NCR town of Novac
4:00pm
Clck, clack...!
Salt white, the cue ball rolled along, steadily and quickly as a marble, until it struck the purple 6 ball sitting directly across the jade-green billiard table.
Newton's laws activated, and the purple ball set off on its own, leaving the cue behind.
Perfect...!
Its all on you now, purple...
All on you..
It rolled smoothy, going perfectly straight, like it was getting pulled by a cable. Reaching the other side, it slammed the purple ball, which stopped the cue cold, but sent the purple off on a roll of its own.
More or less as straight as the cue, the purple rolled along...
...headed right for one of the pockets. Upper left corner.
God, let it go down...
So close...So. close...
There was nothing blocking the purple's way, but billiard balls could ( and did ) spin off course even while they were so close to getting to where they were going. It was pretty much the worst thing about the game...aside from misjudging the angle on a shot, and having a ball hit another even when you were sure it was clear. If there was anything that could get you to just rage quit ( if you had temper problems that bad , that is ), it'd be something like that.
But, thankfully, not here, and not now.
Because this time, nothing stopped the ball. It went on, and on, and on...
...and then fell neatly through the pocket.
Thumd
A perfect sink...
Flawless...just flawless.
At last, Derek could breathe again. That one, at least, had gone without a hitch.
Murmuring a quick " thanks ", he allowed himself a slight triumphant grin.
Just a slight one. But, that was ok. Hadn't he earned it ?
After all...a good pocket was a good pocket.
That was worth some enjoyment. Yes, it was.
" Right. On. Target...", the former Courier declared, nodding with satisfaction.
It'd been a good shot, for sure. For once, a nice and clean one that wasn't cluttered, and went perfectly according to plan. If that was the norm when it came to billiards, well...then nobody would play. It'd be so easy, there'd be no point. There had to be some difficulty to make it worthwhile...
Just not a lot of it, though.
No thanks.
Well, anyway...
Glancing up, Derek called to where the other player was standing. " You're up...! ". He gestured at the table, and stepped back a bit..
From the opposite side of the billiard table, a man sporting a shaved head and with a pair of aviator's shades clipped around the collar of his white t-shirt nodded back, and then moved forward without a word. Like he usually did.
But, actions could speak louder than words. So, as the ceiling fan overhead reliably turned around and around, and around...the second player methodically began sighting down on the ball he was about to strike.
He leaned forward, getting posted up, and bracing his stick against the top of how his hand had became a brace for it. Every movement was crisp, precise, and reflective of his longtime career as an NCR First Recon Sniper- it was as if he was actually setting up his M24 to make a shot against some arrogant Legion Centurion from half a mile away. Which, to be honest, he had actually done.
Many, many times, if anyone was counting. Or not.
Which, more or less, explained why he was not wasting any energy here.
Still...it was a bit of a drag, though, as he adjusted his grip around the stick- the same way he'd do for finding a more comfortable way to rest his M24. The tip of said stick reached out, tapped the ball gently, but then pulled back without slamming it.
...And, as usual, you're not hurrying at all...
Surprising nobody.
Methodically slow though it may have been, however, and even nearly to the point of annoying, the Courier nonetheless waited it out, aware that the other player couldn't be rushed. He wouldn't go quicker than this...but he'd get his shot across. That was for sure; Derrick had played enough games with him to know. That was half the point of having friends, after all.
You knew their quirks. However out of left field they might be.
So, with a slightly bemused smirk, Derrick capped his hands over the top of his stick, as the other player finally unleashed a quick, methodical jab, that clacked the orange 6 ball.
It was off like a high- powered rifle round, and just like the 6 ball from before, it had a straight shot to boot. Barring it going off like a loose spinning top ( like any ball could ), this one was dead on target...
Watching it go, Derrick wasn't sure whether to hope for it to go off, or cheer it on. Was doing the former bad form ? Maybe...but then again, this was a gentleman's game. Some level of ribbing like that just came with the territory. Besides , the other player was career military- they ran off of throwing jabs.
