[Krylo]

As Altered Beast commands. . .

How to Make Enemies and Influence People----



When I get back to Megaton the sun still hasn't come up, and the whole city seems to be asleep.

'City'.

Regardless, I figure I'll see if Moira's home. Finish up this job for her, see what else she needs done, that kind of thi--




Well, door isn't opening. Doubt she'd be happy if I broke in. Guess I'll have to find something else to pass the time. . .




Maybe I'll have a drink.




Saloon is still open at least.

I head over to the bar and take a seat, and quickly wonder on the wisdom of this decision as the... thing behind the counter turns to me. The scent of rotting flesh washes over me like a nauseating wave. I almost retch, and I'm sure I would have if I had smelt this a few days ago.



Now, I REALLY need a drink.

"Whatever the strongest shit you have is."

The thing eyes me for a second before reaching behind the counter and putting a bottle of vodka in front of me.

"That'll be twenty-nine caps, Smoothskin," his gravelly voice demands the money and I reach into a pocket, producing it within seconds and sliding it over the counter trying, and failing, not to look at him.

One of his putrid eyebrows raises--or at least I think it does, it's hard to tell when there's no skin there--and he speaks once more, his breath like a rotting carcass, "So you ain't never seen a ghoul before, I take it?"

"...What makes you think that?" I ask as I swallow back a rather large gulp of the bitter liquid, letting the burn slide down my throat pleasantly. I resist the urge to shudder as the harsh liquid moves through my 'virgin' body.

"Well, yer disgusted by me, that much is clear," he says as he starts to clean out a dirty glass with a rag that doesn't seem much better and makes me glad that alcohol is a disinfectent, "But cha aren't hatin' on me like most folk would. You just seem scared..."

I take another long drink, and I can already feel the effects of the alcohol starting to set in, as I let out a couple of coughs and nod. "Y... yeah. I haven't been around much." I take another drink straight from the bottle and Gob nods a bit, chuckling.

"Don't seem like you drink much either, eh, Smoothskin?"

I shake my head, "I was too young where I came from, but I'm hoping it can solve my problems just like they claim in the old vid-re..." I catch myself too late. These people don't have vid-reels.

Gob nods, though, and keeps wiping the glass. "Yeah, I thought so. You looked familiar... an older guy kinda like you came through a few days ago from 101. Now I'm not sayin' there's a connection... but..."

'Dad?'

I look up at the creature for the first time since I've sat down, and immediately regret it, pushing back the urge to throw up once more. "...Where did he go..." I manage to choke out after a moment.

"Sorry, cutie," Gob chuckles at the shudder of revulsion that slides down my spine at the word before continuing, "but I can't tell ya much more than that. Moriarty'd have my head on a platter, and I'm sure I'd smell even worse dead." A short bout of hoarse laughter at his own bad joke later and Gob turns away from me, "He's in the back if you'd like to talk to him."

I down the rest of the vodka, elliciting a coughing fit from myself and more laughter from Gob before I stand up.



Making my way into the back around the ghoul, I find Moriarty sitting in front of his terminal. I can see he's already logged in and glancing at a few files that he quickly closes before standing and turning toward me taking on a fake smile.

"COLIN MORIARTY, at yer service!" he says with an accent so thick I could cut it with a knife, "Welcome to Moriarty's my saloon, my home, my slice o' heaven in this backwoods little burg. Now, if ya don't mind tellin' me why yer bothering me in me office before I kick yer arse?"

"...I heard that a man passed through here recently. Where'd he go?"

Moriarty looked me over once closely before speaking, "...Little Lucy, is that you? It is, innit it!?"

"How do you know my name?" my eyes narrow and my hand moves toward my pistol.

"Aww, ye don't remember ole Moriarty? I suppose ye wouldn't though, ye was just a weeee thing back then. Barely popped from your momma... I'm truly sorry about your loss."

"What are you talking about? I wasn't born here..."

He stops for a moment looking me in the eyes once more, "They lied to ya did they? Told ya you were born in that vault? Guess I kint blame them, they just wanted what was best for their little girl, after all... and this wasteland certainly ain't what's best."

"I don't know, people try to kill me either way, at least there's more ammo to shoot back with out here."

Moriarty lets out a gut laugh, "Aye aye... that overseer ya got in there's quite the snake... didn't seem too happy about your father leaving, either, but your dad had hoped ye could avoid all this unpleasantness... guess he was jus' dreamin' again."

"Cut the shit, Moriarty. Where'd he go. He apparently has a lot of explaining to do."

"Slow down there, now, kiddo, I'd love ta help you, I really would, but what you're askin' for is information, and information is a commodity. I didn't get where I am by just giving away commodities. You need ta do a little favor for me, first."

My patience is running out and I narrow my eyes at the sleazy barman. "What is it?"

"Well thar's this girl, pretty little thing, worked for me and the local men if you know what I mean. Anyway, she cut town with my share o' her profits, and I want it back. It'd be great if you could ta..."



I unholster my pistol and have the barrel aimed at his head in one smooth motion. "See, it's funny... you said you wanted a favor, but what I'm hearing is that you're a pimp and murderer--but you're too damn cowardly to do the killing yourself. Not only that but you're a damn lying snake who'd get the child of an old friend to do his dirty work over something as simple as telling her where her daddy is. You aren't worthy of breathing, Moriarty, just like everyone else is this godforsaken wasteland. You'd better give me a damn good reason not to pull this trigger."

"'Cause if you do, the people of this here town'll be on you li..."

He's paranoid. The Sheriff was right about the rat half, hope he's right about the other. "I don't think so, Moriarty," I cut him off in mid-sentence, "The people of this town are as sick of your bullshit as I am, and the only thing I'd be getting from them over this are accolades and caps. The only reason I haven't pulled the trigger yet is because I don't like killing. Now talk before I change my mind."

