Hi All,

This is a thread to advertise my Fallout fanfic New California Dreaming. Some of the language would likely fall foul of the 13 Rating here (lets face it the swearing in the actual games couldn't be used here either) so I won't be posting the story on this forum but I will put in links to where you can read it. There are already threads devoted to the story on the http://www.nma-fallout.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=50584 and http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=148416 and the actual story gets posted there too so if you want to comment directly and quote parts of the fic it might be easier there.

EDIT - The story will now be posted here a section at a time. But the uncensored version elsewhere will read better.

Just to make it clear again, like the games themselves some of the language in this Fic is not suitable for those who might reside in Little Lamplight... well maybe Mayor MacCready. :tongue:

Based around original characters but with plenty of appearances from those featured in the games New California Dreaming is based around the idea of an NCR Ranger being sent to the East Coast to find out what the Brotherhood of Steel are up to over there on the other side of the country. I've paid considerable attention to canon and I've also made an effort to try and explain why some of the less plausible aspects of the Capital Wasteland are like the way they are (but don't worry, despite the occasional foray into explaining the science, politics and economics it's still got a lot of action and I'm told is often very funny).

It's good a decent following on fanfiction.net, with a lot more reviews than most stories its length, and I'm happy to say it's also one of the Fallout fics recommended on http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HomePage where they say in the Fanfic Recs page of the http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Fallout section:

"A really good story with detailed characters and a very interesting plot. The author also gave a justification on the reason that the DC area is so intact compared to other ruins seen in the other games and even an explanation on how the Capital Wasteland's economy functions. The characters made lots of references to events in the older games of the series, which will really please fans of the two original games as well as introduce newer players to the classic series" and also "The author is seriously good at writing this story... this writing that could become official material. He knows all about the setting, he knows the back story, he knows economics for the communities to make sense, he researched the actual geographical locations around DC... Trust me, you'll forget you're reading a fan fiction that he wrote for free. In fact, if you are a hardcoe fan of the classics, you will find this story far more enjoyable them the actual Fallout 3 game."

So far the story is fifteen chapters and over 70,000 words long. There are also detailed Author's Notes at the end of each chapter to explain details (on one of the fanfic sites where you can read it the notes are also hyperlinked to references which readers have told me is useful).

You can read New California Dreaming on fanfiction.net by clicking http://www.tthfanfic.org/Story-21412/Hotpoint+New+California+Dreaming+-+A+Fallout+Universe+Fic.htm or on the TtH Fanfic site by clicking http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5074902/1/New_California_Dreaming (the author's notes on TtH have hyperlinked references which those less familiar with Fallout canon might find useful).

New readers and reviewers always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

Hope you like the story. I'll be posting here whenever I've submitted a new chapter just to let you know.



Oh, and since they say to always finish with a song here's one from the story...

Old Prez Tandy lies a mouldering in the grave
While weep the slaves and freemen that she ventured all to save
But though Tandy breathes no more now
The Republic's strong and brave
Her truth is marching on

Glory, glory California
Glory, glory California
Glory, glory California

Her truth goes marching on!

:laugh:

Well, because of the enormous-ness of your story, me as well as most people here will be reviewing one chapter at a time. I have't reviewed my first comment, and part of the reason is because you could post the stuff here. I like how you're thinknig ahead about those who it may not be suitable for, but then again in order to get to this site you had to approve that you are of 17 years or older, so everyone SHOULD be at least 17. That said, the forum is a PG-13 site, and all swears are censored. Allow me to demonstrate.

My mother is a [censored] and she svcks dike.

This of course is only partially true, but you get the point. If you really want to emphasize the word you shout say something like s**t and blot out a letter or two. Also, your fan fic would get more notoriety if you were to post chapter installments instead of making us go to one of the hyperlinks then reply back. Thats a turn off to a lot of readers.

Expect a review by tonight or tomorrow at the latest, and also if you so please, review my story. Cheers and welcome
:foodndrink: :celebrate:

Hello Hotpoint,

I remember you from FanFic.net.

To be a stickler for forum rules, you cannot post links to M-Rated material, on this site :sadvaultboy: I have tried. . .and I have taught Schumty too many terrible things already.

I read a good chunk of your story. . .almost a year ago I think. Its pretty good. I don't think the author notes were necessary, and the Allison/Coyle relationship was funny but didn't always seem. . . .genuine. :shrug:

Meh. . .it was a good read. You may as well as post it here, I don't remember any M rated content but the language.

I wish you good luck on your writing - and why you're on the site why not join a RP or review someone else's fic? You have gotten a lot of reviews elsewhere and there are a lot of people here who enjoy feedback (like Ant) - so do a little give-and-take.

-S.S.

Oh, yes I read that on the Fanfic.net, I liked it can't wait for the next chapter

Okay I'll start posting up chapters here and see what response I get I suppose (not all at once though, as you say there is quite a lot of story already).



Don't usually do RP but I'll take a look-see. I've been busy the last couple of days so haven't dropped back.

Also Chapter 14 of New California Dreaming is up now.

The Fallout Universe belongs to someone other than me. No infringement is intended, no profit is to be made and I'm just not worth the hassle of suing anyway unless you want a share of the wages of an underpaid Civil Servant.

----------

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART I

The Wasteland - Virginia – June 2277

Coyle wasn’t certain if his assailant was a raider or a slaver, her clothes at least said destitute wastelander for what that was worth, but regardless it was pretty damn certain she wasn't firing on all cylinders because instead of running away she had instead pulled a switchblade from her bramin-leather jacket and adopted a threatening posture. ‘They were right’ he muttered to himself, drawing his Heckler & Koch MP9 from its holster and levelling it at her, ‘the further East you get, the lower the IQ’s drop’ he said with a resigned sigh. The knife would barely scratch the Recon Armour he was wearing, although being sans helmet at the moment she might go for his throat he supposed.

‘I'll cut you’ she said, the threat not exactly backed up by the way she wasn’t even holding the small knife properly. She had previously thrown the spear she had at him but missed by a mile, disarming herself and simultaneously annoying him, neither a good move to be honest.

Fortunately for the girl Coyle’s Mom was a superstitious type and had always told him that killing a crazy person was bad luck. Conversely his father might have argued that eliminating the loon from the gene pool before they could breed was a public service but on the other hand Dad would have also baulked at the waste of ammunition so Coyle decided to try reason instead of violence. ‘I'm pointing a firearm at you’ he pointed out in the tone he reserved for children, the insane and junior officers. ‘Go away’ he instructed her patiently, shooing her away with his free left hand.

‘You can't have my water’ the girl insisted.

‘I don't want your water’ Coyle replied evenly. ‘I'm just looking around to see if there's any whiskey in any of these buildings’ he said, now sweeping his left arm about to indicate the shattered ruins of the small town he had come across, finding it solely inhabited by a crazy female in maybe her late teens. ‘Chances are any water you've got glows in the dark anyway and I'm hoping for kids with the right number of fingers and toes someday’ he added.

The girl looked suspicious. ‘My Pa and my brothers will be here soon’ she told him, ‘you'd better leave before they get here because they're crack shots’ she declared.

Coyle was unconvinced by either statement but deciding she wasn't likely about to try and stab him any time soon he holstered his MP9. ‘See, I'm all peaceable’ he told her, ‘okay, how about if you've got any whiskey I'll buy it from you’ he suggested. ‘Or from these reputed family members that are surely now just moments away.’

‘You talk funny’ the girl observed.

‘It's called a vocabulary’ Coyle replied sardonically, ‘and that word means...’

‘I know plenty of words including that one’ the girl responded, clearly aggrieved by his implicit accusation she was some dumb tribal or something. ‘I meant your accent’ she said indignantly.

‘I'm from out west’ Coyle explained.

The girl looked doubtful. ‘You mean West Virginia?’ she asked. ‘I've known plenty of traders that came from there and they didn't sound like you’ she stated.

‘Further West than that’ Coyle replied patiently.

‘Ohio?’ the girl queried.

Coyle groaned. ‘I'll save you the next half-dozen states and skip to the one at the end’ he said. ‘I'm from California’ he told her.

The girl raised her eyebrows, she had seen a map of the old United States and knew where that was. ‘Are you with the Brotherhood of Steel?’ she asked. ‘I heard tell from some folks they hail from way out that far.’

‘No I'm not from the [censored] Brotherhood of Steel’ Coyle responded angrily before his expression shifted to a look of intrigue. ‘Are there any of them around here then?’ he asked, looking very interested all of a sudden.

‘Why do you want to know?’ the girl queried. ‘And is the knowing worth anything to you?’ she asked.

‘How many caps for the information without me having to answer the first question?’ Coyle replied.

‘Fifty’ the girl told him.

‘You're kidding’ Coyle responded, ‘it's worth beating it out of you to save that much money.’

The girl looked alarmed. ‘My Pa and brothers...’

‘Yeah, yeah’ Coyle interrupted her dismissively. ‘Twenty-five’ he counter-offered.

‘Forty’ the girl replied. ‘And I'll let you have three bottles of whiskey for fifteen caps each’ she continued. ‘It's the good stuff, goes down smooth’ she promised.

‘I'm not going to drink it’ Coyle responded flatly. ‘Thirty-five for the information and another thirty-five for the whiskey, that's sixty-five caps all together’ he said.

‘That’s seventy’ the girl responded angrily, ‘you trying to cheat me?’ she asked.

‘It seemed less immoral than beating the crap out of you and saving all the money’ Coyle replied with a shrug. ‘Okay seventy and put that damn toothpick away, if anyone saw me handing you a load of caps while you're pointing it at me they'd think I was letting you mug me and my reputation as a badass would take a nosedive.’

The girl looked around the deserted ruins and wasteland beyond. ‘Who the hell is going to see you out here?’ she asked reasonably, putting the switchblade away.

‘Hey you might not think it but there's radscorpions from here to San Francisco that would sting themselves rather than take me on’ Coyle deadpanned. ‘And deathclaws tell their kids that if they’re naughty I'll come and eat them.’

The girl looked Coyle up and down. ‘Yeah, right’ she said eventually, clearly unconvinced by the veracity of his admittedly unlikely claim.

‘Would you believe they warn them I'd give them the worst indigestion ever?’ Coyle asked with a grin, he thought he was funny at least. ‘So where's the whiskey and where did you see the Brotherhood?’ he asked.

‘Show me the caps first’ the girl insisted.

Coyle nodded back the way he had come walking into town earlier. ‘Back there with my bike and the rest of my stuff’ he said.

‘Your what?’ the girl asked in surprise.

‘My bike’ Coyle repeated himself, ‘my motorcycle’ he said. ‘You didn't think I walked three thousand miles to get here did you?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘That's why I need the whiskey’ he explained, ‘I'm nearly out of fuel and I didn't want to have to put the good scotch in the tank.’

‘You've got a working motorcycle?’ the girl queried in obvious amazement at such a notion.

Coyle laughed, it never ceased to amuse him how backwards things really were once you left the borders of the NCR far behind. Whilst it was true that most of the travelling was done by steam-train back home, with still only a few old fusion-powered cars and trucks on the road, ethanol burning internal combustion engines weren’t even all that rare these days. You could even find filling-stations owned by the Wright Corporation on a few of the main highways, the originally Reno-based family-owned business was expected to overtake Crimson Caravan as the wealthiest business empire on the West Coast within a few years. ‘It's taken a battering getting here but it still works’ he confirmed.

Twenty minutes later Coyle had counted out the seventy caps from the bag locked in the left pannier on the back of his bike and after handing them over had received the whiskey which he was now pouring into the fuel tank. He had tested a mouthful, saying this was only to verify what proof it was of course, and though he hoped it wouldn’t eat through the bottom of the tank if anything it was better quality than the stuff he had been running it on back in civilisation, some redneck in these parts must have a hell of a still he decided. ‘Okay so where's the Brotherhood?’ he asked, putting on the Recon-Armor helmet which had been hanging from the handlebars. He had already put on his backpack which had been resting on the seat.

‘Ninety miles East, you’ll find them in the Capital Wasteland’ the girl told him. ‘They used to call it Washington DC before the war but it got blasted good’ she said.

‘You should see the LA Boneyard’ Coyle responded, climbing aboard his bike. ‘They had enough warning to shoot down a lot of the Chinese Bombers and Missiles heading for the East Coast’ he noted. Adytum, a town within the sprawling ruins of the Boneyard, had grown over the years since it joined the NCR but it still only covered a fraction of what had once been Los Angeles, the old metropolis remaining mile after mile of twisted, blasted wreckage for the most part.

‘I’ve never seen guns like that before’ the girl noted, indicating the two rifles in the leather scabbards strapped to the sides of the machine.

‘I could tell you what they were but I'd have to kill you’ Coyle told her in amusemant, the FN-FAL wasn’t really anything special, apart from the fact this one had a night-vision scope fitted, but the M72 Gauss Rifle was probably worth enough for people to hunt him down for it. He had considered not bringing it on this mission at all but if he was going to conceivably ever end up exchanging fire with some [censored] in powered armour he wanted to be firing something that wouldn’t bounce off.

The girl looked awkward. ‘I could show you the way’ she offered, ‘I mean if you paid me’ she said.

‘Shouldn’t you check with your Pa before playing tour-guide?’ Coyle asked with a chuckle.

‘He's gone, my brothers too’ the girl admitted.

‘I'm shocked’ Coyle replied, ‘you really had me convinced’ he lied. ‘I can find my own way thanks’ he told her.

‘I know all the traders around here, and where it's safe to hole up for the night’ the girl responded, ‘my Pa used to scavenge all over the place, and rode with loads of caravans, he told me all about it’ she said earnestly.

‘Didn't he tell you not to accept rides from strangers too?’ Coyle inquired.

‘You seem okay to me’ the girl replied, ‘I mean you didn't shoot me or anything and you paid up like you said you would... although you did try and screw me out of five caps’ she noted. ‘So what's your name?’

‘My name's Coyle, and for all you know the only reason I didn’t shoot you was because I'm out of bullets’ he pointed out. ‘You're too trusting to be out here, I could be a slaver, or worse, for all you know.’

‘Pa said I was a good judge of character’ the girl replied defensively.

Coyle looked at himself in one of the mirrors fitted to his handlebars, dirty, unshaven, he badly needed to clean his armour and his hair had so much crap in it you could barely tell he was blond. ‘You obviously don't judge on appearance’ he observed.

‘If I can get to Canterbury Commons, that's in the Capital Wasteland’ she explained, ‘my Pa knew a man there who worked with some traders, I might be able to get a job’ the girl said. ‘I'd never get that far on my own, I've got my little brother’s old rifle but it's busted so bad it's not even worth carrying because anyone looking at it would know it was broken’ she continued, ‘and I've only got a few bullets for it left anyhow because I sold the rest’ she told Coyle. ‘I worked at a bar next town over till last week but I wouldn't go with the customers so the boss threw me out.’

‘Everyone's got a [censored] sob-story’ Coyle complained, ‘okay, if you promise to stop telling me yours I'll take you along but if you get us lost I'll sell you to a slaver or maybe some cannibals’ he vowed.

‘No you wouldn't’ the girl replied confidently, then frowned ‘I won't sleep with you’ she told him seriously.

‘You smell worse than I do and I got laid a couple of days back anyway so I’m still choosy’ Coyle retorted. ‘Now don't go thinking you get to take a load of crap along, my shocks won't like carrying two of us anyway’ he told her.

‘I've just got a small bag back there where we met’ the girl told him. ‘And I need to collect my spear too’ she added. ‘I got a mole-rat yesterday, there's still some left if you want to eat’ she offered.

‘I've seen you throw that spear, did it die of old age?’ Coyle asked sarcastically. ‘[censored], I'll push the damn bike down there, save some gas’ he said, getting off and starting to wheel his motorcycle back to where they had come from.

‘What does that number painted on the back of your helmet mean?’ the girl asked him, following on.

‘It's how many super-mutants I've killed in hand-to-hand combat’ Coyle replied wryly.

‘I don't believe you’ve killed thirteen super-mutants with your bare hands’ the girl responded.

‘My opinion of your intelligence is going up’ Coyle told her, ‘pretty soon I'll think your IQ is that high.’

Not knowing what an IQ was the girl ignored him. ‘So what does thirteen mean?’ she asked.

Coyle sighed. ‘Thirteenth Infantry Battalion, Army of the New California Republic’ he told her. ‘Arroyo Volunteers.’

‘Who's Arroyo and what did he volunteer for?’ the girl wanted to know.

Coyle stopped pushing the bike, and stared blankly into space before shaking his head sadly. ‘They called us the “Arroyo Volunteers” because almost everyone in the battalion was from the town of New Arroyo’ he said. ‘The number meant a lot to us so we all signed up for that unit when they asked for recruits to fight in the war’ he told her.

The girl looked at him intrigued. ‘What war?’

‘You ask a lot of questions’ Coyle complained, starting to push the bike again.

‘What war?’ the girl persisted.

‘The war between the New California Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel’ Coyle replied, deciding he could either answer, be badgered about it or shoot her and while the latter option has its positive side he really could use a local guide.

‘So you used to be a soldier and you’re from a town in California called New Arroyo’ the girl said. ‘Well at least you're not a dumb tribal’ she said.

‘My mother was a tribal’ Coyle responded, turning to glare at her. ‘I get to call tribals dumb if I want, you don't’ he told her sternly.

The girl broke eye contact. ‘So do you have any tattoos then?’ she asked, lots of the primitives did ‘was your Pa a tribal too?’

‘I've got a couple of unit tattoos on my right arm’ Coyle answered, ‘a rattlesnake on my left forearm, my father was from a vault and you don't get to ask any more damn questions for the next two hours’ he declared.

The girl pouted. ‘You haven't even asked my name’ she moaned.

‘It would make it harder to beat you to death if I knew it’ Coyle muttered.

‘It's Allison’ the girl told him quickly. ‘Allison Brenner.’

Coyle thought about that for a while then eventually smiled. ‘No, as it turns out it wouldn't be any harder to beat you to death now I know it’ he decided happily. ‘You'll have to wear my backpack if you're going to sit on the back of the bike’ he told her. ‘And hold on tight because I don't want to lose it if you fall off.’

An hour later Allison still couldn’t ask any questions but as they rode down a relatively intact stretch of Route 66 and she gradually got used to the idea of travelling this way she did learn one more thing about him, he liked to sing.

Well East-Coast Raider Girls are hip
I really dig those spikes they wear
And the Reno girls, with the way they talk
They cuss me out when I’m out there
The Mid-West Reaver Daughters really get you in their sights
And the mutant girls, with the Rads they take
They make their boyfriends glow at night

I wish they all could be California
I wish they all could be California
I wish they all could be California
Girls

He was onto the second verse when they ran into a gang of Raiders and Scout-Sergeant Cassidy N Coyle of the New California Rangers got to demonstrate why the Republic chose him over all the other volunteers to find out what the hell the damn Brotherhood was up to out East.


----------

Note from the Author:

You don't have to have played all the Fallout games to enjoy this story I hope but greater familiarity with the universe will help you appreciate it far more. There are quite a few in-jokes and references that only fans of the Fallout games will likely get but I've tried to make the characters interesting and entertaining enough in themselves.

I'm going by the fallout timeline including the unreleased game Van Buren (what was originally to be Fallout 3) which has the "Brotherhood of Steel going to war with the New California Republic some time after the events of Fallout 2. The BoS had better weaponry but the sheer size of the NCR population (700,000 citizens, a vast number for the era) means that its military made up for in quantity what it lacked in quality and the war stretched on for years.

My original character Coyle is a veteran of the of the war who transferred from the NCR Regular Army to the elite New California Rangers (paramilitary police who roam the wastes wiping out raiders and slavers and looking out for enemies of the Republic). His father was one of the Vault 13 survivors and his mother a tribal from the original Arroyo, both rescued from the Enclave by the Chosen One in 2242 (thirty-five years before Fallout 3, he's in his early thirties by this point).

The NCR knows that the BoS have sent people to the East and they want to know what they're doing, suspecting the Brotherhood is looking for advanced weapons to obtain some new advantage. As far as Coyle is concerned the Brotherhood is no better than the Enclave, they attacked his country (New Arroyo having joined the NCR) and tried to overthrow its democratic government to turn it into a neo-feudal state under their rule so he's definitely not above plinking random BoS guys with his Gauss Rifle.

The currency in Fallout 1 (set in 2161) consisted of bottlecaps taken from Nuka Cola bottles. As civilisation re-established itself on the West Coast however real coins made of gold and silver replaced them (the gold being mined from Redding) and by Fallout 2 (set in 2241) caps were no longer used as money there. However the East Coast is not remotely as well recovered from the war in terms of re-opening mines and factories so caps are still used as money in the Capital Wasteland as of 2277.

The 10mm Heckler and Koch MP9 submachinegun is a constant fixture of the Fallout games. The 7.62x51 NATO FN-FAL however only features in Fallout 2 where it is noted to be back in production in NCR service. In Fallout 3 the standard US assault rifle is the R91 firing the considerably less powerful 5.56x45mm NATO cartridge.

There are a ludicrous quantity of whiskey bottles to be found around the Capital Wasteland, it was that that made me think of Coyle riding a motorcycle running on the stuff. The Wrights were bootleggers from New Reno in Fallout 2, I had the notion that they changed their business plan and realised there was money to be made in supplying fuel to the growing economy of the NCR. Wright Ethanol in quantity enabled the Republic to bring back the Internal Combusion Engine in decent numbers.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART II

The Wasteland - Virginia – June 2277

In a bygone age Coyle would have been a karaoke ninja, or at least that's what he thought as he started the second verse of his version of an old classic.

The West Coast has The Glow
And the girls all get so tanned
I dig a fur bikini... OH [censored]!

Fortunately the three Raiders manning the makeshift barricade around the slow bend in the road were apparently expecting a trade caravan of shambling brahmin, rather than a motorcycle doing a respectable thirty miles an hour, because they seemed almost as surprised at the sudden appearance of the machine and its passengers as Coyle was at nearly crashing straight into them. They did however have an advantage in that their response was mild shock rather than jerking a handlebar to the left and causing a bike to topple over sliding along the roadway on its side like Coyle did, Allison being catapulted off, rolling and somersaulting away.

Sparks flying up from both the motorcycle and his armour scraping across the asphalt, and with his left leg pinned underneath, something in Coyle’s subconscious took over and while his conscious mind had him practically screaming in shock and pain. As he scoured his way down the road his right hand released its iron grip on the throttle and it reached down to grab hold of something else.

The most exposed to view of the three raiders manning the low stockade of wooden fence-posts and beat-up metal road-signs was wearing a leather helmet with brightly coloured upright feathers fixed to it. He was only just starting to react with anything but amazement when the motorcycle finally slid to a halt and was just starting to open his mouth to cry out when it registered that the guy half stuck under the bike was now pointing a machine-pistol directly at him.

The thinking-part of Coyle's mind snapped back into focus and took control again just as his MP9 lined up with the raider, well the scruffy leather armour outfit certainly screamed “Raider” to Coyle anyway and if the guy was merely cursed with lousy dress sense then it was just his bad luck because shoot-first, introductions later was usually the best policy in the wasteland.

It wasn't the ideal firing stance so only about half the short burst of ten-millimetre jacketed-hollow-point rounds struck the raider even though they were barely five yards apart. This was piss-poor marksmanship by Coyle's usual standards and his old comrades in 1st Recon would have mocked him savagely but at the time grouping his shots wasn't exactly a high priority. With only his upper torso and head of his target visible over the barricade thanks to the angle the raider himself would have likely judged it a decent display of shooting skill if he had been a more disinterested party. As it was when the third and forth bullets impacted his jaw, shattering it before ploughing on up and through his head and eventually blowing his brains out the back of his skull, he was in no position to offer praise.

As the first raider went over backwards out of sight Coyle swung his MP9 across towards the next target, clamping his finger down of the trigger and emptying most of the rest of the magazine in a couple of seconds. Unfortunately this second raider was more concealed by the barricade, and also had more of an opportunity to get out of the way, because Coyle missed completely, only managing to put the man's head down as he dived for cover and shaking him up more than a little.

Raider three collected her wits and made a dash for the beat up hunting-rifle she had put to one side earlier. ‘Come on then’ Coyle bellowed, trying to pull his leg free while saving the last few shots in his MP9 in case either of them appeared again. If they both popped up at the same time he knew he was almost certainly dead even if he stood a fair chance of getting one before the other got a round off, ‘don't hit the gas-tank’ he hissed quietly to himself, almost in prayer as he tried to apply what limited leverage he had with only one arm available.

‘We're going to [censored] you up man’ the second raider declared loudly as he drew his old Chinese made automatic pistol and waited for his girl to get ready with her rifle.

‘Bite me’ Coyle yelled back, instantly regretting his choice of words given the number of raiders who were also cannibals. His leg must be caught up he realised because he wasn't getting anywhere in his attempts to pull himself clear. ‘Screw it’ he said and fired the last few rounds over the top of the barricade before dropping his MP9 and after killing the engine, which had still been idling until then, he reached for the rifle tied to the right side of the bike which was still within reach.

The second raider waited until the third had retrieved her hunting rifle and had worked the bolt chambering a round. Although typically dismissed as being psychotics raiders had enough sense to band together and use a modicum of teamwork and he knew that if they both did this together it would work out much better. ‘He's got armour on, try and aim for his head’ he advised his female counterpart.

The raider girl nodded, they were so close her rifle should go right through the [censored]s helmet and end it there she realised, and the range was so short it wouldn’t even be a challenge to hit the mark.

‘How's your friend, did I clear his sinuses’ Coyle called out, baiting them.

‘[censored] you’ the second raider responded.

‘No’ Coyle said with a grin, ‘[censored] you’ he declared, pulling the trigger on his M72.

Although haphazard the barricade was sturdy enough and would have stopped most bullets, certainly the 5.56mm or .32 rounds most prevalent in these parts, but it wasn't remotely thick or strong enough to stop a hypersonic gauss-rifle round and as soon as the raider verified his position by speaking again Coyle promptly blew a hole in it, and him.

The dense, small-calibre metal slug punched clean through a pair of foot-thick wooden posts, three steel road-signs and a broken piece of old furniture before it struck the raider, his metal-studded leather armour and indeed his flesh only a minor additional impairment to the path of a projectile designed to penetrate powered-armour or light tanks. Having been both slightly flattened and made to tumble by what it had already travelled though the slug tore an even more destructive path in the raiders torso than it would have done usually and by the time it exited the far side in a spray of blood the hydrostatic shock had thoroughly minced his internal organs.

‘Oh God!’ the raider girl exclaimed then instantly realising her folly dodged sideways as a second gauss-rifle round shot through the barricade where she had just been. ‘Eek’ she cried out, moving again as a third and then fourth slug from Coyle’s M72 followed her movements.

‘Stay still’ Coyle yelled at her, ‘It's hard to find 2mm EC ammunition in the wasteland and it’s a waste to use it wasting wasters like you’ he declared, starting to find the situation suddenly much more entertaining.

Smart enough to stay quiet the raider girl got down as low as she could and started to crawl away, maybe if she got clear she could get an angle on the son-of-a-[censored], shot him and get that damn super-gun herself she hoped.

Sometimes you've just got to take a risk Coyle decided and put down his gauss rifle now using both arms to try and free himself, pushing with all his might as he pulled on his trapped leg. He felt something tear and hoping that it was just his pants being ripped he finally managed to free himself, retrieving his M72 as he initially sat up then readied himself to pop to his feet, rifle up and ready to fire if he had a shot.

Another female voice interrupted his preparations. ‘Coyle!’ Allison called out.

‘Not now’ Coyle spat back loudly.

‘I'm hurt’ she replied, this was not too surprising a revelation to Coyle given the way she had come off the bike. She might even be considered lucky to be alive, or at least conscious, but he had more pressing concerns right now.

‘Shut the hell up!’ Coyle thundered as he stood up, his formerly trapped left leg objecting strenuously to the sudden jerky movement. Looking over the barricade the two raider corpses were visible but their playmate was nowhere to be seen as Coyle moved closer and slightly to one side to change his angle.

‘Look out!’ Allison screamed and Coyle instantly dropped and turned as a bullet cracked past his ear. He spotted the now almost totally panicked raider girl kneeling on the ground just off the road to where she had presumably crawled and watched her now desperately trying to work the bolt of her rifle again, a look of terror on her face.

With a trajectory flat as a pancake the M72 fired again, striking the raider girl right between the eyes for an instant kill. ‘Quick and clean just like you taught me Uncle Cassidy’ Coyle said to himself calmly and after looking around for a few moments in case there was a fourth one of the bastards hanging around he went to retrieve his submachinegun. He put down his gauss-rifle and took off his helmet to rest beside it before fishing a fresh magazine of ten-millimetre rounds for the MP9 from a pocket to reload the automatic weapon with. ‘Thanks for the warning’ he told Allison, walking over to her where she was laying sprawled on the roadway, the girl partially propped up by Coyle’s backpack which she still had on.

‘That really hurt, were those raiders? Are they all dead?’ Allison responded, before moaning loudly.

‘I’m pretty sure they were raiders and I'm positive they're dead’ Coyle replied. ‘Can you move?’ he asked.

‘I could be paralysed’ Allison replied.

Coyle frowned. ‘Can you wiggle your toes?’ he asked.

Allison tried. ‘Yes’ she confirmed.

‘You should be okay I think’ Coyle replied, ‘not that I know much about injuries other than knife or bullet wounds to be honest’ he admitted.

‘We could have been killed’ Allison complained, gingerly trying to sit up and finding that although she was obviously sore and bruised her limbs all still worked. ‘Riding that thing is dangerous.’

Coyle shrugged. ‘[censored] happens’ he said unsympathetically. ‘Don't usually find raider barricades or ambushes this far from what passes for civilisation’ he observed, ‘nobody to steal from or murder.’

Allison rubbed her right shoulder, she had hit the road pretty hard at that point and it was probably only her brahmin-leather jacket that prevented the asphalt ripping her to shreds. ‘A couple of trader caravans use this route, they were probably gonna hit them’ she suggested.

‘Goddamit woman, if I'd known this wasn't the road less travelled I'd have been more cautious’ Coyle told her in annoyance. ‘My leg hurts like a [censored]’ he muttered.

‘It's alright for you’ Allison retorted, ‘you’ve got armour on I'm not even wearing a helmet’ she pointed out.

‘If you don't mind wiping off the blood and bits of brains there's one on the raider back there’ Coyle replied, nodding back towards the barricade. ‘My bike had better not be all bent up’ he said sadly.

‘I'm not getting on that thing again’ Allison declared.

‘Then you'll either have to stay behind or run really fast to keep up because if it still works I am’ Coyle replied. ‘I forget how heavy the damn thing is’ he said, putting more weight on his still protesting left leg. ‘My other rifle had better not be bent either’ he added, his FN-FAL had been on the side of the motorcycle that hit the road. ‘Are you getting up or not?’ he asked.

‘Give me a minute couldn’t you?’ Allison requested.

‘Oh hell, take five, I'm going to see if those pricks had anything worth taking’ Coyle reponded, turning and heading back towards the barricade, limping slightly.

‘If they've got any caps on them, half are mine’ Allison told him, getting up quickly.

‘Say what?’ Coyle responded incredulously, turning back towards her with an expression of disbelief on his face.

‘We're partners’ Allison told him, ‘fifty-fifty’ she said. ‘And I saved your life by calling out when I saw that skank about to shoot you’ she noted.

‘We're not partners’ Coyle replied flatly.

‘But I did save your life’ Allison responded.

Coyle rolled his eyes. ‘You can have half of anything she had’ he offered, reasonably he thought.

‘That gives you five-sixths of the spoils, that's not fair’ Allison protested.

‘I could take all of it’ Coyle stated, giving her a dark look.

Allison crossed her arms, regretting it because she found additional sore-spots when she did. ‘Half of her caps and I get her rifle’ she said with finality.

‘Can you shoot better than you throw a spear?’ Coyle asked sardonically.

‘Yes, much better’ Allison told him earnestly.

Coyle sighed with resignation. ‘Okay you can have the rifle’ he conceded.

‘Then it's a deal, partner’ Allison declared with a beaming smile.

‘For the last time we’re not partners, friends, team-mates, co-workers or colleagues’ Coyle told her. ‘I'm the boss, you're the increasingly overpaid hired help’ he said. ‘If anyone asks I'll say you’re riding on the back of the bike to stop me getting shot in the back as a cheap substitute for better armour.’

‘People will think you own me’ Allison noted.

‘If they do I'll tell them someone threw you in with the bike’ Coyle replied with a laugh. ‘Go on, search the raider chick and try not to get too much blood on you’ he advised.

Allison nodded. ‘That was a really good shot you made’ she observed as she reached the girl and saw just how well placed it had been.

‘That's nothing, I once did a Khan raider at over eleven hundred yards’ Coyle replied proudly. ‘Last thing he never saw’ he added with a smile, partially quoting the motto of the NCR's 1st Recon Battalion where he had served for a while after his marksmanship and war record got him transferred from the 13th Infantry to more specialist work. Later with many more kills to his name, plus a reputation among the officers for being a little too maverick on occasion, he had been selected for the Rangers, one of the replacements for the hideous losses they took spearheading the offensive that drove the Brotherhood from their headquarters bunker in Lost Hills.

‘She wasn't very old’ Allison told him, the raider might be younger than she was she thought.

‘She's as old as she was ever going to get’ Coyle replied flatly. ‘Live by the sword...’

‘Die by the sword’ Allison finished for him as she started going through the dead girl's pockets You couldn't grow up in the wasteland and not end up hardened to violence and to Allison's mind the raider had brought it on herself by choosing the lifestyle she had.

Five minutes later as they continued to search the raider corpses, putting anything of value to one side, Coyle found that one of them had a couple of packs of Rad Away and after looking at them for a while threw one to the girl. ‘I'm guessing you haven’t taken one of those in a while’ he reasoned.

‘No, couldn't afford them since I lost my job in the bar’ Allison admitted. ‘I try not to drink water that I think's got too many rads in it though’ she said. ‘I filter it good’ she told him.

‘Take that stuff before we get going again’ Coyle told her, ‘I had a doc sort me out a week or so back so I don't need to take any right now’ he said.

‘Are you going to take this out of my pay?’ Allison asked suspiciously, looking at it.

Coyle looked thoughtful. ‘Well I hadn't thought about it but now you mention it...’ he began before grinning at her. ‘It's a present, from me to your future children’ he joked.

‘And now people would think I’m a well cared for slave’ Allison told him, putting the radiation cleansing pharmaceutical to one side while she checked her new rifle. ‘Did you ever own a slave?’ she queried. ‘A real one I mean?’ she asked curiously.

‘No’ Coyle replied. ‘Slavery is illegal in the NCR’ he said, not adding that when on detached duty he actually used to hunt slavers on a regular basis, either gunning them down on the spot or occasionally dragging them back for a fair trial and a fair hanging. The latter was done publicly to help dissuade others from taking up the always lucrative trade in human beings.

‘Really?’ Allison asked in surprise.

‘Yes really’ Coyle confirmed with more than a hint of pride in his voice. It was things like that which made the New California Republic so worth fighting for to his mind, it was things like that which meant that years before when the call went out to every town and settlement that the Brotherhood was trying to overthrow the Republic, and that government by the people for the people was in dire peril, that tens of thousands across the western wasteland took up arms almost immediately and rallied to the defence of their nation. Coyle wasn't blindly patriotic, he was well aware of the faults in the NCR and that corruption, stupidity or malevolence was hardly unknown amongst the senate, but at least the damn politicians back home were elected and that made a big difference.

Allison pursed her lips. ‘But who does all the [censored] jobs?’ she asked.

‘People who don't pay enough attention in school’ Coyle replied with a chuckle, ‘and ghouls get a lot of the crap jobs too to be honest’ he admitted. Although outright discrimination against non-feral ghouls was technically outlawed they didn’t exactly tend to fair too well at job interviews given their appearance. The ones that found jobs in nuclear plants, or other places too radioactive for ordinary humans, could make decent money but an awful lot of ghouls ended up sweeping the streets or working in sewage plants. The NCR didn't have slavery but it did have an underclass of sorts.

‘My feet are about her size I'm taking her boots’ Allison told him, changing the subject as she pulled the leather boots off the raider-girls corpse. ‘Hey she's got a combat-knife stuck down this one’ she discovered. ‘Aww, it’s kinda blunt’ she discovered sadly.

‘I've got a whetstone you can use if you want to sharpen it’ Coyle told her.

Allison smiled then looked thoughtful. ‘You're being nicer to me all of a sudden’ she said. ‘Is this a trick to get some?’ she wanted to know.

‘No, I'm in a good mood because I'm alive and these three aren't’ Coyle replied honestly, ‘but if you feel like offering when we're both less beat up just let me know’ he added.

‘So you do want to have six with me’ Allison declared, she knew he would.

‘You're female, grown up, not mutated and you’ve got a pulse’ Coyle replied, ‘that's pretty much my entire criteria’ he told her.

‘Well you don’t match my criteria’ Allison told him indignantly. ‘And you could have at least said I was pretty’ she complained.

Coyle grinned. ‘I didn't say you weren't sweetheart, I just don't have that as a core requirement’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘Look I'm not going to try anything without an invitation but if your high standards ever drop let me know’ he requested.

‘Are you just having fun with me?’ the girl wanted to know.

‘Apparently that's not on the cards so no’ Coyle replied, still amused. ‘Check those metal boxes over there while I check on my bike again’ he told her, he had given it a brief inspection earlier and it looked okay but he wanted to be sure. ‘And stuff the two pistols they had in the top of my backpack, I'll sell them when we find a town’ he said.

‘There's a little place maybe ten miles further on that has food and beds’ Allison told him. ‘You could rent us a couple of rooms’ she suggested.

‘Or I could rent one and you could sleep on the floor’ Coyle countered. ‘I'd offer to share the bed but you've started to put out this sixual-predator vibe that has me worried’ he deadpanned. ‘That and you need a bath’ he added, walking back towards his motorcycle.

Allison ignored his wisecracks and looked at the corpses again. ‘Are we going to bury them?’ she asked.

‘Passing cannibals gotta eat same as worms’ Coyle replied, vaulting over the barricade at a point where one of the roadsigns had been splattered with blood from a raider. ‘Get your ass kicked on Route 66’ he said, starting to laugh at his own, unjustifiably unrecognised to his mind, comedy genius.

----------

Note from the Author:

The wasteland is a very violent place, Raiders are extremely common and like to hit Trade Caravans and unwary travelers. Brahmin are the two-headed mutated cattle of the post-apocalypse, used as sources of meat, milk and leather as well as beasts of burden.

For those only perhaps familiar with Fallout 3 the M72 Gauss Rifle Rifle from Fallout 2 (and Fallout Tactics) is a very different weapon to the Chinese Gauss Rifle featured in Fallout 3. The most commonly seen rifle in the Capital Wasteland is a .32 Calibre Hunting Rifle. Two centuries after the fall of civilisation they are not typically in good repair but they're still considerably more powerful and accurate than the likes of the war-surplus Chinese Pistol or the 10mm N99 Automatic.

The 1st Recon Battalion of the NCR Army is an elite unit featured in Fallout: New Vegas the latest game in the series. "New Vegas" is set in the Mojave Wasteland in 2281 (a few years after Fallout 3 takes place) and by that point the Western Brotherhood has been soundly thrashed by the NCR although the remnants of them are still around. Lost Hills Bunker was the main base of the BoS in California, taking it would have likely been very bloody indeed!

Thanks to extremely large quantities of nuclear fallout radiation is a constant problem in the post-apocalyptic world. Failure to take it seriously can lead to radiation poisoning and eventual death but there are pharmaceuticals that can help the survivors cope. Rad-X increases your resistance to radiation and Rad Away clears some of the radiation from your system.

You'll be finding out more of the backstory of both the main characters as the Fic progresses, including the story of Coyle's journey across the country and his (mis)adventures in the Mid-West, and I'll also be giving more of the history of the NCR and BoS (I've come up with a fanon timeline that manages to fit in FO1/2/3 and New Vegas plus a fair chunk of Fallout Tactics and Van Buren).

Oh, and yes I know that the road into DC from the west is Interstate 66 not Route 66... Coyle was just being funny.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART III

Front Royal - Virginia – June 2277

They pulled up a few hundred yards from what seemed to be a sizeable walled community a couple of miles off the interstate and Coyle turned off the engine. According to the ancient map he had bought with him all the way from his starting point at Vault City this town used to be called Front Royal but the sign above its gates read “Helltown” which probably didn’t do their tourist trade much good he considered.

‘Okay time to earn your guide pay’ Coyle announced. ‘What do you know about this place?’ he asked.

Allison had been hanging onto Coyle’s armour for dear life ever since she nervously got back on the motorcycle and that, in combination with her bruises, meant the muscles in her arms were aching and she was desperate to get off. She relaxed slightly and looked around. ‘Helltown’ she said, ‘it’s the main trading post before you get into the Capital Wasteland’ she continued, ‘boats hauling cargo up and down the Shenandoah River stop off here and everyone for miles around buys their supplies here because the prices aren’t too bad and the Raiders keep away’ she told him.

‘Pretty big place judging by the walls’ Coyle observed, they were made from corrugated steel and what looked like railroad ties and were better than eighteen feet high all the way around.

‘They say the people hid in the caverns nearby during the war’ Allison explained, ‘radiation got most of them afterwards but they still started out with more folks than most places’ she said. ‘There’s farms too, just a couple of miles south.’

‘Have you been here before or is this just hearsay?’ Coyle reasonably wanted to know, bad intel could bite you on the ass.

‘I've been here a couple of times, not for a few years though’ Allison admitted, ‘Pa made me stick with him and my brothers when we was here’ she told him, ‘he thought someone might snatch me, sell me on because they trade in slaves here too.’

‘Slavery in Virginia’ Coyle responded, ‘I guess the South really did rise again’ he observed wryly. ‘Do you think I can leave my bike in there without it getting stolen?’ he asked.

‘You can check things at the gate, pay the guard a few caps to watch it for you’ Allison replied. ‘They're pretty reliable as long as you pay enough and look like you might shoot them if they go back on the deal’ she said then paused. ‘You'll get on better if you act like a badass’ she advised.

Coyle laughed. ‘I don't need to act, it's my natural state’ he claimed.

‘I've met much bigger badasses than you’ Allison told him.

‘Chances are they were just poseurs’ Coyle replied, ‘I'm the real deal’ he said. ‘Go on, ask me how much of a badass I am’ he requested.

Allison decided to play along. ‘Okay California-boy, how much of a badass are you?’ she asked.

‘I'm so much of a badass that it they ever needed a unit of measurement for badassery they’d call it the Coyle’ he told her deadpan. ‘The only problem with that is other people just don't measure up so you’d need sub-units to make the scale useful’ he said.

‘Sub-units?’ Allison queried.

‘Yeah’ Coyle confirmed, ‘taking on a Super-Mutant armed only with a rusty penknife works out at roughly two-hundred and fifty millicoyles’ he told her, ‘three-hundred if it's totally blunt’ he added.

Allison couldn't help but laugh, it was his earnest delivery that sold the line. ‘You've spent a lot of time alone thinking this [censored] up haven't you?’ she asked him.

‘In my defense it's a long [censored] way to the NCR and you'd be surprised how empty a lot of this country is’ Coyle replied. ‘Come on, let's get a bed for the night and something to eat’ he said, starting up the motorcycle again.

Guard towers atop the walls gave the town good warning of anybody approaching and as they pulled up again just outside the gates and got off the bike several rifles were trained at them from above. ‘State your business stranger’ a voice demanded from the other side of the gates.

‘I'm here for trade, something to eat and somewhere I can sleep without deathclaws chewing my balls off’ Coyle replied.

‘It's five caps to get in’ the man behind the gate announced.

‘No problem’ Coyle replied.

‘Each’ the man continued.

Coyle turned to Allison. ‘I'll take it out of your pay’ he told her, earning a glare.

‘Another five for the machine too’ the gatekeeper declared.

