Fallout: Lost Vegas

[caligari]

The house of doctor Mitchell is certainly one of the better ones you'll find out in the wastes; built before the war and relatively untouched throughout the decades the place has managed to survive far longer than most. You won't find grand luxuries here though, no lavish bedroom suitable for a new vegas suite, nor a kitchen to match the ultra luxe's. Everything inside is simple, quaint… sufficient.

Mitchell, the current owner, has in his time become an invaluable member to the little town of Goodsprings, his talents as a more than capable doctor in a world filled with dangers and radiation proved to be more than godsend even in his old age. Still though, his skills are usually put to use towards farming accidents or the occasional bite injury from geckos or coyotes. His latest patient on the other hand came in with a slightly more serious injury seeing as a bullet to the head is less than optimal for someone's well being.

Eight days prior a woman was brought into his office suffering from this unique ailment by a man and a robot who had both dug her out of her own grave. The good doctor was about to give up hope had this morning her condition not improved by her simply waking up.

 

[mango]

Over head, the blades of a rickety ceiling fan spun slightly off balance, moving in a rotating motion that was about all she could focus on since she'd opened her eyes, even it made her a little nauseous to watch the constant motion. She had long since touched along her face, feeling the surgical tidying of what she remembered crisply to be a shot to the head, by that checkered bastard whose face was blurry, but even in a haze she felt that familiar urge to knock the smugness off. Her fingers clenched and relaxed, grasping against a blanket that had long since lost its soft texture and was, instead, the equivalent of matted rat fur, faint odor included. She had yet to see the individual that had, from what she'd gathered, both brought her in and tended to her wounds, both the ones she had neglected in the past week and the one to her skull; sadly her first instinct was to have something on hand, in case they weren't as altruistic as the scenario she awoke to would make it seem.

"I thought I heard movement, you are one tough cookie."

He watched on as Emelia attempted to push herself up, at least onto her elbows, greasy ashen locks falling past her shoulders and sweeping across the bed. She didn't want to be laying down in the presence of a stranger, even if her body beckoned to be reunited with the lumpy mattress.

"Whoa, whoa! Take it easy," He urged, to which she merely looked at him, jaw slightly clenched in irritation. She disliked the immense feeling of vulnerability, intentionally ignoring his plea and instead managing to sit upright, long bare legs swinging over the bedside. "Just watching you I'd wager it isn't all that surprising a bullet to the head didn't kill ya." Emelia touched at her head again, fingers a bit twitchy against her slightly flushed, but very pale, skin. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

"Yours first."

"Mitchell. I'm the doctor around here."

"Where is here?"

"Goodsprings."

Emelia, being terrible with geography, found that to be of little to no help, but at least it had seemed like an honest answer. "Emelia."

 

[caligari]

"Well, can't say it's what I'd have picked for you, but if that's your name, then that's your name." He walked over to her and handed her a clipboard with some space for her to write her name and some easy mathematical problems as he shined a little flashlight in her eyes to see if her pupils reacted, which they did. "Just a formality to see if you're not suffering from alexia or other types of brain damage."

He turned off the light and sat down on a chair in front of her. "Normally I'd check if you suffered any paralysis, but since you got up on your own mere moments after waking up from a bullet to the head, I think I can skip that. " He gave her a warm and kind smile, the kind you'd expect from the bedside manners of a doctor.

"When John and Victor brought you in, I wasn't sure you were going to make it, but you must be built solid as an oak because you simply kept on breathing. Ironic that those two brought you in, since they're the ones who usually keep to themselves." He paused for a second before giving her a look of realisation. "Oh, before I forget." He reached under the bed and took out a box which contained her armour, weaponry and other items she had on her person. "this is all you were brought in with, just so you know where it is. You can stay here for as long as you feel the need to rest, but I'm not going to stop you if you want to head on out. Something tells me you're not the kind of person to stay cooped up for too long anyway."

 

[mango]

Math -- when she saw the equations, Emelina stifled a scoff, a brief flashback of her childhood riddled with struggles when it came to fractions or divisions threatening to remind her once again of how different she was living now, compared to then. But of all the things that had changed within her, being mathematically inadequate was not one of them. She managed to answer each one, writing the last simple answer with a bit of a scribble before setting the clipboard back down on the bed, momentarily irate from both the task and the blips of colors now dancing around her vision from the flashlight.

