[IC] ♦ 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐔𝐌 ♠ 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒 ♠ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐑𝐄 ♦

[Mao Mao]

The courier was almost there to the Strip to complete his delivery, but he was ambushed by some men before losing consciousness. Only a few more hours and he would of been celebrating at The Tops. But, he was attacked by a group of men and someone got behind him and hit his head with a baseball bat. It was night time as the courier slowly woke up from the long slumber to see that his hands were tied up. There was an argument going on, but he didn't care about it and he tried to get out of here. He didn't even know where he was at, but he needed to leave right this second. The courier kept trying to free himself, but someone saw him moving around.

"Guess who's waking up over here?" a voice was heard as the courier looked up and saw three men surrounding him. Two of the men looked like they were apart of some tribe within the wasteland. Maybe they were Fiends? The one man to his right looked as if he's hooked up on jet or meth. But, the middleman was something else entirely new. His suit made sure that he wasn't some savage looking for the next score. He had to be from New Vegas or one of the wealthy families in the Hub. The young man took one last hit from his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground as he looked at the courier waking up.

"Time to cash out." the man said as he crushed it out with his foot and walked towards him.

"Would you get it over with." the man to the courier's left said as he was getting annoyed by the entire situation. He looked like he wanted to just shoot the fucker and get paid.

The suited man raised his hand to shut the guy up while keeping eye contact with courier. He kept a serious look as he said to the man, "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the chip. The chip that the courier was supposed to deliver to the Strip, but the wealthy man had it now. The gray chip shined in the darkness, it was one of the special kind of chips made for one of the casinos to show off.

"You've made your last delivery, kid." the man addressed the courier as he showed off the chip before putting it back in his pocket. He then pulled out a 9mm pistol while talking, "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." The 9mm pistol was one of the courier's favorite weapons to use as a form of protection. It was cheaper to repair with spare parts and it's bullets were easy to find all over the place. It was coincidental, that a 9mm pistol would be the weapon that kills him. The courier looked at the pistol before looking up at the man, grinning.

"From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck." the man said as he taunted the courier with the pistol before aiming it at him. All that he could hear was his breathing before the man spoke one last time as he shrugged his shoulders, "But, truth is... the game was rigged from the start."

He fired his pistol only once as the courier's body fell into the shallow grave. The group of men looked at the body before the suited man turned towards one of the men, snapped his fingers, and pointed at the grave. It was time to bury him. It only took a few minutes to cover up the grave enough that no-one would notice the new addition to the place. Later, the men left the graveyard and went to celebrate at the local bar just down the hill. Silence fell into the graveyard as nothing was making any sound until a hand appeared out of the grave. The courier was still alive from the gunshot that would of killed somebody else, but he needed help. He reached for the edge of the grave and rose up. It looked like the dead was coming back to life.

He gasped for air as he was trying to get out of the grave before death took him away. Then, he saw the light of New Vegas and used all of his strength to get out of that hole. The courier crawled out of his grave as he cried out in pain and was slowly losing consciousness again. He crawled as far as he could towards the light. He kept telling himself that he shouldn't have accepted the job at all and returned back to the Hub. The caps were too good to refuse and he thought that he could of had fun down in the Strip. Now, he was going to die. He reached towards the New Vegas lights out in the distance before he finally passed out and his hand fell to the dirt. The courier knew that New Vegas was the place where cheaters and liars lived, but he never thought that he was just another victim waiting for them to come out of the darkness. He guessed the man was right.

The game was rigged from the start...

[Todd Howard]

It was a cold, silent night in Goodsprings. The small town was never active at night; Most, if not all of the settlers had a fair trust in each-other, leading to a community where there weren't even many patrols at night. Easy Pete did spend his evenings sitting outside the saloon asleep, however. So that was the best the town had for eyes; And it was honestly a bit pathetic.

Walking down the dusty streets, a man kept his hands in his pockets as he slowly progressed towards his goal; The Goodsprings Cemetery. While he had no beliefs that people could be spoken with after death, it did make him feel good to visit his sister's grave on occasion. At his side rolled a large, bulky blue robot with a single wheel to roll on rather than legs. The screen projected the face of an old-fashion cowboy, and the robot played the part well. Due to a lack of solid housing in town, the man, and this robot, lived together.

It wasn't a bad arrangement; Neither bothered each-other too much, and they had their own spaces. The robot was a real talker, while the man was a lot less charming, and ended up being more of a ruffian. Not that the robot cared much; He didn't cause him no trouble.

