The first encounter

There he was. Enjoying his walk through the blistering wastelands of the Mojave. Dirt crusted on his clothes, weapon clinking on his back, and ammunition strapped to his leg. The sun beamed down on him mercilessly throughout his entire journey and it doesn't seem to be letting. To make things worse, there was no breeze. Traveling alone is dangerous in the Wasteland. You're not the biggest, nor the meanest out there. Guess ol' George Rickshaw, wandering bundle of awesome, found out the hard way. The journey started out simple. From the destroyed Nipton, he was to travel to Gibson scrap yard. Nearing the scrapyard, a Deathclaw found it funny to attack the lone wanderer and relieve him of his left arm before being shot in the head five times. Collapsed under the beastly creature, George almost died a greusome death, but thankfully Old Lady Gibson had heard the loud exchange of cursing and roaring, and even luckier was George to find out she is a damned good patcher upper.

Consciousness returned to the wanderer. Pain stung sharp and mercilessly as he sat up. It had been a month now, but it still stung as if new. Gibson had kept him under her wing, refusing to let him go until it had at least closed up. He runs a hand through his hair, then rubbed a hand over his left shoulder. The lack of an arm made him frown in disappointment at the lack of it being just a dream. A drawn out sigh escapes his lips as he zips up the rest of the red jumpsuit he always wore.

"Damnit... I need to get out of here..." Claustrophobia isn't a thing he's very fond of. The old garage wasn't helping.

"You're not going anywhere," came the stern voice of Gibson. "Not until you suddenly regrow an arm, or find some people to travel with."

George frowned and stood up. He moves to a table in the corner of the room and stares at the gun on the table. A well kempt 12.7 submachine gun MKII greeted his gaze with a shine. He lifts it with his good arm and points it at the garage door. The weight was a bit much for his one arm, but it would get used to it sooner or later.

"I hear there is someone that could replace that there arm o' yers." Gibson points out from across the room. "Doc Henry does work with k-9 cybernetics over in Jacobstown... Maybe he could whip you up an arm."

George nods and straps his weapon to his side wit hthe help of Gibson and the ammo clips. "Well, I'll be making my way to Jacobstown then..." The wanderer exits the building without a thought of how he's going to do this with one arm. But he was determined to get it done. His face said that much.

The clacking of hooves and the grunts of the Big Horners, Halia wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her doctor's lab coat, cursing the sky for not having clouds today. She sat atop the front seat of a caravan cart, pulled by two pack Big Horners, the creatures constantly giving a loud grunt, attempting to shake off the shackles that kept them bound to the cart. She's been driving this thing for two weeks now, starting off at the Medical Clinic outside Freeside. Her destination was a scrap yard south of HELIOS One. Watching the mounds of fenced in junk come into view, she picked up a wooden bat, used for protection from Raiders, and banged it against the wooden edges of the cart.

"Wake up buttercups! We're here. Start picking up supplies while I try to park these things." Her announcement was replied by a masculine groan, which was quickly followed by a loud grunt, then a moan of pain. Who came out was not a man though. Moving the curtain aside, a slender female, encased in a synthetic black bodysuit stepped onto the front seat. Her face wasn't visible, covered by a similar material. A bright orange visor covered the front half of her full-head mask, while a red beret completely covered the top, only leaving a small portion of the visor. Together, they made a sinister intimidating look.

"This is it, Halia? Gibson Scrap Yard? Looks.. Cleaner... than I'd imagined," spoke the female. Halia snapped the reigns, slightly picking up the speed of the Big Horners as the shack came into view. The picking up speed created a rumbling inside the cart, a male's groaning resonating once more. With a poor shave, a man poked his head out of the Curtain with his cowboy hat on. He looked up to the suited female and winked, but all he got back was an elbow to the face. He fell back into the cart, disappearing from sight and shouting.

"Aw, come on, Sera! What'd I do to deserve that? We're working together here, y'know, you shouldn't hit people in the face!" His voice was playful, and he was playing the fool rather well. Reaching an arm into the curtain without taking her eyes off the surroundings, Sera felt around for a hard long object, withdrawing a Varmint Rifle with a scope, silencer, and black matte finish. Looking through the scope and peeking around the area, she kept lookout for raiders.

