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puddingpunter
Quinn had tracked that godforsaken robot across the entire wasteland, all the way from New Vegas to the tiny town of Goodsprings. She had survived this long by sneaking around and avoiding human interaction, almost as much as she steered clear of the mutated beasts that roamed the desert, in pursuit of Victor, one of Mr. House's many securitrons. Victor, however, tended to have a mind of his own, strangely enough. He had disappeared years ago, when she was very young, but House had not the resources and didn't want to send any other securitrons out into the wastes, lest some gang manage to overpower them and scrap them for parts. Now, she was old enough, and had cabin fever from being cooped up in the city for so long. Finding Victor wasn't exactly at the top of House's priority list, but the delivery of a certain poker chip had been delayed. She had been asked to keep an eye out for its Courier as she searched for the remains of the securitron, unless Victor had somehow managed to survive all these years. She wasn't exactly sure what this chip could do, only that it was important to have all existing securitron units in New Vegas for when it did arrive.
At first, the thought of some adventure seemed rather appealing, a chance to strike out and explore the desert she had left as a child so long ago. Her father had been reluctant to let her leave New Vegas, and the only reason he hadn't gone himself at the very start was due to his health. So she had left well equipped with confidence. She knew how to survive, but surely she wouldn't have to stray too far from he city.
That's what she had thought to herself a month ago. Now she was completely out of her original supplies, filthy, and sick of staring at a burnt red horizon. If she had to put another laser between the eyes of a giant ant, she was going to lose it. Now, she was trudging into the town of Goodsprings at an ungodly hour, not wanting to spend a night without cover, and all she could think about was her bed back home. But, as tired as she was, she was alert enough to catch the faint sound of clanking metal and the sight of lights flashing atop a hill to her right under a sizable water tower. She stopped and hesitated for a moment, debating on whether or not it was worth investigating or even any of her business. Curiosity overcame her, so she scrambled up the side of the hill as quietly as she could, laying on her stomach in the dust once she was near the top and peeking up over the side to look beyond the crude fence. Judging by the makeshift crosses and tombstones, she had come across the town cemetery, and on its far side, she was shocked to see a securitron digging up one of the graves. As there seemed to be no other sign of danger, she slowly hoisted herself to her feet and ducked between the rungs of the fence, pushing her mask up so that it rested on top of her head and revealed her face. The robot turned around abruptly, a shovel in hand, when she said tentatively, "Victor? Is that you?"
The image of a cowboy's portrait flickered on the screen that served as the unit's face, a moment of silence before a country twang responded, "Well, I'll be! I didn't hardly recognize you, Miss Angela!" he greeted, the scars over her blinded eye revealing her identity before she had to explain, "Last I saw you, you was barely this high," the robot raised the his free hand and held it a short ways from the ground.
"Yeah, yeah it's been a while, but, where have you been, and, more importantly, what the hell are you doing?" she gestured behind him at the grave he was digging up. It seemed an odd thing for a robot to be doing, looting corpses, she would probably have to take a look at his circuits to make sure they weren't fried.
Victor wheeled to the side so she could step forward and see what he was pointing to as he explained, "Well, you see, I do believe this young man has done been buried alive."
"Wait, what?" she said, growing surprise and concern in her voice as she quickly jogged up to peer into the shallow grave. Lying in the dirt and covered in dust was a young man, probably not much older than herself, with dark skin a reddish hair, indicating a mixed heritage. However, the most striking thing was the unmistakable gunshot wound in his right temple, still glistening with dark blood and running all over his face. Alarmed, she dropped to her knees and quickly pushed the remaining dirt away from his face and neck and pressing two fingers to his throat. She had expected nothing, he looked to be pretty dead, but sure enough, she was met with a dangerously weak and thready pulse. "Holy shit," she breathed, quickly grabbing one of his arms and attempting to pull him out of his premature grave, "Help me get him out, is there a doctor around here?" she asked, urgency in her tone. She wasn't sure if he would know, but if they didn't get him professional medical help, he was going to be done for. She knew basics, but she was far more versed in machinery than people in general.
"As a matter of fact," he said, dropping the shoulder and helping the young woman lift the half dead man up off the ground, hooking his arms under his shoulders while Quinn picked up his ankles, "Doc Mitchell is the best in the business, and he's right down the road. We'd better hurry though, don't seem like he can hang on too much longer, he replied as he started wheeling his way back down the hill toward the town. Quinn had to jog to keep up, nodding in response. "It's a wonder he's still alive," she said under her breath, more to herself than Victor.
