War. War never changes.

When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, and forming tribes. As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, or NCR, dedicated to old-world values of democracy and the rule of law.

As the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave Desert They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world. And a great wall spanning the Colorado River. The NCR mobilized its army and sent it east to occupy the Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition.

But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged from the conquest of 86 tribes: Caesar's Legion.

Four years have passed since the Republic held the Dam - just barely - against the Legion's onslaught, they never realized that the Legion did not retreat. Across the river, it gathers strength. Campfires burned, training drums beat. Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of rehabilitated Tribes and police robots.

Hired by the Mojave Express, a courier is sent to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip.

What seemed like a simple delivery job has taken a turn...for the worse.

-Four Days Ago-

The tune on the radio begins with a guitar echoing through the speaker, playing Lazy Day Blues by Bert Weedon.

It's a rather calm and quiet afternoon in the vast, barren deserts of the Mojave Wasteland. The roads are clear, and rather rugged to the passing travelers whether they be caravaners or foot soldiers from the slowly declining NCR, making it a near pleasant day for a stroll. A large, metal carriage made from various parts with large, wooden wheels casually rolling along the gravel of I-15 is being pulled by two brahmin, one which is relatively larger than the other, carrying three men after their stop at the highly guarded and well fortified building housed by the Gun Runners to stock up on supplies, ammo, and aid on their trip to the little town of Goodsprings. The radio playing a tune from the channel Mojave Music Radio brings a bit of entertainment while the three men journey out, especially from one snoring person resting against the side of the carriage.

"Zzz...zzz...zzz..." Snores the 6'2" male, donning a long sleeved, tan trench coat with knee high, black boots scuffed with several spots of tan dirt. His upper trench coat is opened, showing a dark gray, turtle neck shirt along with light gray pants in which the bottom half is tucked in the boots. He is also shown to be wearing black leather gloves. His hair is a dirty blonde color, reaching down to his knees and tied in a pony tail. His skin tone is fair, but his face is covered by a black, wide brimmed, desperado cowboy hat to shield from the sun. Traveling with the snoozing cowpoke is a 5'8" mercenary with a reinforced leather armor, olive skin tone and short black hair, scouting the perimeters while a 5'11" merchant with pale skin of Asian descent, stormchaser hat, and brahmin-skin outfit has a hold of the reins to steer two brahmin to their destination.

"Heads up, got a pot hole ahead of us. I'm hoping I can steer this carriage in time." The merchant warned the two passengers, although it was only the mercenary that heard the warning. Tugging on the reins to the right, he gets his brahmin to move to the right of the road in hopes of avoiding the carriage from hitting the hole. Despite the brahmin managing to move pass it, the wheel of the carriage slipped and hit it, causing the whole thing to make a hard shift to the left. The sudden impact caused the slumbering passenger to lean forward and knocked back hard against the side of the carriage. "WHOA!" The merchant sharply tugged on the reigns to stop at some small, boarded up building near a hill. The merchant sighed and hopped off the driver seat of the cart to assess the damage.

"What in tarnation!?" The person who was asleep is now waking up, annoyed by what just occurred unexpectedly. He spoke in a western accent, groaning and rubbing the back of his head. "Can't this ol' bounty hunter git some moments rest!?" Since the hat fell off of his head, more of the man's appearance revealed his hair parted in the middle and covering most of his forehead, a five o'clock shadow that's barely covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are a pale blue, but the right shows some scarring around the eye patch its covering. He turned the dial on the radio to have the volume in the lowest setting.

"If you must know.." The merc started to talk in a calm but harsh tone, glaring his dark eyes at the passenger. "the wheel hit a hole on the road. And another thing, you've been asleep all morning."

"Ah, nonsense." The hunter waved his hand at the mercenary, yawning. "Just restin' th' eye fer two ticks."

