My Little Fallout: New Vegas

by Sepulcher

Chapter Three: On the Road Again

My Little Fallout: New Vegas

Chapter Three: On the Road

---

I cringed as soon as we opened the door. I had almost forgotten how bright the Sun was in the Mojave. My eyes watering, I looked down at Twilight to see how she was coping. Naturally, she wasn't hindered in the slightest.

First time in the Mojave, and her eyes are better off than mine. Of course.

As my vision started to clear, I started to look around for any familiar landmarks off in the distance. I couldn't see any. Sighing, I said, "Come on, Twilight. We best get moving. Don't want the locals to see us."

Twilight looked around quickly, skimming over every abandoned house and twisted chain link fence. "From what I can tell," she stated, "most of the inhabitants are around that large building over there..." She pointed her hoof at what looked to be a saloon.

I nodded, thinking. I was plotting out our best course of movement. "Alright," I said. "We'll immediately cut right and follow the road out of here. With any luck, we'll find some sort of directional indicators."

Our decision made, both of us crept along and behind the run-down houses, staying out of sight. We eventually made it to the road, which I realized was not just a road, but an old interstate section.

All interstates lead to Vegas, I thought absently.

Sticking close to the rock face, Twilight and I managed to sneak around the town of Goodsprings. After we were a good two hundred metres down the interstate, I said, "Alright. We should be far enough away. Let's stick to the interst—err, road."

"What were you going to say?"

Sighing, I said, "Interstate. I changed the word midsentence because I wasn't sure if you knew what an interstate is."

Twilight seemed to think about that for a few seconds. "Well, can you tell me what the difference is? If I'm going to be stuck here, I might as well learn all I can."

Clever girl.

"Very well. An interstate was a large highway system that connected Old Vegas to all the outlying towns and rest stops," I explained.

"How many people lived here if they needed roads this big?" asked Twilight as she motioned to the interstate that we walked upon.

I chuckled. "I have no idea how many people lived here before the war. Hell, I don't know how many people live here now. Ten thousand? Twenty? Fifty?" I snorted and said quietly, "Mr. House probably has a tab on each and every one of them."

Evidently, I hadn't said that as quietly as I could've. "Who's Mr. House?" she questioned.

I raised my hand and pointed at the Lucky 38 Casino towering off in the distance. "Mr. House. The mysterious overlord of the New Vegas Strip and head of all the casino families. Apparently, he's been around since the bombs first fell." My bemused smile did not go unnoticed.

"I take it he's not very well liked, is he?" asked Twilight, who seemed to never run out of questions. Little did I know, that was one of the best ways to describe her.

I squinted at the ever-nearing interstate sign. "No. No he isn't. But there's not a thing anybody can do about it. He never leaves that bloody casino of his and his Securitrons will make short work of anybody who tries to force their way in."

Twilight opened her mouth, but I already knew what the question was going to be.

"A Securitron is a very-well armed robot that Mr. House uses as his police force. He has hundreds of them."

Twilight glared at me after I finished. "That wasn't what I was going to ask. I was going to ask: what's that over there?" She pointed with one of her legs at a rusted and sun-bleached yellow chunk of metal off on the left side of the interstate.

I stopped walking and stopped to look at it. "I don't know. Let's go find out."

As both of us walked towards it, I realized that it was an old refrigerator. A very suspicious and out-of-place refrigerator, but still. "Twilight, I don't think—"

I was interrupted by Twilight dry heaving beside me. I bent down and asked, "Are you alright? What's the matter?"

Twilight didn't say anything. She just pointed at the fridge. Standing up straight, I took a look inside...

What the hell?

Inside the fridge was a very old and very blackened skeleton. Looking closer, I noticed that there was what appeared to be a fedora on the skull of the corpse.

Even though it was a corpse, I still found it amusing how the hat seemed to fit the skeleton perfectly. I thought about how the person could've possibly gotten into a refrigerator and what purpose it would actually serve.

There are some things that just can't be explained. Just one more part to this wild, wild wasteland.

I figured that I might at least give the poor sap some privacy. I walked over to the discarded fridge door beside it and hefted it on top, locking the corpse in and providing some sort of coffin.

"Fare thee well, adventurer," I said as I walked back to where Twilight was sitting.

Twilight looked past me at the now-covered refrigerator. "Why was there a skeleton in that metal box?"