They hurried through the dark, Quinn careful not to trip over potholes in the cracked asphalt as they passed the stores and homes of Goodsprings to a house at the end of the street atop a small hill. Quinn set down the half dead man's feet and hopped up the porch, banging on the door and casting an anxious look over her shoulder. She didn't have much of a reason to be worried about a stranger, but the angle of the bullet wound suggested that he had been on his knees and executed, not simply murdered. For what reason, well, she hoped he would end up being worth the time. She didn't often get tied up in affairs that weren't her own, but it wasn't every day you found a man buried alive after surviving a bullet to the head.
She turned back abruptly when a sleepy man answered the door, older, blading on top, with a silver mustache to match what remained of his hair. "What in God's name-" he began, but before he could finish his sentence, Quinn quickly interrupted, "Doctor Mitchell? This man, he got shot in the head," she stepped to the side so that he could see Victor holding the stranger, "Somebody buried him alive, Victor dug him up," she explained as she walked over to the robot and took his placing supporting the man's shoulders. "Sorry to wake you, Doc," the robot quickly added, "But this poor fella is hangin' by a thread."
"He took a cap in the brain and he's still kickin'?" the docor said, walking forward and picking up his ankles, "Help me get him inside. I'm afraid you won't fit Victor, we'll send 'im to you if he makes it,"
"Thanks a million, doc, y'all fix him up good," Victor said before turning and wheeling off into the night, leaving the two humans to try and save their fellow man. Quinn used her foot to shut the door behind them as they entered the house and walked down the hall into a room with a medical table and other equipment of similar use. They hoisted the unconscious victim onto the table and the doctor set about getting his supplies immediately. Quinn stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to do until he paused and looked at her for a moment. "Well? You gonna help me or not?" he asked pointedly, causing her to nod and step into action. She didn't do too much aside from from helping to clear the blood and then hand him the tools he needed. During the hours that he worked, they said very little, though she did eventually give him her name and mention that she was an old acquaintance of Victor's. Other than some details concerning what she saw when she found their patient, not much else was said.
By the time they had finally finished stitching him up, making sure he was out of immediate danger, and discarding the practically unwearable clothes he was wearing, Quinn had fallen asleep in her chair with her pale blonde head resting against the wall next to the window, the grey dawn creeping up over the burgundy horizon and washing the room in a soft, cold light. Being exhausted himself, Dr. Mitchell decided to go back to bed himself, leaving the half blind girl and the man who survived quite a kick in the head.
At first, the thought of some adventure seemed rather appealing, a chance to strike out and explore the desert she had left as a child so long ago. Her father had been reluctant to let her leave New Vegas, and the only reason he hadn't gone himself at the very start was due to his health. So she had left well equipped with confidence. She knew how to survive, but surely she wouldn't have to stray too far from he city.
That's what she had thought to herself a month ago. Now she was completely out of her original supplies, filthy, and sick of staring at a burnt red horizon. If she had to put another laser between the eyes of a giant ant, she was going to lose it. Now, she was trudging into the town of Goodsprings at an ungodly hour, not wanting to spend a night without cover, and all she could think about was her bed back home. But, as tired as she was, she was alert enough to catch the faint sound of clanking metal and the sight of lights flashing atop a hill to her right under a sizable water tower. She stopped and hesitated for a moment, debating on whether or not it was worth investigating or even any of her business. Curiosity overcame her, so she scrambled up the side of the hill as quietly as she could, laying on her stomach in the dust once she was near the top and peeking up over the side to look beyond the crude fence. Judging by the makeshift crosses and tombstones, she had come across the town cemetery, and on its far side, she was shocked to see a securitron digging up one of the graves. As there seemed to be no other sign of danger, she slowly hoisted herself to her feet and ducked between the rungs of the fence, pushing her mask up so that it rested on top of her head and revealed her face. The robot turned around abruptly, a shovel in hand, when she said tentatively, "Victor? Is that you?"
The image of a cowboy's portrait flickered on the screen that served as the unit's face, a moment of silence before a country twang responded, "Well, I'll be! I didn't hardly recognize you, Miss Angela!" he greeted, the scars over her blinded eye revealing her identity before she had to explain, "Last I saw you, you was barely this high," the robot raised the his free hand and held it a short ways from the ground.
