This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I had anticipated, so I ended up breaking it down into two so I'd be able to meet my self-appointed deadline. This chapter has a bit more vulgarity than my last ones, but I've decided that if I'm going to write an M rated story, I may as well write an M rated story. Next update will be this week. I'm enjoying writing this, so I may upload it sooner - but it will definitely be posted by Friday, June 8th. This is my longest chapter yet...let me know if it's too much, or if I need to change pace or anything. I'm pretty pleased with the way this chapter turned out.


Six passed the rock where, the day before, he and Sunny had saved the woman from geckos. He paused momentarily at the rock, contemplating the young woman he had left sleeping in Victor's shack, before heading towards the road. "Hey! You!" Six turned to see a weary man in a worn black leather vest jogging his way. "Hey! Can you help me?"

Six stopped just short of the road and waited. "Depends on what your problem is."

"It's my girl. We were up on the ridge, and we were attacked by geckos. Please, you have to help me. She'll die."

Six's thoughts once again fluttered to Sunny. "How do I get to her?"

"Follow the trail up past the broken radio tower. She's at the top. Please, hurry. You have to save her."

"Alright…fella. I'll see what I can do."

"Barton. My name's Barton. Thank you so much."

Six checked his pouch for ammunition. He had ten rounds left for his shotgun, and a box of 10mm rounds. He then began making his way up the path. As he made his way up the hill, Six made quick work of a few geckos, that, for the most part, proved to be of little challenge. Two larger ones he killed with his pistol – and three young ones he dispatched with his machete. At the top of the hill, however, he found only the body of a dead prospector. Perplexed, Six searched the prospector's camp for any materials he might be able to make use of.

"Thanks for clearing out the geckos. I believe that stash is mine."

Six turned to see Barton, with his weapon at the ready. Six's hand crept towards his own weapon. "Don't even think about it," Barton warned, he pulled the hammer back on his 9mm pistol. "Toss your weapons on the ground."

Six eyed Barton a moment before obliging him – "If you're going to kill me, make it quick."

"Oh I will. Turn around," Barton commanded him.

"I'd rather face my killer if it's all the same to you."

Barton inched closer, "Turn. Around." This time Six did as he was asked. "Now get on your knees." Six sank down, his eyes darting around his surroundings. He noticed a bear trap a few feet away from him. If he could get to it…Suddenly he heard Barton cry in pain. He wheeled around to see Victor's robotic arm clamped around Barton's neck. Victor shook Barton a few times and tossed him down the mountainside.

"You need to be careful. It's dangerous out here!" Victor told him.

"Where the hell'd you come from, Victor? How'd you know I needed help?" Six was surprised, but relieved to see the robot.

"I can smell trouble a mile away pard'ner!"

Six smirked. "Even without a nose?"

"Hah! I like you friend!"

"Well, that's twice you saved me." Six told him.

"Everyone needs help from time to time. Maybe you can return the favor one day."

"Maybe. Well, Victor, I'm going to head back down to the road. Maybe we'll meet again one day."

"Oh, our trails will definitely cross again, pard'ner!" Victor assured, as Six treaded back towards the highway.

Back at the highway, Six watched the baby geckos dance across the road, running hitherto – occasionally stopping to snip at a radroach or bloatfly. In the distance the roller coaster rose and winded like a great coiled serpent. Sunny's words had rang true –Primm would be impossible to miss.

He stood silently a moment before a road sign. To his right, Primm – and the massive coiled beast. To the left, Vegas. Every inch of his being wanted to go left – to head straight to the real serpent of the Mojave, the man that had left him for dead. Six huffed and let his eyes fall forward. A small shack loomed in the distance. Six glanced at the road sign again – directly ahead, "Jean".

Six tepidly made his way to the shack. The last time he explored before introducing himself, he ended up with a gun pointed at him – that seemed to be happening a lot. And this time, Sunny wasn't here to calm down any potential assailants. Six knocked on the door. Nothing…he waited a moment longer and knocked again. This time he got a response, "Just a minute!" After a beat the door creaked open; before him stood an aged man, perhaps in his late thirties, wearing a set of leather armor and a peculiar fisherman's cap. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry to intrude. I was just taking a look around."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," the man grinned. "Please, come in. Have a seat." Six entered the shack. The inside was just as worn down as the exterior. Tires and empty barrels littered the right side of the shack, a set of lockers stood along the back wall next to a large wooden crate, and a lone table sat in the middle of the room. On the table was a hull of a computer and what looked to be a mostly functional HAM radio – though it was silent. The man grabbed one of the barrels and flipped it up so that it could be used as a seat – then, he took a seat behind the table. "You know. You really ought to be careful. There are Powder Gangers around. Where you headed to?"

