((This is just a scene I formed in my head during school. Sorry if I typed it a bit sloppy, im doing this through my phone at the moment.))

Daniel 'Coin Toss' Dillinger walked through the streets of the New Vegas Strip by himself, green eyes looking up to the cloud filled sky as a similar color of rain dripped down upon him. He could feel his face seeming to burn lightly with each drop that landed on his cheek, but could care less.

The streets of the strip were almost empty. Not even Chief Benny's goons took there place at the Lucky 38's doors as they usually did, fear of radiation poisoning from the rare acid rain keeping them at bay.

The Strip for once looked like it was a piece of art with only Shades of Gray, Dillinger's green eyes being the only piece of color that fit in, they gazing upon the doors of the Lucky 38. The brown trench coat he had long taken from a fallen NCR Veteran blew about in the wind, revealing a red-colored revolver attached to Dillinger's left hip.

He brushed some of his black hair to the side, listening to the raindrops and the sound of a saxophone echoing a tragic tune through the Strip Radio. With a sigh, Dillinger slowly began to walk up the steps of the Lucky 38, pushing the door open.

A frown formed on his lips as he observed the empty casino. On a normal day, it would be filled with Chief Benny's well dressed goons, all of them waving there Tommy Guns around.

"Playing a game of Hide and Go Seek, are we?" He said quietly to himself, looking to a security camera that had turned toward him, a red light blinking near one of its wires. "Alright then... if that's what helps you sleep at night."

Dillinger gave off a irritated sigh, walking to the elevator and pressing the up button on it. The Saxophone echoed softly throughout the empty casino as he waited, the rain drumming against the windows.

Ding. The doors slid open, a empty compartment awaiting him. He stepped forward, pushing the button numbered '7'.

2......3....4.... The numbers lit up as Dillinger leaned his back against the wall, sliding his hands into his pocket. The Radio's beautiful saxophone music was slowly beginning to be replaced with static, until all Dillinger could hear was a faint buzz.

7. Ding. The doors of the elevator slid open, Dillinger finding himself looking out a large window, down the strip. Absolutely no sound emitted from anywhere besides the radios buzzing, the rain tapping the glass the only exception.

"Not very good at hiding your presence, are you Benny?" Dillinger said loudly, his voice echoing throughout the rooms as he made a left turned, going under a arch and finding himself staring at a large monitor, nothing on its screen. "You even turned off Veronica."

"You have guts Dillinger, Ill say that" a familiar, Vegas accented voice said from behind Dillinger as he walked down the steps, toward the window. A smirk formed on his face as he looked down at the empty streets, seeing the reflection of twelve black suited men behind him, all with Tommy Guns in there hands, and Benny in the middle, sporting his checked suit. "I suppose you never were one to run away, no matter what."

"Well Benny," Dillinger replied smoothly, turning from the window to face the men as his fingers wrapped around something small and circular in his pocket, "You know what they say; cats have nine lives. I'm only on my fourth. This will be the second one you have taken from me... no... wait." Dillinger's eyes went to the blank monitor, the memory of a woman coming back to him briefly, "the third, though not my own..."

Benny gave off a amused chuckle, closing his eyes. "Baby, she was turning into dead weight, much like you are now. A parasite eating up the food we worked to get. A wife stealing the money we worked to get, you dig?

A flare of anger emitted throughout Dillinger as his green eyes narrowed toward Benny's blue.

"She was the closest thing both you and I had to a friend, besides each other, and you cast her aside just like your old buddy Mr.House." Dillinger said, keeping a calm tone, though his anger could still be caught. "Just like your going to do to me, right?"

Benny gave off a chuckle, sliding a hand into his suit and shaking his head.

"About five years ago we were in a similar situation right?" He said, slowly drawing a silver pistol out and pulling on the back trigger, "I had you captive, my boys watching, right before I executed you."

Dillinger's hand squeezed the circular object inside his coat as he wiped a scar on the left side of his forehead.

"Yeah. Except for the fact that you did a sloppy job." He replied coolly, slowly drawing the object from his pocket. A platinum poker chip with the number 38 engraved on it, "And you had this on you. This time, i'm not letting it go."

Benny let out a chuckle, raising the pistol and aiming it toward Dillinger's head as his henchmen raised there Tommy Guns, sweat dripping from there foreheads.

"I don't need that old souvenir anymore." he said quietly, Dillinger feeling sweat roll down his head as his heart beat against his head. The rain poured heavily against the windows now. Tap, tap, tap. "And I don't need you either, baby." Tap. Tap. Tap. "Just remember Dillinger." Tap Tap Tap. "The game was rigged from the start." Tap Tap. "Say hello to Mr.House when you see him."

