Frank Karrington - Hopetown (Canyon Wreckage), Jacobsville, Western Mojave Wasteland
It was a sleepy early morning, but nonetheless an early morning that had made it hard for Frank to do anything but get ready for his job. A job. Heh, that was something he hadn’t thought he’d manage in a place like this with mutants and ghouls and even some of the weird crap you usually heard about in ghost stories elsewhere. Either way, the people here had taken him in and kept the Greenlung people out, given him a job to do, and hell he’d even gotten married in the last year! It fared far better than starving out in the wastes, dyin' to fiends, gettin' shot up by other Raiders, and much less rotting under the boot heel that was Denver and his thrice-damned soldiers trying to enforce their ‘order’ on the Mojave Wasteland while some freaky plague and green stuff was tryin' to take over the whole Mojave and everything else in the blasted Wasteland.
Despite the whole thing with mutants being around, though, things seemed to go generally pretty well in this neck of the woods. Same rules for everyone, discretion was good, and frankly the whole community felt far more tight-knit than some ramshackle farmstead father out West where the Brahmin Barons went to play. Sure there were more humans here than mutants, but even when one went farther in past Hopetown that proportion of mutants to other people changed it was generally a safe place to live for the most part from top to bottom. Generally. He’d been deeper in a few times out of curiosity, or for some regular training as a settlement guard anyways, but he didn’t envy the poor sods who had to holdout on the other opposite end of things deeper into the Divide. Freaky ghouls that even made the normal ones take pause, and even things that made the bigger mutants have to fight and struggle. Them, struggling that bad! It was a hell of a thing, but he was frankly glad they were around in that place to keep the other end of things secure along with the rest of em' to be sure by this point.
Still, the front door of his family’s humble home shack creaked open as usual as he moved to step outside, its placement closer to where some said an old bus and other prewar debris was originally sitting there like a doorway into the Divide with those words "Lonesome Road" scrawled onto them for some reason. That in mind, it made sense to him that his home was near the top of the hill near the back of Hopetown itself and likewise had quite enough a view down the brief incline and scrap-paved new road that meandered down quickly from the Divide’s entrance (cliffside constructions and secondary gate, with two sniper-mounted watch towers climbing all the waup up onto either side of the cliffs themselves, aside) all the way to the rotund market area located basically just behind the front gates at the foot and front of Hopetown. It was all sitting nestled in the rocks and hills, with internal walls used to further shore it up, caressed in its neat little hiding spot that for the most part tried to stay concealed and hidden. Or, well, at least wasn’t in the open air and easy to get sight of. Just a nice little corner of the Mojave, fortified up and tucked away from the viewpoint of those living in Primm proper for the most part.
Front gates and front walls themselves sat hidden and crested in the rock as well, as did the front walls on either side of them, but they were distinctly not built to be visible from the side either. In fact, the ones who had built it all seemed to not get too close to the old playground for the most part either. Avoided it like some freak cave animal avoided the light, though he supposed that was the same type of thinking that went into making this part of Jacobsville in the first place. Don’t stand out like a sore thumb. Don’t make a big silhouette. Tuck things away nearly into the natural surroundings, and make sure it was well-protected. Very front of the whole operation even only went as far down as the last old wreck that had been on the incline before Hopetown itself had popped up into existence, if not held back some feet more. Made the front gate squished against the market circle itself just about, but it still at least had more room down there to operate and move in than might meet the eye from farther back. Was big enough to work guard shifts in for one thing, some doing the paperwork and storing it in their little buildings to either side of the front gate and the others standing outside armed and ensuring traffic flowed smoothly while keeping an eye for trouble.
Still, as he walked out onto the main road proper and tried to move in place among the moving people, Frank would easily spot a large green blob just across the street waving at him with a stupid grin. Big mutant type. Green, not so smart, and with the biggest muscles anyone had seen. Heh. It was that time of morning already, wasn’t it?
Weaving through the traffic, mostly to avoid the latter party unthinkingly bolting through it to talk to him, Frank would approach the large super mutant with a casual smile. Big guy was smiling himself as well, though, that much was easy to tell. Seemed a bit happier than usual, even, now that he thought about it. Even so it wasn’t hard to still notice the large scars, Deathclaw sized to be sure, that raked across the big guy’s face. Made him seem a bit scarier than some until you heard anything come out of the guy’s mouth.
