I woke up feeling like my lungs were in a vice grip. It was hard to breathe as the nightmare flashed through my mind. I sat up, hugging my knees and hyperventilating, trying to calm myself down. The nightmares had been haunting me every night. Horrific dreams about the wendigo, and each and every single one of my friends dying as it watched. I pressed my palms into my eyes, trying to stem the tears. Shaky breaths entered and exited my lungs as I sat there, taking in the room. It was dark, with an ever-present orangish yellow tint from the outside. It smelled like cigarettes, drugs, and mold. I glanced through the blinds, and Vegas was there, same as it was the night before. A sigh escaped my lips, and I stood shakily and stumbled to the bathroom. The mirror was cracked, and there was a patch of fuzzy black mold along the baseboards, accompanied by a dark water stain.
I didn’t look much better, with the deep red scars on my cheek, or my bruised, gray scales. The Dragonborn in front of me was more ghoul than reptilian, and I sure felt the part. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the wendigo and the lurid sight of the endless blue lake. I kept splashing, rinsing my face off over and over and over, hoping to wash away the memories.
Rinse and repeat. Forget about the monster. Rinse and repeat. Forget the bullet hole in your leg. Rinse and repeat. Forget your worries. Rinse and repeat.
The burning in my leg finally got the best of me, and I fell to my knees, panting, gripping the counter like it was my only tether to this world. It had been a miracle I’d gotten so far without getting help; even I could see that. I had almost forgotten that I’d been shot during the escape from the PRA forces, and with all the adrenaline running through me in the CPG’s camp, the pain had been nonexistent. Now, though, I was able to process it. And I was so tired. I slid to the ground, resting against the side of the tub, finally taking a good look at my leg. Blood had stained the green camo fabric a dark brown, and the injury itself was redder than it should’ve been. Infection was imminent. Sluggishly, I pulled off my gloves and widened the hole in my pants leg with a quiet ripping sound. As far as I knew, the bullet had gone through cleanly and wasn’t stuck in my leg. It’d be a simple fix.
I rubbed my hands together in anticipation and whispered an incantation. The creases in my palms glowed blue, contrasting against the pale orange scales. Pain sprang up as I traced magic symbols around the injury, each little bit of contact earning a wince. The tiny magic circle was finished. Tentatively, I placed my palms over the wound, a hiss sliding between my teeth quietly as the spell began working, slowly healing torn tissues and severed nerves. Every second was filled with pain, and I gritted my teeth with tears in my eyes. Eventually, it was done. I felt exhausted. Part of me wanted to crawl back out to the main room, but the other, louder, part of me felt like he couldn’t move a muscle. Sleep wasn’t appealing whatsoever either way and yet, despite my protests, it pulled at me relentlessly. The idea of dreaming was terrifying. I didn’t want to see the wendigo in my nightmares again. I fought to stay awake, pinching myself, slapping myself, anything. Nevertheless, I inevitably drifted off into, thankfully, dreamless slumber.
—/—|—\—
“Kéron?”
“Kéron, buddy, wake up.”
“Hermano, c’mon!”
My eyes opened groggily to find a blurry-looking brown face in front of me. I blinked, and Ava came into view, her expression a mask of concern. Tiredly, I pushed myself up, the left side of my face feeling cold from the bathroom tiles. Behind Ava, Sarillim and Isabelle were watching me, with varying degrees of worry. They seemed to be glad I was alive, at the least.
“What’s going on?” Ava asked, glancing at my leg. “What happened?”
“Just decided to fix up my leg a little.” Ava stabilized me as I stood up. “Feels good as new, honestly,” I said confidently, ignoring the pins and needles feeling around where the injury used to be.
“Why’d you decide to sleep in the bathroom?” Isabelle asked as Ava guided me back to the main room.
“Looked comfortable.” Sarillim watched quietly as I sat on one of the beds. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Didn’t have much time to formulate one before we noticed you’d moved,” Ava said, crossing her legs on the bed beside me.
“Well,” Isabelle muttered, pulling the desk chair out and sitting on it. It creaked under her as she leaned back. “I do have an idea. There’s a place I feel like we should visit; the Hotel Nevada. The owner is someone I’m familiar with, and she’d be willing to help us.”
“That is along the Strip, is it not?” The soldier asked from across the room, his arms crossed.
“It is.”
“Too much security. You will get snapped up like a fish in the mouth of an angel shark.”
