AN: Warning! There is violence in this chapter. I tried to keep it the kind of violence you'd see in a PG-13 movie. No Gory Details.
I should've said this before, but I own nothing, but Callie.
Chapter 2- Ain't it a hole in the boat.
Five years had passed and Callie could feel the pecking of raids on her lands, by both the legion and lesser tribes. The constant travel between New Vegas, the Dam, and the Capital, formerly known as Shady Sands was also starting to wear at her.
She wished that she had someone to look up to, someone else that could relate to her role. That damn cowboy in New Vegas was the closest thing she saw nowadays. His constant smile, white ten gallon hat and cigarette hanging out of his mouth constantly, it just pissed her off. He and his boss seemed only to give just what they wanted to, and nothing more. That's why she got the dam- because it was convenient for them.
She took a deep breath as she headed up to Goodsprings from the Mojave outpost. Whenever she thought about the Father she never knew, she'd go there. Not there per se. Just in that direction. She was good at sneaking out of the outpost, her independent streak ever evident. She walked the center of the road, careful to avoid both the radscorpions and the giant ants that lay between the outpost and Primm. She may have a streak of Heroism in her, but better to save ammo, at least when she could.
She was finding it hard to keep the apathy at bay, just as her own soldiers were. She walked right under the overpass that connected the two parts of Primm as she continued her way to the destination. She knew animals wouldn't bother her as she moved into Gecko Territory. She had learned over time that animals just tended to like being around her. What she didn't know, was that Alfred had been the same way.
As she neared Goodsprings, the sound of voices filled the air. "We should take them out; no way the town could take us."
"They got that damned Securitron, you been to the strip, you know what they can do." She hid behind a nearby boulder listening as they seemed to walk right past her.
"But he doesn't have the same face; I doubt he's as set up. Joe's heading to size 'em up."
"Yeah, Damn glad that Trader ran here. Looks like some fine pickin's"
She shook her head, knowing the good folks down here, she knew they weren't likely to give up without a fight. She would have to let them fight their own fight though. She rerouted around town to her destination.
The Cross in the East shone brightly against the dark sky. This was a symbol of America's Greatness. Her mind often embraced what he had been like. She sighed as she started up the steps of the memorial as she had so many times before. A voice rang out from the bottom of the cross as her eyes fell upon a man. His drunken catterwalled rendition of Dino's "Ain't it A Kick in the Head" nearly brought tears to her eyes. Boy this guy can NOT sing.
"Hey there, kid, what's got you so down?" She slid down the cross sitting, next to the stranger. His blonde hair peaked out from an old fedora. His vault suit was well worn and his handle-bar mustache seemed well maintained for someone so far from anywhere.
He opened his mouth to reply but an order rang out "Hold your tongue, Wastrel!"
She immediately drew her pistol. "Callie Jones, the mighty Caesar has marked you for death, and the Legion obeys." She rolled her eyes as the man beside her stood.
"F*** you!" He threw his whiskey bottle at the nearest Legionary.
"Ughhh," the man fell to his knees as the legion temporarily changed target. He drew a well weathered 10mm pistol and started shooting. However he was no challenge for those assassins.
The kid looked like he wouldn't survive until he could get a stimpack into his system, if she didn't intervene. Her fingers quickly and quietly moved to the combat knife she wore on her right thigh, a sadistic grin spreading as she buried the knife hilt-deep into the throat of the man wearing a helmet full of raven's feathers. Before he could even fall to the ground her .357 found a target in the man with a dog's head. She emptied the cylinder into him before he finally fell, and she grabbed his 9mm submachine gun. This left her with two wounded legionaries and a half-dead idiot. Not even Caesar knew that his order was just a death sentence for any assassin they sent.
The other two were more difficult as the one with the Trail Carbine was taking cover as he popped shots, and the other had another submachine gun. She hid behind the cross long enough to grab a quick dose of med-x and a stimpack. She may be a nation and thus unable to die until her people fell, but pain and injuries still needed to be attended to.
She took a deep breath as she aimed the weapon at the Prime Legionary, spraying and praying. Half of the clip was gone and only one assassin remained. She stayed low, keeping as much cover between her and the Centurion with the rifle. Her marksman carbine moved into place and she took a prone firing position. The night sky covered her like a blanket as she edged to a prime location. This was how she felt most comfortable, seeing the world through the lens of a scope. Finding her target she quickly dispatched the Centurion.
She quickly pulled a couple of stimpacks out to give the idiot on the ground. "You think this is an old Cowboy Holotape? Gonna run in be the hero and save the damsel in distress?" Her voice was filled with frustration at the stupidity people often showed.
His face was apologetic. "I can't help it, it was instinct."
She held her hand out to help him up. When finally she was face to face with the blonde she could see his deep azure eyes through his biker goggles. On the left side of his face there were the puckers of silver scar tissue on his tan skin. "Name's Callie Jones of the New California Republic." She gave his hand a quick shake. "Who're you and what brought you here?"
"Not quite sure? Took two 9mms to the noggin and woke up knowing nothing. When I saw this place something inside me just pushed me here."
"So you don't even know who you are?" She cocked her eyebrow incredulously.
"Well, this here paper calls me courier six. That's what I've been calling myself since I woke up."
"Well, six, looks like you're gonna need some help out there."
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I had basics in my mind but needed help with getting some of the details. Again I have to thank mein schatz, as well as Angel for their help.
Thank you also to the readers. Without you guys I may have given up.
There will be a bit more of the dark comedy that fallout is so well known for, in the future, as well as the darker aspects. And before I get remarks about Mary Sue's, I realize that she seems that way at first, but hold off for later chapters.