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nightingaelic · 3 years

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Companions react to the Courier going for the Pro Deathclaw Hunter or Cracker-Jack Timing challenges.

Why not both? TW: Blood, gore, explosions

"Come on!" the courier yelled, sprinting down the side of the quarry as fast as they could go.

The noise drew the attention of the deathclaws that had taken up residence in the limestone hollow, each one turning to sniff the wind and pinpoint the source of the disturbance. The alpha male roared, and the nesting mother crouched low over her jittery offspring in their gravel nest.

Still, the courier rushed headlong into the canyon, making much more noise than was safe. The rest of the deathclaws began to snarl and gallop toward them, but quick to meet the noise of their charge was an angry buzzing cresting the quarry's rim. A swarm of cazadores poured over the limestone edge, hot on the courier's trail.

Whooping with delight and maybe a little fear, the courier waved their hat in the air as they ran, signaling their companion. They began to zig and zag around the quarry basin, between the piles and crates of tell-tale red sticks that had mysteriously appeared in the deathclaws' den overnight.

Arcade Gannon: "What are we doing?" Arcade swore, pressed his back against the limestone slab he had been crouching behind and lit the fuse next to him. It fizzed and sparked, quickly burning down the rope and out of sight. Arcade covered his ears and shrank as far into the rock as he could, but the first blast of dynamite still shuddered through his whole body and cracked the air loud enough to deafen a cyberdog. Gravel flew left and right in Arcade's peripheral vision, and the explosions were quickly underscored by frantic roars and shrieks from the courier's injured prey.

Arcade could pick out the whine of the recharger rifle as it fired repeatedly, and counted six grenade blasts before the battle was over and the quarry fell quiet. He only dared to move when he heard the courier calling him, urging him to come out of his hiding place.

"I don't care if the NCR gives you an entire state to clear out another deathclaw nest, you are not bringing me along," he announced as he rose shakily to his feet, leaning on the huge chunk of limestone for support. "Having to watch you sneak around here last night planting bombs everywhere through a pair of binoculars was already torture, but this?"

The courier, who stood breathing heavily among the remains of deathclaw and cazador alike, shrugged. "Suit yourself. But next time, then, you're not seeing any of the caps."

Craig Boone: Boone let out the breath he had been holding, loosened his limbs and squeezed the trigger of his rifle. He pulled away from his scope to watch the bundle of dynamite explode once the bullet hit it, setting off a chain reaction that engulfed the quarry in flying rocks, fire and wasteland critters torn asunder. Outside the blast radius, Boone waited, listening to the screams of dying deathclaws being cut short and the whine of injured cazadores stopping one by one. Here and there, the hum of an energy weapon cut through the tangle of noise, and the pop of homemade grenades kicked up smaller bursts of crushed rock.

Eventually, the courier walked out of the Mojave's newest dust cloud and made their way up the ridge Boone had chosen as his vantage point. They were covered in blood, but Boone was certain it wasn't theirs. Any normal person wouldn't have walked out of that quarry alive: Then again, any normal person wouldn't have gotten up again if they'd been shot in the head.

They tossed their dented recharger rifle on the rock next to Boone and laid their string of tin grenades down reverently. "All finished."

Boone raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The courier caught the rare display of skepticism and grinned. "What? After Coyote Tail Ridge, this was a cakewalk."

Lily Bowen: "Oh, be safe, pumpkin!" Unable to contain herself, Lily bellowed the warning to the courier while she struggled to light the fuse next to her. It took a few tries, but eventually the lighter sparked beneath her large fingers and the flame danced away into the quarry. A few of the closest deathclaws turned their heads toward the sound of her voice, and Lily gripped the hilt of her vertibird blade tightly as they caught sight of her and began to charge. She needn't have worried: They were right on top of the first pile of dynamite when the fuse burned up to it, and were completely annihilated in the resulting explosion.

As the dynamite caches around the quarry began to explode one by one, Lily waded in, sword swinging. All of the cazadores and deathclaws she encountered were already dead, but she buried her blade in their necks to make sure. A few of the creatures still cried out and writhed on the ground, but before Lily could make her way over to finish them off, they were silenced by smaller blasts or the beam of an energy weapon. Eventually, the only two things still making noise in the quarry were her and the courier.

"Come here, dearie," Lily insisted, pulling a handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth out of her overalls. "Let's get you cleaned up."

The courier half-heartedly tried to wave off her attempts to mop the blood and dust off of them, but eventually submitted to her attentions. "We'll go straight back to Sloan and ask to use their showers," she chided as she carefully wiped their face. "You have to look presentable before you turn in the bounty."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul, who wasn't particularly religious, still hedged his bets and crossed himself before lighting the fuse. "No mames, courier," he muttered as the flame spread rapidly along the rope and out of sight. "I'd like to keep my limbs."

He needn't have worried. The explosions he had helped the courier rig went off without a hitch, one after the other in a chain reaction of destruction that showered the quarry in cazador segments and deathclaw tails. A piece of a cazador wing fluttered down out of the dusty sky, drifting softly to the ground until it came to rest next to Raul's boot. He picked the orange, gossamer insect part up, turning it this way and that to catch the light while the courier's sounds of battle echoed behind him.