“Hey, wait,” Ava interjected, “why should we go along with her plan? Who is this guy? How can we trust ‘em?”
Isabelle sighed tiredly. “Look, Ava, I know you don’t trust me, but this woman, she’s known me since I was a baby. She’d do anything for me, I’m sure.”
“What’s her name, even? How do you know she’s not in bed with your dad?”
“Dad would never sleep with Aunt Penny!” The Dragonborn looked mortified.
“That’s not what I-”
“Okay, great!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “We’ve got a location. However, we need gear and I don’t know if you guys noticed, but the back of the truck was a bit barren.” We can figure out whether or not Aunt Penny’s trustworthy or not along the way, I thought. First things first, we need to keep moving. Who knows when the Contractor’s gonna send another batch of goons after us or not? My thoughts strayed to the wendigo, but I beat them back. “Sarillim, you seem to know the city. You got any thoughts?”
“Several.”
—/—|—\—
The city seemed to get taller and taller as we approached it. It was truly mind-boggling how large it was. I hadn’t ever seen a building taller than five stories, and all of the skyscrapers in front of me were at least several dozen times higher. They were like giants, made of steel and glass, draped in massive virtual cloths, waving and dancing in the preprogrammed winds. It was hard to look away, but I managed to direct my attention to the ground. Slums, literally overshadowed by the New Vegas skyline, greeted me. Ugly, worn down, and each building taller than the last. As we approached them, it struck me how familiar they seemed, despite their larger scale and mismatched architecture. Cracked brick and concrete residential blocks, shipping containers converted into apartments, and shanties constructed with rusted sheet metal, were all covered in a layer of dust and crammed next to one another with almost no room to breathe.
Despite the depressing, soul-crushing atmosphere, there was life on the trash-ridden streets and inside the buildings. Heavy-laden clotheslines draped over the street, and people milled about, ignoring the cold Nevadan morning. Through a wide-open window, I spotted a pair of humans arguing with each other. Just outside was a young-looking Lupis spray painting a vibrant mural. Every once in a while, I spotted a pair of Aquarite soldiers, lingering on street corners, visiting various stalls and shops, or harassing some unfortunate people. We passed through slowly, not gaining much attention from the locals. However, I noticed that the few who paid attention to us had varying degrees of anger, sadness, and fear scrawled across their faces.
It makes sense, honestly, I thought, watching a kid stroke the neck of a small, dog-sized gryphon. Its wings fluttered, and its head tracked the car smoothly, watching us go by. The CPG’s been here for a while now. The folks in Vegas have definitely not had good experiences with them. My eyes lingered on Sarillim for a moment. Part of me wondered if he would’ve been one of the soldiers invading Nevada if he hadn’t been injured.
“So,” Ava leaned forward, “where’s this market, huh? All I’m seeing is a whole lotta poverty.”
“It is where the slums begin to meld with the city. We will be there soon.”
My friend didn’t seem convinced, but she leaned back in her seat. Her hands were tight around the Aquarite weapon she had stolen, and her knees were bouncing erratically. I couldn’t help but feel anxious, too. The city was claustrophobic, massive, and foreign—and we hadn’t even reached the actual city. It was almost like getting dropped into an alien world. The presence of ads for products, restaurants, and brothels, was like a whole other language, overwhelming me with lurid imagery and vague, suggestive thoughts, trying to convince me to indulge in whatever they were selling. I turned my attention to my hands, deciding to keep my head down for the rest of the ride. Thankfully, it didn’t last much longer, and I found myself looking out at a sprawling maze of stalls, a megabuilding hanging over the entire place, casting it in shadow.
“Do we really have to go through there?” Isabelle asked apprehensively.
“Unless you would rather be imprisoned again,” Sarillim replied. “Now, come.” And with that, he stepped out of the car. I hesitated for a moment but eventually climbed out. “You, Umbrite. Yes, you,” he muttered with a sigh after I glanced around. “You know abjuration?” I nodded. “Good. Help me with this.”
“W-wait, with what?” I asked, anxiety creeping up my spine.
“The spell on my truck? I do not want it being stolen by criminals.”
“I mean, they’ve probably got ways to get around it, don’t they?”
“I will not ask again,” he grumbled, glaring down at me.
“Okay, okay, fine,” I balked. I turned away from him as I peeled off my gloves, staring at the pale orange scales. Part of me wanted to make a run for it, but I couldn’t leave Ava. Or Isabelle. Painfully, I turned back around. “What do I need to do?” I asked as he pressed his palm against the lock of his truck.
