Cass downed another swallow of whiskey and slammed the glass back on the counter. The luke warm liquid ran hot down her throat. There was a small pool of the liquid at the bottom of her glass. She swished the glass in a circular motion. The whiskey spun around and around in a hypnotizing way. She downed that bit and rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes, remembering all that had happened within the past few weeks. How the Courier helped exact her revenge on the Van Graffs and the Crimson Caravan Company… and then he just left her at the Mojave Outpost so she could find her own path. What was she to do? There was nothing back West for her anymore, not since her caravan was destroyed. There's nothing in the Mojave for her. What was she to do except drown her sorrows in bottles of whiskey?
She looked back at her glass and the empty whiskey bottle in front of her. She felt around in her pockets and found nothing. She was out of caps. Cass decided that she would use her… charm on the next person to walk through the door so that she could get some free whiskey or caps. A warm breeze overtook the bar as someone opened the heavy metal door to the Mojave Outpost Barracks. A man entered; Cass paid no attention to him at first.
"What would you like, hun?" The bartender, Lacey, asked him.
"A bottle of whiskey," the stranger answered as he sat next to Cass at the bar.
Cass lifted her head up at the mention of the drink and tried to look uninterested in what was going on. She still managed to catch a glimpse of him. The man was wearing combat armor colored in green camouflage; a dark green camouflaged chest plate covered his upper torso, dark green camouflaged shoulder pads and knee pads protected his broad shoulders and knees, brown pouches laced a leather utility belt that circled his waist, and a green cloth shirt and pants, that wrapped tightly around his skin, was underneath it all. The armor had scrapes and scratches from past engagements the man had endured. He was also wearing a cowboy hat with the sides curved up, similar to Cass', and it covered the chestnut colored hair underneath. A rough beard covered half his face, which gave him a shady appearance, and sunglasses protected his eyes from unwanted viewers. A silver .357 magnum revolver rested in a slick, black leather holster. Stars were engraved on the revolver's barrel and an eagle was engraved on the revolver's mahogany handle. The man was shady, unpredictable and seemed dangerous… Cass liked him already.
Lacey placed a glass and a bottle whiskey near the man. "Here you go. That'll be five caps," she said with a smile as the man paid her the caps.
The man uncorked the bottle and poured some whiskey into his glass. He drank half the glass and set it aside.
"Think there's enough in that bottle for two?" Cass asked, glass in hand. She tried to look as innocent as possible and tried to use her dazzling looks to seduce him. The man just looked at Cass, her reflection in the sunglasses looking back. At first, he seemed surprised, almost insulted at the question. But, his demeanor changed as a smile came across his face. He then felt for one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter with an eagle engraved on the side. He pushed the old bottle of whiskey towards Cass.
"My treat," He said as he took one of the cigarettes out of the pack and lit it.
Cass gladly took the bottle of whiskey and poured herself another glass and began to down it, sip after sip; the warm liquid warmed her throat and stomach. The man watched her, occasionally puffing out small clouds of smoke.
"What's your name?" The man finally asked.
Cass looked up from her glass of whiskey. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah, I'm talking to you, the woman who tried to use her looks to mooch off of me for whiskey."
"Ha, you're funny. I like that," Cass said with a small smile. "My name is Rose of Sharon Cassidy. Everyone calls me 'Cass'."
"Well," the man puffed out a ring of smoke, "Rose of Sharon Cassidy, what is a beautiful, delicate flower like you doing in a place like this?"
"Beautiful? Yeah, I am. Delicate? No, I'm not. I've shot my fair share of people and critters in my time and I'm not going to stop anytime soon. As for why I'm here… I was thinking about heading back west. I just got held up here for a few days. What is a delicate flower like you doing?"
The man looked at Cass, his smile faded and gone. He removed his glasses, revealing deep pools of blue, and clipped the glasses on top edge of his combat armor. He swiveled the barstool around and faced Cass. Their eyes met for a minute. Cass felt something… she didn't know what it was, but it was something.
"Now, that," he began, "is a good question. For you to understand why I'm here, we're going to have to dive into my past. A past I've tried forgetting… but, you can't erase what's been written in ink." The two stayed quiet for a minute and tended to their glasses of whiskey. The man spoke up after awhile. "My livelihood was destroyed. I had to move on, I tried to move on… but, I couldn't. Now, to force myself to move on, I'm going to take care of the man who destroyed my life."