Tap. Dillinger suddenly backed up, his body slamming the window as soon as Benny fired, the bullet slamming into his arm. Bang bang bang bang went the guns of his henchmen as there bullets slammed into the window behind Dillinger and into him.

Crash went the glass as Dillinger fell back, massive pain in his chest as the rain began to pour onto his falling body. He could see his blood falling with him, the wind gushing in his ears.

Memories flashed quickly through his mind. A brown haired woman. A man talking in a monitor. Guns being fired as he fought back to back with Benny, the NCR surrounding them both.

The sound of the Saxophone Song's end could be heard echoing below the falling Dillinger as he looked at the glass that was dropping with him. The rain was beginning to burn less now, and that song... that beautiful song was coming to a end.

Looks like I should of folded. Dillinger thought to himself as a piece of glass slid across his cheek, cutting it. Then, as he saw the reflection of the ground only a few feet below him, all went black.

[[Chip-Toss Dillinger, Session 1: Pain in Primm]]




"Good morning New Vegas, and welcome to January 29th of the Year.... well, who cares?" The radio buzzed softly within the broken down, roofless building. It was placed on a tiny wooden table that had seen better years, along with the entire room it was in. What could of once been a kitchen was now a broken down area missing two walls, with shattered windows on the other two. Dirt covered the cracked floor, and on top sat a large brown round table,. minus about a quarter which seemed to have broken off and been taken to who knows where a long time ago.

Seated at the table were two men. The first was a large, muscled fellow that seemed to be in his late forties, a buzz cut and many scars on his tired looking face. He wore a red sleeveless shirt and some torn brown pants. A frown was visible on his face as his grey eyes examined cards in his hand, and on the table. He swatted a gnat away, grumbling in a deep, irritated voice before looking to his companion.

The second man wore a look of boredom on his young face, he perhaps near the end of his twenties. He ran a hand through his short dark hair, yawning impatiently as his green eyes looked to his friend, his fingers drumming the wooden table rhythmically. He was sporting a dark green collar shirt and dark purple pants.

"Well? I'm waiting." he said in a calm, cocky voice, his muscular companion giving off a agitated grunt in response, "Come on Brigg, are we going to wait until the hair on our heads falls into a nice big pile?"

"Shut it boy!" Brigg responded loudly, slamming a fist on to the table, "This is a game that takes patience! If you don't have it, don't expect to win!"

The green eyed man gave off a amused smirk, tapping on the table at a faster pace now.

"If that's the case, then I am pretty good at defying the rules." He said, glancing over to a large pile of cigarette boxes, "If you want, you can fold now and save yourself some tears. I wont hold it against you."


"Shut it Dillinger," Brigg said gruffly, tossing a King on top of a 9 on his side of the table, "There! Your move kid."

Dillinger blinked a couple times, eying the card pile on Brigg's side of the table. 6...7...9... The King.. that amounted to 31.

"Um... Brigg," he said quietly, "You went overboard."

"And in other news," the cracked voice of the radio man shouted over the howl of anger that Brigg emitted, "The Followers of the Apocalypse have announced that there is a large sale on Stimpacks going about. Buy two get one free! Anybody that thinks they will be suffering major blood loss soon should look into that as soon as possible! Now back to the music. Next song up, Ten Million Slaves."


"Caravan is to rigged," Brigg muttered as Dillinger slid the cigarette boxes into a plastic bag, "sometimes you need two stacks to win, other times three. We should just go back to good ol Blackjack."

"Your complaining about Caravan being rigged and yet you would prefer Blackjack?" Dillinger asked, giving off a small laugh and looking to the destroyed wall. The grey sands of the wasteland outside gave off white reflections from the sun above. "Sorry Brigg. I don't play by Luck, I go with skill."

"Blackjack has nothing to do with Luck, its all about calculating your percentages. And what skill do you possibly have to have to win this cruddy game, Caravan.."

"One that you are lacking in apparently." Dillinger tossed a cigarette to Brigg and gave off a yawn, scratching the back of his head boredly, "Any jobs that the radio moron announced this morning?"

Brigg shook his head, pulling out a lighter that had the symbol of The Enclave on it. "Just some bounties that The Chairmen have put out on some unfortunate souls. I'm assuming you don't care for those though..."

"Ill let Benny shovel his own dirt." Dillinger shook his head, yawning once again before walking out into the desert, "I'm going to Primm if you need me... maybe Myers will have some job."

