind of this information, and I moved slowly around the corner, Meyers close behind. I had gone no more than five feet when I heard voices up ahead and I soon saw a door ahead of me open, and Meyers moving to my left hand side wall. One man stepped through and turned his back to me. I aimed and popped a burst into the back of the man's skull. He fell in a red tumble, the SMG burst making only a muffled popping sound (another reason why this weapon was useful for insertions, the weapon made very little noise without the aid of any attachments).
The second gunmen came running, a handgun in hand. Yet he only got a foot out the door before Meyers fired off both barrels, obliterating his shoulder and head. The Sensorium began beeping again, this time three tickmarks coming from the hallway we had just come from.
"Overwatch," I said to the robots, "go loud."
They need no further permission. They quickly scuttled back down the hallway and to the right. ED-E's military drums echoed through the air followed by Slims 'Yeeha!'Seconds later; the crackle of laser fire and the smell of ozone rippled through the hall, as did the cries of their intended targets. We waited, and a minute later the robots returned, ED-E playing triumphant bugle music and Primm Slim declaring: "Whoo-wee! We taught 'em somethin'!"
I could smell burning flesh, and I had a suspicion that Slims laser gauntlets were probably less powerful than ED-E's. Previous weapon experience had told me that some laser weapons sometimes only lit the targets on fire rather than incinerating them, but they did the job easily enough. We continued along the hallway, checking each room we came to. Fortunately for us, we found quite a bit of loot in many of them. They were mainly bottle caps and meds mostly, sometimes found in the bath tubs.
To whoever found them would reap in their spoils. Eventually, we came across a room where the roof had caved in, forming a ramp leading up to the third floor. I quietly shut the door, and held it in place with a chair. This would be my way in. We crossed the last hallway and came across two convicts standing at a stairwell that led to the third floor.
Their backs were again turned to us, smoking; I unleashed a barrage into both targets. The burst ripped open both targets in a spray of red and lead. After doing a final search, we located the stairs heading down to the first floor.
"Good luck to ya, Maadox. Good chance they gonna know your coming." Meyers commented. I nodded:
"Likewise to you. But I'm going through the backdoor."
He nodded, and headed down the stairs, followed by the clacking of Slims heavy boots.
"C'mon, ED-E. We got work to do," I said to the floating robot, which beeped his musical response: " You know I'm ready for the worst! "
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, bud." I chuckled. Quickly, we headed back towards the blocked door I had founded earlier. As we ran, I could already hear the steady roar of distant gunfire. I shrugged it off and removed the chair I had placed earlier, signaling ED-E to breach the door and I opened it slowly. As it opened, ED-E zoomed in, bobbing his body around and up the caved in roof. He then beeped the all clear, and I headed up.
I checked the Sensorium, and headed up, SMG pointed up and ready to rock. We soon came across a series of hallways and we transversed them slowly. Even though the Sensorium never beeped once, I couldn't be sure what effect closed doors and rooms would have on it, so we went through every room we found. Then the Sensorium began beeping, two tickmarks moving around the corner. As soon as we got close, they must've heard us because an unwavering barrage of fire erupted from around the corner.
I backed a good five feet from the killzone; knowing that these walls would provide zero cover against the incoming fire. A minute later, I heard a distinct click, and I knew they had run dry.
"Shield, now!" I ordered. ED-E then began playing 'Ride of the Valkyries' and then zoomed in front, I moved right behind and just as expected, the tangos opened up again. ED-E then bobbed in front of me, acting as a floating shield against the incoming lead. The only price was that ED-E couldn't shoot at the same time, but I worked around that. As ED-E advanced, Valkyries roaring; I ducked underneath the robot and fire a burst into the targets. The rounds shredded their shins, sending them to the floor in screams of pain.
ED-E's music changed, the lyrics echoed in the hallway; " Now you shall pay your own… very price! " Suddenly, ED-E fired his laser, engulfing both in a red glow, reducing them to ash. I rose to my feet, my eye glued to the remains of the enemy that once stood. I don't know how long I just stood there dumb faced, when all of a sudden the Sensorium started beeping madly. ED-E hurried along the hallway when I realized what was wrong. I started running, trying to warn the floating robot.