The mercenary rolls his eyes, shaking his head in vexation. "We were at the building for four hours and on the road for an hour and a half. You slept through that whole time! Can you ever do your duty instead of wasting your caps on alcohol and cigarettes, Mr. Er-"

"Ey!" The hunter interrupted the mercenary. "Don' b' usin' me real name 'ere in these wastes! It's 'Duster', got it!?" And within a split second, the mercenary drew out his laser pistol, pointing at Duster's head. "Now 'old on 'ere, Azrael! Not sure why th' spurs are proddin' yer sides, but ye better holster up that gun b'fore things git ugly!"

"You don't do the orders around here, Duster!" The one name Azrael spoke his name out of spite, turning his head to the merchant. "Mr. Ko, why does he have to tag along with us? His job of being a bounty hunter is poor to my eyes!" That comment made Duster flare his nose.

Mr. Ko, or Terence Ko, has been trying to fix and replace the damaged wheel of the carriage during the passengers' small banter. Twisting the bolts until they're tightened, he moved on to inspect the other wheel. "Mr. Duster is a fine asset to this journey, Azrael. Not only he assists with warding away possible threats lurking our direction, he also serves as good company. Besides," he got up and lightly kicked the wheel to check the durability. "we are also scouring the wastes for a lost companion who disappeared last night whilst camping nearby the outer walls of Freeside. It is very important for all of us to stay together, even if we have our differences and arguments towards one another. We share a common goal." She grins, looking at Duster.

Duster take one glance at Terence, lowering his head with a deep exhale. "I sure hope she's aw'right. It ain't like her to j'st hightail on outta 'ere, not with how things are.." Duster frowns, picking himself to stand and hop off the carriage to stretch himself out. "By th' way, 'ow close are we t' our next location? Couldn' be that far..."

"You've been talking about her ever since you woke us up last night at 3 AM." Azrael places his laser pistol back in the left hip holster. "What if she decided to just go alone to her destination? We were nearly yards away from The Strip's entrance, so she would've had a head start and left us."

Duster huffs a deep breath out his nostrils, flinging his arms down after a good stretch. "Kept tellin' ya, some'n doesn' feel right with 'er skidaddlin' like that. All she utter were 'bout returnin' back from findin' food in the wastes to make rations on th' road..." He lowered his head as he sat down against a rock. "Can nev'r shake th' feelin' that th' darn Legion must've captured 'er..."

Azrael dismissed Duster's words of concern, hopping out of the carriage to walk over and tower in front of him. "Ooor...she just left without even telling us. Face it, Bounty Hunter, she must've used us for our traveling service just to get around quicker than on foot. I know she was with us for two years, and you've developed feelings for her, but I've told you before...I don't trust her. So why don't we forget about her and move on with our lives?"

"Pardon, pardner...?" Duster snarls, hoisting himself back to his feet to stare back him with a displeased expression. "First off, I ain't developin' feelin's fer her! She's like a lil' sister t' me! Second, y' mercs sure 'ave a chip on y' shoulder regardin' strangers y' pass by. Sure th' Bull put a number on ev'rythin' 'ere, got raiders sackin' off caravans left an' right, Fiends out yonder north growin' and killin' in a chem filled mind frenzy, an' th' NCR isn' makin' things better 'ere! But for her...I 'ave plenty-a reason to trust and bring 'er along with us. Doubt she's ev'r the wanderer t' j'st spray and murder anyone she sees. So won'cha loosin' up and soften th' rough leather y' call skin!"

"If you're done arguing, I'm afraid we need to make haste immediately..." Terence spoke and hurriedly into the carriage. "I spotted a pair of adult Deathclaws in a distance out west, which I bellieve we are nearing the Quarry Junction. Unfortunately, we need to turn around if we don't wish to get killed by them."

"Fuck...Deathclaws? Quarry Junction!?" Azrael grabbed Duster's shirt and snarls. "Are you trying to lead us into an early grave!?"

