So I had started this story once before, but I felt like it was going nowhere for such a long time. A reviewer recommended an overhaul and I completely agreed. So here we are with a different version of my story with more character development and more interactions. It's also a lot more organized now too! Also, many thanks Tom-Ato13, for giving me the little push I needed. I really appreciate your honesty and I hope that you are reading this now and let me know how I'm doing with this version of the story! I'm excited for what I have planned and I hope that you guys enjoy! (I'm open to suggestions and also critique, by the way. So please send in either/both!)

(Also I changed the point-of-view. Haha.)

I looked into his dark eyes, his face seemingly blank. I desperately searched his face for emotion, any emotions at all, as my own spiraled out of control. The guards stood at his side, not meeting my eyes. All I saw was that moment, frozen like a picture. His lips didn't even seem to move when he talked in that horribly silky, masculine voice of his. I hated him.

"…must seem like an eighteen-karat run of bad luck…"

The loud explosion jolted me awake and I lay alert in bed. I felt a horrible ringing in my skull and I let out a loud hiss of pain. My eyes were wide open and the dim room swayed before me as I looked around frantically. A sound of footsteps had me jerking my head in their direction, watching a figure slowly come into focus as my vision blurred and danced about as if my eyes were rolling in my head, loosened from the explosion.

"You're awake." His voice sounded both impressed and relieved at the same time. "Hell of a shot you took," He explained as he sat himself in a chair in front of me. "You've been out for a few days now."

I studied his face, confused. Who was he? Where was I? A shot? Had I been out drunk? I tried sitting upright and my head gave a slight twinge. No. It wasn't that kind of shot. I chided myself for being so stupid as I lightly brushed my injury with my fingertips, feeling stitches mixed with crusted blood and prickles of shaved hair.

"Easy there. Easy," soothed the man. "Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is," He muttered, the last part seeming to be mostly to himself. "How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"My name?" My voice came out a croak. I cleared my throat and tried a second time, pleased when my voice came out stronger.

"That's right," he answered. "Tell me your name."

"Its..." My mind couldn't fish anything up. I hesitated, not being able to identify any string of letters to my identity. I blurted the first name that came to mind, just to satisfy him. I didn't even know if it was a real name.

He chuckled lightly, his voice soft and kind. "Well, that's not what I'd have picked for you, but if that's your name, that's your name. I'm doc Mitchell. Welcome to Good Springs." His warm attitude made me like him instantly.

The sun outside was blinding and my head didn't thank me one bit for not wearing sunglasses. I made a note to acquire some as I stepped down the hill that the Doc Mitchel's house sat atop.

I got a few yards from the house and stopped. I scanned the area. There were houses lined with broken down fences and some strange animals ambled about grazing on the sparse vegetation. Several settlers moved about casually, tending to their dying crops and checking on their livestock. A few of them cast surprised glances at me.

A light wind was tossing my jet black hair about. I'd used the bathroom in Doc Mitchel's house, (at least I still remembered how to do that) and had caught sight of my face for the first time. I had dark, arched eyebrows with angular, slanted eyes and my jaw contradicted my features with its square outline. My face was some mix match of different features, or so it seemed to me. The whole thing was topped off with a mess of black pin straight hair, poofed out at the roots by nature's way of creating extreme, unmanageable volume.

I sighed, tugging on the locks, feeling sweat bead up on the back of my neck already. I'd have to cut it off sometime. I already had a shaved patch by my temple where the Doc had to get better access to my wound. I briefly pondered what sort of hair style I could make out of it when I realized that it was such a trivial thought. I focused instead on finding a place in the shade to sit.

I uprooted my feet from their spot in the Doc's yard and made my way towards the only two brown buildings that I could see. I noticed that they both had signs on the front, and for some reason that made me assume that they were public buildings, inviting people in with their brief words of advertisement painted or built on their fronts. The first building I came to was called the Goodsprings General Store. I noticed a drop box labeled "Mojave Express" and let my fingers wander over it's flaking blue paint. I took a peek inside and was greeted with nothing. Biting my lip, I glanced about and made my way to the next place. For some reason it sounded more inviting. The Prospector Saloon. I didn't know how I knew it, but I figured that stores typically didn't accept loiterers as easily as a saloon. Even though business was business to both types. I picked at a loose thread on my armor and fidgeted as I rounded the corner of the saloon and stepped up onto the deck.

I didn't even need to enter the saloon to find myself a place to sit. Tucked under an overhanging porch, a few chairs sat lined up neatly against the wall. A man occupied one of them, and I sat myself in a different one, awkwardly fiddling with my new Pipboy. I glanced at the man and he simply nodded a greeting before leaning back in his chair and lazily staring out into the horizon. I found myself put at ease with this non-invasive exchange and I relaxed enough to examine everything I had, from my strange armored 13 jumpsuit to the leather armor that I currently wore, to every detail of the pipboy.

I had no clue where any of it came from, but I tried to make sense of it nonetheless. Especially since my belongings might say something about me.

When I figured out nothing about myself, not even a name, I cradled my head in my hands and began to let myself slip out of denial.

I didn't know who I was.

I had kept making up stories to attempt to soothe my mind but none of them seemed right. Maybe I'd been a Vaut 13 Dweller. Maybe I'd been a tribal and that's why I carried the armor. Maybe I'd just been a courier all my life. How old was I? Did I have a family?

I forced myself to breath evenly and pulled out a dry package of noodles that I had on me from before I was shot. I began nibbling at it, trying to keep myself calm. I stared out at what was in front of me and it didn't bring my hopes up. There was a pile of broken timber scattered where a house once was. I bit my lip, trying not to allow negative thoughts into my mind.

After a surge of irritation at my pitiful state, I began pressing knobs on my pipboy until I found the note-keeper screen and began jotting things down that I did seem to know. I knew how to... I refrained from writing that I knew how to use the bathroom and instead wrote: I know how to take care of my person.

Thinking as hard as I could, I found a few other things buried in my brain. I know how to read. I know how to write. The Doc says I'm pretty smart. I understand basic logic. I seem to have common sense. I'm a courier for the Mojave Express (Courier Six to be exact).

Soon the list again came full circle back to who I was, but I continued it anyway.

I think I know a little history about the world. I know this is a post apocalyptic world where the majority of the people were saved by vaults or luck. I understand that technology exists for various purposes in various forms such as a robot, this pipboy, or a computer terminal. I understand the value of work and money. I understand basic education and its purposes.

A few minutes later, the document that I had created had grown large enough to lift my spirits some, especially since some of it surprised me. Where had I learned to read anyway? I glanced at the man sitting near me, he didn't seem too concerned as to what I was doing. I waved slightly as I stood up and finally went to enter the saloon.

My pipboy read the time as being 4 in the afternoon, so I didn't expect the saloon to be filled. People didn't typically drink this early in the day, right? I made a quick note of that as well.

When I opened the door in front of me, I was greeted by a sharp bark from a canine and the immediate response from it's owner. "Cheyenne, stay." The woman turned to me, a smile on her face. "Don't worry, she won't bite unless I tell her to." The soft lilt in her voice and the spunky confidence in her voice as she added the last five words made me automatically like her. "I'm Sunny Smiles."

"Hi," I beamed. "I'm Six." This time I remembered the fake name I gave, and it seemed to fit. "Courier Six."

Not much happening, but I promise you, there will be lots happening. I'm not sure when I'll update next, but I hope for it to be very soon! Let me know what you think of my courier!