Once again he had gotten himself in a sticky situation, the Courier thought to himself. Standing in front of him was a squad of Legionnaire hit men, machetes drawn, ready to charge at him. It wasn't the first time Caesar had sent a group out to collect his head, and normally it wouldn't have been that big of an issue. He was, after all, rather proficient at killing.
The problem at hand, was the lack of bullets in his guns. Matter of fact, he was down to six bullets in his trusty .44 revolver, and he could forget all about his hunting rifle. He'd spent the last of those rounds several hours ago.
There was of course always his combat knife. That wasn't a very reassuring prospect though. The legionnaires were, after all, heavily drilled in melee combat. It was practically all they used.
With a slight sigh, he put his hand on the pistol, still in its holster. It'd be tough, but with a bit of luck, he could make it out of this alive. His veteran ranger armor would probably keep him going for a while, but it only covered his torso, and sooner or later they would find some way through it.
For a while, they simply stood there, staring at each other, with nothing but sand between them. He wasn't sure what they were waiting for, but he didn't mind. It gave him some more time to contemplate his options.
There were five of them. To the Courier, it looked to be four regular legionnaires, and one leader. He never could remember all their titles.
"Finally we have hunted you down. Caesar will be pleased when we present him your head!" the leader yelled.
The Courier rolled his eyes: "Spare me your crazy shit, and let's do this. I ain't going down without a fight." He replied, unclipping the strap that kept his revolver securely in the holster.
The legionnaires snarled: "As you wish! For Caesar!" they yelled, and started their charge.
The Courier pulled his gun, lined the sights up with the closest head, and was about to pull the trigger when his attention was caught by something else entirely. A strange sound had come out of nowhere, as if the air was reverberating, and it seemed to be originating from a point right between him and his foes. It seemed they heard it too, however they were not distracted, and continued their charge.
The Courier pulled himself together. He couldn't let such a thing distract him. This was life or death. Yet, just as he re-aligned the gun, glowing blue particles appeared out of the blue from all around, and flew to the exact point, from where the sound was coming. Finally, the legionnaires stopped just in front of the anomaly, seeming just as perplexed as the Courier.
More and more of the strange lights rushed together, until they formed a large blue ball of light. As the growth of it ceased, it instead seemed to turn brighter, shade changing from blue to white at an alarming rate. The Courier lifted his hand to shield his eyes, as the brightness of the light rose to be practically blinding. Then, as if nothing had happened, the shining orb seemed to implode, disappearing into itself. For a brief moment, the Courier thought that would be all.
He was too quick to make that assumption however, as an explosion of light burst from where the orb had been, with a noise so loud it left a ringing in his ears.
For a period of time far too long for his liking, the Courier was blinded, and deafened. He rubbed his eyes, and slowly he regained his senses, only to doubt what he was seeing.
There, standing between him and the legion hit men, was a strange woman. She was no taller than him, and had jet black hair falling freely to her shoulders, that stood in stark contrast to her pale skin. She was clad completely in black, and was wearing a strange form of armor. It seemed to be a dark, leathery material, shaped into several overlapping pieces that covered from her throat, and all the way to her thighs. It followed the shape of her body nicely, not leaving much to imagination. At her sides was a set of matching sword and dagger, elegantly produced from the same black metal.
The Courier couldn't help but feel a sense of awe, as the dust fluttered around her legs in the strong wind. Unlike himself and the legionnaires, she did not at all seem surprised. Instead, she looked around, calmly taking in her surroundings. Her eyes briefly fell on the legion soldiers, but she didn't seem to have noticed the Courier yet, which was fine by him. He couldn't place it, but he had a bad feeling about this strange woman. Not just because she had appeared out of nowhere, even though that was odd enough. There was an aura of fear surrounding her, and he had no doubts that she was dangerous. She was trouble.
The legion men seemed to arrive at the same conclusion, because without much hesitation, they charged at her, roaring their usual 'True to Caesar!' bullshit.
The woman turned her head to them. From behind he couldn't see her expression, but judging by how calmly she drew her sword, she wasn't exactly intimidated.
True enough, as the first soldier came close enough to swing at her, she swiftly ducked under his arm in a spinning motion, drawing the edge of her blade across his torso. It would seem she kept it sharp, because the man split open like a carved brahmin, intestines and blood spilling out around his feet before he even started falling over.
The woman continued her offense towards the next man with a slash across his arm, at the same time as she stood up. The arm fell to the ground, followed by its owner who was left screaming in pain. She didn't even bother finishing him off, before ridding the next man of his legs, allowing him to fall on the ground in a manner that would have been rather comical, had it not been for all the blood.
The remaining two seemed to have been deterred by their disfigured comrades, and quickly turned around, hoping to flee.
