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The baleful sun beat down on his brow as he waited outside the gates. They were expecting a shipment but the caravan was exactly four days late now. With everything that had been going on in the Mojave lately, some delays were to be expected. But four days? Something was wrong and they were the ones paying for it in the end.
The Gun Runners had a reputation to uphold and it was a damn good one. One shipment lost in the long run was fine, they had the backup supply for situations just like this, but no one could afford closed off trade routes or bureaucratic bottlenecks like the NCR liked to set up. It wasn’t that the Runners took issue with the required paperwork or even the occasional lighter than expected supplies, no those were just part of the business. It was the time it cost them.
Everyone knew the Old World saying that time was money. That didn’t change just because the world did. Gangs, raiders, thieves, and just plain hostile factions were a part of life and it wasn’t Marco’s problem just who they sold to as long as they paid and didn’t get the idea to turn their new guns on them. It didn’t happen every day but it happened enough to be well and truly annoying.
Fools only learned one way and then they never learned anything else.
Don’t fuck with someone else’s business and you’re less likely to end up on the wrong end of a high-powered carbine. It was what his old man had always said when Marcus was growing up, not that it’d helped him in the end. That was just how the wasteland was. Caravans were easy targets for junkies on most trade routes, even if they paid the NCR out the ass for the privilege of safe trade.
What a bunch of bullshit.
Marco had heard the rumors that if nothing else, trade was a lot better over on Caesar’s turf. Provided you weren’t a woman, of course. He doubted that the Runners were the sort of business those anachronistic assholes would allow but if they NCR didn’t quit fucking with their profits, there would be issues. Not that anyone listened to Marco’s opinions on most things. He wasn’t too fond of the rumors of what they did to women, though. He had sisters he actually liked and he’d promised his old man that he’d take care of the family before he’d left for his last job.
There was a glint on the horizon that looked like it could either be metal reflecting off the sun or just another mirage. Either way, he adjusted his weight and tightened his grip on the rifle he’d picked for guard duty that day. If he was actually lucky, it would be the late caravan but it was probably just a family and their brahmin looking to escape the oncoming conflict. Not that New Vegas would be safer than a family farm in a few months when everything really turned to shit. Then again, they probably had the same chances of getting kidnapped in the night if they ended up in Freeside.
The radio was always blathering about some jackass who’d been shot in the head but was now running around and causing trouble wherever they went. Maybe this family were refugees from all that nonsense and maybe they could tell him about this so-called Courier. Or maybe it wasn’t a family but really was that caravan he was tired of waiting on. They could still have news from the South but the prospect of juicy gossip was quickly falling to the wayside.
“Hey, Marco, are you daydreaming again? You’re not out here to play guard, you’re out here to look for that damn caravan!” The man beside him snapped. He was right. They had robots to handle everything for the every day trade.
“Sorry, Ralph.”
“I mean it, Marco. If you’re not gonna bother to pay attention, you might as well go inside and help everyone else.”
“I’m waiting to see if that blur to the Southwest turns out to be anything worth our time,” he snapped back in defense. Ralph was acting like he was Marco’s boss and it was starting to piss him off.
“I don’t see shit out that way. Are you dehydrated or something?” Ralph asked, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.
Marco paused to consider Ralph’s words. He didn’t feel dehydrated. He’d been dehydrated before so he was pretty familiar with it. Squinting his eyes, he shook his head and pointed. “No, see? Over there by the Khan’s territory.” It was over by the Fiends, too, but they definitely didn’t wander this far East. There were too many people with guns between here and there and they didn’t seem too eager to wander away from their next fix.
“Oh. I see it now. Okay.” Beside him, Ralph also adjusted the grip on his rifle and glanced around the rest of the horizon. “Think it could be trouble?”
“Probably not,” Marco shrugged, glad that someone was actually asking his opinion on something for once. It didn’t even matter that Marco had been pondering that exact thing when the other man snapped at him. “We’ll just have to wait for whoever it is to get closer and keep an eye on them in the meantime.”
“What if it’s the Legion or something?”
“I guess we just be polite as possible. It’s not like they’re unreasonable folks or anything. Not like the Raiders are.” At least he hoped the rumors on that were true.
“What if it’s time for the battle like everyone’s been talking about lately?”
“Ain’t no goddamn way that’d be happening so soon.” Marco hoped like hell that he was right, even as fear tingled at his spine. Besides, wasn’t it supposed to be taking place at the Dam? They were too far West for it to be spilling over so soon.
