"Look, another one," Jack Morrison pointed a red finger to a set of footprints in the dirt. Easily twice the size of a normal person's footprints and heavily embedded into the dirt.
Walking over, Ana Amari, draped in her hood and mask, crouched to his side and examined the footprints for herself. With a tap of her temple, the mask opened, and her one eye scanned the footprint. Although it lost some of its definition from the wind, it was obvious whoever came through here was wearing a very large suit of armor. And they trekked all the way from the old Watchpoint and through the desert in it. Two of them.
"Do you recognize these footprints?" Ana asked.
"Nope," Jack shook his head. "Never seen this model before. One that lets them trek across an entire damn desert."
"Talon?"
"Maybe, but that doesn't explain this."
He then pointed a red finger to another set of tracks, much smaller and lighter than the big boot. They belonged to an animal, a dog. These tracks also trailed all the way from the Watchpoint. However, it wasn't just the mere presence of dog tracks that threw them off, but it was also the presence of another set of dog tracks accompanying them, where three of the four pawprints weren't normal and looked like they were mechanical claws. The only normal thing they found in the dirt was one set of tracks made by a person's boots, telling them that this group consisted of 5-6 individuals, including the dogs.
They followed these all the way from Watchpoint: Groom Lake, after seeing the destruction of the Western portion of that base for themselves. Ground zero being the building that was vaporized to oblivion. Since everything was under tons of rubble or surrounded by a heavy U.S. Military presence, they couldn't find much. However, there was another deterrent they didn't expect to find.
"That building site was a branch of the R&D department for Groom Lake, so Talon must have been doing something in there," the ex-Strike-Commander said, looking back at the direction they came from.
"What exactly happened in there before they took it over?" Ana asked.
"Classified."
Ana just cast an unamused look at him, resulting in Jack to chuckle under his mask.
"Advanced aircraft, satellite surveillance, weapon prototypes, and the Slipstream, to name a few," he listed off. "But never anything on the scale of a tactical nuke, which seems responsible for the radiation there."
"Which also explains why Talon cleared house," Ana added but looked down at the tracks with uncertainty. "But why are these out in the desert?"
"They were probably running away from something. Maybe running away from Talon."
"So, you think whoever made these were prisoners or enemies of Talon?"
"Who busted out in unknown Power Armor with two dogs and glassed a section of the base in the process. That's what I think, at least."
Ana frowned, only having assumptions and vague ideas to go by from following this trail of prints. She looked around from where they were, the Mojave sky starting to get dark. Then, her veteran eye spotted something in the distance, under an alcove created by a lone boulder in the middle of the open desert field. She gestured to Morrison and they quickly made their way down the mountain to where the rock was. Reaching it, they then found the remains of a campsite, with a dead campfire and disturbed ground signifying a group had sheltered here for a while. Looking around, Morrison spotted more tracks, the two then followed these tracks out. They matched with what they were tailing for the past day from Groom Lake and followed them to the old road that was a ways from the rock.
"This is Interstate 95," Jack said when they reached the concrete. "People barely use these roads, anymore, ever since flying cars and hypertrains took over."
"I can tell," Ana replied, staring off in both directions the cracked road went to, seeing nothing remarkable on either of them. To the side, she saw something metal glint in the dirt and walked over to see a highway sign for the interstate. The paint fading as the sign itself was dented and rusted, with a couple charming bullet holes. "Gangs still use these roads because of the desolation, don't they?"
"Yup."
"Hmph, well, now our trail's gone cold. I don't see any other tracks on this old road."
"Hold up."
Ana perked a brow and watched as her partner walked to the other side of the road. His red eye examining something in the concrete, crouching down to it. The Sniper watched his back as he did so, but he waved her over and went to his side to see what he was looking at.
Skid marks, from a wheeled car.
"Hmm, vintage."
Goodsprings, Nevada, Mojave Desert
2076
Senior's residence had fallen under a deep silence when their guests had returned from their short little escapade into town. Leaving in a panicked frenzy. Also, catching the attention of a few of the resident townsfolk in this dusty little berm. It was more attention than they asked for.
