The Mojave stretches out like a corpse. Hot, dry, full of things that want to kill you. The republic won the dam six months ago and immediately discovered that winning is harder than fighting. Their supply lines are bleeding. Their soldiers are tired. And the Legion — broken, fractured, pushed east — is already regrouping in the dark.
Somewhere under the sand, eighteen pre-war facilities sit untouched. Twelve Enclave military bunkers loaded with weapons technology that would make the republic weep. Six corporate vaults hiding manufacturing blueprints, AI networks, and secrets worth killing for. You're not the only one digging.
You just arrived. You need caps. The republic needs guns for hire. It sounds like a simple arrangement — take contracts, clear threats, collect payment. But the first bunker you crack open changes everything. Suddenly you're not just a hired gun. You're a player in a race that will decide who controls the Mojave.
Start as a nobody with a dog and a gun. End as whatever the Mojave needs you to be — or whatever you decide it deserves.