"Evenin' Pete." The robot said as they passed the saloon. The elderly man tipped his hat, eyes still closed.

"Pardner, ya sure have been visitin' that grave more n' more, lately." The robot voiced a concern for the man at his side, screen flickering. That unfortunate gal had gotten mauled by geckos; Trying to go and get some water when her brother was in one of Doc Mitchell's beds, sick with a terrible fever. Needless to say, the man didn't take it well. Sick or not, he ran out of that house; Bursting out the door like a bat outta hell, and he went and ripped every last gecko he could find apart until he fainted, almost dying himself if the robot hadn't rolled up.

"You worry too much, Victor." The man replied, casual. He had a pained expression, but wouldn't express how he felt with words. It'd been two years; He moved on, for the most part. But hadn't worked up the will to leave town. He hadn't anywhere to go, or a reason. Instead he just stayed in town, suffering with nothing to think about aside from the image of his sister being chewed apart. "I'm fine. Just feel like talking to her, again."

"Thought you didn't believe in talkin' t' the dead." Victor responded, sly.

"I don't." The man answered, honestly. "But I still like to try."

Approaching the hill to the cemetery, the two paused as they could hear something coming from up the hill. With caution, they slowly approached, hearing some people talking. Unfamiliar voices, to them both. The man glanced at his robot companion, nodding. "Keep low." He whispered, as he began circling around the hill to approach from the back. Victor in tow.

A shot rang out, causing the duo to get down low. "Fuck." The man swore, not expecting gunfire. They stayed on the side of the hill, listening for any other signs of things happening. It got quiet, real quiet. And the man figured that meant whoever was up there was done. But, what happened, was another story entirely. Normally people didn't commit murder in Goodsprings; He wasn't sure if these were locals. But he picked up on a small amount of talk, hearing the shuffling of feet.

"Now, to celebrate. Drinks are on me, fellas."

The man's brow furrowed. "Way too fancy to be around here." He said, noting the voice. He waited for a bit, until things got silent, until he decided to go up the hill with Victor. The duo reached the top and Victor circled around a broken fence; while the man went over it.

"Well, shit. Looks like he got buried." The man said, figuring there was no point to looking further.

"Might still be alive in there, should we checkkit?" Victor questioned, glancing at the fresh grave.

"Yeah, right. They just executed his ass; There's no-" The man was cut off by a hand thrusting out of the grave; Causing him to fall back onto his ass, terrified. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed, watching as the man pulled himself out of his own grave; covered in dirt, and leaking blood from his head. As he managed to crawl out of the grave; He crawled towards the lights of New Vegas, on his last leg. The poor bastard had survived the initial shot; But he didn't have much time left.

And as he thought that, the man's hands hit the dirt as he slowly began to pass; No longer awake, if not dead already. As his hand went limp and landed in the dirt, Victor rolled over to him; Observing the body. He turned, looking at his human companion. "I reckon he's still kickin'. Oughta take 'em to the doc." Victor said, sounding serious.

The man eyed the body; unsure if he had deserved to die or not. It seemed like someone tried to off him; And those guys hadn't sounded friendly. Hesitant, he decided to finally just work with Victor. "Alright, help me pick 'em up. Let's get him to the doc before we lose 'em." He said, working along with Victor to lift the man up; Though soon after Victor strait up grabbed him away and hauled ass towards Doc Mitchell's. He followed, just in case those thugs saw them and caused trouble.

"What the hell was this about for them to do this?" He questioned, unsure. If the man survived, he'd surely have answers.

[Mao Mao]

♤ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ⤍ 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 ♤

His eyes opened slowly as he was finally regaining consciousness since the night of his 'death'. He saw a ceiling fan going around as he realized that he wasn't outside anymore. An old man's voice of surprise rang out, "You're awake. How about that." The courier knew that he was somewhere else other than home or heaven's gate. He got out of bed as fast as he could before the old man stopped him.

"Whoa, easy there. Easy." the old man said as he reached his hand towards him, "You been out cold a couple of days now."

A couple of days? How is that possible? The courier looked around surprised that he was alive, but he still felt like shit. A strong headache came in the moment he tried to get out of bed. The courier didn't know how to react to the situation other than panicking. "Why don't you just relax a second? Get your bearings." the old man tried to calm the younger man down. The courier breathed slowly and looked around the house. The old man must've been a doctor or something as he quickly saw the medical equipment nearby.

