Shade waking up near Goodsprings few days prior to Courier 6 getting shot in the head
An Oasis in the Desert Part Two [Fallout: NV/SI]
Penelope sighed. The Varmint rifle rested on her shoulder as she took in the sights of the Mojave desert early in the morning. The smell of coffee filled her nostrils, and for that smell alone she would gladly trek through the entire day.
"So what's the real reason you're coming with me rather than just let me go get what you need? Care to tell your wife now that we're away from the all-seeing eye of House?" she queried her husband, who had been quietly busying himself with the coffee pot.
"Why, what makes you think the reason I gave you wasn't the real one? Trading Post 188 is a location with a lot of traffic, and maybe I can find some exotic components for my makeshift computer terminal," he mused right back. "Components you might miss, since you're not that tech-savvy yourself."
ED-E beeped by his side, the horrible betrayer that she was. Though Shade had been the one to repair the Eyebot, he had let it accompany her instead. She couldn't properly fault the logic of him being better at technology than she was; sometimes it felt like he had actually lived in the times of great wealth, and knew not just how technology functioned...but also why it worked in a certain way, and how to modify it in ways she didn't even think were possible.
"You know you're a horrible liar," Penelope pointed out.
"No, I'm pretty sure I'm not," he answered right back, grumbling at the speed it took for the coffee to brew.
"We should reach the Trading Post soon," she said in the end. "It was relatively tranquil until now, but the closer to traffic we get, the higher the chances of bandits."
"I'll defer to your judgment, Penelope. I can aim in their general direction and that's about it," he answered as a smile blossomed on his face, the telltale sound of the coffee brewing through a melody he'd never get tired of.
This worried her far more than she actually allowed it to show. It was normal administration in the Mojave to come across scenes of carnage from bandits, psychos or worst; that had never touched her, because she was the one doing the discovering, or the one with the advantage of actively committing carnage on the trouble at hand.
She could have done the journey in half the time; she could have been quieter, more careful. His presence made it all the more difficult, and thus made her all the more nervous.
If a bandit takes just one lucky shot-I'd have to cleanse the Mojave of human life just to make sure it doesn't happen again.
Penelope sighed at the melodrama in her own thoughts. She knew grief could make people commit the worst atrocities in the name of revenge, but she doubted she, herself, would go that far.
Smoke left the muzzle of her rifle as she expertly aimed and killed a scorpion that was getting too close for her tastes, before smashing the butt of her rifle into its bleeding body.
"Do you remember when we first met?" he mused. "You didn't think you were going to stick around town for long. Had a very important mission to complete and all that."
"Before the shots to the head you mean," Penelope muttered, instinctively passing a hand over the spot, now covered with her long hair. She could still feel the scars, and thanked her hardheadedness for having allowed her to survive that experience.
"Before, during, after," he mused. "Got right back to your usual self in a short while though. The most kickass courier of the Mojave Desert," he offered her a cup of perfectly brewed coffee, and she took sips of it to let the flavor last.
It tasted better when he was the one doing the brewing. She had no idea why.
They reached the intersection and found it predictably abuzz with activity; merchants were selling their wares and more than a few interesting guns were on sale. A nearby stall sold alcohol and a few commiserated their choices in life. Her attention focused on the nearest scrap collector, knowing fully well that was where her husband would feign going, before changing to the actual target of their arrival.
He did ponder over a couple of pieces of soldered scrap for a few minutes longer than due, and began a haggling attempt that clearly went nowhere from the start. She entertained him, finding it utterly amusing how he still believed he could hide things from her and her wits.
A few minutes later and he gloomily walked away, and she decided to pat his shoulder in a comforting manner. Perhaps the target was at the bar? Still, as he sat down and made to order, a voice distracted her.
"No offense, but you look like you've traveled a long way down some bad roads. Where'd you come from?" the woman's hair was covered by a hood, and her brown eyes looked vivid and inquisitive enough.
"The grave," Penelope answered, her eyes half-narrow. First meeting with a stranger, and she already went with commenting on her appearance? The one thing she was conscious about was her head-wound, but-
"Well in that case I take it back," the woman said, "You look pretty good given the circumstances." She grinned, "Welcome then, I'm Veronica and I live in a hole in the ground."
Penelope arched an eyebrow. "A hole in the ground?"
"Well, a bunker if you want to get technical, but it sounds more interesting my way," Veronica smiled. "I go around picking supplies for my family, you know how it is. Gotta eat if you wanna live and all that."
She nodded, "Sure, guess there's plenty of bunkers going around."
"By the way," Veronica remarked, "I had a run-in with this group called the Brotherhood of Steel-a pretty strange bunch, do you know anything about them?"
"Not really," Penelope answered, "but my husband probably does-" she turned, stared at the empty seat at the bar, and then quietly turned to look at Veronica once more. "He gave me the slip."
Veronica blinked. "You mean the man who sat for all but two seconds and then walked away?"
"Yes, that man," Penelope smiled, "That soon to be dead man. That corpse that walks because it knows not in how much trouble they are."
"Far from me to get between wife and husband," Veronica said with a small smile, "But where are you going, if I can ask?"
"Right now we're where we want to be, my soon-to-be-in-hot-waters husband is kind-of a tech-savvy guy. Wanted to see if he could get his hands on some form of exotic tech piece, but I think that was just his excuse to get out of New Vegas," Penelope sighed. "Now what he actually wants from this place is anyone's guess, but I'll make him fess up when he shows back. Then we'll be on our way back."
"I see," Veronica mused. "I wouldn't mind visiting New Vegas. I heard there's a bunch of different people living there, different groups and-"
Penelope took a deeper breath. "Ah, now I know why we came here," she flatly gazed at the girl. "My husband is anything but subtle, and this isn't the first time he coincidentally suggested visiting a place that then resulted in people somehow joining my one-woman crusade against the enemies of the Mojave. You want to come along, risk your neck, see new wonders of the Mojave, that's fine by me-" she raised an index finger in her direction, "However one thing's clear. This girl here is happily married, and her husband is happily married," she pointed at herself. "You doe-eye him, I eye-shoot you. You try to sweet talk me, I talk sweet to you...uh, that doesn't really work the same way."
Veronica blinked at that. Penelope simply smiled, and then snickered.
"A sense of humor, Veronica," Penelope said, "You're going to need it. I'm Penelope by the way. Nice to meet you."
She extended a hand, and Veronica did the same. Penelope's grip nearly crushed Veronica's hand, the one with the pneumatic gauntlet of all things. "But seriously," she whispered, "You touch my husband, Deathstalkers will look like cuddly dog puppies by the time I'll be done with you."
Then she let go of the grip which had left visible dents on the metal gauntlet.
"I'm...I'm definitely not interested in men," Veronica said abruptly, and Penelope nodded at that.
"Good!" she grinned, "We're going to get along even better then! Now give me a hand; you saw where that rascal of a husband of mine went? Lead the way! Darling~ you know you can't escape me~"
Veronica somehow felt a strange amount of pity for the husband in question.
Then again they actually found him sitting at the bar stool with the mother of all smiles...
...and something told her this was just the beginning of the most maddening of adventures.
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It would be more original fiction! XD