I was too late. Suddenly, a door to ED-E's right opened and a shotgun protruded out from it. A split-second later, both barrels unloaded into the floating robot, and causing him to exclaim aloud. The pellets blew up great sparks as the impacted the armor; forcing me to cover my eye with the sleeve of my jacket. Yet when I gazed upon ED-E; he was unchanged, but covered in smoke: his beeping sounding practically like a wolf's growl. As I moved up, I saw the man in the broom closet who was huddled against the wall; terror sewed into his eye and face.
ED-E slowly turned; like an angry god about to bestow his vengeance. As he turned upon the cowering man, I could see him whimpering in his wake. ED-E growled, and fired, blasting the man in a red glow the surrounded him, reducing him to ash.
"Let me see you." I said to the floating robot, and attempting to examine his wounds. He resisted, pulling away from my grip.
"Let me see you." I ordered in a commanding voice. He finally stopped and turned to his wounded side. I looked at his armored plat, noticing only tiny dents where the pellets had hit him. He beeped once and I nodded:
"C'mon, let's finish this." I said to the indestructible ED-E, who beeped in pleasure. Quickly, we advanced along the corridor until we came across a set of wooden double doors. On the other side I could hear voices and movement. I geared myself and kicked down the door with all might, sending both open in a splinter of wood. Then I saw what was ahead of me.
"Shit!" I shouted as I dodged and slid to my back as a great roar of flame shot past where I was standing. The convict ahead of me had a flamethrower! Suddenly another ball of flame fired at where I was laying so I quickly rolled over to the other door. He rolled the flame into an arc, the door quickly catching fire. It still served as an effective shield.
Then suddenly, ED-E zoomed right into the room and opened up. To my horror, the man was wearing a sort of plate metal suit ontop of what looked like a fireproof suit. ED-E's laser crackled, but the metal absorbed the incoming fire; leaving scorch marks yet no incineration! Then it quickly turned into a dance as ED-E and the convict moved around the room, firing or attempting to fire on the other with no great effect. As I moved out to try and assist my comrade, an automatic weapon slammed into and began tearing apart my burning cover.
I rolled, firing a burst with no great accuracy and slammed through another door. More fire erupted, the tracers tearing straight through the upper wall. I rolled again, going through another door and into a hallway. I ended up in a kitchen and I could see the convict with the flamethrower ahead of me, his tank exposed! Yet, as I was about to raise my SMG; I felt something smack over my head, sending me to the floor and throwing away both my weapon and hat.
My head felt like it was spinning, but I did the only thing I could do: attack! I kicked out and sideswiped my opponents' legs, sending him crashing into a wall. I lunged at him, throwing a punch into his chest, which was retaliated by a punch to my face. I refused to go to the floor; so I held on, threw my weight and sent him into another wall. I then slammed my fist once, and then twice into his head.
He slammed something that felt like toaster into my face and I fell back; him ontop of me. He started punching me in my face, but I blocked him the second go and countered with my own blow to the face. He fell back and I went at him again, this slamming my forehead into his. Not the best idea, as we both whirled back in pain and I fell to the floor. Then I spotted my SMG, and I crawled towards it.
He saw and came running. As he lunged in mid-air, I grabbed the SMG and fired a burst into his chest; sending him falling to the floor. I stood and spotted the flamethrower convict: his back tanks exposed. I took aim and fired. The bullets ripped into the tank, but instead of an explosion you'd see in a prewar movie, a small fireball erupted and engulfed the man in flames.
He was screaming and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Then my floating robot fired a single round into the man's head and decapitated him. With that, a great sense of nausea rolled right through me and I had to sit, or more like slump, against a wall. ED-E came floating over, chirping like if he was asking me if I was okay. I looked up and saw that ED-E was covered in soot and a few scorch marks, as well as a few more tiny dents over his grill like face.