The caravan slowed to a halt beside the shack as Halia pulled on the reigns, strangling the Big Horners. Jumping off, the creatures stood well over two feet higher than her, but she wasn't afraid. Sera remained up top, continuing survey of the area with the rifle. The man appeared from the back, holding two crated. He wore an NCR Veteran Ranger's Combat outfit, but didn't bother with the helmet. His unit and any other significant NCR marks were scratched from the shoulderpads and chest piece. Carrying them to the short teen, he asked where he should put them.

"Hold on to them for a second, DiZ, I've got to see if she's in first. I don't know how her patient's doing either, so don't charge in like an idiot again." He gave a nodded salute as Halia turned around and approached the door. Before she could even knock, it opened. Before her was a man. She was about to draw her weapon when she noticed the stump where his arm should be. Replacing the weapon in its hidden holster, she sighed. "You should still be in bed. Grandma Gibson! I came with those medical supplies!" She shouted over the man's shoulder into the shack. "Sorry it took two weeks to get here, I had to grab a few mercs! The Ranger station's been buzzing about a lot of Legion activity lately and Doctor Usanagi wouldn't let me leave without some!" She looked at the stump, examining the damage. "That must have been some fight, wrestling it out with a Deathclaw and only losing an arm"

DiZ leaned against the cart, shaking it with his weight and the crates. Sera simply ignored him and kept searching the area, standing up so she could look over the back of the cart. But she had an odd feeling she was being watched closely. Glancing at the man below her, who seemed to be gawking at her skintight outfit, she kicked DiZ in the face as he stumbled back.

"Aw, Come on, babe! Don't act like that! I was just-" He was being playfully annoying again when Sera interrupted him.

"You learn to keep your hands to yourself, you horny bastard. And while you're at it, avert your eyes, ears, and nose too. Try it with your mouth and you'll talk with a lisp for the rest of our journey." Diz was completely unphased by her threat, laughing to himself.

"Oh, what, you mean in the cart? Come on, I was just making sure you were still alive! Y'know, you could have been dehydrated or something!" Another swift kick to the face made him shut up.

"Keep your hands to yourself, old man." Sera resumed her survey of the area, making sure not to miss a single crack of the surrounding territory.

George stopped short as he opened the door to leave. Like the girl in the doorway, he too had instinctively hovered his hand over his weapon. He lowers his when she lowers hers. As far as he knew, he didn't really know her. He's been in and out of consciousness for the past month because of infection of his arm. Fever, hot flashes, pain the whole nine yards. The curious woman made him raise an eyebrow down at her, but remained quiet as she hollered to Gibson in the back room, who came out to the large scrapyard after pushing her way past George.

"How nice of you, deary." She smiled at Halia. "He'll be fine now... maybe a few doses of Med-X throughout the month, but I'd be happy to take those medical supplies off your hands." She laughs softly. "For other travelers who might need them."

The wanderer looked down to where his arm should be when Halia did, seeing only the stump through the ripped red jumpsuit. "He got lucky." A chuckle escapes him as he joked and moved the torn red cloth to velcro over his stump, hiding it. He looked down at her again curiously. "You seem to know about what happened pretty well."

The bickering at the caravan caught his attention. In the middle of the road, surrounded by the harsh wasteland, fighting wasn't the best thing to do. "Who're they...?" His eyes scan over the woman figure first, taking in the suit slowly; then the man who is getting hit a lot. "And who are you?" He asks, without looking back at her. He was instinctually looking out for anything that could potentially harm anyone.

Halia bowed to Old Lady Gibson as she appeared,ensuring her that the patient would be fine with a few extra doses of medicine. When she straightened, she smiled and replied happily.

"Not to worry, Grandma Gibson, we'll take care of him. In the meantime, our shipment for today is ready, DiZ should be bringing that over whenever he stops fighting. You look like you had a lot on your hands with this guy, so I'll charge you half price. Just don't expect to be too lucky next time." She waved her hand to DiZ, beckoning him to come to them, but he seemed too distracted with Sera. Shaking her head, Halia turned back to the man at the door and apologized as she headed back to the cart, taking a slipper from her coat pocket and slapping Diz in the back of his head with it.