The house kept quiet as everyone retreated into the kitchen. The guests sitting on one side of the table while Jennette sat on the other. Veronica, being the one who came across the discovery that made them run across town, sat silently between Craig and Parmley. Nestling a cup of coffee that the omnic graciously offered to her. She declined wanting anything else, even breakfast. Sipping the coffee helped keep her mind awake, at least.
Everyone's attention then shifted the doorway when Senior walked into the room, shotgun in hand. He set the gun against the kitchen counter and went to the coffee pot, quickly pouring himself a cup before he turned around and sat down on the chair next to Jennette. After he took a very generous sip from the mug, he bared a very stern expression on his wrinkled face. Directing it at their guests.
"What the hell was that all about?" he growled, making them all look up at him.
"Clark-"
"No, Jennette, these people came into our house, slept in John's room, and literally caused a ruckus first thing in the morning over a damn sign! I don't care if they 'saved' us the night before, I want a goddamn answer before I do anything else with them."
"Clark, Joseph might hear us if you keep yelling! He's going to get worried."
"He should be! I've told him we can't trust these hero-types – Overwatch or otherwise! All they do is bring trouble to ordinary people like us or get themselves killed trying. They were supposed to clean up the Deadlock Gang years ago but haven't! What are they ever going to do for us, folks in the middle of nowhere?"
He leaned back into his chair, more than flustered, looking back to his coffee with just a scowl. Jennette sat there and looked at him before she reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. Clark barely reacting to that.
"Maybe we can start by giving you an answer," Veronica said, making them look up. "I think it's overdue by this point."
"Oh, yeah?" Senior said, arching an eyebrow. "Why don't you start by telling us where the hell you're from?"
Despite initially offering to answer, Veronica seized up and grimaced. Knowing from everything that they've witnessed, it was obvious that they were not in their own world, anymore. The technology, the setting, and even the people. Especially the people. In an alternate Goodsprings in an alternate Nevada in an alternate America on an alternate Earth. No scientific marvel or mystery coming close to the very journey they had partaken in and where it brought them. And she had to explain all of that to some poor folks living in a small town. Even for an ex-Scribe, that proved hard to muster.
"They're from out West," Jennette said, trying to lighten the tension. "That's what her friends told me during breakfast."
"No, that's not entirely true," Veronica said, casting her head up from her coffee.
They looked at her, making her feel a little uneasy to elaborate. She wanted to lie, to tell them something that would satisfy them and let her, and her friends, still pursue their mission. Something that wasn't as mind-blowing or as asinine as the truth. What right did she have to tell them the things she was about to? Come into their homes and start going on like some vagabond on chems, except everything she witnessed was 100% truth. There wasn't going to be an easy way to break this to the family who might kick them out the second she tells the truth.
But like Nathan, she went forward with it.
"We're from a different world," was the bluntest, and possibly tamest, way she could put it. But she still managed to sound asinine in the process.
Senior and Jennette stared at the woman, their gazes stuck on her for moments after she spoke. Then, the old man just shook his head.
"Yeah, right," he vehemently dismissed. "Don't bullshit me, where are you really from?"
"California," Boone answered suddenly, making Veronica look at him.
"Figures. Why are you trying to lie, lady-?"
"New California Republic," Boone then continued, making the old man stop to process the words he just spoke. "Enlisted with the 1st Reconnaissance Sniper Battalion of the New California Republic Army. Serial Number: 55-242-975; Rank of Corporal. Sir."
The Sniper then just stared at the old man as he pulled off his beret and threw it across the table. Senior grabbed the red beret and looked down to see the patch of his battalion. Two rifles crossed behind a skull with the motto "The Last Thing You Never See" below it and "NCR Recon 1st" above. It looked weathered and authentic as if it had been through several tours. Senior looking up at him in confusion.
Then, Parmley stood up.
