Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   Pyrrha's been having a rough couple of days. She accidently killed Penny, a participant in the Vytal Festival who was revealed to be a robot after her limbs had been ripped apart (by Pyrrha). Her school is being overrun by Grimm. She got her arm twisted into becoming the Fall Maiden, and that plan fell through when someone interrupted the process and acquired the full Maiden’s powers.

   Oh, and Pyrrha also died.

   She, at some point, became aware of this. Followed by ‘If I died, then where am I right now?’ and other existential questions. Slowly, her senses started to come back. Just being able to feel her arms and legs and the clothes that she was wearing gave Pyrrha great relief. She pieced together two possibilities: one, she was on her knees, curled into a ball; or two, she was laying on her side, also curled into a ball. The latter, she decided, was more likely. She couldn’t feel any solid ground, presenting another anomaly that she’d have to figure out.

   She focused on trying to move something, anything to understand her surroundings. Her eyes refused to open so she moved down the list. After some trial and error she got her toes to wiggle, feeling ground through her shoes making option one the correct answer. She also discovered that her hands were bound with the little strength she could put into moving her hands. After orienting herself, her vision faded in. Flickering oranges and yellows were obscured by something covering her head, a bag probably. Pyrrha guessed that a fire or torches were being used at night.

   Her hearing came back next. Someone was digging. Very close to her. Pyrrha had no idea how long they had been at it before she could hear, but it was either a deep hole or they were very inefficient. She began to put the clues together. ‘Are they… digging a grave?’ ‘Is it for me?’ ‘Does that mean I didn’t actually die?’ ‘Then why am I here, sitting next to it?’ 'Why is there a bag on my head?'

   Before Pyrrha could answer any of her own questions, she heard footsteps toward her and the bag over her was removed. Her hands were indeed bound with rope, she observed. She also saw that she wasn't wearing any clothes that she recognized as hers. She was wearing a plain gray tee and a pair of jeans. More questions added to the growing list. She tested herself, moving her hands around with the bindings to get more energy. That prompted someone around her to say, “Guess who’s waking up over there?”

   Pyrrha mustered all she had into lifting her head to see who it was. Once she got there, she saw three men in front of her. One dressed very differently than the other two. He had a fancy suit while the other two had… less formal attire. Something else caught her eye. There was apparently a full moon tonight. More importantly, the moon was whole. Remnant’s moon was shattered, there’s a whole fairytale explaining it. But this moon was whole.

   Something isn’t right here.

   “Why’re you dragging this out so long?” The man on the left asked. “You got what you wanted. Now it’s time to pay up.”

   “You’re crying in the rain, pal.” The center man, suit man, didn’t even look at left man. He was focused on Pyrrha. He finished his cigarette, snuffed it, and took a step towards her. The man on the right was holding a shovel. He probably dug the hole.

   “It’s time to cash out.”

   “Will you get this over with already?” Left man pressured.

   Suit man raised a hand, pointing up. He took a quick breath to keep his composure. Still trained on Pyrrha, he said, “Maybe Khan’s kill people without lookin’em in the face. But I ain’t a fink.” He dropped his hand and turned to left man. “Dig?”

   Pyrrha still hadn’t found the power to open her mouth and say something. It was being used to hold her head up to look at these men. Suit man reached into his suit pocket and revealed a small painted gambling chip. His tone was somber, almost regretful. “You made your last delivery, kid.”

   Delivery? That chip? Pyrrha didn’t gamble. Why would she have a chip, and who would she be delivering it to?

   Suit man replaced the chip in his pocket. “Sorry you got twisted up in this scene,” He reached for a different pocket and came out with a pistol. Left man looked away, trying to avoid watching the scene that would unfold. He couldn’t help himself, though. Right man took in the sight of it, perhaps fascinated with the intricate engravings carved all over the firearm. Or he was witnessing his first killing, who knows.

   Pyrrha couldn’t believe that she was about to die a second time -- or is this the first? Still foggy on that -- over something that she apparently had that this nicely dressed man wanted.

   Suit man looked down at the pistol. “From where you’re kneeling this must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck,” He looked back at Pyrrha. “Truth is,” He leveled the gun at her head. “The game was rigged from the start.” Pyrrha could do nothing but watch.

   Bang!

   Pyrrha had just died. Whether this was the first or the second time, it was starting to get frustrating. She returned to her coma-like state with her mind racing. What was that all about? Who were those people? Why did she have what they wanted? When did she get it? What was with that moon? Is she not on Remnant? No, that’s impossible. The best kind of travel Remnant has are airships powered by dust, and the dust loses its power the higher in the atmosphere you go. So there’s no way that she left, but she clearly has.

   Pyrrha was pulled from her thoughts, back into reality when her nose caught some fresh air. Someone had dug her out of the grave. Not someone, something. An archaic looking robot had dug Pyrrha out and was pulling her up and out of the grave.

   “Howdy, partner.” It said with a strange accent. “Fine evening, ain’t it?”

   All the stress put on her body lifting her out, and the blood loss from her bullet in the head ruined any concentration or coherent thought she may have been working on. As the robot figured out a way to hold Pyrrha without injuring her further, she found the strength to say, “This is the second time I’ve died today.” She began to giggle to herself.

   “Friend, it sounds like you could use a sarsaparilla.” The robot replied with concern.

   “I’ll take your entire stock”

   Before she could hear the robot’s reply, Pyrrha passed out.

Chapter Text

   Pyrrha had a strange dream. It started back at Beacon, having that fight with Cinder. But there was something wrong. That guy in the suit was there in place of that woman who killed Pyrrha. Pyrrha then found herself back at the graveyard that she had just been. Except that the woman had replaced the suit man, she went on the long winded monologue, and then shot her. It all seemed out of place, but yet this felt as natural as the inverse.

   As quickly as the dream came, it faded from her memory as she woke up again. Fingers and toes were good, so she decided to sit up. She nearly passed out from the head rush.

   “Woah, there!” She felt a hand on her back ease her back down to the bed. “Easy, cowgirl.”

   Under the support of the pillow, she looked over to see a man moving to reseat himself near the bed.

   “Well how ‘bout that. I didn’t think you could pull through.” He ran a hand over his mustache.

   From what she could see, this didn’t look like a hospital or an infirmary. It looked like this guy’s house.

   “Do you wanna try again?” He asked. He stood, extending his hand for Pyrrha to grab.

   She managed a, “Mhmm” and reached for his hand.

   With his help the second try was successful. Now sitting, Pyrrha felt her strength finally trickle back.

   “You’ve been out for a couple days now.” He sat back down. “Let’s see if you’ve got your bearings with you, assess the damage.”

   “My name is Mitchell, everyone around here calls me Doc though. Can you tell me your name?”

   That was easy. “P- Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos.” 

   Talking might be a little difficult after waking up from a shot to the head, you know?

   “Can you spell that?”

   As she spelled, however, it came easier.

   The Doc reached behind him for a clipboard and wrote her name down.

   “Pyrrha? That’s a new one.”

   He set the clipboard on the floor next to him.

   “Well, I can’t say that’s what I woulda picked for you. But if that’s your name, I guess that’s your name.”

   “What did you think it was?” Pyrrha moved all her joints to make sure they were in good order. She noticed that these were the same clothes that she’d been shot in the other night. There wasn’t any blood, but a layer of dirt that created clouds of dust at every movement she made. That gave her some kind of comfort. 

   “With hair as red as yours…” He paused. “I would guess that your parents might think it's funny to name you something very on the nose. Like Ruby, or maybe even further and just call you Ginger.”

   “I know a Ruby.” She looked the Doc in the eyes with a smile. “Black hair.”

   He let out a good laugh. “Been awake for five seconds and you’re already crackin’ jokes.”

   “What’s the last thing you remember?”

   “Hmm,” She reached back into her memory. “Getting shot a couple times.”

   “A couple?” Doc checked his notes. “There was only the one in your head.”

   Pyrrha pulled on the collar of her shirt far enough to point to where Cinder’s arrow had hit her. “I got shot with an arrow here.” She examined the spot more closely. “But… There doesn’t seem to be a wound from that one.”

   “How recent was this arrow wound?” The doctor started to scribble on the margins of his paper.

   “Well, I got shot with the arrow and then passed out or something similar, then I woke up and was shot by a man in a suit.”

   “Well, I suppose if it’s healed already there’s no need for me to worry about it.”

   He cleared his throat and picked up a huge, clunky device that was under his chair. “I hope you don’t mind, but I did have to go digging around in that head of yours to get the bullet chunks out. I do think myself as a good surgeon but,” He handed over the device, it was some kind of mirror. “Let me know how I did.”

   Pyrrha was stunned. “It looks… like nothing happened.” She tried every angle and nothing was raising alarms. That raised an alarm or two.

   “Glad to know I still got it. It’s not everyday that I need to reconstruct a skull.” 

   He stood, and moved the clipboard to the table behind him. “Well, no sense in keeping you in bed anymore. Do you think you can stand?” 

   “Why don’t we find out?” 

   Pyrrha positioned herself towards the edge of her bed and grabbed Doc’s hand. There was another wave of head rush, but she powered through.

   “Good!” He let go and stepped back, making Pyrrha stand on her own power.

   “Take a walk over to this Vigor Tester on the other end of the room and we can see how well your lower half recovered.”

   A couple cautious steps turned into a regular walking pace. 

   “Can you feel the carpet under your feet?”

   Pyrrha nodded.

   “Wonderful. Go ahead and step up to the Vigor Tester to test your vigor.”

   One test of vigor later, Pyrrha came out with an abnormally high luck value.

   “Goodness, I’m surprised that bullet hit you at all!” Doc began walking to an adjacent room. Pyrrha followed. “Well, we know your vitals are good. But that don’t mean the bullet left you nuttier than a bighorn dropping.”

   What’s a bighorn? What is it dropping?

   “Take a seat on the couch, here, and I’ve got a couple of questions for you. See if your dogs are still barking.”

   It was a very stiff couch.

   “First, I just have some general questions to jog your noggin.” 

   “One, do you know, roughly, where you are?”

   Pyrrha really tried to make sense of that graveyard. None of the landmarks were recognizable to her. 

   “I knew where I was . I was at Beacon trying to stop a Grimm invasion.” Doc raised an eyebrow. “Then I got shot with that arrow, woke up and got shot again in a place I don’t recognize, and now I’m here.”

   “Well, here is Goodsprings, about forty-ish miles from The Strip.”

   “Are those towns that are settled outside the kingdoms? I don’t recognize those names.” 

   “Kingdoms? I’m afraid that I don’t know what kingdoms you’re talking about.”

   “You don’t know the four kingdoms? Atlas, Mistral, Vacuo, and Vale?”

   “No, I don’t. Tell you what,” Doc grabbed a globe from the mantle of his fireplace. It was a bit bigger than the size of a basketball, with long faded colors denoting nations with names she didn’t recognize. “Does anything on this map look familiar to you?”

   Even on the first glance Pyrrha didn’t recognize the globe. Nor did she on the second pass. But on the third time around, she noticed a particular set of islands that weren’t exactly how she recalled the map of Remnant, but it was damn close. 

   “Here,” She pointed out. “I don’t quite agree with your globe, but this has a resemblance to the maps we have of Remnant.”

   “Remnant,” Doc let the name resonate for a beat. “That’s not a bad name, given the circumstances.” He moved to where he could see Pyrrha’s pointing.

   “That’s interesting.”

   “Is something wrong?”

   “Yes and no,” He picked up the globe and kept his finger where Pyrrha had pointed. “I fancy myself something of a historian, but I am unfamiliar with this specific area. Here, you’ve marked the islands of..." He squinted, trying to read the faded text. "Cyprus, Crete, and a collection of smaller islands known as the Dodecanese Islands. I reckon those names are unfamiliar to you?” A nod came from Pyrrha. “Well,” Doc Mitchell paused. “How do I put this? You’re not in Remnant anymore, Pyrrha.” 

   A look of concern came to Pyrrha.

   “We are,” He turned the globe around and pointed at a new landmass. “Here. Place called Nevada. More specifically a couple miles outside this city,” He refined his point to a prominent point on the globe. “Las Vegas. Well, it’s called New Vegas, or The Strip now, but that’s a whole history lesson that we can save for another day.”

   Pyrrha studied the globe. “Are you sure?”

   “As sure as the sky is blue. I’ve been around these parts my whole life, know’em like the back of my hand.”

   Pyrrha began to look at the rest of the globe. The little sphere of knowledge she had of the world was dwarfed but what was apparently a whole new world outside of what she knew.

   “This… is a lot to take in.”

