Boone did not have to wait until daybreak. Not to report news of the Courier's theft, though.
It had to have been five in the morning. The air was thick and heavy, preparing to warm up in the sun, when he saw movement below him. He aimed, seeing a flash of red and preparing for a Legion onslaught, but lowered his rifle when he saw the boy's unkempt blond hair hanging down his neck. He turned, looking at something out of the line of the dinosaur's line of sight. And then the Courier jogged to the little rocky overhang in front of Novac's sniper nest.
He raised his sniper, looking through the scope, first at the boy, who now had a large wristband where his bandage used to be. Impatiently, the boy glanced at it, fiddling with the dial.
And then the culprit walked into position. Boone did not feel the urge to do more than identify the victim. Jeannie May Crawford. Boone squinted, looked down the scope of his rifle, and squeezed. Jeannie May was dispatched effectively, falling to the ground, blood spurting from the hole in her head.
He sat back, panting. He returned his gun to its spot on his back. It didn't make a lot of sense to him. The aging woman had never said a bad word to him. Although, Boone realized, they hadn't talked a lot after Carla…
But he hadn't talked to anyone after that. So why would she be different?
The Courier ran off. He was always sprinting, never walking or standing still. He always seemed to run, to go. As a sniper, Boone wondered how he'd gotten this far without getting his legs ripped off by deathclaws or his guts ripped out by cazadores. Although Boone was more than used to the nomadic life, to always moving, he almost certainly did not do that by running everywhere. Attracting enemies he didn't need was wasting bullets he didn't have.
In a second, Boone heard the Courier's musical "Hey" and he turned around.
But the Courier was no longer alone. A spherical machine trailed behind him, darting out of the way of the door before it slammed shut. It whirred lightly, bobbing up and down, its strange black camera darting around the inside of the dinosaur's mouth.
"What the fuck is that?" Boone said, jumping at the sight of the hovering eyebot. He completely forgot about the woman he'd just shot for a split second at the sight of the thing. He suddenly had an intense urge to poke the thing.
The boy shrugged, removing the red beret from his head and returning it to Boone. "I dunno. Found it in Primm and fixed it up. Kinda cool, right?"
Boone did not think it was cool. In fact, he thought it was kind of creepy. The thing had a camera and a laser. Nothing about that was cool. All of that suggested the tech was watching them. But then Boone remembered the matter at hand, reminded by a blood spatter on the boy's cheek.
"That was fast," Boone managed.
The Courier shrugged. "You said we couldn't talk until it was done." At Boones perplexed expression, the boy continued, "I couldn't go without your gripping conversation for a minute longer. You're so incredibly charismatic."
Although Boone never considered himself to be particularly sharp, the sarcasm was not lost, even on him. He ignored it.
"So, that's it, then. How did you know?"
The Courier raised his arm to give Boone a better view of the odd gadget upon his forearm. Boone frowned at the amber text, scanning the note as quickly as he could, but he had never been a particularly speedy reader. But sure enough, the information was there - Jeannie May received 1000 caps for selling out Boone's entire world, his entire life.
Boone would have paid ten times that to have her back. If only she'd asked first.
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It'd be like them to keep paperwork." To reduce his unborn child to nothing but a 500 cap condition in a holotape. He absently reached into his pocket and handed the kid everything he had, which amounted to a measly 100 caps. It wasn't like he got paid for guarding the town. Nothing substantial, anyway. Room and board from Jeannie May herself along with a stipend for food, which he relinquished.
The thought made him sick. Perhaps it was better to be rid of his money. Anything from that woman would be better off in the hands of someone who could use it.
"Here. This is all I can give. I think our dealings are done here," Boone said, his tone flat, turning to continue his gripping, exciting job of looking at the wasteland. Hell, he wouldn't even rat the kid out to Andy for stealing his journal. It'd be the Courier's parting gift.
But the kid did not leave. "What'll you do after this?"
What'll I do? Boone would stand in the mouth of the stupid goddamn green dinosaur and look for stupid goddamn red legionaries and shoot them stupid goddamn dead, that's what he'd do. And then, when it was nine, he would leave. No way could he stay in this godforsaken graveyard of a town, sitting inside a dinosaur for half of the rest of his life. Manny could deal with it. Asshole.
"I don't know. I won't be staying, I know that." He turned to look at the Courier, who, while Boone had been looking out at the wastes, had managed to wipe some of Jeannie May's blood off his face. The rest streaked where he'd attempted to do it, making him look feral. "Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries."
"You know, you could come with me," the Courier said, raising an eyebrow. "Let's go after those Legion fuckers. The dead can't cry out for justice, ya know. Hit 'em where it hurts."
Boone shook his head. "You don't want to do that."
"What if I do?"
He shook his head. "Then I'm not your man." It was suicide. Not that Boone would have minded
"I thought snipers worked in teams, tough guy," the Courier said. The boy had a point, and Boone articulated that to him, explaining that he'd struggled before without a partner. Even in Novac, he had a partner, although he refused to speak to him. The two still had each other's backs. Probably.
Boone would probably only let him get shot a few times in an altercation, and only in the leg or the foot or something.
"Also, I need you," the Courier said, flashing Boone a grin. I'm useless with a gun anyway unless the thing's right in front of me."
"Why?"