Yeah...he'd be ok with that.
"...Looking good, man..! ", he called out encouragingly. " You just might make this one..."
The other player didn't answer, but just kept watching the rolling ball...right up till it clacked the target, sent it rolling, and stopped dead while the other one kept going...
...and got sunk.
Another perfect pocket.
...Well, that didn't help my chances, Derrick mentally acknowledged.
Not at all. Before, he'd had a nice, healthy lead, but now....it'd gotten a tad sicker.
Just a tad, but even so...
Well, it could be worse. Had he been losing, a tad would all it'd take for him to have to throw the towel. Though, even while he was winning ( which he was ), a tad could close the gap between him and the other guy, and much more than you'd want.
"...Like I said: Looks good ", he reinforced, shrugging lightly as a gesture of " Its all good, man ". Which it was, honestly...
Still a respectable lead. Narrowing by the moment, but still good.
Straightening up , the other played nodded crisply, then glanced briefly at where the orange ball had gone...
...And finally, had something to say. After a decent chunk of the game was already played out and done, as well.
Better late than not ever, though...and not that Derrick wasn't used to dealing with this. The sniper was a tight-lipped man by default, barring some moments when they were off the clock
"... You're up. ", the other man stated. He was calm, collected , and as matter of fact as a career sniper could be- and had gone right back to standing so still, that he nearly seemed to disappear..
Well, nearly. That red beret with the Gold Two-Headed Bear was a tad of a giveaway..
But, all that aside, he was right: It was Derrick's turn now, and he had an advantage that was slipping away, what with that latest perfect sink.
It was time to get back on pulling ahead again. No way was he going down that easily...!
" Roger that, Boone. , Derrick smirked, before grabbing his own stick, and deftly flipping it up and around to hold it at the ready.
Yeah...he was going at it again, same as always, but with higher stakes on this go around. Boone's successful shot had badly shaken up the scoreboard, because now...Derrick had no choice, but to land his own right now. If he failed, then Boone the Marksman would have a golden opportunity to sink another ball...and that one...
Well, he'd win.
He'd win. He'd the the winner, not Derrick, and...well, that sucked. Losing always sucked. Why on Earth would you play something, other than to win ?
That couldn't be allowed to happen.
Not on Derrick's watch.
...He just had to sink that 12 Cyan ball. The one that was sitting barely a foot from the pocket at the upper righthand corner...practically begging to be sunk. It was so tantalizingly close , and if Derrick could sink it, then the game would be his !
...If, though. If he could sink it, that was..
...Geeez.
Pessimistic much ? Shut up.
Shaking his head, Derrick rolled his head around, letting his neck loosen, then braced one hand on the table, as he leaned over it to set the shot up.
Nothing to it, he reminded himself, as he let the stick rest on the edge of his curled fingers.
Practice paid off, after all. He'd done this dozens of times before, considering he'd been living here for a while. Playing billiards was a park walk to the courier by now, and on its own, it was nothing to worry about...
..on its own, though. On its own, and not even just practice, but actually playing against someone who didn't really have a handle on it- like Manny Vargas, or Carla. Not necessarily, however, when he was up against a player who did know what he was doing.
Like Boone.
He might win this...
He just might.
The other guy was a challenger, for sure. But , then again, without any kind of skill form said other guy, winning wouldn't be as sweet.
As long as you could win, that is...
Focusing down on that ball, winning was all that Derrick could think about at this moment. He craved winning, for everything, and this was no different. It didn't matter whether it was a full-blown firefight...or this: a game of billiards between bros.
Wide gap between them or not, it was still something to be won or lost...
...and losing...well, it sucked.
Not here...
He squinted, and then gave the ball the lightest of touches. Just barely a tap, nowhere near enough to get it going, but enough to sound it out.