"Yeah, I've seen them. Headed out to Primm…what about you? What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, I'm just a merchant. Came across this place, thought it'd be a good place to set up shop."

Six glanced around the mostly empty shack skeptically. "You don't exactly have any supplies."

"Powder Gangers. Took everything."

"So why are you sticking around?"

"Oh, uh…you know."

"No pack brahmin, no supplies…"

"Well…fuck. Alright, I'm not a merchant. I'm a bounty hunter…and I was hoping to cash in on some of the gangers. But I haven't had any success."

"There's a bounty on them?"

"No. But I figure the NCR would be grateful to any help anyway. Just showing a little initiative."

"Well, look. I could use some ammo. I'm a bit short on caps, but you can take what I've got…if you have any 20gauge rounds."

The man stood and grabbed an ammo container that was sitting on the locker behind him. "Matter of fact, I do. But I found a mess of ammunition when I got here. About twenty or so shells in this box. Take them, no charge. Just be careful out there."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I have enough to do me. Better you take them and keep yourself alive."

"Thanks stranger."

"Name's Deckard. Randall Deckard."

"Six." After a light hearted handshake, Six turned to the door, "Thank you, Deckard. I repay my debts. You'll hear from me soon."


The road to Primm was relatively docile. Only once did he have to sneak by a couple of gangers holed up in a small camping trailer just off the road. Luckily, it was still fairly early and the gangers were sleeping. Along the road, occasionally, a few geckos would sprint back and forth – but they were all very young. As he neared the town, he saw a quick burst of movement headed at him. Far too big to be a gecko. He instinctively reached for his sidearm. "Hey! Whoa! Easy, fella! I'm with the NCR. Primm's off limits. Powder Gangers have taken over the town."

Six let his arm fall to his side. "Thanks for the warning," Six turned his gaze upon the coaster, "Christ those Powder Ganger fucks are everywhere."

"They're escaped convicts from the NCRCF – a correctional facility a little ways north-east of here," the trooper told him.

"Any way I can help?"

The trooper gave Six a once over and shrugged. "I suppose you could talk to Lieutenant Hayes. He's in a tent just down the road…just make sure to stay on the west side of the overpass. Unless you're keen on getting shot."

"I'll do that," Six gave the trooper a quick nod and continued along the road into Primm. The buildings – at least on this side of town – were in complete ruin, none even remotely livable. At the end of the road he came to a man sitting at a weathered green picnic table. "Hello. I'm looking for Lieutenant Hayes."

The man looked up at him for a moment before standing. "Sir. The lieutenant is in that tent," the soldier motioned towards the southernmost tent.

"Should I just go in…or…"

"No, sir," the soldier told him. "Give me a moment, I will fetch him for you." The soldier disappeared into the tent. Moments later another man emerged.

"I'm Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic Army, 5th battalion, 1st company. What's your business?" The man was gruff. His uniform was worn and dirty. Unlike the other soldiers that Six had seen, this one wore a tattered green beret.

"I was told to speak with you. To see if there was any way I could assist you."

"Military operations are classified information. A civilian has no business butting into the affairs of the NCR," the man's voice betrayed him. Six could tell he was uneasy.

"Just trying to make myself useful. If you don't have any problems…"

"The problem isn't on us. The problem was with the initial intel for our mission. The convicts are better armed and better organized than what had been originally suggested. Without better equipment and reinforcements…shit…" Hayes shook his head.

"Maybe I can help," Six offered.

"I'm not going to lie to you. Any help you can give us, we'll be willing to take."

"I'll see what I can do."


Six, once more, found himself in front of Jean Sky Diving. He lightly tapped at the door, "Deckard?"

After a beat the door creaked open, the man again stood before him – this time eating from a cram container. "Yeah?" Bits of cram fell from Deckard's mouth as he talked.

