He found a bible. They weren't hard to find, every bombed out house in the wasteland seemed to have one. They were easy to identify, short, fat, stocky affairs usually bound in old black leather. If you ripped out the pages they made good stuffing for jackets, kept you warm in the cold.

Remir felt odd ripping the pages out of a bible for warmth. They were holy things after all, but, you couldn't even read them anymore they were so old and burned. What good is something in the wastes if you can't use it? If something isn't useful it may as well not exist. If you can't use a bible anymore, it can't be holy anymore, Remir thought to himself.

"But I guess it still is hole-y" Remir let out a dry empty laugh.

The particular bombed out house he found himself in was, if his sources weren't lying, used by a man he was chasing, a man with a hefty bounty on his head. He had apparently used it to store stolen goods from the settlements he had robbed. The house however, had not been used for quite some time, excluding the pre-war inhabitants. It was picked clean save for useless commodities, baseballs, empty bottles, bibles. The bounty escaped again, and Remir kicked a whole in the rotting wood of the wall.

The bed at least was still left. Who would want to carry a bed with them after all? It was cold, dirty, lumpy, and all in all a completely uncomfortable heap of metal springs and cloth. But it wasn't every night Remir got to sleep in a bed, and he was damned if was going to miss that sort of opportunity. He left his firearms by the floor, still unwilling to sleep with them in the bed with him, afraid he might sleepwalk and do something stupid.

In the morning he felt groggy and sore, and regretting sleeping on that miserable bed.



Remir hated Moriarty's saloon. It smelled, the company was never any good, and there was a rumor flying around that Moriarty was pissing in his booze. Nonetheless, Moriarty's was still a good place for talking business. People who wanted to talk about bounties, or who had made friends with raiders liked to stop by, and while Remir didn't like to think of himself as one of those sorts of people, they were still good for information.

He took a seat on one of the bar stools and waited around for someone to take his order. Gob ran around taking orders and carrying booze to the patrons, keeping his head down, so Nova, who didn't seemed to be doing anything at all, stepped behind the counter in front of Remir.

"It's been a while," she smiled, "you still drink motor oil?"
"Whiskey, Nova."
"That's what I meant."
"Yeah. Got anything for a sore back to drink it with?" he asked.
"'Fraid not. Go to the clinic if you want something like that," she handed him a glass of whiskey, "what you need it for anyway? You spending time with another girl?" she asked coyly.
"Slept on a bed. A really bad one."
"A bed? Well," she raised her eyebrows with a sarcastic arch, "aren't we a big shot? Where'd you find a bed out in the wastes?"
"A house. My bounty was hiding goods in it apparently. Didn't find anything except a bed though, and well, it's not every day I find a bed," he reached out for his drink, but stopped when he noticed the color. He couldn't tell if it was the cup that was grimy, or the whiskey that was dirty, but it looked a little darker than whiskey ought to. He wondered if Moriarty -was- actually serving motor oil to his patrons. He downed some of it. Good enough.

"*One* guy stashing things in a house? Wouldn't someone take everything in there when they found it?" Nova asked him as she poured some drinks to give Gob a hand.
"That's exactly what I was trying to do, take his things and then grab him when he goes back for it but he only keeps it there for a few days tops. Can't ever catch the guy."
"How long have you been after him?"
"Only a few weeks, but he's been doing this for a couple years apparently. What he does is he finds a settlement out in the wastes and goes to them, trying to gain their trust. He brings them all kinds of things, computers, medicine, weapons, everything. Once he's got their trust, he grabs everything he can and makes off with it, little by little so no one notices. Uses those houses along the way."
"Why would he do that if he's bringing them things? Can't he just trade for them?"
"That's the catch, everything he brings them is faulty or worthless. By the time they realize it's all junk, he's gone."
"Huh," Nova said, looking into a glass pensively, "and he's just one guy? Is he some kind of Raider?"
"Doesn't look like it, Raiders don't work alone."
Nova grabbed a couple of empty glasses and tossed them into the sink, Remir polished off what was left of, well, whatever it is he was drinking.
"Who put the bounty out on him?"
"The caravans. Ever since that guy's been going around with this scam nobody wants to do any business with strangers. It's hurtin' their pockets."
"But why would he need so much stuff? What's he hoarding it for?"
"I don't know," Remir said placing the empty glass on the counter, "lots of strange things out in the wasteland."

