Into the Great Wide Open Chapter 6: Settling In
Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout: New Vegas or RWBY. The former belongs to Bethesda Softworks and Obsidian Entertainment, and the latter belongs to Rooster Teeth.
[Dormitories, Beacon Academy, Vale]
"Alright, now open sesame," Marston said as he pressed the scroll that Ozpin had given him up to what looked like the door knob area of said door. Cass, Boone, and ED-E stood behind him, waiting for their friend and employer to open up their new living quarters. Finding the dorms and the specific room that they had been given had taken a bit of time, the Wastelanders had eventually found them. Marston attempted to move the door open, but it did not budge. The courier pressed the scroll against the door again and tried to move it, but it was fruitless.
"It's not opening up, boss," Cass said as Marston shot her an annoyed look.
"Gee, thank you for that brilliant observation, Cass," Marston snarked as he let out a sigh before pocketing the scroll. He then looked back at the door before opening up the pouch on his belt.
"Alright, time for Plan B."
With that, the courier took out two items from his pouch: the first was a small screwdriver while the second was a bobby pin that had been bent at a 90-degree angle. Marston approached the door and got down on one knee.
"This should be done in a jiffy. After all, I am the master of unlockin'," the courier said as started his attempt to pick the lock. However, as he peered over the door, a realization hit him like a boomerang.
"This door doesn't have a keyhole. It's electronically locked."
"You just realized this now," Boone said, with a bit exasperation hidden in his usual stoic voice.
"Hey, I'm use to doors usually having a keyhole of some kind. The only times I've seen doors without keyholes are in Vaults, bunkers, and military installations."
Marston let in a deep breath as he put away his lockpicking tools. He took a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the door. The sound of the boot on the door echoed through the hall, but the door did not open. Marston continued to kick the door while his companions looked on. Cass leaned towards Boone and talked to him under her breath.
"Fifty caps and a bottle of Old Royale says that the boss will bring out Knock Knock."
"Caps are worthless here," Boone reminded her as Marston gave the door another good kick.
"Alright, then fifty of that plastic money that people use here."
"Which we don't have any of."
"Well, we'll be getting some of that plastic money once Ozpin does his currency conversation magic."
Marston, meanwhile, let out a frustrated sigh, having realized that trying to kick the door down had been a exercise in futility. He then brought up his Pip-Boy, scrolled over to its Inventory tab, specifically the weapons section.
"Time to cut the knot," he said as a new weapon materialized in his hands. It was a fire axe with a matte black handle, polished steel head, and a long fluke. The axe was the aforementioned Knock-Knock, which Marston had picked up in a heavily irradiated NCR Military town Camp Searchlight. Said weapon had served the courier faithfully in his travels. He had first used it to butcher a group of prospectors he had helped in said town after they decided that Marston was expendable and attempted to kill him.
Marston grasped the axe firmly in his hands, and hefted in the air. The imagery started to remind Cass of an old pre-War horror flick she once saw. However, before Marston could bring his weapon down, a quiet voice with an odd accent interrupted him.
"Um, what are you doing?"
The three humans and one eyebot turned towards the source of said voice. Standing there was a teenage girl who was a bit on the short side. She wore what looked like the female uniform for Beacon students. She had warm, chocolate brown eyes that matched her long brown hair. However, there was one thing that stood out about her. On the top of her head was a pair of ear that belonged on an animal. And as Marston's self-taught education recalled, said animal was known as a Cottontail.
The courier put down his axe and let it hang in his right hand, as he began to explain things to the cottontail girl.
"Uh, howdy there. We were given this here room by your headmaster. He gave this scroll thing to open it up, but never did explain how to use it to open it. I was just about to use my last resort to get the door open'."
"Oh, well opening the dorm doors with the scroll is rather simple," the cottontail girl replied as he had Marston took out the scroll and press the golden button in the middle. With that, the device opened up, revealing a small pane of glowing glass in the middle. It was now the size of small rectangle in Marston's hand. The scroll suddenly flashed, and a swirling wheel appeared in the middle of the glass before being replaced by a green check mark. The door suddenly opened, and Marston simply in surprise and astonishment before looking down at the scroll. It was certainly much more advanced than his Pip-Boy in some ways. The courier then turned towards the cottontail girl and gave her a tip of his hat.