"Powder Gangers have taken over Primm. The NCR troops stationed there have requisitioned my help. I'd be willing to split any profit…" Six didn't need to finish his sentence. The door shut in his face and before he had time to react, Deckard emerged with his caravan shotgun hanging loosely over his shoulder. "I guess that means you're in."

"Damn right I'm in."


Six and Deckard made their way across the overpass in Primm, being very careful to avoid the mines. "I'm glad you saw those damn things," Deckard's voice was quiet.

"No shit. You'd think that NCR trooper back there would have fucking told us there were mines on the bridge." The sun was just beginning to set. Six could just make out two gangers patrolling the street between the buildings ahead. One of the men paused to yawn, he then casually leaned back against the building just opposite the Bison Steve Hotel and Casino. Six turned to Deckard, motioning for him to be silent. He then waved his arm in a short circular motion and pointed to the other ganger, who began making his way up a collapsed section of the roller coaster tracks and onto the roof. Deckard gave Six a quick nod before disappearing around the northern corner of the building.

Six laid flat on his stomach and began inching his way to the corner of the building – he paused briefly before rolling to the column. He could hear the ganger breathing on the other side. His breathing was intermittent – with alternating coughs and yawns. Six watched the northern area of Primm. Slowly, Deckard made his way around the other side of the building and towards the ganger on the roof – who was now perched precariously atop an engraved stone wall above the entrance. Six watched as Deckard began the ascent to the roof. Six paused…something was off. The ganger that had before been yawning lazily was now almost completely silent. Six peeked around the column, the man was staring in Deckard's direction – he looked unsure of whether or not he had seen anything. He leaned forward slightly and waved to his comrade. The other ganger casually waved back.

"Stupid fuck," the ganger shook his head and pointed to the tracks-turned-ramp. "Go chec…"

Before the man was able to finish his sentence, Six rounded the edge of the building and grabbed the man in a choke-hold. His machete found its way into the man's lower abdomen, and he pushed hard upwards and into his chest. "Oh shit!" Six heard the ganger across the street cry out in surprise. The ganger fumbled for his rifle. Six dropped the ganger he was holding and ducked back behind the column. He waited for a shot, but instead heard a startled shriek followed by a dull thud. Six peeked around the corner to see Deckard standing where the ganger had previously been.

Deckard peered over the edge to the man, he was lying face down in the concrete – blood collecting around his head. "Got him."

Six stepped out into the street facing the Bison Steve Motel. Behind him, he heard the familiar creek of a door. He wheeled around, pistol at the ready. "Don't shoot! Easy! I'm a friend. I don't know what brings you to Primm…but you and your friend had better get in here before you attract more of those gangsters holed up in the hotel."

"We're actually here to help with that," Six told him.

"Is that so?" Nash eyed Six carefully. "You certainly look like you can handle yourself. Those powder gangsters…they killed our sheriff and his wife. Kidnapped Deputy Beagle – they have him in that hotel…if he's still alive."

"Is the front the only way in?"

"No. If you go around behind the hotel, you can follow the tracks. You'll come to a place where they meet the hotel, an entrance on the second floor."

"Alright. I need you to show my friend up there…" Six motioned towards Deckard, who was making his way down towards them, "…where to go to get to that second entrance. Then, get back inside, bar the door and do not open it until you hear from us."


Six opened the front entrance of the hotel slowly. Inside he could see two gangers conversing behind a makeshift barricade consisting of a couple overturned tables and an old counter. Six cautiously entered, opening the door just enough to squeeze through. He made his way across the room at a snail's pace and ducked behind the counter.

"You're full of shit," one said.

"I'm serious. We stormed in on them right in the middle. He didn't even have time to pull out. Fucking shot both of them in the head. That's when that little fuck came in. We were going to kill him and he busts out crying, says the town would be willing to pay handsomely for him."

The first ganger laughed, "Was she hot?"

"What?"

"The sheriff's wife. Was she hot?"

"I don't fucking know, her face got blown off by a shotgun."

"…You don't need to see her face. What about her body?"

"Man shut the fuck up." The second ganger stood up and made his way into the hallway. "Stay here, you fucking freak. I'm going to go check in with the boss."

Six waited until the footsteps of the second ganger faded, then crawled around the barrier. The "freak" was sitting with his arms folded, staring at the door. Six unsheathed his machete…if he could just get behind him…

*Click*

The front door settled…the noise sent a shiver down Six's spine. "Fuck…" he muttered under his breath. The ganger stood, eyes locked on the doorway.

