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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 entry. The smell of copper, sulfur singed their nostrils, with that they jumped downwards into the belly of the bunker. The feet landed echoing a boom that reverberated throughout entirely. Darkness crept at every corner, expect towards the end of the hallway, a single beam of light shone atop a radio. Fancy and pureolescent, a radio never seen like any other by the Courier. Revolver drawn, the sound of leather and metal dimmed softly as they drew closer inwards. Eyes covering every inch of surface, searching for traps and the like. None could be found. The courier examined the layout, an almost T-like shape formed the bunker. To the left, the green hue of a terminal brightened this section. A locked door against the symbol of the Brotherhood of Steel. To the right, pitch black darkness. A possible dead end.
The Courier went down to the terminal and investigated. They had dealings with the Brotherhood before, but no mention of their 'galavanting' crusade to the Sierra Madre. Password protected. As the Courier loaded up the hacking process, they noticed a familiar name. Father Elijah. Their thoughts drifted to the past words of Paladin Ramos about Father Elijah, as they hacked his terminal.
"Who's Father Elijah?" The Courier asked upon his first visit with the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood.
"Who was Elijah more like. He was our Elder before McNamara. Bright guy, but between you and me he was a little off." Ramos explained. "Our mission is to recover and preserve the technology of the past, but Elijah wanted more. He sought ways to improve upon technology, make it better. When we found HELIOS One, he was like a kid in a candy store. He kept talking about the potential, and a grand design, never realized." Ramos trailed of in disdain, yet continue.
"He even insisted we set up our base there, against the objection of nearly every Paladin. What followed is a whole other story."
"What happened at HELIOS One?"
"That place was hardly defensible, and we knew the NCR was moving in on us, but the Elder refused to budge, insisting that he just needed 'more time'. We never found out what he needed time for. Wave upon wave of NCR troopers hit us from all directions. We held out for a time, but we were grossly outnumbered, and they had more men than we had ammo. Eventually out positions collapsed." Ramos eyes trailed in sadness, as if he could see the slaughter fresh in his mind.
"Elder Elijah was nowhere to be found, so McNamara took charge and led what remained of us on a counter-offensive west. We lost a lot of men and women... but we broke though and made it here. Make no mistake, McNamara saved this chapter that day."
Bing, the successful sound of the correct password finally dinged, with that the door unlocked. The Courier entered the small living quarters of Elijah. Masses of books, science equipment, a chalk board of extremely messy equations and drawings. The Courier on-par with some of the brightest minds around, could not make sense of any of it. It was like a child made all this or a rabbled crazed Chem filled man trashed from one thought to another. A small tender corner caught his eye on the chalk board. A small heart drawn with the words "Veronica" etched solemnly amidst cold, calculating equations. The Courier much for Veronica, an outcast of the Brotherhood, hanging on the fringes of her beloved order. Their thoughts called back to the conversations they shared with each other.
The same question, the Courier asked but with more tenderness, back when they both shared travels, at a campfire they shared for the night. "Who was Elijah?"
Veronica took a moment to gather her thoughts about him, she looked at them straight in the eyes, with a lost contempt, a misty love, a glaring caution.
"He was out Elder when we came East. A wizard with technology, really. His mind just worked that way naturally. Learned a lot from him. But he started having disagreements with the other Elders. The Brotherhood's interest is in old technology. He wanted to explore developing new tech... and there were other ways he wanted to push. Other weapons. Ones with ethics questions attached. Rather than deal with him, the Elders send him East."
"What was he to you?"
"I would say he was my tutor, but that doesn't cover it. After my parents passed, he looked after me. The whole Brotherhood brought me up really, but he made sure of it. I never had a grandfather - not that I knew, anyway - but Elijah was in ways what I'd imagine a grandfather to be."
"What changed?" The Courier sensing Veronicas disdain and mellow sadness of yesteryears past connection.
"He did. For years, he fought with the Council. Taught me to question our direction. Meanwhile he'd become more out-of-touch than all of them. On our way East he demanded we stop at HELIOS One to examine it. While we were there, we received word that the NCR had taken the damn. He. Was. Furious. Called it "Children playing with a bomb." But he was mad because we'd lost its power. What we'd use it for... he didn't even care."
