Fandom Fallout New Vegas: Something's Gotta Give [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

It was another day for Anthony Ericson as he stood guard at the water pump in Freeside, negotiating fare for those who came to get water, and upcharging anyone with the NCR who wanted to grab a bit of water. ‘They have plenty at their base they ain’t sharin’.’ Such was the logic and belief of many of those in the Kings, including Anthony…though it did make him wonder why they’d go through the hassle of coming all the way to the pump to get water.

“It’s 50 caps for a bottle, you don’t want it, beat it,” Anthony told the NCR grunt, arms folded over his chest, trying to look intimidating. It wasn’t too hard with his broad shoulders and leather jacket, not to mention his height.

The NCR grunt looked pissed, “Are you trying to fucking kill us all with those prices?” she snapped. “This is bullshit!”

“I saw him get one for just 20 caps!” the other NCR grunt with the woman pointed towards a Freesider leaving the area with their bottle of water.

Anthony lifted one shoulder in a shrug, “You don’t know his story, but I know yours, so cough up,” he tilted his chin up a bit with the words, and the woman huffed and turned to leave. Her companion wasn’t so willing, and drew a 9mm, aimed, and fired.

The aiming job was done too quickly, and Anthony saw what she was doing, so he was quick to move. It still burnt through his jacket, as well as his left shoulder. Thankfully, he wasn’t alone – and the NCR woman who started all of this was immediately horrified at the act, grabbing her companion’s arm and pulling it down, hard. “What are you doing?!” she all but shrieked as more guns were drawn from nearby Kings and aimed at them.

Tapper quickly rushed up to Anthony’s side, “Shit, Puppy Dog, you okay?” his hand fell on Anthony’s shoulder and he winced, which caused Tapper to lift his hand quickly, coming away bloody, “Ah shit, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Tapper shouted at them. “Get out of here! There ain’t gonna be any water for you two, ever! Maybe none for the whole damn NCR when The King hears about this!”

Fury and fear crossed their expressions, but they hurried off as the Kings didn’t open fire on them but let them go, seeing as Anthony was likely to live, “C’mon, let’s get you over to the Old Fort. Ace, take over, no NCR gets anything, ya dig?”

“Yeah,” Ace stepped up as Tapper took the lead, and Anthony followed. He was well aware of the direction of the Old Fort, but he wasn’t all that interested in leading, or thinking too much about it.

“We gotta do something about them,” Tapper muttered, and Anthony could only hum his agreement as they reached the Fort, and were let in without issue. “Hey, hey!” Tapper raised his voice to get attention, “My boy needs some help here, NCR shot him while we were protecting the water!”

Of course, the Followers benefited from the water – the Kings didn’t charge them. Their work was essential, a sort of mutual agreement existed between the groups. The Kings would help them secure what they could, and offer protection, and the Followers would help the people of Freeside…even the damned NCR squatters. Win-win.

It didn’t stop Anthony from feeling a touch embarrassed over the fuss that Tapper was making. He was just grazed.

~***~

‘Benny.’

The Strip was alight always, but from Boulder City at night, it was impossible to miss. Victoria Gaines stared out at it as she considered how nice it would be to take up smoking, just to have a use for the lighter burning a hole in her pocket. That, along with the lottery ticket from Nipton, were her two new collectables, symbols of strange luck, that made her melancholy that evening after allowing the NCR to eliminate the Great Khans that told her what she needed to know.

She could have negotiated peace.

That was the whole idea when she came back with the hostages, but when Lieutenant Monroe noted he had orders to kill the Khans, hostages or no, well…they had been the ones who helped Benny shoot her in the head, so she turned a blind eye to it.

Karma might be a bitch, but she intended to be a far worse one.

‘I need about 1200 more caps to get into the Strip.’ She could make it there, but she wouldn’t get in. That was a problem easily solved, as evidenced by the sound of music and laughter from the Old Dam hotel, which doubled as a saloon and casino. The NCR who felt guilt over what they had to do, the rescued hostages, were all there, willing to lose their money. So were plenty of traders who went through.

And the woman once known as the Nightingale decided to join, heading inside and purchasing a room for 100 caps she didn’t want to spend, before changing out of her leather armor and joining the noise in a little red dress, tamed blonde hair, and a pretty smile, “Is this seat taken?” not that she acted like the answer ‘yes’ would change her mind as she slid into an empty seat at a blackjack table, “What’s the minimum to join?”

“25 caps.” The bored dealer answered, not at all bothered by her appearance or arrival.

“Oh, well…all right,” hesitance was an act.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay your entry,” one flashed her a smile, “your help getting me out of there is enough for that – and I can just win it back.” He joked, before passing her the chips she needed.

“Aww, well thank you! Hopefully I’ll earn a little more for you to win back than just that!”

And, of course, Victoria did.

It was easy to keep them playing and egg them on to hit on dangerous moments. Easy to feign she was more drunk than she was, to smile and laugh and encourage them, and pout when they left – because of course she enjoyed their company!

She did pay back that one who gave her the 25, though.

With a little extra.

Luck had clearly chosen to favor her that night. She’d almost think it favored her every night since Benny shot her…and that was something she tried not to think about it, because she didn’t like to think luck picked her to do something, as some people suggested.

She was just a courier…one who’d been given devastating packages, twice now.

