The sun was setting on the Mojave Desert. On any other day it would have been pretty; it's not so pretty when you're looking at it through the bars of an all too familiar cell.
It was going to be a normal day - would have been a normal day. Except here she was, inside a cell, staring at the sunset like it was the only thing she had left.
The other people held captive were sitting around a fire, nice and warm. One had their back to her, while the other three were setting across from her at their fire. Unfortunately, our currently nameless female did not have the luxury of warmth tonight, since she had nearly blinded one of her captors by scratching at his eyes last night after they had made camp, when he had tried to touch her inside of her cage. She still felt proud of the long, ugly cuts along his face, bound up loosely by old rags. No, tonight was a cold rock, cold metal bars and equally - if not greater - cold air.
She tuned out the conversation they were having - it was just about the others slaves they owned, anyway. The ones she'd be joining very soon, if they made good time across the endless wasteland of fallout.
Feeling like there was no escape, she sat down in the corner and stared as the sun as it dropped behind the distant mountain range. Night was upon them. She wrapped her arms around her legs and sighed, resting her forehead on her knees as she tried to reason with herself that everything would be all right.
Off in the far distance, a mysterious stranger slid down the side of the mountain, bouncing a bit as he landed, his gear hitting his back from the impact. He didn't recoil from it, instead he decided to take a few steps to a rock, peering over it toward a camp.
He sighed and kneeled down, unclipping his rifle from the straps on his back, turning off the safety and setting the barrel onto the rock, looking through his scope to get a better look at the camp.
Sighing once more, he loaded a bullet into his rifle, stiffening his arms, slowly aiming over the head of one of the slavers, he supposed they were. Turning his head from the slaver, peering over the camp further, he noticed a cage. Attempting to look inside it, examining who exactly it was, the shine from his scope made a slightly noticeable reflection.
The girl sighed again, looking up from the slavers amassed around their precious fire. Something caught her eye, barely, in the distance from the camp. Almost like a reflection...
Bam! Suddenly the man with his back to her had his head shattered and blood ran everywhere. The other three men, now alerted, looked around, slowly raising their guns. As she stared at the red ruin of the now dead man's skull, she realized what she must have been looking at: a sniper's scope.
The man reloaded his rifle, ducking low to avoid being seen. Waiting for a minute or two before shuffling across the cliff side, he ducked into a prone position to aim once more, before putting his crosshairs over another slaver's head, firing once into it.
The girl screamed as another man dropped dead. The other two, now looking afraid as they clutched their guns, looked around fearfully. When suddenly, another gun shot rang through the air and the third man died.
Cursing rather colorfully, the last slaver dropped his gun and drew a knife, stepping over the corpses of his who were once his colleagues. She stood up, backing into the corner afraid. The slaver smiled and unlocked the cage, reaching out and grabbing her arm.
She attempted to push him off but was unsuccessful - he was strong and fed, while she was malnourished. She quickly froze as his arm came around, pressing her to his chest as a knife flashed up into her vision, the cold metal pressing against her throat.
The slaver felt more confident now. He was smarter than his late friends - someone was obviously attempting to rescue the girl. The only thing she was good for now, with his partners dead, was leverage for his life. He forcefully half-dragged, half-carried her out of the cage, and looked around, waiting for a response from the mysterious sniper.
The sniper took aim again, trying desperately to find a position where the girl wouldn't be hurt. Struggling to find a spot, he decided to slide down toward the camp with his hand on his back, grabbing the handle of his old Katana he had restored. Sliding down with it sheathed, he stumbled on the drop to flat land, making a charge at the one slaver, his blade drawn at an angle. Bringing it up, he tried to slip the blade in between the slaver's arms and pull it back in an attempt to try and split the arms apart.
The slaver, stunned, dropped the girl and she fell, yelling in surprise and pain. He attempted to avoid the long sword, forgetting all about the hostage he had just about nearly trampled. Trying to get away, all of his senses dulled by the fear, he stumbles, knocking over a large oil drum.
Starting to hyperventilate, the girl looks, panicked, at her leg. It was pinned beneath the large oil drum, unable to move it. Whenever she tried, pain shot up and down her body. Coughing and feeling dizzy, she dug her fingers into the loose sandy rock trying to hold on.
