Uncle Leo

Ellen's arms and legs were aching in places she hadn't imagined were even possible. She sat down on an upthrust cluster of rocks, wincing. Andale had been... oh, she didn't know, hours ago? Something like that? She'd been in and out of that wretched cluster of buildings too many times to want to think about it much, looking first for other victims and then for other survivors. There hadn't been many- Johnny, Jenny, and their mutual grandfather. She'd left them with some of her own supplies before heading north, both to turn in the weapons (oh, God, the chain-edged saw things in the root cellar!) at Regulator headquarters and to contact the Family. If everyone in Andale had been ... ah ... living the same way, then the Family might be their only chance of getting used to other food- and of protection, given how old Grandpa Harris was. Then she'd returned, slogging her way south until she'd led Justin to Mr. Harris and the children. What would happen now, she didn't know, but it had to be better than what had gone before.

She still had the smell of that cellar in her nostrils. Even throwing everything flammable from the Smith home in there and setting the whole pit aflame, the only funeral she could give those nameless people, hadn't chased the stink fully away.

Well, that was behind her and she was going to try not to think about it. Right now, she was slugging her way through the rock formation the 2077 map had said was about as far south of Megaton as Olney had been north. Climbing in the armor was painful and difficult in all kinds of new and exciting ways. Climbing in the Regulator duster wasn't going to happen, though- the armor had already protected her from several falls and a couple of yao guai, not to mention warning her of a couple of wandering scavengers who'd taken a few potshots at her and then moved on. Besides, if she took the armor off, she'd have to navigate the rocks and carry the armor. Not going to happen. She just had to put up with the awkwardness as she looked for a Vault entrance if she wanted to get out of this with all her limbs intact, that was all.

It occurred to her that she probably ought to eat, no matter how much the memory of Andale turned her stomach. The prospect of opening a can of Cram or one of the ready-meals with meat in it made her shudder, so she dug out a noodle pack and a box of Fancy Lads snack cakes. She'd just gotten the noodles open when Dogmeat barked, hopping to his feet.

"Where? I don't-"

"Incoming hostile! Six o'clock!" her suit announced; Ellen set the noodles aside and stood up. As she reached for her pistol she saw it- a green form, picking its way along the rocks not far off. Her breath hissed between her teeth, and she looked around frantically for cover. She'd have to climb further to hide behind anything even a little protective-

"You haven't shot at me yet," called the mutant from down the slope. "That's different."

Ellen blinked, and then blinked again. She'd heard the greenskins talk before- threats during battle, and conversing among themselves back at Germantown, when she was rescuing Red and Shorty. Speech wasn't their strong point. They usually sounded like the act was physically painful. This one sounded a little strained, like the rest, but there was no hostility at all in its tone. "Um," she said. With a shock, she realized that the mutant wasn't wearing armor- every other mutant she had ever seen had worn whatever metal and leather protection their thick fingers could cobble together- and didn't appear to be armed. "No?"

The mutant grimaced, its green, over-bulky face contorting. Ellen realized a moment later that it was trying to smile. "Thank you," it said. "I appreciate that."

Gratitude. And manners. From a supermutant. Trying not to goggle too much, Ellen said, "You're... welcome, I guess. Um. Who are you?"

"Call me Uncle Leo," the mutant said, resting its fingers for a moment on its over-muscled chest. "I was driven out by my brothers. I tried to get them to understand that there was more to life than fighting and killing, but they wouldn't listen. Now I wander the Wasteland, hoping to find some meaning to life before I die."

Leo's speech was as laborious and slow as Ellen remembered from Germantown, but there was an odd sort of wistfulness to its- his-tone. A memory sparked in the back of her brain- Knight-Captain Colvin saying Five mutants, released from their torment. She shook her head a little and said, somewhat more gently, "How did you get that name?"

Leo shrugged his massive shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "I've always called myself that. Maybe it was my name before I became... this. Maybe I read it in a book a long time ago."

"Became...?"

"Maybe you don't know where we come from- super mutants, I mean," Leo said. His face contorted, and a note of anger crept into his tone. "We aren't born this way. We are created. In the cold, dark, metal place, where my brothers bring their captives, endlessly trying to make more of us."

The mutants in Germantown had mentioned trying to find more 'green stuff', and capturing strong people for it. Ellen suddenly wished that she didn't have a good enough imagination to picture what Leo was talking about, and shuddered.

"It was something I could not do," Leo continued. "I tried to get them to stop. But they wouldn't listen. They would have killed me if I had not run away."

Ellen gulped, nodded. "I can ... thank you," she managed. "For not being part of that."

Leo's face twisted in a different grimace suddenly. "I'm sorry, I've been a poor host. Here, take this," he said, and reached into a cluster of rocks to pull out a bundle. He thrust it at Ellen. "I know it isn't much, but it's all I have."

"Clothing?" Ellen said, blinking. It was a rather nice pre-war men's suit- dirty, sure, but most everything was dirty these days.

"Yes. Have you ever watched the moon rise over the Wasteland? I wish I could have given you something as wonderful as that."

