She remembers the first time she saw the Courier. She was at the 188 Trading Station. She was standing at the wooden crate that served as a bar, watching all the dusty beaten down travelers walking by, just trying to find a reason to delay another second before taking the long trek back to the bunker. So she rationed the sips of the Sunset Sarsaparilla and took her time with the tough brownish substance the cook had called a steak. So she was there when the Courier showed up. First sight was of him striding resolutely through the dust, and that's what caught her eye. The man walked with a purpose, and that was a rarity in these days. Most people were so worn down with living in such a harsh world; it was all they could do to lift one foot after the other. They'd lost their purpose, but he hadn't.
So she decided to introduce herself because that's just how Veronica was. She was a magpie, if she saw something shiny, something interesting; she just had to find out more. Plus, it would give her another excuse to delay returning to the Brotherhood. Veronica slapped some caps down on the wooden crate and walked towards the stranger, already wondering how she was going to weasel his life story from him. Which was why she wasn't paying attention to the mercenary behind her until he grabbed her ass.
"Hey shweetheart, I don shink I've sheen you around here." He had too many "shs" in his words, and his breath stank of lukewarm beer.
"Oh that's probably because you're so wasted, you couldn't see your own mother if she was right in front of you." Veronica muttered.
The man was drunk, but apparently not so drunk that he couldn't tell the girl with the "smokin hot ass" had just insulted him. So he grabbed her hand, her left hand, which was his first mistake.
"I shud teash you some mannersh." He slurred, stepping close, no doubt trying to intimidate her with how big and manly he was.
She smiled brightly at him, "You can try, but just so you know, I'm a bit hard to teach." That's when she hit him with her right hand, the one encased in the bulky power fist. His nose sprayed a lovely red and the drunken merc fell flat on his back. Oh men, they were so fragile. Of course, she thought, as the other mercs stood up and surrounded her, they always traveled in packs.
"Stupid bitch," one snarled, "you're gonna pay for that." She sighed in annoyance because now she was going to have to beat the crap out of all of them, and that would make a scene, and then she would have to stay away for a month or four until it all died down.
But she wasn't going to back down now, not like she could have if she wanted to. So she settled into a fighter's stance, arms loose at her side, and sneered "Make me."
They took that as their cue to rush her. And as they stumbled towards her, half drunk, Veronica just had to smile.
She skipped to her right, lashing out with her power fist in a low blow to the kidney of a balding merc. Then she was clear of the circle of men now down to five and as they tried to figure out what had just happened, she pirouetted like a dancer and struck another merc in the back. Two down, four to go. Two of the thugs rushed her, coming at either side. She waited until the last moment, and then stepped backwards and the stupid men ran into each other and went down in a tangle of limbs. While they were down, Veronica gave them both a swift kick to the head, just a friendly little tip to stay down. The last two were the most somber, and they'd taken the time to arm themselves. The bigger one was all muscle and swung a sledgehammer easily with one hand, he was also wearing metal armor. She was more worried about the second one. He wore light leathers and he was short, all wiry muscle, but he held the pitted combat knife in his hand like he'd been born with it.
"That was a dumb move, bitch." The knife fighter said softly, "Benny was just being a drunk idiot, but now we're going to have to teach you a lesson."
"Bring it," she said, but now it was looking like a fair fight, and Veronica hated fair fights. They were so easy to lose.
The two mercenaries worked together, rushing her from different angles. She had to dodge a hammer blow that would have taken her head off, and then she had to swerve to avoid the knife that darted in after the hammer. Her power fist slammed into Hammer Man's chest, but the heavily reinforced metal only dented a little. He laughed and backhanded her hard on the face, and she tasted blood in her mouth. As she reeled off balance, Knife Man came in for the kill. In a frozen instant, she watched the knife blade glinting in the sunlight as it rushed towards her throat.
A shot cracked the air and suddenly Knife Man was screaming on the ground, holding his bloody knife hand with his good one. She looked up and saw the stranger, Mr. Purpose, standing as solid as a statue, holding a smoking nine milliliter in a marksman's grip. Eyes expressionless, he walked towards them and stopped in front of Veronica.
"Stay out of this stranger," Hammer Man snarled.
Stranger didn't say a thing, he just squared his shoulders and stared calmly up at the human giant. Later she would laugh and say it was just his silent stubbornness, but at the moment, he was an immovable machine that would crush Hammer if the larger man tried anything as foolish as attacking him.
"You should take care of your friend," he said finally, ice blue eyes staring unwavering into Hammer's, "he seems to have hurt his hand."
"…bastard…" Knife Man whimpered. Hammer Man gritted his jaw and glared down at the smaller man, face red, breathing heavily, hands creaking on the sledgehammer's wooden grip. Stranger didn't move, he just kept staring, and in the end, it was Hammer Man who turned away first.
"This isn't over, Stranger." He growled.
"Yes it is," The Stranger said.
Hammer Man spat on the ground, but he and the rest of the mercs trudged off, two stopping to help the injured Knife Man to his feet. The stranger gave them a last dismissive glance and then he turned towards her.
"Miss." He acknowledged, then he turned and walked away.
Veronica blinked, and then the magpie kicked in again and she was stumbling to her feet. "Hey!" she paused to spit out some bloody saliva, "Hey, wait!" She caught up to him just past the overpass, "Hey, where you headed?"
"The Strip." He said curtly, feet still striding.
"Why?" She asked, matching his pace, "Got some caps burning a hole in your pocket?"
"I'm trying to find some answers." He said in his Leave-me-alone voice.
"Ooh, that's cryptic." She said in her I-don't-think-so voice.
"Why do you care?" He asked.
"I'm just naturally curious," she said sweetly, "it's a gift of mine. So, where'd you come from?"
"The grave." He muttered.
"Okay, I changed my mind, that was cryptic." Although that might explain the don't-mess-with-me attitude he seemed to exhibit, "Although it would explain the smell."
"If I offend you so much, maybe you should stop following me." He growled.
"No, I'll just have to endure and be strong." She said in a suffering voice, "My burden as an adventurer."
"I don't have a choice in this matter, do I?" He asked finally.
She smiled, "Nope."
"Hypothetically," he said coldly, "If I did have a choice, why would I let you tag along?"
"Um…I'm really good at punching things." She answered.
He finally looked at her, a quick glance that wasn't quick enough to hide the amusement in his light blue eyes, "And you're really good at starting fights."
"Hey, they were asking for it!" she protested, "My butt is off limits to the male gender."
He raised an eyebrow, and she blushed, "Look, I'm good at punching, you're good at shooting, it's a match made in heaven!"
"I'm going to regret this," he muttered.
"Probably," she agreed, "I'm Veronica, what's yours?"
"Courier."
"Courier?" She wrinkled her nose, "Not very flashy is it? How about the Mysterious Stranger?"
"No."
"Nuclear Gunslinger?"
"No."
"The Amazing Bob?"
He smirked, "Courier."
"Fine." She grumbled, "Courier it is."
Courier smiled, and Veronica smiled too. Whatever happened next, she was sure of one thing. It would be a long time before she returned to Hidden Valley.