He’s just a Love Machine

The next morning I’m hungover and suffering from the effects of alcohol withdrawal. I’m a feeling lethargic and I’m probably not looking too flash… Veronica is kind enough not to say anything, but I can tell I’m not my normal charming self.
Well, hangover or not, I’ve got a sexbot to program and laying about in Joe’s stall isn’t making it anymore robo-horny.

While this morning isn’t off to a great start for Joe and Joe’s sore head, there is a pleasant surprise waiting for him. It seems that Veronica has been busy trading while I’ve been out performing odd jobs. Indeed, via some crafty dealing she seems to have gathered quite the stash of equipment.
She seems to have acquired suits of body-Armour, weapons, ammo, drugs, medications and even a pair of slightly used binoculars. In fact, this show of wheeling and dealing puts Joe to shame.

What? How? Where... where did you get that? Let me guess - I don't want to know.

What? How? Where... where did you get that?!?
Let me guess - I don't want to know.

After a spot of discussion we agree that we should sell most of the excess gear. Although I think I can use the binoculars and the meaty looking shot gun. And perhaps Veronica should hold on to the grenade launcher… just in case.
Also, Veronica seems to be quite taken with the light-leather Armour. I suppose that if Joe gets street clothes for strutting about town, then Veronica should too.

Protective, yet classy.

Protective, yet classy.

I cart the equipment we aren’t planning on using over to Mick and Ralph’s, and trade it in for some medication and ammo. While I’m there I pick up the disk that Ralph has programmed with the ‘companion’ program. Icky.

As covered previously, Freeside isn’t a town as such – just a massive section of the Vegas ruins that has been walled off from the wastes. Ralph suggests that there is an entrance to an old processing plant somewhere within Freeside, and I should search there for a robot to reprogram.

The path to this alleged building takes me far back into the Vegas ruins. So far back that I’m totally alone.
I’m not sure why no one else is hanging about out here. I guess the bums need to be near the gates and stores in order to beg, and thugs need to stick around those same areas so they have people to rob.
But even though there are no people out here, wild animals haven’t moved in because Freeside’s massive wall keeps them all out. So I walk through the ruins in eerie isolation.

You don't know what it's like out there. You may think you do but you don't

You don't know what it's like out there. You may think you do, but you don't.

I’m eventually able to locate an unassuming door leading to a ruined building that looked otherwise inaccessible in the extreme east of Freeside’s isolated ruins. I’d have never found it without Ralph’s directions.
It’s been empty for a long time and I have no idea of what could be in there, so I flick on my Pipboy’s light and draw my new shotgun before hesitantly stepping inside.

It looks like the first room has already been picked clean of anything to take, and there are rustling noises coming from the other side of the doors.
Well, I’ve walked to far too be put off by a few noises… let’s see what new horror awaits.

Anybody home?

Anybody home?

To be fair, if I hadn’t already suffered through a rat tsunami, then a giant rat charging me might have worried me… But I have suffered through a rat tsunami. So it didn’t.
Instead I waste little time in firing my brand new, over sized shotgun. The result is a satisfying blast that sends a headless rat corpse flying over to the other side of the room. Splendid.

BAM! And the head is gone!

BAM! And the head is gone!

The noise attracts a few more rodents of varying size, and they very considerately run single file into my shotgun sights.
Once I have the time to take stock of my situation, the outlook is rosy. The reward for a little pest extermination is a small, but fairly well stocked, factory that has yet to be looted. And I get to work right away, stuffing absolutely everything into my over sized pockets.

Zounds! It's a cacophony of cups!

Zounds! It's a cacophony of cups!

There's never anything good on...

There's never anything good on...

Built a better rat-trap

Built a better rat-trap

You call it scrap, I call it a part of the future wall-patch that keeps us warm.

You call it scrap, I call it a part of the future wall-patch that keeps us warm.

There's a splendid pun in here somewhere...

There's a splendid pun in here somewhere...

