The courier was lying on the ground in a haze. The last thing he remembered was being jumped by several men from behind the rocks on the I-15 road, several miles south of New Vegas. He woke up to the sound of a shovel scraping against dirt. His head was covered with a burlap sack, but judging by the lack of light and the cold air he could tell that it was already night time, so he had been out for at least a couple hours. He tried to move but found his hands and feet were bound too tightly.
"So far you ain't paid us nothing!" Was the first voice he heard as he came to. He stopped fidgeting and sat still.
"You'll get your caps when the job's done!" Another voice said. This one had an unusual accent that the courier couldn't place exactly. Though it was familiar.
"Is this deep enough?" Yet another voice said between long deep breaths.
"Yeah. This gofer ain't gonna need much where he's going." The second man said.
"That the thing you were talkin' about? Look's like silver to me." The third voice said after a couple seconds.
"Beautiful ain't it? It's platinum."
"Can't see shit out here."
"Either way you owe us!" The first voice said
"I told you, you'll get paid when we get there!"
"We just walked through hell man!"
"What are you, dense? I don't got it here!"
While the two men were arguing and the third likely distracted, the courier decided if he was going to escape, this was his only chance. He twisted, and jerked his hands and feet hoping something would come loose, which it didn't.
"Guess who's wakin' up over here." Said the third voice. The courier stopped fidgeting. There was no way out that he could see.
"Stand him up. And take that thing off for christ's sake." the second man said.
As the burlap bag came off the courier's head, the first thing he saw was a man dressed in black leather and fur. He had an an orange spike Mohawk with a beige bandana wrapped around the base. The one to the far right had dark skin, a long thick mustache, and was dressed similarly as the first. The one in the middle was wearing an unusually clean checkered suit, and had just put out a cigarette butt. The aroma of the pre-war tobacco still filled the air with a wisp of menthol in it, which was a rare smell. He would have craved it had he not been scared for his life.
The mohawed thug lifted him up with force. When he regained his balance he saw himself surrounded by gravestones. He was in a cemetery, and it became clear that the digging he heard earlier... was his grave.
"Time to cash out." The checkered man said. 'Rat Pack.' The Courier thought as he finally placed the accent. 'This guy's definitely from Vegas. not just from there, he probably works in one of the casinos.'
"Will you get it over with-" The first thug started in an impatient tone when the checkered man held up his finger to silence him.
"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' em in the face, but I ain't a fink... Dig?" The first thug clenched his fists with inpatience, but decided to wait it out as the checkered man reached into his pocket, and pulled out a shiny grey poker chip. It was the same The poker chip the courier was assigned to deliver.
"You've made your last delivery, kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He placed the chip back into his coat pocket and drew a very ornate nickel-plated handgun. The courier swallowed hard.
"From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck." The checkered man pointed the gun to his victim's head.
"Truth is... the game was rigged from the start." The doomed man's eyes widened as his life flashed before his eyes. He let out a howl in anger and started to rush forward to him in a last ditch effort, but was shot in the head before he could do anything. He felt the impact and the immediate pain. Then, Darkness took him...
The Courier slowly opened his eyes. The first thing to see being a blurry object that spun around the room. He focused his eyes on the object. 'A ceiling fan!' He thought. He was indoors, in a bed. 'A bed?' Astonishment came over him as he realized he was actually and truly alive!
"You're awake... How 'bout that?" A voice came from his left. He quickly spun around (or as quickly as his body would let him) to see an older bald man sitting in a chair next to him. The courier sat up in confusion.
"Whoa easy there, easy." The old man said as he sat him back down. "You've been out cold for a couple days now. Why don't you just relax a second, get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is." He took out a small flashlight and shone it in the courier's right eye, then the left, and then to the right of his skull.
The courier suddenly remembered what had happened to him. He felt around the middle of his forehead, then to his right. Searing pain struck him.
"Careful there. My nurse is good with her stitching but you don't want to be rubbing that just yet." The courier took his hand off, and the searing pain started to subside, slowly.
"How 'bout your name. Can you tell me your name?" The old man asked. He thought for a second. Then a couple seconds.
"I... I don't think I can recall." He said in a shallow voice.
"I tried checking for anything but all I could find for any identification was the number six scrawled on the inside of your overcoat." the old man said.
"I think that was my courier number… That's right! I'm a courier for the Mojave express! It's odd. I can remember my profession but I can't recall my name." He said.
"Well then. I guess we can call you that then. Until you find out your real name of course. I'm Doc Mitchell by the way. Welcome to Goodsprings."
"Goodsprings? Well... thank you. I guess I owe you my life" 'Six' reached out his hand to shake. Doc Mitchell gratefully accepted.
"No, no. I just patched you up. It was Victor who rescued you from that grave."
"Victor?"
"Yep. Curious fella. Sort of odd. And I don't just mean cause he's a robot. I couldn't tell you much about him. But he's real friendly, don't get me wrong. You just get the sense that ain't the whole picture. Just a feeling."
"A robot huh?" Six tilted his head. "Does he not talk a whole lot about himself or anything?"
"Sort of. Keeps to himself, mostly. You want to know more about him, you'll have to ask him yourself. He has a shack on the southern edge of town. Anyway." Doc Mitchell changes the subject back to the matter at hand. "I hope you don't mind but I had to go rootin' around in your noggin to get all those bits of lead out. I have to change the bandage on that if you need to take a gander at it all. My nurse, Delilah takes pride in her needlework but you'd better let me know if we left anything out of place." He handed him a mirror. What Six saw was horrifying. A couple inches above his right eye was a bruised hole in his skin along with an incision mark that reached around to the side of his head. All sewn shut. His dark brown hair was a few inches long in a blast back style with the side shaved off a little for the incision. He had a roughneck style moustache which he just remembered was probably the only thing he could really grow on his face. In all honesty though he wasn't that bad looking even with the ground up parts. Even if he was no Dean Domino.
"Looks good. At least for the most part". He said
"Least we got most of it right. The stuff that matters. That bullet just barely missed your eyeball. And lucky for you I had one of those prewar half dollar coins that plugged that hole up nice and tight. So at least you got a little protection there again." He finishes changing his bandage with a fresh one and disposes the old one in a nearby receptacle.
