Intermission
It was a cold night in Freeside. The old beat up pre-war clock marked midnight but the patrons of the Atomic Wrangler didn't seem to care. All except this one man who stared at the clock as if he caught it sleeping with his wife.
He was sporting an old pre-war casual white shirt with a red vest along khaki pants and black shoes. His gray hair and balding scalp gave the impression that he was in his early forties and the look in his hazel eyes said: I make no friends wherever I go.
It was one of those nights where he could see himself loose his patience and give up his cover and beat the living shit out of the drunk next to him. This wretched pile of human excrement, if anyone would dare to call a man that was so drunk and smelled so bad that if you placed him next to a Brahmin no one would be able to tell who smelled worse.
The man stood up from his seat and looked over at the drunk, who was rather busy entertaining a whore that worked here, with crude jokes about Brahmins mating with supermutants.
He took a deep breath trying his best to contain his anger and he took a last sip of his beer and proceeded to drop some caps on his table and left the Wrangler only to be greeted by the cold wind of Vegas.
To his surprise the streets were deserted. The cold weather must have driven everyone away which made him feel at ease. Since his arrival with the members of the expedition, he had problems with big crowds. Rivet City being the city with the biggest population in the capital wasteland couldn't hold a candle to the amount of people that lived in the Mojave.
The first time he had entered the strip with the rest of the expedition he experienced what Vance had called a panic attack, or at least that's what that blood drinking freak said. But who could honestly trust a man whose eye's glow in the darkness and not see the hunger in his eyes as he looks at you. The man shook those thoughts away and continued to walk towards a dusty crumbled building. That was the meeting point.
He immediately regretted it, as he could still smell the horrible stench that came from that cheap whisky Bill Ronte was so in love with. The man walked towards a pillar and placed his back against it and tried to relax. The man missed his power armor but he knew the plan; he had to forget about all their confines and their warmth, strength and power and trade it for stealth and efficiency.
He closed his eyes and relaxed he had to wait a while until his contact would arrive. He remembered the ground was filled with broken bottles and debris. If anything was going to approach him it would make a big noise as it would have to step on the broken glass to get him. That meant he would have the advantage and his laser pistol would do its business.
Minutes went by and he felt sleep begin to claim him, he started thinking about his wife and dreamed of her welcoming him back with some pre-war old lingerie when a loud voice coming out of nowhere startled him.
"Tristan"
This made the paladin jump and his feet almost lost balance among the debris almost causing him to slip and hit his head against the pillar. He looked everywhere until one of the shadows took the form of a dusty behemoth.
Tristan reminded himself that he was in charge and that he should at least try to scold this man for startling him. But he knew that there was only one man in The Brotherhood of Steel capable of completing this mission and that was the man standing in front him right now.
The ever unfriendly and ever silent introverted Knight Captain Irving Gallows.
He cursed himself for bringing Gallows with him, Dusk would have been a much better and friendlier option but it hadn't been his decision it was Sarah's. He was just following orders so he steeled himself and addressed Gallows.
"You look like shit Gallows. Is that scribe girl that hard to follow that you are covered in dirt?" asked Tristan.
Gallows responded with silence. Tristan began to slowly loose his patience.
"Well? Are you gonna say anything? I need to know what's going on with the girl and her group" Tristan was met with silence once again. This behavior started to frustrate him greatly, finally when he thought he could not take any more Gallows took off his helmet: revealing a relatively young black man with dark brown eyes sporting a buzz cut haircut and a well-kept beard.
Tristan was taken back; he had never seen Gallows without his helmet. He wondered if even the pride had seen him without his helmet.
What came next was even more of a surprise; Gallows started to take off his power armor until all he had left was a very strange but at the same time familiar recon armor, leaving Tristan speechless.
"This land ain't kind on power armor" said Gallows looking at the dirt covered remains of his power armor.
"Doesn't matter now, I prefer this recon armor anyway. Sarah gave it to me; she said I should test out this prototype" said Gallows nonchalantly.
"Wait. Is that the MK II Prototype? Asked Tristan, Gallows didn't say anything he just nodded and kneeled and upholstered his new sniper rifle.
"I got what I need take this power armor and stash it somewhere, until we leave" said Gallows as he took apart his rifle and began to clean it.
Tristan was taken back and angry at the same time. Now he had to find a hiding spot for the power armor in the middle of the night in Freeside. Great, just great he thought to himself.
"What about the girl? Has she headed back to the bunker?" asked Tristan concerned that she may leave any moment and that they would lose their chance. Gallows seemed to have noticed it as well and he was quick to reassure him.
"The girl ain't going anywhere Tristan. She was attacked today by these giant mutant flies and she was injured, she's over at the Mormon fort right now being treated, so we got time" snarled Gallows.
"I take it you don't like our vacation? Asked Tristan hoping he was far enough to avoid being punched in the face by Gallows.
"There are supermutants that need to be maimed and killed and here I am playing babysitter" said Gallows as he glared at his rifle.
"Look I know this land is strange but it was the elder's decision to send us over here and I know he has our best interest in mind" said Tristan trying to soothe Gallows.
"How is getting in touch with a chapter that is more likely to shoot us than talk to us our best interest?" asked Gallows.
"It worked with the Texas chapter didn't it? Now not only we got an ally against the supermutants and a trade agreement and you got a fancy new sniper rifle right?" asked Tristan.
"The Texans are different they may be gun blazing wild men but at least they got an open mind. This chapter is too close to California to have a mind of its own" said Gallows.
"Well… I guess we'll see when we meet them" said Tristan as he watched Gallows cleaning his gun he was amazed that he had managed to get so much information out of Gallows so he felt lucky and asked.
"So… what do you think about this Courier character?" Gallows remained silent for a moment thinking, then spoke:
"He's a decent shot but not as good as the wanderer"
"Give him time Gallows, the wanderer didn't become who he is overnight I'm sure this Courier will rise to the challenge" said Tristan trying to remain optimistic.
"And if he doesn't rise to the challenge?" asked Gallows.
"Well then Sarah will send him to his death anyway" and with that both men stared at the dark blue sky and wondered what was to come next? As expected they found no answers so they waited for Veronica to wake up.
Author's Note: Hello and Happy New Year! well here i am in New years Eve trying to do a small update when i should be drunk somewhere. But i wanted to update a chapter before this year was over, now this tiny update is to give some background on the expedition and who is in charge of the expedition. Now everybody knows just how bad ass Gallows is, i just hope i did his character some justice. Anyways i'm going to try to update my other Fics so the next update may take a little while but i hope to have it out by late January so stay tuned!