"Frequency 38 if you get anything. And try not to spend all our money!"

"What money?" Dillinger muttered as he walked across the sand, heading northeast.



[Chip-Toss Dillinger]

:celebration: So far, so good. I will edit this post and look for something to critisise when I have time tomorrow. Keep it up, Blackhand!

Thanks for the response Smutt's! I look forward to any feedback you have, as well any from any other readers!))


And we are back, with your regularly scheduled program!

[[Chip-Toss Dillinger]]

Coyote lit the cigarette in his mouth with a grunt as he and his four companions walked into there room at Primm's local hotel. He shut the door behind him with his arm before setting the brown suitcase he held down. The hotel room was your average joe in Mojave. A crappy bug infested bed set against a wall, some shelves, a bathroom in the corner that thankfully had a working toilet and fountain, and a shattered window with the blinds pulled down, wind howling from it.

"Scrap, Jim," he said to two of his companions, men with brown business suits and hats on there bodies whom had rusty irons on there hips "Get out of here and guard the hall way. I want it filled only with Red Fang members. Anyone that comes up, send the other way, or shoot them. It doesn't matter which. That Sheriff Myers looked a bit nosy."

"Got it boss." one of the two said before they left, sliding there 9MM's from there belts as they did so. Coyote gave off a sigh, running a hand through his brown, long scraggly hair as he took a puff from the cigar in his mouth. He looked to the broken mirror, getting a good look at his fair looking face. With the exception of some marks left by acne, he had almost no scars. "Right then. My Leader says that you ordered three vials of Black Liberty for two thousand caps?" Coyote turned to the other man in the room as he adjusted his black leather jacket, a large Red Fang painted on the back of it.

"Correct." he said, looking to the suitcase Coyote had set down, "Let me see the goods first. I want to know what I am paying so much money for."

Coyote gave off a smirk, taking another puff from his cigar and walking to the suitcase, his brown boots echoing against the floorboard. He grabbed the suitcase by the handle, pulling it up slowly and gently setting it on the bed. His hand went into his jacket's pocket, fumbling around for a few seconds before pulling out a grey key. Sliding it into the proper hole attached to the suitcase, he turned and a click emitted as it opened up, revealing about four dozen \vials lined up neatly in rows, holding maybe a quart of a dark liquid in each of them.

"What the hell is this?" the buyer asked with a agitated voice, "I am paying two thousand for only three of these tiny things? How is this supposed to help me against a dozen folks?"

Coyote raised his index finger in the Buyer's direction, giving off a low shh. He could not allow the Buyers jumping to conclusions to ruin this deal. The deals success meant being promoted for Coyote. Maybe even get out of the Wasteland, into a permanent position at Freeside. Only if he did a good job though... if he didn't, then The Alpha would have Coyote's head.

"Easy now, " Coyote said, giving off a small shiver of fear at the thought, "This, good sir, is Black Liberty, and despite how little there is of it, I can assure you three vials is more then enough to kill a mere dozen folks. " The Buyer gave off a growl, his face contorted with anger. He however nodded, a sign for Coyote to continue, "Now then. If you inject this into the veins of someone, it will carry the Virus that the liquid contains into there hearts, causing it to immediatly effect the rest of the blood flow and give them a massive adrenaline rush. The virus will travel from the heart to the brain, filling them with destructive thoughts that will send them into a three minute frenzy."

Coyote went quiet, giving off a smirk as he pulled one of the vials out, looking it over. The Buyer's expression had softened, however he gave off a irritated grunt at Coyote's silence.

"And then...?" he hissed, Coyote chuckling.

"Boom... there heart goes boom, and they die. The Virus is transferable by blood and saliva, and it replicates very fast. All you have to do is get your targets in one area, make sure they are close enough for one or two of them to get bit or slashed at the first victim, inject... then run the hell out of there and lock them in. Wait three minutes and all will be done."

A smile formed on the Buyer's lips as he reached into his business-suits pocket, pulling out a large red chip with the number 2 on it and setting it near the Suitcase.

"That chip will get you two thousand caps from Club Gammorah. If it doesn't, contact me and Ill get you the money another way."

Coyote grabbed the chip, looking it over carefully to make sure it was not a fraud. He then slid it into his pocket, sliding two more vials from the suitcase and handing the three to The Buyer. He then shut the Suitcase as the Buyer slid the vials into his suit, walking to the door and opening it.

"Remember..." Coyote called as he set the Suitcase gently against the wall, "Inject it in the vein, and whatever you do, do not miss the vein. If you hit the artery, the victim will have his mind to himself for twenty seconds, along with the adrenaline. If you hit neither, he will show symptoms for three minutes before going into a frenzy for thirty seconds, no adrenaline.. therefore, making the effort useless."

