7:25 AM

August 19th, 2286

Goodsprings

As Joseph neared the building, he took a cursory glance at an old and dusty rocking chair on the porch. Putting it out of mind, he reached for the handle of the door to Prospector's Saloon, only for it to fly open. The wayfaring stranger stumbled to the side as two men stomped through, one heavyset and squat and the other thin and tall. They were both wearing leather biker attire complete with jackets, piercings, and laughable facial hair. The plump man was bald with a gray horseshoe mustache, the other with a shaved head of blonde hair and a walrus 'stache.

The two were clearly irate, their faces red as a beet as they screamed obscenities into the bar on their way out, some of them Joseph had never even heard before. They threw the door shut and shoved past Joseph on their way out, the stranger doing nothing in retaliation save for balling his fists behind his back. Starting fights was no way to start his new life in this town, even if a good whack or two could do wonders for their manners.

"Hey! Ya got some'in' ta say?" The fat one howled at Joseph, who was doing his best to keep his cool. He forced a smile, shoving his want for correctional violence deep down inside of him.

"No, sir." His voice was tense and his statement terse, as he feared that if he let his voice be just a little louder or let himself say just a little more, he was sure to say something he'd regret in a way he'd regret.

"Good. Don't fuck with me, ya hear?" He looked to be about to say more, but his skinny friend held the man back.

"C'mon. Paul's waitin' for us." The beanpole reminded fatty, who spat at Joseph's feet in farewell before slipping his sunglasses on and turning around, walking off who-knows-where.

Joseph sighed and shook his head, unclenching his fist as he reached for the door, purging those feelings of hatred. Those weren't him, and he couldn't allow those to be him. That was the monster that war had created begging to be let loose, but he wouldn't let it. This was a new start and a new him, and the picture was only big enough for himself and just himself.

He made sure that he had returned to a tranquil mood before opening the door to the building and entering it. The saloon itself was nice and comfortable, with a dining area on the right and a bar on the left. A faint, unrecognizable country tune played throughout both rooms from a radio, a vaguely familiar baritone-voiced man singing about the ails of life behind bars. Once inside, Joseph made a beeline for the counter, sitting at a stool while a woman with nape-length brown hair aggressively scrubbed a stain into utter decimation with a handkerchief.

"Fuckin' cocksuckers…" She growled under her breath as she did so, not even taking notice of the new customer until he was sitting right in front of her. Upon spying him out of the corner of her eye, though, she sighed, turned around, and took a moment to compose herself before turning back to face Joseph. "Hello, stranger. You must be passing through town. I'm Trudy." She introduced herself, now smiling, though Joseph could see in her eyes she was not yet over whatever had happened before he walked in.

"Joseph LeVito. I'll be here for a while, so it's nice to meet you, Trudy." He desperately wanted to ask about the two who had just stormed out, but knew it wasn't his business in the slightest.

"Likewise, Mr. LeVito. Listen, since you're new here, the first drink's free." She leaned onto the counter, looking at the door as if she expected someone to burst in at any moment.

"I appreciate the hospitality, but…" Joseph couldn't hold his curiosity any longer, feeling a need to know. "Those two men, who were they?"

Trudy seemed almost relieved that he had asked, leaning back away from the bar while keeping both hands on it. She thought for a moment, before deciding on how to start the story.

"You're new here, so I assume you're unfamiliar with the Riders?"

"Entirely." Joseph answered.

"Wonderful. Before I start, what drink can I get you?"

"Just a Sunset is good."

"Not a day drinker? Good. I respect that." Trudy reached under the counter and opened a fridge, taking out a glass soda bottle and setting it on the counter. The label on it displayed a keg and, in bold black letters and then smaller white letter respectively, read "SUNSET SARSAPARILLA". Joseph cracked the cap off, sliding it into his pocket while he took a sip from the drink.

"So, these Rider guys. Are they a gang?"

"'Gang' is putting it loosely. They're a bunch of biker assholes doing lines of coke when they're not harassing businesses and people here in Goodsprings. They first showed up as remnants of the Fiends from around when the Legion won the Dam and double crossed them. Hardly worthy of being called a 'gang'."

"What did they want with you?"

"Nothing. Those dicks start trouble just to start trouble. Especially the fat one. Calls me his fuckin' "Baby". I'd cut his tongue out while he was still talking, if it didn't mean Paul would send the rest of them after us." As she began to get aggravated again, she picked up the handkerchief and continued to forcefully wipe away, despite the counter being just about spotless.

"Paul. Is he their leader?" Joseph asked, the name being familiar to him as he recalled it coming from the lips of the Rider outside.

"As close to a leader as he'll get. They all look up to him, and he gets away with a hell of a lot more than the rest of them."

"These guys got a base?"

