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Vulpes shudders a bit and peers in through the dirty glass. Surely there are better places to spend the night, but he can’t risk it in a place where cazadores are a constant menace. He’d set up camp with his fellow Legion men, but they’re miles behind him, and he’s by himself.
This is fine. He reaches in through the broken glass of the door and carefully unlocks the door, then finally steps back, opens the door, and moves into the musty darkness. He doesn’t cough, but only through practice of not giving his position away. He covers his mouth with one hand and holds his machete in the other hand, ready.
He lets his eyes adjust to the low-level lighting and takes slow steps forward, looking out for any hidden enemies that might be hidden behind counters or under the circular tables with their round moth-eaten tablecloths. Something moves in the distance.
Vulpes stiffens and waits.
A giant rat peeks out from behind a tall standing figure.
Vulpes toes his way towards the rat, ready.
It sniffs the air, then leans in and bites at a chunk of something on the floor. From the looks of it, it’s a dead bloatfly. Further, it looks like more rats have gotten at its corpse before this one.
Repulsive. He steps closer and waits for a moment to attack the turned rat. His shoulder brushes against the tall figure beside the distracted rat, and for a moment he glances over, but it’s too dark to make out what it looks like, and he intends to take this rat out now so he can get this place cleared out sooner rather than later.
The rat turns its head just in time to see the blade slash down. Then the head rolls away, leaking blood as it rolls along the chipped tile floors.
He smirks and moves behind the tall figure, waits for any other rats to come out of the various places they could easily hide.
He doesn’t have to wait long. Vulpes hears the skittering of dozens of furry paws, and chitters from several of the rats as they come to investigate.
It’s a slaughter, he barely has to break a sweat to break the rats. He cuts them down like the NCR dogs from just days before at Nipton.
He kicks the final rat away and turns back towards the door. Turns back towards the figure. He startles, feels his heart beat far faster than even the combat brought out from him.
It’s a giant rat, with an oblivious large smile and one broken eye. It watched the slaughter of its kin.
He smirks. It’s just a strange, unsettling costume, but he finds it rather amusing that such a massive rat watched the others fall.
Vulpes steps forward and runs one hand along the shoulder of the costume. A purple shirt shifts under his touch and gives into the soft fur that’s been left alone for ages.
He wonders what it would feel like to wear such a massive, unwieldy costume. It’s not as though anyone would see, and he was all by himself.
So he removes his clothing and carefully sets it upon on of the worn wooden tables, then pulls the head off the costume and places it near his uniform, so he can unzip the back and crawl inside. It’s a tight fit, and he can tell it’s been centuries since anyone else has been inside of it. Normally, he wouldn’t even consider putting it on, but here, he feels he almost has to. What was that saying about curiosity? It killed the cat?
He doesn’t even know what a cat is, but he’s a fox, and this saying doesn’t mean anything for him. He zips up the back of the suit and carefully aligns the helmet with the top collar. It’s snug, maybe even tight, but he doesn’t mind that. It feels better, actually, to have something thick and musty on his head. He’s used to it.
He gives an experimental step forward and walks around the table with awkward steps at first, but soon enough he’s able to quickly and easily make his way about the entire Old World establishment. He stumbles over a small skeleton and bumps into a strange and old machine with many burnt out and cracked tiny light bulbs, and one of them lights up. The light hops from one bulb to the next, and he can’t figure it out, but it’s beautiful and horrible and he wants to know how it’s happening.
He taps a button with his big paw, and the light stops, and an angry whirring noise sounds. Paper stubs begin to shoot out of a hole in the machine, and he steps back and watches several go. There is no small thrill in this process and he knows this is probably something that could get another Legion man in trouble for enjoying this, but he’s not another. He immediately wants to play again.
He looks at the slot, and sees that it needs something thinner than caps.
It’s not long before he figures out that there’s a machine with so many not-caps inside, and he takes those and starts putting them into the machine. It lights up, and the delight starts up again and he’s having an even better time than in Nipton.
He feels good. He feels safe. He feels like he was meant to feel, and he never wants to leave this suit or this building.
He goes to bed in a pile of tickets and stuffed animals that night, and decides he’s never leaving here again. This is his home now.