Heavy breaths. Trembling hands. Burning throat.
Courier Six knelt on the hot sands, surrounded by legionnaire corpses. The modified Advanced Riot Gear was but a heap of scraps on Six, marred and dented from the battle at the Hoover Dam. A web of cracks spread on the red visors and the half of the helmet was shattered. Through the broken helmet, was the face of a young girl, no older than a teenager. Short scruffy hair, blacker than the night itself, with blue eyes that of Lake Mead. Through the cracks of her armor blood trickled, cooling the hot sands.
Lanius was one part shredded from bottlecap mine and the other half riddled with all manners of bullets. Six crawled toward the corpse and removed the mask. She stared at the mask with a weak smirk.
"Nailed to the walls of Hoover Dam huh?"
With her trophy in hand she limped toward the exit. Suddenly, a bright flash and an explosion opened the gate. Entering the fort was General Oliver, strutting as if he was the victor of this war with an entourage of veteran rangers.
"Caesar on the cross, been a long time since I've seen the kind of work you've laid down today... a damn long time. And the screams of those Legion bastards as they kicked dirt running East... like a choir of angels to my ears. Speaking of, that crazy light show over the Fort, what the fuck was that, some kind of thumb from God you called down?" The General sighed with silent joy. "Amazing, fucking amazing. Could use a hundred of you, just scatter you over the East like jacks, give those plumed fucks the what-for."
It was then within the smoke, they arrived. The army of securitrons, clad in metal and armed to its full lethality. Neither Oliver nor the securitron was considered. However, she still had one final job. In one of her many pockets was a folded document.
"General, with all due respect. I don't give a shit what you have to say. But I do have this."
Oliver's face squinted as he read it, then confused, then one of scowling fury. The General crumpled the paper then threw it toward Six.
"Demands NCR's immediate withdrawal... Withdrawal? Like fucking hell we're withdrawing... we just held the dam, we didn't do it to let it go!
Six shrugged tiredly.
"You courier-walk-the-wasteland-fuck. You're not pissing on me right now, you're pissing on the Bear! Are you listening you—"
No threat would arrive. Faster than lightning, Six unholstered her pistol and killed Oliver, along with his rangers. Six shots, six dead. Their armors were tough, but she wore the same and reinforced them several times. By now, she knew the weak points in every faction armors. When the securitrons lifted their arms, it was all over. With so much blood that shed, a few more wouldn't hurt. She never cared about the NCR anyways. A securiton bearing Mr House's face approached her.
"Efficient as always, Courier." said. "I know you are not fond of speeches, but I will say that you are one of few who met my expectations, fewer still surpassed them. Your performance was nothing short of spectacular. If I have a need for a specialist of your stripe again, I'll know just where to turn."
"You done with your speech?" Six said somberly.
"Indeed, shall I return you to Lucky 38?"
"Yeah, and a bottle of whiskey sent up to my room."
With ' significant work in much-lost technology, vertibird included, the trip back to New Vegas was a short one. Six sat inside alone, even the pilot seat was already automated. Silence, that was her only companion now. Once she returned and had an auto-doc patch her up, she went to the only place that mattered, the cocktail floor.
"Looks like House is going all out with the fireworks."
With Caesar's death and the defeat at Hoover Dam, the Legion would soon scatter and crumble. The NCR would withdraw, and the Mojave for better or worse, would change. This was it. The end. The end for the Legion. The end for the NCR.
And, the end for her.
Six poured a shot of whiskey, then raised the cup in the air in an empty room. She downed the whiskey, then loaded a .44 hollow point. She pulled the hammed back. Then pulled the trigger.
"What the…"
Her gun was not jammed. The trigger did not move.
In her drunken stupor, Six's hand fumbled and the box of .44 fell off the counter as well as the bottle of whiskey. The bullets spilled, and the thick liquid flowed down, but neither reached the floor, they merely froze in the middle of the air.
"What the hell?"
Outside the window, the fireworks remained still as if they were clouds. She stared at the bottle, pinched herself, and sat dumbfounded at the mind-numbing scene, was this what greeted her after her death? An eternity of stillness?
"Hello there."
Suddenly, a chill stroke her senses like a slender finger creepily tracing her spine as a new voice spoke. Immediately Six snapped behind whatever was behind her and fired, only for the gun to jam again. Six pulled the trigger again and again. Then used her next gun and the gun after that. The man dressed in a purple suit, smiling. Six unsheathed her combat knife.
