Chapter 2

- This Was My Kind of Town -

"Well… shit. That's not something you see every day." Nine stepped closer to the dirt-smeared husk of what was once a fridge, then toed the skeletal remains of the poor bastard unlucky enough to have ended up in said household appliance. Try as he might, he just couldn't come up with an appropriate context for… whatever this was.

"Eh, whatever. Dibs on the hat." Six bent over and swiped the headgear, patting off dust and other filth before putting it on.

"Really? You're just going to take the hat from a dead guy just like that?" Nine asked, incredulous.

"Says the guy who just went on a grave-robbing spree," Six riposted, pointing at his backpack where the snow globe jostled around among other personal belongings.

"Touché. At least I didn't pry it off of a dead guy. Pretty sure our old man said something about not disturbing the dead or some shit."

Courier Six shrugged. "Hey, it wasn't like he's gonna use it. 'Sides, you know I burn up easily, hate these goddamn freckles," she said as she rubbed her nose. "And wasn't it ma?"

Courier Nine shook his head. "No, I'm pretty damn sure she wore the stars for Uncle Sam." Also the one who wore the pants in that relationship, if his (somewhat damaged ergo not wholly trustworthy) memory served correctly. "Dad had that little weird shrine in the garage, remember?"

The female Courier frowned, before snapping her fingers as realisation kicked in. "Oh yeah, the one with the funny letters and shit. Japanese, was it?"

"Eh, probably. And you remember when this kid called you a 'carrot top'?"

"No, it was 'fire crotch," Six said, scowling. "And fuck that kid. Gingers are awesome."

"Whatever you say, sis." He hoped she didn't remember him joining in the name-calling as kids. Twins they may be, but that didn't stop his sister from being a pain in the ass when they were tweens.

Reminiscence over, the duo followed the cracked asphalt road winding down south, until they came across an intersection, one heading toward the resplendent New Vegas, and other to Primm, if the serpentine coil of roller coaster in the distance was anything to go by. If what Sunny said was true, then that's where the Mojave Courier Express was, and with any luck, there would be some paper trails that could help shed some light about their history. Neither of the twins could recall why they decided to work as couriers in the Mojave wasteland. That, and the pompous ass who shot them in the head was last seen heading towards Primm, so it was killing two birds with one stone, or bullet, given their circumstances.

Up ahead stood a ramshackle shack, with a man garbed in a set of leather armour leaning against the rusted door.

"You don't look like one of them gangers. You're not, are you?" The man asked.

Six snorted. "Hell no, you ever seen a chick ganger?"

The man sheepishly nodded. "You're right, my bad. It's just that I saw a bunch of powder gangers heading to Goodsprings yesterday, and given how small the town is, well, I assumed the worst."

"Those Goodsprings folk aren't the type to just roll over and let people walk all over them. They fought back the powder gangers and won," Nine said with a small pride.

The man whistled. "Must've been a hell of a gunfight. Damn shame I missed out on the action."

Nine's eyes flickered to the shotgun strapped to the man's back. "You don't see a piece like that on most prospectors, you some kind of gun-for-hire?"

"Good eyes. Yeah, I'm a former caravan guard turned bounty hunter. Heard there were plenty of those gangers out and about, so I thought it'd be worth a few caps to cash in on some of them."

"Bounties, huh?" Both twins' eyes lit up at the prospect. Their parents had their fair share of time as bounty hunters, and the tales of Regulators hunting down ne'er-do-wells have always been their favourite past-time stories. "There's a bounty on powder gangers?"

The man shook his head. "No, but given their history as escaped convicts, and with the NCR spread thin enough as they are, thought it'd be good to show some initiative."

"Are they that short on manpower?" Nine recalled what Trudy said about the two powerhouse factions vying for control of the Mojave. That was an intriguing Q & A session, to say the least.

The bounty hunter shrugged. "Haven't been keeping up with current events, so I've no idea. But the encampment outside Primm's still flying the flags for the Bears, so I can assume they're not here."