   “Sorry to be so blunt with that. There wasn’t really a good way to put it easier. How about this,” Doc stood. “Why don’t we step outside? Get some fresh air.”

   Doc Mitchell took a seat on a rocking chair on his porch, Pyrrha sat on the porch steps. It was a warm afternoon, with the sun shining down on the town. “We may not be a big town,” He grunted, settling into his seat. “But Goodsprings has everything we need.”

   Several observations came in quick succession to Pyrrha. First, from where she sat, save for a few homes and businesses, there were a large number of run-down, seemingly abandoned buildings. Even the places that were being occupied seemed to be needing a good bit of repair and renovating. Second, every metal surface she saw: cars, bikes, a windmill, a water tower in the distance; all showed severe rusting. And third, it wasn’t as noticeable inside, but now that she was outside there was a distinct metallic taste to the air. 

   Goodsprings was completely unfamiliar to Pyrrha.

   “How did I get here?” Everywhere she looked, more questions came up.

   “From your home, or from your most recent injury? One of those I can answer.”

   “I’d like an answer to both, but I think I can compromise.”

   “Well, there’s this fella named Victor. He happened to --” Doc turned his head, hearing a distinctive sound of a tire rolling down the road. “Why, there he is now.” Doc began waving as a certain robot turned the corner and came into view. It waved back and rolled up to the house. As it drew nearer, Pyrrha could make out a screen displaying a man in a cowboy hat.

   “Howdy, Doc.” The robot turned towards Pyrrha. “Ma’am. I am mighty relieved to see you up and about.” 

   “Pyrrha,” Doc motioned toward her, then to the robot. “This is Victor. He’s the one who dug you up and brought you here.”

   She was without words for a beat. “Victor, thank you for saving my life. How did you find me?”

   “Oh, I was out on a stroll that night and heard a big kerfuffle at the old bone orchard.” He turned to point at a hill in the distance, the one with the water tower. “Them’s looked like a bunch of nerdowells so I made sure to stay out of sight. Once they had finished their business and run off I dug you up to see if you was still kickin’. By some miracle you had some fight in you, so I hurried ya down here to the Doc. And here we are.”

   “Is there anything I can do to repay you? Anything at all?”

   “Just don’t get into trouble like that again.”

   “That shouldn’t be too hard. So long as I don’t run into those people again, I should be fine.”

   Victor’s screen flickered. “But they took that chip from you. Don’t you need that?”

   Pyrrha ran through her memory of that night. “Chip, like a gambling chip? That was mine?”

   “We haven’t quite crossed that bridge yet.” Doc Mitchell walked back into his house and grabbed a worn hiking bag that was near the door. “Victor brought this in with ya.”

   A pistol, box of ammunition, and a note. As Pyrrha read the note, Doc filled Victor in on Pyrrha’s apparent amnesia. The note included instructions to deliver a certain oversized poker chip composed of platinum. “Oh, so apparently that was mine.” But as she read further she became concerned. The note read, Failure to deliver to the proper recipient may result in forfeiture of payment and/or pursuit by mercenary reclamation teams. Mojave Express is not responsible for any injury or loss of life that may result from the reclamation process. She read the note aloud to the group. 

   “Mm, sounds like you might want that back.” Victor said.

   “Is that little chip so important that they’d go through all that for it?”

   “If they suspect you of keeping it for yourself, maybe.” Doc Mitchell leaned forward in his chair. “I’m sure if you talk to that Nash fella in Primm and explain what’s happened they’ll understand.”

   “Or go steal it back from those who stole it from you.” Victor added.

   “This isn’t an immediate problem, right? I just survived a bullet to the head, I think that should take priority.”

   “I wasn’t just gonna kick you to the wild. Given your situation, I was gonna keep you in town for at least a day or two, make sure you didn’t become a psychopath or something because of that shot.” 

   “Fine by me. Need to soak in all this new… stuff.”

   “Tell you what,” Doc stood from his chair. “I’m an old geezer, need to go to bed early. If you’re feeling up to it, you can head to that there Prospector Saloon,” He pointed to a building with a lighted sign with that name. “Trudy is the woman in charge around these parts, and Sunny could probably use a hand with a little hunting, she also knows a bit about living in the wild. My door is always open so you can crash on that bed again. And before I forget,” He went back into the second time to grab something else.

   “This here,” He came back out with something new. “is one of them Pip-Boys. Used to be mine but I don’t need it anymore.” He handed it to Pyrrha. “It goes on the arm next to the hand.” He patted his wrist to show where. “It can do anything. It can tell what you’ve got in your bag, pockets, anywhere. It’s got a map that can show the whole world, or as small as Goodsprings. It’ll be more useful to you than to me.” 

   Pyrrha set it on her arm and the Pip-Boy immediately sprang to life. “Old school, I like it.”

   Within moments the Pip-Boy displayed basic information about Pyrrha’s health and information, as well as the contents of her bag.

   “Old school? This is cutting edge tech here!” Victor argued. “What do you have at home that makes this so obsolete?”

   “We called it a scroll. It was a kind of communication device that was small enough to fit in your pocket.” Pyrrha mimicked it in her hand, and then put the imaginary scroll into her pocket. “It didn’t have an advanced storage management system like this, but it was pretty cool.”

   “If you’re that far ahead of us at home, I’d be interested to hear about what other things you have.” Doc inched toward the door. “But I do be needing to get some shut-eye soon. Victor, can you show Pyrrha to the Saloon?” 

   “Why of course, Doc” Victor did a little mock bow. “Follow me to the most popular place in Goodsprings.” 

   And Pyrrha did follow.

   So begins the adventures of the Courier in the Mojave Wastes.

Chapter Text

   The walk down to the saloon was quiet, save for Pyrrha fiddling with her new toy. According to the Pip-Boy, the pistol she saw in the bag earlier was called the Browning Hi-Power. There were thirty rounds of 9mm ammunition, a canteen, and something she didn’t see in the bag earlier. It was displayed on the screen as ”Caps (50) ”. They were found in one of the extra pockets on the outside of the bag. 

   “Bottle… caps?” She inspected a small pouch that did indeed have 50 bottle caps inside. “Why do I have these?” She turned to Victor and asked.

   “Back home you had money, some kind of currency, right?”

   “We do, Lien.”

   “Around these parts we use bottle caps. Though there is some competition with a couple other forms of currency, the most widely accepted kind of payment is in bottle caps.”

   “But why bottle caps? Aren’t new bottles always being made?”

   “All the soda and pop production shut down with the War, most everything did.”

   Pyrrha stopped and turned to Victor. “The War? What War?”

   “Why, the Great War. Surely that’s common knowledge where you’re from.”

   “I think we’re talking about different Great Wars, Victor.”

   “Well, how’s about you tell me about your War and we’ll see if they match.”

   “It started about ninety years ago, lasted for ten years, and then a peace treaty was signed.”

   “It would seem that we are indeed talking about different Great Wars, Miss Pyrrha.”

   “What was yours?”

   “Started just over two hundred years ago, lasted about an hour, and ended in the collapse of civilization.”

   “How can a war that short end in the end of the world?”

   “Very large, very powerful bombs, Miss Pyrrha.”

   “I’ll have to add that to my list of new facts that are ruining my perception of reality.” Pyrrha gave a mild chuckle and continued walking.

   They walked in silence for a moment before Pyrrha piped up with another question.

   “You told me you saw some of what had happened that night, when they shot me. Did you recognize any of them?”

   “None of their mugs rang a bell. They stopped by the Saloon and had a talk with Trudy, she could probably help you more.”

   As Victor finished speaking, they had moseyed up to the front porch of the Prospector Saloon. It, along with the General Store next door, was in a marginally better state than the surrounding buildings. Walking down from Doc’s house, Pyrrha had noticed that many of the buildings and homes had blown out windows, or boards put up in the place of windows. Both the General Store and the Saloon had unbroken windows, and the buildings seemed to be structurally sound. Up and down the streets were homes and businesses that seemed to be abandoned to the point of falling in on themselves, many of them already had.

   “Welp, here it is. The Prospector Saloon. I’d go in with ya but I don’t quite fit with these shoulders.”

   “Thank you, Victor”

   “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

   As Victor rolled off back the way they came as Pyrrha walked past a group of motorcycles and up onto the porch where an older man was sitting. 

   “You that one Doc Mitchell brought back from the dead?”

   “Yeah,” Pyrrha stretched out her hand. “I’m Pyrrha.”

   The man grabbed it and shook. “They call me Easy Pete. Used to be a prospector ‘round these parts, retired now.”

   “Is Trudy around?” She motioned toward the door. “Doc said I should talk to her and a Sunny, too.”

   “Yup, they’re both in today.”

   “Alright. Thank you, Pete.”

   He just grunted in response. She opened the door to enter and was immediately confronted by a dog, growling in front of her. In an adjacent room, Pyrrha heard someone laugh followed by an irritated, “Oh, shut it, Trudy.” 

   “Cheyenne,” This woman called out like an upset parent, “What are you -” They walked out to see the dog, who’s name seemed to be Cheyenne, about to pounce on this new person in the saloon.

   “Cheyenne!” The woman repeated. The dog heard her that time. It turned to see the woman, and then backed away. “Sorry,” She walked over to Pyrrha. “She doesn’t take too kindly to strangers.”

   “It’s alright,” Pyrrha finally stepped all the way in and closed the door. “I’m Pyrrha. Doc Mitchell sent me down to talk to a Trudy and a Sunny.” 

   The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Well I’m Sunny. Sunny Smiles. And follow me around this corner,” Pyrrha and Sunny moved from the lounge area over to a small bar. “This here’s Trudy.”

   Sunny was a bit shorter than Pyrrha. She had a head of hair similar to Pyrrha’s: deep red, but tied up in a bun. The theme of the outfit was leather. Jacket, pants, boots, all leather.

   “So you’re the one that Victor dug up?” A woman behind the bar, Trudy, asked.

   Trudy, a bit shorter yet, had short, messy brown hair. Opposite of Sunny, she was in more plain clothes. A jacket over a sundress.

   “Does everybody know about that?” Pyrrha chuckled.

   “Word travels fast in a small town. Here, take a seat.” Trudy pointed to the barstools. “Do you want anything to drink?”

   “Just water, please.” Pyrrha set her bag on the ground and Trudy turned around to grab one. “There has been so much that has happened in the last day, I don’t even know where to begin processing it.”

   “Well, perhaps the most important thing, I would think, is what you did to those guys to piss them off that bad.” Sunny sat down next to Pyrrha.

   “Well that’s the thing, I don’t quite remember.” She bent down to pick up her bag. “I was apparently supposed to deliver something, and they wanted it.” She pulled out the note she discovered earlier and passed it to Sunny.

   “A platinum chip? What’s so important about that?” Sunny passed the note to Trudy, who passed the water to Pyrrha and took the note.

   “I’ll bet some rich asshole on the strip wanted it as a decoration.” The note returned to its owner. “But we’ll deal with that later. You said you’ve got some amnesia? How much do you remember?”

   “Well I was in a fight and I got injured pretty bad and passed out. I have no clue how much time passed, and I woke up enough to see myself get shot, and now I’m here.” 

   “Well it seems you’ve got yourself quite the pickle.” Trudy said. “The Mojave Express is quite serious when it comes to lost or stolen goods. Those thieves only have a day or two head start on you, but depending on when the Doc lets you loose from town you can catch up to them for sure.” 

   “Doc told me that he wants at the very least one more day to make sure that gunshot didn’t turn me into a maniac or something. He said that I could help you and Sunny out in the meantime” 

   “He said you could help me, huh?” Sunny seemed to get excited at the mention of it. “Since he suggested it, I would guess you know a thing or two about guns?”

   Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I know a thing or two about the weapons from my home, but I’m sure that some of the knowledge will translate over.”

   “Wanna forget about your problems for a bit and go find out?”

   Out back of the saloon, Pyrrha and Sunny stood in front of an improvised shooting range. Empty bottles of soda sat on a fence connected to the saloon, with the pair standing next to the neighbor’s fence.

   “Won’t the neighbor‘s be upset that we’re shooting in town, next to their homes?” Pyrrha asked.

   “Oh, as long as we don’t hit their houses, or their livestock, we’re fine. Practically everyone in Goodsprings owns a gun. They all do some target practice on occasion.” Sunny shrugged and handed over the rifle that she was carrying. “This here’s what we call a Varmint Rifle. Chambered in 5.56, enough power to pierce small and medium nuciences and enough to scare away anything it can’t.”

   “Wow. This has been… well loved.” Pyrrha let out as she inspected it.

