ThousandSonSorcere: Yup same story just want to do it again with a different take on Six.
In the midst of silence, there was comfort, silence. The scenery reminded her of multiple raids she conducted on the legionnaires. She admitted, especially with Boone, such activities were entertaining to her. Not to mention their works benefitted the Mojave as a whole.
"Not my best work I guess."
Six let out a long yawn. The pleasant weather was persuasive in taking a nap. Alas, Six stood up, took some more food and looted the camp. She found some ammo, a scope, cloth, and even some lien cache. Among her loot Six picked up a butcher's knife and a leather sack then entered the chief's tent. Six stared at the chief's corpse, eyes closed. The bastard got to die peacefully.
"So much for your muscles."
Six opened the small box inside the tent. She pocketed the pouch of lien and a journal. For a chief he did not own many things. Not that it mattered to her. Six brought the butcher knife in the air, then slammed down the blade at the neck. Then again, and again, and again.
"Ugh."
Six pulled a cloth to clean herself once more, then placed the severed head inside the sack. At least this time she had a bigger knife, unlike the bounties from the NCR. Six smiled at the memories.
Six returned to the town and ignored the stares. Inside the town hall, she placed the sack on the table. Harland and Gordot only nodded, then paid her the rest of the agreed sum.
"Thank you." Harland said somberly. "Are you sure they're all-"
"They're dead." Six reassured. "Also, I quit."
Their eyes widened.
"Six, if what we made you do was-"
"No it's not that. I have my own business to take care of and your bandit issue is taken care of." Six said. "I think what I did paid for my stay here."
"Y-Yes, but the town needs protection with people like you."
Harland wasn't wrong. She wouldn't mind staying in a town like this. However, the ticket for her new life was at stake. A chance to start again, letting go of her old world. Hell, she was also getting a complementary mind wipe too. Six shook her head, coldly. This wasn't her Goodsprings, and it certainly wasn't the Mojave.
"I'll pack my things and get going."
Chamber cleaned, barrels polished, triggers nice and shiny. Six inspected her firearms faster and more in depth than any of Mr House's machines. Plenty of ammo and a bayonet on This Machine. Along with her survival gear and a map, the bag was lighter due to her smaller armory. Normally, she'd carry more. A shotgun, a long range rifle, strapped on her pack, and a mid ranged rifle in her hand, along with grenades and blades. Veronica called her paranoid, Six called it being prepared.
"Salem."
She rolled the word in her tongue. What was the full name?
"Mass… Massachusetts, yeah. Salem, Massachusetts."
As in, the Salem witch trials. Six did not remember where she read the book but the content was interesting enough to be remembered alongside comic books and Milsurp Review. Whether her name was intentional or not, she wondered what kind of woman she would be.
/-/
Walk, forage, eat, sleep
Walk, forage, eat, sleep
Walk, forage, eat, sleep
For three days, she was allowed to travel without a single grimm attacking her. A part of her wished it was due to her luck, but she placed her bet that it was her employee benefit with the devil. She had to admit, if this was true then she supposed she made worse deals.
Six grinned as she sat by the campfire that continued to roast her freshly skinned squirrel meat. The roasting fat trickled from the now brown and crispy meat. Six plucked the skewer off the ground, and bit into the squirrel.
"What I wouldn't do for some salt and pepper." Six muttered.
Six nibbled on the meat as she opened the map. The next frontier town was half a day away, a town named Dancing Pond. Six yawned, after finishing her food she put out the campfire, then climbed up to the tree. She tied herself to a sturdy branch and closed her eyes.
She dreamt of the Mojave. The desert, where the strong live, even thrived, in the hellish wasteland. The ruins, where she found the deep buried secret of the old world. Some useless, some with value, and some that were best left buried. She dreamt of her companions. Raul, killed by a stray bullet. Boone, dead defending Bitter Springs. Veronica, killed by the people she called her family. The mangled corpses of her companion rose, their cold hands slowly enveloped her, until-
"NO!"
Six opened her eyes and lurched forward with a gasp, she traced her fingers on a thin scar on her throat, then swallowed hard.
"It's just a nightmare," Six inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. "Just a nightmare."
