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Guest
Guest
Warning: A Second Draft mode. I'm submitting this solely for the purpose of beta reading..and please, give me suggestions on how to make it better.
Choices
by B-pen
Well, the old bugger is dead. I can't deny that. I thought he'd never die, yaknow? After all, look at old Jules. Everybody talks downwind with him, he's got to have more alcohol than blood in his veins. He's so shrunked up, that you'd almost think that a good breeze would blow him away. And add to that, he's practically ancient. You'd think he'd have up and died a long time ago.
Nope. He lives on, the town greeter. He still stands by the corner across and down from the Desperado, greeting newcomers into town, and more--less making marks on who's who in town.
He's the guy who tells at first glance which among newcomers are easy spots, and which ones we should get kill off right away.
Hey, it keeps the casualty level down......
Anyways, old Jules said that he used to be taking drugs, this very addicting thing called Jet. "Rots you from the inside..",he said. But my pop came to him one day and gave him this funny little brown bottle, and told him to drink it.
And lo and behold, the Jet cravings were no more.
It's kinda weird. He never expected to outlast the Padrino, he said to me. I can't believe it too. Pop never took a single drug aside from stimpacks, when he fumbled up his blades. Lil' Uncle Jesus would just laugh and twirl his own knife in the air. Then Pop would glare and say.."Let's see you try to use a Vindicator..."
I don't know what he means by that, but it sure shuts up Uncle.
But he's dead. That's something I can't ignore. His coffin's there, by the altar, and Father Tully is crying over it. For once, the geezer is sober. "What a waste, my Lord..what a waste...too early...too early..", he keeps on muttering over and over.
Aunt Vicky is crying softly, a row right behind me. She looks at me, tears in her eyes, the lights of candles. I can tell she want me to beside her, to be cuddled and cried over.
No, thank you.
She's not really my aunt. But she's the daughter of old man Vic, someone Pops viewed as kinda like his uncle, anyways...so that makes him my, what, great-uncle?
Ah, who cares. The bigger the family, the better. Mordinos rule.
-----------------
Lil' Unca Jesus looks out of it. I guess this is the third time he's gone to a Family funeral. The first was for his own dad, Big Jesus Mordino, then to Mom. Damn.. Pops told me that he and Uncle Jesus were rivals in many things, specially in being the head of the Mordino clan. But one other thing they were fighting over was Mom's heart.
Turns out that Pops won both ways, then they had this kinda big fight, and then, Pops won again.
Uncle Jesus finally got it that he'd end up as a second-stringer for the rest of his life. He had to admit, that Pops DID run the Mordinos better than he could have ever done.
He became the best friend of Dad, Mom, and me. He still loved Mom, but she didn't love him back. So he felt like the only thing he could do was to protect her honor.
So when this drunk calls Mom a whore, Uncle Jesus comes up to him and makes sure he can never talk..or walk again.
Ouch.
Well...we did kinda own the Cat's Paw brothel...but I can't picture Mom being a whore. She was always so clean, so high-class beautiful. not like the other girls in the Paw.
They tell me that Mom was lucky to get Pops. I say it's the other way.
--------------------------------------
All the Family got together, and we pulled people away, even from San Francisco, just to get the proper number of attendants. You see, it's gotta be that whenever a Padrino dies, he's got have a representation of his Range at the funeral. Big Jesus had all the remaaing Wright attend his burial, as a measure of respect to the victor.
Pop sure had a lot of visitors. I don't think these people were former enemies...I haven't seen anybody actually GLAD to see the old guy down. When Big J died, some people danced with joy on the way to his tomb.
'Course we had to teach 'em respect...but it seems like Pop like EARNING other people's respect. And it shows. We got people from as far away as little towns like Klamath..and there's this funny slant-eyed guy from San Fran, too..
This breeze shafts through the church, and I get this feeling that something important's gonna happen, or someone BIG is gonna walk through that church door.
Sure enough, the door opens, but what walks through was this REALLY, REALLY old woman in flashy ooficial-loking robes. She can barely stand up and walk, but she was supported and helped by a group of blue-uniformed soldiers, armed with the scariest-looking big guns I've ever seen.
Everybody around me gasps, and I could see that even Unc Jesus, who NEVER bows to anybody except Pops, wanted to stand and salute respectfully.
The old woman hobbles slowly down the aisle and looks down at the coffin. She lets out this hard wail, and I tell you, my bones shivered.
Then, she walked down and limply sat at a front pew. All but one of the guards left to surrounded the area around the church, and leaning against a wall, he kept a wary gaze on all within. nobody dared to tell him off, to make him stash away the gun.
He looked like he knew his job...and would kill anyone who tried to prevent him from doing it to the fullest.
I asked the man next to me, his name's Butler, and he's my bodyguard.
"Who's that?"
"What, ya don't know? Even if your still a kid, you gotta learn to know what's what and who's who in the world."
"Just answer my question, Butt." Hehehe. Butler had this annoying habit of lecturing me. When that happens, I just call him by a shortened version of his name.
If fits, anyyhow. He's so fat, his butt sticks out high in the air.
"That's her excellency Tandi,", he said with a frown."President of the New California Republic."
"NCR..", I gasped. New Reno is the only town left in the Wasteland that isn't part of NCR. It used to be that there were three powers in the Wasteland. NCR, Vault City..and New Reno. After Pops closed down the Jet business, we kinda went into the background. NCR became so big and so powerful that anybody had GOT to be insane to try and act up against them. So, Vault City became a NCR state.
Where the hell was Vault City, anyhow? I never figured out how ro use Pop's old PipBoy..Who cares..they're far away..and harnless now. NCR left us alonem for the most part. By the way that old woman's carrying on, I guess Pop had something to do with it...
She's old, and her skin so wrinkled..and so white and dry. But when she looks at you, her eyes are hard as diamonds, and it's so ALIVe that you couldn't believe it.
And she's lookin' at me.
Damn.
-------------------------------------
I remember the gist of Pop's history. He came into town one day, he and his little troop o' followers. Jules said that he knew by sight..that here was a man BORN to LEAD.
Well, Pop was looking for this pre-war Vault stuff..he likes colecting them, I reckon. There's a whole shitload of them on display at the Cat's Paw...thingamajigs marked with a Vault -Tec sign.
