It was a cold, silent night in Goodsprings. The small town was never active at night; Most, if not all of the settlers had a fair trust in each-other, leading to a community where there weren't even many patrols at night. Easy Pete did spend his evenings sitting outside the saloon asleep, however. So that was the best the town had for eyes; And it was honestly a bit pathetic.

Walking down the dusty streets, a man kept his hands in his pockets as he slowly progressed towards his goal; The Goodsprings Cemetery. While he had no beliefs that people could be spoken with after death, it did make him feel good to visit his sister's grave on occasion. At his side rolled a large, bulky blue robot with a single wheel to roll on rather than legs. The screen projected the face of an old-fashion cowboy, and the robot played the part well. Due to a lack of solid housing in town, the man, and this robot, lived together.

It wasn't a bad arrangement; Neither bothered each-other too much, and they had their own spaces. The robot was a real talker, while the man was a lot less charming, and ended up being more of a ruffian. Not that the robot cared much; He didn't cause him no trouble.

"Evenin' Pete." The robot said as they passed the saloon. The elderly man tipped his hat, eyes still closed.

"Pardner, ya sure have been visitin' that grave more n' more, lately." The robot voiced a concern for the man at his side, screen flickering. That unfortunate gal had gotten mauled by geckos; Trying to go and get some water when her brother was in one of Doc Mitchell's beds, sick with a terrible fever. Needless to say, the man didn't take it well. Sick or not, he ran out of that house; Bursting out the door like a bat outta hell, and he went and ripped every last gecko he could find apart until he fainted, almost dying himself if the robot hadn't rolled up.

"You worry too much, Victor." The man replied, casual. He had a pained expression, but wouldn't express how he felt with words. It'd been two years; He moved on, for the most part. But hadn't worked up the will to leave town. He hadn't anywhere to go, or a reason. Instead he just stayed in town, suffering with nothing to think about aside from the image of his sister being chewed apart. "I'm fine. Just feel like talking to her, again."

"Thought you didn't believe in talkin' t' the dead." Victor responded, sly.

"I don't." The man answered, honestly. "But I still like to try." 

Approaching the hill to the cemetery, the two paused as they could hear something coming from up the hill. With caution, they slowly approached, hearing some people talking. Unfamiliar voices, to them both. The man glanced at his robot companion, nodding. "Keep low." He whispered, as he began circling around the hill to approach from the back. Victor in tow.

A shot rang out, causing the duo to get down low. "Fuck." The man swore, not expecting gunfire. They stayed on the side of the hill, listening for any other signs of things happening. It got quiet, real quiet. And the man figured that meant whoever was up there was done. But, what happened, was another story entirely. Normally people didn't commit murder in Goodsprings; He wasn't sure if these were locals. But he picked up on a small amount of talk, hearing the shuffling of feet. 

"Now, to celebrate. Drinks are on me, fellas."

The man's brow furrowed. "Way too fancy to be around here." He said, noting the voice. He waited for a bit, until things got silent, until he decided to go up the hill with Victor. The duo reached the top and Victor circled around a broken fence; while the man went over it. 

"Well, shit. Looks like he got buried." The man said, figuring there was no point to looking further. 

"Might still be alive in there, should we checkkit?" Victor questioned, glancing at the fresh grave.

"Yeah, right. They just executed his ass; There's no-" The man was cut off by a hand thrusting out of the grave; Causing him to fall back onto his ass, terrified. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed, watching as the man pulled himself out of his own grave; covered in dirt, and leaking blood from his head. As he managed to crawl out of the grave; He crawled towards the lights of New Vegas, on his last leg. The poor bastard had survived the initial shot; But he didn't have much time left.

And as he thought that, the man's hands hit the dirt as he slowly began to pass; No longer awake, if not dead already. As his hand went limp and landed in the dirt, Victor rolled over to him; Observing the body. He turned, looking at his human companion. "I reckon he's still kickin'. Oughta take 'em to the doc." Victor said, sounding serious. 

The man eyed the body; unsure if he had deserved to die or not. It seemed like someone tried to off him; And those guys hadn't sounded friendly. Hesitant, he decided to finally just work with Victor. "Alright, help me pick 'em up. Let's get him to the doc before we lose 'em." He said, working along with Victor to lift the man up; Though soon after Victor strait up grabbed him away and hauled ass towards Doc Mitchell's. He followed, just in case those thugs saw them and caused trouble. 

"What the hell was this about for them to do this?" He questioned, unsure. If the man survived, he'd surely have answers.