"Let's see what the damage is." the old man said as he moved the chair closer towards the bed. He was sitting on that chair as he took a hard look at the courier while talking to him, "How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"

"Phillips Henderson..." the courier said as it was the first time he had spoken since the night of the ambush.

"Phillips... can't say it's what I'd have picked for you." the old man acted surprised by the name, "But if that's your name, that's your name. I'm Doc Mitchell, by the way."

The courier looked at the doctor and asked, "Where am I?"

"You're at Goodsprings. Welcome to this lovely town." the doctor said as he got up from the chair and walked towards the broken stretcher. "Now, I hope you don't mind but I had to go rooting around there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place." He found a mirror and walked towards the courier as he handed it to him. The courier took a look at his face and saw the Mitchell's needlework at hand. It left a scar behind, but it's better than being dead.

"How'd I do?" he asked.

"You did a great job, doc." Phillips was impressed by the needlework and it must of taken a while to remove the bits of lead.

"Well, thank you. I got most of it right, anyway. Stuff that mattered." he said as he extended his hand towards Henderson. The doctor knew that Henderson was getting better than expected. Henderson accepted the hand as he got out of bed for the first time in days. The headaches appeared again as he closed his eyes for the pain. The doctor was impressed again by Phillips's recovery rate as he was standing up with his two feet.

"Well, you're now standing. Why don't you walk down to the end of the room? Over by that vigor tester machine there." the doctor let go of Henderson and headed towards the machine, waiting for Henderson to get there. After a moment of standing there, Phillips took his first steps and nearly fell to the ground. Thankfully, he was able to balance himself and walked towards the machine slowly rather than quickly. Once he got to the machine, Mitchell applauded as he got from the bed all the way to the machine without falling down. The doctor was pleased with the walk as he said, "Looking good so far."

"Thanks." Henderson said before taking a look at the machine. The machine was wooden and looked like some sort of game that you'd find down in the coastlines of California. It was some sort of test to determine your level of strength, perception, endurance, charisma, intelligence, agility, and luck. He hasn't seen the Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester back at the Hub or heard about it in his lifetime, but he wanted to take it to see if the bullet did any damage to his mind. It only took him a few minutes to take the test, but he thought that he did a good job at it. Mitchell took a look at the machine and was surprised by the result, "Look at that. Maybe them bullets done your brain some good."

After using the Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester, Mitchell sent the courier over to the living room to do several more tests. In the end, it didn't matter as the doctor didn't know much about them at all. Once they were done with the tests, it was time for Henderson to explore the area and then leave as soon as possible. The courier was given one of Mitchell's old vault suits to wear for the moment as his old clothes were ruined. When he got dressed, the doctor stopped him at the doorway for a moment with his Pip-Boy. Henderson grabbed the Pip-body and put it on his arm, the doctor explained that he grew up in one of the vaults: Vault 21. And he didn't need it anymore.

"Well, if you're heading back out there, you ought talk to Sunny Smiles. She can help you with directions if you're planning to leave town. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave. And his 'friend' as well." the doctor said to his patient, "Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore."

Then he realized that he forgot to give Henderson's things back and ran towards the bedroom. Henderson stood there for a moment before the doctor returned with his basic things and a note. "Here. These are yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in. I hope you don't mind but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin. But it was just something about a platinum chip." Mitchell said as Henderson grabbed all of his belongings. The platinum chip was on the courier's mind as he still had to finish a job, but he didn't know where it was and who took it.

"What else can you tell me about Goodsprings?" Henderson asked the doctor as he opened the door.

"Well, there's a general store just up the road. Run by a fella named Chet. He don't got nothing fancy, but he's got your basics covered. If you're looking to wet your whistle, just past Chet's is the Prospector Saloon. The bartender there, Trudy, knows everyone in town. Other than that, there's not much to see. Just people trying to scratch out a living." Mitchell answered the question as best as he could.

Henderson had one more question to ask before he left the doctor's home, "Who was it that rescued me?"

The doctor coughed and then answered, "That'd be Victor. Curious fella. Sort of odd. And I don't just mean 'cause he's a robot. I couldn't tell you much about him. He's real friendly, don't get me wrong. You just get the sense that ain't the whole picture. Just a feeling. He's living with someone that has been here for two years. You want to know more about them, you'll have to ask them yourself. Their shack is on the southern edge of town."