   Just by looking at the rifle, Pyrrha could tell that it had been through a lot. But when she got her hands on it, using her semblance for the first time since The Incident, the internals of the weapon were well maintained, but a whole lot of rounds had been put through this rifle. 

   Something felt weird with her semblance, however. She’d have to check on that the next chance she got.

   “I try my best with the maintenance of all the rifles in town but nothing can stop the march of time.”

   Nothing felt immediately wrong with the gun so Pyrrha took aim and proceeded to shatter all the bottles.

   “Okay. You know what you’re doing. How does a quick evening gecko hunt sound?” 

   Sunny grabbed herself another of the Varmint Rifles, and the two women made their way to the hunting ground.

   “So where we’re going is what we call Goodsprings Source. It’s our own little water supply. Just curious, what’s your hunting experience at home?” Sunny asked.

   “We have huntsman academies that train us to hunt and get rid of Grimm. I guess that’s my specialty.”

   “Grim? Like the emotion?”

   “No, like the massive nightmare monsters. There’s no Grimm problem here?”

   “Not quite like you’re describing. We just have the normal pests like roaches, geckos, and the like.” 

   “Hm, I think I like this place already.” 

   The path they had been traveling on had been quite hilly, with many hills having small cliffs. As the pair came to one of these cliffs, Sunny came to a stop. “Alright, around this corner is the Source. One of the townsfolk came by the other day and said that Geckos had taken over the place. Before we start shooting, let’s just see how many are out there.”

   Adjacent to their cliff cover was a similar hill that they laid down behind to scout the Source. “Hmm,” Sunny peeked over the ledge. “Only two.” She slid back down to Pyrrha. “They might’ve been talking about the other well. Normally they roam in packs a little bigger than this.” She opened the bolt of her own rifle to check for a round in the chamber. “Welp, your time to shine.”

   “That’s a gecko?” The geckos that Pyrrha was familiar with were much smaller. Much cuter too. “Yep, radiation’ll do that to ya after a century or two.” Sunny responded. She looked over the ledge again, then up at the sky. “There’s no wind, so don’t worry about adjusting for that.”

   Pyrrha brought out her rifle, checked the round, and got into position. One shot, one kill. The lone gecko turned to see their buddy slump over, and before it had fully registered it, Pyrrha had chambered another round and fired. No more gecko problem. 

   “Piece of cake,” Sunny said as she stood up. “Ooh, do you want one of these?” Sunny rolled up her sleeve and took off a hair tie and offered it to Pyrrha. “Keep all that hair under control.” Pyrrha accepted the gift with thanks. She got up as well and looked up at her rifle. “Any spare rounds? I only have the one magazine you gave me.” She asked. Sunny passed over enough rounds to refill the mag in the rifle, as well as a full second magazine.

   As they got moving towards the second location, a question came to Pyrrha. “What’s radiation?” 

   Sunny looked over at her with a pretty serious look of confusion. “You’ve never heard of it? Where are you from?”

   “Other side of the world, according to the Doc.” Pyrrha shrugged, not entirely confident in her answer. “I’m from Mistral.”

   “Other side of the world?” Sunny let out a long descending whistle. “How’d you get here then?” 

   “I don’t remember. I just kind of woke up here.”

   “You said that, that’s right.” Sunny said to herself. 

   “Tell you what,” She said, taking cover on a cliff wall. “Once these geckos are cleared out. I’ll explain it on the way back.”

   At this well there was a group of seven geckos. “Now this is more like it.” Sunny said. The two previous geckos they’d seen were roughly the same size. Among this group were a couple that were smaller, seemingly younger. “Since this is a bigger group I’ll help you out. Pick one and I’ll follow your lead.” 

   On a hill a safe distance away they took their potshots at the geckos. After the first shot by Pyrrha, it took less than a minute for all of the geckos to fall. “And that takes care of that.” Sunny had already stood up, extending an arm to the other and helped her up.

   Sunny had started walking back towards the town when Pyrrha looked back at the geckos. “Are we going to leave the geckos here?” She asked

   “Yeah,” Sunny said. “There’s a couple people in town that’ll bring’em back and get anything valuable out of them. Like their almost-leather skin and meat. Gecko meat actually isn’t that bad once you season it enough.” Sunny paused. “That actually gives me an idea. You told me that you aren’t a local, right?” A nod came from Pyrrha. “It’s too late to do it today, but how do you feel about a tour of the flora and fauna here in the Mojave? Some wilderness survival?”

   “That sounds great,” Pyrrha said. “Doc is keeping me here for at least another day, might as well be productive with it.”

   “Awesome! It’s all pretty simple. As for radiation however… not quite simple. What do you know about the Great War?”

   “Oh, Victor just told me about that.” Sunny turned around, she wore an expression of confusion. “It was very quick with very large bombs.” Sunny continued to stare.

   “You’ve just heard about it?” She scratched her head. “That’s rare, you know. Around here the main points are common knowledge.”

   “We have a Great War in our history, it’s just different to this one it seems.” Pyrrha shrugged.

   “You’ll have to tell me about that later.” Sunny turned back around and continued towards Goodsprings. “Anyway, here's your oversimplified review of the Great War. To really understand, though, we need to go back a little further to something called the Resource Wars…”

Chapter Text

   Pyrrha found herself back at the Doc’s place, back on the bed she first woke up on. While she was out, Doc seemed to have placed some extra blankets and a change of clothes on the bed. She was fiddling around with her new Pip-Boy, finally having a second of peace. What occupied her mind the most, surprisingly, was learning about the Great War and nuclear radiation. 

   Sunny had explained a lot. The Resource Wars, Vaults, the Great War, and finally, radiation and its effects. At every step of Sunny’s history lesson, she had made her point to talk to Doc about the finer details if Pyrrha was interested. Doc had apparently grew up in a Vault, and got the closest thing one can get to an education in the post-apocalypse.

   The (nuclear) Great War seemed to fit in with Remnant’s history. The Great War on Remnant killed many people and much of recorded history before then was lost due to looting and destruction, leaving fairy and folk tales. Based in reality, but not much to go off of after so many generations passing down the stories. And if these massively destructive bombs landed anywhere near Remnant, basically anything of value would be lost too.

   Faunus too. Otherwise normal people showing animal traits. If radiation could alter the genetic makeup of living things like Sunny had explained, and demonstrated by the geckos she saw earlier, it seemed to make sense.

   Speaking of Remnant. Pyrrha sat up in her bed and looked around the room for any kind of metal object. She decided on the fan sitting on a desk halfway across the room. She activated her semblance and tried to move the fan blades. It rattled, clearly responding to her semblance, but Pyrrha knew that she had been capable of stronger manipulation than this.

   That was mildly concerning.

   She stood and walked over to the fan and spun it with her fingers. It was a little rusty, but it spun just fine. Back on the bed, she tried again. Very little movement. She grabbed the fan again and used her semblance while holding it. It spun normally.

   Had getting shot in the head negatively affected her semblance?

   Next she pulled out the pistol and set one of the 9mm rounds on the desk next to the fan. Keeping her hands on the handguard, (with her finger off the trigger, always practice firearm safety), she used her semblance to pull back the slide of the pistol. When it locked in its open position, she transitioned to the round. It floated towards her and into the chamber. Once fully seated in the chamber, Pyrrha racked the slide to eject the round and semblance’d it back into her bag with the other rounds.

   So it would seem that her semblance definitely got less effective. Does that mean her aura did too? Did she even still have one? A scroll would tell her right away, if only she had one. Her Pip-Boy had a ‘Status’ menu where it had a little graphic of a person with some kind of bar next to their head, chest, arms, and legs. Aura? It didn’t seem like it. At the bottom of the screen it wrote out her name. She didn’t remember writing it anywhere.

    Wait a minute. She thought. You can’t use your semblance without an aura. But… wouldn’t my aura have stopped that bullet to my head? Ah, but it was at such a close range that an aura would have trouble stopping all that energy. Even Jaune’s aura probably couldn’t stop it.

   Jaune…

   Pyrrha was so exhausted from recent events that she didn’t even dream, and woke up to a radio playing in the other room. “Up next is a favorite of mine, stay tuned for news after this.” The voice said.

   She followed the noise to the kitchen, where she found the Doc eating. He seemed surprised, and swallowed what he had so he could speak. “Morning!” He said. “I got a little worried that you might fall into another coma.” He stood up and grabbed a bowl from his cabinet. “Cereal?”

   Pyrrha filled the Doc in on the previous evening, what she’d learned about the Great War and basic history, and how Sunny was going to show her around and teach some basic wilderness survival. “I’m certain that will be useful for you in the future,” He said. “If you’ve got time at the end of the day, could you do something for me?”

   “What is that?”

   “Well,” Doc leaned back in his chair. “As much as I would like a roommate, you’re gonna need your own place here.” Gauging her response, he continued. “I know you need to track that thief down and finish your delivery, but having a guaranteed shelter and a place to sleep is very important here in the Mojave.”

   “I have 50 bottle caps to my name,” Pyrrha said. She took a bite of her cereal, nothing like Pumpkin Pete’s. “I can’t afford anything right now.”

   “Oh, you don’t have to worry about paying for a house. Everybody here does something of value for the town. This cereal? Woman in town named Natasha grows wheat, and someone else, Grant, grows oats for the town and they pool what goes unsold gets combined into making cereal, oatmeal, etcetera. Others herd brahmin and bighorners. That alone is enough to keep us fed and sustain a small economy for us.”

   Pyrrha kept silent, eating.

   “But you should focus on your goal for now.” He continued. “For all we know you could become famous and drive more trade and tourism to our town, and that would be more than enough.”

   Fame.

   It finally started to hit Pyrrha that she truly wasn’t within the bounds of Remnant anymore. No matter where she was, it was only a matter of time before someone would recognize her and ask for an autograph or a photo. It never bothered her, she was happy to make someone’s day. But it could be taxing on her social battery if it were to happen often. Since she’s arrived in Goodsprings, the name Pyrrha Nikos didn’t carry as far. For the first time in what felt like years, Pyrrha felt like she didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s expectations weighing down on her, just her own.

   They had finished their breakfast and left for the Saloon to meet Sunny. Walking down the main road Pyrrha looked at the houses with a closer inspection than she had originally. “Most of the houses here are actually in better shape than it seems.” Doc said. “Broken windows are about the worst damage these places have. With some… notable exceptions.” They passed a house that had fully collapsed in on itself. “We actually have a little event once or twice a year where we pick one of the worst cases and clean it up. Do a little construction. We’ve fully rebuilt… two homes, I think? Took a while with the lack of good lumber. Had to import it.” 

   “You’re saying I can just claim one?” Pyrrha asked.

   “Make a sign with your name or something, anything to tell people that that’s your place. That’s about it.”

   “I guess I’ll take a look around today.”

   “That’s the spirit!” Doc walked up to the saloon and stopped in front of Pete. “Mornin’ Pete. How’re the knees treating you?” Pete just grunted in response. Was that a good grunt or a bad one? Pyrrha couldn’t tell. Doc moved to the door and opened it, gesturing for Pyrrha to enter.

   “There’s the invincible girl!” Trudy greeted them. 

   Pyrrha sighed. “I am quite vincible, contrary to popular belief.”

   “Take it up with Grant. He’s the one that started it.” Trudy laughed as she cleaned out a mug that was sitting on the bar.

   “To be fair,” Doc said as he sat at the bar. “You’re the first person I’ve ever heard of survivin’ a bullet to the noggin.”

   It seemed that fame had followed Pyrrha to Goodsprings, after all.

   Sunny hadn’t shown up yet, so Doc, Pyrrha, and Trudy shot the breeze. Shortly after sitting down the door flew open. Pyrrha looked over expecting Sunny, but it was a man in a blue jacket.

   “Where is he, Trudy?” The man bellowed. He walked around the corner to the bar and began to make a fuss. 

   The man had dark skin and a closely cropped haircut. On the shoulder of his jacket had the letters, NCRCF. “Why haven’t you given him up yet?”

   Trudy had moved on to a new mug and began to clean that one out. She didn’t look up to respond. “Because he ain’t here, corn cob.”

   “We watched him scramble in here!” Pounding the table for emphasis. “And we ain’t seen him leave!”

   “Are you sure sniffin’ all that dynamite didn’t mess up that brain of yours?” Doc asked. 

   “Shut it, old man!” He huffed and turned back to Trudy. “Y’all are gettin’ on my last nerve.”

   “Just move on.” Trudy set the mug down and glared back at the man. “All this time y’all have camped outside of town, he’s probably made it back to the Strip by now.”

   That seemed to have struck a nerve with him. He stomped out of the saloon and slammed the door on the way out.