"Much obliged, lil' lady."
"Oh, it was nothing," the girl said before walking off. Marston turned towards his companions, and saw Cass rummaging through her open knapsack. She pulled out a pint of Old Royale whiskey, one of the many, many bottles that she kept on her person.
"You'll get the other half of the bet later," Cass said as she handed the liquor over to the sniper. Boone put the bottle into a pouch on his pants, not being the type to drink excessively like Cass. The Wastelanders quickly went into the room and shut the door.
Marston placed Knock-Knock near the door and got a good look around at their new living quarters. The room had four beds on wooden frames, complete with red blankets and white pillows. The beds were kept in pairs, and between the beds were a two-shelf bookshelf. Next to each of the beds were a desk and chair, which Marston guessed students used to study. There was what looked like a door off to the side, which obviously lead to the bathrooms. All in all, the room paled in comparison to the luxurious presidential suite of the Lucky 38. However, it had soft beds and a place to wash up, and that was good enough for Marston.
The courier took off his satchel and placed it on the a nearby bed. His duster soon followed, as Marston folded it and put the coat on the back of the chair next to his bed. He then unclipped the bandoileer from his chest and placed it over his duster. Lastly, he took out That Gun, his bowie knife, and the various other weapons he kept on him and placed them on the desk. He then looked at his three companions.
"Find a bunk and settle in," he said as Cass and Boone did so, taking the bunks across from the courier. ED-E, meanwhile, simply hovered in place, not needing a bunk as he was a robot.
"Y'know, this place is a bit cramped," Cass commented as she sat on her bed. She had placed her shotgun against the wall and her revolver on the nightstand. The caravan boss was currently unpacking her knapsack, placing three large bottles of whiskey, along with several small ones, on her bed.
"Hey, I've slept in worse places, like a nightstalker den," Marston said as he opened up his satchel and started to search through his satchel. He then looked up and noticed that both Cass and Boone were giving him looks.
"How did you end up sleeping in a nightstalker den," Boone asked plainly as the courier answered.
"It's quite a story, Boone. I was around seventeen or so, and just starting out as a courier. I did a delivery to Angel's Boneyard, and was heading back east to the Mojave. It was almost sundown, and my legs were aching. I needed to find some place to rest. I didn't want to camp out in the open, since I was 'fraid that I'd get jumped by raiders like the Vipers or the Jackals. After some searching, I found a cave that seemed like a nice place to camp out in. When I stepped inside, I lit up a flare to get a better look, and readied my rifle, a Colt Rangemaster. And then I saw them, a pack of nightstalkers. There were five of them, and they were growlin' at me for invading their territory. I threw my flare at them and took aim with my rifle. The nightstalkers spat their venom and tried to pounce on me, but I was quicker. I shot 'em all, two rounds to each of their heads. They all went down in half a mag, and I won my campsite for the night."
"So why the hell did you stay there," Cass asked as she took out Big Boomer from her knapsack's right-side pocket and then took out a collapsible stun baton from the left pocket. She extended the weapon to its full length and briefly activated the stun function, electricity crackling along the length of the weapon.
"Like I said, I earned my right to sleep there by killing those nightstalkers," Marston said as he dug through one of his satchel pockets and pulled out a harmonica.
"Huh, I was wonderin' where I put this," the courier commented as he played a few notes on the instrument before placing it on his desk. He then continued to take out the contents of his satchel, starting with pulling out a small stack of pre-war magazines and comics.
"So, what did you do with the nightstalker corpses," Boone asked as he started to put away his few belongings. He started by unloading his weapons and moved onto a dump pouch he kept on the small of his back.
"I just burned 'em," Marston said simply as took out the flare gun and .32 pistol out of his satchel along with their respective ammunitions. He placed both of them on his desk next to the harmonica.
"You didn't try to cook 'em," Cass asked as he took out the remaining contenets of her knapsack. They were the materials for making her moonshine, a deck of playing cards, and a change of clothes, consisting of a flannel shirt and some undergarments. Marston gave her a look of disgust at her question.