Despite the slight crookedness of her jaw and a thin stretch to her lips, both out of a bit of irritation, the expression blatantly switched to curiosity, indicated by the quirk of her thin caramel brow and a pensive, held tongue. "John and Victor?" Neither name rung a bell, not that she would be any more comfortable with anyone she actually knew. Emelia had done a decent job of networking, but she wouldn't consider anyone worth running to if she were in a bind; there wasn't a lot of 'got your back' mentality in the wastes, and she still hadn't quite learned her lesson from that mindset herself. "I don't know if I should be glad they kept me alive, or angry because I was finally done with the wastes," Her morbid humor poked out, and Emily almost smiled.

"But I am grateful to you," She added after a moment of sifting through her box, sighing at the accumulation of what she deemed 'valuables' when really she'd like to toss all the junk. She sifted through a leather belt that jingled with a few miscellaneous pieces and pulled out five bottle caps out of the sum she had accumulated. "Don't be modest," She told the older man, and set them down on the nightstand which they greeted with several clanks. "Least I can do. I think I'll venture around, might poke my head back in, might not, either way, thank you."

Munching on some offered meat, Emelia had both washed out her clothes and changed, taken advantage of some of his luxuries and cleaned herself up, and then left the little house only to be greeted by that familiar humid weather and unforgiving sun. Emelia loathed the heat and wished instead they were all dealing with an intense winter, she hadn't seen a change in weather for weeks and momentarily considered going back inside the doctors house. But she would rot here, in this little piece of nowhere -- that made her skin crawl, and so she trekked on.

 

[caligari]

The blistering heat of the Nevada sun cause the remnants of the old world asphalt to boil even the very air turning it to trickery for the eyes, waving and dancing in the desert light. Even so, Goodsprings, with its natural water resources, could muster up some greenery in maize and other crops as well as bighorners grazing on persistent weeds and roots.

It was obvious to any spectator that Doc Mitchell had the finest house in the quiet little town with most of the others showing a lot more signs of decay with their cracked windows and chipped paint. The white picket fences, staples of the old American society, now held mere fractions of their ancient appeal as the what little still stood up right had become rotten and decayed to the point it would not even be suitable as firewood.

The town was quiet, though it appeared as though it always was, but locals still walked the streets and went about their business glancing occasionally at Emelina with the distrust one can expect locals give outsiders. One "local" in particular stood out as he was much taller than any other, that, and the fact that he was made of metal also might have made him stick out a bit more. From down the road of some abandoned houses, or what was left of them, he came rolling on through town.

The settlers of Goodsprings paid him no heed, even greeting him as he passed, others though watched him with great distrust and kept their weapons close as he passed by. These didn't appear to be locals, their dress, behaviour and general attitude was juxtaposed with the quiet and reserved demeanour which rested on Goodsprings. Even at first glance these men were to be given a wide berth as they sat beneath the water tank in the centre of town drinking, gambling and yelling at each other. They didn't seem to require much to be set off, truly they were powder kegs personified.

 

[mango]

"Sweltering," Emelina huffed, swallowing only to feel the parched flesh of her neglected esophagus shiver from a lack of saliva. It was a wonder her reddened eyes still had any shine to them, that her skin wasn't crackling away like the ashes of a sun baked corpse -- that wasn't to say it wasn't dry, she licked her lips for naught while slowing to inspect her 'options'. How the locals reacted to her had become common place -- really only two personalities survived in this wasteland, naivety and extreme cautiousness. Emelina was fortunate enough to have found a balance, but still found one or the other to be her downfall from time to time. She made out similar spots of human beings that eventually revealed to her there was some sort of collective here -- a category, a group, perhaps even a gang. Other than that, the town was a melting pot of trying and dying. Neither really surprised her, but the spared gazes that quietly demanded she stay 'in line' or whatever said collective's perception of behaving was, encouraged the girl to keep her walk off the main road, for now.