The blond pointed at his eye with the blown pupil. "I see two of everything. Barely ever know which is which. Can't see far away for shit, let alone at night. Probably need glasses. I'm betting you don't have that problem."
Boone, in fact, did not have that problem. His vision was impeccable, his attention to detail even more so. What he lacked in cognition he easily made up in systematic planning and watchful waiting. He had gotten into 1st Recon because of his eyes and his instincts. Okay, Boone acquiesced, so the kid needs me. Gun for hire. What does he offer me?
The Courier had… a backpack full of junk like dinosaur figurines he'd probably stolen. A pistol and a knife, for sure. A contraption on his wrist that looked like it could do some real damage if he hit someone with it. A propensity to fight radscorpions, to be sure.
The drive and tenacity to get things done, as clear by the dead Novac proprietor sitting out front.
"Why do I need you?" Boone queried.
The Courier snorted, sweeping his sweaty hair off his forehead. "I dunno, Boone. Don't you think coming with me is a hell of a lot more useful to killing Legion fuckers than sitting here in the dinosaur's mouth?"
Boone grimaced at the reminder that he was wasting away
What was holding him back, anyway? A shitty motel room with barely anything in it, a community full of people who had all but gloated at his wife's disappearance, a town full of ghosts. It wasn't like he was making substantial progress towards his goal of ripping the throats out of every Legion slaver he could find from the safety and comfort of a plastic dinosaur statue.
Besides, maybe being the kid's bullet sponge wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. The worst that could happen was he died, anyway. Right?
"Fine. Let's get out of here."
The Courier stepped back, his mouth opening a little in surprise. "Really. Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Don't you have to… I dunno. Say goodbye or something?"
Boone made a face. "No. Let me get my things." He pushed past the boy and descended the stairs directly to his hotel room. The sun was peeking out from behind the mountains in the distance. It had to be around six or seven in the morning. He'd only leave the city unguarded for a few hours. Then it was Manny's problem.
He smirked to himself at the thought of propping Ranger Andy up in a chair for the overnights. He doubted the old man could stay awake, let alone actively search for intruders.
Eh. It would be okay. It wasn't like many used the cover of night to attack Novac. What did they have that anyone wanted in the first place?
In his room, Boone scanned for anything he wanted to take along with him. The list was short. The clothes on his back and his beret, of course. All of his ammunition. His machete, which he tucked into his waistband. The military backpack he'd been issued, more of a duffel bag with two straps, he filled with a fresh shirt and pants, the rest of his food rations, a few idle syringes of Med-X he had lying around, and a Stimpak he'd been given back when he first enlisted. He held onto it - it wasn't like he had ever had to use it, anyway.
He packed his straight razor and the rest of the soap he had along with his canteen, which he emptied the rest of his bottles of water into. He scanned his room for anything else he'd need. Nothing. Just a note he'd written a long, long time ago, which he tucked into his pants pocket carefully, neatly folded.
One last cursory scan of his room later, Boone left, locking the door behind him. He figured whatever poor soul got suckered into managing the joint could force the lock if they desperately needed to rent it out. Not like they got a lot of visitors anyway.
When he turned around, the boy and his creepy eyebot were waiting, reclining on the railings of the stairs. He chewed a lit cigarette to his lips, flipping a cap in his fingers. When Boone approached him, he spat the cigarette out and smashed it with his boot. "You ready?"
Boone nodded, the motion short and jerky.
And so the two debarked. "Where are we going?" Boone asked once they had left Novac and ventured into the wastes in front of them.
The Courier shrugged. "I dunno. First, we gotta find the man who shot me."
"And then?"
"I dunno. Find fifty of these stupid star bottlecaps and see what prize I get." He flipped the cap. "Gamble all my money away at The Strip, what little I have." He flipped it again, catching it between his second and third fingers. "Shoot the shit out of some Legionaries. Find the fucker who shot your wife. How's that sound?"
It sounded bittersweet to him. The first part, music to his ears. The second part…well, the fucker deserved it, no doubt. Sometimes, Boone wished he had the strength to shoot him, too.
But the boy's expression was so determined, so innocent, like he lived to fight those he found to be evil. So Boone said nothing, hoping the kid would take his silence as an implicit agreement to the proposal, and he trailed behind in the dust. The boy seemed to enjoy leading, constantly pausing to check the gadget on his wrist, impatiently sprinting forward at random intervals, waiting for Boone to catch up.
The Courier caught up to him crouching outside of a large building, surrounded by ghouls and with a little red rocket statue out front. Boone spied the dinosaur toy still in the kid's backpack, and decided to change the subject.
"You know," Boone said carefully, "you should have just paid Cliff for the dinosaur. They're only two caps."
The Courier grinned. "I should have, huh?" Boone nodded. "Alright then. Heads or tails?"
"Um, heads."
The Courier flipped the bottle cap and gripped it in his palm. In one sudden movement, he revealed the result. Tails. He hissed, sucking in air through his clenched teeth, and shook his head sadly. "Bad luck, Boone. If you'd have won, I'd have run back and given him the two caps."
If only he knew just how bad his luck was. "Really?"
"Fuck no," the boy cackled. He almost skipped ahead of them, the contents of his backpack bouncing noisily with each of his steps. It alerted the ghouls, who screeched for just a second before Boone's bullet pierced their skull, silencing the tortured souls for good.