Chapter 6: Ghost Town Gunfight

The rest of the afternoon was spent going up and down through Goodsprings. Sunny gave me a list of people who could be of help, and I began looking for the straight away. First was the old man I saw sleeping in front porch of the saloon earlier. He went by the name of Easy Pete (God knows why) and to my surprise, he was still there, sleeping in the same chair. This time I could confirm, he did have a stick of dynamite on his belt. Turns out he was a miner, so he's got plenty of them home. He was hesitant on giving me some, but after proving to him I knew how to handle them, he gave me three, along with a matchbox to light them up.

Second on the list was Chet, the Goodsprings General store owner. He was a bit hard to convince, claimed there was no "financial gain" to supplying me with anything unless I bought it. I had to carefully explain there was more gain in helping me than getting his shop blown to hell by crazed gangsters with more explosives than Easy Pete. I walked out of the shop with reinforced leather pads I placed on my arms, legs and around my chest, all of them under my clothes. They weren't too uncomfortable, and could save my life under certain circumstances. Wouldn't stop a direct bullet, but they could soften up hard blows or protect me from cuts and bruises.

Soon after I made Doc Mitchell another visit. I didn't even need to try to convince him, after hearing my story, he immediately told me to send whoever decided to fight to his home. He'd give each a stimpak to use during the fight, and he also gave me a doctor's bag on my way out. It contained everything you needed to cauterize a broken limb, at least enough to keep it moving until proper treatment could be given.

There was just one person left on the list, so before I went to Ringo, I decided to see Trudy.

"I'm sorry, but this is a fight I'm gonna have to avoid." She didn't even look at me. It was clear she wanted to avoid that conversation.

"Come on Trudy, people look up to you, it's obvious you're some kind of town mother. You join in, some might come along." Trying to convince her to join the fight was not going well. She didn't even need to shoot at anything, all I needed was her morale boost. "Besides, the saloon would make for a great defensive position"

"I'm sorry, but this saloon is my life, and I value my life. Call me coward, I don't care, nobody is making me risk my neck and nobody will turn the Prospector into a shooting gallery. If Joe Cobb wants trouble with me, he can sure as hell come in here." she didn't want to hear anymore of it, so she left the counter and walked to the back of the establishment, leaving me alone in the bar room, listening to "Mack the Knife" on her radio.

Well, so much for that attempt. After the song was over, I headed straight towards the gas station. It sat atop the hill behind town. It's broken windows were barred with wooden planks, with old and rusted cars in front of the entrance. Next to the convenience store's door was an old Sunset Sarsaparilla machine. I gave it a kick, and to my surprise, a bottle rolled down to the bottom opening. Since the machine ran out of power decades ago, the refreshing soft drink was warm. I stored it in my bag, planning on drinking it once I found a way to cool it. The door was unlocked, so I just strolled in, but froze with the familiar sound of a pistol hammer.

"That's close enough. Who are you, and what do you want with me?" A voice came from the end of the store, it's owner hiding in darkness. A 9mm Browning Hi-Power stood out from that darkness, pointed directly at me.

"If you're gonna aim a gun at someone, make sure you're willing to shoot." I simply said. A risky move, but I picked up from the man's voice that he wasn't too confident about what he was doing/

"I can shoot, but maybe not you." He raised the hammer and lowered the gun. "We got off on the wrong foot, I'm Ringo, and I hope you can still answer my question." The man walked out of the shadows. He looked about my age, had brown hair combed in a wave to the side and wore regular caravaner clothing, along with googles resting on his neck, flannel shirt and hip bag on his side.

"Name's Court. I'm the guy you want hire." I tried to look as confident and menacing as I could, but there wasn't much to help. I looked like your regular Mojave wastelander, with leather clothing and second hand weaponry.

"Hire you? What would I want to hire you for?" He said, curious.

"Protection. Sunny told me all about what happen." His eyes grew a bit when I mentioned her name.

"You a friend of Sunny? Good." With that, he looked less tense. "I guess I can really trust you then."

I crossed my arm and rested against the shop's counter. "What did you do to piss Joe Cobb off?"

"Survive, that's what I did." He looked me straight in the eye, showing me that whatever happened was serious. "About a week ago, me and two bodyguards were passing the I-15 east of here, where we got attacked by Joe and his crew. Explosions went up and killed everyone but me. I ran as fast as I could, eventually reaching this town. I think the rest of the story you already know."

He didn't look as shaken as I would have been from going through all that, but maybe it was because he already had a week stuck in this gas station to grief. "I'm sorry for your loss." Was all I could manage to say. I looked around the shop, trying to make more sense of the situation. "How come Joe didn't just barge, shooting up the room?"

