Holy crap guys, I almost forgot about this! I did a thing with Sheason (you know, he's been floating around for awhile with New Vegas: Sheason's Story) and just remembered to put it together. Ugh, feels like a train wreck but a glorious one. Please review! Longest chapter yet!
"What. The. Fuck!"
Atilla growled her way out of the X-13 Testing Facility.
It was all already gone.
The stealth suit, the fucking antenna, the pulse gun – everything, gone.
They had said that the previous Courier they had come to acquire wandered out into the Big MT and never returned. They had said due to the dangers in the crater, he was most likely dead. But what Atilla was stuck on was that there was another Courier that survived the operation and ended up in this hell-hole.
In truth, Atilla didn't know what to expect when she touched that blasted satellite dish outside of Nipton. She sure as hell didn't expect to be somehow transported to this place where abominations of science ran amok – lobotomites, nightstalkers, cazadores. They were everywhere here. Between them, the robo-dogs and the robo-scorpions skittering around here, she was at a loss of what to do. She also didn't have any of her weapons due to the fact that Dala 'misplaced' her pack of supplies. It had all of her weapons, her stimpaks, her med-x. It also had her armor in it; she was still stuck in the patient gown she had been dressed in when she awoke.
That was another thing, why had she woke up on the balcony of the SINK?
The brains were psycho.
"Fuck this," she kicked at a brain casing she had blasted from one of the military robo-dog she had fought earlier. "I'm gonna go rest…maybe I'll kill the brains…"
"You know, I'm curious…why are you such a pain in the ass all the time? I mean, you're really high strung for a toaster."
"Have you ever tried to indulge an all-consuming urge to kill when you don't have opposable thumbs? Or hands? Or anything other than a bread slot? You'd have a lot of pent-up anger too!"
"Seriously. You need to switch to decaf coffee or something, because you –"
"DID SOMEONE MENTION COFFEE?! OH GOD! Please, please, PLEASE tell me you have some mugs? Just a few mugs, that's all I fucking need just one more mug OH GOD!"
"SILENCE, you tiny annoying, coffee mug obsessed midget! I swear, once I tap into the main reactors I will render to ash and cinders! YOU HEAR ME? ASH AND CINDERS!"
"Right, I'm gonna go talk to the Biological Research Station, see if that salient green is finished congealing. At least the innuendos from him are easier to handle than the constant threats of violence from you morons."
She tapped her foot impatiently, unaware of the commotion going on in the SINK. She had her arms cross over her chest, anger set in her jaw. What was taking so fucking long?! Ya know, you'd think scientific 'geniuses' like the Brains would be able to make a faster elevator.
She needed to calm down, she was never usually this mouthy or aggravated, violent, but she wanted to get home and have her own clothes to wear. She also missed Boone.
Boone.
The one that told her not to go near the damn satellite in the first place. She wondered how he was, what he did when she just disappeared in front of him. Boone never lost his cool unless she was involved and he only really freaked out when she did something really stupid, like this.
As the doors opened, she approached the sink, steaming mad.
"Do you know of any way to kill the brains without shooting," she growled. "I wasted half my bullets shooting at those fucking lobotomites –"
"Sir, there is a –"
"Then I get to all these buildings for the shit they sent me after and guess what," she began tugging at the strings on her patient gown; she wanted her fucking armor back, that delicious set of White Leg armor that hugged her in all the right places? Yes please.
As she tugged the final strings of the gown free, she huffed. Who else would see her but insane robot and those fucking experiments?
"But sire, I must infor –"
"Somebody already took them," she screamed, throwing the gown to the side. "Every device, every piece of that suit – gone! I'm so –"
Sheason paused at the threshold of the doorway, a bit dumfounded and unable to keep himself from staring.
At everything.
"Uh…hi. Who are…you're…uh..well…there…there y'are."
Atilla turns to him, more than angry but also now confused. She looked down at herself, realizing the problem, then turns back to him.
"Yeah…" she sighed. "Here I am."
Cue awkward silence, Muggy humming some insane tune in the background about mugs. The toaster was still on a metaphorical rampage about world domination between insane bursts of laughter. The Auto-Doc snored, muttering to a nurse that wasn't there about handing him a scalpel.
All the while, Atilla and Sheason stared at each other.
"Welp," Atilla smacks her lips. "I am thoroughly out of fucks to give. Who the hell are you? And what are you going in my metaphorical apartment?"
"YOUR apartment," Sheason finally manages to pull his gaze from the naked lady bits in front of him (but still keeping his hand on Roscoe, just in case). "Now…I've taken quite a few knocks to the head in the past few days, and even got my brains scooped out and misplaced somewhere…but I think I would've remembered sharing The Sink with someone other than the batshit brigade," calm as he could, Sheason ran his free hand along his scarred and shaved head. "So, who are you, and what are you doing in MY base of operations?"