"Why Primm?"

"Haven't you heard? The whole town got ransacked by powder gangers not too long ago. Word has it that the townsfolk, however many that's left anyway, are holed up in one of the casinos. And the NCR are short on troops to retake the town."

"Then what, they're just sitting on their ass doing jack shit?" Six asked.

"Probably to stop them from pushing too far down south. There's NCR base further down south in Mojave Outpost. Then again, I've heard stories of weird freaks wandering about in the Long 15, and I'm not talking about some convicts."

"Fucking Mojave's going to hell, man." Six turned to her male counterpart. "Bro, let's just head up north straight to Vegas. I have no fucking idea what these 'cazadores' are, but it'd be way better than hoofing it all the way down then circling back up again."

The bounty hunter gaped in disbelief. "Lady, trust me when I say you're much better off going around the long way. These cazadores aren't just your average bullet fodder, they're mean SoB's. An adult one is bigger than humans, flies faster than you can run, and once they sting you, it's over. And don't even get me started on deathclaws."

"Deathclaws? The fuck are those?"

The bounty hunter fell silent, waiting for the punchline to drop, only it didn't. "You… you've got to be kidding me."

"We're, uh, new to Mojave. I've heard that they closed down the I-15 leading to New Vegas because of these so-called 'deathclaws', but we've never actually seen one in person," Nine admitted. He wasn't certain if they've been to Mojave before or not, but he didn't want to bring up the whole 'bullet to the head' fiasco.

"And I hope you never do, 'cause that'll be the last thing you'll ever see. There's a reason why they're called 'deathclaws'. Anyways, take my advice, and take the Highway 95 instead. Yeah, maybe you might run into some unfriendly local wildlife on the way, but they'll be a hell of a lot friendlier than nightmares infesting I-15, that I can promise you."

After thanking the man for information, they continued their trek down south, a little disappointed. Neither of them wanted to put the man's warnings to the test, though. They escaped death once quite recently – neither of them wanted another close encounter with the reaper.

The road to Primm wasn't an easy one. They ran into a couple of powder gangers holed up in the trailer placed off-road, though the Couriers managed to rout them easily enough. A few young geckos darted in and out of their view, one of them feeding on a radroach's carcass, much to their disgust.

"Fuck, that's gross." Nine wasn't sure whether she meant the radroach or the gecko feeding on said oversized insect, but neither mattered as he sniped the gecko down with a well-placed shot through its skull.

Less than a minute passed when the two froze. "Did you hear that?" Nine asked, as a croak echoed from the outcrop to their right. They cried out in terror when a gecko, as tall and burly as a man, leapt into view, clutched in its hands a large rusty cleaver.

Nine opened fire, eyes widening in dismay when the mutant gecko refused to buckle in its stride. Throwing all notion of fighting aside, the twins ran as fast as they could, all the while conscious of the aberrant's heavy breathing chasing after them.

"Ohmyfuckinggoditsfollowingus!" Six yelled, her pitch rising an octave.

"No shit, sherlock! Keep running!" Nine shouted, pointing at the makeshift barricade looming ahead of them. He could see flurry of movement atop the ramp, and voices shouting though he couldn't make out what was said. What he did hear was the clear, crisp bursts of gunfire, and the cry of pain as the mutant gecko fell, riddled with holes.

The twins didn't stop until they were behind the barricade, and they took a few moments to catch their breaths. When they stabilised their racing hearts, one of the shooters, decked out in a soldier's fatigue, greeted them.

"That's not something you see every day, though that was definitely a close call. You two alright? The roads can be dangerous, especially for citizens without protection."

"What the fuck was that shit?"

"We just call 'em mutants, no idea where they came from, but sure as hell reassuring to know they bleed and die like any other wildlife out there," the soldier replied.

"Yeah, provided they don't stick you first."

The soldier rolled his eyes. "Obviously. In any case, Primm's off-limits, so I'd suggest you go back to wherever you came from, citizens."