"He probably wouldn't even make it to the door, and even if he did, all his friends would be dead. Best thing about this place is that it gives one hell of a sight." He pointed and one of the barricaded windows.

He was right, the gas station overlooked the entire town, and then some. Anyone who tried to go up the hill could easily be shot from the windows, and it was backed up to a steep mountain, so no one could approach it from behind. And since the building was made of concrete and not wood, I doubt even their dynamite would do any significant damage unless they were willing to use all they've got.

"Good set up." I said, turning back to him. "But you can't stay here forever. But I can help you get out here."

He sat down on a wooden box by the left wall and kept in silence, thinking. Finally he looked back at me. "I don't have any money on me right now, but if you ever make your way to the Crimson Caravan, up on North Vegas, I can pay you good caps."

I wasn't surprised to find out that he worked for the Crimson Caravan. Most caravaners did, since the NCR-Legion war put the roads at risk, along with the Powder Gangers, Fiends, regular raider gangs and now courier hunters (or something). With the bodyguard service and other perks, more and more caravan companies have been selling their names to the Crimson Caravan, which ran them all over the west.

I had think hard on taking this job. Risking your life for others was serious business, a job not to be taken lightly. Should I put my neck on the line, now that just returned from the dead, with the main reward being a faraway promise? It took me a little while, but eventually I made my decision. "Alright, I'll take the job."

"Alright, so what's the plan?" He asked, a little more agitated than before.

"Have a seat, I think I have this thing worked out."

The sun was about to set in the horizon. I sat on crate that laid on the main road, close to the edge of town and in front of the Prospector Saloon. I could see Trudy didn't approve of us setting our barricades so close to what she called 'her life', but she didn't really complain.

The barricades were composed of three groups of wooden boxes. Each large enough that 2 people could take cover safely. The trick was that the boxes were not empty: we filled them to the top with sand. Hopefully our enemies would waste a few bullets thinking otherwise.

In my hand I held the Sunset Sarsaparilla I got earlier, now cold from staying an hour in Sunny's refrigerator. I asked her how come no one had taken it from the machine before, and the story she told was rather peculiar. Apparently the Sunset Sarsaparilla stands all over Nevada and Arizona get refilled from time to time. Legends say some old guy called Festus does it, but no one know how or why. (She did say a trader met an old guy from Novac who claimed he saw a robot fill one of the machines during the night, but the old guy was supposedly mad in the head).

The taste of cold root beer was welcome after the long, hot day. Ringo smoke a cigarette with two other man, which I recognized as the ones who complained about the town not standing up to Joe earlier in the saloon. Sunny presented me to them as Jones and Wilson, and they were here to help us fight. One had a Varmint Rifle, like mine, the other, a .38 short revolver. Not necessarily military-grade stuff, but it would get the job done.

As I watched the beautiful horizon, two distant shape grew in the distance. I put down my drink and grabbed my rifle. Ringo noticed my movements and took his hands to his pistol. He and the two other man followed my lead and took their guns out. We soon realized it was Sunny and Cheyenne, but we still kept our guns at since she seemed to be running really fast. She left town earlier, wanting to be the one to spot the enemy before they got to town, and if I had to guess why she's running, I'd say she spotted them.

"Look alive, the Powder Gangers are here and they look ready to play!" she said under a heavy breath.

"How many did you spot?" I asked, running into cover with her. To my left Ringo and Jones took cover behind the boxes in the middle, and Wilson behind the ones to the left of them.

"Eight, all with guns, with the exception of two." She checked her rifle to see if it was fully loaded (of course it was, but better safe than sorry.)

I turned to the others and shouted. "Five armed, two with melee. Don't let them get close, so don't hold back any ammo." The five of us kneeled and stood behind cover, with our heads and guns peeking out. i quickly looked down at my chest and grabbed my bullet necklace. That thing had been with me through many dangers and challenges, so it gave me reassurance before a fight. I twisted it around and rubbed my fingers over the "C.T." inscribed on it's side. It's something i do every time I fear for the worst, since it really calms me down.

In less than a second, three silhouettes came over the horizon. Gunfire erupted, all my companions opened fire. Before they could return it, I held my breath and took my shot. The silhouette to the right fell, but he was followed by two more. To the left the two remaining Powder Gangers came into sight, and I was able to take a good look at the enemy.

The two closest had melee weapons in hand: a tire iron and a baseball bat. Behind them I recognized two Varmint Rifles, a 9mm pistol, a single barrel shotgun and finally, safely at the back, Joe Cobb held a... Son of a bitch!

I quickly lowered my head, as a thundering blast erupted, followed by the sound of air being cut right above me. I knew I wouldn't survive a direct hit from that revolver, so instead of taking aim above cover, I circled the box to shoot from it's left. I tried to shoot at Joe before he could shoot at me, but missed. Damn it, he was moving around fast and was pretty far. From the corner of my eye I watched one of the gangers with a Varmint Rifle get taken out. Ringo and the others were doing pretty well.