Ellen glanced from the clothing to Leo and back again. Fingering the cloth, she found herself reminded of poor Gob, and wondering just how lonely it must have been for Leo. At least Gob had a few people in Megaton who were kind to him, and a place to stay where he wouldn't be shot at. "Are you hungry?" she said.

"Perhaps a little," Leo admitted. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Ellen said, "I've got a couple of packets of noodles here. If you're interested."

"You're... serious? About that?"

Ellen held up the packet from her pack and gestured to the nearest flat rock that looked big enough for Leo to sit on.

"Little sister," Leo said, "I would be honored."

Girdershade

The sun was almost down from the top of the sky and the western ridge from the 2077 geological map wasn't anywhere in sight. As a matter of fact, the only thing that was in sight was the remains of one of the old elevated roads. Ellen grimaced. She'd spent the whole day prior searching that damned ridge, and apart from Leo, the only thing she'd found was a Raider hangout and more old yao guai droppings than anyone could ever want. And, unfortunately, the yao guai who produced it. She'd killed one and driven the others off, but by then it'd been dark, and her only choice for keeping the yao guai at bay had been to make a fire of the dead one's fat. The stuff made the second-worst smelling fire Ellen had ever experienced. If she hadn't so badly needed to ward off the creatures roaming the ridge at night she wouldn't even have bothered. She certainly didn't want to repeat the experience. Maybe she could find somewhere in the shadow of the old road that would be a little safer- somewhere she could wall off to keep Wasteland beasts out while she and Dogmeat slept. It had to be better than the alternative.

As she and Dogmeat drew closer to the ridge, she realized she wasn't the first person to have that thought. A pair of corrugated metal shacks huddled together in the shadows of the road. One of the houses was surrounded by a crudely cobbled-together wire-and-metal fence, penning in a solitary Brahmin. The other had some kind of neon sign affixed to the front wall, blinking on and off. Wel, that was a good sign, surely. Raiders didn't generally keep cattle in her experience, and people like Dukov probably couldn't be bothered. And hey- if these people had a Brahmin, they probably didn't eat people, right?

... she was going to pretend she hadn't thought that. She was just going to walk up to the first house and knock on the door and not think about that.

The door opened. The woman who looked out was a stringy-haired blond with blue eyes and a bright smile. "Well, hey there, stranger!" she said.

Ellen's shoulders tensed involuntarily at the cheerful tone. "Hi there," she said. "My name's Ellen. Who are you?"

"Sierra Petrovita's the name. Good to see a new face in Girdershade!" The woman stepped back a pace or so. "I take it you're here to check out my Nuka-Cola collection and take the tour?"

Ellen didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. "Nuka... what?"

Sierra beamed. "I have one of the... no, THE best Nuka-Cola collection in the Capital Wasteland. Heck, I've won the Nuka-Cola Fan Club Collection Award for the last ten years in a row!"

"There's a Nuka-Cola fan club?" Ellen said, almost involuntarily.

"Yep! I'm the President, the Recording Secretary and the Treasurer. Once a year, we gather here in Girdershade to have a cook-off using Nuka-Cola in the recipe." Sierra nodded towards the refrigerator and stove in the back of the shack. "Last year I won with my Poached Roach in Nuka-Sauce. Delicious!"

In Ellen's admittedly limited experience, radroach meat was too greasy to be worth the effort of cooking it, but... well, better to be eating giant roaches than people. She nodded, and relaxed a little. "How many people are in your club?" she asked.

"Well- only two right now," Sierra admitted. "Me and Ronald. But membership is open to the public! You can join if you like!"

"Um," Ellen said, raising a finger. "Ronald?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I figured you met him already," Sierra said, momentarily sidetracked. "He usually chats with people who enter Girdershade. He's my neighbor- and my protector, as he calls it. Imagine if some nasty raider wanted to take my stuff... he'd show them a thing or two! He's such a sweetie. You should talk to him!"

Ellen nodded. "Okay," she said. "You... mentioned a tour?"

"I sure did! Want to take it now?" Sierra clapped her hands together. "How can you resist? This stuff is so cool!"

"Say, you don't have any relatives named Brown, do you? Moira Brown?" Ellen asked as she followed Sierra into the shack and let her eyes adjust to the low light levels.

"No, not that I know of," said Sierra. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Okay," said Sierra pleasantly. "Well, come on then! Let me show you around! But no free Nuka-Cola until the end of the tour!" She turned dramatically, giving a one-handed sweeping gesture that took in banners and bottles and advertising displays and machines on every wall, all of them bearing the red-and-white Nuka-Cola logo. It ended with her standing in front of a Nuka-Cola bottle taller than either of them. "When Nuka-Cola was invented by John-Caleb Bradberton in 2044, it quickly became the world's most popular soft drink..."