“Place your hand on mine,” he instructed. Tentatively, I did as he asked. His eyebrow raised slightly. “And repeat after me.” I followed along, reciting the incantation and muttering until it was done. My arm tingled as a blue aura shimmered around the truck, and I shook it out the moment the spell was done.
“What was that for?” Isabelle asked.
“It increased the protective capabilities of that spell,” Sarillim informed her. “Two people casting the same spell makes it more effective. Even more so if they touch.”
“Well, with that out of the way, can we andele?” Ava muttered. “I don’t like the way people here are eyeing us.”
I glanced around and realized Ava was right. There was a good number of people staring at us, most of them with less-than-friendly expressions. Without any further convincing required, Sarillim led the way into the market. It quickly became dark, and artificial lights shone everywhere, offering visibility. The market was a whole new beast; loud, bright, and overwhelmingly smelly. I caught a whiff of traditional Infernite cuisine, spicy and sweet-smelling, and was immediately struck by the stench of burning plastic. Every step brought a new smell, each one vastly different from the one before. We passed stalls selling everything, ranging from gas masks to talismans, to guns, to water, to cybernetics, to food, to spell books, everything. It was amazing how much there was. I already knew that even visiting a fraction of the stores would wring my pockets dry.
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“What’re we looking for?” I yelled over the cacophony of the market.
“A man,” the soldier responded. “I used to know him. He will help us.”
“What’s his name?”
“Goldfish.”
That’s definitely an interesting answer. I glanced around, and a stall caught my eye. It was packed to the brim with old US memorabilia and even newer pieces from more recent conflicts. Something was calling me to it. I wanted to visit it. I needed to visit it. Hurriedly, I tapped Ava on the shoulder. “Hey, can you keep an eye on these guys? There’s something I need to do.”
“Wh-”
“Just trust me, alright? I can find you guys again. I’ll be back!” Without waiting for a response, I broke off from the group, making a beeline for the US-centered stall. I heard Ava shout something in Spanish, but it was drowned out in the hubbub. The little shop was barely getting any traffic, with most people flowing past it without giving it so much as a glance. As I approached, I found an old-looking scarred human, whose hair had grayed. He had a large, scraggly beard, an ancient-looking pair of cybernetic arms, and was scrolling on his phone absentmindedly. He also seemed to be wearing old combat fatigues, complete with a raggedy plate carrier and helmet. Most noticeably, there was a sun-bleached diamond-shaped patch on his shoulder, which had a number one down the middle. There were letters along the one, but they were illegible.
“Uh, hel-”
The man perked up immediately. “Hey, there! I’m Arthur. Welcome to my little slice of the world,” he exclaimed cheerily. “You a collector? History buff? Someone who enjoys military artifacts? Well, I’ve got it all. Medals, guns, bionics, armor, and even combat scrolls. But don’t tell anyone else I said that, alright?” He said with a wink.
“Okay,” I replied with a nod.
“Atta boy,” he chuckled warmly. “So what can I do for you?”
“Uh, I was looking for some information.”
“Information? Shoot, you’ve come to the right place. But it’ll cost ya extra!” Arthur laughed before slapping his knee. “Nah, I’m kiddin’. What’re you looking for? The Siege of Chicago of 2043? The Invasion of California, 2136? Maybe even the Appalachian Death March, 2120? Nasty one, that was.”
“It was about a wendigo,” I muttered.
“A what?” He smacked the side of his head. “Damned hearing aids ain’t what they used to be…”
“A wendigo. It’s name was…” I wracked my brain for a moment. “Wendy, I think.”
“Wendy, huh?” The man stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Wendy, Wendy, Wendy…” he bent over, and filed through his belongings, moving around helmets and rifles cautiously, as if they were gonna turn to dust if he handled them too harshly. He pulled out a big, cardboard box, and slid the top off it, revealing dozens upon dozens of newspapers, books, and magazines. Quickly, he flipped through them and pulled out a newspaper with a flourish. “I believe this is it, good sir.”
Tentatively, I took it from him, my chest feeling tight. It was dated February 2nd, 2034. Across the header was “OFFENSIVE CRYPTID WARFARE, THE NEXT STEP IN MODERN CONFLICT?” Directly below it was a black and white picture of the wendigo laying behind a group of US spec ops soldiers. I almost felt sick looking at it and forced myself to focus on the body text. Unfortunately, it was partially water-damaged.
