Chapter 2: My Kind of Town

Six left at dawn the next morning, to a fanfare farewell. Clad in her leather armour with varmint rifle slung over her shoulder resting against her pack. Her 9mm was strapped to her hip and a combat knife was in her boot. She had supplies for about a week and was glad she'd bought the sunglasses. Primm apparently wasn't far and she should be able to make the journey in less than a day. She flicked the pip-boy radio to one of the few active signals in the wasteland. Her pip-boy read the signal as "Radio New Vegas". She'd only just left sight of Goodsprings when the announcer came on: "A package Courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on." She threw her head back and laughed out loud; an almost musical sound of mirth. I'm famous! How did they even know? She wondered as she set a steady pace and continued on.

The Powder Ganger shot first. Apparently news travels very fast in the wastelands. Six strafed off the road and into the ditch, avoiding his bullets. There she readied her rifle. It took 3 shots to kill both attackers but none of the bullets missed. She looted the bodies and checked their camp; her sharp eyes catching the 2 active mines. Once they were disabled she stored them away along with the little bit of ammo she found and a few valuables. She set off on the road again.

Geckos were her main source of harassment but easily dealt with. The thought crossed her mind that Geckos were a good source of meat. She considered filleting one but she'd be in Primm before night fall and she could get dinner there. She steered clear of the second Powder Ganger camp she saw, not wanting to risk another gun fight with her weapons in such shabby condition.

In early evening she finally caught sight of the wooden structure. Rollercoaster. She was met at the edge of town by a man in uniform. "Watch yourself. Town up ahead has been taken over by convicts."

"Thank you for the warning." Six replies with a smile.

The guard shifted in place before continuing, "Talk to Lieutenant Hayes if you have any questions." This must be the NCR. The Courier thought as she walked toward the tents outside Primm. Lieutenant Hayes was a valuable source of information but little else. He answered her questions about the NCR, ("Where do you come from that you haven't heard of the NCR? Nevermind, it doesn't matter much. If you haven't heard of us, you must not be from the Legion. Put simply, the NCR is the greatest nation currently functioning") and Primm, ("We know Primm is a great strategic point, and we aren't blind to the needs of the town, but we're barely holding our own against the Powder Gangers") he even marked the Mojave Outpost on her pip-boy.

"I need to get to the Mojave Express office. I don't see too many guards. Can you help me?" Six asked as she scanned the town, spotting two thugs patrolling the town.

"No ma'am, we have our orders."

"Orders, eh?" Six mused while fiddling with the strap of her varmint rifle. "Well, thanks for all the info." Six offered the lieutenant a farewell and then walked toward one of the few two story buildings left standing. She deftly scaled the debris and made it to the second story where she observed the town from cover. Two patrolling, two houses off to the left, three buildings. She raised her rifle and aimed at one of the convicts then hesitated. Am I too far out? With a scope I could make this shot. Huh. Why did that not occur to me before? Right, massive head trauma. She shook her head and slid back to the street below. I'll wait until dark, and then clear the houses and the patrols. Maybe I can learn more from these NCR in the meantime.

Six wandered over to chat with the soldiers by the campfire they had started. Mostly she asked vague questions and listened. She learned a little more about the Legion and about the Vipers on the road to the south. The soldiers she spoke with where real patriots, proud of their nation and proud to serve. They wished they could help her, but orders were orders.

When the night was finally dark enough, she left the campfire and slipped around the edge of town. The soldiers had cleared the mines for her earlier; they would reset them if she wasn't back in a few hours. She found the two houses off to the side and after she scanned the area and saw no convicts, she drew her 9mm and slipped through the door whisper quiet. Inside, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. Rot. Decay. Death. She found two bodies, still in bed; murdered in their sleep. With her Pip-Boy light she examined the house. The sheriff's office, she surmised. The only thing of worth left in the house was an old duster and a hat. Mojave nights were cold and days were bright. She stuffed both in her bag. The second house was also empty.

