The Big Blind: Wastelander's Journal pt2

Journal Entry 40 - June 30th, 2287

Ever since I had gotten back from Cottonwood, Cass had been acting strangely. After several days of awkward silence mixed with mood swings, I confronted her about it. I thought maybe she was having problems dealing with killing people in revenge. I know it doesn't sit well with everyone. Turns out I was wrong.

"I went back to the Silver Rush," she told me. I asked her why she would do that. "Something didn't feel right. I looked through their computer files. They were wiping out other caravans to keep business for themselves. But they weren't acting alone. They partnered up with Crimson Caravan and their chief in the Mojave."

Alice McLafferty. I had dealings with her in the past. She wasn't friendly, but courteous, and professional. Was more than I expect from most people. "What did you do?" I asked, fearing the worst. She said she did nothing, and that's why she had been so distracted and distant lately. It was eating at her constantly. I felt sorry for her, but taking down the Van Graffs was one thing. Taking out McLafferty was another.

The Crimson Caravan had direct ties to the NCR. I was practically their hero after Cottonwood and Nelson (a story for another day). We argued about this half the night. Sleep was not pleasant. I started feeling the same way Cass did, and technically McLafferty hadn't even wronged me!

when I woke up in the morning, Cass was packing her things. She said she was leaving me, and that things had gotten to complicated. "You're going after her aren't you?" I asked. "That's what this is really about." She said nothing. I needed a way out of this. I felt sick.

With the door open, I thought of something. "I'll help you take her down," I hoped that would at least get her attention, and she paused, waiting for details. Now the moment of truth. "The wastes aren't completely lawless, the NCR would severe their ties or force her out, and likely imprison her if they knew she was involved in murder."

She shrugged. Cass wasn't one to change horses midstream, I needed to get through to her. "I'm not saying it's perfect, but I know people in the NCR. People with clout. You are packed, so let's go pay them a visit. If they think the case is worthwhile or will help us, then she'll get what's coming to her. If not, then she still will." That last part was hard for me to utter.

"Fine," she said. I knew she didn't want more blood on her hands. After all I've done for them, the NCR had better come through for me. Next stop, the Mojave outpost.

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Journal Entry 41 - July 1st, 2287

I need a vacation. The life of a mercenary and scavenger is simply too stressful.

When we got to the Mojave NCR outpost, Jackson from Foxtrot was there waiting for us. Apparently he had gotten transferred shortly after his team secured Cottonwood Cove. I let them take damn near all the credit for pushing the Legion out of there as well. This would definitely work to our advantage, I thought.

We explained to him what happened with the Van Graffs. I lied and said that we confronted them with the evidence and they started the fight. Only made sense that we came to him rather than making the same mistake with Alice McLafferty. I told Jackson that we needed her arrested. Red tape and bureaucracy was considered unacceptable.

"What you want is impossible. NCR needs Crimson Caravan as much as they need the NCR buying their supplies," he replied, more or less. "Dammit, why did you have to throw this in my lap?"

"We are going to deal with her one way or another. I told Cass that Rangers were stand up guys that cared about right and wrong. McLafferty is a murderer, and she's got to pay. People are going to die otherwise, she included, and possibly even some poor NCR trooper that gets in the way. Do you want that in your lap?" It didn't come out so smooth at the time, but I think I got my point across.

With more whining, he eventually agreed that arresting Crimson Caravan's Mojave boss was the right thing to do. "Well walk her to camp McCarran, it's close enough and they have a brig we can throw her in. Then I'm washing my hands of it. NCR investigators can deal with her after that." I told him I wasn't worried about the walk, but we needed to come up with some contingency plans if she resists. He stonewalled me on this point, and seemed to express disgust at the notion that an old woman would put up a fight. I had done some work for her, and I knew she was ruthless and had a heart of stone. I wished Jackson knew it.