   The saloon was silent for a moment before the patrons resumed their conversations. 

   “I wish they would just leave us alone.” Trudy sighed. She handed Doc a bottle. “You ever have one of these?” Trudy took a second bottle and placed it in front of Pyrrha. The label read, ‘Sunset Sarsaparilla’.

   “What’s a…” Pyrrha paused to read the label again. “Sarsaparilla?” She asked.

   “Go ahead. It’s on the house.” Trudy urged.

   “Is it alcoholic?” Pyrrha looked for the nutrition label.

   “It isn’t,” Trudy whined. “I promise you’ll like it.”

   And so Pyrrha tried. It was a pleasant surprise. “Oh!” Pyrrha took a second sip. “It tastes like root beer.”

   Trudy nodded. “Yep, just made with different ingredients.”

   “So what was that all about?” Pyrrha asked.

   Trudy leaned onto the bar and sighed. “So, couple days ago, guy named Ringo comes into town. Says he's on the run from the Powder Gangers. We thought he was on chems or something so we let him hole up in the old gas station.” Trudy pointed up the road toward Doc’s place. “Turns out some Gangers actually show up and start pushing us around trying to get their hands on him. Now we’re caught in the middle of something we don’t want anything to do with.”

   “What’s a Powder Ganger?” Pyrrha asked.

   “Have you heard of the NCR? The New California Republic?” Trudy answered with another question.

   Pyrrha shook her head.

   “You know,” Trudy said. “It’s hard to believe that someone can roll into the Mojave without having heard of the closest thing to a civilized government in the area since the Great War. Even that Midwest Federation, or whatever they’re callin’ themselves, have sent gift baskets. And yet, here you are.”

   “I lived in a kind of small world.” Pyrrha shrugged. “Even then there were things I didn’t know.” 

   “Well, if you wanna learn about the Powder Gangers, we need to start with the NCR.” Trudy got herself a Sarsaparilla and began the tale.

   “The NCR copied it’s homework from the pre-War country that governed this area. What was it Doc? The Aligned States, or something?” Trudy looked at Doc.

   “The Commonwealth of United States.” He answered.

   “Right,” Trudy took a drink and continued. “The NCR is the biggest power in the region. Money, troops, power, they’ve got it. But they’re spreading themselves too thin, fighting on too many fronts. Far to the north, they’re dealing with a raider group running amok on their frontier towns. They're trying to exert influence here in Vegas by putting every trooper they have on ‘presence patrols’ so that we like ‘em enough to join up with them. And most recently they’re in a dick measuring contest with the Legion.”

   “And where do the Powder Gangers fit in?” Pyrrha asked. 

   “That’s where it gets frustrating.” Trudy said. “So, up the road is a place called Sloan. They run a quarry that gets a whole lot of stone that the NCR uses for various construction projects. The NCR, in their infinite wisdom, thought it was a good idea to force its incarcerated criminals as its workforce. Seems reasonable... until they started giving them dynamite to use so that they could be ‘more efficient’ or something.”

   “They gave their prisoners explosives?” Pyrrha laughed.

   “And they were surprised when they led a revolt using it!” Trudy laughed too. “So if you see those blue jackets, I would avoid them at all costs.”

   Pyrrha finished her drink as the door opened again. It was Sunny this time. “Who’s ready to go on an adventure?” She called out.

   “You just missed that Cobb fella again.” Trudy said. Sunny rounded the corner with a pout. 

   “I hate those guys,” She said. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here early. Thought you might sleep in.”

   Pyrrha stood up and grabbed her bag. “Ready when you are.” She replied.

   “Welcome to Mojave 101,” Sunny said. She pointed towards the door. “Lesson one: avoid getting shot.”

   The pair made their way to the door. “I might need some extra time with that one.” Pyrrha laughed as she left the saloon.

Chapter Text

   “Are you one that survived an execution?”

   The first stop on Sunny’s tour of Goodsprings was to the General Store. Nobody seemed to be in, so the man running it was sitting in a chair on the porch outside when Pyrrha and Sunny approached. The General Store looked to be about the same size as the saloon, perhaps a little smaller.

   “Chet,” Sunny first motioned towards the man. “This is Pyrrha, Goodsprings’s Invincible Girl.” Sunny then pointed towards Pyrrha.

   Pyrrha sighed. “There’s no escaping that name, is there?”

   “Part of surviving here in the Mojave is people knowing your name. If ‘the invincible girl’ is tacked on to it, they’re much less likely to mess with you.” Sunny said. “Chet, here,” She moved on. “Runs the General Store. He has everything you would need. Literally, everything: toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner, clothes and armor, guns and ammunition. If he doesn’t have it, he knows someone who knows someone who can get it to the ‘Springs.”

   Chet slumped in his chair a bit. “Well… With the Powder Gangers blocking all traffic into town, I haven’t gotten anything new to put out in a couple of days.” 

   “They’ve been getting more upset by the day.” Sunny said. “They’ll give up and move on soon.”

   “I sure am hoping.” Chet picked up a bottle from the floor and took a drink. “I’ve had to resort to polishing ammunition to keep me busy. Y’all want to browse the store?”

   Sunny turned to Pyrrha. “We’ve got time. Want to look?”

   As Sunny had said, there was a little bit of everything under the sun in the store. No purchases were made, however, so they moved on. They left the store and walked back in the direction of the saloon.

   “What we’re making today is commonly known as Healing Powder. You mix it with water and it’s supposed to accelerate the immune system and healing. The first ingredient is up at the cemetery.” Sunny stopped and faced Pyrrha. “If you’re not comfortable going back there, we don’t have to.”

   “You aren’t going to shoot me up there, right?” Pyrrha held a poker face for a beat, but couldn't stop herself from cracking a grin.

   Sunny relaxed. “Wasn’t planning to.” She pointed past the saloon and up a small hill in the distance. “Cemetery’s up next to the water tower.”

   Over that brief hike up the hill, Pyrrha began to feel some butterflies in her stomach. But as they reached the top and entered into the cemetery proper, it faded into a surreal, deja-vu feeling. In the far corner near the water tower was where Sunny walked towards. 

   “This here’s a Broc plant, and the part we want for this recipe is the leaves.” Sunny said, picking off some leaves. “Important thing to remember when doing this kind of stuff: never take everything and leave the plant bare. It has no way to get the sunlight it needs to live and grow more leaves. So only take what you need. Never more.”

   Pyrrha, however, had tuned out of the lesson when she noticed the open grave near them and walked over to it. “Was that supposed to be yours?” Sunny stood next to her.

   “Yeah,” Pyrrha said. “I think so. I remember the water tower and bright lights out in the distance past those mountains.”

   “Yeah, that,” Sunny walked forwards towards the fence. “Past this little mountain range is New Vegas. Crown jewel of the Mojave, and the closest thing to civilization for a great many miles. But, right now, we’re learning about survival in the Mojave. Survival in Vegas is a completely different monster.”

   Sunny repeated what Pyrrha hadn’t listened to, and they left the cemetery for the next location. On the other side of Goodsprings was the other ingredient, according to the guide. They followed the dirt road down the hill when Sunny broke the half-awkward silence.

   “What are Grimm?” She asked. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, and I can’t really stop.”

   “Since you filled me in on some history I may as well return the favor.” Pyrrha said. “However, the creatures of Grimm are a great threat to humanity, at least where I lived prior to appearing here.”

   “Creatures from nightmares are the most accurate description. They are vaguely in the form of animals: dogs, bears, birds. Except that they’re much larger, usually as big or bigger than you or I. Where do they come from? How do they make more of themselves? It’s impossible to learn anything about them because the second you kill one, it turns to ash.”

   “How’re you supposed to fight them off?” Sunny asked.

   “That’s where the hunters and huntresses came in. We learn and train to fight the Grimm, keep the peace, private investigation… We were jacks of all trades”

   “We? You volunteered to fight them?” 

   “Yeah. We obviously had powerful weapons and strong armor to keep us safe while doing that. No offense, but a rifle like this,” Pyrrha gave a pat to her varmint rifle. “Would just piss it off.”

   “There’s rumors of stuff like that out in the wasteland.” Sunny said. “People called them deathclaws or something like that, never seen one myself. You volunteered to fight those things? I don’t know if I could. Coyotes and geckos are enough for me.”

   The dirt road to the cemetery came to an end and the pair were on the paved roads of Goodsprings. The first right turn would have led to the saloon and general store. Instead, they followed the road a little longer before turning, entering the residential area of the town. Most of the homes were a single floor style, maybe a basement if you were lucky.

   “Hearing that Grimm aren’t a problem here, and that you never even heard of one is about the best news I’ve heard since I got here,” Pyrrha chuckled. “Not that a lot of things that I’ve learned have been very good so far.”

   “Everything will work out.” Sunny said. “The Gangers will buzz off, you’ll complete your delivery. And we’ll all live happily ever after.”

   Sunny turned down one of the residential streets. Some of the homes on this street were a little worse for wear, but otherwise seemed in good shape.

   “Doc asked me today to pick one of these and claim one.” Pyrrha said as she gave each house a once-over.

   “Are you gonna settle down here?” Sunny asked.

   “If I understand what he said, as long as I’m doing something for the town I don’t need to pay for the place. That seems like a pretty good deal, as long as the neighbors are nice.”

   “Funny you mention neighbors.” Sunny laughed. “How would you like to meet one now?”

   ~~~

   Farther down the street, Sunny walked up the porch to one of the houses and knocked on the front door. The owner seemed to have heard it and could be heard scrambling around, doing… something. Pyrrha guessed it was last-minute cleaning. Team JNPR had its fair share of surprise room inspections at Beacon. Not necessarily for any contraband on school grounds, but the school liked to maintain a little bit of order. How the RWBY dorm passed with its' macgyvered bunk beds, however, was beyond her.

   The door flew open and a voice echoed out. “I told you to tell me beforehand if you were going to show up!” It was a feminine voice, still running around.

   “Would it make it any worse if I told you that I brought a friend?” Sunny asked.

   “Of course it would! First impressions are important!” She yelled out.

   “Well, we’re only stopping by, so you don’t need to clean the whole place.” 

   A new face stepped onto the porch with a sour look towards Sunny, grumbling about getting her all worked up.

   Sunny motioned Pyrrha up onto the porch with her. “Pyrrha, this is my friend Viktorya. Vik, this is Pyrrha.”

   Vik was the shortest of the three women. A mess of blonde hair was tied into something that couldn’t quite be described as a bun or ponytail. She wore similar leather attire to Sunny, but Vik’s garb seemed to resemble armor more than anything fashionable. Vik’s entryway caught Pyrrha’s eye as she got to the top step. A small collection of rifles leaned against one of the walls in various states of assembly.

   Pyrrha held out her hand, offering a shake. “Nice to meet you.”

   Vik looked at the hand, seemingly nervous to take it.

   “Come on, Vik,” Sunny whispered, despite the three women standing next to each other. “Make a new friend.”

   Another beat passed and Vik returned the handshake, the persuasion working. “Vik kinda lives in her own world, I’m about the only person she talks to.” Sunny beamed, proud of her friend.

   “No shame in that,” Pyrrha said. 

   “We share the same job here, Vik and I,” Sunny explained. “I watch the road out to the southeast, where we were yesterday. Vik watches the road to the north.”

   Pyrrha took another look into the entryway. “I was wondering what all those rifles were for.” 

   “Sunny gets the easy road,” Vik said. “Mainly people and geckos there. I just get cazadores.”

   “You volunteered for it.”

   “Because cazadores aren’t that talkative.”

   Sunny and Vik shared a laugh.

   “What’s a cazador?” Pyrrha asked.

   That earned an expression of concern and confusion from Vik.

   “Yeah, she’s new to the Mojave.” Sunny said.

   “Well then you’ll have fun here,” Vik replied. “Probably.”

   “Since we were in the neighborhood I figured I’d make an introduction,” Sunny began to walk down the porch. “We’re headed to the old schoolhouse.”

   Vik stepped inside and grabbed one of the rifles from the wall and closed her door. “Have fun with that,” She said. “About time for me to throw myself into harms’ way.”

   ~~~

   At the end of the road was the schoolhouse. It was one of the more intact buildings that Pyrrha had seen in town. “Since there’s no kids in town it goes unused for the most part,” Sunny explained. “But it is useful in that it has a small collection of wild vegetation, which is half of why we’re here.” She opened the door into the building and before Pyrrha could fully enter herself, she could hear Sunny let out an, ‘Oh, shit!’

