We made it back to Steve's office without further incident, somehow. I was almost sure we were going to get jumped by another psycho out for my head, but things held out for a change, nothing beyond what you'd usually expect on the road.

Steve wasn't happy to hear I'd found another note from the Judge. Just like I wasn't happy to have someone apparently out for my head. But I'd already seen that it came with the territory, and Steve had at least warned me. He didn't elaborate as to what the deal was either, and it was making me worry that I'd have to drag it out of him. He told me we'd talk about it due time, and not to worry yet. Apparently, The Judge wasn't one to waste time. If he wanted me dead, he had the guys to do it. As of the moment, he considered me a nuisance and, by Steve's estimate, not quite in his purview yet. He did warn me that if someone by the name of Javier Sugar ever approached me though, I should shoot first. He was apparently one of the The Judge's top men, and if I met him it only meant I was next for the chopping block. It wasn't much of a warning, but it was more than I'd had.

Our next bounty brought us back towards civilization, or the closest thing to it, Freeside. We'd been getting reports of a gang of Hooligans running around. More than the norm for the area, anyway. The Kings had apparently been having a hell of a time trying to pin them down. Mostly being forced to run off the little information they could get from their victims. The most they could gather was that the Hooligans were all from back west. Probably wealthy, if they could afford to stay in the area. The crimes had been mostly small time. Robberies, assaults, and noise complaints. All targeted at the less fortunate of Freeside's community, a larger portion of the population than was often seen.

The Kings couldn't do shit to help them, and by some accounts the assaults had begun escalating to murder. On the flipside, they'd been able to positively ID the leader of the Hooligans as a kid named Alex. Which we were able to connect to a prominent family back in the NCR. Somehow the vagrants had managed to scrape together enough money to get the bounty place on Alex, which meant we had to hunt him and his friends down.

The bounty had me and Raul meet up with one of Alex's most recent victims at the Old Mormon Fort. He was an older man by the name of Jasper. He and his friend Ben had been assaulted while trying to get some rest. Beat them both with dress canes, not unlike the ones the White Glove Society preferred.

We'd hoped to get there quick enough to keep things from getting worse. But it's a long way from Steve's to Freeside, regardless of what road you take. By the time Raul and Me got there, Alex and his merry band of assholes had found Jasper and Ben. We found Jasper beaten bloody at the mouth of an alley near the followers' fort. Bastards worked the old guy over good. The Followers would be able to patch him up, but I couldn't tell how extensive his injuries were. He told us not to worry about him though. Alex and his dickheads had dragged Ben further down the alley. A good show on Jasper's end. Not many people can take getting their legs broken and still muster the presence of mind to worry about others.

Raul and Me took off down the alley at a sprint. It was late, dark. If Alex and his boys wanted to jump us, they'd be primed to do it. We weren't inherently keeping an eye out for trap. If anything, we were keeping our ears open for any signs of where they'd taken Ben.

We didn't get any.

We soon found why.

We turned around a corner at the end of the alley and found Ben. What was left of him. I'd seen supermutants leave more behind than what was left. They'd violated his corpse so thoroughly; I'd have never guessed it was Ben if Jasper hadn't pointed us after him.

"Well look who we have here." An eerily calm voice spoke.

Raul and I both turned to look. From seemingly nowhere, four young men, dressed in attire the White Glove society would find tasteful. Dress suits and garish ivory and gold masks. They'd blockaded the alley, boxing us into the small area with Ben's remains.

"You must be Alex." I said, narrowly keeping the edge from my voice. I gauged him and his cronies. Aside from the suits, they had dress canes, but not much else it seemed. Their mistake.

"That I may be." Alex said, a smirk evident in his voice "To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?"

I noticed Raul adjust his, still sling bound, arm.

"I think you can take a guess at who we are." I said.

"Hmm… Ah! You must be the hireling those vagrants sent for." Alex said, not at all sounding surprised "Oh but a pity that they no longer have the money to pay for you."

"Funny, my employer already received payment in full."

"But then you are late to work… quite late indeed."

I stayed silent for a moment. Almost willing my gaze to bore holes into Alex's forehead. "… Listen, Alex, this isn't going to go the way you think it is. These people have done nothing to you-"

"Oh but I should say they have." Alex cut me off "I simply cannot stand to see a filthy, dirty old drunky. They are but a waste, howling away at the filthy songs of their fathers."

"They wronged you in no true way." I said, reaching the end of my patience. "You've brought nothing but pain and misery on people who've already got enough of it. My job requires that I kill you… But you're young, can't be much older than twenty, right?"