"Okay. No sense keepin' you in bed anymore. Let's see if we can get you on your feet."Doc Mitchell said as he gave Six a hand up. Which he soon needed very much as the room became blurry. The dizziness subsided after a few seconds.
"Good, good. Why don't you walk down to the end of the room? Over by that 'Vigor Tester' machine there." the Doc pointed out across the room. Six started towards it, then he realized he was in his underwear.
"Uh doc... where are my clothes."
"Got them over in the living room. Had to get em washed. Them blood stains were a bit of a sight. Not to mention the smell. But nothing some Abraxo cleaner couldn't take care of." Feeling a bit odd he continued toward the machine.
"Take it slow now. It aint a race."
One wobbly foot in front of the other Six started to regain his balance as his legs re-learned their place. He made it over to the old machine right as he almost lost his balance and caught himself on it.
"Lookin good so far. Why don't you give the old Vigor Tester a try since you're there?"
'He can't be serious. This rusted machine is suppose to diagnose my health condition?' The recovering courier thought to himself. But he decided to humor him and gave the Vit-o-matic joystick a squeeze:
Strength: Lightweight
Perception: Alert Coyote
Endurance: Stain-Resistant
Charisma: Casanova
Intelligence: Smartypants
Agility: Butter fingers
Luck: Coin Flip
"Good to see them bullets didn't affect your charm none." Doc Mitchell looked the results over. Six didn't really know what to make of it. Butter fingers, Casanova? Doesn't seem like him at all. But with some brain matter missing maybe that's more accurate than he thought.
"Um... Alright then." He summed up in the end.
"Well we know your vitals are good, but that don't mean them bullets didn't leave you nutter than a Bighorner drop. What do you say you take a seat on my couch and we go through a couple of questions? See if your dogs are still barkin'." He led Six to his living room as he took some papers out of his cabinet before sitting down in a chair facing the couch.
Sitting down felt good. Even though he'd been out for two days. Doc Mitchell flipped through his papers until he found what he was looking for. The next half hour was a series of questions and Rorschach pictures that tested Six's psychological evaluation. Amazingly, he passed with flying colors, and was shown to have an aptitude for creativity and logical thinking.
Next came the standard physical examination which Six wasn't quite used to, but also felt he was overdue anyway. Doc Mitchell wrote on a piece of paper before exhaling.
"Well that's all she wrote" He looked over his notes and checked off some things on another piece of paper.
"Alright, all done. Just needed to get a record for you to have on hand. Just a formality." Doc Mitchell had Six sign his 'name' at the bottom to make it official. He handed the form back to him which he then took to his file drawer and stored it away with the other papers. Most likely records from the rest of the townsfolk.
"Alright I guess that about does it. Got your clothes right here. When you're ready I'll see you out." Doc said as he handed him his clothes and headed down the hall to the front door to wait for him.
Six looked his clothing over. His blue plaid button down shirt, vest, pants, and overcoat were cleaned and pressed, and even had all the rips and tears he accumulated out in the Mojave wasteland sewn back up. And by god even his boots had a shine to him which he didn't think was even possible. After donning his outfit he gave his faded blue overcoat a look. There was the blood stain from his gunshot wound, but was hardly noticeable just as Doc Mitchell had described. He looked at the emblem on the back. It read 'Mojave Express'. The company that had kept him employed for the past 3 years.
'Where would you be if you hadn't signed on with these guys? He thought to himself. Would you be alive, or dead? Would you have gotten the caps to feed yourself, or that hole in your head?' Six thought to himself. He quickly got the rest of his clothes back on and headed down the hallway.
"Here. These are yours." Doc mitchel said as he handed him his Mojave express satchel. "Was all you had on you when you was brought in. I hope you don't mind but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip. "He handed Six delivery order as well.
"You went through my stuff?"
"Didn't have much choice, I'm afraid." Doc Mitchell Shrugged.
"No, no. it's fine, I understand. It's just... Delivery orders are confidential as a general rule."
"I understand the sentiment"
"Well thanks for patching me up doc" Six said. Doc Mitchell just shrugged again.
"Don't mention it. It's what I'm here for. Well, if you're heading back out there, you ought to have this." He handed him a strange looking gauntlet. It looked like some kind of electronic device. Like a computer on a wrist. Six's eyes widened at the amazing piece of tech.
"Whoah, I really appreciate it Doc... Uh, what is it?"
"They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you."
"Wow, if this is, I mean that's... very generous of you! Thank you!"
"Don't mention it. And here. Might as well take this also. Always good to have a clean pair of garments with you. Never was much my style anyway." He handed him a blue leather jumpsuit with the number '21' stitched in the back. Six could only smile with gratitude.
"Oh, before I forget, one of the townsfolk dropped these off. Said they found them near where Victor found you, and guessed they might be yours." He went to the dresser by the front door and handed him a modified lever-action shotgun with the word 'Blunderbuss' carved on the stock, a pair of Binoculars which must have been dropped due to a crack in the left lens, and a worn looking 10mm pistol that was missing the ammo clip. He was obviously ransacked by his attackers as well.
"Thanks again Doc. I really don't know what I would have done without your help!"
"Probably not much of anything to be honest" He said letting out a slight laugh. Six smiled back and laughed in agreement.
"One last thing, you should talk to Sunny Smiles before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. Just ask around. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave."
"Will do."
"Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But uh... try not to get killed anymore."
"Can't make any promises Doc, but I'll do my best." Doc gave him one last smirk before letting the courier out.
The instant Six stepped out onto the front steps he was blinded by the beating sunlight. He had almost forgotten just how hot it was out there. After taking a moment to adjust to the outside world once again he stepped onto the street and leaned onto a long abandoned truck as he took in the sight of Goodsprings. It was a very small farming community. Each property seemed to have a picket fence of some sort with Maize, Tobacco, or Bighorners and brahmin growing or grazing respectively in them. There were two buildings in the middle of the town just off the intersecting road: 'Goodsprings General Store', and 'The Prospectors Saloon' that seemed to be the only shops in the town.
"Howdy pardner! Might I say-!" Six spun around to the voice behind him that nearly sent his startled self into orbit.
