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Bad Moon Rising Pt. 6/?
Date: 2012-03-02 03:21 am (UTC)When he found Nipton, he knew there were some people he'd like to meet. He took one of the flags left up by a pile of bodies and made his merry way on to Vegas. He made a quiet pit-stop in Novac, and a not so quiet one at the 188 Trading Post. Jericho was enjoying his new head gear. Clover was enjoying her new dress. They just loved pit-stops with him. They always got new toys.
Sometime around the crumbling remains of Boulder, he decided he just didn't like the NCR. The land did better, in his opinion, without some nosy half-assed government stealing what little resources there were. And the farther he got into Vegas, the more he disliked the robot army of one mysterious Mr. House, who's love of order and perfection were driving the Lone Wanderer up the wall.
101 liked himself a little chaos. He believed strongly in survival of the fittest. He'd spent enough time in a sterile, utilitarian vault that he hated any sort of resembling features. He hated lifeless, blinking computers, despite having a natural talent with them. He hated councils of elected people who were held above like untouchable gods, or really, any time, place, or thing where people could squawk about their worthless, meaningless problems.
That was no way to get things done.
People needed to earn their rights, or they didn't respect them. He knew also that people who were afraid needed to be killed. They begged for help, but never worked for themselves. Like fat Brahmin, waiting to be feed. No natural defenses, always demanding something in exchange for nothing. The moment he had stepped from the Vault, they wanted something. But they never stayed useful. And no one ever just wanted to help, or wanted nothing at all. They could never just help. It was always something for something. A lesson he learned all too well.
Megaton had been his first real something for something that he had paid them back exactly what they had deserved. Because he was young, they always assumed they could make him to do whatever they needed, like he would be grateful for the guidance, as though he had nothing better to do, or his own goals to pursue.
The bomb had been the most wonderful opportunity he'd ever been presented. He allowed himself to be used for that purpose, because the people of Megaton had outlasted theirs. The Tower had remained useful for so much longer, and the neighbors were better. Especially after the ghouls moved in.
Oh he supposed there were times like that he didn't mind being used. But he always, always used them up right back. The ghouls stopped being amusing too, eventually. There was so little to be gained in the Capital Wasteland, after he picked it over. Without the Enclave or the Brotherhood, there wasn't exactly any challenge in staying, either. So he went west.
When they were a little closer to New Vegas, he began hearing more about Caesar's Legion, from scared folks, from the radio, and from annoyingly desperate NCR. He'd liked what the Legion had done at Nipton. He knew they wanted Vegas, just like the NCR. He knew he hated the NCR, and Mr. House's bloodless robots. He thought that maybe he might like the Legion by default.
They did not disappoint.
Cottonwood Cove was already right up his ally. There was order, but only in a primal, barbaric sense. The way a community should be run. They were all about survival of the fittest. The Aurelius of Phoenix liked the Lone Wanderer instantly, and they had many little chats about the Legion's firm beliefs, about where 101 came from. He had heard about Primm and the 188 Trading Post. So he gave him a little side project.
Take Nelson.