"ED-E, you look how I feel." I said to him and he responded in kind. Then suddenly there was banging coming from inside a closet and a hoarse voice called from it:
"Let me out! Let me out!"
Quickly, we moved towards the door, opening it and our respective weapons pointed at what was inside. I relaxed as I saw who it was.
"You Deputy Beagle?" I asked. The man was in his early thirties, with long blond hair and a face that looked like it had taken a beating. The man nodded:
"I'm assuming that you're here to rescue me?" He asked me. I nodded, and slid my knife out from my boot and began cutting his bounds.
"Way I hear it; you've got information on a group of Khans that came through here
"Sure I do. And I'll be happy to give it to ya when we get…"
I held the knife up, and he stopped in his tracks:
"Either give me what I want, or I will leave you in here to rot!" I growled at him, ED-E punctuating my point by floating just a little closer to the man and beeping one loud, shrill tone. He visibly gulped, reached into his pocket and pulled out a recorder.
"Here, take it!" He said handing the recorder to me, "Now I'll just be on my way…"
"Not so fast Deputy Chicken," I growled, stopping him again with the knife, "If you so much as try to run off on me, I will gut you. Are we clear?"
He nodded, and we started heading down the stairs. The first thing that hit me when I opened the door was the smell of cooking meat. As we approached the lobby, the smell became stronger. We soon encountered Meyers and Slim a little later.
"Zzzt, good to see ya again, partner." Slims mechanical voice ringed out through the lobby of the hotel. Slim was in about the same shape as ED-E, if just a bit worse. Covered in bullets dents, but health and mind still unchanged. I looked around, noticing all the bodies about blasted by scattergun, and two still on fire. Speaking about a scattergun, Meyers was sitting on the lobby counter; shotgun cradled with one arm, the other holding an odd looking .357 revolver in the other, a cigar clenched in his teeth.
"Looks like you had fun," I said to the cocky Meyers, "New toy?"
"Yep," he replied, holding up his new revolver, which had grip made of an elk antler with a spade stamped right in the middle, "Found it in the locker behind me, figured it'd be a good memento. Here, catch."
He tossed over another cigar. I lit it, and breathed in the smoke down into my lungs. It had a musty smell as with all old tobacco, but the taste and feel was all still there. Meyers then holstered the revolver and tossed over a leather bag. It clinked when I caught it.
I opened it up, and gleamed at the sight of the bottle caps.
"Figured you need it more than me. Now, you must be Beagle? Well, you're talkin' to yer new boss, and guess what? Yer fired."
"This is most unusual! The Powder Gangers have visitors today. I guess there's a first for everything! Now those tough-looking fellows must be Great Khans. I recognize those funny helmets and leather vests from stories I've heard...
"So what are they doing with a dapper gentleman who wears a checked suit? I wouldn't mind a suit like that. They're talking about heading south toward Nipton, then west to Novac where they'll meet up with someone...
"I guess I could track them if I needed to, but the town of Primm needs me here, to serve and protect.
"Oh my. I think I've been spotted..."
I played the recording over and over, visualizing everything I could about the ones I would be hunting soon. Either way, they were going to be close to a week ahead of me, and I knew that I needed to find a way to pick up the pace; shorten the distance somehow. There was nothing I could do now at the moment, as I hadn't properly let my injuries heal from Goodsprings. Nash and his wife, Ruby, had confined me to bed for atleast a day, if not more.
Well, atleast here I could plan, as the Pip-Boy had in its banks detailed maps of the area I was planning to travel through. Apparently it could scan other maps to be constantly updated. I knew I needed more supplies: ammo, chems and Intel. That meant heading south to the NCR base at Mojave Outpost first, then swinging around to Nipton and then making my way to Novac. Overall, that was a fourteen mile trip. One advantage I knew I would have is that my prey didn't know I was still alive. I had died over two weeks ago, and the Khans had only showed up in Primm not three days ago.