"Git yer mits off m' shirt, buckeroo!" Duster jerked Azrael's hand off and pushed him away. "And what'cha talkin' about Quarry Junction!? Isn' this th' quickest route to Goodsprings?"

"You two.." Terence tries to get the two men's attention, but unfortunately tensions are gradually rising between the bounty hunter and the mercenary.

Azrael briskly walked and grabbed his shirt again, this time shoving him against a rugged rock. "You're so fucking dense and a joke! What's the point of being a stupid Bounty Hunter if you can't learn about what's going on in the Mojave!? The Quarry Junction is infested with Deathclaws, and anybody could get easily killed if they walk through the roads! And we are just that hill away from saying hi to the Mojave's Grim Reapers! Didn't you listen to the radio about the warning before we left hours ago!?"

Duster landed a hit on Azrael's face, knocking him back a few feet. "None ever plays on th' radio station except stupid politics and bad news...I j'st shut it off 'r turn t' 'nother station fer music!"

"Excuse me!" Terence shouted a little louder, but the men paid no attention still.

Azrael wiped the blood off his lips, charging after Duster with a blow in the diaphragm. "You are a complete joke!" He bellowed at full volume. "I will never understand why Mr. Ko thought of keeping you with him in our travels! You lack common sense, you don't shower for long periods of time, and you're wasting your time finding someone you barely know! Why don't you just jump into a radiated pool and be done with yourself!"

Duster coughs, but manages to get muster up the strength to connect his fist on his gut. "An' yer th' varmint who's quick t' judge by th' scaley hide of a gecko! Wha's th' point of trustin' no one if y' go scampering 'round th' desert pr'tectin' th' merchants! Talkin' 'bout bein' a hypocri-" Duster caught a quick glance at a fast running creature, charging its way to their direction. "WATCH OUT!" Duster tackled Azrael down before an adult Deathclaw swipes its long claws onto the rock he was on. "Hoppin' shit, we gotta skedaddle on outta 'ere!" With brisk movements, Duster picked up the disgruntled Azrael and pushed him into the carriage. "Is th' cart ready to make th' wheels squeal, Ter-" A roar from the Deathclaw echoed behind him, experiencing a split second of dread within his skin. "Gosh darnit, I'm gonna be a shishkabob..." Turning to face his death head on, a red ball of light shot onto the abomination's face which lead to it flailing its hands on its head while staggering about. "Well, color this cowpoke impressed! Nice work on th' flare gun!"

"No time to give me approbation, Mr. Duster. Push the cart while the Deathclaw is distracted!" Terrence demanded, shooting another round at the giant reptile to keep it at a distance. He snapped the reins to get his brahimin to start moving with Duster exerting himself to push the cart. "YAH! HYIPAH!" The words Terrence bellowed out caused the brahmin to make a weird moo sound, speeding up to now a gallop up the hill with Duster running behind it. "Mr. Duster, quickly hop in! I see more Deathclaws ahead. I will need all the assistance to ward them off our trail!"

"On it!" Duster picked up the pace and jumped to catch the edge of the carriage. One Deathclaw caught up to the carriage and tried to swipe Duster off of it, but the bounty hunter was too quick for it when he tumbled inside the carriage. "Pardner, Flare Gun!" He reached his hand out, asking for the merchant to toss the armament to his direction. Terrence tossed it over his shoulder so he can stay focused on controlling the brahmin, but the velocity of the wind caused the gun to fly passed himself and Azrael. "Fuck..." The gun bounced off the Deathclaw's face, but it kept moving. "Ah..pardner! Y' got another one of 'em Flare Guns in th' cart? Th' one y' tossed flew through th-." And in a matter of seconds, the cart rammed from the right and tumbled over on its side when they were nearly halfway through the hill they were traversing. All of their supplies flew out and scattered everywhere some feet west of them.

"ALPHA DEATHCLAW!" Azrael was able to see what made the impact seconds before he and Duster flung out of the carriage. They landed on the ground with the cart covering the both of them like a fort. "Great, Mr. Ko is out there with a dangerous Alpha Deatheclaw and we are trapped in here! Way to go, Eric!"