"Private Parmley, New California Republic Rangers, 3rd Battalion, Bighorner Company, 5th Platoon. Stationed at Ranger Station Charlie close to Novac, off I-95, sir," the Ranger sounded off, stiff as a board.
"I-95? Wait- Wha- What are you-?"
"Bark!" Rex suddenly let out, making everyone look at him, especially the hosts.
Looking at him and reaffirming that he wasn't like most dogs. Never even hearing of an actual "cyberdog" in any sense of the word. Especially as his brain floated around in a dome of what might as well be mystery liquid to them. Almost otherworldly.
"We were sent here by friends in an advanced research facility called 'Big Mountain'," Veronica continued, not wanting to stop. "They sent us here to find our friend, who used a device that apparently teleported him to this world. Our friend is what you guys refer to as 'The Man in Black Armor'. We're trying to find him and bring him back home."
Even after giving him the answer he asked for, Senior and Jennette just stared at them. A beyond dumbstruck expression on the old man.
"Wait a fucking minute!" he said, holding up his hands and rocketing up from his chair. "If you're from a different world, then why the hell do all of you look like normal people? How the hell do you know what Nevada and California are? Why are all of you speaking English?!"
"Let me rephrase it then: Alternate Dimension," Veronica stated, with a straight face. "We're from Earth, it's just… Different from this Earth, somehow. We're from America, albeit, the charred, nuclear remains of what used to be the Western United States. Back home, it's the year 2285. 208 years after the Great War that sent everything back to the Stone Age… What year is it here?"
"2076…" Jennette answered, bringing a hand up to the collar of her shirt. "Great… War?"
"And so far, this place looks nothing like the Pre-War America we know."
"How do you know?" the old man was quick to question, leaning forward on the table and looking at her straight in the eye.
The ex-Scribe looked at her coffee, trying to think of what else to say. Thinking back to the old history books she read in her free time when her ex-Brothers and Sisters weren't annoying her about it.
"How many Commonwealths are in America, right now?" she asked, straight-faced, again.
"'Commonwealths'?" Senior asked. "I don't know what you're-"
"Did America repel the Chinese from Anchorage, yet?"
"Chinese? What-?!"
"Did America invade mainland China, yet? Is the European Commonwealth now in ruins? Has Canada been annexed? How long has the United Nations been dissolved?!"
Veronica was practically yelling by this point, too, standing up from her seat and leaning onto the table as she stared at Senior. An almost deranged look on her face after she asked those questions, not wanting the correct answer but their answer, to confirm if her suspicions are true. Senior was too taken aback to respond in time.
"No," Jennette answered for him, placing another hand on his shoulder as she leaned in. "America never invaded China, the European Union is still intact, Canada still has sovereignty, and the United Nations has not been disbanded."
"So, it's true, then. We're in an alternate dimension," Veronica said, receiving the answer. "And an alternate Goodsprings."
She sat back down in her chair, her expression blank as the empty table in front of them, feeling all the energy get sucked out of her from that little tirade. Her head spinning in circles. Boone and Parmley immediately went to comfort her or at least trying. Meanwhile, Jennette tried to do the same for Senior.
"She's like Tracer, then," they suddenly heard someone speak, snapping their heads to Joseph standing in the kitchen doorway.
"Joseph, please-" his grandfather started but got interrupted.
"She was gone for a while after the Slipstream broke, wasn't she? Maybe that's what happened to her. She talked about feeling like she was in different places before Winston got her out. What else would've happened?"
"It does explain all the strange things they have with them," Jennette said in a hushed tone. "Also explains why there were out in the middle of nowhere when you found them. Not to mention, they seemed clueless about certain things when I talked to them earlier, even Overwatch. All of them, not just Veronica. And none of them seem like they're out of it, Clark."
Clark looked at her, his eyes addressing her metal features. Then, looking at the red beret he was still clutching between his hands.
"I still can't fucking believe any of this," he said, but not nearly as dismissive as before. Sounding more tired than frustrated. "And even if everything they said was true, how the hell am I supposed to help them? I can't exactly DM Overwatch, and even if I could, that's a lot of potential skin off my back."