Neglected houses dotted the streets, all victims of intense sun and abandonment but others, they seemed a little more inhabitable. She doubted there hadn't been several raids through this town before her arrival, then again it wasn't exactly close to Vegas, perhaps she would be lucky and find a few things she could trade for caps -- the girl could make a can of beans sound like a gourmet meal if she had to, and someone was always overestimating the value of junk. So she passed what looked like a little run down bar she'd have to visit after, and tentatively started in the direction of the beaten neighborhood, taking note of what looked like a few herbs maintained by the locals and casually snagging a piece of mutfruit from beneath the extend limbs of a small tree looming over dilapidated picket fencing.

That was when she came across the accented robot, who tirelessly rolled down the dirt, a smiling face with the likeness of a cowboy shimmering on his screen. "Howdy!" It said to her, causing the woman to pause and ponder her own response, cheek full of fruit giving away her sly theft. "Err, hello?" The idea of maintained technology got the former tech nerd a bit shiny eyed, but also encouraged a weary leer because, quite frankly, his existence in this setting made no sense to her.

 

[caligari]

The locals that could see her, kept her at least in the corner of their eye at all times, strangers in town is one thing, strangers that loot what's left of buildings that might one day have belonged to long lost firends are another thing all together. Not that there was much left to loot, when settlers have dug their roots in deep in a place they take advantage of all that can be found there, as such most, if not all, buildings have been stripped clean of any and all useful items.

"Might I say you're looking fit as a fiddle, little lady?" The thick, typical cowboy accent blasting out of the securitron's voice box was something straight out of an old holotape. The towering piece of machinery and electronics rolled up mighty close to Emelina and acted as though he observed their surroundings "though perhaps a bit down on your luck if you're looking in this place for much of anything."

"Best be careful, folks here don't take kindly to strangers looking to strip them bare of what little they have. Best is to buy your items at the general goods store or perhaps you could go talk to John if you're really strapped for cash; he dug you out of the dessert before, maybe he'll dig you out of poverty as well." That last sentence was followed by a very robotic, very distorted laugh which is a result of having too much sand lodged in the wrong place of pre-war machinery.

 

[mango]

Emelina quirked a thin brow, hands resting on her slightly prominent hip bones; confusion spread across her face like a leak, her mind gradually leaving her intent to loot and instead settling on the oddly placed robot. "Fit as a fiddle? What era were you programmed in?" She murmured the last bit, somehow not wanting to be rude even though she was ninety percent sure electronics still couldn't be defended. Then again, he was one interesting looking AI -- how intelligent was it? Err, he?

Well, apparently enough to give her a subtle yet meaningful warning she outta earn an honest buck. Emily huffed at that, ashen strands catching the only source of moving air in days.

"John -- Oh, you... must be... Victor." John didn't mention it was a robot that kept me from dying -- that leaves the question, who's John? The blonde shifted a little, not really wanting to ask strangers for help but, if they took the time to not only dig her up, but also to drop her off at a medical professional which was as rare a fin as clean water, well, she wouldn't suspect they'd really do anything to her now. Or maybe that was just her naivety falling into place again -- eight days no brain function, maybe Doc did forget a few plugs. "Can you take me to John? Is he here in Goodsprings?" She asked, obligatorily letting the right corner of her lips quirk in response to his morbid humor, something that wasn't unappreciated, but still didn't seem to ease the weirdness of conversating with a robot. "I don't care about how the locales feel but if there's an easier way to get something to eat, I'll take it. Provided you're willing to point me in that direction."

 

[caligari]

"Mighty fine of you to want to see ol' lonely briches, he did save your life after all. He doesn't live in this here town though, but you can find him near the old Yangtze memorial just north of here, you can't miss it, just look for the big white cross. I'd take you there, but trips through the Nevada sands aren't good for these old spurs of mine." As he spoke he rolled back and forth to maintain his balance on his singular wheel until suddenly he began making a grating sound, soft, but noticeable at first, louder as the conversation went on. "see what I mean, the sand isn't all but good for old Victor, shame it's everywhere these days. If you would excuse me, miss, but I need to do some maintenance." And with that he rolled off toward his shed at the far edge of town.