"Oh my, I am so sorry Pardner. Didn't mean to startle you so." The voice spoke again. It belonged to a large robot with a cartoon cowboy face on a screen for a face, had two tubular arms with claws at the end and balanced on one wide wheel which it seemed to have no problem doing so. It was an odd sort of robot. Not one he's seen before. Or remembered at least. Six took a second to breathe and returned his empty 10mm to its holster he seemingly drew out in reflex.
"It's fine. I'm alright… just a bit shaky still." Six said finally
"Well then. As I was saying you're looking fit as a fiddle otherwise!"
"You must be Victor. Hey thanks for digging me out of that grave." He held out his hand in gratitude. The robot shook it back with his three claw like fingers like it was natural.
"Don't mention it! I'm always ready to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need."
"How did you happen to find me out there anyway? Kind of a one in a million chance don't you think?"
"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard. Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs so I laid low."
"Do you happen to know who those men were that attacked me? I don't really have anything as far as a lead." Six scratched his head trying to remember the event earlier that week.
"Can't say that I'm familiar with the rascals. But some of the fine folks in town might be able to help you out with that."
"Well then I'd better start looking there. Sorry I can't talk for too long but I need to figure this out as soon as I can."
"Okay then. I'll see you around. Happy trails!" Victor waved to him with his claw arm. Six returned the way and smiled. 'There's something a bit odd about that robot. I'd better be cautious.' He thought to himself.
Six made his way towards the Prospector's Saloon trying to avoid the 4 foot tumbleweed that barreled past him on its journey to wherever the wind was taking it. The steps creaked as his boots shifted their weight on each board. He spied an old man who sat on the porch in a rocking chair. His skin was wrinkly, dark and leathery like he'd been sitting in the sun his whole life. And a large thick snowy white beard that gave an interesting contrast to the rest of his face. Probably a traveler like himself in his younger days. The old man looks at Six with his droopy eyes.
"Howdy. What can Easy Pete do for you?"
"Hello. My name's Six… Uhh, why are you called 'Easy' Pete?" The old man just smiled.
"Was a prospector until I decided to settle here to get away from the NCR. Now I just take it easy and help out with the Brahmin and Bighorners.
"Alright then… Uh. Listen, I was shot in the head a few days back by a couple of thugs, and-"
"Yep I've heard of you. You're that drifter the old machine brought into town. Can't say I expected you to make it through the first night. Looks like I lost a few caps"
"Ha! Barely." Six chuckled. Though it was mostly at the thought that there were bets on him making it or not. "Can't seem to remember much about the whole incident though. It's all a bit fuzzy. By any chance do you know anything about the people who attacked me?" Easy Pete shifted back in his seat before answering.
"Well now. The one in the fancy suit seemed to be calling the shots, that's as much as I know. Other folks in town might know more. Word of advice, though. If you ever catch up with him, watch out. The man's got cold eyes like a snake. Can't be trusted, I'd say." That sent shivers down Six's spine. A man with a cold personality can be very unpredictable. If it wasn't the one thing Six avoided the most, it was pretty close.
"Oh I will. Thanks for the info." Six swallowed at thought of that man in the checkered suit.
"Yup." Easy Pete uttered before he nestled back in his chair and continued rocking as he stared back down the road.
The courier opened the door to the Saloon, to find it a little less than crowded. It was a relatively quiet place with a couple travelers and civilians drinking and talking about. He looked over to one of the tables by the Jukebox where a Hispanic girl in leather armor and a 'Wendy the welder' hairstyle was sitting down. At her feet was a dog that looked somewhere between a husky and Australian cattle breed. Six figured that had to be Sunny Smiles and approached her. The dog noticed him first and started to bark.
"Cheyenne, stay." She said in a calm but authoritative voice to the dog. She then looked up at him and smiled.
"Don't worry, she won't bite unless I tell her to." Cheyenne started panting again and wagged her tail at him at the drop of a hat. 'Yep. That was Sunny Smiles alright.' Six thought to himself.
"Hi there. You must be Sunny."
"Howdy. Yep that's me."
"I'm Six. The uh, gunshot victim."
"Oh yeah. Doc said you'd be wandering in here any day now. Guess I won the pool." She stood up and they exchange handshakes. She was shorter than him at around 5' 4" but she had a firm grip for someone who looked as dainty as she did.
"That's an odd name, 'Six'." Sunny smirked.
"It's not really my name. I just can't seem to recall my real one."
"Ah, Gotcha."
"Doc Mitchell said you could teach me a few things about how to survive in the desert. I'm still a little new to the area so I'm not quite experienced for this." As far as he could remember. For all he new he could have been a survivalist guru before he took a bullet to the brain but it wasn't showing now, so some starting lessons were just what he needed.
"Yeah, I guess there's a thing or two I could show you. Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Come with me outside, behind the saloon."
Six followed her through the back door. Sunny walked up to a post that was facing east a few yards away from the building at the edge of the road and started setting empty sarsaparilla bottles up.
"You remember if you're any good with a gun?" Sunny asked Six.
"I think a little bit..." Six thought for a minute. Suddenly, a spark! A detail from his past. "Yeah, I learned a bit back when I was with a militia group briefly before my Courier days.
"Oh yeah? Who were you with?" Sunny cocked her head.
"A local group I think. Uh, wait it's coming back to me... Yes! The Oregon Territory Reserves. Everyone called us the 'Otters'. But I didn't see a whole lot of action other than some giant rodents and some Radpumas."
"Radpumas?" Sunny's eyebrow arched as she walked back from the makeshift shooting range.
"Yeah. Real sneaky bastards. Love to ambush. They're usually around 5 to 6 feet long and have a big Mohawk that run from their head down their backs."
"Alright let's see what you got then 'Otter'." Sunny nudged her rifle to him. Six took it and eyes the bottle on the far left of the range. He brought the rifle to his shoulder keeping an eye on the bottle and fires. The glass stayed still but Six didn't even notice as his head started to pound.
"Close, but not quite enough. Look down the sight." He heard Sunny say. He focused his eyes as the pounding went away and took her advice. He fired, and hit the target.
"That's the right idea." Said Sunny. Six smiled but the headache returned. This time it lasted longer.
"You alright?" Sunny asks when she noticed him gripping his skull.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." He fired again with the headache, still managing to hit the bottle on its side.
