Fallout: Born Unto Trouble

20. Bad Suit, Huh?

"You now own Cassidy Caravans," Elizabeth told Alice McLafferty as she returned to the Crimson Caravan main office.

"Very good. On occasion it's proven more profitable in the long run to simply buy out the competition, and this is one of those occasions," She paid Elizabeth a little less than she wanted, but she really didn't want to complain.

The others were waiting outside under some shade when Elizabeth returned to them.

"Can't we take a break?" Veronica whined.

"You guys are tired?" Elizabeth asked.

"Not everyone has as much willpower as you, you know," Cass smiled, "Where to next?"

Veronica glared at her, and Elizabeth checked her Pip-Boy, "We need to find someone named Henry Jamison in Freeside. Maybe we can even make a stop in New Vegas."

"Please, not Freeside," Veronica pleaded.

"What?"

"That place is a literal shithole. I've never seen so many drunks and junkies in one place. But if you want to, I'm not going to stop you."

"Just don't... buy any food there." Boone added.

"I'll keep that in mind. Are you sure you all want to come along? I can do this alone."

"Hey, we agreed to follow you, plus, there's nothing much to do," Cass was currently building a small pile of dirt with her foot, then she smashed it. "Also, I was wondering if you were able to make a detour."

"What is it?"

"I wanted to pay my respects to my caravan. It's not too far."

Elizabeth wished she could resist those eyes, but she just couldn't.

"Of course," She smiled, making a note on her Pip-Boy.

"Thanks," Cass sighed.

___

Freeside wasn't actually as bad as people make it out to be. Other than the people who look like they would kill you and eat your heart if you looked at them the wrong way, it was like any other town.

Before the gang stopped by the Old Mormon Fort, Elizabeth sent everyone off to trade everything they've picked up along the road and trade it for medical supplies, food, water and money if they were able to.

Elizabeth pushed open the doors and walked inside.

The inside was like any typical Followers base, Elizabeth thought. There were tents around the area, and people frantically walking about. She couldn't find any doctors patient enough to talk to her until she walked into one of the tents.

There was a man with a Followers coat sitting at a table and writing stuff down. He was older- looking, wearing glasses and light blond hair.

As she approached him (a little bit cautiously, as her hand went straight to her holstered gun), he looked up from his work and smiled.

"Hi, If you're looking for medical help, try the other doctors. I'm just a researcher. Not even a particularly good one."

"What kind of research?" She asked.

"Oh, you know. Finding alternative treatments for common illnesses and injuries. Stimpacks out of barrel cacti and other fantastic improbabilities," He said rather unenthusiastically, "As far as fruitless wastes of time go, it's quite noble in its aims."

"What's the goal?" She asked. It was a little bit interesting, much to her surprise.

"For the past hundred years or so, the Followers have managed to get by using salvaged medical supplies from the Old World. But the side effect of medical success is that more people live longer. Funny how that works. Eventually, we'll run out of hospitals to loot. We need new ways to produce those supplies. Or maybe old ways, if this research goes anywhere."