"Hell no! Everyone knows that nightstalker meat tastes terrible. The only thing that a nightstalker's body is good for is using its blood to make antivenom."
Marston then took the last items out of his satchel: his bottle of homemade tequila, several stimpaks, a few syringes of Med-X, and some jerky made from Bighorner meat. The couirier placed the rest of his assorted items around the desk, covering about half of it. Marston looked over to his friends, who had already sorted out their belongings.
"So now what, boss," Cass asked as Marston briefly yawned before answering.
"Hm, looks like everything we have on our persons is accounted for. However, there's still on the stuff I keep on the Pipboy," Marston said as he tapped two fingers on the device on his wrist.
"And there's still the stuff that's kept in ED-E."
The Eyebot gave off a beep at the mention of his name.
"So you want to do inventory on everything we had with us when we got transported to Remnant," Boone concluded as the courier replied with a nod.
"Yup, but we're going to do that tomorrow mornin'."
"Why's that," Cass asked as Marston took off his boots and socks, before looking at the caravan boss.
"Cass, today I caused us to travel to another world, almost got mauled by an overgrown mutt, meet a bunch of kids with superpowers and fancy weapons, and found out from a headmaster we weren't the first ones here. All in all, I'm just dead tired. So g'night."
With that, Marston lied on his bed, with his hat covering his eyes. Within a few minutes, the courier was sound asleep. Cass blinked in astonishment at how fast her employer went to sleep.
"Hm, went out like a light," she commented as she looked at the courier. She then turned towards Boone.
"Wanna play a game of caravan," she asked the sniper a she held up her deck of cards.
"Hm, why not," Boone said as Cass looked over to ED-E, who was floating in a corner of a room.
"What about you, rust bucket? Wanna join in?"
The eyebot let off a few short beeps as Cass began to shuffle the deck."
"Yeah, figured you say something about not having hands. Well, it was worth a try."
The next day…
Marston let out a relaxed sigh as he sinked into his hot bathwater. He placed his feet on the rim of the tub, flexing his toes a bit. The soles of his feet had been toughened and callused from all of the walking he had done as a courier.
Marston felt his muscles becoming less tense as he relaxed in the water, and the sweat and dirt that he had accumulated from the previous day wash away from his body. He wondered if the people of Remnant would take something as simple as this for granted. For anyone living in the Wasteland, a hot bath would be considered a luxury. He remembered when he grew up on his family farm, which was some ways east from the Colorado River, and a mile walk from a settlement called Tully. His mother would make him and his younger siblings bathe in a metal tub.
Marston sat up in his bath, the water swishing and swooshing from his movements, and ran his hands through his hair. He then stood up and got out of the tub, letting the water drip down from his body and onto the tiles of the bathroom floor. His Pip-Boy was sitting on the counter next to a towel and an outfit that he had selected for the day. He grabbed the towel and used it to dry himself off, starting by scrubbing his hair dry. Marston then looked at himself in the mirror as he finished his drying.
Marston had a well-built frame with a fair bit of corded muscle on it. He wasn't exactly ripped like a body builder, but his muscle mass was pretty visible. His torso had been decorated with scars and tattoos. And each of the scars told a story. A diagonal scar on the lower right side of his stomach was where a frenzied Mother Deathclaw had slashed him. A mess of small stab wound scars on his left side was where one of the Ghost people of the Sierra Madre had stabbed him. And the scar right above his belly button was where he got stabbed with a knife, resulting from an argument he had gotten into over 150 caps and a bottle of bourbon.
The number of tattoos he had on his body was small when compared to his scars. On his right bicep was a tattoo of a skull wearing a cowboy hat with two old school revolvers at an angle underneath it. On his left bicep was a tattoo of a stylized 6. The last tattoo was underneath his left breast. It was of an Old-World flag. It was red that had a blue X on it that had a white border. In that blue X were thirteen white stars.
Martston started to whistle to himself as began to put on his outfit. It consisted of a tan button-up dress shirt, khaki pants, and a light brown vest that was unbuttoned. He also wore his worn-out boots, red bandana worn around his neck, and his gun belt, which now had a large belt buckle with a symbol of a bull on it. Marston then briefly scrolled through his Pip-Boy's inventory, until he found what he was looking for, and it then materialized in his hand.
