Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Day 2

I'm awake
But that ain't so grand

I woke up the next day stiff and sore. It’s not hard to figure why this place is abandoned now. I expect whoever called the old shack home went off to find a new bed and she just stayed in the bed she found. Even in the early morning the Mojave is hot and that old shack was turning into an oven. I made a quick breakfast of the rest of my water and some scavenged Dandy Boys and then I was out on the revenge trail again.
Just down from the rocky hill I found the old abandoned shack was a beaten highway I hadn’t spotted at night that lead up and over the hills to those silver towers of New Vegas. I reckoned that if anyone had seen a man in a bad suit it would be there so I set out on my way. Just over the hill I found a little quarry camp called Sloane. The diggers there seemed to be in a foul mood. I lent a hand with their generator and met with their camp boss who was keeping watch. According to him they were digging gypsum for the New California Republic to build fortifications. I guess they run this whole valley from how he told it. However his men haven’t been resupplied in some time and a pack of deathclaws have settled in to the quarry and some gang of men had stolen their gunpowder so they were up the creek. The old man was camped out at the watch shelter keeping an eye out for them and suddenly I realized he was armed only with a sledgehammer. The old geezer must have atomic stones to figure he was going to standoff a Deathclaw with that thing.. I was half tempted to lure one of those mad bastards out of the quarry and run it right up the hill to see if the old man could deliver with that rockbreaker but if I was wrong I wouldn’t want to be on the bad side of this NCR. I thanked the old man and crossed off into the highlands.

Just over the other edge of the highway I found a couple of Bark Scorpions in the low brush and was hunting them in hopes of some food but there wasn’t much meat in their shells. As I was picking over the carcases I mean windstorm kicked up and I ran for cover. I found an old bunker and settled in until the storm passed. The place was huge and full of industrial parts so big they must have been built into the bunker but the passage in the back looked to be caved in. Once the storm passed I set out across the valley and found  3 more bunker entrances. Two were like the one I hid out in. The last one had a serious lock on the back door. I made a note in the old Pip Boy on my arm to come back around when I have something better to work that lock with. I suspect a place out of the way like this might have some treasure to offer.
Coming out of the valley I saw an old pre-war building patched and ratcheted. It looked nightmarish with barbicans and towers overlooking a gated compound. As I drew in I found some wastelanders in jumpsuits lazing under a shelter and more of them inside the encampment. I talked with a boy named Dawes at the main gate who told me the place used to be an NCR prison but that they used the demolitions gear that the chain gang was supposed to be working with and staged a jailbreak and they were now the powder gang that everyone seemed so up-in-arms about. The way I figured it I didn’t owe the NCR no nevermind and I don’t know from what laws put these men in the NCR correctional work camp so I minded my own business for now. They let me in the compound and I talked to a few folks around the jail. One of them was an old lawman surprisingly enough. I guess the NCR jails all kinds. I got to have a sit down with the Powder Gang’s leader Eddie. He looked real comfortable with his boots up on the dead warden’s desk. Maybe there wasn’t such a big difference between Prisoner and guard in this place. His second in command, Scrambler, kept eyeballing me something fierce, not like a man who’s been away from the curves of a woman too long but like a man who’s sick of the sight of them. I guess when in Rome you get it in the end or some such. Eddie didn’t much like dealing with outsiders but he was having trouble with one of his boys going off the reservation and he wanted to send me up to settle the situation. I took up the offer, did some trading and moved out to look for this Chavez.
Not but 100 meters from the gates of the old prison I ran into a guard post of the powder gangers. I was going to stop and see what they knew about this loose cannon Chavez, but they got spooked and started shooting me up. I was going to try to talk them down until they tossed a stick of dynamite at me and nearly blew me across the valley so I executed every one of the motherfuckers. I may not have won any favors with the Powder gangers but a gal has her limits. After the fight I was bloodied and hurting. I popped a few of the stim packs the doc gave me and broke open the Vodka I’d scavenged out in abandoned shack.
Off in the distance I saw a queer sight. It was grand rollercoaster off across the valley to the South. I reckoned  it was even odds that it was a mirage or the commie juice but with the sun coming down I didn’t want to check it out just now.
 I rounded the tall rock and headed up into the hills back to Good Springs. Amusingly enough I bumped into Sunny Smiles and her Dog fighting off a pack of Gecko’s like she had been waiting on me to save her. I put the balance of them down and came in to check on her. She wasn’t cross with me for taking off on her or even for forgetting to hand her back her old rifle. In fact she was damned helpful. She suggested I loot the old abandoned schoolhouse and talk with Trudy the bartender over at the pub in town for some clues about who would have wanted to put me in a grave. But then she was on about fetching her some flowers and roots. I mean a sweet smile and good graces go a long mile with me but this chick was pushin her luck. Did she think I was her chamber maid or some nonsense? I thanked her just the same, headed up the hill to get patched up by Doc Mitchell and headed up to the bar. I was starving and thirsty and tired.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Day 1

I am alive
But not by a good sight.