 

[mango]

"Well... Thanks," The blonde watched as the rather talkative machine slyly avoided her request for companionship, instead tracing down the dirt paths and mixing back into the few souls dotted the roads of Goodsprings. She slumped a bit at the shoulders, peering onward or, North, wondering if John was worth the trouble. Not that it would be of much leisure hanging around here, she glanced over her shoulder -- there wasn't much for her in this little town.

"And, I guess, it would be nice to have someone tell me why I was buried six feet under in the first place -- I'm alive so I won't keep asking why, but who shot me, that I'm curious about," The thought had finally registered and a reactive shiver rippled down her spine -- what a thought, one that she would contemplate on as she started towards the bar, hoping to stock up with what few caps she had or negotiate work in exchange for goods. She couldn't leave without at least a bit of food, water and if God had one eye open for her, a few shotgun rounds. Her laser rifle had enough to last her a trip or two, but it hit humans harder than rad scorpions -- a shotgun to the face would put the giant bugs to sleep, that, and she just really liked pulling that trigger.

 

[caligari]

The Goodsprings saloon was anything but an odd sight in the Nevada wasteland. It seemed as though every minor town and settlement along the long 15 modelled their bars and pubs after the ones seen in old holotapes and history books regarding the old western frontier. Then again, with half the world blasted back to the stone age and the frontier now being in every direction the wind blows, it could hardly be seen as a surprise.

The place was well maintained for a small bar in an even smaller town; the paint wasn't chipping (much), the structure seemed quite solid and even the little furniture on the front porch was in decent shape. it would appear that being the only "watering hole" for a while has its perks in regards to funding the upkeep.

Sadly, while the bar looked more than promising, the ones hanging out the front did not. The rough and rowdy looking group seemed to have moved from the water tank across the road to the saloon porch to spend some of their gambling winnings or drink away their regrets of losing. As though these men weren't volatile enough, now they were getting drunk and and losing what little restraint they had. Something Emelina found out the hard way.

With her approaching the bar she caught the eye of one of the more unsavoury men of the group. He wasn't exceptionally big nor exceptionally tall, but he had a stride with all the pride and cocky attitude one would expect from a man who has either nothing to fear or nothing to lose. "Well, well," he said to her, his dark green eyes scanning her from top to bottom as he bit his lower lip and did nothing to hide the fact that he was undressing her with his eyes. "You here to party with the powder gangers? I promise you we'll show you a great time."

At this point the rest began to gather around as well, surrounding her. There were five in total and each found a spot to "examine" a different part of her body. One of the gangers that snuck around her was quick to place his hand on her ass and whisper "we're good with explosions and we could show you some real fireworks"

 

[mango]

We're good with explosions and we could show you some real fireworks

To see that some things never changed despite all that humanity had lost, was disheartening, though Emelina was long past being surprised by scenarios like this, by threats like them. Naively she had approached the building without properly scoping out her audience, then again, what really was left out in the mojave, especially around one of the few bars likely for miles? It was a breeding ground for trouble, I should have gone straight to John, I would have made it with my rifle. Her caramel orbs rolled from her waterlines to the male that circled her, before she completely shifted her mood, a coquettish smile stretching across her lips that did not match the loathing brewing within her.

"Lucky for you boys I like a party, hard to come by," She offered the ganger that fondled her body, the closest man to her, a wink, before letting her fingers trail up the warm fabric of his shirt. Her eyes sized up what she could of those that surrounded her, before she ran her tongue along her bottom lip, a display of consideration. "Nothing personal, love."

With her fingers at his chin in a subtle caress, Emelina exposed her right hand, connecting an uppercut to his jawline, her unseen power fist releasing a bit of steam as the battering ram extended and audibly disconnected the jaw bone. Emelina milked the seconds she had and swerved around the disoriented man, relieving her back of her laser rifle and extending it forward at the ganger across from them both, whilst her other hand held the kitchen knife that had securely been attached at her hip to the mans throat, blade against skin. "I'm having fun already! How's about we go out with a bang?" Following that she cocked her gun, the battery emitting a distant ping to confirm it was ready to fire. The door was paces behind her -- she could bolt if she could negotiate distance.

