[center][color=tan][h3]Courier 6[/h3][/color]
[b]Level 3[/b] - (6/30) EXP
[b]Location:[/b] Scrapyard - Start
[b]Word Count:[/b] 639[/center]


Huff. Huff. Huff. The Courier ran as fast as his fleet feet could take up, heading back up the original hill they had started on. How had his shots landed? He honestly didn’t know. If the sniper was in trouble, then the rest of the group that had been guarding Michael was surely in trouble too, allies he couldn’t see much less protect from his vantage point down lower. He just had to hope things would be alright once he got up there, and that the spirits he had crushed would turn into something more useful for the situation.

The two objects solidified in his hands: some sort of purple box that didn’t appear to be immediately threatening or useful (and thus would need a bit of observation later, when no longer in the heat of the moment) and a pickaxe of all things. A pickaxe? Really? [i]Really?[/i] That soldier robot turned into [i]a god damn pickaxe?![/i] Not a rifle or a machine gun or kevlar armor or Hell, even a combat knife,but a friggin’ [i]pickaxe?![/i] What, was that a repurposed mining robot?! 

The Courier didn’t have the opportunity to muse on his apparent misfortune anymore, as just as his vision rose above the crest of the hill, the sight of the Master of Masters, the centurion, the dancer, and Michael came into full view. His shots had apparently done enough damage to that Omnic that Michael was able to recover, and finished the job himself. A large number of the robots were being handily defeated and frozen over by Din (did that rod of hers have a miniature cryolator installed?), and the Master… Well, he was having a grand ol’ time defying the laws of gravity, as 6 saw it. The centurion, however, had things in a much more difficult situation. 

That’s when the party was crashed by none other than Zer0 and… Hey, did he look different? A sniper round tore through a bunch of downed robots, then the assassin vanished from sight, but his presence could still be seen by the sudden large gashes appearing in the robots clumped together by the Master’s power. Once Zer0 reappeared, spouting off one of his weird ass poems, the Courier couldn’t help but notice that his visor was a different color. And his legs, were they more mechanical now? [color=tan]”What in tarnation happened to [i]you?[/i]”[/color] he asked, almost completely forgetting about the centurion.

[color=tan]”Oh. Right. YEEHAW!”[/color] The Mojave courier moved in, pickaxe in hand, and took a wild swing at the Omnic that had pinned down the Roman legionnaire, hoping this weapon carried with it some sort of bonus effect or special traits. Alas, that did not seem to be the case as the metal slammed into the robot and pierced its hull with only minor effect. The Courier had more skill in hand to hand weapons like knuckle dusters and the power fist than he had with melee weapons. Factor in the odd shape of the pick and he wasn’t able to swing it with full strength, creating a rather sloppy technique with sloppy results. Still, it had at the very least the effect of knocking the robot off of Magnumus Agoston, even if it was still in perfect working order. 

[color=tan]”Aw fuck this,”[/color] he sighed, pulling off his best Indiana Jones impression as he simply drew his magnum and placed a round straight into the Omnic’s processing center. [color=tan]”Y’all owe me,”[/color] he commented to the Roman and Michael, before focusing his gaze on Michael specifically. [color=tan]”And you owe me double for fucking up and shooting those rabbits when I convinced them to help us. I ought to feed you brahmin pie for that.”[/color]