I looked over to Sunny as she loaded another round. I gave her a slight nod, and she returned the gesture. At the same time, we peeked and fired. The guy with a tire iron fell to my bullet, and the last Varmint Rifle fell to Sunny's. Things were going well, until I heard a distant hiss, which could only mean one thing. I took a quick look and watched as a dynamite flew in an arc towards Ringo and Jones.

"Ringo, watch out!" I shouted as loud as could.

"Jones!" Wilson shouted after me.

Ringo dashed towards Wilson's cover, but Jones was too slow. The explosion engulfed him, destroyed their barricade and knocked Ringo onto Wilson, who grabbed him as he fell and laid him safely behind the boxes. Ringo wasn't moving, but he didn't look hurt.

As the dust from the ground and the sand from the destroyed boxes settled down, we were given a horrible sight. Jones body laid near me, his left leg missing, blood and gore all over the dirt. His skin was burned and you could see his insides. If had stared for any longer I would have puked my guts out, so I shook my head and swallowed hard, putting my focus back into the action.

"Fucking assholes!" Wilson roared at the top of his lungs. He had his .38 revolver on one hand and Ringo's pistol on the other. He was being both brave and stupid, but his loud battle cry and constant fire forced the enemy to scatter.

I took the opportunity and opened fire. With the two bullets left in my gun, I took down the 9mm and the baseball bat, both of which were closer than I would have liked. I rested behind my box and reloaded, looking over to Sunny at my side. She was ready to take aim, but as soon as she did, a bullet ripped her right shoulder. She screamed as blood poured out of her wound.

I grabbed her and pulled her close to me. "Shit, hang on." I grabbed the doctors bag from my duffle bag and took a bandage roll from it. I was about to wrap the wound when I realized it was deeper than it looked. The bullets passed right through her shoulder, from one end to the other, and probably scratched some bone. No wonder she was shouting and groaning, I doubt she could move it. Ok, I've taken care of big wounds before, so she should be fine after I was done. Wilson still had ammo so he could keep us covered for a little longer

I wrapped the bandage with a lot pressure, granting her enough pain to scream again. "I know this was bad, but hold on, cause it's about to get worse." I looked her in the eye as I spoke, and pulled a bottle of alcohol from the doctor's bag. "Ok, ready?" She bit the sleeve of her shirt and nodded.

All the gunshots going off were not loud enough to cover her scream. The alcohol should stop a superficial infection, but we needed to get that wound closed. An entire minute went by before she began calming down, and once she stopped rocking left and right, I grabbed a stimpak from her hip and pulled the top off, revealing it's needle and stabbing it next to the wound. If you had the luck to never need to use a stimpak, let me tell you, it's a miracle worker. It's an odd looking syringe, with a gauge on top that shows you how much of the medicine is left in the syringe, but that is ultimately useless, since you always end up using all of it. And about what it does, well, it basically speeds and enhances the healing process of the body. Sunny wouldn't be getting back in this fight anytime soon, but by tomorrow she should have nothing but a scar.

Once Sunny began calming down, I took my attention back to the fight. Joe Cobb and the Powder Ganger with the single shotgun were the only hostiles remaining. They attempted to flank Wilson from his left, but were now cowering behind a rock due to his constant rain of bullets. Sadly that rain ended soon. The revolver clicked, meaning it was empty, and a few shots later Ringo's pistol did the same. Joe's last friend noticed how the firing has ceased, and tried his luck. Unlucky him, because I had already unholstered my pistol, and was ready to shoot. Two shots went off, one hit him in the shoulder, and the other, in the middle of his chest. He felt to a clump behind the rock.

"Fuck!" came a voice behind the rock. Ringo was the last man standing, and there were only two ways this was going to end.

"Stand up with your hands in the air, let's make this nice and easy." I said, not leaving my aim from the rock.

"Screw you!" he simply shouted.

I sighed at his stubbornness. Of course this dickhead wouldn't give up easily.

"Look Joe, all your buddies are dead, you are outnumbered and outgunned," I quickly turned my eye to Wilson, who had reloaded his revolver was aiming at the rock like me. "I'm not gonna kill you since it's up to my employer to decide what to do with you." Speaking of my employer. "Wilson, did check on Ringo?" I whispered to him, still aiming at the rock.

"Yeah, don't worry, he's still breathing, probably just passed out." the man replied. What a relief.