This was where he goes in to relax..and this was also where he holds important meetings. He liked to surround himself in these kind of stuff, and says that they serve as a reminder of how the past can hold both hope and depair.`
The door opens again, and Great-Uncle Vic walks in. He's still wearing those same faded clothes like last time. I heard that during his travels with Pop, he got so rich that he could probably qualify as one of the High Classes here in New Reno. So, at the very least, he could have afforded some new clothes.
But he doesn't. Seems to me like he likes his clothes..and all things that he uses to be like him. Old.
"Good tools have personality.", he said. "And old tools are the best, they matured, and had tangled with more screw-ups than you'd ever have seen.."
I don't know what he means by that, but it's one of the things that makes Pops embarrased.
"Hey, that generator wasn't my fault."
"Tell that to Gecko, Boss."
"But it's fixed!"
"Who fixed it?"
"Uh.."
More of the general craziness that follows this family around.
He's got another guy with him, an old tribal...Well, I know it's a trbal because he's got a bone stuck through his nose. Otherwise, he looks just like everybody...except that he's wearing combat armor. A lady with a hard look on her face walks up from behind him and pulls the tribal down to seat.
"Sit still, Sulik.", I heard her say.
"Ah..Grampy-bone be not believing this. He not sense this one."
"Like hell. I saw the way you looked at me even way back at the store."
"Sperit sworks in mysterious ways.."
I ignore them, they're tribals, anyway. But Vic leans close and says, "Welcome back to the big city, Sulik."
"We and I wish it was on better occasion.", the tribal replies.
I sighed and turned back to the coffin. It's made of metal, but I don't know what kind. All Iknow is that Eldridge, Aunt Vicky, and a lot of guys from all over the Wasteland came together and built the damn thing. All I hear when I pass by the locked workshop is sounds of calnging, and now and then, mutters about..."Proto-ceramic..Enclave steel. Broherhood Welding techniques.."
I don't know what they were talkin' about, but that's the coolest-looking coffin I've even seen.
Kinda fitting. Pops couldn't do anything without being cool.
-------------------------------------
Pop was the Padrino, but he was famous before that. He used to go by the name Chosen One, and he was the boxing champion of ALL of New California. Yep. Really. The chapion used to be The Masticator....this big gorilla of a man who liked chewing off his opponent's ears. Well, he tried that with Pop and .......pow!
Ended up with Pop chewing off HIS goddamn ear.
Pop really had a lot of talents..I wonder, if things were a little different, had he been more educated, what would have happened?
I hear tapping on the door. "Could someone open this door, please? I don't thik we have enough strength to push it open.", a squeaky voice says.
A guard sighs and opens the door. None of our bouncers want to move. It looks as if NCR was taking over..but it's just a safety precaution, really. Prez. Tandi was much too honorable to play on Pop's funeral.
By the looks of theings, they respected each other a lot.
We pinch our noses as this disgusting, rotting smell fills the church. The group of ghouls by the door looks embarased, and walks in, and to the coffin.
The guard makes like he's gonna throw them out, but Uncle Jesus stops them. "They got a right.., he says.
The ghouls cluster around the coffin. One of them, his skin all green and flakinf off, with a tree growing off the top of his head, takes a leaf off the crown and places it on top of the coffin.
It was very symbolic, and while we didn't know the meaning, we were moved.
The ghouls all leave except one. He's wearing Combat armor, too..so the smell wasn't that bad. Actually his smell wasn't sickly rot like the other ghouls, but more like burning charcoal....kinda aromatic if you close your eyes and not atre at his face that's falling apart.
Sulik waves in greeting and says,"How do, Lenny?"
"I guess I'm all right. These old bones could have been better off..."
He sits near Sulik, Uncle Vic, and Uncle Jesus. By some unspoken command, people began moving to the other side of the church, not out of disgust, but as a measure of respect.
Respect for whom? The ghoul? Nah...
I know all about ghouls. Sure, most people in New Reno had never seen one before, including me, but Pops had a lot of dealings with them.
The first thing he told me to remember was that ghouls were still human. They just looked different, that's all. Radiation had changed them in many ways. What they had lost in ..um...aesthetic features, they gained in their extemely longlivety and increased intelligence.
Sometimes' Pop can be so dense. But he's fair to all people, and he treated ghouls just like he did everybody else. As a matter of fact, we don't produce our own power, no more..we got got it gratis from a Poseidon Nuclear Plant, somewhere to the north. Ghouls banded up and laid power lines, all for Pops.
I suppose we didn't really not expect ghouls to come. After all, Pop did something really good to them once, and they're still paying off the favor.
But they left a whole lotta vacant seats. people packed together in one corner, as if expecting something else to come.
-------------------------
Then the door opens again, and I see who's gonna be sitting in them.
A super-mutant.
No, let me rephrase that..
A fuckin' HUGE Super-mutant.
It looke around at the place, and its eyes glinted with...amusement at seeing our nervous gazes. Only the tribal Sulik, Uncle Vic, and Uncle Jesus seem unperturbed.
Most everyone in the place reached to their weapons, then looked surprised at not finding anything. They'd forgotten that they'd chucked them away this time as a gesture of respect. This was a funeral, there was room for only one death.
Vic waved at the mutant. "Marcus!"
The super-mutant turned and looked at the trader, a slight smile on his ugly face. He moved to sit on the bench behind them , and occupied half the seat. He shifted his tremedous bulk around and said to noone on particular,"At least he'll be in good company."
"What'cha mean?", Lenny the ghoul, asked.
"Jacob will be watching out for him."
Sulik nodded. "The sperits that are of same color wind up in same part of Heaven."
The mutant groaned.
"Twenty-goddamn years...and you're still on your Grampy-bone kick? Didn't your woman get rid of that?"
"She try..", Sulik laughed. "She try....."
"Hah. May I live for as long as I need to see it...but I'm not holding my breath."
You see, super-mutants are different from ghouls, although they both are the two forms of semi-human life out here in the Wasteland.
But they're the oppsotite poles, Pops said, with humanity as the fulcrum. YOu se, a long time ago, there was this guy..and he was known only as "The Master".
