Hi. Im A New Member To Desura. I Might Not Be So Active On Desura, So Be Sure To Check My Steam! It's What I Put For My Homepage. And Please, Don't Get Mad I Type In All Caps. I'm A Nice Guy. As Of Now, I Am Writing A Story Based On Fallout New Vegas
Posted by Anti_Griefer_666 on Jun 16th, 2012
Part 2: Welcome To Goodsprings
Maybe Listen To This While Reading :D - Good Atmosphere
I stepped out into the Mojave, to be instantly blinded by the extremely bright and towering sun. My body once
again, shook at the tremendous heat of the outside world. It radiated through
my body, and felt as if I had fallen into molten lava. As my eyes once again
adjusted to their surroundings, I gazed forward through my still hazy eyes to
see the town of Goodsprings. A town of wooden and brick shacks, most facing
terrible structural damage, entire sections of wall gone, as if an elephant had
crashed through them, crumbling paintwork, smashed fence work and awful amounts
of dust that made seeing far and breathing difficult. One building, named the “Prospectors
Saloon” seemed the only recognizable building. A small neon sign flickered, and
blew in the dusty breeze, struggling to keep itself working.
A tumbleweed rolled by me, and it was followed by a large robot, about 8 foot. It moved on a monowheel, with a tough body of metal. It had thin arms, ending with grappling hooks, like those
in grabbling machines at arcades. Large shoulders of steel, an antenna above
itself and a monitor, like a television mounted into the middle of its body,
protected by hardened glass. I slowly approached it to see it turn to me, it
had a cowboy on the monitor.
“Well howdy partner, good to see you again!” it said, in a stereotypical cowboy accent.
“Hey” I Replied “Are you Victor?”
“Sure am, you here to thank me for that?” It said.
“Well yeah, thanks for digging me out of that grave” I said, and almost hugged it.
“Don’t mention it. I’m always ready to lend a hand to a stranger in need” It said.
“So, how did you save me?” I Asked quizzically.
“I was out for a stroll that night when I heard a bunch of commotion up at the graveyard. Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs, so I laid low. Once they’d run off, I dug you up to see if
you were alive, turned out you were and I hauled you off to the Doc right quick.” It said.
“Well, do you know the men who attacked me?” I asked
“Can’t say that I’m familiar with the rascals. Some of the fine folks in town might be able to help you out with
that.” It said, and began to turn away.
“Ok, well thanks again” I said, and waved the robot off while it moved on into the distance, departing up the
cracked road to somewhere, I watched it for a while until the haze and dust
left it as an unrecognizable figure. I decided I should go check out the
Prospectors Saloon. There was almost no sign of life outside the Doc’s shack,
other than Victor of course. I stepped up to the door and opened it into the decrepit building.
I turned to see a dog, snarling and barking madly at me. I had my arms and back to the wall as the dog slowly approached me. “Cheyenne, Stay” came a voice from my side; the dog moved back
and stopped barking at me. “Don’t worry; she won’t bite unless I tell her to.”
It was a teenage girl, around eighteen years old. She wore a rough leather shirt and a pair of loose dusty
jeans. “Thanks” I said “Thought that dog was going to kill me.”
“She’s got a hell of a pair of teeth, doesn’t she? Makes a great companion out in the wastes for killing any
kind of critter that wants me for dinner.” She said and laughed. “Name’s Sunny Smiles. Nice to meet you”
“Michael Hogan, I’m a Courier” I said and shook her hand “So what do you do?”
“Oh Me? I’m like Goodspring’s unofficial sheriff. I keep it safe of the geckos that always attack.” She said.
“Well, it was good to meet you, see you around” I said and turned away to check out the rest of the bar. It
wasn’t in much of a better state. Small holes pierced every wall, letting in
streams of light. There were dented metal tables, dirty and squeaky floorboards,
as well as broken windows. The bar wasn’t what you would call
teeming with life, a few old locals and a female bartender. I got a sharp look
from a few of the men; they had grim faces and seemed to pay a lot of attention
to me. I sat down on a mouldy bar stool and began to look through my Backpack;
I forgot to look through it when I left.