“Pictured, O. L. Wendy and her squad members, Grace J…” I decided to skip ahead, hoping it’d give me some sort of consolation, or comfort, or something. I skimmed over a few sentences detailing Wendy’s intelligence, scoffing at the idea of a bloodthirsty monster being able to maintain a conversation, and even play chess. It’s probably propaganda, I thought, remembering the US patches on the soldier’s shoulders. There was some random stuff about how Wendy was a natural-born wendigo, but the word Utah caught my eye. “In the spring of 2037, Wendy and her squad were sent to retrieve or destroy an experimental fighter jet, with top secret…” The words were illegible thanks to a stain. “…however, they were met with heavy resistance, slowing their attack. Taking heavy losses, Grace sent Wendy in to…” I grumbled frustratedly and skipped ahead. “…the entire squad was reported dead or missing, with Wendy among the few missing.”
Angrily, I threw down the newspaper. “Fuck!” I held my head in my hands, hunching over. You should’ve seen this coming. What were you looking for? Did you really think you’d get answers? A magic trick to make her disappear from your mind? Fucking idiot.
“Uh, sir, you alright?” The man asked nervously.
“Do I look like it?!” I demanded, trying to blink back tears. You dumbass. You shouldn’t have expected anything different. Of course, there’s not a cure, or solution, or anything. You’re gonna be haunted by her forever and ever and ever and ever.
“…no,” he replied. “You gonna buy that?”
“What?”
“Y’know, the newspaper?”
The question took me out of my spiral in an instant. “Uh… s-sure?” Tentatively I fished a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and handed it to him.
“Pleasure doing business with ya,” he said, tipping his helmet.
I took the newspaper, and turned around, grappling with my emotions. I still felt dumb for thinking I’d get some sort of cure-all from reading about Wendy, but… the fact that she had been contained, somehow, gave me some sort of confidence. Maybe they had some sort of spell on her, I thought. My mind wandered to the idea of being able to magically whisk her out of my memory. It was a pipe dream, I knew that much the moment I thought of it, and couldn’t help but feel defeated by the realization. I shook my head and refocused. Gotta find Ava and the others. I can think about all this later. With one last glance at the newspaper, I folded it and shoved it into my pocket.
—/—|—\—
Ava was standing on a pillaged, rusted-out car, waving her arms at me frantically when I spotted her. As quick as I could, I hurried over, while trying to avoid getting my tail stomped on by passersby. She jumped down as I approached.
“Hey, hermano,” she greeted me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, and pulling me down to her height. “You get what you were looking for?”
“I mean…” I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe?”
She furrowed her brow. “Maybe? What’d you even get?”
“Just some info.”
“Hm.” Ava’s hand slipped down to my arm, and she guided me along for a moment before letting go. “You gonna tell me what it was?”
“Maybe.” I could practically feel her staring at me. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about her too much, since we had reached our destination. It was a little shop called “Goldfish’s Grand Market,” and behind the stall was the most robotic-looking Aquarite I had ever seen. It was hard to tell what part of him was flesh, and what was metal. His eyes had been replaced by little robotic sensors, and his scales were laced with cybernetics, running across the front of his throat, to his chin, to the corners of his eyes. In the strange lights of the market, his scales looked yellow. As we approached, his head turned and his cybernetic eye telescoped to focus on me.
“I had a feeling you were hiding someone, Sar,” Goldfish—I assumed he was Goldfish—said smugly, looking at Sarillim.
“I was not hiding him. I told you there was one more person in my group when I got here.” The soldier’s arms were crossed, and he looked like he was in danger of popping an artery.
“Uh-huh, sure, buddy. So, your name’s Kéron, huh?” The cyborg asked, a tentacle-like robotic arm extending toward me. He scowled at it and slapped it away before extending one of his actual hands. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a bit eager.”
“And you’re Goldfish?” I asked aloud, shaking his hand.
“Oh, my goddess, how did you know?” He asked, baffled. My eyes flicked up to his sign, and back down at him. I had the distinct impression he was trying to wink, but it was hard to tell since he had one organic eye.
“Goldfish, enough of this,” Sarillim growled. “I came here for assistance, not for you to get us tangled up in your shit like a pup in kelp.”
“Alright, fair,” the Dragonborn conceded. “So, you’re looking for weapons, gear, food, water, all that good stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Well, for food, there’s this real nice Thai pl-”
“Goldfish.”