"It's Duster, ya snappin' varmin'! Now, quit yer bickerin' an' help me lift this thing!" He got up to a squatting position, having his hands on the carriage's left side of the floor to lift up. With no avail, he turned to the unmoved merc. "Y' helpin' or I'm th' one gettin' creaky knees!? Th' faster we git outta 'ere, th' quicker we rescue the merchant!"

Azrael rolls his eyes, doing the same thing Duster is doing. "I'm not doing this to hep you, Mr. Ko is in dire straits because of the Alpha Deathclaw present." He and Duster pushed their arms up, hoisting the carriage up during the countless roars of the Deathclaw and something fizzling outside the carriage. Once they got the cart back on its wheels, they see Terrence tossing flare sticks in a circle around them to keep the larger pack of Deathclaws from advancing. "Gods, are we just in the wrong place in the wrong time..."

"Poor Magdalene didn't make it through the onslaught.' Terence murmured, referring to the large brahmin that was pulling the carriage with the smaller one. "One of the younger Deathclaws killed it and dragging it back to the nest. We got Madalyn here, her daughter, but she's not as quick as her mother."

Duster patted his trench coat and take out a small cigarette to light and take a hit. "Guessin' we gotta find a way t' slip pass them bull-headed carnivores..." He flipped the right side of his trench coat behind him, revealing a .357 Magnum revolver on his hip holster. "Ol' Iron Shot is cold t' th' touch an' ready t' spray lead on them fuckers."

"Are you insane!?" Azrael yelled. "Your bullets wouldn't even leave a tiny dent on their thick skin. These things are the hardest to kill in these wastes! Do you have any more bright ideas in that stupid mind of yours, like charging them with your bare fists!?"

"An' lookin' at ya, snappin' them baby chompers an' fork tongue as if y' ev'n 'ave a chance to push this hunter t' th' ground." Duster barked back through is clenched teeth, not minding of Terrence placing more flare sticks on further away to back the abominations up a few feet. He took a second hit of his cigarette and flick it away. "Y don' know what I've gon' through in m' life, nor y'll ev'n 'ave th' chance t' sit an' listen t' this wanderer's tales if y' keep bein' a fiesty kit!"

Azrael let out a low snarl that lightly rattled his throat, shoving Duster to the ground. "And you don't know me either, asshole. Just your stupid presences alone is making my nerves wear thin by the second! If Mr. Ko isn't so generous and kind to you, I would've-" Several shots echoed from the distance, hitting the large creatures and fell with a beeping sound happening. "Oh shit, those are time bombs! TAKE COVER!" Azrael grabbed Terrence and the brahmin behind the carriage with Duster before the bombs detonate within seconds. The force and impact from the bombs caused the cart to sway. All three men held the carriage in place before carefully peeking their heads out the ends of the cart. A few men in ragged clothing and yellow hard hats shoot and threw flares at the pack, making them run back to their nest.

"Are you fellas okay there? We heard yelling from Sloan and figure you guys lost your way on the roads and into a death trap." One of the men, with a gray beard, bellowed out and walked over to the trio. "Haven't you heard on the news that the road of I-15 through Sloan and the the Junction Railways are off limits to travelers? You're lucky you guys didn't get ripped to shreds."

"Well, if SOMEONE" Azrael coldly beams a mean look at Duster with a growl. "hadn't changed the station and suggested THIS route, none of this wouldn't happened!"

"Ey! 'ow am I s'ppose t' know this area is infested!?" Duster argued, crossing arms over his torso. "'Sides...I hear no word travelin' through many ears in th' wastes, so I know nothin'."

The guy standing some feet from them shook his head. "Then you're just as brainless as a wandering Feral Ghoul if you're not up to date with everything." He placed the flare gun in his back pouch. "Despite this predicament happening nearly a week ago from those confounded Powder Gangers, everyone needs to be well informed of this situation and take a detour to the 95...whether they like it or not. We don't wish for any other traveler to experience the same fate a couple of my men did three days ago. Now, let me and the boys help you guys out of here."

