The “Securitron” left as quickly as he came. The monowheeled robot seemed amused at the situation and set his speakers to play Radio New Vegas as he rolled away. It kind of was kind of ironic, in a way. Franklin taking up the blood vendetta of the man he killed. Would he inherit all of the dead courier's enemies as well, his destiny as Franklin walks the path he would have if the teleporter didn’t fuck up?

This checkered-suited man was going to be annoyed that the man he killed had somehow still come to bite him in the ass post-mortem. Will be a real kick in the head for him.

With the quarry empty, the doctor could now return his attention to the powder ganger problem with the empty quarry. A gang of over a hundred escaped convicts sitting in the prison they took over. There were also dozens of them hiding out in the wasteland, and from what he had spied, a separate group led by Cook was north of here.

Cooke was furious at the NCR. He was the original mastermind behind the prison break and was still planning on taking the fight to the NCR. Franklin might be unable to convince him to surrender, and the NCR wouldn’t risk taking him prisoner again. His sentence would be a quick and immediate death.

The gangers with Cook wasn’t the doctor's priority. Eddie's gang, still residing in the NCR correction facility, took precedence. They would be the beginning of Franklin's economic army that would revolutionize the wasteland. Under his management, the trains would run on time.

___________

Eddie was three ways to Sunday levels of pissed. He had a good thing going on here. There was water from the busted well. Four walls surrounded by four barbed wire fences with guard towers to defend him. A small army of comrades all fucked by the NCR, just like him. For the most part, the ones still here listened to his commands. Then that fucking mailman showed up.

He had no idea where the tank version of a post-service truck came from, but all that was scaring his crew. Some fucking dude with weird robot guards comes in and preaches the end of the world and the devil's own fucking army slaughtering Nipton.

Next, the messiah mailman said only he was the key to saving them from both the NCR and the Legion. What a load of brahmin shit. The fool even declared he was gonna clear out the Deathclaws in Quarry Junction. He was obviously an idiot with overpriced gear. Eddie was looking forward to taking all that expensive gear from his corpse if there was anything left once the Deathclaws dealt with him.

Eddie's current problem was wrangling the panicked fools wanting to jump ship. Two guys have already left, saying they were gonna take their chances through the Black Mountain pass. Probably already dead. Those idiots couldn’t shoot a rock in an avalanche.

“SCRAMBLER! Get in here,” Eddie screamed.

“What?” The one-eyed maniac said.

If anyone in this hellhole deserved to be here, it was him. His rap sheet was a mile long and filled with crimes most criminals would kill him for. That includes killin' kids. If he weren’t so tough, he would be another corpse for the crows. That toughness was why Eddie trusted him enough to watch his back and tolerate his attitude.

“I need to know which idiots are planning on jumping ship. Gets some guys together and walk the yard,” Eddie commanded.

“Whatever,” Scrambler said and left the office.

“...Fucking bastard.”

Scrambler's attitude was a problem for another day. Despite what he might think of the mailman, he was probably telling the truth about Nipton. Legion was moving in on the Mojave. It was time to start looking at an exit strategy.

“BOSS!” A guard yelled.

“What!” Eddie replied. This day couldn’t get any worse.

“The watchtower guards say they see that guy coming back,” the guard said.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

He was wrong. The day got worse.

_____________

Just remember the New Vegas Valley and the drifter who loved you so true.

“Do you really have to play that so loud?” The man in a cowboy hat asked.

“Half the fun of music is playing it at annoying volumes for people who don’t care or want to hear the song. The other half is crying yourself to sleep with a bottle in a hotel bathroom while listening to the blues,” Franklin said.

“That was a little specific. Want to talk about it?” Cowboy asked.

“Nah, I am good. What is your name anyway? How did you end up here?” Franklin was taking a measure of each of the convicts. The NCR did seem to have its fair share of political corruption, so some of these men might have been sent here unjustly or only committed petty crimes.

“Name is Meyers. I was a sheriff in a small town in the NCR. I got sent here because I disliked waiting for the NCR to dispense their justice. I took matters into my hand one too many times and ended up pissing off the wrong people. Got sent here,” Meyers said.

“Lawman, huh? Why is a man of justice like you hanging out here? Figured you would have skedaddled as soon as these guys started killing NCR guards,” Franklin wondered.

A crowd was starting to form around their side of the fence. Most of them seemed nervous, but none had taken the opportunity to interrupt his conversation with Meyers.

“As much as it might pain me to say, I kinda respected Cooke for his ability to lead these men. I also was not about to get involved with whatever these men were doing. Best to wait for the NCR to come back to this place. Or at least that was the plan till you showed up. So what is your plan anyway? Can’t be as simple as getting brahmin and walking the roads,” Meyers asked.

