Castillo woke just as the morning sun began to climb over the wastes, painting the barren desert stripes of black and blue and yellow as the light spread from its source. That was something he missed from his caravaning days -- waking up with the sun. There was something about starting your day when the day actually started that made him feel healthy, like he was fully using the time he’d been given to live out his existence on the torn earth. He stared out his window, watching the early risers of New Vegas hustle to their destinations, doing their best to dodge the drunks who had managed to hang through the night. He dressed, and left the casino for Freeside. Passing through the gates, the familiar scenes and smells of Freeside greeted him. During his less successful casino nights, he’d spent plenty of time squatting in the blown out buildings or attempting to make back enough caps for a room at the Atomic Wrangler. Before the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, he remembered frequently visiting Freeside with his father to do business with the Followers and the Van Graffs. He had no particular business in Freeside. He had his personal weapons stored in a secured locker in New Reno, which Victor graciously picked up for him following his rescue. Tenpenny and House were providing ammunition for a variety of weapons, Ellie and Hayley were grabbing medical supplies beyond what was already loaded on the train, and any technological needs would be another Hayley-Poe collaboration -- nothing he had to worry about. He just needed a walk. A breath of the dirty, stale air of Freeside to clean his mind from the absurdity of the last few days. From the circus in New Reno to the initial meeting and planning night at the 38, it’d been a weird few days, and he just needed some time among the regular weirdos that inhabited the wastes. Castillo stopped in at the Atomic Wrangler, taking a shot of whiskey and purchasing a couple of cigars at the bar. He lit the brown tobacco tube, the muddy dirt flavor washing over his tongue as he drew, the tip lighting up a bright orange. A thick cloud of smoke cascaded from his mouth, finding a home with the rest of the smoke hovering around the casino’s ceiling. The bings and clanks of slot machines played by the addicts and drunks finally drove him from the casino, searching out a more quiet refuge. Castillo left the Wrangler and ducked down a narrow alley next to the casino. Concrete had long ago gave way to the deserts dirt and dust, with swirls kicking up around Castillo’s ankles as he plodded down the alley, dodging discarded junk and heaps of trash. He stopped at a faded green building, crumbling as most were, and ducked in, pushing through a tattered cloth acting as a door. Inside, he gave a few solid raps on a wall at the foot of a staircase. “Hank!” He called out, rapping again. “It’s Carter.” At the top of the stairs, a reinforced door opened a crack, first enough for the man on the interior to peek out, and then fully swinging open. An older man wearing worn overalls, straps hanging at his side to reveal an aged, chocolate skinned chest, emerged from the entrance. “Carter Castillo, what in the hell are you doin’ here?” Hank asked, a broad smile on his face. “I thought you were dead or abducted or something!” “Why do you say that every time I come by?” Carter laughed, walking up the stairs. The two men embraced. “Well shit, you always give me a reason to think so. You ain’t been around since that whole thing in the northern desert. That Dark Rock thing.” “Black Rock.” Castillo corrected him. “And I don’t really want to talk about that...just stopping by to say hey and see if you wanted to have a smoke.” “Only if you got one’a those for me.” Hank said, pointing to Castillo’s cigar as they walked into his living room. Hank took a seat in an old arm chair, while Castillo plopped on a torn up lavender couch nearby. Castillo tossed the older man the second cigar and a pack of cigarettes. “All right all right.” Hank said, lighting his cigar and drawing the first few puffs. “So what you doin’ back in Freeside?” “Got a job. Big job.” Carter said, setting his hat on a cluttered table next to the couch. “Might’a heard of a bunch of berzerk wastelander types wandering into House’s casino. I’m part of that.” “Yeah, heard some scuttle ‘bout it yesterday down at Mick’s. What’s the mystery man gotcha doin’?” Hank asked. “Connecting some cross country rail line. I’ll be honest, I don’t quite understand the whole thing myself. Pay is good. [i]Really[/i] good. Like, set for life good.” Castillo flicked the ash off his cigar into a discarded beer can. “And I’m not exaggerating.” “Cross country?” Hank let the question hang for a moment. “Ain’t a lotta people made that trip. And it aint for lack of tryin’.” “Yeah, I know.” Carter sat back in the stale couch, dragging