 

[Wet Noodle]

Another day, another group of junkies sitting at the Fort, strung out on chems while trying to kick their addictions. Today, it was Alessia’s duty to watch over them, make sure they didn’t take anything they weren’t supposed to. That, combined with inventory duty. Supplies seemed to be evaporating from their stores at such an alarming rate, there was hardly anything to inventory.

Even so, knowing the state of supplies was mandatory for intaking new patients. Checking the pupils of one of the more concerning addicts she was watching over with a pen light, she was pleased with how they responded.

Tapping another doctor on the shoulder, she asked them to watch the junkies within the tent for just a minute or two so she could go out to the courtyard and count supplies left there. Clipboard in hand, she lifted the lid to one of the crates, drawing in a slow and disappointed breath as she counted the contents of the box. She recounted, once, twice, three times more, hoping some more supplies would just. . . appear if she waited long enough. None did, so, ever so begrudgingly, she wrote down the number on her clipboard.

Setting down the clipboard, she blew at short pieces of auburn hair hanging in her face. Quickly tying it up, strands still falling out of it. With a slight huff, she decided to ignore it, realizing that it was the result of her simply sawing at it with scissors to keep it at a length she liked.

Her gaze curiously turned to the Kings that had entered the Fort, grabbing some supplies out of the crate she was at and hurriedly marking down new numbers on the clipboard and rushing to their aid.

“This way.” She motioned the two of them into an empty tent, trying to get a read on just how bad the wound was. Just before she entered, she caught the eye of the doctor she asked to watch the junkies, simply mouthing an apology before attending to the King members.

"Take your jacket off and take a seat." She gestured to a bed, laying out the supplies she had grabbed, as well as the tools that were always kept prepared in case of emergency.

Taking a seat beside the injured King, she glanced between them, her fingers gingerly touching his skin and observing his wound, "Would either of you mind explaining what happened?"

————

Creedence watched as a tumbleweed rolled by, drifting through the desert similar to himself. However, unlike the tumbleweed, he was not an aimless soul. He had a mission, a contract to fulfill. He had been found by a member of the Tops - his name was well enough known that he no longer had to search for his own work, instead, it found him - to hunt down an elusive courier. This courier had been shot in the head - twice - by the one and only owner of the Tops casino. How someone could be such a terrible shot, to shoot someone in the head twice and still not kill them, puzzled Creedence indefinitely. He was infinitely a better shot than his employer - of this, he was sure. But, he was asked to bring this courier in alive, so he was unable to prove his competence, at least in the gunfire portion of things.

Creedence, mostly known as Red to the people he was acquainted to, was known to the people as an expert tracker. That turned into bounty work. He was quite excellent at finding things - mostly strip goers running away from debts. Not people with average debts, that could be hunted down by goons of the strip, but those who accumulated large debts, and those who knew how to hide. Creedence's work was far and few between because those types of people were far and few between.

Now he was searching for someone who narrowly escaped the toothy maw of death, however, their trail wasn't all that hard to follow. Apparently rising from the grave after 2 shots to the head creates quite a stir wherever you go. Not to mention, this courier wasn't trying to keep their head down all that much. From the chatter he'd heard, she caused quite the stir, dubbing the alias 'Nightingale' along the way. He pondered the thought of her name, how it directly opposed his own. He was Red, to remain anonymous, something to call him in the ghost stories that circled the wastes, and hers, Nightingale, a name to be sweetly sung in remembrance.

The thought exited his mind. He did not want to linger on the thought of how non similar he was to his target, because she was simply that.

Entering the hotel, the scent of alcohol immediately entered his nose, despite being covered by a bandana. For such a large man, his steps were rather silent, but the shadow cast before him was rather telling. His eyes slid around the room, landing on a woman who could only be who he was sent after. His boots softly clicked on the floor as he focused in on his target, ignoring the receptionist and any remaining gamblers left at their games.

"Could I deal you in, fine sir?" Asked a dealer, which he only acknowledged with a slow shake of his head.

"Victoria Gaines." His voice grumbled, his head lifting enough for his bright eyes to be visible beneath the brim of his hat.

 

[Lucyfer]

It was a pretty red head that flagged them down. Anthony managed a while that was married by the twitch of his lips into a grimace. The wound might not be that serious but it still stung. He knew he shouldn't focus overmuch on such a thing as her appearance, either, but he always floundered a bit internally despite his teachings about how to be suave and cool. So, he had to acknowledge it to try not to flounder.

'Easy.' He willed his own fast beating heart, to no avail. Of course, it had been beating rapidly since he got shot. Adrenaline was a bitch that way.

He took a seat and did his best to shrug off his jacket, wincing as the fabric rolled over his wound, and of course, as the muscles moved while under duress. "You don't have to ask me twice, doc, I'll show you whatever you want," he still tried to joke, to give that sly smile, before Anthony allowed a touch more serious expression to reach his eyes. "I was asking for the fee to these NCR grunts. They didn't like it and one of them pulled a gun on me. Just shot me out of the blue, I was lucky they were a slow draw."

"It's the truth," Tapper added, not that he doubted the good doctor would believe them, "shocked us all when she drew on Puppy Dog here," Anthony felt his face flush with heat at that, "there wasn't no good reason for it. Everyone here knows we charge a fee, water's precious. Not our fault if they can't afford it, we allow them to drink from the tap itself for cheap. There was no reason to go shooting anybody. I'm gonna be reporting this to the King, those NCR dogs are crossing the line."

With that, Tapper did rise, "I'm gonna see to that now, you take good care, alright?" It was clearly directed to both, and with slightly different meanings.

