"Cheyenne stay! Don't worry, she won't bite unless I tell her too."
With an anguished cry, the Courier woke up. Jolting himself into awareness as he frantically surveyed the strange room he was in. Only when his breathing calmed, did he begin to remember where he was. He groaned, shoving the frantic adrenaline fuelled guilt back where it belonged while sitting down and removing his helmet.
He wiped sweat off his brow, and took a deep breath.
Sunny Smiles was dead, curled up and sobbing with a shot to hell Cheyenne before she went into bits thanks to powder ganger dynamite.
There weren't any Powder Gangers left in the Mojave by the time the Courier left for the strip.
It was Sunny who had really brought him back to life. He had spent weeks with Doc Mitchell moping about Goodsprings until Sunny finally had enough of his bullshit and kicked his ass into gear. She was his first real friend. And she went and died. And he knew, that somehow he could have done something to change that. He didn't know how, no matter how many times he reran the Powder Ganger attack in his head, he couldn't find a way to change the outcome. But he knew there must have been a way to save her.
She showed him that people could be good, in the wasteland. And that life wasn't all about idealistic moral quandaries. Sometimes things could be just simple.
Another deep breath, a quiet and choked sob, and Jericho was up and ready for the day.
He couldn't make those same mistakes again. He wouldn't. Too many people had left him because of his own hubris for him to allow himself to do the same damn things.
He distracted himself by counting the remaining ammunition he had for his guns, and after finding he had a pitiful supply left, he cleaned them. Anything to keep his mind off of the Mojave.
A soft knocking at the door was uncharacteristically welcome. The menial cleaning of his guns providing hardly any distraction considering he could clean and repair them with his hands tied behind his back. Literally.
He moved over to the still explosive dresser and cautiously made sure not to move it as he asked loudly, "Who is it?"
"Salem." Was the simple reply.
With a sigh, the Courier began disarming the dresser bomb before moving it out of the way of the door. He opened it for his saviour and stepped back. Salem glided in, hands clasped in front of her. Jericho kept his eyes on the hallway until she was fully in the room, making sure no one else was going to try and come in.
He relaxed when he saw the coast was clear, and turned his gaze to peer into the patient look Salem was giving him. "Yeah?" He said, voice raw with poorly disguised emotion.
"Today is the day you will be leaving for Vale, Cinder will be here in an hour. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Salem said, some of the words seeming a little strange coming from the white woman, though Jericho dismissed the thought.
"I'm alright." Jericho said with a breath. "Just a lot to take in at night." He continued honestly.
"Mmm…" Salem muttered noncommittally, before she turned her gaze to the makeshift bunker he had made in the middle of the room. "Was the bed not comfortable?" She asked, a little annoyance tinging her words.
"No, it was comfortable. Too comfortable." He muttered, not wishing to anger his hostess.
Salem simply gave him an indecipherable look, before nodding at him. They didn't say anything for a few moments, it was… awkward? A strange feeling for both people in the room, considering who they were respectively.
There seemed to be something that Salem wanted to say, but stopped herself. Jericho didn't pressure her on it, it wasn't his place.
"Well, as I said, Cinder will be here soon. I recommend you meet her at the landing pad, as it will be a long trip to Vale." Salem finally spoke, before making her way back to the door with what was a strange uncertainty.
"Yeah." Was all the Courier said, nodding a thanks to Salem as she made her way out.
With a huff, Jericho turned back to begin gathering his meagre possessions. He finished cleaning his gear, making sure to remind himself to take a look at his armor when it was safer, and resituated the furniture back where they belonged.
By the time he was done, it looked like he had never been there. He still had fifteen minutes to spare before Cinder was supposed to arrive, but finding he had nothing left to do, made his way to the landing pad anyway.
The pad was in a word, inconsistent with the gothic ascetic of the rest of castle. It was a modern looking area complete with electronic lights that served as a beacon against the blackness around the castle.
It was obviously a newer addition.
He leaned against a railing that ringed the pad and pulled out a somehow still intact Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle from one of the many pockets in his duster and knocked off the bottle cap, which he pocketed before taking a swig of the stale beverage.
With a start, he realised he didn't need to keep track of bottlecaps anymore. They were effectively worthless. He was back to being poor again, whereas he would have had a veritable fortune on him back in the Mojave. With a huff, he fished out his numerous caps, and tossed them over the railing.
Very light footsteps alerted him to the presence of another person on the pad, making Jericho very quickly draw Chances Knife while spinning around.
