GOODSPRINGS

JULY 17

10:21

The drinking hadn't been a good idea, as she'd already figured out. The pounding in her skull was tremendous, hitting with full intensity when she tried to pull herself up from the toilet bowl. The heavy taste of vomit at the back of her throat made her gag, and the sight of her face in the mirror fuelled her nausea even further. An ugly purple bruise had formed along her jawline, staining the surrounding area with blotches of yellow and green. The colour of the Mojave was gone from her complexion, leaving her face so pale it was almost skeletal. A dark pool had formed beneath one eye, the other concealed by bandages now thick with sand and grime.

With a great deal of effort, she managed to stay upright long enough to exit the bathroom, wondering if she could slip into the fridge and grab a bite to eat without waking up the doctor. The last thing she needed was a lecture from the old man, and being kicked out on her ass sounded even less enjoyable. After that, curling up in a secluded corner for a while sounded wonderful. If she could just quietly step-

"What in Sam Hill?"

Shit.

Mitchell was already up, sitting at the kitchen table with a half-empty plate of fried mantis legs for company. "And where exactly were you, missy?"

She leaned back against the door frame when she felt herself wobbling.

"No need to say anythin'," he continued, straightening himself up and folding his arms. "Sunny told me all about it. What exactly are you tryin' to prove by destroyin' your own damn health, Miss O'Reilly?"

"Can we just drop it, please?"

"No, we can't. You think I spent all that time fixin' you up-"

"Look, Doc, there's nothing else you can do for me! You've patched me up, stopped me from bleeding out in your office, fixed up my skull, and I swear to God, I'll be grateful for that for the rest of my life. But I don't know what else you think you're gonna do to make me better. Sorry to disappoint, but this is as good as it-"

"Well, that's just perfect. Fantastic! You consider yoursel' all better, so away with ya. Go on - out!"

"What?"

"You've done nothin', nothin' for this town since you came here. And I would be fine with that, considerin' you're recoverin' from a deadly injury, but you insist on doin' nothin' but cause trouble for all of us. So just leave already. I put a lot of time into makin' sure you recovered, missy, and this is how you repay me?"

"Look, you don't understand. I don't have anywhere to go. Just give me a day so I can-"

"Why? So you can cause me even more grief?"

"Doc-"

"No. I'm done with you, girl. Out."

She stood at the edge of town without any idea of where she was headed. She couldn't look at the road ahead without feeling like her lungs were deflating. Where the hell could she go from here? Her best bet was New Vegas, which was the very last place she wanted to be. And what exactly would she do when she got there? Benny was almost certainly from one of the Families - no one just waltzed up to a Chairman for no goddamn reason, not unless they wanted a bullet in their brain. Even if she could find him, what then? Was she just going to politely ask him for her extremely valuable Platinum Chip? What about the credit check in Freeside? How would she round up two thousand caps just to get inside the city?

"Hey, Brianna! You! You coward!"

The thundering voice was enough to kick her back into reality. She whizzed around just as it hit her again. "I thought you were gonna help! You promised him! And for once, for once in my whole life I decided to put my complete faith in someone, and now you're just gonna leave us?! When this town is the reason you're still alive?!"

Sunny Smiles slammed her weight into Brianna's chest, shoving her back. Her glare was venomous, her words even more so. "Ringo told me everything! He said you were gonna help him, and now you're running away? After all we've done to help! How could you?!"

"What the hell is your problem now? First you decide you want me out of here, then you realise you're fucked without me?"

"What? Look, I tried to stop Trudy, alright? I did! But you were drunk and angry and maybe Trudy got a little bit out of hand, but Doc Mitchell said-"

"That I should get out of town before I cause him any more grief, so that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Wait, what?" She visibly deflated. "Look, I didn't tell the Doc anything, I promise. You were just trying to fight back, and Trudy isn't really-"

"Get to the point."

"Okay, okay. The Doc told me that you were leaving to get away from the business with the Powder Gangers. He said you didn't wanna help, and that you didn't wanna get involved, so I thought-"

"Bullshit. He threw me out."

Sunny nodded slowly, seeming to suddenly realise the answer to an unasked question. "I- I think he wanted you gone before-" She took a deep breath. "We have two hours, Brianna. Cobb came into the bar earlier, it was just me, Mitchell and Trudy. And that's it. Said we have 'til noon before him and his friends come in here and take over. We either sit down and let them or-" Her voice cracked. "He didn't want you getting us in trouble, starting a fight. He thought you'd try to help us. And you will, won't you? You have to. Even if you can't fight, we need to gather people and get supplies and I'm sorry, but I can't do this by myself. Please?"