   Pyrrha wasn’t sure of what she was looking at, at first. It soon clicked that what had infested the schoolhouse were abnormally large praying mantises. The room had easily more than ten of the things, with one that Sunny had already kicked and stomped to death. Pyrrha got into a shooting stance with her varmint rifle, but decided that the mantises were too small and agile for it to be effective. With Pyrrha’s help the mantis threat was quickly put away and the women took a minute to catch their breath.

   “So, fun fact,” Sunny said between breaths. “The schoolhouse occasionally has a mantis problem. This was the other half.”

   “You don’t say?” They both laughed. Now being able to observe the room, Pyrrha noticed a vintage-looking computer and a safe on the floor near it. “What do we have here?” She said with interest.

   “The computer or the safe?” Sunny asked.

   “Now this,” Pyrrha said. She took a look at it from every angle. “Is an old computer.”

   “Old? That’s just a regular computer.”

   “Hm. Back home we have screens that can cover entire walls.” 

   “Terrifying demon-monsters and advanced technology.” Sunny mused. “Just where are you from?”

   Out of curiosity, Pyrrha pressed the power button on the computer. With the schoolhouse only being lit with sunlight, she assumed that there was no power in the building. The computer, however, sprung to life. It booted onto a welcome screen and an entry bar asking for a password and a ‘forgot password’ button.

   “How…” Pyrrha gave the computer a once over again. “There’s no power. How is this on?”

   “I asked the Doc once. Coming from a Vault, he knows a little about everything.” Sunny explained. “There’s some kind of fusion battery, or fission, I always get those mixed up. That battery can last centuries apparently. They don’t have that back home?” Sunny teased.

   “Can barely go a day without needing to charge my scroll.” 

   “Scroll?”

   “That’s what we called them. They’re like mobile phones. Communication was super simple with those.”

   “Mobile phones.” Sunny let that idea fly around. “That sounds incredible.”

   “Which I have taken for granted my entire life, now that I’ve lost that.”

   “For as long as I’ve been in Goodsprings, nobody’s been able to get into this computer. Do you want to give it a shot?”

   “What’s on it?”

   “See that cable running from the computer to the safe?” It was slightly hidden by the counter, but it did exist. “We’re pretty sure that if you can get into the computer, there’s a way to unlock the safe through there. And nobody’s successfully picked the safe, either. So both avenues are still available, but the computer is more fun.”

   Pyrrha went to select the ‘forgot password’ button when she noticed that there was no mouse. Initially only a minor inconvenience, but after selecting that button she was presented a screen full of random symbols interrupted by a few words. With only a single character or word highlighted, it became a frustrating task to select anything on the other side of the screen.

   “You only get four chances,” Sunny warned. “So choose wisely. Otherwise the computer locks you out for a whole day before you can try again.”

   All the words were the same length, a variable that Pyrrha was glad she didn’t have to keep track of. She selected the first word that appeared on the screen, ‘DISBAND’. On the right side of the screen it spit out, ‘Entry Denied: 1/7 Correct’. 

   “So that means that out of ‘DISBAND’ one out of those seven letters are correct,” Sunny guided. “Could be any of them.”

   While navigating to the next word, the cursor crossed over a string of characters encircled by two brackets. 

   “That isn’t a word,” Pyrrha turned to Sunny. “What does this mean?”

   Sunny looked at it, pondering. “I’ve... never actually seen that before.” She said. “Try it.”

   Hesitantly, Pyrrha hit enter. Farther down the screen, one of the available options was replaced by a series of periods and the computer spit out, ‘Dud Removed’. 

   A pleasant “Oh,” came from both hackers.

   The next word Pyrrha tried was ‘SELLING’. 2/7. Sunny pointed at another of the bracket strings. It removed another possible term. They found a third string that did something new. The computer spit out, ‘Allowance Replenished’. Sure enough, at the top of the screen, the available guesses was back at four. ‘RAGTIME’ 1/7. ‘VACCINE’ 1/7. ‘RECENTS’ 3/7. ‘RESWORE’ 4/7. With the final, and incorrect guess, the computer moved to a lockout screen, not accepting any inputs. A small sigh of frustration left both of the women.

   “For a while,” Sunny backed away from the computer. “We had someone come down every day to give this a shot. We gave up after… A month, maybe, of trying. Have you ever picked a lock?”

   Pyrrha looked down at the safe, and then up to sunny. “As a huntress we were never taught it. It went more or less unspoken that lockpicking and stuff like that was immoral and, being protectors of people, it was frowned upon.”

   Sunny hummed in acknowledgement. “Well, around here it’s a little different. The vast majority of buildings around here are pre-war and have been long abandoned, leaving many treasures to be discovered by prospectors two hundred years later.” Sunny kneeled down to the safe and layed an arm on it. “In safes, armories, locked closets, etc, all over the Mojave have sat for years with treasures waiting to be uncovered. Pete used to be one before he got too old to do it. Made a whole lot of caps uncovering working pre-war tech and old weapons. He even claims to have found a set of power armor once and has been living off of the profits of it ever since.”

   “If I can retire early, why not give it a shot.” Pyrrha nodded.

   “Sweet!” Sunny stood and opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. She began to draw and explained on the way. “Since you’ve never done it, here’s a super brief rundown. The goal of lockpicking is to get these sets of pins at the correct height that allow the whole lock to spin and open. However, bring the pin too high and the second pin underneath it will block the process.”

   On top of the safe was a small screwdriver. Sunny picked it up and demonstrated to Pyrrha. “Using this, we can keep tension on the whole thing while we work. So that pins that are set correctly stay there, and we can move on to the next one.” She set the screwdriver back down. “You may be asking, ‘but Sunny, how am I supposed to move the pins?’ The answer,” Sunny reached into her hair and pulled out a bobby pin. “Is one of these. Bobby pins are small enough to work on most locks, but not all of them. Some need a real lockpick set to work, which are super rare in these parts.” She replaced the one back into her hair and retrieved a small box from her bag. Inside were around 15 bobby pins. “For the longest time bobby pins were sort of rare, but since the NCR came around they seem to have become more available. I guess they’ve gotten civilization up and running enough to be making creature comforts like these.”

   Pyrrha sat down and got to picking on the lock. What Sunny had explained made sense, but in her mind she imagined the entire process on a larger scale. The pins in the lock proved to be much smaller than she anticipated. After about a minute, a thought came to her. “Are the pins metal? Is the whole lock metal?”

   Sunny thought on it for a moment. “Pretty sure it’s all metal. Never heard of it any other way.”

   Pyrrha set the screwdriver and bobby pin down and placed one hand flat on the door to the safe. Sunny tilted her head in confusion but stayed silent. She blinked and the safe door swung open.

   “ ‘Scuse me, what?” 

   “I used my semblance.” Pyrrha said.

   “Your what ?”

Chapter Text

   “So you’re telling me that you’ve got super powers?” Sunny crossed her arms.

   “I suppose it could be described like that.” Pyrrha opened the safe and started to set the contents on the nearby shelf.

   “You’re beginning to sound like a comic book character, you know,” Sunny examined their loot as well. “Fights monsters, has a super power… What’s next, saving the world?”

   Pyrrha pulled out the final item from the safe, a handgun similar to what she already had. “Tried that,” She said. “Didn’t exactly go in my favor.”

   “At least you’ve still got your power,” Sunny shrugged. “You might turn out to be the best prospector in the Mojave. Or the worst criminal we’ve had for some time.”

   Pyrrha took stock of what was in the safe. Another Hi-Power with some ammunition, a folding pocket knife, and something that Pyrrha couldn’t immediately identify. It looked to be a syringe with a pressure gauge mounted onto it. “That’s what we call a Stimpak.” Sunny said, reading Pyrrha’s silence. “It’s stuffed full of stimulants and chemicals that send the immune system into overdrive. It can heal bullet wounds in about a minute”

   “That sounds like it has addictive qualities,” Pyrrha said as she picked it up and looked more thoroughly.

   “Well, the great thing about that is that you’re usually using it in a fight. And in a fight you’re typically more worried about surviving than whatever side-effect highs you get.” 

   Pyrrha slid her loot into her bag and followed Sunny out of the building and around the back. “To finish our recipe, we need some of this.” She bent down towards a patch of ground that was hosting some kind of plant. Sunny yanked it out and held it towards her student. “Xander Root.” Sunny placed it into her own bag. “They can be found all over the Mojave, but this seems to be a consistent place to find them. And next to them,” She pointed to a different plant. “This little guy grows jalapenos. Add some kick to your cooking with these guys.”

   Having all the ingredients they needed, Sunny and Pyrrha’s final location was Sunny’s backyard, where they would complete the recipe. The walk over was strangely quiet. “I can talk about it if you’re curious,” Pyrrha offered.

   “Ah, well,” Sunny sputtered. “With an ability like that I would guess that you’re constantly mobbed by people who want to talk about it.”

   “I actually try to keep it hidden, usually.” Pyrrha answered. “It’s very effective in combat. So the less people that know about it, the less people that know how to counter it.”

   “That’s… a really smart move.”

   “While learning to be a huntress we had sparring matches against other hunters and huntresses. Because nobody knew what I could do, I lost very few fights. Earned me the name, ‘The Invincible Girl’ “

   “Oh,” Sunny hummed. “Makes sense why you didn’t like it when we gave it to you again.”

   “Well, if the Mojave is all anarchy and lawlessness that you say it is, I think a name like that will carry a little more weight here than it did at home.” 

   There was a moment of pause before Sunny continued. “If you were supposed to fight those Grimm monsters, why’d they have you go up against people?” 

   “Is that,” Pyrrha had spaced out again. “Supposed to be a cow?” She was looking at a house down the road with a few curious creatures.

   Sunny followed her gaze. “Oh, those?” As they drew near, so did the finer details. “Some people call them cows. ‘Round here we just call ‘em Brahmin.” These Brahmin weren’t that different from what Pyrrha would call a cow, save for their hairless appearance and an additional head. “Dare I say it,” Sunny continued. “I would prepare yourself for very little to be similar to where you’re from. And a whole lot to be completely new.”

   “It’s certainly turning out that way.”