Tyrian was standing at the doorway to the rest of the castle, cutting off the Courier's escape should he be seeking it. He stood with his hands behind his back, head hunched over with his tail swaying calmly behind him. The permanent fixture of perverse glee on his face was looking at him with the same strange hunger as before.
It made a tingle crawl up Jericho's spine, and made him white knuckle his knife.
"What do you want Tyrian." Jericho barked, trying to hide his frantic eyes, looking for an escape.
"Oh can't I just come down to see my 'new friend' off on his new adventures?" The crazy bug started giggling once again, though his tiny but large eyes stayed locked on the Courier's face.
"No you crazy sunovabitch you may not. We ain't friends, so get lost." The Courier growled, unconsciously taking a slight step back.
Tyrian merely grinned wider, ever so slowly creeping forward. "C'mon buddy! We were just having a friendly little fight! No need for such hard feelings." Tyrian drawled the final 's,' making him seem more like a snake than a scorpion as he laughed once again.
"I'm telling you right now bugman, andI'm not gonna say it again. Fuck. Off." The Courier bit out, pointing his knife futilely at the scorpion man.
Tyrian's smile slowly faded as Jericho spoke, until he was finally just looking at him with cold dead eyes and an expressionless face. It scared the Courier more now than it had before, and that just made him angry. He hated feeling afraid, and with the source of his most recent anxiety standing right in front of him with unknown intent, he didn't know what he would do.
Tyrian started stalking forward, quicker this time. His hand were still clasped behind his back, though his tail now drifted dangerously around his head, which was leading his walk as he hunched over. Finally Tyrian was close to the Courier, who was tensed and ready to pounce. The Bug invaded his personal space, pressing his body up against Jericho's and leaning in so close that his nose was touching the stressed out Courier's. It would have been considered an intimate moment, had Tyrian not been so repulsive to Jericho.
Finally, the bugs face cracked, and that too wide smile split his face. "I don't know what our goddess see's in you that she doesn't see in me…" One of his eyes twitched briefly, "But I want you to know, you are nothing. Everything you can do, I can do better. And when the mistress see's that, I will take great pleasure in getting rid of you."
With that, Tyrian stalked off, a silent cackle wracking his body as the sound of squealing engines began to cut through the air.
Jericho, was still for several moments after the bug was gone. Before he threw the Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle still in his hand against the castle wall, where it shattered with a foamy explosion as the Courier let lose a series of expletives.
"I'd like to see you try you son of a bitch. Next time we fight'll be on my terms." Jericho growled to the horizon, running his right hand through his hair as he put his elbows on the railing.
Finally, after a minute of incessant turbine noise, the so called 'bullhead' landed perfectly on the pad. A few moments passed as the engines wound down into standby, until finally the side door opened. Anti-climactically, only the interior of the cabin was revealed. No one stood waiting for him.
With a sigh, the Courier marched his way forward and onto the boxy machine. He glanced around the cabin as the door slid shut, leaving him in a now familiar eerie red glow. He was immediately glancing around, standing in the middle of the cabin as he tried to focus on the fact that the walls weren't closing in on him.
Of the many things the Courier despised, tiny spaces was one of them. He was claustrophobic, not that it had ever stopped him. Though he tended to avoid vaults and other such underground facilities, sometimes the cramped, dark corridors couldn't be avoided. So for the sake of the job, Jericho pushed through it.
The red glare didn't help much, with it bending the shadows into movement at the corner of his eye. It seemed that paranoia would never be escaped by the Courier in this world.
The door to the cockpit opened, so not fancying staying in the dark cabin, Jericho quickly stomped his way into the even more cramped area.
Sitting in the pilot's seat, was someone Jericho would never have considered flight capable. But then again, neither did Daisy Whitman. And that old dame had always managed to teach him a thing or two about the wasteland whenever his ego got too big for his britches. Hell she even gave him some lessons in the Remnants Vertibird before she passed.
The woman in the pilot's seat however, was not Daisy Whitman, no matter how much Jericho wanted her to be. Instead, there was a decidedly more attractive woman in red. She was looking up at the Courier, her amber eyes watching him curiously as he did the same to her. She was unnaturally pretty. Her face was perfect, her hair doing just what it needed to accentuate her looks while leaving you wanting more. Her body was equally odd, she was curvy and busty, in such a way Jericho never thought possible. She was maybe a year or two older than the Courier, but you would never guess it if you put them side by side.
Remnant was strange, he was coming to realise.
However, a better sight than the beautiful woman looking at him expectantly, was the wide open view of the passing landscape right in front of them. Wordlessly, the Courier tore his eyes away from the buxom brunette and sat down in the vacant co-pilot's seat, staring out at the crawling horizon.