"Whatever.... are you coming?"

"Nah." Coyote walked to the broken window, looking toward Vick and Vann's casino, "I figure I should let the henchmen have a little fun with the locals... have there way with the woman... you know the deal. Then there's some business we have with The Great Khans.... or whatever is left of them."

The Buyer gave off a snort, shaking his head and taking his leave. Coyote chuckled quietly, looking to the sun for a moment. Noon was coming. Lunchtime... he passed one more glance out of the window, seeing nothing of interest other then a poorly-armored wanderer walking up the road to Primm, from the south. If Coyote's men were lucky, they could practice shooting on him.


***


"Stupid Wasteland is to damn hot." Dillinger muttered to himself as he pulling the cigar out of his mouth, tossing it onto the floor and grinding his foot against it, "To many rocks... to much sand. And to many [censored] Geckos." Dillinger continued walking, raising his head to see that he was near the bridge outside Primm now, walking up the stairs. "If Brigg would get the Panty Palace flying again already, we wouldn't be in this situation would we? But no, he has to go and complain about some Atomic Battery that's cracked and not functioning right. As if I care if it's functioning right or not, nothing functions right in this wasteland! He should just kick it, that always makes things work."

Dillinger was now crossing the bridge, going between the fences and entering Primm. A couple settlers passed him some glances before shrugging and going about there usual business. Dillinger continued his way to the Primm Hotel, lazily pushing open the door and walking up to a blond haired lady at the reception desk wearing a yellow dress.

"Welcome to Primm, my name is Sally!" she said, giving off a smile that for some reason made Dillinger think of the woman on the Vault-Tec posters scattered all around the country, "How can I help you today? Need a place to spend the night? Hungry? Thirsty? Gambling? Or were you looking for someone whom may or may not owe you money?"

Dillinger blinked a couple times in amazement. Never before had anyone been so.... awkward and kind at once. It made him feel unprotected.

"Uh... no... im looking for someone, yeah." he said, scratching his head and looking around. The Hotel had become a lot cleaner since the last time he had visited... it was possible that there were no blood stains now. A good improvement, "Sheriff Myers. Is he still alive?"

"Well he sure is dear!" Sally replied with a even bigger smile that seemed to be lighting the room up... or perhaps she was irradiated? "And what may your business with him be? Prostitution? Assassination?! Oh, are you his long lost third cousin removed whom was raised by royalty?"

"Uh....." Dillinger's hand stopped scratching as he stared at Sally with his eyebrow raised for a few seconds, loosing his train of thought, "...uh... no... just... can you tell him that a old friend is looking for him? Daniel Dillinger is the name."

"Certainly, Broccoli-Buns!" Sally reached toward a nearby microphone attached to a Ham Radio, pressing down on a button, "Mike? Are you there?"

"Yes.... and what did I say about my name?" a man's voice responded through the speakers, Dillinger once again losing his train of thought, "What do you want? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"A fella wants to see you see Mr.Myers."

"Yes, I'm sure he does. He probably also wants to kill me, like these Red Fang goons do as well."

"He told me to tell you his name.."

There was a brief silence, in which Dillinger simply stared at Sally and Sally stared at the Ham Radio.

"Yes...." the man's voice spoke through the speakers once more, sounding agitated, "so tell me what it is. Im trying to keep a eye on the-"

"Daniel Dillinger." Sally said loudly. Suddenly , a loud gunshot could be heard outside, with one emitting from the radio as well. Sounds of glass breaking and someone coughing followed shortly after from the speakers, Sally humming pleasantly as Dillinger looked to the door and Ham Radio, trying to decide whether to be concerned or just wait. "Mr.Myers, are you going to say something."

"..Tell him Ill meet him at Vick and Vans." the voice said before the sound of a switch was heard. Sally looked up to Dillinger as he opened the door, already walking to the destination.

"Mr.Dillinger, he said to meet him at Vick and Van's!" she called out, Dillinger rubbing his head and giving off a exhausted sigh as he shut the door.

"Good grief...." he muttered under his breathe.


[[Chip-Toss Dillinger]]

Aha. BlackHand, your back once again.

WELCOME BACK

Just a couple suggestions, take them or leave them. The choice is yours.

First off, the very first thing thing I noticed, your way too liberal on those ellipses man. I mean, ridiculous, let me explain. An Ellipsis, at least of what I know now, is commonly used for four things.

1.) Omission of Words.
-This is usually when writing a report, essay, whatever.