Anthony gave a short nod and an agreeable hum, while mentally bracing for any poking and prodding to come.

~**"~

In walked a stranger.

Victoria was aware of them. It was hard not to be despite the lack of sound, though that was perhaps due to lingering paranoia. That was bound to happen when the Legion wanted her head, and a certain man in a theoretical high tower had to know she was alive. She expected her streak of luck to end violently and all at once.

Perhaps it was the stranger who made a beeline for the table and spoke her full name. She gave him a wry little smile at that, and let one hand leave the table to reach for a gun just under her skirt, high on her thigh.

She didn't show it. Nor would she act unfriendly. There were hundreds of other less bad situations…but it only took one bad one to end a person.

"You've caught me," she agreed, rather than lie, "but I'm afraid I don't know who you are, sir. Why don't you join us – these NCR boys and gals would be glad to have a chance to win some caps back. You can tell me all about why you're here over some cards…unless you're looking for a game of caravan?"

A small compromise. She'd stay here, but it could be a game between them with no referee.

 

[Wet Noodle]

Alessia let a trace of a smile show as she looked closer at the wound - it was a shot from a 9mm, that much was clear. She cleaned up the blood around the wound as he spoke, dabbing it with some rubbing alcohol. She would have to clean the interior as well, but it was a start. Softly nodding as she listened, she made sure to take his words with a grain of salt. The Kings weren’t known for being completely truthful, instead embellishing their own biased take.

Simply nodding along, she could easily decipher what had actually occurred. The King's distaste for the NCR as well as their up-charging for water for the NCR wasn’t exactly a secret, but it certainly hadn’t excused the actions of the NCR grunt. No matter what she thought, she didn’t bring it up.

She firmly nodded toward Tapper as he left, her attention returning to the wound before her. “Lucky is right. That grunt could’ve loaded a hollow point into their 9mm this morning, and that would have caused everyone a lot more trouble. Not to mention how close the shot came to hitting your axillary artery.” Her finger traced the path of the artery down his shoulder.

“Did you manage to catch a name, officer number, or anything like that?” She asked, grabbing a needleless syringe, filling it up with saline and flushing out the wound. “I have no doubt the ones that shot you are with the supply corps. If you remember anything, I can take it to the Major.” She said, looking over his wound once again, preparing bandages to go over it.

————

Creedence stood, unwavering as he peered down on this infamous courier 6. He had no expectations, but somehow, she had defied them all. Until now, Creedence thought he was simply following a ghost, a ghost that somehow had left a trail. There was no way someone, especially like Benny, could’ve been such a terrible shot. But here was the concrete evidence that she was no ghost. She was real as day, standing before him. . . and offering to play a game of cards.

Of course, this was his least favorite part of his job. The targets, specifically, when his client wanted the target to be brought in alive. They talked, like anyone else, and Creedence did not like it. The fewer interactions he shared with anyone, the better. But this courier? Just by looking at her he could tell she could talk up quite the storm.

“Not here to talk to them.” He slowly spoke, his eyes never wavering, only moving to blink. Despite his expressionless face, he couldn’t quite shake the permanent look of tiredness riddling his features, his visible ones, at least.

Caravan. His only option seemed to be to play a round of Caravan. Something within him said this was some odd trick, so she could slip away, but his conscious mind reminded him that was highly improbable. What tricks could be pulled during what seemed to be an innocent game of Caravan? He wasn’t sure, but by the look of this woman, he was sure there were a few at least.

“Fine. Caravan it is.” He grumbled. He wasn’t the worst player, but hadn’t sharpened his skills in quite some time. He took a seat at the table, a hand cautiously removing the cowboy hat from atop his head, a mess of brown hair, slight waves pressed into it from where his hat sat on his head, and set it beside him.

 

[Lucyfer]

Well, Anthony definitely wasn’t thrilled to know how close this became to being serious. He wondered if a well-timed stimpack would have helped that from being fatal, but he didn’t ask. It wasn’t important right then, since he was lucky. “Heh, well, good thing specialty bullets aren’t cheap.” Anthony knew a little about them.

He’d never actually used any, that he knew of. He didn’t cough up the caps for that. He never felt it was really all that necessary, but maybe in the future it would be. He didn’t like thinking of that, though. He much preferred to think that somehow the NCR would be pushed out, one day. That would likely be by House, because the alternative of the Legion…no one wanted that. The Kings would fight to the last man to keep the Legion out, but Anthony wasn’t a fool.

The Legion would crush them.

He stayed steady as he felt the rush of the saline, and tried not to shiver or react much. She was asking questions, so that made it easier to focus on anything other than the sensations of wound-tending. “’Fraid I didn’t, Doc,” he admitted, “I can describe her, and I could pick her out of a line-up, but just telling you how she looks probably won’t help too much. There are plenty of women with blonde hair in that short cut up with the NCR, but I know her face.”

He frowned, trying to think, “She was in uniform. Not high ranked, just had the PVT on the uniform. Well no, actually – PVT 2. ‘Fraid I don’t really know what that means with them, but it seems low rank to me, unless they’re masking something with that to keep those out of the loop, confused.”

Seemed like the kind of thing the NCR would do, in his opinion. “You’re in good with their Major, Doc?” That was interesting, though. He supposed it wasn’t a surprise. The Followers did help the NCR, too, after all.

