Trickshot · 4:15pm Oct 1st, 2023
Do you know what it's like to be alone? Completely alone? No family, no real friends, just your job to keep you occupied?
Gritt was in Junction Town on such a job. Today was his twentieth birthday, but no one but him could tell him so for the past eight years.
***** ***** *****
A cigarette served as my candle to blow out that morning. Happy Birthday to me. Time to go to work.
Shuffling through the boxcars turned homes, and other, more traditionally constructed buildings, I made my way to an NCR station. Gawdyna Grimfeathers had just been reelected as President, and was expected to give a speech. Her security expected an assassination attempt.
Protecting someone from an assassin was not something I'd been hired to do before. Quite the opposite, actually. Maybe that's why they want me, to get a better idea of how a shooter would approach the task of murdering the figurehead of the New Canterlot Republic in the middle of their capital.
I took a moment to study the podium she'd be speaking from. Troopers, griffon and pony alike, were sweeping it for bombs or whatnot. Scanning the surrounding buildings, there were plenty of soldiers patrolling them. There were hills way off in the distance that would have line of sight, but a shooter would be hard-pressed to find a rifle capable of a five kilometer shot. It wasn't impossible, but the bullet would have lost its lethality by the time it reached its target.
With the number of unicorns with threat detection spells among the guards, the odds of an assassin getting a weapon close to the podium were slim to none. The surrounding buildings were the only real option, but the killer would have to be very slippery to sneak past or incapacitate the patrols. Even then, they'd have a short window of opportunity to take the shot before security spotted them or realized some the guards stopped reporting in.
Still, it wasn't impossible.
*****
Another thing to note, Grimfeathers may not be the only target. Or even the target. A number of representatives and senators would be in attendance. Sabre Whiteclaw, Freija Ironclaw... Shit, I haven't seen her since... Should I say hi to her? Would she even recognize me? Probably not unless I squeezed into my old uniform, which was definitely not a good idea around here.
I don't hide who and where I come from. My regular clients, Grimfeathers included, know. I also don't shout it from the mountaintops. No need to risk a former slave deciding to take revenge on a 'Talon' having a beer. Wouldn't they have red on their face if they realized they'd attacked someone who'd been spending the last few years picking off slaver bosses?
Speaking of appearances, I was certainly out of place among the guards gathering for the security briefing. Most were in fatigues and simple ballistic vests, and a few were in full armor and helmets with red-tinted visors. Meanwhile, I just had jeans and a leather jacket. Being as unassuming as possible had always been my saving grace across the wasteland. Even my gear at least looked basic. A single action .357 revolver on my hip, a standard 9mm pistol in my jacket, and my old bolt action on my back.
Well, it wasn't quite the same rifle. The only part that was the same was the wooden stock. I'd gutted everything else and upgraded from .308 to .408 precision rounds. Not great on my shoulder, but doubling my effective range was worth it. I never bothered replacing the scope after the original melted.
*****
The briefing didn't tell me anything I hadn't already gathered. A trooper made a snide comment wondering how a one-eyed wastelander was going to spot an assassin better than they could, and I was quick to point out that he couldn't even notice his zipper was undone. He kept future comments to himself.
Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe the worst part of today would be the speech itself. Gawdyna was a good leader, but she was far from the most eloquent person in the universe. I could only hope she got someone else to write her speech for her.
The distrustful stares from younger soldiers were getting on my nerves. The older ones knew who I was and trusted me, but others would wonder if I was the assassin. They were not thrilled to learn I'd be posted right beside the podium platform, rifle in hand. I'd have to hope their superiors kept them in check.
*****
We were all in position as guests began filling seats. As expected, most were other NCR officials, though I saw Whiteclaw chatting up a familiar grey unicorn mare with a blue mane... Oh, bloody pinfeathers. An Element was in attendance. No wonder they were so worried about an assassin.
I shuffled nervously as a troupe of foals and fledglings from the local school began to play the NCR's trumpeted anthem. President Grimfeathers trotted from her office building towards the platform, flanked by four veteran troopers. Judging by the twin 5.56 pistols one of them carried, Regina Grimfeathers was among them.
As Gawd took her place at the podium, the music swelled and died. We all braced for the worst as she opened her beak.
CRACK!!!
"Shi-!" was all the microphone picked up before it was obliterated. My rifle joined a dozen others, all snapped towards the source of the shot, but I didn't have an angle. Many opened fire. Regina had tackled her mother to the ground, but in the wrong direction. The shooter had a clearer shot of them than ever.
CRACK!!!
The second .50 caliber shot missed Gawd's skull by millimeters, taking off feathers. The assassin would not miss a third.
