This overly excitable chap inside the Brass Lantern café is friendly enough (although if he calls me ‘little lady’ again I might break his nose), and offers me a beer for 10 caps, which seems like quite a welcome bargain.
Damn it, this is why I hate city living. You get there and you see everything is so stupidly expensive that you’re sure it’s some big joke, but no, everyone’s goddamm crazy enough to pay 4,000 times something’s value just because it’s the city. And then you find something marginally less extortionate and decide it’s a bargain, and before you know it you’re ONE OF THEM.
Feckin’ townies. Screw it. Booze can wait, I need more cash.
I go for a wander outside to see if there’s anything worth sticking around for. It’s mostly rocky nothingness. There are ruined town areas a shortish walk in most directions, but they’re not quite what I’d call convenient. I’m thinking I might be better off making a base outside somewhere and working from there, rather than making a town itself my home.
There’s a river up to the northeast, though. The city is on the opposite side. Lucas Simms said that DC is a warzone, but scavenging on the fringes might be an option. Hmm.
I… whoa hey, wait!
The caravan’s leaving! So much for nakama. I sulkily follow them for a bit, to see if I can spot anything interesting, and to see where they’re going. Which, it appears, is straight back to wherever they came from. Huh.
On the way, we run into another caravan coming to Megaton. I don’t like the look of them.
Hit him Wolfgang! He’s blatantly eyeballing you, man. Nut him one, the speccy twat. He’s wearing a tie in the post-apocalypse, for christ’s sake! What more reason do you need? We’ve got your back, it’ll be alright.
Oh, fine. Boring bloody merchants.
The guys move on, and Doc Hoff and I have a brief chat. He’s clearly a skeazy drug-pushing greaseball, and his very existence makes me feel violated. Man’s lucky he has guards. One of them even has a tasty sniper rifle. I could really use a sniper rifle…. But I don’t know if my crew would have my back on this one. Not worth the risk.
We then run into another total dickbag, this one in a hulking great suit of armour, who keeps sneering at me like he’s superior because he hides in a big tin can all day.
I come THIS CLOSE. But I doubt I could lug that armour back to town, and I probably wouldn’t get much for it anyway. One day I’ll drop a sucker who gives me lip. No words, no warnings, just BLAM. Straight through the eye. One day.
I think it’s time I ditched the caravan now. Getting too dependent on them. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again someday.
With the backup gone, I scout about cautiously for a while. Once I get my bearings, it seems that La Cáscara, the site where I started, is a way West of Megaton, which itself is far West of central DC. I can see the outline of the Capitol building and the Vaguely Phallic Monument from here (no, I don’t know why they’re still standing after a nuclear war either). The caravan took me the long way round, so heading South can wait.
Cartography may not be a strength.