He would just have to try and get a few days off in The Strip, maybe get himself a room at one of the casinos, play some cards, and find company for the night. Who knew if he’d even be able to for much longer with all this trouble so close to boiling over. Not that all the shit being stirred by The Families on The Strip would help his rest and relaxation plans.
Damn, what would it take for a peaceful, mostly law-abiding man like Marco to catch a break?
“Say, did you hear about the prison break down South?” Marco asked, looking away from the blur to see if anything else was going on in the horizon. He knew that he should do a walk around to see if anything was happening to the North, but nothing ever happened out that way.
“I’ve seen a couple Powder Gangers up this way,” Ralph nodded as he leaned back against the wall. “Give them a couple years and they’ll be just as big as the Khans used to be. Maybe.”
“You think they’re organized enough to stay together for that long? Seems like that’s just gonna be another mess, given enough time.” From what he knew, they weren’t exactly friendly with any of their neighbors and that didn’t usually make for a long lasting group. The NCR would maybe get up the motivation to take care of the problem if they fucked with their trade enough.
Hell, Marco would go down their himself, with some others for backup, if he found out they were behind their shipment being so late.
“They were organized enough to stage a break out,” Ralph pointed out, itching his cheek as he glanced over at the growing speck on the horizon. “Course, it wasn’t too well guarded to begin with. Say, why didn’t we set up shop down there before the NCR took it over?”
“It’s too far from profits,” Marco pointed out with a grin, thrilled that he knew such an easy answer. He’d never been on look out duty with Ralph before, but now Marco found himself wanting to sign up for it all the time. The dumbass could make a Gecko look smart. Hell, maybe he could be the next supply manager if Isaac ever retires.
It was his fault for living away from the compound. His retirement was more likely to come early if he kept that up and the tension between all the groups finally spilled over. Maybe Marco should consider hiring someone instead of spending a few days getting screwed out of money in New Vegas.
But then again, he should probably make sure he was actually in the running for the position before doing anything that rash. Besides, he liked Isaac more than he liked Ralph.
He looked out towards the speck and nearly jumped out of his skin to see it that much closer to them. How had they covered so much ground in such a short amount of time? “Ralph, look sharp,” he grunted, squinting to see the small group of people more clearly. It looked like there was some sort of eyebot floating around two people but he couldn’t see it well enough yet to make out if they were wearing some group’s armor. Definitely not the Legion if they had an eyebot, though. And definitely not the simple farming folks that he’d been imaging the group to be.
It could be that they weren’t even coming their way but instead going to New Vegas just like most other people did. It was hard not to stare at them as the heat from the noonday sun beat down on them, sweat dripping uncomfortably down the backs of their necks. Still, it didn’t seem to affect the travelers as they came closer, close enough to make out their faces.
There was a tall man in just a worn t-shirt and pants. By the look of him, Marco was willing to bet he was ex-NCR, if his beret was anything to go by. The eyebot stayed closer to the shorter of the two, a woman with long, braided hair and goggles covered a large portion of her face. She wore leather armor that looked like it didn’t fit her properly. She’d probably taken it off someone after killing them, if Marco had to guess.
“Is that…” Ralph started to ask but Marco quickly shut him up with a hiss and a threat. If it was the Courier they’d heard so much about, it wasn’t worth it to talk about it right in front of her. If they were lucky, she was here to do some sales with the Gun Runners and would make them one hell of a profit. Maybe even enough to make the late caravan not too bad of a hit.
She barely even looked their way as she walked by them, her eyes locked on the Protectron in the booth and a determined look on her face. Marco tried to get a glance at the legendary scars marking her forehead, but her hair was covering where he thought they might be. The man with her, on the other hand, seemed to have his eyes glued on them as they walked, just waiting for any hint of trouble. Definitely ex-NCR.
Marco and Ralph shared a look between themselves as they passed, each silently trying to encourage the other to go up and speak with the Courier. They hadn’t heard any stories of her outright killing someone for daring to talk to her, right? It couldn’t be that big of a deal, right? Marco knew that if Ralph wa the one to do it, he would never hear the end of it, of how brave and charming he was to actually talk to someone so famous and probably important. Putting some steel into his spine, Marco jogged over to try and catch up with them.
“Excuse me,” he greeted, eying the large man wearily. While he’d been sure he’d be safe from the Courier, he had no idea who this big guy was or how friendly he was. “I was wondering if you could help with some problem we’ve been having lately.”
When she turned to look up at him, her eyes bright behind the filthy goggles, Marco knew that this woman would find out what happened to their missing caravan in no time at all.