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Dead Money - Prologue: Finding It
#FalloutNewVegas #DeadMoney #PostApocalyptic #Casino #Heist
The Couriers duster billowed with subtle minute radioactive wind, orange tinged skies bleakened against their blackened hollowed silhouette. A self set journey of boredom. Much woes of the Mojave had already been set and past. A new radio transmission picked upon the Couriers Pipboy, the call of the Sierra Madre. It signal played again and again whilst they travelled the breathe of the Mojave towards the source of the broadcast.
"Has your life taken a turn? Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to Begin Again. Come to a place where wealth, excitement, and intrigue await around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort, make new friends... or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert, under clear starlit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our Villa rooftops. Countless diversions await. Gamble in our casino, take in the theater, or stay in one of our exclusive executive suites that will shelter you - and cater to your every whim. So if life's worries have weighed you down... if you need an escape from your troubles... or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us. Let go and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening, this October. We'll be waiting."
A curious sensation, responsive instinctive want to satisfy the Couriers need of healing for new exploration. Could not compelled them to stay away. The cigarette that accompanied the Courier fell upon completion, the temporary five minute fixture, starves off their need and wants. The last puff of smoke danced and soaked into the air, into nothingness. As they found the source of the broadcast. Small crater of a tucked away bunker did porcate the entrance, the courier felt a brief hesitation as their hands graced the rusty manhole cover. Distracted by the flickering specks of copper and metal chased away with the air, they were stilled of the thoughts of what they were doing. Almost a moment of clarity, something small yet precious telling them to turn back. It wasn't worth it. As little and passing as the thought was
"Fuck it." The Couriers mouth did slice true as the manhole flung open.
It took a moment for the Couriers eyes to adjust with the empty darkness of the underground bunker. A small tiny thing thirsting for...
The Couriers duster billowed with subtle minute radioactive wind, orange tinged skies bleakened against their blackened hollowed silhouette. A self set journey of boredom. Much woes of the Mojave had already been set and past. A new radio transmission picked upon the Couriers Pipboy, the call of the Sierra Madre. It signal played again and again whilst they travelled the breathe of the Mojave towards the source of the broadcast.
"Has your life taken a turn? Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind? If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to Begin Again. Come to a place where wealth, excitement, and intrigue await around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort, make new friends... or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert, under clear starlit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our Villa rooftops. Countless diversions await. Gamble in our casino, take in the theater, or stay in one of our exclusive executive suites that will shelter you - and cater to your every whim. So if life's worries have weighed you down... if you need an escape from your troubles... or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us. Let go and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening, this October. We'll be waiting."
A curious sensation, responsive instinctive want to satisfy the Couriers need of healing for new exploration. Could not compelled them to stay away. The cigarette that accompanied the Courier fell upon completion, the temporary five minute fixture, starves off their need and wants. The last puff of smoke danced and soaked into the air, into nothingness. As they found the source of the broadcast. Small crater of a tucked away bunker did porcate the entrance, the courier felt a brief hesitation as their hands graced the rusty manhole cover. Distracted by the flickering specks of copper and metal chased away with the air, they were stilled of the thoughts of what they were doing. Almost a moment of clarity, something small yet precious telling them to turn back. It wasn't worth it. As little and passing as the thought was
"Fuck it." The Couriers mouth did slice true as the manhole flung open.
It took a moment for the Couriers eyes to adjust with the empty darkness of the underground bunker. A small tiny thing thirsting for...