The Crimson Caravan had their headquarters fenced off just south of the Strip. They had several pre-war houses they used for offices and barracks. One small trailer was used just as Alice's personal office. It had a door on both the north and south sides. I saw there was an armed guard outside the south entrance, and assumed the same on the north. He wasn't there before, and was likely a new addition. Perhaps she suspected that the same massacre that happened at the Silver Rush would be headed her way.

when we went inside, I wasn't happy at what I saw; two more guards, one inside each door. Alice was behind a desk near the middle of the room. Two chairs sat empty in front of it, and other various furnishings decorated the single-room trailer. McLafferty was typing something into her terminal, and did not even look up at us as we entered, but I know that she knew we were there.

Jackson took point and walked, hat in hand, up to her desk. She paid him no attention, so he cleared his throat audibly. Without looking up, she responded, "Yes?" Jackson laid it out for her. The evidence, the files, the circumstances, the motive, and finally the notice that he was taking her into custody. She stood up at some point during his accusations. "You cannot do this, you will not. Take your evidence to the NCR and see what they have to say about it."

Well Jackson didn't like her tone. He said that no matter what she had to say, nor the end result, nor NCR prosecutors decision was going to change that she was going to the McCarran brig tonight. She looked at Cass. I could see the burning hatred in her eyes. I was starting to think simple violent revenge would have been wiser. Cass stared back.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that the guard at the north door now had his hands on his rifle. He was motionless, and I knew he was ready to act on us if given the order. I was certain the one behind us was making the same preparation. I left my rifle on my back but pulled out my sidearm, a 10 millimeter semi-automatic pistol. The north guard and Alice saw this, but I only wanted to hide it from the guard behind me.

Jackson was starting to understand what was unfolding. "Don't do anything stupid, any of you. If you think you can clear this up, then you can do it at McCarran."

In a low voice, Alice McLafferty droned, "Turn around, and walk the FUCK out of my office." I emphasized where her voice picked up. She was clearly prepared to turn that trailer into a blood bath. I didn't know for sure if she was bluffing. i didn't want her guards to get the opening shot. I also didn't want to walk away, and I was afraid Jackson was going to. Would have been the smart thing to do really. I had no choice but to wait. The silence that followed her words seemed to last an eternity.

With my left hand I silently pulled the pin from a grenade I had pocketed, holding the lever in place. I had to wait, yes, but I knew what was coming. I signaled to Cass and she nodded. McLafferty saw this and decided it was time to end the stand off. Sadly Jackson was not prepared in the least. "NOW!" she cried.

I spun and shot the south guard in the chest twice and rolled onto my back, right at Jackson's feet. His hat fell next to me as he grabbed for his holstered revolver. Cass did the wrong thing, but what I fully expected. She grabbed for her rifle and set it on McLafferty, firing several rounds into her. I tossed the grenade over her desk and yelled, "DOWN!" This time Jackson responded timely, ducking down behind the desk with me. He had not fired a shot yet: no contingency plans.

The north guard had taken aim at Cass right before seeing the grenade, he favored his safety over a kill shot and tried to exit the north door, but the outside guard was trying to get in at the same time, and the grenade detonated before he could push through the blockade. Cass had not ducked down with us. The south outside guard had just opened the door when the concussion knocked him outside. It also knocked Cass against the south wall. The north guard was torn apart, the blocking guard blew outside and I couldn't see if he survived.

The north part of the trailer was torn apart smoke and debris filled the air. Cass was knocked out, and Jackson wasn't budging from his position behind the desk. I got up and ran out of the south door. Luckily the second guard was still prone. I fired the rest of my clip in his direction; enough of them hit. The courtyard of the Crimson Caravan's had erupted in chaos. I had no time to look around for any other threats.

Instead I dropped the pistol and went for my assault rifle and sprinted around the trailer to the north side. I was halfway there when I heard the firefight between the second north guard and Jackson begin. I stopped at the door, and he was in view, his back to me. I pulled the trigger and he didn't know what happened before he was face down. I quickly panned around and saw no one else with a firearm. I ran to Cass, and examined her for any shrapnel or bullet wounds. She was breathing and appeared unharmed.