2.) Pauses in Speech.
-"I think I just realized something...your the murderer."
-Can add suspense, and is pretty nice when used effectively.
-Doesn't have to be in dialogue, but it can stale quickly.

3.) Incomplete thoughts
-That's weird...
-Questions to oneself, or when interrupted is the most common usage
-Obliviously only used in thoughts or monologue.

4.) Incomplete sentences
-"I was wondering when you'd bring that up..."
-Can make the sentence or dialogue more ominous.
-That effect won't stay if your pepper it in though.

Sorry for being your High School English teacher, but the amount of ellipses and the incorrect usage of them was just plain ruing the story for me. I've seen them used commonly and often, but not on a volume on yours. Just take it easy with them, alright. And by the way, they only have three dots unless their ending a sentence(in which case, four). Anything more or less is just a string of dots and nothing more.

I'm quite behind on these fanfictions, so keep it up, next time I come back, I'll talk about your dialogue.

Good Luck.

*looks it over*

Good lord, you aren't kidding about the ellipses. I think most of the time I don't even know im writing them, I just like to press the . button....

... like that. And that. Nasty old habit of mine from a few years ago. Thanks for pointing that out Ytrium, Ill be sure to proof-read for those til I get out of the habit. I intend to go through and edit these first post once we finish Session 1, which is coming up in one or two more post.


I look forward to more of your feedback, and thanks for the welcome back! Maybe Ill stay for longer then three chapters this time!

Edited: Never mind this message. Just forget it, I should not try to type when I'm this tired.

We now return to your program!

[[Chip-Toss Dillinger]]

"Why the hell are you here? Your supposed to be dead," Myers said as he took a sip from his bottle of beer, looking to Dillinger whom was seated at the barstool next to him, leaning on the counter and lighting a cigarrete. "You know? Dead? Gone, never coming back. In a void. You seem to evade Death a lot you know? I heard on the radio about five years ago about how you got shot in the head and lived through that, and what do you go and do for the next six months? You team up with the man that tried to kill you and conquer Vegas with him."

Dillinger gave off a amused smirk, taking a puff from his cigar as he stared across the counter at a mirror, looking the reflection of Vick and Vann's casino over. It was rather empty today, only occupied with four people at a Black Jack table and three locals talking quietly at there own seats at the counter.


"You and him. Invincible together according to the Radio" Myers shook his head, grunting quietly as he took another sip of his drink, "And then, six more months pass, and I hear on the radio about how 'The Courier' was reported to be seen falling from the Lucky 38.... but they never did find your body, did they? Nah. You apparently have some good friends Dillinger."

"Not at all," Dillinger said with a cocky tone as a smirk formed on his face, "Death just owes me a few favors, since I have given him a fair amount of loans." He pressed his cigarette into the counter, sliding another bottle of beer toward Myers, "Of course, I would prefer if we keep the fact that this horse is still kicking hard on the down low. The last thing I need is The Great Khan's chasing after me. Or any other ghost of the past for that matter."

Myers looked to Dillinger for a moment, nodding slowly before opening the beer bottle that was passed to him.

"Right, right.," Myers muttered, running a hand through his head, "I imagine that the NCR will want your head on a plate one day. Or perhaps the fabled Left Hand of Mr.House that people keep talking about."

"Myers, you don't believe any of that nonsense do you? The closest Mr.House ever had to getting any handy man was Benny and I. Even then, we didn't exactly have a nice relationship. I should know, considering I'm the one that helped Benny kill him. Besides..." Dillinger closed his eyes, memories of Caeser's Legion coming to him, "Caeser's apprentice is the one that I would have to worry about. Mars."

"Don't give me the details kid, I don't want to hear anything that will get me shot out of towers," Myers said quickly, giving off a shudder and taking a large gulp of his drink before slamming the bottle down with a 'clang' against the counter. He took a deep sigh, wiping his forehead before looking directly at Dillinger's green eyes. "So tell me, why did you want to see me? You're not going to get me dragged into some other war are you?"

"Not at all," Dillinger responded calmly as he set his feet against the counter with a yawn, "I am just a mercenary looking to make some money, and I imagine Primm is probably having some problems."

"That is not the case most of the time, thanks to me," Myers said proudly, a smile coming to his face, "First time someone starts something is the first time my bullets hit them in the chest. Of course, the towns folk do a nice job of keeping Law and Order here to... though... there is one thing that has been bugging me lately."

"What's with you? You are so full of yourself one moment, the next you go into troubled mode."