The sun had yet to rise but the glimmer of orange slowly spread on the deep dark blue sky. The sun here was kinder than the Mojave, less oppressive too.
"Well…" Six muttered, "better get moving."
Six continued her journey to Dancing Pond. In the deep and pathless forest, she paused and knelt. A pack of beowulf wandered the area. The beowolves sniffed the air, growled, then lumbered on. Even as they moved further Six aimed her rifle and stayed still. It was only after the pack left Six moved once more.
The town of Dancing Pond stretched further than Goodsprings. Six removed her helmet to greet the town militia guarding the entrance.
"Welcome to Dancing Pond." The militia man said. "I don't see huntresses around here often, rarer with weapons like yours and just as young. How old are you, twenty one?"
"Yup." Six lied guiltlessly. "I'm not surprised you guys allow people with weapons, since I don't look like your average huntress."
She saw some of the mothers and old men carrying either a revolver or an old lever action rifle. Six grinned at the old weapons, while she heard of the newer weapons such as the mecha-shift, there was a reason why it was 'old' and not 'forgotten'.
"Our town may have automated defenses, but we've thwarted enough grimm attacks to stay frosty. Besides, no travelers ever start anything since they see that we're all armed." The militiaman said proudly.
"Still, it's a good thing you came with your weapons strapped. We almost took you for a bandit"
"Bandit troubles?"
"Of sorts, it's been quiet lately but we met with few before. The Morkites are pretty far but not enough that they won't try anything."
"Must be the grimms that got them." Six said with a shrug.
"Ha!" The militiaman barked. "Serves them right. Not that they have a chance of taking us over."
"Hey, a polite society is an armed society." Six said.
The older, more experienced looking militiaman nodded with an approving grin.
"Exactly, I like your style wanderer. Come on in."
An inn, a small but homely bar, and even a medium sized grocery store. Not to mention, the stone paved road was certainly an upgrade from Goodsprings. Perhaps an apt comparison was Primm, without the cheap booze, gambling, convicts, NCR, the wasteland and-
Ok maybe not like Primm…
Six placed her rifle in her room inside the inn. She tucked her pistols inside her pants, along with sneaking a small shank inside the sleeve of her coat. The barman did not even bother to ask for her ID.
"New in town?" The barman said.
"Just got in, I want to get a drink before I rest my feet. Got any whiskey?"
"That I do, would you like it on the rocks?"
"No, neat." Six said.
Cass would be rolling in her grave if she ever drank diluted whiskey.
"What kind?" The barman said.
Six's eyes perked up, and grinned excitedly.
"What do you got?" She said coolly.
"Vacuan Flames, if you like it simple and strong. I also got Rosy Red if you want something with a deeper flavor."
"I'll take the Vacuan Flame."
"Coming right up."
Sipping was the right way. Cass always said that, and anyone who drank whiskey differently was a fool. Six nursed the drink in her hand, staring at the deep pool of amber. She raised the glass silently, and took another sip.
"Hey, mister."
"Need something?"
"Do you happen to know the name, Salem?"
The barman scratched his chin for a moment.
"Can't say I have, why?"
Six shrugged and sipped her whiskey.
"It's nothing."
Being in a state of undress was a rare occasion, one that deserved a special treatment. A warm bath, a nice meal, and finally, being in a fluffy (relatively) bed. Of course, as her luck would have it, this was not to be. She may not have super hearing, but her senses were honed to the sharpest. Not to mention her implants gave her more advantages. Not enough than a hunter, from what she learned so far, but more than the average.
Six knelt on the other side of the bed where she saw the door with her rifle aiming. She breathed slowly. If the knob turned even a twitch, she'd make the intruder full of holes. A minute passed, then ten minutes, then an hour. Six lowered her rifle, but did set up a trap with her locked door. The classic rigged shotgun, replaced with two of her .45 pistols.
"Well you know what they say, make do with what you got and you can't go wrong with a forty-five. Or was it a twelve gauge slug?" Six sighed. "I seriously need to get a new shotgun."
Six crawled into her bed once more, then sighed contently. One hand on her side, and the other beneath the pillow where she held Lucky.