Fallout Game Merchant 2.0

The ghoul looked down at the shattered glasses, muttering something under his breath before continuing.

"Name’s Dean Domino. Used to be a lounge singer in the Sierra Madre. Got caught in the Villa like a damn fish in a trap some time back. Thought I was all alone with our overlord Elijah, for sure until these two showed up."

"I helped them hide. Helped each other stay sane. Elijah’s obsessed with control and trying to enter the Sierra Madre, but he doesn’t watch everything—not where it’s too dangerous for even Ghost People to roam."

Falco leaned back in his seat with a smirk.

"We’ve been movin’ across rooftops and patched-up ducts. Most of the traps in this area? Ours. Not to keep people out. To keep them out."

Boone, still standing at the back, asked cautiously.

"Ghosts?"

Dean’s face grew grim as he replied.

"Yes and no. Elijah’s remote-controlled turrets, holos, and the damn exploding collar. The Ghosts we can manage. Elijah’s other pawns? Not so much."

Six, who had been eyeing the room’s surroundings carefully, turned his attention to the window, where the ominous fog blanketed the distant streets. His gaze lingered there for a moment, considering their next move.

"So why’re you here? Why not just escape?"

Rebecca asked, her voice soft yet filled with concern as she took a step closer to the group.

Kiwi, who had remained eerily quiet until now, spoke up, her voice flat and calculating.

"We can speak now. I’ve jammed Elijah’s signal, but I don’t know how long that’ll last."

She motioned toward the corner of the room where a heavy, metal panel had been bolted to the floor. It looked out of place, its sleek design contrasting sharply with the rest of the crude furnishings around them.

"We found something. Something worth guarding. And Elijah doesn’t know."

Rebecca blinked in surprise.

"What could be worth this?"

Dean, with a somber look, nodded toward the panel.

"What’s under there?"

Raul, ever the skeptic, placed his hand on his pistol, prepared for anything.

"What’s so important?"

Falco grinned slightly, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

"Old tunnel. Not Sierra Madre tunnel—pre-war. Found it by accident. Goes under the vault, under the casino. We don’t know what’s at the end, but it’s deep. No Ghosts. No fog. No traps."

Kiwi cut in, her voice edged with a strange determination.

"It’s clean. That alone makes it valuable."

Six stepped forward, eyeing the panel.

"And you’ve been hiding it from Elijah this whole time?"

Dean let out a long, drawn-out sigh, as if the weight of their decision had finally settled on him.

"Yeah. And I’ll be damned if I hand it over to some madman playing god with radio signals and toxin clouds that create undead."

Rebecca moved to stand beside Six, her hand brushing against his for a moment.

"We’re not here to take it. But if there’s a path out—or even a way in to the vault without dealing with the whole damn death maze—that changes everything."

ED-E, who had been silently observing, beeped in agreement.

Six’s gaze shifted from the panel to Dean and then to the group.

"Alright. New plan. We get these three to safety, scout that tunnel, and see where it leads."

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

"You sure we can trust ’em?"

Rebecca’s gaze softened as she looked to Falco.

"Yeah. I trust him."

Falco shrugged, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"We’ve survived this long, little lady. What’s a little trust among ghosts and ghouls?"

Kiwi simply nodded, stepping toward the panel.

"Then follow me."

Six raised his sword once more, glancing back toward the broken wall. His eyes narrowed at the red fog below.

"Elijah wanted to trap us in the past. Let’s see what’s buried beneath it."

Dean’s eyes widened, and he didn’t back away as Six started fiddling with the collar. Elijah seems to have welded metal over the screws of the collar to prevent easy access to the inner components.

Fortunately, it’s incredibly easy for him to tear the collar off. Six uses his dismantling ability, breaking down the explosive collar into building scrap pieces. Soon, Dean, Kiwi, and Falco were finally free.

The moment the collar hit the floor in a cascade of harmless scrap metal, Dean exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for days.

"You know..."

He said, rubbing the spot on his neck where the collar had been.

"You make that look way too easy. Kind of ruins the dramatic tension."

Six gave him a lopsided smirk, holding up one of the stripped actuator pins.

"Dramatic tension doesn’t keep people from getting their heads blown off. I do."

Nearby, Falco reached up and tugged at the remnants of his own collar, checking to make sure it was really gone. His normally reserved face softened, and he gave Kiwi a subtle nod of appreciation.

She responded by gently brushing off the soot and grime from his jacket—then immediately pulled a knife and jabbed it into a nearby control panel, severing a wire that had started to spark.

"Thanks."

Falco deadpanned.

"Still got it."

Dean looked between them, his posture relaxing for the first time.

"Well. This is shaping up to be the weirdest rescue I’ve ever had."

Raul muttered from the back.

"Hermano, if this is your weirdest rescue, you’ve lived a very sheltered afterlife."

As the group began to regroup and ready themselves to push deeper into the facility, ED-E floated in through a shattered ventilation duct, trilling a series of beeps that translated to:

{Power systems compromised. Sublevel surge detected. Unstable frequencies inbound.}

Six frowned, reading the translation on his pip-boy.

"That means Elijah’s noticed."

Boone chambered a round into his rifle.

"Then we keep moving. No more surprises."

Dean glanced around, eyes narrowing.

"You might get more than you bargained for, Six. Elijah built his nightmare into this place... but he’s not the only one who left ghosts behind."

"Why’s Elijah keeping you here anyway?"

Six asked.

Dean gave a tired smirk, brushing dust from his ruined lapel as he glanced around the fog-laced room.

"What, you think I’m just some lounge singer past his prime? Elijah doesn’t do favors. If he’s keeping me around, it’s because I know something he doesn’t—or I’ve got something he wants."

He walked to the window, peering through the cracks into the glowing cloud outside. His voice dropped a little, more thoughtful.

"Maybe it’s my voice... Maybe it’s the old tech I worked with when this place was alive. Or maybe..."

He turned, gaze narrowing.

"Maybe he just doesn’t know how to crack this casino without someone who understands the rhythm of its walls. And trust me—Vera Keyes wasn’t the only one who knew the Sierra Madre’s secrets."

Six studied him for a beat.

"So you’re saying he needs you."

Dean gave a noncommittal shrug, but there was a glint in his eye.

"He thinks he does. And for now, I’m happy to let him keep thinking that. Long as I don’t end up in pieces like the others."

He paused, then looked at Six more directly.

"But you? You tore that collar off like it was paper. That changes things."

Six nodded slowly.

"Then stick with us. Let’s make Elijah regret thinking anyone’s a pawn in his game."

Dean smirked again—this time, with genuine amusement.

"Oh, I like you, Six. Just don’t expect me to sing for free."

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