   ~~~

   Sunny stopped in front of one of the houses and walked around to the back. “Welcome to the Smiles’ house.” She said.

    In the small backyard there was a fire ring with a gecko laying next to it. There were also two workstations with a whole bunch of tools scattered around them.

   “For our ‘Healing Powder’ today, all we need is a bowl, something like a fork to grind it all up, and a pouch to put it all in.” 

   With Sunny providing all the materials, making the powder was simple. She explained that where the stimpak was for immediate use, the powder had the same effect over a longer term and wasn’t nearly as addictive. 

   Where the fun really began was when they transitioned to the gecko laying nearby. While not originally on the docket today, Sunny wanted to complement the lesson on flora with a lesson on fauna. Pyrrha was initially uneasy about the whole affair, but after Sunny guided her through the first couple cuts it got easier.

   They didn’t quite use the whole animal, as some groups might, but they got the most valuable parts out of it: the skin and the meat. Gecko skin was thick enough that one could craft clothes and armor out of it. Whereas the meat, when properly prepared, could keep you going all day with just a couple bites of it.

   Sunny split the meat with Pyrrha, and let her have the more valuable gecko skin parts to sell to Chet to finance whatever she needed for her new home. The concept of bartering was pretty foreign to Pyrrha. Of course she understood the concept, but she had lived up to this point paying for services and products with cash. Until she could get the hang of it, Pyrrha expected she might get the poor end of a deal.

   Before she could truly worry about that, though, Pyrrha would need to find a place to call home. She wasn’t sure what to expect with these homes, so she decided to set some expectations. The bare minimum to be considered. Doors that could lock, a bed, running water, to name a few. 

   She started on the same street as Sunny’s. All of the homes seemed to be based on a similar layout, but all were slightly different. The front door might be in a different spot, a side yard as opposed to a backyard, small variations. The first choice Pyrrha made was on a whim. The home she picked had a garage, which seemed to be uncommon among these homes, but the inside was bare. No furniture, not even a bed, but otherwise was clean. She had some expectations, so Pyrrha moved on to look for a better option. 

   Farther down the same street Pyrrha took a look inside of another home to see a skeleton sitting on the couch in the front room. She felt an wave of dread pass through her, but it also felt as though this was a completely normal occurrence. It was a very strange and surreal feeling. One that she tried to quickly get rid of just as she quickly left the home without looking any further into it.

   Pyrrha decided to move up a street, closer to the saloon and store. She recognized one of the nearby homes as Vik’s. A couple houses away from where she stood, there was a house that seemed to pique her interest. It didn’t harbor any skeletons, thankfully, and had some of the minimum requirements for Pyrrha. The doors could lock, and thanks to her semblance she didn’t need the key. There happened to be a mattress too, but she’d need to source some sheets and blankets. Entering the kitchen she found a variety of cooking accessories, but with the lack of electricity (at least for now, hopefully) they’d do very little. She tested the sink, bracing herself for disappointment, but after a moment of building pressure, water did stream out of the sink. It seemed that the water tower wasn’t broken like most ‘Old World’ things seemed to have. In the single bathroom in the home, Pyrrha had higher hopes for the shower/bath combo. Perhaps it was something wrong with the showerhead, but the water pressure was less than what came out of the kitchen sink. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to work.

   From what she’d seen so far, Pyrrha was comfortable settling in this home. There were, however, two areas that she hadn’t checked out yet. This house also came with a basement and a garage, it seemed to be on par with the nicer homes in town. 

   The small basement wasn’t completely underground, there were small windows around the ceiling to provide some light into the basement. Unfortunately, however, they had shattered with the other windows in the home so there was a small breeze flowing through the whole place. It was an open floor, save for two rooms. There was a laundry room, and a second bedroom. With no power, the laundry machines and water heater weren’t worth investigating. The basement looked to be one big storage area, boxes upon boxes in the open floor and in both rooms. They didn't seem worth looking into right this moment, so Pyrrha decided that dealing with the basement was a Future-Pyrrha problem.

   The garage, however, housed the biggest surprise of the whole building. Lining the walls were workbenches and tool cabinets. And in the center of the room was something long and slender covered up by a protective blanket and a large layer of dust. It was quickly determined to be a bike, motorized or not was to be determined. Pyrrha lifted the heavy blanket off of the bike and after swatting the dust away, and inhaling some of it, a small motorcycle sat before the huntress.

   With the discovery of the motorcycle, Pyrrha was satisfied with her choice of home. She did another pass, making a note of what she’d need to get started. Personal hygiene was at the top of the list, with sheets and blankets for the bed and clothing falling in close behind.

   At the general store, Pyrrha entered to see Chet polishing some small caliber ammunition. He noticed the new customer and let out a big sigh. “Finally, someone to talk to!” 

   “Hello,” Pyrrha waved and fully entered the store. “Slow day?”

   “Most of them are. One of the downsides of a small town like this.” Chet turned down his radio and walked past the counter holding the register. “What can I help you with?”

   “Just picked a house to settle into, I need the essentials.”

   “Check for running water?”

   “I would prefer… a little more water pressure, but that’s personal preference.”

   “That’s about as good as it gets, unfortunately. We’ve never run into anybody qualified to repair or do anything with the pump.”

   Pyrrha nodded in understanding, and in acquiescence. “What do you have in the way of hygiene?”

   Chet began to scan the store. “Not… much.” He found the shelf containing the collection of bottles and tubes. “I haven't had a shipment of anything like this recently. In NCR core territory they’re a little more common, but out here in the ‘frontier’ of NCR influence, stuff like this doesn’t make it out here that often. Something about it being ‘expensive to manufacture the chemicals involved’ or something.”

   Hearing that didn’t exactly evoke a good feeling from Pyrrha. The shelf, like Chet had said, contained a small selection of shampoos, toothpaste, and soaps. “Toothbrushes?” Pyrrha asked.

   On one of the lower shelves, Chet pulled out a small crate with smaller boxes. Inside the small box was a toothbrush. “They come in bulk in one big bag. I take the extra step to clean and sanitize them, and then recycle some old boxes to keep them from collecting anything nasty.”

   “Does everything else come like that, in bulk?”

   “Everything that I put in a special request for. Get a better deal on it that way.”

   “Better than nothing.” Pyrrha began to grab her items. Shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, and a toothbrush with accompanying paste. She set her items up near the register and began to scan the shelves. “Do you have any sheets or blankets?”

   “I have…” Chet began to search too. “One. And it’s a pretty nice one.” He pulled out a blanket that looked like it ate too many down feathers. It seemed to be decently heavy too. “I assume that the house you picked has some broken windows, yeah?” Pyrrha nodded. “Then I’ll give this to you at no charge. It gets uncomfortably cold this time of year, and with no insulation in these buildings you can’t escape it. Once you can plug up those windows it becomes a little more manageable. I’ll have to see if the traders can bring some more in after the Powder Gangers move on.”

   ”Thank you, Chet. I really appreciate that.”

   “Just make sure to board up those windows as tight as you can. It doesn’t get that cold, but when you’re exposed to the elements like that, even with a mountain of blankets it can be troublesome. Anything else you’re looking for?”

   “This is it.” Pyrrha pulled out the gecko hide from her bag. “I can use this to help pay, right?”

   “Absolutely.” Chet gave the hide a quick rundown. “No bullet holes, nice. Recent kill?” Pyrrha nodded. “Wonderful. Everything you’re buying is…” He began to mumble prices and calculations. “135 caps. Sound fair?”

   “You could be scamming me out of all I have. I don’t know how much a cap is worth.”

   Chet was gracious enough to explain. The shampoo, conditioner, and toothpaste were manufactured using chemicals that, pre-war took little to produce, but in a post-apocalypse such as this it took more effort to create. Soap was a slightly simpler recipe, but still was difficult to come up with the ingredients for. The toothbrush was the cheapest item for it was simply plastic that they could recycle and reform it into whatever they needed. Goodsprings, and the whole Vegas area, was on the frontier of NCR influence. Which meant that for it to get all the way here from where it was being produced somewhere in the core NCR territory took a lot of time and money. Had Pyrrha made this purchase inside of the NCR, depending on the location it would be at a cheaper 60-70 caps.

   “So this hide is in good condition, with little fault that I can find. I would value it around 40 caps. I need 95 caps, or you can add something else to lower that further.”

   Pyrrha knew that she only had 50 caps on her, so she began to look at the contents of her bag. She quickly decided that she could get rid of one of the Hi-Powers. Before handing one off to Chet she inspected it, both visually and by using her semblance to view the internals without having to fully disassemble the firearm. Both handguns were about equal on wear but one did have some concern regarding the trigger mechanism, so she handed that one off to Chet, making sure to keep the magazine as an extra for the one she already has.

   Chet inspected it the same as Pyrrha. “Not the worst one that I’ve seen.” He pulled the slide back to view the internals, and Pyrrha saw a flash of concern. It seems that he saw, and agreed, with what Pyrrha had seen of the handgun. “Not the best, either. A pristine, well-maintained 9mm would get about 100 caps. This piece, however, has seen some action, and seems to have had some neglect. I’ll take it for 55.”

   “135 down to 40. Not too bad.” Pyrrha opened the pouch containing her bottle caps and came to a frustrating realization. “Now to count out 40 bottle caps.” No more bigger bills to make it easy.

   “No offense, but this seems like you’re first time bartering.”

   Pyrrha continued to count out. “Never had to do this back home.”

   “NCR native?”

   40 caps lay on the table and Chet double checked the amount. “No, I’m from Remnant. Mistral, specifically.” Pyrrha answered.

   “I’ve never heard of that. Is that out east?”

   Pyrrha thought back to the globe Doc had shown her. “Pretty far east, yeah.”

   “Well, I hope you like Goodsprings and New Vegas enough to truly settle down here.”

   “So far it isn’t so bad.” Pyrrha shrugged. “Some of the problems that we faced in Remnant don’t seem to be an issue here. However, it seems that this whole Great War never had a big impact on Remnant. Life was pretty good there, given the circumstances.”

   “Why’d you leave then?”

   “Wasn’t under my control.” Pyrrha rubbed the back of her head. She noticed how matted and greasy it felt, gross. “For all I know I could have been in another universe and some higher being decided to have some fun." She gave a weak laugh. "I’m not sure, but I’m here now. Maybe this was my true destiny all along.”

   “Goodsprings may be small, but we’re one big family. You’re one of us now, and even if you move on you always will be. We’ll be there for you whenever you need a hand.”

   “Do you give family discounts?”

   Chet laughed. “I need to make a profit somehow.”

   “Figured as much.” 

   Pyrrha collected all of her new items and placed them in her bag and slung the blanket over her shoulder. It was as she suspected, not light.

   “Thank you, Chet!” She said on the way out.

   “Anytime, Pyrrha.”

Chapter Text

   With newly purchased soaps and shampoos, Pyrrha was excited to take a shower for the first time since arriving in the Mojave. Just one small problem: with no electricity meant no water heater. Pyrrha decided, however, that any kind of bathing was better than no bathing at all, and powered through a very cold shower. This led to the discovery of another issue. All Pyrrha had in the way of clothing was the sweat and dirt covered t-shirt and pants that she had awoken in. Doc had provided her with this set, perhaps she might be able to grab some more out of his wardrobe, avoiding spending more caps with Chet in the process. She bit the bullet and put on the dirty clothes promising herself that this would be the only time she’d resort to this.

   Down the street at Doc’s, he opened the door with mild surprise to see Pyrrha at the door. 

   “Get yourself hurt that fast?” He chuckled.

   She looked down and gave herself a once-over. 

   “Still in one piece,” She replied. “I’m actually here to ask if you have any more extra clothes that I could borrow.”

   “As it so happens, I do,” He let Pyrrha in, and directed her to one of the wardrobes in his bedroom. “Everything in here was my wife’s.” He paused for a moment, looking down briefly before continuing. “She had more or less a similar build to you, so most of the stuff in here should work for you. Go ahead and take what you need.”

   Pyrrha thanked him and began to look through the collection when he piped up again. 

   “How’s the Pip-Boy been treating you?” He asked, settling into a lean on the wall.

   “It seems pretty neat,” She said, rifling through hangers. “I’ve been on the move so I haven’t really had a chance to sit down and truly look at it.” She made the motion of bringing the Pip-Boy up to use it, and noticed that the button underneath “DATA” was pulsing like a notification. She showed it to Doc, “What’s this mean?” She asked.

   “You’ve probably had an update to one of your quests,” He answered.

   Pyrrha looked back at him. “Quest?” She let out a huff of laughter. “ Like in some fantasy story?”

   “Oh, I suppose that would be somewhat important to know.” Doc moved off of the wall and held out his hand. “Could you hand it to me? It’ll be easier to show you.”

   With the Pip-Boy in hand, Doc pressed the DATA button and began to explain. Under the DATA category were a few things: a world map, a more local map, radio, and most importantly, the Quests tab. According to the Doc, in the months of production right before the War, some engineers decided to make some radical prototypes. The variant that his vault got were ones that had something called an “AI” in them. Something that was able to recognize the world around itself and be able to be some sort of assistant to whomever wore the Pip-Boy. That’s how it was explained to Doc many years ago, at least.

   “Why did they choose to call it ‘Quests’?” Pyrrha asked. “Wouldn’t ‘Tasks’ or, ‘To-Do’ be a better option?”

   “I couldn’t tell ya,” Doc sighed and passed the computer back to Pyrrha. “If I were a betting man, I’d say that they were fans of the fantasy genre and thought it was cool. But that’s only a guess.”

   As she put the Pip-Boy back on, she selected the Quests tab to see that there were some entries in there already.

   Pyrrha browsed through the list. “It sure has some… Creative titles.” 

   Doc let out a chuckle. “Yeah, it had a sense of humor when I was wearing it around the Mojave.”

   “ ‘Ain’t that a Kick in the Head’ ?” Pyrrha read aloud, “That’s a little on the nose.”

   Doc snorted.

   ~~~

   Having taken a substantial amount of clothes back from Doc, a wave of heat moved into the bedroom reminding Pyrrha of another priority: the gaping holes in the house where windows used to be. A couple seconds later, she felt the Pip-Boy vibrate. It was another Quest update. She decided now was a good enough time to sit down and investigate these quests a little further.

   Pyrrha now had a total of three quests: They Went That-A-Way, Motorcycle Mama, and the newest one, Home Improvement. There was a second list of quests in gray colored font below the first list separated by a header that said ==Completed Quests== , consisting of one quest: Ain’t That A Kick In The Head.

   The latter two active quests were pretty self explanatory, but the quest at the top of the list caught Pyrrha’s eye. The first bullet point read, Find the men who tried to kill you . A laugh escaped her chest. “Real helpful.” She muttered. The second bullet was a little more informative. Inquire about your delivery assignment with the Mojave Express branch in Primm. Hadn’t Sunny and Trudy said that the day before? 

