Author's Thoughts: Yeah, I'm back now. Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I'm in college and finals are coming up in a few weeks for me, so I've been trying to focus on my studies. Anyways, I don't know how long it will be until the next chapter but I'll try to keep it up.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Fallout characters, nor the source material. The only character who came from my own imagination is the name and personality of the Courier, (and I don't own the "Courier" name, either). Oh, and I will probably make some references to Elvis Presley and his songs(and I don't own those either).
Chapter 2: King Creole
It was a hell of a thing. The more Raven spent walking through Freeside, the more she saw things that were heart breaking. Thugs wanting to kill unsuspecting victims at every turn, drug dealers giving customers their fix for Jet or Psycho, people trying to jip others for their caps worth...what exactly did humanity have to live for these days? Why did they even bother trying to make life something that it would probably never be again? Broken buildings, rotten to the foundation. Dirty streets littered with 200-year-old trash...and the bodies of unlucky scavengers.
Maybe that was why Boone had chosen to follow her, and why Raven had asked him to come with her. Boone's eyes were hidden behind dark-tinged glasses, but the woman didn't have to look into those sharp eyes to see a kindred spirit. Like Boone, the courier was an empty shell. A shadow of what once occupied her tired body. And like Boone, this woman wanted answers. The only difference between Raven and her ex-NCR companion, though, was the question.
Boone wanted to know where the Legion leader was, how to get there, and how slow and painful he would make that man's death be.
Raven's only question was...why? Why was this Average Jane important...no, dangerous enough to deserve an unmarked grave? Clearly, Lady Luck figured a dirt nap was not appropriate for the courier...who couldn't decide if that was good luck or bad luck, to be perfectly honest.
In her musings, Raven almost didn't see a mutant rat run around the corner. Her green eyes locked onto the white and furry creature, and the woman quirked a brow. Soon after, Raven watched several raggedy children run after said creature. Children with baseball bats, dirty faces, and hungry eyes. And she thought she couldn't feel more sorry for these people...she unholstered her pistol and without warning, Raven raised her arm and pulled the trigger as she aimed. The shot rang out and the children stopped running. The innocent animal that had desperately tried to run away from being a meal slumped to its side, blood trickling down the whiskered face.
After a few moments, the children jumped and down, laughing and giggling. Raven watched them run to the rat and, as they began yanking chunks of raw meat and stuffing their mouths full, they waved at her in thanks. She settled her gun back onto her hips and turned, walking in the direction of their intended destination. Boone, with only a heavy sigh, trailed behind the girl.
It wasn't so much a laugh as it was a drawn out chuckle that escaped the man's mouth, curled up into a smirk. The mechanical dog by his side was having a good day, it seemed. That, to the King, was a blessing. Normally, his dog Rex was never this chipper. The King watched the dog chase and snarl at one of the gang members who made the mistake of wearing a cowboy hat within a mile of the prejudiced dog. Rex hated hats. It brought a soft smile to the King's lips to see his friend acting like a puppy. Who knew how long his faithful pal had left in this life.
It was at that moment when Rex trotted back to his master, suddenly whimpering. The King's smile faded and he reached a hand to scratch underneath Rex's chin. If only there was something he could do to ease the suffering of his loyal friend. He had hoped this would be a good day for the old dog, but King felt he was not lucky today. As Rex plopped down on the floor, resting his head on his paws, the King shook his head and turned his head to watch a dark-toned King member dance and sing on the stage. After a few minutes, Rex perked his head up and twitched an ear, growling softly. His master noticed.
"What's the matter, boy?"
A loud thump was heard along with muffled voices. Clearly someone was not happy. The King stood up immediately and charged toward the door at the back of his theater. He would not tolerate fighting among his own clan. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it roughly, walking out with a heated stride.
"Just what in the he-" The King stopped short, his gray eyes fixed on two strangers. A man in a First Recon hat and sunglasses, and a woman in dark leather armor...who had his buddy Pacer in an arm lock over the lobby counter. Pacer must have tried to "charge" someone for an audience with The King leader. Again. Every gun in the room was aimed at both the woman and her friend.
"Excuse me, Miss, but what the hell is going on here?" He inquired, walking slowly into her line of vision.
He saw her body stiffen and heard a low mumble from her before she straightened, letting Pacer go. Pacer lifted himself from the counter as the intruder turned to the King, her eyes ablaze. "You always charge people who come talk to you?" she spoke loudly.
Yep, just like he thought.