DiZ turned around, readjusting his hat and rubbing the back of his head after Halia snatched the crates away from him, and returning to the door. "The name's Halia. I'm a nurse at the New Vegas Medical Clinic. I'm studying under Doctor Usanagi. The perverted cowboy is Desmond, but we call him DiZ. He's new, but he's the oldest of us. The sniper with the chinese suit and beret is Sera. We contract her a lot when I run my delivery courses." She wedged herself past the one-armed man into Gibson' shack, placing the crates beside the door and taking a small payment of caps from the old lady.

"To answer your question, every few months, the Followers of the Apocalypse ask that I deliver medical supplies to towns and settlements all across the Mojave. With the amount of Raiders, I'm always required to have bodyguards, in this case, Mercs because the NCR is completely useless." Her explanation was cut short as Desmond walked into the shack. He was well taller than everybody in the room, even the other man as his shoulderpads from the Veteran Ranger outfit brushed against the doorway, making a scratching noise.

"Damn right they are. Republic Dogs don't care about the rest of the wasteland unless they have complete control of the area. By then, there wouldn't be anybody to challenge them, still don't have to care because nobody's killing each other!" He took a moment to look at the shorter guy in the red jumpsuit. For a moment of examining, and deciding the guy has no chance of stealing women from him, he held his hand out towards him. "Name's Desmond, y'can call me DiZ." His face suddenly jerked forward as Halia put away her slipper. Despite DiZ being the tallest and Halia being the shortest, sh was somehow still always able to hit him in the head.

"Thank you,Grandma Gibson,we'll be on our way now. We still have other towns to attend to. DiZ, come on before you get owned by the guy with one arm. By the way, we still haven't gotten your name, mister...?" Pushing DiZ out the door, she stood in front of the one-armed man with her hands in her coat pockets.

Outside, Sera watched the movements in the rocks nearby. Something relatively large, but able to blend in well with the terrain seemed to be creeping around. Keeping her general sights on the area, she checked the direction she was facing. South West it was. She continued aiming, but shouted over her shoulder to those in the shack. "Half-Pint! You might want to hurry up soon, it looks like this place's about to get loud very soon!"

George half moved out of everyone's way by stepping out onto the small porch to listen to Halia explaining her small group and mission. It was nice to see someone taking initiative to help people. Sera piqued his interest slightly. They shared the same headgear. His father was a Ranger; retired now. He had taught George a lot of what he knows about the Wasteland. He gives Sera a look-see from his spot o nthe porch in front of Halia.

He put a smile on his face when he shook the taller man's hand. "Nice t'meet'cha, Desmond." He squeezed his hand firmly and shook. Then Desmond was pushed out of the way and was replaced with Halia.

George looked down at her once she asked her question about his name. "George. George Rickshaw." He introduced himself to both persons with a casual smile. The mention of her needing mercs eventually brought him back to a question he seemed to want to ask. "Which way are you guys headed? Mind if I tag along until you guys reach Jacobstown?" He sounded a bit hopeful. He patted his weapon and moves his good arm around. "I might have lost an arm, but I'm not slowed down."

Sera's words reached him, making him grasp the grip of his submachine gun. His eyes narrowed and he takes a step forward almost protectively of the scrapyard, looking to where Sera was scoping out. He couldn't see much without a scope. "Fiends?" Fiends were all too common, but seldom come as far south as the scrapyard. "No... can't be." He tosses the idea. He jogs to the caravan, weapon unholstered from his side and held steady around his midsection with his good arm. "Is it worth throwing up some cover..?" He suggests, giving some sheet metal and scraps a look over, then up to Sera, whom he had approached.

Sera continued watching the mass shift behind the rocks as she called out once again. "Hey, Halia! What was it you said caused this guy's injury again? Deathclaw, right?" She pressed a switch on the rifle, allowing the magazine fall out ad into her hand as she placed it on her belt. Taking another magazine, she loaded the weapon with HP rounds. Halia changed her attention to the old lady beside her, not panicked, but her heart was beating like crazy.

