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Chapter 12, Tale Ten: The Use For A Tool -- Part 1 pic and text

It had been a long time, Raul Tejada thought, since he had felt so young. He was old, very old, and in his imprisonment in Black Mountain, slave to the whims of the violent mutants that had lived there, he had felt every year of his existence. But since he had been freed, since he had spent time with these children, working so tirelessly for what they thought to be right, he had felt that age drop away again. He suspected that they, some of them, might resent being called children, but it was just the way that he thought of them, and he supposed he had a right to, but he kept that thought to himself. When he was a young man, on the farm near Mexico City, his madre had told him two rules for polite society: speak softly, and never ask a woman her true age. Good advice, but he supposed the same could be true for ghouls as for women. The process of ghoulification changed you, lengthened your existence. That he could have told them stories of Mr. House as a man, the start of RobCo enterprises, that he could have told them not just of life since the great war but of life before it, before the bombs fell, well. . . it hadn’t come up, and they were focused on what they were doing.

He had been a vaquero, and a gunslinger, a long time ago, but he had not held guns in his hands in a long time. That life had given him nothing but pain in the end and he had thought he had left it behind. He had done it to please and protect his sister Rafaela, and it had killed her in the end, another victim of the cycle of vengeance. But with these children he had felt a need to have a purpose, so he had taken it upon himself to wield again, and fighting with them, for purpose, it had made him feel young. He had been with them when they stormed the Fiend base at Vault 3, and had done his share, even if his hands had shaken while shooting. It was good work, bringing order and safety, and afterwards he had felt a little bit of youth returning, with these children and the love that they had for each other, all of them together. He was new to them, and they to him, but that didn’t seem to matter too much, and he felt the call of familia, that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was something to be thankful about, but he still had doubts about how he could make himself the most useful to them and what they were doing. He was skilled with guns, even at his age, but it wasn’t the only skill that he had. Building things, making and creating, he enjoyed that more than the gunplay. Certainly there were less painful memories attached to it, and seeing something come together, from his mind to his hand to reality, it made him proud. But these were fighters, and that was their trade, for this time at least, so he tried to fit into that role.

When they reached the NCR camp at Forlorn Hope, though, it seemed that both of his skills were much needed. It was falling apart, cut off from the main force of the army, and had been largely ignored for what looked like a very long time. The Bear’s eye was fixed on the Dam, but the Legion encampment in Nelson, over the ridge to the south, also presented problems. So the Bear had followed its usual poor methods, and had left a poorly maintained garrison in the hopes that it would be enough. He could see that the others didn’t know why the Courier had brought them there. It was clear even to Raul, in his short time with them, that the Courier didn’t like the Bear, but he thought that he understood. When you tried to make something, you used the tools that you had at hand, even if you didn’t like the way that they were made. Nelson was a threat, particularly to the town of Novac just over the hills, and it had to be removed, they needed the help of the Bear to make it happen. Raul was somewhat ambiguous. He didn’t like the Bear either, and he had seen the Legion bring order to places that had none, in what remained of Arizona and New Mexico. But they believed in what they were doing, and he thought that their methods and goals were noble, worthy of being tried, so he helped them.

Description
Chapter 12, Tale Ten: The Use For A Tool -- Part 1 pic and text

It had been a long time, Raul Tejada thought, since he had felt so young. He was old, very old, and in his imprisonment in Black Mountain, slave to the whims of the violent mutants that had lived there, he had felt every year of his existence. But since he had been freed, since he had spent time with these children, working so tirelessly for what they thought to be right, he had felt that age drop away again. He suspected that they, some of them, might resent being called children, but it was just the way that he thought of them, and he supposed he had a right to, but he kept that thought to himself. When he was a young man, on the farm near Mexico City, his madre had told him two rules for polite society: speak softly, and never ask a woman her true age. Good advice, but he supposed the same could be true for ghouls as for women. The process of ghoulification changed you, lengthened your existence. That he could have told them stories of Mr. House as a man, the start of RobCo enterprises, that he could have told them not just of life since the great war but of life before it, before the bombs fell, well. . . it hadn’t come up, and they were focused on what they were doing.

He had been a vaquero, and a gunslinger, a long time ago, but he had not held guns in his hands in a long time. That life had given him nothing but pain in the end and he had thought he had left it behind. He had done it to please and protect his sister Rafaela, and it had killed her in the end, another victim of the cycle of vengeance. But with these children he had felt a need to have a purpose, so he had taken it upon himself to wield again, and fighting with them, for purpose, it had made him feel young. He had been with them when they stormed the Fiend base at Vault 3, and had done his share, even if his hands had shaken while shooting. It was good work, bringing order and safety, and afterwards he had felt a little bit of youth returning, with these children and the love that they had for each other, all of them together. He was new to them, and they to him, but that didn’t seem to matter too much, and he felt the call of familia, that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was something to be thankful about, but he still had doubts about how he could make himself the most useful to them and what they were doing. He was skilled with guns, even at his age, but it wasn’t the only skill that he had. Building things, making and creating, he enjoyed that more than the gunplay. Certainly there were less painful memories attached to it, and seeing something come together, from his mind to his hand to reality, it made him proud. But these were fighters, and that was their trade, for this time at least, so he tried to fit into that role.

When they reached the NCR camp at Forlorn Hope, though, it seemed that both of his skills were much needed. It was falling apart, cut off from the main force of the army, and had been largely ignored for what looked like a very long time. The Bear’s eye was fixed on the Dam, but the Legion encampment in Nelson, over the ridge to the south, also presented problems. So the Bear had followed its usual poor methods, and had left a poorly maintained garrison in the hopes that it would be enough. He could see that the others didn’t know why the Courier had brought them there. It was clear even to Raul, in his short time with them, that the Courier didn’t like the Bear, but he thought that he understood. When you tried to make something, you used the tools that you had at hand, even if you didn’t like the way that they were made. Nelson was a threat, particularly to the town of Novac just over the hills, and it had to be removed, they needed the help of the Bear to make it happen. Raul was somewhat ambiguous. He didn’t like the Bear either, and he had seen the Legion bring order to places that had none, in what remained of Arizona and New Mexico. But they believed in what they were doing, and he thought that their methods and goals were noble, worthy of being tried, so he helped them.