   Doc was right, it seemed. This little thing actually could pay attention.

~~~

   One change into fresh clothes and sorting of laundry later, and a realization that she’d need to figure out how to wash her clothes later, she found herself wandering over to the saloon again out of boredom. 

   As she approached the first step to the porch, the door flew open and a Powder Ganger stormed out. “And don’t come back unless you bring your friends with you!” Trudy yelled from the bar. 

   Pyrrha noticed his hand was trembling quite close to his pants pocket where a handgun similar to hers poked out. She recalled seeing a holster somewhere in the bundle she’d gotten from Doc and began to regret not grabbing it. She let the Ganger use the stairs first, the steps creaking as he stomped down.

   They made eye contact when he reached the bottom. She recognized him as the same guy who came in and threatened Trudy the previous day. 

   “Oh, I’ll be back,” he muttered. He met Pyrrha’s eyes again. “You tell that bitch that I’ll be back with all my friends tomorrow.” He stomped off towards the road out of town. “ I’ll bring all my friends and burn this shithole town to the ground!” He yelled without looking back. 

   Pyrrha stood in stunned silence for a moment before finding Trudy at the bar and relaying his message.

   “Hmm,” Trudy stared into the glass she was cleaning. “I think I finally did it.” She said in a sort of relief.

   “Convince him to attack the town?” Pyrrha sat at the bar. “Are you sure that’s the wisest move?”

   “I’ve got the best shots south of Vegas in Goodsprings. Sunny, Vik, and I hear you're a pretty good shot yourself if you’d like to join our little militia.”

   “I’m a huntress.” Pyrrha sat up a little straighter. “It’s my job to protect people.”

   “Sunny tried to explain that to me but I don’t think I understand. What is a huntress?”

   “Simple answer?” Pyrrha took a deep breath. “I’m there to defend those who can’t defend themselves and help them in their time of need to the best of my ability.”

   A laugh escaped from Trudy. “Sorry, it’s just that… People around here are usually the opposite of that. Mojave could use more good souls like you.”

   “So what can I do to help?”

Chapter Text

   “So what can I do to help?”

   Trudy placed the glass she was cleaning under the bar. She set her full attention on Pyrrha. “Before I can truly trust you to watch any of our backs in a scuffle with those convicts, I have another question to ask you.”

   Pyrrha shifted in her seat. Trudy seemed awfully serious about this question.

   “Shoot,” She replied.

   “Have you ever killed anyone?”

   It was instinct to reply with, ‘no’ . The memories that came flooding back begged to differ. Pyrrha hadn’t fully unpacked all of what had happened yet, so it began to overwhelm her.

   Pyrrha broke eye contact and stared down at the bar. “Not with any malice, no.” Pyrrha battled keeping her voice level. “But I have, it was an accident. Self defense. Happened right before I showed up here.” 

   The image of Penny laying on the arena floor, looking back at Pyrrha, flashed through her mind. Were there… cables underneath her skin? Was she human? Did Pyrrha really kill anyone?

   Trudy widened her eyes ever so slightly out of surprise, but stayed silent.

   “You don’t need to tell me about it if you don’t want to.” Trudy reached out and squeezed Pyrrha’s forearm. Pyrrha looked back up at the bartender. “The Powder Gangers are criminals. Escaped convicts. They won’t hesitate to hurt or kill anyone who so much as raises their pinky in defiance of them.”

   Trudy reached for something behind her, on the display bar. “Only reason they haven’t shot this place up yet,” She returned to Pyrrha with a revolver. “Damn near all of us have guns.” The revolver clinked back into its holster-cup. “I need to trust that you won’t freeze up when that Cobb fella comes barging into town with his friends and starts to shoot up the place.”

   Pyrrha looked back down and looked within herself. Could she do it again, kill someone?

   On her wrist sat the Pip-Boy. Doc had given it to her, for free. Doc practically brought her back from the dead and hasn’t come calling to collect on it. Everybody in Goodsprings has been good to her just for the sake of being nice. Of course she could stand up for them. She has to.

   Pyrrha let a moment pass to properly choose her words. “I would prefer a more peaceful solution, but we seem to be beyond that now.”

   “And I would agree with you, however, any kind of ‘diplomatic’ solution with Cobb and his Powder Ganger friends will only resort in more of them coming over and trying to get a piece of the action.”

   “Wouldn’t killing them do the same?”

   “They claim a huge swath of I-15 from Sloan damn near all the way to Nipton. You might not know the local geography yet, but it would take a whole day just to walk from one edge of their turf to the other, not counting any rest stops.”

   Trudy raised an imaginary rifle. “If a couple of them were to…” She imitated a round being fired. “I doubt anyone would notice.”

   It seems like Trudy had thought of every angle about this whole situation. 

   “Everyone here has been nothing but generous to me. I’ve been welcomed in with open arms, enough that I might dare to call Goodsprings home. I’d stand in the way of anybody who’d oppose that.”

   “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Trudy smiled. “Do you think you could do a favor for me?”

   ~~~

   Pyrrha walked past the store towards the northwest corner of town, where she was told Vik stood watch over the road. Deciding to listen to the radio from the Pip-Boy, she saw that there was, yet another, new quest. It was titled Ghosttown Gunfight . She skipped looking at the finer to-do points for now and tuned to Radio New Vegas.

   The final measures of a song crackled through the speakers and a man’s voice came though. “The time is 15:00 and that means we’ve finished today's Classics , and we enter the next portion of our day: Fresh Finds . 

   “As prospectors and explorers slowly but surely reclaim more of the Mojave Wasteland, one of the more common valuables they bring back is new music. And that’s what the next few hours are dedicated to, some Fresh Finds.

   “Any regular listeners know that for some tunes, like Guy Mitchell’s “Heartaches by the Number”, I have something of an intro to lead into it. During Fresh Finds I try to flex my creative muscles and come up with them on the spot, due to them being fresh and all. Apologies if these aren’t quite as polished as those we’re all so familiar with.

   “Now, if you’ve lived in the Mojave for any amount of time, you know that when one thing goes sour, it has a tendency to snowball into a whole lot of bad news. Paramore’s, “Let The Flames Begin” is a more… hopeful approach to running into an uphill battle like you might find out in the Wastes.”

  It was similar to music she could recall from Remnant, yet it was also different. There was a small variety of the music that the man on the radio, who identified himself as ‘Mr. New Vegas’, put on. Rock, or as the song preferred ‘alternative rock’ from Paramore. Something called Ska, which Pyrrha was wholly unfamiliar with. The final piece that she heard before making it to Vik’s post was regular pop music.

   At the top of a small hill was a long abandoned car blocking the road with a multitude of stop signs laying against it. On the shoulder was a small wooden shack, Pyrrha guessed it to be Vik’s outpost. There was no Vik in the shack upon further inspection. It wasn’t until she heard a commotion on the other side of the hill, past the car and into the Wastes. It was Vik, dragging a… corpse of some kind of massive bee or wasp up the hill. Pyrrha left her bag at the guardpost and jogged over to help.

   As Pyrrha arrived Vik dropped the wing she was using to drag. “Wonderful timing,” She said in between deep breaths.

   “What… is this?” Pyrrha walked around the body. “Is this supposed to be a wasp?”

   “We call ‘em Cazadores,” Vik answered. “And they’re a pain in the ass.”

   “How did you kill it?”

   “They’re pretty easy to hit when they aren’t flying around. Damn near impossible once they get off the ground. Help me get this up by the car, will ya?”

   Pyrrha grabbed the opposite wing. “How’d you get it this far?”

   In synchronized steps, progress was made. “If you saw one of your friends posted up like a scarecrow, you’d avoid that spot, right?”

   An image of Penny ran through Pyrrha’s mind. “I would agree with that.”

   ~~~

   At the top of the hill, Vik and Pyrrha positioned the Cazadore to ward off the others.

   “So why’re you out on this side of town?” She asked.

   “Oh,” Pyrrha suddenly remembered. “Trudy seems to have finally upset the Powder Gangers enough that she believes they’re going to attack either tonight or tomorrow morning. She wanted you to stop by the saloon to strategize. She already has a whole plan thought out.”

   Vik’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean I get to bring out the ‘.50?”

   “She didn’t tell me any specifics, just to grab you.”

   Vik, at a brisk pace, made for the saloon and Pyrrha struggled to keep up. “You’re helping out?” She asked over her shoulder, not slowing down.

   “Of course,” Pyrrha answered. 

   As Vik continued down towards the saloon at record speed, Pyrrha came to a stop when she caught sight of a gas station. Trudy had said something about the guy (What was his name again? Ringo?) hiding away in a gas station. If she was gonna put life and limb on the line for the guy it seemed fair to at least meet him and get acquainted. What’s the worst that could happen?

   As she got closer, Pyrrha could see that the windows facing out to the street had been boarded almost completely, so it’s possible that just walking in could scare him enough to shoot any trespassers on sight. Pyrrha turned off the Pip-Boy’s radio and opted to knock politely on the door. After a couple of frantic footsteps a voice called from within the building. 

   “Who’s there?” A muffled, but distinctly male, voice asked from behind the door.

   Pyrrha closed in on the door and raised her voice. “My name’s Pyrrha. We haven’t met yet.” After a pause she decided to add, “I’m not a Powder Ganger.”

   “And why should I trust you?” They called out.

   Pyrrha thought for a moment. “It may surprise you to hear that this town isn’t exactly a fan of the Powder Gangers. And with most people here owning some kind of weapon, I don’t think they’d allow one to just walk through town unopposed.” 

   There was silence as they considered. 

   “You can come in, slowly . I want to see your hands first.”

   “Alright,” She answered back. “I’m going to open it.”

   With great care, Pyrrha inched the door open. She could begin to see what she guessed was the sales counter. As the space allowed, she put her hands through and into the gas station. Eventually the door opened fully and she could see the man, Ringo, huddled behind a toppled self.

   Pyrrha took a cautious step into the building, and was met with the business end of Ringo’s pistol.

   “Now what do you want?” He threatened.

   “I thought you should know that the Powder Gangers are likely to attack the town either tonight or in the morning,” Ringo dropped his aim, but kept the pistol in her direction. “We’re having a little meeting at the saloon to discuss our plan if you wanted to help out.”

   Ringo holstered the gun and stood up. “Sorry, you just caught me off is all,” He stepped over the shelf and stopped in front of Pyrrha. “I’m Ringo.” He held his hand out.

   Pyrrha met it and shook. “Pyrrha Nikos.” Ringo grabbed a bag from behind the counter and followed Pyrrha out to the saloon. “Trudy gave me the basics on what happened. I’m new to Goodsprings as well.”

   Ringo hummed. “I guess it’s hardwired in them to be kind to strangers. How’d you end up here?”

   “I can’t seem to remember.” Pyrrha shrugged. “I woke up to getting executed in the cemetery by the water tower.”

   Ringo’s eyes widened. “Oh, that was you?” He asked. “Sunny came up and damn near interrogated me like I had something to do with it.” He paused. “I didn’t by the way.”

   “It was some man in a fancy suit after a platinum gambling chip that I was supposed to deliver.”

   “Through the Mojave Express?”

   “Yeah, do you know them?”

   “I run a merchant caravan on their behalf. Or at least I did until the Gangers decided to stop me that day. They won’t be too excited to learn that you lost a delivery.”

   “I’m going to cross that bridge when I get there. First I need to get to Primm, and it seems that the Powder Gangers are standing in the way of that right now.”

   “I didn’t think that they’d follow me here. I guess I’m not as stealthy as I thought.”

   ~~~

   The pair could hear Vik whining as they entered the saloon. 

   “Think of it as an experiment,” Vik pleaded. “How will it perform in real combat?”

   “Do you even have enough rounds for a full magazine?”

   “Chet has been able to get me enough for two.” Vik held up two fingers for extra emphasis. “I can’t imagine any more than like six or seven of them showing up, anyway.” 

   Pyrrha rounded the corner and sat next to Vik. “Pyrrha, about time… and Ringo? What are you doing out of your hidey hole?” Trudy seemed surprised by Ringo’s appearance.

   “If they’re here for me, I should at least do my part.” He offered.

   “Well, that makes things a little easier.” Trudy looked off and pondered. “Alright, new plan.”

Chapter Text

   If you want to get to Goodsprings, you have two options. If you want to live, however, you’ve only got one. 

   The way into town from the I-15 runs uphill and bisects a pair of hills before leveling out at the town. Everyone agreed that this is the most likely entrance for the Powder Gangers to use. It was conveniently a good set of ingredients to set an ambush. A couple of long-abandoned cars sat on either shoulder, but Vik and Sunny were confident that they wouldn't pose an issue.

   With Sunny and Vik hiding behind the hill crests overlooking the road, Pyrrha leaned against the first house on the way into town with a good angle on the road. 

   Trudy had been kind enough to cook the gecko meat for Pyrrha, and she nibbled on it through the night as she tried to stay awake in waiting for the Powder Gangers. The smooth voice of Mr. New Vegas didn’t help, talking late into the night about local news as well as the NCR / Legion conflict in between music. It was unclear as to exactly when the Powder Gangers would make their attempt, so everyone was pulling an all-nighter tonight. 

