Angel growled as he was casually tossed onto the nearest thing the Courier considered soft, that being an odd looking, red couch. Said couch had several pointy teeth dotted around between the cushions here and there. A few yellow eyeballs also were above the back pillows, and despite being part of the strange design, Six couldn't help but think those eyes were staring at him.
"You didn't have to carry me for that whole time, you know." Angel huffed, before getting a nod from the Courier.
"I know, that was just funner." He responded.
"Oh yeah, I'm sure carrying me in your big, strong arms is fun." Angel said with a smirk, stretching out on the couch and putting his feminine body on display.
"Sorry, I've got arachnophobia." Replied the wastelander with a chuckle.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Angel growled, flexing his many limbs. "These arms have brought about more pleasure than you ever could!"
"Maybe… But giving pleasure isn't my style." Agreed the Courier, before Vaggie cut into the conversation.
"Speaking of style, what's with the gas mask?" She asked. "If you're a recent arrival, I wouldn't expect you to look like you died to mustard gas in the trenches."
"It's a bit of a precaution." He admitted.
"Were you one of those over prepared survivalist types?" She asked casually.
The Courier felt the decades old MREs in one of the many pouches he kept under his jacket as he replied slowly. "Well… kinda."
"I'm not judging. We all have our hobbies, worries, and whatnot." Vaggie shrugged, getting a nod from the Courier as Charlie arrived, holding a key, which she quickly tossed at the Courier, who caught it with ease.
"Room 38." He mused to himself as he looked at the engraving on said key.
"It's one of the cleaner ones we have, since Niffty got to cleaning it recently." Charlie admitted. "Though we haven't gotten any new furniture for it yet."
"As long as it's got a mattress, it'll be perfect." Said the Courier as he popped his neck. Even with an enhanced spine, cramps were a nuisance he dealt with too commonly for his liking.
"Well... no promises on it being soft." Charlie said with an embarrassed smile. The Courier gave a shrug as he soon sat on the couch, making Angel Dust bunch up to give the wastelander room.
"Rude!" Angel said.
"Bite me." Responded the Courier, before pulling out a weathered old can from a small pouch within his trench coat. Said can had a dirty, faded logo, however, the demons could make out the words 'Pork N Beans' on it. Six quickly pulled out a small can opener and got to work on opening.
"Uh… We've got some food in the fridge." Vaggie offered, making the former mailman shake his head as he finished opening his meal.
"I don't want to be more of a drain than I already am." He said, as he pulled his helmet up just enough to expose the lower portion of his face. His skin was tanned though a bit paler than one would expect, likely due to him wearing his helmet so much. Aside from that he cracked, dry looking lips and a faint stubble growing in, though said stubble didn't hide the several scars covering his lower jaw. They weren't exactly big, with each one being no longer than an inch or so at best, yet there were still more than even the demons expected. He must've been in melee fights practically daily. However, the group didn't know whether to be more surprised at the scars, or the fact that his skin still looked like that of a living human's.
He also ate almost like an animal, with him scarfing down his meal as if he was on a time limit. Juices from the canned meat ran down his cheeks as he chewed wildly. Angel even got up and quickly walked away, lest his white coat being splattered by the juices of the Pork N Beans. All in all it was only a bit over ten seconds before the Courier was finished. He quickly wiped away the remnants of his meal with the back of his glove before readjusting his helmet, putting his spoon back in his pocket, and finding the nearest trash bin to toss the can in.
"Well, I hope you two don't mind but I think I'm going to retire for the night." Said the Courier, before quickly leaving for his room, leaving Vaggie and Charlie alone.
"You… saw that right?" Asked Vaggie. "His skin tone. It looked… kind of like he was still alive."
"Yes but that's… impossible. Or at least it should be." Charlie said quickly, unsure of what to think of the Courier now.
"Well apparently it's not." Vaggie said. "He might not've ended up here naturally, you know. I remember there's that one company… I think they were called I.M.P. or something. Anyways, they've been going around, advertising their services to go to the human world and kill practically anyone. Think he might've been a target?"
"I doubt it. We would've known about it by now." Charlie said. "Maybe there was a summoning accident that brought him here. Besides, unless they caught him off guard, I don't think they'd be targeting Six, and I doubt a group as incompetent as I.M.P. could do that."
"So what do you think he is then?" Vaggie asked, raising the eyebrow over her remaining eye.
"I… don't know. He might be delirious. When I first met him he was talking about a nuclear war in the year 2077." Charlie said. "Maybe a shell shocked soldier?"