He was trying to take over the world.
Really!
And he would have done it, too...if it wasn't for this guy called...the Vault Dweller. Nobody knows much abou the guy..except he had a helluva lotta spunk, going toe-to-toe with a horde of Super Mutants like that...armed only with a Turbo Plasma Rifle..whatever that is.
He's the guy that Pops is modeling himself after..and as such, he's almost worshipped everywhere.
Now, the Master's dead, aced by the Vaukt Dweller, almost a hundred years ago. But the super-mutants are still around, since they got extremely long lifespans.
They're like ghouls that way.
But there, the resemblance ends.
While ghouls can be counted on to be more-or-less good conversationalists, super mutants can be counted on to be dumb as hell. Sure there were a few exceptions..but it remains so.
That's why we don't consider super-mutants as much of a threat now. Sure, going one up against one would be utter suicidal, but they don't got the combined force of arms and general brain matter to try and take over again.
BY their being mutants, they've got traits that most normal people don't have. Super-srength, resistance to both poison and radiation..and lemme tell ya, there are a ot of jobs where those qualities are needed, intelligence not a requirement.
Shoveling brahmin shit.
Mining. That's the ticket. Redding is the only place in the entire country you'll find uranium. And uranium is NEEDED by every shittin' city for their power, for their ammo. Trick is, it's buried so deep, in so dangerous a locations, that only one race can stand to go down and get it.
You guessed it. Super-mutants.
They all live in Redding now, mining for uranium. They've been pretty much left alone..as long the uranium keeps on coming, it's okay. They live them in what seems to be a human-mutant Combine, headed by a smart Super -mutant Sherrif named..Marius? Manus? Somethin' like that..
Anyways..we're on pretty good terms with those people. There's a power plant int town. but since we get our main power from Ghoul Poseidon..we just use for another thing.
Charging up Micro Fusion Cells.
Yep, this is where the strength of New Reno lies. Mobility. Firepower. Or more to the point, our fleet of Highwaymen.
Just as I was getting used to the idea of Pops actually being chums with a Super-mutant...something in the air told me that things were about to get weirder.
-------------------------
It wasn't something in the air, actually, more like the wind. It was this low tone, soothing and musical. It made me want to get up and kinda wave around, yaknow...
It's the kind of music that really tunes in with you, and you could actuallt feel your heart changing rythmn to the beat.
It became louder and nearer, and I I realized it was a song. I didn't understand the words...it was full of ~nagas... ~U-suthu...and......Vault Dweller? Chosen One??
The door to the church opened again, and I expected more tribals. What came in, I couldn't classify. Well..I can't call them tribals...you see, they've got on some pretty spiffy blue suits..and they carried what seemed to be really high-tech gadgets.
Only, they had really cool tattoos....and their leader was weird.
He was really, really short. About my height, really..and he had on this wooly robe that covered everything.
I mean Everything. It flapped over the face, and I couldn't even see the feet. How the hell did that guy...I assume it's a guy. It's just the way he moves...swings from side to side, arrogant as hell.
Anyways..I couldn't figure out how he kept from tripping on that robe and falling flat on his face.
As it went, the short guy walked up to the coffin, a bowed deeply. His retinue bowed too, even more deeply. He waved them away, and they went out the church, bowing once more even as they bassed through the door.
Weird. Tribal..and not..tribal.
Pop used to be a tribal, or at least lived in a rustic village, once. Nobody holds that against him. After all, if we can accept ghouls, superr-mutants, tight-asses...then like hell, we can look up to a tribal.
Actually now, Pop is much of a tribal as I am a damned rocket scientist. He looked really good in a fedora, yaknow..
The short hooded guy sits next to Uncle Vic, and sags into the bench.
"I didn't think you'd come, Goris..", Marcus says over his head.
The guy just growls...but it got the message across. It's the kind of low, almost animal-like growl that says.."You're lucky I don't gut you for even trying to imply that.."
Uncle Jesus looks scared. He inches away from the hooded guy and crosses himself. The Super-mutant laughs. Jesus ain't scared'a no super-mutant, but he's spooked by this short guy.
I wonder why?
----------------------------------
I turned to my left and saw that Butler was sleeping. The fat bugger..can't stay awake for more than five minutes.
I looked at the coffin. I already knew what I would see if I looked down on it..and the image came to mind.
Pop looked just like he was sleeping...
What would it be like..to be dead, I wonder...Pop used to sing something to put me to sleep...
~Sleep..sleep, the cousin of Death.
~Silent and dreamless.....
~Healing and true.
~Sleep now...and let destiny go...
~Your fortune will find you...
~Wherever you go....
I know...hardly the kind of lullaby that people appreciate. Mom was shocked when she learned he was singing me that. It was a tribal song..a war song, actually.
Well, it was kinda cool...that's just the way my Pop was weird.
How old was Pop, anyhow? I never knew...nobody in New Reno knows. He looks like he's in his early 30's but he's more than that...
He's been all over the Wasteland, people say...and there was talk that Pop had a lotta thing to do with the many changes in the place.
You gotta admit, it was kinda a weird coincidence. The biggest changes in the Wasteland...the dissolving of the New Reno families...the making of a Power Grid...the rise of NCR..these all happened in the twenty years he'd been said to have been roaming around.
I asked him about it once. All he said that the chosen One was the one who did it, not him. He was just another Mordino...albeit an adopted one at that.
Somehow..I feel as if he'd been lying to me all these years.. Look at all these people..he has GOT to have done something other than being just another crime boss.
Yeah. I know we deal in illegal stuff. Wanna make something of it?
Pop calls it having a flexible use of morals. What's right or wrong isn't really absolute. It's realtive all across the Wasteland. You may think you're right, but you could also be as wrong as you could possibly be.
And that's a mistake he never made. He may be a Big Guy, but he kept looking out for all the litle people.
-----------
I've got the feeling that something big is gonna happen again... Well, it's that..or I really need to go, badly.
Nah.
The floor is shaking, that's what.
The bucket of Holy Water on the altar is shaking. I'm closing my eyes to get a better feel of things. There.
*thump*
*thump*
*thump*
*THUMP*
It's kinda like...marching?
