Chapter 6: Sleepy Town Blues (II).
He was finally there, the control room of the Lucky 38. He had fought his way to get there, having to avoid both missiles and lasers from the upgraded Securitrons. His left arm and leg were now crippled, he could even feel his vision blurring from loss of blood, but he made it at last. The room where the mortal body of House rested.
The Courier approached the console, staring at it in silence. He had obeyed Mr. House not out of greed, but in an honest faith in the future he promised. New Vegas was like nothing he had seen before, a true fragment of the Old World still shining in the middle of the radiated Wasteland, a place that most Wastelanders could only hope for in a chem-induced dream, all done by the man he was about to kill.
It all started when he received the order to destroy the Brotherhood of Steel, something that not long ago he would have done without thinking twice, but his experiences with Veronica and McNamara changed that. From there he started to doubt House and his methods, and with that germinated the seed of betrayal. He began to fear the kind of world his boss wanted to create, especially since he had started to see the dark side of New Vegas. The Strip was beautiful, yes, but only accessible to those privileged few. The majority of people lived in places like Freeside or Westside, left to their own luck for their sin of not being born with a silver spoon in their mouths.
House wanted humankind to rise from the ashes of the past and head off to a bright future among the stars, but his vision of the future only included those he considered worthy. The New Vegas Strip's walls were a proof of that, separating the rich and the powerful from the poor. Little kids were chasing mutated rats in the streets in order to eat while wealthy Brahmin barons wasted thousands of caps in a casino just a few miles away. It was a paradise built over the suffering of others, a utopia where the strong preyed on the weak, a glorification of the erroneous ways of the Old World, and House wanted to create a new world based on that.
He could not allow that kind of world to exist. Benny may have been a shameless bastard, but he was right in one thing, and it was that Robert Edwin House needed to die. Only that way could Vegas truly be free.
"Hold on, now hold on! Just a moment!" House pleaded through the speakers, a last desperate attempt to persuade him. "Turn around and I'll… I won't attack you any further. Just stay away from the console, it doesn't do anything."
There was no going back, even if House claimed the opposite. He was in front of the console, having already pressed the option of unsealing the LS chamber. The console warned him about the risk of microbial infection, asking if he was sure about continuing. The Courier's finger trembled as he contemplated pressing "Yes".
Despite everything he went through, he still had his doubts. He honestly believed in House's dream for humanity even if he considered it flawed. There was no doubt that he was the best alternative for the Wasteland compared with the corruption of the NCR and the cruelty of the Legion, and there was no certainty that Yes Man's plan would work. It was the biggest, most risky gamble he ever took in his life, as he was not betting simple caps, but the future of the entire Mojave.
Was it a mistake? Would he condemn humanity's future with this decision? Could he truly be sure that he would not regret it once done?
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and after what seemed to be hours of hesitation, finally pressed the keyboard button.
Click
At that moment everything was plunged into absolute darkness. Courier's body was petrified, his muscles paralyzed and unable to react. There he was, standing in the middle of a huge void, completely alone and powerless.
Unable to even turn his head, he could feel skeletal hands begin to grab his neck from behind, beginning to strangle him. He was helpless, his body useless, forced to feel his life slipping away without being able to do anything about it. Out of the darkness he could see a face emerge, greenish and decrepit, looking more like an unnatural abomination than a human being.
The putrid head proceeded to open its mouth, revealing the lack of teeth, then muttered a sentence that filled the Courier with dread.
"Why have you… done this?"
The Courier woke up abruptly, jumping out of bed in a panic. He was gasping for breath and had to rub his face to get rid of the sweat as he tried to calm down. He was having that damned nightmare again, nine years after that fateful day, and he was still reliving it in his dreams.
He had seen and done all sorts of things during his life in the Wasteland, things that would probably drive anyone with a weaker will to madness, but the image of House's decrepit body continued to haunt him to the present day, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. Regret, guilt, doubt, anxiety, none of them would fade as long as he lived, they were his burden to carry on the long road that was his life, the consequences of the decision he made that day nearly a decade ago.
"Goddamnit," he whispered, now calmer.
He proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up to see the room around him in an attempt to distract his mind from the recent nightmare. It was a small place, without much, just a warm bed, a bedside table, a window now tragically broken due to the recent raid, and a chair where his armor, helmet, and the rest of his gear rested. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of removing his gear, especially since both the Republic and Legion would try to assassinate him at the first chance they got, so sleeping in his underwear was a rare and valuable commodity for him.
It was a nice enough place. Of course, it was nothing like the fancy hotels in Vegas, and he couldn't expect much from such a small and humble inn, but he had to admit that the place had a certain homey charm. Not to mention that it would be rude to speak ill of the inn after the old woman in charge gave him a free room, saying it was the least she could do after he saved her son from slavery.
ED-E was out, doing a reconnaissance of the area. The Pip-Boy's map function was still unresponsive, and he had a feeling it would remain that way for a long time, so the only option left was to recreate the map of the area by hand. It would take some time for the little guy to scan and scan the surrounding areas, so the Courier would be on his own for the next few hours.
The Pip-Boy's clock function broke down during the teleportation accident, and since none of the villagers had clocks, he had to rely on the position of the sun to guess the time. It was obvious that it was already noon, and if he had to guess, it would be about one o'clock. That meant he had slept seven hours in total, more than usual, but perhaps that was a good thing, he felt well rested after all.
He was already thinking about what to do with his free afternoon, but then he heard someone knock on the door.
"Excuse me!" a female voice came from the other side of the door. "Hero Grognak, I have brought you your food!"
The Courier could feel a part of him die inside when she called him that.
"I'm coming," he announced while getting up from the bed.
Old habits never die, the proof of that were the satchel charges placed in front of the door and window. A little trick he learned in the Wasteland to ensure a nice, comfortable sleep without having to worry about being robbed or killed in his sleep. Perhaps a bit unnecessary seeing as he was resting in an inn and not in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere as he used to do in his younger years, but as they say, better safe than sorry. Luckily, the girl knocked on the door before opening it, otherwise a tragedy would have occurred.
He deactivated the explosives one by one, being very careful with each one of them. The satchel charges were not only extremely powerful, but also quick to detonate. He had seen far too many good men blowing up into pieces either for bad luck, or for being straight up morons.
Once ready he put the explosives to one side, though not too far away, just in case. Now that it was safe, he opened the door at last, finding quite a beauty standing in front of him, carrying a wooden tray of food. There she was, a stunning black-haired woman, at least a head and a half shorter than him, with large, beautiful yellow eyes, and a face that could easily be mistaken for that of an angel.
She smiled as the door opened, but as soon she realized that the older one had his body exposed, she quickly turned his gaze away as her cheeks flushed.
"H-hero Grognak! Your clothes!" she squealed with fluster while avoiding looking at his nakedness.
The Courier leaned his arm against the doorframe, looking at the black-haired with a flirtatious smile.
"Sorry 'bout that, honey. If I had known that I would have such a cutie paying me a visit, I would have made myself presentable," he chuckled as he grabbed the wooden tray with his free hand. "Why don't you join me for breakfast? It's always more fun in company."
The woman was doubtful about the offer, searching for the words to answer but barely letting out babbles.
"I… w-we can talk later, I must go!" she said abruptly, taking a few steps backward.
"Oh, you're leaving so soon? That's a shame," he leaned forwards, approaching her blushed face. "And here I was hoping for you to be my dessert."
She gasped in surprise, her face as red as a tato. Curiously, a faint moment of hesitation could be seen in her, as if she was seriously considering the offer, even as if she desired it.
"T-that sounds… " she began to say as she brought her thumb to her lips, biting it gently as she looked to the side in doubt. For a moment it seemed that she was about to accept, but suddenly she slapped her own cheeks, as if it were a personal method of restraining herself. "No! I must not!"
She immediately turned around and left at a hurried pace, almost crashing into a nearby wall in her nervous dash. The Courier watched her go, laughing softly as he closed the door.
Felicia hadn't slept all night, and probably wouldn't for a long time, not until she found her sister's killer.