Ten minutes later Ellen had learned more about Nuka-Cola and its history than she had ever wanted to know. Probably more than anyone wanted to know, except for Sierra herself. And maybe the Ronald person Sierra had mentioned- anyway, she was about ready to get out of there and sleep with the Brahmin; she was pretty sure any attempt to buy herself sleeping space in here would result in more Nuka-Conversation, at least until the sugar in Sierra's blood gave out. She nonetheless managed a smile as Sierra opened her refrigerator. "As promised," Sierra said, "here's a little pick-me-up. An ice-cold Nuka-Cola! Just look at the frost on the bottle. So cold- and delicious!"

Ellen smiled gamely and murmured what she hoped was suitable thanks.

"Pardon me." Sierra giggled a moment. "I- tend to lose myself when I hold onto a Nuka-Cola."

"That's.... nice," Ellen said. Why did people TELL her these things?

"Now- I realize you're not a fan club member or anything, and that's okay, but I was wondering- would you be interested in a business proposition by any chance?" Sierra said as she passed Ellen a Nuka-Cola branded bottle opener. "It has to do with a little something called Nuka-Cola Quantum."

Ellen knew that name. Why did she know that name? Where did- oh, right, that weird glowing soda she'd found. She still carried a bottle of it with her as a night-light, just in case a campfire and her Pip-Boy light weren't enough. "That depends," she said. "What kind of proposition?"

---

Okay. No. No. These people were crazy. Sierra wanted thirty bottles of two-hundred-year-old luminescent radioactive soda that made your pee glow blue for a week. Ronald, in the next shack over, wanted the same soda- not to drink but as leverage to seduce Sierra into his bed. And both of them thought this was somehow normal, even if Ronald thought Sierra wasn't all there upstairs. The Brahmin was the only sane thing in the area and Ellen wasn't entirely sure Sierra didn't pour Nuka-Cola into its drinking water. Just no. She'd find somewhere else to rest; she'd traded two bottles of ordinary Nuka-Cola that she'd found for enough dried Brahmin dung to burn wherever she wound up spending the night...

Hey, that looked like two people and a Brahmin up ahead in the northern distance. A trade caravan? Out here? Ellen quickened her pace. "Hello?" she called.

One of the figures raised a hand, and the caravan stopped. Ellen got a little closer, and saw that it was people she knew- Doc Hoff and his guards. "Ah, welcome, weary traveler!" Doc said. "You look like a wanderer in need of relaxation and the finest of chemical assistance. How may old Doc Hoff be of service?"

"You don't have some kind of inoculation against crazy in your bag, do you?" Ellen said. "I've just come from Girdershade..."

"You've met Miss Petrovita, then," said Doc, sounding unsurprised. "No, unfortunately. There's only so much a man in my position can do in the way of detoxification. Tell me, is she still trying to rope visitors into bringing her that awful Quantum stuff?"

"She sure is," Ellen said. "I don't need caps that badly."

"Tch." Hoff shook his head. "I wouldn't wish that drink on my worst enemy. The only thing it's fit for is explosive components."

"... seriously?" said Ellen; Hoff didn't look like he was joking. "You can actually use it for-"

"Yes, indeed," Hoff said. "As a matter of fact I have in my possession the schematics to do exactly that with it. You won't find a higher yield hand-held explosive device anywhere in the Wasteland than what some bright light of the past dubbed the Nuka-grenade. I don't suppose you'd be at all interested?"

Ellen considered the possibility, and thought of the mutants she'd seen at the Jefferson Memorial. If Dad was ever going to get back in there and get back to work on Project Purity, they'd probably need a lot more than plain old guns. "I might be," she said. "How much did you want for those schematics?"

"Oh, I can be flexible- especially if you've got anything interesting to add to my inventory," Hoff said. "I'm on my way to Evergreen Mills, and I could use whatever chems you're willing to part with."

Ellen nodded and dug into her pack. She'd been saving the vials and bottles and inhalers she'd found on various raiders and other dead, just in case she ran into someone who would buy them. "I can help you there," she said. "By the way, you might be interested in a possible new market."

Hoff raised one eyebrow. "Oh? Do go on."

"Vault 101," Ellen said. "They've had a recent change in leadership, and they're interested in commerce with the surface. And I can tell you for certain that they don't have a doctor."

"Really," said Hoff. "Well, now, isn't that interesting..."

A little haggling and discussion later, Ellen was the proud new owner of a set of Nuka-grenade schematics. Where she'd find the turpentine and the Abraxo cleaner she didn't know, but the tin can would be easy enough, and as for the wires, there were enough dead cars scattered about the Wasteland that she could probably pull a fistful of something usable out of the next one she passed. "Thank you," she said.

"Always a pleasure doing business," said Hoff. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Only if you know where-" She'd been about to ask him where Vault 112 was, but a yawn overcame her. "Ugh. I have to find somewhere to spend the night..."

"Mm. Well, you can't stay with us," Hoff said. "We'll be traveling until sunup, ourselves. But if you head due north from here, there's an old pre-war building still standing not too far off, and I don't remember seeing anyone take up residence there the last time I passed it. Smith Casey's Garage. Can't miss it."

"Thank you," Ellen said. "Good luck."

"You too.