Chapter 1: The Cute, The Cuddly and The Courier
It was survival of the fittest that guided existence back in the Mojave. One adapted and survived or did not adapt and perished. This was the guideline for humanity back home, the very reason, hardwired in the human biology, that mankind had survived after the war. In such harsh conditions, one had to desensitize himself and dehumanize others in order to survive. Banditry, murder, rape and all kinds of depravity were carried out, simply because might made right.
Being a courier back home meant a lot for all parties involved, for couriers were a connection between communities, delivering knowledge of the world outside what meager fences human beings had made to try and keep said world out. These people were brave enough to wander the wasteland and face the dangers it presented, be it for money or otherwise. They also had the dubious honor of meeting all the nice beasties said wasteland had to offer. Those included, but were not limited to deathclaws, radscorpions of various sizes and big, flying, bugs most commonly referred to as cazadores. The last two were also the most poisonous critters that the radiation-perverted nature had to offer in his little slice of paradise.
This place, however, vastly differed from the Mojave. For one, the Geiger counter on his trusty Pip-Boy was suspiciously silent. On the downside, the map tab on said device was not operational, so he'd have to wing it. Eh, at least he could prove Elijah wrong. Next were all these… trees and leaves and… growth and plants. Not even in Vault 22 had he seen such lush flora, and this place even looked natural. The downside was the fauna, which by far consisted of large, black and cuddly beasties with berry-red eyes… much like the ones that were currently howling at him. Really, it was as if someone'd decided to make life-sized deathclaw dolls.
"Heh, mind the sharp edges, kids."
With a pistol in one hand and a displacer glove on the other, Courier Six set to deliver what he delivered best - murder. All fun and games these days, huh?
While The Courier's valorous tale's beginning was ending in a morbid shower of local wildlife guts, gore and fired .45 Auto cartridges, not far away a certain weapon dork with a red hood and enviable scythe-wielding skills had just employed a successful landing strategy and was about to embark on a search for her sister and some unspecified relic… that is, until she heard howling and gunfire not far from her current location. Ruby Rose, prospective huntress extraordinaire, ran off to help a comrade in need… and almost crashed into Weiss, the heiress standing completely still, absorbed in observing the purest example of gory pandemonium she'd witnessed up to date.
The small clearing in front of the pair currently looked more like a slaughterhouse, Grimm bodies and innards strewn everywhere. In the middle of all the carnage stood a man, pistol in hand and some blocky glove on the other. The silence that permeated the place was only violated by two things - the death rattles of a beowolf and the jaunty tune the stranger was whistling.
"Um, Weiss? Who's that?"
The Schnee heiress started a little, being broken out of her stupor . That was sort of the question, was it not? She was proud of her memory, but she had not seen anyone even remotely similar to this person. Aside from his weapons, so different from the current designs in Veil, there was his overall appearance to consider, as well - a duster coat in dark blue color and some sort of star-circle emblem on its back complemented by a wide-brimmed black hat.
"Hush, you dolt" she hissed, "I am observing him."
And just like that she broke her subject out of his reverie and made him aware of her presence - a bad thing, considering the complete apathy he'd demonstrated earlier, while killing all those Grimm. A pistol was trained on them and a pair of cold blue eyes fixed them with a merciless stare… and then he withdrew his weapon and safely holstered it under the coat.
"Why, hello there, " the man greeted in a dead, mechanical voice.
Were she a commoner, Weiss would have put on the best WTF face within her powers, but being a heiress just did not agree with basic human reactions when facing the surreal… not to mention that Many-starred dusterman's mouth did NOT seem to move even when he spoke. Surreal, on the other hand, quite agreed with Ruby and so she just smiled and almost danced up to the strange man with a wide, innocent smile and a large scythe in her dainty hands.
"Hello!"
'And the Red Hood Dolt is certainly shaping up to be a real hazard to my health' Weiss thought dejectedly, then went to assist Ruby with the potential killer they'd found in the woods.
Was this even an exam anymore?
'Is this some sort of loyal member's bullshit compartment I'm getting right now?' thought The Courier, The Light trained at a pair of girls staring nervously at him.
Being a man of perception and intelligence, he had some trouble making the connection between a large forest, black and cuddly deathclaw rejects and cute little girls nervously observing him and the dark depths of his pistol's barrel.
Having nothing against little girls, especially cute ones, The Courier holstered his gun, The Light Shining in the Darkness, and opted for being polite to the nervous pair. It would be bad form of him to be impolite to the first humans he'd laid his gaze on and he could… would… NOT have that. At all.
"Why, hello there."
There, greeting done with. He could only hope that the choker-mounted Ultravoice he'd devised after his throat got… damaged wasn't going to put them even more on edge. Luckily (yeah, he went there) only the one dressed in white seemed put off by the greeting.
The trip down the road to Whathefucksville, a road he'd been traversing with increasing frequency lately, continued when the other girl came up to him, a large smile on her face and a larger scythe in her small hands. Just… what was with these people?
"Hello!" she announced in a chipper tone, beaming at him.
"Wait, you dolt!" the one in white hissed and dragged scythe-girl away.
Being the smart person he was, The Courier started observing the pair while they talked about strangers and why it was not a good idea to talk to them. Observation skills made life in the wasteland longer and somewhat easier but right now his teeth were gnashing furiously even as his brain ran a mile a minute. What he mistakenly thought was a scythe just scant few seconds ago was a much more sinister monstrosity, born in the twisted mind of a maniac with quite the penchant for murder. A pair of slender, curved blades were mounted to what looked like an anti-materiel rifle in the hands of a small girl with a bright smile and innocent countenance. Yeah, no doubt in his mind - another successful trip to Whathefucksville was completed. How did he know? He knew because a few meters ahead of him the most adorable Grim Reaper pretender and The Winter Fairy herself were having a heated discussion about the possible danger he presented. Deciding against initiating further contact at this time, The Courier quietly slunk into the shadows of the forest and waited for the girls to leave so he could follow.
'Well, I could do worse than stalking Little Red Reaper Hood and The Winter Fairy.' Then his head hung when depression started rearing its ugly head again. 'Of course, that hardly means I am less of a stalker.'
What was with him these days?
