THE MOJAVE DESERT

JULY 22

15:03

"Brianna? Brianna?"

The voice in the distance shook her from her daze and the Mojave Desert returned to her in a flash of vivid colour. The sun was burning brightly in a cloudless sky, the sand was hot and the road ahead was long. A white flag hung limply in the distance, wishing for a breeze to fly it. At her side was a panting dog, her waving master and a New Vegas Securitron that rolled along the asphalt on a single wheel.

"You okay?" Sunny asked. "You zoned out there for a bit."

"Yeah, fine. Just fine."

She didn't seem convinced. "You'll be alright, won't you? Going back to Vegas after all you had to go through there, that's gotta be tough."

"I've seen plenty of people who went through way worse than I did, trust me."

"What does that matter? It's still gonna be hard for you, right?"

"Look, I've been to slaver camps back in the Capital. Neither of us have even tasted hardship compared to what those people went through. Being locked up, beaten, raped." The word barely made it past her throat. She hugged herself for a moment, feeling suddenly cold despite the burning heat. "At least I had the privilege of choosing to be a whore."

"You don't have to feel guilty for doing what you thought you had to do."

"I don't. But it isn't fair for you tell me that I should go back to Vegas feeling terrible for myself when I had it a lot easier than most. You learn to deal with that kind of shit out here. It's just the way things work."

"You don't have to say that."

"If you're going to make a point, Sunny, just make it."

"It's just-" She paused, searching for words. "I have no idea how you're going through all of this by yourself. I barely know a thing about you, but if slaver camps, prostitution and witch burningswere a part of your past, then I don't know how you're holding yourself together. I get that you're Brianna O'Reilly, wasteland femme fatale, but it's alright if you want to talk about some of this stuff with me. And before you interrupt, I know what you're gonna say." She deepened her voice, accenting every word with a western flare. "It's the fucking wasteland. Fucking people get fucking hurt and you have to suck it the fuck up and fucking deal with it. And that's what I do because I'm Courier Six and I curse a lot to channel my inner anger and emotional trauma because I'm too good for feelings."

Brianna blinked. Opened her mouth to speak. And exploded into a fit of laughter.

"What? No, I'm serious! That's what you sound like! I thought it was an accurate- stop laughing!"

Before she could straighten herself, she was pulled into a tight hug.

"Okay, what's happening?"

"We're friends now. I got through to you."

This was ridiculous. They were hugging right in the middle of an open road, God only knew who might be- ah, screw it.

"You stink," Sunny giggled, pulling away from the hug.

"You're short.

"You smell."

"It's the wasteland. Fucking people fucking smell and you fucking get over it. So fucking shut the fucking fuck up you fucking fuck."

Sunny beamed.

"Aw, it sure is nice to see ol' buddies together," Victor chimed.

"Yeah, it is."

"Damned if I wouldn't eat that again."

Brianna gave a wide stretch, enjoying the fullness in her tummy from the meal and the cool breeze blowing in from the west. The white flag they'd spotted in the distance was now flying high, depicting a two-headed bear on a white field, growling at a red star. The 188 Trading Outpost was nothing fancy - just a couple of picnic tables and a makeshift bar situated atop an overpass. Traders stopped by to sell their junk down below, but no one ever stayed long. When the lights of New Vegas were this close, it was hard not gravitating towards them.

"The food's great here- just mind the drinks." Brianna turned at the sound of woman's voice. "Rat pee is mostly radiation-free, of course, but come on. Is it worth it?"

She leaned against the railing of the overpass, her shape lost beneath frayed brown robes. The hood on her head kept most of her face hidden, leaving very little visible but the pneumatic gauntlet she wore on her right hand.

"And you are?"

"A young girl from California with stars in her eyes."

"Right."

"Nice to meet you," Sunny chimed, returning from the bar with a fresh dish of water for Cheyenne.

"Oh, wow, two of you? Even better!" The stranger squeaked, lowering her hood just enough to allow a clear look at her face. She was pretty, Brianna supposed, in a plain sort of way. There was nothing remarkable about her oval-shaped face or unusually pale skin, although she found herself drawn to the woman's eyes. Deep brown, they glittered with a strange intensity.

"I mean, I'm not some kind of lesbian fetishist or anything," she clarified. "In fact, I'm probably the only person within the general vicinity who doesn't want to sell your bodies for caps. I mean, I am a lesbian but that is a whole other story, let me tell you."

"If you have a point, I'd suggest you make it."

"Yeah, of course! See, I had a run-in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch, actually. Power armour, laser rifles, the works. Would you happen to know anything about them?"

She did. The Brotherhood were everywhere in DC the last time she'd been, crawling all over the place like radroaches. She didn't know much about them other than that they shot super mutants on sight and built gigantic, laser-shooting robots. But that was far away. She hadn't even known that the Brotherhood was still around in the Mojave. So she replied, "I've had a couple run-ins, nothing more."

Sunny shook her head. "I've only heard stories. They aren't robots, right?"

The stranger laughed. "Sometimes you wouldn't know with that bunch. But I'm getting ahead of myself, right? I'm Veronica. Er, Santangelo. And you two, well, you're certainly something. I'll be honest, you're the first people I've seen in a while that look like they can actually handle themselves out there. And you've got a Securitron hanging around at your beck and call, which is kind of unbelievable. So where you headed?"

"Meeting up with an old friend," Brianna replied.

"Really? Because your eyes are screaming 'I'm a psychotic murderer planning my next kill'." She looked to Sunny. "I guess you're the plucky sidekick that calms the raging beast within her?"

"Something like that."