“I will get to that in just a second. Seems your boss has finally decided to come out to see me,” Franklin said, waving a hand at the gang leader. “So good to see you, Eddie.”

“Fuck you. Get scared by the Deathclaws and come back to sell some other chicken shit cure-all, mail bitch,” Eddie taunted. He was clearly upset about this situation. To be fair, that was an excellent way to feel. Franklin was not about to let him remain in charge of this gang.

“Nope. Quarry Junction is cleared,” Franklin said, his voice echoing out from the speakers on his van. At the same time, two shells pulled the heads of a few Deathclaws out from the back of the van.

The crowd was shocked at the reveal. To them, this must have seemed like an impossibility. These creatures were like boogeymen to these people. It took his shells and flamers two tries to wipe them out. He calculated a less than 4% chance for this gang to handle that many Deathclaws.

“I don’t make promises that I can’t make. The way back to New Vegas is cleared. Caravans will flee this way to avoid territory the Legion has compromised. NCR will patrol those roads to protect them. I said it earlier today, and I will say it again. YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED!”

The crowd started to panic a little. Fuck yous, eat a dick, and other colorful phrases were tossed around. Eddie tried to calm his gang, but Franklin wouldn’t give him the chance. He was already thinking about replacing him as leader. He might have just met Meyers, but he was already more trustworthy than Eddie.

“QUIET! Good, now listen, here is what is going to happen. You all are going to shed those NCR correctional facility uniforms. You are now the company called Mojave Railroad Construct and Shipping. You will build railroad tracks, operate and fix trains, and move cargo across the western corner of America. I will provide you all with the technology and skills needed to make this a reality. Through clever trade agreements and taxes, I will convince the NCR to leave you alone, and with my weapons, the Legion will not be a problem.”

“Enough of this shit. Men open-” Franklin had the turret on his van activate and open fire.

It was a QWL Railgun designed in the year 2167. This particular model was used in combat drones so they could engage large targets. Large targets like tanks, carrier ships, and aircraft flying at a height of as much as two miles. He also had the designs for a bigger version for shooting spy aircraft that flew at sub-orbital heights.

The shot had to be angled correctly to avoid hitting any other Powder Gangers. The railgun was more than capable of firing through a couple dozen-inch thick steel sheets. If he fired incorrectly, there would be a trail of bodies all the way to the other side of the prison.

Eddie's body exploded into a bloody mess. The other gangers screamed and hid. They weren’t soldiers, and Franklin had been preaching about the pending doom several times today. Morale was at an all-time low.

“Enough. Anyone who thinks of doing something stupid will die next. You have a chance here to live a long and fruitful life. Does anyone want to take it?”

A couple dozen hands raised into the air.

“Good. Let's get down to business then.”

_________________

Scrambler was fucked. Absolutely fucked. No fucking damn way this asshole was gonna let him live. When asked what he did to end up here, he would generally say some he didn’t give a fuck. This guy was probably going to be a little more interested than most. He was gonna need to get out of here.

The mailman was talking to Meyers right now, getting him to round people up and shit. Perfect opportunity to get the fuck out. Scrambler turned away and moved to the main office. The gates should still be open.

No one bothered to stop him or ask where he was going. Everyone was shitting themselves despite all the crap they went through. The way these fools were acting, you wouldn’t believe half of them were caravan raiders, drug runners, or cop killers. Fucking pathetic is what this is.

The front gates were open with no one on site. He was free and fucking clear. Scrambler ran out of the gates and considered his options. South sure as fuck wasn’t an option. West leads to mountains and the Divide. That place was worse than the South. East was supposed to be filled with Super Mutants. Yea, fuck that.

Scrambler was just lucky enough to learn that the way north was clear. He would slip past anyone looking out for him and meet up with the fiends on the southern edge of Vegas. They should still be in the old vault. They would be perfect to hide away in.

It's too bad this place went bust, but that is life in the-UGH! WHAT THE FUCK!

A grey metal man thing stood over him. “You are under arrest. Please do not resist.”

“Fuck you, robot thing bitch!” Scrambler had the muscles to take on three men or even a roided druggie, but this cunt was strong. He got his name because that was what he did to people that fucked with him, and now here he was at this damn thing's mercy. Like a bitch. NO! He would not go fucking back to jail.

“Die bitch,” Scrambler said and struck his lighter. His dynamite was in his pockets. The fuse started to buzz.

“Please do not resist.” the shell said.

BOOOOM!