That meant that they were taking their sweet time to get to where they were going. They would avoid the Mojave Outpost, as the Khans were on the shoot on sight list for the NCR. However, I knew that they would probably spend several days at Nipton. It was a rest and pleasure town; a Venus Fly Trap along with other names. In short, it provided any and everything; booze, girls and drugs, along with other townly services.
Knowing the Khans, they would not pass up at that kind of service. If I played my time right, I could probably catch up with them in a matter of days, and if luck would have it, wasted by the time I found them. Now with the indestructible ED-E in tow, it would come down to a very short gunfight. I would have my vengeance and my answers. It would only come down to careful planning and a degree of patience.
In other news, I was able to convince Lieutenant Hayes to accept Meyers as a candidate for sheriff, and to help keep the peace in the town. I am back to my old job as a courier for a bit, the other reason for me heading to Mojave Outpost. Hayes needed me make a delivery, two separate request forms; one for Meyers pardon and for additional reinforcements. That was another reason why the NCR was always so slow; the endless paper trail that they always created and required for everything that they did. However, it does serve a purpose, I suppose.
Meyers then proclaimed that he was going to make Slim his deputy, and made the public point to fire Beagle. I wasn't surprised. The man was coward when it came to it, the only reason he got his job was because the deceased sheriff was his brother-in-law. Meyers on the other hand took his job as a solemn sense of duty, and Slim just seemed to enjoy it, well for as long as his programming lasted that is. Still, with a squad of soldiers and a commander who knew what he was doing: the town would be safe… for now.
"Well, atleast today had come to something good, I guess."
I had felt restless in my solitude, so I spent several hours disassembling, cleaning and oiling my firearms. Then I spent the next several sighting the scope on Lowlight, slowly figuring out its effective range and adjusting the scope accordingly. All this, and taking on the part time job of an exterminator, testing my rifle on a few scurrying rats in the distance. I found that the rifle leaned a little to the left, and it took me about an hour to center into place. But the end, I couldn't be any happier.
Heading back inside, I made a mental count of all of my equipment, and even made a catalog in the Pip-Boy. I was low on ammo, food and water. But I still had a decent supply of morphine, steroid pills and militarized LSD. They along with the M76 would fetch a decent price. Just going over the list of what I needed was enough to make me grimace.
Even if I didn't have the time, I could not change my mind about going to the Mojave Outpost. I wasn't gonna last long if I didn't resupply soon…
It was about midday when ED-E and I rolled right out of town and off towards the Outpost. It somehow felt good to be out on road again, maybe because with every step I was getting closer and closer to my goal. When it came to it, I wasn't just out for revenge. I wanted answers. The answers to my seamlessly endless list of questions that burned away in my mind.
It was getting a bit chillier and windier as the month quickly approached the end of October. I wrapped my scarf around my face, blocking out a good amount of the blowing sand and I ended up wrapping my weapons in the bundles of blankets that had been resting at the bottom of my bag. The desert didn't seem to bother ED-E one bit though. He was just floating around, his internal speakers playing off songs from the radio. The hours seemed to tick down with every new song.
" Oh blue moon… You found me standing alone… without a dream in my heart… without a love of my own! "
" Blue moon… you knew just what I was there for… You heard me saying a prayer for… Someone I really could care for! "
Sinatra's vocals served to bring back old memories; those old grainy images of an embarrassing love, that first love, so many years ago.
" And then there suddenly appeared before me… The only one my arms would hold I heard somebody whisper, "please adore me"… And when I looked to the moon it turned to gold! "
" Blue moon…Now I'm no longer alone… Without a dream in my heart… Without a love of my own! "
Time just drifted on by, as we moved through the sandstorm. Finally, the storm died away, revealing the beautiful night sky, the stars shining with their full splendors. If there was one thing that never seemed to change about this screwed up reality that we lived in, it was those stars. Despite the horrors, the blood and violence, betrayal and contest that made up this land, the stars were always unchanging, ungrudging, and always… beautiful. It gives a little comfort to a man.