"You don't have to contact them or take us to them, directly," Veronica said. "We just want to be pointed in the right direction of finding our friend. I promise we'll find a way to be out of your hair as soon as possible. We'll leave Goodsprings to find him."
"Yeah, and how far will that get ya'? Do you even know how to drive?"
"We can walk."
Senior scoffed, getting up from his chair and unable to believe anything he heard over the past couple of minutes. He began pacing around the kitchen, though, thinking over what he should do with them. One moment, he thought about calling the Feds and letting them be the Law's problem. Another moment, he thought of grabbing the shotgun on the counter and running them out of his house and out of town. Next moment, he looked at his grandson and saw him looking up at him with expecting eyes. He didn't like "heroes" like his grandson, but they were still here because of them.
Their thoughts were disturbed as someone knocked on his front door, everyone becoming quiet the second after. Senior looked at everyone before walking towards the door.
"Stay here," he told their guests.
The knocking persisted until he got to the front door and opened it to reveal a man in a khaki uniform, a utility belt with a gun around his waist, a big brimmed hat on his head, and a shiny seven-pointed star on his left breast. The man was younger than the old man but still seemed older than most, around middle-age. Behind him was the black-and-white squad car, parked and floating in front of the porch.
"Billy?" Senior said, his face scrunching up.
"Howdy, old man," the local Sheriff greeted.
"The hell do you want?" Senior questioned, his eyes squinting under the sun.
"I got called here for a disturbance. Apparently, folks saw a group of strangers start running around town, causing a commotion of things up by the road. Was told they were around your house."
"Why the hell would anyone call you?"
The Sheriff frowned a little but did a good job suppressing it. Trying to, at least. Meanwhile, Veronica and some of the others crept along the hallway, keeping their backs to the wall as they inched closer to the door. Eavesdropping on what was happening outside. Aware they were the reason for the Sheriff's appearance.
"Listen, if there's any trouble around here, I should know where it is. The sooner I know, the sooner we can get rid of it and keep the town relatively peaceful. For everyone's sake," he reasoned.
"Jesus, Billy! Is that what you think?" Senior raised his voice.
"I'm just looking out for everyone else. This town and everyone in it has been through enough, and we don't outside trouble messing it up. Clark, just-"
"Don't call me that. You lost that privilege a long time ago."
The way he spoke to him let Veronica know Billy wasn't welcomed to his house. As she listened, she began to feel sorry that she and her friends were the reason they were going through this. That little stunt they pulled drawing attention in more ways than one. Wishing she could be out of their hair as soon as possible. For a second, she considered going out there and just alleviating this situation, talking to the Law Enforcement authority herself.
Peeking around the corner for a moment, she looked back to her friends beside her.
"Okay, if the situation out there gets any worse, we'll just go out there and talk to him," Veronica said to them. "The sooner we're out of these poor folks' hair, the better. Besides, that Sheriff might be able to help us find Overwatch and lead us to him if we help."
"Uh-uh," she watched Joseph shake his head. "The law doesn't take kindly to Overwatch or folks like you. You'll get arrested if they think you're with them," he whispered to her.
"What? Why? I thought they were heroes?"
"They used to be, but a lot of people didn't like them anymore, so they broke up. Back when I was still a baby."
"Wait, then why do I keep hearing about some Overwatch group now? The one my friend's with?"
"That's the New Overwatch, but they're not as big as they used to be. They're not even supposed to be a thing."
"What do you mean?"
"They're illegal," Jennette answered. "They're not an officially recognized organization. They're rogue, not working or fighting for anyone. Not recognized by the U.N. or anyone else. And they've been in the news a lot because of it."
'Even in another world, Nathan finds fitting company,' Veronica thought, almost amused if it weren't for the implications that brought with it.
Unfortunately, the noises down the hall brought them back to the conversation at the front door. Things becoming more unpleasant as it went on, Senior getting more tired of the Sheriff's presence by the second. However, Veronica had a feeling this was more than just animosity towards law enforcement that seemed to be getting the old man worked up.