The grotesque image of her precious little Kary reduced to little more than a mangled corpse remained etched in her mind, slowly driving her to madness. Her only solace was her beloved Klaus, who spent the entire night comforting her as she wept uncontrollably.
Her sister's remains were buried in the flower field where both of them once played in their childhood, a fitting resting place for such a gentle soul. Kary only wanted to meet a man to make her husband and start a family of her own, just that, and yet she was butchered like an animal. Why did she have to meet such a gruesome end? What kind of fiend could be able to inflict such cruelty on another living being? Those questions flooded her mind. She needed answers, and she knew exactly who would have them.
"Felicia, you need to rest," said Klaus as he hurried his pace so as not to be left behind. "You have not slept all night, you have not eaten either!"
"I cannot sleep Klaus, I need to find her!" replied the werecat as she walked in a hurried manner, her fists clenched so tightly that her own claws were digging into her flesh. "If someone knows what happened, it is her."
There was only one mamono in the forest who could provide the identity of Kary's killer. It was said that nothing happened in the forest without her knowledge, and if it existed, she would most certainly find out one way or another to discover it.
"But this is not healthy, you must think in your health, not only for you, but also for—"
The werecat succumbed to the ground, hugging herself as she shook her head frantically, bursting into tears.
"It was my fault!" she cried out in anguish. "If I had not bothered her, if I had not said anything, she would not have left, she would be alive!"
The horrific image of her sister's mutilated corpse lay etched on her retinas, and no matter what she saw, she could only see Kary's battered body. The image haunted her, she could not get it out of her head.
"I killed her! She died because of me!" she screamed in agony as she slammed her face into the ground, weeping inconsolably.
"Stop it, Felicia!" exclaimed the human as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her head close to his chest. "It was not your fault, Kary died because someone killed her. I promise you, we will find who did it, and when we do, we will..."
The farmer was interrupted by the abrupt sound of footsteps in the vicinity. A large group was approaching, which certainly could not be good. Were they adventurers raiding the forest for a reward? Heroes on a mission? A group of the Order inquisitors in the middle of a hunt?
"Felicia, dear, we need to go right now," Klaus insisted, trying in vain to pull her to her feet.
"Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me!" Felicia repeated in frantic whispers.
The werecat continued lamenting, unable to listen to her husband's pleas, simply apologizing over and over again to her dead sister. The sound of footsteps became louder and louder, until finally the marching group could be seen in the middle of the trees. To Klaus's relief they were not adventurers or Order members, instead it was the orc tribe, although... something looked odd about them.
Orcs were known for their cheerful and lively attitude, always eager for food and sex, but they did not show that at the moment. Their expressions were somber, with a deep sadness reflected on their faces. Leading them was Urga, the feared high orc that dominated the mountainous region, but there was something particular about her. Her gaze was off, as if the fire inside her had been extinguished.
The group passed by the married couple with their heads down, not even noticing their presence, a rarity considering that the tribe loved to make indecent remarks about Klaus whenever they had the opportunity.
At first he was simply going to keep quiet and let them pass. He disliked having to deal with them, and his main concern was for his wife's emotional well-being, so it was best to simply ignore them. However, he saw something among them that disturbed him.
"Wait!" shouted Klaus as he carefully leaned his beloved against a nearby tree for her to rest. "Hold on a minute!"
The man ran so that he could face the high orc, which barely showed a reaction to his presence, simply walking forward.
"I said wait!" he exclaimed as he grabbed the mamono's shoulder. "Were you attacked by someone!?"
Klaus spoke with such force that his voice echoed in the surroundings, causing the tribe to halt their advance. Even Urga, the ever vivacious and proud leader, gave a glimpse of an expression that confirmed his suspicions. She looked horrified for a second, as if the mere question had reminded her of some horrible event, even on the verge of tears, but she quickly regained her composure, returning to her neutral expression.
"No," she coldly replied.
The other orcs simply bowed their heads, silently agreeing with their leader's statement.
"Then how can you explain that!?" Klaus shouted as he pointed at one of the orcs being carried by her companions, with a makeshift bandage wrapped around much of her head. "How did she get hurt in such an atrocious way?"