"Excellent. Because - well, I don't wanna be too forward, but- okay, I'll just come out with it. There are some places out here that I really wanna see. I can handle myself pretty well, but the roads are just too dangerous for one person. And since my parents told me that there was safety in numbers, I thought that maybe, y'know, we could travel together, maybe help each other out a little bit."

"Help each other out?" Brianna asked. "How? What exactly do you bring to the table?"

"Well, I'm good at punching things. I mean really good, not just your average good. I'm also good at shooting things. I've been shooting bark scorpions with a laser pistol since I was eight. Before that, I was taking computers apart and putting them back together. I can craft whatever ammo you need if I get the right materials. I also like long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners, but we can talk about that later. So what do you think?"

"I think that you're a Brotherhood scribe who isn't telling me something."

"Dammit! I knew it was the robes. Look, I'm sorry about that. I was gonna tell you, I promise, but we've made a lot of enemies. I needed to make sure you weren't gonna shoot me in the face, right? Keep me on a short leash and I won't be any trouble, I promise. Just walk me regularly, make sure I don't get lost and look away when I have to tinkle in a bush."

"C'mon," Sunny pressed, noticing Brianna's hesitant expression. "We're making friends, not alliances in a death match. This could be fun."

"Look, my friends don't have very long lifespans," she replied. "When you're a mercenary, that tends to happen. I've seen some hard roads, and not many people can face them like I can. That's why I became a courier. Solo job, less dying. Until I got shot in the head. I'm going to Vegas so I can get answers from the man who put a bullet in my brain and yes, that explains the scar. If you think you can keep up, fine. People tell me I'm an annoying, angsty, egotistical, borderline-psychotic murderer, but for some reason they just can't resist coming along for the ride. Here's your opportunity, if you're still interested."

Veronica mulled that over for a moment. "Well, nobody's perfect."

"Then let's get going."

Brianna O'Reilly was scared.

She was scared of finding the man who'd tried to kill her, scared of looking into his eyes. She was scared of what colour they'd be. She was scared of his nose crinkling when he laughed, his fingers drumming against his thigh when he was nervous, his eyes darting about the room when he was afraid. She was scared of finding a person. Benny must have had a childhood once. Parents. Goals that went as far as stealing a valuable delivery and as low as making sure to get a tear on his suit mended. What if she had to kill him? What if she couldn't? What would he tell her if she found him? That she was collateral damage, the means to an end? That the Platinum Chip really was just that, and he'd sold it for an extra handful of caps? What if he told her that she was being ridiculous? What if he told her that she was disposable? What if he told her that she was just a stupid little girl who was wasting her time, deluding herself into thinking that she might just be important?

What if he was right?

"You look like you seriously need a soul-searching journey," Veronica remarked, shaking her from her thoughts. "What's the matter? Feeling murderous? Hungry? Sexually aroused?" She whispered the final two words as if they were taboo. "Maybe you're at that time in a young girl's life where you need to open up, practice your sexuality-"

"I get it," she groaned, "you're a lesbian. I know that now."

She feigned an expression of hurt. "Hey, let me express myself. The Brotherhood, well, they're too busy creaming themselves over old technology to start hosting any gay pride rallies. I love them to bits, but playing for the other team is strictly forbidden. Something about reproduction, not 'ruining the sanctity of marriage' or anything."

"Gee, that must feel awful," Sunny said.

"Sometimes. But I haven't been around much anymore. They send me out grocery shopping - just scavenging for food and supplies, really. They don't ask any questions if take a night or two out, though. Then Veronica gets her dosage of lesbian love."

"Is that why you're leaving?"

This time it looked like she was genuinely offended. "Hey, my sexuality isn't the most interesting thing about me, even if I do get a little carried away sometimes. Actually, it's a lot more complicated than just that. For now, let's just say they aren't going to miss me too much. Most of them will be glad to see the back of me. And not just because of my spectacular behind."

"Which has been pretty much swallowed by that robe," Sunny pointed out. "We can find some armour for you, if you want."

"No thanks," she replied quickly. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"What about in Vegas?" She pressed, barely containing a smile. "You cannot pick up a girl wearing those."

"I know, right?" She complained. "You try to get a date wearing scribe robes. Might as well be wearing sweat pants. You know, I've always wanted to find the perfect dress. It's part of the reason I'm out here, in fact."

"You came out here to find a dress?"

"I know it sounds a little crazy, but I've always wanted one. A good one, y'know? Those pre-war ladies, they knew what they were doing. They make want to feel like a woman. So I need a dress. One that's classy and elegant, but also says 'don't fuck with me'."

"Well I'm sure there's enough in Vegas to last you a lifetime."

"If we can afford it," Brianna muttered.

"Afford it?" Sunny asked. "We still have, like-" She paused, counting on her fingers. "Around five hundred caps, right?"

"There's a credit check," she blurted. "You don't have to buy your way into Vegas or anything, but you need some kind of proof that you aren't a chemhead or a raider. You show a Securitron that you have enough money and you're in."

"And you didn't think to mention that?"

"Jobs are easy to find in Freeside. Hey, don't look at me like that. I would've kept the last of my clothes on if people thought I knew what I was doing. They didn't. But they will now, and gaining notoriety in Freeside has perks, so I'm told. Besides, we'll need to round up some caps anyway if we want to make the best of our time in Vegas. After I get answers, I'm taking you to the casinos."

"Alright," she smiled, "sounds good."

Nonononononononononononono.

"Things aren't that bad, right?" Veronica asked. "No end-of-the-world situations or anything? Because that sucked the first time."

She sighed. "It's time I tell you everything, isn't it?"