//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: The Mad Mojavian Adventures of Courier 6 and Pinkie pie // by Edmar Fecler //------------------------------// The setting sun’s rays of light shown across the expansion between the bottom of the mountains and the outskirts of New Vegas. Elongated shadows from bushes and rocks stretched across the sand, growing ever longer as the sun continued to set. The occasional tumbleweed rolled past, flicking up a small cloud of dust whenever it touched down. Jacks sighed happily as he looked over the sight. From where he stood at the bottom of the mountain range, it was truly a sight to behold. He continued to watch as the last sliver of the sun passed behind the distant mountains, causing the shadows and the light to merge into a single shady coloration. Like clockwork, the lights in New Vegas flashed on at that exact moment and seemed to create a multi-colored orb around the city. Jacks breathed in deeply as he continued to watch the sky above darken. His contemplation was interrupted, however, when a pink ball of energy jumped on his back and wrapped its hooves around his neck in a tight hug. “It’s so beautiful!” Pinkie said excitedly. Jacks chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Yea, it sure is.” His grin grew as he continued to take in the beauty before him. “…Hey uh, pinkie?” “Mhmm?” “You mind letting up on the grip a bit? I’m rather fond of breathing, after all.” “Oopsie! Sorry about that.” “No problem, just letting you know.” The pink pony hopped off his back and stepped over to his side, looking between Jacks and ED-E happily. She grinned even wider, knowing that she had already made friends on this strange new world. It had taken the group longer than expected to descend the mountain ranges. Pinkie’s quest to play hide and seek with Jacks made sure of that. But eventually ED-E reminded Jacks that they didn’t have much longer until night fell, so they hurried and finished climbing down the mountain. ….Though, perhaps ‘tumbling’ would be a better way of putting it, considering Jacks isn’t good with going down steep slopes. Pinkie looked up to Jacks curiously. “Say, why was it important that we get off the mountain before nightfall anyways?” “Oh, this whole mountainous region is swarming with cazadors.” Jacks looked down to find a curious expression plastered on Pinkie’s face. “…They’re basically giant wasps that have enough poison to kill a man ten times over. They’re usually about as big as ED-E, but I’ve killed a few that were almost my size. Trust me, they’re not a bug to be reckoned with.” “Sounds like they’re a real pain in the thorax,” Pinkie said with a cheeky grin. Jacks let out a chuckle at the joke. Although he had no idea what a thorax even was, he humored the pony. “Heh, yea. …But seriously, it’s not really wise to be around here at night. We either need to get moving or find someplace to hold up for the night.” Pinkie spotted a farm house a short distance away. The lights were out and she didn’t see any people around, but there was a fire burning steadily with something hanging above it. “What about there?” Jacks turned to where Pinkie was pointing and pulled his binoculars out from under his stiff robe. He looked over the house and the surrounding area for a moment. “Well it looks clear, though that bramin being cooked over the fire looks relatively fresh.” He tucked the binoculars back into his robe and looked down to Pinkie. “I say we go for it.” “Yes sir!” Pinkie said, pretending to salute. Jacks turned to ED-E. “You picking up anything?” The eyebot beeped informatively in response. “--I’m picking up two life-signs inside the house. However, we are too distant for me to tell if they are friendly or not. I suggest we proceed with extreme caution.--” “Right then. Stealth mode, activate.” He crouched down and pulled the anti-material rifle off his back. “Follow my lead.” - “Damnit! I bit into another pellet!” The raider spat out the shotgun pellet and a bit of cooked bramin that he had been chewing. “I told you to be more careful you dumbass,” the second raider sneered. “Well I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t pump the fucking bramin so full of lead! And don’t call me a dumbass, you dumbass!” “How was I supposed to shoot it in the heads? It was getting away and this damn caravan shotgun aint accurate for shit!” The first raider grumbled to himself as he took another bite out of the slab of cooked meat before tossing it back down on the bare table. “At least this caravan had some good loot,” he said through a full mouth, pointing over to a trio of corpses. Two of said corpses were mercenaries, whereas the one on top was the caravan’s trader. “Speaking of which, why are we keeping these dead-beats anyways?” “You know how Cook-Cook is. He has a thing for human flesh. Besides, it’s better them than us, am I right?” “Yea, I guess… Hey, pass the Jet, would you?” “Get your own fucking Jet! You shouldn’t have used yours all up!” “Well fuck you too!” The two continued to eat their meals silently as their psycho-induced tempers quelled after a few minutes. The first raider swore under his breath as he bit into yet another pellet. “For fuck’s sake-“ He was cut off by a loud knocking at the front door. The two raiders looked up to each-over in confusion. The first spat out the pellet and grabbed his pool cue, while the second made sure the caravan shotgun was loaded. The two rushed over to the front