"Thank you again for helping me, doctor." Henderson thanked the doctor, "I don't suppose that you are willing to spare something for the pain? It might come back again." The doctor nodded as he grabbed the doctor's bag with medical supplies in it. Phillips's charm was working better as he couldn't help but grin as the doctor looked for any additional supplies. The doctor talked as he was walking towards Phillips, "Here you go. You been through a lot."

He handed the bag to Henderson as he kept on speaking, "Ain't much, but these'll do you right if the pain flares up."

Phillips thanked Mitchell once again for the help and left for the Mojave Wasteland. Once he set foot outside, he had to cover his eyes for a moment because the sun was brighter than ever. Then, he saw the town of Goodsprings and its people doing their daily chores. He saw the Prospector Saloon and the general store near each other as Phillips knew where to start his mission of retreating the chip. The note said that he was to drop it off at Primm's Mojave Express to Johnson Nash. He knew that the chip wasn't dropped off there by the group of men, but it was a good start for now. Then, he saw Victor rolling on the street. It was him because he was the only robot around the area and he had a cowboy on his screen. Asking Victor some questions won't be a terrible idea.

So, Henderson went down the short hill and headed towards Victor. He must know something about his 'killer' and the guys that worked for him. Someone must know something.

[Todd Howard]

A shot glass slammed down onto the bar, a somewhat repulsive belch following the sound of the glass. A lone man sat at the bar; His gruff looks and unclean face not marking him as presentable as some would prefer. Raising a hand, he scratched his slowly growing beard; Noticing it seemed a little crusty. Small flakes from gecko hides giving his beard odd green sprinkles in his facial hair. The hand fell the table, as he glared past his drink and at the woman on the other side.

"C'mon, Trudy. Just give me the damn bottle." He demanded, not being good at socializing. He was mostly hot air, but when the man got mad, he caused a mess. Trudy knew this, but stubbornly refused to give in to him, instead just shaking her head, arms crossed under her breast.

"I don't think so." Trudy replied, the motion of her head stopping. "You can't afford it; And you know it."

'Damn facts.' The man thought to himself, raising his hands as he attempted to convince her; "Come on; I'll bring in something of value today. I'll make it up to ya." He was pleading, needing a bit of a drink to get him through the day. He wasn't usually desperate; But when it came to his whiskey, he was like a dog begging for scraps. And in this world, people liked their scraps.

"You said that last time; And what'd you bring me?" Trudy questioned, cutting the man off before he could answer. "A couple of shells, and a magazine about a woman in a gimp suit." She added, making her point clear, somewhat harshly.

Hand slamming on the table, the man stood. "That was some perfectly good fucking material! You gave me two damn caps for it, you scam artist." He grumbled, irritated at the barkeep. Trudy was a good person; But when it came to alcohol she had to be a bitch about it.

"And only that because I could bribe Chet with it." She retorted, sighing.

The man paused, surprised he hadn't thought of that. Not willing to admit he thought that was smart, he decided to be rude instead: "Give me the bottle, Trudy. I'll pay you back!" He said as he reached for the bottle himself; Only for Trudy to smack his hand and cause him to retreat.

"Don't make me get Sunny in here." Trudy threatened, eyes narrow.

As she said those words; A figure covered in leather armor rounded the corner, approaching them with slight caution. "No need." She said, looking down at the man at the bar with an irritated expression.

"Sunny!" He said, excitedly. He observed her face, grinning. "You aren't living up to your name again; Put that pretty smile on-"

Pausing as a gun was pointed his way, he stared up at the woman with wide eyes.

"Anderson." Sunny said, plainly.

"Listen. That's not needed." The man, Anderson, replied. His hands slowly raising.

"Could've fooled me." Sunny replied, keeping her aim. "You don't need to be putting your hands on Trudy, or her wares without her permission. I don't want to hurt you, but I will." She threatened, noting he was the only other worthwhile gunhand in town, but too much trouble for his own good sometimes. She backed away slightly as he stood up, standing a head taller than her; She knew he was even more dangerous with his hands than a gun; He'd torn a gecko clean into pieces after his sister died. She'd never forget that horrible sight.

"Alright, alright, I get it." Anderson replied, smirking. "You just want me to yourself, that's fine."

