Elizabeth never actually wanted to be a courier.
She could have been something else; could have joined the army, or became a wandering doctor, a teacher, a bartender. Yet she chose to be a courier. It felt right at the time.
As a courier, you sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. Kill or be killed, as they say; and Elizabeth didn't want to kill. She was a pacifist by nature, but she learned that it was necessary to survive.
She's terrified of that. She doesn't know what she has or hasn't done before she was shot in the head.
But the world around her wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. On her journey to Primm, she was only ambushed by a group of geckos, which weren't a problem for her.
She was afraid of killing people. People who feel and think and love and breathe. It was horrifying to take that away from someone with a slash of her knife or a single bullet.
She gnawed on her bottom lip as an NCR soldier warned her that Primm was dangerous, that some convicts from a prison had taken over the town, and she went on ahead since danger wasn't something that completely registered in her head.
She crossed the overpass and was almost shot again.
She dived behind a car and checked her 9mm to make sure it was loaded. She poked her head out to get a good look at the enemy. There were only a couple of convicts, so she could probably take them.
Just a couple of shots later, all the escaped convicts were dead. She never realized that she had a steady hand and a good aim.
She searched through all of their pockets and came up with just a few caps and some ammo, then pocketed them and walked to the Mojave Express office.
There was another courier lying dead against the front of the building. She closed his eyes and searched him.
It was a contract, like her own; he was supposed to deliver fuzzy dice to the Strip. Nothing to be killed for.
She finally walked into the Vikki and Vance Hotel, and was stopped by Johnson Nash, who ran the Mojave Express office there in Primm. She asked him about her lost package.
"I'll tell you whatever I can. Do you have a delivery order you can show me?" He asked her. She pulled the order out of her pockets, and handed it to him. He read it, and gave it back to her.
"You're talking about one of them packages. That job had strange written all over it. But we couldn't turn down the caps."
"What was strange about it?" She asked, putting it back in her pocket.
"That cowboy robot had us hire six couriers. Each was carrying something a little different. A pair of dice, a chess piece, that kind of stuff. Last word I had from the office, it looked like payment had been received for the other five jobs. Guess it was just your chip that didn't make it," he then sighed and looked a little irritated, "first deadbeat we hired to do the job canceled. Hope a storm from the Divide skins him alive. Well, that's where you came in."
"He canceled?"
"Yeah, got this look when he saw you next down on the Courier list. His expression turned right around, asked me if your name was for real. I said sure, as lack of rain, you were still kicking. Then he turned down the job, just like that. I asked if he was sure, it was good money. No, let 'Courier Six' carry the package, that's what he said- like that Mojave'd sort you out or something. Then he just up and walked out."
"Do you know who he was? Where he went?" She felt uneasy.
"No idea. Sounds like you two had a history for him to act like that. And turn down the money, too. Hope he didn't see any trouble in that package of yours. Maybe he thought your name was bad luck. Not for me to say."
"I wouldn't remember him if we had met. I'm looking for some men who stole my package. Some Khans and a man in a checkered suit. Did they pass this way?"
"Well that you mention it, a few nights back on of the townies was out scavenging for supplies. He said he saw a fella with a daisy suit come through with some of them Great Khan misfits. They was talking about a chip."
She nodded, "One of those men shot me. I need to know the best way to get to them."
"Well for that your best bet is going to be talking to Deputy Beagle. Since they came to town he was keeping a good bit on notes on them, and he was slinking around Bison Steve when your pretty-boy friend came through. He may have heard where they were going."
He explained to her that he was in the hotel across the way, at the Bison Steve.
She found him after fighting a lot of those escaped convicts.
The deputy was a coward and extremely arrogant, and he gave Elizabeth some really bad vibes. After she cut his ties, and met him outside the casino, she asked where that man in the checkered suits was.
He told her that they were talking about going to Novac through Nipton to meet a contact there.
She made a mark on the map on her Pip-Boy on both of those locations, and left Primm in a hurry. The town was shit and she wasn't tired enough to stay and rest a while.
In the distance, she could see a large structure. She decided against her better judgment to check it out.
It was called the Mojave Outpost, controlled by the NCR. Just a place where the caravans wanted passage into Nevada from California.
She walked into one of the buildings, curiosity getting the better of her.
