Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 16

Chapter 16 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "Back to Square One".

## Back to Square One

*Good morning all, welcome to the Mr. New Vegas show, with your host, Mr. New Vegas...*

I woke up next morning to a very clean room, my own room. Another tip: don't shit where you eat. If you're gonna trash up a room partying, make sure it's not your own room. The only blemish in my room at the moment was some broad and a few empty steady pill bottles. I threw them out, threw a blanket over her, and left for the hallway.

*Whoops, better put on my newsman fedora here. Tensions are brewing in Freeside between the ruling gang known as the Kings and the large number of NCR squatters seeking refuge there...*

Must have been one of the biggest parties in Atomic Wrangler history last night. Sleeping bodies were strewn across the hallway, some together, some alone, all clutching chems or bottles or each other. The little shit that officially runs the Crimson Caravan, Henry Jamison, had his arms around two whores and a few jet canisters in front of him. Of course, him being here in this state and not at Crimson Caravan offices is why he only ran the company "officially".

As I continued walking down the hallway, I heard commotion from behind Grace's door. As I moved closer, I could make it out the noise, and let me just say, usually Grace isn't this loud. I heard a few loud "Yes's!" and "Niner!" and then a few ooh's and ahh's. I'm not one to get in the way of a man's fun, but we needed to get this Courier right away before people found out we never actually met him.

I knocked on the door, hopefully a barrage of insults wouldn't come at me for interrupting. "Biggs, buddy, come in!" Niner yelled back. Hmm. Hope this wasn't like a threesome or anything. I entered cautiously.

Safe to say, I didn't expect Niner and Grace to be sitting cross-legged across from each other, a few books in between them. Niner was smiling real hard, waving a book at me. "Biggs, look what I can do!" He flipped to the first page of what looked like a children's book. "S...is for...strength," he began reading. Wait. Reading! "And...that...means I'm...str, str-"

"Strong," Grace finished for him.

"Look at that, Biggs, almost a whole sentence!" Niner said, excited as a kid. Well, considering you usually learn to read when you're a kid, especially when you're from California, it made sense to be that excited.

"Good job, Niner. Soon you could read some of the magazines we find," I told him. Niner was always excited to see the covers, even if he couldn't read what was inside.

"Must be because I got such a nice teacher," Niner said. For once, Grace blushed.

"Don't think this is any different than a normal request," Grace said, collecting herself. She held up a sack of caps. "I'm not doing this out of altruism." There's the Grace I know. But it did seem like she was changing a little.

"Well, sorry to interrupt, but we gotta head to the Strip. Unfinished business," I said to cut off any questions.

Niner nodded. "Be back soon Grace. Let's do the next page next time."

Grace smiled and waved him off as we headed toward the casino lounge.

*Five garages were found firebombed in Kings territory this morning, no doubt the work of their crosstown rivals, the Cooking Boys. Travelers in Freeside are advised extra caution...*

The thugs - my bad, enforcers - were busy doing the job of cleaning up the lounge the morning after, a job I don't envy. Usually, the enforcer that gets out of cleaning duty gets a few glares - but they were all smiles as they congratulated me on a job well done. Hopefully the Courier never came through here and cleared things up before we found him.

Caleb, our top bounty hunter, shook the man next to him up. "Desmond, buddy, show's over," he said as the man groggily awoke. He reached for a water, only to miss it and grab some whiskey. He downed it anyway.

"Gotta be ready," Desmond said. "Got a job in Westside later today." He rose and began dusting himself off.

All sight of random casino-goers. No sight of Hared. I asked Caleb if he saw the Khan. Caleb shook his head, but Desmond spoke up, explaining he and Hared shared a few drinks last night before he had to head off.

"Head off?" I questioned. Desmond said yeah and said Hared did leave a note. I grabbed it quickly and began reading. Niner looked over, trying to figure out a few words here and there.

"My new friends," Hared began. "I'm sorry it must come to this. My destiny lies with the Courier, and it seems like every time we get close, something gets in the way and delays us even more. We've had numerous chances to catch up to him, and we haven't. YOU'VE had numerous chances to catch up to him, and you didn't, because you whore and gamble and focus on what you're wearing. Had you been a better man, you would've found him already. And you could've used your persuasion skills to prevent the massacre at Boulder City."

Wait. Was this fucko blaming me for Boulder City? And ok, maybe we haven't done the greatest job of following the Courier. But it isn't that easy.

"My people are dying. This isn't the first Khan massacre, and certainly won't be the last. That is why I must meet the Courier, and why I must meet him right away. By the time you read this, I will be on the Strip, searching for the Courier. To get on the Strip, I need 2,000 caps. So I hope you understand why-"

I immediately reached for my cap sack, only to come up with empty pockets. Niner saw what I was doing and searched his own pockets. His hands came up empty.

We looked at each other. "Oh fuck," was all we could say.