~***~

The stranger looked tired, and perhaps, a little exasperated. At least, that was what Victoria read into it as he seemed to weigh his options, and her unmoving from the table. She was safer around the NCR grunts who would definitely shoot if someone tried to harm her, given what she’d done for them recently. Whether or not he was a threat was still up for debate, but she’d put her money on ‘yes’.

He definitely wanted something from her, and something he didn’t feel comfortable talking about with others. So, she nodded, “Caravan it is. I left my deck with my things, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I use the deck here,” he took a seat, and though the others looked a bit disgruntled to be uprooted, when she held out her hand for the deck, the one playing house handed it over. “Don’t worry, I’ll return it, I like my deck better,” she winked, before taking it, and shuffling them as the NCR let themselves be uprooted to another table not far away.

He took his hat off, and Victoria pressed her lips together as she saw the flattened curls, almost pitying the hair and the way it might have added some life and buoyancy to the stranger in front of her if he’d taken care of them. Alas, he hadn’t, and she just let out a small sound of protest on their behalf, as she began to build her three caravans using the numbered cards in her hand that she liked – 2 5’s, and a 4.

“So, stranger,” she said, “why are you looking for me? If you need help with something, I’m open to a job, but depending on what it is, it may have to wait. I’ve got business on the Strip once I get the caps to get there,” which was, precisely, what she was doing with this. “Speaking of, I’m about 300 short still, so let’s make this game for a hundred, if that’s not too much for you.”

 

[Wet Noodle]

Alessia chuckled slightly, at least he could make jokes about it. That meant it didn't feel too bad, but it also meant that he was hopped up on adrenaline. She mentally reminded herself to get him some pain medication before he left the Fort.

She couldn't help but consider how the Kings actively rile up the NCR - and it wasn't just them. Almost all the locals had some distaste for the squatters and the few military personnel that braved the slums of Freeside, and some hid it better than others. The Kings were those who didn't hide it very well. Not that she blamed them, the NCR tried to lay claim to every piece of land they could get their hands on, and no one liked their encroachment, on Freeside, the Strip, or the Mojave as a whole.

"That may be true, but there aren't that many NCR officers willing to brave Freeside.” She said with a slight shrug, trying to give him some hope. Alessia nodded along as he spoke, trying to pin a name to the officer he described to no avail. “I’ll see what I can do, at the very least.”

“To be completely honest, Julie gets along best with her.” She said, slowly wrapping the clean bandage around the bullet wound, “The Major has no vendettas with the Followers, or against me for that matter. So I guess I’m alright in her book.” Finishing up wrapping the bandage, she stood up, “You’re going to need some antibiotics and some painkillers for the next couple of days, give me a minute to go grab some.” After disappearing for a moment, she returned with 2 different pill bottles, holding them out. "Antibiotics, twice a day until the bottles empty. Same for the painkillers. Don't try and sell them or save them for later, I'd hate seeing you back here getting your dose of fixer." Her narrowed gaze was the most serious it had been through the whole interaction.

Returning to her usual warm slight smile, she looked at his jacket, "If you'd like, I can patch your jacket up. Unless you like the bullet hole?" Her eyebrow raised. It was a serious question, some folks liked the edge it gave them.

————

Creedence took a read on the stranger, her songbird alias seeming to suit her flawlessly. Even at a first glance it was clear, her words rang over others like the chirps of a bird. Not the annoying ones either, he could tell that, probably with even a change in her intonation, she could have all the NCR with guns aimed right at him at a moment's notice.

Not that it bothered him. If anything, it made him more excited if that was possible. He wasn’t known to be a gambling man, but this was one of the first times in a long time he felt on edge, even if it was ever so slightly.

Reaching into a pocket concealed by the poncho over his jacket, he pulled out his own deck. It wasn’t quite built for a game of Caravan, especially the way he liked to play, but his actual deck had disappeared some time ago, and this was one he simply got as thanks on top of a reward for a previous job.

Shuffling and dealing his starting hand, he built his caravans after carefully studying the cards - a habit that reflected on everything he did. He was far more analytical than a lot of people seemed to think. His starting caravans ended up being a 2, 3, and a 10.

The slight breath exiting his nose could be interpreted in the form of a laugh. His tired, nearly expressionless gaze looked over her as she spoke, slowly nodding as he agreed on the pot. “Bounty.” He said plainly, his lip, hidden beneath a bandana, turning up ever so slightly, into a whisper of a smirk. “From the Strip.” Ironic as it was, from the way things sounded, it would make the trip back much more pleasant - but he knew better than to jump to conclusions.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Ah, Julie.’ Who didn’t like Julie? Anthony imagined only the scum of the earth would dislike her. She was practically sanctified in Freeside for her work here. “Thanks,” he said, as she offered to do something about looking into it. There was likely little to be done. The NCR wasn’t going to do anything about it, of that he was certain.

He didn’t think the King would do much, either. He wasn’t yet willing to risk open warfare with the NCR, and denying them completely from receiving water might escalate things to a point he wasn’t ready for. That remained to be seen. ‘You’re not worth all that.’ He also wasn’t sure he wanted to be that kind of piece in the situation.

That was a dangerous role to have.

When she left for a moment, he sighed, and leaned forward, arms on his knees. He wasn’t enthused about pills. He wasn’t a junkie, and he had no desire to be one. He heard horror stories of people getting addicted from pills they were given by a doctor to treat things. So, when he looked up as the pills were brought, his nose wrinkled at her warning. “What do ya take me for Doc, a junkie? Come on now, I don’t even want to take them,” another bit of a joke, but he did reach out his hand to take them.

