Chapter Text
There’s a superstition among Nevadians that smoking brings bad luck, and that those who take part in it are not only self-destructive, but foolish too.
Not everyone believes it, of course, and even you once thought it was dumb since addicts will get their fix one way or another. Though seeing as you’re part of that problem, maybe your opinion is a little biased.
But now as the sky starts to splinter and crack, and beams of energy strike the landscape, you wonder if that shady clerk at the drugstore snuck you something extra from your last visit.
You stare at your cigarette in wonder until one of those beams strikes the truck of one of your fellow caravaneers, engulfing it in a shower of raw, uncontained energy.
Scraps of metal went flying every which way, one piece embedding itself into your shoulder, making you drop your joint and cry out in pain. Needless to say, you GTFO and ran back to your caravan buddies. You barely get the chance to warn them when half of the camp is suddenly vaporized by another rogue beam.
Shiiit, that might’ve included your stuff too.
No matter, your survival is more important at the moment.
You followed the other grunts as they fled in a panic, the light from the heavens whisking them to the Other Place at random. One second the guy in front of you was breathing, and a split second later there was nothing but a smoldering piece of cloth to indicate his existence. You wonder if the sky will take you too.
There’s little cover where you are, but maybe if you could get somewhere underground…
Your thinking is interrupted by somebody running into you, knocking you down to the gravelly sand. You didn’t even get the chance to curse them out as another streak of light obliterates them on the spot. So kicking up dirt you start to run, and run, and run… until the beams start lessening in frequency.
You stop to catch your breath, mouth dry and thirsty from running. Your shoulder still bleeds from the shrapnel but you know removing it will only make you bleed out faster. As for your legs, they ache from overexertion, and you can only take a few wobbly steps before they give out entirely.
That had to be a mile, or two. Endurance is not your strong suit as seen here, but come on! Your lungs are under enough strain already.
But Improbability works in funny ways, you later learn.
The sky above you crackles in warning of another wave of strikes, but you, still hacking your lungs out, can’t muster up a second wind to get you back on your feet.
You knew it, deep inside. Maybe there wasn’t a way to avoid it and outrunning a force of nature is a fool’s errand, but alas, smokers are the foolish of them all.
Looking up to the sky you can only sigh in defeat as energy charges up right above you. You close your eyes.
“God… fucking damn–” The last part was drowned out by the roar of superheated plasma boring down like a waterfall. The heat was unbearable for only a few seconds until finally, you felt nothing at all.
So… the rules may have changed a little.
You gasp awake only to regret it, breaths reduced to little more than dry heaving. The heat was gone, your body intact, but something is wrong…
Your surroundings, they’re not what they should be at all. You’re in a single-roomed apartment, and the bed you found yourself in was far better quality than the mattresses you’d have to scrounge for.
Confused and concerned, you strip off the blankets and walk around the room, taking in the unfamiliar environment. It was… quiet. Not the unnerving silence that predates an ambush but… peaceful?
Approaching the door you muster up the courage to step outside and get some answers. It slides open, and you’re taken aback from the sight before you.
A metropolis alight with the hustle and bustle of its residents filling the streets, going to work or about their day. People wearing protective gear stood around guiding traffic away from construction sites, acting like some remnant of civility in this lawless land.
The buildings rose high, tall enough to block out the horizon, but the sky… the sky was the biggest spectacle of them all.
There was no oppressive haze to cast the world in shades of red, no cracks or beams smiting whatever stands in the way. Instead, it was… clear, and the source of all that light?
The sun.
Not that stand-in excuse for a sun, but the actual, gods-given sun. You could feel the rays on your face, a gentle warmth out of place for a decrepit place filled with things ready to kill you... It felt nice.
It’s bright too. So bright in fact, your eyes started to water. When you look away, your vision is dotted with spots dancing around your field of vision, giving off a dazzled effect.
Rubbing your eyes and one lesson learnt, you observe the city life from the front porch. After getting your fill of the sights, you walk back inside to speculate on what to do next.
Everything here, including the sun, sounds just like the Before; the time before the Madness consumed Nevada into the place you know it as now. It’s hard to think of a time where you didn’t have to plan for the worst, to keep track of Hank and clown sightings as well as the various bandit tribes.
…But this seems just like that.
Could it be possible? To go back in time? Oddly enough it’s not the strangest thing to happen in Nevada, and that goes without saying.
So unless you’re in a dream of a time you were never a part of, this is reality for now. The question is, how do you adapt to this?
A life free of instinct would be nice even if it doesn’t last forever, and there’s still a lot you haven’t done due to the state of the world (in the present day that is). Is it possible you were given a second chance? Or is it just another side effect of the Improbability Drive? Now that you think of it, the Sheriff was probably alive during this time. He sure got notorious for pressing that big red button…
You search the closet for something to wear, thankfully not restricted to only smocks and you are able to snag a clean pair of pants. Having a shirt without holes felt a little weird, but not bad. Still a better wardrobe than most survivors in the wasteland.
Ah, but you’re not in the wasteland now, are you? Might as well live the high life if for just a little while…
I could definitely get used to clean drinking water and showers, you think to yourself. At least you arrived in the past without your accumulated grime.
But even then there is still one more thing you need.
You looked around the apartment but couldn’t find anything like a lighter, much less a box of cigs. It would be better if you didn’t pursue something so trivial, but bad habits die hard. You’re barely restraining yourself from “looting” the place. No one seems to live here but you, strangely enough.