"A cave, southeast of us a bit…Why? You ain't thinking about going after 'em?"

Joseph seriously entertained the idea. Why not? He had asked the question and, if he played it smart, he could deal with the whole gang by destroying the entrances to the cave they supposedly lived in, leaving them to starve. He could easily gain this town's favor and make it easier to coordinate a way to leave the Mojave. So why didn't he?

Because, Joseph realized, that was something the old him would do. The Joseph who would cast morals aside, who focused on one thing and one thing only: victory. But the new Joseph would stay quiet, and keep his head low. No matter how much it hurt to do it. If the Riders said jump, he'd jump. That was the Joseph he sought to be. Some may call it cowardice, but he called it survival.

"No." He finally answered, shaking his head. "No, I just wanna know where to avoid. Trudy looked disappointed in this answer and, to be honest, Joseph was a bit disappointed in himself too. And yet, he was proud of himself for finding to strength to not just say it, but mean it.

"Well, that's about it. Any other questions? Knowledge might be a rare commodity these days, but here, it's free."

"Yeah, I got a few. So, just out of curiosity, why hasn't the Legion bothered with this place?"

"We were never too important to them. We're nothing more than a small town that feeds and waters travelers, long as they can pay for it. Legion doesn't have time or the need to forcefully take us over. Especially since the migration."

"The migration?"

"When the Legion took the dam, lotta people left out of fear that one day, Caesar's goons would come marching into town and start shooting and taking slaves. Can't say I blame 'em. But I got too much in this place to leave. It's where I grew up, it's where I live, it's where my heart is. Me, Sunny, Chet, and the Doc are all that decided to stay. That's not to say that we haven't gotten some new residents since then, even if it's not anywhere near how many people we used to have."

"That rocking chair outside, it looks used, but it's been empty for some time. Was that someone else who left?"

Trudy's face grew sad and sullen. "That…Was Easy Pete. A great man. The very soul of Goodsprings. He passed a few years back, and the town's never been the same without him."

"Oh," Joseph lowered his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He went peacefully. Hell of a lot better than a lot of us can hope for." Trudy seemed to sink deeper into that solemn mood as she said this. "I'd be a very, very lucky woman if I got to live even half as long as he did."

Joseph nodded, realizing he should change the subject before Trudy got even more downtrodden. "Earlier, you mentioned new residents. Is Michael one of them?"

This caught her attention. She lifted her head, meeting Joseph's eyes. "You know Michael?" Before he could even answer her, she arrived at the answer on her own. "Wait a minute, you're the one he found half-dead just outside town!" Trudy grinned, snapping her fingers and then pointing at Joseph, who smiled and nodded.

"That's me."

"So," The bartender leaned in, elbows on the counter and palms on her chin. "What's your story?"

"It's a bit complicated." 'Complicated' was one of the biggest understatements ever made in these wastes. "We'll just say I needed to leave my old life. When Michael found me, I was traveling for the last…Week? Weeks? I don't know, I lost track of time at one point…"

"Well, in that case, I'm sure Michael'd wanna meet you anyways. Just to make sure you ain't gonna be a problem. It's nothing personal, we've just been a bit on edge about strangers since…" Trudy didn't need to finish, as Joseph had already been nodding since she began.

"I get it. You can never be too safe, especially in the Mojave."

Trudy flashed him a smile. "Good, I'm glad you understand." She then shifted her attention to a wooden door on one of the walls of the building. "Sunny!" She shouted, as the door opened and a redheaded woman wearing leather clothing stepped through. She had a hunting rifle on her back and a 10mm pistol on her hip. Behind her followed a dog, with black and gray fur. "Joseph, this is Sunny. Sunny, meet Joseph. He's the one Michael brought in."

Sunny Smiles walked towards Joseph, offering out a hand, which Joseph shook. "Michael was worried about you, you know."

"Speaking of. Got any clue where he went after he left last night?" Trudy asked, to which Sunny rubbed her chin in thought.

"I think…He said something about going to Shelley's place. Planning something, but he didn't say what."

"Shelley's huh? Wonder what he could possibly want with her…" Trudy smirked, to which Sunny replied with a smirk of her own, and Joseph couldn't help but feel like he was missing the context for something.

"I think I got an clue…" The dog owner said. Yep, Joseph was definitely missing something.

"Where can I find this Shelley?" The outsider asked, interjecting in hopes of getting answers faster.

"She's refurnished the old schoolhouse. It's the long building with a half-buried playground outside of it. Can't miss it." Trudy answered, going back to work behind the bar. "But you might wanna give him some time to do…whatever the hell he's doing over there. Hey, Sunny? You mind showing Joseph here around town?"

"Well, my schedule's clear. Nobody around town needs help…Sure, why not? Come with me, Joseph. Goodsprings is a small place, but there's a whole lot here to see."

