~Chapter Three: Survival Takes Preparation~
Once the Lone Wanderer had time to calm down, and I had time to mentally gripe about my wasted Stealth Boy (those things aren't easy to find), she relayed the story to me.
After walking away to prevent decorating the Saloon's sidewalk with Mr. Moriarty's brain tissue (I think it would have been an improvement on two counts), the cheap bastard grunted at my heels. "Be careful about that one," he warned cynically. "He's got more temper than he knows what to do with."
"He's not that bad," she retorted in my defense.
"To a pretty lass like yerself, maybe not," Colin shrugged. "So, how'd yer cap-huntin' go?"
"Bad," she sighed. "Bad enough for him to have to save me from a worse fate than death," she added with a shudder at the thought.
"The Wasteland can be a terrible place," Moriarty feigned a half-hearted sigh. "Least ye came out with yer health, that's more than most can boast of."
"I'm gonna wait for him inside," she said, mostly to get away from Colin, I assume.
"Be sure to buy somethin'!" he shouted out after her, a demand she wisely ignored.
The inside of Moriarty's Saloon is as humble as the rest of Megaton, having been constructed of the same assorted salvage. It's generally the ladies that 'work' for 'Mr. Moriarty' that draw the crowd, if not the booze. Although the most unique piece of Colin's 'collection' is the male Ghoul 'employee' that Colin generally keeps on a short leash. As the Lone Wanderer was fresh out of the Vault and hence had no idea what a ghoul was, she spent the first minute or two standing in the doorway and staring.
"You'd think you've never seen a Ghoul before," Nova smirked, "the way you stare at Gob."
"Huh?" the Lone Wanderer blurted, confused by the sudden commentary. "What's a Ghoul?"
"Don't get out much, do ya?" Nova chuckled, taking the lit cigarette out of her mouth. "Ghouls are humans who get exposed to too much radiation but somehow manage to survive it. But don't let their skin fool ya. Ferals aside, Ghouls aren't any nastier than humans are. Not that that's saying much."
The younger girl's frozen expression sent a shiver of both humor and sympathy through Nova's soul. "Why don't ya go introduce yourself if you don't believe me," she suggested in jest.
The Lone Wanderer, not one for recognizing jokes for what they are, took Nova on that dare and regained her composure enough to stride calmly to the nearest barstool.
"Come on, work!" Gob growled as he banged his fist against the radio. The noise emanating from the screen was equal parts music and static, which suggested either a bad signal or an overly abused radio box.
"Will ya cut it out, Gob?" Nova called out in irritation. "Nothin's wrong with the radio. The Enclave signal comes in fine. It's GNR. Their signal's been shit lately."
"Come oooon…" Gob growled once more, slapping the box one last time before shoving it away in frustration. "Gah, fuck it."
Once Gob cooled down (which to his merit, it only took him a second), he noticed the new girl at the bar and nodded in that direction. "Sorry you had to see that, newcomer. What can I getcha?"
"Nothing," the Lone Wanderer muttered timidly. "Just waiting for a friend."
"Ah," Gob shrugged. The light in his eyes brought his attention back to the newcomer quickly enough. "Hang on. Ain'tcha gonna beat me? Berate me a little?"
"Why would I do that?" the girl asked honestly. "You seem nice enough."
"HAH!" Gob cheered. "Thanks for the compliment. You gotta be the nicest person I've met in this shitstain of a town, Nova aside, that is. Sure you don't want anything?"
"I'm fine really," she smiled; glad to know that her fears were ill-founded. "What's with the radio?"
"Like she said," Gob grumbled. "It's the damn station. It sucks that GNR's signal has gone to shit recently. It sure beats the hell out of listening to that Enclave crap. I enjoy listening to the deejay, Three Dog, and how he's fighting the Good Fight out there in the DC ruins. Wish I could get a piece of that action instead of getting being trapped in this dump."
Just as the Lone Wanderer was about to ask about Gob's forced employment, the word 'Vault' caught her ear, and she realized instantly that it came from the radio. She immediately reached to turn the volume up.
"His name is James," Three Dog said through the static. "Nice guy."
"Oh, my god!" the redhead exclaimed, bolting for the door just after Colin came in.
"Will ya turn that crap down!" Moriarty demanded bitterly. "Bad enough, that's all yer slimy arse ever listens to!"
"Sorry, boss," Gob moaned as he reached for the radio, not bothering to point out that the increased volume was not his doing for fear of the consequences.
"It had to be Dad!" the Lone Wanderer exclaimed as she finished her story. "He must have gone to the GNR studio!"
It wasn't hard to guess what she was getting at. After diplomacy failed her in front of a bunch of horny Raiders, she was going to go skipping through Super Mutant territory thinking that she'd find Daddy untouched and everything would be all sugar and rainbows.
"You remember what I said when we met? That worse things can happen than what happened to you at Fairfax?" I asked, with a hint of cynicism. "Well, Super Mutants are one of them."