They were important or she wouldn’t be giving them out. He knew that. The Followers didn’t aid addiction.

However, at the query of the jacket, he did glance down at it, and then set the pills down to pick it up. He didn’t know how to fix it himself, but he did like the jacket. He had others, but still…, “I don’t know, Doc. What do you think—does it look cooler this way? Or would it look better with some obvious patch?” Showing it was still damaged at some point, but repaired.

He looked back up for her opinion, curious.

He was inclined to let her fix it regardless, if only to have another reason to come around and get it back.

~***~

‘Benny?’ A guess that Victoria wanted to make as she allowed her brows to raise when the bounty hunter outed himself. Not that all came to kill. Some came to collect debts, but she had no debts, unless someone was pretending to be her. Right now, that would be a hard thing to do. The only thing she could think of was Benny – but then, why was she alive? If he was smart, he would have shot her from outside. Or shot as soon as he entered.

Perhaps her reputation hadn’t yet preceded her.

Or, more likely, she was missing something.

She put her caps on the table, before playing a ten on one of her fives carelessly, “Curious,” she noted, “I don’t owe any debts in Vegas, and the only one in Vegas I can think of who would put a bounty on my head, would have certainly marked me for dead,” as she pulled her hand back, she made a point to brush it by her hair and pull some of it back behind her ear, revealing the scar above an eye. “Either you have a sense of honor, Benny’s stupider than I thought, or there’s someone else I’ve forgotten about on the Strip.”

Her smile was a bit teasing, “Care to elaborate?”

 

[Wet Noodle]

She knew that the NCR wouldn't do much about the situation. Their troops in Freeside seemed to be away from the typical scrutiny of the public eye and could get away with much more than they would if they did those same things on base. Alessia knew this, but still had hope in her heart that justice - true justice, not something the NCR made up to appease the citizens - would prevail.

"Didn't mean to offend. Just have to take precautions is all." Her gaze softened when it returned to him, of course he didn't look like the type of person to do such a thing, but addicts came in all shapes around here. It was just the conversation to be had with just about all medicines the doctors of the Fort needed to have with their patients.

A soft smile spread on her face at his question. How her opinion mattered in this situation, she wasn't quite sure. After looking at the jacket a bit closer for a moment, a soft laugh left her.

"I'm not going to make it look bad, if that's what you're asking. Lucky for you, stitching people up happens to help with the whole sewing skill." She said lightheartedly, a wider smile appearing as she glanced away.

"If it ends up getting hot or inflamed, come back. Means it's infected and we need to give you some stronger meds." Her attention turned away slightly, packing up supplies and tools that were no longer needed.

————

Looking over his hand, he stared at the cards already played, his eyes flicking to the hand of cards she held, trying to decipher which cards she held. There was still a nearly full deck at her side, so the possibilities were nearly infinite. Aside from the cards she had already laid out, his mind mapped out as many possible moves she could make until she placed her next card.

His face remained expressionless as she spoke, a quiet ‘hm’ slipping in what could only be in the form of a laugh, of course, at her comment at Benny, but also at the comment of honor. He felt he was as far from honorable as one could be. As long as he got his pay, almost no set of morals was too far from his compass. Truly, it was hilarious to him. But of course, as per usual, it was near impossible to read it on his face, as with any other emotions.

Creedence slipped a card from his current hand, his gaze slowly rising up from the cards and on to Victoria. He let the card, a 5, snap down on the 3, seemingly just for the dramatic effect. “No.” He said plainly.

The deck may seem to be dealt against him, and they most definitely were, he wasn’t going to convince himself he had the upper hand, that would just be dumb. And Creedence was anything but. However, he had an edge, and that was information. At least, however much information his contract held. And based on how the conversation had gone so far, he was sure this mystical Courier would at least like to stick around and find out just what he knew. And, even as wordless as he was, he was sure he could fulfill his contract.

 

[Lucyfer]

Anthony rose from the bed, disregarding the pain that came as he used the injured arm to stow the pills away in one of his pockets, “Well, Doc, I’ll be coming back regardless since you have my jacket,” he reminded, “I’m trusting ya with it,” as if he didn’t have several of them waiting for him.

That wasn’t the point, of course.

This one was going to be special now, even if she did manage to do a poor job…which, he doubted. He had faith that stitching up people gave her an advantage in dealing with leather. Even if most people weren’t already leathered up for her.

He hoped.

“My name’s Anthony if I take too long to come back,” he wouldn’t, of course. “Though most of them call me Tony or Puppy Dog,” the Kings and their nicknames. He could feel his face reddening as he tried not to be so embarrassed by Puppy Dog. He wasn’t, around them, but her? It was hardly a badass name. It wasn’t something that sounded cool. Not like Pacer. Then again, at least he wasn’t Ponyboy. He got a junk name.

“What’s your name, Doc? Not that I’ll forget your face, it’s too pretty for that,” he grinned, trying to offset his own embarrassed-reddened face at giving over ‘Puppy Dog’ as a legitimate name for himself, “but in case I need to ask for ya or leave a message with someone in the Fort for ya.”

~***~

The stranger didn’t say much, but there were some small things. That ‘hm’, and the snap of his next move. His denial of information was intentional and Victoria let out a soft, short laugh at his decision. “Well, then I’m afraid you’ll have your work cut out for you if you intend me to follow any schedule of yours. Or if you try to kill me.”

She didn’t die easily, apparently.

