Cold desert night worked against the ranger. He had been hunting his quarry for years now, he'd lost everything along the way, and taken just as much from the Dark One. He was a hardened old son of a bitch. Edward "Eddie" Rollins had tracked his family's killer for many years. He would not fall until vengeance was reaped. The Dark Man was not of our world, he worked for forces dreaming deep below. The Dark One had many names across eons of destruction, but he went commonly by the name "Roland Halo," among many others.

The year was 2284. Eddie had become a sort of pariah to the NCR. Whom he regrettably helped win Hoover Dam for. They honorably discharged him after he secured a victory for them. Quite simply they used him. They knew of his past, his family's demise, then exploited his skills for victory.

Eddie stopped his brisk pace, in favor of an alcove, perfect for resting in. He stopped, gathered dry enough wood and started a warm campfire. Eddie immediately felt more secure about the harsh Mojave night ahead of him, but he'd done this so many times that worry rarely crossed his mind. He set up a skewer and put two slabs of gecko meat on it to cook. He took off his ranger helmet, finally able to rest. The armor under his duster was worn and loosing its markings. The duster itself was starting to wear heavily at the bottom, and the left shoulder was tearing at a seam. His helmet beared the markings of his old company, it read "Onyx Company: Commander" and under that it read "7176." He rubbed his thumb across the numbers, it left a sting in his heart. 7/1/76 was the date of his daughter's birth. She and her mother died on her seventh birthday. He put the helmet on the log beside him. In the hereafter of their demise, Eddie was convinced it was the legion's fault. It wasn't until he held his hands on the dying throat of Caesar who told him about Roland Halo, the Dark One. Eddie believed him, for, you see a dying man was always principally honest in the Mojave.

After the death of his family, subsequent betrayal by the NCR, and years of mercenary work, Eddie earned the alias, the "Mojave Manhunter."

Eddie found himself lost in thought once more, he took a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it with the engraved lighter he still had. Eddie sighed aloud and pulled his sequoia revolver out of it's holster and started polishing and oiling it. The gold engravings were starting to wear now, just like everything else, and himself.

After a few minutes his cigarette finally ran out of usage. Eddie threw the cigarette butt into the fire. He laid his revolver beside him and took his lever action rife off of his back and started polishing it as well. The "La Lounge Carbine" the old ranger Corporal Sterling, once affectionately called it. Unfortunately she couldn't help him when a fiend put a bullet through his head at a hundred yards away. They were marching to confront Motor-Runner, and all of a sudden, blood flew from Sterling's head and he fell, limp and to the ground. Eddie was right behind him. Eddie picked up Sterling's beloved repeater and shot the fiend through his scope and into his eye. When it was all said and done, Lieutenant Gorobets gifted the rifle to him.

Eddie finished polishing and oiling La Lounge, and then he sighted the scope, he always made sure it had pinpoint accuracy. He leaned the rifle on the log beside him. Eddie took a flask of whiskey out of his pocket and took a swig. Before he could bring the flask back down to put the lid on, he heard the all to familiar click of a hammer being cocked back. He made a slight movement to reach for his revolver, but found nothing. Son of a bitch. I'm loosing my touch.

"Give me everything you got asshole, or I'll kill you with your own damn gun." The voice behind him said. Eddie put the lid on his flask and threw it back to the marauder.

"There." He said dryly.

"You got more, jackass! I know it! You're a ranger, now don't lie, you got a lot of shit! Now give me it or I'm killing you and taking it anyway!" They said.

Eddie heard them sway the gun slightly to the left. Now was his chance. Then with lightning speed Eddie spun up and off of the log, the fiend fired a shot, but he missed wildly, Eddie knocked the sequoia out of his hand, then clubbed him over the head with his ranger helmet. The feind collapsed and groaned. Eddie grabbed his rifle and put it on his back holster, he then walked over and picked up his revolver. He examined it for damages and then checked the chamber. He took the spent cartridge out and threw it aside into the sandy desert. Eddie loaded another 45-70 bullet in and spun the chamber around, then locked it back into place. He kept it in his hand and walked back over to the fiend still on the ground. Eddie looked over at his gecko steaks still cooking and smiled with sarcastic humor.

"I'll give you points for trying, how does that sound? Well, I dunno you did successfully ruin a lovely dinner for me!" Eddie said in his gruff and deep tone. He put his helmet on and when he locked it into place the eyes lit up.

"F-fuck you... asshole..." the fiend said as Eddie bent over and picked up his whiskey flask.

"I guess it just wasn't in the cards for you tonight, partner." Eddie said, drawing his piece. Asthe fiend stared right down the barrel of the mighty sequoia hunting revolver. Then, click-BOOM... and the life faded slowly from his would-be assailant.