"…"

"You can still change, kid, You and your boys. Just turn yourselves in. They'll ship you back to the NCR, and you'll do some time in the can, but you'll have your whole life after that. Just think this through-"

I was cut off once more. This time by guffaws of laughter as Alex doubled over on himself. I could see his gimpy friends wanted to join him.

"Do you see this, lads?" Alex asked as his laughter quieted "This filthy, dirty, degenerative scoundrel and his cripple think he has the station to advise me. Hah!" Alex collected himself, then tutted, wagging a finger "We'll have to give him a right proper lesson. The last one he'll ever need."

I watched silently as he and his boys drew their canes on us. As they began to edge towards us, clearly trying to intimidate us. As if they were the scariest bastards we were ever going to meet.

I shook my head and sighed. "I was just trying to save you kid." My gaze drifted to Raul. He was ready. "After all… you're the one that brought sticks to a gunfight."

Raul drew before I'd even cleared leather, Arm slipping from his sling with Iron in hand. He thumbed Lucky's hammer and fired before I'd even gotten a bead drawn. By the time I'd gotten off a shot, he'd already put three down range. One each in the head of Alex's boys, who'd hardly had the chance to even realize what was happening.

Give the old man credit, he had skill I could probably never hope to match.

Nor would they, for that matter.

Alex was the only one he hadn't shot, but I took care of it. We were close enough that missing was nearly impossible.

I put two in his head.

He fell backwards, flopping lifelessly to the ground.

I walked up and put a third in him.

Stupid kid.

…

After helping Jasper back to the Followers', we started down the 95 back to Steve's. Knowing that we were being observed, it was better to avoid taking the same routes repeatedly. Gave the Judge less of a chance to plan ambushes. The sun was dipping down once more, ushering in another starry night. The wind was cold to the distant heat of the day.

"Sorry about the kid, Boss." Raul said, properly removing his arm from the sling.

"It's alright." I said "I just wanted to give him a chance. He couldn't have even been twenty. It doesn't excuse what he did or was doing, but was it wrong to hope he'd turn it around?"

Raul shrugged "Don't know boss, I prefer to avoid those kinds of questions. All I know is they earned their bounty. You tried to get them to stop, and it didn't work, so they made their choice. I'd say you offered them a better deal than I would've."

"Hmm."

Perhaps I shouldn't have been letting it bother me at this point. I'd seen what they'd done to Ben. No person with a shred of humanity in them does something like that. Especially not believing they were right for doing so. The only justification I had was that he was still young. But even that fell flat. Was I wrong to even be trying for an outcome that didn't end in bloodshed? When I'd hunted down the Fiends for Dhatri, it hadn't even been a question. The Fiends were monsters, there wasn't much of a way around it.

Was I wrong to try and find a better way here?

I didn't know. I was unlikely to ever get an answer that didn't involve me dying.

But I could put it off, at least a little longer. Until I saw Steve anyway. I was sure he'd just call me an idiot for trying. But just being able to talk it out with someone in a position like mine might put some perspective to things.

As we walked down the 95 though, I began to pick something up in the distance. A new sound. The distant twang of steel strings. Carried with them, a smooth rich voice that could've called a crowd from miles around.

(**BGM**: New Vegas Valley)

Raul and me shared a look, before looking off ahead once more. The music was coming from not much further ahead. The far side of a roadside billboard. In the distance beyond it, I could just see the El Dorado Service station. The closer we drew to it, the clearer it became. A melody of sadness, longing.

Raul and I approached the billboard cautiously. There wasn't much telling what this was, but the possibility of a trap was always real.

If it was a trap, it was the first one I'd ever see that used music as bait. Good music on top of that. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard live music. The closest I ever got was listening to Radio New Vegas most of the time. Hearing it live was almost an entirely different beast. Carrying a tone and energy that a recording never could. Fitting.

The two of us edged our way around the side of the billboard, eavesdropping our unexpected performer. It was hard to get a good look of them, from our angle and the fading sun. But the campfire he was seated at made it easier to make him out. He wore a leather duster, much like the bounty hunting one currently enwrapping myself. An upcurving cowboy hat sat on his head, barely concealing what I could see of his dark hair, similar to the one I'd seen on Primm Slim. His complexion was tanned, almost in line with soil of the Mojave itself.

He sat leisurely on the ground in front of the campfire. Strumming away at an old acoustic guitar with the slow, practiced hands of a professional. From the beautiful sounds the instrument made, a passionate one at that.