‘How about I shoot five caps worth of bullets through this [censored] gate and talk to whoever gets your job’ Coyle replied flatly. ‘Ten caps for me and the girl and I'll pay twenty for you to look after my bike once we’re in there’ he bargained.

The gatekeeper thought about that. ‘Cash up-front’ he said.

‘You can have fifteen up-front, the rest when we leave’ Coyle responded. ‘It's not like we can welsh on the deal and go without paying, you'll have my [censored] bike’ he pointed out.

‘Deal’ the gatekeeper agreed and after the scraping noise of a heavy bolt being pulled back the gates started to open, Coyle pushing his motorcycle on though and Allison following behind.

Three men in leather armour, one with a hunting rifle the other two with R91 Assault Rifles confronted them inside. ‘Who do I give the money to?’ Coyle asked.

‘That would be me’ the one with the hunting rifle replied, from his voice he was the one who had been talking earlier.

Coyle reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bag of caps which he passed to Allison. ‘Count out fifteen and pay the man’ he told her.

‘You can put the machine over there under the guard tower in case it rains’ the gatekeeper told Coyle. ‘The man on top will shoot anyone that tries to steal it but he’ll charge you for the bullet’ he said.

‘He trustworthy?’ Coyle asked.

‘He's my brother-in-law’ the gatekeeper replied.

‘Depending on what your sister is like that could be a good or a bad thing’ Coyle observed, ‘man could be holding a grudge’ he noted.

The gatekeeper burst out laughing. ‘He's a fat bastard that likes to eat and Mom taught her to cook good’ he said.

‘Okay I'm sold’ Coyle agreed, ‘check the tyre pressure and give it a wipe over with a damp cloth’ he told him. ‘Don't worry about the hot wax.’

‘Say what?’ the gatekeeper responded, narrowing his eyes.

‘I'm yanking your chain’ Coyle told him, with a grin. ‘Would you hurry up and pay the man’ he snapped at Allison who was still counting out the caps, mouthing the numbers silently to herself as she did so. ‘If I'd known you counted “one, two... more” I'd have found another girl’ he said.

‘You could trade her in’ the gatekeeper suggested, ‘part exchange on something nice just in from Paradise Falls’ he continued. ‘Go to the slave-pens, find Chuck and tell him Bill sent you over and not to screw you on the price’ he said.

‘Is he another of your brothers-in-law?’ Coyle asked.

‘Nah, he's my cousin’ the gatekeeper “Bill” replied.

‘From what they told me about Virginia when I was going through Ohio he could be both’ Coyle quipped, causing all three men to laugh. He was funny, paid up and had enough balls to make jokes about them so they were already warming to the stranger as Coyle hoped they would. If someone thought you were likeable and funny as well as confident enough in your toughness to wisecrack then they'd probably not try to harm you without good cause.

Allison handed Bill the caps and then passed the rest of the bag back to Coyle. Most of his money was locked in one of his motorcycle panniers but he always kept a few to hand, fifty or so, and hopefully they would think that was all he had, the small bag not worth risking getting shot for.

As the gate swung shut again Coyle wheeled his bike underneath the closest guard tower and retrieved both his rifles before unclipping the two heavy panniers and passing one of them to Allison. She felt like a beast of burden because she was already carrying his bulky backpack, a small canvas satchel containing her own property and the Hunting Rifle she had taken from the dead raider. Between all that and her clothes it was pretty obvious why people would assume she was a slave even if she didn’t have a collar on. As they turned and headed towards the buildings she found she was walking stiffly thanks to the long bike ride over the often badly deteriorated and bumpy road surface they had travelled on and she just wanted to dump all this crap off somewhere and lie flat on a soft bed. ‘My ass is killing me’ she moaned loudly, sitting on the machine for any length of time was not a pleasant experience.

‘Tell your owner he’s been doing it to you wrong then’ one of the other gate guards called out, one of those carrying an assault rifle.

‘Yeah, maybe he should trade you in for a boy’ Bill joked to her, laughing.

Allison was confused for a second then went bright red as she realised what they meant. ‘I'm not...’ she began.

‘At any risk of getting knocked-up at least’ Coyle interrupted her, the guards laughing again ‘unless you give a [censored] about their opinions just let it go’ he advised her quietly. ‘If you act like a nice docile slave then everyone will be very surprised when they're concentrating on me and you shoot them in the back’ he said. ‘it's win-win.’

The girl thought about that. ‘You'll have to replace the bullets I fire doing it’ she said, shaking off the urge to retort to the guards. ‘I remember that there's a bar with some rooms for rent up this way in the centre of town’ she said.

‘Just point me in the right direction and stay a step behind’ Coyle told her. ‘And no making eye-contact with people if you want to play this right.’

‘I've seen how broken-in slaves act’ Allison replied, the two of them heading down the street towards where Helltown became a hive of activity.

It was a pretty high-class place all things considered. The rooms for hire above the bar had locks on the doors and lockers inside them for your goods and the heavies on the front door looked big and mean enough to dissuade thieves as well as the drunks getting too rowdy. From the looks of them some of the less than select clientele in the bar might be raiders who would come to town in peace to trade and get laid but Coyle still found he was able to relax a damn sight more than he could on the road, and after securing his stuff as best he could he decided to enjoy a beer, an actual cold beer, served straight from a working refrigerator.

‘Hey stranger, buy a girl a drink?’ a girl requested, sliding up to him at the bar.

Coyle looked her up and down and suspecting that he might catch something judging by her sickly appearance he decided to stick with just the beer. ‘I've already got company’ he replied, turning to nod towards Allison who was returning from a trip to the outhouse.

‘You can get a three-way for the right price’ the girl offered.

‘Sorry not interested’ Coyle lied, ‘tell you what, here's five caps get yourself a drink on me’ he offered, fishing them from a pocket and putting them down on the bar.

‘Oh hey, five caps’ the girl responded sarcastically, ‘check out the last of the big spenders’ she said loudly, although she did snatch them up before turning to head for another possible client.

‘Who was that?’ Allison wanted to know.

‘Girls just can’t keep away from my magnetic personally’ Coyle replied, taking a swig of his beer.

‘Or your caps’ Allison replied, ‘this is a lot bigger than the bar I used to work at’ she said. ‘Prices are higher too’ she said, noting what was written in chalk on a board above the drinks cabinet. ‘So are you going to buy me a drink?’ she asked.

Coyle sighed. ‘Barkeep, bring me another beer for the mooch here and a shot of the good stuff for me’ he called out. ‘We’ll finish these then find somewhere to eat’ he said. ‘No, scratch that, we’ll find somewhere to take a bath and then we'll find somewhere to eat’ he corrected himself.

‘I think there's a place with girls that’ll wash you down if that's your kinda thing’ Allison told him, picking up the beer the barman placed down for her as Coyle paid him.

‘Sounds pricy when I could just get my slave to do it for free’ Coyle replied, savouring his cold beer.

Allison leaned over to whisper in his ear. ‘I'm not play-acting the role anywhere near that far’ she said. If she had been willing to play around with guys like that she wouldn’t have lost her old job.

‘If I thought you would I'd have bought the other chick that was just here a better drink’ Coyle replied, causing Allison to look puzzled as he picked up his shot of whiskey and downed it in one. ‘Smooth’ he said, grimacing.

With a population in the low hundreds Helltown was large enough to have a water-purification plant that took water from the river and filtered out enough of the radioactive fallout to make it worth drinking. They had a lower-grade filtering process for the water used for bathing and laundry, because it didn’t matter quite so much how many rads were in the water you were washing in, rather than taking internally, but it was still a lot less hazardous than taking a dip straight in the Shenandoah.

Coyle took his time washing off the grime of the wasteland while a real slave cleaned up his Recon Armour and washed his underwear, all part of the basic service. The deluxe service with the girls was tempting but at the bathhouse he opted for scrubbing his own back as best he could with a rag on a stick while annoying the other patrons in the stalls to the left and right with his singing until eventually a familiar voice spoke up loudly, asking him to shut the hell up because she was trying to relax.

Afterwards they found a diner of sorts and Coyle ordered brahmin steaks, Allison wanting hers well done while he requested one “a good veterinarian could save”. Coyle chewed slowly, savouring the best meal he had consumed since leaving St Louis while Allison wolfed hers down in a manner that was best explained by the fact she was pretty thin and hadn't eaten all that frequently of late. The mole rat she had successfully hunted shortly before running into Coyle being the exception rather than the rule. ‘You need a better set of clothes’ Coyle told her, ‘if you wore body armour or even decent leathers you wouldn't have been so banged up when you came off the bike’ he said.

‘I found bruises I didn't know I had when the water hit me’ Allison couldn't help but agree.

‘You've got the money I paid you before, you could buy yourself a set tomorrow’ Coyle suggested. ‘I'm going to sell off the stuff I took from those raiders and a couple of other things and try to buy some ammo.’

‘I need more bullets for my rifle too’ Allison replied. ‘Think I'll get anything for what I’m wearing’ she asked.

‘More than you would have before it was laundered anyway’ Coyle replied, before taking another mouthful of his steak.

‘How can you eat that?’ Allison asked with distaste. ‘There's blood dripping out of it, people might think you're a vampire eating something like that’ she told him seriously.

Coyle laughed. ‘You don't believe in vampires do you?’ he asked rhetorically, ‘what about werewolves or the tooth fairy?’ he added sarcastically.

‘Vampires are real, I heard from a trader one time that people out near Meresti are always going missing and being found later drained of blood’ Allison insisted.

‘I'll make sure to carve myself a wooden stake and have a bottle of Dirty Water blessed by a Priest’ Coyle joked before turning around in his chair. ‘Can I get a Nuka-Cola over here?’ he asked the young girl who had earlier taken their order.

‘How can you drink that sugary crap?’ Allison wanted to know.

‘Hey that sugary crap got me across the entire continental United States’ Coyle replied as the girl hurried over with one. She opened it for him and seemed surprised he didn't initially put his hand out for the cap until he remembered he was expected to. ‘Sometimes slips my mind that’s what the money is here’ he said to Allison, putting the bottle to his lips.

‘What do you use for money then?’ Allison queried.

‘Well we used to use caps back on the West Coast too, I mean decades ago, but once factories start springing up they're too easy to forge’ he said. ‘We use paper money and sometimes gold and silver coins’ he told her. ‘Hang on, I'll show you one’ he said, reaching for what looked like a chain hanging around his neck that hung down under his armour. He pulled it up and took it off over his head, handing it to her.

Allison looked at the gold coin with a small hole drilled in it so it could be threaded on the chain and the two pieces of what she guessed was aluminium with words stamped on them, she knew they were dog-tags having heard that Brotherhood Soldiers had similar things only a lot fancier with holograms on them. ‘Coyle, Cassidy N’ she read out, ignoring the long string of numbers underneath. ‘Your first name is Cassidy?’

‘Yes, but stick to Coyle’ he replied.

‘What does the N stand for?’ she asked.

‘Nagor, after my Mom’s brother’ Coyle told her. ‘I never liked him, or at least I hated visiting him, he kept dogs.’

Allison laughed. ‘You're not afraid of dogs are you?’ she asked.

‘No I’m not’ Coyle replied in annoyance, ‘I'm allergic to them, they make me sneeze and my eyes run’ he explained, getting the urge to blow his nose just thinking about it.

‘I get blotchy if I eat cheese’ Allison commiserated, concentrating now on the coin. It had a picture of what looked a little like a two-headed yao guai on one side along with the legend “NCR”, while on the reverse was the head of an old woman. ‘Who's she?’ she queried.

‘President Tandi, first leader of the New California Republic’ Coyle replied, before taking another mouthful of his Nuka-Cola.

Allison handed back his chain which he put back around his neck. ‘After we leave here the next place we'll get to is a little place called Girdershade’ she told him. ‘Most folks consider that to be about where the Capital Wasteland starts’ she said.

‘How much further on is Canterbury Commons?’ Coyle asked.

‘It's way over on the far side’ Allison told him. ‘We'll probably want to skirt around a few places, get off the Interstate for sure, it runs through Fairfax and that place is supposed to be full of raiders and it's pretty broken up in places anyhow so Pa said.’

The girl who had served them moved to an old radio set and switched it on. ‘Some days we get decent reception’ she said to another customer as it came to life.

An old record Coyle didn't know was in full-swing and he listened idly for a while. ‘Somebody is broadcasting out here?’ he queried.

‘GNR’ Allison replied, ‘Galaxy News Radio’ she said. ‘They say the signal gets pretty good when you're closer to the centre of DC’ she told him.

‘More civilised than I thought in these parts if you’ve got a radio station running’ Coyle commented, more than mildly surprised about it.

‘There's Enclave Radio too but most people prefer GNR for the music’ Allison said.

Coyle blinked. ‘What Radio?’ he asked curtly.

‘Enclave Radio’ Allison replied, ‘it's this guy calling himself "President John Henry Eden" and saying that the Enclave is going to restore the United States’ she told him.

‘[censored] me sideways’ Coyle said quietly, that was a revelation he wasn't ready for. The NCR knew that the Brotherhood was operating back East but people thought the damn Enclave was dead, buried and hopefully rotting in its murderous, genocidal grave. The Enclave had killed several of his own family, on both his mother's side, when they kidnapped the people of Old Arroyo, and his fathers when they took Vault 13 by storm. Maybe the reason the Brotherhood was here was to fight them, he wondered? Even the worst of the Maxson family was better than the [censored] Enclave. ‘[censored]’ he swore, pushing away the rest of his meal, having suddenly lost his appetite.

The music on the radio ended and the announcer calling himself “Three Dog” started going on about the Brotherhood of Steel fighting the “good fight” against the Super-Mutants who were overrunning downtown DC. He finished with what amounted to a call for the people to support the Brotherhood and maybe even give them some ammo. ‘I've got some [censored] ammo for the Brotherhood’ Coyle muttered darkly. ‘Do you know where these propaganda networks broadcast from?’ he asked.

Allison wasn't sure what a “propaganda network” was but she guessed he meant the two radio stations. ‘I don't know about Enclave Radio’ she replied, ‘but GNR is inside the city and I’ve heard they put an aerial up on top of the Washington Monument’ she told him. ‘There's a lot of fighting going on around it between the Brotherhood and the Super-Mutant Army people say.’

Coyle grinned. ‘So if someone shot the aerial down, from a thousand yards say, everyone would think it was the Super-Mutants that did it’ he said. ‘Perfect.’

‘Why would “someone” want to do something like that?’ Allison wanted to know, giving him a disapproving look. GNR and Three-Dog were highly regarded by the majority of ordinary people in these parts.

‘Officially, to protect the people of the wasteland from Brotherhood disinformation’ Coyle replied, ‘unofficially, because it would be well worth the cost of a bullet just to annoy the bastards’ he added, his grin widening. Well at least it was sounding like his mission was well worth it, he needed to gather information on the Enclave, the Brotherhood and check out what the hell the Super-Mutants were up to for that matter. In the big picture the first group probably wanted to kill everyone, the second to gather up old technology, and maybe turn the people of the Capital Wasteland into serfs, and the third would almost certainly have a yearning to dip people into vats of FEV but he really needed the specifics on their respective evil schemes.

Allison frowned then looked at his rejected steak. ‘Are you going to finish that?’ she asked.

‘Aren't you worried people might think you’re a vampire too?’ Coyle queried, pushing it closer to her. ‘You are a bit pale’ he noted. His appetite had come back along with the warm glow of imagining shooting down the GNR aerial but she clearly needed the protein more.

‘They probably think I'm your dessert’ Allison replied.

Coyle smirked. ‘Do you have a problem with all dairy products or is it just cheese?’ he asked.

‘Just cheese mostly’ Allison told him, wondering why he asked.

‘Miss, can I get some whipped cream to take back to my hotel along with the girl’ Coyle asked the waitress loudly, you could usually get the stuff wherever people kept brahmins. ‘You gave me the idea’ he told Allison, trying to keep a straight face.

Allison looked at him askance. ‘At first I thought you took me along because you needed a guide’ she said, then I thought it was because you were lonely’ she continued, ‘now I'm thinking you just want an audience’ she told him.

‘They're not mutually exclusive reasons’ Coyle responded. ‘We've changed our minds about the cream’ he told the waitress.

‘I just don't think he looks lickable enough’ Allison declared, trying not to blush.

‘Oh, there's hope for you’ Coyle told her appreciatively.


-----------

Note from the Author:

The town of Front Royal on the Shenandoah River just off the I66 into DC really did used to be nicknamed "Helltown" back when it was the frontier, having that name resurrected post WWIII seemed apt. It's also in real life the site of the Skyline Caverns which is where I had the population hide out during the war this being basically how those who survived WWIII in Fallout 3 location Little Lamplight did. Nagor was a younger cousin of the Chosen One (main protagonist of Fallout 2), as a very early quest you had to find his dog.

The flag of the NCR (which I've had put on their coinage) is a mutated two-headed bear and is of course based off the real life California flag. The western states had already given up bottlecaps for proper currency in Fallout 2 by the time of Fallout 2 and the Gold Mines of Redding in the game likely supplied much of the necessary metal.

One of the missions for the character you control in Fallout 3 is to fix the broadcast equipment on top of the Washington Monument. In the game the DJ of Galaxy News Radio (pro-Brotherhood of Steel radio station) Three Dog thought it was the Super-Mutants that shot the old one down, having it Coyle that actually did it shortly before the start of the game just seems funny! The other main radio station in the Capital Wasteland is Enclave Radio, a propaganda outlet for the Enclave.

The Brotherhood of Steel was historically run by the descendants of their first leader Roger Maxson. The Brotherhood were originally isolationist but not too bad (one of the member states of the NCR was based around their headquarters the Lost Hills Bunker and was actually called Maxson) but then in the 2240's Jeremy Maxson ascended to the throne (as it were) and soon after he declared war on the NCR believing that only the Brotherhood had the right to recover and control pre-war technology and thinking that it would be a quick and easy victory... the New California Republic was not about to oblige.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART IV

Front Royal - Virginia – June 2277

Waking up feeling a lot better for a good nights sleep on a mattress surprisingly free of bed-bugs, Coyle's day had immediately turned for the worse when getting up shortly before Eight AM he immediately tripped over the prone form lying on the floor next to the bed under a rough blanket. It said a lot for how much the other guests in nearby rooms must have drunk the previous night that neither Allison’s scream at being trod on, or the hefty thump of Coyle hitting the floor hard, woke anybody else.

Fighting back the urge to yell at her Coyle got back up and started to put his Recon Armour on. ‘I'm going to find somewhere that deals in guns and ammo’ he told her.

‘I'll come along, I still need to get new clothes and a box of .32 calibre bullets’ Allison responded, having quickly gathered her senses after such a rude awakening. ‘And a helmet, I think I want a decent helmet’ she added, getting up and looking for her recently acquired boots finding them next to Coyle’s backpack.

‘Can you afford to buy all that?’ Coyle asked, pulling the top half of his armour over his head.

‘If I'm going to be riding on the back of your bike I can't afford not to buy a helmet and some leathers’ Allison replied. ‘You might have to buy my breakfast though’ she continued, studiously ignoring the expression of annoyance she guessed would be appearing on his face.

‘That'll be the last time, from now on everything I spend on you gets deducted from your pay’ Coyle told her flatly, tightening the straps on his armour so it wouldn't move around or chafe too much when he moved.

While Coyle got together the items he wanted to trade, and retrieved the bulk of his caps from one of the motorcycle panniers they had carried with them, Allison finished lacing her boots, yawned, stretched and collected one of her own bags containing her money. ‘I should have slept on the bed’ she said regretfully.

‘Your choice, I promised not to pounce on you if you did’ Coyle pointed out.

‘If I had I might have been able to turn you over so you stopped snoring’ Allison told him.

‘You'll know in future’ Coyle replied, ‘in the 13th they always put me in a tent at the edge of camp sharing with a guy named Miller because he was our demolitions guy and half-deaf from one too many explosions so the snoring didn't bother him’ he said.

‘Lucky bastard’ Allison mumbled under her breath.

‘My hearing's pretty good though’ Coyle advised, ‘and he wasn't that lucky, he blew his own hands off defusing a Brotherhood plasma mine’ he told her. ‘The room is paid for until ten-thirty, we'll go buy our crap, eat, come back here collect the rest of our stuff and be on our way.’

‘No lunch first?’ Allison asked, meals were a very important part of life for anyone that had missed more than a few.

‘We'll shoot something on the way into DC’ Coyle replied.

‘Not mole-rat or dog’ Allison requested, ‘can you eat dog?’ she asked curiously. ‘I mean with the allergy and all?’

‘It doesn't sit right at all, makes me nauseous real quick’ Coyle replied, putting on the gunbelt holding his holstered sub-machine gun before picking up his FN-FAL and shouldering it by its strap.

Nearly two hours later Coyle found himself in what purported to be the best place in town to buy “duds” and now frequently checking his beat-up but still functional pre-war wristwatch as he waited for the girl to get out of the damn changing room. ‘Would you hurry the hell up’ he insisted.

‘The first one didn't fit’ Allison called back, ‘I'm putting on the other outfit’ she announced.

‘We haven't got all day’ Coyle complained. Trading for ammunition a couple of stores over had taken minutes at most, he had simply pointed out what he wanted, let the storekeeper check out what he offered in part-exchange and haggled for a little while on how many caps were needed to make up the difference. They didn’t have any 7.62mm NATO for his FN-FAL but .308 Winchester would chamber just as well, being nearly identical, and he had purchased a box of that as well as some 10mm and some overpriced .44 magnum JHP which he would have passed on if he wasn't completely out of reloads for his Desert Eagle. Now he had bullets for it the Eagle was holstered at his left hip which both helped balance the MP9 on his right and hopefully made him look even meaner.

Allison pulled back the curtain and stepped out. ‘So what do you think?’ she asked, spinning around to give him a better look.

Coyle looked her up and down. ‘I think that the leather pants are okay but the top half would work better as armour if your midriff wasn't bare and if it wasn't so low cut’ he replied. ‘I mean it's working for me as a look but...’

‘I'll take it’ Alison told the storekeeper, ‘and the combat helmet, the one that's not too dented’ she added.

‘If someone slashes you across the gut with a blade don't come crying to me’ Coyle told the girl, ‘I've seen more practical outfits on raider chicks, swear to God’ he declared, raising his right hand as if taking an oath. That the storekeeper had marketed it as a “Mercenary Adventurer” outfit was downright laughable he thought to himself. Real mercs wore proper body-armour like any sane individual expecting to see combat would. ‘Just pay the man and we'll go’ he told the girl.

‘You know I've got some very nice lingerie out back if you’re interested’ the storekeeper announced, noting that for all his negativity about the girl’s outfit the guy she was with was definitely giving her cleavage an appreciative look. ‘My brother is the best tailor around here and had some satin left after a custom order for a guy from over in the Capital Wasteland’ he said.

Coyle turned and looked him in the eye. ‘I'd look stupid in it’ he said flatly.

The storekeeper blinked and looked confused for a second before pointing at Allison ‘No I meant...’

‘He's trying to be funny’ Allison told the man, ‘you get used to it’ she said.

‘I was succeeding not trying’ Coyle responded. ‘Say do you know where I can pick up a full set of Combat Armour in good condition?’ he asked the storekeeper, he had established earlier that the only ones in the store were in dire condition and would offer less protection than the lighter Recon Armour he already owned.

‘If you're heading East, and can persuade them to let you in, the closest place is probably Tenpenny Tower’ the storekeeper replied. ‘A trade caravan runs between here and there occasionally when they need something they can't get from somewhere else’ he said. ‘They've got the caps to have anything shipped in they want’ he continued, ‘the man to speak to there about clothes and armour is Anthony Ling’ he advised.

‘Pa always said they’re really stuck-up at the Tower, think they're better than everyone else’ Allison interjected, ‘you're better off going to Rivet City or maybe Megaton if you don't want to go anywhere near Super-Mutant territory’ she opined.

‘Well you're supposed to be the expert’ Coyle noted. ‘How much for the shades?’ he asked the storekeeper, indicating a pair of sunglasses on the counter.

‘Ten caps’ the storekeeper replied.

‘Eight’ Coyle counter-offered.

The storekeeper frowned. ‘Nine’ he said.

‘Deal’ Coyle agreed and paid for them. ‘Lost my last pair out near Charleston’ he said, putting them on.

‘That was careless’ Allison observed.

‘I came off my bike and broke them’ Coyle told her.

Allison took another long look at the helmet she had decided to buy. ‘Does that thing come with a guarantee?’ she asked the storekeeper.

They had attracted quite a crowd when they left town, or rather the motorcycle had as they were clearly second-billing to the show as people who had rarely if ever seen a working vehicle stared as Coyle and Allison fixed the panniers back to the bike, hooked his two rifles on the side and got on. Given that he really did like an audience Coyle gunned the engine a little more than was necessary and they roared away from Helltown with Allison clinging onto him for dear life.

Just out of town Coyle throttled back and they re-joined Interstate 66 and continued along it heading west at a more sedate and fuel-efficient pace, keeping it well under thirty even on clear stretches. Fifty caps had purchased a large jug of what he suspected after tasting it and spitting it back out was a mix of low-grade moonshine and wood alcohol and while you wouldn't want to drink it because it would very likely turn you blind it had topped off the fuel tank nicely before they left.

As they approached DC the scars of the war two-hundred years earlier became more evident. Although they had more warning here than on the West Coast, with many of the Chinese Bombers and their limited stockpile of ICBM’s shot down before they could deliver their atomic payloads, enough had got through to shatter much of the area. Blast waves had scoured small towns from the map often leaving only a few odd buildings standing that were made of sterner stuff than the norm, stone churches, reinforced concrete structures and the like.

From what Coyle had heard from talkative drunks at the bar the day before the US Military had gone all-out to protect the Capital City itself, and the wreckage of Chinese Bombers downed by interceptors could still be found in a few spots. Old tales passed down through generations of survivors spoke of a flash in the sky high over DC, something Coyle guessed was a low-kiloton airburst from its effects, with a few buildings collapsing as a result but most of the city still remaining surprisingly intact. At least the buildings were still intact anyway, almost everyone who wasn’t underground either died immediately or over the next few days and weeks as their hair fell out and they succumbed to radiation poisoning. The most likely explanation to Coyle was that although the Chinese had not managed to land a decent sized city-buster on the US Capital one or more enhanced radiation devices, neutron bombs, had nonetheless done the job of wiping the population out nicely. He also suspected from the fallout levels and the remaining radioactivity which had leached into the underground water table that some of the warheads that exploded in the region must have been dirty as hell, perhaps with the same cobalt jackets which had left The Glow back in California so dangerous even now.

Eventually they had to leave Interstate 66 because it was increasingly shattered and impassable, an earthquake inducing surface burst nuclear detonation having rent the steel and concrete roadway asunder leaving only rare sections intact for more than a few hundred yards. They then continued down local roads that were often little more than dirt tracks for a few miles further until eventually they came to rough broken terrain that required them to get off, as much for the sake of the motorcycle’s suspension as themselves. Following the path of least resistance, and banking on Allison’s belief that the going would get easier eventually, Coyle pushed the bike through a winding path through the rocks and debris finally reaching the top of a low hill.

Using the view to best advantage Allison looked around. ‘This is the Capital Wasteland’ she said confidently. ‘That's Girdershade, just like Pa described it, snuggled down there under the elevated highway’ she said, pointing off into the distance.

Coyle looked where she was pointing. ‘Those shacks?’ he queried, the place was tiny.

‘It used to be bigger’ Allison told him, ‘trade caravans used to pass by more often and there was a bar and a place to hole up for the night but then raiders moved into Evergreen Mills not so far northeast of here, and then more of them set up home in Fairfax further on so the caravans started skirting around way to the south to avoid them’ she explained. ‘If you want to keep away from the raiders, and I guess you do, we’ll want to head southeast from here towards Warrington and Tenpenny Tower and then from there we turn northeast and head for Megaton, keeping our distance between both lots’ she advised.

‘Anything in Warrington?’ Coyle asked, getting out and unfolding his map, finding Fairfax on it first.

‘I think Pa told me there used to be a trader based out of an old store who dealt with the folks who they wouldn't let into the Tower which isn't so far away, suppose he might still be there’ Allison replied, ‘and zombies’ she continued, ‘there's loads of zombies.’

‘You mean ghouls right?’ Coyle responded, ‘friendly, surly or outright crazy?’ he checked.

‘Keep your guns handy, especially if we're there after dark for any reason’ Allison advised, ‘they come out of the old railroad tunnels when the sun goes down and attack anyone they see.’

‘Feral’ Coyle decided, sane ghouls were a lot less averse to coming out during the day, at least when they didn’t have to worry about bigots gunning them because they thought they were the undead.

‘Just remember that with zombies you have to shoot them in the head’ Allison cautioned, inadvertantly putting herself in Coyles "bigot" category.

‘That's a myth, shooting them in the heart or causing enough damage generally kills them just as well’ Coyle told her. ‘The only reason they seem to be hard to kill is that feral ghouls are nuts’ he said, ‘it's just like people taking Psycho and Buffout together can absorb a lot of lead before they go down’ he explained.

‘If you say so’ Allison replied doubtfully, he didn’t believe in vampires either so she wasn't convinced he was half as smart as he thought he was. ‘Might be worth seeing if we can camp down at Girdershade tonight, ask anyone there what the local news is too’ she suggested.

‘Sounds like a plan’ Coyle agreed, pushing the damn bike up too many slopes had tired him out anyway and he needed a rest.

A sudden roar had both of them spinning around. ‘Yao Guai!’ Allison cried out and was reaching for her Hunting Rifle as Coyle grabbed hold of his FN-FAL and smoothly drew it from its rifle-holster attached to the bike.

The mutated bear was charging up the slope towards them, they had either ventured onto its hunting grounds and it was defending its territory or else it was just mean but either way nearly a thousand pounds of mutated fur and fury was heading towards them at high speed, its claws gifting it great traction as it surged up the hill.

Despite the instant adrenaline surge and his heart-rate climbing through the roof Coyle looked outwardly calm and steady as he raised his rifle, pulled back the cocking handle and lined up his shot. Grateful not for the first time that as well as the more common 5.56mm Service Rifle in general service the NCR Army also utilised a weapon firing the full-powered 7.62x51mm cartridge, Coyle aimed and pulled the trigger.

With almost twice the muzzle-energy of the more commonly encountered assault-rifles in the wasteland, such as the 5mm AK-112 or the 5.56mm R91, the FN-FAL also made more on an impression on the firer, thumping back noticeably hard against the shoulder of Coyle’s armour as he fired. With the bear only fifty yards away it wasn’t the most difficult piece of marksmanship to place the shot centre mass and the Yao Guai noticeably lurched to the left when it impacted and drove itself deep into the animals flesh, flattening and expanding as it did so, rending flesh apart.

The second round from the FN-FAL did more visible damage as it struck the animals jaw and shattered it, sending teeth, flesh and bone flying away as the Yao Guai continued its attack unabated, seemingly careless of pain or injury and reminding Coyle of facing Deathclaws, or even that nasty encounter with one of the few remaining Wannamingos that roamed the western wastes. One of his patrol had needed to hit that thing multiple times with a captured Brotherhood Turbo-Plasma Rifle to stop it before it turned them all into chunky kibble Coyle remembered, still bothered by the memory.

Coyle's third shot smacked the bear just above its right eye, punching clean through its thick skull and shattering the area around the eye socket before ploughing into its brain. The animal continued on sheer inertia for a few more seconds and had just enough time to be struck in the shoulder by a .32 calibre round from Allison’s Hunting Rifle before collapsing to the ground, still twitching.

‘I got it!’ Allison exclaimed excitedly, practically bouncing up and down with glee.

Coyle turned to the girl and rolled his eyes. ‘Oh yeah, you got it good’ he said sardonically, before checking around to see if there were any more of the damn things about.

‘I'm going to knock out some of its teeth as a trophy’ Allison declared.

‘Save yourself the trouble and pick up a couple I blew out of its head’ Coyle advised. ‘And while you're at it take the combat knife you took from the raider [censored] and carve us off a few steaks’ he told her. ‘You did finish sharpening it right?’ he asked.

‘I had to do something when I couldn’t sleep because of your snoring’ Allison replied, he had little difficulty sleeping through the scraping noise. ‘Yao Guai is kinda gamey’ she said, ‘and chewy’ she added disparagingly. The mutated animal wasn’t exactly the most appetising thing to look at either.

‘You're damn fussy about what you eat for an unemployed wastelander’ Coyle opined.

‘I’m not an unemployed wastelander’ Allison retorted, ‘I'm a guide’ she defended herself, at least she was now. ‘And you won't eat dog’ she pointed out.

‘Not the same thing’ Coyle replied, ‘unless you’re allergic to bears just get used to the idea we're going to eat the damn bear’ he told her in a tone that left no room for debate on the subject. ‘And that's a lot of meat so if we can smoke any of it, or find some salt to preserve it with, it'll be Yao Guai on the menu for a while’ he told her.

‘Okay, but why do I have to butcher the thing?’ Allison wanted to know.

‘Well for a start you were the one that yelled out claiming she killed it’ Coyle replied smugly, ‘and secondly you can consider it part of the job you're so proud of too’ he continued. ‘You never asked for a detailed job description did you?’ he asked rhetorically.

Allison decided to give up arguing and reached down to her boot where she carried the knife just like the previous owner of both boots and blade had done so. ‘I'll hack off a big chunk I can cut into thin strips for jerky later before I do the steaks’ she said, heading towards the bear.

‘Clever girl’ Coyle replied. ‘Oh hell I'll give you a hand to speed things up’ he said like he was only doing her a huge favour by doing so as he drew his own knife and went to join her.

When they eventually finished carving up the more worthwhile parts of the animal, ending up with at least seventy pounds of fairly good quality meat which they stuffed in a cloth sack for now, they continued onto Girdershade to be greeted with suspicion from one resident and an enthusiastic lecture on the history and merits of Nuka-Cola from the other.

It was fairly obvious to anyone that Ronald Laren, the sole male resident of Girdershade, was desperate to the point of fixation to get into the pants of Sierra Petrovita, the sole female resident. Well it was obvious to anyone except the aforementioned Sierra anyway. She seemed blissfully ignorant of his intentions and regarded him as a friend and protector, certainly not a slightly depraved suitor of sorts.

About the only positive thing you could say for Ronald Laren was that he clearly wanted the object of his desire to give it up willingly and he hadn’t tried to force the issue physically despite the fact they were in the middle of nowhere and the only thing stopping him was presumably a moral compass still largely pointing towards north. Allison suspected that beyond the fact she was extremely attractive Sierra’s extreme kookiness had resulted in the man being quite fond and protective of her really and that deep down he might be sticking around to look after her as much as he was in the hope of finally showing her there was something in life more exciting than Nuka-Cola and her collection of related merchandise.

At first Allison had thought Coyle was humouring the woman when he seemed to take an uncommon interest in her “Nuka-Cola Museum”, with Laren conversely thinking it was just a ploy by the stranger to get his filthy hands on Sierra by feigning enthusiasm in her crappy collection, but after twenty minutes of listening to Coyle and Sierra engaged in rapt conversation about the merits of the unfairly maligned Cherry Nuka-Cola it became apparent that the visitor from California was indeed a hard-core fan of the stuff. Eventually Laren and Allison just couldn't take it any more, looked at each other and each noting that the other had lost the will to live they quietly left Sierra’s shack to talk outside about just how vile it really was with Laren giving Allison a sage warning to never under any circumstances try Nuka-Cola Quantum.

Eventually as Laren built a fire in order to barbeque Yao Guai steaks on later Coyle emerged from Sierra's hut with a grin, a frosty Ice Cold Nuka-Cola from the woman's refrigerator and the news that Sierra was making up a marinade for the meat consisting largely of her favourite beverage mixed with vodka. While the meat was prepared Allison and Coyle quizzed Laren about the area and asked if he had heard any interesting rumours, he admitted they didn't get many visitors but that a guy he knew called Grady was doing a job for him and was expected to return any day from DC with a package and maybe some information if they were going to be back anytime soon.

As they ate Ronald Laren pretended to like the marinated steaks immensely. Allison not having anywhere near such strong designs on her own companion's body stated point-blank that she wouldn't have thought it possible to make Yao-Guai meat even less tasty and with Laren looking on with a longing expression he more usually directed at Sierra she threw another steak that hadn't been drowned in Nuka-Cola on the grill, the sun starting to set over the wasteland as the meat sizzled and Coyle wrote down the recipe for Mississippi Quantum Pie in his notebook.

----------


Note from the Author:

Wearing some kind of body armour in the wasteland is a wise precaution. Coyle currently owns a set of relatively lightweight Recon Armour but is expecting trouble hence his hunt for the much more protective Combat Armour that was US Army standard issue before the Great War of 2077. Allison meanwhile has purchased herself a Mercenary Adventurer outfit. The Desert Eagle in .44 Magnum is a common handgun in Fallout 2 (on the West Coast) but isn't seen in Fallout 3 (you can obtain .44 Magnum Revolvers though). Tenpenny Tower is the hang-out for the wealthiest people in the Capital Wasteland, it's a good location to shop at.

Yao Guai are the aggressive mutated bears of the Capital Wasteland. They aren't as dangerous as Deathclaws however and especially not as dangerous the almost unstoppable west-coast Wannamingo. Other dangerous hazardous fauna of the wasteland include Radscorpions, Giant Rats, Giant Mole Rats and Mirelurks. Some of these creatures are the result of genetic mutation caused by exposure to radiation whilst others are due to the Forced Evolutionary Virus (FEV) that also created Super Mutants.

Ghouls are humans who were subjected to too much radiation and were unfortunate enough not to die. Some have turned feral, becoming insane and attacking any human they see whilst many others still possess their reason and are perfectly okay to deal with. Unfortunately their appearance has resulted in considerable anti-ghoul sentiment with them being branded "Zombies" as a term of abuse and some people actually believing that the only way to kill one is a shot to the head like in old horror movies. In the NCR ghouls have the same citizenship rights as regular humans but the New California Republic is fairly atypical in its enlightened attitude.

Evergreen Mills and Fairfax are two raider strongholds in the capital wasteland. If you go to either location large numbers of heavily armed raiders will try and kill you so given that Coyle and Allison are trying to reach DC proper unharmed (by way of the trading settlement of Megaton) the route Allison suggests is wise.

The tiny settlement of Girdershade is towards the far western edge of the Capital Wasteland. It's really too small to exist as a viable community and it being an old trade trading post in terminal decline is my fanon explanation for its existence. The two residents are eccentric Nuka-Cola fanatic Sierra Petrovita and Ronald Larin who only sticks around because she's there.

In Fallout 3 DC itself is in much better condition than it should be after a nuclear war, whilst conversely two centuries after WWIII the Capital Wasteland should look a lot more recovered as regards plant-life than it does. My explanation to try and make sense of it are Neutron Bombs wiping out the people but leaving many of the structures intact in central DC, and extremely long-lived isotopes from Salted Bombs rendering the area lifeless afterwards for a lot longer than a normal nuclear blast would.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART V

Girdershade - Virginia – June 2277

Sierra waved them off in the morning whereas Ronald just sort of stuck his head out of his shack, grunted in their direction and went back to bed. The ground was firm and even enough to ride on in the direction they were heading so after a quick inspection of the tyres Allison and Coyle got onto the motorcycle and headed off southeast, taking a winding course towards Warrington.

After a couple of miles dirt tracks gave way to stretches of metalled local roads making the going much easier on both the machine and its passengers. As the sun rose higher in the sky Coyle found a long uninterrupted straight and opened the throttle up a little more, accelerating up past fifty and terrifying Allison who begged him to slow down which he did reluctantly after her pleading became louder and more desperate. They slowed down to what seemed like a more sedate thirty-five for a while, although even that was notably faster than Allison had ever travelled in her entire life until she met Coyle, and eventually as they neared Warrington Coyle pulled up to a halt on top of a rise so he could look around and get his bearings.

‘Christ, this country is in a bad way’ Coyle observed, getting off the bike after Allison had already done so, taking off his helmet hanging it on the handlebars. The radiation had killed off much of the vegetation as far as the eye could see and without the grass and scrub to bind the earth together the rains had gradually washed away much of the topsoil leaving rock outcroppings as a common feature.

‘You can't grow much around here’ Allison noted, talking off Coyle's backpack and her own bags and putting them down next to the bike. ‘A lot of the trade that comes in is food from the plantations down near Fredericksburg’ she said, ‘once they've got it moved overland on the old I95 to Quantico it's put on boats and taken from there up to Rivet City’ she explained. ‘The plantations are worked by slaves, a lot of the people taken by the slavers based out of Paradise Falls probably end up getting whipped to death down there eventually’ she added sadly though it was better than ending up a slave in The Pitt where your life-expectancy was months at best.

Coyle sighed, if he had a company of Rangers to hand he’d feel inclined to do some old-school emancipation in these parts, show the slavers what life was like at the other end of the whip, maybe even lynch a few as a stern warning to the others. As it was however he was both thousands of miles from backup and way out of his legal jurisdiction in any case. The NCR didn't claim to be heir to the US Government, they left that to the Enclave. ‘Quantico was a big Marine Corps base, wasn't it hit pretty hard in the war?’ he asked.

‘You could pick up a lot of rads if you spent too long there but they don't do the run all that often, maybe a few boatloads every couple of months’ Allison told him. ‘Rivet City trades stuff that people scav from the DC ruins for the food coming in’ she said, ‘because DC is so intact someone is always finding something valuable’ she continued. ‘There even used to be a market for the electric motors and nuclear batteries in cars but there were so many salvaged and sent north to the townships up near Baltimore, or south to Fredericksburg, that after a while the price dropped to nothing and people switched to trading things that made enough caps to be worth risking running into Super-Mutants or Raiders.’

‘I guess capitalism always finds a way’ Coyle observed, looking around. ‘Well this is still America’ he added with a smile. Even before the formation of the NCR, trade caravans running across the wastes had already started to tie California back together, if the profit margin was good enough you could always hire enough mercenaries to keep the raiders away.

‘Pa always said the city would have been stripped clean years ago’ Allison commented, ‘but it was too radioactive for anyone but ghouls for a long time after the war and then the Super-Mutants started appearing and the raiders started cutting off the land routes one by one’ she said.

Coyle nodded. ‘What about the Brotherhood?’ he queried.

‘They fight the mutants a lot, and sometimes they kick the hell out of a raider band that gets too big for its boots, but there ain't too many of them so it's more like they keep a lid on things than ever solve the problem’ Allison replied. ‘Still every dead mutie or raider is a public service.’

‘I doubt the Steel Plague is doing it for the public good but I guess the result matters more than the motivation’ Coyle replied. ‘You said the other night that Rivet City is an old aircraft carrier?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, huge damn great thing just off shore according to Pa’ Allison confirmed. ‘Every so often some raiders or a few super-mutants try to get in but it's like a fortress and the city guards have a lot of military weaponry so it never comes to anything’ she said. ‘The only way in is over a bridge they swing across’ she told him before looking at the height of the sun in the sky. ‘We should get moving if you want to try your luck getting into Tenpenny Tower and then make it to Megaton today’ she advised. ‘I don't know how many of the roads are good enough to travel quick on.’

‘We should be okay, we'd have to make really crappy time, and probably push the bike a lot of the way, not to make it before the sun starts going down’ Coyle replied. ‘You're used to getting around at walking pace’ he noted, taking a cloth from his pocket to mop his brow before reaching for the backpack and retrieving a bottle of purified water, taking a swig before passing it to the girl.

‘Going to be a hot day’ Allison observed, taking a drink herself before handing it back.

‘It’s the humidity I don't like’ Coyle told her. ‘It gets hot back home but the air is a lot drier so it doesn't make you sweat as much’ he recalled. ‘You're going to get damn warm in that leather outfit’ he observed. It was fairly form-fitting, not giving her skin much room to breath, and it was almost black.

‘I'll be fine’ Allison told him, she was a lot more used to the climate. ‘What did you think of Girdershade?’ she asked.

