Work Text:
She’s settled into the Crow’s Nest, onto the bedroll that smells like an unwashed man. She assumes it used to be Ulysses’. There’s no one else out here to set up something that looks quite so...domestic. For a certain value of domestic. It’s got more amenities than what she’s used to, which is admittedly usually along the lines of ‘backpack, blanket, knife-in-hand.’
ED-E is booping along in front of the Ralphie poster, making happy noises at every angle. It’s cute, she’s not gonna lie. Only cute thing in this hellhole.
The gauss rifle was an accident, something she found wedged and disassembled in a corner. She had lugged it up here after smashing her way through a half dozen marked men and setting off the warhead down below. She can still feel the dust in her throat, raw, scratchy, hard to breathe. She still has a half a dozen inhalers from the Sierra Madre in the side pocket of her backpack, just in case. She hasn’t needed them since then, except for once, after sprinting away from a pack of nightstalkers she couldn’t take alone, while a sandstorm began to blow up, just after getting back from the Big Empty.
She has mines and satchel charges set up all along the lone path up, and she plans on setting ED-E to guard too, to make sure none of the Marked Men can get the drop on her. At least she has the advantage here, able to see them coming up, able to get a good count and a strategy before they can make it up here.
Also she’s pretty sure only one of them can stand abreast on the rubble bridge at a time, and one at a time, they can be sent flying off and into space without a problem.
It’s a few hours to sunset, still, according the angle of the sun in the sky, but she sees no reason to leave a place like this for god-knows-what further up the road. Not right now, anyway. In the morning, for sure. For now, she has a new weapon to fix and fiddle with, seeing as her sledge is in phenomenal working order. She’s still got her toolkit, rattling in the side pocket of her backpack along with the inhalers. She doesn’t have enough tools for a heavy-duty repair job--she’d need to be back at the Sink for that, have to find a place away from all the AI and the dead things and the things that shouldn’t exist. Maybe lock herself in a lab for a week or two, with her stash of old world food and broc flowers and gecko steaks. It’s been a long time since she had a gecko steak. Her stomach growls, and she tries to ignore it. No telling how long she’ll be out here. Needs to save the food for the way back. She’s got another two days until she starts to suffer from hunger anyway.
She’s got her bedroll unrolled on top of Ulysses’. No telling if he’s got lice or fleas or anything else, not that one layer of cloth will protect her, but it makes her feel better. She’s had fleas enough times, had to lay her stuff out to bake on scrap-metal roofs to kill the bugs. Nothing like the southern republic in high summer to kill things from the heat. Last thing she needs in Hellhole Central is to be scratching fleabites. This at least gives the illusion of security. Also, some padding for her bony butt against the concrete.
She has her heels together, knees splayed so she can rest the butt of the rifle against her feet.
It’s coming back together well, bolts and screws sliding into place, breeder cell still functioning according to ED-E’s tests on it, coil only slightly rusted. Projectile block is still in good shape, though she’ll want to replace it once she gets back to the Mojave. One of the caravans ought to have something. If not them, then she can definitely find one in the Big EMpty, in one of the weapons labs she hasn’t broken into yet. It’s still more than two-thirds intact, though, so unless she goes machine-gunning through a Marked Men camp, she should be alright.
It hefts right, which is a relief. It’s been a long time since she held a rifle like this. It’s been a lot of pistols, since she got shot in the head; pistols and varmint rifles and that poor bastard’s gun up in Zion Canyon, the sad fuck who got stuck in the caves but made the best of it.
Bullets are harder to come by, though. Still feels wrong. Recoil’s hard to manage on those guns, force and noise making her hands jump more than they already do. Energy weapons have less recoil, easier ammunition. she’s got a pouch of drained cells, all she needs is a workbench. They’re better, all around. Still not as good as a well-maintained super-sledge, but still good.
“Someone’s already modded this sonofabitch,” she murmurs to ED-E. She doesn’t talk to it much while they’re moving--too easy to be heard, here, without the sounds of other people to hide her voice and steps--but now that they’re settled in safely, she can talk again. “Only takes one cell per shot. I mean, it’s a breeder cell, but still.” She gives a low whistle--it’s barely even a whistle, just a ragged whoosh of air through the spaces of her missing teeth--and turns the rifle around so she can settle it against her shoulder. She raises it, sights through the scope at a crack in the concrete in front of her, then lowers it. “And if I looked at the mechanism right, it should be automatic. Just aim and pull and hold.” She flicks the safety, feels it hum to life under her hands. “Good magnification, and the coil’s powerful. Someone put a lot of love into this machine.” She flicks the safety back off and sets the rifle aside. “I’ll test it out tomorrow against some of the marked men. Thought I heard some noise further up the road. Should be able to get a few good tests in, especially with you covering my ass.” She sets her toolkit aside, arranges her knife--the unchipped cosmic knife from the Sierra Madre--and her backpack--it’s the closest thing she’s had to a pillow in years--until things are close enough to comfortable. She unzips the sleeping bag and wriggles inside, still in boots and body armor. She leaves her duster folded beside the lamp, and she twitches one of the wires off its contact so the lamp turns off.
“Wake me up at dawn,” she tells ED-E, who beeps in response. “We still got a long ways to walk, before we get to where we need to be.”