Two hours. Her fingers drummed against her thigh as this whirlwind of information whizzed around her brain. She owed this town something, right? And without those caps that Ringo promised, she'd be starving in the wasteland after a few days. But it wasn't just that. What better way to get back on her feet than to kickstart her recovery with a gunfight? It was perfect. She could talk to Chet about gathering up some weapons, ask Easy Pete about that dynamite stash he'd mentioned last night. If Sunny could get Trudy to round up some people from the saloon, Brianna could ask the doctor to offer up some medical supplies, convince him that this was their only way out. Maybe - just maybe - she could turn Goodsprings into an armed militia before one broke down their doors.

Maybe.

"I don't know if I like that look on your face," Sunny said. But she smiled.

"My latest stock?!" The store owner cried, the scraping nasal tones of his whining voice doing very little for Brianna's intensifying headache. Five minutes inside Chet's pathetic excuse for a store was enough to make Brianna want to tear her hair out. She didn't want to hear about scopes and mufflers and extended magazines. She didn't care about how terribly the QSZ-92 performed compared to his newest MP-30 Colt, and she certainly did not give a damn about the ZM-87 coming with a half-priced silencer and dual laser splitter when you bought a hundred extra rounds from the Gun Runners' arsenal. And yet, from the moment she put her foot through the door, that kind of crap was all she could hear spewing from this guy's mouth. She needed guns. Working guns, fully loaded, but apparently that was too much to ask for.

"We're talking about a two thousand cap investment here," he continued, staying seated behind the counter so he could polish his newly painted assault rifle. He even avoided her gaze as she tried to bargain with him, instead focusing on the weapon and gazing at it lovingly, face aglow with deep admiration. He looked into the barrel with the same fiendish delight as a man peering through a keyhole into a woman's changing room. She felt the harsh taste of chemicals on her tongue from the excessive polish and wondered just how long Chet spent with his guns each day, caressing their holsters and nuzzling their magazines.

What an asshole.

"I'm gonna make this real simple for you, Chet. Give us the guns and we shoot the Powder Gangers. Don't give us the guns and the Powder Gangers shoot you. Make sense?" She smiled sweetly as the store owner rose from his seat, carefully setting the gun on the counter before finally looking her in the eyes. He opened his mouth, ready to protest.

"Give us your guns, Chet," the courier warned, "or you'll see them blown to pieces by the armed militia that's gonna blow up your store and murder you." She folded her arms across her chest, looking at him expectantly. She dared him to say no, and the daggers in her eyes promised that she wouldn't be taking that for an answer.

"Fine! You can take them! Fifty percent discount!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Seventy five! Eh- eighty!"

"Wrong answer, Chet."

He groaned, placing both hands on the counter and sighing in defeat.

That was all she needed.

"Your dynamite," she stressed, stretching out every word as slowly as she could. "Buried under the town."

Easy Pete shook his head, rocking slowly on his chair outside the saloon. "Nope."

"Why not?!"

"Blow yourself up. Blow your neighbour up."

"Listen, I spent two years dealing with explosives, especially frag grenades and dynamite."

"Blow your friends up. Not gonna tell ya."

"Two years, dammit!"

"Blow your momma up, even."

"But you just light them and throw!"

"Nope. Blow the whole town up. Can't do it."

"Huh. Looks like I really can't lie worth a damn."

Brianna looked up to see Doc Mitchell leaning against the door frame, arms folded. "Guess Sunny managed to catch up to ya before you headed out. So do I have time for an apology before you waltz out there and get yourself blown up?"

"Doc, just-"

"Just nothing, missy." He scowled. "Now, I have spent a lot of time and effort trying to fix you up and get you up on your feet again, and not for the sake of my own damn health. I didn't pull all those bits of lead outta your brain just so you could get it blown up by Powder Gangers." She opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he persisted. "And this ain't just about your safety neither. Don't you have any respect for the people of this town? For me, after all I've done?" He sighed, shutting his eyes. The old man looked exhausted.

"Then what would be the better option, doc? Handing over an innocent man just so those Powder Gangers can burn this place to the ground anyway? You know what's gonna happen - don't act as if I'm the only one to blame. I can't just walk away, not when I know those convicts are gonna march down here and kill anyone who puts up a fight. You were there when Cobb came around, you know as well as I do that there's no other way out of this. If you want a 'thank you' for saving my life, here it is. This is the only way I know how to say it."

