Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "One Man's Loss".

One Man's Loss
Is another one's gain, as I'll explain later on. Me and Niner agreed with James General that it would be for the best to stock up on supplies and wait out the Legion raiding party, which wasn't strong enough to do anything besides retreat back across the Colorado. We headed south, passing some abandoned drive through theater and a security guard for Richter and Associates Bounty Hunting. Heard some very bad rumors involving young boys and Judge Richter, so we kept our distance.

A massive radio tower marked our location. A rundown shack was our location. James opened the door and led us inside. Surprisingly for a rundown shack, the air was fresh, the electricity was running, and there was some clean water waiting as a "courtesy." This arms must be some gentleman, I remember thinking, before James knocked in a specific pattern on a huge door and in came a super mutant.

Super mutants. A dying breed if my scientifics is correct. Most of the dumb ones have died, unsurprisingly, while the smart ones sell their services as muscle. This must've been a smart one, as he greeted us warmly. "James, good to see you, friend. I see you have brought guests."

James waved his arm at us. "Honcho Biggs and Niner."

"Good to meet you."

"Uh, hullo."

"Name's Bradley," the mutant said, pointing at itself. "I assume you three have seen the smoke from Nipton."

"Worse, I was there. I ran off and got captured by Jackals, but these two saved me," James explained. "Town was sacked by Legion."

"Legion," Bradley repeated, sighing. "Damn shame. If they're working with Jackals, makes sense, trying to add another tribe to the coalition, especially a tribe already in the Mojave. Had to shoot a few Jackals near the shack a few days ago. Anyway, if the Legion is this active, I'm sure you're gonna need some arms..."

A few exchanges of caps and stimpaks, guns, ammuniton, and supplies, we were fully prepared. Bradley allowed us to remain at his shack for a few days. "Legion should be gone by now," Bradley explained. "I'm picking up some radio signals coming from Nipton." We thanked him and went on our way.

The smoke was dying as we reached the town. But the ruins were as fresh as the day the Legion sacked it. I've firebombed a few buildings in Freeside before, but nothing like this. The first you notice after the smoke is the stench of death. It pervaded the area, encompassed it. Thought Niner was gonna puke. He did, but that was after taking too strong of a hit of jet. Me and James took some steady to, well, steady ourselves for what we were witnessing.

Piles and piles of dead bodies. Stacked high, burned. Crucifixions, the dying cries of the few men left alive on the cross. Bloodstains covered the street, and vultures and crows picked on the remains. When we passed one of the body piles, Niner gasped. "Shit, man, that's the mayor." Unfortunate end. "Let's check out the town hall, he, uh, might have my payment in there still. And we can keep the chems. Not...that I was gonna do a deal with him or anything."

We passed by a few traveling merchants, who were shaken to their core just as much as us. We entered Nipton Hall and another wave of pent-up death stench hit us. Bodies were strewn across the hall, apparently this was where those resisting the Legion made their last stand.

But the bodies had been stripped and looted. James suspected it was the caravaneers outside, but I knew better. "I've seen looting like this at the Bison Steve. This is the Courier's work." We kept searching through the Hall, eventually arriving at the Mayor's office. On his terminal, I learned the bastard himself had indeed let in the Legion.

"Fitting punishment. Good riddance," James muttered.

"Could've paid me first," Niner sighed.

Wait. Idea.

"Pay...guys, it says the mayor hired out an engineer to fix the terminal. Maybe there's some valuable shit in his house." With nothing else to do, we left the hall and walked across the town, doing our best to avoid the stench and sights of death. Finally, we found a garage and the engineer's house.

We opened cautiously. A bunch of loot was still lying around, the Courier hadn't hit it yet!

But the Courier hadn't hit it yet, which meant there were still enemies inside.

"Death to the communist enemies of Nipton!" A robotic voice announced. A Mister Gutsy flew into the room, lasers firing. James was better at long distance sniping, so he dove out of the way. Niner blasted it with a few 9mm while I landed a final shot with my sledgehammer. The Gutsy fell to the floor.

"Holy shit..." James said in awe. The engineer (quite a pathetic fellow, to be honest) that had lived here had amassed a STOCKPILE of electronic gear and scrap metals. "Do you guys know how much this is gonna be worth?" James asked, dollar signs metaphorically in his eyes.

"There's a scrapyard near Novac, and I gotta head there for a deal," Niner said, forgetting his subtly. "Let's do this."

A few hours later, our pockets and backparks are lined with scrap. A good month's haul, found in one house.

You see, maybe the sacking of Nipton wasn't the worst thing. It was one man's loss, sure. But you know what, it was the three man's gain.