She’d refrain from additional questions, though. She did have caps to win, after all. She needed to go to the Strip, with or without whoever this hunter was. Her style of caravan was one of a sabouter, although she probably could have played it dumb and done the same thing, she didn’t. She overburdened one of her own caravans, only to remedy it on the next round with an Joker that removed all club cards from the table, on both sides, when she put it on an Ace of Clubs.

She threw a King on one of his to overburden a caravan.

She was rather merciless with her style of sabotage, her deck built for it as she slowly built up her own caravans until 2 of them were nice and shiny at 24, and one at 25. The next move of the stranger would decide if the game went on, or if it stopped there, and so she watched with unmasked glee – she wouldn’t even be upset if she lost, the game was more fun than the victory, and watching someone pull out a victory after all the sabotaging she threw was always interesting.

Of course, she still expected to win. Losing 100 would put her back on her quest for the Strip, but nothing some blackjack wouldn’t fix.

 

[Wet Noodle]

“Alrighty then.” She said, sounding awfully pleased with herself. Brushing her hands together, she put away the rest of the extra supplies. Looking at the jacket, specifically the hole in the shoulder, she began thinking about what exactly to patch it with, what stitch, then reminding herself that it could simply wait for later.

“Anthony, got it.” The corners of her lips turned up at the look that spread on his face. His embarrassment seemed adorable to her, but she didn’t show it. She could only wonder how he got the nickname, perhaps because of his puppy dog-eske eyes? She mulled the idea over in her head, curiosity prodding at her as she tried to come up with an explanation.

Alessia parted her lips to speak, but stopped at the sound of his compliment. She wasn’t unfamiliar with such comments, but for some reason it caught her off guard. He, of course, had a little more natural charm than the drug addicts who cycled through the Fort making backhanded compliments through their highs.

“Alessia Harres. No nicknames, though.” She quietly laughed, regaining the little bit of composure she had lost.

————

His gaze stayed focused on her face. He wasn’t concerned about getting her to come with, that would happen in time. He considered the idea of killing her, not doing it himself, but considering why a certain checker board suited casino owner in New Vegas attempted to do so. Looking at the scar on her forehead, and connecting it with what he knew about this courier, he tried to connect the dots himself. He was left with gaping blank spaces in the map he created, knowing he would have to dig deeper, either on this courier, or on his employer for the information he was missing.

Focusing on the game, his gaze narrowed at the cards on the table, then to the discarded pile of cards after he pulled out the clubs he had played. He thought about what the outcome of this game might mean, besides winning or losing caps. Perhaps it was a mild concern of his, depending on how this game played out, his ability to get her to follow his direction may waiver.

Bolstering whatever ego she had seemed like the best call. Making the game a close call, playing what could be interpreted as a last stitch effort to win the game, but in the end, force her to win. He made a plan in the matter of seconds. He had a bit of an ace up his sleeve, of course figuratively, not literally, he was no cheater. His poker face was strong as steel, and it may have been more difficult than usual to figure out his angle on the game. With an analytical eye, he placed down a card, making one caravan a 25 compared to her 24, pulling another into his hand, a twitch in his fingers. But with a watchful eye, he had figured out at least one of the cards in the courier’s hand, confirming to himself her ability to win the game. He didn't make a habit of throwing his games, usually since money was involved, but this game seemed to be more than simply winning or losing.

He couldn't place it, but it seemed there was a lot more to this courier character than his employer let on about.

Now it was simply up to the courier to inevitably win. Once she did, what could only be a sigh of defeat left his lips. "That's game." His typical monotone voice held a vaguely disappointed tone. With a heavy hand, he pushed his half of the bet toward her.

 

[Lucyfer]

There was some pleasure at seeing the way that Alessia was caught off guard by the compliment. Anthony wasn’t sure how ‘smooth’ it was, but the other Kings told him not to worry about it. Just let it flow, and he tried – he hoped that look was a positive one. Even if it wouldn’t amount to anything in the future, and just made her feel good in the moment. That was still a good thing, something the other Kings tried to remind him of, too.

It was nice just to be nice.

“None yet,” Anthony pointed out, though he had none in mind for her right then, “Unless Doc counts, although I suspect just about everyone here gets called that or similar,” so it was nothing that would stand out.

He shifted his weight a bit, good arm rubbing at the upper arm of his wounded one, “Not that I need it soon, but just so I don’t bother you and the Followers too much, when do you think that jacket should be done?” It was odd not wearing it all of a sudden. He realized then how much he did wear it, or another one. Every time he left his home, it was on his back, so people knew who he was.

‘No, not who you are, what you are.’

A difference, and one his mind wanted to insist was important.

‘But am I anything else?’

Now wasn’t the time for an existential crisis drawn up by bare arms.

~***~

Victoria was aware of the way that the stranger watched her after the scar was revealed. Aware of the way he seemed to play carefully. Whatever choices he made, they were thought through, even if it still led to his loss; he never got rid of that overburdened caravan, so when he played his card and didn’t unburden it, the game was set with her victory.

She was tempted momentarily to ask to see his hand, to see if he even had the possibility of it – but went against that and simply laid her own cards down and reshuffled them all into a deck to return.

“So it is,” she agreed, sweeping the caps into her pouch, “And I’ve still quite a few more caps to win,” she noted, “unless you want to donate to the cause of the Strip, of course,” she chuckled, but had no plans to play him another game of caravan, “otherwise, I suppose I’ll see you around, Cowboy.”

