6 sat back as a few more of the group introduced themselves, making sure to pay special attention to each of them. First to speak was the ghoul, calling himself “Death.” A bit melodramatic, but a lot of people called him death back home, too, so it wasn’t like he was in any position to judge. The closer he looked st the ghoul, the more he noticed is very un-ghoul like he was. No ghoul he knew had bluish skin. The closest was Brother Bright, and he was a glowing one. Damn, glowing ghouls were [i]weird.[/i] How someone could be so irradiated that they were constantly glowing, yet still be alive, was beyond him. Yet that didn’t seem to be the case with Death here. Maybe if he could see behind that mask, it’d be more clear? In any case, Death saw fit to completely ignore him, so the Courier figured he’d return the gesture. Ass. 

After Death came the wooden puppet, Geno or rather, some alien living in a puppet? Eh, only like, the fourth weirdest thing 6 had seen. While he had had his doubts, he figured he’d go with it for the time being. No big deal, right? Besides, Geno seemed to have a stronger grasp of the situation than most of the others. He even identified the castle in the distance as belonging to some princess. The Mushroom Kingdom? Sounded like a place to party. By the sound of it, this princess would be a supportive ally. 

As Geno spoke, another of their group stirred. The man in black stood up from his previous place of rest, then drifted away without a word. Odd fellow. A loner, that one. 6 understood completely, and figured it was best to let the black clothed man do his own thing. 

Next in introductions was the most bizarre of the group, in the Courier’s opinion. Someone wearing armor that reminded him of the advanced stealth suit he got from the Big Empty. The centurion has been picking a fight with him, but this man (if that were even an apt description, considering his fingers) apparently found the conflict laughable... Or so the Courier thought. This assassin’s manner of speaking was even more unintelligible than Tora’s! But it held a certain... poetry to it? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it made a weird sort of sense, despite making absolutely no fucking sense. Anyway, his name was apparently Zer0. 

Next spoke the robot, calling itself Blazermate. It referred to Geno as a “medabot” but was that really true? The Courier didn’t think so, more like it was applying the logic of its limited programming to an unfamiliar situation. Still, it spoke with a lot of emotion, more than any robot he was familiar with...Except for the AI of all the appliances in the Sink back at the Big Empty. Boy, the less said about that place... The Courier shivered, then considered Blazermate’s offer of healing, only to conclude the only aches and pains he had were the usual. Besides, he doubted it could reactivate his cybernetic enhancements. As sophisticated as it looked, it clearly wasn’t a RobCo model. 

Then.... “Sigh,” he said aloud, quite intentionally, for the centurion decided to open his stupid fucking mouth. He was, without a doubt, the least perceptive of the lot, yet to have noticed the drastic change in situation. 6 had heard stories of these “samurai” from before the Great War, and this assassin most definitely wasn’t one. Neither did he surrender to the centurion, so double failing marks. And all this talk of god? If god was real, the world never would have burned in nuclear fire. This soldier’s brain clearly was on the same level as a brahmin. Scratch that, half a brahmin. At least they had two heads to think with. 

That’s when another of their number woke up, a particularly hot piece of ass. [i]Damn.[/i] Redheads, man. Reminded him of Cass, back home. Something told him she wouldn’t be as fun as Cass was, thought the Courier as he swiller his bottle of whiskey. That aside, she introduced herself as Din, then mistook the green hooded woman for someone else. 6 narrowed his eyes. So they were at least familiar, while Bowser, Geno, and the pink puff knew one another. Interesting. The Courier didn’t recognize a damn one here. 

Finally, the towering figure of Bowser commanded everyone’s attention for the second time. After a formal introduction (koopa king, eh?) he appointed himself their leader (as a king does, thought the Courier with a twitch of rebellion in his trigger finger), and provided direction: to the castle of Mushroom Kingdom, from where they’d stage a plan to attack the source of that damnable invasive light. Finally, some tangible answers were provided. Different worlds, fighters brainwashed, it was all a bit much to take in. At least it would’ve been for any normal person, but 6 hardly gave it a second thought. With the unfamiliar landscape, bizarre creatures, what else could make sense? Besides, he knew about aliens. Damn, if only he kept that alien’s blaster, just to prove it...

The koopa king began lumbering down the hill, pink ball in tow, so 6 stood up and dusted himself off. Welp, might as well hit the dusty road. Not like there was anything better to do, right? The Courier took a place near Bowser, drawing his Ratslayer rifle, just to be on the safe side. As he kept pace, a thought occurred, which inspired guilt. Why should he help? This world, mish-mashed as it was, had life! Beautiful lush environments! So much to explore! So many worlds to see! If they fixed it, he’d go back to the wasteland, to that Hellhole of nuclear fire and warring remnant-nations. No, no he had to join the efforts to end this. The rest of these worlds shouldn’t suffer, and other warriors had been stripped of their wills. No gods. No masters. The Courier has to join the fight. But it didn’t have to be free. 

“Good speech,” he lied, glancing up to Bowser. “So if I’m working for you, what’s the pay?”

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