“Frank-human!”
Yup. Just as jovial and childlike as anything. Big kid for the most part in some ways, but that was ‘Grub’ for ya. Happy and friendly to a fault, but hell the big green guy was good company. Also good people to have around in case of something going down in the market, as he’d also seen in the past, but that was not something he wanted to dwell too much on right now either.
“Grub! How ya’ doin’ today, you big green lug?”
The super mutant gently ‘fist-bumped’ with Frank as he walked up to him, as the idea of a ‘hug’ had gone out the window a long while ago for….reasons. Reasons the regular doctor (not to be confused with the other doc down in the market) was more than happy to help explain to Grub in easier terms for him as well too. Still, the edges of the super mutant’s mouth even then had remained in the best example of a smile he could manage all the same.
“Am good! Boss lady say I do good job cutting weird meat up yesterday! Was happy.”
Grub was in the end, well, just one local mutant that lived in the Hopetown part of Jacobsville. Name was pretty normal as far as he knew anything about mutants in this mish-mash of a place in general, though, but he seemed to recall how to cut up meat pretty good given he worked at the meat place down in the market. Or, well, perhaps remembered a little and the boss had made him ‘pretty pictures’ to help him do his job as the mutant had once told him. But where else on this side of the Mojace was one going to find some odd specialty butcher shop? Eh? Primm? Place was NCR turf, and like hell if most here wanted anything to do with the place or the NCR itself to boot. That much they could all agree on.
“Really? Eh…how ‘weird’ was the meat?”
“Looked like small, thin Brahmin with strange horns and two heads still! Very dry, tough, and sit in metal box of lots of strange white stuff when I see it. Boss lady said it was ‘from really far away’, so I be veeeery careful with it. She watch me too, tell me where to cut this time. She smile when I was done too. Say I do good job!”
“That’s great! Er, did she….call it anything?”
“Uhh…vin-eeeee-seeen?”
Grub put a finger to his chin as he tried to pronounce the unfamiliar term, his brain seeming to put all the steam it had going into that too. At the same time, though, all Frank felt was his left eyebrow raising up as he tried to parse what he was hearing. Vineesen? Was that some fancy pre-war word or something? Eh, not that it mattered much now. Better to not burn the big lug out too early in the day with the thought stuck in his dead, not unless he wanted to get an earful from Grub’s boss later for it.
But what kind of meat was Grub even trying to describe here? Didn’t sound like some malnourished Brahmin, could be for all he knew though, but at this rate who really knew. Not like anything that ran around the Mojave or too close to it, at the very least, but maybe someone had brought it from far away to get it cut up to sell at a price hike and big profits. Wouldn’t be the first time something strange like that popped up out of the blue and left without another word, that was for sure.
Frank pulled up his hands to wave at the big guy, trying to get his attention before it was too absorbed into the thought to do anything else.
“Don’t worry about it, big guy, I’ll ask her later myself, ok? No worries. You don’t have to think about it. I promise.”
“Oh! Ok, Frank-human!”
Whew. Ghoul lady running the shop Grub was at certainly had her ways….and Grub seemed content to work for her too. Yet the most surprising thing was the raw patience she’d seemed to give toward Grub’s adjustment to the place after he’d tried to help the guy find work at the market and she’d taken an interest in him. Had been a big surprise with her getting the big lug comfortable like she had, all despite the thing he’d heard and seen with regards to her temper…and her abnormal skills with a knife. Still, Grub seemed content enough with his job despite the at times shady nature of things his boss seemed to dig her claws into. Even had the lug delivering some packages to the front gates a few times that he could remember, though, so she had him well-trained and kept him happy it seemed at least.
“Well, for now I need to hurry if I want to get to my post this morning. My boss lady is gonna’ not be happy if I don’t. So I’ll see you later, ok Grub?”
“Ok! See you later, Frank-human!”