Joseph stood from the bar, wishing he had caps to tip her with. "Thanks, Trudy."

"Don't mention it. Enjoy your stay in Goodsprings!"

And like that, he and Sunny departed from the bar, once again out into the arid heat of the desert. Some time had passed, and the sun was now a good deal higher in the sky, shortening the shadows cast by it. Sunny led the way, taking an immediate right after walking down the steps of the porch. "Right here is Chet's. He's the town merchant, buys shit off of everyone, fixes it up a bit, and then sells it. He'll tell you that out of towners get half off, but that's a lie, he's just selling you shit at normal prices and acting like it's worth a whole lot more than it really is."

"Well, out here you gotta take all the money you can get, right?" Joseph shrugged, to which Sunny stopped and looked at him with amusement plastered on her face.

"You've got experience in sales, don't you?"

"You could say that."

"You're an odd man, I can tell already." Sunny scoffed, only half-joking. "Anyways…"

The hours flew by as the sun attained a higher position in the sky. Now, it was beating down on the two from directly above them. Joseph was wearing a baseball cap now, one that he had borrowed from the top of a crate of Sunsept Sarsaparilla behind the Prospector's Saloon. The hat was red and white, with the decals of some old pre-war sports team. The logo was faded now, but Joseph could guess that it may once have been an oddly-drawn P.

As it were, he and Sunny had found themselves near the outskirts of town, the two of them taking turns shooting at mole rats the moment they peeked out from their holes in a wasteland game of Whack-A-Mole. Joseph was equipped with a hunting rifle, one of Sunny's that she had taken from her home when the tour of Goodsprings had concluded. They had knocked on the door of the former schoolhouse, but nobody had answered, and as such they decided to pass the time by shooting at the pests that Sunny had been keeping tabs on the last week, according to her.

"Yeah, Goodsprings is a good place, you know?" Sunny sighed, lowering her smoking gun. The body of a mole rat lay some fifty feet away, with a bleeding hole in the side of it's head. "I mean, it's quiet. Mole rats, bugs, and coyotes are really the only animal threats we get close to town. There's some Cazadors down south, but those things never wander very close to town anyways."

"What about the Riders? Don't they start trouble?"

"They'll start it, yeah, but they don't ever finish it. They ever start givin' you trouble, let 'em know you're packing iron. Won't mess with you for a while after that."

"Really? Ex-Fiends like they are, I'd expect they'd be robbing people for drug money."

"Those guys are dumbasses, but they ain't stupid enough to rob someone in town. Not while me or Michael are watching over it, at least. Three O' Clock, fifty-five feet." Sunny pointed out one of the molerat holes, where Joseph could just barely make out a pink nose sniffing the air, the rest of the body still in the ground.

"I got it," Joseph lifted his rifle up to his eyes, squinting down the sights as he lined them up. The mole rat began emerging about halfway out the hole, and Joseph had a clear shot, but didn't take it. Not while it was still partially in the hole, at least. If he shot it now, the corpse would prevent others from being able to come out that way.

Finally, it pushed itself all of the way out of the hole, sniffing the ground as it crawled, searching for foot. The creature was moving, though, and Joseph couldn't get a good fix on it's head.

As if reading his mind, Sunny whistled. The sound was short and sharp, but cut through the wastes, doing the job it needed to as the mole rat froze in it's steps, lifting it's head and standing entirely still to investigate the source of the sound.

Boom.

Joseph slid the bolt of the gun back to chamber a new shot, before sliding it forwards again, watching as the three foot rodent's corpse fell over onto it's side and hit the ground.

"Damn! Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" Sunny whistled again, although this one was more to accentuate her impressment.

"How many did you say there were?" Joseph asked, disregarding her question entirely. Sunny paused, as if a bit taken aback, but answered regardless.

"Five sets of prints, meaning there's one left. I'll get that one." That was fair, it was her turn for it.

"So, you and Michael, what's the story? How'd you two get to be the defenders of Goodsprings?" Joseph continued the discussion, lowering the rifle so that the stock was flat on the ground.

"Well, I was born here. My daddy, he wasn't around for most of my childhood. I don't know much about him, but he left me and my ma when I was a baby. Left for Vegas, where he said he was gonna strike it big and come back for us. Get us out of this town and into NCR territory. I don't know what happened after that. Maybe he got killed. Maybe he just never got that big break he was looking for. Maybe he did strike it big, and just never came back for us. Hell, maybe he never even made it to Vegas. All I know, my daddy was a man who talked big but couldn't deliver. My ma, she was a Brahmin farmer for most of her life, so she knew how to fend for herself. She was faithful too-Back when it was clear daddy wasn't coming back, the men in town all wanted to shack up with the prettiest woman for miles around. She wasn't taking it though, and no man ever dared to ask her hand twice. When I was a girl, she told me that in this world, there were two types of people: The dreamers, and the realists. My daddy was a dreamer. He was gone. My ma was a realist. She was here. The big difference between the two: Everyone who braved the wastes and survived were realists. The dreamers, they either died dreamin' or got real.