"Yeah, we heard. Something about them powder fuckers taking over the town and some other shit," Six said impatiently. "And 'sides, there's something we need in Primm, and we're not leaving until we get them."

The soldier looked about ready to argue, when Nine interjected. "Look, how about you just take us to the man in charge, eh?"

The soldier sighed, but nodded. "Follow me, then."

It was a short walk through the NCR encampment, with tents pitched on open grounds between derelict remains of houses and buildings. Several soldiers stared as they walked past, no doubt puzzled over the presence of two strangers with stranger electronic piece mounted on their wrists, the female of the duo even decked out in a Vault jumpsuit.

"Just wait out here," the soldier said, disappearing into a tent. Seconds later, another man walked out, this one with a worn beret.

"Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic Army, 5th Battalion, 1st Company. McGee said you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, anyone ever told you you're quite the looker?" Six grinned.

Nine facepalmed. "Dumbass…"

Hayes said nothing, eyeing the twins with no small amount of confusion. Clearing his throat, Nine decided to speak for the both of them. "You're the man in charge? We heard Primm was taken over by the gangers. Thing is, we've got some important business to take care of in Primm, and it's rather urgent, too."

"If you wish to head into the town, then you're welcome to do so. However, once you're inside you're on your own. It was for your own good when we tried to warn you," Hayes clarified.

"What I'd like to know, is why you don't just charge in. You're trained military troopers going up against a bunch of jackasses that escaped prison. How hard can it be?"

"Military operations are classified information. I can't divulge any details to those who aren't associated with the NCR."

Nine raised his hands. "Yeah, touchy subject, got it. In any case, we'll be heading inside."

Hayes nodded. "Sergeant."

McGee saluted. "Sir." Turning to the twins, he motioned them to follow him. He escorted them to the bridge that led to Primm.

"I don't know what business you've got in Primm, but I suggest you get it done and over with, fast. And if you can help it, try not to draw attention to yourself while you're in, the town's in a, well, delicate situation."

"Yeah, the powder ganger's taken over, any other obvious facts you wanna share? Like people die when they're killed?" Six snorted.

"Technically that last bit's not true. I mean, we're still alive," Nine whispered with grim humour. Six retaliated by slugging him in the arm.

McGee sighed. "Suppose there's no harm in telling you, you'll find out eventually. We were planning on pushing into the town to rout the convicts for good, when the gangers pulled off another raid and made off with a few townsfolk as their hostages. They made random demands and threats of public execution if we moved in, so we've been forced into a stalemate since then. Never mind that the convicts were better armed and organised than what our initial intel said. We don't have nearly enough men to take the town and keep it safe from other gangers."

"Why are you telling us this? That Hayes dude was pretty tight-lipped about the whole deal before," Six pointed out.

"He's just the cautious type. And he wanted to discourage anyone from heading into Primm if he could help it. Seeing how you're adamant about going in, I figured you should at least know."

The twins quietly entered the town, tip-toeing around the mines ("so those powder gangers don't get any funny ideas," added McGee). The streets were deserted, void of any presence save for three gangers loitering about in the area, unaware of their presence.

Taking cover in the empty garage, Nine silently peered around the edge, taking note of one ganger up on the ruined house diagonally across from the garage, and two more around the casino opposite of Bison Steve Hotel and Casino. Lady Luck seemed in a good mood, as the ganger on the house began dozing off.

Six took notice of it as well, and without exchanging any words, both of them nodded, and Nine quietly crept into the house and up the stairs, drawing out a silenced .22 pistol he stole- borrowed indefinitely from Chet's general goods store back in Goodsprings. His twin was much better in close-quarter-combat than he ever would be, not that he'd ever admit it.

Yanking the ganger back, Nine shoved the barrel of his pistol against the convict's head and pulled the trigger. Hastily wiping off the splash of blood on his face, he tossed aside the handgun and drew out his varmint rifle, laid flat on his stomach and took his aim. The furthest of the two remaining thugs held a pistol, and the other had a crowbar hooked to his belt.