The poor orc was in a pitiful state, barely able to walk on her own and having to be carried by her companions. Much of her head was bandaged, with a large bloodstain covering the area of her forehead. Her gaze was lost, barely managing to exhale a few quiet and weak gasps of pain. Klaus had no medical training, but it was obviously a fatal wound. The poor orc was at death's door.
"That…" Urga began saying, showing conflict on her face as she responded. "That is none of your business."
"Of course it is!" he replied angrily while grabbing the mamono's shoulders in a violent way. "My wife's sister was murdered, mutilated beyond recognition! If you were attacked, there is a slight chance that it is related."
There was a change in Urga's face once she heard that. She seemed to have made a connection in her mind, as if she had realized something horrible.
"He... " she whispered through her teeth.
"He? Was it a man? Who? Who is he!?"
It seemed like she was about to speak, but something seemed to change in her, as if something inside her forced her to be silent. She stared at the ground for a few seconds before finally raising her head.
"Nothing happened."
One could hardly believe that the town had suffered from a raid the night before. Despite the fact that many homes and buildings were attacked, the villagers went about their day's work with an unusual happiness, looking eerily jovial. One thing the Courier noticed was that they kept referring to him as a hero, but not in a normal way, they referred to him as if he were a messiah or something similar, treating him as the envoy of the god they worshiped.
His new title as a hero helped him gather information from the surrounding area as he walked around the town, although hardly managing to get anything that would truly help him. They practically said the same nonsense that the bird mutant told him the day before. Something about gods, demon lords, monsters, supernatural creatures, and other stupid things. He started to consider the possibility that people knew about the meaning of his fake name and were playing a big collective joke on him.
The locals kept telling him that the best place a "hero" like him could go was Lescatie, supposedly a famous nation rich in trade, although he never heard of such a place in his decades of travel. Moreover, he had never seen a town like that in his life. It was cheerful, homely, and peaceful, surrounded by green fields and healthy forests.
Now that he thought about it, it was more than strange. The local language spoken was English, the people were friendly and kind, the land seemed less damaged than most places in America, and there was a notable lack of guns. Not only that, but there were also strange creatures and mutants roaming around, female raiders whose sensuality rivaled that of the finest women in New Vegas, and a disturbing religious fervor among the natives.
"Oh fuck me, is this Canada? Did I land in Canada?" he questioned himself as he stopped his walk, looking around.
He had heard many stories about the strange and bizarre lands of the north, the so-called "Canada", but he never imagined that he could ever have the opportunity to experience it in person. Funny, he always imagined Canada would be colder.
"I guess that explains the weird mutants," the Courier muttered to himself as he brought his hand to his chin, starting to think about all the scientific possibilities of bringing some samples back to Big Mountain.
With that in mind, he quickly raised his right arm in order to check his Pip-Boy, noting down his new objectives and their respective markers so he would not forget about them. The main quest was to find the way back to the Mojave. The secondary was to discover the actual location of the Big MT and make his way there, with the optional quest of replacing the Think Tank's biogel with vinegar for all the trouble they caused him.
"Ah, this must be the place."
The Courier found himself in front of a small store. Nothing particularly impressive, although it was not like he could expect much from such a humble town. One thing that caught his eye was the store sign, for it was written in a peculiar language, one that he had never seen before, but for some reason he could understand it as if it were written in English. It said "Flimlight's Odds and Ends", quite the charming name in his opinion.
The townsfolk recommended the place for him to buy supplies and acquire maps of nearby regions. Apparently it was a store specializing in supplying gear for "adventuring parties", whatever that meant. Maybe it was the Canadian slang for mercenary groups?
Ding
A bell tinkled as the door opened, notifying about the presence of a new client.
"Welcome!" said a girlish voice. "How can I... Oh! Mr. Grognak!"
Behind the wooden counter was a petite girl. She was short in stature, with a childlike face and long light brown hair gathered in two pigtails, not to mention her large, innocent blue eyes reminiscent of a doll's. Funnily enough, she reminded him of the old propaganda posters that he usually found in the ruined government buildings he used to scavenge, the ones depicting a brave American soldier rescuing a little girl from the communist fiends that threatened to destroy the American way of life.
