Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 15

Chapter 15 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "On the Road to Mandalay".

On the Road to Mandalay
The gates to Freeside greeted us by midday. The smell of booze, women, chems, and the rotten urban concrete jungle rolled over us in waves; it was good to be home!

A few Kings waited outside for us, no doubt looking to shake down anyone they suspected to be a squatter. Things were heating up in Freeside with the waves of NCR immigrants arriving in the slums. The Kings only look out for themselves, they don't want no trouble, but it's hard to remain peaceful when you're getting squeezed in by all sides. Before there was the NCR, there was the tribals, escaping the Legion and other raider tribes out east; the Kings managed to get along nice enough with them since there was enough room, even managed to incorporate some into the gang, but these new arrivals, they just don't got no room.

A lot of them have been forming their own gangs to oppose the Kings. The strongest is a rotten band known as the Cooking Boys. Not a particularly huge fan of them, much more vicious than the Kings. A face beaten in by a rolling pin is always a sad sight. Tensions are high between the Boys and the Kings, and a turf war is certainly brewing.

There, that's your history lesson for today.

The Kings outside the gate happened to be frequent guests of the Atomic Wrangler, and they waved me and the others through with no problem. The plan: sign up with the Milk Company, rest at Atomic Wrangler, deliver water tomorrow, then make it into Vegas itself to find the Courier.

The Milk Company was found around the corner from the Wrangler; how convenient. It was a nice little building, and sure enough, inside was Terrance Goodwill. He welcomed us in, having two of his men place down three chairs for us. A large New Vegas Milk Company hung behind him, though I noticed the other Milk Company advertisements simply had "Freeside Brahmin Keepers" scribbled out. I passed him the paper.

"Doyle Townsend oversaw my application," I told Terrance. "He said I was good for a job."

Terrance overlooked the application and nodded. "Looks good, Mr. Biggs! How wonderful is this, two new recruits in two days! We'll have a monopoly in the liquid industry in no time!" Oh yeah. Fucking Courier.

"Hey, the recruit from yesterday," I began. "He's an...old acquaintance of mine. I'm looking to catch up, did he happen to mention where he would be going?" Hared leaned in close to listen to the answer.

Terrance nodded. "Can't say an exact location, but he told me he was heading for the casinos. Hopefully he'll be selling some milk while inside." Looks like he was gunning for Benny. Literally.

"Thank you, Mr. Goodwill."

"Oh please, call me Terrance. Your friends can as well, it's all the same to me. That's the beauty of milk, it surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the whole wasteland together."

"There's no mythical energy field that controls my destiny," Hared protested. Meanwhile, Niner snickered at the mention of "penetrate".

"Don't underestimate the force of milk," Terrance countered. "Delivering milk is more than just being a delivery boy like your courier friend. You're bringing more than just brahmin product. You're bringing a message, a message of life!" He held his hands up and a projection screen slowly lowered behind him. He touched the play button on a holotape next to him.

The screen displayed a young boy walking in a field, surrounded by cans of milk. "Come with me..." Terrance began singing. "And you'll be...in a world of puuuuuuuuurrree imagination..."

Niner pressed the pause button on the holotape. "Yeah, I'm out," he said, walking out the door.

Me and Hared nodded. "Thank you, ah, Mr. Goodwill," I said. "But it's getting late and we have someone to see."

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination!" He called out as we followed Niner out the door.

Niner was already outside, stopped in his tracks. He was oggling some girl down the street. "Biggs, that's the Atomic Wrangler Crier," Niner pointed out at the dancing girl. "She could get it." We all looked for a moment. "Biggs, you wanna put in a good word for me or something?"

"Eh...." But Niner was already off heading towards the girl. We followed slower behind him.

Grace was doing her usual spiel. "Hungry? Thirsty? Horny...Biggs." She sighed as she saw me. "Welcome back," she said, her face dropping.

"Glad to see you too." Grace doesn't like me just because I beat her in blackjack when she bet the house and set back her future plans by half a year. Not my fault she hit when she had 18.

"Eh, did you know I'm a friend of Biggs?" Niner introduced himself. "Niner. I saved him from raiders a few times."

"Just the one," I said quietly.

Grace examined Niner. "How much you willing to pay for a night with me?"

Niner looked at me. "She always this direct?"

Grace sighed. "Look, I'm only here to make enough caps so I can afford to support myself while training with the Followers of the Apocalypse. Then go back home and study at the colleges in California."

"You know, I'm a bit of a scholar myself," the man who couldn't read said.

"Look, you don't got to try hard," Grace told Niner. "I will literally sleep with you if you give me caps, I don't care, just the quicker you do it the quicker I can get out of this dump."

"I'll leave you guys to it," I muttered. Me and Hared moved on while Niner pulled out a sack of caps and began counting.

The bell rang as we entered the Atomic Wrangler. Something seemed...nicer about the place. The music was louder, more people were dancing...there was laughing, something you don't always hear in Freeside. Hadrian approached me. "There's the hero of the hour! You finally made yourself useful Biggs!"

A compliment from our ghoul comedian was rare. Yeah, I know it was part insult, but that's the best you'll get from Hadrian. "Yeah...I'm always a hero, you know," I said, trying to cover for the fact I had no idea what I did.

"There's my favorite man!" Francine Garrett called out as she walked over. She shook my hand vigorously. "The payment from Mr. House arrived. And let me tell you, it's enough to buy all of Freeside enough booze for the month!" That's a lot, if you didn't know.

"I just do what I'm paid to," I answered. Humble as always.

"And you're getting paid," Francine said. "Drinks on the house tonight. Free time with any girl, too." She looked at Hared. "And hell, your friend can too." One of the guards handed Hared a beer, who shrugged and downed it. Another guard handed me a nice dapper suit. A suit! Finally! Maybe I'll finally get some respect from the miscreants that live in the wastes.

"Just one question." Francine said. "That courier that got shot in the head near Goodsprings. He wasn't the same one, right?"

I laughed and placed my hand on Francine's shoulder. For once, she didn't move it away. "Francine, darling," I said, getting risky. "Do you think I ever would've let someone get shot like that?"

She laughed and pulled my hand off, grabbing it for a moment. "Good." Her eyes got cold. "Cuz if he died, we would've had to kill you dead, too." With that, she let go and stepped back. Her smile returned. "Have a good night, Biggs, you earned it."

I laughed a little awkwardly as she walked off. "Hah, yeah...thanks."

I sighed a huge breathe of relief. I went into my room to put on the new suit. As I neatened the cuffs on my suit, it finally hit me. I made it. I really did. I survived on the road to Mandalay, and tomorrow I would finally be entering Vegas itself.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey and held it up to my reflection in the mirror. "Cheers, Courier."