Haze gave way to clear sight, as the Courier sat up from his collapsed position. Blurs of memory flashed before his eyes as he fought away a groggy sense of dread, like something horrible had happened. He tensed his muscles, realizing he had grasped his .44 magnum. A quick glance at his Pip-Boy 3000 showed recent use of VATS. So all in all, a pretty normal time. The Courier stood up, bolstering his gun and grabbing his nearby cowboy hat, situating it firmly on his head. Quickly, perhaps more quickly than others, he came back to his senses. Probably because he was still drunk from the last night, so he had fewer senses to recollect than the others. Wait, others? Courier 6 scanned the area, seeing quite a bizarre motley crew. Several people had gathered around of various shapes, sizes, and backgrounds. Most of them were pretty damn hot, too. [i]Yeah, is do them,[/i] he thought, popping the top of his whiskey bottle and downing a good gulp. [i]Except for that puppet. I don’t need any splinters on my dick.[/i] Even the robot looked pretty cute. He wondered lazily if it was built for pleasure. Eh, no big deal if not. He still had the FISTO programming saved to his Pip-Boy. The robot was standing over some pink puffball that... felt familiar in some way. Wait... More flashes perforated 6’s memory. Images of a great light engulfing everything, then a fight against the pink ball. It pulled out a heart and... “I guess I ain’t in the Mojave no more,” he mused lazily, taking another swing of whiskey. “Hey, we should help that thing. I think it, Uh, saved us from....” He squinted, trying to remember more, but the effort bore no fruit. “Ssssssomething....” Suddenly, as though he only just recognized what he had been seeing, 6 locked eyes on the centurion. His heart skipped a beat. The whiskey went back to his pack as he unholstered his magnum again. “Caesar’s Legion!” He shouted, taking aim. “Get back, slaver scum! You ain’t gonna crucify nobody here!” That’s when he noticed another of his peers: a large spiked lizard thing. “Shit! Deathclaw!” He changed the target of his aim, keeping the lizard-creature’s eyes square in the sights of his gun. [hider=Word Count]383[/hider]