Rolling Sixes

Six was having a bad day, that in itself was not unusual but today Murphy really seemed to have it out for him.

Oh it started out average enough, wake up, eat breakfast, and blah blah blah you get the idea.

Until he got the job.

Oh it sounded simple enough, get in the quarry start popping deathclaw heads and get out, only his employer forgot to mention the place was filled with bloody cazadors and that these weren’t the regular garden variety deathclaws but the big beefy bastards from the divide lead by a sixteen foot tall alpha. Normally he'd just leave and glass the entire area with the Archimedes but someone had the wonderful idea to blow up the quarry sidewall and cause a landslide blocking the exit. So there he was, trapped in a pit with no plan, lots of gun’s and more balls then brains.

And that was when he remembered rule #1 of the wasteland survival guide

Never trust a motherfucker in a suit.

He managed to kill most of them through a combination of prayer, explosives and a metric fuckton of bullets. Only the alpha wasn’t getting the message, it was just sprinting through that hail of lead like it was a light rain and as if Murphy just couldn’t stop making it known how much he hated six's guts his LMG picked the worst time to jam.

What you may ask is a half insane cyborg with a jammed gun no way out and nowhere to run with 700 pounds of murder less than five meters away supposed to do? Six chose the only sensible option left to him.

He tackled that bastard like a linebacker.

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Aiming for the alpha’s legs and away from the claws of instant painful death six rammed his shoulder into its legs and managed to flip it head over heels…claws, whatever. Not pausing for a moment six ran for all for he was worth to put some distance between him and the alpha ducking behind some heavy machinery a good distance away.

‘Should take him awhile to find me with that shitty eyesight of his, just need to unfuck this rifle now’ he thought as he began working to clear the jam, so focused was he on his gun that six failed to notice the only surviving cazador until it plowed into his back and tried to pierce his armor with its stinger.

Out of cover with a pissed off cazador on his back six rolled to dislodge the cazador and lashed out with a fist that crushed its head like a grape.

‘Got to get back in cover and-‘was six’s train of thought when he glanced to where the alpha is or more importantly was.

The alpha was up and it was looking right.at.HIM.

‘Shit’ were six thoughts as he scrabbled backward from the advancing killing machine

'Shit’

The mantra continued as he retreated desperately rifling through his many pockets for a means to prevent his imminent demise.

‘Shit!’

The alpha was practically spitting distance away now as six’s hand closed around what felt like a laser pistol, with VATS enhanced reflexes he had it out in the blink of an eye and aimed right between the alpha’s eyes as its claws were closing the distance.

In the microsecond he had left six noticed two things.

One was that he was not in fact holding a gun but the big mountain Transportalponder device.

Two was that on the claws current trajectory toward his face it would hit the gun first.

‘SHIT!’

was six’s last coherent thought as the alpha shattered the guns casing like glass and his world was consumed by white painful light.

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Blackness, total complete darkness with neither sight nor sound surrounded six.

‘am I dead?’ he thought as he tried to move his extremities only feeling a numbing coldness in return and for some reason a strange tingling sensation in his toes.

‘If this is hell it fucking blows.’ six thought as the sensation slowly spread up his legs and extremities. Hmm maybe this was some form of elaborate torture? He couldn’t say he ever heard of someone being bored to death in any book he ever read. Either that or Satan was a total pushover, honestly he’d rather be listening to Raoul’s whining then be in this place at least he could bloody shoot himself when the irritation became too much.

CRACK-THOOOOM

A massive crack of what sounded like thunder interrupted any further rambling  on six’s part as what felt like enough energy to power the Vegas strip for years slammed into him in a flash of blinding white hot searing agony. What felt like years past as his body felt like it was being torn apart and reassembled until it left just as suddenly as it came.

Blearily six opened his eyes and was met with the bluest sky he had ever seen, truly he would have stared at the majestic sight for more than a few minutes if he weren’t reminded of the universal wringer he was just put through when the pain came flooding in.

‘Jesus h. tap dancing Christ that hurts.’ Six thought as his substantial cybernetics were mitigating the pain and repairing what damage there was to his handsome personage. Already the damage reports were flooding into his battle cortex and with speed far superior to fleshy brains he had sifted through them and tossed them into his mental recycle bin.

‘Nothing major thank god, just going be smarting for a few days, now to check the rest.’

Arms?  Check

Legs? check

No missing organs cybernetic or otherwise? check check

Gonads intact? Check check and fucking check.

Satisfied he was neither missing limb nor manhood six dragged himself up and was instantly met with another jaw dropping sight.

“HOLY SHIT TREES!” he said as gaped at all the greenery surrounding him, until he looked down.

“HOLY SHIT GRASS!”  He all but shouted as he dropped to the ground poking at the blades of green likes a retarded kitten.

‘Man I haven’t seen so much green since…’ his train of thought was interrupted by a intense menagerie of shock, dread, and overpowering paranoia born from his brief stint in vault 22, six jumped to his feet and glared at the grass and surrounding wilderness as if it was liable to leap out of the ground and eat him which it probably would given his luck.

“Nobody’s getting the drop on ol’ jack this time” he growled as he sent a mental command to his hammer space storage device to materialize a LMG loaded with explosive rounds. Putting the guns strap over his shoulder so he could fire from the hip if need be.

'just where the hell am i anyway?' he thought as he idly fished out the cube from one of his many pockets scanning the surrounding forest warily. he couldn't recall ever seeing a forest as healthy as this in his travels and what few he did find were often dead, mutated to a unrecognizable degree and/or filled to the brim with bloodthirsty predators.

‘Seems ok… no obvious damage, though if it was damaged I’d likely be dead. AGAIN’ he thought as he appraised the cube shaped device in his hand. The big mountain hypertransmatterspatial storage device was every wasteland scavenger’s wet dream, no matter how much worthless loot you stuffed in it never got full taking everything from trash to unstable energy weapons, the hypercube was truly God’s gift to the obsessive looter. Just don’t put anything organic in it, EVER. Six still had nightmares about that poor gecko.

Confident the cube was not going to explode and incinerate him with unfathomable cosmic energies he stuffed it back in his pocket and began his trek toward what he hoped was civilization, or anywhere without any fucking TREES.

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AN: welp finally scraped up enough confidence to write. So here’s my first attempt at it, constructive criticism would be appreciated.

ill likely revise this later.