Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 19

Chapter 19 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "I Am the Law"

## I Am the Law

We entered the building quickly before anyone else spotted us. We entered a lobby which bore the hallmarks of a prewar office. A tattered sign reading "Hubris Publishing" hung from a wall. Nearby were several posts of a Grognak the Barbarian movie, starring Vera Keyes as Femma-Ra, set to be released in November 2077. I wonder if anyone ever saw it.

A few lights flicked on and off. The room was recently swept too, so someone must be living in here. Most likely the man that came down the stairs to greet us.

He wore a sheriff's duster and a scoped varmint rifle in his hands. He didn't point the gun at us, but he was still holding it tightly. "I'm a friend," he said. "Holster your weapons, then I'll holster mine." Considering the fact he could've wasted us outside, I decided to take his word. I put my gun away, then Niner did.

Carefully, he slung the gun across his back. He held his hand up. "Adam. Adam Kovic, Sheriff of Freeside."

"Freeside don't got a sheriff," I said in confusion. Nonetheless, we shook his hand.

"Self-appointed. Freeside is in need of some law."

"It's been in need of law for decades now," I countered. "I've seen several vigilantes. They don't last long out here."

He sighed. "I know things don't look good. But someone needed to step up." His voice almost lowered to a whisper. "Something big is going down soon."

"How do you know?" Niner asked.

"I've been tracking these deals for some time," Adam said, apparently deciding it was backstory time. He took a seat below a torn poster for the villain Man-Saurian. "I've been noticing a pattern. The Crimson Caravan brings in deliveries for the squatters here."

"Because they're largely NCR squatters," I added.

Adam nodded. "Exactly. So it makes sense that the Crimson Caravan is coming here. But what doesn't make sense is what the Caravan is bringing in. Or is does make sense in a horrifying way."

"We only brought in water," Niner said.

"In case any locals are watching, the Caravan always deals with the Boys beneath that water tower. It's always food, water, the like. Out in the open, so no one can question it." He leaned in close. "By constantly sending caravans there with the same materials, eventually people stop caring. But those aren't the only caravans."

"Are you saying deliveries like mine are only...covers?" I asked.

"Precisely. Sometimes, in the dead of night, bigger caravans come in. Like I said, usually it's just small traders, so people have stopped questioning. So nobody evens looks when they hear traders come by. Well, except for me."

"What are they hiding?" I said, already knowing the answers.

"Guns. Rifles, pistols, ammunition - you name it. They're smuggling weapons in, arming the Cooking Boys."

"Why would they do that?" Niner asked.

"It ain't exactly no secret that the NCR is looking to take over the Mojave. Got men crawling around the Hoover Dam, setting up camps and ranger stations - they even annexed Primm essentially a week or two ago." You can thank our good Courier friend for that. "By arming the Boys, the squatters can win this inevitable turf war with the Kings and claim Freeside for the NCR."

"So I've been hiding in here for the past few days, observing the caravans. Saw you two come in, thought it was just a normal delivery, and even I almost fell for the trap of not caring. But then I heard the gunshots. I take it you aren't Caravan regulars."

"Temporary hires," I said. Maybe Cass was right about working for the caravans being the end. I just didn't realize it might mean a literal end.

"Exactly. Now for whatever reason, you killed that man. That was, in one way or another, vigilante justice. Which makes us kin." I don't got any brothers anymore, so I didn't use the title of "kin" lightly.

"I prefer the term 'associates'", I clarified, cutting him off.

"Fair enough," he said, waving his hands. "But I hope you know you're treading dangerous water right now. The Crimson Caravan doesn't tolerate the death of their trading partners lightly." He pointed out a window nearly completely barricaded with wood. I looked through a small crack.

Fuck. Guys were standing around the dead body. I knew they were Cooking Boys with the rolling pins that had on their wastes. You can tell by the way it is. "How are we gonna get out of here?" I asked, turning away from the window.

"I can take you through a secret tunnel below here...if you agree to help me with something I've been planning for tomorrow night."

"Or...I could just bust your kneecaps and find the way out myself," I said, clenching my fists. Another fool's errand. Maybe Hared was right about always getting sidetracked. Just the thought of him made me more angry as I stared down the so-called sheriff.

"Would you, though? I'm appealing to your sense of decency here. Don't you wanna help the people here?"

"Not particularly."

"Sounds like someone who never got any help. Doesn't know how good it feels." Well, he had a point there. No one came to help the Red Leathers two decades ago.

I sighed. "Alright fine, I'll help. But after tomorrow, I'm out."

"Good. Might not even need you after-"

"Yeah, I'm in, too," Niner interrupted. "Thank you for asking for my input, both of you." We looked at him. "My brother died, because nobody came to help him. Now, I got a chance to help somebody. I'm gonna take it, or else my brother would've died for nothing." Christ, what is it, backstory day? But I understood his point.

Adam nodded. "Alright, let's go." He pushed over a rotting bookshelf, revealing a small trap door below it. He opened it and begin climbing down a ladder. We followed him down.

My meeting with the Courier once again delayed, just because some guy decided he was the law.