Me: This isn't working.
Me: Clearly God, Destiny, The Fates and the whole damned 'Verse want this train to blow up.
Boone: Seems like it.
Me: Do you need to blow off some steam in a productive manner?
Me: Great. Let's go kill some Fiends.
After reporting in with the Colonel and getting a reward for "doing our best" to save the train, we headed east into the ruins of South Vegas - Fiend territory. Word was they had set up shop in an old abandoned Vault and one of the Rangers hadn't reported back from being sent into the place to kill the Fiend's leader. Finding the vault was easy. Getting to it wasn't. Still, it wasn't long before we had moved on in and were stopped by a woman in skimpy leather armor and a skull helmet.
Fiend: Hold it right there! Have you got some kind of death wish, coming here?
Me: I'm selling these fine leather jackets!
Fiend: Huh? We've got plenty of leather jackets!
Me: Umm... Sorry... I had a flashback there.
Fiend: Ah. I know how that is. Lots of us have flashbacks.
Me: (Speech 60) Actually, I came her to sell drugs.
Fiend: Well why didn't you say so? Go see the main-man, Motor-Roller. He's down in the maintenance wing!
Me: Thank you, noble skank!
Me: Boone, I'm sensing you're not happy about us posing as drug dealers to get inside this wretched hive of scum and villainy.
Me: I'll let you get first crack at the Motor-Head.
A quick walk around the complex proved that this place was as bad as you could get and worse. There were a number of hostages in a central holding area, who begged us for help. Naturally I agreed to help... soon. As we were wandering around, I managed to hack the system and get into the old Overseer's office. I found mention of a weapon's cache but since it was in an area of the complex that was flooded with radioactive water, I decided against trying to get to it. The most curious thing was one door I found was behind one door, where the unattended corpse of a Fiend was just lying there. A quick search of the area found a trip wire at the base of a staircase and land-mines planted at the top of the staircase. It didn't take much to disarm them all and head up.
Bryce Anders: Huh? You're no fiend!
Me: Good eyes. The Colonel sent me.
Bryce Anders: Doesn't think I can do the job and kill the Fiend leader, does he?
Me: Nothing like that. You didn't report in so he wanted us to check up.
Bryce Anders: I'm fine! Just a little wounded, is all.
Me: (Medicine 30) That leg looks more than a little wounded.
Bryce Anders: Okay! I can still shoot just fine. Just a little slow.
Me: (Speech 60) You owe it to the NCR to see this mission done right, even if your hand isn't the one to pull the trigger.
Bryce Anders: *sighs* You're right. I can sneak out of here on my own just fine. Juse promise me you'll end that son of a bitch.
Me: Not a problem.
After making sure we'd have no more surprises, we walked into the lion's den... or the wolf's cave, as the case proved to be. Motor-Roller kept some rather sizeable dogs in his throne room but no extra guards apart from the ones outside.
The ones outside... the easily closed, heavy duty, vault-style security door...
Dogs and a chainsaw are fine things in a close-range fight... but the advantages tend to be negated when you're facing two men with rifles. The guards outside figured out something was up, showing uncommon intelligence for a pack of junkie thugs. Clearly Motor-Roller was keeping his best fighters close. We figured this out as we headed upstairs and noticed something odd...
Boone: Hmmm. Quiet.
Me: Guess the noise of the fight didn't carry up here.
Me: Which means we have a fighting chance of taking out the rest of these punks and freeing the hostages.
Me: That's weird.
Me: I just tossed a stick of dynamite into that room, crippled the limbs on that one guy, blew up another... and they haven't turned hostile yet!
Boone: They must be on the really good shit.
Me: I guess!
Eventually, the rest of the Fiends DID turn hostile. Still, we were able to free the hostages. What's more, we killed every last Fiend in the vault... even the ones that were lying asleep/passed out in their beds.
Me: You know, it's funny. Here I am, gunning down helpless drug addicts as they lie in their filth-encrusted beds... and I somehow feel like I'm a better person for doing it.
Boone: ... why wouldn't you?
Me: It just seems... unsporting, somehow.
Boone: Yeah. I feel bad trying to kill someone from ten feet away. There's no challenge to it.
By the time we got back to base, word had spread that The Fiend's were as good as scattered to the four winds and what few ones were left in the area were disorganized as all get out. Not bad for a night's work.
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