With that, and a hasty goodbye wave, Frank would try to dart back onto the main road and through the two moving lanes of foot traffic. He had become accustomed to things for the most part, but if he ran late a second time this week he was not gonna’ be a happy camper either. If Grub’s boss was shady and great with knives alongside having a temper, then his boss was grumpy and one heck of a shot with a gun while having all the ‘discipline’ and rigidness of a damn Brotherhood Knight! Seriously. Plus on top of that if Maurice didn’t shut the hell up about having to do early morning duty or wanting to ‘be promoted’ to a sniper one day he was going to let some of the others kick his ass one day…but not enough for the pretty keen-eyed ghoul to be unable to come back to work the next day or where he’d have to cover for him. Please no, never that again if he could help it.
Even still the mooing Brahmin, clatter of metal, smell of cooking foods, the clap of shoes moving up and down the Hopetown road itself, it was all enough to get him back in ‘the zone’ as he liked to call it. Normals sounds in a normal workplace that got you in the working mindset, as far as he was concerned, though you still had to keep an eye and an ear out for things. It was, to be blunt, his literal job to keep his eyes and ears peeled at that.
Still, all the way down at the front gate and the market was his own domain in a sense too, he felt, where he helped the other five guards there keep tabs on people, record those coming in and out and some things like that, kept his eyes and ears open for trouble, etc. Three on each side of the front gate, two standing out there armed and ready and keeping tabs on things and one in the shack-like booth on each side keeping the paperwork and such in the shade. A standardized format. Was honest work, and hard work at times, but hell if it wasn’t better than ‘underpaid caravan guard’ in his opinion. Naturally didn’t need raiders or others wanting to give them a bad time walking in, morons trying to rush or gun their way inside, or other trouble like NCR. It was to keep their own safe, to be a show of force to asshats, even if defensively, and they helped keep tabs on who came in and who went out for the day to boot.
The market itself, however, didn’t seem to be much busy yet. Mostly some individuals, maybe three pack brahmin he could see with some others, etc. Butcher shop and the market doc were seemingly getting ready to open up in their own ways, Junk shop was already selling something, and the other stalls were getting ready for the day’s business all the same in turn. The one or two spots to get grub seemed to already be serving something for the ‘early risers’ too, though, and it was an almost heavenly smell sometimes at the end of the day if he’d had to skip lunch over something going on at the gate.
“Hey Frank! Front gate duty again? Maurice beg them to put you there to suffer with him again?”
Frank’s head popped up, the man lost in his thoughts for a moment and almost tripping over his own two feet, only for a peal of laughter to his left to drag him out of the moment. With a huff and a light eye roll, he looked over to see the smirk of a certain young redhead leaning against the nearest stall. Small ponytail, freckles for days, hair as red as a fire, but couldn’t tan for the life of her. That was Amelia, one of the young regulars who traversed the market and helped ‘visitors’ seeking discreet assistance get to where they needed to be either in Hopetown or farther back into Jacobsville. Not a formal role or real job, though, but one the kid had managed to work out for herself. Plus for how savvy the kid was with a 9mm pistol and sneaking about she was just how old again? Only 19 years old now? Still, Amelia knew the Hopetown area and as far back as the Silo like the back of her hand. Seemed to take pride in it too after being a pickpocket in the Mojave who pissed off the wrong gambler and having to ‘start over again’ after a near-death experience.
“Yeah yeah, ha ha hha, but no. Volunteered for it while I’ve got the chance, even taking on a bit extra before Maria pops and we’ve gotta’ take the time for our new kid.”
“She’s that close already?”
“Doc Patricia said she was, last we checked a few days ago, at least. Got us excited to see if it's a boy or a girl, but either way I’ve been told we’ll need to try to be ready to handle the kid.”
“You, having a kid of your own? What’s next, tiny green people landing and dancing in front of the gates? But good ta’ hear Maria’s doin’ well. Tell her I said ‘hey’, would ya’?”
“Heh. Yeah, I will. She’s been wondering how you're doing’ these days, but despite your comments this morning I’ll tell her you said hi this evenin’.”
The redhead would roll her eyes in turn and give him a light punch on the shoulder before leaning back against the side of her chosen ‘vantage point’ to look out at the market. Was enough to make the edges of Frank’s mouth tug back once more, however, and to hell if it was a smirk this time either. Heh. The kid still reminded him of his sister years ago, least’ before their family had split up a bit and-...well, he’d not talk about it right now. Naturally reminded him in the best and worst ways of her though, for what it was worth. Smartass mouth and everything.
