Navarro

Chapter 1: Welcome to Camp Navarro.

Camp Navarro. If I were a local, I would never have realized that there was a huge armed base behind a small and seemingly abandoned old gas station.

And if I were the "Chosen One," I would come here to steal the plans of vertybirds to give them to Brotherhood of Steel. But I come from another world, in which all that exists is a fat-feast and fun in every sense. And this world, especially considering that we, people from my world, are accustomed to seeing it as two-dimensional, was even more bizarre.

But I'm not at home, I'm here. In the middle of the world of Wasteland, mutants, radiation and other "delights". And looking at everything not through a screen, but in reality, all I could do was learn to grasp it all on the fly, just to survive. Escaped from slave traders a couple of times there, quickly ran away from robbers here. I had to learn to shoot with anything that could shoot, to patch up wounds using not the usual medicines, but stimpacks and med-X, I had to learn to run fast and hit hard if something. But... To my surprise, in many cases it was as if I was invisible - I was noticed less than others. Well, so much the better.

Although once the kid from the Hole tried to take my keys out of my pocket, and then threw them away with a cry of "GRENADE!!!" and ran away, far away.

Children from the Hole were painful to look at - dirty, hungry, with bulging eyes and hair infested with parasites. But I couldn't help them except with food. Many of them were either street children or already drug addicts. Although... After Metzger had heard enough from me, he grabbed his gang and left for Nevada, one premises became vacant.

Oh yes, why exactly did Metzger fled... I just met him in a bar while I was trying to figure out how to painlessly get money and food for myself. He came up and stared at me for a long time. Either he was estimating the price, or he was just looking at me. Unable to bear it, I turned to him, putting aside the map that Rebecca gave:

— What, seing a human first time?

— Wach your mouth, gal.

— Oh, i'm so-so scared. You know, after the war atrocities that I saw, you are no longer a scary, dude, sorry.

Metzger held his "war dog" Aidan and narrowed his eyes:

— Really? And what kind of atrocities did you see, kiddo?

— Have you ever seen a rocket fly into an apartment building? And not one? How does furniture and things fly out of a hole in a house? Pieces of some unfortunate person's life? Or maybe how people are trying to get out of a burning damaged tank, burning, screaming, how their skin bubbling and blisters bursting with bloody splashes? Have you ever seen a street littered with corpses of people who have no arms or legs, or whose brains are scattered on the asphalt out of smashed heads? And in the background of this street there is burnt military equipment? Have you seen how entire squads of people are scattered into pieces of bodies and bloody dust from artillery fire? Have you seen mass graves, felt the smell of decomposing bodies, seen graves right next to houses? In which are buried women and children who couldn't escape from the rockets? No, you didn't see it. Because you live after war. When you see this for two years, when you experience through yourself the atrocities of war, the slave trade is, although a disgusting thing, but not so terrible. Although no, there are worse ones. You should look for books about the Holocaust.