‘I had a tool-shed bigger than that town’ Coyle replied, returning the water-bottle to his backpack.

‘No I meant what did you think of the people?’ Allison explained.

‘One's not playing with a full deck, but she's sorta sweet and I like her choice in hobby so she's okay, and the other is a sixually frustrated jerk’ Coyle opined.

‘She's pretty don’t you think?’ Allison asked.

‘Worth looking at’ Coyle agreed, ‘I'd have made a play for her if I thought she would have noticed and Laren wouldn't have pulled that sawn-off shotgun on me’ he said. ‘I can see why he stuck around so long though.’

‘You know it's kinda romantic’ Allison said with a smile. ‘Ronald pining away, love unrequited for a woman that doesn't see it’ she continued. ‘he's close to heartbreak I could tell.’

‘Heartbreak?’ Coyle spluttered. ‘If there's anything wrong with him it's not heartbreak it's blue-balls’ he declared.

‘I knew there wouldn't be any romance in your soul’ Allison told him disparagingly.

Coyle snorted. ‘Romance?’ he repeated with derision, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. ‘To a hillbilly like you romance is having your cousin telling you that “you've got a real purty mouth” and then taking you Brahmin tipping’ he declared, doing a bad impression of her accent.

‘I'm not a hillbilly’ Allison vehemently denied.

‘Okay, so where are you from then?’ Coyle asked.

Allison looked awkward. ‘The Blue Ridge Mountains’ she admitted, ‘but that doesn't make me some redneck’ she insisted.

‘Over in Ohio they called you people from the Virginias rad-necks because of all the contaminated water they say you drink to try and grow an extra finger’ Coyle joked. ‘It's for the banjo playing I heard’ he added, chuckling.

Allison glared at him. ‘Yeah well...’ she began, trying to think of something she knew about California she could disparage, ‘surfing svcks’ she declared.

Coyle bawled with laughter, Allison flushing red with a mix of anger and embarrassment. ‘You're an [censored]’ she told him sternly. ‘You call me names and make jokes about where I'm from and I’ve never done anything like that to you’ she said, ‘I mean apart from when I called you an [censored] just then’ she corrected herself.

‘The moment we met you threw a [censored] spear at me!’ Coyle reminded her. ‘Oh [censored] you're not going to cry are you?’ he groaned, looking at her expression. ‘Look, you're right, I’m an [censored]’ he conceded, ‘is that enough of an apology?’

‘I'm surprised you don't threaten to just leave me out here, or sell me to a slaver, or let the next Yao Guai we meet eat me’ Allison responded irately.

‘What would be the point, you know I'm not enough of an [censored] to actually do any of that now’ Coyle replied, well he hoped she did.

‘Just stop making jokes at my expense’ Allison told him sternly.

Coyle grimaced. ‘I'll try but I can’t make any promises’ he replied honestly then adopted a serious expression. ‘But I can promise that even if I do yank your chain a little, and make jokes at your expense sometimes, that if anyone else does I’ll knock them on their ass’ he told her.

‘You know when I told you before I knew plenty of words’ Allison replied, ‘well one of them is hypocrite’ she told him. ‘Now get on the darn bike’ she ordered, reaching for the bags.

‘Yes Ma'am’ Coyle replied, quickly doing as he was told and putting his helmet back on.

‘I don't care if you’re paying me, or if you think you're smarter than me’ Allison told him, putting the bags back on rucksack first, ‘I won't take your crap’ she declared before climbing back on the motorcycle behind him. ‘And you'd better knock anybody on the ass that calls me names’ she added sternly.

‘I think I've created a monster’ Coyle muttered to himself, kick-starting the bike. ‘And I didn't even have to dip her in a vat of FEV’ he added sadly.

There wasn't much going on in Warrington, or indeed all that much left of Warrington to be honest, Coyle considered, but approaching an old trading post they did get to witness an interesting fight between a pair of giant radscorpions, each almost the size of a small car, and a large deathclaw which didn’t seem all that bothered by being outnumbered. Moving a lot faster and with considerably greater agility than you might expect from a creature that size the deathclaw shrugged off multiple strikes of venom and repeatedly slashed at one of the the oversized arachnids until eventually claws that would rend steel plate won out and the first succumbed to the cumulative injuries it had taken, collapsing to the ground.

Sitting on a large rock while Allison chose to stand Coyle watched as the deathclaw turned to its remaining foe, thick dark blood dripping from its claws and ferocious teeth bared in challenge. ‘Ten caps on the radscorp’ he said as they watched the fight from a safe distance.

‘You’re on’ Allison agreed, she knew that the deathclaw had already taken a lot of damage but those things were tough beyond belief. Multiple Assault Rifles were often needed to bring one down quickly, you could empty the magazine from a handgun point-blank into its head and achieve little more than make it really pissed off.

The two mutated creatures slowly circled each other, the deathclaw was likely by far the more intelligent of the pair but they were usually too aggressive to use any form of tactics and frankly didn't need to for the most part. The radscorpion periodically struck out with its tail, and snapped its claws aggressively, but the deathclaw was unimpressed and either avoided or ignored the other creature’s attacks for what seemed like thirty seconds or so before it must have grown bored, or else even more bold, and once again went on the offensive.

‘Wanna make it twenty?’ Allison asked sweetly.

Coyle frowned, he had been banking on all that venom coursing through the deathclaws veins having finally caught up with it by now but the damn thing just kept on going like an old radio with a fission battery inside. ‘Okay, ten more’ he accepted the raised bet.

Allison grinned but the expression was short-lived as the Giant Radscorpion managed to clamp a claw on the Deathclaws right leg and ripped off a sizeable chunk of flesh. ‘Crap’ she moaned as the creature almost collapsed due to muscle and tendon damage and then backed off. She must have subconsciously reached for her rifle because Coyle waggled a disapproving finger at her.

‘If you're thinking about cheating and putting a couple of rounds into the radscorpion I'll do the same to your guy and my rifle is better than yours’ Coyle told her with a chuckle.

‘Well you must have thought of cheating too to know what I was thinking’ Allison defended herself. ‘We're going to have to shoot the winner whoever it is’ she noted.

‘Yep, no laurel wreath for the champion’ Coyle agreed. At least it shouldn't take too much ammo to finish the victor off, they were both pretty banged up by now. ‘[censored]!’ he exclaimed as the deathclaw suddenly managed to regain the initiative with a powerful slash of its claws that half severed the radscorpion's sting.

‘Come on!’ Allison yelled out excitedly, ‘get that ugly bug’ she implored the deathclaw.

‘You know further south in the territory Caesar's Legion is based in they have these fights in big arenas. Old sports stadiums that are still standing’ Coyle told her. ‘Usually deathclaws against radscorps or yao guai’ he continued, ‘sometimes a few slaves with spears get thrown in instead to entertain the crowd as they get ripped to pieces’ he added with obvious disgust at the notion.

The deathclaw finally got in a killer blow and the second giant radscorpion fell dead or dying onto the wasteland soil. ‘To the victor belongs the spoils’ Coyle said dejectedly, getting up from the rock and reaching for his FN-FAL on his bike as Allison practically bounced up and down in triumph.

‘It's seen us’ Allison told him as the deathclaw turned and set eyes on them, no longer distracted by its two defeated foes.

Coyle took aim as the deathclaw started limping towards them at a fraction of its normal top speed, slowed by its injured leg and the cumulative effect of the radscorpion venom. ‘You cost me twenty caps’ he growled, letting it get closer before putting two rounds in its upper chest and then delivering a coup-de-grace headshot that finally felled it. ‘Plus the cost of the bullets’ he added bitterly.

‘You can get good money for a deathclaw hand’ Allison declared brightly, her own mood much better. ‘Up to twenty-five caps sometimes’ she told him. ‘And the poison glands from a radscorpion go for maybe thirty apiece’ she added enthusiastically.

‘Well that'll pay to replace my ammo and then some at least’ Coyle replied. That was in fact a fair chunk of change for the venom but he knew in some places it was used as the base for an effective anti-venom while in others people dipped spear-points or darts in the stuff to add a little extra effectiveness to such weaponry.

‘Fifty-fifty split?’ Allison queried. ‘We might be able to sell them on straight away at the traders.’

‘Sounds fair enough I suppose’ Coyle agreed. ‘Before you get too near that deathclaw put another round into it’ he warned.

Allison looked at him askance. ‘I'm not dumb, you always assume the thing is playing possum’ she said and taking her hunting rifle headed for the deathclaw, shooting it almost point-blank between the eyes for no reaction before taking her knife and starting to saw off its right hand, humming a little tune as she did so.

When they got to the trader they got less caps than they hoped for but on the plus side Coyle did get to buy some extra ammunition and a bag of some kind of local mutated fruit which tasted a lot like a peach but had the texture of an apple. Allison swore it was perfectly edible and ate one first to prove it before Coyle did so, after which he ate two more in quick succession before they headed off again, not having eaten any fruit in a while.

Finally pulling up outside Tenpenny Tower in the early-afternoon Coyle could only assume that it must have been built to a much higher structural standard than the other buildings that had once surrounded it because the apartment block stood alone, it dominated the local wasteland and was the main landmark for miles around. A few snipers up on the penthouse floor could easily pick off anyone approaching the building with hostile intent, and a sturdy concrete wall ringing the building at ground level added to the security offered by the well-equipped guards that greeted Coyle when he managed to offer a bribe high enough to be let in. They were greeted by the Security Chief, a man named Gustavo who struck Coyle as being experienced and professional, though not of course quite professional enough not to be willing to take a few caps for opening the main gate for a couple of strangers.

While Allison gawped at the cleanliness and good-condition of the building once they got inside the musak playing from the hidden speakers nearly drove Coyle straight back out again. He held his nerve and treated it as just another obstacle to be overcome and trying to ignore it he went looking for the trader recommended to him back in Front Royal, finding the unsurprisingly well-dressed Anthony Ling in his store on the buildings ground floor which he had named “New Urban Apparel”.

Ling looked Allison up and down first when they entered, the girl having taken off her helmet as soon as she walked in. ‘Those boots just don’t go with that outfit’ he told her, ‘and have you ever considered something that might be considered an actual hair-style?’ he asked condescendingly. ‘The wasteland urchin look is so 2260's’ he opined.

Allison's jaw dropped and she reached for her hair before finding a mirror and looking at her reflection. It didn't look too bad did it, she wondered? Maybe I could try getting it cut short, or those pigtails raider-girls sometimes wore she thought.

‘Are you here seeking a new look for the young lady?’ Ling asked Coyle. ‘For a small fee I'm sure Susan Lancaster our resident courtesan could assist with fashion suggestions’ he suggested. ‘Or grooming advice’ he added.

‘No, I think she looks fine as she is’ Coyle replied.

‘Really?’ Allison interjected, a beaming smile spreading across her face.

Coyle frowned. ‘Well he could be right about the hair’ he conceded, causing Allison to look in the mirror again, ‘but no we're here for me’ he told Ling. ‘I'm in the market for a nice set of Combat Armour in A-1 condition and I was told in Front Royal that you stock high quality merchandise’ he said.

Ling smiled. ‘I'm glad to see that my establishment's reputation has spread so far Mr...?’

‘Coyle’ he told him. ‘I'm afraid it'll be part-exchange for the Recon-Armour I’m currently wearing if that's okay?’ he checked.

‘Hardly unusual in these economically depressed times I’m afraid’ Ling responded sadly. ‘When trade was more lively in this part of the world there was so much more spare cash around, and even wastelanders and mercenaries often owned two or even three full sets of apparel’ he said nostalgically, ‘unfortunately those horrid raiders have had a deleterious effect on commerce.’

‘Times are hard’ Coyle sympathised.

Ling nodded. ‘Fortunately many of our residents made their fortunes beforehand, ensuring we in the Tower can still afford to live the lives we deserve’ he said with a smile. ‘Why our very own Edgar Wellington II made an absolute mint from the trade in salvaged electronics before things turned for the worse’ he noted.

‘This place is amazing’ Allison enthused, starting to look around. ‘Pre-War clothes!’ she exclaimed, looking with interest at a pink summer-dress.

‘I'm afraid Madam would have to bathe before I allowed her to try anything on for size’ Ling responded apologetically. ‘Nothing personal I assure you, it's merely that the dust and grime of the wasteland is so ever-present beyond these four walls’ he said.

‘Okay’ Allison replied, she wouldn't want to get something so pretty dirty anyway.

‘So what deal can you give me on the Combat Armour?’ Coyle asked, ‘I'll need a helmet too’ he added.

‘Well I can give you a generous hundred caps for your current ensemble and the Combat Armour and Helmet will set you back another two-hundred and seventy-five’ Ling offered.

‘This Recon Armour and the helmet are in good condition, they're worth a hundred and twenty-five at least’ Coyle replied.

Ling shook his head. ‘I'm afraid that while your current ensemble does seem to be relatively undamaged by combat those unsightly scratches do lower re-sale value’ he told him, indicating the surface scars.

‘We came off our motorcycle a couple of days back’ Allison explained.

Ling raised his eyebrows. ‘A motorised vehicle?’ he queried, ‘is it still in your possession?’ he asked, intrigued.

‘It's outside’ Allison told him.

‘And it's my bike not our bike’ Coyle stated. ‘It's not for sale if that’s what you were going to ask’ he told Ling.

‘Pity’ Ling replied. ‘Well seeing as you are clearly a man of greater personal wealth and refinement than I first thought perhaps I can be more generous in the hope that we may have dealings again’ he said, banking on the notion that someone with a functioning motorcycle might prove a useful contact in future. ‘Shall we agree to two-hundred and fifty?’ he offered.

‘Can I inspect the Combat Armour and Helmet first?’ Coyle asked. That much would make quite a dent in his ready cash but it was worth it to him.

‘Of course Sir’ Ling agreed with a smile, moving to retrieve them from a storage cupboard where they were hanging up. Coyle looked them over and although worn and dented in a few places they were in more than reasonable condition.

Coyle handed a bag of caps to Allison. ‘Pay the man’ he told her, starting to strip off his Recon Armour with, to Allison’s mind, Ling paying a lot more attention to that than he seemed to be her starting to count caps onto the counter. That did help explain the storeowners interest in, and knowledge of, fashion at least she decided.

After buying the armour Coyle wanted to leave straight away but Allison was desperate to stay a little while longer and suggesting they might be able to pick up some useful information from people at the Tower's own bar they made their way there after Ling directed them towards it. When he saw the exorbitant price of the drinks Coyle nearly dragged Allison straight back out again but the pleading expression on her face made him relent and he shelled out for two beers which were served by a robotic barman of all things.

They had been in there a few minutes, occasionally chit-chatting with another bar patron and taking their time with their drinks when a woman's voice interrupted them ‘So you’re the visitors with the motorcycle everyone is talking about’ she asked.

Coyle turned and couldn’t help but instantly adopt as winning a smile as he could muster. ‘That we are’ he replied to the extremely attractive young lady in a great dress she filled out admirably. ‘Everyone usually calls me Coyle but you can call me Cassidy’ he told her, ‘and you are?’ he asked.

‘Susan’ the woman replied, smiling back. ‘Susan Lancaster’ she told him.

Allison looked from one to the other, he told her to call him Cassidy, she thought irately. Susan Lancaster? Wasn't that the girl who Ling said was the local courtesan, she remembered. That meant she was just a damn hoker but with a better job title Allison knew. ‘And I'm Allison’ she said, ‘Allison Brenner’ she announced.

‘Charmed’ Susan replied, her tone indicating she was anything but. ‘So whereabouts are you from?’ she asked Coyle.

‘He's from California’ Allison told her. ‘Isn't that right Cassidy?’ she asked rhetorically, putting a great deal of emphasis on his first name.

‘Well you've come a long way’ Susan told Coyle, ‘much further than your companion judging by her accent’ she added, very provincial she thought.

‘I needed a local guide’ Coyle explained.

‘Oh, I assumed she was someone you picked up in a bar or a slave market to keep you company’ Lancaster remarked. ‘Of course a man of means would likely have chosen a more fetching companion in those circumstances’ she added.

Allison glared at her. ‘Or perhaps he's not as shallow as some and prefers girls with more in their heads than their blouses’ she said coldly.

Susan Lancaster smirked. ‘They do say the hired help is getting uppity and forthright these days don't they’ she observed caustically.

‘Yes and they say the hired [censored]s think they're a lot better than they are these days too’ Allison responded, smirking back.

Coyle decided to pay close attention to his beer. Say what you like about male aggression and testosterone but a barfight between two men was a hell of a lot more civilised than this he thought to himself.

‘Staying long?’ Lancaster asked him, now pointedly ignoring the jumped-up wasteland girl.

‘No we were just about to head out to Megaton weren't we Cassidy’ Allison replied for him, stressing her use of his first name once more.

Coyle looked at her. ‘But you were the one that wanted to...’ he began. ‘I'll just finish my beer’ he said as Allison delivered a glare that was in danger of burning through his new armour. Susan Lancaster was nice to look at, but she looked pricy, he doubted he'd get a freebie in the sack and it would make for an easier life if he didn't piss off his guide too.

‘Such a pity, look me up the next time you’re at the Tower’ Lancaster told Coyle, ‘now you've been here once you hopefully won't need a guide to find us again’ she suggested.

‘His sense of direction is awful’ Allison stated, ‘he was heading to Nevada and ended up all the way over here’ she said. ‘Probably best if he's always got a good guide to steer him away from danger’ she suggested, pointedly looking directly at the "Courtesan".

Coyle downed the last of his beer. ‘And with that insult to my navigational skills we're going’ he said.

Allison slowly and deliberately finished hers, eyes fixed on Lancaster the whole time.

A few minutes later as they got back on the motorcycle outside Coyle couldn’t help but comment that he'd seen considerably less vicious knife-fights to which Allison replied that if he did come back here one day then he would be better off screwing Ling because it would be cheaper and less likely to leave him with something requiring antibiotics.


----------

Note from the Author:

I hope people like how I'm trying to flesh out the economy of the Capital Wasteland and make it all make more sense than it does in the game. Having the area survive by trading salvaged technology to the less desolate regions surrounding it in return for food is the only way I could see it making any sense at all. Rivet City is well positioned to trade via water and we know that canonically some water trade does occur into the Capital Wasteland because of the existence of the ferry the Duchess Gambit which brings in Punga Fruit from Point Lookout. Additionally the recipe for Mirelurk Cakes (a specialty in Rivet City) calls for breadcrumbs and there isn't any bread being produced in or around DC. For that matter the other two kinds of fruit commonly found for sale, Mutfruit and Crunchy Mutfruit, must be coming from elsewhere too.

Caesar's Legion mentioned in passing was another faction in the abortive Fallout game known as Van Buren. They had adopted the styles and habits of Ancient Rome and had an economy based on mass slavery and conquest. Deathclaw vs. Giant Radscorpion fights in old sports arenas used in colosseums definitely seems their thing!

Tenpenny Tower near Warrington is where the wealthiest folk in the Capital Wasteland can be found. Their money must have come from somewhere originally so having the likes of Edgar Wellington III being the inheritor of the profits of a successful salvage business is just my fanon explanation.

Anthony Ling owner of the clothing store New Urban Apparel situated in the tower keeps a good stock of better quality garments and body armour, including the Combat Armour Coyle purchased in part-exchange for his previous Recon Armour. Having "nouveau riche" ex slaver and upwardly mobile courtesan Susan Lancaster clash with Allison just struck me as a funny exchange especially with Coyle uncharacteristically cowering into his beer.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART VI

Centreville - Virginia – June 2277

Coyle took Alison's advice that they wanted to stay well away from both the known raider stronghold of Evergreen Mills, roughly to the north of Tenpenny Tower, and the other large gang holed up in the Fairfax ruins to the east. They had therefore taken a course that hopefully maximised the distance between themselves and local bands of murdering thugs as they headed towards the settlement of Megaton.

On the way they passed through what had once been the site of the Battle of Bull Run, or “First Manassas” as Allison insisted on calling it, stopping there for a few minutes to stretch their legs as it had been a bumpy, uncomfortable ride on rough tracks and broken roadways. Coyle was frankly surprised that the girl knew that much history but when she mentioned her folks had fought the “damnyankees” in the “War of Northern Aggression” he realised just how long they held a grudge in these parts, although not before he earned a mouthful of invective for undiplomatically pointing out it was the Confederates that shot first at Fort Sumter.

Centreville itself had apparently been almost totally flattened by an airburst detonation nearby, not that it was too large a town to start with and likely wasn't actually targeted itself, it had just suffered from being close enough to DC to have an awful lot of Chinese bombers overhead when the Third World War broke out, one stray warhead exploding too close for the town to survive.

‘It's only another seven or eight miles to Megaton’ Allison told Coyle as he pulled the motorcycle up again just on the edge of what had once been the town. ‘Why are we stopping?’ she asked as Coyle indicated they were going to get off.

‘I need a leak’ Coyle explained as Allison let go of him and climbed off the motorcycle first.

‘Oh, okay’ Allison replied, taking off his rucksack and her own helmet as he headed towards the twisted remains of a tree. The rucksack was heavy and the straps bit into her shoulders a lot normally but it was even worse when they went over a bump, it would bounce around and jarred against her back.

When Coyle finished answering the call of nature, wishing he could wash his hands afterwards but not having enough water to waste on hygiene, he turned back towards the motorcycle and found Allison rubbing her back before she started doing stretches. Limber, he thought as she bent over and touched her toes. ‘Nice ass’ he informed her, walking back. The tight leather pants were very flattering he decided although she was still a little skinny he thought.

Allison jerked full upright again and blushed bright red. ‘I wasn't giving you a show’ she informed him curtly.

‘I still appreciated it, intentional or not’ Coyle replied, looking around. ‘There's not much competition around her in terms of nice scenery anyway’ he added. ‘You say that DC itself is mostly intact?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, there's like a big arc of wasteland like this surrounding it all the way around’ Allison told him. ‘I can't believe how fast we got here from Tenpenny Tower’ she said wondrously.

‘I doubt we got much above fifteen miles an hour’ Coyle replied, ‘you should have seen me rack up the mileage on some of the interstates in the Midwest, between towns they’re still pretty intact’ he told her. ‘Flat roads, straight as an arrow’ he continued. ‘Of course you do sometimes have to run like hell because there’s Raiders and still some Reavers to watch out for too’ he continued. ‘I only just got away from a souped-up dune-buggy once’ he recalled.

‘Reavers?’ Allison queried.

‘Think raiders with a serious technology fetish’ Coyle explained. ‘There used to be a lot more of them, according to what people told me when I was up near the Great Lakes anyway, but that was maybe a century ago,’ he said. ‘They're just scattered bands now, good weaponry but not that numerous.’

‘I wish I'd travelled as much as you’ Allison said wistfully.

‘Oh yeah, I've been shot at in post-apocalyptic tourist destinations all over the country’ Coyle replied sardonically. ‘It's been part relaxing vacation and part soul-searching road-trip where you get in touch with your feelings alone on the open highway’ he said. ‘I should take up poetry, become the Jack Kerouac of the wasteland’ he declared.

‘Smart-ass’ Allison responded, putting the rucksack back on first followed by her helmet. ‘Are we going or not?’ she asked, inpatient to get to Megaton.

‘That all depends on them’ Coyle replied slowly.

‘Them?’ Allison asked him in confusion.

‘The two guys and the chick, all wearing leather armour, about a hundred yards off who I'm watching over your left shoulder’ Coyle told her. ‘Don't make any sudden moves’ he instructed her. ‘At least one of them has a rifle’ he said.

‘Is he pointing it at us?’ Allison asked nervously.

‘No, which is why I don’t want you to reach for your rifle or one of mine on the bike’ Coyle told her calmly. ‘If they get closer I'll be able to shoot them up with my MP9 if it comes to it’ he said, the submachinegun holstered at his right hip lacked effective range but in an up-close-and-personal firefight it was very handy. His Desert Eagle on the other hip conversely could put a target down faster, and would punch through their leather armour like it wasn’t there, but it wasn't a fist full of shooty mayhem like the MP9 was firing full-auto.

‘Hey’ Coyle greeted the trio loudly, raising his left hand in a wave whilst keeping his right near his submachinegun. He was still wearing the sunglasses he bought at Helltown so lowering his left hand he took them off as another friendly gesture, eye-contact was very important he knew.

‘Hey yourself stranger’ the one with a rifle responded in a friendly enough manner. ‘Is that your machine?’ he asked, ‘We saw you and the dust you were kicking up half a mile off and thought we’d come see’ he said.

‘It's mine’ Coyle confirmed.

‘Don't see too many working vehicles around here’ the other man in the group observed, he was carrying a spear and had a 10mm pistol holstered on his belt, the girl with them armed likewise. ‘I once saw a couple of four-wheel-drives race down south though’ he said. ‘The guy that runs Fredericksburg puts on a show sometimes, big money riding on the winner’ he noted.

‘Sounds like I should maybe head down there and take a look myself one day’ Coyle replied. ‘You hunters?’ he asked.

‘Yeah’ the one with the rifle confirmed. ‘You in the market for some meat?’ he asked. ‘We’ve got extra for sale’ he said.

‘You've got a weird accent mister’ the girl carrying a spear told Coyle.

‘He's from California’ Allison explained.

‘She yours as well as the bike?’ the one with the rifle asked, indicating Allison.

‘She's not for sale if that was going to be your next question’ Coyle replied before Allison could object to once again being assumed to be Coyle's property not just his guide.

‘I couldn’t afford her anyway’ the hunter said with a shrug. ‘I'll bet she ran to three-fifty maybe four hundred caps at least right?’ he asked curiously.

Allison would have scowled but despite herself she was pleased that anyone would think she'd be worth that much. Slaves usually went for around two-hundred and fifty or so in the Capital Wasteland she knew.

‘Nah not even half that much’ Coyle replied deadpan, this time Allison did scowl. A gentleman would have said five-hundred she thought to herself indignantly.

‘Sounds like you're a man that knows a bargain when you see it then’ the hunter with a rifle said. ‘We've got some meat to sell if you’re interested’ he told Coyle again.

‘I don’t want to eat any more of that Yao Guai’ Allison spoke up.

‘You'll eat what you're damn well given’ Coyle snapped back harshly.

‘One of those that never shuts up even after you've taken a strap to them right?’ the male hunter with the spear and pistol reasoned.

‘Nah, she gets punished by me not taking the strap to her’ Coyle replied, oh she'll chew my ear off for that line later he knew.

‘What we're selling is much better than Yao Guai’ the female hunter insisted. ‘It's the best kind of meat around, bagged us a fresh one not two hours ago.’

‘Mirelurk?’ Allison asked enthusiastically.

‘Even better’ the girl replied with a smile.

‘Here, try some’ the hunter with the rifle said, offering a small piece of dried meat to Coyle who took it politely and tasted it.

Coyle chewed for a short while then spat it out. ‘Long pork’ he said, fixing the hunter with a stare before putting his sunglasses back on with a flourish that helped misdirect the trio's attention from him also putting his right hand nearer his MP9, ready to draw it fast if necessary.

‘Pork, oh I haven't had pork in years’ Allison said enthusiastically. Pigs were rare and incredibly expensive compared to brahmin, the poor things were too tasty to survive in numbers though some were reared by farmers in the Blue Ridge and fetched a high price.

‘Long pork’ Coyle repeated, putting more emphasis on the first word. The three hunters suddenly all looking much more nervous and jittery.

Allison looked at the hunters then her companion. ‘Coyle?’ she queried.

‘Our friends here are in the Soylent Green trade’ Coyle stated coldly.

‘What?’ Allison responded.

‘The strange meat they're selling is people’ Coyle told her flatly.

Allison’s eyes widened. ‘They're cannibals?’ she exclaimed, staring at them. They looked so normal, she thought in surprise.

‘Well I don't know if they sample their own goods but they're definitely capitalists taking advantage of a niche in the market for free-range humans’ Coyle commented wryly.

‘We don't want any trouble’ the female hunter said with obvious concern. They much preferred wastelanders who couldn't fight back, not tough-looking guys in combat armour carrying a submachinegun.

‘Shut up Louise’ the one with the rifle told her. ‘We're leaving’ he declared firmly.

‘I have a problem with that seeing as how if I let you go then that makes the next poor slob you kill and butcher my fault’ Coyle responded, his left hand now moving almost imperceptibly slowly towards his Desert Eagle.

Allison became alarmed, they were seconds away from a firefight and her rifle wasn't to hand. ‘Cassidy, don't’ she pleaded.

‘Listen to the lady, there's three of us and she ain't packing’ the male hunter with the spear and pistol advised, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

‘Then make sure not to waste your bullets shooting them in her direction’ Coyle suggested, he didn't want her to get hurt anyway.

‘He won't do it’ the one with the rifle said confidently. ‘He can't get all three of us, how fast could he be?’ he asked rhetorically.

Coyle wasn't quite willing to draw first, even if he did think they deserved getting shot at, he wasn't above goading them into starting the fight though. ‘Looks to me like the one with the most balls is the chick’ he said, ‘she's taking a hell of a risk travelling the wasteland with you two wimps’ he told the male hunters.

‘Take it easy Barney, he's trying to provoke you’ the female hunter told the one with the rifle.

‘Barney?’ Coyle exclaimed. ‘You're called Barney’ he continued with derision. ‘Oh I bet that name strikes fear into the hearts of your victims’ he said sarcastically.

‘Shut the [censored] up’ the one called “Barney” responded with a snarl, brandishing his rifle in a more threatening manner.

‘Make me’ Coyle replied with a smirk, got him he thought as the hunters expression shifted from concern to anger and the rifle started to swing around.

Allison had previously theorised exactly why Coyle had a tribal rattlesnake design tattooed on his left forearm and it wasn't too large a surprise to her when he smoothly drew and fired the Desert Eagle right into the face of the hunter with the rifle before the man could even aim. The bulkier and heavier MP9 was slower to yank from its own holster but he still managed to raise it and pull the trigger before the other male hunter could fully draw his 10mm automatic, the barrel of the pistol just clearing the holster when a long burst from Coyle’s submachinegun stitched a line from his crotch up to his chest. At this range the leather armour the hunter was wearing wasn't nearly enough to save him, although he took longer to die than his friend who was already twitching with his brains blown out the back of his head by the .44 magnum JHP.

The girl looked terrified and was still desperately scrabbling for her own pistol when Coyle swung both his Desert Eagle and the MP9 in her direction. His expression was cold and unfeeling as he prepared to end her life. The second of her companions to be shot was still heading for the ground, it had all happened so fast.

‘Don't kill her!’ Allison cried out.

The girl froze, hand on her pistol but no longer trying to draw it. Looking into Coyle's eyes, or rather his sunglasses, she started to shake. “[censored]” Coyle thought, if she had just pulled that automatic he could have shot her, problem solved. ‘Take your [censored] hand off the iron and drop the spear’ he ordered.

The girl “Louise” did neither, she just kept shaking looking like she might be about to wet herself or something. ‘Don't kill her Cassidy’ Allison begged.

‘Drop the spear and take your hand off the gun’ Coyle said more slowly.

‘She's scared’ Allison said redundantly.

‘She should be because if she doesn't do what she's told I am going to kill her’ Coyle replied evenly, both of his handguns still aimed squarely at the girl, triggers half squeezed.

‘It's okay, he won't shoot you if you do what he says’ Allison told the girl as soothingly as she could, this wasn’t helped too much by the fact her own voice was trembling however.

‘For the sake of accuracy it's only less likely I'll shoot you if you do as I say’ Coyle stated. ‘And for the record I am also not a patient man’ he growled.

Allison realised she needed to do something, she retrieved her own hunting rifle and ended the stand-off in a direct manner. Keeping out of Coyle's line-of-fire she moved closer and smashed the butt of her rifle against the girls head as hard as she could, sending her to the ground unconscious with blood soon starting to flow from a nasty wound on her head. ‘I think I hit her too hard’ Allison observed with a frown as Coyle holstered his MP9 and moved over to relieve the hunter of her weapons.

‘You'll get better at judging that with more practice’ Coyle replied, he seemed utterly calm and unconcerned about the fact he had just killed two men.

‘You wanted to kill them’ Allison said accusingly as Coyle checked the two corpses for anything else worth taking.

‘Where I come from people who hunt other people for food face a trial and a rope if we catch them’ Coyle replied, looking through Barney the Hunter's pockets and finding a lighter which he pocketed himself. ‘No judges or gallows here so I figured frontier justice was the way to go’ he said.

‘You sound like a Regulator’ Allison told him in a tone that indicated that wasn't exactly meant as a complement.

‘What's a Regulator?’ Coyle queried, finding a handful of .32 rounds for the rifle and pocketing them too.

‘They hunt down and kill criminals and then they cut off their fingers for souvenirs according to Pa’ Allison told him. ‘Pa said they some of them he met weren't really much better than Raiders’ she said.

Coyle nodded. ‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?’ he quoted.

‘What?’ Allison replied, she hadn't understood a word.

‘It means who will guard the guardians’ Coyle translated. ‘That's the problem of vigilante justice, there's a lack of accountability’ he said.

‘Don't talk tribal to me I don't speak it’ Allison told him.

Coyle sighed. ‘That was Latin’ he explained. ‘Never mind’ he added sadly.

‘So who are you accountable to?’ Allison asked him.

‘Other than my own conscience I suppose I'm still accountable to the NCR Rangers but I’m a long [censored] way outside my legal jurisdiction’ Coyle admitted. ‘The badge isn't much use beyond maybe stopping a bullet if I was really lucky’ he said. His Ranger Badge was somewhere at the bottom of his rucksack, at least that's where he had left it.

Allison looked at the corpses. ‘Their armour is worth something’ she told him. ‘We might get a couple of hundred caps for those two sets’ she said, again now thinking more like the practical wastelander she was as the adrenaline drained away. ‘Maybe less because of all the holes and the blood on that armour’ she continued, indicating the hunter that Coyle had killed with the MP9.

‘The girl's armour is still okay, strip her’ Coyle replied.

‘Strip her?’ Allison repeated, looking at him and raising her eyebrows.

‘We're going to leave her out here with a spear and just her underwear and let the wasteland judge her’ Coyle announced then paused. ‘Oh hell, I'm feeling generous, we'll let her keep her boots and a knife too, give her a better chance than I'll bet she gave the poor bastards she hunted for food’ he added.

Allison thought about that. ‘That doesn't sound too unfair’ she said eventually. ‘I'll bandage her head’ she announced, thinking that would be a decent thing to do.

Coyle stripped the two corpses trying not to get too much blood on himself. ‘Not much ammo on these two’ he said as he worked. ‘Only about forty caps between them’ he added.

‘She's got fifteen more caps, only six spare bullets for her pistol though’ Allison responded, doing much the same with the unconscious girl.

‘Take her gunbelt and her automatic, you could do with another piece’ Coyle told her. ‘If it looks like it's worse than the one this guy over here had swap it for the better one and we'll sell the garbage on’ he said.

‘What about her caps and stuff?’ Allison queried.

‘You knocked her out and you're stripping her, her [censored] is all yours’ Coyle replied. ‘You can have all of this pricks .32 ammo for your rifle too’ he added.

Allison stopped doing what she was doing and blinked as she realised something. ‘How did you know it was human meat?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘I never told you what happened to my last guide did I?’ Coyle asked. ‘I ate her liver with some two hundred year old tinned beans and a nice bottle of Cherry Nuka Cola’ he told her deadpan before grinning. ‘I wasn't really sure until I saw their reaction but I always heard that we taste a lot like pork and it being human not pig seemed more likely in this hellhole’ he said. ‘They never denied it and I'd think people would don't you?’ he asked rhetorically.

‘I guess so’ Allison conceded. ‘So you didn't really eat your old guide and wash her down with Cherry Nuka Cola then?’ she asked with a chuckle. ‘I just want to know for certain’ she said.

‘What kind of savage do you take me for?’ Coyle responded irately, objecting to the slight on his character. ‘Everyone knows it's Nuka Cola Quartz with human liver, drinking it with Cherry is like having red wine with fish’ he said with distaste.

Ten minutes later they were finished, and with their booty of sorts tied to the bike they rode off towards Megaton. The girl came to shortly afterwards with a splitting headache, finding herself almost naked and next to the similarly stripped dead bodies of her companions.

She howled and then cried for a while before noticing that her spear and knife were lying on the ground nearby. She picked them up before letting her headache subside and then started to walk westwards towards Fort Bannister where she knew the Talon Company mercs were based. They were [censored]s but they weren't crazy like the raiders holed up closer in the old Jury Street Metro and if she offered to screw a couple of them they might take her in, or at least throw a few caps her way in payment.

In the Capital Wasteland you did what you needed to in order to survive.


----------

Note from the Author:

Reavers were a faction from Fallout: Tactics set in 2198, a powerful well-equipped group they were defeated by the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel. In the midwest region featured in Fallout: Tactics several groups utilised vehicles including Dune Buggies and I couldn't help but imagine Coyle on his motorcycle being chased by one for a while on his journey across the country.

In Fallout 3 you often encounter groups of Hunters looking for food in the wasteland. Most are after Mole Rats or Mirelurks but occasionally you meet a few that have taken to hunting people instead. They'll offer to sell you "Strange Meat" when you run into them, if you have moral objections to their choice of career this is a signal to start shooting! The Regulators are the self-appointed law of the Capital Wasteland, they pay a bounty for dead criminals (raiders, slavers, cannibals etc.) but you have to prove the kill by presenting them with a finger cut from the corpse.

Talon Company are a mercenary outfit operating in the Capital Wasteland who aren't particularly choosy about who they work for or what they do. They're based at an old US Army facility called Fort Bannister which lies to the north of the raider base at Evergreen Mills. Allison and Coyle are currently nearing their destination, the large walled settlement called Megaton lying just to the west of DC.

I love it! Haven't read it all yet (christ this is what my fan-fic must look like) as there is a lot and it's getting on UK time; like the history, like the desription and like the characters. Looking forawrd to reading through it all at some point. How long is this thing on word? Seriously though, the dailouge between the people reads beautifully, I could do with taking a tip or too from this; your songs to are quite good, particularly the total rewrite of "Battle Hymn of the Republic".

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART VII

South of Oakton - Virginia – June 2277

The shattered remains of what had once been Interstate 66 going into DC loomed on the horizon as they neared their destination. The raised freeway had been broken in places into a series of collapsed segments by what Coyle guessed was a surface-burst nuclear detonation somewhere nearby, a localised artificial earthquake which the concrete structure just wasn't well-suited to withstand.

In seeking to keep their distance from the raider gang in Fairfax they had been forced to go over some very rough tracks and even the occasional rocky field during the last few miles of the journey and, although the motorcycle seemed to be handling it better than might have been expected, the riders themselves hadn't exactly enjoyed the trip.

As they neared the ruined Interstate, with the town of Megaton not too far beyond according to Allison, they found themselves facing a particularly displeasing prospect of a ride over a patch of even more broken ground and despite the fact it would mean pushing the bike up a not especially gentle slope Coyle decided it was time to get off and walk.

‘Coming up to six-thirty’ Coyle said, checking his wristwatch before he resumed pushing the motorcycle up the slope.

‘Not far now’ Allison replied, ‘we don't want to be out here at night’ she said earnestly. The bulk of the really nasty things in the Capital Wasteland mostly came out at night and they could also get a lot closer before you spotted them which was bad news given how fast a deathclaw could move.

‘A decent meal followed by a couple of beers sounds good right now’ Coyle decided, damn this thing weighs a ton he thought to himself, pushing the bike up the hill they were ascending.

‘Pa always said that The Brass Lantern in Megaton was a good place to get eats’ Allison told him ‘Lots of trade caravans still pass through this way because it's a safe place to stay overnight, re-supply and wash up if you don't smell so good so the town caters for visitors pretty good’ she noted.

As they neared the top of the slope Coyle heard distant yelling, a thunderous echoing explosion and then the familiar sound of gunfire. ‘Not so safe today maybe?’ he observed wryly, pulling his FN FAL from its saddle holster and pushing the bike onto its side. ‘Leave everything with the bike except your guns and we'll go take a look’ he told Allison who complied, putting down her bag.

Moving slowly and cautiously Coyle headed towards the top of the rise first, his assault-rifle ready for action and his companion following a few yards behind. As he neared the summit he squatted down to keep low then eventually crawled to a position where he could see what was going on without showing himself, a human silhouette was easy to spot on the skyline.

From his new vantage point it looked like the settlement was under attack. A large band of raiders had apparently tried to take the entrance by storm but judging by the number of them lying dead on dying in front of it that had failed miserably Coyle decided.

Coyle watched with interest as a raider tried to move from behind some rocks to a better firing position but he barely got five yards before a sharpshooter positioned on a platform above the town entrance put a bullet into him. ‘Nice shooting’ Coyle said appreciatively before he was surprised by the sight of a short burst of laser fire being directed at the other raiders by a robot positioned right in front of the gates. ‘Well that's something you don’t see every day’ he muttered to himself as Allison moved next to him also laying low.

‘Dad told me about the robot, they call it Deputy Weld’ Allison told him. ‘I didn't think raiders still tried attacking Megaton’ she said. ‘They've never got through the walls’ she added.

‘Well looks like they're determined to this time’ Coyle replied, frowning.

‘It's the water-purification plant, even more than what they can steal’ Allison told him. ‘If you control the water supply you control the whole area, everyone has to kiss your ass’ she explained.

Occasional bursts of automatic fire coming from the settlement were also doing a fine job of keeping the raiders pinned down, again it was well-aimed leading Coyle to the conclusion that they must have at least a few very skilled and indeed well equipped marksmen defending the township. ‘They must have tried a surprise attack when someone opened the outer gates but the people inside were too alert’ Coyle reasoned.

‘Why haven't they pulled back if the plan failed?’ Allison wondered.

Coyle looked thoughtful. ‘They're positioning themselves so the ones that have rifles can put down cover fire’ he said, looking at the disposition of the raiders. ‘Come sundown they'll shoot out any lights and then have another go’ he told her.

‘Why don't they close the outer gates?’ Allison asked, the inner gates weren't nearly as strong.

‘Take a closer look, I think that explosion we heard was someone detonating a decent sized bomb which jammed the mechanism’ Coyle replied, ‘see how that lifting gear connected to the jet engine they're using as the gears is a mess’ he told her. ‘It wouldn't take much to fix it but you'd have to do it from outside which means getting shot by some psychopath.’

‘What are we going to do?’ Allison asked.

‘We're going to hope that the good people of Megaton reimburse me for the ammunition I’m about to shoot into the raiders down there’ Coyle replied calmly. ‘You stay here and watch my back’ he told her.

‘I can help, I'm not a bad shot’ Allison responded.

‘You'll help me by staying here and yelling out if some [censored] I haven't seen is trying to flank me’ Coyle told her. ‘I'm going to move around to a better firing position, I think I can probably shoot at least half of them in the back from over there’ he said, pointing to another spot that better overlooked both the entrance to Megaton and the raiders attacking it.

Allison nodded slowly. ‘So how many people do you kill in an average day?’ she asked him semi-seriously.

‘I don't wake up in the morning intending to hit a quota or anything, I just keep running into dudes that badly deserve having a chunk of hot lead shot in their ass’ Coyle replied defensively. ‘I only killed three guys and one crazy [censored] with a machete crossing the whole of Wyoming’ he said, before frowning again. ‘Of course that was a high proportion of the people I actually met crossing Wyoming’ he admitted.

Down where the action was the leader of the raider gang attacking the town was pissed that his first plan hadn't worked one-hundred percent, but at least the outer gates were [censored]-up like he intended. Getting the stupid [censored]s who were trying to dig their way into that still closed vault nearby to give up some of the old landmines they were using for blasting had cost him most of his stash of caps but it was worth it if they could get inside that town, Boppo knew for certain.

Holing up in that school and hitting the trade caravans heading for Megaton had been a sweet gig for a while but the town itself was the motherlode. It would take months, maybe years to get into that [censored] vault, but cracking Megaton just took one guy with the brains needed to work out how to get inside and a couple of dozen dumb-[censored]s to do the dangerous [censored] Boppo knew.