He stepped inside, holding the door open as a signal for her to join him. She did, feeling something close to regret at how she'd yelled at him. She supposed she couldn't blame him for wanting to keep the town safe, even if his attempts had been beyond futile. She made no attempt to voice these feelings as the doctor hobbled off along the corridor to go rummaging through some dusty footlocker on his shelf. After a moment, he produced a large, bulky piece of equipment. "This is the least I can give you in ways of apology," he mumbled, shuffling towards her. "Ever heard of a Pip-Boy?"

"It was a birthday present. Never thought it would end up saving my life from time to time."

"Yeah, I have. You, uh, don't really have to-"

"You shush your mouth and take the damn gift," the doctor urged. "My wandering days are past me now, so it won't do me no good. And my wife sure as God can't use it anymore, bless her soul. Besides, it's a pretty useful little gizmo, got all kinds of neat tricks. Got a map, compass, clock, alarm, even recognises whoever's wearing it. It'll scan ya, then look at yer brainwaves and insides or something like that, I dunno. Anyway, it records some information about y' that y' just might find interestin'. Put it on."

She let out a 'huh' of approval and took the gadget from the doctor's hand, slipping it over her wrist. For a split second it felt as if someone had given her a bag of bricks to carry. She felt the metal band tightening around her forearm, heard it lock with a soft click. After adjusting to its weight and bulk, she lifted her arm to see the screen flashing to life, accompanied by a cheery tinkling sound as a bright display of random data appeared, streams of unintelligible code speeding down the screen as it adjusted to being back from the dead.

On the screen now was a grinning cartoon boy, with only a rough body outline detailing his limbs, torso, and head. The screen flickered for a short second before six long, green bars stretched out over the digital cartoon, one for its head, torso, and each of its limbs. They were health bars, she realised with a smile of amusement. She'd seen their like before in a few pre-war video games. It looked like everything was in working order; every bar was entirely full. Even her head, surprisingly.

No. Wait a second.

The bar marking the boy's head began to deplete, leaving it less than half-filled with green. His beaming face changed to one of mild worry.

The doctor watched her with a smile as she played with the dials and figured out the various controls. This thing had everything. She could mark out different areas on the world map - she learned this by sticking a Town marker over her current coordinates and typing in GOODSPRINGS - and there was even an entire page for recording inventory. She made a quick note of her current clothing in the Apparel section just to test it out. Eventually she found that the most interesting thing was the statistics menu, which proved to be surprisingly - if not alarmingly - accurate.

BARTER: 60

ENERGY WEAPONS: 30

EXPLOSIVES: 25

GUNS: 85

LOCKPICK: 25

MEDICINE: 40

MELEE WEAPONS: 75

REPAIR: 10

SCIENCE: 20

SPEECH: 75

SURVIVAL: 90

UNARMED: 80

The doc scratched his head. "I, uh, took the liberty of fillin' it all in, goin' by those medical forms you filled out. And from everything you've told me about yourself, of course. Wasn't sure if I could give the old thing up, though, otherwise I woulda given it over sooner. Hope everything's accurate and all that."

"Yeah, it's, uh, great. Great."

"You don't look too sure."

"It's fantastic," she assured him. "Thank you."

"Well, if that's everythin' you'll be needing..." He trailed off, testing her reaction. "Nope, 'course not. Now, I really can't shoot worth a damn, but I'll be waitin' here to get y' patched up if things go bad. I'll even spare a few extra stimpaks. Anything I can do, missy."

The saloon was buzzing with energy, but not the particularly good kind. Angered shouts were coming from most of the villagers who sat around the bar, and caught in the middle of it all was Sunny Smiles, her blonde ponytail the only thing visible over a mass of heads as people continued to file in. Brianna joined them, silent and unnoticed. Until she whipped out her brand new pistol and fired three ringing shots into the ceiling.

Thank you, Chet.

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" She yelled, silencing the wave of disgruntled voices. No one dared move as they watched the newcomer, predictably with wide eyes and frightened expressions. They probably thought that she was crazy. Maybe that would be a good thing.

"You all know the situation here, right? We have one hour before Cobb and the rest of his little gang march in here and burn this place to the ground. One hour. You can all count, right? And don't play dumb and pretend like it's only Ringo they want. It ain't. They want this town and they intend to take it by force. You people can sit here with your thumbs up your asses for as long as you want, but this is happening, no matter what you wanna do about it. Are you really gonna let this town burn because you're too afraid to stand up and fight?!"

"What the hell do you think this is? Some stupid video game?" Someone called. "They'll blow us up!"

"People are gonna die anyway!'' Someone else shot back.

"Not if we hand that guy over!"

"God, you're stupid!"