"Look, I'm just trying to work with the hand that's been given to me," Sheriff Billy said. "As much as I want this to change, they're not going anywhere anytime soon. And they've done more for this town than anyone else in the past ten years. Not even Vegas gave as much of a damn about us as them."
"That's what you want Goodsprings to be known for? A hovel for those highwaymen? Do you even hear yourself?!"
"No, but nobodies gotten hurt in a long time and I want to keep it that way."
"Yeah, that you know of. They're snakes, Billy, and you're taking them for their word."
"What? Do you think I can take them all down? Bring out my badge and make them put their hands up? I don't have the metropolitan police behind me, I'm just one of a few that's still even around here. You know the LVMPD is too chickenshit to do anything, anyway. They might gather up all their friends, again. And remember what happened the last time we tried to stand up to them?"
Senior was quiet when he asked, but his hands balled into fists so tight that his old knuckles turned even whiter. Veronica easily imagining what his expression currently was as she saw the Sheriff's blood run cold.
"Shit, I-I didn't mean it like that. I-I'm sorry. I-"
"John would be ashamed to see what happened to you," Clark coldly said to him, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Look, I can't just go and risk the lives of a few good men and women to take them on. I'm trying to take care of everyone. I'm not a goddamn super soldier."
"He wasn't any of those things, but he had more balls than you ever will."
The Sheriff's mouth went agape, unblinking as he looked at Senior, who stood there as solid as stone. They stood in silence, neither of them saying anything to the other, almost quiet enough to hear the breath of the ones hiding.
"Get the fuck off my porch," Senior demanded.
Billy glanced at him one more time before sighing and turning around, walking back to his patrol car.
"I tried to help ya', you know," he said, before getting to his car.
The next minute or so was silent as Senior kept standing in the doorway and watched as the Sheriff got into his car. Eventually, the car began to move and pull away from his house. Veering into a road and driving away.
Clark was silent for the few moments he stood there before he closed the door and turned to walk into the hallway. When he reached the intersection of his house, he saw everyone standing in the hallway to the kitchen, having just listened to their entire conversation. Veronica the closest to the corner against the wall.
"Hey, I'm…" she started to apologize.
"I don't want to hear it," he dismissed her, walking away and going to the opposite hall, where his room was. "I want you out of my house by tomorrow morning."
"What?! But we just got here!"
"And in that time, you've already caused more trouble than you're worth. Haven't even been here for a full day and the town's already being threatened by a band of outlaws."
"We didn't mean for this to happen."
"Hero-types never do, yet here we are."
"We're just trying to find our friend!" Veronica suddenly burst out, her own patience starting to run thin in the morning.
Her sudden outburst made Senior pause for a moment and look over his shoulder towards her.
"Then go find him," he said, saying nothing else as he walked away.
Veronica didn't know what else to say when he went to his room and closed the door. Sensing that the old man now wanted nothing to do with them. As she stood there, staring at the hallway, Boone walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, it's okay," he assured. "We got this far, we don't need his help. He sure as hell didn't want any of ours."
"I'm sorry, Veronica," Jennette then walked up to her, grabbing her shoulders. "He's usually like that every time he comes around. They have bad history between each other. Only got worse when the gangs started rolling around and after…"
The machine hesitated, dipping her head as she thought of what to say next.
"Well, I'm sure you heard all of it," was all she wanted to say about that. "Look, I'll try to talk to him. Wouldn't be right to just leave of all you out there, even if y'all seem like trouble. Please, stay here."
Jennette left her side and walked over to Senior's room, knocking and calling to him. The door opened, and she glanced to the group of Wastelanders before going inside. The door closed after she went.
"You're not going to leave, right?" Joseph asked all of them, worried that they might be gone the next day. "All of you just got here, and I have so many cool questions to ask you guys. I've never met interdimensional travelers, before!"
"Sorry, kid," Parmley said, crouching down to his eye-level. "Your old man doesn't seem to want us here."