‘Save your ammo you [censored]s’ the leader of the raiders yelled out angrily. One problem with bossing a bunch of crazies was that they sometimes got so excited they'd use up all their bullets and then be screwed when they really needed them, Boppo thought to himself sadly, like when they hit the inner gates tonight.

That [censored] inside who called himself the sheriff and mayor, Simms, was going to get his when the sun went down Boppo thought determinedly. He went around in that stupid hat playing lawman like a badge meant anything out here anyway, what a load of crap. That Chinese Assault Rifle he carried was nice though, it was going to be a great feeling taking it from his corpse the raider knew, grinning at the prospect.

Jericho wasn’t going to get off so light though, Boppo decided, all those years raiding together as wolves and the turncoat bastard decides to retire and sets up home with the sheep, he thought with derision. Yep, Jericho was going to get taken alive and then he was going to get [censored] crucified, his corpse placed over the entrance until it rotted to nothing. A few of the other townsfolk might join him if they wouldn't accept the new management too, maybe that kid that belonged to Simms included? It would really show people you meant business if they had to walk under a dead kid to enter Megaton. No, [censored] that name, it was going to be Raidertown from now on he thought with a grin.

They should make decent money from the slaves they'd take, although Boppo already planned to keep that girl Lucy West for himself. He had seen her once when he scouted the town in disguise a month back and that sweet piece of ass was definitely going to keep him entertained for a while. Running into Jericho in there had been a surprise at the time but fortunately for the raider Jericho had been drunk and was too distracted coughing his guts out after decades of heavy smoking so he didn't recognise his old buddy Boppo in a wastelander’s clothes.

The sun would be setting in a couple of hours and then Boppo would end this. He had riflemen in the right places to give cover fire when the other raiders made their move and he still had enough mines left to blast through the inner gates. Most of his gang only had pistols or the occasional sawn-off shotgun but once they were in close that wouldn't matter and his own combat shotgun would be fun fun fun once he got into the town. A few frag grenades going off would have them quaking in their boots, women screaming, children crying... [censored], it was going to be a hot time in the old town tonight.

Having moved into position and lying prone half concealed by a rock Coyle took aim at one of the more distant hunting-rifle armed Raiders hunkered down perhaps two-hundred and fifty yards off. This one was only partially visible but unlike many of the others she would be able to take proper cover once the raiders realised there was a sniper behind them so Coyle wanted to take her out first, most of the rest weren't so fortunate as regarded protection from the rear.

Coyle took a breath, held it and squeezed the trigger on his FN-FAL. The report of the single shot was distinctive but it was still lost amongst the sounds of several other weapons of different calibres being fired and nobody seemed to notice when the 7.62mm round blew a hole in the raider-girl’s torso just under her right arm, going through a lung before practically blowing her heart in two.

Lining up his next shot on a closer target Coyle shot a raider wearing what looked like an old motorcycle helmet in the back of the head, the bullet deformed by the improvised head protection but not slowed or deflected anywhere near as much as it needed to be to stop it turning his brains to mush after slamming through his skull.

It was when raider number three was shot dead centre between his shoulder blades, the man collapsing beside one of his friends who yelled a warning, that Boppo realised there was now some son-of-a-[censored] behind them whacking his crew one by one. He watched as a fourth member of the gang, the one who had raised the alarm in fact, was gunned down and then started screaming at his remaining raiders to get down.

‘Ducks in a barrel’ Coyle said to himself with satisfaction as he took aim on a raider wearing some ugly spiked armour who was looking around trying to see where the bullets were coming from. The man probably saw the dust the FN-FAL kicked up in front of itself when it was fired again but the supersonic round was already going through his chest before he could tell anyone.

Coyle heard something behind him and spun to find himself looking at a raider he had missed pointing a crappy looking revolver at him, before he could swing his assault rifle around the raider pulled the trigger and Coyle felt and heard a bullet smack into his Combat Armour and ding off. “Next one is going in my face” thought Cassidy Coyle as the raider took better aim.

A bullet hit the raider in the shoulder causing him to scream and drop the pistol, Coyle nearly had his assault-rifle pointed in the right direction to do some more lethal damage when a second bullet from the same direction hit the raider in the throat, his screams turned into a spray of blood as he reached futilely for his neck to try and stem the flow of blood from the ragged hole that had been shot right through it.

Coyle turned and saw Allison seventy or eighty yards off with her hunting-rifle shouldered. ‘Jesus, she really can shoot’ he said to himself in surprise before remembering what he was supposed to be doing. While a raider bled out almost right next to him, the distracting sound of blood gurgling was soon drowned out by the NCR Ranger's FN-FAL firing again.

Unfortunately for Boppo raiders on the whole are far too undisciplined to deal well with a situation like the one they now found themselves in and when a second sniper started firing on them, Allison having decided to take an extra couple of pot-shots herself, they broke and ran.

Getting up from what cover they did have was not a sound tactical move however. The guy up on the platform above the entrance was the first to take the opportunity to bag an easy kill but then the two other people shooting from inside the town opened up in earnest with their assault rifles and raiders started to drop like flies.

‘Stay down you idiots’ Boppo howled out to no avail as his gang was ruthlessly gunned down.

Allison had already killed one man today, she had spotted the one sneaking up on Coyle and had made the call to help her west-coast companion directly rather than just warn him. Now with the raiders such easy targets she shot another one, a girl in pigtails this time who might be about the same age as she was. It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, just aim and pull the trigger like you did hunting for food, maybe the bad feelings about killing someone came later she decided as the adrenaline flowed and she tried for a third.

If his ammunition hadn't been so hard to come by Coyle might have potted a few more himself but other for gifting himself one extra-sweet opportunity shot that presented itself he settled for watching other people shoot the raiders in the back as they fled. He did however notice one of them who hadn't tried to run away and who instead had crawled to better cover during all the confusion.

When all the raiders were either on the floor dead or dying, or in a small number of cases had managed to get away, Coyle watched the inner gates slowly open and a pair of men cautiously emerged. They had their assault rifles shouldered and ready, one was wearing dark leather armour, much like the cannibal hunters he and Allison had met earlier in the day, but the other was wearing a cowboy hat and a long duster coat.

‘Watch out there's still a live one!’ Coyle yelled in warning as the raider looked like he was about to make his move.

Boppo tried to bring up his combat shotgun but before he could start shooting Mayor Simms in the duster had already started pulling the trigger on his Chinese Assault Rifle. The first two shots missed but the third in the burst of fire the Megaton lawman had sent his way caught the raider right between the eyes, one of the other raiders still close enough to see had turned back when he heard Coyle call out his warning and watched Boppo go down. When he reached their base at Springvale Elementary he would tell everyone that the old boss had “died like a [censored]”.

‘Nice shooting’ Coyle called out.

‘Who the [censored] are you?’ the one in the leather armour responded suspiciously.

‘I'm just a guy that wants to get into town to trade’ Coyle replied.

‘Why did you help us fight the raiders?’ the one in the cowboy hat asked. ‘Not that I'm complaining about that or the warning you understand’ he added.

‘They were just in my way’ Coyle replied, ‘I'm getting up now, don't shoot at me or I'll shoot back and I've already proved I'm good at that’ he said, starting to get up so he could be seen, holding his rifle over his head.

‘Walk towards us slowly’ the one in the cowboy hat told Coyle who obliged. ‘There's at least one other shooter out there’ he noted.

‘Allison, come join us and keep your finger away from your trigger’ Coyle yelled out.

‘Okay’ Allison called back.

‘Names Simms, Lucas Simms Mayor and Sheriff of this town’ the one in the hat told Coyle when he arrived. ‘So who are you?’ he asked.

‘Coyle, Cassidy Coyle, visitor to this town’ Coyle replied with a smile. ‘No thanks necessary but if you don't mind we'll help ourselves to anything that belongs to the raiders we killed’ he said.

‘Sounds fair’ Simms agreed.

‘I got three’ Allison declared as she approached, she noted that the sharpshooter up on the platform now had his rifle trained on her. ‘Well two for definite and I think the one I winged went down over there’ she said, pointing towards some rocks.

‘I got nine’ Coyle told them.

‘With how many bullets?’ Simms asked, intrigued.

‘Eight’ Coyle replied. ‘I wasn't going to fire again after I was sure they were all turning tail but couldn't resist the shot when two of them lined up as they ran away’ he said.

‘[censored]’ the guy in the leather armour declared.

‘I can prove it’ Coyle responded. ‘My FN FAL here puts out twice the muzzle energy of what you're using’ he said, indicating his rifle and then their own Chinese-made Assault Rifles ‘the crappy armour these guys are wearing doesn't even slow it down’ he told them proudly, good quality NCR engineering he thought happily.

‘Plenty to share out anyway Jericho’ Simms told the other man wearing the leather armour. There were dozens of dead raiders scattered around and the protectron robot Deputy Weld wasn't going to get a share of the spoils.

‘I want the ammo I fired reimbursed too’ Jericho told Simms.

‘Not a problem, I'll give you a box of replacement 5.56mm from the armoury’ Simms told him.

‘Right, then I'll start stripping the ones I killed’ Jericho declared, walking towards a pair of raiders he had practically cut in half with his assault rifle earlier when the raiders first tried to storm the gates.

Simms held out his hand to shake which Coyle took. ‘Much obliged’ the sheriff told him.

‘Don't mention it’ Coyle replied.

‘This your woman?’ Simms asked, indicating Allison.

‘She's my guide’ Coyle told him. ‘I'm not from around here’ he added redundantly.

‘You from out west?’ Simms asked.

‘Any further west and you're in the ocean’ Coyle replied.

‘I'm Allison Brenner’ Allison introduced herself, ‘my Pa used to come here to trade’ she said. ‘Jack Brenner was his name.’

‘Walked with a sort of bouncy limp’ Simms recalled. ‘That the feller?’ he asked.

Allison smiled and nodded. ‘Some people called him Jackalope because his name was Jack and he...’

‘Loped’ Coyle finished for her.

‘I don't interrupt your stories’ Allison protested.

‘Mine are funnier or more exciting, usually both’ Coyle replied.

Allison glared at him. ‘Jerk’ she said.

Simms looked from one to the other, if it wasn't for the different surnames he'd think they were married. ‘You say you came here to trade?’ he asked Coyle.

‘Yes, and for food and a bed for the night’ Coyle replied.

‘That won't be a problem, in fact I reckon the town owes you both a free meal and a beer’ Simms told him.

‘That's mighty nice of you Sir’ Allison replied, beaming.

‘Least we could do, those damn raiders are a pain in the ass’ Simms stated. ‘Seems like more and more of them all the time’ he said. ‘Course after word of this gets around I reckon we won't see a raider gang try and attack Megaton again for a while’ he decided.

Coyle turned to Allison. ‘If I show you the raiders I took out you start clearing them out of anything valuable and I'll go fetch our stuff and the bike’ he said. ‘Is there any market for raider armour?’ he asked Simms.

‘There's a trader that comes around every so often named Crow that'll buy it’ Simms replied, ‘if you sell it to Moira in the town store Craterside Supply she'll trade it on to him’ he said, ‘I don't like to ask, or interfere with a mans livelihood, but I reckon he sells it back to the raiders.’

‘I'll strip 'em too then’ Allison said.

‘Turning out to be a profitable day’ Coyle observed. ‘What are you going to do with the bodies?’ he asked Simms curiously.

‘Haul them a ways off and let the wasteland have them’ Simms replied.

‘I'll give you some help with that once I’m back here with our stuff’ Coyle offered, ‘don't want corpses stinking up the place or attracting wild animals so close to town’ he said.

‘You do that and I'll stand you another drink myself’ Simms told him.

The robot walked over. ‘Welcome to Megaton’ it said. ‘Friendliest town around’ it declared.

‘A warm reception always guaranteed’ Simms announced, as Coyle turned and looked over the bodies again with a wry smile on his face.


----------

Note from the Author:

Megaton is a walled community built around an old crater that serves as a trading hub of sorts. It's mainly constructed from old pieces of aircraft and has a very haphazard design and appearance. What it also has is a Water Processing Plant that produces the safe drinking water that is in short supply in the Capital Wasteland so the desire of raiders to take over the place is understandable. However as well as the walls Megaton is protected by a number of well-armed citizens with the double gates defended by a pre-war Protectron robot they've named "Deputy Weld" and a sniper positioned high above the entrance called Stockholm.

Boppo the raider who led an attack on Megaton some time before the start of Fallout 3 is mentioned on the data logs you can find in the raider base in Springvale Elementary School situated near Megaton. It says he was shot in the head by the Megaton town Sheriff Lucas Simms but doesn't say much more.

The still sealed Fallout Shelter Vault 101 lies close to Megaton. The raiders based at the school were trying to tunnel into it via the basemant using Land Mines as blasting charges. Having Boppo know Jericho, the ex-raider who now lives in Megaton working as a hired gun is entirely my invention, I just thought it was a nice touch.

The trader Crow who was mentioned by Simms does, like the other caravan merchants, visit the large raider camp at Evergreen Mills as part of his trade route. I saw that as indicating that the ongoing market for raider armour in the Capital Wasteland is entirely due to them purchasing the stuff back to equip new raiders with (who else would want it?). The Megaton town store, Craterside Supply is run by Moira Brown, other noteworthy places to visit in Megaton include outdoor eatery The Brass Lantern and the bar called Moriarty's Saloon.

In real life Oakton is north of Fairfax on the other side of Interstate 66, I'm placing Megaton in that area for that reason (geographically it seems about right). I've been trying to work to the actual map of the area as well as the Fallout 3 Map, the distances are therefore much greater between eveywhere than they are in the game (which shrinks the region by a factor of sixty for gameplay reasons).

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART VIII

Megaton - Virginia – June 2277

Coyle woke up lying on his side on a bed in an unfamiliar room and with one of the worst hangovers he could remember, not that his recall of past events was currently so great to be honest. He tried moving his head but the splitting headache that provoked made him reconsider fast. Being perfectly still for a few more minutes at least was a good thing he decided.

Straining his hazy memories of the previous night he remembered a big celebration with the townspeople celebrating the raiders being driven off, he remembered being bought several drinks by grateful locals after Simms explained the strangers role in the fight and he had a vague recollection of getting up on a bar and singing Danny Boy with the owner but after that it was just a blur.

He wasn't wearing his armour but moving his head as little as he could he could now see it next to the bed, along with what looked like the rest of his stuff including the metal panniers from the bike, his rucksack and his rifles. His distinctive “Parties Only” Hawaiian shirt was hung on a nail driven part-way into one of the wooden joists that was supporting the metal walls of the room and the familiar hard lump under his pillow was likely his Desert Eagle placed for quick availability meaning he hadn't been completely hammered when he went to bed.

There was also, he now realised, someone else in the bed spooning up to his back.

‘Oh for the love of God be female and of age’ Coyle said quietly to himself. He remembered trying to charm his way into the pants of the girl who worked at the Brass Lantern after a few beers and having her two brothers warn him off so he hoped it wasn't her because he didn’t want to get into a fight with them, or even worse face the fine old southern tradition of a shotgun wedding.

Coyle turned over slowly, not wishing to either re-trigger the searing pain in his head, or wake whoever it was until he had a better idea of their identity. ‘Keep still’ a familiar voice mumbled at him. ‘Tired’ it said.

Okay, it was Allison Coyle was now aware, not entirely certain of what he should be feeling about that, although he didn't think the occasional waves of mild nausea he was suffering from was linked however. This was definitely a problem given that he suspected she wasn't the type to think that sleeping with a guy was merely recreational with no emotional strings attached. Moreover he had no idea if they actually had done anything anyway. ‘Okay if I was too drunk to remember I was probably to drunk to do much’ Coyle reasoned optimistically.

‘Be quiet’ Allison told him and cuddled up to his back some more, now putting an arm around him.

Allison’s eyes suddenly snapped open and she became rigid as a statue. “Oh crap”, she thought to herself, realising she was in bed with Coyle who appeared to be naked, from the waist up at least. Then after a couple of seconds she realised that she was too.

‘Good morning’ Coyle said awkwardly.

Allison didn't reply straight away, she was trying to remember the previous night and failing miserably. ‘Morning’ she replied eventually.

Coyle would have loved to have simply asked her but if they did have six and he indicated he couldn't remember she might burst into tears or something, women could be very odd that way. ‘Are you comfortable?’ he asked, fishing for clues.

‘It's a nice soft mattress’ Allison replied, did he mean was she okay with them having six, she wondered? Was he going to want to do it again?

Coyle slowly turned over. Oh he must want to do it again Allison decided. Had he taken advantage of her before? She didn't even know but she did know she could get giggly and flirty when she was drunk. It might have even been her idea, she did sorta like him, a lot she admitted to herself, even if he was a serious jerk sometimes.

Think Cassidy think, Coyle thought to himself as he turned over. They were under a sheet but the girl appeared to be as naked as he was and she didn't shoo away when he ended up facing her and getting a nice view in the process. ‘How are you this morning?’ he asked.

‘I've got a hangover’ Allison replied.

‘Me too’ Coyle told her, she looked like she expected him to do or say something. Okay this should answer the question once and for all, he decided, biting the bullet and moving to kiss her hoping for a reaction then stopping as he realised something. ‘You can hit me for saying this’ he said, ‘but I can't remember what we did last night and I've just noticed I’m still wearing my baggies’ he told her.

Allison looked back at him. ‘I can't remember either’ she admitted, reaching down. ‘My panties are still on too’ she said, checking.

‘We got very drunk’ Coyle said redundantly.

A memory came back to Allison. ‘I remember you were snoring, I think I turned you onto your side which stopped it but you kept rolling back and in the end I propped you up.’

‘So we didn't have six?’ Coyle checked.

‘I don't think so’ Allison replied.

Coyle was relieved but decided a slightly more chivalrous response than “Thank God” was called for. ‘Good, I'd hate to think I'd ever laid a pretty girl and didn't remember it’ he said instead, it was about as good as he could manage with a headache.

Allison smiled and then she remembered she wasn't wearing a top and she pulled the sheet over herself. ‘Turn around’ she told him forcefully.

‘Already seen them now, not much more than I'd already seen thanks to that low-cut outfit you wear but that horse has well and truly bolted now’ Coyle told her, turning over again nonetheless before getting out of bed. ‘Do you remember you borrowed one of my cleaner T-Shirts to wear at the party last night?’ he asked.

‘Yes’ Allison replied.

‘I can see why you took it off, it's on the floor with something that I hope is some kind of sauce on it’ Coyle told her. ‘You can keep it but I'd suggest you wash a few times before wearing it again’ he advised.

‘Don't put that on again, everyone said you looked stupid in it’ Allison told him as he reached for his Hawaiian shirt.

‘Like I care about their opinions’ Coyle replied before pausing and turning back to her. ‘What do you think about it?’ he asked.

‘It's hideous’ Allison told him honestly, he must care about my opinion then she thought to herself, pleased about that.

Coyle sighed. ‘Okay I'll put on something else’ he agreed, opening up his rucksack and looking for his old T-Shirt with “Kowabunga Tribe” printed on it.

They had rented one of the rooms above Moriarty's Saloon, supposedly at a discount but it still wasn't that cheap as far as Allison was concerned. The room was theirs for a couple of days and the town seemed safe enough so Coyle left his combat armour behind and after they were sure they could keep breakfast down they headed to the Brass Lantern.

Despite the lack of armour Coyle still wore his two overlapping gunbelts with the MP9 and the Desert Eagle ready in case he needed them, but that was as much because going unarmed made him nervous and tetchy as it was that he imagined there was any real prospect of violence. Allison had her badly misnamed “Mercenary Adventurer” outfit on, she desperately needed some more clothes, but the combat helmet she usually wore with it was also left in their room.

‘How's your head this morning?’ Jenny Stahl asked in amusemant as they sat down on the stools across from her at the outdoor eatery which was situated towards the bottom of the crater the town was structured around. She had seen ghouls with better complexions she thought as the pair of travellers asked for a light breakfast. Gob the ghoul barman at Moriarty's Saloon didn't look as bad as they did right now Jenny decided.

‘It would be better if that crackpot wasn’t preaching so loudly over there’ Coyle replied, looking at the plate of mutated fruit slices set out in front of him with a lack of enthusiasm. Not too far away a religious nut was vocally worshiping an undetonated atomic bomb of all things, singing the praises of radiation.

‘Confessor Cromwell is a good man’ Jenny told him, ‘not that too many of us embrace his religion you understand’ she added.

Allison swallowed a piece of the familiar crunchy fruit she knew from home. ‘I never believed Pa when he said there was an unexploded atomic bomb here left over from the Great War and people worshipped it’ she said. ‘Now I’m wondering if his tall tail about Mirelurks having kings is true as well’ she continued doubtfully, trying a piece of the other fruit she hadn't tried before which Jenny Stahl had called “Punga”, it wasn't bad she decided.

‘I met some ghouls in Kansas City that used to worship an atomic bomb they called Plutonius and were praying for his return’ Coyle told them. ‘Of course they were immune to radiation unlike that dude who is being very unkind to his DNA by standing in that puddle of irradiated water the bomb is lying in’ he said. ‘Why the hell doesn't someone at least diffuse the thing?’ he asked.

‘It might upset the Church of the Children of Atom and besides which it hasn't gone off in two hundred years but it might if someone started fiddling with it’ Jenny Stahl told him. ‘So you're not going to mention how pretty my eyes are again this morning then?’ she asked sweetly.

‘It's still true but it was more fun saying it with your brothers staring daggers at me’ Coyle replied with a smile, actually in better light she wasn't as pretty as he had thought she was last night. Just above average maybe but after a few beers she had looked damn good.

‘You're lucky the Sheriff was watching out for you or they might have taken you outside and beaten you up when you tried to get me to dance with you’ Jenny told him as he forced down a couple of pieces of fruit.

‘Yeah, sorry about that’ Coyle apologised.

‘I don't mind happy drunks’ Jenny Stahl told him, ‘it's mean ones I don't like’ she said, her eyes flickering across to where the guy called Jericho was entering the Clinic, possibly seeking some painkillers as he had been knocking it bad last night too. For a second it looked like she was recalling a bad memory, Allison noticing and wondering what it might be.

Megaton was basically a large crater with the town built into the sides of the hole and high walls around the rim to protect it. The walls and the buildings were made of sections of several different large aircraft, military and civilian and despite the haphazard nature of the construction, you couldn't really call anything so chaotic a design, it seemed sturdy enough. As a trading hub of sorts plenty of people passed by this way, so to Coyle’s mind it was a good place to hang for a few days to try and find out more about what was going on in DC. If both the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave were established somewhere around here, and there were Super-Mutants about, the former US Capital was definitely a location that warranted considerable detailed investigation by the NCR.

The Enclave and Brotherhood propaganda broadcasts were certainly making their mark. “Galaxy News Radio” was an obvious front for the BoS and hooked people in with catchy tunes whilst interspersing them with Pro-Brotherhood messages. It was however far less blatant than what the Enclave and their “President” John Henry Eden were pushing and perhaps GNR was more effective for that. Only that senile old twit who had cornered Coyle in the bar for fifteen long, long minutes last night singing the praises of the Enclave seemed to be buying it wholesale, one advantage to the harshness of the wasteland life is that world weary cynics don't tend to be easily svckered in.

The town store was called Craterside Supply and was run by a kook. She was friendly enough, and obviously well meaning, but for a woman with a mechanical man Moira Brown obviously had a screw loose, maybe two Coyle decided. After agreeing a price on the armour and weapons Coyle and Allison were selling on the woman had explained about a book she was writing and wondered if they might be interested in helping out... she wasn't selling the idea very well however.

Coyle fixed the peppy young woman with a stare. ‘Let me get this straight’ he said. ‘Among other things you’re looking for someone to get critically wounded, irradiate themselves so much they'll glow in the dark and play with landmines?’ he asked coldly.

‘Oh it all sounds so much worse than it really is’ Moira replied brightly. ‘You'd be fine’ she said.

‘Yes, because nobody in their right mind would do those things’ Coyle told her flatly. ‘Why don't you ask your mercenary bodyguard over there to do it?’ he asked.

‘She did, I wouldn't’ the normally laconic mercenary leaning back against the wall of the store responded.

‘Not even for triple pay and a bonus’ Moira said regretfully. She had only recently hired the man to help protect her and the store and she was now regretting not putting a few more roles into his job-description.

The mercenary rolled his eyes, this wasn't a bad job really, he thought. There wasn't too much trouble in Megaton usually and Sheriff Simms kept the crime rate low so he didn't have much to do for his pay. He had been ready to help fight the raiders the previous day but that hadn’t come to anything in the end thanks in no small part to this obviously sane stranger who wasn't buying into Moira’s latest project either.

After asking a few questions about the Capital Wasteland out of curiosity Coyle asked Moira if she had any idea why the .32 pistols some people carried around here seemed so underpowered compared to hunting rifles firing the same cartridges. The bullet which had bounced off his combat armour yesterday for example had nowhere near the stopping power or penetration of the rifle Allison used, the muzzle velocity shouldn't have been that much lower he knew.

Moira laughed. ‘It's the powder silly’ she explained. ‘Most of the .32 calibre bullets around these parts come in via caravan from The Pitt to the Northwest’ she told him, ‘I've heard they have ammunition presses up there making brand new .32 cartridges but the propellant they're using is too slow burning for pistols’ she continued. ‘The 10mm they make would probably be much more effective from a longer barrel too’ she suggested.

Coyle smacked himself on the side of the head. ‘The bullets accelerate too slowly to get up to full speed in something the length of a pistol barrel’ he realised.

‘Right’ Moira confirmed. ‘They're good bullets but you need to fire them from a rifle or you're wasting half the powder’ she said.

‘Could you take a look at my rifle?’ Allison asked Moira, she had fetched it from the Saloon along with the things they were selling. ‘Cassidy replaced some of the worn parts from one we took from one of the dead raiders we killed but the action still isn't smooth when I work the bolt’ she said, taking out the ammunition in it before handing it over.

‘I'll take a look honey’ Moira replied with a smile, taking it over to her work bench, testing the bolt herself. ‘Yes it is a little clunky’ she agreed. ‘A couple of parts and some work with a file and it'll be as good as when it was made’ she promised.

‘How much?’ Allison asked.

‘We'll call this one a freebie’ Moira told her, starting to strip the rifle down into parts. ‘You need to start using more gun-oil, it’ll reduce wear and tear’ she advised. ‘I can sell you some.’

‘We'll take a couple of cans’ Coyle replied. ‘Also have you got any 7.62mm NATO or .308 Winchester?’ he asked.

‘Not much but some’ Moira replied, her attention on the rifle she was servicing.

‘I'll take what you’ve got’ Coyle told her, he had spoken to Simms about maybe getting the ammunition replaced that he had used against the raiders but the Sheriff said he didn’t have any in the town armoury, it simply wasn't a calibre used too much around here. ‘What about .44 Magnum?’ he wondered.

‘Oh I've got a couple of boxes of that for sale’ Moira told him. ‘Lucky Harith one of the caravan traders that visits usually has some to trade’ she said.

‘I'll take both boxes’ Coyle said, ‘and a hundred and fifty rounds of 10mm’ he added.

‘Going to war?’ Moira asked him with a chuckle.

‘Always seems like it’ Coyle replied evenly. ‘I like the armoured vault suit you've got hanging up there by the way’ he said indicating the old blue one-piece oufit that was standard dress in the vaults and which she had apparently added some protection too. ‘Is Vault 101 close then?’ he inquired, the number was on the back.

‘It sure is, still sealed too mostly but every so often someone comes out to look around’ Moira replied. ‘I made that suit as a custom order for a girl about a decade back when the store still belonged to my Dad but she never came back to collect it’ she said. ‘You interested in buying?’ she queried.

‘If it hasn’t got 13 written on it it's not worth having’ Coyle replied dismissively. ‘Talking of which have you got any paint?’ he asked hopefully. ‘I've got to put a lucky number on the back of a combat helmet’ he said.

Thanks to the towns large water purification plant, and relatively small population, there was enough surplus water for washing and bathing so both Coyle and Allison decided to take the opportunity to wash off the dirt and grime of the wasteland before returning to the saloon. As had been the case in Helltown the water coming from the plant was in two grades, one good enough for bathing and the other being more carefully filtered in a second stage of purification was for drinking water.

With the hangover long gone and having washed both herself and her clothes Allison felt clean on the outside. She wasn't feeling unwell on the inside now either but thinking about the raiders she had shot the day before, the girl her age in particular, she started to feel pangs of guilt. She was sure they had all done something to deserve it, and doubly certain that if the roles had been reversed the raider would have killed her with few qualms, but that wasn't helping.

Sitting at a table in the saloon Allison looked at her beer with a gloomy expression on her face. Cassidy was at the bar trying and failing to get some free information from the owner Moriarty, laughing and joking like the people he had killed yesterday didn't so much as cross his mind. The zombie they called Gob who was serving drinks had badly creeped her out at first but now sitting alone with nothing to do but think she was feeling far too maudlin to even notice he was there.

‘Hi, are you okay?’ a girl asked her, causing Allison to look up from her neglected drink.

‘I'm good’ Allison replied unconvincingly. ‘It's Lucy isn't it?’ she asked. ‘We talked last night before it got rowdy and I had to stop Cassidy singing’ she said.

‘That's right’ Lucy West confirmed. ‘You look a little down’ she noted. ‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked. ‘It's only fair, seeing as how I inflicted my life story on you before’ she joked.

Allison was going to deny she was feeling bad at first but why lie about it, maybe talking would help? ‘Take a seat’ she said. ‘Just promise not to talk about growing up in Arefu again’ she requested with a gentle smile.

‘I know it was boring, that's why I left for the excitement and bright lights of the big city’ Lucy said, sweeping her arm around to indicate the town of Megaton. ‘Just tagged along with a trade caravan one day and never went back’ she said.

‘At least you get to send letters back and forth with your folks and your brother’ Allison remembered being told. ‘My brothers are gone, my Ma and Pa too’ she said wistfully.

‘I'm sorry to hear that’ Lucy told her honestly. ‘So it's just you and the Tribal then?’ she asked.

‘The Tribal?’ Allison repeated in confusion for a second before realising, ‘Oh Cassidy isn't a Tribal, his Ma was but he isn't really’ she said. ‘He told me he comes from a really big town, hundreds and hundreds of people’ she told her.

Lucy frowned. ‘But it says on his T-Shirt...’

‘Yeah, maybe that was the name of his mother's tribe or something?’ Allison theorised. ‘The Kowabungas could be a big tribe on the West Coast or something?’ she wondered. ‘I'll have to ask him’ she decided.

‘How long have you been together?’ Lucy asked.

‘We’re not together, together he hired me as a guide after I threw a spear at him a few days ago’ Allison replied then paused and looked amazed as she considered what she had said. ‘Has it really only been a few days?’ she asked herself rhetorically. ‘It feels like so much longer’ she said.

‘You threw a spear at him?’ Lucy queried.

‘It seemed like the thing to do at the time, I suppose I was lucky he didn't shoot me’ Allison told her, ‘I've seen him shoot people for a lot less’ she said. ‘Not that he’s a psycho-killer or anything’ she said hurriedly in case the local girl might get the wrong idea. ‘He only kills bad people that earned it’ she continued then looked down at her beer again. ‘I... I only kill people that deserve it too’ she added quietly.

Lucy nodded. ‘The Sheriff said you shot some of the raiders’ she recalled.

‘It was so...easy’ Allison said. ‘It shouldn't be so easy’ she opined. ‘Just line up the rifle and shoot, just like you're hunting molerats or something’ she said, voice starting to tremble.

‘I'm sorry’ Lucy said softly, reaching over and taking her hand.

‘So is there some girl-on-girl action about to happen’ a voice interrupted, ‘can I watch, or maybe join in?’ it asked, ‘I'll put some caps your way’ it offered lasciviously.

‘Get lost Jericho’ Lucy told him sternly.

Jericho smirked. ‘Should have known you were a dyke all those times you turned me down’ he said. As ever he was wearing his faded black leather armour and had his rifle slung on his back.

‘I'm asking you to go away’ Lucy told him more loudly.

‘The big scary voice doesn't work on someone who's big and scary sweetheart’ Jericho replied sarcastically.

‘So there's no reason it wouldn't work on you, unless you include podgy and out-of-shape within your definition of big?’ Coyle asked, turning around at the bar. ‘You're not scary by any stretch of the imagination’ he stated. ‘I know scary, you don't meet the criteria’ he stated.

Jericho turned to face the “Hero” from last night, like it took guts or skill to shoot a few peckerwoods in the back. ‘I'm the man in this town’ he said. ‘I don't like passers-through talking to me like they’ve got anything to say worth [censored] hearing’ he growled, voice gravelly from years of smoking.

Coyle looked Jericho in the eyes. ‘Do you think you're dangerous?’ he asked.

‘What?’ Jericho replied, perplexed by the question.

‘It's a simple question’ Coyle responded. ‘Do you think you're dangerous?’ he asked again.

‘Yes I’m [censored] danger...’ Jericho began but before he could finish his sentence he noticed Coyle was grinning. ‘There's a gun pointed at my back isn't there?’ he asked.

‘No but you get points for realising there could be, I did tell her to do things like that when I attracted the attention of unpleasant types such as yourself squarely in my direction’ Coyle answered. ‘I'm looking unconcerned because we both know there's no way you can have that rifle strapped to your back aimed at me before I draw my pistol’ he said. ‘Now since I don't think you're [censored] enough to risk your life just for the right to be an offensive [censored], get lost’ he advised.

‘I never back down from a fight’ Jericho told him seriously.

Coyle looked him in the eyes. ‘Guess not’ he read the man, Jericho was a nasty piece of work and a bully but in Coyle's estimation he likely he wasn't a blow-hard. ‘Okay, want to settle this outside the old fashioned way?’ he asked, holding up a fist.

‘Love to’ Jericho replied, turning towards the door, judging correctly that the guy with the weird accent wasn’t the type to shoot him in the back in front of his woman. It occurred a split second later that he might just be the type to pistol-whip him though right before Coyle cracked him hard across the back of the skull with his Desert Eagle.

Jericho slumped to the ground unconscious, if he thought the headache he woke up with that morning after the party last night had been bad it was going to pale into insignificance compared to the one he'd have when he came to.

‘We should probably leave town’ Coyle told Allison. ‘I don't think his being an [censored] is a good enough reason to kill him but I’m sure he'll try and kill me at the earliest opportunity now’ he said.

‘What did you do that for?’ Allison exclaimed.

‘It was quicker than beating him up’ Coyle responded. ‘Less effort too’ he added. ‘What was he saying to upset you so much anyway?’ he asked.

‘What are you talking about?’ Allison asked in confusion.

Coyle frowned, he wondered if he had misinterpreted the situation. ‘I heard him told to go away loudly and when I turned around he hadn't and you looked upset so...’

‘I didn't look upset because of him’ Allison declared. ‘I was upset before he arrived’ she said.

‘No?’ Coyle asked in surprise.

‘No’ Allison confirmed.

Coyle looked down at the prone form of Jericho lying on the floor of the saloon bleeding from a small head wound. ‘[censored]’ he swore. ‘I'll leave a few caps to pay for his visit to the docs then’ he said with a frown.

‘Wait a second, you hit him on the head with your gun because you thought he upset me?’ Allison asked, dumbfounded.

‘Well yeah’ Coyle replied, almost sheepishly. ‘I did basically promise you that I wouldn't let anyone hurt your feelings’ he said, ‘I mean except for me when I go too far with the jokes’ he added awkwardly, feeling several pairs of eyes on him. I must sound like a twelve-year-old he thought, almost critically embarrassed by the whole situation.

Allison buried her head in her hands for a moment. ‘For crying out loud Cassidy’ she said in exasperation. On one level it was sweet but on several others it was plain dumb.

‘I still think we should get our stuff and go’ Coyle told her, ‘I'd feel really bad if I had to kill the poor bastard now’ he said.

Allison sighed and shook her head sadly before turning to Lucy West remembering a phrase she read in an old pre-war book, her Pa bought them back sometimes after working on the trade caravans. ‘I think I need to invest more time in developing his people skills’ she decided, Lucy nodding her agreement.


----------

Note from the Author:

The Church of the Children of Atom in Megaton had definite shades of the ghoul worshippers of Plutonius in Fallout: Tactics. The worshipping of undetonated atomic weapons must be widespread in the Fallout universe!

If you read through saloon-owner Moriarty's computer files on his computer you'll see in an entry that he suspected Jericho had once tried to [censored] Jenny Stahl. That's why I had her understandably nervous of him.

Revolvers firing the same .32 ammunition as Hunting Rifles in Fallout 3 are far weaker, this was probably just a screwup but if the propellant was slow-burning it might have that effect. You will also find that 10mm ammunition fired from an N99 automatic has inordinately less power than the same round does fired from the a Lever-Action Rifles you can obtain in the Point Lookout expansion pack. New ammunition can be made using the ammunition press featured in The Pitt expansion pack based in the ruins of Pittsburgh. It's noted in the game that people captured by the slavers in Paradise Falls are often traded to The Pitt to be factory workers, I'm reasoning that this is paid for by the sale of ammunition made there.

Storekeeper, mechanical tinkerer, amateur scientist and kooky enthusiast Moira Brown owner of Craterside Supply tries to recruit volunteers to assist her writing a book called the Wasteland Survival Guide. This mainly consists of her getting you to perform dangerous and/or insane tasks out in the wasteland while she stays safe at home and writes up the results if you get back alive. In the game it's a lot of fun to cooperate, Coyle however is far too sane to do so himself. Lucy West is a young woman originally from the tiny Capital Wasteland community of Arefu who moved to Megaton while the rest of her family stayed back home.

Quite an amazing story, I have only read the first chapter but it is really good, and long :tongue: I will have to read some more later! Good luck!

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART IX


Springvale - Virginia – June 2277

Heading north on a reasonable stretch of road after they left Megaton after a few miles they came upon the ruins of what had once been a small town in the DC suburbs called Springvale. Being fairly close to the populated settlement it must have been stripped bare of anything worth having decades ago Coyle reasoned so instead of stopping to root around the wrecked houses they continued on towards the Potomac having a plan to follow the riverbank into DC.

Since riding the motorcycle into the city would attract a great deal of unwanted attention Coyle parked it up next to an old school at the northern edge of Springvale and after removing the gas tank and handbrake to make it look like just another piece of broken pre-war junk they left it there and continued on towards the river on foot. Even at a fairly relaxed pace it should take them less than three hours to reach a small community Allison knew of called Grayditch where they could bed down for the night and perhaps pick up some news on recent happenings in DC. Grayditch was at the edge of the city proper and the locals might know more about the current situation there than they had in Megaton it was hoped.

Not being quite enough of an [censored] to use the girl as a pack mule Coyle was carrying his bulky rucksack for once, his M72 gauss rifle strapped to the side in its holster and his FN-FAL in his hands ready for action. Allison had her own meagre belongings in a small satchel and the contents of the two metal panniers from the bike in a light canvas hold-all Coyle had produced folded up from his rucksack as they trudged to the river then along the bank towards DC.

‘Nice day for a walk’ Allison opined as they basically strolled along, there was plenty of sunlight left and they hadn't met anything that had tried to eat them since they left Megaton so she was in a good mood.

‘All I'd need is someone yelling at me to pick up the pace and I could be back in the damn infantry’ Coyle replied with rather less enthusiasm.

‘Pa told me that if I was ever near the Potomac I should look out for Mirelurks’ Allison continued brightly, her good humour unabated by his surly response. ‘They're great eating but some days you get the 'Lurk and some days the 'Lurk gets you’ she said sagely.

‘Eating shellfish only used to be risky because of food poisoning, not getting ripped to shreds by pissed-off crustaceans’ Coyle replied. Several people had mentioned the things to him starting in Helltown, they had all raved about the taste, especially when turned into the famed mirelurk cakes that were supposedly the Capital Wastelands sole culinary specialty. ‘I wonder if up in Maine they still eat a lot of lobster?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘Damn things could be the size of Buicks these days’ he continued. ‘You'd need a whole lot of brahmin milk to get the butter to chow down on one of those’ he said.

‘You know an awful lot about places you've never been’ Allison remarked.

‘So could you but they hide that information in books’ Coyle replied sardonically, earning a scowl.

‘Just when I think you've started being nicer to me you ruin it’ Allison complained, her scowl becoming a pout. Back in Megaton he had seemed genuinely annoyed when he thought that jerk Jericho had upset her but only a few hours later he was back with the wisecracks.

‘What can I say, I'm a wasteland-weary cynic with a defective personality’ Coyle replied. ‘You can't accuse me of not being aware of it at least’ he added then stopped walking to turn to her. ‘I've gotten used to having you around but don't expect some kind of miraculous overnight change just because I like the company’ he said.

‘Just don't say the first thing that comes into your head that you think is funny, try stopping to think if it'll upset me is all I ask’ Allison told him.

Coyle thought about that. ‘But what if it's really funny?’ he checked.

‘I'm not talking to you for at least the next hour’ Allison replied, shaking her head and starting walking again, Coyle following after a moment because he couldn't think up a decent retort.

Like many rivers in the post-apocalyptic United States the Potomac was a shadow of its former self. It wasn't quite as disappointing to see as the Colorado had been when Coyle had first scouted Hoover Dam but nonetheless this close to the Chesapeake Bay he had expected it to look more impressive and he reasoned that rainfall must be very low in the entire region. Coming from arid Southern California and having only seen the East Coast before in books he had been hoping to find Virginia a lot more green than this but maybe after touring the area thoroughly before heading home he could find what he was looking for further north in New England he hoped.

Getting assailed by something eventually was inevitable of course in the wasteland and Allison was just relieved it came in the form of a small swarm of bloatflies, more an annoyance than a real threat. At first Coyle tried to swat the things with a suitable piece of driftwood he picked up from the riverbank but in the end his patience snapped and throwing away the improvised fly-swatter he pulled his MP9 and firing single rounds he shot them out of the air, ignoring Allison’s observations about temper-tantrums and wasting ammunition.

Half a mile further on it was apparent that the city was even more intact than Coyle had imagined it to be based on the usually less than reliable testimony of travellers. Rows of intact apartment blocks dominated the skyline up ahead, it was almost hard to believe that it was two centuries since the Great War, not a mere handful of years, and Coyle wondered what the NCR could have achieved with such a treasure trove of salvage and raw materials to hand.

Even the river started to look better as they continued to hike along it, becoming wide and deep enough to more closely match what Coyle thought a river should be. Up ahead an intact bridge next to what seemed to be an old Super-Duper Mart spanned the Potomac and Coyle was wondering if they should take the opportunity to cross before Allison told him that their destination was on this bank.

As they approached the bridge, nearing the old market, Coyle started to get twitchy. His mother would have said it was the spirits of his ancestors looking after him but he himself interpreted it as the justifiable paranoia resulting from being ambushed so many times over the years. ‘That place looks almost pristine and being so close to that bridge I'd expect people to be living there’ he said.

Allison nodded her agreement. ‘Crossing points are usually prime locations for trading posts or settlements’ she replied. ‘Maybe we should go see?’ she suggested.

‘I'll go see, you stay here behind those rocks over yonder’ Coyle replied, shucking off his rucksack and laying it down on the ground.

‘What if you don't come back?’ Allison asked.

‘Then you can consider yourself my sole beneficiary’ Coyle replied. ‘Don't let the gauss rifle sell for less than two thousand caps and then get as much as you can for the ammunition’ he advised, loosening up his shoulders after carrying the heavy pack.

‘We could just go around, keep clear of the place if it's got you all suspicious’ Allison pointed out.

‘I'm not walking any further than I damn well have to and anyway there could be something good in there’ Coyle responded, chambering a round in his FN-FAL just in case. ‘Relax’ he told her, ‘I'm good at this’ he said.

‘Poking your nose into places where you don’t think you should?’ Allison asked wryly.

‘That and getting back alive’ Coyle replied. ‘Oh you might as well take my sunglasses too’ he added, handing them to her.

Allison put them on. ‘Do they suit me?’ she asked.