 

[caligari]

The powder ganger was getting all ready and rearing to go when she played on his advance. Her comments weren't lost on the others either, they laughed a bit and smirked at each other before inching closer to her, but their carnal fantasies were quickly shattered as the metal fist collided with their mate's jaw and sent him flying.

Before the others could even process what had happened and react, one already had a knife to his throat and another had a barrel so far in his face he was practically shitting laser beams. The remaining two managed the get their guns out calling her a bitch while doing so, but hesitated to do much more.

The guy who ended up at the receiving end of her violent ire in the mean time was rolling on the ground in agony. The power fist didn't just break his jaw, it shattered it and knocked out some teeth as well. The force sent pieces of bone shrapnel straight through the inside of his mouth and joined what was left of his left side teeth in what could only be described as a bloody mess. He opened his mouth and blood poured out along with bits of bone and fractured dentures. Calling it a pretty sight would be a lie.

Before the scene could get any bloodier the door of the saloon opened and out walked a man his back facing the group. "You have until tonight before I come back to burn this place to the ground." He yelled inside the bar before turning and witnessing what was happening. The initial shock quickly passed and he slowly and calmly walked over the Emelina and pushed aside the two with their guns out.

"Quite a sight to walk out to." He said, his voice courser and rougher than the dessert sands

"She knocked Frank out, Joe." The one on his right exclaimed

"I can see that, I'm not blind. Pick him up, we're leaving."

"But Joe-" the guy couldn't finish his sentence before getting a loud smack across the face

"Don't talk back to me, I said pick him up and get out of here" this time there was no argument, the four that remained backed up from Emelina, picked up their friend and dragged him off. Joe remained fixed on her however, inching closer and whispering menacingly. "Be sure to stay the night, Goodsprings'll have an... active nightlife" he grinned before walking around her and following his men.

 

[mango]

When the stranger "Joe" skulked off taking his lackey's with him, Emelina was left to wonder what she had just fueled. The guilt of the entire town having to undergo some sort of punishment for her actions made Emelina's stomach muscles twist, her exhale followed by a pulsation of pains deep within her chest. She needed a drink, even if she'd just throw it back up later. With the saloon door shut behind her, the girl wiped away the tears that sat on her water line, which were held back without her knowing but determined to reveal themselves the moment she thought she had a second to herself -- she wiped at them with the back of her hand, angrily, the layer of grime that had accumulated on her skin from being outside only causing her eyes to becoming redder. "That was close, and it's not over," Her voice lilted with dread but she maintained a decent stride as she waded down the aisle in between empty tables and chairs, settling her laser rifle back against her spine in the makeshift socket she'd crafted.

She entered the main bar, where a decently polished counter stretched out, a broken radio sputtered like mad, and a stranger woman tirelessly ran a dirty rag along the same sticky spot.

"Got anything light?" She asked, not expecting any promising answers.

She sat down on a bar stool so off balance she had to grab the counter and brace herself for a fall that never came. "And what about water? Ammo? Stocking up to leave town, I've got a few caps but I could do work for you if you've got it." She spoke as if it were all scripted, words she was used exchanging even if her boggled brain couldn't quite recall when all of that had happened. Emily flexed her fingers from within the power punch, which were bloodied at the knuckles, a pain that only just started to settle in as the adrenaline from the fight started to fade.

 

[caligari]

Prospector saloon was much bigger than it needed to be with two sections; a bar section to the left of the entrance and a general area with a pool table to the left. For a town like Goodsprings one of these two would've been more than enough.

There weren't many visitors; a couple of settlers playing pool and a small woman with a dog enjoying a drink at the counter. Each and every visitor gave Emelina a glance as she entered but didn't pay her attention for long.

The woman behind the counter was a redhead in her late twenties. She wasn't exactly the pinnacle of charisma, nor would you see her on stage at the tops any time soon, she still had a form of rustic charm however, enough for a small town like Goodsprings.

"Saw what you did out there," the barkeep told her as she was wiping a glass "I assume he deserved it, but I hope that won't come back to haunt us."