At least you aren’t homeless…
Taking to the streets, you keep a mental marker of this place before exploring the city any further. Moving with the crowd proved easier than you thought, and you get swept up in it as you think on the next course of action.
A place like this runs on money, and you likely won’t have to fight for food like you used to. There seems to be plenty of food stands and restaurants in this particular area, perhaps it’s some kind of plaza? You really need a map.
Thankfully you found some cash in the pockets of the jacket you found back in the apartment, and bought a hotdog with it. It tasted different from the hotdogs you were used to, but then again this is a previous era. Who knows what you guys are eating in the present?
Still, pocket change won’t sustain you for long. The condo may be stocked with food, but even that is bound to run out eventually. There’s probably some kind of landlord for the place too… you’re gonna need a job.
But would there be any openings? This place looks quite busy, will you even find a place to take you in? You doubt that just anyone would take a charity case, the city is overflowing from what you’ve seen.
In the midst of your worries, you nearly miss the neon signs flicking on as the sky dims into night, and for a brief second you start to panic that the sun has gone out once again, but calm down once you notice nobody else paying it any mind. Instead of red, it’s just dark.
You sigh in relief. That’s okay, you can live with that, it just might take some time getting used to.
Speaking of neon, you spot a flickering one placed directly over the sidewalk. It was the typical lighting setup for a bar, and there was even a bouncer outside the door.
But it wasn’t a drink that caught your eye, but a sign in one of the windows.
“Help Wanted! No “sampling” the product!”
Your face lit up into a huge grin.
So far it’s been a week, and you’ve just about figured out who’s a regular and who’s drinking away their sorrows. You also learned the name of the city you’re in: Nexus City.
You’ve heard of it before, being the biggest contributor to weapons on the market. Most of your own guns came with the insignia on the barrels.
But everyone knows of the fall of Nexus, so seeing it in its prime is a surreal experience to say the least.
So far, serving drinks has been nicer than serving an asswhoopin, though sometimes the patrons get rowdy enough to solicit an escort from the usually chill bouncer.
Still, it does get a little mundane. Especially in the morning when there’s fewer customers. You take those moments to light a quickie in the back.
Working in a bar consisted of 50% cleaning, 30% serving drinks, and 20% of customer management. All in all, the easiest gig of your life. Who are you to complain?
So when a grunt wearing a green sweater and glasses basically collapsed onto a barstool with an air of defeat lingering about, you didn’t question it and started the usual customer spiel.
“Welcome to Dave’s Distillery, What can I get you?”
The grunt held up a hand and asked in an exhausted voice, “One– no, two shots of tequila.”
“Whoof, bad day?” You clean out a shot glass and get to pouring the first of what would likely be a regretful hangover.
They murmured, “You can say that again…”
You push the drink to him, “Need someone to dump it on? I’m not a therapist but I can listen; comes with the job.”
That got a small smile out of him, “Bah, it’s just work… our assignment didn’t exactly go as planned and now everyone in the Tower is uppity about it.”
That perked your attention.
“Tower? You one of them whitecoats?”
He chuckles, “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s much more stressful than it sounds.”
“With how strict some of the people are here, I imagine it’s a lot worse in the heart of it,” you respond, already pouring another shot.
“You can thank Director Phobos for all of that; it’s his domain after all.” The grunt shakes his head and throws back his head. He swallows the contents of his drink in one go, and immediately starts coughing.
“Ah jeez–” He thumps his chest with another cough, “Burns…”
An amused laugh comes from yourself as you retrieve the empty shot glass.
You comment, “I bet it does. I take it you don’t drink much?”
“Not at all, I usually just go home and watch Slaughter Time to destress, but today was just…” He made a gesture and sound with his mouth to indicate an explosion.
You lean against the counter, “Well, tell you what: Nothing lasts forever, err… What's your name?”
“Hoffnar,” he replies.
“Well nothing lasts forever, Hoffnar. Even the negatives have to go eventually to make room for the good. Is there anything from your job that you do like?”
They tap their chin in thought before coming to a conclusion.
“I have a friend! Well, at least I think we are friends? He can be pretty cold and brooding at times but he has a soft spot for justice. He even stood up to another project manager that was giving me a hard time…” He trails off.
You force a grin but deep inside you feel a bit of pity for this guy. He seems like a good soul, a rarity to a reality as cruel as this. But then again everyone has a rotten side to them, but what would a person like this have to hide? Plus, there’s something weirdly familiar about him…
Tapping on the counter, you gain Hoffnar’s attention once more.
“If you’re looking for a place to sit and talk, you’re welcome to come back anytime. You don’t even have to buy a drink, and I'll tell Lenny that I vouch for you.”
He tilts his head, “Lenny?”
“Our bouncer. But don’t worry too much, he’s a bit of a pushover.”
“I don’t think that’s a good thing…”
“No? It won’t stop him from dragging your ass out the door.”
You both share a laugh and talk some more. You served drinks to the other patrons but he stayed at the bar the entire time. And when two grunts got into a brawl you both hooted as Lenny kicked them to the curb. All in all, one of your more interesting nights.
By the time you had to lock up, Hoffnar was still hanging around albeit just as tired as you. After herding the remaining customers out the door, the time to depart has come.
“Thanks for keeping me company, it really means a lot…”
“No problem, you know where to find me.”
“Haha! That’s true...” he says with a nervous chuckle.
You give him a warm smile.
“Cya around, science-schmoe.”
“Later, barkeep.”
Both of you go your own ways, and you walk back to your apartment trying to figure out where you think you’ve seen that guy before…