"That sucks. I thought you guys would come here to take care of Deadlock once and for all."
The Ranger regarded the little boy sadly before sighing and patting one hand on his shoulder before standing up.
"I guess that's it, then," he said, hands on his hips. "Expected our welcome here to last a little longer, but… Eh. So, what's the plan now?"
"We're not leaving," Veronica said.
Both Boone and Parmley blinked, caught off guard by what she said. Only sounding defeated just a couple of moments, earlier. Then, she turned around, her face as sure as anything. Despite what the situation had turned into prior, seeing that face helped set Boone a little at ease.
"We're staying, and we're helping," Veronica clarified, putting her foot down. "Because I think we just found a way to earn the old man's trust."
"What?" Parmley asked.
Veronica smiled as she crouched down to eye-level with Joseph.
"This town is being preyed upon by bandits, right?" she asked.
"Yeah!" Joseph nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. "They've been around for years, always bullying me and grandpa. You were there!"
"'Deadlock', right?"
"Yeah! Grandpa says they deal in 'arms-trafficking', whatever that means. They always ride on motorcycles too. They're always loud even though they don't use gas."
"Hmm, I take it they don't hang around town? Where is their base?"
"I don't know. Grandpa might, though."
Upon hearing that, Veronica stood up and looked to opposite end of the house. Without hesitating, she took one step forward but was stopped as Boone reached out and grabbed her elbow.
"Wait, are you sure about this? This all seems a bit sudden," he said.
"Boone, we can't just leave town with no idea where to go, and we can't just leave the old man, him, and this town to deal with those thugs," she responded, gesturing her head to the child with them. "We won't be able to get far, but if we help them, we might. We rode into a town with a problem, a gang problem, and doesn't that sound like something up our alley."
"Hmph," the Sniper let her go. "We're just missing one more member."
Veronica smiled before turning around and walking to the room. Somewhat hesitantly, the others followed.
Reaching the door, she could hear Jennette and Senior talking, not arguing but having a very heated discussion from their tones, alone. She wrapped one hand around the doorknob and took a deep breath. Eventually, she twisted the knob and opened the door. When it swung open and she took one step inside the room, she was surprised to see Senior had already made his way to the door and was about to walk out into the hall. He was also surprised to see her at his door.
"Can't you knock? What do you want now-?"
"We'll take care of the gang for you," Veronica said, not missing a beat as she looked him dead in the eye.
Senior blinked.
"What?" he asked.
"You heard what I said; We'll take care of these 'Deadlock' bandits and free the town from them."
"…In exchange for what?"
"For your help, of course."
Senior frowned, but Veronica maintained her composure as she stood in front of him. Not backing down from her offer. His eyes drifted to see her friends standing with her, along with his grandson. Those two dogs standing beside him.
"What makes all of you think you got what it takes?" he questioned.
Veronica laughed, for the first time in what seemed like a while. She let out a genuine, hearty chuckle.
"Mister, even though you already don't, you wouldn't believe half of the things that we're used to fighting back home, especially when we were with 'The Man in Black Armor'," she said with a blatant smirk, noting how ridiculous that name was. "Crazed fanatic slavers, bands of raiders hopped on chems and all sorts of nasty stuff in between. I don't like bragging, but a bunch of convicts on motorcycles doesn't sound like much, especially with what we have. You already saw a small sampling of it."
Senior arched an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms over his chest. Despite standing in front of a band of Wasteland Veterans, the old man kept his composure as he frowned at all of them. Veronica worried that he was still going to say no in the back of her mind.
"Good," he said, making her feel relieved but then confused. "I was coming out here to ask you guys the same thing. Make all of you useful for once."
"Really? It's good to see we both share the same mindset when it comes to bandits," she said, smiling warmly. "You know where they are?"
"Nope, but I know someone who does, and he just left my front porch."