I exhaled. "There are some things, Twilight... some things that just can't be explained. I attribute it to this wild, wild wasteland that we live in."

She looked back at the skeleton's new coffin. "I guess... we better keep moving then."

"Agreed."

We walked for several more minutes before the interstate sign finally came into view. I squinted, trying to read it, but I could barely make out the first letter. "Twilight," I asked, "can you read what's on that green sign down there?"

"Sure," she responded. She looked at it for three seconds before saying, "It says: 'Jean', with an arrow pointing ahead, then 'Primm' with an arrow pointing to the right, and finally 'Las Vegas' with an arrow pointing to the left."

"My god, you have good eyes," I muttered. "Alright, we're heading to Primm. I have no idea what 'Jean' is. Sounds like a name..." Shaking my head, I motioned for us to continue forward. Another couple of minutes were spent reaching the crossroads where aforementioned sign was located.

We had our first string of good luck as we neared the sign.

I noticed that there was a small, wooden structure only a few dozen metres from the crossroad. "Hey Twilight, we should check that place for scavengable materials," I said, pointing at it.

"Don't we have enough stuff already?" asked Twilight.

I stopped in my tracks and gave Twilight an 'are you serious' look. "There is no such thing as 'too much stuff'."

Twilight gave me a look of her own.

"Fine," I exclaimed as I started to walk again. "There is, but we are definitely not at that point yet. If we're going to survive in the Mojave, we have to loot and scavenge any and all places that we can."

"I understand, it's just... I feel bad that you are carrying all the supplies, while I'm unburdened," said Twilight meekly. "I just want to help..."

She is definitely not from around here. I don't think anyone that I've travelled with has ever offered to help carry supplies. I thought a bit longer and realized that I'd only been accompanied by three to four people.

"If you want to help, I'll see if I can get some sort of pack made for you when we break camp. You're going to have to help me make it, though: I have no idea what would be comfortable for you to wear."

That seemed to make Twilight feel better. "Okay, I'll do my best," she replied.

By the time the agreement had been reached, we were at the crumbling wooden entrance to the shack. I told Twilight to step back as I unholstered both my pistol and my knife, holding them 'tactical style', my right arm holding the gun overlapping my left arm, which was holding the knife. At least, that was what the book I had read called it.

I kicked the door down, my new boots sheltering my feet from the shards of wood that came flying off of the dried and splintering door. I still felt bad for taking them off of Doc Mitchell's corpse, but I reasoned that I needed them more than he did.

With the door kicked down, I rushed through the cloud of dust to check for any possible threats. Thankfully, there weren't any. The shack didn't look like it had been entered in years. Exhaling in relief, I called, "Come on in, Twilight! There's nobody here!"

Putting my weapons away, I told Twilight to gather any food or liquids that she could. Meanwhile, I searched for weapons, clothing, and ammo.

I searched the old, rotting crates for anything of use, but they were all empty. The shelves had much of the same: nothing. Mildly frustrated, I asked, "Find anything?"

"No!"

Grumbling to myself thinking that it was a waste of time to come here, I started searching the lockers on the far wall, just in case. All of them were empty, with the exception of one, which was locked.

Dammit! I don't have any bobby pins...

"Hey Twilight, you wouldn't have happened to find some sort of key, did you?" I asked half-heartedly.

"Actually, there's one on the desk right behind you."

I turned around and looked down at the brass key. That's convenient. "Now how the hell did I miss that?" Shaking my head, I smiled and said, "Thanks, Twilight. What would I do without you?"

Twilight looked down at the floor, seemingly embarrassed. She murmured something that I couldn't make out. Deciding not to ask, I grabbed the key and tried it on the locker. Perfect fit.

I opened the rusty locker with a sharp tug. I scanned the shelves and found two very useful things: a silenced .22 pistol with three spare clips and a small bag that was full of bottle caps.

My stash now. After thinking this, I guiltily looked over at Twilight. I turned back to the locker and corrected my thinking. Our stash now.

"This is a very nice find," I said as I stashed the pistol, ammo, and caps in my backpack. "A very nice find indeed."

"What was in the metal box?" asked Twilight.

"Locker," I corrected without realizing. "There was a silenced gun with plenty of ammo, along with a bag of bottle caps."

"Bottle caps?"

"Bottle caps are the main currency in the Mojave Wasteland," I explained. I took one last glance around the hovel. "I guess that's it then. Let's get going; I'm sick of breathing musty air."

