3: I Hate People... and Robots

"Doc Michaels said you pulled me out of a grave."

Victor wheeled to a stop in front of the Courier, the screen where a head should have been revealing a picture of a black and white smiling cowboy face. "Well howdy there, miss!" He greeted in a voice that was definitely robotic but at the same time… cowboy. "I sure did pull you out. I seen them ol boys leavin' and figured I'd check out what they'd been up too, the lil rascals."

Courier arched an eyebrow. Rascals? She preferred the term murderers. "What'd they look like?"

"Well now… lemme think…"

This cowboy shit was getting old really fast. For the most part, Courier had not felt any overwhelming emotional response to much of anything. She had found some things Shawn said mildly amusing on occasion, but other than that, she felt nothing in any extreme.

This robot had changed all that. She was feeling particularly murderous and was wondering what the quickest way to disable the damn thing was.

"No, can't say I recall. You might ask the town folk though, they might know somethin'."

Courier took a very deep breath, feeling her patience reaching the snapping point. Not saying another word, she stiffly wheeled about and headed up the hill towards the Doc's place.

~!~

Shawn was not surprised in the slightest when he heard Katy coming through the door, not moving from his place at the counter where he was contemplating the bottle of whiskey. They had water aplenty but on occasion… a drink stronger than beer sounded right. He did cock an ear, listening as she disappeared into the main room that served as living room, parlor, and anything else he needed it to be. Currently, it was also her temporary bedroom until she was ready to leave.

Which he knew she was, the woman was getting antsy, but she also wasn't about to rush off without finding out anything she could. He was still fairly certain all she was doing was fixing to land herself into a whole heap of trouble, more trouble. As if being shot in the head and left for dead in a shallow grave wasn't trouble enough.

Sighing, he took the shot he had poured himself.

~!~

Courier spent the third day of her release from the clinic talking to the townspeople. She had spoken to some old man named Easy Pete who could only tell her that the 'one in the fancy suit seemed to be calling the shots', not much help there.

Then she had tried Trudy again, inside the Prospector's Saloon. She'd met the informal mayor of Goodsprings the other day but when Trudy had gotten to bitching about Victor, Courier had decided to just shut up on the questions. However, she was out of patience to spare and needed answers.

"Yeah, they stopped in here, before the cemetery incident mind you." Trudy said briskly, sidestepping Katy or whoever the hell she had said she was. The woman had shown up in the Saloon without Shawn and headed straight for Trudy. Not that Trudy minded giving the information out, but there was just something… odd about this girl. The mere fact that she had survived a shot to the head was astonishing enough… Trudy had to glance back down at the floor she was attempting to sweep when she realized she had been staring at the scar over Katy's eyes.

Courier was well aware that even with the Doc's synthetic skin, the right side of her forehead, from her eyebrow on up looked… ugly. It could have been worse, but it could have been a lot better. The rest of her face seemed fair enough, just that one spot… it was like an inkblot, only it was a scar. An inkblot shaped scar.

"They were a bunch of freeloaders, they thought they'd be getting a few rounds on the house."

From the derisive snort Trudy followed that sentence with, Courier chanced a guess that they paid up.

"Then one of the Great Khans knocked my radio to the floor 'by accident', and it hasn't been working since."

She did not care about the radio though she did file away the 'Great Khans' part. "Did they say whereabouts they were going?" She demanded through gritted teeth.

Sensing she was in some sort of danger, Trudy nodded and walked behind the bar to put distance between them, putting the broom aside. "They were having an argument about it, but the guy in the checkered coat kept shushing them. Sounded like they came in from the north through Quarry Junction. If that's the case I can't say I blame them for not wanting to go back."

Knowing she might be well on her way through Quarry Junction, Courier asked, "Why not?"

Trudy shot her a 'duh' look. "That whole area's overrun with the kind of critters that just get mad if you shoot 'em. Merchants avoid that whole stretch of 1-15 like it's radioactive. Which it could be for all I know."

"So," Courier steered the conversation back on track. "Where did they go?"

"I didn't hear exactly, but the leader was talking about the Strip. If a fella, or a gal, wants to get there and avoid the 15, he'd have to go east. Take Highway 93 up."

Courier frowned, not liking that bit of information, it sounded very much out of the way. "Thank you." She said curtly, wheeling around and heading for the exit.

Trudy shook her head. She'd be a lot happier when that strange, cold woman was well on her way out of town.

~!~

"Leavin'?"

Courier had heard Shawn coming and wasn't startled when she heard his voice behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded.

"Get the info you needed?"

Another nod.

Unless she had too, Shawn had noticed she wasn't keen on talking and wondered if this was a side effect of the amnesia or just her natural thing. "You know where you're going?"

"Trudy said that the I-15 is too dangerous to take and most people are going using Highway 93." She recited from memory. "It's out of the way."

"You'll go through Primm." Shawn remarked, watching as she folded the jumpsuit he had given her into the satchel. She had gone scrounging around the old schoolhouse and found some things to sell at the General Store for a set of leather pants and a matching top, both of them treated to make them more serviceable in gunfights. The idea of her getting shot again set him to grinding his teeth, eyes narrowing. "What're you goin' to do if you get shot again?"

"I won't."

"You probably weren't expectin' it the first time either, Katy."

She frowned.

"Why can't you just stay here?" He walked around the faded but sturdy couch until he was in front of her. "You could start a new life here."

Courier arched an eyebrow at him.

"Think about it, this is your second chance."

"Doc, I need to know what I did that put me on a second chance." She said as gently as she could. Unlike the other residents of Goodsprings, she had no problem tolerating Shawn. She actually liked him. It helped that he seemed to be genuinely concerned about her; and wasn't dropping hints about needing a radio repaired.

Also helping the like factor was the fact that he wasn't a robot.

Robots creeped her out.

Shawn had known she wouldn't stay but he had had to try anyway. He had partially convinced himself that it was for her safety and being a doctor, he was naturally concerned with her welfare. Then there was a small part of him that might've been a little bit attracted to the very strange woman.

Shaking her head, Courier offered a hesitant smile. "Thanks Doc for everything, but I have to do this." She leaned up to kiss his cheek.

Before she could pull away, Shawn grabbed her by the forearms, hauling her upright against him properly. "Katy…"