Atilla raised her hands, looking down at the floor for a moment, then she peered up at him from under her brow. "Wait, wait, wait…you got your brains scooped out too," they stared at each other, Atilla very much confused. "So you're the bastard that took all my stuff," she yelped in shock. "And how do you not know who I am? I'm Atilla, Queen of the Wasteland! And don't you dare think of shooting me!"
"Queen of the Wasteland, huh," Sheason questioned, failing to repress a smirk. He had an idea of what was going on, but first. "Quite the impressive and ballsy title, coming from a woman in her birthday suit."
Her cheeks were on fire but she straightened her back, placing her hands on her boney hips. "Still don't hear a complaint," she hummed. "If you're so inclined to complain though, you can give me that suit there. I mean, it is mine after all."
She hoped he'd fall for it, whatever this was. Of course, the look in his eyes told her he would be able to call any bluff or bullshit she spouted out even if she was the best bullshitter in the world. And Atilla wasn't the best she normally jumped in, guns blazing. If she had known he was there, she would have at least tried to sneak up on him. Maybe. He didn't seem like someone to fuck with, though Atilla was always one for danger.
"Not a complaint, just a bit distracting," Sheason reached down to the discarded patient down on the floor and tossed it to her with a smirk. "Either way, I don't have such illustrious or ridiculously over-the-top titles. My name is Sheason Fisher…but most people lately have been calling me Courier Six," he leaned up against the reloading bench, waiting patiently for her response to that; that would tell him if his theory was right or not.
She caught the gown with a grumble, tying it again. "I think I heard something about that," she looked over at the man with a guarded look. "A…friend of mine talks about you a lot, kinda want to say he's obsessed with you," she mumbled the last part; why was he looking at her like that?
She then snorted and turned back to the SINK, typing on the touch pad, sifting through the contents of the medical supplies. As if she owned the place. Wait, she did. he was the intruder dammit.
"Care to explain why you're staring at me like that," she growled, focused on emptying out the stimpak reserve.
Sheason shrugged.
"Just wondering how you survived the brain removal procedure. Most don't, I hear. I only survived because I got shot in the head outside Goodsprings awhile back…" even though his head was still covered in the obviously recent surgical scars, he pointed at a very specific scar: a small brownish-red line just above his left eye. "Made a nice wrinkle in my brain. I tell ya, I never thought Benny shooting me would end up saving my life," as he spoke, he tried to get a look at her head – see if there was a similar 9mm scar on her face.
If she had one, he couldn't see it from that angle.
Her eyes lingered on that scar, thought back on blurry images. "Well damn man," she rubbed the back of her neck. "Never been shot. Maybe. I…I don't remember a lot of things these days. Hell, I don'r even know if my name is Atilla…" her lips quirk in the corner and she straightened her back all the way. "In short, I don't know why I survived. They said something about radiation or…maybe that's what they said. I'm getting tongue tied now."
She watched him for a moment, felt something familiar in his face but she just couldn't place any of the details she was given.
"Hmm…" Sheason muttered, stroking his chin. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the first Courier I've come across with their memory all swiss-cheesed," was that what she was before she found Boone? It sounded right. Then again, she wanted to say Ulysess was right. "Hell, you're not even the first strange one this week. You are the first naked one," she grinned but he didn't miss a beat. "So, there's that. I supposed this kind of situation is to be expected though," as he spoke, he pulled out the Big Mountain Transportalponder! and started twirling it around in his hand. "Whenever you take the fabric of space and time and start poking holes in it, willy-nilly, all sorts of strange things are bound to happen."
Her eyes kind of sparkled on that weird gun-thing in his hand. "Was dat," she pointed at it. Then she heard the first of his words and shook her head fiercely. "I think I need to lay off the psycho," she grumbled. "I'm not the first one with screwed up memories to end up here?"
What did that mean? And what did say about space – time – some shit?
"This? This is a nifty little device. By itself, it doesn't actually do anything. It's just the transmitter-receiver. It sends coordinate data to and from the quantum tunneling device network Mobius built, which allows it to generate a miniature, Dark Energy fueled Einstein-Rosen bridge between two-" He finally stopped when he noticed the blank stare she was giving him. "Alright, I think I better explain with a practical demonstration." He tapped the Book Chute on the wall next to him, and the automated personality sprang to life. "Book Chute, think I can get a blank piece of paper and a pencil?"
"Absolutely, Citizen!" There was a whirring sound, and the items emerged from the slot at the bottom. "I certainly hope you're not thinking of writing any seditious thoughts on that paper! Blank pages are better for the mind, Citizen! Real science by real men in lab coats has proved that introducing outside thoughts confuses the brain!"