Raul and I continued to stand there, listening as this strange man strummed at his guitar. Singing his heart out to the Mojave sky.

I really hoped this wasn't a trap, I'd hate to have things turn south.

Before long though, the Man's song came to an end. His guitar and voice fading softly into the wind. He continued to sit there, and I noticed he seemed to stare down towards the fire. Perhaps contemplating what number to play next.

"… You boys gonna keep hidin' behind that sign?" The man said, once turning our way "Fire's more than comfortable over here."

Raul and I shared another look. We honestly thought he hadn't been paying attention.

"I don't bite, an' if we were gonna start shootin' each other, I wouldn't've said anything." I could hear a chuckle in the man's voice.

Which was also a fair point on his part. No sense mincing words if we were just going to axe one another.

I shrugged and stepped out from behind cover. Wary on the off-chance that our tenuous armistice fell through. But as I walked closer to the fire, with Raul in tow, things held steady, and I had less reason to believe we were going to erupt into a firefight around a campfire. We came around the opposite side of the campfire and I got a better look at the man in question. His eyes were a bit droopy, watery, carrying the look like he was perpetually tired. His mouth was wide, with full lips and a nose to match. Betwixt them, a full, lengthy moustache that stretched down either side of his mouth. Helping to frame a rounded chin.

"Heard you creepin' around the other side of the billboard." The man said, smiling politely, before motioning "Have a seat, no sense standin' around."

"You got good ears." I said, popping a squat at the fire "Didn't think you'd notice us, singing like you were."

"Takes practice." He admitted "You got a name, friend?"

"If I do, I'm liable to never remember it. You can call me Courier Six though, everyone else does."

The man nodded, turning to Raul "-and you're…?"

"Raul Alphonso Tejada" Raul said, smirking "Or you could call me Miguel, your pick."

"Well then, seein' as you're both feelin' polite, most folk just call me the Lonesome Drifter." The man gave a smirk "But, you can call me Lonny, if you'd prefer."

"Think I might just do that." I nodded "Six works for me."

"Pleasure to meet you both." He smiled "Now, mind if I ask why you were snoopin' around?"

"Heard you playing." I answered "Thought it might be a trap or something, so we decided to check it out. I'd say we got a nice show instead."

"Well, thank you kindly."

"Pleasure was all ours. If you don't mind my asking though, what're you doing out here?"

"Hm, well friend, that's a story all its own. One I don't mind sharin', if you're willin' to do the same?"

I thought on it for a moment. With the Judge apparently looking for us, I had less reason to go sharing my business with random strangers than usual. However, the fact he hadn't tried to blow us away boded well. Unless he was lying and his name was actually Javier, he seemed on the level enough. Besides, I wasn't exactly trying to keep what I'd been doing a secret.

"…Don't see much a reason why not." I shrugged "Me and Raul are hunting bounties, on our way back to our firm to file the paperwork."

"Bounty hunters, eh?" Lonny asked, rubbing his chin "You look awfully clean for the type."

"We've got a place in the Strip. Stop by occasionally to shower the dust off."

Lonny's droopy eyes widened in surprise. "Now how in the world did you manage that?"

"That is a story for another day." I waved it off "What about you?"

"Hm… well…"

…

Lonny told us his tale as the night continued to yawn across the sky. He was a drifter from further east, somewhere in Montana. Son to a hard-working woman and some Mysterious Stranger. The guy having apparently abandoned them while Lonny was still young.

I got this niggling, half panicked urge to ask how old he was, but I refrained since I didn't want to insult him. I have no idea where it came from either.

After Lonny's old man walked out, his mother worked to support the two of them. Something that reminded me a bit of Cass's story. Suppose it wasn't uncommon. Lonny took up mastering his guitar playing and, when his mother got too worn down to work, went into the coal mines. Eventually though his mother passed, leaving him alone and, rightfully, pissed off at his dead-beat dad. So he struck out, looking to find him and get some answers, or at the very least pop him on the mouth. With only his guitar, his clothes, and his old man's pistol to his name.

Except he hadn't found him, even after years of searching. He'd heard people mention seeing him now and then, but never really getting an answer as to where he was going or why. So Lonny chased him, and chased, and chased. But it wasn't all for nothing. He kept practicing his guitar along the way, gathering an audience wherever he went. Trading shows and music for lodgings, food, whatever he could get.

Which lead him to this little portion of the Mojave.

"You're giving up, huh?" I asked, sympathetic "Years finally wore you down?"

