I Went That-A-Way!

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[Main Quest II: I Went That-A-Way!]

-=Wishing For A Nuclear Winter=-

"...Which way is Goodsprings again?"

I muttered to myself, the amber glow of the pip-boy lighting the barren sandy road.

I have been walking for two hours now in near darkness, with only the bright New Vegas Strip to use as a reference point.

*Bang!*

I squeezed the trigger of my modded .357, the bullet trailing into the darkness, before impacting with something soft and organic.

It was another of those annoying lizards.

Fucking Geckos! I unloaded a few more shots into its pack as they fell to the ground. One shot missed but hit another in its legs. I was feeling a little peckish anyways.

"...fucking geckos. I really wish I knew how to make a campfire properly" I grumbled, trying to bunch up a few dry sticks I found, probably from some of those tumbleweeds I've seen every now and again.

I just bunched together a few dry sticks, surrounded them with some small rocks I found, and took out a small zippo lighter that was in my pocket.

I didn't know it was there, but I felt that something I needed was in my pocket, so I reached in and voila!

...I'm not going to think about it and go on my day.

how about you, disembodied voices in my head.

As I sat down while the fire roared, roasting a small gecko arm, a tinge of curiosity flows into my very being, reaching to the farthest, darkest recesses of my mind, where the Loot Goblin rests. "Y'know, I don't think I actually looked through my pip-boy. I think I got distracted by the mini-gun..."

I held the pip-boy in front of me, as it flickered on. I twisted the dial, as the screen switched to the inventory.

There were a total of six weapons.

A 10-MM Pistol,

A Mini-gun (Something I made incredibly apparent)

A 9MM pistol (Something I've had in my hand for the last few minutes)

A modded .357 pistol (Thank God for that)

A Service Rifle,

And finally, a varmint rifle.

If that's all the weapons I have, then why the hell are there 600 pounds of stuff in here? Flickering past the other tabs, I zeroed onto the Junk tab. As I switched to it...

"...why the hell do I have so much junk? Actually, what kind of poor fucking sap did I even body-snatch? Who- Who has the kind of time to gather this much shit?!" I shouted in both confusion and admiration.

I mean, if you actually took the time out of a day to gather this much shit, you got my respect! But...

I need to find a place to put it all, as-

*Snap!*

"Huh?" I voiced my confusion as the snapping of a twig brought me back from my inner monologue. Turning to look at my makeshift fire, I could see that-

"Who the fuck took my dinner?!"

-It was stolen by some scampering golden geckos!

Lifting my arm, I aimed and fired. Three shots were emptied from my magazine, and two geckos dropped dead. The third shot missed, and it got away with my fucking food!

...at least I can cook the other ones-

A familiar alien-like tune rang out, as I watched a fucking Nightkin de-cloak, crouch down, and stare me in the eyes as he grabbed both of the Gecko Carcasses and shoved them into his mouth, and scampered away like an animal as he re-cloaked, disappearing into the shadows.

I was honestly too stunned to even think about shooting him. The fucker stared me down as he did it! What the fuck!?

What kind of power move was that?!

I didn't know I had [Wild Wasteland]!

I sighed for the fifth time today.

I'm just-... I'm just going to find some comfortable rock to sleep on. I'm too tired to deal with this shit.

I laid my back against the boulder, as I watched the fire slowly die down, the beautiful neon lights of the New Vegas Strip being the last thing my eyes gaze at before sleep comes to claim me from the land of the living.

.

.

.

Tap.

...wha...?

Tap Tap.

"Mhn..." I grumbled in my sleep, turning to my side.

Tap Tap Tap.

My eyebrow twitched.

Tap Tap... "Hey." An old and gravelly voice spoke, way too close to my ear for my comfort.

"GAH!" My eyes snapped open, as an older-looking man in generic cowboy garb stared me down, two inches from my fucking face. "What the fuck man?!" I yelled, my hand on my 9mm that was resting in my pocket.