It was breathtaking, and like the castle, equally eerie. The horizon that was now clear of obstruction, was blood red, the perpetually setting sun was of a similar color. It was so large in the sky that it reflected off of the black sand below. Black mountains sped past them, framing the untamed and dangerous land of Grimm below the feeble fly machine.
Flying Grimm occasionally fluttered through the sky, seemingly unaware of the most certainly not stealthy bullhead. From vultures to giant ravens and to even larger monsters that had no discernable form and did nothing but confuse the Couriers eyes. It was a beautiful nightmare that really drove home just how far from home he really was.
With a deep breath, thankful that the walls were no longer closing in now that he could focus on the horizon, he finally turned his attention to the pilot. The woman, who seemed mildly annoyed that she had been ignored in favor of the landscape, merely gave him an up and down glance.
"Cinder Fall, I presume?" Jericho asked, hunching his shoulders unconsciously in discomfort at the tiny area.
"Courier Six, not exactly what I was expecting…" Cinder muttered neutrally.
"It's been a rough couple of days, I'm usually much more imposing." The Courier returned sarcastically. He didn't know how much Salem had read of his notes, and he had never introduced himself to her in any way. And the few notes about him were collected from either Ulysses or Mr. House. So she must have dug through them all in order to get his name, or at least, his title.
Cinder huffed, mildly amused. "I'm sure you are. Is Courier Six you're real name or just something you call yourself?"
"What's the difference?" The Courier mused with a mild smirk. Though seeing the mild glare coming from his female contemporary, he continued to speak with a shrug. "Job title. Names Jericho." He let silence reign for a few moments, seeing what Cinder would do. She however, was simply content to let him ask the next question.
"What has Salem told you about me? All I know about you, is that she says you are someone I should listen to." The Courier asked conversationally.
"She told me that you were from the deepest part of the desert in Vaccuo, it's a place not even she understands however strange that might seem. So you would most likely need our help to get adjusted to our 'world' as it were. She said you would explain more to me when you were ready to do so." Cinder finished, glancing at the Courier to see his reaction.
Jericho, for his part, just grunted an acknowledgement. He seemed to weigh something in his mind for a few moments before nodding slightly to himself. "I'm from a place called the Mojave, and as you can probably tell by my job title, I was a mailman."
Cinder, just looked him up and down once again with an eyebrow raised in a skeptical look, eyeing his various armaments and the heavy duty armor he was wearing.
The Courier just chuckled, always enjoying the reaction of folks whenever he described himself as a simple mailman. "I guess it's a little more complicated than that. We don't have any of your fancy CCT systems in the Mojave. So we've got a Courier service to carry our messages. I was one of them, specifically, I was one of six hired to do a job. All we had to do was deliver one tiny thing and we would get a hefty pay day." Jericho stopped for a few moments, flipping the fabled platinum device, now inert and merely ornamental in his hand.
"I'm sensing a 'but' coming up." Cinder said, with a mild smirk.
"'But' I ended up digging my own grave on top of a hill while some checkered asshole took this thing from me." Jericho said, holding up the Platinum Chip in his left hand. "Shot me twice in the head and left. Now before you ask, we don't have any of your fancy 'aura's' out in the Mojave. So it usually only takes one bullet to put you down." He continued, as Cinder's eyes widened slightly.
"You're still here though." Cinder said, putting to use her spectacular observation skills.
"Guess Benny didn't get the memo that I'm the fucking mailman." Jericho said, not willing to continue that line of questioning just yet. With a growl however, he muttered "Spite is a powerful motivator."
Cinder at least, could understand that.
She hummed in agreement, secretly enjoying having a regular conversation she didn't necessarily have to maneuver her way through to try and manipulate anyone. "So what's so special about your poker chip?" She asked, respecting his unspoken wish to not continue speaking about how he got shot.
"The Platinum Chip, was one of the most sought after items in the Mojave. Everyone wanted it, and I had it. It contained the data necessary for the creation of an advanced series of robots. Could, and would tip the balance of power in the desert. Data's all gone now, I ended up in control and no one else could contest me. Now it's just… a reminder." Jericho finished with an oddly reverent glare at the Chip in question.
The horizon began the clear as they flew out into Open Ocean. The sky became a refreshingly clear blue and the clouds were drifting lazily in odd shapes. It made the Courier smile, to see that the whole world wasn't tinged with red. He was excited to be flying so high up, not having an urgent mission to worry about or an upcoming battle. He could just relax and watch the understated beauty of being so high up in the air.