"They do everyone." Lonny nodded "I ain't as much a fool as when I was younger. Wherever my pa ran off to, I'm not likely to ever find it. So I decided to try an' figure out what to do with myself. Been sittin' here a few days now, ain't thought of much, unfortunately."

"Years of carrying a weight like that'll do it." Raul said, a glimmer in the old ghoul's eye "Takes time to try and cut it loose."

I sat there a moment, staring into the fire. An idea forming in the back of my mind. "…I might be able to help you with that, if you really are looking to settle down."

Lonny quirked me an eyebrow as I reached into the pockets of my coat. I had to fish around for a moment, since it had been a while since I'd needed one. But I should still have had one to give, and it was probably buried at the bottom.

I withdrew my hand from my pocket, a business card set betwixt my fingers.

"I was asked by a guy named Tommy Torini to scout out new talent for the Tops." I explained "Never quite found someone to pass this last one off to, but I'd say you've got the chops for it."

Lonny's eyes lit up. "That's mighty interesting, any idea what I'd be doing?"

"What you do best, obviously." I motioned to his guitar with the card "They've already got a couple comedy acts and a dance troupe, but you'd be the only real music man in the strip, which would probably draw a crowd. In return, you'd be put up on the strip."

"Meanin' hot meals, showers, caps, and somethin' more comfortable to sleep on than an old stump." Lonny surmised, seeming to like the idea. "… What's the catch?"

"Aside from selling your soul to the entertainment industry?" I joked, earning a little chuckle from Lonny "I wouldn't normally say there's much of one, I'm more than happy to help a fella out when I can. Especially since Tommy's going to pay me for bringing you in anyway… But, well, you've got something that's caught eye."

Lonny brow ratcheted up another notch, before he looked down to his belt. He gave a sigh, looking back to me. "Interested in my Pa's gun, aren't ya."

"It's a fancy lookin' piece, especially for the wasteland." I admitted "But I'm not asking for it just because I'm trying to gouge you." I motioned to Raul, sling still resting against him. "A few heads back, Raul here got winged with a shotgun. Broke his piece in the process. I've lent him one of mine for the time being, but I know he'd rather have one all his own."

"I would boss, but I'd rather get it myself." Raul admonished "I'm crippled, not hopeless."

"I know, I know." I said, waving him off "But short of getting gouged by the Gun Runners, there's not much chance of finding another .44 soon. And I know you're not a fan of Lucky."

"… Prefer the kick of a .44." Raul admitted

I nodded, turning back to Lonny. "I know it's a bit cruel of me to ask for it, but it'll see more use with us than on the Strip. The Chairmen would probably confiscate it at the door anyway."

Lonny pursed his lips and looked down to the wheel gun in question. He drew it and held it in his hands. It was a beautiful piece to be sure, a classical bit of gunsmithing. The frame and barrel were brushed iron, carved with scroll work the height and length of it. The pins and hammer plated with nickel, set bright alongside pearl grips. It was far too nice a weapon to exist in a place like the wasteland. Much like Lucky in a way.

Lonny stared down at it, likely fully aware of that. It was also one of the last connections he had to his father, aside from his guitar. He may not have been fond of the man, but a connection is still a connection. It was also one of the few things he had to his name as well.

I'd be lying to say I didn't feel a smidge guilty about it.

But Raul needed a better gun.

"… How about this:-" I say "We live on the Strip, or are regularly in the area. You get to the Tops, find you don't like it, or think you can do better elsewhere, you come see us and we'll return it to you."

Lonny's gaze drifted back up to mine, lingering. "… Simple as that?"

"Simple as." I nodded.

"… Aw, hell, I really ain't got much to lose, do I?"

It was more a statement than a question.

Lonny walked around the fire, taking the card from me. In turn, he flipped the gun around by the trigger guard, holding the grip out to Raul. The old ghoul gripped it with his recovering arm and held it, looking at it appreciatively. He hid it, but I could see a small smile trying to get onto his lips.

Then a small guitar riff echoed out of my pip-boy.

The two of us looked down to it, confused.

"Oh yeah, odd bit about it." Lonny said, an embarrassed smile on his face. "It's got this weird quirk, whenever I start handling it the nearest radio tends to play music. Normally just a little guitar riff my Pa used to play."

"… That's fucking weird."

Lonny chuckled, nodding. "Just a bit, you get used to it though."

Raul and I stood from the fire. "What say we piss out the fire and make tracks for the strip? better than letting you wander back unarmed, or stay here like that."

"That'd be mighty kind friend." Lonny smiled "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." I said, looking to Raul, who was still enamored by his new sidearm "… Got to try and do something good today."