Windsor:
From the front, the line of buildings Windsor stood behind would appear as nothing more than any other destroyed street on the outskirts of New Vegas. If compared to others, it would be judged as just as mundane and nondescript. From the back, it looked the same. A few doors and cargo shutters that would have been used before the bombs had dropped. However, one thing was different. When counted and paired up with the storefronts out front, there was a single, lone extra doorway that didn't match the others. It stood off of the centre of the row, between the two stores closest to the end. The door matched all of the others though from the front, but behind was far different than the others.
Windsor looked around once more to check that the area was clear. He had watched as he approached for any sign of activity, but everything looked the same as the dozens of times he had approached it before. When he was satisfied he wasn't being observed by anyone, he approached the one extra door. He pulled his key out, and put it inside the lock. He turned it, and could hear a click as it rotated. He took a moment to clear his throat as he leaned in close to the door, and to a small crack that had been made in the frame. He whispered to it, a code word he had used many times before, to identify that he was there for a purpose. He heard another loud click, as the locks fully disengaged, and hopefully the traps had as well.
Windsor opened the door. In front of him was a dark stairway, wide enough only for a single person. It went below the basements of the nearby shops, into a specially made level that was made long before the war. At the bottom of the stairs was another door, this one unlike the other, was much more obvious in its purpose. It was metal, and operated with a series of gears and locks. This one normally didn?t require clearance to, unless the front door had been broken into, or an intruder had made their way inside. As Windsor approached, the door opened, and he passed through.
Inside the ceiling?s height had rose by a couple feet. The walls were no longer covered by chipping and decaying paint, instead sheet metal now lined them. The room was empty aside from two things on opposite walls. On one side, was a Securitron, standing in front of a small shaft no bigger than a foot wide and half a foot tall. The other was a bit more cluttered. A small table and fridge stood there, with a couple beds and desks beside, and a large bulletin board and a collection of maps placed beside one another. The maps were all pre-war, mostly road maps and tourist ones, with a variety of pins and markers sticking out of them, each indicating something different. Some marked towns and settlements, others more hostile environments, such as Death Claw breeding grounds and Cazador nests.
Windsor first approached the living space. It was a common rest stop for explorers under Mr. House?s employment. Its proximity to New Vegas allowed for a number of luxuries to be brought to it, while still remaining far enough away, so no one needed to journey into the city itself, or make their presences known.
Windsor approached the fridge and opened it. A small light on the inside turned on as he did, and he scanned the contents. It was fairly well maintained, much like the rest of the facility. The shelves had been stocked with a couple varieties of fresh food and produce. As far as Windsor knew, most of the food originated from the casinos of New Vegas, most likely from the Ultra-Luxe. A few cuts of meat and vegetables would be sent to keep those that used this as their home well fed when they returned. Windsor had expected a decent wage ever since he had been hired on by Mr. House, but what he had been surprised by was the benefits that had been extended to him as well. While the base still couldn?t compare to the luxuries of the Strip, it certainly provided as many as it could there.
Windsor took a cut of Brahmin steak from the fridge and a Sunset Sarsaparilla, and sat by the table nearby and ate. It had been a while since he had been able to sit down and have a decent meal. On the trails, he only had what he could hunt and what wouldn?t expire on him in the desert heat. Once he was finished, he cleaned up, and took a couple bottles of clean water from the fridge and placed them in his pack. While he was a Ghoul, and he could stomach almost anything, he still tried his best to eat like he had before he turned. He had done this for two reasons. The first being that despite having little real taste remaining after the change, he still loved to indulge it the best he could. The second though was far more personal. Even eating like others helped remind him of the times before his change. The times when he?d be able to totally experience the flavours of food cooked over a campfire. He?d have given almost anything he owned to be able to fully appreciate the taste of a true caravan breakfast once more.
When he was done, he took a brief moment to look over the map and bulletin board. He looked for any pages freshly posted from the other scavengers and explorers that stopped here as well. A new marker caught his eye as he looked over the map, and he checked for its matching page. It was on the road between New Vegas and Sloan, at a quarry in the middle of them.
?Death Claws moved in, AVOID AT ALL COSTS.?
?Stick away from there then,? Windsor said to himself as he shook his head. It would mean that the best way to get to Goodsprings, Primm, and Nipton now would be by following Highway 95 south and cutting rest around it, as it meant the I-15 was no longer safe to travel.
As he sighed from the unfortunate news, Windsor walked over to the other side of the room to the Securitron standing there waiting. It had been watching him the entire time he had been there, and waiting for him to approach. The face flickered as the Securitron spoke. It liked to be called by the name Wilkins. The image it displayed was that of an old, cartoon mailman. On his head he wore a hat, with a black brim over the top of his face. He was always smiling and cheerful as well, greeting whoever had come in to see him.
?Good evening Mr. Sanders!? Wilkins said. ?I received two new packages for you from Mr. House!?
Before attempting to correct his name, Windsor took pause. Mr. House would normally only send a single package to the scavengers. It would be payment for the work they had done. Their work had been ongoing though, so unless things had changed, there was no reason for a second one to be sent. As he wondered what would happen, Wilkins turned as the two packages came out of the slot behind him. He handed the first to Windsor. Inside was his agreed upon monthly wage, 550 caps, slightly higher than most of the others earned. The years of work he had put in with Mr. House though was enough to have him give him a raise on a few occasions. The second package was smaller, a Holo-tape. Windsor opened it, and played it, listening to the message Mr. House had sent him.
?You?ve been a dedicated scavenger for a number of years, Windsor, and have done well in your job. However, I am in need of your services being applied elsewhere for the time being. Think of this as a temporary relocation. If you accept it, you?ll be earning a bonus of an additional 700 caps. Finish it soon enough, and you?ll still earn your following month?s wage if you provide sufficient findings. If you do not however, your contract will be terminated, and your employment ended. I would hope though that you would not choose this option. Now, you?re to meet up with another group under my employment on the Strip. You?re to act as a guide for them in the following expedition. Further details will be provided later. When you arrive, seek Ethan Edwards, he is the one in charge of them. He can normally be found either at his room at Vault 21, or the Tops. If you do not report to him in two nights time, I will assume you have declined the opportunity and voided our contract. Until next time.?
The tape ended, and Windsor let out a disgruntled groan. He didn?t like the new assignment, but he didn?t have the chance to negotiate his way out of this either. If he wanted to maintain his employment, he?d be forced to follow Mr. House?s wishes.
With all that done, Windsor headed out from the basement, and back onto the streets of New Vegas. The sun would be fully set soon, if he wanted to reach Freeside by nightfall, he?d need to leave now.