"So we have a shell shocked, time traveling, post apocalyptic, survivalist soldier on our hands?" Vaggie asked. Despite the insane concept sounding like it came from a sci-fi B-movie from the 1950s, she didn't find herself laughing.
"That or he's just extremely confused." Charlie said with compassion. "Either way, I've got to help him. Even if he can survive on the streets out there, if demons found out he's human… I don't see it going well for anyone. They'll just throw themselves at him for as long as they want. But if he were to die, who knows where he'll end up." The princess sighed, rubbing her eyelids as she did.
Their conversation was interrupted when Angel Dust rounded the corner, several bottles of cheap beer in his many hands.
"That guy's totally a nutjob." He said, before Vaggie threw a spear at him, knocking one of the bottles out of his grip, causing it to fall to the floor before shattering.
As this all happened, Six himself was laying on an old looking, faintly stained up mattress with full armor on. To most it looked trashy, but to him, it might as well have been the softest thing in Hell, as it wasn't but a few minutes before he was out like a light.
The next day
The Courier gently placed a potted plant onto the windowsill of his room. After making sure it was neither too big or too small, he smiled and began to continue, reaching into his coat to retrieve something. Suddenly, the spider currently laying on his bed decided to speak.
"I don't know why you don't just use any old dirt for that." Said Angel Dust, as the Courier filled a small pot with extremely dark soil he held in an old ziplock bag.
"Because, none of the shit you've got here is likely gonna be as fertile as this, and if it is, it's likely gonna cost money I don't have." Said the Courier. "But this, this is free, reusable, and easy to make. I'm not going to sit here and be a leech off of Charlie and this hotel. Unlike you." He finished with a good natured chuckle despite the insult.
"I'll have you know I'm not a complete leech!" Angel said, now flustered and annoyed.
"Oh? How?" The Courier shot back, putting some tomato seeds in his small pot, before giving it some water. He just hoped that the light in this place worked similarly to the sun's, lest he wind up with several failed crops.
"I… stayed clean for two weeks… then got into a turf war… But at least I don't go around wearing a mask all day!" Countered the spider demon.
"Oh you'd like it if I wore less armor, wouldn't you?" Chuckled the Courier, as he dusted the dirt off his gloves.
"Well… yeah." Admitted Angel. "But that's not the point! You need to be more open, like, how long has it been since you've taken that shit off, or hell, worn anything besides it."
"...Quite awhile ago honestly." Admitted the Courier.
"Yeah, and you don't even clean it!" Angel pointed out.
"I wipe the blood off." Six defended. "Besides, back where I come from, it's better to have dirt and sand masking your scent, unless you want to wind up chow for whatever abomination that the Mojave has in store."
"But you're not in the Mojave anymore." Angel said.
The Courier paused, as if pondering the statement, before turning and speaking. "Tell you what. I'll clean my armor the second you start accepting women as patrons."
"Oh that's a low blow and you know it." Angel Dust growled, his eyes narrowing.
"Yep." Six admitted with a smile under his helmet, making the spider growl in annoyance once more.
"Well don't you go around filling this place up with compost bins or some shit." Said Angel as the Courier motioned for him to leave.
"Nah. This is just an experiment. Come on, let's go make breakfast." He said, before pausing as the two entered the hallway just outside his new room. "You people do have a stove, right?" He asked, only getting a shrug.
"Fuck if I know." Angel said uncaringly as the Courier sighed.
"Maybe they'll at least have a fireplace here." Six said to himself, before continuing on.
Soon enough he stood over an small, old looking stove tucked off into the corner of the lobby. It seemed as if it had just recently been cleaned, likely thanks to Niffty, though despite that, he was surprised it even worked. However despite how small and old the stove was, he was happy to have this luxury compared to the campfires he made due with in the rougher parts of the Mojave. He then quickly looked in a fridge nearby, only to find a single box of a strange food type he'd never seen before.
"Popsies? What the hell." He mumbled, pulling out said box, only to instantly growl as he saw the liquid of the former popsicle run down his glove. He soon threw the half melted snacks away, as he quickly found a rag before he wiped off his glove.
"You need any help there?" Charlie said, walking into the lobby, looking like she'd just woken up.
"No I'm fine..." He said, before turning back to the stove. "You don't have anything to cook around here do you?" He asked.
"Well, since we're on a bit of a budget crunch we've not really been able to get anything to properly cook yet, though Niffty has been badgering us about that for the past few days." She explained.
"Alright, I guess I can dip into my fresher stock." He said, before pulling out a few large ziplock bags, with one filled with several cuts of meat, and another strange looking fruit that almost resembled an apple, though it was discolored, being purple with a few splotches of yellow in it. Finally there was a massive egg in one of them. If Charlie could guess, she'd say it belonged to an ostrich or emu.
