NOTE: Here it is, folks. The early version/first draft of the previous chapter. I usually recycle these drafts or delete them entirely but in some cases, they just get left behind as the story progresses and they all pile up at the bottom of the file directory.

Director's Cut

(Chapter: Cranberry Sauce)

Courier Six eyed the medical clinic down the street. Situated on the westernmost end of Westside, it was manned by 'volunteer specialists' from California. And it wasn't a lie. Then again, it wasn't the whole truth and everybody here knew it; it was an NCR outpost, just without the uniforms and the heavy guns.

"So far, they've been keeping to themselves," quipped one of the ghetto's militiamen. "Not doing much of anything other than patching up those who needed to be patched up."

Six remained in the obsidian shadow of the alleyway, careful not to fully expose himself to whatever eyes the NCR had here. "You sure about that?"

The guard dragged long on his cigarette before answering. "I wish I could give you some dirt on them but they haven't really done anything too bad. Sure they got guns—way better than ours—but the only time they shot somebody is when some drugged up junkies from the sewers tried to stage a heist. Man, what a mess that was. And we had to clean it up for them. Pricks."

"Right. Anything else?"

"Doctor Kemp still won't slash his fees," he snorted. "In fact, he just raised the prices on some of his meds. Greedy bastard's milking us harder since the NCR can't tax us."

The Courier kept his smirk hidden. He had to hand it to Governor Crocker. That bald son of a bitch was smart: grant communities like Westside 'autonomous status' to keep the illusion of independence alive even though the whole of Clark County was now part of the Republic. While the stipulations of that autonomy included immunity from taxation, there were other ways for the NCR to get their money out of these people.

The cigarette burned out and was quickly snuffed under a boot. "Hey, man. I gotta get back to my shift."

"Go on. We never spoke."

"How can I forget that?"

Six handed him a few neatly-taped rolls of bottle caps. It quickly disappeared into the guard's pocket who walked back out onto the street, having conveniently forgotten about the conversation he just had with a shady guy in the back alley.

Said shady guy slinked deeper into the darkness, using the low light filter on his visor to avoid tripping on garbage before slipping through the backdoor of the boarded-up apartment that was supposedly abandoned because it was too damp and rat-infested for the locals to use as a permanent residence.

"You heard enough, Kit?" Six called.

Blake dropped down from the hole in the ceiling with a clear sneer. "Okay, seriously. How do you do that? How do you always figure out where I am?"

"You're obvious."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

She tilted her head. "Not even the others can see me."

"Because they're not smart enough to figure out where you usually hide," he dismissed. "You done eavesdropping?"

"I wasn't eavesdropping."

"Oh? What were you doing up on the third floor for the past thirty minutes?"

Blake mimicked a fish out of water, coming out with no feasible explanation as to why she had indeed been up on the third floor, eavesdropping on Six in the alleyway. She quickly sighed in defeat. "Fine... I was looking for you."

"Why?"

"I... I was wondering if...you could...um..."

"Spit it out, I ain't got all night."

For some reason, the cat faunus found it difficult to look him in eye. "I...wanted to ask you if...if you could, um...uh..."

The Courier groaned. "Did Blondie burn down another goddamn house?"

"No! No, not this time. Well, other than—"

"So what the fuck is it? I don't got a lot o' time, right now."

Blake, with the most flustered face, finally blurted out, "Could you spare some cash?"

Six blinked. And blinked again. "... You're asking for spending money?"

"... Yes?"

"What for?"

"Um, you see, over at the pawn shop... Miguel had this, uh, book that he had on sale—"

"Books are cheap. Use your own money."

"No! No, it's not that. This was a, um, special, one of a kind book."

"What, like a collector's edition? 'Cause if it is, use your own money. Just 'cause I've got the funds don't mean I'm going to shill out for your crap. What did I teach you back out there? Go hunting, sell quarry, use that money to buy food and essentials, and save up for whatever the fuck you want."

"But...Miguel's got a buyer and..."

"And what? It's just a book. It ain't the end of the world, Kit."

Blake sucked in a long breathe. One that did not sound very pleasing to the Courier for some reason. "... I need that book, Six. I need it. Please. Please, please, please..."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Six, please, I'm begging you!"

"No."

"I'll stop eavesdropping and sneaking up on you!"

"You'll keep doing it anyway. No."

"But—"

"Christ on a stick, what is this goddamn book anyway?"

"... So you'll help me out?"

"... No."

Blake's ears fell back on her scalp. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Can I at least show you what it is?"

The Courier was about to reject the offer. But decided against it. Might as well check out what this damn literary piece was that got Kit so excited to the point that a person like her wasn't supposed to be that excited. "Fine. Let's see what this shit is."

"Oh, goddamn it."

"It's a rare, unblemished, hardcover," explained Miguel of Miguel's Pawn Shop. "A one in a million find, I was told. But I think it's a one in a thousand. Still, with the condition it's in and the fact that it's never been opened, I'd say it's worth the three hundred caps."

The Courier eyed Blake who was almost fawning over the book. Then he turned to the book itself. Notably, the title emblazoned over the rather enticing image on the front cover:

'Ninja's Of Love: The Man Of Four Souls.'

There's a sequel? This is an actual book series? "Three hundred caps?"

"Yep." Miguel paused, running a studious eye over his customers. "But for you, I'll be willing to cut fifteen percent off. I could go lower but I gotta make a living, you understand."

Six breathed deep. Then he noticed Blake breathing deep. In a very, un-Blake-like way. Not that he knew her long enough to know how she normally behaved. But this was not really normal as far as he can tell. Oh, no. Is she one of those readers? Is she really into this stuff?

"Um, is your daughter...feeling alright?"

The Courier pinched the bridge of his nose. Ah, hell. She probably is. "It's that time of the month, I think."

"Oh. Then I think you should have her checked out at the clinic. You still got an hour before Doctor Kemp closes up shop."

"No. She'll be fine. She's just..." Goddamn it. The things I do. "Never mind. Let me see that."

Miguel handed him the book and Six flipped it over. The premise was exactly what he was expecting. Who writes this shit? Hell, who even reads this? Then he turned to Blake to see her close to drooling. By that point, he already come to accept that this girl—of all people—had a thing for the freaky. And he did not want to imagine any of that.

Better get this over with or she'll be on my ass more than Hyper on a sugar high. "Two-fifty and a stick of dynamite."

The trader rubbed his chin. "Two-sixty and two sticks of dynamite."

"Two-forty and a frag grenade."

"Hmm. Make that an incendiary grenade."

"Two-thirty and a plasma grenade."

"Two hundred, a plasma grenade, and ten kilos of junk."

"Deal."

Six then shoved the kinky-ass book into Blake's hands and did his best to ignore the squirming in her legs and the uncomfortable noises she was making. Damn cat-girl and her fucking hormones.

The cat faunus however snatched his wrist before he could transact. "Wait!"

"For fuck's sake, what now?"

"I forgot. Do you have tampons?"

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: November 2, 2020

LAST EDITED: November 8, 2020

INITIALLY UPLOADED: November 13, 2020

NOTE: I've got a bunch more drafts that haven't been either recycled or deleted. If people still want to read more of these Director's Cuts then I might put up some of the older ones (early versions of the older chapters) but I can't guarantee that they'll be better or worse. Most of these I feel are redundant scenes. I cut them out because either they felt redundant; or did not contribute in anyway to the story; or were too weird; or were out of left field; or were not, frankly, as entertaining as I thought they would be.

Anyway, hope y'all continue enjoying this story.