Jackson had taken a bullet to the right shoulder. "We've got to get you to McCarran. I'm grabbing Cass, just keep your revolver out. I slung Cass over my shoulder and nodded at Jackson. I wasn't taking point with my unconscious girlfriend in tow. He hesitated, and then went outside. It was a tense few moments as we exited through their gate, wondering if some sniper was going to take a shot at us.

It only took a few minutes to walk to McCarran, which already had guards on alert due to hearing the gunfire nearby. Cass came to shortly after arrival, and the guards detained us for a 'debriefing'. Thankfully ranger Jackson vouched for us, and explained the circumstances. A colonel Hsu made it a point to tell Jackson how stupid it was to try to arrest her without bringing the evidence through proper channels. But whether he liked it or not, a ranger has the authority to arrest anyone for anything they please, and as they were in different branches, there was no disciplinary action he could take against him in any case.

Jackson told me I owed him. I disagreed, but told him he could call on me if needed anyhow. The next day we parted ways. Cass seemed alright, even cheerful. She got her revenge, and didn't even have to start the fight this time. As for me, I was getting tired of the violence. It seemed to be the rule of the Mojave wastes that violence was the only answer, and only response to problems. I wondered if it would be possible to keep to myself somewhere in the middle of no where, just me and Cass. We'll have to have a talk and see.

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Journal Entry 50 - July 23rd, 2287

The last few weeks have been a blur. A really great blur. Just me and Cass spending caps along The Strip. It's easy to forget what life is like in the wastes when you spend your days laying in bed and your nights basking in the bright New Vegas lights.

We've had a good run, but she's not like me. I've fallen in love with her, but I can tell that I'm her friend with benefits. I'm a drinking buddy. I know that she respects me, heck maybe even idolizes me. Love isn't a word that is in her vocabulary though. I'm sorry Cass, if I got you pegged wrong. Wouldn't be the first time I've been foolish. Wouldn't even be the first time in a single entry.

I've gotten attached to her. Eventually she'll take off for new conquests, and take part of my heart with her. I've also gotten attached to The Strip, but my funds are draining. I'm also too attached to this Journal. I've gone and tore out most of the entries, as looking back at them they add little and would only embarrass me when Cass or anyone else reads them.

Which I guess brings me to what this entry is all about. Last night me and Cass were at the Tops casino. We were watching a comedian I had actually recruited for the Aces theater. I don't seem to have much of a sense of humor, but I'm told he's funny. Afterward, Cass headed back to the room, I went to the casino floor to play some black-jack.

I went to take a piss, and some guy follows me. In mid-stream he stands behind me and just starts talking. I'll try to transcribe accurately his words.

"I bear a message from Caesar (the legion's main thug). He has heard the tales of the hero of Cottonwood Cove. Caesar wishes to meet with you, and promises no harm will come to you. Tales of your deeds impress him; few are honored so. Wear this medallion at the docks of the cove for safe passage to his camp at Fort Hill."

All of that was well and good but then he said something like "If you choose not to arrive within five days, you will die. Your friend Cassidy will die. Caesar's reach is long and his resources extensive. Do not try to run or hide."

I didn't care for his fanciful talk. I wanted to kill him, but he was gone before I could wrap my head around what had just happened. He left a necklace on the decrepit pre-war sink. I felt a little sick with fear. Wish I could say it was for Cass's life, but I think it was just for the feeling of having it all and then losing it within a few seconds.

Despite his warning not to run or hide, I could easily disappear. We could, I mean. We could go west, or far northeast. But I didn't like the Legion, and the NCR was going to lose this territory to them soon enough. I see an opportunity here to leave my mark on the Mojave wasteland. All these people, the NCR, the tribes, and the people just trying to get by they all tremble at the thought of this Caesar.

This intimidation is one of the main sources of power for the Legion. The NCR has bureaucracy not idolatry, and that simply doesn't have the same effect on the minds of the opposition. I can take them down a peg, I know I can.

I once spent some time at Camp Golf, the main camp of the NCR rangers. I met with chief Hanlin, a great man before my time. I brought him the dog tags of the ranger I killed in order to appease the Brotherhood. I thought perhaps he'd have me strung up for my part in his death, but he seemed to understand the situation I was in.