"Well now, if it isn't Miss Heavy Fists!" Courier said with a chuckle.
The brunette pouted in response. "I already said that I am sorry about hitting you. And my name is Lilia!"
"Are you sure? Heavy Fists fit you, after all my chest still hurts from those punches."
The girl was still ashamed of yesterday's misunderstanding, when she mistook her brother's savior for a monster and tried to attack him in vain. She even looked at the ground in sorrow while stroking one of her pigtails.
"I… I am sorry," she mumbled.
"Hold your head up kiddo, I'm just messing with you," said the older man in a jovial way while ruffling the girl's hair. "By the way, where's the fella? Is he feeling better?"
"My brother is feeling a lot better. He is now at the church in a reunion. Oh, and he wanted me to give you this."
The girl crouched down so she could look for something under the counter, quickly getting up to present the gift to the Courier. It was his trusty Vault 13 canteen, now cleaned up from the dust and filled with more water.
"He said he was infinitely grateful. Oh, and he also wants you to join us for dinner!" she said cheerfully.
"That's a generous offer, but I'm afraid that I must decline," he replied, leaving out the fact that he had already received twelve other invitations to dinner along the way. "I'll be leaving town tonight."
This news caused the brunette to hit the counter with her hands in surprise and indignation.
"What!? B-but you saved our town, you are a Hero, you cannot leave like that!"
"Sorry, missy, but I must. I have some… things to do, and I can't waste any time," he explained, not wanting to mention that one of said things was to find a lost research center run by senile brains hundreds of years old. "But once I'm free I'll gladly accept the invitation."
This barely satisfied the girl, who put her hands on her hips, still pouting.
"And how long will that take?"
"That I don't know, but if you have some maps lying around, they could help me to speed up the process, especially if you have any from Lescatie," the Courier replied while shrugging.
"Lescatie… why does everyone want to go to that stupid place? First Edward, now Mr. Grognak," she grunted as she crossed her arms. "Well, if you want maps they cost five silver coins each!"
Now he was in trouble. He had hoped that somehow Canada would use caps as currency, but from the looks of it they were following the same system as the Legion, using coins made of different metals as money.
"I see. Would these work?" he asked as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a few Legion Denarius and placing them on the counter.
The brunette blinked in surprise once she saw those coins, grabbing one and inspecting it carefully. One side showed the image of a man's face while the other depicted the silhouette of three men, both with inscriptions in a language she did not know.
"I… I do not know if I can accept them," she mumbled, intrigued by the foreing coin. "Where did you get these, Mr. Grognak?"
"From a place you don't want to visit, missy. Let's leave it at that," he replied.
"Then you do not have any money?" Lilia asked.
That was difficult to answer. He had thousands of caps in his pockets, so much that he could be considered wealthy by Wasteland standards, but seeing as he was in a new territory, his fortune was equivalent to a pile of scrap metal.
"Eh, you could say so. I'm kinda scraping by," he shrugged.
"You are scraping? Scraping what?" she asked, taking the expression seriously.
The Courier laughed. "I meant that I don't have any money, I'm a bit poor at the moment."
The girl looked at him with pity, almost the same way she would look at a poor stray dog.
"In that case I can lend you a few, I do not think Edward will notice. But it will not be for free!" declared the brunette. "I will only give them to you if you promise to return them to me for my birthday. And you must bring me a gift too when you come back!"
Now that was a curious petition. In his younger years, before leading the Federation, he used to carry out all kinds of tasks. From something as simple as looking for and bringing back technology from old Pre-War facilities, to searching and hunting beasts, mutants, or raiders, but never in his life has someone ever asked him to attend a birthday on time.
He was unsure whether to accept such a childish condition, after all he could easily look for some job nearby and earn the money needed to buy them, but seeing her so eager for his answer made him doubt. He could blow a man's head off and live without remorse, but letting a child down would cause him to lose nights of sleep.
"Well, it sounds like we have a deal, Miss Heavy Fists."
"Yay! But do not call me that!"
And with that, the girl ran off excitedly, gathering all the maps that were within reach, possibly forgetting the fact that it should be something her brother should not notice once he returned.