"Alright," Sheason ignored the Commie-hating construct, and moved on. He took the piece of paper, and drew two dots on opposite ends. "Quick question: what's the shortest distance between two points? A straight line, right?" He shook his head. "Wrong. The shortest distance between two points..." He folded the paper in half, so both dots touched each other. "... is zero. That's what this - the Transportalponder - does. Only problem..." Sheason took the pencil, and shoved it through the dots, spearing the page. "It does so by poking holes in reality. And all sorts of strange things happen when reality gets poked and prodded enough to tear."
Atilla stared at him with pursed lips and then shook her head slowly. "Ok that…actually made some sort of sense," she took in a deep breath. "Now about the whole 'You're in my apartment-thing' situation," she took another breath, her fingertips shaking. "The brains already got to you and you have the stuff," she looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "Why did they think you were dead? I'm so confused…"
"It's not your apartment. Well, it is, but it isn't. Weren't you listening," would it be bad if she said no? "Different realities are bleeding over into one another and the continued use of dark energy is causing the ripples in the time stream. If I had to guess, you're still searching for your brain, right," he tapped the side of his head several times and smirked. "My brains may have been scooped out but I eventually go him back. Speaking of: there isn't really a huge choice of voice modules in the Forbidden Zone, so don't be surprised if your brain sounds British."
Oh…oh right, he explained everything a minute ago.
No more drugs.
With or without her brain.
She groaned, holding the sides of her head. "Ugh this all hurts," she shook her head. "British well…I don't know what a British is," she grumbled. "Can there be a compromise? Ah fuck it, I wont be doing too much sitting around until I find my brain…"
"Sorry for confusing you. I tend to ramble a bit. Well…" Sheason shrugged with a smile. "I ramble a lot now, at least. If it makes you feel any better, I was just as confused talking with the last Courier before he phased back into his own reality. He called himself Thomas Jefferson, I shit you not. Kept going on about horses or something…I dunno, I kind of stopped paying attention at that point."
She pursed her lips inwards, chuckling lightly. "Wish I could have seen that," she paused. "You haven't happened to see a knapsack with Captain Cosmos on it have you? Dala said she took my stuff in here but…now I'm wondering if she didn't flushing that down the toilet."
"Captain Cosmos?" Sheason looked around, leaning up off his seat on the reloading bench. "Nope, don't believe so. I'm sure it'll turn up. She may be a bit flighty at times, but that horny brain doesn't misplace things when it really counts. Especially if she's taken a fancy to you. Then again, if you have skin and a working brain, she's probably taken a fancy to you..." Sheason smiled to himself and laughed softy, thinking about one of the recent 'formography' sessions with Dala.
Atilla pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well dammit..." she thought for a minute."Did she make you...ya know," her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "Blink?"
It was funny to her.
She knew why this Sheason chuckled. Dala just really liked to watch her teddy bears blink and move their fingers.
Sheason couldn't stand it anymore. He just busted up laughing.
"Oh, I'm sure there was blinking involved... along with many other bodily functions." Sheason leaned back with a smug expression and his fingers laced behind his head. "You ever get the chance, ask Dala about the 'hologram protocol' she has for assisting in her formography sessions. Just make sure the other Think Tanks aren't around. She's kind of wants to keep it on the down-low. Hush-hush, you know how it goes."
"Oh that's fucking hilarious," Atilla grinned. "I may not kill them after all..." She looked around for a moment, her mood upping a little. What was she supposed to do? "I guess I should leave you to your business," she sighed. "Any idea there my brain might be?"
"Probably where it always ends up: The Forbidden Zone," Sheason hopped off the reloading bench and made his way to The Sink Central Intelligence console in the center of... well, the Sink. "It won't open until you get the X-2 antenna, the sneaky suit, and a few upgrades for the sonic emitter. But, if you want my advice..." The holographic display in the central console shifted, and became a three-dimensional map of the Big MT. Sheason punched in a few more buttons, and it highlighted a spot in the northwest corner of the crater. "... I would stop by here first. You're gonna need that jury-rigged Tesla cannon to deal with the robo-scorpion. Oh, and once you get there - don't shoot Mobius. He's really a nice guy for a crazy, senile brain in a jar, even if he is a bit..." Sheason took his finger and circled his ear several times, whistling out a cuckoo clock noise.
Atilla sighed and nodded. "Alright, alright," she ran a hand over her head. "I just wish Dala would give me my stuff. But I guess there are plenty of toys out there in the Big Empty."
She smiled a wide, insane smile and clapped her hands together. Then she looked over at Sheason with a quizzical expression.
"Wait, I won't run into you out there will I," she waved both hands in the air. "Never mind, it won't matter," she began to walk towards the door, untying the gown and shrugging it off again. She dropped it by the door and waved over her head as it opened. "Bye bye apartment stealer!"
Sheason watched with a sense of wry amusement as she practically scampered past him, undoing the patient gown as she went. As soon as she was out of earshot, he muttered "Fuckin' tourists..." and pulled the trigger on the Transportalponder. In a flash and a pop, he disappeared again.
See feels like a trainwreck but a glorious one at that.