Annah didn't have brothers or sisters. Siblings were one of the few things she didn't have. She woke up to the sunlight pouring in from her window, her favorite way of waking up. She sat up in her bed and stretched, yawned. She looked around her room at all the new things her parents had provided her. Toys, clean sheets, clean clothes, she even had some apples on a desk if she ever got hungry for a snack. She was always surprised at how much she had when she turned from away from her room and looked out her window. Red apples looked so strange against an endless brown expanse.

"Annah! Breakfast!"
Annah stepped out of her bed, not bothering to get out of her pajamas, and groggily made her way downstairs. She peeked in the kitchen and saw her mother cooking something over the stove, and her father pouring intently over an old radio. Whatever was cooking didn't smell very good, not as good Tenpenny Tower, but it had to do.
"What're you doing dad?" she asked as she took her seat at the table.
"Trying to get this stupid thing to work," he said, banging against the top of the radio.
"What for? Trying to get to the caravans again?" she asked, hoping he was so she might ask for better food.
"No no, there was something about Tenpenny Tower on the air. Something about?ghouls."
"Oh my god," her mother said, serving them their food and taking a seat, "you don't think that Roy Philips finally did something do you?"
"I don't know," her father responded, "all I heard was something about ghouls and some guy from a vault. Then it went to static."
There was a moment of silence as the family of three thoughtfully ate their meager breakfast.
"Well, it's a good thing we left when we did," Annah said, trying to break the silence.
"Hmph," her father turned off the radio and pushed it aside, "I guess running out of caps had to have had a silver lining."
"Oh don't be so negative. We're still alive and healthy, thanks to you! We have to keep on the positive side honey."
"Hmph," he said again, eating quietly.
"Are you going to go see the caravans dad?" Annah asked.
"Yes I think so, we're running out of supplies." Annah's father straightened out his tie. He had pulled a grimy pre-war suit of his closet, the thing he always put on when on his way to do business. After they had run out of caps to afford living in Tenpenny Tower comfortably, her father had left to attempt making caps out in the wastes. In the end, he had returned to Annah and her mother with news that he had invested what remained of their funds in the caravans, and that he had procured a share in their profits for doing so. They didn't venture down to the area surrounding Tenpenny Tower where they had moved after they were evicted, so he had to go north towards Megaton to retrieve the supplies. He went regularly, and left Annah and his wife in the hands of a Mister Gutsy that guarded the house perimeter. The two of them were safe, but Annah was always horribly bored.

"Can I come with you this time dad?" she tried to ask casually, keeping her eyes on her food to avoid looking too eager.
"No no, it's too dangerous Annah."
"You know, they say they kick kids out of Little Lamplight at my age," she pressed.
"Annah, normally I would let you come," his voice gained a hint of warning, "but the caravans have just put out a big bounty on a man who's been robbing the settlements. It's too dangerous," he glanced over to her as he spoke, and saw the hope in her eyes sink, "but, maybe when this all blows over, then you can come with."

Annah allowed herself a little smile. She recently found it a point to try to be as advlt as possible when she had heard between snippets of static on the radio, that at 16 Little Lamplighters were suddenly 'big'. She hadn't seen any other children growing up, and she felt a strange kinship toward the storied children of that cave.

There was some more clinking and scraping of silverware against porcelain as the family finished their meal, before Annah's father got up to leave. They moved together to the front door to see him off.

"You two take care of yourselves, I'll be back soon," he said with a smile. "Mister Gutsy!" he called out. The floating robot quickly and deftly appeared from patrol around the corner of the house.
"Yes sir!"
"Bring the pack Brahmin around would you?"
"Yes sir! Of course sir!" it said and whirred quickly off.
"Be careful dear," Annah's mother said, "I will," he responded. She and her father exchanged one of those glances married couples who have been through a lot share. That tired, worried look, the kind that says life's been manageable so far, but it would be alright even if it wasn't.
"Will you bring me back something new?" Annah asked.
"We'll see what that crazy junkman's got. Maybe I'll find you another doll."
"I don't want a doll," Annah said with a slight annoyance, "bring me mirror if you can. Or at least something shiny."
"I'll do what I can honey."
"See you when you get back," Annah hugged him one last time.

The Mister Gutsy returned with the Brahmin, and her father examined some of his firearms before leading the Brahmin away with the rope. They all looked at each other, smiled and waved good bye. They all stopped worrying about each other a long time ago; whether or not the Mister Gutsy could really hold his own, whether or not her father was ever attacked by raiders. And well, they cared for each other just as any family would, but if something happened to any of them then that's just the way the Capital Wasteland works, and they'd just have to move on.