"Try crouching down and staying still." Sunny continued to instruct him. Six did so and let the pain fade just enough for him to focus. He hit the bottle right in the center of the logo.
"Nice shot." Sunny Smiles smiled at him.
"Thanks. But… Can we cut this lesson for today? I've got to see Doc about this headache."
"No problem. Do what you gotta do." Six handed her back the rifle as she started back towards the saloon, then spun around to face him again.
"Oh Hey, do me a favor. Trudy - she's the bartender up at the Prospector, kind of the town mom. She likes to meet newcomers. She'd be cross with me if I didn't ask you to poke your head in and say hi."
"Will do. Thanks for the lesson Sunny! Catch you later."
"Bye."
Six tried hard not to touch his stitches but the headache wasn't going away. He could barely tell if he was on the road or not but he had to have reached Doc Mitchell's house by now. He opened the door and stepped in, not noticing a young woman that stood there in the living room. She was a slender build like Sunny and had her shoulder length brown hair hair tied up in low hanging pigtails.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" The girl demanded. The shout sent Six's head spinning harder.
"I'm a recovering gunshot victim with a raging headache. Who are you?" He answered as he tended to his head once again.
"I'm Delilah, and this is my place! I don't take too kindly to strangers barging in on me." A shock of embarrassment ran down Six's spine.
"Oh! I... I'm sorry. I thought this was Doc Mitchell's place."
"Well, this isn't it.- Hey.. Wait a minute! You're that guy that got shot in the head Victor brought in a few days ago!" Her temper faded away almost instantly.
"Yeah. That's me." He answered, still dying from the combination of the headache and embarrassment. "I'm sorry for bothering you. I just needed something from the doc for this headache." The courier turned to leave but Delilah put a hand on his arm.
"You don't have to leave. I've got something that can cure that. Might as well give you a follow up since I happened to help the Doc save you."
"Oh so it was you who stitched me up then?" Six asked. Delilah nodded gleefully. "I guess I have another hero." A blush started to materialize on her face.
"Ha! Flatterer. Come and sit here. I'll get you something for that headache." She sat him down on the couch in her living room as she went to the kitchen refrigerator. "Hey what's your name anyway?"
"Six. Or at least until I can remember my real name."
"Uh oh. Those bullets give you a little amnesia there huh?"
"Just in some spots" Six rubbed the back of his head. A moment later she returned with a surgical tray with a Med-X needle on it. Six's eyes widened. For some reason the needle made hims skin crawl.
"Um, is that really necessary? The needle I mean." He responded in a nervous voice.
"It works wonders. But if you don't feel comfortable with me sticking you then I guess I have something else I can whip up. Be right back." She darted back to the kitchen in a flash.
"Sorry about that. It's just I don't really like using needles if I can avoid it."
"I understand. I used to hate them when I was younger." She called out from the kitchen.
A few minutes later she returned with a mug of tea.
"Here. Drink this. That should help that headache soon enough." Six drank the tea which was very bitter but he didn't want to offend her, especially after he refused the Med-X. The pain started to melt away as quickly as it came.
"Hey this works really great! What is this?" Six asked even though the bad taste soon became overwhelming.
"It's an old tribal pain remedy called Voodoo. It's very potent and very addictive so I use only a quarter dose which is just enough for what you have. I also mixed in a little coyote tobacco to help clear the senses."
"Oh so you're a Tribal, and a Doctor?"
"My Uncle Sulik taught me a lot about the ways of his people, and I admire them in a lot of ways. I don't consider myself a 'tribal' though. As far as being a doctor, I just help Doc Mitchell out right now. But I will be a doctor one day."
"That's a great profession. The wasteland could always use someone with some good medical expertise."
"What about you? You're a Courier right? I'd think the life you lead would be very fascinating. I love to meet new and interesting people." Delilah was sitting on the couch facing him now, with her emerald eyes fixed on his. Six started to feel claustrophobic with the sudden attention, but pushed through to answer her question anyway.
"It's a bit of a lonely job for the most part. You do see some interesting places though. And yes there are some very interesting people you meet along the way." The man in the checkered suit came to mind. "Speaking of which, I was going to check with Trudy to see if she knows about the men who attacked me. Thanks for all your help Delilah. I really appreciate it."
"No problem! Oh hey, do you mind if I tag along? I gotta get some whisky over at the saloon anyway."
"Sure. Didn't expect you to be a whisky kind of girl but I don't mind."
"No, not for me. It's for disinfecting medical supplies, silly!" Delilah laughed as Six opened the front door for her. As she passed, he couldn't help but notice her backside as she walked towards the Saloon. 'Don't be a pig Six. Remember, she helped save your life .Be a gentleman.' He thought to himself and hurried to catch up with her.
"So your parent's were tribals? What was that like?"
"No. My dad was raised near tribals in California and had a close relationship with them. You see, when my dad met-… oh no." Delilah stopped in her tracks.
"What?" Six asked. She pointed towards the saloon at a couple people heading inside. They both were dressed in worn blue outfits and grey slacks. One was dark skinned and was wearing an armored vest that read NCRCF on the back, the other was lighter skinned and had a punk style haircut. Both looked very angry.
"Powder Gangers. This can't be good." Delilah whispered. They hurried over to the Saloon, but once inside they stayed quiet to not draw too much attention to themselves.
"I am telling you right now I haven't seen Ringo anywhere. How many times are you powder gangers going to keep bothering us about this?" They heard the older woman, who Six assumed to be Trudy who talked to the two men in a very stern voice.
"We know he's here, just hand him over and we'll leave your little shit-hole of a town alone." Said the man in the vest. He was the one calling the shots.
"What do you want with him anyway huh? Don't you powder gangers get enough 'fun' with each other?" Six's eyes widened as he listened in. 'Trudy's got some balls to dish out that kind of talk.' He thought to himself. The leader gave a menacing smile to Trudy's remark.
"Not as much fun as we'll have with you if he's not here when we come back." He said as he started to laugh, but was cut short by a hard slap in the face by Trudy. After the initial shock, The man pointed a finger to her threateningly.
"I'm done being nice, if you don't hand Ringo over soon, I'm going to get my friends and were burning this town to the ground, Got it?" The other ganger twisted his neck sideways and made a bone cracking noise. Trudy didn't so much as give the second man a reaction She folded her arms and blinked once.