The sound stopped.
What the hell? I blink my eyes open and look around. Seems like people noticed the sounds too. Kinda hard not to, after all..we don't get earthquakes her in this part of the Wasteland.
The door to the church swings open, and I felt blinded. I help a hand up to sheield my eyes from the glare, and I gasped at seeing what walked in.
Damn. Why is everybody grinning so happily all of a sudden? It was the ultimate weirdness to come into my life so far. a troop of metal giants..walking into the church..
The tin men parted, and I saw someone step up from behind them. It was a man, his helmet off his shiny metal suit. I guessed that these things..were actually...armor.
The famed Power Armor.
Power Armor. The tin man suit of Death. Keeps Evil out, and dishes out punishment in a major way. Anybody in this thing is UNSTOPPABLE! You could go hand to hand with a Super-mutant and win easily...
Damn. I'm drooling.
But strangely, these Power Armor are mixed up. Some looked like the Suits that were part of legens..and the other were damned ugly..and the metal plating seemed to be the same shiny black metal that Pops' coffin is made of.
At seeing this armor, several people in the room tried reaching for their nonexistent weapons again. The hooded tribal guys turns sharply, and at seeing the black Power Armor..snarls menacingly.
"Enclave..", he spat, and LEAPT OUT of his robe, and smashed into and down athe neares black-suited guy. He slammed his big, powerful claws down into the breastplate, denting it slightly.
Claws??
Oh, my god..the horns, the demonic face, rippling muscles..tough grey hide...the really sharp claws, capable of tearing through metal...
That's a Deathclaw! That's a real, fuckin' DEATHCLAW!!!!!
"Die, Enclave, scum! The sins of your forbears carry over to your blood!!", the Deathclaw snarls, and tries to choke the Armored being. he seems to be suceeding.
A goddamn talking Deathclaw!!! That does it! I'm losing my mind!
One of the other Armored people, this one in a more silvered suit, reaches down and *plucks* the grey Deathclaw off the guy. The Deathclaw glares at it, and tries to wiggle himself loose.
"The war is over..", he drones out. "And the vanquished have reformed. Can you not find it in your heart to forgive those who acted in blindness? This is the essence of your Deathclaw society, Goris. The acknowledgement of the measure of fate."
"No..", the Deathclaw says.
The man quirks his head to the side. "Well, will you at least leave this vendetta for now? It shall be settled later, after we have given our respects to a good man."
The fire in the Deathclaw's eyes seemed to burn out and strangely intelliigent eyes tinged with sadness came.. "As you wish..", Goris said, and pried himself loose from his hands. He put on his robes back, and began loking just like any other of Pop's weird friends.
The black-Suited guy get up and brooodingly walks out of the church. "I only wanted to say my thanks...for his saving all our lives. Even us at the Enclave, some of us knew what we were doing was wrong...we just couldn't act on it. "
Goris gives him the finger..
.
"I was there.. we killed Frank Horrigan..", the Enclave man says finally, then goes out the door. Goris turns, an it's impossible to know what thought lurked under his hooded head.
The leader of the other Power Armored guys clanks over to the coffin and looks down, and his face creases with sadness. He sighs heavily, and the Armor whines as he sags down in heavey-heartedness. He takes out this shiny gun..and fires it off above the coffin.
Wow.
The thing lets off this bright flash of green light, and the next thing I know..there's a hole in Father Tully's roof.
The other Power Armored people draw similar pistols and fires it off. I must say, it made a VERY impressive light show..and I felt somehow gratified in this strange way their saluting my father. Glowing dreen blass fused together and bathed the church in an almost holy glow.
Of course..that makes half the roof they've vaporised...but nobody seems to care. They're too awestruck.
"And thus..we pay homage to a great man, a much-honored Son... of the Brotherhood of Steel...", the guy announces in a booming, somber voice. He rises his massive armored hand high into the ait, as if he was a sorcerer casting a powerful incantation. He fires off his pistiol one more time, into the brilliant sky. This time, the beam was a tight, controlled shot, sharp and lancing out into the Great Beyond.
"The Glory of the Brothehood goes with you, Chosen One! The Prayers of those you saved will accompany your steps towards Heaven. The songs of your Great Deeds will still be sung, from generation to generation."
Ow. My jaw dropped so hard that it hurts. Pop?! A MEMBER of the fuckin' BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL!!?!!?!
Shit. Shit. Shit. Crap. The Brotherhood of Steel is held in as much of a worshipped light as the Vault Dweller. After all, without their tech, the Vault Dweller couldn't have gone up to the Master in the first place.
Kinda makes me wonder why they didn't take their powerful militaristic ass and shove it down the Master's throat in the first place. The principle of non-interference, I suppose.
There isn't a kid in the Wasteland that hasn't dreamed of being with membership to the almost mystical Brotherhood.
And now Pops was recognized not just a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, but an HONORED meber, someone that epitomizes all of the ideals of the Brotherhood, someone who could have gotten high rank, but declined. Someone who could muster their forces, if he ever needed help...
Did I hapen to mention Brotherhood membership was hereditary? The firstborn son was always expected to take the place of his sire.
Waita second...this is beyond weird. This is Insane!
I gotta faint now...
*clonk*
****
Epilouge:
"I can't do this....", I said to Butler and shoved my head down my pillow. "Butt, if you were in my shoes, what would you choose?"
He laughed. "You ain't getting off that easy, kid. This decision is all yours, and has to be made soon."
"Damn...", I groaned and buried my head deeper. Why must I have such a great parent? Sometimes...the disadvantages are apparent.
I can be whatever I want, and my way will be paved for me by those grateful to my Pop. The problem is....I don't know what I want to be yet.
Which path to choose? Which future to take? And shit..since when did I get so philosophical?
----------------------------------------
End
Okay..here's version .02b. I'll upgrade it to the final version as soon as I can get the necessary datum from you people. I tried to stay away from the pitfall of TOO much info, and frankly...I think I went too far back.
There isn't going to be a part 2...I think I've said all that I needed to say here. Well, maybe I could try to say how the kid is going to handle the multitude of opportunities now open to him.
And
http://bpen.topcities.com/enlowres.gif
~cause anything less than total and utter overkill is a complete waste of time~
-it's the freakin' bluepencil!