Terence got assistance from one of the men to patch up any cuts of bleeding from the Deathclaw onslaught the others picked up all the supplies and weapons they can find to the cart. It took roughly an hour for everything to be situated before heading to Sloan. "I really appreciate the helping hands, Mr. Lewis. I must sincerely apologize for our unexpected arrival in this area, not knowing what lies ahead on the roads. Is there a way to repay you for the assistance?"

"Well, if I have more able bodies and hard as steel attitude to take out the Deathclaw pack in the Quarry." The person, who is called Chomps Lewis, scratched the back of his head. "Unfortunately, you three already lost one brahmin, damage on your cart and several ammunition missing from the attack, I'm afraid I would have to decline your offer. But I must ask, where are you going if you're taking this road south?"

"We're on our way to Goodsprings to drop off supplies from the Gun Runners." The merchant answered, revealing a rather disheartened smile while eyeing at Duster and Azrael still bickering at each other. "Although the road along the way was rather...rocky."

Chomps chuckled, twisting is hard hat a bit with his head lowered. "If you were in the fork on the road before the train yard, you would've took the road to the right of you, but from what I heard...it's swarming with Cazadors...and they're just as deadly as the Deathclaws. But better off running into the latter instead of the former." He howled a laugh. "In fact, this whole area North of Goodsprings is teeming with dangerous wildlife that even the foolhardy will get killed in seconds. But on a more serious note, just keep going south and turn right at another fork. Be mindful of these convicts called Powder Gangers and their dynamite."

"Fer th' final time, merc! Quit callin' me by m' first name!" Duster brought everyone's attention to his direction. He has his tench coat over the edge of the card behind him, showing his physique and muscle. She sleeves reached midway on his upper arms, a leather strap wrapped around his upper body like a sash with several pockets, and several cuts and scars on his hairy arms.

"You're so stupid to even giving yourself a 'code name', just because you have some people searching for you for whatever reason they have against you." Azrael roared back. "If you're having a problem with them, why not face them and fix the damn problem instead of running from it?"

"Y' don' know half th' story 'bout th' meanin' of my new name." Duster leaned against the carriage, crossing his arms with a glare of spite. "Lotta folks out 'ere are askin' fer my head on a pike, but I ain't givin' ya a reason why. So lemme be fer now."

Terence shakes Chomps's hand and walks to the two to disperse the ongoing squabble. "Now, now. I understand we are still in a problematic situation ever since our late night awakening and mynute amount of rest, but as soon as we reach Goodsprings, we can settle things there. Are we in an agreement?" He presents an optimistic smile, putting his arms behind his back. He sees both men eyeing each other for a moment and looked away. This is a rather cumbersome situation I have to deal with... Terence exhaled and walks to check his brahmin one last time. "Best get back on the cart, you two, we will make haste to Goodsprings and settle in for the night. But I will ask if either one of you can stay out and walk next to the carriage."

"How come, Mr. Ko?" Azrael asked.

"I received word that we will be passing by territory overrun by these convicts named the Powder Gangers," The merchant explained. "and I need one of you to act as lookout and arms ready."

Both Azrael and Duster turned back to look at each other. Duster lift his left eyebrow up, staring at Terence. "Should we flip a bottle cap?"

"Uuuuuugh, 'ow much longer 'til we git t' Goodsprings..?" Duster trudged a few feet from the back of the cart, having his desperado hat back on and the trench coat still resting on the side of the carriage. "Feelin' like m' treads are smoothin' out from this long walk..." The trio followed the roads south of Sloan, passing by a large, heavily gated corrections facility in the distance before heading to a small shack resting near a large area with a heavily rusted plane behind it. "Huh, not ev'ryday y' see pre-war machinery out in th' desert. Also," Duster trot his way to walk beside Terence, who's still driving the carriage. "y' mentioned them Powder Gangers b'fore we left. Didn' see no one, 'less they given y' false info."