"Yeah, yeah it's been a while, but, where have you been, and, more importantly, what the hell are you doing?" she gestured behind him at the grave he was digging up. It seemed an odd thing for a robot to be doing, looting corpses, she would probably have to take a look at his circuits to make sure they weren't fried.
Victor wheeled to the side so she could step forward and see what he was pointing to as he explained, "Well, you see, I do believe this young man has done been buried alive."
"Wait, what?" she said, growing surprise and concern in her voice as she quickly jogged up to peer into the shallow grave. Lying in the dirt and covered in dust was a young man, probably not much older than herself, with dark skin a reddish hair, indicating a mixed heritage. However, the most striking thing was the unmistakable gunshot wound in his right temple, still glistening with dark blood and running all over his face. Alarmed, she dropped to her knees and quickly pushed the remaining dirt away from his face and neck and pressing two fingers to his throat. She had expected nothing, he looked to be pretty dead, but sure enough, she was met with a dangerously weak and thready pulse. "Holy shit," she breathed, quickly grabbing one of his arms and attempting to pull him out of his premature grave, "Help me get him out, is there a doctor around here?" she asked, urgency in her tone. She wasn't sure if he would know, but if they didn't get him professional medical help, he was going to be done for. She knew basics, but she was far more versed in machinery than people in general.
"As a matter of fact," he said, dropping the shoulder and helping the young woman lift the half dead man up off the ground, hooking his arms under his shoulders while Quinn picked up his ankles, "Doc Mitchell is the best in the business, and he's right down the road. We'd better hurry though, don't seem like he can hang on too much longer, he replied as he started wheeling his way back down the hill toward the town. Quinn had to jog to keep up, nodding in response. "It's a wonder he's still alive," she said under her breath, more to herself than Victor.
They hurried through the dark, Quinn careful not to trip over potholes in the cracked asphalt as they passed the stores and homes of Goodsprings to a house at the end of the street atop a small hill. Quinn set down the half dead man's feet and hopped up the porch, banging on the door and casting an anxious look over her shoulder. She didn't have much of a reason to be worried about a stranger, but the angle of the bullet wound suggested that he had been on his knees and executed, not simply murdered. For what reason, well, she hoped he would end up being worth the time. She didn't often get tied up in affairs that weren't her own, but it wasn't every day you found a man buried alive after surviving a bullet to the head.
She turned back abruptly when a sleepy man answered the door, older, blading on top, with a silver mustache to match what remained of his hair. "What in God's name-" he began, but before he could finish his sentence, Quinn quickly interrupted, "Doctor Mitchell? This man, he got shot in the head," she stepped to the side so that he could see Victor holding the stranger, "Somebody buried him alive, Victor dug him up," she explained as she walked over to the robot and took his placing supporting the man's shoulders. "Sorry to wake you, Doc," the robot quickly added, "But this poor fella is hangin' by a thread."
"He took a cap in the brain and he's still kickin'?" the docor said, walking forward and picking up his ankles, "Help me get him inside. I'm afraid you won't fit Victor, we'll send 'im to you if he makes it,"
"Thanks a million, doc, y'all fix him up good," Victor said before turning and wheeling off into the night, leaving the two humans to try and save their fellow man. Quinn used her foot to shut the door behind them as they entered the house and walked down the hall into a room with a medical table and other equipment of similar use. They hoisted the unconscious victim onto the table and the doctor set about getting his supplies immediately. Quinn stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to do until he paused and looked at her for a moment. "Well? You gonna help me or not?" he asked pointedly, causing her to nod and step into action. She didn't do too much aside from from helping to clear the blood and then hand him the tools he needed. During the hours that he worked, they said very little, though she did eventually give him her name and mention that she was an old acquaintance of Victor's. Other than some details concerning what she saw when she found their patient, not much else was said.
By the time they had finally finished stitching him up, making sure he was out of immediate danger, and discarding the practically unwearable clothes he was wearing, Quinn had fallen asleep in her chair with her pale blonde head resting against the wall next to the window, the grey dawn creeping up over the burgundy horizon and washing the room in a soft, cold light. Being exhausted himself, Dr. Mitchell decided to go back to bed himself, leaving the half blind girl and the man who survived quite a kick in the head.