"Grandma Gibson, get inside, call your dogs, and try to hole up somewhere. Bring all your guns and ammo." She drew a plasma pistol from its holster on her hip, shutting the door behind her as she left the shack. Jumping onto the cart, she took a position behind a few barrels of water. "Yeah, what of it? Know of any other creature in the wastes that'll tear your arm clean off?" Sera cocked the rifle, pulling out the bolt and letting the spare 5.56 round fly out to be replaced with an HP round.

"Deathclaws don't travel alone." DiZ stood behind the cart, drawing a Ranger Sequoia from its own holster in a near panic. "But it's been a month since that guy went out, what's it still doing here? How many are there?" He opened the revolving chamber, checking that all of the bullets were in place, then snapping it shut with a flick of his wrist. Sera fired the rifle, hitting the creature in the head, but not doing much damage. All she got back was a horned demonic mutation rearing its head over the boulders and roaring. "Fuck, I hit the horn! It's called caring for your loved ones, DiZ! Shit, why am I telling you this, you have no idea what it is!" With quick handywork and precision, Sera unloaded the magazine on the beast that started charging towards them. In a constant cycle until the magazine was empty, the weapon would be fired, the bolt pulled back and forth, then the weapon fired again.

As it came closer and closer, its body was becoming riddled with holes, but it continued its charge. By now, it had reached the cart and was raising its claws to take a swipe at Sera, but suddenly stopped when its arm was torn off. Its head practically exploded a second later as Halia reloaded another battery into her Gauss Rifle. In the distance, multiple similar roars could be heard.

"Plan?!" Sera shouted as she threw the rifle back into the cart, reaching into the curtain and withdrawing a Anti-Material Rifle as a replacement. Halia jumped into the front seat of the cart, snapping the reigns and forcing the Big Horners to start running. DiZ, sitting on the back, grabbed onto George's jumpsuit and helped pull him on.

"We try to pull as many away from Grandma's shack as we can. Pick them off one by one as they chase us. They should know there are more of us, and we have food as well as Big Horners, so they should mostly decide to attack us. By the sounds of the roars, there are only young ones right n--" Her explanation was cut short as a full adult Deathclaw lunged at the cart, but was quickly dispatched by Sera's A-M Rifle. Pushing the carcass off the cart with her foot, Sera cocked the gun, adding another round.

"We've got to go through Novac to get to Primm, hopefully some of those Legion bastards will distract the Deathclaws." Diz pulled a second Ranger Sequoia from his coat, grinning. "Well, if we're gonna have to deal with the Legion as well, this'll turn out interesting. Hey Stumps, hope you have something better than a 12.7. Won't do you too much against bothe the Deathclaws and the Legion."

George shifts his weight to help Desmond pull him up without much trouble. A glare on his face directed at the creatures chasing the party. As the first few died by Sera's rifle, he became impressed wit hher accuracy. Even more impressed with Halia's Gauss Rifle.

Deathclaws. His hand fished out of his bag, a small circular object, resembling a mine. He fired off a few shots, which for the most part, thudded into the legs of a pursuing deathclaw, crippling it, before clicking a button on the mine-like objects. They gave a high pitched whine that an energy weapon would when charging. He then promptly threw it out onto the road behind them. "They're plasma mines, if we can get them chasing us we won't have to waste ammo!" He shouts over the loud wagon. No doubt they'd be following them. Brahmin, food and them were very tasty to them. "A lil' something I picked up on my travels!"

The unlucky crippled deathclaw had not given up pursuit, and crawled over one. A green corona of energy blasted it into pieces, wrapping the horizon in a green film before clearing. The resulting explosion hadn't triggered the other mines, oddly, but caused a mighty ruckus, which awarded him a larger than average roar from another deathclaw. George let off another aimed salvo as best he could with his one arm. Most of his bullets met a deathclaw head on, others ricocheted off of rock and pavement. "Don't worry. I can handle Legion and these guys!" He smirked to Desmond

Halia yanked on the reigns, shifting the direction of the Big Horners so they wouldn't travel too close to Novac, ensuring its residents didn't get caught having to dealt with the Deathclaws. Keeping the steering in line to prevent them from coliding with a boulder, or flying over the edge of a small cliff, she shouted to Sera.

