A Merc, a Bounty Hunter and an Assassin

Leading out of New Vegas, a figure shining in the bleak sun steps through the gates.
Her figure is feminine, her clothing showing considerably less armor than a common gunslinger would carry in these parts.
But the parts that would show skin, instead shows shining white metal.
A fancier kind. What is seen before us is a woman made out of metal.

But she is no robot. She moves and behaves natural, like a human would.
Even though she probably has scanners covering all fine 360 degrees of her, she still turned her head cautiously in a manner of scanning the distance, looking for threats.
Nothing.

She, or it, set out into the distance, ready to cross the harsh heat and staring sun, towards a goal, a purpose… a destination?

A considerable distance away, at a Mojave Outpost, a red haired woman walks past a bounty board, seemingly ignoring it...
Until she walks past a bounty of a man we've come to know all too well.
She asks the clerk who he is. Why he is sought… and what his bounty is.

She is informed of the prize, one pleasing her. She starts to strap up her outfit.
Wearing easily the best maintained combat armor these rugged sands ever saw.
One would be easily distracted by her curvature before noticing all the weapons she's got strapped.
Even if she didn't have a bullet vest, all her weaponry would probably stop a slug dead in it's tracks.

She steps out the door, politely kept open by a man with neatly polished leather armor.
He looked back as he kept it open, tipping his cheesy old cowboy hat. And so she tipped hers.

"Pardon my eavesdroppin' ma'am, but I couldn't help overhear you looking to hunt this man I've been hearing about."
She looked at him. Eavesdropping be mighty impolite, but this man was going somewhere with this.
"Some farmers promised me their fancy-lookin' daughter's hand if I could also catch this here man and bring him to some good ol' justice.
They'd take peace with death, or life in prison."

Then he tipped his hat downward. As if a dark cloud was to befall his words
"But he proves slippery like a roach, and the stories I catch while following his trail…
I ain' sure I can handle this one by m'self, ma'am… so I'd like to suggest a partnership. An agreement... "

She had perked an eyebrow, a welcome change from her blank stare at him.
"It'd be a mighty shame to see a fine woman like yourself be murdered by that scoundrel.
But together we might be able to take him on…
You can have whatever it is them soldier boys be promising, as long as I can watch justice bein' enacted upon 'im. I'll pull my weight, what say you?"

She looked forward again, into the distance. Thinking, almost.
Her stare returned to him, and finally she speaks.
"You're going to walk beside me, never behind me.
I ain't in the mood for any backstabbin, but you're sure as hell cheaper than a whiney-ass thick-headed hireling I'd have to snag from a camp or Vault or whatever these suicidal brats come from…"
He reaches out his hand. "Well then, let's shake on it… partner."

They set out on foot, not a vehicle to spare between them, to seek out the man that now unites them.
His trail leads to an abandoned shack. Spotted by an NCR soldier desperate to make his way out of there.

The trip was long, but this allowed the travellers to share the extent of their skill to each other.

A pair of bloatflies wanted to make trouble, and so the man showed his sharp shooting expertise.
Within almost the instant he drew his weapon, with lightning fast speed, he had taken down one of them.
This didn't sound so impressive, lest one considered the fact they were barely close enough to be hit by a sniper rifle.
Two dots in the distance, and one was gone now.

He smirked at his companion. Maybe it was just his thing to impress women.
But she lifted another eyebrow, dropped it, and immediately pulled out her caravan shotgun.
"Hah" he said "there's no way you can hit them without spending a ton of shells, or them getting closer."

She took aim, but before she took the shot, she says.
"They call me the Shotgun Surgeon…"
His eyes flare wide open. He heard of that name, one spoken of in tall tales.

He had no time to doubt the truth. A trigger was pulled, and soon no dots were to be seen in the distance.
No words were added. He found someone of skill worthy to this bounty.

Time passes, and they found the shack. No sign of the man, it'd be doubtful their target was still inside.
Still, they searched the premises. Maybe some valuable loot was to be found.

But they didn't have long to search. The door to the shack they had closed behind them was swung open, urging her to draw her weapon.
Before she could take aim, an assault rifle was pointed at her abdomen. Nobody shot, so she took the time to observe her opponent.

The rifle was held with one hand. It wasn't a light thing, yet no shaking or trembling over the weight appeared.
It was the woman made out of polished metal.

As soon as their eyes locked, a game of intimidation began. Who would fire first?
They both focussed on eachothers trigger finger. But suddenly she pulled her sidearm and pointed it sideways of her.
The man had appeared from his cover, revolver ready.
She, or it, didn't turn the head even a single bit. As though she knew he was right there.

"Well now, seems like we've found ourselves into a lil' impasse." The man joked.
He feigned his cool attitude. In truth, he was all too intimidated that the pistol pointing at him was perfectly aligned to his forehead.
So he gently released the hammer of his weapon, and holstered it.
"You ain' shot us yet, metal lady. You got a noggin' in there, and a reason we're still alive."

It turns her head to him. "You seek a man… a man that has been disturbing everything in the Mojave.
I seek him too. He is to be removed as a problem. We share this goal. I seek to help."
He raised his hand. "Then lower your weapons, and tell us your story. Why would we trust you?"