His eyes narrow, and he glances at the computer screen. "Alright, fine... he headed on to the DC ruins, tryin' ta find 'T'ree Dog' the GNR broadcaster... but don't think I'll be forgettin' this, little Lucy. Moriarty doesn't forget or forgive."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," I press the gun to his forehead and relieve him of his own firearm before backing out the back door.



Well that was fun, but something tells me I'd best get the hell out of Megaton.



Sun's up now, though. Maybe I can at least let Moira knowing I'm skipping town.

I head back over to the Craterside Supply, and sure enough, someone unlocked while I was drinking.



Huh. First time I've seen her actually behind the counter.

She waves and smiles as she notices me come in. "So how's the scavving been? Got the food and medicine from that Super-Duper Mart?" she asks happily as I walk over.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I got it. . ." I reply as I start to pull some things out.

"Really?! You Did? You diiid! Well, all right! Tell me all about it! For the book, you know."

I think back to the mart for a moment, trying to clear Moriarty from my head, though I find it hard not to glance over my shoulder, as I explain. "Well, there were a bunch of psychopaths living in there. Were using the food and medicine storage as makeshift armories, too."

"Soooo you're saying they acquired a well-protected stash? I wonder how many other places are hidin--"

"Yeah, listen, Moira, I'm kinda in a hurry today. . ."

Her head droops, and she looks a bit crestfallen, "Well. . . okay, but at least let me give you your payment!" she's perked right back up, almost immediately. I really envy her enthusiasm. And it kind of pains me that I have to cut this short. And quit the job. Man she's not going to like that. . .

I'm barely listening as she hands me a bunch of food and some kind of object she claims will make food, "More, um, betterer" so long as I keep it on me.

"Thanks, uh, and Moira. . . I'm, listen I gotta go. Some stuff came up and I don't know when I'll be back to town, so I can't really help with the book, anymore."

She sags again, but this time she doesn't perk back up. "Well. . . I. . . I can't force you to work, I suppose," she says, her lip trembling a little. Honestly, if this were any other situation, she COULD force me to work with that look.

"But uh, I do need some supplies before I leave," I add, trying to change the subject. Her response is listless, almost broken.

It's painful to hear, but I'm sure she'll bounce back. Eventually. Maybe. .

Ugh.



I head back out into the wastes, feeling like garbage.

Only thing to do now is track down my dad, I guess. I got a lead on him. . . and I don't know how long it will be good for. Would have had to take a hiatus from her jobs, anyway.

But first. . . I haven't slept over a day.



I pass out for hours, and then, seeming as I don't know what's waiting for me between here and GNR, I grab as much ammor as I can carry, an assault rifle, the 14mm pistol, a sawed off shotgun, some grenades, and other various pieces of necessary self defense weaponry.

I tune my Pip Boy to GNR, and tell it to track back the signal's originating site.



It pulls up a map and informs me I should be able to get there if I travel west of the Super Duper Mart.

. . .Wish I had known that before I went to Megaton and then came all the way back here.

Well, que sera sera.




Doesn't take me long to get back there. Well. . . a couple hours, and a couple dead raiders, but you know, that's just average. Maybe I should start keeping track of time by rai--

"Help, miss, help!" I turn toward the voice. . .



And am pretty surprised to see a kid running up to me.

"Listen, kid, calm down, would you?" I ask as he's clearly trembling.

"N-no. . . Those things will get me! I can't. Gotta keep going!"

He tries to run off, but I grab him by the back of his shirt and pull him in. "Whoa there, listen, kiddo, just calm down and tell me what's going on, it'll be okay. . ." I say in my most soothing voice, putting a hand on his head.

Dogmeat helps by nuzzling his hand, and the boy gulps back his fear.

"O-okay, but. . . you're not going to leave me like the other adults, right? You'll help find my dad?"

I let out a slow sigh. "Yeah. . . yeah I guess I will, where is he?"

The kid points back behind him. "In grayditch. The house closest to the billboard. Please, you gotta find him! He's the only one the monsters hav--"

"Slow down. . . what kind of monsters?"

"Um, well. . . they're big six legged things. . . with GIANT teeth. They're always scurrying around and taking things. . . dad called them Fucking Ants."

Ants? He's afraid of ants? That. . . well, okay. Let's not mock the mentally challenged boy. I can at least go grab his dad for him.

"He was always saying, "These are the dumbest fucking ants" and telling people to "Aim for the antenner". . . whatever that means" He's still explaining the mons--wait why would his dad be aiming for their antennas? Ants are like, an inch long.

"Uh, hey, ki--what's your name?"

"Um, Bryan. Bryan Wilks, miss."

"Right, Bryan--call me Lucy, by the way, uh, Bryan, how big are these ants?"

He looks at me for a moment then starts stretching his arms out, and then stops, looks at the distance, then down at himself. "Uh, well," he kneels down a bit and holds a hand about two feet off the ground, "'bout this tall, and um. . . little longer than I am tall."

I go pale for a second. How is that even possible? Their exoskeletons shouldn't be able to support the weight of their muscles, unless it was too thick for the muscles to move. . . but if they actually scaled up in strength as well as size.

Christ.

Bryan picks up on it. "Y-you aren't going to leave are you? I. . . I wouldn't blame you if you did, but. . . what will happen to my pa?"



I look out toward the DC ruins and where my Pipboy says GNR is located, and think about how easy it would be to let that kid just rot here. Not like anyone would know. Not like it would matter. . . and besides who knows what could happen to my lead on dad if I waste any more time?




. . .Sorry, dad. Guess you'll have to wait.