The roller shutter clattered upward as Yucca's sheriff stepped inside.
Mike was visibly flustered, "Officer, he just arrived. I thought he'd already come by to greet you."
"No need to panic, Mike." The sheriff waved a hand, "Whatever it is, we can talk."
"Thanks, Mike." Even now, Vash offered his gratitude with calm indifference.
The sheriff's gaze slid to him, studying him for a moment, "Why are you staying here?"
"As you can see, my car broke down."
Beside him, Mike's expression stiffened. This Nomad really didn't know how to speak.
A flicker of amusement crossed the sheriff's eyes as he walked closer, "Andrew Jones. Yucca's sheriff. You've heard of me."
"No." Vash shook his head.
"Huh." Andrew sat right on the hood, "I fought in the Unification War. Ever hear of the Silver Shoguns?"
"Not interested."
Vash opened the car door, slid into the driver's seat, and turned the key.
Vroom — vroom!
The engine caught. The old vehicle came alive, running far better than it had a moment ago.
Mike's heart pounded. Was this Nomad tired of living? Andrew's temper was infamous — didn't he fear getting himself killed?
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Andrew didn't move from the hood, but his voice cooled, "When you come into town, the first thing you do is greet me — before coffee, before the bathroom. But fine. I shouldn't expect manners from a stray dog."
So there it was — his real face.
"Which family are you from? Where's your clan territory? Anyone with you?"
"I work alone."
"Interesting." Andrew hopped down and planted himself in front of the car.
From the driver's seat, Vash didn't take someone like him seriously. His only thought was contacting Jackie Welles. Right there in front of Yucca's sheriff, he pulled out a communicator that looked like an old pager, clipped it to the antenna, and listened.
Nothing but static.
Andrew's expression shifted again. This stray dog not only lacked manners — he had the nerve to pull out contraband right in front of him.
These days, the corporations controlled technology. Even person-to-person network use depended on company-approved hardware and services. A decades-old, modified device like the one in Vash's hand was illegal.
"Stray dog." Andrew said, voice turning ice-cold, "Do you know what you're holding?"
Illegally possessing contraband was grounds for being shot on the spot. Of course, if the stray dog offered enough money and begged nicely… outcomes could change.
"Ah, right." Vash smiled, then looked up at the ashen-faced man, "I'm trying to find someone, but my antenna's busted. When I came in, I saw you've got a telecom tower. I need to use it."
At that point, there wasn't much to negotiate.
Andrew wasn't about to tolerate being disrespected again and again. His hand went to his waist, and he drew a handgun.
"I'm gonna blow your dog head off." He sneered, finger tightening on the trigger.
Vash was faster.
The instant Andrew started to fire, Vash slammed the accelerator to the floor.
Vroom vroom vroom!
The battered secondhand car surged forward with everything it had. Like a roaring beast, it rammed straight into the lawful sheriff, launching him into the road barrier.
A heartbeat later, Vash yanked the wheel, drifted, and smashed into Andrew again.
Two hits. No one lived through that.
"That felt good."
Back when he'd played the game, he'd wanted to kill this idiot outright — only it had been too much trouble.
Now, with Andrew dead beneath the wheels, Vash drove straight for Yucca's Telecom Tower.
He wasn't worried about pursuit. Sheriffs in these Badlands towns were just corporate dogs. As long as you didn't disturb Night City or the corporations' real order, nobody cared enough to chase you.
The tower was the tallest building in Yucca — impossible to miss.
Vash rolled up, faced the locked door, and kicked it open. He moved through without resistance until he reached the signal box at the top.
He hooked the communicator into the town's antenna and, without much effort, found Willie McCoy — the former tech hand for the Bakkers, now a Fixer running jobs out in the Badlands. After swearing it would be the last time, Vash finally got Jackie's location.
He left the tower and drove out of town.
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A full day of driving later, with the sun sinking low, he reached the meeting point.
A dilapidated little house stood alone in the dust.
The iron-headed fool, Jackie Welles, was inside.
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T/N: Comment, give me Power Stones, like and favorite, it all supports me and makes me go foward with this. Appreciate my other stories as well, I guarantee the good work!
That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)