Hanlin's death is also my fault. I've never admitted that to anyone, not even the NCR intelligence officers that sent me after him. I'll never forgive myself for failing to understand what honor was to a man like him. I put the noose around the neck of a great man. I'm sorry for getting sidetracked. Like I was saying, Hanlin was the head of the rangers in the Mojave, and he knew everything there was to know about the conflict with the Legion.

He told me that he even personally knew the Caesar. Apparently he was originally from New California himself before heading east on behalf of the Followers (a bunch of bleeding hearts wanting to bring civilization to the chaos of the tribalized wasteland). He said that without Caesar, there was no Legion. They followed him, not his principles. Maybe he was wrong, but perhaps I could cut the head off the snake.

I left the Tops and headed to Camp McCarran and requested all intelligence on the topography of Fort Hill and any scouting reports regarding tents, fortifications, and other structures located there. They were hesitant, but I was known by a few of the senior staffers on duty tonight. I've studied their reports, and I think it's doable.

I've packed up my stash of plastic explosive, a relic of the old world, a stealth boy cloaking device, and a few small arms. I'll be disarmed when I get there I'm sure, but I think I can pull this off. I've got to try in any case. I hope that when you get this, you will forgive me Cass. I'm not even sure I'm making the right decision. Somehow facing this seems easier than the unknown future of running.

If you are so inclined, you might write a few words if you find out what happens to me, for closure sake. If you aren't so mad at me that you burn this of course. You made the wasteland a paradise on this scorched rock. I love you, take care of yourself and don't chase after me.

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Epilogue Part 1 - By Rose of Sharon Cassidy, aka "Cass" - July 26th, 2287

I can't believe I'm doing this or that he's gone. I woke up and couldn't find him anywhere. I should have read his stupid journal sooner. What an asshole. He's dead. Nox is dead, if that was even his real name. This journal just doesn't sound like the guy I knew. I didn't even know he killed a bunch of Legion at Cottonwood.

And where the hell are the rest of the entries? I swear to god I'm not sure if I can take this. Probably lots of complaints about me he decided he wanted to hide. Fucker. I don't know if I loved him, but I feel a little dead inside knowing he's gone.

I only thought to read his journal when New Vegas Radio announced the death of Caesar. Nox had been gone for over a day and a half when I heard it. Everyone in Novac and everywhere else was glued to radios as reports came in on the second battle for Hoover Dam. Legion had staged a surprise attack, but the NCR knew something would be coming eventually.

It looked like the NCR was planning on pulling out, and then came the news that the tyrant had been assassinated. Twelve hours later, his legate had been slain during the conflict, and it was only a matter of time before the legion forces fell into disarray and started to disperse.

Fort Hill had reportedly been abandoned after the Legion's defeat, and I just couldn't believe that he would stage an assassination. He wasn't even political. I swear he just loved collecting caps and arms. I had to find out for myself, partially because it's exactly what he said not to do, and I was pretty pissed. And maybe I'd find him, maybe he needed my help.

I took the eyebot with me, and encountered only two Legion remnants, one ran and the other was not a problem. To my surprise, there were bodies everywhere, as if the war happened at the Fort and not at the Dam. I wondered if the NCR had raided the Fort, but I saw no evidence of NCR troops. Still possible.

The Fort was like a real small island, but there was a new crater near the middle, blackened from what I assumed must have been the plastic explosive. I searched all the other tents, and saw on one corner of the island an old pre-war building. The door was open and bent out of shape. I felt a chill as I approached, like I knew this is where it ended.

I stepped inside, used the eyebot to light the interior, as the walls were scorched and the lights broken near the door. I saw several Legion soldiers dead on the ground, and had given up looking for Nox, when I realized one of the soldiers WAS Nox. He had dressed up like one of them. I screamed; I couldn't control my voice. He looked ghastly.

