His eyes opened ever so slowly, his fatigued vision being greeted by a bright light beaming down upon him from the ceiling light above. A cough sharply derived from the man laying down in the beat down, rugged bed. Slowly, he began to sit up, his head throbbing with each subtle movement he made. Then the old western draw of a voice began to speak out. "Easy there! You've been out cold for a couple of days now." The man was an older man, balding on the top with a large mustache that was as white as snow. The presumed doctor helped the patient sit up fully before speaking again.
"I'm Doc Mitchell, welcome to Goodsprings." Doc Mitchell spoke slowly in his raspy voice.
Taking a look around the room, the man studied the area he was in. Sunlight crept through blinds covering the windows of the large, dusty room. A mounted Brahmin skull hung over a large desk against the wall by the patient's bed he was in, on the opposite side of the wall as a couple of shelves that were full of First Aid and medical supplies. Then on the other side of the patient privacy screen was a lab set littered of test tubes and chems. It seemed like a nice little get up.
Reaching up, the man began to rub his head. His soft rubbing came to an abrupt stop as soon as he felt the cotton surface of gauze bandages around his head. The bandages went from his forehead, around the top of his head, around the temple and back to his forehead. What happened? He knew he was in Goodsprings, but how? He began to think, trying to recall what the hell happened but as soon as he started to, he would wince in pain from the massive headache that was being caused. He stopped his thinking with an annoyed sigh before looking back at the Doctor.
"Anyways, how about your name? Can you tell me your name?" Doc Mitchell asked with a raised brow.
He wasn't sure what to say exactly...his name was long ago. He really just went by his courier name for as long as he could, he couldn't remember his birth name as weird as that sounds. He forgot his birth name. He usually went simply by "Courier", but Courier wasn't a really good name. He didn't really have a preferable name either. He recalled something that he was called though, when he got his courier assignment along with 5 other people, he was called "The Sixth Courier", or "Courier Six". After taking a deep breath, he began to speak.
"Six", He spoke rather emotionlessly.
Doc Mitchell chuckled in response, followed by a shrug and nod of his head. "Well that ain't the name I'd pick for ya', but if that's your name, that's your name. Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rootin' around through your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you best let me know if I messed anything up." Doc Mitchell then handed Six a reflectron. He stared at himself in the reflection, examining closely at how he looked. Six was thankful that he looked the same before; light blonde fade, sun-kissed skin, cleft chin with a small scar, eyebrow slit from a scratch, oval jawline, bright blue eyes, and light stubble. Only difference was that he had a bullet scar on the right side of his head underneath the dried up blood-soaked bandages. Six let out a sigh as the memory came flooding in...the event that caused him to need up here…
THREE DAYS AGO
"You got what you were after, so pay up!" A grizzle voice yelled out, Six having just awoken from the commotion. He looked down at his hands bonded by some rope. He frantically tugged his hands apart at an attempt to somehow free themselves. Of course he just had to travel late at night with an important package, sending a body guard with Six should have been the first indication that shit was bound to hit the fan. Now look at it, Six is being held hostage in some graveyard while his bodyguard is laying in a pool of his own blood next to Six. Today couldn't possibly get any worse...but yet it was about to.
"Look who's waking up." A man spoke in a delighted tone, followed by an evil chuckle. Six then stared up, he witnessed what looked to be two well equipped raiders and some wealthy guy in a checker suit. All three of them looked so distinct, especially the guy in the suit. He looked like an entrepreneur you'd see in a pre-war magazine. The checkered coat man himself then spoke after tossing a cigarette he was smoking to the ground. "Time to cash out.", his voice sounded like he was a pre-war sitcom actor. After what seemed to be the leader spoke, one of the raiders followed up the speaking with a demand. "Hey, can we get this shit over with?"
The high-roller raised a finger that wagged at the raider. "Khans may kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?", the raider shook his head and let the leader do his thing. The leader reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a platinum coated poker chip with "Lucky 38" engraved into it. The poker chip was Six's delivery. "You made your last delivery kid...sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He spoke with a smuggish smirk, followed by him putting the chip away. He then reached into his suit jacket, once his hand came out of his jacket, he was clenching a Golden custom made 9mm pistol. Knowing what was about to happen, Six shook his head side-to-side frantically. He was going to die and be buried in an unmarked grave, never to be seen again. Six spoke a silent prayer, hoping that a guardian angel would save him out of nowhere.
"From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck, but truth is…" he then directly aimed the pistol at Six's head.
"The game was rigged from the start." He then pulled the trigger, followed by Six's vision going completely black.
