Fleeing the Scene of the Crime

Here's looking at you kid.

Here's looking at you kid.


And now I’m alone.

Joe had spent quite some time living in Vegas. So many adventures that were so much easier because I knew that there was a safe mattress back at the stall, along with Victoria to watch my back.
Well there isn’t anyone to watch my back now… and there aren’t any nice safe mattresses to snooze on. I’m reluctant to snooze in the wild since last time I did that a giant wasp brought me to the brink of death.
And, to make things worse, if I go too long without a drink of scotch I start to get the shakes, but drinking scotch hastens imminent dehydration.

Dude, I totally miss you. I really f@#$%n miss you. Now I'm all alone, all the time, all the time

Dude, I totally miss you. I really f@#$%n miss you.
Now I'm all alone, all the time, all the time

I’m heading out into the wastes. For a moment I had thought that I might head back to Novac but, for all I know, the people who are hunting for me might know I lived there. I’m going to have to find some place to lie low for a little while.

Destined to be alone

Ronery, I so ronery

Without Victoria around to help shoulder the load, my pack is filled to bursting. Rather than travel in silence I flick on the Radio. Can’t help be feel a little ripped off when the first thing on is an advertisement for the Vault 21 Hotel.
“Everything is better in a Vault.” Dicks.

I decide that the best plan wound be to ditch this damn Platinum Chip out here in the wastes. I accidentally picked it up when relieving Benny of his rather fine suit, but I never wanted it and it would be damning evidence against me.
As well as linking me back to Benny, it seems that both the Legion and NCR want a piece of it. If I leave it out in the wastes it’s someone else’s problem. Does that make me a bad person?
Well, luckily for someone else, I can’t seem to discard the damn thing. Not sure why – perhaps it’s lost within my labyrinthine pockets.
I give up and trudge onwards in dejected silence.

Stupid chip, it'll be the last place I look.

Stupid chip, it'll be the last place I look.

Said silence is broken all of a sudden when a torrent of red laser fire flashes through the darkness, missing me totally but peppering the ruins just ahead of me. I retreat back behind the corner of an old ruined building and grab the first weapon I have to hand. As the owner of the laser rife comes around the corner I grit my teeth and open fire.
Turns out that my attacker is another one of the ‘fiends’. Rather perplexingly their outfits still consist of un-armoured clothing and elaborate goat-skull head-dresses. The clothing does nothing to stop my retaliatory volley.
As my goat-helmeted attacker collapses it occurs to me that I just gunned him down with Benny’s gun. It has a detailed painting of a saint on the ivy grip and leaves in the nickel plating; it feels oddly fitting to be fending of aggressors with the gun that was once used to kill me.
But there is no time for further contemplation, as it seems laser guy had a friend. She, rather less threateningly, is armed with a pool cue and is wearing almost identical non-armoured clothing.

"In memoriam of our dear deceased friend, Frank, everyone will be wearing coveralls and a goat hat in his honor." "But shouldn't we wear a little Armour so that..." "I really can't see any reason that would be necessary."

"In memoriam of our dear deceased friend, Frank, everyone will be wearing coveralls and a goat hat in his honor."
"But shouldn't we wear a little protection so..."
"I really can't see any reason that would be necessary."

"Time for some thrilling heroics"

Time for some thrilling heroics

"We're not gonna die. We can't die, Bruce. You know why? Because we are so...very...pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us..." *GAAHCH*

"We're not gonna die. We can't die, Bruce. You know why? Because we are so...very...pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us..." *GAAHCH*

Picking through the belongings of my would-be muggers, I have to pick carefully. My pockets are already packed to their maximum capacity, and I can’t just take everything.

As I slog on through the wastes I’m a little shocked to hear the following news story come over my Pip-boy (like, really actually come on)
Tops hotel owner Benny has been killed by an unidentified assailant. His former right hand man Swank consoled mourners; “If I know my pal Benny he’s swinging with the big cat upstairs as we speak, or is chasing some angel broad with cans as big as her halo.”

Well… that’s good and bad, right? On one hand, Benny’s death is now going to be common knowledge. On the bright side, they don’t seem to know that Joe is the one who killed him. Or maybe they do know, I don’t want to risk alerting me?
Perhaps using Benny’s rather distinctive pistol is a bad idea after all?

I’m not really sure where I’m heading, but when I find civilisation its dawn and the sun is only just breaking.
It wasn’t that hard to find – the first clue was meeting some unarmed civilians out in the ruins… not something you’d expect to see often. They weren’t really talkative to an armed stranger, but it’s not long before I find other signs.

Fine, DON'T talk to me.

Fine, DON'T talk to me.

As dawn breaks I notice that people seem to be coming from a direction ahead of me, an area separated my walls of rusted old cars. Heading in that way I pass a fairly substantial vegetable garden and come to a manned guard post. Looks hopeful.

Armed Guards are Promising

Armed Guards are... Promising

Sooo... I can just wonder in, then?

Sooo... I can just wonder in, then?

Deeper behind the barricades is a gate that no one seems to mind me just wondering through.

Welcome to Westside.

Westside at dawn: Pretty as a picture

Westside at dawn: Pretty as a picture

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One Response to “Fleeing the Scene of the Crime”

  1. Joe? Alone? Who will be the next lucky companion?

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