'Bright light, shit how much did I drink? Couldn't have been enough to knock me out though, I can still feel my teeth, speaking of are they all there?' A quick tongue feel confirmed his hopes. 'Ok so a least my senses haven't totally failed me.' He smirked at the thought of the party he must have attended.'Damn it I have to stop doing this, one of these days a slaver's gonna pick me up. After this job ill...'
It was at this moment that the weakened courier lying on the bed remembered everything that had happened and launched up, before suffering from a debilitating headache and sitting down rapidly.
An old voice smirked, "Whoa easy there, easy. You've been out cold for a couple of days now. Why don't you just relax a second, get your bearings."
After sitting down for a second the pain was mostly gone and he managed to say a few words, "Med-x... please..." At this the old man gave him some and a bottle of water, which he quickly downed.
The old guy smiled once his patients face softened "Now that that's over, what about your name, can you tell me your name?" He smiled as he said his and the man couldn't help but feel calmed in his presence.
The man looked at the doc and smirked back, "Names Michael Brennus old dude, what about you?" Michael said while sadly smiling at the doc.
"Heh cant say its what I would have picked for you but if that's your name that's your name. Names Mitchel by the way, though most people call me doc. Welcome to Goodsprings" Doc Mitchel said.
At this Mitchel gave the doc a blank stair, then seamed to remember. "Oh right, I believe I got very intimate with your grave yard?" At this the doc laughed harder than he had in a good while. This lasted a good thirty seconds before he managed to calm down.
He sighed, "Well speaking of that, I had to go rooting around in you noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you better tell me if I left anything out of place." At this Mitchel pulled a mirror (because whats the use of that scanner bullshit instead of a good old fashioned mirror?) and handed it to Michael. "How'd I do?"
Michael looked into the mirror and was presently surprised. His fiery red shaggy suave hair was still where he liked it, and he still had no facial hair to bug him. If anything he thought looked a bit more regal than before. "Damn Doc not bad." he smiled at Mitchel.
"Well I got most of it right anyway, stuff that mattered." Mitchel smirked at Michael. He had began to like the young man. "Ok no sense keeping you in bed anymore lets see if we can get you on your feet." At this Michael grimaced, reminded of his last attempt. The Doc laughed at the face and started helping him up. At first Michael was a bit dizzy but soon got back his coordination. Mitchel saw the change and commented, "You a'right there?"
"Fine, but no runs quite yet ok?" The doc smiled and held the redhead up a bit to help him out. "Good, why don't we walk down to end of the room. Over by the vigor tester machine over there. Take it slow now, it ain't a race." Michael started walking with the doc, but his stubbornness took over and he started on his own. Looking around the room he started to note the resources that could be used later. Once he got to the machine he wasn't surprised by the results. His S and P were at 7, E was at 6, C and I were 5, agility at 9, and his L was 1.
At this he sighed, Michael's entire life he had the short end of the stick. Lady Luck always had it out for him, so eventually he had trained to be able to counter his shitty luck whenever he needed to.
"Now that doesn't make a lick a sense, seems to me you'd be the luckiest son of a gun in New Vegas." Mitchel said confused.
Michael frowned, "Really? Lucky that on a routine package, the last one before I went back to Vegas I would be hunted, captured, and shot in the head twice? Seams to me that bitch lady luck finally decided to lay of for once." Mitchel didn't know what to say so he beckoned the flaming haired courier to the next room.
"Well at least we know your vitals are good, but that don't mean them bullets didn't leave you nuttier than a bighorner dropping." He sat on a red torn chair and gestured to the couch.
Michael sat down and began to answer the docs tests. By the end the doc had confirmed that Brennus preferred to strike from the dark and take down his enemies with a good knife. But push come to shove he could easily fight with a good six shooter if it was required. However Mitchel noticed that He had some trouble answering the question about his mother before stating "regret."
Doc Mitchel put down his clipboard and pulled out another. "Before I turn you loose I need one more thing from you. Got a form for you to fill out, so I can get a sense of you medical history. Just a formality, ain't like I expect you to have a history of getting' shot in the head."
At this Michael smirked and took the form. Michael was always been a little hot blooded and always had a temper to match his hair. Back home he became known as a "Flaming Raven" (Brennus means king/raven in old Celtic names) by his big sister. He was also pretty skilled, but it was because of his effort. His natural stubbornness usually made his learning curve that much worse than most.
After handing the form back Doc Mitchel read it over, " Well I guess that about does it. Come with me, Ill see you out." On his way out Mitchel saw him eying the bookshelf. "Go ahead and take what you need, I don't need it these days anyways. Sometimes a patient dies or doesn't have the money to pay for his treatment. In either case I put the goods in there, I guess for surviving what you did you should get some kind of reward."
Michael smiled at the man and started digging through the shelf before coming up with some healing tools, repair kits, a sturdy looking shotgun and pistol with some ammo, a tough looking machete, and a canteen for the road. Lastly he dug through the equipment until he reached a light looking set of leather armor.
He walked over to the door decked out in his new equipment and prepared to say farewell to the good doc who had probably saved his life.
"Here these are yours, was all you had on you when you came in." Mitchel handed over the bag full of goods that had been on his person before taking a double tap to the face. "Hope you don't mind but I gave that note a look, a had hoped it would help me find next of kin. But all it said was something about a platinum chip."
Michael's face darkened at the mention and confused the good doc, but he decided not to dig further than he needed to.
"Well if your headin' back out there you outta have this, they call it a pip-boy. I grew up in one o' them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Aint much use to me now, but you might want such a thing after what you've been through. I know what it's like, haven something taken from you." After the doc had let him off for the kin reaction, Micheal saw it right to return the favor. "I'm glad you made use of some of that armor, never was much my style anyway."
Michael shook the Docs hand and smiled gratefully, "Thanks for patching me up doc."
"Aw don't mention it, it's what I'm here for. You should talk to sunny smiles before you leave town though, shell help you learn to defend yourself in the desert. She'll be in the saloon about now." He thought for a second before stating, "I recon there are other folks around town that could help you out too, and that robot feller Victor. Who pulled you out of your grave. Anyway if you get hurt feel free to come back, but try no to get killed anymore?"
Michael laughed his way out the door at this, "Sure old man, doctors orders." He turned to leave but then opened the door slightly and said, "By the way doc, call me Mike. My friends call me Mike." And closed the door.
"Heh, well good luck Mike," he then remember Mikes rant on luck and his mouth moved to a grin, "you know what, just kick some ass." and sat down getting back to work.