He hadn’t given her a name, so she’d default to an easy one as she tipped two fingers against her head in a mock salute, before turning away from the hunter to return the cards, and find more games to play.

The hunter likely wasn’t going anywhere soon. Not without her, at any rate. How impatient he wanted to be was his call – whether he tried to drag her out or injure her, or whether he just…waited. That would be the smarter move, at least, so long as she was in here.

 

[Wet Noodle]

Alessia, no mattered how caught off guard she was taken by the comment, decided it meant nothing and ultimately ignored it. Whenever little comments were made to her like that, she always spiraled into thinking about her future, a future with someone, and how she wasn't quite sure if something like that would work out, how scared she was to spend her life alone. She shook her head, telling herself she was getting far too ahead of herself, just like she always did. Nothing like a momentary spiral into sadness because of a single meaningless compliment.

An eyebrow raised at his comment, a slight smile upturning on her lips, "Well, not everyone here is a doctor, so technically not everyone." She said with a slight shrug, now a bit curious. Now that he had brought it up, she wanted a nickname. Disappointing as it was, she knew it wasn't something she could simply ask for, it had to happen naturally. So, her only option left was to wait and see what he could come up with.

"Should be done within a day. Work has been slow today, so I'll at least get started on it tonight." Finally with all of her things put away, she took the jacket, holding it up and observing it. Perhaps staring for a little longer than necessary for the small bullet wound in the shoulder, she caught herself staring and folded the jacket over her arm. She could see hints of him being uncomfortable, but didn't want to pry, "Shouldn't take long at all." She repeated with a nod. A lingering silence followed, one that she quickly broke; "Would you like an escort to the gate? Not that you need it, of course."

_________

He swept all his cards back into the deck in one quick motion, giving them a quick shuffle before putting them back from where they came. Now that there was an outcome to the game, he had no choice but to wait. He had already made too much of an impression on everyone in the room, so he sensed that moving about in any sort of way that might get him deemed more suspicious than he actually was might just get him shot down. Not to mention walking away, leaving empty handed wasn't an option for him. Luckily for him, his curiosity was piqued. His belief in a higher power of any sort was fleeting, but there was a reason this legendary courier walked before him, and what concerned him even more was what had happened to put her in the ground - assuming she made it that far.

'Cowboy.' He muttered internally. A nickname he'd heard before, but it always felt. . . refreshing. Not being 'Red' or 'Hound' or some other iteration reminded him that he wasn't just the gopher for the Strip, but he was also a man. A man he had almost entirely forgotten about over the years.

Without turning his head from the table, his eyes followed her as far as they could. He longed to know more about this curious stranger, fate doesn't curve out of the way like that for just anyone, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to know just why it did.

Getting up from his seat, he followed her to the next game she would play, keeping a healthy distance to not be creepy. He checked his pouch of caps, making sure he had enough for at least the entry fee to a game or two. "This seat taken?" He asked plainly as his boots clicked against the floor, a hand on an open seat a spot away from where Victoria sat.

 

[Lucyfer]

When Alessia shook her head, Anthony did raise his eyebrows, but didn’t ask after the meaning of the gesture. He suspected it was just being dismissive of the nickname ‘Doc’, even if everyone there wasn’t a doctor. Anthony was still pretty sure the vast majority were.

He had a timeline for the jacket, and it wasn’t long. He grinned broadly at that, “All right! I can come check for it, uh…day after tomorrow then?” that seemed like a solid plan to find out about the jacket. Ideally, it would be complete then…though a small part hoped it might take another day, just to give him an excuse to come back around.

He wasn’t likely to have many.

When she asked about escorting him to the gate, he laughed and shook his head, “No, no, I know the way. Unless that ghoulie there decides to shoot me, I don’t think I should have any problems,” the Follower’s guard was a pretty good woman, though, as far as he knew. A bit rough around the edges, but who wouldn’t be after living as long as she had?

“But hey, you ever need an escort around Freeside, you can always ask for me – or any of us. We’ll get ya where you’re going safely.” He noted and stepped back, tipped his head, “I’ll be seeing ya, Doc.”

~***~

Victoria continued her games until she had enough for the Strip – and a little more. The unexpected happened, and she still needed to eat and rest. Sure, she knew how to survive on the road, but she certainly had preferences to how that survival was done. Eating gecko filets every night wasn’t exactly how she preferred it.

She never could escape the longing to live in luxury like she had once before. ‘Perhaps, again.’ It seemed the courier gig might be over after this last job, although it really wasn’t about the package any longer. It was just about the one who decided to shoot her over it. Really, what could be so important he couldn’t just steal it?

‘Although it’s starting to get messy.’ The thought as she ended her last game, with smiles and some lighthearted teasing. Not only because of this bounty hunter, she had expected that – but from the Legion. What she did in Nipton was going to deserve a response, eventually. She very much doubted they didn’t know who did it.

But the appearance of ‘Cowboy’ made her realize it was catching up quickly, and she might not want to be alone when it all came to a head. So, as she gathered up her caps, she didn’t bother to hide her intent in approaching Cowboy and tapping his shoulder, “I’ll see you in the morning,” no, she wasn’t just walking out with him. She paid for a room and she was going to use it, he could figure out his own affairs.

But she knew she wasn’t getting rid of him.

“I can’t say I’m going straight to the Strip in the morning, I left something in Novac I’m debating picking up,” Boone. But saying a person was likely to make Cowboy a bit jumpy. Boone, though…Boone would be good to have at her back as things got crazy. And he’d wanted to go. Wanted to find purpose again. Maybe she should have realized it then, that they were destined to meet, destined to help each other. “But then it should be good from there, all right?”