"Er… got a pan?" He then said with a nervous chuckle, realizing how large his stock was.
"So, think that nutjob can actually cook?" Asked Angel Dust , reclining back in his seat. He and the other demons of Hazbin were gathered around a dining table Charlie, Niffty, and Vaggie had set up in a side room off of the main lobby.
"Maybe. I just hope it's better than the crap food we've had for the past few weeks." Vaggie growled, obviously tired of half melted popsicles.
"I just hope he doesn't burn anything!" Niffty said, fearing the idea. "He didn't even let me supervise to make sure he knows how to cook! I hope he removed his gloves!"
"It better have meat in it." Husk growled before downing almost a third of a bottle of beer. He made sure to have several more sitting at his side, and had already gone through two or three of them.
"Oh I wouldn't worry you guys!" Charlie said with an optimistic smile. "Even if it doesn't end up being exactly what you wanted, he did his best, and that's all we can ask him for."
The discussions didn't continue for much longer as soon enough, the Courier walked in, holding a large metal tray. He soon sat it down in the center of the table as the demons around him gaze upon his creation. It was an omelet, and a big one at that, with several chunks of meat both sticking out the sides and covering it. It also had some diced vegetables scattered on top of it as well. Every demon's nose was filled with the scent of fried meat, perfectly cooked eggs, and with melted cheese.
"I hope this is to your liking, as that's pretty much all of the food I had with me." He said with a chuckle, as he began cutting the group individual pieces of the massive meal. They noted that his gloves were removed, and sleeves rolled up, revealing his tanned, scar covered forearms. He even had the faint scent of soap coming off of him as he filled their plates with his meal. By the time he was finished, the demons all had said plates piled high with the Wasteland Omelet.
Husk was the first one to dig in, ripping at the meat covered omelet like one would expect a dog to do. He chewed loudly as Niffty herself took a comparatively tiny, delicate bite, her taste buds being slowly filled with the Courier's dish. Angel himself just shrugged as he began to eat as well, though obviously less gracefully. Vaggie and Charlie began their meal as well, with the Courier took his seat as he began gazing over all of their expressions.
It was… odd to expect criticism, as typically the only one sampling the Courier's meals were himself, though he did thankfully get the occasional compliment from Veronica, Cass, Arcade, Raul, and Lily. (All he usually got out of Boone was a nod, though he knew the sniper was thankful for his culinary talents.) While the Courier had gone through more firefights than he could count and had been in a straight up war, it seemed this was what got his enhanced heart beating the quickest. One of the few things that had brought him some semblance of fun and simple joy in the Wasteland now put a bit of a strain on his shoulders.
"This is actually really good." Said Vaggie, making him breathe a sigh of relief as the strain was blasted into oblivion.
"Yeah. I bet even Alastor would like it!" Niffty said, cutely squeeing in glee.
"What's in it?" Asked Charlie curiously.
"A Deathclaw egg stuffed with some Brahmin cheese and Lakelurk meat and topped with diced tomato and mutfruit." Said the Courier, almost robotically, like he'd forced himself to never forget the recipe.
"Deathclaw?" Charlie questioned.
"Giant pissed off lizard." Six answered
"Lakelurk?" Vaggie continued.
"Think of it as a giant snapping turtle that has weaponized sound." He explained, silencing a majority of the table.
"Even if you're nuts, either of those would make for a kick ass album cover." Angel Dust said with a mouthful of omelet, before he got a hard punch to the shoulder by Vaggie, making him hiss in pain.
"Just ignore him." Said the spearwomen.
"Where did you learn how to cook?" Niffty said, changing the subject.
"Nowhere in particular." He said. "It's just one of the few luxuries I had in the wasteland, so I figured I might as well master it. Eating the old canned stuff gets boring after awhile."
"Huh. What did you do for entertainment then?" Vaggie asked.
"Well, aside from the occasional hooker, I read as much as I can." He explained, though his bluntness made Vaggie facepalm as Charlie and Niffty both blushed in surprise, while Angel Dust almost choked from laughing. Husk was too busy downing more booze to react much.
"Hah, knew you weren't some celibate!" Angel Dust said with a sharp toothed grin.
"Well I'm just being honest." Six responded. "Lying about something like that is pretty dumb. Besides, I didn't get much out of that anyways."
"Oh I'm sure you didn't." Angel commented, only for the Courier to continue on.
"What I did learn though was through pre-war relics. Old computers and holotapes and books and even comics helped me as I struggled through the Mojave. Almost as much as a gun, even." He admitted.