"We'll keep that in mind. Now, if you're not going to buy something, get out"
The leader glared harshly at her for a second, then turned to leave with his partner in tow. The punk follower grabbed a shot of whisky from a nearby redhead girl, gulped it down, and then shattered the glass on the ground.
"Hey! What the fuck is with you?!" The girl said. The Punk just burped in her face and continued walking. Once the door closed behind them, Trudy immediately darted back around the counter and poured the girl a new glass.
"Thanks Trudy… Assholes!" The girl groaned.
"Not a problem Vanessa. This whole thing will blow over soon enough. Just like everything else before." She said as she grabbed a broom and dust pan and was already sweeping the glass up when Six and Delilah walked to the counter once they knew the coast was clear.
"Hi Trudy." Delilah waved in a mildly cheerful manner.
"Well hello Delilah. Back for more supplies? And who is this gentleman you brought with you?" Trudy smiled at Six. Before he could introduce himself, Delilah did so for him.
"This is Six. The guy Victor saved a couple days ago."
"Six? That's an interesting name." Trudy said with a curious smile.
"Can't remember my real name. yet." Six smiled back.
"I see. Well either way, I've been hearing about you. You've been causing quite a stir lately. Glad I finally got to meet you. Welcome to the Prospector's Saloon." She said as she shook Six's hand.
"Good to meet you as well, It's a very nice place you've got here."
"I appreciate it. Not a whole ton of people nowadays that can really recognize a well kept home."
"Well it sure shows to me. So uh, I overheard your argument with those guys earlier. Who were they?"
"They're convicts, just without the chains. The one talking said his name was Cobb. He and his group call themselves the 'Powder Gangers'. And now it looks like our little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with. You see… About a week ago, this trader, Ringo, comes into town. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him, needs a place to hide. We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. We didn't actually expect anyone to come after him."
"Boy, that sounds pretty serious. What are you going to do about these guys? Six asked.
"Sigh* Some of the others, like Sunny, will probably stand up for Ringo if he asks for help, which he hasn't. Personally, I hope he sneaks out of town one night and takes the Powder Gangers with him."
"Who are these Powder Gangers anyway? Raiders? Mercenaries?"
They're chain gangs, really. The NCR brought them in from California to work on the rail lines. Problem is, it turns out that giving convicts a bunch of dynamite and blasting powder isn't the best idea."
"I can see where this is heading."
"Yep. Was a big escape not too long ago. Some of them stuck together so they could make trouble. That's what we're dealing with now."
"Sounds like a big mess you've got caught up in. Where's Ringo now? Can I talk to him."
"He's holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill. I wish you the best of luck if you're going."
"Thanks. I wonder if there's a way to sort this out." Six got up to leave. Meanwhile Delilah was chatting up the redhead, Vanessa, and spotted him starting back out the door.
"Where are you heading to?" She asked.
"I'll be back. Just gotta take care of some things."
"Good luck to you. I'll probably be here for a bit if you need anything." She said before turning back to their conversation "So, what was it you wanted to ask me?-"
Six walked briskly along the road to the abandoned gas station. Meanwhile his mind was racing. 'I really got to get on the road. But I can't just leave these people here like this. Not after what they've done for me. But what the hell are you getting yourself into Six? There's no point in getting yourself killed for people you don't know. And what the hell is your name? Why can't you remember that if you can remember what you do for a living?!'
He arrived at the gas station and dusted himself off a bit before opening the door. It creaked as he started to step through to the dark unlit building. Three steps in he heard a mechanical click to his right. A man popped up behind the counter. Six realized he forgot his guns at Delilah's house (which wouldn't have done him too much good anyway with no ammo) so all he could do was put his hands in the air.
"That's close enough. Who are you and what do you want with me?" The man in the dark asked.
"I'm not an enemy if that's what you're asking." Six said in the calmest manner he could muster. Inside he was still shaking. "You must be Ringo. I'm a friend of Trudy. She said I could find you here." Ringo's face relaxed and he lowered his pistol.
"Yeah, that's me. Sorry about the gun. You just caught me off guard, that's all."
"It's fine. I'm here because there's a man named Joe Cobb that was looking for you. He seemed pretty angry."
"Yeah. He doesn't look very tough, though. I hear he's afraid I'll shoot him down from one of the windows when I see him, and he's right. But I'll have a much bigger problem once his friends show up. There's no way I could handle all of them in a gunfight. That's why I'm laying low."
"Why are the Powder Gangers out to get you?" Six leaned on the gas station counter. Ringo mirrored him on the opposite end.
"It all started on the I-15 when my caravan was on the return trip from California. We were heading back up to the company branch in New Vegas and we got jumped." Ringo's eyes seemed to drift off into the distance as he remembered the incident. "Not even a 'drop your weapons and hands up' before the bullets started flying. Rodney and Dina were my two guards on the trip. Good people too. We put up a good fight, but there was way too many of them. Rodney was shot first in the head, then Dina in the leg. She told me to run but I took a few of the bandits down before I ran, so I figure their friends are out for revenge. Doesn't seem fair though. Those guards were my friends too…" Ringo wiped his eye a bit before looking back to Six.
"What are you going to do about the Powder Gangers?" Six asked after a couple seconds. Ringo exhaled heavily.
"I'm going to lay low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn't throw me to the wolves. I've got no chance against the gang on my own."
"I can help you." Six say's very seriously in a heartbeat. Ringo gave a slight smirk before he shook his head.
"We'd just end up sharing the same grave with just the two of us. But… Now, if some of the other people in town were also on board..."
"I'll ask around and see who I can round up. We'll get you through this Ringo. That's a promise."
"Thank you. I really appreciate the help. What was your name again?"
"Just call me Six"
"Six… I like it!" Ringo shook his hand enthusiastically with his hopes raised again. "Try and start with Sunny Smiles. She's been friendlier than most around here. If she's on board, I bet others may follow."
"I'll do that. I'll be back".
"Good luck!"
