Chapter 1: A beautiful Friendship
Authors note: THE MORE YOU COMMENT ON THE STORY THE FASTER I WILL UPLOAD MORE CHAPTERS!
He only told me about his early years once. Only once, he said, because that part of him is dead. He grew up in Old Haven, back when it was just Haven. He was only a small boy, near the age of three, when the raiders took over Old Haven. His mother and father were able to get him out of the city before they were killed by Baron Flint's men. After that his Uncle raised him as a simple farmer, but he always was tinkering with something rather then doing his chores. When his Uncle died, he set out to find Old Haven, and whatever pieces of his parents he could find. He didn't go far before Sledge's men captured him. But rather than kill the young boy, Sledge decided to use him as a slave. Two years later, Sledge was unable to get a shotgun working and threw it at anger. The Young boy picked it up, and repaired it perfectly. Sledge decided to let the boy join them officially as a weapon repairman if he could survive a day in the desert. The boy did as well as slaughtering a pack of skags with a sharpened piece of rebar. After two years of servitude, Sledge asked the boy what his name was, and the boy paused, for he didn't remember his own name, "I- I don't have a name," Sledge replied by calling him Gnasher. After years of living with the bandits, Nash became a superb gunsmith, and one disagreement with sledge put a mark on his head, ending the only thing he knew as home and family. Gnasher felt nothing for them however, and he didn't care about what happened. Gnasher skipped the rest of his story and said it was unimportant to me. But when I first met him, it was an unstable relationship.
Years earlier, inside the Red Light Bar…
The door swung open, turning every head in its direction. In the door way stood a man in a worn brown jacket, the sleeves torn off below the elbows. His right wrist was wrapped in ragged tan bandages, and his left had a wristband with a bandolier on it holding 6 shotgun shells. He was also wearing gloves with the thumb and index finger missing and blue jeans, worn from the desert sand, a knee pad on his right knee, and brown utility boots. The most noticeable thing about him was the brown cowboy hat on his head. As he walked in, a baby alpha skag followed him in with a collar around its neck.
The bouncer, a clear two feet taller than the stranger stepped in his path, "You can't bring that thing in here."
The stranger looked up into the bouncer's eyes and said, "Oh really?" then unsheathed a butterfly knife from the small of his back, flipped it open and closed rapidly and said, " Watch me." In a flash the Stranger stabbed the bouncer in his left shoulder, and kicked his legs out from under him.
The entire bar went completely silent. The stranger scanned the room, "Anyone else got a problem with my pet?" The music started back up and the patrons went back to their own conversations and drinks. The stranger, satisfied with the silence, walked to an empty table that had two chairs at it, sat down in the chair facing the door and the skag sat next to him on the floor.
A Waitress approached him slowly and asked terrified, "What- What will it be sir?" the fear clear in her voice.
"A bottle of whiskey and an empty bowl." Replied the stranger removing a small rucksack from his back and setting it down next to the skag.
"Right away." Said the server quickly.
"And miss?" said the stranger. The server froze in her tracks in fear.
"Ye- yes?"
"Take your time, I'm in no rush and neither is he." The stranger pointed to the sleeping skag next to him.
The server walked away quickly to the bar. The stranger reached into his pack and pulled out a cloth and a small pouch. He spread the cloth out, then pulled a revolver out from a holster on his right thigh and set it down. He then opened the pouch and started taking out small tools. The woman who was standing behind the bar watching the entire event transpire starred at the stranger in intrigue. He could work she thought to herself. She watched curiously as the stranger began disassembling his revolver at a rapid pace, then beginning to clean the weapon. The light above his head made it impossible to see his face, mainly because he was still wearing his hat.
The woman walked over to him slowly and sat down in the chair opposite him.
"Haven't seen you around here before." Said the woman.
The man stopped cleaning the cylinder of his revolver with a brush and looked up at her. "If you ask me if I'm looking for a good time I will shoot you in the head with my shotgun faster than you can smile. The woman leaned to her left seeing the double barrel shotgun at his side. She put her elbows on the table and put her head on her hands. She smiled at him. The waitress returned with a bottle of whiskey and an empty wooden snack bowl. Stranger returned to cleaning his gun and said, "Much obliged."
The man opened the whiskey bottle and took a swig. He then placed the bowl on the floor in front of the skag. The woman looked into the stranger's eyes then studied his face. He had medium length brown hair, a light beard, grey eyes, a large scar going from his right cheek to the right side of his jaw and spoke with a slight southern accent.