"How many are following us?" Sera popped off another .50 MG round at the Deathclaws, but only grazed one's shoulder. Reloading the magazine, she replied. "8 Young ones, 3 adults I'm trying my best not to disinterst them, but I keep having to kill one to piss them off again. Hey new guy! Try not to kill too many of them, the plan is to use them to our advantage!" She fired the rifle again, ripping a finger off of one of the younger Deathclaws.

In the distance, Novac's signature dinosaur statue watched them. Halia waved one of her arms in a canceling motion, signaling the snipers not to attack the Deathclaws. Apparently they understood, as none of them were hit by sniper fire. Arching around Novac's boundary into the rocks, the cart nearly ran over a small group of roman-dressed travelers. As expected, Legion Assassins that often hunted Caravans here on their way to another ambush, but were taken suprise by Halia's cart.

Dez let off a few shots from his revolvers, clipping the leg of one of the legionnaires. He was immediately shot back at by the assassin's who had no idea what was chasing them. The first Deathclaw caught up to the Legion members, ripping the head off of one before he noticed the creature behind him.

The Legion quickly shifted their attention to the attacking Deathclaws, but their small arms didn't do much to keep them alive. Halia had stopped the cart and allowed Sera to begin picking off the Deathclaws. DiZ jumped out of the back and began gunning down Legion members. "Finally! Some Legion pigs I can slaughter. Shame it couldn't be in a real gunfight, but I'm not letting this chance pass!" He held up both Ranger Sequoias and unloaded as many rounds as he could at the fighting mass. Quickly running out, he flipped open the chambers, the one in his left hand modified to open in the opposite direction, and dropped the empty shells. A mechanism on his thighs allowed him to lower his weapons, pull up, and they would be reloaded. Snapping them in again, he continued shooting.

Within a matter of moments, both hostile parties were dead. Sera stepped down from the cart, heading over to the bodies with a machete. Using the large blade, she cut the hands off of the Deathclaws while DiZ looted the bodies of everything but the clothes on their back, including the armor. "The hands will sell for a decent price if we turn back towards 188. If not, we could either eat them later or hold onto them until we run into another merchant. DiZ, find any decent weapons? I need a new bolt for my Varmint Rifle, it's starting to rust." Yanking off the last bit of flesh attaching the hand to the arm, she tied strings around the wounds to keep them from bleeding out, then tossed the bundle into the caravan.

"No Varmint Rifles, but I found a few 5.56 rounds. Hey new guy, they have some 12.7's as well, you can have those, seeing as how none of us use those types of weapons." He stashed several bullets into a case and tooke the weapons and armor, placing them inside the cart as well.

Another full clip was sprayed into the legion along side the other's salvo, mostly crippling shots that hit various limbs. Reloading is no problem. Flicking a small swithc on his weapon, the empty clip dropped, and a small whirring is heard as another clip magneted into the slot and locked itself into place within a few seconds. Seeing that everything was now dead, he drops his weapon, and the magnetic straps wrap themselves around the weapon automatically.

"Well then, it's a good thing those mines are impact smart..." He hops off the cart and lands with a thud as his boots hit first. he brushes off his jumpsuit and follows DiZ to the Legion corpses. "No random travelers will be getting blown up by them things." He kneels down and takes the 12.7 rounds for his silenced submachine gun and deposits them into a leg pocket. He turned and looked towards Novac and it's large dinosaur. "You guys know how to party, man."

"I can jury rig something for ya... ah, Sera was it?" He looks at the Legionaires with a searching eye. "Any weapon with a rifle-esque bolt..?" He says to himself, then frowns at the lack of rifles in the group. The rest of the Legion remains uninterested him, and he managed to get himself onto the wagon to situate himself in a corner, examining his weapon again. It was in half decent shape because of his skills in weaponry. Since parts are hard to come by, he's had to learn to maintain it. After a minute of tinkering, he removes the bolt of his own weapon and holds it up for her to see. "Think this will do?"

Sera lifted the Varmint Rifle from its unused position, unhooking the bolt and pulling it out. She snatched a near-completely destroyed Hunting Rifle off of the arms of a dead Legionnaire, ripping the bolt out of that instead. "Maybe next time. I'm not too shabby when it comes to doing a bit of jury-rigging on rifles." Using a upside-down like hook on her waist, Sera placed the tip of the bolt in it, latching it onto a small wedge in the end of the bolt, pulling, and twisting on it. She lifted it out of the hook, tossing away the Hunting Rifle and finished unscrewing the bolt by slapping the knob. The insides of the bolt came out, a spring that, despite the rifle being severely damaged was in very fine condition. Using the bolt from the Varmint Rifle, she repeated the same process, replacing the parts, then moving backwards.