Said item was a worn, dark brown, oilskin duster that the courier had taken off of the bounty hunter Caleb McCaffery. Marston had encountered him while working as a debt collector for the Garrett twins, the owner of Freeside's only casino and brothel, the Atomic Wrangler. MCCaffery was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, and thought he was faster with his shotgun than Marston was with his revolver. Needless to say, the courier had proven him wrong and shot him dead before the bounty hunter could take him. He bought the caps McCaffery owned to the Garrets along with his hat as proof of his death. However, he kept the duster for himself, thinking of it as a trophy.
Marston then put on the coat, rolling up its left sleeve to compensate for his Pip-Boy. He then stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and ready for the day.
Cass and Boone were currently having coffee, with the grounds being made from roasted honey mesquite pods and coyote tobacco. ED-E, on the other hand, was currently floating around the room, doing nothing in particular. Marston took the coffee pot, which was sitting on an electric hot plate on his desk, and pulled himself a mug.
"Enjoyed your bath," Cass asked as she leaned back in her chair, pouring a bit of whiskey into her coffee. Marston simply nodded as he took a sip of his own coffee.
"Yup, it was relaxin' and loosened up my muscles," Marston said as he placed his cup back on the desk, right next to That Gun. The courier then picked up his sidearm, twirled it, and holstered it. He then clapped his hands to gather as he looked his three companions.
"So, shall we get started?"
"Why not, we got nothing better to do," Cass said, while ED-E let out a beep of agreement and Boone simply nodded in response. Marston brought up his Pip-Boy and switched over to the weapons section of the Pip-Boy's Items category. Slowly, but surely, the courier's own personal stockpile of weapons appeared in his bed, covering every inch of it. Marston then lowered his Pip-Boy and smiled at his collections.
"Alright, there's all of my guns. Now ED-E, bring out all the weapons you have stored on you, got it?"
The eyebot replied with a long beep followed by a short beep before floating to the center of the room. With a flash of light, all of the weapons held within ED-E's databanks dropped onto the floor in a big pile. Marston let out a sigh as she looked at all of the weapons.
"Well, this might take awhile…"
Sometime later…
"Huh, I was wonderin' where I put this," Marston commented as he picked up a Browning Automatic Rifle out of the now dwindling weapon pile. It was a souvenir from his time at the Sierra Madre. He had removed the weapon's bipod, finding it heavy and cumbersome. He then picked up another weapon from the pile, a .357 magnum police revolver he had also found at the abandoned resort. It had served as a good substitute for That Gun while he was doing Father Elijah's work to get into the casino's vault. He was still haunted by his time there, and occasionally had night terrors about it. The sudden beeping of his bomb collar that could occur any time. The Ghost people rushing towards him like a predator after their prey, the cold green eyes of their hazmat suits staring at him…
Marston shoke these thoughts out of his head as he placed the automatic rifle in the cornor of the room next to Medicine Stick and his .45 submachine gun. He took the police pistol and placed on his desk, next to his stack of magazines and comics. Marston had also taken his personal book collection out of his Pip-Boy, placing it on top of the stack.
The courier had cleared of his bed of most of his arsenal, having placed them around the room. A few weapons on the bed still remained. Marston picked up one of them as he sat down at his desk's chair. It was a 9mm pistol that had been heavily customized, with mother-of-pearl grips that had the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe painted on them. It also had a polish nickel finish with a golden trigger. To top it all off, its body had been heavily damascened with ivy and floral details. The weapon had previously belonged to Benny, who had called it Maria. Marston had kept it after using it to kill the gangster. The gun was both a work of art and a deadly weapon.
"I still can't believe you keep that thing around," Boone commented as he sat on his bed, inspecting a 5mm assault carbine that been modified with an extended magazine, forged receiver, and light bolt. The sniper had taken some of the weapons he preferred to use out of the pile. These included the assault carbine, some frag grenades (out of many explosive throwables that were still in the pile), a customized anti-material rifle, and his old hunting rifle, which he had seldom used when he had upgraded to his Marksmen carbine, the All-American.