By six in the afternoon, I could see the Outposts one true signature, the one thing that stuck up out of the natural earth. No, it wasn't the seamlessly endlessly line of rusted frames of cars that dotted this highway going up the hill, it was the statues that stood above it all. Two men, one clad in a long trench coat, his head enclosed in a war helmet with a built in gasmask, the other bound in armor and rawhide hat, shaking hands. This marked the end of actually NCR controlled territory. It also marked their unending need to glorify themselves. It wasn't really a monument of unification; it was a monument of their ego.
When the Legion brought the fight here, these two would only serve as a tombstone for the many thousands who have died in futile dream bred form greed. That is until Caesar melts it down and reshapes it into a bull. For when I stared into the monument; I felt betrayal. I felt an old, ancient anger at the heirs of an old dream. All for reasons long forgotten or deeply buried.
I shook it off. I wasn't here to discuss my own personal politics, I was here to barter. We crossed over the hill, and came into full view of the base. A chainlink fence on both sides of the road, one for the Brahmin, the double headed cows, and the other for the barracks and Administration building. While I remembered coming here more than once, I was still surprised at how undermanned the facility was. I could only see maybe four soldiers around and that wasn't counting the caravaners that were stuck here for whatever bureaucratic reason.
Quickly I made my way to the Admin building, with many staring wonderingly at ED-E. I passed two of the soldiers who were on one side of the fence, and entered the building. My eye had long adjusted to the darkness outside, so the indoor lights were quite a shock and my eye stung. I shook it off, my eye quickly adjusting to the lights ahead of me. In truth, this place looked more like a prewar office floor than any military command room, with the many cubicles that ran through the room.
"Caravan, citizen, pilgrim or…" A soft voice called from in front of me. Standing behind a desk, was another NCR officer. He was younger than Hayes, which in a way wasn't surprising. He was wearing no armor, a green officer beret, and a nametag on his left chest that read 'Knight'. I also noticed a gold olive branch on his collar piece, revealing his rank of Major.
"Courier, Major. So is the robot." I replied with a sense of conviction, which that and the mention of his rank made the Major stand just a little straighter.
"Just need something for the logbooks. Have to record what comes in and what comes out. Speaking of which, what's your business here?"
"To buy supplies and deliver an invoice from Lieutenant Hayes. Two actually," I answered, removing the two letters from my coat pocket.
"One's for a pardon," I continued, "and the other for reinforcements."
"I should have guessed Hayes unit was in trouble," Knight said, reading over both letters, "But there's not much I can do for Hayes unit…"
"Why?" I asked.
"Orders. We have to maintain a standing force here."
"Sir, I've already told another officer that orders can hang," I spoke calmly, avoiding becoming angry with the NCR's red tape, "So I'm going to explain why. Primm is the controller of most major traffic before it hits Goodsprings and then Vegas. The town has already been secured. All it needs is a proper military presence to maintain order and it can be used as a means of patrolling the trade routes. Besides, the fight is there, not here."
He nodded, seeming to understand what I was conveying to him:
"I'll do what I can, Mr..?"
"Gideon, Gideon Maddox."
"And reading over Hayes's report on Mr. Meyers, I'm safe to assume he will be willing to cooperate with NCR?"
"If given a free hand, yes."
"Again I'll do what I can. Now as for the supplies, I will give you the proper supply forms but it may take some time."
"Of course it will…"
When I stepped out of the Admin building, I felt absolutely drained. Then again, who actually likes paperwork? Yet despite that, it was worth it. When it came to buying or selling, the NCR were actually fair when it came to the prices. I guess that makes up for the tedious paper trail.
I had been able to requisition a dozen cases of MRE's. Essentially, lightweight air sealed boxes full of freeze dried food. Not the tastiest, but they would last and each would provide easily a day's worth for a long hike. I had also ordered 100 rounds in both .45 and .223 calibers. I also ordered up a standard medical pack, which also came with three additional stimpacks, one enhanced a couple shots of morphine (Med-X) as well as a few other things.
Overall, I was looking at a 600 cap investment, easy. Fortunately, I would still be able trade off some of that with the M76 and the 9mm ammo. Plus the additional chems I had as well. All I had to do was to take the forms to the bartender, who apparently was the unofficial supply officer here. Well, whatever works, besides… I could use a drink.