"Do you know who I am?" asked the woman, breaking the silence of the table.
The stranger's eyes didn't shift as he switched to cleaning the barrel of the revolver, "Some hooker looking for her next paycheck?"
The woman leaned back and grabbed the bottom of her shirt and said sarcastically, "Is that what this outfit tells you?"
The stranger began rebuilding his revolver, "Large amount of makeup, bright partially revealing outfit, I can put two and two together." He set his reconstructed revolver on the table and poured some whiskey into the bowl, awaking the skag. The skag looked at the woman and began to snarl. The stranger looked at the skag and said "Heel." Then took another swig. The skag instantly complied with its master and began lapping up the whiskey.
"Well clearly my appearance is misleading, my name is Moxxi and this is by bar."
The Stranger set the bottle down and spun the revolver's cylinder, "And this is important to me why?" he uncocked the hammer and the cylinder stopped then he holstered the revolver and began sharpening his butterfly knife.
"I am looking for some hired help, and I am wondering if this waste trash in front of me is worth my presence."
The stranger stopped sharpening the knife and flipped it closed, "You may want to watch your words wisely miss Moxxi, or your face will require some more makeup."
"See that right there is something you don't see every day." Said Moxxi pointing her hand at him.
"What?"
"A sincere sentence followed by a believable threat." Said Moxxi with enthusiasm. "Few people on this planet can pull off both."
A sly grin appeared on the stranger's face. "You're a strange one Miss Moxxi." The stranger took off his hat and placed it on the table.
"Thank you Mister…?" Asked Moxxi waving her hand in a circular motion.
"No mister. My name is Nash." Replied the man.
Moxxi smiled and and extended her hand, "And who is your friend?" questioned Moxxi implying the skag pup.
Nash accepted Moxxi's handshake, "That's Leroy." He moved his left hand and patted the skag on the head.
Here was the noise of more cars arriving outside followed by yelling and howling. Nash picked up the whiskey bottle in his left hand, "You may want to move ma'am." He began taking a drink.
Moxxi stood up and looked over her shoulder when suddenly a bandit psycho burst through the door, "Moxxi, we are here to collect some payment." The bandit lifted up a hacksaw.
Nash stood up instantly, launching the chair backwards, dropped the whiskey and quick drew his revolver. The bandit stood no chance. Before the psycho could even react, Nash shot him in the throat and caught the whiskey. Nash glanced at Moxxi, "Take cover." The bandit, gasping for air threw the new hole in his throat fell backwards out the door. A huge commotion followed, with many footsteps sprinting for the door. Several bandits ran through the door all armed to the teeth.
Nash cracked his neck and smiled at them and took another drink. All of the bandits began to laugh. "One last drink before we make you mince meat!?" Nash lowered the drink and quickly kicked the table full force into the bandits, killing two of them. He jumped to his left and knocked another table over as the bandits began opening fire.
Well so much for hiring this guy. Thought Moxxi as she watched from behind the bar. Nash had his back to the table and had his eyes closed. What is he doing? A loud click sounded. "Empty mag" smiled Nash. Nash stood up and shot one of the bandits in the head. Another Psycho burst through a window and ran at Nash. Nash flipped the whiskey bottle over and bashed it over the Psycho's head. Nash kicked his Shotgun up and aimed it at a huge brute sanding in front of him.
"What now runt?" laughed the brute.
Leroy suddenly lunged at the brute, tearing out his throat.
"That, good boy Leroy." Said Nash. He lifted the shotgun and blew a Bandit clean in half. There were only four left now. "Ready boy?" Said Nash to Leroy. Leroy replied by lifting up his bloodied face.
"Alright then." Nash shot one of the bandits in the head, sending grey matter, shards of skull, and arterial blood onto the wall. Leroy jumped at another bandit, tearing his arm off. Nash dropped his shotgun and quickly drew his revolver, and shot a saw out of a psycho's hand. He then shot it again, sending it into the Psycho's skull. The last bandit began shooting at Nash with a shotgun. Nash shot a quick look at the shot gun as he jumped for cover, "A twenty round, damn." Said Nash to himself. Nash stood out from cover, flipped open his butterfly knife, and threw it into the last bandit's head.
Nash walked over to the dead bandit and retrieved his knife. As he was bending over, Leroy trotted over to Nash, carrying Nash's shotgun in his mouth. Nash took the shotgun out of Leroy's mouth and turned toward Moxxi, whose mouth was open in awe.
"Miss Moxxi, I do believe I owe ya'll a new bar." Nash put a cigar in his mouth and lit it.