"What the hell do you have against Maria?"
"It's something that my old CO use to tell me, that engravings offer no tactical advantages."
"You know me, Boone. I like to take trophies off of some of the folks I've killed."
"Yeah, like all of that damn gold you got from Elijah," Cass commented as held up a bulky, grey weapon called the Compliance Regulator. It was an electroshock weapon similar to a taser, and the beams it fired would temporarily stun and paralyze its target.
"Hm, I should get a holster for this one," Marston thought to himself as he looked down at Maria. He wondered if the city of Vale near the school had any weapon shops in it. His musings were interrupted when he heard a knock on the door.
"I'll get it," he said as he placed Maria back on the desk, and went off to open the door. What greeted him was Team RWBY. Marston smirked at this as he leaned in the door frame.
"How's it going, kiddo," the courier said as Ruby beamed up at him.
"Hey there, Marston. Professor Goodwitch said that you were staying here, and we thought we might stop by… and… visit… you…"
Ruby's attention was distracted by the presence of the various weapons leaned up against the room's walls, previewed through the door ways. With a burst of rose petals, she charged into the room, checking out each and every one of them, with an excited noise coming out of her. She was acting like a kid that had been taken to a toy store. Marston just stood there, dumfounded while Weiss just pressed her hand against her forehead and sighed at her partner's antics.
"Ruby, you should wait for Mr. Marston to invite you in."
"Nah, it's alright. Come on in, you don't need to take off your shoes or anything," Marston said as he allowed the teenagers to step inside the room. He grabbed the coffee pot off of the hot plate and held it up.
"Anyone care for a bit o' coffee?"
No one took the courier up on his offer, and just shrugged and refilled his own cup. He walked over to Ruby, who was currently inspecting a riot shotgun. The weapon was a 12-gauge semi-automatic, outfitted with a pistol grip in place of the stock and loaded with a drum magazine.
"Y'know, I had a feelin' you had a thing for weapons, but I never thought you'd be this enthusiastic about it," the courier said as Ruby looked up back at the man, and sheepishly rubbed the back of her head.
"Yeah, I'm a bit of a weapons nut."
"Why do you need so many weapons, anyway? You only have two hands," Weiss asked as Marston turned around and addressed the heiress.
"Well, I usually get excitable as to what to use. Love to have my options open. Plus, it's good to have all of these on hand. Better to have 'em and not need them rather than need them and not have 'em.
Yang then picked up on what the courier was saying.
"So, what you're saying is that you're a jack of all trades."
"And a master of none. You summed it up perfectly, atomic blonde"
The three girls stared at Marston oddly at the name he just gave Yang. The courier sighed as he explained himself.
"Sorry, I like to give people nicknames. Makes it easier to remember 'em."
Weiss frowned and crossed her arms at Marston's statement.
"That's pretty rude, you know."
"Well, old habits die hard, I guess."
Blake, meanwhile, was more interested by the book collection on Marston's desk. There were eight of them in a pile and had been worn downed, complete with dog-eared pages. And all of them were composed of titles that she never heard of. The titles were On the Road, The Martian Chronicles, A Clockwork Orange, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Illustrated Man, A Boy and His Dog, Starship Troopers, and The Wasteland Survival Guide. Blake picked up the Martian book and read the name of the author.
"Ray Bradbury," she said, unfamiliar with the author. Marston walked over to her and snatched the book from her hands.
"Ah, good read. Bradbury really likes to write about Mars. Pretty creative with what he wrote."
"I see," Blake stated simply as she picked up the next book on the counter. Ruby then approached the courier, holding an all-too-familiar rifle from his personal arsenal. It was an AR-15 style rifle, with the barrel of the weapon having been shorten down. The weapon had heavy wear and sun damage on its wood and metal. The wooden handguard was held in place with metal clamps. The buttstock had a single word that was carved on each side of it. On the right side was the word "Arrêt!". On the left side was the word "Stop!".
"Ah, that's the Survivalist's Rifle. Found in the Zion Canyon, and it has served me well. It uses 12.7mm rounds, and packs quite a punch. I'd think you'd like it a lot, bright eyes."