In the end, there apparently was no stopping this woman. Although the legion soldiers had already put some distance between them and her, she simply seemed to teleport forward, appearing right in front of the nearest man. She turned, and managed to catch him around the throat in an iron grip. Despite his struggling, she lifted him off the ground, and effortlessly cracked his neck to the side, rendering the man lifeless long before he hit the ground.
By now, the final soldier had almost reached a distant hill, which would grant him cover from this otherworldly killer. Of course, before he could make it over the top, the woman simply extended her free arm towards him, fingers stretched out. In the distance, the man seemed to stop abruptly, and rise into the air. She let him hang there for a while, before closing her fingers into a fist. It was hard to see from such distance, but the soldier seemed to be violently crushed together, into a ball. Only then did she release whatever grip she had on him.
The Courier was stoked, frozen to the spot by conflicting emotions. One part of him was utterly terrified by this display of sheer destructive power, and begged him to run for his life. Another part of him, the logical side, argued that fleeing would gain him nothing, evidenced by the broken legionnaire. Really, the only thing he could do, was hope she would spare him. And if not, that he was fast enough to shoot her before she could use whatever powers that was on him.
From lack of better words, he was fairly certain he had just witnessed magic. Come to think of it, everything about her seemed like something directly out of the old, dusty, pre-war fantasy books he had found here and there. Armor, swords... magic. Briefly, he even considered that he might have gone insane.
The woman turned around, and seemingly teleported back. She appeared almost directly in front of the Courier, and immediately raised her sword up, placing the tip under his chin. It wasn't until now he had a chance to look at her face.
The lower part up to her nose was covered by a mask, but the thing that caught his attention was her eyes. They were rather large, and shone bright green like emeralds. Quite captivating, really, making what she had just done all the more unbelievable. Blood was still dripping from the sword. An uncomfortable reminder.
For the longest while, she simply studied him, tilting her head lightly from time to time. She seemed thoughtful.
Finally, she focused back to his face, and asked:
"What realm is this? What province? Is it Elsweyr? Hammerfell, perhaps?"
He found her voice to be strange. It was beautiful and enticing, demanding absolute attention. But at the same time, it was cold. Commanding.
He was certain he hadn't heard of the places she mentioned. What did she mean, 'realm'? Giving her a good answer could be hard, but he had to try his best.
"Well, lady, you're in the Mojave wasteland. America. Eh... planet earth." He said, cautiously.
Once again, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing down.
"Earth? What is the meaning of this? I demand a fulfilling answer, peasant. Do as I bid, and you shall not be harmed." She continued, strangely solemn. As if wanting to calm him down, she lowered the sword.
This was, without a doubt, at the top of his list of strange things. Either this woman was absolutely strung out on some form of drugs, or she had come from somewhere else. And despite how little sense it made, he was partial to the latter. Perhaps she was an alien?
"Alright listen. First off, I'm no 'peasant'. I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but that answer is about as fulfilling as it gets. Now, you mind telling me what the hell just happened? How'd you do all that, and how'd you pop out of the blue?" he asked, motioning towards the dead legionnaires.
She turned her head, briefly looking her victims over. She then turned back, letting out a snort.
"I killed five men. It was a simple combination of sword-fighting and magic." She started, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world: "You should mind your tongue. I will not be interrogated by the likes of you. Now tell me, what is your name?"
Her attitude was highly annoying. She might be a capable fighter, but that didn't mean he'd let her talk down to him like that. By now, he remembered that he was still holding his revolver.
"I'm the Courier." He replied, with a small smirk.
She rolled her eyes, taking a short step closer to him:
"You simpleminded fool, I asked for your name, not your occupation. I have no need for a courier." She stated.
He let out a sigh, quickly raising the gun towards her thigh, and firing a single round. The bullet easily tore through her light armor, earning a small scream of both surprise and pain from the woman. She quickly fell down on one knee, clutching at the small, but painful, wound in her thigh. It bled quite a bit, but he had done his best to avoid hitting both bone and main artery, and he seemed to have been successful. A crack shot as usual.
The Courier slowly stepped over in front of her, revolver trained on her head.
"That hurts, doesn't it?" he started: "Now, I have a few things to say. First off, I am not a courier, I am the Courier. Perhaps it is not a name, but that's what people call me 'round here. Secondly, this is a gun. It fires bullets. It's what everyone uses these days. And last, you're really gonna have to work on that attitude of yours."
He flipped the gun over in his hand, grabbing it by the barrel, and then proceeded to pistol whip her in the temple. She let out a slight gasp, and then fell limply onto the ground. The Courier bowed down, and quickly threw her over his shoulder.
A strange day, he thought to himself, as he walked off. A strange day indeed.
