Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout or anything in it. I just like doing these novelizations.
The air was unusually chilly as Six pushed north on Highway 95, having narrowly escaped a surprise attack by Vipers. They pursued her as far north as Ranger Station Charlie, until the NCR intervened and made quick work of them. She shivered and crossed her arms over her body, wondering if the Mojave Desert had chosen to give its inhabitants a brief break from the usual sweltering heat, or if autumn really was in full swing. The sun shone directly overhead, providing little warmth against the cold breeze.
Six's jaw began to tremble involuntarily as goosebumps simultaneously rose on her exposed arms and chest. "Shit," she murmured. She walked as quickly as her legs could carry her, and found herself in a small town right as the sky began to turn from pale blue to gold and yellow. The air grew even colder as a result, to the courier's concern. She hoped this town had a hotel or even just a room with a bed where she could sleep. Having grown up far to the north of NCR territory, she had been no stranger to frigid temperatures, but her time in the Mojave had faltered her tolerance for colder weather.
Houses similar to those in Goodsprings and Primm - small, charming, and yellowed horribly by the sun - came into view, dotting the intersecting roads ahead of her. Towards the eastern town boundaries, a huge open-mouthed dinosaur caught her attention. As she got closer, a sign near the dinosaur's feet reading "Dino Dee-lite Motel" in peeling letters welcomed her. A marquee stood perpendicular to the front gate, the words "NO VACANCY" dotting it. Some of the letters were lit up in neon, spelling "NO VAC". So this was the Novac every wastelander was speaking of...
It's getting dark… I should turn in for the night, she thought, her legs feeling heavier with each step. She'd spent nearly a month tracking the men that stole the poker chip from her, with few leads. The most anyone could help was some rendition of "They went that-a way", which both annoyed her and humbled her. Everyone she'd spoken to asking their whereabouts never gave a satisfactory answer, because in her mind she needed every detail. But who would have taken the time to stop them for questioning? Based on their trailblazing, they likely made a lot of enemies. They were as good as vilified.
Six was so lost in her thoughts that she was right up against the door leading to the motel office. As soon as she placed a hand on the doorknob to turn it, the door opened as if the motel had expected her all along. She found herself face to face with an older, bespectacled woman dressed in a pre-war button-up shirt and skirt. Her gray hair was pulled into a small, neat bun. The woman jumped in surprise, placing a hand on her chest.
"Oh! You frightened me! Was there something you needed, honey?" She gasped, her voice warm yet hoarse, like that burn in the back of the throat after a swig of whiskey.
Six held up her hands in submission. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I came from the south and was hoping I could rent a room for the night."
The old woman studied Six for a moment, realizing that the weather really had taken a turn and would only get colder within a few hours. "I just closed down, but… Very well. Come in, dear." She motioned for Six to follow her inside, who complied gratefully.
As Six began digging through her pack for caps, she drank in the hotel lobby, impressed with the sight before her.
The interior, despite being run-down after 200 years since the Great War, was surprisingly clean albeit sparsely decorated. Pre-war propaganda posters and casino advertisements covered the walls. A small black sofa was shoved into the corner, its material fraying and worn. Behind the reception desk stood multiple filing cabinets, most of which had missing drawers and otherwise looked unremarkable. On the desk itself stood a dozen small dinosaur toys - were these supposed to be souvenirs? - and a terminal. The older woman pulled out a clipboard and pencil and cleared her throat, getting the courier's attention.
"What's your name, dear?" Six didn't respond immediately, her gaze falling on a paper she hadn't noticed before. The word "Legion", or at least what she thought was that word caught her attention. She blinked, forgetting herself, then turned to look at the old proprietor.
"Oh, um, you can call me 'Six'." She was met with silence. The older woman raised a perplexed eyebrow before shrugging and writing down what must have been record-keeping data.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Jeannie May Crawford, and I take care of folks here at the motel. Long as they aren't troublemakers." She gave Six a pointed look, her forehead wrinkling.
Giggling nervously, Six scratched the back of her head. "I'm just passing through, and I mean no harm." Pausing, she contemplated her next words carefully. "Although… I'm looking for someone. A man in a checkered coat. Have you seen anyone like that?"
Jeannie May's face soured suddenly, scoffing as she set the pad and pencil down. She gazed at the courier expectantly. Six quickly explained her score to settle with her would-be assailant, but kept it simple and left out the more intimate details. "He stole something of mine and left me for dead."
"Well," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips, "He may have been wearing a fancy outfit, but he wasn't any kind of a gentleman to me. I don't appreciate him saying the rude things he did about our town." She smiled softly, glancing at the young courier with empathy. "And I'm sorry that you had to put up with his antics as well. He and his, uh, friends left as quick as they came, headed to New Vegas. They came through a few days ago."
Six felt her heart begin to race. She sighed internally, lamenting that this man was still two steps ahead of her. However, knowing that he had passed through recently helped lift her mood. There could still be other leads in Novac.
"Had his nose stuck so high in the air, you couldn't see it above the clouds," Jeannie May continued, grimacing again and paying no attention to Six's sunken demeanor. "City folk, they think they deserve better than what they got. Those hoodlums he was with seemed to know Manny for some reason. He's our daytime sniper, up in the dinosaur's mouth."