When she left the second house she pulled out her varmint rifle and crept toward the large building. When she reached the corner, she glanced around it. One quick shot took down the first con but the shot was loud in the quiet night and the other con turned and opened fire. She ducked back behind the corner and heard the shots impact the building. She crouched and popped around the corner, squeezing out another shot and silence filled the night once again. Once she was sure she was clear, she looted the bodies and opened the door to the "Vicki and Vance Casino" only to have a second gun shoved in her face in as many days. A rough hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her inside. There was a crowd of people inside. Their guns were up but they didn't seem eager to use them, thankfully.

"Seeing as how you just offed those two gangsters, I reckon you ain't with'em." Said the man who had pulled her through the door.

Six loosened her hands on her rifle and moved her finger off the trigger. "Just a Courier looking for some information."

"Well I'm Johnson Nash. I run the Mojave Express office and I'll offer you want I can."

Ten minutes and lots of exposition later, Six was conscripted. The delivery job had been weird but the caps were good and Deputy Beagle apparently had the information she needed. The problem was, the deputy went and got himself taken hostage. So she had to fight he way through the "Bison Steve" if she wanted answers. Can I even do this? Take on a gang while outnumbered and poorly armed? She took stock of here supplies. Enough 5.56mm and 9mm. Two mines and 3 sticks of dynamite. No frags. She loved frag grenades. Wait, I do? She grinned involuntarily. Yes, I do.

She pushed open the door to the "Bison Steve" and slipped inside, finding cover in the form of rubble just beside the door. She waited and listened. Patrols. 2 maybe 3? She waited until the footsteps were approaching then lit up the dynamite and threw it over the debris. The cons reaction was longer then the dynamite's fuse and the result was a messy dismembered leg. Two more cons rushed around the corner as she drew her rifle. One shot. Target down. Dodge. Second shot. Jam. Oh my god you piece of crap! I cleaned and oiled you yesterday! She cursed the jammed gun as she took cover and pulled out her pistol. The last con was keeping her pretty suppressed but his ammo wouldn't hold out forever. Even at this distance she heard the tell-tale shuffle of reloading. She rushed from cover, firing as she closed the gap. Adrenalin pumping, she kept firing. When the con hit the ground she stopped. Six shots to the chest? That's a little overkill. Need to keep that in check or my ammo will go fast.

Looting could wait. After a quick area scan she was down the hall and had her bobby pins in a lock in a few heart beats. Poke. Twist. Tap. Tap. Click. She smiled and pushed the door open. Down the hall she found the deputy. She shushed him and then freed his hands and pointed back the way she came. He nodded and sneaked off. She mined the room and then managed a headshot with her pistol before she hid around the corner. The sound of running was followed by a blast, then the second. And the world was silent again.

A quick scout and loot later and Six found herself kneeling in front of a floor safe. The lock took her far longer than any one previous. A battle between conscious thought and muscle memory waged inside her. Slowly she started grasping what her hands were doing; images in her mind of a locking mechanism cylinder to be twisted and pins to be raised. Just as her thoughts and hands came into sync, the lock clicked. Even in the dark, the ivory grip was brilliantly white. She took the grip in hand and brought the gun into her lap. The barrel, frame and cylinder were made of a smooth black metal decorated with ornate gold etchings, and the polished ivory handle was inlaid with the clubs symbol. The word "Lucky" was engraved on the silver plate on the ejector tube. She stared in awe; fingers tracing the filigree. She took Lucky and placed it in her pack. She'd have to find ammo for it later.

Soon she was back at the "Vicki and Vance Casino." She got her information from the deputy, resupplied, bought another varmint rifle and traded in her 9mm and its ammo for .357 ammo. Finally she found a couch at the back of the casino to spend the night. She quickly updated her journal (Through Nipton to Novac.) and then repaired her rifle. She finally lay back on the couch and slept lightly for a few hours.