RANKED 3rd BY VOTERS IN CHARACTER CREATION CONTEST #42!

In Front of The House:

"You ain't from around here are ya, smoothskin?" asked the ghoul.

"What gave it away?" I asked dryly.

"Well, that mostly," he answered, as he looked over my shoulder at the ship.

"I woke up to this godforsaken world in that ship. I thought it best to bring it with me," I said perhaps a little too annoyed.

"Woke up to it?" the ghoul asked. "Just how long were you 'sleep, exactly?"

"I'm not really sure," I admitted with some nervousness. "This might sound strange, but...what year is it?"

There was only slight hesitation before, "We don't rightly know, t'be honest," said the ghoul with what may have been confusion. It was hard to tell, as their faces generally looked annoyed or confused, or a combination of the two. "You'd really have t'ask a vault dweller, if y'c'n find one. They're the only ones who have kept any kind of track, other than the Enclave. But they've been gone for some years now."

"Yes, well-"

"It's 2289," came a voice from behind me, "although I may have slept a year or two myself, here-and-there. No later than 2295 though."

I spun to face the voice and was so overjoyed to see a familiar face- even his- that I blurted out, "Heiro-"

He clamped a hand over my mouth and cut me off with, "It's good to see you too, Roo." Looking over my head, he said, "Thanks, Wally, I'll take it from here."

"Y-yeah," stammered the ghoul. "Su-sure thing, Hiro. Y'take care now, hear? Nice chattin' with you, lady smoothskin," he added before shuffling off.

Waiting for the ghoul to get out of earshot before he took his hand off my mouth and started to lead me in the opposite direction, he said, "It's just 'Hiro' now. Legends abound in the Wastes, and unfortunately, I'm one of 'em. I was associated with the Enclave, so my legend is not especially favored by most," he said with a twitch of his handlebar mustache.

"This worries you, because...?"

"It doesn't," he said plainly. "It's just less hassle if folks don't know who I really am. That your ship back there?" he asked, clearly changing the subject.

I pulled my arm away from his hand at that point and stopped. "Yes! It is now! And why is everyone so interested in my ship?"

"You must not have met any Steel Knights yet," said Hiro. I shook my head. He continued, "The Brotherhood is gonna want to claim that as their own- it's clearly pre-war. Is that how you got here?" He stopped, did a quick count on his fingers, and as he started walking again, added, "You should be dead right about three hundred years at this point."

I couldn't hide my surprise, but answered, "I was trying to claim Gunn's body from cryogenic sleep aboard the ship when he was revived by an American. He recovered quickly, there was a struggle, and I got knocked into the cryo chamber. Next thing I know, I woke up in this...this wasteland."

"It's just called The Wastes these days," said Hiro as he pulled me into the mouth of an alley and stopped. "You said 'Gunn.' You mean..."

"Raymond Gunn," I clarified.

Hiro shook his head. "You wanna keep that name to yourself too. Folks blamed Ray's tech for all of this when it first happened. It wasn't him, but it's another legend that persists. You might want to ditch that ship too. Salvage whatever you can use off of it- especially weapons, survival gear, and if you have any kind of water purification system in it. Otherwise, you're gonna spend a lot of time defending it."

"It's actually pretty capable of defending itself- some kind of A.I.- but it's the closest I've got to a home at the moment, so I think I'll keep it."

Hiro shrugged. "Your choice. How long you been awake?"

"About six weeks. Is it...is it all like this?"

"Nah," balked Hiro. "Most of it's worse," he added with a chuckle. "Between what Mr. House started here and the influence of the NCR, this is downright civilized. 'Bout the only thing better are areas reclaimed with a GECK."

"A 'geck?' What's a geck?"

Hiro smirked. "You'll learn," he said with a wink.

"Are you with the NCR then?" I asked.

"Oh no," he huffed. "My alliance with governments ended with the Enclave. No, I'm with the Followers of the Apocalypse now."

"Doom-and-gloom? From you?" I said with more surprise.

"Humanitarian work, actually. And I need t'get back to it. It's good t'see you, Roulette. Find me if you need anything," he said as he headed out of the alley. "We can get a Nuka Cola and catch up."

"Hiro!" I called after him. He turned. "Russia? Is... is it like this too?"

He nodded. "Anythin' else?"

"Yes," I said hesitantly. "I remember you sounding...more proper, in the past?"

He winked, "Well, 'when in Rome,' lil lady. It helps t'throw off the legend. It wouldn't hurt for you t'try it either. Find a way t'get yourself some caps too." With that, he tipped his hat and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "Welcome to New Vegas!"

"Caps?" I said to myself.

Four Weeks Later:

The steel ball clicked and clacked as it bounced to a stop, and the croupier called out, "Twenty-seven! Red! Winner! You're on a roll tonight, Roulette!"

I laughed excitedly as I raked my chips in, and called back, "Wooo! Yes I am! Here's something for you, Arnie," I said with a smile as I tossed three chips his way.

The curly haired man with the thick mustache smiled as he said, "Thank you, Roulette!"

I smiled back, but before I could answer, a hand reached into the middle of my chips, and a man with a sneer said, "Well, well... seems like this is your game, huh? That's gonna turn into a lot of caps. Guess we know how you got your name," he said, looking at the five large-count chips he rolled in his hand.

I reached into my pocket and came out with a four-shot Derringer- a remarkably old relic in this era, but something from my personal equipment in my spy days. Pointing it at the man's head, I answered sternly, "Actually, I got it from a bit different game. One of these barrels is loaded- you want to guess which one, or give me back my chips?"

He let the chips drop on the table as he looked at my small gun with no small amount of fear. The sneer left his young face. One of the chips rolled onto a square, and the croupier called out, "Bets are in!" and spun the wheel.

I looked at the chip- it was sitting on zero. Looking at him furiously, I told him, "You danged well better hope that wins." I stood there looking at him while the ball spun around the wheel, and he looked back at me over my gun, sweat beading on his brow.

The ball made its final few revolutions around the wheel, clicked, clacked, and bounced over slots until it came to rest. "Eleven! Black!" called Arnie.

I clinched my jaw as I pulled the hammer back on one of the barrels. The man-boy's lip quivered, but before he could completely break down, a chip appeared in front of my gun site. "Perhaps this can settle accounts, ma'am? It would save our rugs too," he said seriously.

I glared at the whimpering fool on the other end of my gun for a few seconds before easing back the hammer and holding out my other hand for the chip. The stranger put it in my hand and introduced himself, "I'm Pennyworth, ma'am- the house manager's new butler. Thank you for your cooperation."

The man-boy sagged with relief as he backed away a few steps, then turned to go. "Hey!" I called after him. He turned back around with a start, and I re-cocked and shot him in the knee. Over his screams, I shouted, "From now on, y'keep your hands offa other peoples' danged money! Y'hear?" Looking to Pennyworth, I handed him his chip back with a demure smile, and said, "Sorry about your carpet."

He smiled back pleasantly and said, "The house manager would like to speak with you."

I gave a short, exasperated sigh. "Is it about my ship?"

He nodded once. "Yes, ma'am, it is," and motioned towards an elevator.

As we started that way, I grumbled, "It's always about my ship."

Story, original characters and content are owned by Chris Bishop. Copyright Chris Bishop 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.