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Choices
by B-pen
Well, the old bugger is dead. I can't deny that. I thought he'd never die, yaknow? After all, look at old Jules. Everybody talks downwind with him, he's got to have more alcohol than blood in his veins. He's so shrunked up, that you'd almost think that a good breeze would blow him away. And add to that, he's practically ancient. You'd think he'd have up and died a long time ago.
Nope. He lives on, the town greeter. He still stands by the corner across and down from the Desperado, greeting newcomers into town, and more--less making marks on who's who in town.
He's the guy who tells at first glance which among newcomers are easy spots, and which ones we should get kill off right away.
Hey, it keeps the casualty level down......
Anyways, old Jules said that he used to be taking drugs, this very addicting thing called Jet. "Rots you from the inside..",he said. But my pop came to him one day and gave him this funny little brown bottle, and told him to drink it.
And lo and behold, the Jet cravings were no more.
It's kinda weird. He never expected to outlast the Padrino, he said to me. I can't believe it too. Pop never took a single drug aside from stimpacks, when he fumbled up his blades. Lil' Uncle Jesus would just laugh and twirl his own knife in the air. Then Pop would glare and say.."Let's see you try to use a Vindicator..."
I don't know what he means by that, but it sure shuts up Uncle.
But he's dead. That's something I can't ignore. His coffin's there, by the altar, and Father Tully is crying over it. For once, the geezer is sober. "What a waste, my Lord..what a waste...too early...too early..", he keeps on muttering over and over.
Aunt Vicky is crying softly, a row right behind me. She looks at me, tears in her eyes, the lights of candles. I can tell she want me to beside her, to be cuddled and cried over.
No, thank you.
She's not really my aunt. But she's the daughter of old man Vic, someone Pops viewed as kinda like his uncle, anyways...so that makes him my, what, great-uncle?
Ah, who cares. The bigger the family, the better. Mordinos rule.
-----------------
Lil' Unca Jesus looks out of it. I guess this is the third time he's gone to a Family funeral. The first was for his own dad, Big Jesus Mordino, then to Mom. Damn.. Pops told me that he and Uncle Jesus were rivals in many things, specially in being the head of the Mordino clan. But one other thing they were fighting over was Mom's heart.
Turns out that Pops won both ways, then they had this kinda big fight, and then, Pops won again.
Uncle Jesus finally got it that he'd end up as a second-stringer for the rest of his life. He had to admit, that Pops DID run the Mordinos better than he could have ever done.
He became the best friend of Dad, Mom, and me. He still loved Mom, but she didn't love him back. So he felt like the only thing he could do was to protect her honor.
So when this drunk calls Mom a whore, Uncle Jesus comes up to him and makes sure he can never talk..or walk again.
Ouch.
Well...we did kinda own the Cat's Paw brothel...but I can't picture Mom being a whore. She was always so clean, so high-class beautiful. not like the other girls in the Paw.
They tell me that Mom was lucky to get Pops. I say it's the other way.
--------------------------------------
All the Family got together, and we pulled people away, even from San Francisco, just to get the proper number of attendants. You see, it's gotta be that whenever a Padrino dies, he's got have a representation of his Range at the funeral. Big Jesus had all the remaaing Wright attend his burial, as a measure of respect to the victor.
Pop sure had a lot of visitors. I don't think these people were former enemies...I haven't seen anybody actually GLAD to see the old guy down. When Big J died, some people danced with joy on the way to his tomb.
'Course we had to teach 'em respect...but it seems like Pop like EARNING other people's respect. And it shows. We got people from as far away as little towns like Klamath..and there's this funny slant-eyed guy from San Fran, too..
This breeze shafts through the church, and I get this feeling that something important's gonna happen, or someone BIG is gonna walk through that church door.
Sure enough, the door opens, but what walks through was this REALLY, REALLY old woman in flashy ooficial-loking robes. She can barely stand up and walk, but she was supported and helped by a group of blue-uniformed soldiers, armed with the scariest-looking big guns I've ever seen.
Everybody around me gasps, and I could see that even Unc Jesus, who NEVER bows to anybody except Pops, wanted to stand and salute respectfully.
The old woman hobbles slowly down the aisle and looks down at the coffin. She lets out this hard wail, and I tell you, my bones shivered.
Then, she walked down and limply sat at a front pew. All but one of the guards left to surrounded the area around the church, and leaning against a wall, he kept a wary gaze on all within. nobody dared to tell him off, to make him stash away the gun.
He looked like he knew his job...and would kill anyone who tried to prevent him from doing it to the fullest.
I asked the man next to me, his name's Butler, and he's my bodyguard.
"Who's that?"
"What, ya don't know? Even if your still a kid, you gotta learn to know what's what and who's who in the world."
"Just answer my question, Butt." Hehehe. Butler had this annoying habit of lecturing me. When that happens, I just call him by a shortened version of his name.
If fits, anyyhow. He's so fat, his butt sticks out high in the air.
"That's her excellency Tandi,", he said with a frown."President of the New California Republic."
"NCR..", I gasped. New Reno is the only town left in the Wasteland that isn't part of NCR. It used to be that there were three powers in the Wasteland. NCR, Vault City..and New Reno. After Pops closed down the Jet business, we kinda went into the background. NCR became so big and so powerful that anybody had GOT to be insane to try and act up against them. So, Vault City became a NCR state.
Where the hell was Vault City, anyhow? I never figured out how ro use Pop's old PipBoy..Who cares..they're far away..and harnless now. NCR left us alonem for the most part. By the way that old woman's carrying on, I guess Pop had something to do with it...
She's old, and her skin so wrinkled..and so white and dry. But when she looks at you, her eyes are hard as diamonds, and it's so ALIVe that you couldn't believe it.
And she's lookin' at me.
Damn.
-------------------------------------
I remember the gist of Pop's history. He came into town one day, he and his little troop o' followers. Jules said that he knew by sight..that here was a man BORN to LEAD.
Well, Pop was looking for this pre-war Vault stuff..he likes colecting them, I reckon. There's a whole shitload of them on display at the Cat's Paw...thingamajigs marked with a Vault -Tec sign.