Nodding in agreement, Twilight Sparkle and I left the shack and turned left, which, according to the sign, was the direction of Primm.

We hadn't been walking for more than a few minutes before I felt a tingling sensation on the back of my neck. I felt like I was being watched.

"Twilight!" I whispered loudly.

"What? Is something wrong?" she whispered back, a look of worry on her face.

I quickly glanced behind me, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I scanned the wrecked remains of several vehicles that were on the interstate ahead of us, looking for any signs of movement.

I could've sworn that I saw the shadows move behind the upturned cars and smashed trucks. The tingling was getting even worse; I could feel the hairs on my neck standing straight. As we were walking towards a sideways semi-truck, I smelled something.

Smells like... sweat and gunpowder.

I put my right hand out, signalling Twilight to stop. I turned my head slightly and put my finger on my lips, hoping she would understand what it meant. Thankfully, she did, nodding quickly.

I faced the overturned semi-truck, put my hand on my gun, cleared my throat, and said, "The only good thing about no soap..."

I paused for a second, letting my words echo across the vehicle junkyard.

"...Is that you can smell raiders from a mile away!"

My words had the desired effect. I heard a low growl followed by, "Who you calling a raider?!" A very grimy man wearing what appeared to be an old prison uniform stepped out from behind the semi-truck. I saw that he had a stick of dynamite in one hand, and a lighter in the other.

As if on cue, two more men wearing the same style of prison uniform encircled us, one from the left and one from the right. The one on my left was holding a switchblade, while the one on the right had some sort of rifle. Instead of having it pointed at me, he was holding it nonchalantly, as if he was waiting around for orders.

"We're Powder Gangers, and we don't like being called raiders," continued the 'Powder Ganger' holding the dynamite as he slowly walked closer to us. He raised his dynamite in the air, the lighter inches away from string. "Unlike raiders, we do things with a bang!"

On the word 'bang', I pulled my 9mm pistol out of its holster faster than I ever had before. I spun around and shot the Ganger holding the rifle twice, once in the abdomen and once in the chest, before he could get a shot off. He dropped the rifle and went down clutching his chest. Anticipating the one holding the switchblade to rush me, I crouched and twisted to my left.

I felt the switchblade whizz past me as I brought my pistol up again. If I hadn't moved, I'm sure it would have stabbed into me somewhere around my torso. I shot the knife thrower, this time getting a headshot. His brain splattered against the side of a tarnished vehicle. Once again, I turned to the next target, the one with the dynamite, but it turned out that I was already too late.

Twilight had encased his hand in a purple orb of energy, which was causing the Powder Ganger to flail his arm madly, as if trying to shake it off. It took me a second to realize that the stick of dynamite was inside the magic sphere as well. And it was lit.

This won't be pretty.

The Powder Ganger was looking at Twilight with pure, abject terror. His wild gaze turned to me and he said, "For fuck's sake, get it off! Make it stop! I'll do anything you w—"

His pleas turned to screams of agonized pain as the stick of dynamite exploded within the confines of the sphere. The sound was muffled, but the explosion was not.

I crouched down and looked over at Twilight, whose horn was glowing a vivid purple. She seemed to be shaking slightly. Concerned, I asked, "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Twilight closed her eyes as her horn lost its purple lustre. In a warbling voice, she said, "I—I'll be f-fine."

I knew that she was most definitely not fine, but I had more important business to take care of first. Standing up, I slowly walked over to the Powder Ganger, who was now short one hand. In its place was a mangled and shredded stump with almost no traces of the hand left besides some strips of flesh. A pile of blood and gore was nearby.

I walked over and casually to the man lying in the dirt. He looked up at me with tears rolling down his face as his body was overtaken by violent spasms. "W-Who are y-you?!" he managed to say.

I smiled grimly as I pointed the gun at his head. "I am the Courier...

"...And I am not having a good day."

Comments

[U7VK7VOVV7V]

I remember something from my original review.

"Was that a Book of Eli reference I saw there?'

That line was so badass, and fit the story well.

I feel like the title is a reference to something... But I can't put my finger on it. Movie? Song?

I never noticed the Wild Wasteland reference before. Nice.

Twilight's first assisted kill. Well, she ain't gonna feel too great about that.

Powder Gangers: Hated

[1st Lieutenant Dave]

well shit i wouldn't want to get on their bad side