"Your knife won't work either, you can certainly try of course. I love me some rough foreplay."
Six flinched. Somehow, she knew that thing was telling the truth. There was an immeasurable feeling of awe that struck her heart with fear. That was not a man. Whatever it was. It was not a living being. She couldn't tell the man's face as it constantly changed, flickering like a broken lightbulb. Yet, she was perturbed by it at all.
"Who… what are you?"
The thing's voice was off as if a man and a woman spoke at the same time. A voice that resembled Lanius's baritone voice yet with malice that she could taste. Its smarmy tone was dripping like fat on a roasting squirrel.
"Let's not worry about what I am." The man said. "Let's talk about who you are. A hypocritical bitch."
The smile on that man… there was nothing more she would like to do than to peel it off of his face. Six inwardly sighed, she's been influenced by Leo one way or another.
"What do you want?" Six gritted out.
"What I offer you is a new life, and a new job."
Whatever she had tonight, must've been homemade, or god forbid a botched jet. Six followed the movement of the man as he walked around. The man figure pluck the .44 that hung in the air, he examined the bullet idly. The purple figure then tossed the bullet which stayed frozen in the air.
"So the first thing you do is insult your potential employee?"
"You say that as if I am wrong, little girl." The man chuckled. "There is an endeavor my brother and I are invested in. While my brother is keen to watch them bumble around over and over, I believe in a hands-on approach. However, I am bound by rules and cannot interfere personally."
Six sat back, trying to scoop the suspended liquid.
"And just what do you want me to do?" Six said idly.
"I want you to kill a silver-eyed warrior."
Her eyes narrowed like a freshly sharpened machete. She'd preferred a fetch job or a guarding job. There was a difference between killing a legionnaire and killing a settler. All she killed was for the betterment of the wasteland, scums like raiders and legionaries, she had no regret in killing or torturing them.
At least, that's what she told herself.
"I'm not an assassin."
"Oh you silly bitch of course you are!" The devil laughed flamboyantly. "Are you really in a position to say that? You? Of all people? What does your pip-boy say about your kill count?"
"That's none of your-"
"Five hundred and twenty five." The devil sarcastically winced. "With that much number, guess I don't blame you for lying to yourself."
Six's grip on the magnum tightened, as did her hateful glare.
"In exchange for your service, I will let you be reincarnated into a peaceful life. Wipe your memory clean and start out as a clean slate. A bona fide tabula rasa"
The word brother went ignored, all that mattered was the resurrection of her friends. If one could stop time itself, a reincarnation did not so sound far for her. Best of all, forgetting about this horrible life of hers?
"You can do that?"
"I am no liar. I'll even let you choose a world, untainted by war."
Six caught her excitement, she breathed deeply, slowly, like how Boone taught her. Six leaned on the counter and slipped a cigarette in her mouth. The devil snapped his fingers, and the cigarette was instantly lit. The tobacco nestled in her lungs, then smoothly flowed out from her lips.
"And this silver-eyed warrior, why do you want him dead?" Six said.
"Her, actually." The devil corrected. "In exchange for having your friends back, does the price truly matter? What's another life in a mountain of corpses you have already made?"
"Fuck you."
"Quite." The devil chuckled. "Do we have a deal?"
She nodded and shook his hand. There was sudden dizziness that began to envelop her mind as if she was on the verge of radiation sickness while being numbed by anesthetics.
"If you fail…" The devil chuckled. "Do your best to entertain me at least."
Darkness swallowed her vision. Once she opened her eyes, two heads were looming over her. One, was an old man with a pair of… rabbit ears, with a presence and appearance like Doc Mitchell. Another was a young woman, dressed in some pre-war dress and an apron.
"Woah easy there. Easy, you've been out cold a couple of days now." The old man said. "Why don't you relax for a second? Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is. How about you name? Can you tell me your name?"
"Six…" Courier rubber her head. "Courier Six."
"Well, that's not a name I'd pick for you, but if that's your name that's your name."
She groaned as she tried to get up. The old man supported her back by placing his hand on her back and another on her arm as he gently pulled her up until she could sit by herself.
"When we found you, we thought you were dead. It's a miracle that the grimms didn't touch you."
"The what?"
"The grimms." The old man said.
"Like I said, what?"
"Perhaps you hit your head too hard." The old man chuckled. "I'm Doc Mitchell by the way. Your belongings are over there, come outside when you're ready."
"Thanks… doc." Six said confusedly.
"Don't mention it, and welcome to Goodsprings."