"And how old are you going to be, missy? Twelve, thirteen maybe?
"How rude!" she said as she threw a stack of maps on the counter. "For your information Mr. Grognak, I am not a child. I am about to turn nineteen."
There was a deep silence the moment after she said that. The Courier looked dumbfounded, unable to believe that someone with such a childish face was already an adult. At that age he himself was serving as a mercenary in The Hub and getting into gambling problems, and while he certainly had a youthful face at the time, it was nothing comparable to Lilia's baby face. Could it be that Canadian women were less developed?
"Oh… my bad," the Courier said, still shocked.
"Hmph!" she pouted, showing quite the childish attitude. "Just for that you will bring me a really luxurious gift!"
He was now starting to regret making that promise.
It was already late at night, with the moon shining brightly in the dark sky. The usually quiet town was filled with music and celebration, with villagers looking to celebrate the appearance of the hero who had saved them from annihilation. However, the main star of the event was absent, having disappeared even before the celebration began, much to the surprise and concern of the townsfolk. He was now idolized by them, so they searched every corner in order to find him.
"So, how did you do, buddy? Found anything interesting?"
The eyebot beeped, explaining at full detail what he saw from the sky in his area reconnaissance.
"Well now, it looks like you got some useful data. I managed to get a few maps, it will just be a matter of tracing them by hand on the Pip-Boy and our location problem will be no more."
The two companions managed to slip away from the sight of the villagers, now finding themselves following a dirt road to what would be their next destination. It was curious, the maps the Courier had obtained showed places he had never heard of such as Dragonia, Zinpagu, East Giyamante, and so on. He had heard that Canada was big and mysterious, but not to that level.
"Now, our next destination will be…"
They abruptly stopped walking. Someone was following them.
"It is rude to sneak on people like that, y'know?" snorted the Courier as he quickly turned around, pulling the Ranger Sequoia out of the holster and aimed at their stalker, only to find to his surprise the pretty black-haired woman of the morning standing in the middle of the dirt road. "My, did you reconsider my invitation? Well, I'm sorry to say it, but it's a little late for that now, darling."
The woman said nothing in response, just staring at them silently, with those yellow eyes of her glowing in the darkness. Now it was clear that something was wrong with her.
"Quiet girls have their charm, but I'm afraid they are not to my taste. I suggest that you say something in the next thirty seconds, or else you will have a bullet in the middle of your pretty eyebrows. You don't want that, do you?"
She continued to watch them in silence. Not only that, she began to walk to where they were standing.
"I warned you," he muttered as he proceeded to pull the trigger.
Just as he was about to fire, a bright light blinded him. Even ED-E was blinded, with his sensors blocked by the powerful light that had surrounded the female. The two could only watch in amazement as the light molded the figure of the female, which changed from a humanoid silhouette to a more avian one. Her arms were replaced by large, feathery wings, her feet replaced by long fingers with sharp dark claws. An inhuman figure that ironically dazzled with elegance due to the light that was now dissipating from her body.
It was the bird mutant.
"Y'know, I'm getting really sick of your lighting tricks, Birdie," scolded the Courier, having to put a hand in front of ED-E to prevent the eyebot from shooting. "Any reason as to why you decided to honor us with your presence?"
Once again she remained in silence, still walking forward until she finally found herself in front of him. Then, she suddenly rested her head on his chest, causing the eyebot to beep in consternation and anger.
"You defeated an orc tribe, but you spared them," she began to speak. "You dominated a high orc, but you let her go instead of claiming her as your woman. You reject temptations, and yet you invite unknown women into your room."
She looked up, fixing those hypnotic yellow eyes on him.
"Capable of both death and mercy, with an essence that is neither corrupted nor pure. I do not understand you, but I want to. I need to know, who are you, Grognak?"
The Courier just eyed her warily, having to hold the irate ED-E with both hands to keep the little robot from slaughtering the mutant. He hadn't the slightest idea what the feathered woman was talking about, but seeing her speak with such passion and enthusiasm made him think of something, a thing that would probably serve as a new life lesson for him from now on.
´Canadians are weird as hell.´