Only one chance to get it right...
Only one shot to get the shot, so to speak...
Breathing deep for a moment, then exhaling till there was nothing left, Derrick paused for one more second, as he visualized exactly where he wanted that ball to go. And, what would happen if it did.
Winning.
It only lasted a second, but that was long enough.
He opened his eyes then...
And let the stick strike.
" You're missing out on your calling. I think you'd be a killer at this sport. "
" That is...if you every decide getting attacked by Deathclaws isn't your idea of a day well spent anymore. Judging from our shared experiences, though...I have serious doubts. "
Well...Boone had pretty much hit the nail on the head with that last statement, Derrick had to admit. A corner of his mouth moved a tad, hinting at a grin of agreement though...
There was no helping that. But, he wasn't apologizing.
Boone was right, was why. He knew Derrick, and the former courier didn't even need to say it out loud...because he knew it'd have been completely pointless. They both knew full well by now that the former courier wasn't ready to walk away from the NCR yet- he still had at least a couple more years to go, if not even more than that. It'd become something he'd been so " stuck with ", so to speak, that doing anything else just didn't seem reasonable at the moment. Maybe somewhere down the line it would, but...not yet.
Not yet.
Everyone had their comfort zone and calling, after all. Being a fighter for the NCR was his.
Or...if Boone was to be listened to...
...a billiard champ.
"...It was pretty much a fluke, you know ". Derrick shrugged, before sipping a bit from the bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. " That last one could easily have gone wide..."
Boone scoffed,then followed it with a quick laugh. The back-when Boone wouldn't have been so quick to do that, but this one would.
" Nice play on being humble, but we both know you earned that win. Its one thing I know for sure from years with the NCR, and what I know you know: Actually earning something, or just taking credit. Like all those career-obsessed officers and stuffed shirts do..."
" Oliver. "
"...Close, but I was going for Kimball. He's the reason some hack like Oliver was even out here to begin with. "
The sniper gestured toward the results of their billiard game, with the scattered balls still littering its top. " That's the kind of mental focus and attention to strategy that gets things done. Especially under pressure. Something Kimball doesn't have. Wouldn't even say Oliver does. "
The mere thought of President Kimball yelling orders to men on a dust storm-smothered Mojave firing line was a complete riot, and Derrick, once again, couldn't resist a smirk.
" Nice to know you're comparing me to our finest, Craig ".
" I wish they were, brother. If you ask me, or any rank and file trooper, though...our " finest " are the guys and gals on the ground. Covered with dust head to foot. Ducking Legion spears and bullets and thermal lances every day. They're the finest...especially what officers we have who do get down and muddy with them. "
" Like...Hsu ? "
" Better him than Moore. She's too much of a hothead. "
And how. Derrick nodded, recalling how the brusque officer's first choice to resolving the civil unrest of Freeside prior to when the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam began, was to just roll several heavily armed squads there, and strongarm " The King " to doing what the NCR wanted. Ha ! That would've resulted with the Kings Gang getting complete massacred, not to mention how it'd spark riots and pandemonium all over the whole district...
It was a blunt force solution where you only needed a scalpel. At least Crocker had spotted that debacle coming, and had steered Derrick toward the much more rational Hsu...
Thankfully, that'd all turned out good for all around. Especially the Freeside folks.
Oh, and all the constant NCR visitors and settlers, obviously.
" For sure, man. For sure. "
The sniper's only response was a grunted " Hmm ", but exceedingly brief as it might've been, it was still an " I agree " kind of hmm, not the other kind.
It was yet another positive side effect of being buds for as many years as they had been- not to mention multiple tours under the NCR Army. Putting all of that together, and it was pretty much a given that if you didn't come out of that hating the guy next to you for being some kind of jerk, then you'd end up considering him a brother of sorts.
Maybe, even as real as it could get.