I'm not entirely sure how I did what I did. Instinct? Luck? Some cosmic entity taking the reins? Whatever it was, for whatever reason, I took aim and shot at nothing.
CRACK-PING!!!
My bullet met theirs, halfway through the air. An instant later, I heard the shattering of metal and a scream.
I must have just stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, bewildered by what had transpired. NCR soldiers swooped into the injured assassin's perch and arrested them. Gawd and Regina were, miraculously, fine. The third bullet had been deflected wide, into a pole. Troopers rushed them both someplace secure. I couldn't help but notice Homage gawking at me before she was rushed to safety as well.
*****
The assassin turned out to be a unicorn stallion. I never got his name, but interrogations found that he acted alone. No one hired him. Story was, he was displaced by a recent territory annexation and wanted to get back at the NCR. A lone, dedicated nut job. Any security detail's worst nightmare.
Few saw what I did. Most among them, including me, were having a hard time believing it. There was 'being a good shot' and then there was straight-up wizardry. Never in a million years will I pull that off again. A pat on my shoulder broke me from my stupor.
The trooper who forgot his zipper was beside me, grinning wide. "Hey, let's hear it for the one-eyed kid! You just saved the President, dude!"
The other soldiers in the station broke into applause. One muttered "Someone's gotta come up with something better than one-eyed kid."
"I'm sure someone will." Regina's arrival snapped the soldiers back into attention. She pointed at me, and gestured for me to follow her. Time to get paid.
After arriving in Gawdyna's office, we found the President stroking the bare spot where she received a high-velocity close shave. We exchanged a cycloptic glance, and she had me take a seat.
She took a deep breath and smiled. "Hell of a thing, 'tat was. Thanks, kid."
"Yeah, well, it was my job." I'd have to start digging to undersell it any harder.
Gawd snorted as she started putting my fee on the table. Followed by a document. A certificate of NCR citizenship. "Quit bein' humble. You earned more than 'yer pay today."
I blinked at the waxed sheet of paper. This normally required four years of enlisted service to the NCR, something I'd rigidly decided against. No one would ever own my contract. Freelance for life. But this... "You're sure?"
"As long as you are. Won't force it on ya if you don't want it." She smirked.
After a few seconds of hesitation, I picked up a pen and signed. Gritt, citizen of the New Canterlot Republic. I'm not just an ex-Talon wastelander anymore. This was one hell of a birthday present.
"Congratulations."
*****
I decided to stick around for a couple weeks, get some real rest before I went looking for another job. Despite my new status, I still needed caps. Had plenty for a little vacation, though.
A few days in, I was enjoying a little food stand run by a blue and white griffoness with an odd but attractive accent. As I sipped a whiskey, the music on the radio ended.
"Hello, Equestrian Wasteland! This is DJ Pon3, with some shocking yet uplifting news!
A lot of you have probably already heard, but an assassin recently tried to take out President Grimfeathers right in the middle of her town. Praise the Lightbringer, the attempt was thwarted, and you'll never believe how. I thought my assistant had lost her marbles when she wove this tale, but she swore up and down that a freelance bodyguard bounced his bullet off the assassin's bullet into their rifle! You better lookout, Deadshot. You've got competition. There's a new kid on the block, and his name is Trickshot!"
"Trickshot, huh? Better than One-Eyed Kid." The griffoness, who introduced herself as Gwen, smirked at me. "I have to say, I'm honored ze big hero chose my humble establishment for a meal."
I chuckled. "You kidding? This is the best food in town! Nobody cooks rat like you."
She smiled, and got a plate and drink for herself before taking a seat beside me. "...I owe ze NCR a lot. I moved to ze east with nothing, but Grimfeathers gave me an opportunity to make something of myself. Thank you for saving her life."
My attempt to downplay what I'd done was halted by a kiss on my cheek, and a talon on my leg. She didn't have to say another word, as her eyes did all the talking.
It was few days late, but... Happy Birthday to me.
That was an iconic moment from New Vegas, assuming you intended to make it a reference, and I liked the spin you put on the motivation compared to making it about Caesar's Legion.
And it looks like things are looking up for Gritt after Fillydelphia. Maybe he'll end up comfortable and happy in the coming years.
5748730
"You'll Know It When It Happens" was definitely an inspiration.
And, yes, he'll have people to come home to between jobs. He's not alone anymore.
5748730
I realize now it was important to mention that Sabre was present for this. He interpreted this situation in a very specific way. He saw all these NCR troopers fail to keep an assassin from getting that close to killing the President, and he saw a talented lone merc protect her when they couldn't. That's when he started using private mercenaries like Crimson for sensitive jobs and personal protection over NCR soldiers. He didn't have confidence in the latter's competence. He deemed that a handful of exceptional talent were more effective than an army.