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Prescott is in relatively-good condition as far as wasteland towns go. The streets are clear of rubble and garbage with most of the buildings having minor repairs at least. Prescott - or Aquaelia - as the Legion calls it, is nestled in a mountain valley. The area is surprisingly green, with grazing and lumber seemingly being the city’s importance. The trees here aren’t the great oaks of the past but they’re tall and sturdy, perfect for tools and wagons.
You find yourself in the commons which is set up in an outdoor parking garage that used to serve some supermarket called Buc-E. While it’s always fun to peruse Legion markers, you’re at the commons to collect intelligence. After a few hours of drifting, haggling and eavesdropping, you find that the Legion Military Headquarters is the home of the lll Legion and is based at the old courthouse at the center of town.
You travel through Prescott and see something you never thought you would ever see, actual horses. A pair of Legion soldiers in gaudy armor trot past as onlookers gawk. A few more minutes of walking and you see the reason, as a restored sign in bright letters claim “HOME OF THE WORLD’S OLDEST RODEO”.
Behind high metal fences, a handful of Legion soldiers ride their steeds and practice a series of maneuvers. It doesn’t seem that they’re necessarily training for combat but for maneuver.
A passing patrol pushes you away from the training grounds but this whole trip may have been worth it just to see a real, live horse. You get lost in thought about how to get a couple for the Mojave, maybe you can bribe a corrupt Legion-
*plink*
You shake off the daydreaming and look around. You took a turn down a quieter street, completely devoid of any activity in the heat of the day.
*plink*
A puff of dust erupts from the brick wall you’re standing by. You look around. You’re on a side street, almost an alley, surrounded by two-story commercial buildings.
*plink*
Oh, those are gunshots. Adrenaline immediately floods your system and you pull out the silenced 10MM. A glint catches your eye at the end of the street in front of you.
A man is leaning around the corner with a rifle.
*plink*
He fires off one more silenced round before realizing he missed again, disappearing around the corner. You’re three blocks away and weighed down with 60 pounds in your pack but you start hailing ass down the street.
You clear the three blocks in under 15 seconds and round the corner, nearly running into a group of ladies rubbernecking at your would-be assassin. He knocked over a cart and spilled scrap wood all over the street.
He glances back before turning another corner and you relish in his look of absolute horror. You make up the rest of the ground quickly, far too quick for a regular man. The assassin pumps his arms and legs and ditches his rifle, but it’s not enough.
You grab him by the scruff and pull him into a nearby abandoned house.