I woke up on a doctors table inside a nice old house with the worst headache you can imagine. I remember a kind of dream where some mucker in a checkerred suit made me dig my own grave and shot me dead in the face and I don't remember much else. And get this, chuckles in the checkerred suit made a big deal out of looking me in the face before he shot me, called it a courtessy if that don't beat all. It's the kind of thing that's too funny not to be a dream but as I was found up on the town's boot hill and brought here with a bullet in my brainbox, seems its all too true.


Doc Mitchell tells me he's the MD in Goodsprings, the town I was found in. He's an odd duck, ran a mess of weird tests on me before he let me go. He said it was to help me sort my head out but it didn't seem to clear up my cloudy memory much. Could be something to do with the fact that he comes from the vault. I'm not sure why he thought Good Springs would be a better shake than what he had down there but questioning it makes about as much sense as guessing a dog's attraction to rolling in shit. While he was seeing me out he handed me off a bunch of gear he said was found with me. I must have been some color of badass with the artilery and armor I was carrying, maybe a merc or a soldier? He also handed me one of the shackles the Vault folks wear, called a Pip Boy. The thing isn't any more comfortable than a manacle but it's plenty useful with a map, geiger counter and all manner of useful notes. I'm not fond of being in the debt of others so out of spite for his help I rifled through Doc Mitchell's supplies while he was running about like a clucking hen. Don't look on me like a scoundrel, I'm sure he's going to be making a good deal of money off me in the long run I'm just squaring my share in advance. Outside of patching me up and suiting me up the Doc wasn't much help in figuring out where I come from or what I'm supposed to do about this hole in my head so I set out to find some answers.

I'm not halfway into town before I'm set upon by the town peacekeeper, a gal by the name of, I shit you not, Sunny Smiles. I guess I don't have much room to criticize. Until I get my head sorted out I’m down to the one name on my armor, “Mason”. Sunny seems like a nice enough little lady and probably as close as I’ll come to a kindred spirit. She offers me the use of her varmint rifle so we can do some target practice out behind the bar and tells me I was pulled out of a new grave by some local named victor and once she’s chummed up to me she suggests maybe I want to give her a hand with her gecko problem. Not looking to make waves I head out with her to the pumps at the edge of town and put down a few ornery lizards. I figured I was a pretty steady shot but it was still nice to see the proof splattered all over the sand in those gullies. I’m not halfway done skinning the second Gecko before Sunny starts talking about clearing out the other two wells. I’m a helpful sort when I’ve got a mind to but I’m not looking to be this gals deputy. I told Sunny I’ll meet her at the next well when I’m done with the Geckos and when her and her dog were around the bend I headed back into town.
 I ran down this Victor guy pretty easily he was the giant securatron with a cowboy face eyeballin me. I got nothing against Robots but I don’t want any as my closest friends and Victor was just a little too friendly. He tells me that he saw the checkered suit man along with some Raiders meet me up on the hill and that he overheard us talking about a package before he shot me and put me in the ground. Then the crafty bucket dug me out and brought me straight to Doc Mitchell’s place. I owe him my life but there’s still something about this Robot that doesn’t sit right with me. At any rate he’s out of answers so I’m on my way again.
I check out a few homes around the town and make my way to the general store to see if I can trade in the Gecko hides and meat for provisions. The shopkeep Chet seems like a simpleton, or not sharp at any rate.  Nobody in this town seems all-together I reckon. A bottle of vodka sounded like good medicine for this headache that never seems to stop but I had enough problems with my head without adding to them. I put down a mountain of caps for some Purified Water even as it occurs to me I could probably drink for free if I had been patient enough to help Ranger Smiles with her Gecko problem.
With my throat whetted I took a long walk around the town just before sunset. I can see why homesteaders settled here. The wells feed from the mesa springs up above the toxic watershed and the natural stone walls wrap around the town like a partial fortification. The old prewar town sits up on the foothills with lots of visibility. I rounded the highpoint of the Mesa and up the hill to the town’s graveyard. I don’t know what I expected to where they put me down but all there was to be had was disappointment and frustration. My Grave was still half-dug out, not a clue around of who did this to me. However as the sun pulled down behind the dunes I was awestruck by the view of the vista. Rolling dunes and gullies as far as the eye can see with lovely lady New Vegas out in the distance like a glittering beacon. I would have been tempted to walk right to her if it weren’t for the big red warming signs all over the North face of the slope pointing out pointing out that Deathclaw territory stood between me and the distant lights.
Instead I took advantage of the last hours of light to march out to a monument on a nearby hill. A giant ‘t’ lit up by the setting sun. On the way across the tundra I had to gun down a pack of hungry stray dogs. Once I reached the monument it was disappointingly unimportant. Just more debris of the world gone by, it’s history and life before blasted away. The eerie resemblance to myself was not unnoticed and filled me with a lonesome feeling that I didn’t care fore.
Not far off from the Monument I spotted an old abandoned roller shack. It was a ways away from the town but from the dust and cobwebs on the front it was clear that whoever called it home hadn’t come calling in a while so I slipped in and had a look about. It was a great find given that the skies were dark and I was a long walk back to town. Inside there were stores of ammo, food, water and booze, and even and old reloading bench to pack my munitions. I slipped into the dusty old bed in the corner and gave up on the night.