"Hey!" Sunny yelled, as argument broke out once more. "Can you- no, just- Can you be quiet please?! We really do stand a chance!"

"What the hell would you know?!" A voice yelled back. Sunny didn't falter.

"If you're not up for it, then go. Just leave and-" She shook her head. "No. If you're not up for it, then get out of my sight. Just go. But I hope you feel proud when you walk outta those doors leaving everybody else to fend for themselves! When we kick those Powder Ganger's asses I hope you feel ashamed that you were too busy wiping the shit stains from your panties to defend your own home! We have the supplies, the resources, the skills. Now all we need are people with courage. You all know what the wasteland's like, right? You can't hold onto anything out here unless you're willing to fight for it!"

There was a long silence before a man got to his feet. "This is fuckin' stupid," he spat.

As many as thirty people rose from their seats and joined him, shoving their hands in their pockets and leaving from both doors without a word.

"Cowards," Brianna hissed, eyeing the remaining townspeople. About ten, maybe fifteen of them remained, including Trudy and Easy Pete. Even Chet had fucked off, she noticed. The others looked like farmers or merchants, but most of them at least carried pipes and shovels - some even had guns. Maybe they wouldn't be so hopeless after all, then.

Maybe.

Brianna took advantage of the reduced numbers to take a seat at the bar, furious at the number of spineless assholes that made up the ruined town of Goodsprings.

The voice to reassure her wasn't one that she expected to hear. "I- I support you," Trudy piped. "I think you're doing the right thing. We can't just stand down and let those people take our homes. You're- you're a very, uh, brave woman." God, it sounded like forming the words was a struggle enough for her, but it was enough for Brianna. She got to her feet. "Half an hour, people!" She declared.

"The Powder Gangers are comin' to play."

They stood boldly at the edge of town, about ten in all, wearing identical blue security armour with red splotches along the hips. Looking through her binoculars, Brianna could see that those were their belts, at least five sticks of dynamite tucked into each one. On the signal of Joe Cobb they began to swagger down the southern road. One twirled a stick of dynamite around in his hand. Others wielded police batons and pistols, beating them against the palms of their hands. It was Cobb himself who led them, his expression stony as he looked around for any sign of opposition.

He found none.

Brianna was positioned next to Sunny behind a large mound of rocks just by the road. The townspeople were hidden in a similar fashion, ducking down behind the saloon and the ancient station wagon across the road. They'd decided that the element of surprise was the best way to proceed, and close-combat would eliminate the Powder Gangers' most significant advantage: dynamite. Every local was dressed up in Chet's latest stock, and those who weren't handy with a gun were equipped with shovels and machetes. They all buzzed with excitement as the enemy drew closer.

Closer.

Closer.

"Now!"

She leapt from behind the rock and unleashed a spray of bullets into the army. She laughed as they fell, one writhing on the ground from a bullet to the shoulder while another collapsed from a shot to the skull. Angry roars swelled amongst the ground as their numbers fell. Before they could take aim, Brianna dived down behind the station wagon across the road.

The wave of fire came just in time as the locals emerged from cover, ushering the gunfight into its bloody climax. Curses and screams emitted from both sides before the sound of gunfire swallowed the rest of the world. Brianna watched as one Powder Ganger fell to the ground, twitching grotesquely, the upper half of his head reduced to a spray of crimson. Another was finished off by a quick shot to the neck. Blood spurted violently outwards from his mouth and ears as he tore at his neck. He fell to his knees and Brianna saw no more of him. His anguished gargle was swallowed by the sound of war.

She reloaded her weapon and stepped out to assess the area. Her plan was looking very successful - the Powder Gangers who strayed from their fellow convicts to light up a stick were quickly shot down. The tight proximity was working to their advantage, much to Brianna's smug satisfaction. From the other side of the road, she spotted Sunny wrestling with her rifle. Brianna's breath hitched in her throat.

It was jammed.

She raced through the crossfire, spinning around when she caught another Powder Ganger heading towards her. She dug her nails into his right arm and planted a hard kick on his shin. He stumbled back. She unholstered her pistol and slammed the butt into the back of his head. Three shots had the next convict choking on his own blood. It wasn't enough. She rushed for his partner, slamming the gun into his skull. Again. Again. Again, until his skull was crushed into a grotesque mass of blood and brain matter.