This was where he goes in to relax..and this was also where he holds important meetings. He liked to surround himself in these kind of stuff, and says that they serve as a reminder of how the past can hold both hope and depair.`
The door opens again, and Great-Uncle Vic walks in. He's still wearing those same faded clothes like last time. I heard that during his travels with Pop, he got so rich that he could probably qualify as one of the High Classes here in New Reno. So, at the very least, he could have afforded some new clothes.
But he doesn't. Seems to me like he likes his clothes..and all things that he uses to be like him. Old.
"Good tools have personality.", he said. "And old tools are the best, they matured, and had tangled with more screw-ups than you'd ever have seen.."
I don't know what he means by that, but it's one of the things that makes Pops embarrased.
"Hey, that generator wasn't my fault."
"Tell that to Gecko, Boss."
"But it's fixed!"
"Who fixed it?"
"Uh.."
More of the general craziness that follows this family around.
He's got another guy with him, an old tribal...Well, I know it's a trbal because he's got a bone stuck through his nose. Otherwise, he looks just like everybody...except that he's wearing combat armor. A lady with a hard look on her face walks up from behind him and pulls the tribal down to seat.
"Sit still, Sulik.", I heard her say.
"Ah..Grampy-bone be not believing this. He not sense this one."
"Like hell. I saw the way you looked at me even way back at the store."
"Sperit sworks in mysterious ways.."
I ignore them, they're tribals, anyway. But Vic leans close and says, "Welcome back to the big city, Sulik."
"We and I wish it was on better occasion.", the tribal replies.
I sighed and turned back to the coffin. It's made of metal, but I don't know what kind. All Iknow is that Eldridge, Aunt Vicky, and a lot of guys from all over the Wasteland came together and built the damn thing. All I hear when I pass by the locked workshop is sounds of calnging, and now and then, mutters about..."Proto-ceramic..Enclave steel. Broherhood Welding techniques.."
I don't know what they were talkin' about, but that's the coolest-looking coffin I've even seen.
Kinda fitting. Pops couldn't do anything without being cool.
-------------------------------------
Pop was the Padrino, but he was famous before that. He used to go by the name Chosen One, and he was the boxing champion of ALL of New California. Yep. Really. The chapion used to be The Masticator....this big gorilla of a man who liked chewing off his opponent's ears. Well, he tried that with Pop and .......pow!
Ended up with Pop chewing off HIS goddamn ear.
Pop really had a lot of talents..I wonder, if things were a little different, had he been more educated, what would have happened?
I hear tapping on the door. "Could someone open this door, please? I don't thik we have enough strength to push it open.", a squeaky voice says.
A guard sighs and opens the door. None of our bouncers want to move. It looks as if NCR was taking over..but it's just a safety precaution, really. Prez. Tandi was much too honorable to play on Pop's funeral.
By the looks of theings, they respected each other a lot.
We pinch our noses as this disgusting, rotting smell fills the church. The group of ghouls by the door looks embarased, and walks in, and to the coffin.
The guard makes like he's gonna throw them out, but Uncle Jesus stops them. "They got a right.., he says.
The ghouls cluster around the coffin. One of them, his skin all green and flakinf off, with a tree growing off the top of his head, takes a leaf off the crown and places it on top of the coffin.
It was very symbolic, and while we didn't know the meaning, we were moved.
The ghouls all leave except one. He's wearing Combat armor, too..so the smell wasn't that bad. Actually his smell wasn't sickly rot like the other ghouls, but more like burning charcoal....kinda aromatic if you close your eyes and not atre at his face that's falling apart.
Sulik waves in greeting and says,"How do, Lenny?"
"I guess I'm all right. These old bones could have been better off..."
He sits near Sulik, Uncle Vic, and Uncle Jesus. By some unspoken command, people began moving to the other side of the church, not out of disgust, but as a measure of respect.
Respect for whom? The ghoul? Nah...
I know all about ghouls. Sure, most people in New Reno had never seen one before, including me, but Pops had a lot of dealings with them.
The first thing he told me to remember was that ghouls were still human. They just looked different, that's all. Radiation had changed them in many ways. What they had lost in ..um...aesthetic features, they gained in their extemely longlivety and increased intelligence.
Sometimes' Pop can be so dense. But he's fair to all people, and he treated ghouls just like he did everybody else. As a matter of fact, we don't produce our own power, no more..we got got it gratis from a Poseidon Nuclear Plant, somewhere to the north. Ghouls banded up and laid power lines, all for Pops.
I suppose we didn't really not expect ghouls to come. After all, Pop did something really good to them once, and they're still paying off the favor.
But they left a whole lotta vacant seats. people packed together in one corner, as if expecting something else to come.
-------------------------
Then the door opens again, and I see who's gonna be sitting in them.
A super-mutant.
No, let me rephrase that..
A fuckin' HUGE Super-mutant.
It looke around at the place, and its eyes glinted with...amusement at seeing our nervous gazes. Only the tribal Sulik, Uncle Vic, and Uncle Jesus seem unperturbed.
Most everyone in the place reached to their weapons, then looked surprised at not finding anything. They'd forgotten that they'd chucked them away this time as a gesture of respect. This was a funeral, there was room for only one death.
Vic waved at the mutant. "Marcus!"
The super-mutant turned and looked at the trader, a slight smile on his ugly face. He moved to sit on the bench behind them , and occupied half the seat. He shifted his tremedous bulk around and said to noone on particular,"At least he'll be in good company."
"What'cha mean?", Lenny the ghoul, asked.
"Jacob will be watching out for him."
Sulik nodded. "The sperits that are of same color wind up in same part of Heaven."
The mutant groaned.
"Twenty-goddamn years...and you're still on your Grampy-bone kick? Didn't your woman get rid of that?"
"She try..", Sulik laughed. "She try....."
"Hah. May I live for as long as I need to see it...but I'm not holding my breath."
You see, super-mutants are different from ghouls, although they both are the two forms of semi-human life out here in the Wasteland.
But they're the oppsotite poles, Pops said, with humanity as the fulcrum. YOu se, a long time ago, there was this guy..and he was known only as "The Master".
He was trying to take over the world.
Really!