With ED-E wondering behind me, we made our way to the barracks. When I entered, the first thing that hit me was the aroma, the fragrance. It wasn't terrible, but one could smell the booze in the air. The place wasn't really special; it looked like what a bar is supposed to look like. A long bar, tables and chairs all around, although a side door to my left probably led to the actual trooper barracks.
All around me were troopers who at first stared oddly at me, then at ED-E.
"ED-E, overwatch but go silent. Watch for funny business."
He nodded and headed over to a secluded corner with a good view of the room, and hovered there, trying his best to be inconspicuous. Then the bartender, a woman, called me.
"New face? Never seen you around here before, what'll you have?" She asked. I got a good look at her as I sat at a stool on the left corner. Late twenties, light dark skin, probably a Creole mix, a seeming striking cunning and intelligence to her. Overall, she was a fine woman, but probably one not to be trifled with.
"A shot of whiskey. And I heard you are the 'unofficial' supply officer here."
"I wager Knight told you that," she laughed, "Well I do manage trade around here. You got your forms?"
"Yep. Plus a few things to trade."
I then placed a bundled up blanket onto the counter, unrolling it, revealing what I wanted to sell. I then handed her the requisition forms, which she took while inspecting my merchandise.
"You a merc by chance?" She asked.
"Nope; courier. So is the robot."
"I've never seen a robot like that. Where'd you pick him up?"
"Primm. Had to pull a .308 out of him."
"Damn! Most just shatter when hit with that kind of round."
"Yep. He's mine and mine only."
Quickly, we conducted our business. She went to a back room for a time, finally returning with a box full of my selected gear. We then bartered down the worth of the M76 and my selected ammo, of which came down to 250 caps for the SMG, and 72 caps for the ammo. Then that came down to another 70 caps for the additional chems. That left only 208 caps for me to pay.
Another 8 caps thrown in for the whiskey. After that, I set about to pack my selected in my bag, all of which came into a fairly snug fit at the bottom of my sack. I then brought my weapons onto the bar, and set about loading every single magazine that I had. That came down to six .223 and .45 caliber magazines. While I was working, my eye kept on drifting to another woman who sat to my left.
She was in her thirties; tanned and rough tumbling, but neither could black out her incredibly red cheeks. I also noticed the messy tumbling of a ponytail, her hair just as red as her own cheeks. She was fair looking, but had the look of a tough woman who'd probably aim for the crotch. She bore a Suede Jacket, rattan hat and blue jeans tucked into a pair of cowboy boots. She in short looked solidly like a cowgirl.
But I know the look of a rancher, she wasn't one. She did however have the obvious look of a caravaner. One odd thing I noticed was this odd diamond shaped pennant hanging around her neck. But before I could guess further, she looked up from a glass half her face had been buried into for the past five minutes, and I quickly dodged my head to the side; filling my own shot of whiskey. Then that's when I noticed she moved seats, just two down from me, and I could feel her own eyes rolling all over me, before she took a swig of whiskey in a heavy gulp.
"Ya looking for trouble?" I heard her growl, the stench of alcohol and tobacco drifting over me. This wasn't going to end well.
"Nope," I said with my weakest poker face I ever had, "Just looking around, lady."
She narrowed her eyes, and moved one more seat over… right next to me. Ah shit.
"You'd best keep those eyes up'n turning or I'll send 'em spinning."
Then I did the stupid thing. I turned my head and gave her the 'I'd like to see you try' look with an arch eyebrow.
"I surprised you can even notice from the bottom of that bottle, you crazy woman."
"What…Did… You… just say?!"
"You heard me woman. Why you hogging my space?"
"Oh, you've just got my attention, boy." She growled menacingly, my hand instinctually reaching for Parabellum, "And not in a good way."
"Too fucking bad," I replied in kind, "I ain't here for your pleasure."