"Speaking of guns, what kind of heat are you packing?" Husk casually asked, picking his teeth with one of his claws.
The Courier shrugged before he stood and opened up his long duster, showing the group of demons the various weapons and bits of ammo strapped to him and his jacket underneath. The two biggest weapons strapped to it were Dinner Bell, which was secured to his coat by what looked to be old belts and straps of leather that had been sewn into it. The other one faintly resembled a Tommy Gun with a few green highlights on the very end of the barrel. It too was secured by these same leather straps.
Aside from that, the group could make out the shapes of several pistols holstered around the man's torso, with dozens of magazines being closely strapped to his belt, lower stomach, and upper thighs, with a few others being on his upper chest. Several other small pouches littered his body, no doubt carrying ammo and other essentials.
"I tried to travel light, without a backpack or something bigger slowing me down." He explained, as he began to set the larger parts of his arsenal on the table, with him making sure they were unloaded as he did. He started with Dinner Bell
"You consider this light?" Charlie questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Eh, I kinda get where he's coming from." Angel chuckled. "If he really wanted to roll heavy, he should've packed a few extra Tommy Guns."
The Courier nodded as he continued. "I guess for a place like this, I won't need anything bigger than a shotgun, and not having to carry it would certainly take a massive weight off my shoulders." As he sat down his other, Tommy Gun-like rifle, Angel Dust instantly began examining it.
"Nice weapon but…" Angel flipped the weapon this way and that as he examined it further. It was very similar to his sub-machine gun of choice, yet had a few differences. "What's with all of the weird modifications on it?"
"That my friend..." Began the Courier, grabbing the rifle from Angel's many hands. "Is for when shit really goes south. Think of it as a last resort."
"Doesn't look too intimidating." Said the snarky spider.
"Compared to some of the weapons I've once used, it's not." Admitted the former mailman. "But still, since I didn't feel like lugging around hundreds of pounds over a barren as fuck desert, this is the biggest I've got. I just wish there was a way to get back to the world of the living. Then I could get my grubby hands on some REAL firepower." He chuckled, rubbing his hands together at the thought. As he did, his jacket was still opened, allowing Niffty to see a more unique weapon in his arsenal.
"What's that fist thing?" Niffty asked, her eye focused on a strange fist-like weapon hanging from another piece of leather near the Courier's thigh. Said weapon itself had the symbol for nuclear radiation on it. Courier Six smiled and pulled it out from its loop, before putting it over his right fist and using it as a gauntlet.
"Power Fist, though this one's extremely modified. The Gun Runners called it 'Greased Lightning.'" He explained. "Strong enough to punch through a brick wall… or shatter the skull of a Deathclaw." He said, pointing to the tally marks on the side of it. 33 in total.
"Interesting." Niffty mused before she practically vanished from the Courier's view, appearing right in front of him in the blink of an eye. She stood on the table to be eye level with him. This act of extreme speed made Six actually step back in surprise. He felt like the little one eyed demon could move about as fast as he did while on Turbo.
"You know that radiation sign kind of reminds me of when I was still alive. We had to go through sooo many videos telling us to duck and cover. It got a bit boring real quick. I mean sure nuclear annihilation is terrifying but still, there's only so much a girl can take." Said the little demon with her rapid-fire mouth, now acting how she did when she first entered the Hotel.
"Er… well duck and cover wouldn't have been too useful anyways. You need a radiation proof vault… even then that's not a guaranteed success..." He said, before thinking over her words. "But… how old are you?"
"Well, by this point I think I'd be around seventy." She said in thought, as he looked over her for a moment.
"So you were likely alive in the 50s..." He pondered. It felt strange to be the youngest in the room for once. Sure, Caesar was older than him by a few decades, and Mr. House by centuries, but for a childish being such as Niffty to be that old. It felt odd. Charlie could sense his feelings of awkwardness despite the mask and decided to change the subject,
"Well Six, is there anything about Hell you'd like to know?" She asked.
"I'd… just like a map." He said simply, before looking at his Pip-Boy, fidgeting with it as he did. Despite knowing it was impossible, a faint part of him refused to believe his trusty computer was mostly useless. Finally though he sighed and stopped touching it. However, as he did, he felt as if something was… wrong. The air itself seemed to get faintly colder and more oppressive, and every hair on his body stood up. Despite his lack of fear, his body told him to run, yet he couldn't quite figure out from what.
"Quite an interesting piece of technology you've got there, friend!" A voice picked up from behind him. It sounded as if it was coming from an old, grainy radio...