I raised my voice back to Joe. "It seems my employer is unavailable right now, so I'll leave your fate to the townsfo-"

Before I could finish, Joe jumped out of cover and began aiming straight at me. His move caught me by surprise, sending a strong chill down my spine. How did I not see this coming? Time slowed down as my mind raced through all the possibilities. Should I shoot him in the arm, legs, chest, head… wait, how did I have time to think all this? I looked at Joe Cobb's hand fearing for the worse, but realized time wasn't just slowing down.

It had stopped.

The following events were just a collection of madness. Just as no one seemed to me moving, I couldn't move either. As my eyes focused on different parts of Joe's body, they highlighted in a yellowish blur, as if they were covered by a terminal (or computer as some call it) screen. Left leg, right leg, torso, right arm, left arm, head, and strangely, his revolver, each could be highlighted separately. As they highlighted, a percentage number appeared by their side. What the fuck' was the only thought in my mind, but before I could question this craziness any longer, a voice began speaking.

"New user detected." It was a cheerful male voice, coming from nowhere no way I could pinpoint. Matter of fact, it seemed to come straight from my head. "Welcome to Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System, or V.A.T.S. Allow me to teach you the basics of V.A.T.S. First, select the desired amount of targets and limbs you wish to attack. Then, simply exit the system, and watch the action happen! This way, you'll be sure to deal with any shootable or smashable obstacles you find out there. Here at Vault-Tec, your safety is our number one priority!"

Getting shot in the head must have really fucked me up. What, you are telling me I can freeze time and just shoot Joe Cobb in the, I don't know, the arm?
As I finished that though, Joe's right arm flashed with the percentage 78% next to it. Time suddenly sped up, and before Joe could raise his arm any further, my gun arm motioned as fast as humanly possible towards Joe. My finger pressed the trigger and a bullet ripped his forceps.

"Argh!" he tumbled backwards, clutching his new wound.

"What the hell?" I asked my self out loud.

I glanced over to Wilson, whose jaw looked like was about to fall. "Whoa, nice shootin'." He sparked, but our attention soon returned to the man in front of us.

Joe began to turn around again. Once more he raised his gun towards us, but Wilson and I gave him no chance. A shot to the chest and one to the head, and Joe Cobb was finally done.

(Battle Report: 5 Powder Gangers/ Joe Cobb. 1 Varmint Rifle mag, 2 .45 ACP rounds/ no injury.)

The people of Goodsprings stood in a circle around an empty grave that was about to be filled.

We were atop the hill Victor pointed to earlier, the one where he found me. The night sky was clear of clouds, granting a beautiful view after this grim day. As they lowered Jones's coffin, Wilson gave a parting speech about all the good times they had. To the left of the funeral mob, eight new graves were made, with a Powder Gangers buried in each. They may have been criminals, but the people of this town were too good to leave any man or woman unburied.

I watched the funeral from afar, next to another empty grave, but this one would remain empty. "They didn't even bother to make it deep." I sorrowed as Sunny approached me. "I doubt I could fit there."

"Don't suppose you're willing to try it out?" she joked, but with a serious tone.

"Wouldn't want to get my clothes dirty. Besides, it's reserved for someone else." I said, looking down to my hands.

I held the thundering revolver Joe Cobb tried to kill me with. It was a Colt Single Action Army, A.K.A. The Peacemaker. A classic six-shooter, commonly seen in cowboy comics and holotapes. Isn't it appropriate for me? Not only did it fit to my attire, but it reminded me of home, where almost everyone had one of these. Except this one was different, it had been modified. The Peacemaker usually uses .45 Colt, but those are rare to find these days, so it has been modded to chamber .357 magnum, giving it more of a kick to it. I couldn't help but fall in love.

Along with the bullets Joe had on him, and some I bought from Chet after the fight (using the caps Trudy gave me plus the major discount Chet offered), I had a total of eighteen bullets for it. With the 4 mags (20 bullets) for the Varmint Rifle and the 3 mags for the M1911A1 (I refiled the mag I spent), I believe I'm ready to leave and head out towards Primm.

Tomorrow of course.

I holstered the revolver on my belt behind my back. Sunny was about to ask something, but had to stop to follow me as I made my way down the hill back to town. "Wait, so you're really going after the man who tried to kill you?" she finally managed to ask as she reached my side.

"Of course." I simply responded.

"But… if they managed to kill you once, they could do it again." she said, making an obvious observation.

"This time, they won't know I'm coming." I pointed out. The element of surprise had won me many fights before, I would sure win me another one.

"But you don't even know who you are dealing with. It might have been some Fiend leader, or just some random bandit who had the drop on you."

"It could have been Caesar or Kimball for all I care, I won't simply leave this be." I couldn't let someone shoot me and get away with it. Besides, I had a delivery to finish, and they stole the package.

She slipped a low sight. "Well, excuse my choice of words, but it's your funeral."
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