Or...well, there was also Manny and Boone, but the former Great Khans tribal seemed to have some bad blood for Boone. Nothing real serious, but it'd been there every time Derrick had seen them near one another. A sideways glance, a momentary glare, maybe a clenched fist...
Where it had come from, though, Derrick knew: it'd had something to do with Boone's tragically late wife, Clara. More than that, though, he was one of the exceedingly low number of folks who knew the the full story. Boone was notoriously tight-lipped when it came to volunteering anything linked to how she'd died, outside of how the Legion had been the " real culprits " behind it. But, then with Manny being as tense as he could get when things were bad...well, Derrick often forget that the usually mild mannered other sniper had been so raw about what Boone had done.
To be honest, Derrick couldn't see himself doing it either. Not really. But, when it came to Legion Slavers...or rather, all of them, because that's all they were...sometimes, truly drastic action was the only one.
Which was why he wouldn't have to make one himself...not one about Cass.
Especially now...
Couldn't say that enough times. No way.
No. Way.
Exhaling, Derrick let the moment of silence last another moment. It was good while it lasted, because you could only talk for so long before you needed a minute to get your head organized, so to speak.
Then again, though, the flip side was true as well. Guys may not chat as much as girls, but even so..
Had to find something to bring up. It was easy for men, though. Just let your head scroll down the list of the most pressing, up to date things, or the worst/ best things from the past, and...
" So...I got news about Cass you might want to hear ", the Courier finally stated. He did his best to sound casual about it, but even as he did, he was sure that some excitement had seeped through.
Maybe. He'd know soon enough.
Barely a second went by before the Sniper replied, "...Something sexual ? I know you're both adventurous. "
Derrick would've choked on that latest sip of his Cola, but he'd come to expect that from the Sniper.
" Or ...maybe she's convinced you to move to Shady Sands ? Redding ? That'd be a shame...because I'd be stuck with just Manny. "
He could've put a point on the other sniper's name, and it'd have helped to drive it home...but there was no need. That kind of bold-lettering was better kept for expressing just what a poser that Kimball usually behaved like...or how much of a absolute mad dog that Legate Lanius had been.
Besides...Derrick got the gist. It was enough, and he chuckled softly. Genuinely.
For someone with a rep for being a total sourpuss , Boone could actually muster up the humor when he wanted to. Actually...it was happening more and more often these days, even between him and Manny. Maybe not enough to get him to not make jabs like that one from before that weren't even half joking, but...well, it was progress.
Glacially, but...progress just the same.
And the fun kind, as well. Coming from Boone, that counted for a lot.
Still, though, he wasn't hitting the target-of what Derrick was driving at, though. Good guesses, but not quite on the mark, so the Courier would have to help him out.
Just a bit. Significant news, though, and even though Derrick had been planning to share this with his longtime friend for a while...it was still a sea change for himself. And Cass, needless to say.
Not exactly the most offhand conversation topic, but- yeah . Worthwhile just the same. Just had to chew on the right words for a moment or so longer...
Then, he had it.
" You might want to sit down after this..."
Just a moment. Let him absorb it..
"...but Cass is pregnant. "
...And there it is.
" Yeah...you heard that right. ".
A smile pulled at one corner of Derrick's mouth, and he let it grow. He couldn't help it, and he didn't want to- just the mention of what was to come with that redhead he had back home was all that it needed.
Boone must've caught that flash of a grin, because the next thing the Nevada-born sniper had to say was a audibly surprised, "...Hold up, now..."
Turning to face the Courier completely, Boone held a hand up. " Run that by me again: She's having a child ? "
He sounded 50% like he was still caught off guard and 50 percent-
...well...that was actually even easier to figure out, and...Derrick couldn't admit he was all that shocked.
..Jealously.
Envy...
And..he knew why. A pulse of sadness went through him- bitter and cold-, as he thought about what had happened to Carla...
What a beauty. Sounded like a good soul from what I heard as well, if a touch angry about having no choice but to call this town home...