She barely had time to throw the body aside before the ground rushed up to meet her. A weight was pressing down on her chest, crushing her lungs. Someone was on top of her. A woman. She screamed at the sight of wide, manic eyes. A blonde mohawk. Nails like daggers. A face-splitting grin. And then a shriek. "You'll pay for that! Bitch! You'll fucking pay for that!" She closed her hand around Brianna's throat. She thrashed and screamed and pleaded, but her struggling was futile. The woman retrieved a stick of dynamite from her belt and Brianna's world became a flash of searing pain. The fire behind her eyes was blinding; the woman's laughter grated her skin and the dynamite dug further and further into her bandaged skull, teasing at the stitches and dragging across the healing tissue. Agony disabled every other sense. She couldn't hear the gunshots, the screaming, the sobbing.

She couldn't hear anything but the distant click of the lighter.

"No!"

The weight was lifted and she could breathe again, but pain kept her on the ground. With blurring vision and useless limbs, there was nothing she could do but lie down and watch as Sunny Smiles tore the dynamite from the Powder Ganger's grip and kicked her down. Her head whipped from side to side as she searched for a safe place to toss the explosive, but the fighting was thick around them and there was no clear area in sight. Brianna wished she could tell her to hurry. She wished she could shut her eyes. She wished she could tell the woman who'd saved her that she was too damn late.

The world exploded into dust and fire.

Weak with desperation, she slammed her fists against the glass. She had to help she had to do something anything at all she had to save her she couldn't let her go.

Not again.

Sunny was lying on her back in the dirt, writhing in screaming agony. Her face was covered in blood, features contorted with pain. Brianna forced herself up and rushed to her side, staring helplessly down at the wreckage she'd caused. Sunny maintained a trembling grip on her other hand, legs thrashing as she tried to stop the blood flow. Her skin had turned white and her eyes were screwed shut. The ugly sob of defeat that escaped her greying lips gave Brianna the strength to take action.

"Show me your hand!" She was unable to hide the panic in her voice. "Show me your hand, Sunny!" She grabbed the girl's right hand and tore it away. Her screams swelled in Brianna's ears as the torn extremity was exposed to the air. There was nothing left of it. Nothing but half of a mangled finger on a busted mass of tissue. Blood was already pooling on the sand, scattered by the boots that trampled across it. She wrapped her arms around the dying woman to protect her from the footfall, praying silently that the war would forget them, that no bullets would come their way, that they would rise to the sight of silent peace.

It was too much to ask for, and she knew it.

"Just stay with me, alright? I'm gonna help you, I promise, just- just trust me."

Her knife was holstered at her left thigh. She took it. Cut a large square of leather from the leg of her armour. Turned to the shrieking woman. One long, deep breath. You've seen this before. She grabbed the woman's wrist and brought it close to her. With one quick, strong movement she sliced horizontally, forcing herself to ignore Sunny's terrified screams as she wrapped the bleeding stump in leather. She tore the elastic from Sunny's hair. Used it to tie the leather around the stump of her arm. It would only slow the blood flow, but she told herself that it would be enough. Using all of her strength, she Sunny as quickly as she could towards a nearby pile of rocks and laid her down behind it.

Sunny had fallen silent. Her eyelids flickered, but she had only the strength to twitch and mumble incoherently. She already looked like a corpse.

"I'm so sorry."

She got to her feet, unholstering her pistol and leaving Sunny Smiles behind in the dirt. About three Powder Gangers remained, including Joe Cobb himself. She saw Ringo fighting off one with a knife and quickly took her aim. Fired. The man was caught in the back of his neck, an explosion of blood splattering over the vengeful caravaneer. Ringo caught Brianna's eye and nodded his thanks before turning towards another Powder Ganger, skewering him in the neck and saving a group of farmers from a bloody fate. Only Cobb remained, visibly terrified as the victorious townspeople formed a circle around him, each one knowing who this kill belonged to.

Cobb aimed his gun at Brianna and fired.

Click.

Ringo smirked as he pushed through the widening circle to face the cowering Powder Ganger. Pretty boy Ringo Hendricks wore a smug expression as he shot Joe Cobb in the groin. He went down with a screech of agony, reaching down for something he wouldn't find. Brianna half-expected Ringo to the put the wailing man out of his misery, but he did nothing put spit in his face and kick him in his bleeding crotch before turning to leave him in his agony.

Brianna watched for a few moments as the circle of townspeople yelled their victory, gathering together to kick the remaining life out of the wailing convict leader. It was only when his screams faded into muffled groans that Sunny crossed her mind again. Cursing sharply under her breath, she sprinted across the length of the road to catch up with Ringo, who jumped in surprise when she gripped his shoulder.

"Oh, it's you. Look, I'm sorry you had to-"

"Help her," she pleaded. "She's dying. She's dying. Grace- Sunny, she's-"

He followed her without hesitation, both under the same delusion that maybe there would still be time.