"Some folks have come into town." Myers lowered his voice, sliding his hat over his eyes, "A gang called The Red Fang. They supposedly come from Freeside. Killed every member of The King's and are expanding there horizons. Interested?"

"Maybe." Dillinger brushed some of the hair from his forehead, "Details would be nice."

"Right.... there are about eight of them, but the one I want you to look into is Coyote. A semi-long haired fella that wears a leather jacket." Myers glanced to the door, before speaking again in a much more lowered voice, barely a whisper, "And see if you can snatch a briefcase he has on him. I get the idea that whatever is inside, could spell bad news for Primm in the future. Think you can do that?"

Dillinger did not respond at first. He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes for a moment and drumming his fingers.

"How much do I get payed if I make them go away?" he said.

"Five thousand caps for our starting bid. Maybe if the game gets more dangerous, Ill up the price."

A smirk crossed Dillinger's face as he stood from the bar stool, sliding his hands into his pant-pockets and beginning to walk toward the exit of the casino.

"Deal."

Me Gutsa. Blackhand, if people read it and do not make a post, fret not. They are probaly too busy to make one or are guest. Just a note, the first paragraph/sentence (in the first post) did not really 'svck me in'. That is a vital part when writing. You want the reader to go, "This guy if FREAKING amazing at writing! OMIGOSH". Re-read through your fan-fic and think yourself another forumer, and say to your self, "Would I actually read this?"Keep em' hooked mate!

Oh, and keep up the good work :thumbsup:

Im very sorry fellow readers for the delay on the ending of Episode 1. There's a giant power outtage going on right now, so I can't really do much for th story. U hope to have the ending of Chapter 1 done tonight though, so I can get to editing the first episode tomorrow. Hang in there, scavenfers.

((Chip-Toss Dillinger))


"I have done some snooping around and count about eight of them, Dillinger's voice rang through the portable communications radio that Brigg had attached to the broken down Virti-Bird outside the gas station he and Dillinger had setup shop in, Brigg's thumb over the red button on it with the word" Talk" imprinted below. "From what I can tell, these Red Fang goons are just small fries for some new gang. Myers says that they removed The Kings from Freeside though, so they have to be somewhat good at what they do. Chances are these are the grunts amongst the gang.

"And he wants you to see what they are potentially dealing?" Brigg asked as he pressed the talk button, giving off a grunt.

"Yeah. I imagine its probably jet or something. Maybe The Great Khans and them are having a exchange. Either way, its going to make us 500 caps at least.

"I don't know kid, something doesn't add up," Brigg looked to the half-blown gas station, eying the table he and Dillinger had been playing cards at earlier that day" Why would a gang that killed off The Kings get involved with a low class town such as Primm? The only thing worth any value that MAYBE wont get you killed is dynamite from the old NCR prison... and even then. Didn't The Powder Gang's trap the towers with tripwires? I don't think you should get involved kid, might land you in business we don't wanna be apart of. Or rather, I don't want to be."

"Relax old man. Ill make a lot of friends. Just work on getting our transport fixed. The longer we are near New Vegas, the bigger the chance is that Sin City will open up its great gates upon us. See you in a few hours." With those words, there was a click followed only by static. Brigg looked to the radio moment before sighing and grabbing his wrench, looking the dismantled Virti-bird before him over with the spray painted words, "The Green Bloatfly" on the side.

"Kid wants to get himself killed, he can be my guess." Brigg said with a heavy sigh, wiping sweat from his forehead and getting back to work.

***

Dillinger walked up the steps of the Bison Hotel, whistling his own version of 'Maybe' as he kicked open the door to the second floor calmly. Standing inside the tiny hall with doors that lead to guest rooms and a storage closet, was a pre-war business suit wearing man... with a revolver in his hand, pointed directly at Dillinger's chest. His whistling slowly came to a stop as he looked down at the gun dully with his eyebrows raised.

"Who the hell are you, smooth-shot!" The man shouted, Dillinger noticing a red tattoo on his neck of a fang. Bingo. "Hey, stop checkin me out and answ-"

"Im just a messenger sent from Freeside," Dillinger responded coolly, trying to suppress the smirk on his lips as a idea came to mind, "A Courier of sorts... well.. that's the act that The Alpha wants me to go with for now anyways. Say, aren't you one of us?

"Huh..wait...wha.. the...Alpha... sent...?" The Gunman's eyes widened with horror as his face went pale. He quickly lowered the gun, coughing loudly, "I am so sorry about that sir. If there is anything I can do to make up for my disrespect!"