I sat outside the building for what may have been two hours. I got up the courage, with some alcoholic assistance, to go back inside. I ransacked the interior. There was a door that had stairs leading down. It had several rooms, but nothing inside of them but computers. I started going through each computer. I caught sight of red lettering on the top of one of the computer monitors. It said Cass. I think it was blood. Impossible, I thought.

It was already booted and had a word processor open. He had typed his last entry here on this computer. I will transcribe it on the following pages.

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Epilogue Part 2 - Entry by "Cass" - July 26th, 2287

(This isn't an exact transcription. Nox was obviously in a hurry, if not out of his wits when typing. I've added words to make sentences out of fragments and corrected spelling when I could)

This is it, I'm a dead man typing. No one is going to read this. This building is going to be razed. I've killed the great Caesar. I'm shot twice. Legs are no good, can barely sit in front of this screen. They are pounding on the door with sledgehammers. It's only a matter of time now. I've got a few bullets and a grenade, and I imagine a blaze of glory is all I have left to do if I can wrap this up.

I could feel my skin trembling as the raft approached the island. To my surprise, most of it had been abandoned. Caesar's army was nowhere to be seen. I realized only then that the battle for Hoover Dam was going to be fought very shortly. On one hand, I was late to the party and even if I succeeded, it might not matter. On the other, I thought maybe I could make it out of here alive, and maybe Caesar's guards would be lighter, making his death that much easier to achieve.

As I thought, they stripped my weapons. I acted indignant about the blocks of C-4. I said they were gifts to honor Caesar. Old world weapons. Told the guards they could carry them. They had no idea what they were doing. We marched to his tent so proudly.

Me and the big guy talked for a bit. He had this grand vision for the world. It was true what Hanlon said. They followed him, not the ideals, because the ideals were nonsense. At best they were rationalizations of rape, murder, and enslavement. The best qualities of the pre-war world, except Caesar was a bit of a technophobe.

With a lull in the conversation he finally noticed the guard holding something odd. "A gift from the profligate." He handed it to Caesar, who looked in my direction. I had activated the stealth boy and moved to the entrance. He couldn't see me and looked back at the explosives.

He turned to the guard as his expression turned to alarm. "You idiot!" I ran outside and squeezed the detonator. I felt the ground fall out from under me. I was flying, almost like I was doing it on purpose, like some kind of bird-man. I landed and I think my leg broke. No one noticed me, and looking at my arms I could tell the cloak was holding.

The camp had erupted in commotion. Legion troops pointing everywhere, shouting back and forth, running all over the place. Everywhere but where I was headed, which was back to the locker they had stowed my weapons in. It was just a small box they left laying just inside the gate. No one was guarding it, but the gate had been lowered.

The perimeter of the camp was a fence made of wooden pikes. Lifting the gate was a two man job, and I couldn't climb it with my leg broken. I was in trouble. I found a spot on a ridge, and while the stealth boy held, I put down at least twenty Legion troops. One snuck up on me, the one smart one of the bunch I suppose, and got a good shot into my back before I could pull my sidearm and shoot.

The cloak's core burned out, as they always do, at the worst possible time. I was visible, shot in the back, and had a broken leg. I took the uniform off the soldier I just shot and put it on before I was made by the rest of the remaining soldiers. I searched the horizon when I saw this building. I walked past all the soldiers, pretending to hail Caesar.

The building had two guards in front of the door. They hadn't moved through the commotion, so I knew I had to blow my cover to get in. I shot them both before they could react, but other soldiers saw me. They noticed the blood on my back as well, and finally figured out what was going on. I took another bullet on my left side as I hurried into the building and jammed the lock from the other side.

I'm feeling faint, and I might bleed out before those boys outside get to have their jollies. If the NCR wanted to surprise attack the fort, now would be a great time. Well, that's that. I'm going to go rig the door with a grenade and lay down now; can't keep my eyes open. Hey Cass, if you get this, add it to my journal, maybe say a few nice words about me. Go talk to Jackson and show him my journal.

(That was all he wrote. I've done as he asked. I guess I'll go talk to Ranger Jackson. I'm not really sure what to expect from him.)