I should've expected what came next: the explosion of a bad chemical reaction. The next thing I knew; I was on the floor, my head spinning, my jaw aching, this drunken lady standing just above me. Then I heard the whoosh of internal gravity turbines as ED-E appeared over me, beeping harsh curses as he readied his laser. The woman didn't even remotely seem fazed.
"Back… Off!" I growled, standing up in a heartbeat. My blood was pumped and my submerged rage demanded a fight. I was going to give it one. Oh I was gonna give it one.
"Let's dance."
Almost like an invitation, the drunken woman then threw another punch at my face. I saw it coming and dodge my head to the side, and stepped back. I grinned mockingly, and she snarled. She then threw a flurry of punches at me; all of which I dodge nimbly, moving my head from side to side. As I monitored my surroundings; I realized we had gathered a large crowd of spectators who circled the room, them all gazing and gasping at our display.
"Oh come on, getting tired?" I asked in a mocking voice. She snarled and threw a roundhouse, which I blocked with one arm and I pushed her to the floor with the other. Before I could do anything else, she kicked hard into the side of my leg with the tip of her cowboy boot, shooting a hot iron pain into my leg that dropped me to the floor. She lunged at me and threw another punch for my face; but I blocked and pushed, sending her back into the bar. She came at me again, and we went right back to square one, this time she started throwing kicks into the mix.
"Would… You… Fuckin'… Hold still!" She screamed as she savagely threw herself at me. I grabbed her by both arms and flung her back to the bar. She didn't stop, though. She grabbed a bunch of bottles and started throwing them at me. I ducked and dodged, some of them actually hitting some of the soldiers behind me. One even hit a soldier who had just walked right into the room, the bottle smacking him in the face and knocking him the floor.
Finally, she decided to go with bar fight rules and came at me with a broken bottle. I was ready though. As she came at me, I sidestepped and underslung my arm around her bottle side, linking with my other arm and holding her in an arm lock. She wrestled with me, kicking and stomping down at me with her big boots. I gritted my teeth and brought it to the floor, the locking my legs over hers to hold her down. It didn't stop her though; she wrestled like a Night Stalker caught in a bear trap, cursing and screaming before she set her teeth into my hand.
I fought through the pain, and held on until she finally let go. Finally after several minutes, she stopped wrestling, stopped biting, and stopped struggling. It was the liquor and adrenaline in her finally burning out. Then she began to shiver and then… I felt could tears running through my hands. For several minutes I could feel her sobbing into my arm, and I knew it was long overdue release.
Slowly, reluctantly, I released my grip. There she sat there in my lap, crying as the anger boiling hot in my veins started to drain and die. I wrapped my arms around her, gently, comforting her as she continued sobbing, my weary body finally going numb. Goddamn it.
I could feel the burn as the whiskey flowed down my throat; the sense of cold came only a little later. I sat next to the auburn colored girl, as she sipped her own whiskey, with a large amount of color leaving her body, leave her pale with grief.
"I've been drinkin' ta forget." She said slowly and painfully. As we both finished our glasses, the bartender immediately refilled them. I had seen the look in her eyes; the auburn girl had probably been here a while and she was glad someone was actually getting her to open up.
"Forget what?" I asked. She seemed to bury her face in the glass as she replied:
"My caravan was burned to cinders. So fuckin' close ta Vegas you could've touched the wall."
"Burned? Even the cargo?"
"Yeah. Everything is ash now."
"Who do you think it was?"
She downed another glass, but seemed to just stare into it as though she was staring at her own distorted reflection… or a ghost.
"Legion, more than likely. They've been cuttin' NCR supply lines…"
"And it seems to be working," I finished, causing her to turn to gaze upon me, "I mean, look at this place."
"Held up tighter than a New Vegas virgin." She continued with a smile. Part of me appreciated it; the other seemed to fear it. Yet there something about her that just seemed to…
"Ya know, you're the first person to ask this, 'bout my story," she chuckled, interrupting my thoughts, "So why are you here, and don't tell me it's just to buy supplies."