By the time the sun had gone down in the West, the little town reverted to its even quieter and sleepier self. Becoming even more of a ghost town when the few lights it had went dark. However, as natural as any other town, the saloon became the busiest part of this little place. The residents and townsfolk not having much of anything else to do with their pensions or measly wages in this dusty berm. As people walked or parked to get inside the old saloon and drink the night away, on the other side of the street, Clark and the Wasters waited in the dark. The Wasters gazed upon the saloon, seeing another familiar sight in this familiar town. Veronica preferred the flashier look of the saloon back home, staring at the words "Pioneer Saloon" painted in black across its adobe front. Flashes of the ruined Goodsprings they left appeared, but she didn't want to be pained by them for long.
Finally, after waiting for minutes, the black-and-white body of the patrol car that visited them earlier pulled up to the saloon. The driver's door opened, and the local Sheriff climbed out, unaware of the group spying on him before he climbed onto the saloon porch and went inside.
"Bastard always comes here to drink every damn night," Senior explains. "That's why I come here in the afternoons."
Checking the road, first, he walked out of cover with the others in tow. The sounds and smells of the saloon getting closer as they walked across the road. As they got within feet of the porch, neon party lights and the smell of stale wood brought them back to the Goodsprings they knew, oddly.
When Senior opened the door and they filed in, Veronica and Boone were hit with a wave of nostalgia and novelty. Parmley just hit with novelty, but a strange one. The interior layout was vastly different than the Prospector Saloon, with the bar immediately being seen on the left against a wall that separated the rooms. To the right of that, there was an assortment of chairs and tables. There were signs, pictures, and neon lights all over the walls and on the bar, an old jukebox or two posted at the end of the room, and dusty old ceiling fans hanging over everything at crawling speeds. It honestly startingly different from back home, the holographic cash registers posted along the bar and a large TV screen hanging in the corner playing what looked like a sports game in superb color and definition. The music that played was nothing like home but caught their interest all the same. The atmosphere was foreign but alien to them.
"The hell is that?" Boone frowned, hearing instrumentals that didn't sound like instruments.
Veronica was more enthusiastic about the foreign music.
"Hot damn, tourists!" they suddenly heard someone yell and looked to see an older, blonde woman tending the bar. Her eyes as bright as the neon with a big smile on her face. "And some handsome, young fellers, too! How can I help y'all?"
"They're with me, Trisha," the old man said, pointing to them. "Just gonna show them around, maybe get a drink or two for them."
"Ol' Senior with a bunch of young people? What's all this about?"
"You'll know soon enough, Trisha."
"Knowing you, that's as comforting as a prickly pear up my ass. Anyways, welcome. Holler if y'all want drinks, y'hear? Don't break anything."
"Well, that's a fine way to greet patrons," Veronica muttered, only her friends hearing what she said.
Following Senior, they went into the left portion of the saloon that was separated by the wall. There, they saw rows of booths along either side of the wall. Only a few of them were populated, and none of them seemed too energetic about anything even with their drinks. However, the locals cast their eyes up with noticeable interest and surprise as they noticed the trio of outsiders following one of their own. Senior leading them to a booth that was at the far end of the room. Occupied by one lone Sheriff, already guzzling on a large bottle of beer for himself. Too occupied with drinking, he didn't notice the group of people walk up to his booth until it was too late. His eyes practically bugging out of their sockets, gently setting the bottle of beer down.
"What…?"
"Brought you those people you wanted, Billy," Senior said, before sitting down right next to him in the booth. The Sheriff tried to scoot away from him, but the old man wrapped an arm around him and brought him close under an iron grip.
The Waster's exchanged glances with each other before they filed onto the seat opposite of them. When they all took their seats, Senior grabbed one of Billy's beer and took a swig from it.
"And they have an interesting proposition for you," he said to the Sheriff, before nodding to them.
"We rode into town and heard you have a bandit problem," Veronica said, being straightforward. "We want to take care of it for you."
The Sheriff frowned, looking at all of them with disbelief. Senior maintained that grip over him.
"Why?" he asked.
"Want something in return, of course," Veronica answered. "Money, maybe some supplies, a good word for us, and some directions if you would be so gracious to."