"A little help, Raul?" he heard them call after a minute or two.

Raul sighed, plucked a spare stick of dynamite from the box they had left him, and walked down to the quarry bed. They were holding off a crippled deathclaw with their recharger rifle, which appeared to have been damaged enough to stop functioning. The immature deathclaw appeared to have realized its attacker was out of grenades as well, and had backed them up against a limestone slab.

Raul lit the fuse on the dynamite and chucked it at the deathclaw. "Duck and cover!"

The courier obeyed and hit the ground hard, just in time for the creature to explode over them. They disappeared under a shower of blood and scales.

"You owe me dinner at the Gourmand," Raul said, crossing his arms and surveying the scene. "Before you get any other bright ideas."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Oh hell yes." Cass popped her head up over the rock she'd been crouched behind, checking the courier's proximity to dynamite caches before setting the fuse she was holding alight. It did the trick, and Cass started whooping too as the explosions began to go off. Unable to hold back her laughter, Cass giggled with abandon as she chucked tin grenades and spare dynamite sticks into the resulting fray. The courier was little more than a shadow, putting down injured creatures left and right with merciful blasts from their recharger rifle that lit up the dust cloud like lightning.

When the debris began to settle, Cass pulled herself up onto the limestone and stretched out with a contented sigh. "That went a sight better than the last time we tried this, Six," she called.

The courier appeared in the quarry's center, panting. Their eyes were just as full of joy as Cass' had been, and they doubled over to put their hands on their knees and rest. "Agreed," they finally said, when they had caught their breath.

"Final count?" Cass asked.

They scanned the canyon together, counting on their fingers. "Twelve cazadores, including the one back at the memorial, and... nine deathclaws," the courier answered, their eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Personal best?"

Cass nodded. "Definitely. And now..."

She scooted off the rock and patted dust out of her clothes. "... we collect. Those Sloan boys owe us big-time."

Veronica Santangelo: "Oh, this is a bad idea." Veronica gritted her teeth and lit the fuse the courier had left her with, then pressed her hands over her ears as tightly as she could. When the rumble of the explosions had stopped, she dared to peek outside her hiding place, but the floor of the quarry had disappeared under a cloud of smoke, limestone dust and cazador parts. The wounded cazadores were trying in vain to sting the angry lizards that wandered too close to where they lay. "Not gonna work, buddy," Veronica said under her breath, when one of them jabbed uselessly at a surviving deathclaw baby. "That stinger won't get through those scales and thick skin. You're toast."

A smaller explosion obliterated the two creatures as they were locked in combat, and the courier emerged from the mess. "Come down here!" they called, before firing a few blasts from their recharger rifle into the deathclaw for good measure.

Veronica skidded down the quarry's side, scattering gravel in her wake. She brushed her robes off and straightened up. "All finished?"

The courier beckoned her over to where the nesting deathclaw mother had been crouching before the dynamite made its entrance. There, miraculously untouched by the turmoil around them, lay a clutch of unhatched eggs.

"Ohhhhh." Veronica's eyes went wide, and she knelt down next to the nest. She felt the closest egg. It was still warm.

"What do you think?" the courier asked. "Jas Wilkins has dibs on one of these, but what about the rest? Take them to Red Lucy?"

Veronica picked the egg up and cradled it close. "Can I keep one?"

"Uhhhhh..." The courier shrugged. "Okay. But if we bring it back to the Lucky 38, Arcade will kill us."

ED-E: The eyebot at the Courier's side began blasting battle music from its speakers and drew a few of the pursuing cazadores away from the chase. When they were right on top of a crate of dynamite, deposited carefully under cover of night by the courier and their faithful robot, ED-E zapped the concealed fuse and blew the bugs to bits. The eyebot tumbled in mid-air, but quickly recovered and gained the attention of a pair of deathclaws, who fell for the exact same trick. They went down a little less easily, but the courier filled in with a tin grenade and a few blasts from their recharger rifle. The two spun around each other, ED-E beeping triumphantly under the music and the courier grunting and yelling with the effort, until no more challengers arose and they stood alone in the center of the quarry.

The courier turned to ED-E and checked it over for dents. ED-E beeped its satisfaction, and they laughed. "Good job, but we need to get you a new set of songs to play. Maybe we can find Mr. New Vegas and get some holotapes for you."

Rex: The cyberdog bounded at the courier's side, and darted away only once to avoid the Molotov cocktail they tossed at the nearest dynamite cache. The world exploded around the pair in a cacophony of disrupted earth, rock and enemies. Rex latched onto the nearest deathclaw's tail, forced it to turn in a tight circle and remain relatively still until the courier's gun took it down permanently. They tore their way through each of the challengers, insect and lizard alike. When the last enemy fell, Rex remained alert, scenting the settling dust and directing his companion to surviving cazadores and deathclaws that lay dying. Their breaths were each cut short by the courier, and Rex's heart sang.

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