"I'm hunting a man," I began with a start, removing my hat, showing my bandages, "a man in a checkered suit."
"You've the look like you're gonna kill him." She said, touching my bandages softly. I nodded:
"I am, eventually," I began, motioning to the bandages, "he shot me twice. And... well, I actually died."
"Died? How long?"
"Clinical speaking? Doc said it was for nearly 34 minutes."
"Wait… this wouldn't be Doc Mitchell, would it?"
"So…" I replied with a smile, "You're her? Aren't you?"
She returned with a long, understandable smile:
"And I see you've met Sunny?"
"So you two know each other?"
"When I came here from Hub, could say they gave me a start… and a place to be when things got bad. And trust me; they did in those days."
"Know enough about that. I've traveled enough roads, and it finally caught up to me."
"Heh, well you're still here. And shithead better keep a look over his shoulder," She grinned slightly, chuckling a little, "Not much on this dry fuckin' orb that can claim survivin' being shot in the head."
"I would gladly trade that for my memories."
"Gone? All of it?"
"Some. Others are coming back in pieces, like grainy images from a camera. Either way, it won't be long."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Nipton. According to some, he's heading up towards Novac. I'm hoping to catch up with him. So why you still here?"
"That's not fair." She laughed embarrassed. I smiled slightly:
"You asked why I'm here and now I'm asking you."
She looked back at her glass again, and sighed:
"I don't really know. At first, it was my caravan papers keepin' me here, but now… A few days ago, some runner from the Crimson Caravan Company told me that they were willin' ta buy my caravan."
"You didn't want to."
"Yeah. I mean, that's like if someone told you they wanted to buy your name, even when it's practically worthless."
"I wouldn't say that."
She looked at me again, partly out of pain and out of curiosity. I continued:
"Your mistakes don't make you what you are. It's what you make of yourself. Took me a while to figure that out. And what I see here is a tough, smart girl, wanting the same thing I want."
"And what's that?"
"Answers."
She was paralyzed, speechless. Her gray eyes stared deep into my one for a time that I thought I could drown in them.
"I gotta ask… who the blazes are you?"
"Well, the name's Gideon, Gideon Maddox. And yours?"
I held out my hand, and after a moment, she took it in a firm, strong grip.
"I'm, well… I'm Rose of Sharon Cassidy."
I cocked my head at the name, bemused but somehow not completely surprised.
"The plant or The Grapes?" I asked. She stared at me, utterly surprised.
"Dad's idea; said it's from that dirt pilgrim book."
I smiled, remembering that old world book: the Grapes of Wrath. I remembered a character by that name in that old story. It seemed so long ago. We then released the shake and I had to ask that pivotal question:
"Novac and Vegas are pretty close, and I'm probably gonna end up heading there anyway. Wanna come along?"
"What, no sweet talk?" She asked, grinning slyly, her blue eyes staring into mine, "No incentives? Just like that?"
"Yep." I nodded, "I'm too tired to try to convince you. I'm gonna be heading out in the morning, the offer will still stand until then."
"Oh why not? Don't mind trailblazin' long as we got the ammo... and whiskey. But there's somethin' else you need to know."
"What?" I asked, having an idea of what was coming next.
"Nothing will happen between us," she said sternly, her eyes locked with mine, "and I mean it."
"I have no doubt," I replied, "and I'll respect that."
I then stood up and began heading to the barracks, hoping to find somewhere to sleep, my bag and gear slung over my shoulder. I then stopped at the door and turned:
"There's one more thing."
"Which is?"
"Your caravan, burned to cinders? That means energy weapons."
"I figured as much. What'd you gettin' at?"
"The Legion will not use energy weapons, and any other group would have taken the cargo."
"So that means…"
"Yeah, another caravan. Just food for thought."
When I looked back at her, she'd become lost a sea of her thoughts.A sense of realization, anger and inquisitiveness dawned, slowly, on her lighten face. I then turned on my heels, calling over my shoulder:
"Goodnight, Rose."
"Cass! The name's Cass." She called back. I smiled slightly.
"Cass it is then."
