Last night, you were back in the Mojave Wasteland. You were scrounging around an office building with some guy, fellow scavenger you guess. You ran into a group of Brotherhood girls, all decked out in colored power armor. They’re downstairs, you’re up. They ask if you’re armed. You say all you’ve got is an envelope you pretend is a gun. You wave that paper thing in the air. Looks like a g-mail clickable, white with a red flap.
The girls guffaw. One heads up your way, looking to trade. You brush her with the envelope, just as a joke. Haw Haw, little envelopes gonna kill a girl.
Then she’s flung across the room. Slams into a desk, ragdolls into the wall. Her head explodes into blood and guck, blood particles floating in a thick mist.
Death by physics glitch. It was over before any of you realized it. Terrified, you stare at the envelope in your hands. You don’t dare drop it, lest it kills someone else next. Maybe you.
The Brotherhood girls call up after her. You don’t reply. The guy you’re scavenging with doesn’t either. He just stares at you, dully surprised. He’s the hardened type. He’s seen this kind of thing before. Way too many times.
The Brotherhood girls call again. They’re no longer laughing. They’re gonna start shooting, you know it. One of their friends is dead. They’re gonna kill you too.
Finally, you open your mouth.
They don’t understand. Neither do you. You just keep blabbing. You’re a talker. You talk your way out of everything. Another winning line comes out.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
You stumble down a few steps, envelope crunched in your hand. You can’t see anything. It’s all blurry. It’s because you’re crying. You just drop down on a step halfway down and you just start bawling your eyes out. You didn’t mean to kill anybody. You didn’t mean to take their friend from them. It was a physics glitch. A stupid, horrible, glitch in space.
That scavenger guy comes down after you. He doesn’t even look at you. He’s probably seen his fair share of pathetic displays. Doesn’t want to add one to his memory. He talks to the girls. Gently points them in the direction of an opened nudist vault, because, you know, they’re tech folk, you’re tech folk. Maybe they should swing themselves by New Vegas, and here’s a few caps for their troubles. Doesn’t make up for the death, of course it doesn’t. But as you can see, the young lady…
All eyes turn on you. The young lady didn’t mean nothing by it, he says. It was just an accident. No sense filling us full of holes over an accident.
Well, the Brotherhood girls pack right up and leave with the body of their friend, actually embarrassed by your breakdown. You calm down long after they’re gone. Head back upstairs, just trying to get back to business. The envelope of death is still crumpled in your hand. You carefully drop it in a bare corner, where the physics won’t fling concrete chunks or desks at you and your friend. Scavenger guy rolls his eyes, and pokes around the bloodstained desk for anything that might have fallen off the body. Hardened motherfucker.
You should probably remember his name now. I mean, he did just save your life and all.