"You sure you didn't place your eye patch on the wrong eye?" Azrael called from the carriage, holding a few papers and counting the supplies they have with them. "I saw a few patrolling that facility, and a couple behind the shack. I was expecting them to be like the Fiends...but they're rather civil in a way."

Duster, with his hands in his pants pockets, tightened both of his hands into fists with his eye staring into nothing but the road below him. Whatever Azrael spoke of a moment ago sure made the bounty hunter agitate. "Y' know-"

"Ah, I see Goodsprings!" Terence cheered, snapping the reins gently and tugging them to make Madalyn turn to the right. "Such a nice stroll in this quiet afternoon with the good company at my side, is it not?"

"Well, minus the tussle wit' th' Deathclaws." Duster breathed out deeply to ease away the unwanted nerves in his system. "But, least we made it...but now I'm wonderin' if she's 'ere 'r not."

"Highly unlikely...why would anyone venture south if their destination is further north from where we were to suppose to rest." Azrael placed a case of ammo inside a dufflebag before taking out another one of a different kind. "Give it a break...we have more important things to worry about right now."

Duster rolled his eye, but he doubts Azrael would even notice it right away. He stayed near the carriage for a good 10 minutes until they arrived in the small town, seeing a woman with a dog next to her with a large sack, walking nearly directly to their path with a varmint rifle at the ready. "Well, 'owdy there, young lady!"

The woman heard Duster and waved at the trio. "Well, it's always to see fresh faces here in this town." The red haired woman smiled resting her rifle on her right shoulder. "The names Sunny Smiles, welcome to Goodsprings! And this here is my partner, Cheyenne. She helps me keep the smaller wildlife away from entering these parts."

Duster bowed his head a bit and tipped his hat down a little. "Pleasure t' meetcha, Ms. Smiles. Might I say yer as vibrant as I c'n see from afar. Don' s'pose y' got a tavern t' 'ave me wind down an' lift the boots up?"

"Eric, be more respectful to her!" Azrael whispered, in which Duster gave him a dirty look.

Sunny gave off a small laugh as she placed her gun back in its back holster. "The Prospector's Saloon isn't that far from here. We don't have much in stock, but it is better than nothing. Might I ask what business you three have here?"

"Ms. Smiles," Terence called, hopping off the cart's seat. "I am on official business with the Gun Runners, and my destination points me here to to drop off any supplies you ever need from us."

"Hmm," Sunny perched her lips to the side. "well, only person who knows well about gun and ammo selling would be Chet in the General Store. I can take you to him, if you like."

Terence grins and nods. "Your generosity won't go unnoticed. Please, lead the way, Ms. Smiles." He hops back on the cart, flicking the leather reins to have his small brahmin follow Sunny down the road to the small town. "I do say, a quaint town to be living in. Everywhere else is in bitter conflicts regarding the ongoing debate of the Dam. It does make me wish I can retire and live the rest of my years here."

"Aww, don' b' like that, pardner. Y' still got th' spirit within ya t' keep going." Duster walked behind Sunny, checking her out a bit. "An' when th' time comes...could settle down, meet someone, maybe wrangle 'em up and make kin that'll scamper 'round like wild geckos on a hot, summer day." His head got hit with Azrael's backhand. "'Ey! What's that fer!?"

"Does this happen all the time, you know..." Sunny walks closer to be in Terence's earshot so the other two don't hear what she's saying. She nod her head back, pointing to Azrael and Duster. "between those to?"

"When you've been on the road for a while, you'll get use to it." Terence kept his easygoing smile plastered on his face as they now arrived in the small town. "Alright, now that we are here, care to lead me to the general store?" He followed Sunny further ahead with Azrael still in the cart, while Duster heads to the saloon.