So, when I was real little, she taught me to be real. Taught me how to shoot, how to make food from nothing, how to find water and navigate the desert. Taught me morals, and taught me to live by 'em. Taught me that surviving the wastes is a war in and of itself, and to never pick a fight you can't win. I remember one time we were out hunting, there was this coyote pup. Little thing got bit by a snake…Leg was swollen, bad. Leaking all kinds of juices. Pup was howlin' and howlin' all night for someone to help it while the snakes closed in. I wanted to kill the snakes and help bring it back. Ma shot it so it wouldn't give us away to the Brahmin we were hunting. Said the wasteland was a tough place, and to survive, you had to be tougher. You had to be real." Sunny laughed suddenly, and Joseph almost jumped at the sudden change in mood. "Yes, indeed! My ma was one tough cookie. Did everything to keep me "real". But I couldn't help but wonder…Could you walk the path of the realist and the dreamer? There had to be some kind of middle ground, right? So I looked, and I looked, and after years of holding on to that slimmer of hope that you could survive in this world and be kind, I found it. I found the balance. I learned how to defend the people that needed to be defended, and how to shoot the people that needed to be shot. And when the wastes took my ma, everyone agreed that I should take her position. So…What else could I do? I answered the call of duty. And you know what? I love it. I love that thrill of keeping my home safe, I love seeing the happiness on the faces of the dreamers as I deal with whatever issue they had that day. It's what I live for, what I get out of bed for." Sunny explained, all while Joseph nodded, listening intently. She took a quick breath to signify the end of that half of the story, before continuing. "Anyways, Michael came in from out of town a few years later, a few months before the Legion won Hoover. He said he used to be a all-purpose bodyguard, which we all knew was code for "mercenary", and that he worked for some group in Freeside called the Kings, until the Wraith iced their leader. But still, we took him in, and gave him a place up in the gas station. In return, he helped guys out around town with their more…violent requests. I remember specifically, the first few days he was here, we had some raiders coming in from the east. They were camped out near Goodsprings cemetery, and while I was racing around town like a mad horse, trying to get supplies and support from as many people as possible, Michael went up there with nothing but a pistol and a few rounds. 'Bout an hour later, he comes back into town, saying we'd never have to worry about them again. The entire time he was gone, I didn't hear a single gunshot. I don't know what he did, but if it was enough to get a gang of chem junkies out for blood far away from our town, I was just fine with letting him stay. So since then, he became an unofficial co-defender of Goodsprings. Me and him, we get along well. From what I hear, he misses his home in Freeside a whole bunch, but wouldn't dare go back. And I don't blame him. Place is crawling with Legionnaires these days, and it's only a matter of time before they decide that their little pact with the House is expired." Sunny finished her story just in time for the fifth and final molerat to begin crawling out from it's hole. "I see him." This one in particular was oddly carefree about exposing itself to the world and leaving the sanctity of it's den, but it didn't matter in the end. Whistle. Gunshot. Corpse.

This time, though, before Sunny could even lower her gun, a ten foot mass burst from the ground where the rest of the mole rats had made their den.

"What the fuck!" The woman shouted, jumping as the largest mole rat either of them had ever seen charged at them while making an otherworldly screech. She hurriedly attempted to chamber a new bullet, only to find that the gun was empty. Joseph, meanwhile, fired a shot that hit it square in the air, but did nothing to slow it's advance. As he slid the bolt back, it got stuck, and Joseph uttered a string of curses and swears as he desperately and futilely tried to unstuck it. Finally, he did, but the king mole rat was already upon him. With another screech it leapt at him, and in that split second, Joseph knew he wouldn't be able to move his weapon enough to get a shot off. There was no way for him to stop what was coming.

Then, like an angel delivered by God himself, a single shot rang out through the air. Joseph's legs fell from under him as he fell in an attempt to dodge the mole rat's jump, but there was no need. It soared over and beyond him, slamming into the ground with a hiss. The creature had another bullet wound on it's neck, and though it was now bleeding horrifically, it still managed to urge forwards the strength to prepare for another go. Before it could even get it's running start though, another bullet hit it, this time right between the eyes. And that one was the final nail in the coffin or, more accurately, the last bullet in the rodent.

Joseph looked to his back and standing there, illuminated by the evening sun shining like a golden aura around him, was the silhouette of his savior, the same man who had saved him outside of Goodsprings in the days prior.

"Michael," Joseph couldn't help but grin as the mole rat gave a dying snarl.