Antillicus gazed at his wrist, then looked up. There it was, Primm. A rickety old roller coaster snaked around a derelict building, highlighting the town's unique landmark. As he approached the town, his boots kicking up dust on the crumbling road beneath his feet, a shout grabbed his attention. "Hey, hope you're not planning on going into Primm. Whole place is overrun with escaped convicts. If you stay on the right side of the overpass, you won't get shot." The courier eyed the NCR trooper with mild disinterest, then glanced at Primm. Something in him made him itch for a fight, but not enough to be dumb about it. He ultimately decided on talking to the man in charge there.
Lieutenant Hayes rubbed his forehead impatiently. "You're gonna get yourself killed if you run in there like that. I can't spare any men. We're barely holding our own against the Powder Gangers as it is." The day was a hot one, and being inside this tent certainly wasn't helping. As the brown-haired lanky man in front of him energetically laid out his plan on the flimsy card table, its legs wobbled and shook. "Look, if I go in at night, I can take them out, one by one," the courier insisted. Hayes was growing impatient. "Fine, but don't expect us to drag your body back here after those convicts finish with you."
Antillicus grinned as he crossed the ruined overpass, the pitch-black night concealing his approach. There were only stars overhead this night. He hasn't expected it to be so cold tonight, but the desert is a strange place. He considered his options. He would need to use his knife, at first. There were too many roaming about. Luckily, the darkness was on his side.
Using the crumbling buildings to the south for cover, he stealthily maneuvered behind a lone lookout. Glancing at the knife in his hand and hefting its weight, he prepared to strike. Antillicus quickly wrapped his hand around the man's mouth and plunged the combat knife deep in his chest, aiming for the heart, his instincts guiding it. He could feel the blade grate against a rib as it entered and then pierced vital tissue. The convict's mouth gaped as the courier released his grip, letting the rapidly bleeding man slide to the ground, his crimson blood slowly pooling. Antillicus disliked getting so close. He didn't remember killing before, but it felt...natural.
Unfortunately, he learned he hadn't quite gone unnoticed. Gunfire rang out and bullets kicked up dirt around his feet and chipped pieces of brick off of the wall next to him. He felt the sting of the stone shrapnel's impact against his cheek. Breathless, he exchanged his knife for his 9mm. He peered out from behind the wall, then ducked back as a bullet whizzed by his head.
He crept back around behind the building, planning on flanking the source of the gunfire. As he peeked around the northwest corner, he could make out a couple dark figures crossing the street. He raised his pistol and aimed carefully, then squeezed the trigger. The first figure slumped over after being lit up by the gunshot. The second scrambled behind a wrecked car. Antillicus cursed and rummaged in his pack for a grenade. He pulled the pin and quickly tossed the frag towards the car, then took cover behind the wall.
One explosion was followed by a much larger one, nearly deafening him. Peeking out from cover, he stared at the mushroom cloud rising from the shredded and blackened remains of the car. Damn, he thought to himself. I guess safety wasn't a big priority with those things. He then remembered that the explosion would have been heard for miles around. Cursing beneath his breath, he ducked inside the building he had taken cover behind, not noticing the Mojave Express sign atop it.
