The two went to meet with the client, the man who had put up the poster. He lived just a little outside of Primm, and he owned a couple of Brahmin. He introduced himself as Tank.
"That's an odd name," said Scarlet.
"Yeah? And 'Scarlet' is normal?" Tank snapped. His duster flapped in the wind, revealing a .44 Magnum. Scarlet's mind flickered to her 9mm pistol and rusty switchblade. Her ego cried out in agony.
"Why don't you take care of this guy? You seem like you can handle yourself." Scarlet said.
Tank shrugged. "Got a herd. Got a family. Too much to go chasing Brahmin-killers." Scarlet nodded.
"Where is he hiding?" she asked.
"Some men saw him retreat to the south, probably to a shack or something out in the desert." Tank answered.
Scarlet nodded and turned around, to pursue the man. Court soon followed after her. As soon as they were out of eyesight, Tank turned and walked into his home and rested his hands on the table in the living room. He then took out a piece of paper and pulled a pencil from his coat and started writing.
Scarlet and Court had been scouring the desert for hours, looking for any sign of life, bar the occasional Raider or Radscorpion. They had been searching silently in the Wasteland, about to turn and return to Primm when they saw it: a small shack, perfectly suitable for one lone Brahmin slayer. Scarlet drew her pistol, and tossed Court the switchblade. Scarlet raised the gun and knocked on the door. No response.
"Hello?" Court said, almost in a sweet tone, holding the switchblade with two hands. She repeated twice, trying to coax the man out.
"Hey! Prick!" Scarlet yelled. No reply. "Fuck this!" she yelled again as she got ready to kick the door in.
"I don't think that's a good idea…" Court warned, but Scarlet waved the caution aside. She lifted her foot, and kicked the door open. A split second later, a bullet flew right underneath her outstretched leg.
"Holy shit!" Scarlet screamed. The sound of the gunshot still rang in the shack. Someone had rigged a Varmint Rifle to fire when the door opened. After catching her breath, Scarlet put one foot in the shack. Nothing more went off. She pulled her foot out and looked at Court, who was nervously standing off to the side. Scarlet motioned for Court to take the lead. Court shook her head. Scarlet shot her the look once again. Court sighed and moved to the shack. Hesitantly, she stepped in, both hands still firmly clasped around the switchblade. She looked around for any evidence of life. The shack was clean enough, that someone could've just cleaned it recently. Still, grimy sheets and clothing littered the floor. A rusted stove sat in the corner. Sunlight came in through holes in the makeshift roof. Scarlet stepped in and immediately began going through everything. First, she sifted through the stove and surrounding area, looking for food or caps. After about three minutes of searching around, Scarlet threw open the closet, and a plethora of bloodstained clothing stood in it. Court covered her mouth and went outside. "Lightweight." Scarlet scoffed. She rummaged through the bloodied clothing and discovered a combat knife (also bloody), and a few 9mm rounds. She wiped the knife somewhat clean and called for Court. When no one responded, Scarlet turned around. "Court!" she yelled, "I swear to Christ, if she ran out on me…" She moved towards the open door, and as she took a step a man appeared in the doorway. His hair was dark and disheveled, and his eyes had a crazy look to them. Like they'd seen the death and destruction of the Great War ten times over. In his arms was his hostage, Court, and over Court's throat was a knife not unlike the one Scarlet found.
"Who are you?" the man asked with incredible hostility. Court tried to struggle but the man's grip was absolute.
"You don't need to know that. Just know you don't want to kill her." Scarlet said smoothly.
"Oh yeah? And why is that?" the man retaliated. His crazed look intensified. Court looked at Scarlet pleadingly.
"She's the only thing keeping from putting a couple bullets in your chest. I won't bother shooting you in the head, though; your face is already fucked-up enough." Scarlet laughed. Court's eyes widened and she shook her head as best she could.
"You should listen to your friend here. Cut the shit and disarm yourself." the man said.
"'My friend'? Please, she's just a slave." Scarlet barked.
"Oh? Well, in that case…" the man smiled, "I guess you won't mind this." The man opened his mouth and a vile tongue slid out, connecting with Court's cheek and moving up her face to her eye. Court started to cry. Scarlet seized the moment and raised her pistol, putting two rounds in the man's head before he could react. He fell to unforgiving ground of the Wasteland. Court dropped to her knees and started sobbing.
"Thank you…. Thank you…." she said in between breaths.
"Yeah, well, can't tolerate that shit. I didn't before and I won't now. Get up. We have to sleep here. Dark is coming." Scarlet said, kicking the man's feet out into the desert. She shut the door and began to prepare for bed. Court stood up.
"Thank you, Scarlet. For that and… before." she said.
"You're sleeping on the floor." Scarlet plainly replied. She laid down in the bed and rolled over. Court laid down on the floor, on the opposite side of the small room.
"I think you actually like me, Scarlet. I don't think I'm just a slave to you." Court said in the waning light.
"Would you like to join him out there?" Scarlet snapped. Court shut up, but didn't stop smiling.