The man, holding his sword behind him, ran over quickly, spraying more dust and dirt over his armor that he already had. Grabbing the barrel, he made a quick motion to topple it over to one side and free the girl's leg. Almost immediately he put his arm under her leg and onto her back, lifting her up. He started to dash away, carrying his sword pressed on its side against the girl's back.
Suddenly, out of what seemed like nowhere, a gun fired, and the sound of a sharp intake was heard. The man saw the crippled form of the slaver on the ground, blood flowing from a wound on his chest. Slightly above them was a simple NCR solder, smoke coming out of his hunting rifle, furrowing his brows in determination.
The man that had been the slaver gasped out his last rattled breath as the body slumped slightly, now dead. The soldier chuckled, easily manoeuvring down the rocks and landing in front of the man and the girl.
The man stopped, his legs bent in a defensive position. He was never really in favor of the NCR, he always thought they became more and more corrupt every day. He set down the girl and reached into his coat, pulling out a revolver, before aiming it in his left hand while holding his Katana in his right, his green optics glowing dimly in the night and his breath shallow. On top of his desert-camouflaged NCR vest were the words, barely visible, 'SSGT R.B Vickers, OPOS USMC.'
"Whoa there, trigger happy!" the soldier said, smirking confidently. He had sandy blond, unkempt hair and bright blue eyes, with a smile that came easily to him. He never wanted to be an NCR soldier, the only reason he was one was because of his father, and because he had always wanted to be a ranger and fight in the big leagues. However, they said he was too, 'easy-going' for that role.
The soldier first studied the man in front of his and his gaze, then shifted onto the girl on the ground. She appeared to be in pain, her eyes were closed and her white hair sprinkled with dust and sand, "Your lady friend needs help. There's a settlement nearby, where I come from. There's nearly nobody around... but I'm sure some locals might know how to help her." As if to show he meant no threat he lowered his rifle, letting the barrel sink into the sand.
The man, apparently named Vickers, lowered his gun slowly, still not fully relaxed. Not even a word came from his mouth, his eyes couldn't be seen from his visors. Normally the rangers had their facial features faintly shown past their visors, but this man seemed more robotic and faceless than anyone else.
He finally decided to put his gun back into his coat. He spun his katana, sliding it back into the sheath on his back under his rifle. His rifle was a higher grade, better than what the NCR usually supplied to their troops. This man, Vickers, was certainly not a ranger - if he was, he was one damn unique one.
The soldier, not noticing anything off about the man - even the fact that he was wearing ranger armor - gestured to the something beyond the mountains, "It's maybe a 20 to 30 minute walk if we keep good pace. Easier to walk in the night, much cooler. My name is Jason of the NCR."
Jason shot one more look at the woman on the ground before looking back up at the armored man, "We should go, the gunshots will draw the least desirables here. I'd rather not fight off a bunch of ghouls and radroaches again."
Vickers nodded, picking the girl back up again, keeping her close, distrusting of the NCR soldier. He walked behind him, keeping the girl in the same position as he walked, grunting as they climbed over the mountains. Obviously he had a voice, but he never wanted to show it, it seemed.
Looking back occasionally, Jason remarked in a soft voice, "Quiet one, eh? Oh well." As they continued to climb before eventually descending, Jason prattled on uselessly about stuff nobody cared about, like why he was here, or about the settlement and the slavers.
"Saw them outside the settlement. Wasn't sure about them, gave off a bad aura to me. Tracked them up to here, then saw they had a slave with them. Looks like you beat me to the punch, though!" he said cheerfully, as they finished the rigorous descent. You could get a clear view of the settlement now: it had giant wooden poles sticking out of the sand, meeting at the top in a point, almost like a bottomless triangle.
"We call it 'Shining Splitbone'," the soldier Jason continued, "because the wooden poles look like a giant ribcage!" He then laughed like it was the best joke in the world. Jason also had a very, very annoying laugh, almost like a hyena gagging.
Vickers had his fist fall up hearing the laugh. He kept silent the whole way through. The name wasn't clever to him, it was actually kind of stupid in his logic to name a town after how it looks. He kept carrying the girl, walking under the ribcage with the man, looking around the small settlement for homes.
