Part 2: Denver _____________________________________________________________________________________________
You’ve heard the old stories and rumors about Denver, how it used to be a big pre-war city until the bombs fell and then it became a haven for feral dogs and salvagers who have built platforms on top of the huge skyscrapers. That’s why Denver’s other name is “Dogtown”. Now that you’re actually in Denver you tell yourself that not under any circumstances are you going on the streets. While you’re planning your next move, you get a message from Corey. You listen in on your Pip-boy. “Hello there contestant! What’s your name?” You say you’re the Courier. “The Courier? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you my good friend, but what I have heard is that your fellow contestants have already started scavenging! Now, I’m sending the list of the three items I want to that fancy Pip-boy you have there. You have 24 hours to find at least two of the three items and make it back to this spot, so don’t forget where you are now! Good luck, Courier!” You look for the list in your Pip-boy and easily find it. The list asks for: One CRB-S leg, one DCPD badge, and one salvager’s ear. You remember a story you heard once that before the Great War, there were three completely robotic dogs that used to patrol the streets and stop rioting in Denver. The chances of finding one of those robots in the thousands of dogs is very slim, so you decide to focus your attention on the other two things on the list; the DPCD badge and the salvager’s ear. You can’t just go kill a salvager in cold blood and take his ear can you? And what of the DPCD badge? What the hell does DPCD mean? Telling yourself you can figure it out later, you start heading towards the closest salvager platform to get that ear. While jumping from rooftop to rooftop, you get shot at. You immediately duck for cover and pull out your Colt .45. You hear voices yelling at you. It’s the voices of the three raiders. “Hey! Get out from behind there and get shot like a man!” Another yells at you. “Yeah! Get out here you wussy!” Before the third can rant at you, you pop up from your cover, look down the iron sights of your Colt and fire at the third. You hit him in the knee. He yells in pain and falls from the rooftop into the street below; a seven foot drop. He hits the ground with a thud and a yelp. But the yelp wasn’t his; it was the yelp of one of the hundreds of dogs in the streets that he landed on. The dogs quickly attack. Bones break, blood splatters, clothing tears, his screams of pain echo out until they become nothing more that gurgles of blood. You and the two raiders are watching in awe, temporarily oblivious to each other. Suddenly the first raider, the leader, yells angrily at you. “You son of a bitch you killed my brother! I’ll f#cking kill you!” He starts firing at you with a hunting rifle and the other raider follows his example and aims with this SMG. You run away from the gunfire and trip. You fall through the weak point of a roof and into a three story building. You sit up thankful for your life and cheery until you look across the room. You see a big mangy dog in a corner, chewing on a rat as all cheeriness leaves your body.