Back to present day
Six's train of thought was interrupted by Doc Mitchell's voice. "Well no sense of keeping you in bed any longer. Let's see if we can get you on your feet." Doc Mitchell stood up and under hooked Six's right arm. As Six began to stand up, Doc Mitchell pulled him up while helping Six keep his balance. Once Six was stable enough, Doc Mitchell let go before proceeding to pat the man on the back. "Good. Why don't you walk down to the end of the room, over by that vigor tester. Take it easy now, it ain't a race." Six gave a confirming nod, he walked down the hall at a normal pace, right towards the Vigor-Tester Machine. Once he reached it, Doc Mitchell patted Six on the shoulder.
"Looking good so far. Go ahead and give that Vigor Tester a try, we'll learn right quick if we can see what your faculties are looking like." Six had a confused expression perched upon his face. This looked like a strong man machine, not something that's able to tell you how strong, fast, intelligent, and lucky you are. Six chuckled while looking at the ground before back up at Doc Mitchell. "You can't be serious right now? This thing? This strong man machine can tell me how strong, perspective, durable, charismatic, intelligent, agile and lucky I am? Sorry Doc but that seems like a load of Brahmin shit." Doc Mitchell pointed at the handle. "Just give it a try."
With an unamused groan, Six gripped the handle and squeezed it. The machine made some strange noises before lighting up and then telling him his SPECIAL stats, or so that's what the machine called it. Six began to read them aloud. "Strength is 5, perception is 6, endurance is 9, charisma is 6, intelligence is 5, agility is 5, and luck is 4." Six was skeptical, but the statistics seemed relatively close to how he pictured himself.
"Well that explains how you're still kicking, you're built as solid as an Oak!" Doc Mitchell spoke in an impressed tone. He then walked past Six and into the living room, waving for him to follow him. "Even though you got that score, that doesn't mean them bullets left you nuttier than a bighorner dropping. Take a seat on the couch and we'll see if your dogs are still barking." Six then took a seat right in the middle of Doc Mitchell's couch.
"Alright I'm going to show you some images, say the first thing that comes to mind." Doc Mitchell then held up some pictures of artwork. The first one looked like a large black paint splatter in the middle with a long stem like feature poking out the bottom. "It looks like an ace of spades."
Doc Mitchell nodded and then showed the next image that looked like a long black line, but with a split in the middle. "A broken chain."
He nodded in response before flipping to the next image. It was a large black piece with a slit going right down the middle, it looked a bit...sexual. "I'm too embarrassed to say what that looks like."
Doc Mitchell shook his head with a roll of his eyes, swiping to the next image. The image was of two peculiar shaped objects that seem to be touching, almost like it was two things high fiving. "Two bears high fiving?"
Doc Mitchell sighed and decided to do the word test instead. "Alright how about this, I say a word and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Cat." Six responded quickly "Companion", Doc Mitchell then spoke again. "Light" Six responded, "inspiration." Then Mitchell spoke "Mother", in which Six said "caretaker". Finally Doc Mitchell spoke by saying "Thief", in which Six gave his response of "Vaporize", which did get a few confused stares from Doc Mitchell.
Doc Mitchell snorted, followed by the elderly doctor clapping his hands together once. Six looked the doctor dead in the eyes, trying to figure out what was so amusing. Was he perhaps insane? Shit, good chance not gonna lie, due to the whole amount of past trauma and a bullet to the head, it might actually be a thing.
"Surprisingly, I ain't got nothing to compare it to. But for the most part, your dogs seem to be barking loud and clear as if some strange folks were knocking at ya' door." Six gave a nod indicating he understood what Doc Mitchell was saying. Six looked down at the clothes he had on, a plain white t-shirt and some black compression shorts. Six looked back up at Doc Mitchell with a tilt of his head.
"So, where's my clothes Doc?" Six raised a brow at Doc Mitchell. The doctor stood up and walked back to his office. When he returned, he handed Six a couple things that were in a small burlap sack. Opening it up, Six saw that inside was a vault 21 jumpsuit, a 9mm pistol with a holster, a kitchen knife, some caps and a couple of stimpacks. Six took the jumpsuit out after standing up and proceeded to put it on over his clothes. "So, was most of my stuff stolen?"
"Yeah, sorry about that pal. Most of your stuff seemed to be stolen. Victor brought ya' down with all the stuff you seemed to be carrying, most of it was torn up or probably stolen. He didn't bring any of the other fellow's stuff, surprised he only brought you down. By the way, the jumpsuit is from me, it was mine a long time ago...don't get much use for it now as you can see." Doc Mitchell gave a light hearted laugh. In a world full of grief and destruction, Doc Mitchell seemed to go by as if he was in some small town from before the war, not a doctor who knew at any moment raiders could attack the town and do what they wanted with no repercussions. Despite his charismatic persona, a strange feeling of suspicion fell upon Six. He felt like Doc Mitchell had more of a past, like he was hiding some kind of traumatic event or sadness, perhaps involving his vault.