‘They hide your pretty eyes’ Coyle responded, gallantly he thought.

‘You think my eyes are pretty?’ Allison replied, beaming.

Coyle grinned. ‘To be honest I couldn't even tell you what colour they are’ he replied. ‘I only ever wore the shades because it made it easier to look down your cleavage without getting slapped’ he said.

Allison glared at him before remembering that with the sunglasses he wouldn't be able to tell. ‘If you don't come back I’m burning that hideous Hawaiian shirt’ she told him irately.

‘Leave the shirt be’ Coyle told her sternly, turning and setting off towards the market. ‘Oh, and I was yanking your chain, they're blue’ he added, breaking into a trot.

‘How can I like him, hate him and then like him again all in the space of a minute?’ Allison asked herself in confusion, watching him double-time towards the Super-Duper Mart, his rifle ready for action and his head moving left and right looking for trouble. ‘Nice ass though’ she decided.

Coyle reached the side of the building facing the river unmolested and made his way to the corner more slowly, hugging the wall and pulling his Desert Eagle with his left hand, holding onto the FN-FAL with the other barrel now pointed skywards. Because of the length of its barrel it wasn’t the ideal weapon for close combat but it would go through a lot of things that neither his magnum automatic or his 10mm SMG wouldn’t so he liked to keep it with him anyway just in case.

If he had been holed up in the building with some friends Coyle would have put a sharpshooter on the roof to act as a lookout and to pot-shot anyone that came near but just because there hadn't been one didn’t mean the building was empty, it could still be full of hostiles, just not very smart ones he knew, getting to the corner of the building and slowly leaning out to get a look at the front of the place.

A small number of abandoned cars and rusty shopping trolleys lay in the parking lot out front of the building but other than that and an old bus stopped in the middle of the road heading for the bridge there was nothing else to see. Nothing except that is for the two objects that immediately caught Coyle's undivided attention. ‘Okay, so what are the chances of there still being any bottles of Nuka Cola in those old Vending Machines?’ he wondered quietly to himself.

Putting hope aside for now it would clearly be a good move to check out the inside of the building first, before he started smashing in the front of those Nuka Cola machines in the hope of obtaining the tepid nectar of the gods as he liked to think of it, so Coyle moved along the front wall towards the nearest of two sets of double doors that led inside. As he did so he started to hear sounds from within, muffled voices and what could be heavy objects being moved about, so he steeled himself for possible action and slowly pushed open the door trusting that if they weren’t smart enough to put a look-out on the roof they wouldn’t have booby-trapped the doors either.

Keeping to the shadows Coyle slowly made his way inside and took a peek at what all the commotion was about. ‘Ah, home remodelling’ he breathed to himself watching five raiders, four male one female as they seemed to be hauling planks around, making ramps and bridges to span the aisles that ran down the market. The shelves seemed almost bare but a few cans of food still seemed to be up for grabs.

‘Why the [censored] did we get stuck with this job’ one of the Raiders protested loudly as he picked up a splinter in his hand from one of the planks.

‘Would you rather be humping all our [censored] from the old hide-out with those other slobs?’ another replied. ‘They'll take hours to carry it here, those ammo boxes weigh a ton’ he said, and that was assuming the lazy bums had even started yet.

‘I'd rather be out having fun’ the one that had complained responded before using his teeth to pull out the splinter, spitting it out.

‘Look dip[censored]’ a third raider, this one wearing a set of armour in better condition than the others interrupted them. ‘From here we can hit trade caravans heading for Rivet City and Megaton’ he said. ‘The roof doesn't leak, those refrigerators still work and if we can figure out how to get that locked door in the back open I'll bet there’s still some [censored] worth having in there no scav has ever messed with.’

A raider girl was still working. ‘Stop standing there with your thumbs up your asses and give me a [censored] hand with this’ she declared loudly, kicking another plank.

‘Shut your [censored] mouth [censored] or I'll stick something else up your ass’ the raider who had removed the splinter responded.

‘From what Big Sal told me you couldn't even get it up the last time you went sniffing around for some’ the raider girl retorted.

‘Okay that's it’ the slighted raider exclaimed. ‘I vote we gang-bang this [censored]’ he said to the other men.

‘Too much woman for you on your own?’ the raider girl responded with a sneer, pulling a knife. ‘Come on Romeo, just try’ she taunted him.

Coyle wished he had a video camera so he could record the mating habits of the East Coast Raider for posterity, it was truly fascinating stuff that deserved considerable research. Maybe instead of wiping most of the bastards out on the West Coast the NCR Rangers should have captured a few alive and placed them in zoos for long-term study he considered, holstering his Desert Eagle and taking aim with his rifle, drawing a bead on one that hadn’t said anything, he might be the brains of the outfit judging by the way he kept rolling his eyes at the puerile antics of the rest.

‘Leave her be, you know the boss says she gives the best head of any of the chicks’ the better dressed raider told the angry one, ‘he'll rip your ass if you hurt her’ he warned.

‘That's probably just how the queer likes it’ the raider girl declared.

‘And you can shut the [censored] up too’ the one that seemed to be in charge ordered, pointing at her.

‘Holy [censored] it's the Three Stooges plus Two, live and uncut’ Coyle said loudly. ‘Put your hands in the air or I'll kill you’ he told them, leaning out further into the open so they could see him and that his rifle was aimed their way. They were about twenty-five yards off, point-blank for the FN-FAL but not such a good range for the collection of revolvers and sawn-off shotguns they seemed to have.

The Raiders froze. ‘I told you we needed a [censored] sentry’ the one who had been keeping quiet growled, definitely the brains Coyle decided.

‘You wouldn't shoot a girl would you?’ the female one asked plaintively.

‘Sounds like it would be wasting a rare talent but yes I would’ Coyle replied honestly. ‘Now this is the last time I ask’ he continued, ‘raise the hands or I start shooting.’

‘I think it's just the one guy, he can't get all of us’ the quieter one opined, Coyle’s estimation of his IQ dropping considerably.

‘If he had any guts he would have just fired’ the one who had been threatening the girl commented. ‘Let's take him.’

Oh these bullets don’t come cheap Coyle groaned inwardly as he pulled the trigger on his FN-FAL blowing a hole through the quiet one then firing again as fast as he could on semi-automatic as the rest scattered.

Coyle took out the leader next, unfortunately for him a load of wooden shelves being a totally inadequate form of cover against 7.62x51mm NATO rounds that could have very easily penetrated the external wall of the building at that range let alone some two-century old plywood.

Number three to drop had found a more effective barricade in the form of a heavy refrigerator. Instead of using it effectively however he leaned out the left side from Coyle's perspective and promptly had his brains blown out as a result. The vast majority of people being right-handed it was usually a fair bet he would go that way and the other two weren’t placed to shoot back yet so Coyle had ignored them for the moment.

The two left were the girl and the one that had nearly gotten into a fight with her. It seemed unlikely that they were about to cooperate, one pinning him down while the other tried to flank, but he was still outnumbered and Coyle kept his mind on the game. ‘Larry, Curly and Moe are down’ he said loudly. ‘Just you two left, I'm a reasonable man so I'll give you another chance to throw out your guns and surrender’ he offered.

‘[censored] you’ the remaining male raider yelled back only to be forced to crawl for his life as Coyle immediately opened fire on where he had been hiding, blowing holes through the shelving all around him.

‘Are you with Talon Company?’ the girl yelled out, ‘we can match the offer if someone has put a price on our heads’ she said.

‘No I'm just doing this for kicks’ Coyle yelled back. He reckoned he had another five rounds left in his magazine and he decided to save them, putting down the FN-FAL and drawing his MP9 instead. Who the hell was “Talon Company” he wondered, taking his Desert Eagle from its holster too and moving to a new position, keeping low.

‘You draw his fire and I'll get him’ the male raider suggested.

‘Kiss my ass’ the girl replied, ‘you draw his fire and I'll get him’ she countered.

Coyle took aim with both guns at where he thought each one was. Any time now they'd reach the obvious conclusion.

‘If we go together he can't shoot us both’ the male one said.

‘Good idea’ the girl replied. ‘On three’ she said. ‘One, two...’

‘Wait’ the male one said, ‘do you mean go on three or three and then go?’ he asked.

‘Go on three you retard’ the girl exclaimed, ‘one, two, three!’ she said popping up from cover just when the other raider did.

Coyle held down the trigger on his MP9, and hosed it towards the remaining male raider who wasn't precisely where he thought he would be but he chucked enough lead to allow for that. A 10mm round hit him just to the right of his nose and shattered his upper jaw before ploughing on through, tumbling and expanding as it went before exiting the back of his head. It wasn't an immediately lethal injury but it certainly knocked him out of the fight as he tumbled back screaming as best he could, still pulling the trigger of his revolver the bullets going nowhere near Coyle.

The first round fired by the Desert Eagle missed the female raider and she got off a shot with her sawn-off, peppering Coyle with buckshot. Most struck his armour harmlessly but the lucky [censored] caught his gun-hand with a couple of the pellets just as he fired the Eagle again Coyle howling and dropped the magnum automatic as blood from the wounds sprayed into his face. ‘[censored]’ he swore, biting back the pain in his left hand as he got up and sprinted straight for her bringing the MP9 around. It took time to reload a double-barrelled and even though he missed the shots had probably at least spooked her enough to slow her down.

Having him run at her panicked the girl and she fumbled as she tried to re-load, dropping back into cover because it looked like he was about to rip her apart with that [censored] sub-machinegun he had seemingly produced from nowhere. How many guns did this [censored] have anyway, a little voice in the back of her mind asked as she tried to stop shaking long enough to put two fresh shells in her gun having ejected the others already.

She was just coming back up when Coyle came over the top of the freezer cabinet she had sought cover behind and smashed her arm with the shotgun in it aside with his wounded hand. She pulled the trigger, both barrels discharging wide as he stuck the MP9 in her face. ‘Are we [censored] done?’ Coyle asked angrily, face a mask of blood-splattered rage.

The girl swallowed, cross-eyed as she now focused on the MP9 and the trigger he was squeezing, the pressure just short of what was needed to fire. ‘We're done’ she replied, releasing her grip on the the sawn-off shotgun, letting it fall to the floor.

‘Good’ Coyle replied, grabbing hold of her hair with his wounded hand, ignoring the pain as he got his blood all over her and dragging her to her feet. ‘If you so much as [censored] look like you're going to try anything I will kill you stone dead’ he vowed convincingly, pulling her towards where he had left his other two guns. ‘If you weren't a girl you'd be dead already’ he told her, throwing her against a wall. ‘Stay there facing the wall with your hands behind your head’ he ordered, the raider girl complying as he picked up his pistol with his wounded hand, wincing with the pain as he holstered it, MP9 in the other hand still trained on her.

The raider girl noted that he said he had only spared her because she was a woman. ‘I'll be real nice to you if you don't hurt me’ she promised. ‘If you've been looking for a woman I'll be the best you've ever had’ she said, voice trembling as she wondered if this was how the wastelanders she and the gang had terrorised over the years had felt.

Coyle next retrieved his FN-FAL, it had a strap so he shouldered it before going back for the girl. ‘The only use I've got for you right now is to carry [censored]’ he told her, the adrenaline starting to fade reducing his anger but increasing the pain in his hand as he dripped blood onto the floor.

‘Okay I'll slave for you then’ the raider girl replied starting to feel a modicum of relief. It didn't look like she was going to be killed, at least not yet.

‘I was thinking of you as a criminal on a good old fashioned southern chain-gang myself’ Coyle told her, ‘consider me judge, jury and maybe executioner too if you piss me off’ he said.

‘I thought all you Regulators wore those stupid hats’ the raider girl responded, assuming he must be one of the self-appointed vigilantes that professed to be the guardians of law and order in the Capital Wasteland. He had indicated he wanted her to walk ahead of him out of the Super-Duper Mart and she had obeyed instantly. ‘If you want I can cut the fingers off those guys back there for you’ she offered, trying to win points for being helpful. ‘None of them meant anything to me’ she said, pushing open the door with her elbow as she carefully kept her hands behind her head.

‘This is a [censored]-up part of the world’ Coyle stated flatly, following her outside, machine-pistol trained on her back. ‘Turn towards the river and follow the building around to the left’ he ordered, ‘we're going to collect a friend of mine and then we're going back to take anything your friends had worth selling on, not including fingers’ he said.

‘They weren't any friends of mine’ the raider girl insisted.

‘If you’re planning to make something up about being forced to join the gang, that they treated you like [censored], that I'm the big hero that saved you and you were just suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome don't waste your breath’ Coyle told her as he marched her around the building heading back towards Allison.

‘Would you believe they addicted me to drugs?’ the raider girl replied, she would have tried all that except for not knowing what the [censored] the “Stockholm Syndrome” was. ‘I'll have the shakes to prove it in a couple of hours’ she said.

‘All that would prove is that you’re an addict, and don't try using any of those lines on my friend either or I will do things to you that even your twisted raider imagination couldn't conceive of’ Coyle threatened. ‘I must be going soft not blowing your head off right now’ he added, ‘be grateful we didn't meet a couple of weeks ago’ he added, poking her in the back with the MP9 to speed her up.

When they reached Allison she looked the raider girl up and down. ‘Who's this?’ she asked.

‘I got you a present, something to help carry your stuff’ Coyle replied, ‘sit down on the ground’ he told the raider who did so.

‘There's blood on your face’ Allison exclaimed, ‘your hand's bleeding’ she added.

‘I didn't say it came cheap’ Coyle replied dryly. ‘Raider-[censored] here and four of her friends were inside rearranging furniture and we disagreed on how the new lay-out should be.’

‘You killed them’ Allison responded, it wasn't a question.

‘They were completely [censored] up the feng shui of the place’ Coyle told her. ‘What else was I going to do?’ he asked rhetorically.

‘Who did that to you?’ Allison asked, pointing at his hand.

‘She did, with a shotgun’ Coyle replied. ‘If you could take my gauss-rifle off my rucksack we'll put the bag on her and then tie her hands’ he said, that would make a quick getaway more than awkward at least, plus it was better than him carrying the thing. ‘I'll bandage up my hand when we get back to the market and you gather up the weapons and anything else they had worth taking’ he continued, ‘I think they've got friends due later and I want to be well gone before they arrive.’

‘What are we going to do with her?’ Allison wanted to know.

‘Well she offered me six which is more than you have’ Coyle replied.

‘You wouldn't’ Allison responded irately, crossing her arms.

‘Definitely not before giving her at least a seven day course of antibiotics that's for sure’ Coyle replied, ‘I saw the company she was keeping’ he said with distaste. ‘Oh we'll just shoot her or let her go eventually I guess.’

‘We let that cannibal girl go straight away before’ Allison pointed out.

‘Yeah but if I'd needed someone to carry my bag then I wouldn't have’ Coyle replied. ‘[censored] it’ he said. ‘Consider yourself conscripted into the Army of the New California Republic’ he informed the girl on the ground. ‘You can also consider yourself promoted from Raider Skank Third Class to Cadet Pack Mule’ he continued. ‘See there's always room for advancement in the NCR Armed Forces, in a few more years, and with plenty of effort on your part, you'll make it all the way up to worthwhile Human Being’ he said.

‘The army of the what?’ the raider girl responded in mystification, this guy was clearly nuts, seemed to be making up words and and he talked with a funny accent.

‘Gotta break them down before you can build them back up that’s what my old Drill Sergeant told me’ Coyle declared. ‘On your feet recruit’ he said. ‘Today is the first day of the rest of your life’ he told the girl.

‘Is it the blood loss or did you take some really strong painkillers already because of the hand?’ Allison asked Coyle seriously, taking off the sunglasses for a better view as she checked to see if his pupils were dilated.


----------

Note from the Author:

In Fallout 3 a reasonable number of raiders can be found in the Super-Duper Mart near a bridge across the Potomac. Coyle and Allison reached there by heading north from Megaton going through Springvale until they reached the river following it towards DC heading towards Grayditch.

The game starts in August 2277 two months into the future of the point we're at now and by then the Super-Duper Mart is a raider stronghold but I'm taking it that they only moved in fairly recently and Coyle came across the site when they were still getting established.

Raiders are often addicted to some of the various drugs that exist in the Fallout universe, these include Jet a very strong methamphetamine, Psycho a mixture of speed and heroin, Med-X a painkiller and Buffout a type of steroid. This drug abuse does help explain why raiders are generally so crazed and aggressive... Coyle meanwhile is just being himself!

I just sat down and read the entire thing. It was awesome!

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART X

Washington DC – Columbia Commonweath – June 2277

Coyle inspected his bandaged hand. ‘Does that hurt a lot?’ Allison asked, concerned.

‘Getting buckshot fired into it?’ Coyle replied, ‘Nah, not at all’ he told her sarcastically as they continued on their way. The raider girl they had captured was trailing a few paces behind them, her hands tied in front of her and the rest of the rope providing a leash that was also tied to one of the two ammunition bandoliers Allison had taken from one of the dead raiders back at the Super-Duper Mart.

‘When we get to Grayditch I'll see if I can do a better job of patching you up’ Allison told him, ignoring his snippy mood.

‘I've got some tweezers in my medical kit, if you don't mind digging around I could really do with getting the buckshot removed or it'll never heal right’ Coyle replied with a little more civility this time. ‘Of course if I thought her personal hygiene was better I'd get her to take them out because she put them in there in the first place but I'd rather not risk picking up an infection’ he said, turning back to the raider whose own attitude was slowly shifting from frightened to sullen.

Allison looked at the girl who was carrying Coyle’s heavy rucksack. ‘I still think we'd be better off getting rid of her’ she said.

‘Okay, if you want to shoot her go ahead but you'll have to carry the bag if you do’ Coyle replied.

‘I didn't mean shoot her’ Allison replied quickly.

‘Yeah, slitting her throat would save the cost of a bullet’ Coyle agreed.

‘You're deliberately misinterpreting what I'm saying’ Allison protested.

‘Maybe’ Coyle neither confirmed or denied but he did grin. ‘Come on Rover’ he told their prisoner. ‘Walkies’ he said, reaching for the rope and tugging on it before they started moving again.

The road they were on had developed an incline as they headed away from the river towards where Allison thought the small settlement of Grayditch lay. The further they got into DC the more intact were the buildings and Coyle was again amazed that there were so few people around taking advantage of such a bounty of resources. Even if the radiation had been so high after the war that people stayed away for decades there should have been a myriad of scavenger groups scouring DC for supplies by now he thought. He could only assume that the super-mutants reputably infesting the city further in acted as a deterrent because the wealth of goods to be seen everywhere should have far outweighed any fear that a few raiders might generate.

‘What's her name?’ Allison asked, realising she didn't know.

‘No idea’ Coyle replied. ‘You know my policy of not asking because it might make it difficult to shoot them later’ he reminded her.

‘I remember you telling me that when we met’ Allison responded, ‘but when I told you my name you said that it still wouldn't be very difficult to shoot me’ she noted.

‘True but at the time you never shut up and kept asking questions which is annoying, and so far she's been keeping quiet’ Coyle pointed out.

‘Your ideal woman I suppose?’ Allison asked scornfully.

‘Generally I don't envision the ideal mate firing a shotgun at me or being a homicidal drug-addict so no’ Coyle replied. ‘Although having her tied up does fit in with a few other fantasies’ he joked.

‘My name’s Dreamer’ the raider girl spoke up nervously, hoping that maybe the thing about it being more difficult to kill her if he knew was true.

‘Nobody asked’ Coyle replied flatly. ‘Now keep quiet or I won't bother to feed you’ he added.

‘That's a weird name’ Allison commented.

‘Maybe she likes to kill people in their sleep’ Coyle suggested as he looked at his hand again. ‘I swear if she's [censored] up my quick-draw permanently I'll put her to sleep permanently too’ he vowed as they walked on.

Allison took out the cloth bag where she had stuffed the drugs she had taken from the dead raiders. ‘Do you want a shot of Med-X Cassidy?’ she asked. ‘I think there's a couple in here’ she added, rooting through the bag.

‘It's nowhere near serious enough for that’ Coyle turned down the offer of the painkiller.

‘They had a lot of drugs on them, more than the raiders we killed outside Megaton did’ Allison noted, putting the bag away again. ‘If she starts to get the shakes later do you think we should let her have some?’ she asked.

‘No’ Coyle replied.

‘You're right, it would be better for her to give them up’ Allison agreed.

‘No I meant we should sell them, I couldn't care less about her [censored] health and well-being’ Coyle responded. ‘What are you on anyway?’ he asked the raider out of curiosity.

‘Jet’ the girl “Dreamer” replied, figuring that it was okay to talk if she was just answering questions that he'd asked her.

‘Well that explains why I missed you the first time I shot at you in the Market’ Coyle reasoned, the amphetamine-like substance would have given her better reaction times. ‘Jet was invented by a guy named Myron over in my part of the world you know’ he told Allison, talking might take his mind off the pain in his hand he hoped. ‘He used to hang with my cousin and was a weaselly little bastard from what I heard but a first-rate chemist’ he continued. ‘I'm surprised the formula made it way over here to the East Coast but I guess if there's a market there's a supplier looking to cash in’ he said.

Not wanting to cart the smelly blood-stained clothing and leather body-armour the raiders had been wearing they had not bothered to strip them before heading out but the haul of drugs, a few coin-purses full of caps and their weapons had been worth recovering Coyle thought. He certainly wouldn't bother keeping the badly maintained .32 revolvers but if he cleaned them up they might fetch a few more caps and although he hadn’t enjoyed experiencing its effectiveness first-hand, as it were, the sawn-off the girl had been carrying was in relatively good condition.

Almost as importantly, at least to Coyle, the vending machines outside the Super-Duper Mart had still contained a number of bottles of Nuka Cola and although he left a few behind for the benefit of someone else that might have a hankering for a fix of caffeinated flat sugary beverage his conscript pack-mule was carrying a good dozen bottles of the stuff along with the bulk of his other gear.

‘Want some jerky?’ Allison asked, producing a couple of strips from her satchel and passing one to Coyle when he nodded. She was about to start chewing on her own when she had a thought and turned back to the girl tethered to her. ‘Hungry?’ she asked. ‘It's Yao Guai’ she explained, stopping to hand the meat back to the girl who looked at it suspiciously.

‘Eat it or don't, your choice, but don't expect to get anything else for a while because we've got loads of it left’ Coyle said to the girl before starting to gnaw on his own piece.

‘Could be worse, could be Mole Rat’ Allison noted, getting out a third strip of dried meat for herself as the raider girl sniffed the jerky before tearing off a section with her teeth.

‘You know you're way too soft-hearted’ Coyle told Allison as the three of them passed a couple of wrecked cars which the NCR Ranger inspected with interest.

‘I'm just not callous like you’ Allison defended herself. ‘Why be nasty for the sake of it?’ she asked rhetorically.

‘I'm not nasty for the sake of it woman’ Coyle defended himself in turn, ‘I mostly do it for the sake of entertainment’ he said before checking his watch. ‘We'd better pick up the pace’ he decided.

‘Still plenty of time to get to Grayditch before it gets dark’ Allison told him, she was sure she had her bearings right.

‘I want to get a good look over the place before I think about staying there’ Coyle replied, ‘if it sets my alarm bells ringing we might need to find alternative accommodation before the sun goes down.’

‘Pa always said Grayditch was a friendly little place full of nice folks’ Allison replied.

‘Don't let it be said I'd ever doubt the second-hand word of your father but your information is years out of date right?’ Coyle asked rhetorically. ‘I think I'll let my ever-dependable life-preserving paranoia steer me on this one like always’ he said.

They weren't too much further on when they started to pick up the faint whiff of smoke in the air coming from the direction they were heading, getting closer to their destination the smell became stronger and then they started to see billowy clouds of smoke wafting between the buildings. ‘If we're lucky someone has a barbeque going and we’re going to be invited to share a beer and a Brahmin burger’ Coyle observed, ‘I don't think we're lucky’ he said fatalistically as they arrived at a beaten-up fence made up of old wooden panels and corrugated iron sheets someone had erected across the road ahead with “Welcome to Grayditch” painted on it.

‘There's nobody watching out for strangers’ Allison noted, looking around with a concerned expression. Normally any community would be expected to have look-outs watching for raiders but there were no signs of life, only the smoke hanging in the air and the sounds of clicking.

Coyle chambered a round in his FN FAL. The hair was standing up on the back of his neck and either his instincts or his training, or maybe the spirits of his tribal ancestors were telling him he was about to see some more action. ‘Get your rifle ready’ he told Allison who nodded and worked the bolt on her hunting rifle.

The crack of a shot up ahead had Coyle drop to one knee, FN FAL shouldered. Allison did likewise and then the raider girl did the same wishing she wasn't the only one unarmed. Even if it was other raiders attacking the settlement they wouldn't be from her band which meant she wasn’t any safer than these two. ‘What are we going to do?’ Allison asked, voice barely above a whisper.

‘My curiosity has the best of me’ Coyle replied. ‘I'm going to go see’ he said, grinning as the adrenaline started to kick in and his heart rate increased. To be honest to himself he would have been much better off being a regular junkie like the raider chick he knew, instead of being a danger junkie, but he did enjoy the action and adventure. ‘If I don't come back... well same rules as before’ he said.

Allison watched Coyle rise to a crouch and begin to move forward. One day he really wasn’t going to come back if he kept doing things like this she was sure and that thought bothered her immensely. Her life since meeting him had been so dynamic and interesting and besides which he hadn't even kissed her yet she realised, the latter thought almost catching her by surprise in that it bothered her as much as it did.

‘If we have to run we'll be faster if we're not tied together and I'm not carrying this bag’ the girl “Dreamer” whispered.

‘I might cut the rope but you'll still be carrying that rucksack’ Allison whispered back.

‘Why, is what's in it valuable?’ Dreamer queried.

‘Not really’ Allison lied, some of it was probably worth a lot of caps, ‘it's just that if we're being chased by something nasty that wants to eat us I don't have to outrun them I only need to outrun you’ she said, immensely proud of the line but then really pissed-off Coyle hadn't heard her say it.

Barely a couple of minutes later Coyle returned, moving at double-time but no longer bothering to keep low. ‘Come on’ he told them. ‘I need to borrow your rifle’ he told Allison. ‘Your ammo is cheaper and easier to replace.’

‘But it's my rifle’ Allison protested.

‘Don't whine, I have been letting you keep all the .32 calibre rounds we've taken from people that I've shot’ Coyle noted. ‘I don't want to waste any of my 7.62mm or .308 Winchester on these things’ he said, ‘come on, this is worth seeing’ he promised.

Allison reluctantly swapped her Hunting Rifle for Coyle’s FN FAL and after yanking on the road to get the raider girl moving too she followed Coyle into Grayditch which was mostly made up of old brick houses. There were fires in more than a few places but what caught her attention in a much bigger way was the sight of a giant ant nearby that saw them and then began heading their way in a hurry.

‘Seeing as I'm not from these parts I've got to ask’ Coyle said calmly, ‘is this normal?’ he inquired as the ant raised its head and directed a jet of fire in their direction in a manner much like a flamethrower.

Allison squealed and ran in one direction to try and avoid the flame while unfortunately for her Dreamer went in the other. The rope had enough slack so that they could both get up a little speed before it pulled tight, jerking them both to a sudden stop.

The not-quite brahmin-sized ant had overestimated the range of its unusual built-in weaponry, just as Coyle had seen it do previously before he returned to the girls, but he was glad Allison hadn’t witnessed him yelp and dive for cover himself like he had the first time. It looked much more dignified when he simply walked backwards to keep out of range and shot off one of the things twin antenna.

Giant Ants were well known in the Western States, some people near the town of Broken Hills had even tried ranching them for their nutritious if hardly tasty meat, but this was the first time Coyle had encountered any with this ability he thought to himself as he worked the bolt of the Hunting Rifle to chamber another round. On the other hand there was a sub-species of Gecko that breathed fire which lived in his part of the former United States so Coyle had been more surprised than completely shocked and panicked by the situation.

Coyle shot off the other antenna and the ant went crazy, that at least was the result he had expected based upon regular Giant Ant behaviour and he watched intrigued for a while as it started spinning around aimlessly, occasionally sending out another squirt of fire before Coyle finally put a third shot into its head.

The oversized insect staggered a little more but didn't drop right away. ‘Tough little bastard aren't you’ Coyle muttered, firing a fourth shot which finally put the thing down. ‘Going to need more bullets’ he said, turning back towards Allison. ‘There's more of these things around and I think they've got some people trapped in their houses over in the next street’ he said. ‘I heard a kid screaming for help.’

‘You could have warned us!’ Allison screeched.

‘I'd already seen what range they had, you were okay where you were’ Coyle replied.

‘We didn't know that you [censored]!’ Dreamer yelled at him, far too angry to be scared he might kill her for mouthing off like that. Her heart didn’t pound in her chest this [censored] hard when she had just inhaled Jet she thought, trying to calm down.

‘Did I or did I not freely admit earlier that I do this stuff for entertainment?’ Coyle asked rhetorically, reaching Allison and borrowing the bandolier of .32 calibre bullets which wasn't tied to the rope.

Allison glared at him, she was now too angry to even speak.

‘I can see you're upset’ Coyle observed. ‘I'll just go save the locals and give you a chance to chill out and see the funny side’ he added, turning around and starting to re-load the hunting rifle as he walked off.

‘If he was my boyfriend I'd [censored] shoot him’ the raider girl told Allison seriously.

‘I'm a better person than you so I'll let him save those people and then I'll [censored] shoot him’ Allison growled. ‘Come on’ she said, ‘if we're lucky one of those things will set him on fire and we can watch’ she said, pulling on the tether that connected them.

William Brandice had been typing what he thought was going to be his last journal entry into his computer when the sounds of gunfire outside pulled his attention away from the battered machine he had salvaged intact from a nearby office building shortly after arriving in Grayditch with his family over a year ago. The damn ants who must have a colony nearby had been growing increasingly aggressive for some time and then when they actually started to breathe fire too a couple of months back most of the people who had stuck it out until then had decided to leave the settlement behind for a safer place to live, if such a thing truly existed in the Capital Wasteland.

At first the ants had only been a problem at night but in the last few weeks they had started to appear in daylight too, firstly just the odd one or two but then more and more until a couple of days back the sheer number of the things out in the street round the clock had cut Brandice and his family off from the only other people living in Grayditch, the Wilks family and that scientist guy Lesko.

If the things scratching on the walls ever did break in Brandice still had an edge that the other poor bastards living in Grayditch didn’t however, though he had been careful not to let anyone but his wife Sheila and his sons Frank and Will Junior know about it for fear or people asking questions. He had dug up his old AEP7 Laser Pistol from where he had secretly buried it after coming here and in the last resort he knew he could protect his family like a man should.

Keeping his AEP7 close but concealed Brandice got up and found his wife by the door to their bedroom. ‘William’ she said, a look of relief on her face. ‘There's a man outside killing the ants’ she told him. ‘I took a peek out of the downstairs window’ she said. ‘Frank is there watching now’ she added.

Brandice frowned. ‘It could be raiders’ he cautioned. ‘Let's face it, that's more likely than some saviour appearing from nowhere killing the ants for us out of the goodness of his heart’ he said, hand subconsciously moving to where his laser pistol was concealed under his jacket.

‘William, I don't think we were fated to travel all the way across the country unharmed only to die here’ Sheila told him.

‘I wish I had your faith’ Brandice replied. ‘Just let me get a good look at whoever it is killing the ants before you or the boys show themselves okay?’ he requested.

‘You know best Dear’ Sheila replied, like a good wife. Brandice was still surprised she had agreed to follow him all the way from Navarro after he decided to desert the Enclave Remnant there, she could have easily found a better man he was sure.

Always impulsive, and with an upbringing that wasn't as strict as the Brandice children had enjoyed, Bryan Wilks the only son of Fred Wilks living across the street was already whooping up a storm as he watched the stranger outside gun down the ants which his father believed would soon be breaking into their home. Fred had been carefully loading magazines for his old Chinese Assault Rifle when he heard the shooting, wishing he wasn’t so short of ammunition, and he now had it clasped tightly in his hands watching with his son as the newcomer wearing Combat Armour and sunglasses methodically shot the antenna off the ants, causing them to fight each other before he finished them off. ‘Nice shooting’ Fred Wilks commented, the guy hadn’t missed once.

‘Do you think he's from Riley’s Rangers or something Dad?’ Bryan asked his father, they had heard tales of the well-regarded and unusually ethical mercenary unit that had a base somewhere in DC.

‘Maybe’ Fred Wilks replied as the stranger stopped to reload again from a bandolier of cartridges he had across his shoulder.

‘Pest Control, New California Republic style’ Coyle said gleefully, shooting another “Fire Ant” in the head and working the bolt of the hunting rifle again. It had a lovely smooth action, he considered, that weird peppy chick who owned the store in Megaton had really done a nice job with it he decided.

Up close the giant ants with the built-in flamers would have been a major threat but if you kept your distance and properly placed your shots they weren’t such a big deal Coyle thought to himself as he finished off the last one. He had killed seven of the things in total and although he doubted that was all of them the street he was in was clear and that was good enough for now. ‘Is anyone still alive?’ he called out.

One of the front doors opened slowly and a man stepped out cradling a Chinese Assault Rifle. ‘Who are you?’ he asked Coyle.

‘Nobody special’ Coyle replied. ‘Just never shot ants like these before so I thought what the hell’ he said. ‘Just you is it?’ he asked.

‘Maybe’ Fred Wilks replied, ‘is it just you?’ he asked in return.

‘No’ Coyle replied, turning around. ‘Do you want to swap rifles again sweetheart?’ he called out. ‘I'm all done with yours for now’ he added before turning back to the local.

‘Don't you "sweetheart" me’ Allison called back angrily, still less than happy with him as she stomped into view, the raider girl following on behind on her leash. ‘Give me my rifle and the rest of my bullets’ she said, almost snatching the bandolier off him as she arrived after handing over the FN FAL.

Fred Wilks fingered his own assault rifle, they had a girl tied up and tethered. Slavers he thought, getting ready to protect his son. ‘What do you want?’ he asked coldly, noting with some relief that William Brandice over the road had partially opened his own door and was there with an automatic pistol in his hand.

‘Just came here looking for a place to stay for the night’ Coyle replied, ‘I had heard Grayditch was a mite more thriving than this’ he said. ‘Then again my guide didn't mention Giant Ants that spit napalm either’ he added, turning to Allison.

‘Pa never said anything about ants’ Allison defended herself, not that she really felt the need to defend herself from any accusing comments coming from Coyle after what he did earlier however.

‘You looking for someone to buy the slave or maybe looking for more?’ Fred Wilks asked guardedly.

‘Not technically a slave so much as a prisoner and she's not for sale’ Coyle replied. ‘She's a raider I ran into down near the river earlier today’ he explained. ‘I've just got her carrying my stuff until I decide what to do with her’ he said.

Wilks took another look at the girl with the bound hands, she did kinda look like a raider he thought, now he came to think about it, he'd seen a few raider girls in shorts before and those pigtails were a giveaway too. You didn’t usually get to see raiders unless they were dead or else hollering obscenities and shooting at you. Being bound up and looking worried, maybe even meek, was just not how you expected to ever see them. ‘Okay, say I believe you’ he addressed Coyle again. ‘We don't want any trouble, we’ve got plenty of that around here already’ he said honestly.

‘Your gratitude for me shooting these ants warms my heart’ Coyle responded sardonically. ‘Maybe you'd have been happier with them warming up your ass?’ he added.

‘Cassidy’ Allison said sharply in rebuke. ‘Please Sir’ she said to Wilks, ‘We just want to stay here until tomorrow when we’ll be out of your hair’ she said. ‘We’ll be no trouble’ she promised. ‘I'm Allison Brenner, this is Cassidy Coyle and the raider girl is Dreamer’ she introduced herself and her companions.

‘Fred Wilks’ the Grayditch resident replied guardedly. ‘Now you keep that raider tied up so she doesn't cause any trouble you hear’ he said.

‘She already shot me once, I don't plan to give her the opportunity to do it right the next time’ Coyle responded, holding up his bandaged hand.

Wilks looked over to William Brandice and beckoned him over. ‘This is my neighbour Will’ he said as the other man crossed over towards them, pistol still ready. ‘Will, do you think we should let these folks stay overnight?’ he asked.

Brandice shrugged. ‘I figure that's only fair’ he said, looking them over. ‘If you don't mind ant meat my wife has got good at rustling up something for dinner made from it that you can keep down’ he offered, re-directing his gaze towards the oversized dead insects. ‘Plenty to go around at least’ he noted.

‘Sounds good’ Coyle replied, not entirely truthfully. ‘The rest of the meat's all yours by the way’ he offered.

‘Much obliged’ Brandice replied. ‘Want to give me a hand butchering them after we've made sure there aren't any more around Fred?’ he asked the other local.

‘Sure’ Wilks replied just before his son pushed past him.

‘Wow Mister’ the young Bryan Wilks exclaimed, looking at the ants and then Coyle. ‘You sure can shoot’ he told him.

‘It's one of his few redeeming qualities’ Allison stated as the other residents of Grayditch started to appear to join them in the street.


----------

Note from the Author:

Grayditch is a small almost totally abandoned settlement on the edge of DC which is now home to only two families and a scientist that moved there more recently. Fred and Bryan Wilks live across from William Brandice, his wife and sons. When you visit Grayditch some time after August 17th 2277 you can find the computer terminal belonging to Brandice with the last entry dated June 17th 2277 and saying they were cut off and surrounded by the Fire Ants but you actually find his body some distance away indicating he got out. Here Coyle is the reason why Grayditch survived as a community a little longer.

Mutated Giant Ants are a staple of the Fallout Universe but the fire-breathing ones are only to be found around Grayditch. However the West Coast does had the Fire Gecko subspecies of the also greatly increased in size Gecko which also breathes fire so Coyle wouldn't have been totally shocked by the noton of creatures breathing fire.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART XI

Grayditch, Washington – Columbia Commonweath – June 2277

From what they were told the majority of the population of Grayditch had begun leaving shortly after the Fire Ants started showing up, not that it had exactly been a teeming metropolis to start with. Other than the two families the only other person in the community seemed to keep himself to himself and he only emerged from the shack he had been hiding from the ants in to offer a half-hearted thanks to Coyle and to request any nectar from the ant bodies Fred Wilks and William Brandice were butchering for his “research”.

While Sheila Brandice did her best to convert ant meat into something at least mildly palatable Coyle dragged a couple of chairs outside into the street from the vacated property next to the Brandice home. He and Allison had been offered as overnight accommodation and using the remaining daylight to good purpose as they sat on the chairs he set his guide the job of digging the buckshot out of his hand while the raider that put it there found herself tied to the closest telegraph pole.

‘Keep still’ Allison told Coyle sharply as she tried to use the tweezers from his First Aid Kit to extract the lead shot.

‘This really hurts you know’ Coyle replied through clenched teeth, trying to squirm as she dug into his flesh.

‘Got it’ Allison said with satisfaction, pulling out the tweezers with a piece of bloody buckshot held in them. ‘Next one’ she said all-too-brightly as she flicked it away and started on the next hole in Coyle’s left hand which likely harboured another piece.

‘Goddammit’ Coyle hissed as the tweezers went in again.

‘You big baby’ Allison chided, concentrating on her task.

‘I don’t feel good’ Dreamer spoke up, voice trembling. She was sat on the ground, leaning back against the wooden pole and when Coyle looked over she was obviously sweating profusely and shaking.

‘You don’t really expect any sympathy do you?’ Coyle asked rhetorically, glaring at her.

‘I need Jet’ Dreamer begged.

Coyle snorted with derision. ‘I wouldn’t give you any even if it wasn’t you that shot this crap into my...’ Coyle began then went deathly white, eyes widening. ‘Please finish quickly’ he gasped once the sudden extra surge of pain in his hand dropped to the point where he could articulate speech.

‘There you go, last piece’ Allison told him happily, showing him the buckshot she had just hooked out. ‘I’ll just sterilise it and bandage you up again’ she added, reaching for the small bottle of one-hundred-and-sixty proof whiskey Coyle carried for “medicinal purposes”.

‘Spirits of the Ancestors give me strength’ Coyle muttered as she unscrewed the cap and prepared to pour some on the wounded hand. It would likely kill plenty of bacteria off which was a good thing but it would also sting like an absolute... ‘SON-OF-A-[censored]’ Coyle exclaimed as the whiskey hit his bloody hand, helping wash it clean as he forced himself not to pull it away.

‘I think they’ll close up okay’ Allison said professionally, inspecting her handiwork. ‘When I was about ten I once had to do this for my brother when he took some buckshot in the ass out hunting’ she said. ‘He didn’t make such a fuss, though he was drunk I guess’ she continued. ‘Pa was drunk too, it was him that accidentally put the buckshot in there’ she recalled, laughing.

‘Well I’m not drunk and there’s a hell of a lot more nerve-endings in a human hand than a human’s ass’ Coyle replied with a snarl.

‘You don’t have to sit on your hand though’ Allison pointed out.

Coyle thought about that. ‘Okay, I can see that smarting a little for a while after’ he conceded.

‘I think I’m gonna throw up’ Dreamer moaned.

‘Well at least I get the karmic satisfaction of watching you go cold-turkey’ Coyle responded, managing to force a smirk at the raider while Allison bandaged up his hand.

Dreamer felt like her skin was covered with crawling insects, which it wasn’t because she had only recently bathed by her standards. ‘Please, I’ll do anything’ she begged. ‘You’ve got all the Jet you took from me and the others’ she reminded them, ‘just give me one and...’

‘Winners don’t take drugs, only whiners do’ the boy Bryan Wilks interrupted. ‘That’s what my dad says’ he continued as he walked over to join them. ‘Mrs Brandice said to come fetch you all for supper’ he told them. ‘We’ve laid out a big table for everyone in one of the empty houses and she’s put some in a bowl for the raider there too’ he added.

‘I think if you gave her a bowl of food right now you’d have to give her a bucket to put it back into a couple of minutes later as well’ Coyle replied. ‘She might be able to keep down some water, she needs to when she’s sweating so much off.’

Bryan looked down at Dreamer, she looked sicker than people he’d seen that were dying of radiation poisoning. ‘If drugs do that to people why do they take them?’ he asked.

‘Because as long as you don’t stop they make you feel great’ Coyle replied. ‘Of course they’ll also take years off your life and turn you into a... freaking psychotic’ he added, moderating his language because of the kids age.

‘If you won’t give me any Jet just shoot me’ Dreamer requested. She hadn’t had a hit since early that morning and after nearly two years of dependency that was far too long.

‘You’re not getting off that easily after this’ Coyle responded holding up his bandaged hand.

‘Can’t we give her something to make it easier?’ Allison asked, looking at the raider girl with pity.

‘Well I haven’t got any of the antidote to Jet addiction with me and based on the question I guess you don’t either’ Coyle replied.

‘There’s an antidote?’ Allison and Dreamer said almost simultaneously.

Coyle sighed. ‘Figures that the damn drug would manage to get all the way here from the West Coast but the cure wouldn’t’ he observed sadly. ‘We’ll tie her up where we can still see her and then eat’ he told Allison.

‘GIVE ME SOME JET YOU [censored]!’ Dreamer shouted at Coyle, the boy nearly jumping out of his skin as she did so.

‘We’ll gag her too’ Coyle decided thoughtfully.

After they ate, conversing with the local families about what they knew about the rest of the city during the meal, Coyle decided he could probably benefit from an early night and hauling Dreamer along with him he secured her still securely bound and gagged in one corner of the upstairs bedroom of the abandoned house. After injecting a stimpak into his wounded hand to speed up the healing process overnight he slumped onto the bed, only bothering to remove his boots and body armour before going to sleep.

Allison remained talking to Fred Wilks and William Brandice until quite late, trying to learn as much as she could about the area figuring that’s what a good professional guide would but eventually approaching midnight she realised from the increasingly unsubtle yawning they wanted to get some sleep themselves.