Ruby then noticed something off about the front of the gun, and investigated its front sight.
"The front sight is bent to the left," she observed as the courier nodded at her statement.
"Yeah, that was always a downside to the thing. Makes it kinda hard to aim with it. I was never able to find the right tools to fix it."
An idea suddenly popped into Ruby's head.
"Beacon has a workshop for students to work on their weapons. Maybe there could be something there to fix your rifle."
Marston was caught off guard by the mention of a workshop. However, it did make sense. These kids go here to learn how to fight the Grimm, and it they would need a place to repair or modify their weapons.
"Huh, nice thinkin', bright eyes. Mind comin' with me? I might need some help finding it, and then findin' what tools to use."
"Sure," the young huntress chirped as she leads the courier out of his room. Cass, Boone, and ED-E stared at the three remaining teenagers, and the caravan boss spoke up.
"You know, while you're all here, you could help us put away more of our crap. We've taken care of most of the weapons, but we still have stuff like food and crafting material to put away."
"And how do you carry this stuff around," Blake asked skeptically as ED-E answered her by materializing the rest of the items kept in his databanks, which was then dumped onto the floor unceremoniously. Weiss's jaw dropped at the sight of the eyebot pulling all of it out of thin air. She suddenly gathered her bearings and shook her head.
"Look, even if we did help you organize everything, it would take a long time, and that would interfere in the time set aside for our studies, and-"
"Ah c'mon, Ice Queen, a little altruism never hurt anybody," Yang interrupted as she started to help out, gathering up canned food and various electronic components. Blake soon joined in helping, and Weiss, after a sigh, decided to help out as well.
Next Time - Résumé of A Mojave Courier
A/N: And welcome to the next chapter of Into the Great Wide Open!
I honestly wanted to get this chapter out on the 23rd, which was the one-year anniversary for the fic. However, I was delayed by Thanksgiving celebrations. And during said celebrations, I participated in a three mile marathon (my legs still hurt from it), saw the Justice League movie (which I found to be pretty enjoyable), and I did Black Friday shopping, in which I bought several games for my Xbox. These games included The Evil Within 2, Titanfall 2, Resident Evil 4, Watchdogs, Sleeping Dogs Definitive Edition, and Castlevania: Symphony of the Night.
And not a lot happens in this chapter, asides from our heroes starting to settle in, some character interactions, and we get some more hints about Marston's past (and his past we continued to be explored in the fic, including the use of flashbacks).
And one thing that should be of note is that this fic's rating has been upped to an M. That's because of the bath scene with Marston. I know that nothing graphic was described in the scene, but its better to be on the safe side. And I also upped the rating because as this fic goes on, it'll get more violent.
And now to discuss some things in this chapter. You may noticed that Marston has a tattoo of the Confederate flag on him. Its sort of an in joke with me and my friend and beta, Rocker 1600. When I originally showed him the first part of the very first chapter, he suggested that I change Marston's last name to Lee, after General Robert E. Lee (since he opposes Ulyssess, who is named after Ulysses S. Grant, Lee's Union counterpart. However, I turned that down but still gave him a hint of the Confederacy with the flag tattoo.
And the next discussion subject is Marston's book collection, and the selection of titles. For the collection, I chose books that were published in the period of the 1950s and 1960s, as well as an easter egg to Fallout 3. I chose A Boy and His Dog and The Martian Chronicles (which included the short story There Will Come Soft Rains) as a wink to two stories that served as possible influences on the Fallout franchise. Kyle Kallgren mentioned them both of them as possible of those stories as influences in his Between the Lines on the Fallout franchise. And I have a feeling that many of you say that the pre-war world of Fallout, one that was culturally stuck in the 1950s for over a century, would never allow something like A Clockwork Orange to be published. My counter-argument is that the 1950s saw works like Allen Ginsberg's Howl and William S. Burroghs' Naked Lunch being published, and both of which were challenged because they violated obscenity laws. So there's that. And before you ask, I did study the works of the Beat Generation back in high school, but I am currently getting into another tangent.
I don't know when the next chapter will get published, but I promise the time between them will not be so long. Please leave a review (as I appreciate feedback), as well as fave and follow. I'll see you all next update.