"Just lead me to The Merchandise, and consider yourself forgiven," Dillinger said with a smile, pulling out a platinum poker chip and tossing it smoothly, catching and repeating, "That's what I was sent here to do. Make sure it is still intact."

"Ri-right." The Gunman wiped sweat from his forehead, beginning to walk toward a closed door "Ju-just let me get th-the key from Coyote and w-"

"No time for that, The Alpha has given me a lot of work and not a lot of time." Dillinger said as followed, his hands still in his pockets, "Is this the room?" The Henchmen nodded, looking around the hall.

"Yeah, but it's locked, you will need the ke-" he stopped mid-sentence as Dillinger's foot slammed into the door with a loud BANG. Dillinger calmly walked in, continuing to whistle his tune as he looked around the room. A bed... broken window... broken mirror... and a briefcase with a Red Fang poorly imprinted on the top. Bingo. "U-uh... I do-don't think Coyote wi-will be happy abo-about you breaking down the d-door!"

Dillinger raised a eyebrow, looking the poor door over. It wasn't in good condition anyways whether or not he had kicked it. "To bad." Dillinger said calmly, suddenly turning and swinging his foot at the gangsters shin. The Gangster let out a loud cry of pain as he collapsed on his left knee, before Dillinger's foot met his face. A stomp on the chest to knock the wind out of him for good measure, and Dillinger was free to investigate.

He ignored the pain filled moans of the man lying on the floor behind him as he walked to the Briefcase, sliding it onto the top of the bed and looking it over. There was a key hole... blast. Dillinger slid his red-revolver from his belt, pulling on the back trigger as he aimed at the key. When it came to smooth guys like him, he didn't have time to be sweating over a tiny lock. Better to just... have a bla-

A click interrupted Dillinger's witty pun as he felt something cold pressed against his neck. A frown formed on his lips as he dropped his revolver, raising his hands slowly.

"Well now, at least the cat knows when to surrender," a rough voice said behind him, Dillinger looking to the broken mirror and seeing the one they called Coyote standing over him with a 9MM Magnum pointed down at his neck, two men that were dressed just like the one Dillinger had stepped all over flanking him with Tommyguns in there hands, "So tell me, little kitty, what are you doing snooping around?"

"Funny enough," Dillinger said as a smirk came to his face, he slowly rising from his knees and turning to face Coyote, "I was sent here to figure out what YOU people are doing snooping around. Primm isn't exactly famous for its beautiful casino, you know?"

"Don't try to be funny," Coyote replied coldly, keeping his pistol aimed at Dillinger as he slowly walked to the Briefcase, picking it up, "Whenever I have to leave Freeside, I know I will see some worthless rat like you. But you are all the same. You will play a tough game, acting like big shots. But when The Wolf snarls at you, it snaps its teeth... oh man. You rats plead for mercy." Coyote gave off a chuckle, though the smirk never left Dillinger's face.

"Funny... I don't see any wolves," he said, his green eyes staring directly into Coyote's, "All I see is a little chiwawa that won't stop barking. I hate small dogs for that reason you know? They never shut up. They try to act all intimidating, try to scare off things ten times there size, but... all they do is irritate those big things. You catch my drift?"

Coyote's face turned red as his eyebrows narrowed, he sliding his pistol into his belt and turning, walking out of the room. "Yeah," he said, poorly masking the anger in his voice, "I catch your drift. Boy's, finish off this rat will you? It's about time we left this town." And with those words, he made a right down the hall, stepping over the poor man Dillinger kicked so many times. From memory, Dillinger knew exactly where he was heading. No time to think about that however, for the two men before him had there guns raised in his direction.

"Hehe, whoever shreds off the most flesh wins?" one said, the other nodding. They took aim.



Two gunshots rang throughout the halls, bang bang, blood soaring in the air from the body of the victim... as it landed on Dillinger's face, whom had rolled toward the bathroom the moment he saw Myer's enter the hallway from the stairs. The second Gunman had no time to react in the three seconds this happened, two more gunshots emitting from the pistol in Myer's hand as the Sheriff ran into the room, the second gunman collapsing onto the floor as his suit began to turn scarlet with his own blood.

"Nice of you to show up," Dillinger shouted, grabbing his red revolver and standing quickly, firing shots into the poor man that escorted him to the door, "Did you get the other two that were in the Mess Hall?"

"Yeah, I thought we were being subtle about this?" Myers replied as he poked his head into the hall, "Clear!" He ran out, keeping his head low as Dillinger followed, doing the same.

"Wolf's like to howl I guess!"

"Which way did he go with the briefcase?"

