Fallout 3 - Beautiful Stranger

Chapter 7 Part 2

"The Brotherhood of Steel, fresh from kicking the Enclave in the collective ass are now battling their own.

The Outcasts, former Bee-Oh-Ess members, have clashed with their old compadres several times over the past few weeks with no clear winner in sight.

What does this have to do with you, dear listeners? Well, it seems neither side are too choosy about who may be around when the bullets, electricity and super-heated plasma are being thrown at each other.

So, here's some advice: If you see a throw-down between the Bee-Oh-Ess and the Outcasts, avoid them. If you can't avoid them, find the strongest cover and hide. And if you can't even hide, hit the deck and pray you don't get your ass shot off.

And if any Brotherhood or Outcasts are listening to this; Play nice, children. The Wasteland is hard enough without you fools making things worse for normal, everyday citizens just trying to survive.

As always, this is Three Dog telling you to be safe out there."

-+-

At any other time, Patience would have described Moriarty's Saloon as a dive, but, after seeing the rest of Megaton, it was clear the bar was in keeping with the rest of the settlement. Several tables spotted the room, along with accompanying chairs. A couple of patrons cradled whatever alcohol they had ordered this early in the morning.

At the rear, beside a set of stairs, two women and two men sat on chairs, waiting, hopeful. The bar, like the floor, was sticky and grimy. Even then, the bar top was being rubbed in fastidious fashion, with gusto, by a poor, disfigured creature.

"Don't stare." Valrie whispered as she saw Patience's open-mouthed look at the creature. "Ain't you never seen a ghoul before?"

"What happened to him?" Patience returned the whisper, more quiet than Valrie, horrified at seeing the poor creature. Skin seeming to have sloughed from its skull, what skin left resembling a putrid, sickly green. Eyes, without lids, staring, bloodshot. Nose half-rotted away.

"The Wasteland happened. Some people spend too much time around rads and they die horribly. Others turn into fucking ghouls. No longer human." Valrie pinched Patience's arm, hard, and it shook her out of staring at the ghoul. "His name's Gob. Just don't stare, alright?"

"Hello, Miss Valrie. Long time, no see." The ghoul, Gob, leaned against the counter. "What can I get you? We got the usual stuff, all kinds of alcohol. We got four whores now, two of each. Only hundred and twenty caps and room thrown in."

"We don't want no fucking whores, Gob. We want to see your fuck-face boss." Valrie's words almost seemed to make Gob flinch. He stopped leaning against the bar and stood up straight.

"Mister Moriarty is indisposed right now." The ghoul threw a quick glance at a door behind him, nervous. He leaned forward again in a conspiratorial fashion. "Please don't insult the boss, Miss Valrie, he takes it out on me."

"Not my fucking problem, Gob." Valrie took a shot glass, grabbed a bottle and filled the glass before knocking the drink straight back. "You should have run away to find your Mom when you had the chance. It's not my fault you stayed working for the ass-licking piece of shit."

"Valrie! I thought it was your dulcet tones I heard." A man emerged from the door behind the bar. A middle-aged man, with greying hair and a Van Dyke beard. Patience guessed this was Colin Moriarty. "And what brings you into my establishment, my lovely?"

"Don't 'my lovely' me, you rat bastard." Valrie grabbed the neck of the nearest bottle and, thinking she was about to throw it, Patience grabbed her arm. "Now, I'm not one to hold fucking grudges, you piece of shit, but I make exception for you."

"Grudges? My dear Valrie, there's no need for grudges." Without even asking Patience's name, he stood beside her and leaned against the bar, making a close examination, from head to toe. "Valrie, you see, thinks I welched on a deal. I did. I have to admit, but it was ten years ago. I moved on."

"Why are you telling me?" Patience didn't like the man. Straight away, she found a great distaste for him. She couldn't explain it. From the forced Irish accent, to the way he moved and the way he spoke. He reminded her of a snake.

"Because I'd get more sense out of this bar, than from Lovely Valrie, so, surely, I'd get even more from you and ..." His eyes roved up and down her body again. She almost expected him to lick his lips. "Well, look at you. You're far more interesting than that dusty old mare. No offence, Valrie dear."

"I need information. I'm told you might have it." Patience dropped her hand to her sidearm. She had spotted the silhouette of another man through the door Moriarty had emerged from. An armed man.

Moriarty slapped the bar in dramatic fashion and looked around at the four whores and two patrons.

"Straight to the point! I like that! Too many of these arses beat around the bush before getting to the fucking point." His head snapped back to Patience. "Information is a premium business, darling. What kind of information are you looking for?"

"A map. To get to Vault-Tec Headquarters." Moriarty's eyes narrowed and he drummed his fingers upon the bar top, several times. After a few seconds, he reached behind the bar and brought out a dusty bottle of whiskey. Taking two shot glasses with him, he turned back towards his office.

"Let's discuss this somewhere more private." The hand holding the shot glasses raised a finger. "Not you, Valrie. Just me and your girl here."

"Does that include the mouth breather with the .45 in your office?" Patience's hand remained on the butt of her sidearm.

Moriarty stopped, half-turned, and looked Patience up and down once more. Less lascivious this time, more calculating. She could almost see the calculations and strategies whirring through his mind. He made a half-impressed shrug and crooked his finger to Valrie, urging her to follow.

Patience didn't like this. She didn't like Moriarty and she didn't like the idea of going into a private office with him, whether Valrie was there or not. Valrie had been right, the man couldn't be trusted. That was clear and obvious, but, she felt, he was also a very dangerous man. Very dangerous, indeed.