"What did you learn from him? He seemed to care a lot about you in particular."
"Elijah could look at an old device and immediately understand what made it work. He could see its potential. Where it fit with other technology. It's not something you can teach, but he tried with me. Some of it stuck. But that's what he taught me. You asked what I learned from him."
"Well...?"
"I learned what I don't want to become." Veronica quietly spoke with melancholy swig of whiskey. "In the end, there was just him. And his vision. Nothing and no one else."
'Do you know what happened to him?"
"I don't know. Last time anyone saw him was in the battle at HELIOS One. I wasn't there. He gave orders to hold the plant until it could be reactivated. But he ran out of time. The NCR overran it. Everyone thought he was dead. But I got a note from him at a comm station. That's... how he liked to talk, even to me. He wasn't good at face-to-face."
"What did the note say?"
"It was... strange. Even for Father Elijah. He's always been unstable, but this was... something else. I don't want to say delusional, but I don't know what else to call it. The only thing familiar about it was the signature. He said the Brotherhood was doomed, but he'd return, save us. But the WAY he said it... I don't know... Said he'd return with one of the greatest treasures of the Old World, make the Mojave like it was meant to be... wipe the slate clean."
With that, the Courier shuddered at the prospect of facing Father Elijah. He couldn't possibly still be alive after everything the wasteland had thrown at him. An old man, travelling thousands of miles towards a damned city that nobody has ever returned from. Still the Couriers wanderlust, the idea of Old World treasures untouched for 200 years and now, answers... closure for Veronica tormented and enticed them to pursue the Sierra Madre. Once finished fiddling around with Elijah's Living quarters, he paced out of the room, and towards the dimly light radio. Surely there must be a passage at the end. The soft light dings of steps braced closer to the radio. One ding... Two ding... BOOM. Gas filled the room, making the courier weak and pacified. Unable to move, trying to fight to stay conscious but to no avail. Heavier treads of footsteps boomed closer to them, as they passed out. Helpless.
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 entry. The smell of copper, sulfur singed their nostrils, with that they jumped downwards into the belly of the bunker. The feet landed echoing a boom that reverberated throughout entirely. Darkness crept at every corner, expect towards the end of the hallway, a single beam of light shone atop a radio. Fancy and pureolescent, a radio never seen like any other by the Courier. Revolver drawn, the sound of leather and metal dimmed softly as they drew closer inwards. Eyes covering every inch of surface, searching for traps and the like. None could be found. The courier examined the layout, an almost T-like shape formed the bunker. To the left, the green hue of a terminal brightened this section. A locked door against the symbol of the Brotherhood of Steel. To the right, pitch black darkness. A possible dead end.
The Courier went down to the terminal and investigated. They had dealings with the Brotherhood before, but no mention of their 'galavanting' crusade to the Sierra Madre. Password protected. As the Courier loaded up the hacking process, they noticed a familiar name. Father Elijah. Their thoughts drifted to the past words of Paladin Ramos about Father Elijah, as they hacked his terminal.
"Who's Father Elijah?" The Courier asked upon his first visit with the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood.
"Who was Elijah more like. He was our Elder before McNamara. Bright guy, but between you and me he was a little off." Ramos explained. "Our mission is to recover and preserve the technology of the past, but Elijah wanted more. He sought ways to improve upon technology, make it better. When we found HELIOS One, he was like a kid in a candy store. He kept talking about the potential, and a grand design, never realized." Ramos trailed of in disdain, yet continue.
"He even insisted we set up our base there, against the objection of nearly every Paladin. What followed is a whole other story."
"What happened at HELIOS One?"
"That place was hardly defensible, and we knew the NCR was moving in on us, but the Elder refused to budge, insisting that he just needed 'more time'. We never found out what he needed time for. Wave upon wave of NCR troopers hit us from all directions. We held out for a time, but we were grossly outnumbered, and they had more men than we had ammo. Eventually out positions collapsed." Ramos eyes trailed in sadness, as if he could see the slaughter fresh in his mind.
