“Well he’s certainly horrifying.” Castillo said, grinning towards Hayley as the pair watched him approach the robot.
“He’s dangerous, but he knows what he’s doing, and he’s absolutely flawless with tech and numbers.” She said, arms still crossed.
“Numbers like your weight?”
“Shut the hell up, Castillo.” Hayley shot him a glare, which softened a bit when she saw the man chuckling. “Gat damn you wasteland wanderers….first time I’ve ever been offended by someone saying I lost weight…” She muttered beneath an amused smile, grabbing a beer from a nearby icebox.
“It’s damn loud in here. Not used to seein’ this many of these types so quick to chat it up. Must be the shared experience of having no idea what the hell is going on.” Castillo quipped to himself, following Hayley to the table.
“We did our best to find people whose personalities were likely to survive a long trip over dangerous terrain.” Hayley said, leaning back on a table after taking a swig of her beverage.
“That explains the Nightkin, the psychopath with the grenades, and a robot…” Castillo’s sarcasm was not lost on Hayley.
“Keep it up trail boss, I may kick you off the trolley myself.”
“Well it’d probably be the most action I’ve seen from a lady in awhi--” Castillo was cut short by the sudden cutting of the lights. Instinctively, he drew his revolver and dropped into a crouch. Upstairs, the hissing of an energy weapon cut through the sudden silence.
A symphony of iron clearing leather filled the room as weapons were drawn and ready. Few here were new to the danger of strangers in the dark.
A moment passed, and the room was silent but for a few mutters and curses.
The first light to return was that of the enormous monitor in the suite’s main room - a monitor which now bore the digitized face of the pre-war Mr. House.
Then, the room lights came up to their pre blackout brightness, revealing a new human figure in the room - the elegant, burgundy suited Sherrington Tenpenny.
“My sincerest apologies for the drama.” Tenpenny began, raising his hands in the air as though he were calming a room of children. “I don’t particularly care for dramatics, but I thought it the most expedient way to garner the totality of your attention. If you will proceed to the seats before you, business can commence.” Tenpenny said, pointing to the seats assembled before House’s monitor.
The assembled group consented - cautiously - and took positions in front of the monitor. Some stood behind the seats, too unnerved to take the vulnerable seated position.
“Let me introduce you to our most gracious host and this venture’s primary benefactor, the owner and operator of the legendary Lucky 38 casino, and the benevolent ruler of New Vegas - Mr. House.” Tenpenny said, lacing his introduction with a bit of dramatic flair, as well as a trace of sarcasm.
With that, the monitor’s lights seemed to grow even brighter, as those House’s own spirit now inhabited the screen.
“Welcome to the Lucky 38. I am Mr. House. I appreciate your collective response to the call for laborers on this journey. For those of you who are here without invitation, you will be vetted, and, if found lacking, will be disposed of.” House’s voice was heavy, loud, and full of authority. The death threat was frank. “If you believe to have found yourself in this meeting in error, you may chose to leave now, and no harm will befall you.” House waited a moment. No one moved.
“Very well. My words and time are valuable, as I’m sure yours' are as well, so I will not parse words. The work we have for you is straightforward but not simple. I have chosen you because past experience with independent contractors has proven fruitful. I trust you will not cause me regret in this decision.” House continued, his screen occasionally flickering as he spoke.
“Several years ago, Mr. Tenpenny, whose name most of you should be familiar with, brought to my attention the potential to revive a pre-war technology even I believed to have been lost to time and desolation.” House’s flicked and showed a pre-war promotional photo of a family boarding a levitating trolley, smiling as they climbed.
“Before the Great War, the world was a much smaller place. A person could travel from one side of the Earth to the other in under ten hours. Aeroplanes, Zeppelins, Vertibirds, and bullet trains made travel a thoughtless exercise, one which would eventually lend a great hand in the destruction of the old world.” As House spoke, pictures reflecting his words flicked on the screen, as though he were narrating a slide show for school children.