door before a second salvo of knocks rattled the door. “Hello? Did someone order a large cheese pizza?” the knocker asked. The raiders looked at each-other in silent confusion before the second aimed his shotgun at the center of the door. When he heard the knocking again he unloaded both shells, blasting a hole through the door. Silence ensued as wisps of smoke rose from the shotgun’s barrels. The first raider smirked. “I think you got him-” A dirt-brown disk fell out of the doors hole and landed beside the second raider’s feet. He looked down as it started to beep. The last thing he saw was a big “fuck you!” written on top of the frag mine before it exploded, sending shrapnel slicing through his legs and lower torso. The force of the blast launched him back from the door before his body collapsed to the floor by the opposite wall. The first Raider had managed to turn away before the blast, causing the make-shift armor on his back to absorb most of the shrapnel that reached him. The blast left his ears ringing and his back in pain from what shrapnel had gotten through the armor. He turned back around to see his companion’s skin-shredded corpse slumped against the wall beside the deceased caravan members. Suddenly the remains of the door were kicked in, and an ominous figure stepped inside. Upon seeing who their attacker was, the raider’s blood ran cold in realization. The black hat, the desert armor, the red-trimmed Anti-material rifle: it could only be him. It could only be The Courier. The raider dropped his pool cue in fear as the figure turned to him. He was glad that the figure was wearing his sunglasses, for fear of what might be behind them. The raider had heard stories of the courier and his psychotic sense of humor, especially towards other raiders. He flinched as the figure removed his left hand from the rifle’s barrel and pointed to the door. “Leave. And don’t come back, lest I be in a more merciless mood.” The raider just stared up at him silently. “…WELL?” The raider snapped out of his trance and scrambled out the door, tripping on the way out. Once outside, he stood up hurriedly and set off running as fast as he could. Jacks stepped back out of the house and smirked as he watched the raider running for his life. He brought the rifle’s butt up to his shoulder and looked down its sights, lining the fleeing raider up with the scope’s crosshairs. He pinpointed the crosshairs on the raiders head and grinned. “I love it when they run.” Jacks steadily began to squeeze the trigger, but he felt something shove at his leg and pulled the trigger prematurely. His smile vanished as he saw the raider’s arm blown off in a blood-splosion. The raider stumbled and fell. He picked himself up and looked back at Jacks for a split-moment before he resumed running. Jacks lowered his rifle and looked down to see what had shoved him. Pinkie was sitting there, her arms crossed and a rather cross look on her face. “Nice. You made me mess up the shot.” “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do!” “What? Kill a couple of murderous raiders who would have done even worse to us?” “Well, no… I mean…” Jacks slung the rifle on his back and turned to give pinkie his full attention. “What? What do you mean? You didn’t seem to have a problem with killing those legionaries earlier.” “I didn’t know you meant to kill them! I have surprises ‘that go boom’ all the time, but not the kind of boom that kills ponies.” “Ok, so why didn’t you say something earlier?” “Well, that mushroom-boom was pretty awesome and I forgot about it… but I remember it now, so you have some explaining to do about this world!” Jacks shrugged. “Ok, I’d be glad to tell you about this place. But for a general introduction into the wastelands, I suggest reading this first and asking questions after,” he continued, pulling a book out from inside his stiff robe. “It’s called the Wasteland Survival Guide. I bought it off a trader from the east a while back. He says it was co-written by some hot-shot in the Capital Wastelands. And I gotta admit, from what I’ve read that guy is some kinda’ wasteland genius, so I’m sure it’ll answer most questions you have about this place.” Pinkie took the book in her hooves and began reading as Jacks strode over to the cooking bramin. He pulled out his combat knife and a tin plate before cutting a slab of meat off. With his dinner in hand, he walked back to where pinkie was reading and sat down beside her. He looked over her shoulder at the book as he cut a bite-sized bit off the steak and popped it into his mouth. Jacks chewed silently for a few minutes as he read along with Pinkie. After a few minutes, he noticed Pinkie was beginning to shiver. He swallowed the bite he had been chewing and set the plate down, picking Pinkie up under the shoulders and carrying her beside the fire. However, she seemed totally oblivious to being picked up and never stopped reading the whole time. Jacks went back and got his plate before sitting back down beside her. He noticed ED-E floating idly beside him. It may have just been him, but it looked like the robot felt left out. “Hey ED-E,” The eyebot perked up at being addressed. “Play us a melody, friend.” The bot beeped happily before his built-in speakers crackled to life. It took only a second for him to find a radio station and tune in, catching “Aint that a Kick in the Head” just as it began. Jacks looked up to ED-E with a sly smirk and chuckled. “Cheeky little robot.”