“Sorry.” The four robotic tentacles behind him moved constantly, readjusting things and dusting stuff off. I spotted a few cybernetic arms, spell books, scroll racks, and a shelf full of action figures. Part of me wondered if they were for sale. One arm recentered a pinup poster of an attractive woman in a heavy suit of armor. “It’ll be a hefty price. You know that, right?”
“I have always repaid you,” Sarillim reassured him.
All at once, Goldfish’s robotic arms began collecting things. Guns, ammo, gas masks, water, MRE packs, and even healing scrolls, which were small slips of paper with an easy-to-cast healing spell enchanted into them. He watched boredly as the arms assembled everything on the table, packing them neatly into duffle bags. All four bags zipped up at once, and Goldfish patted the one closest to him. “There you go, guys. All packed up and ready to go.”
We all moved to grab our bags. I slung mine over my shoulder, feeling its weight. It wasn’t too heavy, thankfully, but the strap was somewhat uncomfortable. Goldfish had also chosen a rifle for me, which I was unfamiliar with. Fits in my hands, nicely, at least. Looking at Isabelle and Ava, they seemed to be getting acquainted with their belongings.
“I… I don’t need this,” Isabelle said, holding out a revolver that looked big, even for a girl her height. “I’m fine without one.”
“Oh, no, you’re gonna want that, sweetheart,” Goldfish leaned forward. “The junkies here can take several shots to the chest before going down. That’s all thanks to the pure cocaine and stardust running through their bloodstream. Pack something too small, and next thing you know, you’re face down in a toxic lake.”
The Dragonborn glanced down at her weapon nervously but didn’t protest further.
“Where’s my gun?” Ava asked.
“You’re holding it! I gave you some extra ammo for it.”
She held up her Aquarite service rifle, unable to resist a slight smile.
“Goldfish,” Sarillim said, “thank you for your service.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it, Sar. I know you’re good on your promises. Just don’t get stabbed by a used heroin needle, alright?” One of his tentacles reached out and patted the soldier on the shoulder.
“One last thing, before we leave. What is there to know? It has been years since I last visited this city.”
“Oh, lord,” the Aquarite sighed. “Where do I even start? Corruption, gang wars, class division… the works.”
“Hmm. Do you know how to reach the Strip?”
“Of course I do. Lived here almost half my life!” He tapped his chest proudly. “Shoulda known you wanted to go there… oh, well. That’s what everyone comes here for, anyway, right? Well, once you exit the market,” he pointed northeast of our location, “you’re gonna go right, past the giant stack of pizza boxes. Fella there can’t stop ordering. It’s sad, really. Anyway, once you pass that, follow the street signs and the general smell of desperation. I’d suggest avoiding the main way, though—lotsa CPG soldiers there. Something tells me y’all wanna avoid those guys.”
“This is true,” Sarillim confirmed.
“Yeah, well, the alternate route’s pretty easy to find,” Goldfish said. “Deal is, there’s enough trash there to make a second great Pacific garbage patch. Not to mention all the tweakers, gang bangers, junkies, and Chimeras. Don’t get in between a Chimera and their job, by the way. You’ll regret it.”
“What’s a Ch-” Ava began.
“Once you’re through all that, and have somehow survived the gangs, it’ll be smooth sailing to the Strip,” he continued, ignoring the human.
“Thank you,” Sarillim replied solemnly.
“Don’t thank me yet. Pray to whatever god you believe in right now.” His sudden seriousness caught me off guard, sending a chill down my spine. “And don’t you end up in one of the waste pits, alright? Ain’t gonna get revived like old Sloppy Joe. I hear being buried in a soup can’s pretty embarrassing.”
The soldier nodded gravely, and without another word, set off. The three of us followed him, sticking close.
“Come and see me again!” Goldfish shouted behind us. “Can’t let you die without paying me!”
Sarillim sighed heavily and rubbed his snout.
“How’d you know that guy?” Isabelle asked.
“An old acquaintance. He helped me a long, long time ago.”
“Oh. What’d he do?” She sighed quietly as she was met with silence.
I was curious as to how Sarillim had known Goldfish. He didn’t seem to like the borged-out Aquarite in the least. I decided not to dwell on it too much. There were much more pressing matters at hand, such as the supposed gauntlet that awaited us. Anxiety and fear laced my mind as we left the more crowded part of the market, allowing the voices in my head to get louder. With no choice but to continue forward, I set my jaw and put one foot in front of the other.
Hello, Sin City.