Six started his way back to the saloon at a marching pace. He could feel the adrenaline start to pump through him. That apparent time he spent with the Otters seemed to all be coming back to him. And he liked it. He was helping to defend a civilian, nay, a town against a band of thugs that has threaten the lives of everyone in Goodsprings. Maybe that's what he was meant to do. He hadn't felt this kind of excitement or purpose in years. Approaching the Saloon he spotted Delilah leaning up against the building outside the door as she waited for him to return
"So what are we doing?" She asked when Six approached.
"Were going to form a militia." He said with pride. He did not slow his pace nor break step as he headed through the door to the saloon.
"What?" Asked Delilah as she hurried to follow him in. Once again inside the Prospector's Saloon he spotted Sunny in the same corner he first meet her in. He'd have to convince her if he will have ANY chance of defending the town. He chose his words carefully as he walked up to her.
"Howdy Six. What's the rush." Greeted Sunny, smiling as usual. Six got right down to business.
"I'm going to help Ringo take on the Powder Gangers. We could really use your help if you're willing."
"Say no more. I'm in" She said without batting an eye.
"Just like that?" The astonished Courier said.
"Just like that. I have a feeling that I'm going to end up fighting those guys one way or another, so I might as well get it over with. Joe Cobb talks about leaving us alone if we hand over Ringo, but I know his type. He and his friends will come after the town eventually." She paused to take a shot of scotch she had on the table before continuing. "However, between you, me, and Ringo, we aren't exactly a force to be reckoned with. A lot of people around here look up to Trudy. If you could convince her to join us, some of the folks in town might decide to help out as well. Also what might help us out is that Easy Pete's got a stock of dynamite somewhere, and Chet just got a shipment of leather armor we could borrow. Talk to them as well. Oh and there's a good chance we'll all end up with extra holes in us, so if Doc Mitchell could cough up some extra stimpaks, that'd be great." She paused to think if there was anything she forgot. "I think that about sums up what this town has to offer. Everybody's got a gun and knows how to use it."
"Any ideas on how to convince Trudy to join us?" Six said after thinking for a minute.
"A silver tongue would help. Convincing Trudy that we had a good plan to win the fight would also help."
"I'll think of something. Now how about Chet? Would he be willing to give us his supplies?" Sunny just smirked.
"I don't think 'give' is in Chet's vocabulary. Even with the town at stake, he'd still make you barter with him."
"Chet owes me a favor. I'll get you that armor." Delilah added in.
"That's great! If it's not too much to ask, see if you can get some ammo for us too. That would help a lot as well."
"Got it. What's your type?"
"I think a lot of the folks here use .357s. I need some 12 gauge and 10mm. I need an ammo clip that'll fit an N99." He pulled out the few caps he had on him. "Got 26 caps on me if it helps any." He tossed Delilah his cap bag. She looked to Sunny next.
"I'm alright on my ammo. I'll see if Easy Pete can give up some Dynamite."
"Sounds good. Alright let's meet back here in…" Six checked the time on his pipboy. "An hour and a half. So at noon."
"Okay."
"Great!" The three parted ways to do their part.
"So, I hear you're planning on taking on Joe Cobb's gang." Trudy said as she wiped down several glasses as Six walked to the bar.
"I'm sorry to bring this all up but I can't just stand around with those kinds of people threatening this town like that."
"It's a big risk, but I suppose you have to do what you think is right." She returned to polishing her glasses.
"We're a little outnumbered against the powder gangers though. Think you could help?" Trudy cocked her head before answering.
"I don't think so. Too much of a risk for the rest of us. I'll be rooting for you, though."
"C'mon Trudy!" Six heard a voice from behind him. It was Vanessa. "Bullets, explosions, lots of fun." Trudy folded her arms like she did with Cobb.
"Miss Vanessa, I think you've had enough."
"Fine." Vanessa sighed as she plopped her head back down on the table.
"I understand where you're coming from." Six continued. "But Joe Cobb isn't going to stop. Even if he catches Ringo he's going to come after everyone here because you helped him. But look. Near the saloon and store are good spots to stage an ambush. And we can still have good cover with a few barriers that are already scattered around - if I had the help."
"That does sound like a good plan. And for some reason I can't help but like you. Sigh*. All right, you seem to know what you're doing, so you can count me in. Let me have a word with a few other folks and I'll see if I can't round up some more members for this 'militia' you're creating."
"Thank you Trudy. I knew I could count on you!" Six darted back out to find Doc.
"Howdy Sunny. You seem in a hurry." Easy Pete said as Sunny almost passed him by. He was in his same rocking chair he'd been in all morning, with a pipe in his mouth letting the day pass by.
"Howdy Easy Pete." She said with her usual sunny disposition. "You still got any of that that dynamite buried somewhere?" Easy Pete let out a raspy cough, in surprise, which materialized in a puff of smoke.
"Now what would you need my Dynamite for anyway?"
"That new guy, Six has a plan to defend the town from the Powder Gangers. We need some of your Dynamite to fight back." Easy Pete just frowned.
"Too dangerous. Gonna kill all yourselves if I let you touch it. Better to leave it buried, safer that way."
"How hard can it be? Just light them, throw, and duck."
"Too dangerous, sorry. Blow yourself up, blow your neighbor up, blow the whole town up!" Easy Pete started empathizing his voice with every sentence. It was Sunny's turn to frown this time.
"If we don't do something now this whole town's gonna get blown to bits anyway! What's it going to take, Pete?"Cheyenne just whimpered next to her. Easy Pete seemed to just get more pointed a wrinkled finger at her and spoke very sternly.
"If you want to even 'touch' my dynamite, then you're going to have to learn how to use it the 'proper' way."
"Okay, Shoot! What's the first step?"
"Alright. Come with me then." Easy Pete slowly got up from his rocking chair and started towards his house at his slow pace. Sunny followed close behind along with Cheyenne in tow.
"First thing's first. Dynamite, is a very volatile explosive that consists of Nitroglycerin, wrapped in a powdered siliceous sedimentary rock-" Sunny's heart dropped as she realized she's in for quite a long 90 minutes.
Over at the General Store, the owner Chet had just finished tiding up his shop when he heard the bell on the front door jingle as it opened.
"Hello, I'll be right with you." He called out automatically. He turned the corner of the isle to see Delilah standing at the front counter.
"Hey there Chet!" She said in her usual cheery voice.