And he would have done it, too...if it wasn't for this guy called...the Vault Dweller. Nobody knows much abou the guy..except he had a helluva lotta spunk, going toe-to-toe with a horde of Super Mutants like that...armed only with a Turbo Plasma Rifle..whatever that is.
He's the guy that Pops is modeling himself after..and as such, he's almost worshipped everywhere.
Now, the Master's dead, aced by the Vaukt Dweller, almost a hundred years ago. But the super-mutants are still around, since they got extremely long lifespans.
They're like ghouls that way.
But there, the resemblance ends.
While ghouls can be counted on to be more-or-less good conversationalists, super mutants can be counted on to be dumb as hell. Sure there were a few exceptions..but it remains so.
That's why we don't consider super-mutants as much of a threat now. Sure, going one up against one would be utter suicidal, but they don't got the combined force of arms and general brain matter to try and take over again.
BY their being mutants, they've got traits that most normal people don't have. Super-srength, resistance to both poison and radiation..and lemme tell ya, there are a ot of jobs where those qualities are needed, intelligence not a requirement.
Shoveling brahmin shit.
Mining. That's the ticket. Redding is the only place in the entire country you'll find uranium. And uranium is NEEDED by every shittin' city for their power, for their ammo. Trick is, it's buried so deep, in so dangerous a locations, that only one race can stand to go down and get it.
You guessed it. Super-mutants.
They all live in Redding now, mining for uranium. They've been pretty much left alone..as long the uranium keeps on coming, it's okay. They live them in what seems to be a human-mutant Combine, headed by a smart Super -mutant Sherrif named..Marius? Manus? Somethin' like that..
Anyways..we're on pretty good terms with those people. There's a power plant int town. but since we get our main power from Ghoul Poseidon..we just use for another thing.
Charging up Micro Fusion Cells.
Yep, this is where the strength of New Reno lies. Mobility. Firepower. Or more to the point, our fleet of Highwaymen.
Just as I was getting used to the idea of Pops actually being chums with a Super-mutant...something in the air told me that things were about to get weirder.
-------------------------
It wasn't something in the air, actually, more like the wind. It was this low tone, soothing and musical. It made me want to get up and kinda wave around, yaknow...
It's the kind of music that really tunes in with you, and you could actuallt feel your heart changing rythmn to the beat.
It became louder and nearer, and I I realized it was a song. I didn't understand the words...it was full of ~nagas... ~U-suthu...and......Vault Dweller? Chosen One??
The door to the church opened again, and I expected more tribals. What came in, I couldn't classify. Well..I can't call them tribals...you see, they've got on some pretty spiffy blue suits..and they carried what seemed to be really high-tech gadgets.
Only, they had really cool tattoos....and their leader was weird.
He was really, really short. About my height, really..and he had on this wooly robe that covered everything.
I mean Everything. It flapped over the face, and I couldn't even see the feet. How the hell did that guy...I assume it's a guy. It's just the way he moves...swings from side to side, arrogant as hell.
Anyways..I couldn't figure out how he kept from tripping on that robe and falling flat on his face.
As it went, the short guy walked up to the coffin, a bowed deeply. His retinue bowed too, even more deeply. He waved them away, and they went out the church, bowing once more even as they bassed through the door.
Weird. Tribal..and not..tribal.
Pop used to be a tribal, or at least lived in a rustic village, once. Nobody holds that against him. After all, if we can accept ghouls, superr-mutants, tight-asses...then like hell, we can look up to a tribal.
Actually now, Pop is much of a tribal as I am a damned rocket scientist. He looked really good in a fedora, yaknow..
The short hooded guy sits next to Uncle Vic, and sags into the bench.
"I didn't think you'd come, Goris..", Marcus says over his head.
The guy just growls...but it got the message across. It's the kind of low, almost animal-like growl that says.."You're lucky I don't gut you for even trying to imply that.."
Uncle Jesus looks scared. He inches away from the hooded guy and crosses himself. The Super-mutant laughs. Jesus ain't scared'a no super-mutant, but he's spooked by this short guy.
I wonder why?
----------------------------------
I turned to my left and saw that Butler was sleeping. The fat bugger..can't stay awake for more than five minutes.
I looked at the coffin. I already knew what I would see if I looked down on it..and the image came to mind.
Pop looked just like he was sleeping...
What would it be like..to be dead, I wonder...Pop used to sing something to put me to sleep...
~Sleep..sleep, the cousin of Death.
~Silent and dreamless.....
~Healing and true.
~Sleep now...and let destiny go...
~Your fortune will find you...
~Wherever you go....
I know...hardly the kind of lullaby that people appreciate. Mom was shocked when she learned he was singing me that. It was a tribal song..a war song, actually.
Well, it was kinda cool...that's just the way my Pop was weird.
How old was Pop, anyhow? I never knew...nobody in New Reno knows. He looks like he's in his early 30's but he's more than that...
He's been all over the Wasteland, people say...and there was talk that Pop had a lotta thing to do with the many changes in the place.
You gotta admit, it was kinda a weird coincidence. The biggest changes in the Wasteland...the dissolving of the New Reno families...the making of a Power Grid...the rise of NCR..these all happened in the twenty years he'd been said to have been roaming around.
I asked him about it once. All he said that the chosen One was the one who did it, not him. He was just another Mordino...albeit an adopted one at that.
Somehow..I feel as if he'd been lying to me all these years.. Look at all these people..he has GOT to have done something other than being just another crime boss.
Yeah. I know we deal in illegal stuff. Wanna make something of it?
Pop calls it having a flexible use of morals. What's right or wrong isn't really absolute. It's realtive all across the Wasteland. You may think you're right, but you could also be as wrong as you could possibly be.
And that's a mistake he never made. He may be a Big Guy, but he kept looking out for all the litle people.
-----------
I've got the feeling that something big is gonna happen again... Well, it's that..or I really need to go, badly.
Nah.
The floor is shaking, that's what.
The bucket of Holy Water on the altar is shaking. I'm closing my eyes to get a better feel of things. There.
*thump*
*thump*
*thump*
*THUMP*
It's kinda like...marching?
The sound stopped.