"Elder Elijah was nowhere to be found, so McNamara took charge and led what remained of us on a counter-offensive west. We lost a lot of men and women... but we broke though and made it here. Make no mistake, McNamara saved this chapter that day."
Bing, the successful sound of the correct password finally dinged, with that the door unlocked. The Courier entered the small living quarters of Elijah. Masses of books, science equipment, a chalk board of extremely messy equations and drawings. The Courier on-par with some of the brightest minds around, could not make sense of any of it. It was like a child made all this or a rabbled crazed Chem filled man trashed from one thought to another. A small tender corner caught his eye on the chalk board. A small heart drawn with the words "Veronica" etched solemnly amidst cold, calculating equations. The Courier much for Veronica, an outcast of the Brotherhood, hanging on the fringes of her beloved order. Their thoughts called back to the conversations they shared with each other.
The same question, the Courier asked but with more tenderness, back when they both shared travels, at a campfire they shared for the night. "Who was Elijah?"
Veronica took a moment to gather her thoughts about him, she looked at them straight in the eyes, with a lost contempt, a misty love, a glaring caution.
"He was out Elder when we came East. A wizard with technology, really. His mind just worked that way naturally. Learned a lot from him. But he started having disagreements with the other Elders. The Brotherhood's interest is in old technology. He wanted to explore developing new tech... and there were other ways he wanted to push. Other weapons. Ones with ethics questions attached. Rather than deal with him, the Elders send him East."
"What was he to you?"
"I would say he was my tutor, but that doesn't cover it. After my parents passed, he looked after me. The whole Brotherhood brought me up really, but he made sure of it. I never had a grandfather - not that I knew, anyway - but Elijah was in ways what I'd imagine a grandfather to be."
"What changed?" The Courier sensing Veronicas disdain and mellow sadness of yesteryears past connection.
"He did. For years, he fought with the Council. Taught me to question our direction. Meanwhile he'd become more out-of-touch than all of them. On our way East he demanded we stop at HELIOS One to examine it. While we were there, we received word that the NCR had taken the damn. He. Was. Furious. Called it "Children playing with a bomb." But he was mad because we'd lost its power. What we'd use it for... he didn't even care."
"What did you learn from him? He seemed to care a lot about you in particular."
"Elijah could look at an old device and immediately understand what made it work. He could see its potential. Where it fit with other technology. It's not something you can teach, but he tried with me. Some of it stuck. But that's what he taught me. You asked what I learned from him."
"Well...?"
"I learned what I don't want to become." Veronica quietly spoke with melancholy swig of whiskey. "In the end, there was just him. And his vision. Nothing and no one else."
'Do you know what happened to him?"
"I don't know. Last time anyone saw him was in the battle at HELIOS One. I wasn't there. He gave orders to hold the plant until it could be reactivated. But he ran out of time. The NCR overran it. Everyone thought he was dead. But I got a note from him at a comm station. That's... how he liked to talk, even to me. He wasn't good at face-to-face."
"What did the note say?"
"It was... strange. Even for Father Elijah. He's always been unstable, but this was... something else. I don't want to say delusional, but I don't know what else to call it. The only thing familiar about it was the signature. He said the Brotherhood was doomed, but he'd return, save us. But the WAY he said it... I don't know... Said he'd return with one of the greatest treasures of the Old World, make the Mojave like it was meant to be... wipe the slate clean."
With that, the Courier shuddered at the prospect of facing Father Elijah. He couldn't possibly still be alive after everything the wasteland had thrown at him. An old man, travelling thousands of miles towards a damned city that nobody has ever returned from. Still the Couriers wanderlust, the idea of Old World treasures untouched for 200 years and now, answers... closure for Veronica tormented and enticed them to pursue the Sierra Madre. Once finished fiddling around with Elijah's Living quarters, he paced out of the room, and towards the dimly light radio. Surely there must be a passage at the end. The soft light dings of steps braced closer to the radio. One ding... Two ding... BOOM. Gas filled the room, making the courier weak and pacified. Unable to move, trying to fight to stay conscious but to no avail. Heavier treads of footsteps boomed closer to them, as they passed out. Helpless.