It was kind of a cesspit back then, though...I get it. And God, do I wish Boone didn't have to lose her...
Especially the way he did...
Thankfully, he had something positive to focus on for the moment- even if it might be bringing up the worst of Boone's memories...he'd still understand.
Even now, he wasn't angry. Just...reminded. Of the worst.
Best to get to where things got more positive...
" That's correct, Craig. "
Derrick let that earlier feeling of " Its all good, and I can't wait to share it with you " come back, and it was welcome for sure.
That, and how Boone's surprise seemed to be stronger than the...well, the other thing. It was clear enough...
...so there was no need to wait.
The Courier nodded. " Don't know how long she had been...but with all the changes that showed up on her over the past week or so...y'know what they are. "
"...Yeah, I remember them. Softer all over, boobs showing expansion, kind of pliable. Wanting to eat more often...and more of a sex kitten. "
Whether it was how accurate that all was, or the borderline matter of fact way he'd rattled them all off, Derrick couldn't say, but...it was pretty much the same either way.
"...I seem to recall some kind of... ' glow ', as well. Sure you've seen it by now. "
Despite his earlier moment of cold wistfulness, there was now at least a hint of warmth with what he had to say...and a bit of sadness, Derrick noted. No doubt he was thinking of Clara again...
Some wounds just took longer to heal...and even then, scars were always around.
He go through it to hear this good news, though. Boone would do that much.
"..I have, yeah ", Derrick acknowledged. " 'Specially when the sunlight comes through during the early morning...then it really shows up. "
" It does..."
Setting his drink down on the billiard table, Boone leaned back on it, exhaled, and was silent for another moment, before going on. " That's how you know everything won't be same for you- or her. "
" Positively, though...right ? "
"...Dynamically. But, that's about all I can say. "
The sniper was quiet again...and this time, he wasn't so quick to say something.
The silence lasted this go around. For about 20 seconds or so straight, give or take.
After the first half a minute, Derrick began to wonder if he'd misjudged how Boone would react. The thought wasn't a pleasant one, and the Courier mentally kicked himself for not considering all angles beforehand. Obviously, he'd get bombarded by those long-buried memories of how he'd had no choice but to kill Carla...to spare her from a lifetime from being a Legion slave.
Or, so much worse that you couldn't use the word " worse " enough...a sex slave. The ones Derrick and Boone had helped save from Cottonwood had been all the visceral reminder that dying was a paradise compared to living as a lady slave for the Legion.
God Almighty. Yeah...death really was preferable.
But...for Boone to have to pull the trigger on his own wife, to stop that ? His girl...and their child....?
Unthinkable. Just unthinkable. Even now, when it'd only been brought up without anyone actually saying it ( as it usually was ), there was still a real bitter taste through the mouth.
To put it mildly. Barely even scratching the surface.
For Boone, though...it went way deeper. They both knew that.
" Its worth it, Craig ", Derrick assured him, smiling for real. " Thanks. "
He turned to face him, and found the other man nodding slightly to himself, gazing at his shoes. One hand had come up, and pulled his Beret off.
A rare gesture for him, even more so than the beret. If the shades were off, the Beret sure wasn't. Heck, if it was possible to shower with a beret on, Boone would've done that as well. It was all but glued to his head, given how much he wore it, but then again...it was one of the last vestiges of his old life as a Recon Sniper. That, and the M24 he still carried around.
He was always between two worlds, that one.
"...You're welcome. ", he finally said, addressing the present. A degree of optimism could even be heard...slightly. " More than welcome. "
"...I want things to go right, for you. They didn't for me. God willing, you'll get a better deal than I did. "
Oh...now we're going there.
He's letting himself go there..
" Don't do that to yourself, buddy...", Derrick urged. " You did it once. Not again. "
He reached out, putting a hand on Boone's left shoulder. Derrick didn't have say anything more, but...
No. No, he did actually need to, the Courier decided.