Using a small light-bulb fixed to an old fission battery as a lamp Allison left the Wilks place where she had ended up and went to join Coyle, wondering if Dreamer had managed to fall asleep herself or was she still climbing the walls (as much as you could if tied up) due to Jet withdrawal.

Dreamer was not in fact asleep but had stopped shaking leading Allison to reason that the cause for the raider-girl still being awake was neither addiction nor insomnia but was probably most likely due to the fact that Coyle was snoring loud enough to scare off a deathclaw.

The dim light given off by the bulb wasn’t enough to wake Coyle but it was enough for Allison to first take off her boots then find the water canteen from Coyle’s rucksack and carefully tip-toe her way to Dreamer. Gesturing with a finger over her own lips for Dreamer to stay quiet Allison gently removed her cloth gag. ‘Sorry but I can’t untie you completely because you might kill us in our sleep’ she whispered to the raider before giving her a drink. ‘If you promise not to make any noise I’ll leave the gag off though’ she added.

The raider kept silent, the gag had hurt and if she felt nauseous again she really didn’t want to throw up while wearing the thing. Allison turned off the lamp but there was still enough moonlight coming through the window for Dreamer to watch as the other girl took off her boots and wondering how the hell anyone could get used to snoring like that she theorised that Allison must be partially deaf or something to stay with the bastard. Instead to her amazement when the guide got into bed next to Coyle she just gently rolled him on his side whereupon the snoring stopped immediately and propping him up Allison drifted off to sleep followed shortly after by Dreamer herself.

Coyle and Allison woke up early, albeit not by choice when Dreamer being unable to hold it any more cried out that she really needed to use the toilet. Fortunately she was used to a lack of privacy thanks to her raider lifestyle because Coyle insisted on having Allison there pointing a gun at her the whole time she was untied, something Dreamer accepted with little complaint because the other alternative was him doing it instead and that would have been a little too humiliating.

‘Heading out already?’ Fred Wilks asked Coyle and Allison as when he woke himself and checked on them he found them packing up.

‘Got a few places to visit on the way to Rivet City now you’ve helped explain the lie of the land around here’ Coyle replied.

‘Watch out for super-mutants’ Wilks advised. ‘The traders coming through say the things are pushing nearer to that old rust-bucket every day’ he continued, ‘there’s less of them on this side of the river because of the Brotherhood being holed up in the Pentagon but wander about over there a while and you’ll eventually have a big yellow bastard trying to gnaw on your bones.’

Coyle grinned, soopies weren’t ogres that ate people, that was a wasteland myth like ghoul’s being zombies. They were big, and some of them were dumb and aggressive, but they weren’t monsters any more than people were. ‘I’ll keep that in mind’ he replied.

‘Three Dog on the radio says that most of the heavy fighting is in the Mall’ Wilks reminded him in case the stranger had forgotten their talk last night. ‘You really don’t want to get stuck between the Brotherhood and the Super Mutants when they’re firing rockets and miniguns around’ he advised.

‘Damn, and there I was planning to hit all the tourist spots’ Coyle replied. ‘Still maybe I could pick up a souvenir tee-shirt with a hole in it’ he suggested. ‘I went to Washington DC and all I got was this lousy bullet-wound.’

Wilks laughed. ‘Seriously though friend, if you want to keep your woman out of harm’s way play it smart and skirt the centre of town’ he said.

‘She’s not my woman she’s just my guide’ Coyle replied.

‘If you say so’ Wilks replied, smiling, he knew that Sheila Brandice hadn’t bought that line yesterday after listening to them bicker over dinner. Despite still being incensed about the incident with the Fire Ants the girl’s obviously had the idea she could cure him of his less attractive personality traits and if a woman wanted to change you to make it more acceptable to have you around that likely meant she wanted to extend the period you would be around. Moreover if you took it that meant deep down you didn’t object to the idea too much either.

‘Cassidy I don’t think that we’ll get far if we make Dreamer carry your rucksack’ Allison called out.

‘Not unless you want to give me some Jet’ the raider said quickly, it was worth a try at least.

‘I’ll carry it for now’ Coyle replied turning around to look at the Raider carefully. ‘You’re right, she looks like [censored]’ he agreed. ‘But if she slows us down I’ll find a way to get her moving that doesn’t involve drugs but might involve a combat knife.’

‘What are you going to do with her?’ Wilks asked curiously.

‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it’ Coyle responded. ‘Actually that’s an idea’ he continued, ‘I could throw her off the bridge when we cross the river’ he said brightly, putting his sunglasses on as the sun rose high into the sky to warrant them.

‘Don’t worry he’s joking’ Allison told Dreamer. ‘I think’ she added in a less encouraging fashion as she secured the other end of Dreamer’s rope tether to herself.

Leaving Grayditch after making their goodbyes, Allison remarked to Coyle that she thought William and Sheila Brandice had an accent a little like his, or at least a trace of it. Coyle himself hadn’t noticed, to him they sounded more like her Virginia accent, if maybe a little milder which he put down to them being city dwellers whereas she was a redneck. However when Dreamer chipped in that she thought so too Coyle began to wonder if Brandice was a former member of the Brotherhood, or even maybe a deserter, because now he came to think about it more the man did have a degree of military bearing about him too.

Heading back towards the Potomac, intending to follow it down to where he could find a good vantage-point to observe the [censored]s who had taken over the Pentagon for a while Coyle could hear the sound of distant explosions and hoped that it was the Steel Plague getting put through the wringer. The NCR Military knew from the scrappy intel they had obtained from captured BoS installations that the enemy had sent a second expedition across the country over twenty years ago, the group heading even further East than their first had done chasing down the fleeing Super-Mutant Army half a century before that, but they knew little else and that worried them. Back in California the Brotherhood was unquestionably losing the war, albeit an NCR victory being paid for heavily in blood, but the emergence of the Enclave had proven there was still likely plenty of advanced military hardware out there to be found and if the Steel Plague could lay their armoured hands on enough force-multipliers they might still be able to turn the tide.

The Enclave themselves were a wild card in this, Coyle thought to himself as they reached the river and headed Arlington way. Their main base, the Poseidon Energy Oil Rig had been blown up a couple of years before Coyle was born, and the NCR had shortly afterwards captured Navarro their airbase north of San Francisco getting hold of a few Vertibirds and other high-tech weapons the NCR later found good use for in their war with the Brotherhood, but although they weren’t likely the power they had once been any Enclave remnants were still likely the best equipped force in the wasteland. Their Advanced Power Armour made the gear the Steel Plague used look primitive by comparison, not to mention the Laser and Plasma weapons they routinely packed, so tangling with them was really not a good idea, unless you happened to be armed with a gauss-rifle of course Coyle thought with satisfaction. For the humble regular infantryman the M72, or even the cheap Chinese knock-off version, was a great leveller against troops wearing Powered Armour.

‘We’re heading into turf that belongs to Split Jack’ Dreamer said suddenly, and with obvious concern.

‘Let me guess, he’s some raider boss whose gang doesn’t like your gang?’ Coyle replied.

‘Kinda’ Allison replied, ‘it’s more like he takes taxes off the people round here...’

‘And in return he keeps people like you out’ Coyle finished for her. ‘Well running a protection racket is a little more civilised than your regular raider MO I suppose’ he decided.

‘MO?’ Allison queried.

‘Modus operandi, it means way of doing things’ Coyle explained. ‘It’s Latin.’

‘I bet you only use it to try and sound book-smart’ Allison responded. ‘What’s wrong with just speaking plain English anyway?’ she wanted to know.

‘I dare you to go to New Mexico and ask someone from the Legion that’ Coyle replied, laughing. ‘They’d nail you to a cross.’

Dreamer decided they weren’t taking this situation seriously enough. ‘If we run into Split Jack he’ll probably want a few caps for safe passage’ she said. ‘At least he will from you, he’ll kill me.’

‘Even if you’re not with your gang?’ Allison asked.

‘Last time my crew tangled with his he kinda... caught some of my buckshot in the face’ Dreamer replied, saying the part about the buckshot very fast. ‘Cost him an eye.’

Coyle couldn’t help but glance at his bandaged left hand for a moment. ‘Assuming that I don’t kill you, and he doesn’t, in future you might want to consider using a weapon that reduces the number of your mortal enemies it doesn’t increase it’ he advised.

‘I can’t hit anything at all unless I’m using a shotgun’ Dreamer replied before she stopped walking. ‘Listen, Split Jack will kill me slow so I’m not going any further’ she declared determinedly. ‘I already feel like [censored] so just go ahead and [censored] shoot me’ she said, sitting down on the ground where she was.

Coyle looked down at the sullen raider and sighed. ‘Okay you win’ he said eventually.

‘We’re going to let her go or try another way?’ Allison asked him.

‘No, I’m going to [censored] shoot her’ Coyle replied, pulling his MP9 SMG from its holster and switching the safety off.

‘You can’t!’ Allison exclaimed, jumping between them.

‘Well it’s not like you’ll do it’ Coyle replied evenly, trying to move around her.

‘It would be like murder’ Allison told him. ‘Cold blooded murder.’

‘I’m not letting her go and if she won’t come along my options are limited’ Coyle responded.

Allison’s mind kicked into high gear. ‘We could disguise her’ she suggested.

‘We could what?’ Coyle replied, dubiously.

‘If we get rid of the pigtails, put your sunglasses on her and make her wear that really horrible shirt of yours they might not recognise her if we run into this gang she’s worried about’ Allison told him.

‘I’m not giving her my Hawaiian Shirt’ Coyle replied indignantly.

‘You’d rather shoot her than let her borrow your shirt?’ Allison scolded him.

Coyle tried to think of a reply in the affirmative that wouldn’t make him sound like some kind of despicable psychopath so instead he lowered his MP9 and glared at Allison. ‘This is the dumbest idea I’ve heard in forever.’

‘But we can try it’ Allison said happily, turning around towards Dreamer. ‘Honestly, give me five minutes and your own mother wouldn’t recognise you’ she said optimistically.

‘My mother abandoned me when I was a baby’ Dreamer replied flatly, looking up at her.

Allison blinked. ‘Your father then’ she said.

‘Him too’ Dreamer responded.

‘She’s just trying to win sympathy’ Coyle commented sardonically. ‘We’ll be hearing tales of her tragic childhood raised by neglectful, poverty-stricken deathclaws next.’

‘Just give me the shirt’ Allison instructed him curtly. ‘It’s got to be worth a try isn’t it?’ she asked Dreamer, giving her a smile of encouragement.

The raider-girl thought about it. ‘I want you to promise to shoot me if Split Jack or his crew recognise me’ she said. She didn’t want to be likely passed around his men and then tortured to death for what she did to his depth-perception.

‘Great, so now I might get the shirt back with a hole in it and covered in bloodstains’ Coyle muttered as he holstered his MP9 and took off his rucksack.

Dreamer got back up. ‘You’ll have to take off that top’ Allison told her. ‘The shorts should be okay.’

‘You should have mentioned her stripping when you were trying to get me to agree to this charade’ Coyle remarked as he opened his rucksack and began rooting around in it for his shirt.

‘I’ll untie you so you can change’ Allison told Dreamer. ‘If you try and get away or do something stupid then I’ll let him shoot you.’

Coyle found the shirt, throwing it over his shoulder and resting his hand on his SMG again while she untied the raider. ‘If you looked less sickly I’d ask you to make a show of it’ he said as Dreamer started to take off her top.

‘Turn around Cassidy’ Allison told him.

‘Not a chance’ Coyle replied. ‘It’s not voyiurism, I just don’t trust her.’

Allison frowned. ‘Turn your back on him’ she told Dreamer.

‘Killjoy’ Coyle complained in annoyance.

With the shirt buttoned it hung too low so Dreamer tied it together, ending up exposing about the same amount of midriff as her previous outfit. With her pigtails conversely untied Allison produced a small comb from her belongings and did her best to alter the girls appearance hoping that the garish shirt, not to mention Dreamer's cleavage which was also now more on show, would attract attention away from her face. ‘Sunglasses’ she requested of Coyle who took them off and handed them over.

‘If she loses or breaks them I’m buying a replacement pair out of your pay’ Coyle informed his guide as Dreamer put them on. ‘Well at least I can’t see your bloodshot, sunken eyes any more’ he told the raider. ‘Tie her up again’ he continued to Allison.

Allison frowned. ‘But she doesn’t look like a raider any more’ she replied. ‘We’ll look even more like slavers and nobody will believe us when we say she’s just a bandit we captured’ she pointed out. ‘How about she walks between us a few yards ahead of me’ she suggested instead. ‘If I’ve got my rifle ready with a round chambered ready to shoot her she won’t run.’

‘She’ll make a break for it first chance she gets’ Coyle responded with certainty. ‘She still needs a fix so bad she might take the risk of catching a bullet in the process.’

‘Oh, you’re right I hadn’t thought about that’ Allison replied. ‘I guess if we keep her on the rope with her hands tied we can always say we’re bringing her in for a reward or something’ she said, trying not to giggle as a funny line crossed her thoughts. ‘I mean wearing a shirt like that is bound to end up getting you wanted for crimes against humanity’ she said as deadpan as you could.

Coyle narrowed his eyes, he liked his garish party shirt even if nobody else did. ‘Just throw what she was wearing in the river and let’s get moving’ he said, his tone indicating he was less than amused as he fastened up his rucksack again and put it on.

‘Sorry, I didn’t hear that I couldn’t hear you over the shirt’ Allison replied.

‘Any more of that and I’m going to offer her your job and you’ll be the tied-up one being dragged to the Pentagon’ Coyle told her.

‘I’ll guide you for free if you give me some Jet’ Dreamer offered, trying to sound sincere. ‘I bet I know this town a lot better than her’ she continued. ‘And I’ll blow you too’ she added as an extra enticement.

Coyle adopted a thoughtful impression like he was considering it. ‘I don’t suppose you feel like matching her offer?’ he asked Allison.

‘No’ Allison replied flatly.

‘Didn’t seem likely but it was worth asking’ Coyle responded with a shrug. ‘Sorry but I’m still keeping the current arrangement’ he told Dreamer.

‘You don’t know what you’re missing’ Dreamer replied, running her tongue over her lips in a very unsubtle manner.

‘Oh for just a few less scruples and lower standards’ Coyle groaned.

They stopped for a late breakfast at a place on the river called Wilhelm’s Wharf where a woman calling herself Grandma Sparkle was making a living selling mirelurk based dishes including a surprisingly good stew. It seemed likely that being under the protection of Split Jack and his gang meant she could operate her business in a degree of safety despite her “boys” being off hunting for more mirelurks. Dealing with the criminal element had also apparently taught her to keep her mouth shut and not ask questions because she said nothing about the sickly looking girl on the leash, even though she was desperate to know if she was wearing the shirt as punishment or on a bet.

According to Grandma Sparkle Split Jack wasn’t due to collect his “taxes” until the next day (not that they were very high in her case, he liked her cooking), and she didn’t expect they would see him if they kept to the riverbank so hopefully it would be smooth sailing until the Pentagon. She did offer a warning about the Super Mutants becoming more active recently however and wished them the best of luck. She also asked that if they kept going south after passing the Brotherhood base, and found a ferry docked at the landing down there, could they tell Tobar the ferryman that if he bettered his price on his offer of supplying punga fruit by another ten percent he had a deal.

Grandma Sparkle had a radio and it had been playing the patriotic music broadcast by Enclave Radio interspersed with propaganda. One of the tunes Coyle knew very well and it stuck in his head enough for him to start humming it when they finished eating and set off again.

After a few hundred yards Coyle stopped humming it and began softly singing the words, or at least the words he knew for the song.

Old Prez Tandy lies a mouldering in the grave
While weep the slaves and freemen that she ventured all to save
But though Tandy breathes no more now
The Republic’s strong and brave
Her truth is marching on

Glory, Glory California
Glory, Glory California
Glory, Glory California
Her truth goes marching on

Brotherhood, Enclave, evil Super-Mutants he thought, [censored] the lot of them! NCR marches on!


----------

Note from the Author:

Lesko, the scientist living in Grayditch was responsible for the Fire Ants plaguing that community (thanks to some ill-advised experimentation involving FEV) but Coyle and Allison aren't sticking around to investigate. They also miss discovering that William Brandice is a former Enclave Soldier which you can learn from hacking his computer.

Dreamer is suffering badly from Jet withdrawal. In Fallout 2 there was a cure developed for that addiction but it doesn't seem to have made it to Fallout 3 (unfortunate because it made using Jet safe).

With his family history Coyle quite reasonably hates the Enclave and the war with the Brotherhood means that as an NCR soldier he dislikes them intensely too (they have shot at him a lot) but he isn't quite as opposed to Super Mutants in general. The Super Mutants he's familiar with are typically much smarter (and saner) than the ones in the Capital Wasteland and quite a few have moved to the NCR and taken citizenship there over the years.

Split Jack is a bandit leader first encountered in the Broken Steel add-on to Fallout 3. He was hitting water caravans and planning to set up a protection racket for them with his gang meeting up at Wilhelm's Wharf (he liked Grandma Sparkle's mirelurk stew). I've fleshed out his role a little, he seemed smarter than most raiders and if he was controlling that part of town it would explain how Grandma Sparkle could operate her business safely. It being Dreamer that was the cause of his eyepatch (like she was Coyle's bandaged hand) seemed like a decent idea.

Tobar, owner of the ferry "Duchess Gambit" comes from the add-on Point Lookout. He was the importer of Punga Fruit from Maryland into the Capital Wasteland.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART XII


Arlington – Columbia Commonwealth – June 2277

‘In case you were thinking of going across to see what’s over there I heard that somebody mined the bridge’ Dreamer warned as they reached the crossing point to Theodore Roosevelt Island where the Anchorage War Memorial had been erected two centuries earlier, being finished shortly before the conflict went nuclear.

Coyle was still looking across to the island which lay in the middle of the Potomac. ‘Surprised you’d warn us’ he replied.

‘I might have caught some of the shrapnel when you stepped on a mine’ Dreamer told him honestly. ‘This shirt isn’t exactly a flak jacket’ she noted, wishing that her “disguise” would repel something more substantial than peoples gaze.

‘Spoken like a true raider sociopath’ Coyle responded, turning towards her, smiling. ‘You still look like [censored] by the way.’

‘Bite me’ Dreamer retorted. She was starting to suspect he wasn’t the type who would hit her for just mouthing off and in any case she still felt so bad from Jet withdrawal she didn’t much care if he did.

‘Not even a starving cannibal would want to take a bite of something that looked as sick as you’ Coyle replied, his smile becoming a grin. ‘Another two miles at the most and we’ll be at the Citadel’ he said.

Allison frowned. ‘I've got to ask’ she said. ‘You’re not...’ she paused. ‘You’re not planning to shoot at the Brotherhood are you?’ she wanted to know.

Coyle shook his head. ‘Not unless they shoot at me first.’

‘It’s just that since I’ve known you you’ve kinda shown this habit of getting into fights’ Allison observed. ‘And I know you’ll provoke other folks into starting them too’ she added.

Coyle chuckled. ‘From what I’ve been hearing from people there could be dozens of power-armour wearing [censored]s in there, maybe hundreds more of the bastards scattered across DC’ he said. ‘I didn’t travel all this way to commit suicide.’

‘So you’re just going to spy on them or something?’ Allison asked.

‘Spies spy’ Coyle replied. ‘I’m a soldier’ he said, ‘I'm going to reconnoitre’ he told her.

‘What’s the difference?’ Allison wanted to know.

‘Spies get shot if they’re captured’ Coyle replied flatly. ‘There's a good reason I’m still wearing my dog-tags’ he said. For that matter if it looked like he was going to get into a firefight with the Brotherhood of Steel it might be worth finding his Ranger insignia too and putting it on.

Dreamer’s stomach was doing flip-flops but fortunately there wasn’t really anything much in there to bring up so she wasn’t about to throw up. ‘What have you got against the Brotherhood anyhow?’ she asked, hoping that talking might take her mind off how she felt.

‘We're at war’ Coyle replied. ‘They attacked us’ he continued, ‘[censored]ers stabbed us in the back as far as I’m concerned’ he said venomously. ‘Still we’ve pretty much got them beat now’ he continued with obvious satisfaction. ‘Outside of what territory they still hold in Maxson they’ve only got a few scattered bunkers left back home and we’re clearing them out one at a time.’

‘But how did you manage to beat the Steel Knights?’ Dreamer queried reasonably. Even the meanest, most heavily armed Raider gangs in the Capital Wasteland made sure not to get into a fight with those guys.

‘Because our cause was just and our hearts were true’ Coyle replied grandly. ‘And we had the bastards outnumbered better than a hundred to one too which might have helped a little’ he added, grinning. ‘The longer the war dragged on the more screwed they were because we could replace our losses and they couldn’t’ he explained. ‘Hell, after we ground them down for a few years we actually had enough troops in the field to be able to campaign against the Khans in the Mohave at the same time as we were fighting what was left of the Plague’ he said before taking a look at his watch. ‘Alright lets get going’ he ordered, moving off again as they made their way along the riverfront.

Allison checked that Dreamer’s rope tether was still secure and indicating that the captured raider should continue to walk ahead of her they began to follow Coyle. ‘When we stop again I’ll let you have some water if you think you can keep it down’ Allison told Dreamer.

‘I'm so thirsty after sweating so much the river water is starting to look pretty good’ Dreamer replied, bleakly.

Allison giggled. ‘Drink that and you’d end up glowing in the dark’ she said. The Potomac was legendarily radioactive.

Not too much further on as they approached a partially collapsed though still functional bridge over the river Coyle’s eye caught some movement nearby and he indicated for his companions to find cover and stay put while he scouted on ahead.

Given how close he now was to the Pentagon Coyle wasn’t too surprised to find a Brotherhood outpost but he was confused as to why they seemed to be packing up and in the process of vacating it. Nestled under this end of the bridge the outpost controlled the approaches to the only crossing point for miles and Coyle would certainly not have abandoned the position as the knights seemed to be doing.

Their equipment was hardly the most impressive Coyle had seen either. Although shortages of the superior T-51b Power Armour meant that even the West Coast Brotherhood had resorted to fielding a number of the less capable T-45d of late the fact that this entire squad was equipped with the inferior model suits was telling. Most at least had lasers, AER-9’s to be exact, but none had plasma weapons and spotting that a few were merely packing R91 Assault Rifles was intriguing too. ‘Looks like the Steel Plague out here is nearly rusted through’ Coyle said to himself in amusemant as they continued to work.

Ten minutes later as the squad headed out Coyle returned back to Allison he wondered how long it would be before some raider gang realised what a valuable piece of real estate was up for grabs and took over the abandoned outpost themselves. ‘They must be really short of manpower too to give up that bridge’ he reasoned as he rejoined the girls. ‘You didn’t waste purified water on her did you?’ he complained to Allison finding Dreamer knocking back the contents of a plastic bottle.

‘She’s sick enough already without risking radiation poisoning’ Allison replied, now handing the Raider a large piece of Yao Quai jerky. ‘Don’t swallow too much at once, just gnaw on it a little’ she advised as Dreamer took the dried meat from her hand.

Coyle decided there was no point in complaining about his guide’s soft-heartedness so he merely sighed and told them they were going to go take a look at the citadel warning Dreamer if she caused any trouble then the first shot he fired was going to go through her liver ensuring a long, painful drawn-out death that would make Jet withdrawal seem a picnic by comparison.

Skirting the bridge and the now abandoned outpost Coyle paused to check if the Brotherhood had left anything behind but finding only a few empty crates and ammunition boxes the trio continued on towards the Pentagon which had begun to dominate the skyline ahead.

‘Back before the Great War they say twenty thousand people worked there’ Allison said in awe as they approached the huge complex.

‘If they were like the civil servants and REMF's back home I doubt more than half of them actually worked there’ Coyle responded with a chuckle.

‘What’s a Remf?’ Allison asked, ‘is that more Latin?’

‘Rear Echelon Mother-[censored]er’ Coyle told her, spelling out the abbreviation. ‘Soldiers who sit behind desks instead of crouching behind sandbags’ he explained as the got close enough to see the guards by the new fortified entrance to the complex and patrols walking the perimeter. ‘Laser turrets and observation platforms set up high to command the approaches’ he noted professionally. ‘Building doesn’t look too smashed up either, I wonder what they found in there when they arrived?’ he asked rhetorically.

‘Maybe you should go take a look inside?’ Dreamer suggested sarcastically. ‘Ask nicely at the gate and I'll bet they’d let you in.’

‘Or they'd hear my accent and blow my head off’ Coyle replied.

‘I'm not hearing a downside’ Dreamer said quietly to herself before taking another small bite on the jerky and starting to chew.

‘Looks like something toppled the building next door onto it’ Coyle noted. ‘We can't get around it that way, we’ll have to skirt the place on the riverside which means getting close.’

‘According to Grandma Sparkle they don’t usually shoot at you for just walking past the building if you want to get a closer look’ Allison reminded Coyle. ‘I guess traders have to go past there to deal with the guy that runs the Ferry out to Point Lookout too?’ she reasoned.

‘Do we look like traders?’ Coyle replied sardonically.

‘Slave traders maybe’ Allison replied, indicating the rope they had Dreamer on. ‘I don't think they like slavers much though.’

‘No, they prefer serfdom to outright slavery but that’s just semantics from a bunch of neo-feudalists’ Coyle muttered. ‘If they see my gauss rifle they’ll definitely want it’ he knew. The Brotherhood had a tendency to seize items of advanced technology from “lesser” peoples. ‘I can break it down into parts and with the barrel unscrewed it’ll fit in my pack’ he continued. ‘Probably best to dismount the IR Scope from my FN-FAL too’ he decided. ‘That won’t help much if they decide to stop and search us though.’

Allison looked thoughtful. ‘I've got an idea’ she said.

‘I'm all ears’ Coyle replied.

‘Well for a start, if we untie Dreamer...’ Allison began.

‘No’ Coyle interrupted her firmly.

‘Hear me out’ Allison requested. ‘She looks a little better now, not so much like a Ghoul as she did this morning, so she can carry your rucksack again which means she can’t run away too easily.’

‘It weighs a [censored] ton’ Dreamer complained.

‘You rob and kill people, don’t expect endless sympathy from me’ Allison responded. ‘So the story is we’re heading along the river to discuss a trade deal with the Ferryman’ she explained to Coyle. ‘I’m in charge and you’re my big dumb bodyguard.’

‘Hey!’ Coyle objected.

‘I mean literally dumb because of your accent’ Allison told him. ‘They hear you talk and I conjure it won't go very well’ she said wisely.

‘Yeah okay’ Coyle agreed. ‘Just don’t expect me to drool or something’ he said. ‘I have my dignity.’

‘No you don’t, I’ve seen you standing on a bar drunk and singing while you were wearing that shirt we put on Dreamer’ Allison corrected him.

Coyle narrowed his eyes. ‘You can insult my taste in clothes, my interpersonal skills, my jokes and you can even disrespect my personal hygiene and I’ll let it pass’ he said menacingly. ‘But you don’t speak ill of my family, my country or my singing’ he growled.

Dreamer flinched. ‘Okay then’ she agreed, breaking eye contact because he looked really intimidating right at that moment.

‘Do you know I was offered a contract at the Aces’ Coyle declared, still clearly annoyed at the perceived slight to his vocal talents. ‘Tommy Torini said I could be the biggest act on the Vegas Strip after I did a set on open mike night’ he added.

‘I’m sure you were very good’ Allison tried to placate him, although not really understanding what the hell he was talking about. ‘So do you want to hear the rest of my plan?’ she asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

‘It had better be good’ Coyle said, scowling.

After a tangle with a Super Mutant Behemoth over on the other side of the river Paladin Bael had been detailed light work for a week but after spending a whole month now stuck on gate duty he was starting to suspect he was here for the duration. He wasn’t sure if it was punishment or perhaps just because he had proven extremely effective at getting rid of uninvited visitors trying to wheedle their way in, either way it was boring as hell.

Considered gruff and unsociable even by other members of the Brotherhood, an organisation itself not known for its amiability towards outsiders, Bael prided himself on an ability to quickly get rid of the wastelanders who periodically arrived looking to enter. Deliberately not wearing his helmet so they could see his expression Bael had carefully mastered an air of utter disdain when talking to the interlopers and he prided himself on how few ever bothered to try and get in again after running into him.

The trio walking towards him now were better dressed than most at least, well the guy had a decent set of combat-armour on and the girl not wearing the horrible shirt was half-way presentable in her black leather outfit anyway, but if they thought they were going to be able to get in or talk to someone important they were sorely deluded. ‘What do you want locals?’ Bael asked them in a bored tone, hefting his AER-9 Laser Rifle meaningfully although the hulking heavily-armed Sentry Robot next to him was more than enough of a threat in itself.

‘Well we...’ the girl in the leather gear began.

‘Just keep moving’ Bael told her, waving her away with his AER-9. ‘Nobody gets into the Citadel unless they’re Brotherhood or have the express permission of Elder Lyons’ he announced.

The girl shook her head. ‘No we don’t want to get in’ she denied. ‘It’s just that I was going past here anyway on my way to the Ferry and I thought it was a good opportunity to help you out’ she said. ‘I mean not you specifically, the Brotherhood of Steel’ she explained.

‘Help us out?’ Bael queried suspiciously.

‘Yeah, you know by giving you some ammo’ the girl told him.

‘Say what?’ Bael responded, now extremely confused.

‘Like it says on the radio’ the girl told him. ‘All that talk about how you’re fighting the good fight and how we should say thanks or better yet give you some ammo’ she continued. ‘So here you go’ she said stepping closer and handing over a small cloth bag. ‘Sorry but we couldn’t really spare much’ she added apologetically.

Paladin Bael didn’t know what to say as he opened the bag finding a few .32 calibre rounds in there as well as some 9mm and a couple of shotgun shells. ‘Um... thanks’ he said awkwardly, closing the bag. ‘I think you might be the first person that actually has given us any ammo’ he told her.

‘Really?’ the girl asked in surprise.

‘Yes, really’ Bael confirmed. ‘You know we’re not that short of ammo’ he said, trying to pass the bag back. Nice girl, he decided, and the low-cut leather top she had on was doing wonders for her rack too he thought, trying not to be too blatant in his ogling of her cleavage even if towering over her in his Power Armour made it easy.

‘Oh no’ the girl raised her hands. ‘It’s for the good fight’ she said, refusing to take it. ‘So you take care and we’ll be going’ she said with another smile, moving to turn away before pausing and turning back to the Paladin. ‘Silly question but didn’t you used to have a few knights guarding the bridge down there?’ she asked pointing back in the direction she had come from. ‘We were going to give them the ammo but they weren’t there’ she told him, looking puzzled.

Bael sighed. ‘We just pulled out of there, a few other places too’ he replied. ‘We’re getting set for another big battle with the Super Mutants over in the Mall’ he told her. ‘We needed everyone we could get to help man the trenches we’ve been digging to help us hold the line, we repulsed the last few attacks but it looks like they really want that ground’ he said.

‘Oh I see’ the girl replied. ‘Good luck with that then’ she said, giving him another smile. ‘We should be going’ she said moving off with her companions following.

‘You might want to watch out for demolition squads’ Bael called after her, thinking he should. ‘We’re using explosives to collapse a few buildings, trying to seal off areas the Super Mutants have already taken to stop them spreading through the town now we’re redeploying troops’ he said. ‘And if one of the patrols stops you tell them that Paladin Bael at the gate said to let you go through.’

Bael took another look in the bag as the locals walked off. The cartridges weren’t in great condition he noticed, probably not much use really but it was the thought that counted he supposed, and it was nice to be appreciated by the locals for once seeing as how the Brotherhood was risking its ass on their behalf.

Once they were out of possible earshot Allison threw a smug look in Coyle’s direction. ‘You see’ she told him. ‘You can get around the wasteland by being nice to people and making pleasant conversation instead of shooting your way through every problem.’

‘It’ll never catch on’ Coyle replied still unconvinced as he continued making mental notes of the buildings exterior defences. As a Brotherhood Knight on patrol looked his way Coyle tried not to look too interested in the laser cannon turrets that were emplaced on the ground outside the Citadel facing the river but having seen what similar defences around Vault City could do to even a determined attacker the NCR soldier was impressed.

Having now checked out three of the buildings five sides and finding himself in what seemed to be a relatively intact, if deserted, part of town Coyle decided to complete his survey and now led his companions away from the river along a road that had the Citadel on one side and other largely derelict government buildings along the other.

‘Haven’t seen any knights for a while’ Allison remarked as they found another building collapsed against the Pentagon which prevented them following the building around any further.

‘I guess they really are short on manpower’ Coyle supposed, ‘not even enough to properly patrol around their own base’ he said.

They hadn’t gone more than another two hundred yards approaching what appeared to be a turn in the road before the sound of automatic gunfire up ahead and seeming to be getting closer fast began to echo towards them off the stone-faced government buildings.

‘Can’t I go one day with you without any shooting!’ Allison exclaimed as two figures in green combat armour, neither wearing a helmet came running into view, periodically turning to fire back in the direction they had came.

‘Maybe not’ Coyle replied, dropping to one knee and bringing up his FN-FAL in case it was needed not that he had any idea who the figures were or whether he should shoot at them or whoever it was that was chasing them.

Dreamer had enough sense to simply throw herself behind cover straight away, Allison joining her a moment later, but Coyle just calmly looked down his gunsights and pulled back the cocking handle of his battle-rifle chambering a round.

If she hadn’t been running for dear life self-proclaimed “Relic Hunter” Sydney would normally have spotted the man ahead wearing armour much like her own long before now but as it was both she and her friend Emaline were a tiny bit more distracted than normal and she only registered his being there right along the road she was running down for dear life when he started firing.

Emaline herself was busy trying to re-load her custom R91 on the run and very nearly freaked when the first bullet hurtled right past her coming from the other direction than the raiders. However the guy shooting yelling at them to “get out of the [censored] line of fire” quickly saw both her and Sydney throw themselves to the ground as the stranger started gunning down the raiders with alacrity.

Still not entirely sure of the situation Coyle relied on his instincts. If a bunch of men in raider gear were chasing two women down the road it was his policy to shoot the bastards so he did so with his customary panache. Rapid-firing his FN-FAL, putting one quick round into each target then switching to the next in an extremely clinical and practiced manner, for the Raiders running headlong into Coyle was somewhat akin to running unexpectedly into a wall, one that blew holes right through your armour and then yourself.

With only twenty rounds in its magazine the high-powered battle-rifle was soon empty but it wasn’t a good time to play around reloading it so Coyle dropped his rifle and pulled his MP9 from its holster starting to fire short bursts. As he did so his brain registered that the two girls who were being chased were firing again themselves too and that the MP9 one was toting seemed to have a much higher firing rate than his own.

‘How many of these [censored]ers are there?’ Coyle called out over the sound of gunfire, quite a lot of it now coming from the raiders although their aim was mercifully poor.

‘Maybe forty or fifty’ the girl with the souped-up SMG called back.

‘Jesus wept’ Coyle muttered to himself, ejecting an empty magazine from his MP9 and loading another, noting that Allison was firing now herself, the crack of her hunting rifle off to one side distinctive.

Dreamer had no real idea what was going on but it was more than likely that if the raiders won this fight then they’d kill her too, or maybe gang-[censored] her then kill her. They weren’t from her crew, this wasn’t her turf so she wasn’t any better off than the others. She considered making a break for it but even dumping the heavy rucksack didn’t mean she’d necessarily make it. ‘I wish I could shoot for [censored]’ she moaned as she reached over and pulled Allison’s 10mm pistol from it’s holster, aiming it in the direction of the raiders and starting to pull the trigger before Allison could object.

Even though she didn’t get close to hitting anything whatsoever the sudden addition of yet another gun firing in their direction meant that the raiders were now starting to think that they had run headlong into an ambush with the chicks in the combat armour just bait. The fact that at least one of the other [censored]s shooting at them was wearing the same gear as the girls too wasn’t encouraging either because a lot of people in combat armour meant they were probably mercenaries or something.

Reading the situation correctly Coyle grinned. ‘We’ve got them now’ he called out. ‘Second squad, move around and flank these bastards’ he said loudly so the raiders could definitely hear.

‘Yes Sir’ Allison called back, playing along with his ruse.

‘[censored] me I think its Reilly’s Rangers’ one of the raiders moaned. He’d never encountered the famed mercenary outfit but he knew they wore green combat armour and were mean, heavily armed sons-of-[censored]es. For that matter Reilly was supposed to be redhead [censored]. Maybe she was one the chicks they’d been chasing? One did have that hair colour.

‘Yeah if they get us in a crossfire or something we’re [censored]ed’ another agreed.

‘You know what’ a third said after a pause. ‘[censored] this [censored]’ he declared and started heading back home, soon followed by a couple more then by the rest of them leaving their dead and any wounded they couldn’t recover without getting shot at behind.

‘Come back here and fight you [censored] wimps’ Coyle yelled after them, laughing. ‘That was fun’ he said, holstering his MP9 and picking up his FN-FAL again, loading a fresh magazine into the rifle before getting up.

‘Are they gone?’ Allison asked, looking out nervously.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Sydney wanted to know. Getting up and walking towards Coyle, her SMG still ready to fire.

‘Your saviour, so aim that somewhere else’ Coyle responded curtly. ‘You okay sweetheart?’ he asked Allison.

‘Yes’ Allison confirmed, trying to get her breathing under control.

‘So am I’ Dreamer spoke up.

‘Like I care’ Coyle replied dismissively before pointing his rifle at her. ‘What the hell are you doing holding that firearm’ he demanded to know, seeing the 10mm in her hand.

‘I was protecting my own ass and you’re lucky I didn’t decide to pop a cap in yours while I was at it’ Dreamer spat back. ‘Here, this is yours’ she said, handing the pistol to Allison. ‘It’s empty’ she noted.

‘Should be plenty of replacement ammo on those guys’ Emaline said, indicating the fallen raiders. ‘We might want to be careful getting near them though’ she warned. ‘They could be faking how bad they’re hurt.’

‘Okay, I guess I’ll give the first introduction’ the dark-haired girl in combat armour addressed Coyle. ‘I’m Sydney’ she said. ‘That’s my best friend Emaline’ she added, indicating her companion who herself had bright red hair.

‘I’m Coyle’ the NCR Ranger introduced himself in turn. ‘That’s Allison with the rifle and the one wearing shades is Dreamer’ he told them. ‘Do you mind me asking how you ended up getting chased by four dozen raiders?’ he asked Sydney curiously.

Sydney sighed. ‘We were getting something for someone out of an old library the Brotherhood had boarded up years ago and I didn’t know a raider gang had moved in recently’ she said. ‘I wasn’t really expecting that kind of trouble’ she admitted. ‘I only brought Emaline along to help me carry the books I was after.’

‘Leave your flamethrower at home she said’ Emaline complained. ‘Here, borrow my rifle instead, it’s lighter so you can carry more books she said’ she continued bitterly.

‘Alright I’m sorry’ Sydney apologised. ‘I don’t think it would have been right to use a flamethrower in a library anyway.’

‘Whatever’ Emaline replied. ‘Anyhow you can do your next job for that weirdo collector of old junk on your own’ she told Sydney firmly.

‘Abraham isn’t crazy, he’s just a little eccentric, and it’s not junk’ Sydney told her friend before turning back to Coyle. ‘What were you doing here?’ she asked him.

‘We were just looking around’ Coyle replied, more or less honestly.

‘Oh, well if you were thinking of finding somewhere to stay or looking for something to salvage then I’ll warn you that not only is the library up ahead full of [censored] raiders they’ve also taken over an old hotel I used to bed down at for the night sometimes’ Sydney told him. ‘The Brotherhood used to keep the raiders out of the area but I guess they aren’t any more.’

‘A Paladin told us they’re sending most everyone they can over to the Mall to fight the Super Mutants’ Allison chipped in.

‘Don’t need to cross the river to find those big ugly bastards’ Emaline commented. ‘Falls Church is starting to crawl with them’ she said. ‘The raiders we ran into probably moved this way to keep clear of the things.’

‘Could be’ Sydney agreed. ‘So I guess we should say thanks for you helping us’ she said to Coyle gratefully. ‘We couldn’t get a big enough lead on them to stand and fight’ she continued. ‘If we’d stopped running they’d have been on us right away before we could get off many shots.’

‘I think they wanted us alive which is why they didn’t just all shoot us in the back’ Emaline said, grimacing at the thought of being taken by the raiders.

‘Although some of them were probably just crappy shots’ Sydney added. ‘I guess we should go split up what they’re carrying’ she said. ‘You can get first pick on weapons because we owe you’ she told Coyle.

‘Talking of weapons that’s a very interesting MP9’ Coyle told her. ‘Extended magazine and a higher cyclic?’ he checked.

Sydney grinned. ‘Right on both counts’ she confirmed. ‘Customised it myself’ she added.

‘You’re a gunsmith?’ Coyle asked, intrigued.

‘Learned from my father, he was one of the best’ Sydney confirmed. ‘That R91 Emaline is carrying is mine too’ she said with obvious pride in her work. ‘Chromed barrel and internals, everything precision and as long as you don’t feed it completely [censored] ammo it’ll keep firing long after a regular R91 has jammed up’ she told him. ‘I call it Wanda.’

‘Wanda’ Coyle repeated, raising his eyebrows.

‘It was a good name for a doll when I was little and it’s a good name for an assault rifle now’ Sydney insisted defensively. ‘You know seeing as how I owe you one, and I can always customise another rifle, how about I let you take Wanda in return for me and Emaline getting most of the stuff those raiders were carrying?’ she suggested. ‘That FN-FAL must be pricy to keep in bullets’ she noted. ‘Quality rifle though’ she did add appreciatively. ‘I wouldn’t mind a proper look at some point, don’t see too many around here.’

‘We should probably get a move on in case those raiders get some of their balls back’ Emaline advised seriously.

Sydney nodded. ‘If we gather it all up and head for the Ferry we can probably slip the captain a few caps to take us over the river to Rivet City’ she suggested. ‘We can even take their armour if we don’t have to haul it very far, that’ll get us enough caps to make up for leaving the books behind.’

‘I know you said they cleared out the tech manuals and the most useful stuff when they first arrived in town but if we tell the Brotherhood that Raiders have moved into the library and they’re smashing up the place and burning the remaining books for fuel maybe they’ll clear them back out’ Emaline said to Sydney.

‘We’ll make sure to let them know’ Sydney agreed.

‘Someone once wrote before the Great War that where they burn books they will ultimately burn people also’ Coyle quoted. ‘Most raiders these days start out with the people burning though’ he said.

‘Well they’re easier to find’ Dreamer pointed out.


----------

Note from the Author:

Considering how close the bridge was to the Pentagon in the game there really should have been a Brotherhood outpost there not raiders. Having it abandoned not long before Fallout 3 starts (canonically the Lone Wanderer leaves Vault 101 on August 17th 2277 so that's a few weeks in the future) with the knights there transferred to the fighting in the Mall (which is full of trenches in FO3) makes a little more sense methinks.

In FO1 and FO2 the West Coast Brotherhood of Steel are only ever seen using the T-51b Power Armour although by the time of Fallout: New Vegas a few of them are down to using the occasional T-45d (probably because the NCR has been kicking their [censored]). Meanwhile in the Capital Wasteland the inferior T-45d is pretty much it for the BoS because they just aren't as well equipped (more on that later in the Fic).

Coyle considers himself a great singer, he's not actually all that bad but has a slightly inflated perception of his own talent because while on a tour of duty in the Mojave Wasteland he once performed on stage at The Aces Theatre in The Tops casino and the audience (who included an awful lot of NCR soldiers it should be noted) enjoyed his performance.

Three Dog on Galaxy News Radio is always enthusing the population of the Capital Wasteland to support the Brotherhood in fighting the "good fight". Having the gruff Paladin Bael on the Citadel Gate being caught flat-footed by someone really giving him some ammo seemed funny if nothing else!