"Well hey there Delilah! I don't have any gauze wraps in yet. I should have them in next week though." He hurried to the front counter.
"Oh, that's okay. I'm actually here for some leather armor and some ammo." Chet was taken aback slightly.
"Really? Gonna start hunting Geckos with Sunny or something?" Delilah shook her head.
"No, I need supplies for us to fight the Powder Gangers. The town's gonna get a militia together and face them."
"Ah I see... Wait, What?! Now just hold on. I never voted to take on the Powder Gangers! That's a… a thousand cap investment you're talking about."
"A thousand caps?! That's insane! You know we don't have that kind of money on us." Delilah could feel herself starting to turn red.
"My supplies aren't cheap, you know. I gotta make a living somehow."
"Hey, my supplies aren't cheap either. What about that time you got mauled by those Geckos and Doc couldn't help 'cause he was down with the flu? Did I charge you for me to use my own supplies to fix you up? No. I even gave you some Med-X the next couple of days after you were all patched up with over fifty stitches! I think you owe me." Chet had almost forgotten that. If Delilah wasn't there he'd be dead a long time ago.
"Okay. You made your point. I can provide people with some leather armor and extra ammo. I sure hope it's worth it. The people can pick up their extra ammo and leather armor when they're ready. But after that, were even!"
"Thank you Chet." You're giving us a real fighting chance." She reached over and gave Chet a quick hug. The surprised shopkeeper just stood there stiff as a board.
"Oh and, uh, I'll be guarding the store while all this is going on. I have to put my business first, you understand." He said after a second. Delilah just rolled her eyes since she knew there wasn't much else she could squeeze out of him.
"Sigh* Got it. I'll let everyone know. Thanks again Chet." She said as she raced back out the door.
"Take it easy now."
The walk up and down the hill was giving Six some good exercise. Even though he was still used to the long roads as a Courier. I wonder how many boot soles I left on the road since Oregon. Too many to count anyway, I guess. He thought to himself. He knocked on the door and made sure this was the right house this time.
"Door's open, c'mon in." He heared Doc Mitchell's voice. Six entered the house to find Doc Mitchell in the living room reading a D.C. Journal of Internal Medicine text book.
"Welcome back. I had hoped you wouldn't need to come see me again so soon." He took off a pair of reading glasses and set the book down, folding one of the pages to save his spot. "What can I do for you?" Six got right to the point.
"The town is going to be attacked by Powder Gangers real quick here. Anything you can do to help us out a little? We're getting set up for an ambush but we could use any help you can give us." Doc Mitchel just sighed.
"Seems like wherever I go it's always the same. Folks just never leave each other alone." He paused for a couple seconds as he thought.
"I'm not much good in a fight, with my bum leg. And my supplies are scarce. But I'll give you what I can spare." Doc Mitchell started up towards his medical room and opened up one of his first aid kits on the back table. He took out three stimpaks and handed them over to Six. "That's about all I can donate for supplies to your cause. It's a noble one. But like I said, my supplies are scarce."Six pocketed the stimpaks and smiled
"Thank you Doc. This will help us out quite a bit."
"Oh, I just remembered. Hold on a bit." Doc Mitchell said. He walked back to his living room to the fire place. On the mantle was an old bolt action rifle he took down and handed to Six.
"Here. I noticed you only had an empty shotgun and no ammo clip in your pistol. I may as well loan you this." He also handed him two full magazines of 308 ammunition he took from a nearby drawer. Six was taken back.
"Thanks Doc! I don't know what to say. I'll be sure to bring it back to you in one piece." Doc just smileed back at him.
"I know you'll take good care of it. You're a good man. I can see it in your eyes."
"I'll also pay you back for those stimpaks once this is over. That's a promise." Say's Six. Doc just smirked.
"You don't have to. But thanks."
"I know I don't, But I will." Six turned and left Doc Mitchell's house once again facing the world. He decided to go ahead and round up Ringo, making a sharp left to the gas station. He looked the rifle over that Doc Mitchell let him borrow. It looked like one of those old world war rifles with the way it was built. Looking on the side at the stamp marks it read:
GUN RUNNERS ARMORY, MOJAVE ARSENAL, Model M1903 SPRINGFIELD
'It's amazing what kind of blueprints the Gun Runners can find these days.' He thought. it's a good copy and obviously very high quality. Six decided to knock on the gas station door first before entering this time. Ringo eagerly greeted him hoping to hear some good news.
"So, What's going on? Did Sunny agree to help us?" He asked without hesitation.
"Sunny's with us. And we even got at least half the town on our side." Six smiled.
"That's outstanding! I didn't think we'd get that lucky! Well I guess that means were ready to go." Ringo loaded his 9mm pistol and slung his satchel over his shoulder all packed.
"Good to go. Let's go meet the rest of the town at the saloon."
"Right behind you." Ringo took a deep breath before he stepped out the door.
Ringo and Six made tehir way to the town front. It was quite a sight to behold. One of the townsfolk was leading a Brahmin hauling a wrecked truck to the front of the Saloon while others were putting on leather armor in front of the General store with Chet handing out ammunition boxes to the townsfolk. Trudy was talking to Easy Pete and a few other of the townsfolk as they walked over the perimeter
"Wow. You really do have the whole town here." An astonished Ringo said. "I'm going to go over and check in with Trudy if you don't mind." Ringo called out as he already started running over to the group. Meanwhile, Six spotted Sunny and Delilah taking turns throwing spears at a nearby tree. Delilah saw Six and waved him over.
"Look at all this Six. I don't think I've ever seen this town cooperate this well before! You really have a knack for this leadership stuff. Delilah said with open arms.
"Well I don't know about leadership. But when there's a common enemy, it's easy to get everyone to work together… Mostly." Six said humbly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out Six's cap bag that looked a bit heavier.
"Sorry, but this is all I could get for you. Chet didn't have any 12 gauge rounds, or any ammo clips that would fit your pistol. But I did get you 10 bullets. I saved 6 caps for you. Just in case."
"Thanks for trying. I really do appreciate the help though." Delilah gave a glance at Six's new rifle.
"Hey, isn't that Doc's rifle? Does that thing even work?"
