War. War never changes. It just really surprises the shit out of you sometimes.
We did it! Holy shit, you guys, can you fucking believe we–
…guys?
FUCK.
I awaken, full of resolve. Today is the day I finally get the heck out of this sleepy little town! Granted, it’s gonna be totally awkward if I run into Darlene, since we already said goodbye and all–don’t you hate that?!–but it’s okay. If I know anything about these wastelands, which I probably do, it’s that clearing all your quest markers in a settlement means you probably don’t have to bother going there again. And I’d rather cross this palace off my list and find the motherfucker who crossed me.
But I barely have time to cock my hat into the “bangable” position when WHADDAYA KNOW, some random no-chin waste of water is waiting for me to help him.
I mention him only, however, because I think I owe him an apology.
Mr. Guy, I’m sorry that in the five separate attempts I made to record a play video for this LP, I never once managed to find your girlfriend. I don’t know if she was the Roman slave the geckos ate that one time, or if your “girlfriend” is a caravan full of thugs waiting to jump my ass, but on the off chance she was a real person who you loved and cared about who truly was caught unaware by geckos and slaughtered, well… sorry. I really did try. I mean, kind of.
Thirty dead geckos later, I find myself reluctantly heading back into Goodsprings FINALLY only to be stopped by the most NPC-lookin’ NPC I ever NP-saw.
Same. Hey, you got anything to trade?
Uhhhh, okay, Macho Man Randy Savage. I don’t know how much more simply I could have asked that. Nothing particularly bandit-y ‘bout it. You got a real r/redpill vibe, you know that? You and your ridgey head!
I ditch the suspicious traveler and head back up to town. I stop by the General Store first in search of Stimpacks and maybe something a little fresher than the stolen garments I’ve been slopping around in for days, but at these prices?!
Look, why the fuck do we even still operate under a hard currency system?! It’s a lawless wasteland! I should be able to fuck people for stimpacks! Even if that person’s Chet.
Huffing, I take my measly single expired stimpack and storm out. I know someone who’ll trade Cram for clam in this town! But before I slink back into Doc’s for another round of sofapoon, I decide to meet Trudy at the Prospector Saloon, since… that’s the whole reason I’m still here, really.
Oh, jeez. AWKWARD.
But I barely have time to wonder why Darlene stands in the Prospector Saloon staring at the wall all day when I’m interrupted by a commotion from the bar area.
The guy books it out of the bar without any further detail, and even shooting after him didn’t slow him down. (And to be fair, why should it?) I immediately return to the saloon owner for the full scoop.
Aha! So that’s who the broken sex bot belonged to? Also, you let that info slip pretty damn fast for someone who’s hiding a fugitive. God, there’s gotta be lead in the water here or something.
I think the “Gangers” part of that name is supposed to intimidate me, but I can’t help thinking about Snuggles the fabric softener bear. Unfortunately, there’s nothing cute about the Powder Gangers–apparently, they’re a chain gang that went rogue. How did that happen, you might ask?
HURRRR. Yeah, probably not. I mean, Andy Dufresne did it with just a spoon, right?
I agree not only to take on the Powder Gangers for Ringo, get dynamite, bring backup, and source supplies, but I even fix Trudy’s clock radio. I’ve been in town for literally 24 hours, and I’m bloody irreplaceable. Oh, Bethesda. You gonna make me head of the Thieves’ Guild despite my being totally unqualified after this, too?
I‘ve been stymied by a lack of advancement in the field of technology too long, and more experience is always good. My silver tongue will have to be gilded down the line; I gotta learn how locks work ‘n shit.
To be honest, I’d choose this just for the art. But luckily it’s one heck of a bonus!
I’m just heading out to confront this Ringo fella when–
…look, she’s…she’s a different kind of girl, okay? But I love her. Some girls like getting their nails done. Some girls like basketball. My girl just happens to love staring into middle distance for hours every day and only coming alive emotionally to shoot lizards. IT’S A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN TAPESTRY OUT HERE, EMBRACE IT.
I go up the hill to the abandoned gas station to see Ringo, but it seems I won’t have the chance to try out those spare sexbot parts I found:
Hmm. Wherever art thou, sexbot? Hope I get a chance to “fix” you soon. 
The gas station’s surprisingly unlocked now, so I let myself in with the expected results:
I’m here to help you, dude. This ain’t where I saw this conversation going. Now, how about you put your little emotional phallic extension away and parlay with me?
Anyways, who am I? I’m Waynetta, I’m a Capricorn, um… I’m really into hats! So what’s your deal? Did you know there’s a guy named Joe Cobb looking for you?
Weird flex, given that I haven’t seen a single two-story building in this town, but whatever makes your dick stand up.
Ringo explains that he happened to shoot a few Powder Gangers, which is why they’re after him.
Now, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard anyone in this weird town say so far. Me and my hat are in!
Okay, that makes sense. Who should I ask?
What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you asshole?! You sayin’ somethin’ about my girl? Darlene’s friendly but she’s not interested in being friends with the likes of you, ya dirty yellow-bellied bot-fucking squatter asshole!
Snarling, I ignore his feeble whining for dynamite and medical supplies and swipe every precious item from inside the gas station. I may be helping you, but if you talk shit about my girl again, I’ll shove these spare robot parts so far up your ass, you’ll be spitting out microchips.
Squinting into the desert, I look at the house next door. It’s familiar. Almost too familiar. I can already smell the couch…
To be continued