on the cigar. “Kinda think it’s gonna be a death sentence. But the crew seems good. Crazy. But good.” “Well, if I was gonna bet on anyone to make that trip and come back to lie about it, it’d be you.” Hank said, his wrinkled mouth betraying a smile. “Thanks.” Castillo replied with a chuckle. The men sat silent for a moment, an Elvis Presley song playing from a different room now the prominent noise in the room. “So…” Castillo started, uneasy. “You wanna come?” “I thought you was just here for a smoke and a catch up.” Hank asked, feigning offense at the question. “Yeah, well, like you said I’m a liar and all…” Castillo said, almost ashamed at the question. “How about it?” “You’re crazy boy.” Hank said, shaking his head with a laugh. “I’ll take dyin’ alone in my dusty bed here any day over dyin’ on some fool’s errand halfway cross the country, assumin’ I make it that far.” “Right.” The dejection in his voice was clear. “But you knew that.” Hank said, leaning towards Castillo. “You knew this washed up old man wasn’t about to follow you. What’s the deal son?” “God I dunno Hank.” Castillo said, running a hand through his hair, his voice now casting light on his insecurities. “After Black Rock...man, I lost everyone. Before that, I lost Duke. Before that, mom and dad...I just...I dunno. You’re pretty much all the family I got left.” Another moment of silence past. “When I met your daddy, I was a jet head in New Reno, runnin’ numbers for the gangsters just to get my next hit. That wasn’t an uncommon story, by the by. I was oneuva hundred guys my age doin’ that shit. But, crazy and dangerous as I was, your daddy saw somethin’ in me and took a chance. Hired me on for his company. Let me, a damn jet dealer, hang round his baby boy.” Hank said, looking past Castillo, as though he was watching his past play out somewhere in the distance past the caravaner. “I’m family to you cause your daddy let me become a part of his. Not by teachin’, but by trustin’. Blood family, you got a limited amount of that in this world. But that other kinda family…the kind you get to choose, the kind that you can not see for a decade but go on with like old times the moment you see them again...that kinda family only comes when you trust people. Let ‘em hurt you, and let ‘em apologize and come back. Only reason I’m all you got left is ‘cause you aint letting anyone else get close. That’s gonna leave you a lonely man. An’ you’re too damn young, and too damn good to be lonely.” Hank sat back in his armchair, puffing on the cigar. “Shit.” Castillo said after a moment. “Ain’t easy, old man.” “Never is boy. Nothin’ worth gettin’ is though.” *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* “More have arrived love. We best make an appearance.” Tenpenny called to Hayley, who was elbow deep in wires inside the train’s main control room. “Yeah, one sec.” She said, her fingers retightening a fitting deep inside the panel. “Ok, that’ll be fine.” She said, replacing the panels cover, quickly screwing the panel back into place. Hayley hopped down off the train, meeting Tenpenny on the cracked cement floor of the H&H Tool’s warehouse. Hayley gave one final look to the trains, looking for any oddities that might need fixed before boarding. The train, a four car setup, was modified and stored in the gutted warehouse where, before the war, pallets of tools and other hardware were stored before being shipped out across the country. Sitting in a “U” shape to fit inside the warehouse, the first train housed the main control station for the train, as well as all the navigation equipment and a table for drawing maps and other paper based plans. The second train contained bunks and a small kitchenette for cooking, while the third was to be used for all thing tech and fabrication -- reloading benches, workbenches, and a more advanced manufacturing station for Poe and Hayley to produce the parts necessary for bringing the line back to life. The final car was a storage car, which already housed a variety of ammunition types and energy cells, as well as medical supplies and a crate of raw materials commonly used for weapon and armor repairs. There was a safe, filled to burst with caps, on board as well, but only Hayley would know its location, and have the security code to access it. “Ok.” She slapped her gloved hands together, a cloud of dust covering her olive overalls. “Let’s go.” Hayley opened the warehouse access door, which lead into the main lobby of H&H Tools. A few of the team were chatting, others just milling around the room. She took a silent headcount, noting everyone but Castillo--- The main door to the factory lobby opened, and the brim of Castillo’s hat gave him away immediately. “Alright, now that the boss decided to join up, get on in here. Time to introduce you to your ride.” Hayley said, holding the door for the team to enter.