Order Up
October 30, 2287
The next day was when I left. Departing early before most folks (with the exceptions of those manning the guard posts) were still resting. Making my way through the streets. I crossed paths with one of the brahman traders, Trashcan Carle, and purchased some more ammunition and stimpacks with some of the caps I earned helping Preston and the settlers before moving on down the road.
It was quiet for a while. Nothing except for me and my thoughts as well as the two oversized mosquitos I came across feasting on a dead brahman and some wild mongrels later one. The world was so different, so monstrous; and I was stuck with it. I believed if I could find Shaun that things would make more sense, that some normalcy would be my reward. It wouldn't bring Nora back, but I hoped it would bring me some peace of mind. I hoped, anyway.
As I traversed the wastes I came upon a diner I recognized from before the bombs dropped; recognizing the eating establishment by the sign on the entrance:
DRUMLIN DINER.
Me and Nora would visit it on certai occasions. The sight of it brought back some good memories—some fun times with my wife where we laughed and enjoyed a good meal—, brought back some bittering memories, and brought back memories I realized I didn't want to recall. I tried to bury those memories just as quickly as the time it took for them to surface.
It was ulcer inducing.
As I looked at it closer from afar I noticed two individuals standing outside. One was a white man with a mauser holstered on his left side and the other a dark skinned woman with road leather jacket on her as well as a metal arm guard on her right wrist and carrying a piper bolt-action rifle in her hands, both had short hair.
"We had a deal, Trudy!" I heard the man yell. "Hand over the goods. You owe us!"
A woman inside the diner hollered back at them "I ain't giving you poison-shiling chem pushers anything! Do you knwo what that junk has done to my boy?"
I approached to see what was going on only to be greeted with the barrel of the piper rifle and mauser being trained on me. The man, saying "Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, Vault boy."
"I'm calling it right now, this world can officially bite my ass." I muttered.
Unfortunately he heard me, and responded with "Hey, we all got problems, all right? I'm just trying to collect on what's owed to me." before he gives me a look of maybe this one could be useful before asking "Don't suppose you feel like helping us out? Could use an extra gun, or maybe you talk some sense into Trudy over there?"
I pondered for a moment. Running the fingers of one hand through my stubbles.
I was not particularly interested, but a few extra caps couldn't hurt. Judging by the map the emerald city was a good distance away and I'd need as much resources as I could muster if I was going to reach the city, let alone find Shaun. So I told him lowly "Sure." before I rested my laser musket at the doorway and entered with my hands raised.
I was greeted once again with the barrel of a gun, specifically one pipe pistol, which was in the hands of a middle-aged woman. "I saw you talking with the chem pusher out there." This turned out to be Trudy.
"Whoa, whoa. Easy! Let's just take it easy, now."
"Easy? Easy?!" She was practically apoplectic. I didn't know what Wolfgang did to piss her off but I was quick to find out, "That peddler got my boy messed up with his jet, demands caps from me, and you want me to take it easy?"
I glanced over to her son, Patrick. He was a mess mentally speaking. Muttering to himself again and again. Physically speaking, he looked fine enough, I suppose. He was average height with dark hair, dressed in his letterman jacket and jeans. Seeming to be not too bad upstairs.
"Jet did this to him?"
"Yep." Trudy told me. "And that scum, Wolfgang, sold it to him. He's not getting a single cap from me."
At that I began to sympathize with her plight. If someone had done such a thing to Shaun I would have taken a shot at them. There would not have been a place where the perpetrator could have hid which would have been adequate sanctuary from my wrath. I intended to ensure the bald guy with the scar was to find that out the hard way. There was some room for leeway for negotiation, philosophically speaking. Patrick and that Wolfgang guy had reached an agreement between the two of them, thus Wolfgang was rightfully owed financial compensation for the product he had provided. As my old man used to say, "You make a deal with someone, you should honor it to the letter." But to be honest, in this scenario I found myself in I bet even ol' Christopher Rockitansky would have found that a hard pill to swallow. Because, even if they had reached an agreement, it was likely under the belief that Patrick would be fine and dandy and at that moment it looked as though he would not be good for some time. Wolfgang or whoever concocted the Jet didn't exactly do an adequate job of creating it. Reminding me of the state my Uncle Steve was in last I saw him before he was found dead from an overdose, so my decision may or may not have been based in some bias (actually, no "may" about it, in hindsight I was influenced by a bias) but I found Wolfgang to be in the wrong.
However, I hoped things could have been esolved diplomatically.
"Okay, just hear me out." I told her, hands still held up as though I was being robbed in some old western flick. "I'm going to back out nice and slowly, see if maybe I can talk 'em to ease off for the moment, okay?"
Trudy seemed to be fine with that; allowing me to back out nice and slowly. Once I was outside again, Wolfgang and his brooding female friend was waiting for me.
"Well?" he asked demandingly.
"Listen, her boy's still pretty messed up by the jet you gave him. Whaddya say you just wait til he comes back down and discuss it with him then?"
"No good." Wolfgang said. "I get paid now willingly or by force."
"But—"
The bruiser raised her bolt-rifle. "No but, vault boy."
"That's a shame." I told the pair with a sigh.
Without hesitation I grabbed my pistol and fired twice at the hip, getting lucky and landing a blow to her shoulder, then stepped backward. As I retreated back into the diner, Wolfgang and his bloodied female compatriot bolted for cover. Wolfgang taking the nearby lamp post and the descending part of the terrain became Simone's.
We exchanged fire.
I could hear Patrick mumbling "We're gonna die, we're gonna die…" in the interim of his mother and I returning fire.
I waited for a moment. Listening to the quiet of the area surrounding us, Wolfgang's death threats, and Patrick's yammering.
It was only a matter of time they slipped up and slipped up they most certainly did.
Simone suddenly rose to her feet—out from her cover of the slope, exposing herself to harm—to fire, (I don't know what made her think he was smart, agitation, boredom perhaps) but I was ahead of her by a second, and she was hit with a shot which engulfed her in a red glow and she screamed briefly before being reduced to ashes.
I was as surprised as Wolfgang. Only able to think, what the hell, as it happened. I had forgotten how powerful a laser rifle can be, even a weaker variant.
The drug peddler was more than surprised, he was angry. Yelling "Simone!" before he returned his attention to me and charged toward the diner yelling "You're dead, Vault-boy!"
Without thinking I drew my pistol and fired. A single shot hit him between the chest.
Woldfang fumbled back from my shot. Falling not far from the ashes which had once been his companion. I expected him to curse me and the ground I tread upon but instead he extended his hands and reached for the ashes, muttering "Simone…" bitterly before succumbing to his own wounds and dying there.
I emerged from Drumlin Diner with Trudy, with my weapon primed for another shot. Approaching to confirm he was truly gone from his world. I kicked the pistol out of his reach (assuming he could come to life again and reach for it) and waited for a moment but he never moved.
"Good riddance," Trudy spat.
I looked at her, I have to imagine somewhat contemptiblly (disgusted with how she was acting) though I understood her reasoning. "Is that really necessary?"
"This scum got my boy addicted. Yeah I think it is."
"Okay then."
In the end the issue was resolved. Trudy ended up rewarding me for aiding her with the matter even though I hadn't asked her to, and Patrick eventually returned to normal. But I never felt right about how things turned out in regard to Wolfgang and Simone. Sure, they were drug peddlers, but did that mean they deserved to die? I don't think so. Then again, that was a lesson of this wasteland I was now living in: fairness isn't a relevant factor.
I scavenged anything useful I could find off the one body that wasn't rendered into a pile of ash, then hit the road once again, resuming my journey to this Diamond City.