   There was silence over the radio for a near-awkward amount of time after the previous piece had finished before Mr. New Vegas started another monologue.

   “Good morning New Vegas. It’s me, as always, Mr. New Vegas. It has entered the first hour of Friday, October 21st, 2281…”

   He went on to rattle off temperatures and other miscellaneous facts about the day. The voice of Mr. New Vegas began to drift off as Pyrrha began to lose the battle, and couldn’t muster the strength to keep her eyes open.

   ~~~

   Pyrrha leveled her rifle on Joe Cobb, who had managed to move up the road near her, taking cover behind a truck. He had decent cover against Vik and Sunny, but was otherwise exposed to Pyrrha. She blinked as she seemed to have come back to her senses. It was suddenly much brighter outside, and she couldn’t recall how the situation got to her one twitch away from killing Cobb.

   As Pyrrha tried to figure the situation out, Cobb spotted her and took advantage of her hesitation. The shot went wide, striking the house. Pyrrha ducked behind the house as more potshots were fired. She counted his shots and heard a magazine drop to the ground. Pyrrha leaned out to see he hadn’t changed cover and muscle memory brought the rifle up to aim at him.

   Again, she hesitated. Perhaps giving Cobb another chance to surrender. Despite looking down the barrel of a rifle, he inserted the magazine into his pistol. A round fired from the hills impacted the car, a muffled ‘shit!’ echoed as Cobb flinched and nearly dropped his handgun. He regained positive control of the weapon, but before he could bring the gun fully up, Pyrrha found her resolve and fired. The round hit right of center mass, roughly where the heart would sit, and Joe Cobb slumped against the truck. He took a few panicked breaths, and then stopped moving all together.

   Seconds passed as the dust settled. Pyrrha dropped her aim off of the now-dead Cobb and noticed that, while still feeling extremely uncomfortable and distressing having taken another life, it wasn’t as world-shattering as it had been with Penny. With this addition to her mental list of issues to deal with, it occurred to her that she hadn't really sat down and dealt with those final moments on Remnant, yet either. 

   She walked out onto the street and counted seven bodies on the ground. Did Vik and Sunny kill the others? Sunny certainly seemed to have that castle doctrine vibe, but Vik? Vik seemed quite paradoxical. Extremely shy when they first met, but clearly enthusiastic about firearms (sounds familiar…). Not to mention skilled enough to take down that giant wasp with those firearms. Pyrrha didn’t know where to begin digesting that.

   Having fought enemies who had the help of aura and semblances for her whole life, Pyrrha found the aftermath of the battle to be increasingly disorienting. She replayed her shooting of Cobb in her head. When the bullet impacted, there wasn’t any indication of an aura to stop it. Did anyone in the Mojave have an aura, would they even understand what that meant?

   Vik and Sunny made their way down to meet Pyrrha with whoops and cheers. As they drew near, Pyrrha tried to put on a mask to hide her troubled, jumbled thoughts.

   “I can’t believe that worked as well as it did,” Sunny held up a hand to high-five the other two. “Trudy’s gonna love this.” Pyrrha met the high-five, but couldn’t stop herself from looking back at the bodies, at Cobb.

   “First kill?” Vik asked. 

   “With intent,” Pyrrha offered. “First one was an accident.” She had trouble keeping her voice smooth.

   “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Vik reached up and rested a hand on Pyrrha’s shoulder. “The Mojave is rough. Dog eat dog, kill or get killed. Today’s proof.”

   Pyrrha hummed, “Wonderful.”

   “Well,” Sunny slung her rifle over her shoulder. “Now’s the real fun part: moving them up to the cemetery and burying them.”

   ~~~

   Sunny had gone off to update Trudy and get a wheelbarrow. Vik and Pyrrha were tasked to move all the bodies into a central location to make the process easier. Pyrrha did not particularly enjoy moving dead bodies around, but the job needed to be done.

   Vik stood at the head, and Pyrrha at the feet of a body. Vik counted down and they both lifted. 

   “Sunny said that you ain’t exactly a local. How’re you enjoying the marvelous Mojave?” Vik asked, seemingly unbothered by the corpses.

   “I’ve been here for,” Pyrrha adjusted her grip. “two days? Three now, actually, and I’ve been shot at two of those days.”

   “That sounds about right.”

   “That’s normal?”

   “Mhmm. Spots like Goodsprings or the Strip usually have some semblance of safety. Outside of that? Anything can happen.”

   Upon hearing the word ‘semblance’, Pyrrha perked up. But after realizing the context she perked back down.

   The pair came to a stop, setting this body next to another. Two down, five more to move.

   Vik didn’t say much else as they moved the bodies, giving Pyrrha a moment to reflect on the situation. It seemed that despite her best efforts, Pyrrha fell asleep while waiting for the Powder Gangers to show up. When the fighting kicked off, she guessed that her training kicked in and acted without her conscious input. After a break in the fight, Pyrrha was able to fully come to.

   Outside of her thoughts, Vik and Pyrrha looked down at the deceased Joe Cobb. 

   “Was he the only Powder Ganger I killed?” Pyrrha asked.

   Vik shot a confused look back. “You don’t remember?”

   “To be honest, I was acting on autopilot for the first half. I had passed out waiting and muscle memory took over.”

   “You’ve got some great muscle memory for having a body count of one prior to this. Did you serve in a military or something?”

   Pyrrha paused, finding the right combination of words.

   “Kinda/sorta for the government, not exactly for the military. It’s complicated.”

   Vik’s eyes lit up. Pyrrha found this worrying.

   “Like spec ops? Did you do anything cool?”

   “It was more like humanitarian efforts, but there were some who got picked up for some secret operations and couldn’t talk about them.”

   Vik settled back down, not getting the answer she wanted.

   “Anyway, yes, this is the only one that you killed. But you did fire at the others, keeping most of them from moving too close to town and into any cover, except this guy here.”

   Vik nudged the body in the thigh with her foot, it slumped over to one side. 

   One kill and six assists, great.

   After moving Cobb with the rest, Vik knelt down and started rifling through their pockets.

   “What are you doing?” Pyrrha could pretty easily guess what Vik was doing, but her brain refused to make the connection.

   Vik looked back at Pyrrha. “Looking for valuables.” She said matter-of-factly. “We deserve to make a profit off of their attempt to attack us. It’s not like they’ll need any of this anymore.” She held up a handful of caps that she pulled out of a pocket and pointed to a nearby pile of their firearms.

   Pyrrha didn’t like to admit it, but Vik had something of a point there. A morbid point, but a point.

   “Like I said,” Vik went on. “It’s dog eat dog, and part of ‘eating’ is taking what is now rightfully yours.”

   Pyrrha had a memory of her first experience here. The man in the suit had taken that chip from her. He, or one of the two other men, had looted it off of her. If she was to avoid a problem with the Mojave Express, she would have to get it back. Either diplomatically or by looting.

   And so far diplomacy did not seem to have a high success rate in the Mojave.

Chapter Text

   “Oh… my goodness.” 

   Pyrrha had helped transport the Powder Gangers’ bodies up to the cemetery, but had excused herself from the digging and burial portion. Sunny and Vik didn’t try to keep her there, they seemed to understand that the new girl needed a moment.

   After dropping her rifle and bag beside the bed, she flopped herself onto the mattress and turned on the Pip-Boy’s radio to fill the silence. Music drifted out of the speakers as she thought back on the events of the last day. 

   Under threat of attack from the Powder Gangers, Pyrrha had been posted on the outskirts of town just in case any attacker made it past the hidden ambush of Sunny and Vik’s marksmanship. The memory became cloudy just before sunrise when she lost the battle to fatigue and fell asleep at her post. 

   The worrying part was that her next memory was of her already looking down the irons at one of the Gangers, Joe Cobb. What had happened in between? Was Cobb the only one she shot? Or did she act on some unconscious impulse and take more lives than she realized? 

   The music faded into silence. “It’s time to take a break from the tunes, and hear some news,” The radio crackled. It was Mr. New Vegas. “The normally sleepy town of Goodsprings has been uncharacteristically busy this last week.” At the mention of the town, Pyrrha put a pin in her self assessment to listen in. “Earlier this week, a Courier was found with a gunshot to the head in the town’s graveyard. She appears to have made a miraculous full recovery, according to our sources.” 

   How did they find out so fast? Pyrrha thought. But Mr. New Vegas continued. “The residents have also given this miracle recovery a nickname. ‘The Invincible Girl.’ Now that’s what I call a delivery service you can trust!” 

   A groan left Pyrrha’s lungs. 

   There was a rustling of papers as Mr. New Vegas transitioned. “Also south of Vegas, the escaped convicts known as the ‘Powder Gangers’ continue to be a nuisance along Interstate 15 between the quarry town of Sloan and the NCR’s Mojave Outpost. Right now it appears that they are sticking to interrupting the caravans between the settlements. It is recommended to stay in town for those affected until the issue can be resolved...”

   I guess his information doesn’t come in real time. Pyrrha thought.

   “That’s enough news for a while. This next song goes out to that package courier, the Invincible Girl.” Pyrrha looked over at the Pip-Boy, as if the radio tab would do anything special. “Kicking off the next hour of rock, I sure am glad that those attackers didn’t know… How To Hide a Body, from Daisy Grenade.” 

   Pyrrha was stunned. Not only did she make the news (again), but the host even dedicated a song to her. And it was a great one, to boot.

   “Bit on the nose, ain’t it?” Pyrrha looked over to the doorway to see Vik. She had brought a chair and set it next to the bed.

   “Well, hello again.” Pyrrha sat up on the bed. “Did you need something else?”

   “Do I need anything? No, not really. I think you need someone to talk to.” 

   “Well,” Pyrrha took a deep breath. “To be blunt, I’m familiar with gunfights and violence but not so much with…”

   Vik finished her sentence, “Killing?” Pyrrha nodded. “If I can be blunt, too, then all I can tell you is that it doesn’t get easier. And if it does, well, maybe that gunshot did a bit more damage than Doc can fix.” 

   That got a snort out of Pyrrha, and they shared an awkward laugh.

   “It’s been a busy couple days for me,” She shifted on the bed. “I think I need some time to sort everything out.”

   “I figured,” Vik reached into her bag beside her and pulled out two bottles. “You drink? A cold beer has helped me figure stuff out from time to time.” Vik held one of them out, and the label read ‘NAME TBD’.

   Her instinct insisted Pyrrha to decline it, but she figured that since Vik was trying to cheer her up, the least she could do was try to mask however gross it might be. Not to mention that she was in the relative safety of her home.

   Pyrrha looked from the bottle up to Vik. “Would you believe me if I said I haven’t drank before?” She took the bottle and took a closer look at it.

   Vik gave Pyrrha a once-over. “You do have a kind of straight-edge vibe about you.” She pulled a multitool out of her pocket and flipped out the bottle opener. “But there’s a first time for everything, yeah?”

   Pyrrha looked at the bottle with apprehension before taking a sip. Her face curled in on itself in reaction to the flavor. “It’s bitter,”

   Vik couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s an acquired taste. You’ll learn to like it.” She held her bottle out to Pyrrha. “Cheers!”

   ~~~ 

   Pyrrha learned, among other things, that Vik had served in the NCR Army. That’s where she picked up her marksmanship and weaponsmithing, along with her self described ‘fucked up sense of humor’ from being around soldiers too long. The most important thing, for Pyrrha at least, was that Vik offered to accompany her to Primm the next day to talk to the Mojave Express office there. It would take all day, apparently, to make it there and back home, so Vik wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be boring. 

   ~~~

   Elsewhere in the Mojave…

   A radio sat in the corner of a hotel room while a certain securitron was running calculations. 

   “The residents have also given this miracle recovery a nickname. ‘The Invincible Girl.’ Now that’s what I call a delivery service you can trust!”

   The robot turned himself around to face the source of the noise, and the normal smiling image flickered for a moment. “Surely this is about a different courier!” He exclaimed. “What a crazy coincidence!” 

   ~~~

   In a slightly different corner of the Mojave…

   “Now that’s what I call a delivery service you can trust!”

   “‘The Invincible Girl’…?” A man sat at a bar grumbled, and narrowed his eyes to concentrate his thoughts. “That Nikos girl?” He clumsily took a drink. “I thought she died at Beacon?” He hiccuped. “I think… I also died at Beacon…” He stared down into his drink, something about it began to bother him. “Red…” He finished his glass, stumbled his way up the stairs to his bed and passed out.