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As the next round of reports prepare to come in, you find yourself unusually frustrated with the progress of the Mojave. You can’t be everywhere, and yet those under you keep failing or stalling where you would have made strides. You keep reminding yourself that for some reason, you’re exceedingly gifted in all aspects and while not infallible, you’re the closest thing to it in the wasteland.
Sitting alone in the cocktail bar of the Lucky 38, you pour some Laphroaig 30 Year scotch and gaze out over the Strip. Your brief respite is ended by Boone entering from the elevator, but the usually stoic and reserved sniper seems in much higher spirits.
“Courier, I wanted to come and give this report to you in person. There’s a small favor in there but I don’t imagine you’ll have an issue granting it.”
He walks over to the bar and puts his rifle on the marble countertop. Sitting down next to you, he glances to the scotch you’re nursing.
Getting the gist, you wordlessly pour a neat and turn to face him.
Grimacing as he shoots back his drink, a rare smile cracks his dusty features.
“Because I only drink when I’m happy. And today, I’m happy. So you had me go around a few settlements and take stock of their defensive situation. That didn’t take too long and I’ll have a written report of that for you soon, but Lily and I had a run-in on the way down to Novac.”
He reaches over and grabs the bottle before pouring a double neat.
“This is good stuff. Well we’re heading down from the direction of Boulder City with Lily running screening about half a day ahead while I brought up the rear with the Securitrons. Around the abandoned El Dorado Gas Station, Lily reported a firefight between raiders and a group consisting of, ‘cowboys, robot men and people wearing canvas sacks’, according to Lily.”
You can’t help but raise your eyebrows at that, your mind racing on what she could have meant by that.
“I had that same reaction. We delta tango’d it there and caught the unknown units wrapping up their firefight. It wasn’t a collection of motley units from different factions working together for the common good, it was an NCR special forces unit. Thankfully they were still using the same comms and I was able to make contact. They’re a mix of special forces that were cobbled together to evacuate a VIP and some expensive equipment from Camp Golf. When the VIP ran off after losing communications with NCR command, they were unsure of the tactical situation and held position. They realized they were on their own and began attacking raider groups, thinking the Mojave had descended into a lawless wasteland. They might not have believed who I was if I didn’t know one of the guys in the group. Hugh Linden was in the same class as me at Fort Sierra when we did our First Recon training.”
