[center][color=tan][h3]Courier 6[/h3][/color]
[b]Level 2[/b] - (3/20) EXP
[b]Location:[/b] 1-1, Lower Canyon
[b]Word Count:[/b]666[/center]


The Courier’s grin of determination widened into a grin of mad glee. All these creatures had become pathetic in their mad dash to safety! Or maybe it was his sub-dermal armor and they were simply too weak to pierce his protected skin? Either way, he was able to shove beyond them with the effort he forced into the crowd and remained largely uninjured. Then he came across a veritable minefield of bombs, powder kegs by the looks of them (and he did NOT appreciate being reminded of what assholes the Powder Gangers were!) in such great number that he instantly regretted setting foot near the area.

Then they all exploded. Shit.

Courier 6 fell back, hitting his head on the soft belly of a goblin behind him, knocking it out in the process but receiving some nasty whiplash. Ears ringling ding ding dingling with that sweet familiar sensation of tinnitus (or was that his music?), he clumsily dashed back up to his feet, stumbling more than once. He spared a glance back at the small horde he had outpaced, in particular the one that had broken his fall. [color=tan]”Thanks. Now stay. Put. Agh, gonna be feeling this one in the mornin’.”[/color] He rubbed his neck, turning back to observe the devastated landscape.

Large piles of rubble were only matched by the equally numerous holes littering his path forward. Up ahead he could just barely spot the backside of Zer0. The assassin got ahead of him at some point? Was he not paying that much attention, or did Zer0 use that stealth boy suit he seemed so fond of? Eh, didn’t matter. Point was, they were nearly out of the canyon together and more importantly likely to be able to engage the bomb-lobbing assholes. Quickly the Courier worked to put the pace in and catch up.

No sooner had he approached Zer0 did he see what exactly they were up against. The trio of green men appeared to be no different than their dull cohorts with spears, yet undoubtedly each possessed a measure of intelligence that outpaced the larger collective, at least in terms of chemistry. Making these explosives was both complicated and dangerous. Added to that, these varmints were callous enough to saturate their own kin with bombs just to get at two trespassers. Was that the influence of this Galeem? Possibly, but 6 felt the situation wouldn’t have been much different without the winged ball of ass’s involvement. 

OHSHITAROCKET! The target was Zer0, leaving 6 plenty of room to dive aside, but he was [i]not happy[/i] with the situation. There was only one course of action to take, he thought as he got up and glared through the dust. 

[color=tan]”So YOU’RE the bomb chucking dickweeds, huh?!”[/color] he called out just as the radio changed to [url=https://youtu.be/6l6vqPUM_FE]another familiar song.[/url] Hearing the first few notes clicked something in the Courier’s brain, giving him an idea. [color=tan]”Where I come from, we’re overstocked on explosions! If you can’t be more like The Ink Spots, then I’d rather return to sender!”[/color]

And thus, without further warning, the Courier took aim with his Ratslayer and activated VATS, this time with the full intent of plugging as many rounds as he could before exhausting his short term stamina. The target was easy to pick out: the large powder keg strapped to the back of one of these varmints. The goblin’s body was stout, covering most of it. Factoring in distance, erratic movement from laughter, range and accuracy of the weapon, plus overall skill… The report came in at 19% chance to hit. What about the shriveled sphincter-potato they call a head? 46%, more than twice the chance. More reliable than hoping to pierce a wooden keg with burning hot metal in hopes of igniting black powder? Sure. More [i]awesome? Hell no![/i] Four shots queued up, four shots fired, and hope for the best.