Mustache pony nods real slow. The non-ironic use of the old Hayburger managers office is priceless. “This is bad. If New Roam controls Neighton, our outpost at Prim and Proper is completely cut off.”
“But it wasn’t cut off when the Powder Gangers ran the town?” I keep my voice level and raspy. “You just let the gang you brought here take over every independent settlement along the only safe route left to New Pegasus after you got the Hellhounds in the quarry all out for blood, which cuts off the north route.”
“Don’t you get self righteous with me you undead prick! I heard what you did in Primm And Propper. We ain’t the badguys Mr. Courier, and you damn sure ain’t the good guy.” Col. Mustache both glares and squints at me. Then he just kinda sighs and the fight just goes out of him. “Do you think the hellhounds and the powder gangers are any less of a headache for us? We’re stretched to damn thin, and the convict workers got out of hand. Whether you believe it or not, we’re not an invasion force. The Legion just won’t let this damn cock fight over that damned damm go.”
“I don’t like the Legion, don’t get me wrong,” I snarl as my girl negates all the targeting markers. “But the Marejave ain’t just a toy for two dogs to fight over.”
“I wish you were right.” The old stallion slumps at his desk. “But the Marejave can’t hold off either dog, and neither dog is gonna let the other have it.”
I hate that he’s right.
-=-=-=-=-
I’m both unsurprised and unsure how I ended up at the base cantina sharing poison with this disgruntled caravaner.
“...and I’m setting up business up in freeside and get the word that my whole caravan was just wiped out!” Her anger isn’t just from the copious amounts of whiskey she’s taken in. Honestly, that’s refreshing. It’s an oddity to find a living pony I can drink with. “They say it was the raider surge, since the couriers fell. But I don’t buy it.”
“The Marejave Express may have stumbled, but it ain’t fell yet.” Honestly I’m not even sure if she was even talking to me. Or if I’m talking to her.
“Oh please, every single courier taken down in one fell swoop?” The brown and white mottled nag snarls back in my face. “NCR say’s it was raiders. I don’t buy it.”
“They missed a spot.” I lay my courier badge on the bar. The only piece of identity Checkers left me with.
“I’ll be damned.” The mare bursts into drunken laughter. “For very obvious reasons… but that’s besides the point. The name’s Whiskey Rose by the way. Primm and Proper and Goodsprings are still independent?”
“Courier Six, miss.” She’s a pleasant shade of dust, mane colored like road dirt. She reminds me of Nine. “Talk to Sheriff-Post-Master Princess. Tell her Six sent ya.”
“Are you high?” Her laughter is honest and contagious.
“The Couriers are still alive in the Marejave, Miss Rose.” Jackie reprises her roll as the smart, not drunk one. “And we could use a mare like you.”
That is why Jack-E is the best and I’ve always called her that…