Six zipped up the jumpsuit before flexing a bit and moving around to get used to the figure fitting jumpsuit. "Thanks for patching me up Doc, you didn't have to do all of this, I'll pay you all the caps I got left-" Doc Mitchell raised his hands and cleared his throat to interrupt Six's speaking.
"Son, if we ain't do a little bit of good deeds now, the world would be full of more deathclaws." Six wasn't exactly sure what that metaphor meant but from what he could understand, Doc Mitchell meant that everybody should do something good and be less angry or straight up evil. The kind gesture sent a relieved smile across Six's face.
"Thanks Doc I appreciate it. Also, who is Victor?" Six curiously asked Doc Mitchell. This Victor only saved him but why? Did he just assume the bodyguard was dead? Why was he even out that late, especially up at the graveyard?
"Ol' Vic is a securitron that just wanders around here. Apparently his creator used to live around these here parts, dunno whatever happened to him, but Victor seemed to stay after his departure. He's a nice fellow, no matter what Bartender Trudy says." Six processed what Doc Mitchell told him, the info only made the situation weirder. Why did a random securitron save him, what made his sensors direct him to that area...and if he knew the situation, why didn't he save Six and his bodyguard in the moment? They have Grenade launchers and 9mm machine guns built into them so what was stopping him from keeping Six get shot in the head!? A sigh escaped from Six who loaded the 9mm pistol before holstering it.
"So, anything you can tell me about Goodsprings?" Six asked him.
"Well this is a nice little independent town with hardworking folk. We don't pay no NCR taxes and we keep moving along like any other day. Down the road is The Prospector Saloon run by Trudy and next to it is Chet's general store. Up the road is Victor's saloon, make a right and you'll run smack into the school house. To the left is the common house for folks who stay here but weren't enough houses. There is some guy named Paulson that apparently used to live in Arizona, but is coming from far east, The Capital Wasteland. There's some scattered homes and such all over Goodsprings. Behind the town is the Cemetery, head southwest and you'll find the water pumps and wells. Anywho that's all I think you'll need to know, general jitz and such." And with that, Doc Mitchell led Six towards the exit. Once they reached, the Doctor began to reach for the door, but abruptly stopped with a sigh. The doctor looked down at his wrist, the one that held the Pip-Boy 3000. He placed his hand on top of it and though in pure silence for a moment as Six watched, anxiously tapping his foot.
Six assumed Doc Mitchell a moment to reflect, view Six like a younger version of him or something. What he wasn't expecting was Doc Mitchell to take the Pip-Boy off. He carefully unhitched the locks before taking the Pip-Boy off and handing it to the Courier. "Bud, you're going to need that a lot more than me. I assume you'd be wanting to get back into the swing of things and out looking for the folk that shot ya'. That Pip-Boy right there will make your life a hell of a lot easier."
Six whistled in an impressed sound. He saw Pip-Boys before and people brag about how badass they were, but he never had one himself. They were extremely rare and the ones that worked and being sold off would usually cost a fortune. He was getting a top-notch Pip-Boy for pretty much nothing. Six was at a loss of words, he then thanked Doc Mitchell once before putting the Pip-Boy over his right wrist. He fiddled with it for a moment to get it set up and once it was in working manner, Six thanked Doc Mitchell one last time. Doc was right...that bad boy was sure going to make Six's quest a hell of a lot easier.
"Also, I'd suggest you go talk to Sunny. She's like the protector of town, you'll find her in the Prospector's Saloon, she'll teach you how to get back in the swing of things...enjoy your stay." The doctor flashed a friendly smile and waved goodbye to Six as the courier exited his home. Once he stepped outside, he covered his eyes with his forearm to keep from being blinded by the bright sun. The heat from the sun hit Six almost instantly as well. Once his vision adjusted, he pulled his arm down to get a good look at the town of Goodsprings, and it was a pleasant sight to say. The hill in which Doc Mitchell's house sat upon gave an outstanding view of Goodsprings. It was an interesting looking small town with enough places to suit for any traveler wandering by. It fit the exact image and style of an old western town you'd see in a pre-war holotape movie with Clint Eastwood in it. Six began to slowly make his way down the hill and out to the main town of Goodsprings.