"Kind of sounds like what happened to me…" Cass took a swig of whiskey from her glass.
The man looked at Cass quizzically. "What happened?"
"My caravan was destroyed," she said as she drank some more of the whiskey, "Burned to ash… well, disintegrated is more like it. It was a conspiracy dreamed up by Alice McLafferty, of the Crimson Caravan Company, to take out any company that's in competition with her company. She got the Van Graff family in on it too. They both took out my caravan, along with some others. Well, my caravan is no more, so, I had to sell Cassidy Caravans, what was left of it anyway."
"That's it? You just sold your company? You didn't put up a fight?"
"Hey, I didn't want to sell it," an irritated tone echoed in Cass' voice, "It's not like I had a choice. It was destroyed. Besides, I feel kind of better knowing that I don't have that kind of weight on my conscience anymore. Its like an enormous weight has been taken off my chest."
"So, you just let Alice and the Van Graffs win?" The man asked, taking a swig of his whiskey and puffing on the cigarette.
"I was going to kill them for it, and bring justice to my men and others they have murdered, but that same friend, who helped expose them, showed me there were better ways of dealing with Alice and the Van Graffs. We framed them. Now, they have to deal with the NCR and that'll be worse than any bullet. Payback's a bitch." Cass took in another swallow of the hard liquor. A small drop fell onto her chin. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her brown leather jacket.
The man nodded. "I would like to frame the man who destroyed my life. But, what he did… framing him just wouldn't be enough." The man removed the cigarette from his mouth and took a swig of whiskey from his glass.
"What exactly did this man do?" Cass asked, looking deep into the stranger's eyes.
The stranger sighed, "We're going to need a lot of whiskey for this story."
Cass picked up the three-fourths full bottle of whiskey that was sitting between them. "I think we have enough," she said, smiling.
The man smiled weakly. He heaved a big sigh. "I'm sorry. I just... its just hard to talk about," the man wiped a tear away from his eye.
Cass nodded solemnly. "That's alright, I understand." She said.
"Yeah…" The man downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and smothered his cigarette in the ash tray, putting it out. He stood, grabbed the strap of his bag, swung it on his back, and he grabbed his assault rifle and headed straight for the door. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Cass," he turned back to Cass, "but I have to keep moving; it's a long way to where I need to go to find out where this man is. Goodbye." The man said as he opened the door, flushing the barracks with the warm air from the Mojave.
Cass watched him as he left. She shed no tears for the man. But, for some reason, she felt sorrow for him. She just wished she could help… she felt an urge to go with him. Cass drank the last bit of whiskey in her glass, grabbed her bag and the Caravan Shotgun leaning against the bar and she bolted out the door to catch up with the stranger. She jogged past the gated perimeter keeping the barracks and offices, past the statue of the Ranger and NCR Trooper shaking hands, and down the steep slope.
God, he moves fast, Cass thought to herself as she caught up to the man, who was already half way down the slope. "Hey! Wait up!" She called. The man stopped and turned around to face the person calling out. Cass jogged up to him, out of breath. She said, doubled over and gasping for air, "Hey… you mind… if…"
"You travel with me? Sure, you can come with me," the man said, smiling as he answered her question before she could even ask it. "Just don't expect me to pay for every drink along the way."
Cass looked up and smiled, "You're funny… I like that."
"Come on," the man chuckled, "Oh, and my name is Colt Spiritson by the way. But, you can call me Colt."
Cass nodded. The two began their long trek. They turned onto the south end of I-15 and started towards Nipton; the first of many destinations along their route to the diamond in the rough, New Vegas. There, Colt would find out where the man was and exact his revenge on the man who murdered his family and destroyed his life.
At least, Colt thought to himself, I won't have to do this alone. He turned back to Cass and smiled. Cass smiled back.
NOTE: Just want to say thank you for reading the first chapter of my first ever fanfic. Please, by all means, tell me how it was and what I could do to make it better. Criticism is welcome just as long as its constructive. No harsh comments, please, as this is my first fanfic. Once again, thank you for reading and I hope you continue reading.