What the hell? I blink my eyes open and look around. Seems like people noticed the sounds too. Kinda hard not to, after all..we don't get earthquakes her in this part of the Wasteland.
The door to the church swings open, and I felt blinded. I help a hand up to sheield my eyes from the glare, and I gasped at seeing what walked in.
Damn. Why is everybody grinning so happily all of a sudden? It was the ultimate weirdness to come into my life so far. a troop of metal giants..walking into the church..
The tin men parted, and I saw someone step up from behind them. It was a man, his helmet off his shiny metal suit. I guessed that these things..were actually...armor.
The famed Power Armor.
Power Armor. The tin man suit of Death. Keeps Evil out, and dishes out punishment in a major way. Anybody in this thing is UNSTOPPABLE! You could go hand to hand with a Super-mutant and win easily...
Damn. I'm drooling.
But strangely, these Power Armor are mixed up. Some looked like the Suits that were part of legens..and the other were damned ugly..and the metal plating seemed to be the same shiny black metal that Pops' coffin is made of.
At seeing this armor, several people in the room tried reaching for their nonexistent weapons again. The hooded tribal guys turns sharply, and at seeing the black Power Armor..snarls menacingly.
"Enclave..", he spat, and LEAPT OUT of his robe, and smashed into and down athe neares black-suited guy. He slammed his big, powerful claws down into the breastplate, denting it slightly.
Claws??
Oh, my god..the horns, the demonic face, rippling muscles..tough grey hide...the really sharp claws, capable of tearing through metal...
That's a Deathclaw! That's a real, fuckin' DEATHCLAW!!!!!
"Die, Enclave, scum! The sins of your forbears carry over to your blood!!", the Deathclaw snarls, and tries to choke the Armored being. he seems to be suceeding.
A goddamn talking Deathclaw!!! That does it! I'm losing my mind!
One of the other Armored people, this one in a more silvered suit, reaches down and *plucks* the grey Deathclaw off the guy. The Deathclaw glares at it, and tries to wiggle himself loose.
"The war is over..", he drones out. "And the vanquished have reformed. Can you not find it in your heart to forgive those who acted in blindness? This is the essence of your Deathclaw society, Goris. The acknowledgement of the measure of fate."
"No..", the Deathclaw says.
The man quirks his head to the side. "Well, will you at least leave this vendetta for now? It shall be settled later, after we have given our respects to a good man."
The fire in the Deathclaw's eyes seemed to burn out and strangely intelliigent eyes tinged with sadness came.. "As you wish..", Goris said, and pried himself loose from his hands. He put on his robes back, and began loking just like any other of Pop's weird friends.
The black-Suited guy get up and brooodingly walks out of the church. "I only wanted to say my thanks...for his saving all our lives. Even us at the Enclave, some of us knew what we were doing was wrong...we just couldn't act on it. "
Goris gives him the finger..
.
"I was there.. we killed Frank Horrigan..", the Enclave man says finally, then goes out the door. Goris turns, an it's impossible to know what thought lurked under his hooded head.
The leader of the other Power Armored guys clanks over to the coffin and looks down, and his face creases with sadness. He sighs heavily, and the Armor whines as he sags down in heavey-heartedness. He takes out this shiny gun..and fires it off above the coffin.
Wow.
The thing lets off this bright flash of green light, and the next thing I know..there's a hole in Father Tully's roof.
The other Power Armored people draw similar pistols and fires it off. I must say, it made a VERY impressive light show..and I felt somehow gratified in this strange way their saluting my father. Glowing dreen blass fused together and bathed the church in an almost holy glow.
Of course..that makes half the roof they've vaporised...but nobody seems to care. They're too awestruck.
"And thus..we pay homage to a great man, a much-honored Son... of the Brotherhood of Steel...", the guy announces in a booming, somber voice. He rises his massive armored hand high into the ait, as if he was a sorcerer casting a powerful incantation. He fires off his pistiol one more time, into the brilliant sky. This time, the beam was a tight, controlled shot, sharp and lancing out into the Great Beyond.
"The Glory of the Brothehood goes with you, Chosen One! The Prayers of those you saved will accompany your steps towards Heaven. The songs of your Great Deeds will still be sung, from generation to generation."
Ow. My jaw dropped so hard that it hurts. Pop?! A MEMBER of the fuckin' BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL!!?!!?!
Shit. Shit. Shit. Crap. The Brotherhood of Steel is held in as much of a worshipped light as the Vault Dweller. After all, without their tech, the Vault Dweller couldn't have gone up to the Master in the first place.
Kinda makes me wonder why they didn't take their powerful militaristic ass and shove it down the Master's throat in the first place. The principle of non-interference, I suppose.
There isn't a kid in the Wasteland that hasn't dreamed of being with membership to the almost mystical Brotherhood.
And now Pops was recognized not just a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, but an HONORED meber, someone that epitomizes all of the ideals of the Brotherhood, someone who could have gotten high rank, but declined. Someone who could muster their forces, if he ever needed help...
Did I hapen to mention Brotherhood membership was hereditary? The firstborn son was always expected to take the place of his sire.
Waita second...this is beyond weird. This is Insane!
I gotta faint now...
*clonk*
****
Epilouge:
"I can't do this....", I said to Butler and shoved my head down my pillow. "Butt, if you were in my shoes, what would you choose?"
He laughed. "You ain't getting off that easy, kid. This decision is all yours, and has to be made soon."
"Damn...", I groaned and buried my head deeper. Why must I have such a great parent? Sometimes...the disadvantages are apparent.
I can be whatever I want, and my way will be paved for me by those grateful to my Pop. The problem is....I don't know what I want to be yet.
Which path to choose? Which future to take? And shit..since when did I get so philosophical?
----------------------------------------
End
Okay..here's version .02b. I'll upgrade it to the final version as soon as I can get the necessary datum from you people. I tried to stay away from the pitfall of TOO much info, and frankly...I think I went too far back.
There isn't going to be a part 2...I think I've said all that I needed to say here. Well, maybe I could try to say how the kid is going to handle the multitude of opportunities now open to him.
And
http://bpen.topcities.com/enlowres.gif
~cause anything less than total and utter overkill is a complete waste of time~
-it's the freakin' bluepencil!
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