"Come on, we use this building for the infirmary." Jason said gesturing to an elevated building to the immediate left when you entered. All buildings were raised in some way shape or form, almost nothing had a ground entrance. There was also next to no signs of life - if you didn't count the three and the tumbleweed rolling on past.
Vickers walked in, setting the girl down on the nearest bed. Normally, people would leave their rescued as soon as they were safe, but Vickers had a heart. He pulled up the nearest seat and sat down next to the girl's bed, leaning on his knees and watching over her.
She had the palest skin imaginable, as if someone had sucked all the color out of her skin, even her hair was pale. It was a white color, falling to just above her stomach. Since she had passed out around the 10 minute mark of their journey, there was no way to tell what color her eyes were. Also, her hair was laced with small rocks, dust, and sand. Overall, she looked like she had been run over and someone had used a magical color vacuum on everything.
Vickers sighed, imagining she could play dead and make it believable by just being there. Sighing, he looked around for a comb or something similar, before eventually giving up and using his fingers and a small knife to clean out her hair, trying to get the rocks and dirt out of it.
Meanwhile outside, Jason was poking about, looking for some form of alcohol. Having read a basic case file on the settlement it had been noted a bar was there with a substantial cache of beer. Being a drunkard at heart, this had peaked his interest. Unfortunately, he came up empty handed and just managed to trash most of the insides of the buildings. You see, the file had not actually listed where said bar was, just that there was one.
Sighing once more out of boredom, Vickers stood, looking around the room, coming across a rather small baby radroach. He chuckled, getting a devious idea. He picked it up, cupping it in his hands. Instead of killing it, he decided to wake the girl up with a better, more comical sense. He walked back over to her bedside, opening his hands and dropping it right on her cheek, letting it roam around her eyes and face.
At first, the girl didn't really notice the movement on her face. Eventually, however, she was woken up by it. She cracked open an eye and came to face-to-face with a bug.
She let out a squeal of surprise and she picked up the bug and threw it across the room, to god knows where. Starting to hyperventilate, she looked around in confusion, "Wha-... where..."
Chuckling under his breath, being careful not let her hear, Vickers stepped over and sat next to her again, staring into her soul with his optics, still silent.
Disorientated, the girl looked very panicked. Still breathing hard, she locked her wide icy blue eyes onto his optics and said in a low voice, sounding crystal clear, monotone and on the verge of tears, "Where am I?"
Bursting in at the right moment, Jason grinned and leaned in the doorway, "Shining Splitbone, love. My name's Jason, of the NCR. That guy, no idea. We, to be honest mostly me, saved you from the slavers." Grinning sideways, he took of his canteen and stared at the girl rather intently.
Without taking his eyes off the girl, he reached into his coat and pulled out his .45, pulling back the hammer immediately and pointing it at Jason. It was loaded, and Vickers said in a low, calming voice to the girl, "We're in Shining Splitbone. You're safe from your slavers."
Jason - still as idiotic as ever - shrugged, "No need to startle the pretty lady by shooting me, mate!" He happily noted how the girl blushed when he said 'pretty'. "It's an NCR controlled settlement. My camp is a few kilometers away from me. Don't worry, as long as that base still stands, slavers won't come looking for you here."
The girl nodded and sighed, closing her eyes and drawing her legs up, wrapping her arms around them, "I guess I can't go home then..."
Spinning his revolver on one finger, Vickers slipped it back into his coat and looked over at Jason. "Water. Now." he demanded, using a commanding tone in his voice. He turned his head back to the girl again to watch her.
Rolling his eyes and mumbling something - probably an insult - Jason tossed his waterskin to the ranger, hoping that he wouldn't catch it and miss terribly. The girl was hiding her face in her knees, obviously either not being talkative or just being upset.
Instead of missing the waterskin, he caught it, handing it to the girl almost immediately. He didn't even have to look at it to catch it, "What's your name? Why were the slavers keeping you captive?"
Jason, once again, being the idiotic person he was, shrugged as if answering for her, "Maybe they wanted to... erm." Clearly making what he was suggesting clear, he chuckled and left the infirmary.
The girl sniffled and sighed, before saying in a small, barely audible voice, "My name is Winter... and... I don't know..."
So yeah, this story is based off of an old Fallout New Vegas RP server, so expect LOTS of OCs. Lots.