“Across the North American continent, a great number of electromagnetic rail lines were buried deep in the earth. Avoiding confusing and lengthy technical explanations for those of you less inclined to such areas, the layman’s explanation of these lines’ purpose is as follows; they allowed for trolleys to travel at high speeds across the continent. The directed magnetic fields created by the lines allowed the trolleys to float several feet in the air, allowing them a smooth, frictionless ride across the varied landscape of this country.” As House finished the sentance, a map of the continent took over the screen, with colored lines dividing the map.
“This is a map of the three major rail lines before the Great War. This is not a comprehensive map - there are a variety of junction and secondary lines that exist, but for the purposes of this expedition, this is the map you with which you will operate.” House let the map hang for a moment on the screen, then flicked back to his own face to continue.
“Tenpenny and Dr. Clarke sought me out to help fund the revival of these lines. I do not believe you to be fools, so I will not treat you as such - the three of us stand to benefit immensely from the revival of the rail system. So do you. But compensation will be discussed later.” Any ears not paying attention to House’s words now certainly were.
“The rail lines are powered by ground level powerstations, which allowed pre-war mechanics ease of access for maintenance on the lines. Unfortunately, this also left them exposed to destruction, scavengers, and general wear since the war. Each station, normally situated in larger cities, powered the line from its city of origin to the next station - but no further. Meaning the station in New Vegas will send the trolley to New Reno. However, until the New Reno station is brought back online, the trolley cannot continue to the next city. This is where your services are needed.” House said, showing photos of pre-war powerstations.
“Dr. Clarke has developed a power source which can be used to revive the lines buried deep below. Mr. Poe has the knowledge, thanks to my gracious providing of relevant technologies…” House almost spat the words out, “needed to install the power sources and restart the lines. The rest of you will accompany Dr. Clarke and Mr. Poe, using your varied skills to aid in the revival of the lines and the building of travel stations for those wastelanders who will no doubt wish to travel the new lines here to New Vegas. Mr. Castillo will serve as the trail leader, as his experience with deep caravan expeditions is second to none.
“To be clear: You will take a trolley on one of the three available lines, whichever you collectively choose. You will revive the lines in each city you visit. You will build a traveler’s kiosk and defenses. You will keep key personnel alive. You will spread the word of this trolley, and of the civilization of New Vegas.” House said, his screen now hanging solidly on his smirking gaze. “Complete this task, and you will be rewarded handsomely. Those who return from the east coast end of the rail will be financially free for the remainder of their days. Should they choose, they may live cost free at any casino in New Vegas. They will be provided for, financially, for any want. You will not have to worry for food, for security, for health care. All will be yours. All you must do is do the job, and return.” House was silent for a moment, letting the reality of his offer sink in for the gathered team.
“If you fail in your mission, I will send another team to finish. If they fail, I will send another. These rails will live, the only question left to answer is whether or not you will benefit from the connection. If any of you should be here with intentions to sabotage this journey, I would advise you against such actions. I’m sure there are plenty of interested parties in this room more than willing to bury you in a shallow grave along a lonely trail for putting their lives and chance at unthinkable fortune at risk.”
Castillo wasn’t sure, but he could swear he saw that digital smirk grow even more lopsided.
“You are permitted to choose the lines you take. The northern lines will pose difficulties during winter, and likely will pass through more settled lands, as the midwest was not so thoroughly devastated as the coasts. This means raiders, slavers, and any other category of miscreant may endanger your journey. The southern line, though sparing you the harsh winter conditions, first passes through Legion controlled lands, and hosts the usual struggles of surviving in a desert climate. You will have to overcome the obstacles as you encounter them - we can only help you so much from here. You will be independent, disconnected, and in danger. Keep this in mind.”
“Mr. Tenpenny.” House said, giving the floor back to the living human.
“Many thanks, Mr. House.” Tenpenny said, stepping to the center of the room again. “Any questions?”