Sydney recovers "relics" for Abraham Washington in Rivet City. With her help in FO3 you can recover the Declaration of Independence (British fanfic author boos and hisses) for him but if you double-cross her on the deal you might find yourself getting attacked later by Sydney and her friend Emaline. Both Sydney and Emaline wear combat armour, so does Reilly of the mercenary group Reilly's Rangers. With her red hair and armour the raiders thinking Emaline is actually Reilly and they're taking on a full team of mercs is at least plausible (discipline, professionalism and remaining calm under fire are not their strong suits).

Despite being so close to the Citadel, and the Brotherhood having been in town for twenty years by 2277, for some reason Arlington Library is full of raiders and in FO3 you can help the Brotherhood out by aiding them in clearing out the raiders and recovering the books. The best I could come up to explain this was that the BoS had already taken the books they really wanted years before and boarded the place up. The raiders only arrived very recently (because the knights had pulled back patrols in the area) and because they were wrecking the place the Brotherhood Scribes persuaded the military arm of the organisation to go rescue what was left before it was burned and lost forever.

Wanda is a unique version of the R91 assault rifle that you can get if you use the console in FO3 but doesn't actually appear in the game (cut content). Sydney being a gunsmith gave me someone to have made the thing and of course you now all know that the reason why the Lone Wanderer never gets his hands on Wanda is because Coyle got to it first!

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART XIII


Potomac River – Columbia Commonwealth – June 2277

Tobar, owner and Captain of the Duchess Gambit put on his most winning smile and persuasive tone of voice. ‘Are you sure I couldn’t interest you in an exciting journey of adventure to the mysterious Point Lookout?’ he asked the stranger again.

‘No we just want to get to Rivet City like I told you the last four times’ Sydney interrupted before the increasingly annoyed looking Coyle punched Tobar on the nose.

‘And I can’t interest you in purchasing some more delicious Punga Fruit?’ Tobar checked.

‘We’ve already bought half a sack full of the damn things and we’ve given you twenty-five caps to take us across the river so can we please just get going?’ Coyle requested impatiently.

‘We’ll get underway as soon as the caravan arrives to pick up my cargo’ Tobar told him, indicating the crates of both refined and wild punga fruit which now sat on the wooden dock waiting to be collected. ‘They’re due any time now’ he promised.

‘You said that an hour ago’ Coyle complained. ‘It’ll be getting dark by the time we arrive if they don’t get here soon’ he noted, checking his watch and then looking up into the sky.

Tobar shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be risking the Duchess sailing close to shore risking hidden rocks in the dark’ he said. ‘We might have to wait until dawn’ he announced. ‘Of course back in the days when she was in better repair and we regularly sailed the coast as far north as the Institute...’

‘And as far south as the Broken Banks...’ Sydney interrupted, having heard Tobar’s tales of the sea more than a few times before. The last time she had been on the ferry she had been delivering a number of small glass jars he had asked her to source for him. She didn’t manage to get a straight answer when she asked what he wanted them for though.

‘Indeed’ Tobar confirmed, nodding. ‘Well in those days I wouldn’t have feared but her timbers these days are more fragile’ he said sadly.

‘You know what’ Coyle said, deciding to just accept the situation and not get any more wound up about it. ‘I’ll just go up top and chill out with a Nuka Cola’ he decided, remembering he had a few in his rucksack.

‘A slice of punga fruit in a glass of Nuka Cola adds a new dimension to the flavour’ Tobar called after him as Coyle headed for the stairs up to the upper deck of the old riverboat.

‘Why am I not surprised’ Coyle said to himself, rolling his eyes as he stomped up the wooden steps. ‘Tobar had already previously claimed that the fruit was high in vitamins, good for an upset stomach, a proven aphrodisiac and lowered your radiation.

Already on the top deck and sitting on one of the wooden bench seats up there Allison was looking out over the river towards the Jefferson Memorial. ‘Do you want some fruit?’ she asked Coyle, the sack of punga they had purchased sat next to her on the bench.

‘Not right now’ Coyle replied, heading for where he had earlier dumped his rucksack and opening it. ‘Give one to Dreamer if she wants it’ he told his guide, looking across to where the raider girl was sat on another bench herself staring into space.

‘I already did’ Allison replied before smiling at him. ‘Nice of you to think of it though’ she said.

‘Moment of weakness’ Coyle responded before finding a bottle of Nuka Cola in his bag, twisting off the cap and taking a swig with satisfaction. ‘Ahh, I needed that’ he said, finding a spot to sit down himself and taking off his helmet.

Allison yawned and stretched. ‘I was talking to Tobar earlier while you were discussing rifles with Sydney...’ she began.

‘Did he sell you any more fruit?’ Coyle asked.

‘No but he tried’ Allison replied, laughing. ‘He said there used to be a lot more boats passing this way bringing in food and trading for salvage from the city but times are hard these days, what with more and more raiders and super-mutants, so sometimes Rivet City can go weeks or even months without getting supplies.’

‘Profit margins not good enough’ Coyle reasoned.

‘He said that the Commonwealth has more to offer in trade so the boats which can make the journey bringing goods from further south go there instead’ Allison told him.

Coyle took another mouthful of Nuka Cola. ‘What do you know about the Institute?’ he asked.

‘Not much’ Allison admitted. ‘Pa used to say that folks he met said the Institute was a source of wonders’ she said. ‘Gadgets such as even the Brotherhood didn’t have.’

‘Got to be MIT’ Coyle reasoned. ‘If they had their own bunker they might have made it through the Great War and they would have had a lot of very smart people.’

‘MIT?’ Allison asked.

‘Massachusetts Institute of Technology’ Coyle told her. ‘Pity Caltech didn’t survive too or the NCR would own everything to the Mississippi by now’ he said regretfully. ‘Might have to go up there and take a look-see after I’ve properly looked around this place’ he thought aloud.

Allison appraised Coyle, not for the first time by any means. ‘Sometimes it seems like you know an awful lot about most everything’ she told him.

‘I used to read a lot, my father encouraged me because he was worried my Mom’s influence would mean I’d end up ignorant of everything but spear-throwing’ Coyle told her. ‘I do throw a mean spear though’ he said, smiling.

‘You said before your Pa was from a Vault and your Ma was a tribal’ Allison recalled.

‘My home town was founded by two groups, one tribal one straight out of Vault 13’ Coyle explained. ‘They tried to marry off between them to help tie everyone together’ he said. ‘I was one of the first products that came out of the experiment you might say’ he continued. ‘It was clearly an overwhelming success as you can testify.’

‘Yeah, right’ Dreamer observed sarcastically.

‘Not under oath I couldn’t either’ Allison told him, trying to keep a straight face.

Coyle gave Allison a look of displeasure. ‘Et tu, Brute? as they say in Legion territory’ he complained.

‘How old are you?’ Allison queried, realising she wasn’t sure.

‘I turned thirty-three a couple of months back’ Coyle replied.

Allison looked a little surprised. ‘I thought you were younger than that’ she told him. ‘I mean you look younger.’

‘I probably had a better diet growing up than most people you’ve met’ Coyle told her. ‘Better access to general medical care and anti-radiation drugs too.’

‘I’m coming up on nineteen’ Allison decided to tell him.

‘About what I thought’ Coyle replied.

‘I’m twenty-two’ Dreamer announced.

‘Nobody asked’ Coyle responded flatly.

‘You didn’t ask her either’ Dreamer pointed out.

‘I like her’ Coyle retorted. ‘So shouldn’t a Blue Ridge Mountain Gal like yourself be married with half-a-dozen kids by now?’ he asked Allison.

‘I was betrothed to someone but he died’ Allison replied. ‘Didn’t really know him too well, it was just something my folks arranged with a family from the next valley over’ she said. ‘When I lost my Pa and my brothers I had to get the job at the bar I told you about to keep myself and then because everyone thought that all the girls there went with the customers, and I had no big dowry or nothing neither, nobody else seemed to want my hand.’

‘I’ll bet plenty wanted the rest of you though’ Coyle surmised.

Allison blushed. ‘Had a boyfriend I thought was going to take me away, he said he would, but he just left one day and never came back’ she said. ‘I heard he shacked up with a young widow that owned a farm.’

Coyle finished off his Nuka Cola and pocketing the bottlecap threw the empty bottle off into the Potomac. ‘He must have been a lucky bastard to get you in the first place and a stupid one for letting you go’ he said chivalrously.

‘That’s real sweet of you to say’ Allison told him, beaming.

Dreamer snorted with derision. ‘[censored], after listening to that I’m queasier than ever’ she muttered.

‘I’ve still got one hand I can slap you with that won’t hurt me when I do’ Coyle warned the raider.

‘Like hitting women do you?’ Emaline’s voice interrupted them. She had been on the lower deck sorting through the heap of raider armour they had carried to the Ferry but she must have finished the task.

‘In the same way as I like hitting men’ Coyle replied. ‘Only when they deserve it’ he said.

Emaline was directing a suspicious, mildly hostile gaze at Coyle which was hard to ignore. ‘Cassidy doesn’t beat us or anything if that’s what you think’ Allison told her quickly.

‘That’s what... someone I used to know used to tell people when they asked her about the bruises she was wearing’ Emaline replied, unconvinced.

‘He takes a strap to my back all the time’ Dreamer declared. ‘He beat me so bad day before last I could hardly straighten up.’

‘Ignore her, she’s just playing you after sensing an opportunity to get away’ Coyle advised Emaline.

‘Says you’ Emaline responded curtly, wondering if she should call Sydney up here as backup.

‘Just lift the back of the shirt she’s got on and see for yourself’ Allison suggested.

Dreamer grimaced, should have thought further ahead there she thought. The Jet withdrawal wasn’t aiding her thought processes. ‘I heal fast, the cuts and bruises might be all gone’ she said quickly.

‘Okay, now my [censored] detector is going off like an oversensitive Geiger-Counter’ a now distrustful Emaline told Dreamer.

‘It was worth a try’ Dreamer said dejectedly.

‘What are you going to do with her anyway?’ Emaline asked Coyle and Allison, they had previously explained she was a captured raider.

‘I guess we’ll come up with an idea we can both agree on eventually’ Coyle replied with a shrug.

‘If you handed her over to Rivet City Security they might just shoot her’ Emaline said. ‘The Regulators would for sure.’

Coyle sighed. ‘I won’t sell her, slavery goes against the grain, and Little Miss Conscience from the Blue Ridge there isn’t go to go along with us killing her or letting someone else do it so we’re stuck with her for now’ he said. ‘I can’t let a drug-addicted, unrehabilitated raider free.’

‘Doc Preston at Rivet City can probably cure her addiction at least’ Emaline told him. ‘He’s got some great medical gear’ she said. ‘Fix your hand up properly too.’

‘Hey I don’t want to be clean, I just want some Jet’ Dreamer said hurriedly.

‘You don’t get a say’ Allison told her before Coyle could.

‘Be cheaper to drown her in the Potomac’ Coyle noted. ‘Alright, alright we’ll go with the other plan’ he said when Allison scowled at him.

‘I think the caravan just arrived’ Sydney called out from the lower deck where she had been talking to Tobar about all the relics that might be found in Point Lookout.

‘Great!’ Coyle said happily. There was still plenty of time before sundown so hopefully Tobar would ferry them to Rivet City now instead of insisting on waiting until the next morning.

‘You know I’ve never been sailing before’ Allison said brightly.

‘It’s a paddle-steamer, no sails’ Coyle pointed out. ‘And it’s not exactly a cruise or anything’ he said.

‘It’s still fun’ Allison continued, her enthusiasm unabashed. ‘Do you think we could go down to Point Lookout ourselves one day?’ she asked. ‘Tobar said there was an old amusemant park and everything.’

Coyle chuckled. ‘I’m not here on vacation.’

‘But it would be nice to go somewhere where we didn’t get into gunfights all the time for once’ Allison wheedled. ‘And we can explore, you like that kind of thing.’

‘I’ll think about it’ Coyle told her. Maybe it would be nice to get away from it all for a while after properly scouting the Capital Wasteland, he thought to himself.

The Duchess Gambit had definitely seen better days but it didn’t let on water and the paddles propelled it up to a decent speed once it cast off from the riverboat landing and Tobar set course for their destination.

Nearing the beached aircraft carrier now known as Rivet City, the most population township in the Capital Wasteland it seemed, Coyle first registered it was broken into two uneven pieces and then noticed there was still aircraft lying up on the flight deck.

‘I guess they stripped any parts worth selling from those jets years ago’ Coyle reasoned.

‘Jet, did you mention Jet?’ Dreamer said, suddenly paying attention after spending the last ten minutes wallowing in self-pity.

‘I mean the jets up on the carrier you stoner’ Coyle explained, pointing at them.

‘Where?’ Dreamer said, trying to see what he was talking about.

Coyle had taken his sunglasses back from Dreamer some time ago and when he looked at her now he immediately spotted that she seemed to be squinting her eyes.

‘Nearly there’ Tobar called out. ‘I’ll have to sail right past her and then put into shore to let you off’ he said. ‘Sorry if you get wet feet’ he apologised. ‘I can’t run the Duchess up onto dry land’ he said. ‘It’ll tear up her hull.’

‘We can throw the armour ashore, wade there ourselves’ Sydney suggested as they neared the old carrier, a few people now watching the paddle steamer approach from up on the flight deck.

When they arrived, only a few dozen yards past Rivet City, Coyle jumped off the Duchess Gambit first to check the depth of the water and finding it only went to his knees he told the others it was okay before wading to shore and starting to catch the raider armour Emaline began throwing to him. Even after leaving some of it behind when they had fought the raiders from the library there were still sixteen sets in decent condition, which would hopefully fetch perhaps nearly a thousand caps between them, and that had certainly been worth hauling it all to the ferry.

The mixed collection of firearms and bladed weapons the raiders had been toting had not been in good condition but by stripping some for parts and cleaning a few more Sydney reckoned she could get another twelve-hundred for them if only because she occasionally helped out the two arms merchants in the city with gun repairs. Not wanting to throw them too for fear of damage they had put them all in a hessian sack which Coyle now waded back out to take from Sydney who passed it down to him from the boat.

After taking the sack of weapons ashore and putting it on top of the pile of armour and then retrieving his heavy rucksack which Allison and Dreamer together passed to him Coyle decided to play gentleman and offered to carry any of the ladies from the boat to dry land themselves. Sydney laughed and just jumped into the shallow water, as did Emaline, but Allison took him up on the offer.

Dreamer waited on the Duchess until she realised Coyle clearly wasn’t going to carry her too and so after Tobar waved his magnum revolver at her in a less that subtle indication she had to get the hell off his boat she ended up with wet socks and boots full of irradiated water like most of the others.

Laden down with their various baggage and with Sydney leading the way the small party trudged along the quayside towards the entrance to Rivet City. Tobar waved them off as he put the riverboat in reverse and headed back out into deeper water, also calling out a final reminder to tell their friends about Punga Fruit and his ferry service to Point Lookout.

‘Did you pass on that message from Grandma Sparkle?’ Allison suddenly remembered.

‘Yeah but he didn’t seem too happy about giving her that good of a deal on the fruit because he’s got other customers he thinks will pay more’ Coyle replied. ‘Stay where I can see you Dreamer’ he warned the raider.

‘If I wasn’t carrying all this [censored] I’d be giving you the finger’ Dreamer responded from beneath the pile of raider armour piled on top of her.

An open metal tower made of girders with ramps running up the inside of it provided the way to get into the city. At the top Sydney pressed a button on an intercom and talked to someone on the Aircraft Carrier who immediately recognised her voice and started a crane which swung a gangway over to them. ‘Comes with its own moat courtesy of the Potomac’ Coyle noted, also checking out the armed guards over on the other side.

‘Raiders used to try and attack the city but they never had a chance of taking it’ Sydney told him. ‘Super Mutants have tried too but Rivet City Security is packing plenty of hardware and they’ve even got an old Combat Robot as backup’ she said.

‘Not like they could sink the ship any more than it is already’ Coyle joked. The bow and stern sections of the Aircraft Carrier were both resting on the bottom only a couple of dozen yards from dry land.

‘They keep watch on the whole area from up there on the bridge’ Emaline added herself.

‘High ground is important’ Coyle agreed, looking up at the control tower of the rusty vessel. Unless you had artillery or outnumbered the inhabitants to an absurd degree it would clearly be a [censored] to try and storm this place he decided.

Once the gangway swung into position they trooped across being stopped at the other side by a woman wearing black combat armour and a helmet with a clear plexiglass visor. ‘Friends of your Syd?’ she asked the gunsmith come Relic-Hunter querying the identity of Coyle and his companions.

‘Only met them earlier today but they saved my ass and Emaline’s from a big bunch of pissed-off raiders’ Sydney replied. ‘I’ll vouch for them if you want’ she said. ‘Coyle, Allison this is Lana Danvers, she’s second-in-command of Security Here.’

‘Get all that armour from the raiders I guess?’ Danvers asked.

‘They weren’t using it any more’ Coyle replied sardonically.

‘I guessed that from the fact they wouldn’t run around naked by choice and some of it having even more holes and blood on it than you’d expect from raider gear’ Danvers responded with a wry smile of her own. ‘If you want to sell it on tonight you’d better get a move-on because the market closes at eight o’clock’ she advised.

Approaching closing time the Rivet City Market was less bustling than normal with some of the storekeepers already starting to close up shop but the arms merchants, who were perhaps just a tad too appropriately named “Flak” and “Shrapnel”, were still willing to trade perhaps because in their line of work it paid to keep things sweet with a gunsmith like Sydney.

Keeping away from the deals being made, letting Sydney handle the bartering herself, Coyle found himself idly checking their inventory of weapons and it was more impressive than he would have expected with a good collection of firearms and explosives in varying degrees of condition. They didn’t have much ammunition for his FN-FAL however, Coyle had asked Sydney to include any 7.62x51mm or .308 Winchester they had as part of the deal but they had little in stock, so taking the custom R91 off Sydney’s hands definitely looked like it was a good decision so far.

Moving away from the arms on display Coyle turned around. ‘Don’t let Dreamer near the drugstore, she might try and swipe some Jet’ he instructed Allison who was watching their prisoner.

‘She’ll regret it if she does’ a tall man in Rivet City Security uniform interjected in a serious tone. ‘I’m Harkness he told Coyle. ‘Chief of Security here’ he said. ‘I like to greet visitors, especially ones wearing Combat Armour and carrying hardware like that.’ he said, indicating the FN-FAL slung on Coyle’s back.

‘Name’s Coyle’ the NCR soldier informed the man. ‘We won’t cause you any trouble it’s just that Dreamer there is a jet addict and it’s best not to let her get in the way of temptation before we can get her clean’ he said.

Harkness nodded. ‘The Doc here should be able to sort that tomorrow’ he replied. ‘Clinic will be closing now but he opens up early.’

‘So I’ve been told before but thanks for the advice anyway’ Coyle responded, there was something not quite right about the man but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The cold, hard eyes reminded him of the thousand-yard-stare of a man who’d seen a little too much action so maybe Harkness was just harbouring a little PTSD he wondered. ‘You seem to have a lot of guards working for you and their gear isn’t so shabby either’ he noted.

‘This is a nice community’ Harkness told Coyle. ‘As long as you don’t cause any trouble then Security will keep off your back so don’t go thinking Rivet City is some authoritarian hellhole like most places, we’re governed by popular consent with an elected Council and everything’ he said. ‘Mostly my job isn’t keeping people down, it’s keeping murdering [censored]s out.’

Coyle smiled. ‘I’ve no problem with a democracy having plenty of firepower to keep itself that way’ he told Harkness.

‘If you’re going to be staying here a while, or even just overnight, you can get a room at the Weatherly Hotel on the Upper Deck’ Harkness suggested. ‘I don’t think you’d be best advised to venture out again and leave the city after it turns dark’ he warned. ‘I had word earlier that a bunch of Super Mutants are building some kind of fort or something not too far from here and they like to go patrolling after dark looking for fresh meat.’

‘Thought I might spend a few days here anyway, I’ll find that hotel you suggested and book myself in once Sydney closes the deal we’ve got going with Flak and Shrapnel there’ he said, half-nodding towards the two arms dealers who were still loudly thrashing out the price they were willing to pay for the raider armour with Sydney.

‘They’re mean, and they don’t have the best manner with the customers, but they’re fair or I wouldn’t let them carry on business here’ Harkness replied. ‘Guess I’ll see you around then’ he said. ‘I’d best be on my way’ the Security Chief told him, giving him a nod of acknowledgement which Coyle returned before he walked away.

Emaline had gone off to tell Abraham Washington that she and Sydney had failed to retrieve the books he had asked them to recover and she returned just as Sydney closed the deal with Flak who was the friendlier of the two arms-merchants if not by much. After splitting the money, deducting the value of Coyle’s expensive ammunition purchase and then giving Sydney the agreed price for “Wanda” Coyle and Allison were still left with several hundred caps.

‘You two staying at the hotel as well?’ Coyle asked Sydney and Emaline.

‘No, Washington let’s us crash on a couple of fold-out cots at his museum when we’re here’ Sydney replied. ‘If you’re going to be at the bar later you’ll probably find us there’ she said, jangling her bag of caps.

‘It’s been a long day, I might just get an early night tonight’ Coyle replied. ‘Most likely be propping up the bar tomorrow night though’ he added.

‘Us too again most likely’ Sydney told him. ‘No point in having money if you can’t enjoy it’ she said. Half the cash she had earned today would go towards the stake she was putting together to go into business, buying and selling ammunition most likely given her contacts, but the rest would mean she could have fun for the next few weeks.

‘She only keeps me around to help her out in fights and carry her home when she’d drunk’ Emaline stated, always amused by her friends hedonistic streak.

‘Could be worse’ Allison commiserated. ‘Sometimes I think he only keeps me around to laugh at his unfunny jokes’ she told the redhead. ‘Even worse, plenty of them are at my expense’ she complained.

Coyle shook his head. ‘That’s not true’ he denied the accusation firmly. ‘I also keep you around because I’m shallow and you look great in that outfit’ he told Allison, giving her bare midriff, tight leather pants and low-cut top ensemble a lengthy and dramatically exaggerated look of appraisal and obvious approval.

Allison had reached the point where she wasn’t always going to blush when he said something like that so she smirked instead. ‘You can look but you can’t touch’ she told him.

‘And she wonders why ever since we met I keep shooting people in front of her’ Coyle said, feigning sadness. ‘It’s the unresolved sixual tension woman’ he told her, trying to sound earnest and sincere but not quite managing it.

‘Thanks for letting me know’ Allison replied. ‘I might just go and buy some lingerie from that other store over there because I guess if I did by the end of next month there wouldn’t be a raider alive from here to The Pitt’ she theorised.

Sydney and Emaline looked at each other for a moment. ‘That could be seen as either abject cruelty and attempted genocide or an act of public service I’m not sure which’ Sydney told Allison eventually.

‘Not so long ago she was a wastelander wearing not much more than rags, with a broken rifle and the worst spear-throwing technique this side of Ronto’ Coyle said incredulously. ‘After travelling with me for a little while she’s turned into some kind of machiavellian schemer taunting me with her feminine wiles while she plots to decimate the Capital Wasteland for the greater good in some utilitarian slaughter using me as the instrument of bloody mayhem.’

Allison didn’t understand half of what he was talking about but the overall message was still fairly comprehensible. ‘Maybe you just bring these things out in people?’ she suggested, giggling.

Coyle frowned. That might explain why so much of his military career had consisted of being sent on solo-missions to the back-of-beyond, maybe the officers were cleverer than he had ever thought and they were deliberately keeping him away from other people for a good reason? He had been voted “Most likely to start WWIV by accident” in his high school yearbook after all.

Nah, couldn’t be, Coyle decided. There was no way in hell that the NCR Officer Corps were in any way smart or the Republic would be invading Arizona right now instead of waiting for the Legion to come to them. ‘See you tomorrow’ he told Sydney and Emaline. ‘Let’s find that hotel’ he said to Allison. ‘We’ll let the porter carry our bags up.’

‘The porter being me’ Dreamer quickly surmised, already sick of carrying his [censored] rucksack and anything else they sought to burden her with.

Coyle grinned. ‘And they say Jet rots the mind’ he quipped.

‘If I was really a porter I’d get a tip’ Dreamer muttered.

‘Here’s a good tip, don’t piss me off’ Coyle advised her as they headed for the door that was signposted as the main stairwell.

‘I was going to say that!’ Allison exclaimed. ‘Oh no, I think your sense of humour is rubbing off on me’ she said in horror. ‘And don’t say there’s something else you’d rather rub off on me’ she told him sternly.

Coyle frowned again. ‘Okay, new rule’ he said. ‘You don’t speak ill of my family, my country or my singing and you don’t steal my material either... especially before I’ve had the chance to even say it alright?’ he told her sternly.

‘You’re not the boss of me’ Allison replied.

‘Yes I am, I pay you’ Coyle reminded her, opening the hatch and stepping through with Allison following.

Allison pursed her lips. ‘Well then... I want a raise’ she told him.

‘Price yourself out of the job and one of these days you’re going to wake up and I’ll have given it to Dreamer there’ Coyle warned her. ‘Try and buck the market and the market will buck you’ he said.

‘Good, then when that happens she can carry the [censored] luggage’ Dreamer complained, trying to fit through the hatch with Coyle’s rucksack and a couple of other bags making that difficult.

Allison helped the other girl get through the hatch. ‘I’ll talk him into letting you go once you’re off the drugs’ she whispered.

‘Don’t want to risk really getting replaced?’ Dreamer replied, smugly. ‘If you don’t put out he won’t keep you around forever.’

‘I’m only working for him until he gets me to Canterbury Commons’ Allison told the raider.

Dreamer smirked. ‘[censored], you want him bad but you want to keep him so you’ll only [censored] him after you get some commitment or [censored] because you think screwing a guy so you can live off his money makes you better than a girl that screws a guy for the money directly.’

Allison’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re a [censored]’ she declared.

‘I live in the real world’ Dreamer retorted.

Coyle coughed to interrupt them, they had got louder and louder and their voices increasingly angry in tone drawing his attention. ‘If this is going to escalate into a fight I’d rather you wait until we get to the hotel room and you can both strip down while I go find some Jell-O’ he said, chuckling to himself before heading up the stairs.

‘What the [censored] do you see in him anyway?’ Dreamer wanted to know. She knew that she wasn’t perhaps an unbiased judge of the man considering how they had met but it was hard to see the appeal unless your type was gunslinging jerks with random mood swings and a big ego.

‘He just needs...’ Allison began to reply then paused as she searched for the right word. ‘Domesticating’ she said. ‘You know, breaking in a little’ she added.

‘You’d be better off getting him fixed’ Dreamer opined.


----------

Note from the Author:

Tobar, the owner and captain of the riverboat Duchess Gambit, operates out of the riverboat landing in Arlington some way past the Pentagon. He imports Punga Fruit to the Capital Wasteland from Point Lookout and also ferries passengers there for a price. Geographically there isn't any reason why he couldn't run you over to Rivet City but you can't actually do that in the game.

Rivet City, an old aircraft carrier, is the largest settlement in the area. It has a market with several stores including "Flak 'N Shrapnel's" which sells weaponry and usually has a good selection on offer.

Absolutely excellent story; one of the best I've read so far, in fact. So, when will the Enclave notice that there seemed to be an NCR ranger running around?

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART XIV

Rivet City – Columbia Commonwealth – June 2277

Sat on the edge of the hotel room’s double bed with Dreamer beside her Allison felt even more apprehensive than she looked as the Coyle continued to try and use his powers of persuasion to get them to go along with it. He had already dumped his armour, boots and helmet at the end of the bed and was now just wearing a T-Shirt and shorts.

‘I don’t know’ Allison told the clearly enthusiastic Coyle. ‘I mean I said I’ve never done this before’ she said nervously, twisting the bedsheets underneath her with her hands. ‘I mean maybe if it was just you and we were out in the wasteland where nobody could hear us.’

‘Come on, there’s no need to be shy’ Coyle replied. ‘Once we get going it’ll be fun’ he promised. ‘It’s not difficult, I’ve already told you it’s mostly just you and Dreamer following my lead.’

Dreamer mouthed an obscenity. ‘For crying out loud let’s just do what he wants and then he’ll leave us alone and we can get some sleep’ she implored Allison. ‘He ain’t going to quit until we do.’

‘She’s right’ Coyle agreed, nodding. ‘It’ll be awesome, I should have thought of it before.’

Allison closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Okay, but don’t either of you say anything if I’m not very good’ she requested, opening them again.

Coyle beamed and rubbed his hands together with glee, this was going to be great he thought. ‘Remember, breathing and rhythm is important’ he reminded them.

‘Just get on with it’ Dreamer told him.

‘Okay’ Coyle replied, taking a deep breath. ‘All the leaves are brown’ he sang.

‘All the leaves are brown’ Allison and Dreamer sang together in refrain.

‘And the sky is grey’ Coyle continued.

‘And the sky is grey’ the girls sang.

‘I’ve been for a walk’ Coyle sang, starting to sway a little in time to the tune as he did so.

‘I’ve been for a walk’ they sang back

‘On a winter’s day’

‘On a winter’s day’ Allison and Dreamer sang, the former starting to become a little less self-conscious.

‘I’d be safe and warm’ Coyle sang, really getting into it now.

‘I’d be safe and warm’ the girls refrained.

‘If I was in LA’ he sang.

‘If I was in LA’

‘California dreaming’

‘California dream-ing’

‘On such a winter’s day’ they all sang together.

Outside in the corridor two Rivet City Security guards looked at each other in bemusemant. ‘I was so expecting to be hearing something else coming out of there when he went in with those two chicks’ one told the other.

The other guard nodded. ‘They ain’t too bad though’ he decided. ‘Maybe with a little more practice’ he thought aloud as they turned and headed towards the Muddy Rudder where maybe they might have a little more excitement breaking up a bar fight or something.

Waking up the next morning Coyle found Allison cuddled up against his back as had become the norm but knew that was likely more an indication that she had propped him up on his side to stop him snoring again than a sign of anything else.

Moving his head Coyle spotted Dreamer still asleep on the metal floor where she had been placed but the blanket she was wrapped in must have been given to by Allison after he drifted off. ‘Wakey wakey rise and shine’ he said loudly, swinging his legs off the bed and forcing his companions to greet the new day as well whether they wanted to or not.

‘What time is it?’ Allison mumbled at him, rubbing her eyes. Coyle moving had pulled the sheet off her and he briefly paid rapt attention that she was wearing the T-shirt he had given her in Megaton and panties that weren’t quite as skimpy as he would have preferred but weren’t bad nonetheless.

‘It’s time to get washed up, eat breakfast and then visit the Clinic’ Coyle replied, all-too-brightly for the time of the day and forcing himself to stop eyeing up her bare legs. Better make that a cold shower, he thought.

‘Give her a dose did you?’ Dreamer asked from the floor. ‘You should always make them use protection Honey’ she advised Allison in as sarcastic a tone as she could muster before starting to cough violently. ‘I feel like [censored]’ she moaned.

‘You don’t smell anywhere near that good’ Coyle replied. ‘That’s why you’re going to spend longer in the shower than we are’ he informed her.

‘[censored] that’ Dreamer responded curtly, sitting up. ‘They use water from the river to wash in’ she said. ‘I don’t want to pick up any more rads’ she said seriously.

‘I’ll get the Doc to check how much radiation is in your system and if it’s high, and if you promise not to cause any trouble, I’ll have him clean it out as well as flush the drugs from your system’ Coyle told her.

‘Won’t that start getting expensive?’ Allison asked.

‘It’s only money, I can always get more’ Coyle replied.

‘You mean you can always find more raiders to shoot and sell on their stuff’ Allison responded knowingly, and not very approvingly either.

‘Yes, and firing budget ammunition from Wanda instead of dropping them with my FN-FAL the profit margin there is going to go up nicely’ Coyle told her happily. ‘We won’t be staying here as long as I thought we would I’ll say that’ he continued. ‘This room wasn’t cheap, I can see why Sydney and Emaline choose to crash in that museum place instead.’

‘The bed is so comfortable though’ Allison said, stretching out. ‘We’re going to stay here again tonight at least aren’t we?’ she asked him. ‘I mean we said we’d meet the girls at the bar later so we’ll have to right?’

‘I guess so’ Coyle replied, smiling at her.

The “Weatherly Hotel” was in reality just a few rooms off one of the main corridors with the eponymous owner Vera Weatherly renting them out to visitors. She had at least fitted the rooms out with some reasonable furniture with wardrobes, lockers and the like to hold your goods and the bed was clean and comfortable so Coyle didn’t feel too robbed by the price she charged.

Getting up completely Coyle went over to his rucksack and began searching through it. ‘Soap’ he said. ‘Soap I know I’ve got some’ he said to himself. ‘Ouch!’ he exclaimed suddenly pulling out his hand and then svcking on his finger for a second. ‘Ranger Badge with the pin facing out’ he said in annoyance, pulling the thing out of the bag and pitching it onto the bed before resuming his search.

Allison picked up the badge and looked at it. ‘Is this gold?’ she asked, turning it over in her hands.

‘The yellow metal is just brass but the silver star is real silver’ Coyle told her, now emerging from the rucksack with what he was looking for and placing a small cloth bag with a couple of bars of soap in it atop a small cupboard. ‘Hey, I think I’ve got some shampoo in here too’ he remembered resuming his rummaging through the rucksack.

‘It’s pretty’ Allison told him, putting the badge back down.

‘No it’s not its manly and authoritative’ Coyle replied, mildly indignant at that. ‘Got it’ he said finding the small bottle of shampoo. ‘Oh, herbal scented’ he noted with pleasure, reading the label.

‘You’re going to shave too aren’t you?’ Allison asked him. ‘You haven’t for a couple of days and you need to.’

‘Not a fan of the rugged look?’ Coyle asked, rubbing his chin.

‘You just look scruffy more than anything’ Allison told him honestly.

‘I’ll take your advice then’ Coyle replied, retrieving his straight razor and the leather strap he sharpened it with. ‘I think we’re probably safe leaving our stuff in here, take your ten-millimetre with you though just in case’ he told her deciding that his own magnum automatic currently under the pillow was more than enough weaponry for his own security. ‘We’ll lock the door and secure the rest of the guns and the other valuables in the footlocker’ he said, last night he had put the drugs they carried to keep them safely out of Dreamer’s hands if she got ideas after they went to sleep.

Coyle began pulling on the uniform pants of his combat armour, although not bothering to strap on the knee and shin plates that reinforced them leaving them with the heavy torso section on the floor.

‘I think I’ll buy a dress later’ Allison decided, putting on her own leather pants for now. ‘I saw dresses hanging up in that clothes store in the market yesterday.’

‘I could do with some more clothes’ Dreamer announced.

‘Nobody asked’ Coyle and Allison responded simultaneously.

After being directed to where they could get clean, Allison turning down Coyle’s magnanimous offer to help her wash her back, or anything else for that matter, they sought out the Rivet City Clinic where a brief discussion with Doctor Preston on what he charged for medical care led to Coyle deciding to try negotiating a deal.

‘Those are the set rates’ Preston told the visitors again firmly, crossing his arms in front of his white coat.

Coyle shook his head. ‘Come on you can do better than that’ he said. ‘That’s three people to scrub out the radiation from, one needing a drug problem sorting out and this needs some work’ he said, holding up his bandaged hand.

Preston sighed. ‘Alright, I’ll knock off another seventy-five caps’ he conceded.

‘Make that a hundred and throw in a free eye-test for her and we’ve got a deal’ Coyle said, holding out his hand to seal it, Preston eventually taking it after another moments indecision.

‘What do you mean an eye test?’ Dreamer wanted to know.

‘You can’t shoot for [censored] and you squint your eyes when you’re looking at something in the distance’ Coyle replied. ‘I think you’re nearsighted’ he told her.

‘I can see okay’ Dreamer denied.

Doctor Preston adopted a professional look. ‘If the myopia came on very gradually you might not be aware of the deterioration’ he informed her. ‘If your friend is correct I have a good selection of spectacles I’ve bought from scavengers over the years and I’ve likely got a close enough prescription to remedy the complaint’ he said. ‘I wear them myself as you can see, it’s really not a problem and they won’t stop you doing most things’ he promised. ‘Or ruin your pretty looks’ he added given it was a young woman he was addressing and she might be a little vain.

‘He is not my friend’ Dreamer responded sharply. ‘And I don’t want the eye-test or the drug treatment either’ she stated with determination.

‘Oh, well I do need consent for any procedure’ Preston told Coyle apologetically.

‘She’s a drug addict and therefore not in her right mind’ Coyle countered.

Preston thought about that. ‘I must admit that wanting to remain a drug addict is not a good indication of her reason and fitness to make an informed choice’ he reasoned.

‘Good, I’ll hold her down on the examination couch if I have to, just get on with it’ Coyle replied. ‘As for the glasses just add them to the bill if she needs them.’

‘You should be thanking him, that’s a nice thing to do’ Allison told Dreamer. ‘The glasses I mean, not the holding you down’ she added for the sake of clarity.

‘You might want to keep any scalpels out of her reach’ Coyle advised the doctor seriously.

‘I concur’ Preston agreed wholeheartedly, seeing the now murderous expression on Dreamer’s face.

Sitting down later to eat a late lunch at the cities main eatery, a diner appropriately named Gary’s Galley for the owner and the fact Rivet City was actually a ship, Dreamer kept looking around unable to concentrate on her meal even if they were the local speciality Mirelurk Cakes. With all the Jet flushed out of her bloodstream she was clearer headed than she had been in years and although the wire-framed glasses pinched her nose a little she ignored that too because of the revelation that the world was considerably less blurry than she could have imagined.

‘I’ll have another Nuka Cola here please Miss’ Coyle asked the passing waitress who seemed to be the owner’s daughter. She was a pretty blond thing maybe a couple of years younger than Allison and Coyle imagined that her father kept a cleaver or two nicely sharpened in case somebody less-than-suitable decided she was worth making a play for.

‘Coming right up Sir’ the waitress responded with a smile. ‘Are you enjoying your meal?’ she checked.

‘We are, my complements to the chef’ Coyle replied, smiling back.

‘I’ll let my father know’ the girl told him, her smile widening as she headed for the refrigerator to fetch another bottle of cola for the polite stranger with the unusual accent.

‘They’ve got cornbread too’ Allison informed Coyle, looking up at the chalkboard menu. ‘We could have some of that with a brahmin steak for dinner tonight.’

‘You’re still eating lunch, why are you already thinking about dinner?’ Coyle asked her.

‘Because she grew up not always knowing where the next meal was coming from’ Dreamer interjected. ‘Am I right?’ she asked Allison, turning to face her.

‘Maybe’ Allison grudgingly conceded.

Coyle picked up the fresh Nuka Cola that the waitress had now placed down in front of him. ‘I’ve always thought a girl usually looks smarter in glasses but I didn’t think it actually raised their intelligence for real’ he joked, sipping at his drink. ‘Nectar’ he said with satisfaction.

‘We should have asked the doctor to cure your Nuka Cola addiction’ Allison quipped.

‘If you think you could hold me down while he did it against my will I’d like to see you try’ Coyle replied, grinning. ‘And I mean both of you together’ he added.

‘This feels so strange’ Dreamer found herself saying aloud as she looked over at the clothes on display in the store over the way, able to read the sign above it “Potomac Attire”. ‘Everything is so... focused’ she said, meaning that both figuratively and literally.

‘Not so fuzzy and dreamlike?’ Coyle replied. ‘Or is that dreamer-like?’ he corrected himself, pleased as ever at his own wit.

‘Kiss my ass’ Dreamer hissed back. It wasn't one of her cleverest retorts but it was heartfelt.

‘I’d rather not but if you’re not going to eat those cakes I’ll chew on them instead’ Coyle responded.

‘Eat up Dreamer, they’re real tasty’ Allison encouraged her. ‘How does your hand feel now?’ she asked Coyle.

Coyle clenched his left fist, his hand now free of bandages and looking much better after Doctor Preston’s ministrations. ‘Not a hundred percent but it’s good thanks’ he told her.

‘Where did you get that tattoo done?’ Allison asked out of interest, paying more attention to the rattlesnake that wound its way around his left forearm with the open mouth and displayed fangs on his wrist partially concealed by his watch.

‘New Reno’ Coyle answered. ‘It was sort of a joke’ he said. ‘They used to say in the 13th I had a quickdraw like a rattler making a strike’ he began to explain, ‘and then having it “coiled” around my arm just made it too good an idea not to have done’ he continued. ‘Mom liked it when I went home on leave the next time, said the Spirits would too and would watch over me, but Dad said it just made me look like another dumb tribal’ he told her. ‘And that was when Mom smacked him around the head’ he recalled, laughing at the memory.

Allison laughed too. ‘It’s very good work’ she said, looking at the tattoo more closely to admire the detail.

‘Should be, I missed out on two extra nights getting drunk to pay for it’ Coyle replied. ‘So going to get that dress?’ he asked her after she finished inspecting his body art.

‘It had better be a light cotton one I think’ Allison decided, looking over to Potomac Attire herself. ‘Something not too heavy to carry and I can roll up neatly.’

‘If you’re after any advice I don’t know colours, designs, styles or fabrics but I’m a big fan of hemlines being at least a couple of inches above the knee if that helps you make up your mind’ Coyle suggested. ‘Hey, don’t give me that look, it’ll still hide more flesh than your regular outfit’ he pointed out when she directed a feigned glower in his direction.

‘It’s all a lot rustier than I thought’ Dreamer observed randomly, still looking around the room though occasionally taking a bite from one of her mirelurk cakes. ‘I thought it was mostly just brown’ she admitted.

Coyle chuckled. ‘We need to get her up onto the flight deck, or maybe higher in the ship where there’s a view if we can’ he told Allison. ‘It could be the first time she’s actually gotten a proper look at the surroundings.’

‘I think I’ll buy that dress first’ Allison decided.

‘Good point, there could be a breeze up on that flight deck and if you’re wearing a light cotton number I might get a nice view to look at as well’ Coyle remarked, tongue-in-cheek. ‘Yipe!’ he exclaimed when Allison not-quite-that-gently clipped him around the ear with her hand.

‘I think your Mom had the right idea on dealing with the men in your family’ Allison told him.

As both the main trading hub and the settlement with the largest population in the Capital Wasteland Rivet City was an ideal place to ask around looking for information and Coyle was still relentlessly pressing ahead with his mission. Naturally of course the best place to find those who were loose-lipped and more talkative than normal was a bar and so, being as ever a loyal patriot intent on doing his duty, Scout-Sergeant Cassidy Nagor Coyle of the New California Republic Rangers made sure to place himself in the local drinking den the “Muddy Rudder” very early that evening.

The best to facilitate his goals of thwarting the evil Enclave, confounding the insidious Brotherhood of Steel and counter possible long-term Super-Mutant threats to the Republic Coyle propped himself up at the bar and made sure to fit in with the crowd by downing beer and occasionally spirits at a steady but carefully restrained pace.

For the cost of buying a few beers for others and cracking the odd joke Coyle had already managed to gather a certain amount of useful, or at least interesting, information about the area. Although Enclave Radio broadcast 24/7 nobody had ever seen or heard anything else from them and the radio was nothing but the same music, stories, anecdotes and promises looped over and over. The fact that sometimes “President John Henry Eden” mentioned the Brotherhood of Steel being in the Capital Wasteland did mean the Enclave must have had at least some kind of presence in the area during recent years but the scale of their involvement in the region was a mystery.

In itself though the Enclave operating in the open at all over thirty years since their main base the Poseidon Oil Rig was destroyed remained concerning. The NCR Army had swept up what was believed to be the vast majority of the remaining Enclave forces on the mainland when they rolled a couple of elite battalions into Navarro shortly afterwards, and since then the West Coast had been considered suitably clear of the murderous genocidal bastards, but maybe like cockroaches they had scattered when the lights came on and had scurried off to hide in the still dark East Coast.

