"There is an expression in the Wasteland: 'Old World Blues…'"
It had been 3 and a half days since Charlie's disastrous meeting with Adam. In that time, The Courier hadn't been seen except to get food.
He was standing in front of the mirror, his helmet off, with shaving cream on his face. He stared at the man in the mirror, his face scarred, his eyes sunken in, it wasn't surprising that he looked completely different from the last time he had bothered to pay attention to his reflection in the mirror. His face had become rough with stubble. Why should he keep bothering shaving? He had more pressing matters, so he wiped the shaving cream off his face, putting his helmet back on.
The Courier pulled out his Ranger Sequoia, pulling the cylinder out and spinning it subconsciously. It was one of the only things he did besides sleep, eat, and drink. Now that The Courier knew what Heaven's true agenda was, it filled him with disgust. They were no better than the Enclave, God knows what they do to the children. His mulling was interrupted by a knock on the door. He had been interrupted before, but he usually ignored it, as it was either Vaggie or Charlie. This time it was Charlie, as he was expecting the whole "You need to come out and talk." schtick.
She proceeded to surprise him, as The Courier heard the words:
"My dad is coming to the hotel today."
That surprised The Courier, as he went to the door, quickly unlocking it. The Courier's appearance hadn't changed much, but Charlies had. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes ringed with an exhausted purple, and only was wearing her white dress-shirt.
The Courier just nodded, as she continued to talk:
"I want you out in the lobby in a few hours. I know you don't want to, but he wants to meet you, and you don't want to be late meeting my dad… he's pretty important…"
The Courier nodded again, before walking past Charlie, deciding to go search for somewhere to upgrade his equipment, the threat of annihilation ever looming.
Charlie decided to not question it: "Wherever it is you're going, be back here soon."
The Courier nodded at that, leaving Charlie's view as he walked deeper into the halls of the hotel. The Courier walked down the stairs, out the hotel's front doors, standing on the sidewalk. He needed to figure out where all the stores for weaponry were, he needed to stock up on ammo and upgrade his weapons. Before he could figure out what to do, someone grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him around. It was Angel Dust.
"Where ya goin all by ya lonesome, Hot Stuff?" Angel Dust pauses, looking over his shoulder, before he returned his focus to The Courier
"Say, It's probably a good idea to swing by a weapons shop, we gotta get you and the rest of us lowlives some weapons!" He nudged the Courier "Anyways it's not like you're going on the town with anyone else… although if you need a 'special someone' I'm right here sugar!"
The Courier just stared at Angel Dust on that comment. The Courier hoped that Angel Dust wasn't using their trip to the gun store to force him into Adult Entertainment, otherwise Angel Dust would be dragged back to the hotel through the dirt, battered and bruised. Thankfully he led them to an innocent-enough convenience store, at least innocent enough for hell. The shelves were stocked full of bags of junk food, the walls lined with freezers of booze and designer drugs. Crack-pipes and syringes sharing shelf space on the counter next to the sex-themed candy bars, a surprising sight for the Courier being a stranger to such excess, having lived in the barren wastelands for his entire life. The shopkeeper noticed Angel Dust with The Courier, as he had a feeling on what was up.
"Let me guess...you two need weapons? You're welcome to have 'em, considering that we're all fucked anyways due to the Extermination." The Courier nodded at the shopkeeper, who sighed.
"It's on you then." He got up, stretching beforehand, as he led the pair to the employee room. The Courier was surprised to see a variation of equipment and armor. What caught his eye was an retractable arm-blade that could be put on the side of his arm. Something about that blade seemed familiar. The Courier went up to it, grabbing it. He put it on his arm, which was the perfect fit. He would need to recolor it to fit his armor, but other than that, it was perfect. He didn't bother to stock up for ammo, as he heard it would be useless against the Exorcists, besides distracting them or slowing them down.
Angel Dust looked surprised. "Seriously, out of AALLLLLL the weapons here, you're going for that…fuckin…I don't know, fuckin' armknife."
The Courier said nothing, as per usual. Angel Dust just sighed before hoisting up a minigun that looked like it would topple him, the ammo belt clanging against the metal chassis.
"Why not this cute puppy!" A subtle smirk pulling at his lips as he held the metal beast, envisioning it revving up and carving through flesh, bone, and light cover, before placing it back down on the table with a thud.
He ran his fingers across the tabletop armory, pointing to weapons which caught his eye, all of which were too ornate, rough, slathered in pink, or all at once, he realized the Courier had made his mind up as he turned the wrist-mounted bayonet in his hands.
"Fine, if that's really it, then we can leave. I gotta do a shoot for Valentino anyways…" Angel's hand brushed his hair slightly to the side before he walked out of the employee room, The Courier nodded to the shopkeeper, and left to follow, but he realized that he was lost now, as The Courier didn't know the way back to the hotel.
The Courier decided to take the opportunity to just explore, ideally finding Angel in the process of walking around the city and clearing his mind in the process.
As The Courier walked down the street, sinners passed by him, giving strange looks to the stranger who seemed so out of place in hell, but The Courier ignored it. He was lucky that no one but those in the hotel knew he was the reason the Extermination got shortened.
He moved through the city, trying his best to gain a sense of location as he scanned the storefronts for memorable landmarks, when something suddenly stopped him. He heard a patter on his helmet, followed by another, and another. He looked up now, as drops of water fell onto his helmet's lens, clouding them. He realized it was raining, something he last saw when he was with Joshua Graham in Utah. He never saw it in the Mojave, but he always enjoyed it when it rained in The Capital Wasteland. It
brought back good memories, times of hope and determination, something he lacked right now, and something he wished he had.
The Courier stood there in place, gazing into those memories, before snapping back into the present as the rain picked up. The Courier looked up, seeing a bright, neon VoxTek ad with the words:"TRUST US" plastered onto it, which illuminated The Courier's helmeted face. All this did was remind The Courier of how dystopian Hell was, making him more miserable.
"You always knew what to do…"
The Courier's tone was one of longing and gloom, with The Courier now shoving his hands into his trench-coats pockets, walking off, the rain continuing onto his helmet and off his coat. He wandered around, humming listlessly, thinking about his dad as he continued looking.
Short chapter, but it's to the point. Next chapter is gonna take place in Heaven.