Nine chose his target, and squeezed the trigger. The first shot went wild, missing the thug with the handgun by few inches. The second shot hit the mark, and the ganger went down with a dull thud. The last convict cried out in surprise, hand flying to the crowbar when Six whirled around the corner, machete in hand. With the element of surprise on her side, she managed to disarm him by lopping off his arm, before sinking the blade into his abdomen, silencing his pained gurgles.

The two remained still for a moment, ears straining to pick up any other noise from the ensuing fight. They heard gravel crunch beneath hard soles of boots, and the two wheeled toward the source of the noise, weapons at the ready.

"W-wait, don't shoot!" The man cried out, dropping his rifle and raising his hands in surrender. "I ain't with them gangers, I swear!"

Nine lowered his varmint rifle as Six sheathed her machete. "Holy wow, you're old."

"Youngsters these days…" The old man sputtered, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait a sec, I've seen you two before, haven't I?"

"What's up?" Nine asked as he ambled closer.

Six shook her head. The old man's eyes darted between the twins, nodding to himself. "Yeah, I'm certain I have. Don't see many twins around here. You're couriers from the Mojave Express, ain'tcha?"

"You… you know us?" The Courier twins asked in unison.

The old man nodded, a tad puzzled. "Of course, now I remember. Old age's getting to me, I swear. Shouldn't be a problem for you youngsters though, don't tell me you've forgotten! Name's Johnson Nash! We even had you over for Ruby's casserole, remember? That was, well now, how long ago was it?"

The twins shared a look. "This is gonna be a long story. Mind if we talk somewhere, you know, safer?"

"Alright, follow me."

The Vikki and Vance had the makings of a casino, but like the rest of the town it has certainly seen better days. The same could be said for its inhabitants, faces tight and eyes ragged.

"Don't suppose you need me to spell out the obvious. Good to know the two of you are alive and kicking, but you picked a bad time to visit. Do yourselves a favour and leave Primm as soon as you can. The gangers have been harassing us quite often recently, even made off with some of our folks," Johnson said as he led them to a table in the far corner. "They… they took my wife. Those bastards."

"We spoke with the NCR troops stationed outside. They did say something about taking hostages," Six said.

"They're holding them for ransom. All we've got are guns and clothes on our back. And the damn NCR won't raise a finger to help us unless we agreed to fly their banners." Johnson sighed, burying his head in his hands. "Believe me, us Primm folks, we take pride in being independent, and that's the way we stayed for decades. But what were we supposed to do? They took our town, our homes, and now they took our women. They took my wife. Some of the men here never handled a gun before, and I'm useless in a fight, what with my bum legs."

"That bad, huh?" The twins swivelled around and had a closer look. True enough, most of the assembled townsfolk were men, ragged in both clothes and appearance. The few women that were left were either too young or too old.

Then there was the robot, a protectron with a top hat perched on its sensors. "Uh, the fuck is up with the 'bot?" Six asked, jerking her thumbs at the robot.

"Primm Slim," was all Old Nash said, clearly too upset to give a more detailed description. "In any case, you said you wanted to talk about something?"

In lieu of words, both twins simultaneously parted their hair with their fingers, revealing the scars where the bullet punched through their skulls. The old man visibly flinched; even though his gun-toting days were long gone, there was no mistaking bullet wounds. And particularly nasty ones, at that.

"Supposedly we were making a delivery when we were intercepted. Some guy in checkered suit, dressed like a car seat back in the 80's, with a company of Khans, from what we heard. The bastard took our package, shot us in the head and left us for dead," Nine explained.

Johnson Nash gaped. "Well, you two youngsters look very much alive to me."

Six grinned. "We made a few friends while in Goodsprings. They patched us up, but we ended up losing a good chunk of our memories. That's probably why we didn't exactly recognise you – as far as we know, we've never seen you before."

"We heard that the Mojave Express building was in Primm, and given the notes that we found on our belongings, we assumed this would be a good place to dig through some records. Personal identification papers we filled out, maybe," Nine said.