He simply laughed it off, waving his hands in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help me'self kid. It's not every day you see someone stupid enough to sleep out in the open in the Mojave. Didn't mean to give ya a scare!" He continued to laugh jovially.

"God-... *huff* at least you answered my question..." I grumbled as I massaged my temple, trying to nurse the headache. "What do you want?" I glared at the old man.

"What? Can't I start conversations with the young'uns?"

I continued to glare.

He pouted.

I'm sorry, but I would like to ask my brain to forget the last five seconds because that is not the kind of image I want in my head. Get it out.

"Fine," He huffed, "I needed a guard for my Caravan because the last one I hired flaked out on me. He was too much of a chicken-shit to man up and shoot at those damn raiders! I nearly lost my-! ...sorry, I tend to ramble. Are you in or out?"

Okay, first, this is incredibly suspicious, but second, human interaction. So, in an obvious choice of self-preservation, I said-

"What's the pay and where are we headed?" I said flatly, as I lifted myself off the ground and slung the small bag of things over my shoulder.

He motioned over to the two-headed brahmin that was laying prone nearby a tree taking a rest from the overbearing heat, with a discarded carriage full of boxes and supplies resting nearby.

"50 Caps upfront, 100 Caps when we get there. I'm supposed to bring these to Goodsprings for a resupply. C'mon kid." He started walking towards his caravan. "W-Wait for me old dude!"

"Joshua."

"Hmm?"

"My name. It's Joshua kid. Yours?" He added, turning to look at me as he woke his brahmin up from its small nap. "My name? Well, it's-" ...Do I go with Issac, or something else?

It's obvious I'm not really 'Me' anymore, in a sense at least. And the pip-boy that this guy had didn't have any (Still intact) records on who he was, and If he did, then I haven't found them yet...

But...

______________________________________

An old man was layed prone on the concrete, as a child kneeled by his side, holding his arms in his small arms. Tears ran down the child's face.

Blood pooled beneath him, as he stared at his nephew.

"U-Uncle Arthur?"

"Hey, kiddo. Sorry- *cough* -you have to see me like this."

"What do you mean?" He sniffled. "What happened!"

"Just a scuffle. Someone I-... I used to know. You haven't met them, but..." He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the spreading coldness, "If you did, you would've gotten along great..."

"What does that-"

"Let me finish." The man shushed him, holding up a finger. "Let me finish..."

The child reluctantly nodded.

"I've always wanted to be there when you grew up, graduated, got a girlfriend..." He chuckled weakly as his nephew blushed in embarrassment, "I was planning to give you my old motorcycle too, heh."

The child laughed, even if it was small.

The old man smiled, one full of an emotion that was foreign to the young boy.

"Hey, Issac. If you could do this one thing for me when I'm gone, this one promise, would you do it?"

"...gone? What do you mean Uncle Arthur!'

"A good person."

"...huh?"

"Promise me that."

"To be a good person, help others. Can you do that for me?" He smiled weakly.

The child nodded.

"...Good."

Suddenly, the man started to go limp, as the cold began to take over. It felt... peaceful in a way.

"Ye-Yes! Don't go, Uncle Arthur! I'll be good, so please, stay!"

"Sorry kiddo, but it's starting to feel... colder."

"...Say hi to your dad for me, alright?"

The child stared for a moment before his gaze drifted to his uncle's hand.

"But-... *sniffle* Okay. I will." He nodded.

He smiled.

The old man closed his eyes, for the final time in his life, dying in the arms of his favorite nephew...

...He'll always make good on his promises, the child thought resolutely...

...He'd promised him that, after all.

______________________________________

"...It's Arthur. Call me Arthur." I answered.

He smiled.

"Heh, well Arthur, welcome to the Crimson Caravan!" Joshua chuckled, adjusting his hat as he sat on the wagon's front seat.

If I couldn't keep a promise from back then, I might as well start now. Hell, the Mojave could use some goodwill.

...God knows how many suffer every day.

-= Wishing For A Nuclear Winter=-