"Who's there?" The ganger took a step forward – un-holstering his weapon as he did. "I know you're out there."

Six laid flat against the barrier, "Shit!" Six tightened his grip around his machete and waited. The ganger slowly made his way around the barrier, pistol drawn. Then…he walked right by Six. Six furively made his way to his feet and crept up behind the ganger. When he was within arm's reach, he swiftly brought his left hand up to the man's mouth, and, with his right, he slid the machete across the man's neck. The man gargled for a moment, his warm blood splashing off of Six's machete and onto his hand.

"Hey, look what I found in the gift sho…who the fuck are you?" Six turned to see the other man had made his way back. He had a revolver; black stainless steel with gold etching and an ivory handle. The main raised it to fire…

Silence.

"Must be my lucky day," Six hopped over the barrier and with one swift motion severed the man's head. He didn't even have time to scream. Six paused briefly, picking up the revolver. He silently admired it for a moment, checking the chambers…one was empty. He really had been lucky. He then made his way into the hall. The hall was empty, stretching into the darkness. Six passed an elevator, a couple of tan couches, and a locked door. He would have attempted to pick the lock, but it didn't seem like a good idea with gangers roaming about. He made his way into an adjacent hall…he could hear voices coming from the other side of the wall. He peered around the corner into what appeared to be a dining hall. Inside, he could see three more gangers gathered around a barrel of fire.

"Why ain't they given us the ransom yet?" One asked.

"They will!" Six heard a man scream. "Give them time!"

"You'd better hope they pay," another ganger answered. This one wasn't like the others…he wore metal armor and had something strapped to his back. Six struggled to see what it was…a fuel tank? A flamethrower!

Six ducked back out into the hall and sank against the wall. "You gotta be shitting me…" he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly, movement. A shadow slinked across the room and came to rest beside him. It was Deckard.

"Upstairs clear. Only three up there. Dead now."

Six raised an eyebrow. "You're like a damn ghost…"

With a smile, Deckard waved a silenced .22 pistol in the air before stashing it into his jacket. "Old man gave it to me," he said. "Just after you went inside."

"Well this would have made things a lot easier…"

"No shit," Deckard stifled a laugh. "So what do we have in there?" He peeked around the corner.

"Three guys. One has a goddamned flamethrower."

"Shit…why the fuck is he standing so close to the fire with that fuel tank on?"

"I…don't know."

Deckard's face lit up. "I have an idea," he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a stick of dynamite. "Got this off one of the poor bastards upstairs. Got a light?"

"Actually, I do," Six rummaged through his pouch for a moment. When he withdrew his hand, he held a Zippo.

Deckard took the lighter and rolled into the kitchen – slowly making his way towards the men huddled around the fire. He glanced over his shoulder at Six and gave a nod. Six made his way down the hall and into the dining hall via the second archway. He watched as Deckard made his way to the convicts. Once he was in place, he lit the dynamite and swiftly tucked it between the flamer's tank and hose. Deckard stood and bolted.

"Hey! Who the…" The ganger noticed the dynamite. "Oh shit! Boss!" The ganger struggled to find his words, instead resulting to frantic pointing before diving away. Six capitalized on the moment of confusion and stood, shooting one of the standing gangers twice in the head with his newly acquired revolver. The ganger leader, having noticed his predicament, struggled with the fuel tank. He had nearly dispatched of it when the dynamite blew. The room resonated with sound and the force of the blast sent the fire barrel slamming into the surviving ganger. Deckard poked his head up from behind an overturned table.

"Now that's a party!"

"What?" Six's ears were ringing.

"Yeah!" Deckard replied. "Is he dead?"

"What?"

Deckard motioned towards the ganger laid out by the barrel. "We got a live one!"

"Gun?" Six looked at the ganger and indolently emptied the revolver's remaining three shots into the man. "There, now it doesn't matter if he has a gun!"

Deckard gave six a confused look and shook his head, laughing under his breath.


I wanted to introduce Six's new sidearm of choice early...despite not being able to get it this early in game, with it being behind a high level lock and all. Also, I didn't want to just name the gun "Lucky", I wanted the reader to infer that it was, in fact, Lucky that Six had found...and I wanted a reason for him to name it that. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Until next time.