It was also rather dull. Just a bar with a grumpy tender and shitty wine. Nonetheless, Elizabeth bought some and sat down to at least try to enjoy it.
It was then when she saw her...
Time seemed to stop as she stared at this unnatural beauty sitting next to her.
She was drunk and pretty angry, but that made her even more beautiful. She had red hair that was tied back and a cowboy hat and a very freckled face, and Elizabeth instantly fell in love.
She must have been staring because the girl scowled at her.
"Looking for trouble?" She asked.
Elizabeth was silent for a little bit. "Uh... I mean, no, only looking around," She stuttered.
"Well, keep those eyes up and turning- or I'll set 'em spinning. Got no time for gawkers... or anyone looking for something I ain't selling."
She was either really mad or really drunk, probably both. "Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked.
"All right? No, I'm not all right. Drinking to forget, and it's only getting me mad instead. Whiskey always gets my temper up- now more than ever," She took another few drinks of her drink, then refilled it, "Drinking used to cause all sorts of trouble back West- before I punched enough people, that is, and they learned to lay when the whiskey hit."
"Back West?" She asked, turning her body towards the angry woman.
"Yeah, if you couldn't tell, I'm not from around here and I'm not NCR. I run a caravan... or did. Lost my caravan heading north, the driver burned to ask- and they didn't even take the cargo, the just burned that, too."
Elizabeth took another sip of her wine, "Might have been Fiends, they're crazy like that."
"My guess is Legion, they're trying to cut NCR's supply line... and the Mojave Outpost is proof. Got us locked up tighter than a New Vegas virgin," She finished her glass and began to pour another cup when the bartender demanded money. She sighed and handed her a few caps, and then poured another drink. "No caravans in, out and just try arguing with Jackson about it. 'Roads aren't safe,' he says. No shit, you washed-out old fuckup, I didn't need a Brotherhood Scribe to tell me that."
Elizabeth laughed, "That's a good impersonation."
"Yeah, he's been with NCR so long all he can see is the worst outcome of everything, so he doesn't do anything. Jackson won't let me head north, it's not safe... and even though my caravan's gone, my caravan papers are keeping me here. So if you came here for work, my advice? Go find the Crimson Caravan branch, south of Vegas. They can help you out."
Elizabeth took a large swig of her wine. "Anything you can tell me about the Outpost?"
"You're looking at it. It's a watering hole without much to brag about. It's like a Brahmin drive gone wrong- supposed to be a gate north, but you come here, you get caught in the pen. Better to head back home. If you don't have a gun and a will, don't matter much what you do when you reach here, except stare at the fucking monument outside."
"That fucking monument outside?" She asked, scolding herself for cursing.
"Don't even tell me you missed it coming in. It's like NCR showing its dick to all the East. If the Republic out as much effort into protecting the East as they put into those two asinine giants outside, then they'd be worth that monument. Statues of two men shaking hands covered in blood don't seem to be nothing to brag about."
She didn't recall them being covered in blood, but that could also be because she has the worst memory on earth. "Covered in blood?"
"I'm speaking figurative, isn't any blood on their damn hands. Course, when Caesar comes walking through here, there'll be blood for real. And after the blood dries in the sun, he'll melt that piece of Jet-induced sculpture down and reshape it into a bull. Which by my reckoning is making up for a deficiency of his. But no matter what the state of his pecker, he's sure giving the West a good fucking."
"So, what are the statues supposed to be?"
"One's a ranger, one's an NCR trooper, supposed to represent unification of West and East... or some such shit. As far as those two iron lovebirds go, they've got more spine that you'll see in a year from the NCR government."
She chuckled, then finished her glass of wine. "Well, I'll have to be going then. I'll go talk to the Crimson Caravan and... thanks."
She patted Elizabeth on the shoulder, and smiled. "You're welcome. By the way, I never got your name."
"Elizabeth."
"Cass, nice to meet you." She held out her hand, and she shook it. Her grip was strong, and her hand was very warm, fitting perfectly with Elizabeth's larger one. She smiled and let her hand go when she realized she had held on longer than needed.
Cass smiled and wished her luck on the trail, and Elizabeth walked to the exit, glancing back before leaving.
A/N: i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay i'm gay that's why everyone in this story is a lesbian also i love cass so much also did you know i'm also a lesbian? because i am