 

[Wet Noodle]

"Day after tomorrow, that works." She said with a nod. His offer made her smile - typically she had no issues going around Freeside without muscle. Most of the people recognized her as a doctor and kept to their business, and that was that. "I'll keep your offer in mind." Nodding her head back in his direction as to bid him goodbye, her gaze curiously following him out the gate.

The day came and went, and the day after tomorrow had arrived. She was a bit embarrassed to admit that she had put off the actual repair to the jacket for a little too long, and as she woke up, it was the first thing she did. Light was limited, but her hands were controlled, and her focus was narrowed on to the jacket and the needle she held as she put the patch on. If nothing else, all the stitches were precisely the same length, which she felt was worth something in her book.

Longingly, she looked out to the courtyard of the Fort. Supplies had dwindled even more in the day that had gone by, and the doctors here were barely scraping by with what they had. Her tongue clicked in thought. Someone needed to do something, or else almost everyone on Freeside would crash and burn. The NCR, they would move on, find someplace new to colonize, but the locals? They would have no where to go, and that's what worried her the most.

--------

Creedence wasn't playing the table games to gamble, he played them to learn about this suspicious character before him, so he didn't play as aggressively as he normally would. This was his game, not the cards before him, but the information. Had he not been so quiet or secluded, he suspected he would've been a much more valuable asset due to just how much he knows about the politics surrounding the main factions. He had no reason to want to be wrapped up in what seemed to be a brewing war, so he just fulfilled his contracts to get his payment.

He nodded as she got up to leave to her room, picking his hat up and setting it over his head, his eyes just peeking out from beneath the brim. He had to figure out where he was going to for the night. Probably just somewhere outside, nearby. Sounded good enough to him. Desert nights could get chilly, sure, but he wasn't afraid of that. Wherever he decided to go, he wasn't even considering being worried about the Courier leaving him in the dust - from what he could tell, she already knew she couldn't shake him. Smart move.

"Fine by me." He spoke slowly, he was on no deadline for her delivery, so he was in no rush. He couldn't help but to consider just what she had left in Novac that was worth getting before a journey to the strip. But, his tiredness was catching up to him, and his mind moved slower than it should, causing him to push the thought prematurely from his mind. "Right as rain." His hand pressed the top of his hat, trying to pick out any cues he could from the interesting stranger.

 

[Lucyfer]

Anthony made his way back to the Kings, and let everyone know he was alright. There was already an investigation going on into who it was that shot him, and talk of making things more difficult for the NCR to get water from the Kings - as well as other necessities from around town. The King himself came to talk with Anthony, alongside Pacer, who asked him all he remembered about the incident.

He told them, of course, much the same as Tapper had. The stories didn’t really diverge, they weren’t trying to hide anything. Everyone in the Kings knew about the up-charge and approved it, so there was no point hiding that detail.

The NCR had their own supplies. They needed to stop harassing the Kings who were trying to take care of the Freesiders.

News soon flowed that no water was to be given to any NCR citizen. Much as the NCR had set up their own test to prove citizenship for their supplies, the Kings began to set up tests as well, though it was only enforced in cases where they weren’t sure if someone was NCR or not, which was pretty rare. Most came right up in uniform, while they were ill informed of the new rules.

Even before then, the Kings were pretty good at remembering faces.

Anthony managed to get to rest the day following the shooting, and so early the next day, he was on his way to the Old Mormon Fort, both eager for his jacket, and to see Alessia. He made sure not to wear a jacket so he could easily slip it on if it was ready.

Certainly, it would be.

When he stepped in, he didn’t have to look long for her. She was staring out into the courtyard, as if lost in thought, “Hey, Doc!” he greeted cheerfully, stepping over to where she stood, “You are a sight for sore eyes, I already feel refreshed just coming in here,” he grinned easily, “how ya holdin’ up?”

~***~

The Cowboy made no move to get up and follow her. No move to stop Victoria from settling in for the night, for which she was appreciative when she got to her room and dressed down, but she still slipped her gun under her pillow just in case. Thankfully, when morning came around, there was no issue. The room was undisturbed, no one was in there, and she was still there.

So, Victoria packed up her things, settled back into her traveling armor, and grabbed a quick breakfast on the way out.

She didn’t go looking for the cowboy. He’d either follow, or he wouldn’t, and she wasn’t terribly inclined to bring him along if he slept in and missed her, either. He knew the direction she was heading. ‘Novac.’ Which was indeed the turn she took, rather than head on towards the Strip, despite how close it was.

It was hard to admit that she needed help, but the Cowboy’s arrival proved it.

As did the sight of red and gold on the horizon, bearing the Legion emblem. She intended to avoid them entirely, but it was clear they already had their eyes on her. She at least made it to an abandoned gas station Vipers had once used, and cleared out of, already. “Ave, Courier.”

“I have a name,” she intended to keep walking, but knew where the door was. Knew where the walls were.

“The great Caesar has marked you for death... and the Legion obeys. Ready yourself for battle.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll die like the wretched dog you are.”

Well, that was a nuisance. And the legionnaires had firearms, which they were already drawing. ‘Four. Just four of them.’ Victoria barely managed to get wall coverage when the first shot rang out. ‘Hells.’ Spade was in her hand the next instance, but she knew this wasn’t going to be easy.