It contained one hundred and thirty two bottle
caps (currency), half a glass of vodka, ten lock picks, a second hand,
automatic hunting rifle with a box of .308 ammunition. It was beat to hell, and
held together with duct tape, but it was a reliable weapon which I knew how to
use, I assume the men who attacked me didn’t take it for its broken appearance.
I attached a scope to it, and with it I was able to take out things from far
distances. And lastly of course, my diary, that I used to write this story, and
that holds a ton of knowledge about survival and the wastes, I probably
wouldn’t be here without writing down a few tricks and tactics of survival.
With my backpack in order, I tried out my Pipboy for the first time. Whenever I picked something up I would hold it in front of the Pipboy and it would scan it, so it knew what I was carrying
and I didn’t have to unpack to know what I had. It was attached to my body, and
seemed to be stuck on for good. I was a little concerned about it, but I’m sure
Doc Mitchell could always remove it if I needed it off. It made a small cut in
my skin, with a tube going into it, so it could measure if I was infected, if I
had broken bones or if I had a severe case of radiation poisoning. It was
incredibly helpful compared to my old method of seeing a doctor to know. Lastly,
I came to its radio. I tuned into the “Mojave Music Radio” and was amazed at
the sound quality. With my Pipboy and backpack sorted I sat forward to see the bartender turn to me.
“So, you’re that guy that got shot in the head?” she asked me “Amazing to see you’re alive after that”
“Thanks” I said “Are you Trudy?”
“Certainly am. Did Doc Mitchell tell you to come here?” she asked
“Yeah, he told me you could help me find those men who shot me” I responded
“You sure you want to go after those guys?” she said amusingly “I’m sure having them shoot you in the head
would be a good reason not to pursue them.”
“I have a score to settle with them, they have something important to me” I said
“Well, I don’t know much, other than they’re a bunch of freeloaders who expected a few rounds on the house. I was able to get them to pay up though. Of course, one of them did knock my radio to
the floor ‘by accident’, and it hasn’t been working since.”
“You still haven’t told me where they were going…” I said, with little patience.
“I’m not sure, but the guy in the
checkered shirt seemed to be leading them. Heard him talking about the Strip.
Seems the best place to check, but its miles from here. Maybe try talking to Victor? He’s the one who saved you, he should know.” She said
“Yeah, I’m on a wild goose chase here, Victor told me to come to you” I said and laughed “Well thanks, oh and want me to take a look at your radio?” I asked.
“Sure.” She said. “The outside looks ok, but I think something broke on the inside. There’d be bottle caps in
it for you. I do like to hear what goes on in the world, and that Mr. New Vegas
seems like such a gentleman.” She said.
I stood up and went behind the bar to her radio. I knew quite a bit about fixing technology, it was an important
skill in the wastes, and technology plays a big part in some areas. You can
learn to hack computer terminals to open safes or doors that lead to treasures
that were locked away, before the Great War. I unscrewed the back and took a
look at the internal components. I found the problem instantly, a few
components had come loose and all I had to do was slot them back together.
After about three minutes I rescrewed the back on and tuned the radio into the
Mojave Music Radio, to which the room filled with the sound of music.
“Great, you a technician?” she asked “Here’s forty bottle caps for the work, and great choice of station”
“Thanks again” I said, it seemed as if she was impressed by me “How about a drink on the house? My head still hurts from being shot."
“Sure” she said, and poured a cocktail into a glass. “Enjoy”
And with that I took a swig of this mystery cocktail to find it was very refreshing and strong, it had a
gorgeous taste and almost made me forget my problems. I had to ask for another,
and after five drinks I finally stopped, but it cost me all the money I got for fixing the radio. I asked her for the recipe and offered to pay some caps for it but she wasn’t particularly interested.
“Well, see you later, do you have a general town in store?” to which a few members of the bar laughed, including Trudy. “We sure do” she said. “Right next door, can’t have missed it, but I’m
sure that those bullets can explain it.”
So I left with my belongings to get away from the embarrassment I caused myself, and headed next door to the general store to see what was on offer.
Notice: The Content in this story (Characters, Locations and Objects) are copyright of Bethsada Softworks, Obsidian Entertainment, or their respective owners. This is just a fan story, with no copyright intented. So please Bethsada, don't sue me, I love your games :D