As a stranger not everyone wanted to talk to Coyle however, not even if he was willing to buy them a drink, but he did learn other snippets that aided his knowledge of local geography and explained a few things. Although the Chinese never managed to detonate a city-buster directly on DC there was the occasional small crater to be found and random areas of localised destruction including a very large chunk blown out of the White House which was notably radioactive to this day. The Reds had attempted to swamp the ABM System defending the US Capital by taking one of their limited numbers of ICBM’s and instead of loading it with a handful of large multi-kiloton warheads cramming it full of hundreds of sub-kiloton mini-nukes instead raining the things down all over the city. Laser based defences had in fact still successfully knocked out most of them but the sheer number meant that some inevitably got through peppering the city with occasional holes blasted out of neighbourhoods. This damage had made getting around difficult in some places so when they arrived, and before the Super-Mutant numbers got too out-of-hand to devote manpower to such things, the Brotherhood of Steel had made efforts to get the lighting going in the old subway tunnels again, using them as a means to circumvent areas where the wreckage of collapsed buildings made them impassable.

As for the Brotherhood of Steel themselves both Enclave Radio and a couple of the bar patrons talked about there actually being two factions of them. The main group, by far the most numerous, was the one based in the Pentagon but the others, self-styled “Outcasts” could be occasionally encountered patrolling the wasteland too and they were not seemingly well liked by anybody. This sub-faction could apparently be differentiated from their compatriots by the red paint they added to their Power Armour and were generally seen as obnoxious, arrogant and were entirely disinterested in anybodies business but their own, making no effort to protect the general population from Raiders or Super-Mutants. The confusing thing to Coyle was that from what he knew of the Steel Plague it was the ones with the red paint that seemed to be behaving most like the regular Brotherhood meaning that at first glance the “Outcasts” were in fact the loyalists. The internal politics there definitely bore investigation he decided because it just didn’t add up.

The arrival of Sydney and Emaline at the bar some time after he got there himself helped Coyle gain a little more acceptance because they were well known and liked in the city themselves, and them greeting him in a friendly way broke a little ice with the locals who had been more standoffish of the stranger and his questions until then.

‘Where’s the other two?’ Sydney asked him, noting that neither Allison nor Dreamer were present in the bar.

‘Allison decided to buy Dreamer some new clothes after the third time someone made a crack about my, I mean her, shirt’ Coyle explained, long having given up on the notion that anyone on the East Coast would have the good taste to be able to recognise the true sartorial splendour which was his Hawaiian shirt. ‘They’ll be along’ he said.

‘Do you trust the raider not to make trouble for her?’ Emaline asked him as Sydney attracted the attention of the bar’s owner who went by the name of Belle Bonney attempting to buy a drink for herself and her friend.

‘She seems placid enough now she’s off Jet’ Coyle replied. ‘To be honest I think she’s suffering a little from sensory overload.’

‘Meaning?’ Emaline asked.

‘Wait until you see her’ Coyle said, smiling as he reached for his beer.

‘Hey man’ a young man in his late teens sitting alone at one of the tables called over to Coyle. ‘Thanks again for the beer’ he said, raising the bottle that Coyle had sprung for a little earlier after he introduced himself. ‘Need any help looking after the ladies?’ he asked in a laid back manner.

‘I’m good thanks Bro, we’re just chillin, shooting the breeze but thanks for the offer’ Coyle replied. ‘How’s it hanging?’ he asked politely.

‘Free and easy man’ the young man told him, ‘free and easy’ he said. ‘You too?’ he checked.

‘Totally’ Coyle confirmed, both of them nodding. ‘Later dude’ Coyle finished the exchange returning to his drink.

‘That’s Ted Strayer’ Sydney whispered to Coyle. ‘He’s the biggest loafer and waste of space in Rivet City’ she told him.

‘He’s the only person I’ve met on the East Coast so far that can manage a decent, civilised conversation’ Coyle replied sincerely, wishing there were some beer nuts on the bar and that people over here were a little less uptight.

Ted Strayer leaned back in his chair. Thanks to the money he inherited from his father he didn’t have to work to keep himself and he certainly wasn’t going to do so out of any kind of work ethic so for the most part he just hung around Rivet City chilling-out, knocking back the occasional beer or doing recreational drugs. The new guy in town seemed okay to Ted, he seemed to be on the same wavelength as him at least, and you had to admit he had a way with the ladies because two more of them had now arrived to join him.

‘Nice dress’ Sydney told Allison.

‘Thanks’ Allison replied, smiling, turning around to show it off.

‘Nice... glasses’ Emaline greeted Dreamer in turn who was wearing a far more utilitarian outfit in the form of an old pilot’s jumpsuit that had most likely been on the aircraft carrier since the Great War. It was at least two sizes too large but it was cheap this being Allison’s main criteria in buying it.

‘Hey mister, buy a girl a drink?’ Allison playfully sidled up to Coyle.

‘You’d better not be thinking of trying to get a slice of my action’ a young woman who happened to be walking past them snarled at Allison hearing the line. ‘This is my territory’ she declared, walking towards Allison to confront her directly. ‘I’m not going to have some skank in a cheap dress turning up and trying to...’ she continued before trailing off and redirecting her gaze from Allison to Dreamer cocking her head to the side as if to be sure she recognised her. ‘Dreamer?’ she asked uncertainly.

Dreamer looked surprised. ‘Trinnie?’ she responded practically as unsure.

‘[censored] it is you’ the woman exclaimed, suddenly embracing Dreamer and pulling her into a hug which Dreamer awkwardly returned. ‘You look different’ she said, smiling broadly. ‘When did you start wearing glasses?’ she asked. ‘How have you been?’ she inquired then suddenly pushed her away her expression shifting to anger. ‘You weren’t at Big Town when I got there’ she said with some obvious bitterness. ‘You said you’d be waiting for me, I only turned sixteen three weeks after you did but when I got there they said you’d never arrived’ she complained accusingly. ‘I thought you were dead.’

Dreamer opened her mouth to reply but the words didn’t come out at first. ‘I... I never made it’ she said. ‘I’m sorry’ she apologised, looking away.

‘All those stories you told about how good it was going to be for us when we got there were [censored] but I bet you knew that which is why you never went there right?’ Trinnie demanded to know.

‘No I was going there’ Dreamer insisted. ‘I only found out the Big Town was mostly crap they made up to make it easier for the Mungos to leave later on’ she said.

‘Then where were you?’ Trinnie asked.

‘Raiders, raiders caught me’ Dreamer told her, feeling the urgent need to explain, let it all out. ‘I didn’t have anything worth stealing but I was worth something so they sold me at Paradise Falls’ she said, memories flooding back that years of drug abuse had tempered until now. ‘Eulogy Jones thought I was worth having for himself so I was one of his girls until he got bored with me and sold me onto Evergreen Mills.’

Coyle threw a quizzical look at Sydney. ‘Raiders set themselves up there with a bar, slave-pens and girls as entertainment’ Sydney whispered to him. ‘They keep the girls drugged up, and sometimes a boy or two for guys that swing that way.’

‘I ended up joining one of the gangs that used to visit to trade and get laid’ Dreamer said. ‘The leader decided I’d be fun to keep around after I showed him an extra good time and it was better than staying there’ Dreamer told Trinnie, pulling off her glasses so the world became a little less real again. ‘Girls there don’t last very long’ she remembered.

Coyle noticed that an awful lot of people in the bar now seemed to be listening in. ‘You might want to all start minding your own [censored] business’ he warned with a growl, looking around at them with an expression on his face that caused most to immediately make themselves scarce or at least redirect their attention.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there Trinnie’ Dreamer told her earnestly. ‘I wanted to be, I wanted it to be good like they said it would be, living under the open skies and with plenty to eat...’

‘That’s why we called you Dreamer but it’s not wonderland out here is it’ Trinnie asked rhetorically. ‘It never was and it never will be’ she continued. ‘It’s [censored] and all it does is keep getting worse’ she stated. ‘Those tales you made up we all used to listen to about a better life in the future are just that, fairy stories.’

‘I know’ Dreamer replied softly. ‘How did you end up here?’ she asked, looking at her again.

‘It’s better than Big Town at least’ Trinnie replied. ‘I’d rather sell my ass here than have to worry about raiders or muties all the time like I did there’ she said. ‘You ain’t the only one who’s had a [censored]-up life since Lamplight’ she continued flatly. ‘I suppose we should just be happy we had a few years that were okay at the start because that’s more than most other people get.’

Dreamer felt herself start to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks. It had all been too much; the clarity of thought, seeing the world with new eyes, meeting Trinnie again, her insides felt like they were tying themselves into knots. ‘There isn’t anything better’ she said wistfully.

Coyle got up off his barstool. ‘I think we’d better take her back to the room’ he suggested to Allison who nodded her agreement. ‘If you want to come along and talk to her some more that’s okay’ he added to Trinnie.

‘Yeah, I think I’ll do that’ Trinnie decided, maybe she needed it too.

‘Sorry about all this, have a couple of drinks on me’ Coyle apologised to Sydney and Emaline, putting some caps on the bar for them.

‘Don’t worry about it’ Sydney replied. ‘Wouldn’t be the first evening that started on a downer and ended well’ she said. ‘I mean it’s all got to be better from here right?’ she theorised as Allison put an arm around Dreamer and led her towards the exit with Trinnie following.

Coyle caught up with the others at the stairwell. ‘I know you probably won’t believe me’ he told Dreamer, ‘but things can get better’ he said. ‘I come from a better place than this’ he said. ‘All you need is for enough people to believe they can make it better and eventually they will’ he stated with conviction. ‘We dreamed we could rebuild, bring back the best of the old world in at least a part of this one and we did, we actually did it’ he declared. ‘That’s why the Brotherhood couldn’t beat us, why even after years of fighting and tens of thousands of casualties we never quit’ he said. ‘It’s not just superior numbers that turned the tide, our ability to replace our losses’ he continued, ‘it was having something that was actually worth all those good men and women dying for and them genuinely believing it was’ he said. ‘They lived and died the dream and it’s still there for others to hold onto.’

Trinnie stared at him nonplussed for a couple of seconds, she didn’t really get the stuff about the Brotherhood but either he was a total nut-job or he had more to hold onto than most anyone she had ever met. It was certainly hard to doubt the sincerity of the words or the passion with which he delivered them and he was a few years too old to still be naive about life. ‘Seriously, where did you find this guy?’ she asked Dreamer.

‘He’s from California’ Allison and Dreamer said together.


----------

Notes from the Author:

I've left hints about Dreamer possibly having bad eyesight in earlier chapters, she's fairly nearsighted and having glasses on gives her a very different view of the world, one that coincided with having her Jet addiction sorted out by Doctor Preston of the Rivet City Clinic.

As always I've tried to logically explain away a few aspects of FO3 that don't make much sense at first glance (they should have done it in the game but there you go). I also couldn't resist a short Coyle and Ted Strayer segment given how the latter talks in the game (stereotypical slacker using California slang).

I didn't want Dreamer to have some unrealistic sudden change-of-heart but I think the combination of changes all at once including running into someone from her childhood for the first time in years is a way to bring about a fundamental shift in her (otherwise known as a minor mental breakdown).

The Muddy Rudder Bar is where you can find Trinnie who grew up in Little Lamplight. Dreamer is from there too and was called that because that was what she was like until the Capital Wasteland robbed her of her hope.

I loved the start on this chapter, its classic. Also I like how your fleshing out Dreamer's past.

Also Coyle is funny and a cool man.

NEW CALIFORNIA DREAMING - PART XV


Rivet City – Columbia Commonwealth – June 2277

Sat on the floor of the hotel room, leaning back against the wall, Coyle idly played with a combat knife, spinning it in his hands as he listened and occasionally asked a question. ‘So everyone gets thrown out on their sixteenth birthday?’ he asked Dreamer, as much to keep her mind off worse things as to satisfy his own curiosity.

Up on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chin and her arms looped around her legs like she was trying to pull herself into as tight a ball as possible Dreamer nodded slightly. Trinnie had finally left a few minutes ago after a couple of hours and Allison was off “getting some air”.

‘Okay so where do the replacement kids come from because that’s not exactly a sustainable community and didn’t you say it’s been like this ever since the Great War?’ Coyle asked.

Dreamer lifted her head from her knees. ‘Sometimes girls get pregnant before they’re Mungos but mostly it’s families wanting a better start for their children dropping them off’ she explained. ‘The caverns don’t have much radiation and what there is the fungus we eat takes care of’ she told him. ‘Because the entrance tunnel is narrow raiders or slavers trying to get in can only fit a couple at a time and they soon got sick of getting shot to pieces trying so they’re not a problem either.’

‘But didn’t you say there’s Super-Mutants?’ Coyle queried.

‘Yes, they sometimes used to see them in the deep caverns and set up defences to keep them out of Lamplight years before I was born but they don’t ever seem to go after kids’ Dreamer replied. ‘I don’t know why.’

Coyle finished playing with his knife. ‘If they’re like the Super Mutants back home my guess would be you’re no good for dipping in FEV until you’re all grown up’ he reasoned. ‘The only way they can increase their numbers is to expose humans to the crap, so in some sense they might well regard your old home as a breeding farm for them.’

‘They can’t be that smart’ Dreamer disagreed.

‘I’ve met some that were smarter than most of the humans I’ve known’ Coyle told her. ‘Just because someone looks big and dumb doesn’t mean they are.’

Dreamer sniggered. ‘I suppose so’ she conceded. ‘Sometimes even you say something smart’ she said.

‘You must be feeling better because you’re making me want to throw you in the river again’ Coyle wryly replied, putting the knife to one side and crossing his arms. ‘So after the “Mungos”, nice epithet by the way, are evicted they go to “Big Town” you called it?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know how many really make it there’ Dreamer said, wondering which of the friends she had known growing up had suffered a similar fate than herself during their journey to what they had thought of as the promised land, or maybe one even worse. ‘I just did what they wanted so they wouldn’t hurt me as much’ she said softly. ‘Then later the drugs made it easier.’

Coyle nodded slowly. ‘Then later it was better to be a raider than a slave’ he said flatly.

‘That sounded judgemental’ Dreamer replied.

‘It was, remember I’m a lawman as well as a soldier, I’m obliged to be at least a little unforgiving’ Coyle told her, maintaining some detachment. ‘Just because you got a lousy break doesn’t mean you get a free pass to [censored] up other peoples lives.’

Dreamer closed her eyes. ‘I don’t want to be forgiven’ she said.

‘Good because the only people with the right are the ones you’ve killed and they’re past caring one way or the other’ Coyle told her, standing up. ‘Allison will probably want to give you a hug and tell you its all going to be fine from now on’ he said. ‘It’s not true but your tale of woe upset her and she’ll feel better if you go along with it’ he said.

‘She'll feel better?’ Dreamer queried in confusion, opening her eyes again and looking up at him.

‘Do you think you deserve to feel better now I guess you’re remembering all the [censored] you did to people that probably didn’t deserve it any more than you earned what happened to you?’ Coyle asked rhetorically.

‘No’ Dreamer replied.

‘Neither do I’ Coyle told her.

‘No need for her to feel bad though’ Dreamer reasoned.

‘Well done’ Coyle praised her, clapping ironically. ‘That’s your empathy kicking in’ he said. ‘You can’t make amends, you can’t turn the clock back but you can try and be a good person from now on and then eventually maybe you’ll deserve to feel better.’

Dreamer thought about that. ‘Have you done things you’re ashamed of?’

‘Yes’ Coyle replied, ‘but that’s my cross to bear so don’t ask what they were.’

‘Do you try to make amends?’ Dreamer asked him.

Coyle laughed. ‘Why do you think when some son-of-a-[censored] comes up with volunteer-only jobs like this one I agree to do them?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘I’m perfect for this work because I’ll actually say yes to the job, I’m good enough at what I do to actually succeed most always, and best of all they wouldn’t mind too much if I never made it back anyway because they think I’m a pain in the ass’ he told her.

‘Are you?’

‘One of my better commanding officers said he knew I was smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut but my problem was that I still didn’t’ Coyle said. ‘Damn perceptive observation for a First Lieutenant I thought at the time’ he added. ‘Look you and Allison can share the bed tonight, it’s not big enough for three comfortably and the floor might be good for my back anyway.’

‘That’s nice of you’ Dreamer told him.

‘Guess underneath it all I'm still a svcker for a sad story’ Coyle supposed, he did feel sorry for her who wouldn’t, he thought? ‘Also if you two decide to get up to something together that I’d like to watch, like a pillow fight in your underwear or something better, make sure to wake me up okay?’ he requested.

‘That Lieutenant guy really did have your number didn’t he?’ Dreamer decided.

‘Yeah’ Coyle replied. ‘It’s a pity that a Brotherhood minigunner had his because those brains were badly wasted when they came flying out the back of his head’ he recalled sadly. ‘His replacement was so dumb you could look in one ear and see daylight on the other side.’

Dreamer frowned. ‘I can’t remember the last guy that had the opportunity to [censored] me and didn’t’ she told him, voice starting to tremble slightly. ‘I mean there’s not been much stopping you from using me for a little fun.’

‘Not my type, I prefer willing and ideally enthusiastic’ Coyle replied, moving back away from her slightly. ‘I’d never force myself on a girl’ he said honestly. ‘I’d try every tactic up to and including begging and pleading with her if I was drunk and horny enough though, so don’t go thinking I’m a paragon of virtue or anything though.’

‘Even without the glasses I’d already seen too much of you to believe that before we got here’ Dreamer replied, forcing a smile. ‘Even ignoring all the crap I’ve heard you say.’

‘Just do me a favour and don’t wise Allison up, I think she hasn’t figured out I’m a jerk yet’ Coyle requested only half-in-jest, smiling back.

‘Yes she has, she’s just willing to put up with it’ Dreamer told him.

Coyle thought about that. ‘The fact I had to travel three thousand miles to find a girl that would probably doesn’t say much for either of us’ he observed.

‘You said it’ Dreamer agreed, hoping that the memories of the last few years and the graphic images flashing through her head would stop soon because talking only helped blot them out a little.

The next morning Coyle woke up early and leaving the girls asleep went up to the flight deck to do some exercise in the open air, running circuits to her the heart pumping before performing some basic callisthenics to loosen up the rest of his muscles. He had already decided to leave Rivet City and head into the heart of DC later and it paid to never wander into a potential war-zone if you hadn’t at least stretched a little first.

By the time he had finished exercising and showered it wasn’t too early to expect Sydney to be awake and he went to find her at the “Capitol Preservation Society” run by her most regular employer, an enthusiastic antiquarian patriotically named Abraham Washington. The old man’s knowledge of history was in fact patchy at best but at least somebody here cared enough to try and preserve something of the old world beyond weapon technology and Coyle donated a few caps to the project because his father would have approved too.

Obviously suffering from a mild hangover Sydney nonetheless was still willing to help Coyle fill in a few blanks on where to go and how to get there and even sketched out a basic map of the DC subway system advising which stations and tunnels were best avoided. If he was going to the Mall the safest area was probably the Museum of History because it was home to a large number of civilised, non-feral ghouls and the Super Mutants tended to leave them alone. He certainly wanted to avoid the Capitol Building because it was a stronghold of the mutants, although there was a rumour of someone unknown offering a contract to any mercenary group which wanted the job to clear them out and Talon Company being likely to take it.

After Sydney and Emaline wished him luck, and Coyle took a moment to take a look at the copy of the United States Constitution, which had apparently been recovered from the National Archives twenty years before, the Ranger headed back to his room deciding that a couple of punga fruit for breakfast was perfectly adequate after the heavy dinner of brahmin steak and cornbread the previous night. Because it had been a good while since the last boat coming from the farms to the south of the city had arrived the cornbread had been priced at a premium but it had been worth it because Coyle had grown up eating much the same food and it was comforting, if perhaps heavy in the stomach.

‘So are we letting we go?’ Allison asked when Coyle got back to the room and found her there alone, Dreamer having apparently gone to see Trinnie again.

Coyle shrugged. ‘Seems like the thing to do, I’d probably feel guilty shooting her just on the off chance she was going to slip into recidivism’ he replied. ‘I mean go back to being a raider’ he explained when Allison’s expression indicated he’d found another word she didn’t know.

‘At least this is a safe place and she knows someone’ Allison noted. ‘Could we leave her some money maybe?’

‘I’ve still got the drugs we took from her and the other raiders at the Super-Duper Mart’ Coyle replied. ‘If that place in the market that deals in that stuff will take them I could give some of the caps to Dreamer I suppose’ he said, Allison smiling in response. ‘It wouldn’t be a lot of caps but it’s something to help her start out here with and I guess Trinnie will help her get settled.’

‘I don’t want to stay here’ Dreamer interrupted them from the doorway.

‘Why not, did you have a fight with Trinnie?’ Allison asked.

‘No, we’re good now, she still remembers us being close’ Dreamer replied. ‘I can’t stay here because if I do I’ll end up like her’ she said, ‘downing whisky to forget my problems instead of Jet and earning my living on my back.’

‘Yeah, I guess you don’t have a lot of marketable skills’ Coyle had to agree.

‘I know some raiders become mercenaries when they get sick of it but who’s going to hire a merc that wears these even if I can learn how to shoot properly now?’ Dreamer asked rhetorically, pointing to her glasses. ‘I’m not even sure I’d want that kind of life anyway now’ she added.

‘So where do you want to go if you don’t want to be here?’ Coyle asked. ‘That Big Town place?’

Allison shook her head. ‘Trinnie says it svcks’ she replied. ‘There’s no future there’ she said then looked awkward. ‘Could I just come with you guys?’ she requested.

‘Why the hell would you want to do that?’ Coyle asked, nonplussed.

‘Because I can’t think of anything better to do right now’ Dreamer replied evenly. ‘My head’s not straight and...’ she paused. And I’m worried I’ll end up slitting my wrists or eating a bullet if I have too much time to think about things’ she admitted. ‘That doesn’t seem like it would be a problem hanging around with you.’

‘Ah’ Coyle responded, seeing where she was coming from. ‘Got to admit, I don’t tend to ever seem to have much time for introspection’ he had to agree. ‘You do know that I do tend to get into more than my fair share of fights though?’ he checked.

‘That’s the understatement of the post-apocalypse’ Allison had to comment.

Coyle ignored Allison and kept his attention on Dreamer. ‘I mean your chances of still being alive next month are much better if you stay here than coming with me.’

‘I’ll take my chances’ Dreamer replied fatalistically, if I do die who’d much care anyway at the moment she thought to herself.

‘Okay, just don’t come running to me if some [censored] we meet takes a baseball bat to your kneecaps or something’ Coyle told her. ‘Or crawling to me anyway’ he corrected himself before turning to Allison. ‘I’ve worked out a route we can take to Canterbury Commons, crossing the city using the subway tunnels’ he said. ‘After talking to someone in the bar last night I want to make a detour to meet some people in town but assuming we can get through DC alive I should be able to get you at least to somewhere you want to be’ he told her.

Allison blinked. ‘Oh, that’s... that’s great’ she said less than convincingly.

‘That will mean the position of my guide will become available shortly you realise?’ Coyle asked Dreamer. ‘Something for the resume that won’t be a job reference from a raider gang leader’ he joked.

‘Just so you know, if I take the job I’m withdrawing my offer to blow you as part of the deal’ Dreamer replied. ‘That was just the drugs talking’ she told him. ‘Not even if you beg and plead’ she continued before he could reply.

‘I guess Allison mentioned her salary then’ Coyle reasoned. ‘Good thing I kept your sawn-off shotgun and some shells in case I needed something for social occasions’ he said. ‘Just do me a favour and don’t use it on me’ he requested.

‘Or yourself’ Allison added quickly.

‘Not as big an issue in my book but that too’ Coyle agreed.

Leaving Rivet City later Allison couldn’t help but stop for a moment and look back at the rusting hulk as they crossed the gangway. ‘I hope I go back one day’ she said, ‘hopefully with enough caps to stay a while longer.’

‘Seen one old ship turned into a town you’ve seen them all’ Coyle remarked as they reached the other side and started making their way down the entry tower to ground level.

‘And when have you ever seen something like that before?’ Allison asked him dubiously.

‘San Francisco’ Coyle replied smugly. ‘There’s a community living in the old Poseidon Oil Tanker docked in the bay’ he told her. ‘I went there once to see first-hand what my parents had been talking about.’

‘He could just be making it up knowing that the chances of us ever being able to check are close to zero’ Dreamer pointed out.

‘You know that kind of cynicism is the reason I stopped telling people that when I was a kid I once met a talking deathclaw’ Coyle responded sadly.

‘A talking deathclaw?’ Allison repeated, rolling her eyes. It would be a one-headed brahmin next.

‘His name was Goris, he was a friend of my cousin and he liked to read’ Coyle insisted. ‘His claws made it a [censored] to flip pages though.’

‘Give it a rest Coyle’ Dreamer advised as they reached the bottom of the tower and started heading towards Ancostia Crossing subway station.

‘Would you believe that in Broken Hills Nevada they used to have a radscorpion that could play chess?’ Coyle asked a few seconds later.

‘No’ Allison and Dreamer said together.

‘You’ve both lost your sense of wonder’ Coyle informed them with pity obvious in his voice.

‘You’ve lost your [censored] mind if you really believe that [censored] you’ve been shovelling’ Dreamer told him.

‘Nice language’ Coyle feigned disapproval. ‘I guess you can take the girl out of the raider gang but you can’t take the raider gang out of the girl’ he said as they reached the defunct escalators which led down to the old subway station. ‘Either of you volunteering to go first?’ he asked.

Dreamer and Allison looked at each other. ‘Is he kidding?’ Dreamer asked. ‘There could be anything down there.’

Coyle smirked and pulled back the cocking lever of his latest firearm, the customised R91 having a suitably clean action. ‘Raiders and Super-Mutants and Ferals, Oh My!’ he sang. ‘Guess it’s me then’ he added, practically skipping down the steps with his backpack and the larger FN-FAL rifle hanging from its sling bouncing against his back.

‘If there isn’t something to kill down there he’ll be heartbroken’ Allison commented.

‘No heart’ Coyle disagreed, ‘plenty of courage though’ he continued, ‘I’ll let you form your own opinion regarding the brains’ he added as he reached the gates at the bottom. ‘So are you coming or not?’ he asked.

‘I suppose so’ Allison replied unenthusiastically, following him down. ‘You’re not claustrophobic are you?’ she asked Dreamer who seemed to be hanging back.

‘No’ Dreamer answered, starting to trot down one of the immobile escalators herself as Coyle pushed open the gates and stepped inside. Lamplighters tended more towards agoraphobia as a rule, Dreamer wasn’t apprehensive about dark, enclosed spaces, it was the things almost inevitably lurking in them that bothered her, and anyone else with any sense.

It wasn’t too dark once he got inside although Coyle had sensibly removed his sunglasses. Other than the occasional pile of rubble the station entrance seemed intact and keeping quiet he kept moving, looking and listening for signs of trouble as the girls let him scout ahead.

Supported by concrete pillars above the subway tunnels at the bottom of the chamber housing the station, the main waiting area showed signs of recent habitation and use though it was currently vacated. Escalators led down to where passengers had once boarded and exited the trains and Coyle looked over the side to make sure there was nobody down there either before he made a closer inspection of the piles of construction material, sandbags and a few half-completed barricades which he had found. ‘I guess nobody is home’ he said as Allison joined him.

‘Are we going down?’ Allison asked.

‘Not yet, we’re heading across the station to the Seward Square entrance’ Coyle told her, pointing past a ticket booth towards another station exit heading up to ground level.

‘I recognise that gang sign’ Dreamer announced, drawing their attention to some graffiti that looked freshly painted on the wall. ‘We’re lucky they aren’t here’ she added seriously.

‘Isn’t long since they were’ Coyle noted, ‘no dust on this stuff I guess they’ve been gathering’ he explained his reasoning for thinking so, kicking a piece of wooden board with his foot. ‘Probably a good idea to get moving before they come back’ he decided not being as keen to constantly get involved in fire-fights as Allison believed based on her experiences with him so far.

‘Where do you think they are?’ Allison asked, looking around.

‘Scavenging for supplies maybe?’ Coyle suggested. ‘Just as long as they aren’t here I don’t rightly care’ he said. ‘My guess would be they plan to fortify the place a little judging from this stuff they’ve dragged here.’

‘If people are using the subway tunnels more to get around town because of the Super-Mutants I can see raiders wanting to control the stations’ Dreamer suggested. ‘Sometimes they don’t kill you, they just charge for passage through their turf if they think you’re useful to them’ she said.

‘Good place to collect tolls, already set up for it’ Coyle agreed, heading through the old ticket barriers towards Seward Square exit.

‘Not sure I like their choice of interior design’ Coyle observed sardonically as he came across a burnt, partially decomposing body hanging from the tunnel ceiling by a hook and chain.

‘Oh God’ Allison gasped as she caught up. ‘What kind of sick...’ she began then remembered the third member of the party was just behind her.

Dreamer looked at the body, expression unreadable. ‘It’s a good way to let passers by know they’re intruding on your turf’ she said, dispassionate in tone though inside she was anything but.

Allison was appalled. ‘But the smell alone...’ she started to say.

‘You get used to it’ Dreamer interrupted her. ‘The drugs help’ she added more quietly.

‘We’re not going to leave him hanging there are we?’ Allison asked. She was reasonably sure the corpse was male.

‘He's long past the stage at which he gives a [censored]’ Coyle replied, ‘and I don’t want to touch any more decaying bodies than I have to’ he said. ‘Just add it to the list of memories you try to suppress and let’s get to where we’re headed before we meet the people that put him there’ he advised, turning his back on the grisly sight and resuming his path towards the station exit.

Allison tried to put it out of her mind and followed, while Dreamer delayed a little longer. For some strange reason she had to fight a desire to reach out and touch the corpse even though her stomach was doing flip-flops and the smell made her want to retch. ‘It’s all so real’ she whispered to herself not for the first time before following herself.

The Seward Square exit was only a flight of steps up to the surface rather than the multiple escalators of the main entrance they had entered Anacostia Station from, but the gates opened easily enough and were obviously used as frequently if not more so.

Moving slowly up the steps with his R91 ready Coyle crouched down for the last few and stopped with the top of his helmet just below ground level so he could quickly pop his head up to look around a little and then make his choice whether or not to proceed. Supposedly the area eventually connected up to the rear of the Capitol Building which meant it was a potential super-mutant stomping-ground and, although Coyle knew better than to believe the things were the mindless, bloodthirsty cannibals the locals seemed to think they were, they could still be extremely territorial and aggressive.

‘We're clear’ Coyle told his companions, taking the last few steps and looking around properly. Some low brick walls that ringed the subway entrance had restricted his line-of-sight but now he was able to get his bearings properly. ‘Nice neighbourhood’ he decided. ‘I mean before the bombs dropped’ he added, looking at some of the town houses across from where he was. Off in the distance along the main road the still intact dome of the Capitol Building towered over the surrounding area and Coyle felt a little like a tourist.

‘We're not going near that are we?’ Allison asked nervously, pointing towards the former seat of the United State’s legislature before the Great War shattered the nation.

‘No’ Coyle replied, putting his sunglasses back on. ‘Sydney said to take a right when we reach that old store I can already see from here’ he told her, indicating the still intact sign outside the ruined shop down the way that proclaimed “Cornucopia Fresh Groceries”.

‘Good because I don’t want to get eaten’ Allison told him.

‘For the last time, Super-Mutants don’t eat people’ Coyle responded, rolling his eyes behind his shades as he began walking towards the old store, it wasn’t much more than a couple of minutes walk away even at a slow pace which was advisable given the piles of rubble underfoot.

Coyle wasn’t certain whether he believed in the ancestral spirits or not. Some of his mother’s tribe said they could feel their forefathers watching over them, others including his cousin claimed to have received visions and made prophecies which did seem to come true a little too often to dismiss out-of-hand, but if anything the best evidence of the spirits to Coyle was the way that life seemed to enjoy screwing with him in ways that would be humorous to incorporeal observers even if they monumentally svcked for him.

This being one of those times Coyle froze as an eight-foot tall super-mutant carrying a large board with a nail sticking out of it in one hand and what was obviously a human leg in the other stepped out from the side-street. Half-way though taking another bite out of the leg the mutant froze as well, staring back at the three humans now staring at him.

Coyle regained his composure first. ‘Hey man, how are you doing?’ he asked politely.

‘Shoot it’ Allison cried out.

‘We’re just passing through’ Coyle continued, ignoring her. ‘Like your meat done rare I see’ he said, indicating the leg which looked like it had been yanked off its previous owner by brute force. ‘Can’t say I blame you, I like my steak a little bloody too.’

The super-mutant let go of its meal. ‘I’ll wear your spine around my neck human!’ it bellowed, raising the nail board to strike just as Coyle brought up Wanda’s barrel and pulled the trigger.

The customised R91 fired a burst of 5.56mm directly into the face of the super-mutant, riddling its face with bullets, smashing out teeth, shattering its jaw and blinding it. Several of the rounds managed to punch on through the thick skull at such a close range and turned the mutant’s brain to mush.

The super-mutant staggered on for a moment then collapsed to the ground still twitching. If Coyle had thought that was the end of it he had grossly overestimated his luck, or underestimated the spirits desire to screw with him, because with an animalistic roar another of the things, this one armed with a hunting-rifle, appeared fifty yards off and started firing from the hip at the humans. Behind it more of the FEV mutated humans were coming too and they didn’t look happy. ‘No more games... time to die!’ one growled at him holding a large sledgehammer aloft in challenge.

Even with the heavy backpack Coyle could have likely outrun the things, and the girls could have certainly, but as usual his defective fight-or-flight reflex immediately vetoed the latter option and instead he found a pile of rubble and after shrugging off his backpack beside him he dropped to one knee behind the rubble for cover and a steadier firing platform and began to fire a rapid series of short bursts at the super-mutant already firing at him, though with considerably greater success.

Aiming centre mass because the R91 wasn’t exactly the most accurate rifle ever made Coyle had to put three bursts into super-mutant before it went down but the thing never managed to hit him once. ‘Firing from the hip, never a good idea’ he said to himself as he switched targets to the one with the sledgehammer which was now charging right at him.

Coyle fired two more short bursts emptying his magazine but although slowed the mutant didn’t stop. He was about to drop his R91 and draw his Desert Eagle when with the crack of another rifle behind him the super-mutant with the sledgehammer caught a .32 calibre round in the face which stopped it in its tracks. It dropped the improvised melee weapon and half stumbled, clutching at its head until another round, this one to the chest, put it down for good.

‘Good work’ Coyle said, reloading his R91. Along with the customised assault rifle Sydney had supplied half-a-dozen extended magazines which carried thirty rounds instead of the standard twenty-four and that extra few rounds before it clicked empty could be a lifesaver. ‘Find cover and shoot from there sweetheart.’

‘Why aren't we running?’ Allison yelled at him, working the bolt of her hunting rifle again as she looked for somewhere she could shoot from that would soak up bullets coming the other way.

‘Because so far we're winning’ Coyle told her, starting to fire again.

‘He’s cracked’ Dreamer exclaimed as bullets started to wing past them, it looked like more and more of the monsters were coming, probably attracted by the sound of gunfire, and staying here to fight them was clearly an act of insanity.

‘And you’re just realising this now?’ Allison responded sarcastically, dropping behind a low wall that looked like it would stop a bullet and she could fire over the top of, ducking behind it when she needed to reload.

Most of the super-mutants seemed to be armed with old bolt-action rifles though at least three had R91’s of their own and two more had sledgehammers these becoming the priority target if only because they came running while the ones with firearms were merely walking towards the humans shooting as they went.

It took at least three times as much lead to bring down one of the things as a human and that only got worse if they were wearing makeshift metal armour like the mutants carrying the assault-rifles seemed to be. Possibly because their rifles were designed for humans of much smaller stature none of them were aiming properly however which was a good thing and they started firing far beyond the effective range of their weapons if you weren’t bothering to use the sights. In fact as well as the apparent cannibalism and the difference in coloration Coyle was quickly reaching the conclusion that these East Coast Super-Mutants were also different to the ones back home in terms of intelligence, to be frank so far they all seemed dumb as rocks.

The original Super-Mutants created by the Master did vary a lot by intelligence but they understood this and would place the ones with more brains in positions of authority, with Soopie sergeants and officers giving orders to the less intellectually gifted grunts. They had even used basic tactics such as flanking manoeuvres and they utilised cover fire, what they did not do was walk slowly towards you firing from the hip like they had a sign around their necks saying “shoot me, I’m a great big fat, slow-moving target”. Well they didn’t unless they were toting heavy weapons anyway.

‘Okay, [censored] this peashooter [censored]’ Coyle said as he finished the third magazine from his R91. It just took too many bullets to stop one of the damn things unless you hit something vital and Wanda was not a precision instrument.

Coyle put down the R91 and reached for his backpack. This wasn't assault rifle time any more, this was battle-rifle time he decided taking hold of his FN-FAL.

Firing from a position behind Coyle and slightly off to his left Allison didn’t have quite as good a field of view but she had better cover and plenty to shoot at nonetheless. Although they looked terrifying and didn’t go down when you shot them like they should she had quickly learned that they were very easy to hit and blowing holes in them made it easier to put aside the fear that was screaming at her to run away.

Dreamer squatting beside her had no such luxury. Her sawn-off shotgun was useless at much more than point-blank range and besides which she doubted that buckshot would do much more than piss the things off.

‘Loading’ Allison said, ducking down once more to transfer another five rounds from her bandolier to her hunting rifle. At least she had plenty of .32 cartridges on her thanks to all the ones they had taken from raiders and others.

‘We need to run away’ Dreamer insisted. ‘We can’t stop them’ she declared.

‘Wanna bet’ Allison replied as the distinctive boom of Coyle’s FN-FAL started to sound out, echoing off the buildings.

‘Oh yeah, that’s the [censored]!’ Coyle enthused as he blew the head off one of the local less-than-super mutants, their thick skulls might offer some protection from 5.56mm NATO but the mixed twenty-round magazine of 7.62x51mm and it’s near identical sister-cartridge .308 Winchester now being fired at them was another matter entirely, especially at under a hundred yards.

It said something for the mutants that not even a headshot from the FN-FAL was usually an instant one-shot-kill but even so the first magazine alone from the battle-rifle took down seven of the things as they continued to arrive in dwindling numbers. Five more were severely wounded with Allison having the initiative to target the already injured with her own less powerful rifle finishing them off as best she could while Coyle reloaded.

‘You’re just lucky I’m not using my M72’ Coyle cackled as he chambered the first round from his second magazine and brought the FN-FAL up again. ‘Nice armour’ he said, smirking as he shot one of the R91 wielding mutants right in the face and then switched targets because although it didn’t go down it practically collapsed with blood pouring from the gaping wound.

‘Holy [censored], we are winning’ Dreamer said in astonishment as she stuck her head above the wall for a look-see.

‘What do you mean we?’ Allison responded curtly, working the bolt of her rifle for the umpteenth time and taking aim once more.

‘Too expensive, too expensive’ Coyle told himself, reluctantly switching back to his R91 after using up half the second magazine in his FN-FAL. He’d broken the backs of the opposition now at least, with the majority lying dead and most of the remainder wounded to a greater or lesser degree. ‘I am the grim reaper, death incarnate’ he told himself, ‘and it is time to finish this’ he said, getting into a stance like a sprinter at the blocks before starting to move with his eyes ablaze behind his sunglasses.

Coyle ran down the closest enemy which managed to hit him with a round from its hunting-rifle, the round careering off his armour before Coyle turned it into a colander with half of Wanda’s magazine.

The remainder of the R91’s ammunition took down a pair of wounded mutants and Coyle dropped the rifle drawing his MP9 instead as he continued his insane charge.

‘Oh my God!’ Allison exclaimed in disbelief as she watched him suddenly change direction on the run wielding the MP9 like it was a small pistol he started taking the remaining creatures apart, shredding them with the 10mm SMG going full-auto in his right hand.

The sub-machinegun soon empty of ammunition itself Coyle let it drop too and now smoothly pulled his Desert Eagle from its holster with his left hand. It was like he was blessed or something Allison watched in awe, bullets going past him but never making contact as he took on what was now the last three remaining mutants.

Diving sideways to avoid fire from the last super-mutant with an R91 Coyle put three rounds of .44 magnum into its armoured chest to at least give it pause and then kneecapped it, sending it crashing down.

Aiming up from the ground where he had landed four more .44 magnum slugs from his Eagle took down another of the opposition and seeing that the third and last was reloading Coyle simply got up, walked over to it and shot it point-blank in the right eye with his final bullet ending the fight before he holstered the pistol again.

A few of the wounded mutants were still alive, writhing and moaning on the ground, and Coyle bent down to pick up an R91. As Allison arrived he was going to each wounded enemy in turn, putting the barrel of the assault rifle to their head and pulling the trigger to finish them off. ‘Hi Honey’ he greeted her, ‘nice shooting’ he said, pulling the trigger to put another one out of its misery.

Allison looked around. ‘They’re all dead’ she gasped.

‘No, but if you’ll give me a minute they will be’ Coyle replied, wandering over to the next mutant that was still moving.

‘What the hell were you thinking attacking them at the end like that?’ Allison demanded to know.

Coyle shrugged. ‘Seemed like the thing to do at the time’ he replied, putting down the next mutant with a single shot. ‘Good haul of rifles and ammunition from these things at least’ he said brightly. ‘Might have to break a few rifles down for replacement parts though, they don’t look well maintained’ he added regretfully.

Dreamer arrived looking around in amazement. ‘Do you know what you just did?’ she asked rhetorically.

‘Gunned down a bunch of muscle-bound morons’ Coyle replied. ‘To be fair we were in a good position to hit most of them at long range when they were at a severe disadvantage’ he said. ‘Close-in they’d be a lot more dangerous because they do take a lot of killing and you might not be able to hurt them enough before they ripped your head off’ he observed. ‘Could you start collecting guns and ammo?’ he requested.

‘I wouldn’t even know how to describe this to someone’ Dreamer stated, shaking her head.

Coyle looked thoughtful. ‘It’s about three-hundred and seventy-five millicoyles on the standard scale but it only scored that high because of the stylish way I ended the fight’ he told her.

‘Millicoyles?’ Dreamer queried in confusion.

‘I’ll explain later’ Allison told her.

After finishing off the last wounded mutant Coyle went to retrieve his own weapons, handing the R91 he had been using for the task to Dreamer. ‘Come on, times-a-wasting’ he said. ‘If we’re lucky the people we’re going to see will accept a few of these weapons as part exchange for their fee’ he said hopefully, picking up his MP9.

‘What people?’ Allison wanted to know. ‘Why did we come here?’ she asked.

‘Oh, sorry should have said’ Coyle apologised. ‘There’s a mercenary outfit based near here that I’ve got a job for’ he said. ‘I figure I could spend months trying to put together a proper map of this area so I’m going to see if they’ll do it for me, or maybe sub-contract the work onto some other schmuck if they’re too busy’ he continued. ‘Call me superstitious but once I heard what they called themselves I sort of took it as a sign’ he admitted, wondering how much these “Reilly’s Rangers” mercs might charge him for the work and hoping a few hundred caps, and now perhaps some super-mutant rifles, would be an acceptable deposit.


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Note from the Author:

I hope I've managed to make Little Lamplight make a touch more sense there than it did as presented in the game.

Goris was a talking deathclaw in FO2 who the Chosen One could take along as a companion, like the chess playing radscorpion in Broken Hills Goris was of course the product of genetic engineering designed to increase intelligence. Rivet City wasn't the first ship used as a town in Fallout either of course.

Anacostia Crossing Station was a raider base in F03, they're still in the process of moving in at this point, more on that later. Both super-mutants and Reilly's Rangers can be found in the Seward Square area, I think it's pretty funny that the mapping job the Lone Wanderer in FO3 can get from Reilly is actually being done for Coyle!

The Sniper Rifle in FO3 fires the same ammunition as the FN-FAL and is a much more effective means to take out super-mutants than a inaccurate assault rifle. Coyle's battle-rifle is an accurate, hard-hitting semi-auto and comes with a twenty-round magazine... it's great for head-shotting large numbers of East Coast Supermutants in succession and Coyle has all the right perks to use it to full advantage!