November 7, 2287
Well I finally decided I would venture out. I’ll admit that I somewhat dreaded the moment, but the events of the previous night proved two things; there were other people left alive and hiding in my old offices wouldn’t keep me safe, especially from assholes like 111. I decided to call him that, the prick wasn’t worth more than a number anyway. At least he made for a good snack for the Mirelurks. They didn’t attack me on my way out so I guess they liked him. Either that or the creatures managed to understand that we were going to have a very profitable agreement.
I decided to go west. I had noticed that the lights in the old stadium were on at night, better yet they seemed to have been switched off at night. Perhaps it was one of the settlements 111 mentioned?
However if leaving the shelter only to see the mass fusion building practically mock me left a sour aftertaste, walking through these empty streets only made it worse. From up in my offices the damage only seemed minor, things always seem simpler from higher up, but from down in the streets it became apparent how hard the world had been hit.
Car wrecks blocked the streets, boarded up stores lined the sidewalk and the bodies of desperate townsfolk had been left there to rot. I walked by a cafe I used to enjoy, if I had left earlier that morning I would have been here amongst the other patrons. It’s a strange thought to think that enjoying one of Franky’s Cappuccinos could have killed me. It was sad the poor bastard was gone, I really enjoyed his coffee and those fresh beignets his wife made were delicious. But now all what was left of the poor New Orleanian couple were their blackened bones…
November 8, 2287
I spent the night at Franky’s. I simply couldn’t bring myself to go on any further. Those centuries of isolation and passing all these familiar landmarks left more of a mark on me than I thought. That and the fact that a building not too far ahead was decorated with skulls and dismembered bodies.
After pondering what it could mean I decided that it would be best to think of another path to the stadium. Who, or whatever had decided that disemboweled bodies made for good coat racks would best be avoided. I also decided that once I would know more I would come back to put down the bastards, whatever they were. It would be a horrible shame to let someone with such disgusting taste in furniture produce any progeny, now would it?
I decided to follow the river and loop around whatever threats lay ahead. And then another bomb hit, a mental one, as I found the same bloody decorations outside my favourite tailor. Who in their right mind would profane such a shrine of style and craftsmanship?! My question was soon answered when two rather distasteful individuals appeared outside. Wrapped from head to toe in scraps of metal and clothing, I’m sorry to say that I may have recognized what was left of a once beautiful tuxedo, these men appeared to be armed with what looked like jury rigged weapons, nothing that could match my submachine gun. What troubled me more were the automated turrets that had been installed on around the entrance. There were two of them. That I couldn’t handle, at least not without backup or a better plan.
I looped around one of the nearby buildings and found myself a way up. Fire escapes were trusted old friends of mine, saved my hide a lot when I started out, especially when I first met Molotov. That bastard and I had both prepared a heist on the same bank. Guess how confused Grady was when he entered the bank, armed to the teeth only to notice that someone was already holding hostages and looting the vault. I’ll tell you one thing; the look on his face was glorious. We did have a falling out on who should take the money though, and he ended up torching it, along with the rest of the bank. A sad turn of events really.
I made a mental note of yet another place that needed clearing out and cleaning up, and went on my way, this time using the roofs to close the gap between me and the stadium. This time there were no further obstacles.
At least not until I happened upon a fight between a group of people looking like baseball players, if it had been a bloodsport, and a group of giant green humanoid-ish wildlings. Armed with heavily modified baseball bats and weapons similar to what I had seen at backstreet apparel, the baseball gladiators made short work of the green beasts. Best not to make enemies out of those guys.
I found myself another fire escape and went down back into the streets. These gladiators, as I had taken to calling them, seemed quite a reasonable folk, at least they didn’t decorate with body parts. So I approached them, my weapons holstered.
I was right, they were reasonable, even helped me find my way towards Diamond city. Apparently they were part of the town’s guard force. If only they could have warned me of the nuisance that lay ahead.
A nosy reporter.
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