Six furrowed her brows, wondering why Jeannie May's mood suddenly changed at the mention of "city folk". Where did this disdain come from? Sure, some of them could be rude, but that didn't mean the whole lot of them were as presumptuous… either her checker-suited target really pissed off Jeannie May, or she'd already been carrying this prejudice for some time. No matter the reasoning, this was not a woman to be crossed.
Six blinked in bewilderment as she processed what Jeannie May had just told her. "You can go into the dinosaur?"
Jeannie May nodded, affectionately referring to the dinosaur as "Dinky", and told Six about the gift shop that was also housed in the dinosaur's belly. They only sold souvenir toy dinosaurs, but the Courier wasn't surprised by this. She looked at the numerous toys littering the reception desk, concerned for what would happen to the town's economy if these toys ceased to be.
She cleared her throat, suddenly remembering a question floating in her thoughts for the last minute. This Manny, whoever he was, would be important to tracking down her target. A conversation with him would be crucial if she could meet him. Remembering that the sun had been low on the horizon by the time she first got into town, Six realized that Manny was probably off duty.
"So… Manny is there during the day? Do you have a sniper at night?"
A dark, unreadable expression suddenly flashed across Jeannie May's face. It went as quick as it came, but Six caught it, frowning. The woman hung her head, staring at the desk, before sharply exhaling and raising her eyes to the young woman before her. "His name is Boone."
Craig Boone stared out of the dinosaur's open mouth, observing the vast landscape. Countless stars twinkled in the sky, gracing the sliver of a moon hanging on the horizon. The cold didn't bother him much, but he was still grateful that the wind died down. His eyes scanned the horizon for movement, finding the wasteland as still as can be. Exactly how he liked it, although he wouldn't openly admit that he was jealous of Manny taking out a lone Legionnaire by the overpass leading to Nelson earlier that day, whose body still lay in a crumpled heap on the bridge.
As far as he was concerned, the only good Legionnaire was a dead one. Especially after what happened with her at the hands of those savages… he now only had one purpose. That purpose was to put a bullet in as many of those cursed red and black uniforms as possible. However, in a town as small as Novac, word traveled fast, and he was suspicious that someone within town limits also played a part in her demise.
Come hell or high water, he'd find out who betrayed her. Betrayed him.
The door behind him opened unexpectedly, and then shut. Boone jumped in surprise, turning on the spot to find himself face-to-face with a woman he didn't recognize.
Her hair (the cover of night made it near impossible to determine the color) was pulled into a messy bun. Dark circles hugged her eyes, like she hadn't slept in some time. She was clothed in a gray, sleeveless duster, a simple tank top and cargo pants underneath. A pocketed bandoleer went across her shoulder, down to her opposite hip. Boone noticed various scars and bruises on her arms and face, like she had just gotten into a fight.
"Goddamn it!" He snapped, feeling his body tense up. "Don't sneak up on me like that."
"I didn't mean to frighten you." She said simply, her quiet voice dripping with fatigue.
"What do you want?"
"Were you expecting a visitor?" The woman asked, crossing her arms. Boone considered her for a moment. Judging by the Pip-Boy on her wrist, she must've come from one of the nearby Vaults. However, she wasn't wearing a Vault jumpsuit. He wondered if she was a mercenary or even a courier, with the light but effective armor she sported. No matter how she made a living in the wasteland, she looked hardy; she looked like she could get a job done.
"Yeah. I guess… maybe I am. But not like you." Boone suddenly had a realization and smirked, noticing the woman's uncertainty. "Huh, maybe it should've been you I was expecting all along. Why are you here?"
"If you're looking for someone in particular, I could tip you off if I see them."
Avoiding the question. Hmph.
"Yeah, well," Boone said thoughtfully, "You see anyone wearing Legion crimson or a lot of sports equipment, you let me know. But," he sneered, making no attempt to hide the disgust in his voice, "You still haven't answered my question."
As if ignoring him, the woman yawned, then stepped towards the opening of the dinosaur's mouth. After a moment, she turned back to him. "The view is nice up here." He let out a frustrated grunt, tapping his foot impatiently. She took the hint and held a hand to her forehead. "I'm here because I'm looking for someone that robbed me. They have ties with the sniper that works during the day, but I got here too late."
So she's looking for someone, too. And they know Manny? That's interesting.
Folding his arms over his chest, Boone turned to face the woman directly. The whirlwind of thoughts in his head was deafening, but the moment of brilliance he'd had minutes earlier molded into an idea; an idea that was so infallible, he was certain this stranger could pull it off. Since the woman before him wasn't from Novac, that meant first and foremost that she truly knew nothing about Carla. Boone knew in his current mental state that he was running out of time, and it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to the turmoil that had tormented and twisted within him over the past few months. He needed answers, desperately. Letting out a long breath, he adjusted his sunglasses ("...why the hell do I still have these on?") and let his arms fall to his sides.
"I need someone I can trust… you're a stranger. That's a start." He said finally. The woman stood up straight, raising an eyebrow with skepticism. "No one in this town looks me straight in the eye anymore."
She made an empathetic noise in response. "What do you need me to do?"
Taking in another breath, Boone slowly reached into his shirt, and produced a chain holding NCR dog tags, and a small gold ring with a lone diamond set in the band. He gazed at it for a moment before closing his fist on it. He lifted his head to the woman, his mouth twisted in a deep frown.
"I want you to find something out for me."