Lowering her gun, Sunny shook her head, not amused by him taking another pass at her. "Just mind yourself, alright? I'm on edge with this Powder Ganger situation; I don't want to have to worry about someone behind me when there's enough trouble up front." She explained, seeming tired. Her expression marked that she'd been stressed; But was trying to stay herself. She was, for the most part, having a difficult time.

"I'd be behind you any day." Anderson replied, giving a thumbs' up.

And this guy was only making it worse. With a groan, she shook her head. "You're kind of a pain." She said, honestly. But she was cracking a smile, regardless. One thing Anderson was good at was making her smile on occasion.

"I try." Anderson said as he lowered his hand, slipping it into his pocket. "I suppose if I'm gonna get a drink, I better get out there and find something." He said with acceptance, nodding to the two women as he walked by Sunny; Only to smack her on the ass and make her jump. He broke into a fit of laughter, but soon started having a small coughing fit as he attempted to get out of the store.

"Damn it!" Sunny cursed, turning. "You do that again and I'm actually going to shoot you."

"Same threat, different day!" Anderson called out, pushing the saloon doors open and taking his leave with a grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rolling along, Victor was taken by surprise as he saw someone coming down old boot hill; That same man he had found the other night. Stopping in his tracks and turning, he waved one of his arms and greeted the man with a "Howdy Pardner!"

Noting the look of the man as he approached, Victor would have cringed at the scar if he could have. "Might I say yer' lookin' fit as a fiddle?" He complimented, honest for a guy that had just popped out of his own grave with a hole in his head just a few days prior. Impressive, really. Victor was happy to meet a man with enough will and endurance to survive such a thing.

[Mao Mao]

The robot looked interesting enough as it stood over Phillips. It wasn't the kind of robot that he'd had expected to save his life, but he was grateful for it. Victor was taller than him and looked like he could carry someone like Phillips to Goodsprings. The town was a good enough place to spend your remaining time in. For Henderson, he rather travel around than stay in one place. Since he didn't know how to shake Victor's hands, Henderson looked at the robot and said, "Thanks for digging me out of that grave. I'd be dead otherwise."

"Don't mention it! I'm always ready to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need." the robot said in response as he wheeled back and forth. "You should also be thanking my friend for saving your hide."

Henderson had questions for his hero and he must of had some answers to them. He started with a simple one, "How did you happen to find me?"

Victor's screen kept flickering as it could of get out at any moment as he answered the question, "My friend and I were out for a stroll that night when we heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard. Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs so we laid low then we heard the gunshot. Once they'd run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kicking. Turns out, you were, so we hauled you off to the Doc right quick."

"Do you know who those men were who attacked me?" Henderson asked another question.

"Can't say that I'm familiar with the rascals. Some of the fine folks in town might be able to help you out with that." Victor answered honestly as he screen flickered again. Henderson was disappointed by the answer as he felt like he hit a dead end, but the locals must know more about the group of killers than Victor does. Victor kept rolling back and forth as Henderson couldn't help but look at him. It wasn't like any robot back at the Hub or California. Something about it stood out of any other robot he met. Despite him being a courier, he never went east as his deliveries were only focused around Southern California.

"Looking at something, pal?" he questioned.

"Sorry, Victor." Henderson was snapped back to reality, "I just never seen a robot like you before and I have been all over the west."

"It's fine. A lot of people often look at me when they get here to trade. I'm a Securitron, RobCo security model 2060-B. If you ever see any of my brothers, tell them Victor says howdy." Victor said in a happy tone as he rolled around Henderson for fun. It was good that there were many other security model 2060-Bs out there in the wasteland. Since Victor couldn’t answer any more of his questions, it was time for Henderson to explore more.

Henderson nodded and thanked the robot for help as he said, “You have been a big help, thank you.”

“No problems at all, pal. I am happy enough to help.” Victor responded as he looked at the saloon and saw a man leaving it. It was his pal as he tried to wave him down, causing Henderson to question his actions.

“That’s the friend that also saved you.” he said as he tried to get the man’s attention by shouting his name. It was good to see another human besides the doc, not that Victor was a bad guest. Henderson rather talk to a human than a robot, but he did sort of help. His friend looked drunk from a distance, which was a bad sign. Henderson didn't like drinking or doing drugs, even know he tried some during his youth. He looked like he wasn't going to be any use, but he had to try. If he had something on those bad guys, he could hunt them down and get the chip back.