Sliding the bolt back in, she tested it, flicking the bolt back and forth as fast as she could, letting the bullets fly out is a small stream, all the while leaving a soothing ringing sound as the bolt's steel clashed with the inner parts of the rifle. "This'll do for a while. Besides, I'm not the person who will be needing constant repairs." She pointed to Halia, who was sitting ont the front seat of the cart, slouched over her Gauss Rifle. The back end of the weapon appeared to be steaming as she poked at it with a hook.

"Aw, no! The Microfusion Cell burned through the fuselage port again! The coolant systems didn't kick in, the way this thing's steaming, it might as well explode in my arms! Damnit, I forgot to reconnect the power distribution chambers to the energy core, how the fuck am I going to pay for it this time!?" She seemed to be crying over the huge piece of metal in her hands. DiZ, being the bright-minded pervert he was, always had backup plans for situations like these.

Pulling the curtain in the back of the cart, DiZ dug through one of the supply crates, this one seeming full of scrap metal and electronics, until he found what he seemed to be searching for. Holding another large piece of steel out to George, its green barrel, energy bits, and wires making it easily distinguishable as a good-condition Plasma Rifle, he smiled and tossed it into the smaller man's arm. "I've heard about people who can Jury-Rig items together that would seem almost impossible, as long as the weapon's remotely in the same class. These're both energy weapons, expensive ones at that. Think you can put this together with the Rifle?" Passing George, and putting his hand on his shoulder as he spoke, he passed the stump and headed for the corpses again.

Sera had already pulled a dagger out, ready to stab the giant idiot in front of her should he pull a fast one as he walked to her. Holding his hands up as a sign that he wasn't asking for a fight, he leaned in to her to whisper something. Unfortunately for him, the second he bent his ugly mug towards her face, the first thing her got was a fistful of knuckles.

Halia struggled once more with the weapon, trying to reconnect different parts, even going at the object using parts from a laser pistol, but all she seemed to do was make it worse. She finally called it quits before fully slouching over the Gauss rifle, half laying down on top of it while it was on her lap. "Hopeless piece of shit..." She said as she poked its large barrel.

George nodded to Sera and watched her fix her own weapon. He slid the bolt back into his own weapon, secured it and let off a shot into the ground on the side of the wagon. He gives a satisfactory nod and places it on the wagonside so he could fix Halia's weapon. He accepted the pieces from Desmond and looked up to him before examining the hardware. "Yeah... These can be used... " He flips a piece of the technology around in his hand and approaches Halia, peering over her shoulder at the weapon. He didn't want to interrupt her moping, but the weapon needed fixing. He poked her shoulder and reached for the weapon.

"If I may." George shifts the brilliantly designed weapon in his hand around to the side where the damage became evident. The fuselage was indeed burned out, but it can be repaired. He lays the weapon down and moves to pick up a crate from the back of the wagon to make a temporary workbench. He sets the weapon up on it, as well as the laser rifle. He produces a plasma welder from a leg pocket and removes the protective ion casing from the laser rifle. "The ion casing concentrates the beam... and keeps it from harming the shooter before it is ready... By using this..." He slips it over the barrel and welds it into place with the torch before taking a tube from the laser rifle and it's respectful connector and welds it over the hole in the weapon, then connects the end of the tube to the ion casing. "Diverting the heat from the broken area will keep the power distribution chambers relatively cool, while giving the weapon a bit of an extra boost of power from the heat created by the chambers, in addition to the electromagnetic energy created by the gun itself..." The resulting weapon looks crude, but upon further inspection, looks very usable and intimidating.

He stands up, lifting the weapon off the crate and hefting it as best he can with one arm. "It's firing rate is slowed by a bit, but it should work fine... Just don't count on these repairs to be permanent." He hands the weapon back to Halia and shrugs, looking very much like an uneasy science nerd.

"I picked up a few things in my travels." He shrugs, giving everyone a smile.