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Epilogue Part 3 - Entry by Known Associates - Dates Vary

I'm writing this out as an introduction to this third part of what will be called epilogues of Nox's journal. I took it to Ranger Jackson who was stationed down at the Mojave Outpost. He read it and seemed more surprised with each entry. When he got done, he remarked that the last part regarding Caesar's death was something that would be of great interest to the people back at the NCR. He said he figured Nox wanted his journal published, as they had once talked about a working printing press back in New California.

He said he wanted to take it back there himself, and knew of some others that knew Nox before he met me, and they could add to this final epilogue. I am only handing this over because he promised on his honor as a ranger that I would get a final copy as soon as they started printing them. I told him I need a thousand caps as collateral. It's not that I don't trust him, but I don't trust the NCR government officials. Jackson's honor is none of their concern after all.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy, "Cass"

Nox was one of a kind. He had a different way of looking at the problems and people in the Mojave wasteland. Nothing ever seemed out of his reach if he really wanted it. He was a very poor gambler and could not hold his liquor. I miss him already.

Ranger Lee Jackson, NCR

In my own defense, I had no intention of a violent firefight with McLafferty and her men. It was less a matter of non-preparedness, more a matter of loathing a violent solution. I cannot vouch for the accuracy of most of what's in the journal, but the parts I'm involved in are fairly accurate, and I think it's safe to assume that the rest of it is just as honest. Nox was a friend of the Rangers and army both. Troopers trade stories about his exploits like he's straight out of Grognak the Barbarian.

I think he was at heart an idealist willing to make sacrifices to see what he saw as justice done. Nox was willing to take a bullet to save his life, if that makes any sense. He had a different sort of instinct from the rest of us, and his boldness seemed to take everyone by surprise. The following three entries are written by known associates of Nox.

Julie Farkas - Follower of the Apocalypse

The Followers in New Vegas are stationed in Freeside, the poor neighborhood outside The Strip. Nox came to us for help in resolving a conflict between the gangs of Freeside and NCR troops. Reportedly he killed instigators on both sides of the conflict the same day, effectively ending the standoff. He provided us with several crates of medical supplies, claiming they were scavenged and not stolen.

Craig Boone - 1st Recon Sharpshooter, retired

I asked Nox to find who took my wife, and I didn't expect him to find them, but he did. We ran together for a few months, killing Legion in small numbers and disrupting their caravans. I didn't expect us to last a week, and only went with him so I could find a resting place. After three months I tired of the traveling, and Nox released me from my debt on the condition that I stay in Novac as a guard. I have lived up to that promise.

I saw the wound to his head, he should not have lived. My theory is that he was some sort of radiation created monster posing as a person, and was even good at impersonating one.

Sunny Smiles - Gecko Hunter, Goodsprings

Nox was a natural shot. He didn't seem to remember anything after he woke up in Goodsprings, but I could tell his past must have involved the same thing his future did. I've never seen someone so dedicate themselves to an idea. We Goodspringers have always kept to ourselves, but the day before Victor found Nox up at the cemetary, convicts took over the NCR correctional facility. We weren't the closest town, but some trader who had crossed the convicts (who decided to pretend the prison was now their own town), had decided to take shelter in our town.

We didn't want to turn him over to the gangers, but eventually they came back to make good on their threats to the town. Nox killed them all without any hesitation, just because of what they said. None had pulled a gun yet, and none had a chance to.

Afterward he went to the prison and killed every single inmate that did not surrender, which was all but one. I didn't see it, but it happened. That prison is a graveyard now. The NCR army was planning on storming the place, but Nox beat them to it. That was the last I heard of him. He never came back to visit. I don't know who he was before we found him, and I'm not sure I want to.

Addendum - Secretary Parker, office of literary publications

This concludes the journal of the man simply called Nox. His full identity is not known. The NCR senate has conferred the silver crescent upon him. His remains were recovered by the Mojave Rangers, and sent to New California for a public service. Ranger Jackson has put in a request that Nox be made an honorary NCR Ranger. It is pending as of this publication.

Fin