[Merchant of Death] 0004

Cursing as the sounds of screeches only increased in volume, Jacob quickly realized that whoever had drawn the Feral Ghouls' attention was heading his way with what sounded like an entire horde on their tail.

Brighter than most, he didn’t immediately try to run away and potentially into whatever could have been drawn in by the noise; instead, he searched and looked for a maintenance room, stepped inside, and jammed the sliding door shut, leaving only the most minor crack from which he could see outside into the tunnel. 

He cradled the small 9mm pistol in his hand and slowed his breath, keeping close to the wall and only peaking out enough to see outside into the maintenance room and leaving the rest of his body out of sight. 

His decision proved itself as not even a few moments later, more Feral Ghouls rushed down the tunnel towards the noise, where gunfire started echoing down the hall. 

From what he could hear, Jacob could tell that whatever firearm they were using was something of a higher caliber by the sheer noise alone, which brought the question: who would come down here if they had that kind of firepower? 

However, unlike what he was expecting, the gunfire only continued and grew closer. Whoever was causing this mess was heading his way and was drawing everything down in the sewers towards him with them. 

Cursing whoever was stupid enough to rile everything up, he hugged the wall closer while keeping watch of the tunnel outside the room, and minutes later, the assailants revealed themselves. 

Two tribesmen were carrying a large box with one hand, and with their other hand, wielding makeshift rifles that looked to be on the brink of falling apart or jamming. 

He recognized them, or more specifically, Jacob recognized who they worked for. 

He’s heard of raiders who like to dress up in strange leathers and shorts who were renowned for raiding, pillaging, and raping, while also being the biggest suppliers of chems and drugs across the Mojave Wasteland, with their biggest customers being the Fiends themselves.

Great Khans. Raiders are said to originate from the same vault as the people who founded Shady Sands. 

The Great Khans were a very hated tribe in the Mojave Wasteland, primarily due to their practices and drug trade that led to many deaths or ruined lives. Jacob has run across them a few times, and each time he has only come across corpses. 

Most Great Khans that entered New Vegas were either killed and left to rot, or actively being hunted down by mercenaries or the NCR, which occasionally patrol around New Vegas.

Considering killing the two, Jacob cursed. He wanted to kill them on principle alone, but killing them meant being trapped in the maintenance room with a horde of Feral Ghouls approaching. Instead, Jacob reluctantly watched them go, a dozen Feral Ghouls coming not far behind after them, running and crawling across the ground on all fours like animals. 

Once the coast was clear, Jacob waited a few more hours before finally leaving the room. While he didn’t have what he needed or wanted, he didn’t want to risk staying in the sewers too much longer, so he spent the next half hour scrounging whatever scrap he could get and climbed out. 

His haul was terrible, but he figured he could barter it for the components he needed from one of the few trusted merchants in New Vegas’s Freeside, the closet walled section of New Vegas just outside of the Strip, Mick and Ralph, a duo who acted as general merchants, bartering for a wide variety of goods and selling them either for cheap or cheaper than you’d get from an NCR caravan. 

Sticking to the alleys and avoiding the streets, Jacob made his way into  Freeside, where he dropped his guard but remained cautious. While Freeside wasn’t as dangerous as what remained outside its walls, there were still plenty of desperate people who looked for easy marks, but leaving his pistol somewhat visible deterred those same beggars and thugs from approaching Jacob. 

Thankfully, one of the small factions of New Vegas, the Kings, mostly kept the peace in Freeside. It was easy to identify a King's member too, as they all wore the same outfits, had the same haircuts, and had the strange accents that they claimed were used by some 'King' named 'Elvis.'

It took around half an hour to reach Mick and Ralph's, and it looked like they had some work done on their little store, as the second floor of the store had previously collapsed a few weeks ago. 

Stepping inside, he was met by Ralph first, who was manning the counter.

"Jacob?" Ralph asked upon seeing me walk in.

"Hey, Ralph, how's the store? I noticed that y'all got the second floor fixed. How much did that cost?" Jacob asked, greeting the more personable of the merchant duo.

"It took a week, and we had to hire House's construction team, but it only cost us a few thousand caps. Now that we're not sleeping in the basement, Mick's been rather...busy," Ralph shrugged.

"He's busy tinkering in his workshop?" Jacob asked, concerned.

"You know how he is, I'm just glad he's bringing in caps with his repair work," Ralph sighed, waving towards the door behind him.

"I get it, you mind if I go down and see him? Got some scrap he may be interested in, scrap metal, screws, bolts, glue, that kind of thing," Jacob showed Ralph.

"Yeah, yeah, feel free, and while you're at it, see if you can't get him to get his ugly butt up here, it's his turn to man the counter," Ralph, exasperated, waved at the door again.

"Thanks, Ralph, and I will try, but no promises," Jacob chuckled, placing the box on the counter and squeezing by Ralph before grabbing the box and opening the door behind the counter. Heading down to the basement, Jacob found a workshop similar to mine, only far more complete and designed more for firearm maintenance than general tinkering like my workbench.

Bowed over his own workbench, Mick was cleaning a disassembled rifle of some kind, carefully going over each individual piece and cleaning the disassembled gun parts inside and out.

"Mick?" Jacob spoke up, getting his attention.

"Jacob? Damn, thought you were dead," He commented, pushing himself away from the workbench after carefully setting down the parts.

"Nope," Jacob laughed, "I got some stuff for you, bits and bobs you'll find some use for, and you can have it all, for a single component you likely have in stock and have no use for."

Jacob gave him the box, and he began to dig around inside.

"All from the sewer, I'm guessing?" He asked.

"Yeah, the rust?" Jacob asked.

"The rust," he nodded before setting the box aside, "Alright, I can use them, but what exactly are you looking for?" He inquired.

"I need a transceiver, something you could have gotten from a terminal, a radio, anything like that. You got one?" Jacob asked.

He hummed, rolling around to a shelf beside his workbench.

"I think I do, not like anyone needs them or asks for them, I got a few hanging around here somewhere, but you do realize that scrap pile you brought me isn't worth me giving you one, right?"

"What do you want?" Jacob sighed, expecting this.

"A favor," Mick replied without hesitation.

"Fine, I'll owe you one," Jacob sighed, Mick tossing him the part he needed.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Mick replied, turning around to focus on his pet project.

"Oh yeah, by the way, Ralph said to get your ass up there, he had something to ask you," Jacob told Mick before walking away and heading back home.