Ah... Two work benches conveniently just a few thousand miles from any-place even vaguely useful.

Ah... Two work benches conveniently just a few thousand miles from any-place even vaguely useful.

By the time I’m finished I’m weighed down by the fruits of my ‘prospecting’ – even ‘useless’ stuff like scrap metal is useful to someone, so I’ve left nothing behind. In the wastes I’d be hesitant to weigh myself down this much, just in case I ran into something toothy on the way home. But I’m still within the protective walls of Freeside so an ambush is unlikely.
Besides, I walk everywhere rather than run anyway, so being weighed down is no real hassle.

Last thing to take care of is this darn robot. Standing lonely vigil in a forgotten corner, an old protectron robot waits for commands that will give it purpose.
Considering the purpose I’m about to give it, I’m kinda glad that robots don’t have souls.

To turn me on just set my dial

To turn me on just set my dial

Disaster almost strikes when I am unable to access the command console to install the robot’s new programing. Luckily when pillaging the lockers earlier I can across an access card that gives me control of the console and allows me to run Ralph’s programming on the hibernating relic.

Yes... I think... maybe....

Yes... I think... maybe....

Behold the Fully Integrated Security Technotronic Officer – Fisto!

“Greetings. Fisto is programmed to please.”
Hey there, buddy!
“Assume the position.”
Errm… wait… what? What is ‘assume the position’ supposed to mean?!?!
“Numbness will subside in several minutes.”
Sweet, Vault-tec – Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Fffwaaaagah... RUN! Run away!

Fffwaaaagah... RUN! Run away!

After avoiding an… ‘unfortunate’ close call, I’m able to communicate to the sexbot that the Garrets are its new owner. And then away it goes… somehow it seems to know exactly where the Wrangler is.

I slowly whip-around the building one last time to make sure there is nothing else I can take with me, and then I make my way back to the inhabited sections of Freeside.

I need a car... or a moped.

I need a car... or a moped.

It’s dark by the time I get back to the main area of Freeside. I’m keen to finish up this deal with Mr Garret over at the Wrangler, but I decide that it would be a good idea to sell off some of the crap I’m lugging about first. With that in mind I make a quick stop at Mick and Ralph’s store.

Once I’ve unloaded some of the heavier salvage, I start to make my way back to the Wrangler, but I’m interrupted when a giant rat speeds past with several street children in pursuit. The kids, obviously hungry, have armed themselves with clubs and they are pursuing their meal as fast as they can.
Turns out that giant rats are such feeble foes that even little street kids are ready and willing to take them on. It kinda detracts a little from my heroics earlier today.
I figure I can handle a quick good deed, so I draw my pistol and blast the rat as it runs past. The kids all run up and start eating… which is kinda gross. But one calls out, “Thanks, mister,” which gives me the warm fuzzies.

Aaaaand now I no longer feel like a badass.

Aaaaand now I no longer feel like a badass.

All my hard work is more than worth it when I arrive at the Wrangler and convince a very grateful James Garret to pay a little extra for the recruitment of the last specially requested ‘companion’.

Errm... too much information.

Errm... too much information.

Gadzooks! With the money from the odd jobs, the money from today’s ‘prospecting’ and the items Veronica traded for; we have enough to enter The Strip!

The next morning I’m still suffering from alcohol withdrawal… right up to the moment I swig a bottle of Whiskey… I’m not going to let it ruin our big day.
Veronica and I sort through everything left at the stall and decide what is worthwhile and what is rubbish before we visit Mick and Ralph’s for one last time. I carry anything of immediate use, Veronica carries anything that’s valuable for future trading and everything else is offloaded at the pawn shop. Joe’s Freeside stall is officially closed!

And he we are again… it’s oddly freeing to be a free spirit again, and we are about to get access to where New Vegas hides all the fun… Let’s hit the strip, baby!

This had better be good

This had better be good

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2 Responses to “He’s just a Love Machine”

  1. I laughed at how “Veronica acquired” the exact same gear found in the courier’s stash.

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