Once he reached the bottom of the hill, Six heard the sound of some sort of vehicle rolling on it's wheels, he looked over to what the sound was and-
"WELL HOWDY PARTNER! Might I say you look as fit as a fiddle, given them bullets that went through ya' noggin." Six gasped for a moment succeeded by his heart skipping a beat and quickly gripping the handle of his pistol. Once he realized it was the local securitron sheriff, Six's tense grip on the pistol dropped. The sneak up on Six was strange and arguably a bit rude, but nothing too out of the ordinary by wasteland standards. With a groan and grit of his teeth, Six snapped at Victor.
"Damn it! Do you not know any manners, most people would have put a whole clip where your screen was, lucky for you I have more self control. Were you trying to give me a heart attack!?" Six ended his small rant with a sigh. A loud western sounding laugh emitted from Victor's speakers as well as his blocky robot hand running across his monitor as if he was wiping away sweat. The robot's hysterical laugh ended with him talking to Six about the incident.
"Sorry cowboy, I should have realized you might be shaken up because of the whole high roller fella and his thugs tying you up and putting a bullet in ya' like you were a mad cattle or something. I'm guessing you got some questions about the incident or something?" This securitron was a strange guy. First, he snuck up on Six. Second, he went straight into conversation. Finally, he went straight to talking about the event. Six knew AI and robots were creepy, awkward and acted strange, but Victor seemed to be something different...at least he seemed friendly. With another sigh, Six decided to ask his questions.
"Yeah, first off, how did you know to find me." The cowboy image on Victor's monitor gave a confused expression, followed by a confused sound coming from the robot. After a minute the robot decided to speak actual sense. "Don't quietly know. My sensors were bugging through the roof while I took my nightly stroll, so I decided to check out what in Sams hill was happening. Went up to the graveyard and saw that they had put your friend out to the pasture and was going to do the same to you. I decided to lay low and see what I could hear, as well as get the drop on them. Sadly, they must have had ants in their pants because as soon as you woke up, they pumped you full of cold hard lead. Once they left, I rolled up and started digging you out of that shabby grave they dug for you, took you down to Doc and rest was history, partner." Six nodded in response to the securitron, guess that made sense enough for why Victor didn't hop in or take Six's bodyguard down either. He decided to ask another question for Victor.
"Alright so anyways...who are you exactly? I know that you're Victor, the robot who saved my life, but tell me more. Like, who made you, how long you've been here, et cetera." Six asked Victor, curious to know more about the peculiar robot's backstory. Victor rubbed the top of his spinning antenna, making that same thinking sound from before. This time however, it lasted noticeably longer. Long enough to the point that Six had legitimately thought about leaving and meeting up with Victor later, but finally the robot was able to come up with an answer.
His answer was, "I don't quitely recall." Six facepalmed and shook his head. Victor began to speak again, "I've been here for as long as I can remember, lost track of time not gonna lie. I remember the man who made me vaguely, he was a handsome fella. He was a clean cut looking guy, I think his name started with an R...all I remember though, not like it matters much, I'm just happy to still be kicking and going on with each passing day."
Six chuckled as he stared up at the cowboy emitting monitor of the local securitron, "Well I suppose that's a good way to look at life." Six took a long around, seeing that half of it was full of life, whereas the other half wasn't so vibrant and alive. Looking back towards Victor, Six began to speak. "Guess I'll be seeing you around then, take care."
Six waved Goodbye at the robot who responded with a simple, "happy trails, partner" before rolling off towards the opposite direction that Six was heading. The courier seemed to be heading straight for the Prospector's Saloon, hoping to meet this Sunny Smiles and see what she could teach him that he hadn't already known.
The courier walked down the ruined road until he was directly in-front of the saloon. Turning his whole body towards the western bar, he examined the saloon which looked like an exact replica from an old western holotape movie. A tumbleweed rolled past Six from the old desert wind before he decided to make his way into the saloon. On his way in, he gave a greeting nod to an old prospector rolling a cigarette out front while he drank some hard whiskey with a few buddies. Heading inside, Six's nostrils were greeted by the smell of hard liquor, tobacco and cactus while his ears were struck by the sounds of Johnny Cash playing from the jukebox in the corner of the lounging area. Leaning against the pool table was a beautiful, fiery red haired woman playing with her Australian cattle dog.
"Hey miss, you know who Sunny is?" The woman smirked at the courier who approached her. Licking her lips, she responded. "Who's asking?" She spoke in a hard country draw.
"I'm Six. I was suggested to meet up with a girl named Sunny here." The woman stood up straight and tilted her head at the Courier, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm Sunny Smiles." She spoke with a wide ear to ear smile across her face.