“Just get going before my potential customers come in, ok?”
With a nod, though, Frank would hurry along.
As he walked closer and closer to the entrance of the Hopetown Market, the reinforced inside barrier people had to walk around on one side or the other to come in or out of the gate standing as tall as it ever had, he’d find his waking mind wandering a little in that regard. That little wall, though, was mostly for cover and to keep anyone from being able to throw or shoot right into the market beyond. It also provided cover for the guards themselves in the case of a shootout of some kind in part at the entrance. Was certainly working out better thanthe caravan guard gigs he’d run in the past, especially after his fifth and final client out in the Mojave decided to cut and run before paying his large due in caps. All because he tried to tell him going through a Green-infested area was a ‘bad idea, no really, yes really’! Cheapskate. Conniving asshole. Fancy-suit-wearing wine-chugger. Hoped the Green had gotten the guy for his trouble and caps, but perhaps a Deathclaw finding him would be better now that he thought about it.
Ah. But no, no, Maria had told him that was not very nice to imagine, even if part of him wanted to keep doing that to soothe the old pain of the event a bit. And that was before the pregnancy!
Already, though, he could see the three on the other side checking people in, which meant-
“Frank!”
A female ghoul standing on the right side of the gate called out to him, waving the man down as he walked over with a casual wave of his own. She was donning the same outfit and attire they all did as guard, from the reinforced leather, to the sewn-in plates of metal in it, to the same general choice of gun and knife and pistol depending on what they had to assign to guards. Admittedly, though, Dorene the ghoul had very few strands of hair left on her head. Usually liked to wash where she could, though, and ‘take care’ of herself as best she could of her body still regardless. Couldn’t blame er’, for a ghoul she did the best of anyone he’d seen in that regard. Human or not.
“Hey Dorene. Grub an’ Melia’ got me on the way for a few seconds. But, eh, is Maurice already given’ you the usual headache already?”
“No, he’s been stuck on paper duty so far. He gets stuck with you for just a shot while around midday, though, before you rotate back into paper duty for the end of the day.”
A sigh of relief slipped out of Frank's lips before he could think twice about it. Maybe today he’d make it back with his sanity intact for once. But minimal work with Maurice right there next to him? Eh, that was also a bit fishy. Call him superstitious, but something like that usually meant something else would ‘compensate’ for it all in the end. Blargh. But at least they’d be checking people out and not ‘in’ this time.
“How’s Maria doing this morning, by the way? Does she need anything? Sickness getting to her too badly at all today?”
The mild worry in her voice was audible, but he'd expected that much of Dorene as it was.
She did used to be a sister to, eh, one of his wife’s ancestors it seemed. Once reason she’d always been a close friend of the two of them for a hot minute. Call it sentimental, but hell at least Dorene was a good relative to have around for sure too. Was really good with some of the basic stuff, taught Maria more when they’d first learned she was pregnant even, but had practically learned to use a gun for the past two centuries too. Had been excited for the coming baby to boot, perhaps even more than Maria or himself for that matter, from what he’d seen.
“She’s fine, Dorene, but it's gettin' harder for her to move these days. Usually she stretches stuff out over the course of the day to avoid overexertin' herself, but even with me takin’ up a couple of things more at the house to help too she sometimes doesn’t like to take her time still as much as she should. Wants to get everything extra ready for the kid as soon as she can beforehand....”
“Oh! My sister was always like that, but it's still good to know we’re of the same mind on her pacing things out. For her and the baby’s sakes. I’ll have to talk to her again, maybe, after work this evening I mean.”
“Sure, I think I need the backup as it is. Plus we’d be happy to have you for dinner, though it’ll be pretty late. Night shift guys’ll be late tonight, remember?”
“Oh shoot….I had almost forgotten that. Well, for now let’s get you out here before the boss stops covering for me for a second. I told him I’d make sure you got here in time.”
“He’s coveri-, ah for fricks’ sake! Ok, ok. Please lead the way before we get the full earful today.”
Yup. It was going to be another day. Another guard duty. Another lovely time spent under the shade of the walls and main gate, underneath the seemingly eternal constant that was the heat of the persistent Mojave Wasteland sun.
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