"Lady," he scoffed. "I don't even know who you or your friends are. I might as well arrest you for coercing a local civilian."
"Really? If you wanna discuss legalities, I'm pretty sure a Sheriff isn't supposed to have his gonads in a twist from the local biker gang."
The Sheriff quickly lost his smile.
"Now listen here," he spat out, pointing a finger at her. "If you do anything, they're gonna come down on this town and there'll nothing we can do about it. You don't know them, they outlasted even Overwatch! You'll just get yourselves killed!"
"That sounds oddly familiar," Veronica said, looking at Boone. "Well, you don't know us that well either. As I've told Senior, you won't believe half of the stuff we've gone through. If you tell us where these 'Deadlock' guys are holed up, we'll take care of them by next morning."
If it was any reality star bounty hunter or mercenary that rode into Goodsprings, sat him down, and told him the same thing, the Sheriff would've thought they were stupid and insane. However, when he looked into this strange woman's eyes, he saw an unrelenting confidence and satisfied stare. As if he was speaking to someone who knew what they were talking about, what they were offering, and what they were about to do. Just three random strangers who came from nowhere and wanting to be heroes.
"You're insane," Sheriff Billy said, albeit, somewhat convinced by her demeanor.
"You'd be more insane not to accept my help," Veronica responded. "We've taken jobs like this plenty of times before. For towns… Just like this one. We got the gear and the know-how."
"And what do I get, in return?"
"Umm… A town no longer being plagued by bandits? A significant decrease in organized crime? A Sheriff who isn't neutered? It seems pretty obvious, mister."
"But, if this all backfires it-"
"It won't. We'll be thorough."
"Again, who are you?"
Veronica exchanged glances with the other before she leaned in to get closer to him.
"Friends of 'The Man in Black Armor'," she whispered.
The Sheriff's face slowly but surely became pale, bright white even in the dim light of the bar. Any sense of doubt he had was now replaced by a palpable sense of fear and anxiety. More than a small-town Sheriff could handle.
"You're with Over-?"
"No, but we're friends of someone who ended up with them, somehow. But right now, we just want to scratch your back, so you can scratch ours. Deal?" Veronica smiled.
Billy was silent, with all eyes and Senior's arm around him. Three strangers who offered to take out the local Deadlock chapter for him and the town. Seemed too good to be true.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, caving in.
"Where this gang is so we can take 'em out," Veronica said.
"Well… They're holed up at an old prison just south of here, in Jean. It's been abandoned for decades until they moved in some years ago."
"Wait… Was it a correctional facility?"
"I think so, why?"
Veronica quickly exchanged glances with Boone before waving it off.
"Just wanted to clarify. So, how many are we expecting?"
"I've never been there myself, but my guess is there's a couple dozen of them. They like to harass other local towns, too. They also got their bikes and some trucks, maybe a couple of cars. I'm certain they have a lot of guns, though."
"That's fine. We got some stuff of our own, and then some."
"You're gonna take all of them on?"
"Yeah. Kinda what we do."
"Well, Jesus Christ, hey! If you do actually pull this off, the town and I will be grateful!"
"Just more of a reason for us to do it. Thanks. We'll be back, next thing in the morning."
With a thankful nod, the ex-Scribe, the Sharpshooter, and the Ranger got up from their seats and walked to the exit of the bar, leaving him and the other patrons in relative peace to get ready. Boone giving Veronica a slight nudge for their conversation back there, for once letting pride overcome his face. Veronica just chuckling a little, reminding herself of him.
"More balls than you," Senior said to the Sheriff before getting up from his seat and taking the beer with him. "Watch yourself."
They all eventually left, Sheriff Billy watching them go until they were gone. For a minute after they left, the Sheriff took several deep breaths, having not ingested nearly enough alcohol to wipe all the anxiety away. Then, he opened his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Casting another glance at the entrance to see if they were gone, he got up from his seat and went through the back of the saloon. Already dialing someone on his phone.
