"If there is no struggle, there is no change." - Frederick Douglass

Chapter Two - Troubled Town

October 19th, 2281 - 8:18AM

Lisa couldn't remember what it was like to feel the rays of the sun. Nor did she remember how bright the sun could be. She shielded her eyes and squinted at the old, ramshackle town. She could see that it was one of those old Wild West type of towns, not something like the scrappy confines of the Junkyard or the sprawling capital of the NCR. She could see that despite being old, it was a decent enough place. She could have stayed here forever if she wasn't caught up on catching the bastard that shot her. She jogged down, before remembering what that doctor told her. Look for Sunny Smiles if you are looking for work. She took that up, and headed to the place where at one point, for various reasons entered. The bar, or in this case, the Prospector Saloon. She nodded politely to the old man rocking in his chair, who had a blade of glass in his mouth. She pushed in the saloon doors, only to find a man in a convict suit shouting to the barkeep, who had a bark to match the convict.

"Listen, bitch! If you don't hand over that son of a bitch trader, I'll fucking burn this fucking place to the ground and use your -Saloon- as a fucking roast for the god damn bighorners and brahmin we have!" he shouted, his scarred hand reaching for a .357 magnum in a cowboy type holster. It was only when he took a moment to take a look down that the bartender had a shotgun out - pointed straight at his chest. He looked up, as he concealed his fear.

"Listen here, Mr. Cobb, you better fucking take your fucking ass out of here before I'll have to clean out your fucking insides of my tables and couches, dickface. I ain't handing over an innocent, and certainly not to your ass! Now, fucking go!" her voice filled the room, her anger being felt as the man muttered. The bartender would point at the door using her shotgun, Cobb wasting no time to flee out of the saloon. He hurriedly pushed over Lisa, and hurried out of the door, before a thud could be heard.

"Git asshole! Nobody treats women like that!" an old, raspy voice shouted. The sound of spit hitting something is heard, before frantic footsteps begin again.

Lisa brushed off her shoulder, before she looked at Trudy.

"Who was that?" she asked, as she took a look at the saloon doors.

"Joe Cobb, leader of some of those damned convicts." she responded, eying Lisa as she put away her shotgun. "Oh, I know you, you are that Courier that got shot in the head! Glad to see you up and about."

"Yeah, that's me," she took a glance around the saloon, noticing a canine and a girl in leather armor, who had just set down a Nuka-Cola bottle.

"You Sunny Smiles?" Lisa asked, sauntering up to Smiles and taking a seat opposite from her.

"Yeah, I'm Sunny Smiles. I'm guessin' you were told to come look for me?" she replied. She missed the sight of the dog right next to her; who was wagging her tail.

"Yeah. Doctor Mitchell said to come see you, she said, pausing halfway, "He said you needed some help?"

"Geckos down near our water supply. We need to clear 'em out. You got a rifle or the like?" Smiles responded, patting her dog. "Cheyenne, who's a good pup?"

"No, just an N99. I'll take you up on a rifle." Lisa said.

In a flash, Smiles throws an old, clunky Varmint Rifle towards her. She tried out the bolt, finding a little bit of trouble trying to close it, but otherwise fine. Two 5.56mm clips sat on the table, which she picked up. She loaded a clip, and closed the bolt.

Smiles stood up, and smiled. "Time to go hunting."

I really do like this Smiles girl. She reminds me of somebody.

They both smiled at the same time, walking out of the Prospector's Saloon simultaneously.

Back in the saddle, with no regrets in the pot. Lisa thought. This is going to be hell of a ride for redemption and for answers. All with a little bit of fun and death mixed with it.