"And we also picked up a tidbit of rumour about certain douchebag with a schmancy suit was heading towards Primm, so we wanted to ask around and see if anyone saw him," Six added.

Nash was quiet for a moment before he answered. "I'm sure there are some records I could let you flick through. But I've locked the place up tight, and it's dangerous to just wander about outside. As for the man in suit, I haven't seen the fella myself, but I know our 'deputy' has."

"It's a start. Where is he?"

"The gangers took him, along with the rest of the women."

"Fuck," Six breathed.

Johnson shook his head. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but as someone who's lived this long and seen a lot of things, take it from me, just be glad you're still alive and start over. I've seen what revenge can do to a man, and trust me, you don't want to tread down that path."

"That was a complete waste of time. Fuck."

The twins took refuge in the empty garage next to the Vikki and Vance casino. Bidding hasty, half-hearted farewells to old man Nash, they first headed over to the Express building, finding it indeed locked upon attempting the doorknob. Nine's deft hands made quick work of the simple locking mechanism, and turning on their pip-boy lights they began rummaging through the filing cabinet, going through one file after another. Without knowing their true names, the task was much more difficult, and night fell when they finally found what they were looking for.

Only, their personal documents were barely filled out. Their (mixed) ethnicity, age (twenty-four) were scribbled in messy handwriting; the rest, their family and last names, birth place, next of kin, place of residence, all were left blank.

With crushing disappointment, they left the building with a slam of the door, uncaring who or what heard them. Though the garage was barren and exposed, neither of them wanted to head back into the casino, or the NCR encampment. They just wanted to be left alone for a while, mull over what they've seen (or haven't seen), and decide on their next course of action.

Before they knew it, it was already morning, and they rose, groggily wiping sleep from their eyes.

"You know, I've been thinking-"

"Really? You can do that? Thinking?" Nine sneered, hissing when his twin kicked him in the shin.

"Yeah, jackass, thinking. Anyway, the Express was a fucking dead end. So what? Maybe that Nash dude has a point."

"About how revenge is bad for you?"

Six snorted. "Fuck that shit. Revenge is sweet as sin. No, I meant the part about starting over. You know, start a new life and all that jizz."

"I think you meant to say 'jazz'," Nine corrected.

Courier Six smirked. "I know what I said."

"Moving on," Nine muttered, "what now?"

"What'd you think? The guy who's got the answer is currently locked up in the shithole of a hotel across the road."

Nine glowered. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? We've dealt with the gangers before, how hard can it be?" Six argued.

"Yeah, only with small groups, and we always caught them off-guard before. Just think about it, sis. It'll be impossible for just the two of us," he reasoned. "In case you don't remember, we're couriers, not soldiers."

Six threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine! Then what the fuck do you want to do, then?"

Her twin bit his lips in thought. "Not sure if this might work, but hell, it's worth a shot."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've got a plan. C'mon, we need to have a chat with Hayes."

A/N: Second chapter done and uploaded. I swear, the part about Primm was difficult to write. My first plan was to just have the twins sneak in, guns blazin', get the deputy out, and go on their merry ways. But from a more realistic perspective, is this even possible? I get that it's just a game, so reality is kinda bent, stretched, and sometimes thrown out the window altogether. But come on, two couriers, not special task forces but couriers, against a building chock-full of hardened inmates armed with dynamites and bloody flamethrowers? Yeah, however you look at it, not gonna work out. The twins, as of now, can handle themselves in a fight, sure, but they sure as hell aren't Liam Neeson. Maybe later, maybe, but right now? Yeah, no.

Thought I'd add in extra monsters from the popular monster mod. I hate them geckos with choppers and bloody axes. And cazadores. Seriously, fuck those cazadores. And deathclaws. And centaurs. And Nightstalkers. And Nightkins. And all those ghouls. And the radscorpions. Did I mention the ghouls? And the cazadores? Yeah, fuck them all.