Azrael trails his eyes at Duster heading to the saloon, shaking his head. "I bet a hundred caps he'll drink himself to sleep tonight."

Duster opens the door and stretched his arms up before taking a seat against the windows on the left side of the building. "Got any Vodka an' Atomic Cocktails t' mix fer this ol' cowpoke?" He takes a box out from one of the pockets on his leather belt sash and takes out a cigarette. Using a rusty, silver lighter, he flicks the wheel down with his thumb to get it ignited so he can light the tip of the stick to smoke. He sees a woman in pink and tan, pre-war dress bringing drinks to Duster. "Goes down smooth, eh? 'Ow's business 'ere, ma'am?" He spoke when he made a ring of smoke in the air and blew within it.

'It isn't much," The woman pours a clear liquid in a glass cup halfway, and the rest in some murky, orange color. She then offered to Duster in front of him. "but we don't get a lot folks here that often. Who might you be, if I ask? Not everyday I see something with a get up like yours. Names Trudy, by the way."

Duster smirks, taking the cup, downs a few gulps and sets it down to gaze up at the lady. "Th' names Duster, ma'am. Travelin' from th' structure home t' th' Gun Runners, which one of me travelin' companions is an associate of. Official business, he says. I'm j'st a bounty hunter 'round these parts, and on foot t' find someone that went missin' last night." He sighs and takes another gulp of his mixture. "Some say she hightail out on 'er own accord," he finished the rest of his drink and offers more, taking a hit of is cigarette. "I, fer one, felt somethin' wrong...couldn' shake th' feelin' that she got snatched after scourin' fer food." Trudy gave him another round and downs the drink halfway. "Don' care 'ow long it takes, 'r if it'll take me my entire life, I wanna know if she's safe..."

"Is this person family or a lover?" Trudy takes another cup from the bar and makes the drink again in case Duster needs another round. "From what I heard, you cared deeply for this person.

"Yup, indeed." Duster swayed a bit and sniffed, leaning against the edge of the table with his arm as he takes another puff. "She's like a lil' sis t' me. Bark loud, claw hard, laugh, j'st enjoin' th' company with the others 'nd m'self. Goin' on fer two years.." He takes the half filled drink, guzzling the remaining concoction down. "S'rry if me squabblin' bores ye. -Hic- Sometimez th' blues catches up t' ya, ye wanna drown ye sorrows. -Hic-"

"Well, don't drink yourself into a stupor." Trudy warns as she sees a settler coming in.

"Ye...ye..." Duster's vision and state of mind became foggy by the minute. "Conffffound thizzz drink..." His voice is slurred, drunk ever so quickly from the drink he downed while everything started spinning for him. His hand grabbed the filled cup, downing it in seconds until he plopped his upper body on the table with a snore.

Azrael and Terence were a couple of feet behind him when they witness him knocking himself to sleep. Azrael rubbed his eyes and groans. "Figures...we can't leave him alone for 30 minutes without him passing out on us. Let's leave him here to sleep it off, at least he won't wake me up at 3 AM in the morning again.' Azrael turns to walk out of the saloon.

"Oh, Mr Scottsdale..." Terence spoke the hunter's real last name, patting his shoulder. "I understand your sorrow, and do hope it'll come to an end soon." Terence followed his mercenary bodyguard out to find a place to settle for the night.

"Help!" A female voice echoed in the void, having the bounty hunter look around to find it.

Huh!? Duster's voice trailed in the air, standing in the middle of nowhere with his head whipping around the quiet, night filled wasteland. He noticed someone running to him with her arms waving in the air and vibrant red hair swayed wildly in the breeze. Hoppin' shit! It's you! He smiled for a brief moment, but it faded when he saw a masked person clad in some red, Roman-esque attire with his gun pointed at the red head. He was going to tell her to stop, the person behind her already fired a shot at the back of her head and through her forehead. The sound of the gunshot alone made Duster abruptly wake up.

"CRIMSON!"