Novac wasn't exactly a town, more a small bundle of houses around a large motel, and a large Tyrannosaurus Rex statue.

Right now that statue was the greatest thing Courier had ever seen.

The road from Nipton to Novac had been hectic. He'd been ambushed not once, but three separate occasions. Twice by thugs and once by a Legion patrol, though technically he attacked them, and they weren't aggressive.

He was just pissed from the ambushes and wanted to take it out on someone.

Fortunately however, he recovered a considerable amount of swag from the corpses of the Legionnaires, and the thugs. Most was stuff he had no ammunition for, a few 10mm pistols, though he appreciated that a few carried .357 and 5.56 rounds on them because he was getting low. He was also grateful for their half-cooked dinner he helped himself to.

He immediately rented a room when he reached the motel from a very nice older woman named Jennie-May. He resigned himself immediately to the bed due to the fact he skipped sleep to reach Novac faster.

When he woke up the next day his first objective was to hit up the local gift shop to see what caps he could make off the loot, and round up some more info about his would-be assassin's whereabouts. The shop was inside the massive statue, and Cliff Briscoe was not happy to see him.

"Aw shit, Jennie-May sent you didn't she?"

"Why do you think that?"

"She always tells renters to visit me and mention her for a discount. Old bag's tryin' to drain me dry of caps,"

"Do you get many visitors here Mr. Briscoe?"

"Not lately, mostly traders on their way to the Strip. It's just Cliff by the way,"

After the pleasantries were exchanged an intense bartering session began.

The Courier was hard-headed, and Briscoe the same. Neither wanted to give the other a single cap more than they had too.

The bartering began roughly about three in the afternoon, but lasted until the guards switched posts.

As Manny walked out rubbing his temple at an attempt to silence his headache from the strangers arguing, the man who walked in immediately wanted to walk out as he heard them going at it.

He stopped Manny at the door.

"How long have they been at it?"

"Five hours man, five fuckin' hours. Ol' Cliff's gonna have a stroke from the way he sounds,"

"Shit, hope he fucking leaves soon, or else I'll drive his ass out,"

Manny chuckled as he left, and the man walked upstairs. His prayers would soon be answered when he heard Cliff loudly sigh.

"Alright kid, three boxes of ammo and a week's rations just stop arguing please,"

The Courier beamed as he collected his winning in the form of 5.56mm bullets, and delicious packed lunches. He turned toward the door, and was nearly out, before he remembered what else he was there for.

"Oh, have you seen a guy with a checkered suit lately?"

"Yeah… He was with some Khans. Blew through here a couple days ago. Might want to talk to Manny Vargas, they went by his place before leaving. Hey, you know anything about radios?"

"Yeah, I know a few things, why?"

"I need someone to look at this old jukebox Jennie-May has. Damn thing don't play right at all. Got a good reward in it if you can fix it,"

"Sure, she still awake?"

"She's probably at her house, but the office ain't locked. I'll go with you to make sure it gets fixed right,"

The Courier nodded and the men left the shop to the office. Once there the younger man went straight to work, pulling the jukebox out and removing the back panel. As he rooted around in the back, pulling out various parts, Cliff watched him with a small grin. He hadn't seen someone with a lick of machinery sense in a long time, and honestly didn't expect the boy to have the skill he showed. The Courier sat back on his butt and wiped his forehead.

"I need two conductors, a sensor module, and duct tape. Lots of duct tape,"

Cliff said alright and went back to his shop to grab the stuff. Once he returned he watched the boy replace the multitude of components he'd torn out with the pieces he requested. Once he replaced the panel, and pushed the jukebox back he was saddened by the fact that it didn't even turn on.

"Well fuck me. I thought that's do the trick,"

"Ah, it's ok kid. Jennie will just have to find someone else,"

"Piece of Pre-war shit!" Courier exclaimed as he kicked the side of the jukebox.

Surprisingly, after being kicked the machine turned back on and began blaring Mojave Radio with a stronger signal than ever.

As soon as it did Cliff began guffawing so hard he had to lean on the desk by the door. He led the Courier back to the shop where he excused himself to the small closet to retrieve the reward. He said he could go talk to the night sniper if he wanted to risk it. The Courier shrugged and walked up the stairs, and opened the door.

He was greeted by a cold stare behind a pair of sunglasses.

"The fuck do you want?"

"Uh, well, I'm new here and-"

"Yeah, you are new here. People wouldn't know you from anyone else passing through,"

"Uhh… Yeah?"

"Listen can you do me a favor?"

"Sure?"

"My wife, she was sold to Legion slavers by someone from here. Find out who did it and walk them out in front of the statue. Take my beret and wear it to signal me,"

Their conversation stopped there, and Courier went back to Cliff with the red beret clutched in one hand. Cliff had a dusty box sitting on the desk, and was slipping a key into the padlock on it.

"Just a second. Tryin' to find which of these damn keys unlocks it. Aha!"

He pulled the lock off, and opened the box. Inside was a pistol, only it looked very advanced. The polished wood handle contrasted with the sleek black barrel and silver trigger guard.

"Well, there you go son. I've been keeping it around for a long time trying to sell it, but ain't nobody bought it, or wanted to see it for years. I don't see a problem in giving it to you. You could probably use it,"

"Thank you Cliff, it's a very pretty pistol,"

"I always called it That Gun. It fires 5.56 or any chambered for that size. It's an odd weapon, haven't seen any others like it yet,"

Courier held the pistol up, looking down the sight. It wasn't heavy, maybe five or six pounds, but its reloading mechanism made him grin. When you pressed a small button on the left side, above the trigger, the cylinder swung out on its crane for reloading, and swung back after being pressed again. The button had a green light for loaded, and a red one for empty. A truly peculiar weapon, but it was very nice. Cliff pulled a leather holster for it out of the box and handed it the Courier. He had to strap it on over his breastplate, to where the pistol sat snug and comfortable under his left armpit.

He thanked Cliff, and returned to his room. Intending to sleep a little before talking to Manny, and the other residents about Craig's wife in the morning.