"Yeah. He loaned it to me for the fight. I haven't tested it yet but it's very clean. Speaking of which, Doc Mitchell was able to spare these." He handed her the three stimpaks.
"This'll be fine. As long as we don't have anything too major I can ration these out." Delilah stuffed the stimpaks in her medical satchel.
"How'd we do on the dynamite? Any luck?" Right as he asked, Sunny walked over and held up a good sized satchel of dynamite. She had a very agitated yet bored look on her face. Cheyenne at her feet, held the same expression.
"Got them right here. I had to learn how to handle these stupid sticks the 'right way' before Easy Pete would let me use them. I know all regulation, material, and safety precautions having to do with dynamite now… Everything!"
"I… I guess he wouldn't give you a crash course then?" Six seemed a little more concerned at this point.
"That WAS the crash course! Seriously, ask me something about dynamite!"
"Okay, uh… Are any of us allowed to use the dynamite other than yourself?" Sunny went into an almost blank stare before continuing.
"The work of handling and placing explosives in preparation for a blast shall be performed only by a certified blaster or by persons under the supervision of a certified blaster." She said almost hypnotically. "So as long as I'm around to make sure you're doing it right we should be okay."
"Well that's something. Thanks for your efforts, and... sacrificing of your brain cells. I'll buy you a drink later. So um, what are we doing with the spears?" He noticed that the spears had rocks tied to them.
"Delilah had the great idea of attaching the Dynamite to the spears so we can get some good distance on them! The rocks are for balance." Sunny said excitedly.
"Uncle Sulik taught me and Sunny how to throw spears! We got pretty good at it!" Delilah said proudly.
"That's really cool, I'm impressed! That should help us out quite a bit!" Six said.
"Oh, this one time when we were kids, Sunny and I were practicing and I nailed a Bighorner right in the butt! I thought we were goners when it started charging us!" Delilah laughed.
"I remember that! We had to hide in that old truck until it got bored and left! I've never seen your dad so angry before!" Sunny added in laughing as well. Six also had a good laugh. He was stopped though, when he spotted someone on the road to the south sprinting over to the three of them. It was Vanessa.
"Powder Gangers!" She called out slowing to a halt in front of Sunny. Trudy saw her as well and was already rushing over.
"How many" Sunny asked.
"About 12. Joe Cobb included." Vanessa reported.
"How far away are they?" Asked Trudy.
"I'd say about… 10 minutes. They were going pretty fast."
"Thank you Vanessa." Trudy patted her on the shoulder and turned to call out to the town.
"Okay everybody, we've got powder gangers! Get in position!... Six, this is your gig. You're in charge now. Good luck." Trudy loaded her hunting shotgun and got into position. Six swallowed hard, feeling a bit of anxiety. He shook the feeling away, letting his apparent militia training take hold.
"Alright, I want three in position behind the truck, another two by the General Store, Ringo and two others in the Saloon windows. Sunny, Delilah behind the crates in the middle. Vanessa, take cover behind the truck on the far side of the Saloon with Easy Pete! Nobody fire until Sunny hits them first!"
Everyone took cover in their ordered positions. Six joined Delilah and Sunny.
"Got your sticks ready?" Asked Six as he took position and hunkered down next to the girls.
"Got my sticks tied to her sticks and ready." Sunny confirmed.
The 10 minutes pass quickly as Six could hear the Powder Gang marching in at their own individual paces. Guns, knives, baseball bats, and dynamite in hand. A minute later he saw them in his iron sights. He switches the safety off his rifle, and waited for them to close in…
Authors Notes:
Radpumas: Descendants of the Mountain Lions native to the Northwest around what used to be Oregon and Idaho. Radiation had stunted their growth but they continue to thrive in the still heavily forested regions. They are ambush predators that tend to shy away from humans but sometimes hunger will drive them closer to populated settlements.
(Totally made up creature. not cannon from the fallout universe but I think this could be something you would find in a fallout type setting.)
Federated Oregon Territory/ Oregon Territory Reserves (Otters): What used to be known as Oregon didn't get bombed quite as much compared to other regions in the U.S. but still suffered the effects of radiation. Many communities had started to reconnect together and formed the Federated Oregon Territory and had begun to prosper. bringing the rise of the Oregon Territory Reserves as a local Militia force to defend the federation from any and all hostilities that may arise from outside the territory At some the FOT had made contact with the newly formed NCR. Eventually a pact was signed in which the NCR had annexed the FOT. Most of the Otters had been assimilated into the NCR Army but had mostly stayed within their same local territories.
(Again, non cannon. but hey. it's fanfiction right?)
Courier Six: Messenger of Truth, The REBOOT is finally here. Looking back at my writing I can see how far I've come and decided that I really needed to overhaul this story. So, there are some things that will be cut and things that will be modified and added for ease of story flow and freshness. So hope you all enjoy it! Like, subscribe, follow, comment, do your thing! See you next time!
Credits:
Fallout New Vegas/Bethesda: Obviously. Couldn't do this little project without them. And of course the disclaimer. I don't own any aspects of Fallout or any subsidiaries. All credit goes to Bethesda Softworks.
Nexus Mods: And all the mod community for the inspiration!
Mods/Others:
The outfit I chose for Courier Six is from a mod called the Mojave Express Basic Courier's Uniform by Plutonium Blonde. I really loved this outfit and I think it is perfectly suited for my character. Please check out and Endorse their mod.
newvegas/mods/60763/?
Vanessa is a Companion mod by GePalladium used with their permission. A very great and immersive mod that I think you really should check out, and of course, Endorse!
newvegas/mods/56270/?
The gun from Doc Mitchell's house loaned to Six is the M1903A3 Springfield by Trentosaurus. An awesome and absolutely beautiful rifle, I had to use it! Please check out and Endorse away!
newvegas/mods/61223/?
Oh and Sunny's answer to the handling of explosives (For comedy reasons only) is straight out of these instructions:
Possession, Handling, Storage and Transportation of Explosives: Part 39 of Title 12 of the Official Compilation of Codes, Rules and Regulations of the State of New York. Section 39.7 Blasting operations
scrumpusrex: For their character Delilah. I have attempted to contact them for permission on using this character but they cannot receive messages. So I do hope it is not an issue. Please check out their awesome mod and endorse.
newvegas/mods/50641/?