This is my first time writing Fanfiction so as many people have said please rate and critique me accordingly.
It was midnight. Midnight in the Mojave. Sounds like the begging of a song. I guess I failed to mention the young man bound and gagged, while three men were standing over him. While the smaller of the three, a pale blond little man with auburn hair dug the grave the other man a tall black guy dressed in a biker looking uniform looked aside toward the third. He said in an annoyed tone "you got what you were after now pay up!" The third man a tall tan fellow in a checkered suit with matching pants spoke up. "Quit crying in the rain pally" he said in a sarcastic tone. The two of them simultaneously looked over hearing the bound person struggling trying to escape. "Guess who waking up over here" the man in the hole said with a smirk. The man in the checkered suit took a step forward and calmly stated "time to cache out". The bound man forced himself up onto his knees trying to do his best to say calm. "Will you get it over with" said the annoyed man in the biker suit. " Maybe khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't no fink" said the checkered man with a half smile on his face. All eyes were centered on the man kneeling, the "courier" that they had intercepted in-rout to deliver a strange package to New Vegas. The checkered man reached into his suit and pulled out a poker ship. A platinum one at that. "You made your last delivery kid. He then reached back into his suit and pulled out a large pistol. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene". He continued almost as if he had rehearsed this moment "from were you're standing...kneeling this must seem like an 18 karrot run of bad luck, but the truth is the game was rigged from the start." The bound man just stared at the barrel of the gun time seemed to slow down, a myriad of thoughts rushed through his head. He was just about to utter something when the gun went off. All he saw was a brief flash and a short crack of gunfire, then nothing, nothing at all.
As the body slumped into the hole everything started to wind down. The small man began to shovel the freshly dug dirt onto the body lying face down in the hole. "So about those caps" the checkered man said as he reached back into the jacket pocket. Just then another crack rang out through the grave yard. The short man jerked his head back then collapsed into the hole he was filling. The back of his head had been blowing out. The biker and the checkered man jumped for cover. The biker shot into the darkness were he head the bullet come from, while the checkered man just ran down the nearby hill. The biker cursed before rolling toward the hill and then sliding down it. In the darkness a tall figure in a leather jacket stumbled toward the lamplight by the grave. The figure was a tall man in a leather trench coat. There was a blood trail following him as he fell down several feet from the grave. He was panting heavily supporting himself with his hands. They were both thanking heavily, one of them clutching a worn looking Luger pistol. He pulled himself over and looked into the grave. His eyes shooting over the body's he thought "who the hell are you people" before looking up. What he saw made his quivering jaw drop. There ahead of him in the distance, was a city seemingly made of neon lights, towers and sights seemed to create an artificial sunrise in a dead dark desert landscape. He stared at it all in absolute confusion before loosing his balance on his hands and sliding into the grave with the other town bodies.