"What's a Super Mutant?" she retorted cleverly.
n00b, my mind snapped at her. I looked down at the hand covering my mouth and realized I facepalmed instinctively. "Super Mutants are giant green men with less brains and more brawn, with a craving for human flesh," I explained.
"Are you joking?" she asked with a smirk. I glared at her, and the smirk dropped. "GNR Studio is at the heart of downtown DC. Downtown DC is Super Mutant territory."
"Oh," she frowned, guessing what I was getting at. We were both silent for a moment. I instinctively looked over at our audience. We didn't have one.
"Thank you for everything," she said depressively. "I understand if you don't want to go, but I have to. I have to find my Dad, whatever it takes."
The sad puppy-dog look on her face set me on the biggest guilt trip of my life. My conscience started chewing the fuck out of my insides as she walked past me on her way out. "Wait," I said finally, after she was on the ramp down by Craterside Supply.
Fortunately, she did as I asked and waited for me to catch up to her. "I can't let you go it alone," I confessed.
"I will if I have to-"she warned, not getting at what I was trying to say.
"You don't," I interjected. "I can't let you go there by yourself. If this really means that much to you-"
"More than anything," she said stoically.
"Then I'll take you there," I decided.
"Are you sure?" she asked, unconvinced.
"I've been to GNR before," I told her. "I know the fastest way there, and I've got enough firepower to stop a few Muties in their tracks. Go over to your house to get ready, and meet me in front of mine. We'll head over to GNR right away."
After Fairfax, I should have known that chivalrous deed would have earned me a hug. She was the hugging type, apparently. "Thank you so much," she moaned as she held me tight. "I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't get yourself killed," I smirked smugly.
She smiled a bit wider and headed down to her new property as I went to mine. Once there, I closed the door behind me and locked it. This was going to take me a minute.
I opened my weapons locker and shoved the Sniper Rifle into it. Its slow rate of fire wouldn't be useful against an armored mutie. Since I wasn't planning on letting any Supers get close enough for my Combat Shotgun to be effective, I dumped that, as well. I kept the Scoped .44 and took out the custom Assault Rifle I found lying around Jury Street Metro Station. It had better stopping power than most ARs and with an enhanced clip, it could fire for longer. But it wouldn't be enough for the bigger muties so, although I was running low on Microfusion Cells, I caved and grabbed my Gauss Rifle as well, just in case.
I took a minute in front of my armor locker, staring at my T-51b. I got it, my Gauss Rifle, and other assorted beauties in a military instillation in the far western corner of DC that had been occupied by 'Outcasts'. As much as I really, really wanted the extra protection the T-51b offered, I knew good and well that GNR was a Brotherhood outpost, and my business relationship with them ended on a rather sour note. Lyon's Brotherhood weren't as focused on collecting Pre-War tech as the Outcasts were, but in the end, I decided not to risk it and walked away.
She was waiting for me once I stepped out of my home. She didn't look like she had any extra weaponry on her.
"You know what's funny?" she asked calmly, a mild smirk on her face. "You've done so much to help me and… I don't even know your name."
I chuckled at the prospect. She was right, of course. I was about to go stomping down in Super Mutant territory for a girl I hardly knew. Lyons would be so disappointed in me, I jeered mentally. "Matthew Scott," I said. "Just Matt."
"Kimberly Lee," she introduced herself. "Just Kim," she added with a knowing smirk.
I took another look at the redhead as she told me her name. Funny how I never noticed the mild slant in her eyes before that moment. Better lay off the 'Red Menace' remarks, I warned myself jokingly.
"Well, Just Kim," I jeered, "What say we get you some better Mutie-bashing gear before heading out?"
She caved and giggled at that remark. I led her away with an air of feigned victory, like I won some seriousness contest, which only got more giggles out of the half-Asian girl.
Moira was as cheerful as ever, with a disposition that was more diabetes-inducing than my companion's.
"Hey, there!" she called out to us as we stepped into the Craterside Supply. "What can I get you?"
"Caps for my salvage," I said as I started pulling out the spoils of my conquest at Fairfax, "and some better gear for the girl."
Kim and Moira chatted it up while I brought out the collection of rifles and shotguns, not to mention the piece de resistance – the shoddy Flamer. I snuck a peek at what she was offering and realized that some of the weapons I was about to sell were better than what she had to offer. I decided to keep two of the weapons I won – the 10mm SMG, and the Hunting Rifle, to be precise – to give to Kim.
Once the redheads had their fill of chatter, Moira turned her head to business. I sold her the Flamer along with the other Raider gear I was selling and asked her to take the wrench to the SMG and the rifle, which put a dent in the funds I was getting out of this transaction. Can't put a price on stopping power, though.
Once the repairs were done, I handed the two guns to Kim along with the ammo that came with them, and traded some extra clips for those weapons from Moira for the Flamer fuel jugs that came with the Flamer, paying out the balance with caps. We stepped out of the store before Moira could make any comments about our supposed relationship and headed for the front gate.