He shook the other guy gently, just for some emphasis. " I know you can't stop it from coming up, but you can't let it stay when it does. Carla wouldn't want that. That's what you told me..."
Always use someone else's word against them if you can..
A valuable opportunity. When you get it, that is...
"...I know she wouldn't. That's one major reason why I stay sane. ".
The sniper was as aware as Derrick that he'd said this all before. More than once, specifically. But, it didn't come up over the years because there wasn't any way they could finish it...but...because it was something that couldn't be talked about all the time, yet not forgotten either.
More like...a closed filing cabinet. You knew what it held, but you didn't want to open it unless you had to. Or, if it opened itself...
They tended to do that, sometimes.
Boone nodded again, shallowly.
" She'd like Cass, you know. They'd have gotten along like...well, the way women do. Sure, she'd use all that to leverage me to ditch this town even more than usual...but..."
He stopped, and was quiet for a few seconds, before going on, nearly at a whisper.
" I'd be ok with it. Because...I loved her. "
It was then, finally, that the Sniper turned to face Derrick.
Half his express, the Courier saw, was cheerful, optimistic, etc. He was glad to hear his friend's good news, and for how much of a game changer it was for him and Cass. Things wouldn't ever be exactly the same, but the good kind of not-ever-the-same. The best kind, actually. The kind that would last for years.
The kind of thing that wouldn't just dredge up those locked-away memories of Carla, but practically weld them down.
And even so...however..
He still wanted to be excited for Derrick, the Courier saw. He still wanted it...despite everything.
Despite how it was exactly what the Legion had stolen from him. Boone may have fired the shot, but the Legion forced his hand.
Damn them all...!
Damn them for that...
Anger rose through the Courier, fierce and bitter. He couldn't forgive the Legion for that- heck, he couldn't forgive them for pretty much anything they'd ever done, which was one heck of a long list. But, what they'd done with Clara...
This was ruining the mood a tad, but it was worth it. To settle things with that memory when it'd come up, now..
Without saying anything, Derrick stepped forward, pushing off the table. He was running off pure reflex, without the need to even think about what he was doing.
" Hey, its alright..."
Using a fluid motion, he embraced Boone. Brotherly, the way men do- clapping a hand on the Sniper's right shoulder, arms high.
" I didn't want to hurt you, man...you know that. I had to let you know, but I didn't think..."
" I mean..I knew it would, but I got it wrong on how much ", Derrick opened up. " Cass and I were over the moon, and...we wanted to share it with you. I... "
Geez...
This is going off the rails..
Well...it was still worth a shot. Even if it turned out he'd gotten way ahead of himself on how things were right now...he still had to have done this. It couldn't have been received badly, and the memory would always hurt.
He was no less overjoyed about sharing the news, but...it'd had a side effect. One he'd seen coming, but still was floundering on handling.
Or so he thought...
" ...Don't even think about raining on your own parade, Derrick. ", the Sniper told him. There was still traces of pain as he spoke...but also the opposite as well.
To be honest...that was even stronger now.
Because he bro-hugged Derrick back.
" Don't you dare. You and her ? You have a shot. A real one, and nobody could take that away from you. Nobody. "
Strength and conviction were covering every word. Derrick heard it clear as day, and he couldn't have been more grateful.
...God, that is a relief.
I knew I made the right call, helping you forgive yourself at all over what you did back when. The torment won't go...but its not crushing you anymore.
And even now...it can't come back all the way.
This guy. This guy was a real brother...as Derrick had known for years, obviously. But, no matter how true that was, there were still times were you were reminded of it so strongly, it was pretty much like you were getting aware of it only then. Which you weren't, needless to say, but it seemed more than close enough to it.
Yeah....this was one of them. And it'd proven something:
Boone would be a great uncle. A great one.
Somebody that the future child would be fond of. Respect as much as his parents, and admire.
For sure like the sun was hot.