[color=9e0b0f][center][h2]John Williams[/h2][/center][/color]


John did not consider himself a thief. Sure, maybe stealthy, but never a thief. Back in Arizona stealth was a virtue.The creatures of the waste were much more dangerous than those of the old world. There was the easy prey, like Big Horners, but in the wasteland most things are not prey, but predator. Geckos, Deathclaws, and Radscorpions are constant threats. It might be hard to believe that a Deathclaw could sneak around, but entire groups of hunters have been wiped out in one slash. John was not the best hunter, but he always came back and he always brought back something. From hunting to soldier John carried an extraordinary ability of coming back alive with whatever was required. When John deserted the Legion that was all he had left was the skills he picked up and they translated really well into a bounty hunting. The contracts offered good money, preferably alive, but some souls really just needed a bullet. Not every job was for a bounty sometimes a friend of a friend of a friend needs a little help. Currently a friend of a friend of a friend was in need of a little help. John was all for it, the only problem was the gunfight he just happened to stumble into between the Fiends and the NCR.


Bullets were flying everywhere, the Fiends were armed with whatever weapons they could get a hold of and the NCR was armed to the teeth, complete with an assortment of brush rifles and assault rifles. John still wasn’t sure how he got himself into this mess, sure this side of Vegas can be bad, but a full fledged battle? The Fiends need to lay off the jet. Currently John was propped up against a window of a two story shithole with two NCR soldiers firing off his repeater rifle. The problem was not insufficient firepower, but instead the overwhelming force of Fiends. There were about twenty of them and around 8 NCR soldiers, half of them were green as the sparse grass and just were shitting down their boots. John squeezed another shot off hitting the drug addled raider center mass. With another in his sights John pulled the trigger only to be met with the dead man's click. 


“Fuck really?” He pulled back into cover and began to reload. Downstairs the sound of a brush rifle fired off followed by a screams. [i]Not another fucking one[/i] John pulled out his revolver and crept down the stairs. The fiend didn’t hear John, not one peep, but that did not have anything to do with John. The raider was animalistically tearing into the soldier, without thinking John fired off two shots into him. The screams stopped, not because of the pain, because of the blood filling his throat. The soldier's eyes screamed for a quick end and John delivered the wasteland’s most pure form of reward, a bullet to the head. John reloaded his pistol only to find he had three bullets left. Upstairs his rifle had eight more, that was 16 total bullets. [i]Just fuck me[/i] He thought. John wasn’t proud of what he was about to do, but the only thing you can do in the Mojave is survive. Upstairs the NCR soldier was firing away each shot taking him closer and closer to that inevitable click. John went back up and grabbed his rifle before offering some half assed excuse to shoot from downstairs. Without a second thought John slipped out away from the battle, avoiding eyes or bullets. 


The rest of the trip to the meeting point was not as much as an adventure as the previous hour. Finding the address seemed to be the hard part. He was looking for a tenement building complete with a garage. This side of Vegas’ middle name was rundown tenement, but it became a lot easier to find as there were Kings, complete with 10 millimeter machine guns protecting the house. Honestly John did not know if they were expecting his arrival and finding out could result in a couple bullets buried in his chest. Luckily they seemed bored and became distracted when a giant rat began to scurry about. Taking his chance John darted and headed for the back. There was a door and a couple windows. The door was locked and the windows were all but bored up. The only thing he could think of doing was to knock on the door, so he did.