She allowed Emelina to ask her questions and presented her with sunset sarsaparilla and nuka-cola "this is about as light as you'll get around these parts, five caps each. As for water, it's ten caps per bottle. And as far as caps go, I could pay you if you manage to fix my radio, but if electronics aren't your strong suit you could try finding something of value in the devil's gullet up north. Other than that there's not much for you here."

 

[mango]

"Can't make any promises. It was that, or..." Emelina didn't even bother finishing her sentence, not feeling that she needed to clarify all that they would have done to her tonight. The barkeeper seemed amiable enough and, in light of that, Emelina relaxed her posture ever so slightly, shoulders not longer pinched to her jawline -- there was a painful sensation throughout her body as she tried to coax her muscles into relaxing, truth be told, even a heavier drink wouldn't take the edge off her. She still couldn't even figure out why she was alive, thoughts that trickled down after the short lived adrenaline faded off -- she scooted five caps across the counter and gestured towards the bottle of sarsaparilla, taking a slow drink, allowing herself to catch up with her nerves. "I can take a look at it," She offered half heartedly, Emelina knew some generalities in quite a few areas but would never deem herself past intermediate at best, often her skills were a mix of amateur and pure luck.

Devil's gullet. "Sounds charming," She hiccuped once, a sign her drink didn't quite go down the right way. She allowed herself a bit of downtime, which in Emelina's world was really only about ten minutes, before she pushed off the bar stool and headed over to the little, old school radio, the first thing to make her smile a little as she was always one to appreciate the nostalgia that came with preserved antiques.

"Mmm, let's see," She kneeled over, elbows on the counter, and played with the antenna, as well as wiped accumulated dust from the speakers. "My mom had one of these, when it accumulates too much dust..." She unplugged the receiver and opened the bulk of the radio up, blowing lightly to get rid if any dust inside around the chords. Then she made due with an old rag dipped in alcohol to clean the more tender parts, mumbling about stickiness and neglect. "I have no idea if that'll work -- " she clicked the housing back into place and redialed the radio until the channels came to life, a distant voice gradually becoming clearer from somewhere in Vegas. "Wow! I mean, um, there. All done." If she wasn't hurting for money she probably wouldn't have requested her pay but, hey, girls gotta eat.

 

[caligari]

"Well I'l be," Trudy said, her voice revealing her uplifted spirit as the radio began chugging out tunes from Mr. New Vegas "I'd almost given up hope, thank you for that. But I'm expecting this is the thanks you really want." She opened up her cash register and placed three piles of ten bottle caps each on the counter next to the radio. "Don't spend it all in one place, unless that place is here of course."

 

[mango]

"Thanks," Emelina responded genuinely, stashing her pay in a little satchel that always remained on the inside of her armor, within a snug leather pocket. "You'll probably see me again," Though the woman really had no way of promising that, for some reason she felt the need to end things on a lighter note than excuse me while I go get eaten in the desert.

She found herself beneath a sun that had moved mere inches it seemed in the sky, though at least it no longer seemed to hover directly above her, even generously drifting behind a cloud or two to ease the heated rays caressing her pale skin. "If it wasn't full of mutants I'd move to Jacobstown," Sighed the blonde, who then thought back to what Victor had told her, the strange robot that was no where to be seen now.

Yangtze memorial -- big white cross.

Leaving goodsprings would have been easier if she thought she had somewhere to go -- she didn't even know if John was the right person to seek out, her only guidance that oddbot and his bolts of wisdom. Yet she went, letting the beat up neighborhood crumple down behind her with distance, and trekking north.

 

[caligari]

When it came to the surrounding areas of Goodsprings, there weren't many visual landmarks due to the surrounding mountains which served as both a primary defense for the town and a hindrance for those unfamiliar with the area, but there were some things that stood out. Behind the saloon a dirt path exited the outskirts of town and up a hill toward a rusty, old watertower. To the West, what was left of a pre-war road led toward a seemingly abandoned gas station and a rocky valley a bit further down marked with reused trafic signs stating "yield" or "stop" to serve as a warning to unknowing travelers, though as a warning for what was unclear.
More East than North, to the right of the watertower a vague, wavey shape of a cross could be made out, but there was no road leading toward it, nor was there any indication of civilisation there. Lastly, the main road out of town led South, but even peering closely, one would fail to see exactly where it led.