Silenced grew between them once again, Cinder not thinking of any good way to continue the conversation, as she didn't want to pressure him into revealing things he would rather not, and the Courier was just brooding in his seat.
Several minutes passed before Jericho couldn't keep himself distracted by the horizon, prompting him to speak again. "So what about you?" Hoping to divert attention away from himself and perhaps learn something about his supposed companion.
"What about me?" Cinder asked all too innocently, to which the Courier just gave her an unimpressed look.
"Listen sweetheart, you don't get to enjoy story time without sharing some of your own fun little experiences, so…" The Courier finished, gesturing expectantly with his left hand.
The forest was jaw dropping. He had seen some more 'wooded' areas before in places like Zion, but they couldn't even capture the same majesty that Jericho was blessed with right now. The supposed Forever Fall Forest was a harsh scarlet contrasted with grey tree trunks. Red leaves apparently grew on every tree in the forest, and the forest floor was just an immaculate, almost undisturbed and peaceful rose color.
Nothing had ever struck the Courier like this. He had seen beautiful vistas and spectacular sunsets, hundreds of beautiful broken landscapes all across Arizona, Nevada, and California, filled with a maudlin and picturesque devastation. But this was just different from the deserts back home, this was filled with life!
So enraptured was he that he didn't notice the landing of the craft until it was already on the ground. He looked to his chauffer for the day, questioning with his eyes why they had set down in the middle of the forest and not Vale itself.
"You will have to walk from here. It's maybe a day north west of here." Cinder said with none of her usual braggadocio. The moment the Courier demanded some stories from the girl – for he refused to think of this petulant woman as anything but – she shut up like Christine Royce. All through the flight she refused to speak anymore and while naturally curious as to why, Jericho was more than happy to ignore her in favor of doing some more research and gazing out into the world.
Jericho barely hid a sneer, feeling this was some sort of power play or punishment for a perceived slight. Didn't really matter though, being cooped up in that tin can was making him antsy so it was a good idea to stretch his legs.
He couldn't hide the rolling of his eyes though, if the mild twitch in the brunettes face was any indication. He got up and quickly made his way out of the Bullhead. A quick look around revealed forest in all directions, which was concerning.
Truthfully he had expected that the moment he stepped off the bullhead Cinder would just fly away without so much as a goodbye, but such was not his luck. "Wait," the woman of his current thoughts called out to him as he began situating himself. "There are things I need to do to you." She continued.
'Why'd you have to say it like that?' Jericho thought to himself, privately, within his own head. He knew the woman didn't mean it, so his thoughts were more petulant than hopeful or scorned. Regardless, he turned to her and waited expectantly. "What then? Is now the time to have our conversation?" He almost growled.
Cinder just turned her nose up at him before she came down the ramp. Without saying another word, she put her hand on his armored chest and began reciting some mystic mumbo jumbo gobbledy gook that he didn't really bother to listen too before he fell to the floor with a splitting headache.
Cinder didn't seem to fare so bad, though she did seem a bit frazzled. "The hell did you do to me?!" Jericho demanded.
"I-I was told to unlock your aura by mistress Salem… But I just couldn't!" She said, forgetting momentarily she was supposed to be a sexy femme fatale as she stuttered her way through this new mystery. "It was so small… Your soul was so small and I tried to pull it out to activate your aura and it just hid away." She said, seemingly genuinely sad. Hell, Jericho didn't really expect her to care that much. She just didn't seem like the type.
Though why did she have to call his thing small? Really helping a guy's confidence there Cinder.
"The fuck does any of that even mean? Like goddamn woman warn a guy before you go fishing for the meta-physical." Jericho retorted angrily. He felt mildly violated, not unlike the feeling he got from Tyrian just to a lesser degree. He didn't like the idea of someone going looking for his soul, and even less so when there was obviously something wrong. It felt like a fatal weakness he shouldn't let people know about, or a private embarrassing detail of your personal life. It was just uncool.
"Whatever," Jericho spoke again, shaking off the anger and the pain throbbing through both his head and as a new development, his neck and left arm. "Just give me a damn compass and I'll find my way. Unless you've got a map I can use."
Cinder, looking at him now as a curiosity or sideshow freak rather than a human just nodded and tossed him a tiny device that expanded into a screen. She directed him on the basics, and how to use the map feature, before just spinning on her heel and taking off in the bullhead. No instructions, nothing but get to Vale.
"Well, Shit."
Not Dead Yet.