"He's trying to escape by the roller-coaster tracks. Can you cut off the exit from the east side?" Dillinger began to dash in the direction of the exit to the hotel that would lead him directly onto the Roller-Coaster tracks, keeping his head low and his pistol gripped tightly.

"Yeah! Don't get yourself killed!" Myers turned the other way, opening the door to the stairs and running down them quickly. He made a left turn down the hall, then another left, looking at Sally whom was humming to herself pleasently, "Sal! Where is my sniper rifle? We got us some wolves to hunt girl!"

"Michael, you don't have a sniper rifle," she said with a smile, slowly turning up the radio as a fast paced saxophone began to play loudly through it, "All you have is a Hunting Rifle that gets jammed often."


***

Coyote pushed the back-exit to the Bison Hotel open, walking onto a small ramp and looking to two men dressed up in the uniform of the Red Fang henchmen. They nodded to him as he walked between them, onto the Rail's of Primm's broken down Rollercoaster. "We will head southeast first, so that any unwanted pursuers will be shaken off. Let's go."

"But sir," one of the Henchmen said, turning to Coyote with a look of concern, "Don't we have some boys in there? And what about that noise we hea-" he never finished his sentence. Two gunshots rang from the hotel, Coyote and the Henchmen turning to look toward the broken window of the room he had the Briefcase in a few minutes ago. The inside couldn't be seen thanks to torn curtains blocking the sight, but two more gunshots emitted from it.

"The hell are they doing?" Coyote muttered, his hand clenching the handle of the Briefcase tightly as he turned, beginning to walk down the Roller-Coaster tracks. Suddenly, the sound of the ramp door opening emitted, followed by two gunshots and heavy panting! Coyote turned quickly, his eyes widening as he looked at Dillinger while his henchmen collapsed, gripping wounds in there legs. "How did you..."

Dillinger gave off a chuckle, wiping some sweat from his forehead and breathing heavily. His short, black hair moved slightly as a breeze brushed against it, Dillinger slowly raising his red revolver to Coyote.

"One of your Henchmen called me Smooth-Shot... he wasn't that far from the bulls eye himself." A smirk formed on the mercenaries lips, Coyote grunting as he simply stared for a moment at Dillinger, whom was slowly walking onto the tracks, kicking the guns of the Henchmen away from them. "So why don't you come with me, I collect my bounty, and we call it a day?"

"How about you die in a fire!" Coyote shouted, his free-hand diving into his jacket-pocket as he suddenly turned and began dashing down the Roller-Coaster tracks, in the direction of a curve that lead to a massive steel slope with a cart on top. Dillinger immediately chased after, taking aim at Coyote's back and squeezing the trigger.... click. Click. Click.

"GOD DAMMIT!" Dillinger shouted, his hand diving into his pants pocket and grabbing bullets as he dumped the shells from the revolver. Coyote suddenly turned in his run, raising his 9MM to Dillinger and firing three shots. Dillinger barely had time to collapse and roll, reloading his revolver as he did so before standing and giving chase. His target was beginning to move up the steel slope, putting Dillinger at a disadvantage thanks to his foe having the high ground. Coyote seemed to realize this, as he began firing more shots to Dillinger whom was forced to crouch and run in a zig zag, having trouble not tripping over his black boots.

"Die!" Coyote screamed, aiming directly at Dillinger's head and squeezing the trigger as he stood at the top of steel slope.... click... click. Click Click. "Dammit!"

"Welcome to my world.." Dillinger muttered, getting up from his crouching position and dashing up the steel slope as fast as he could, aiming at Coyote before the Red Fang could reload... the thing was... he wasn't reloading. Instead, he flung his gun at Dillinger and leaped onto the Roller-Coaster cart, about to climb onto the other side and make a break down the slope. Dillinger took the opportunity the moment he reached the top of the steel slope, leaping into the Roller-Coaster Cart just as Coyote was pulling his leg out. Dillinger grabbed him by his jacket's collar, pulling him back in and pressing his red revolver against Coyote's neck as he climbed onto his back, pinning him down and making him drop the briefcase in between them.

"Let go of me you mercenary scumbag!" Coyote shouted as he thrashed about under Dillinger's weight, the cart creaking a little, "The Alpha will have your head for interfering in his business, whether you kill me to day or not!"

"Stop... moving..." Dillinger growled with gritted teeth, struggling to keep Coyote still. The cart began to creak some more, moving slightly toward the downward side of the slope, "You aren't dying by my hand buster! I need that bounty on you!"

"Get.. off.. of.. m-"

A loud creek interrupted Coyote's sentence, both he and Dillinger suddenly going very still... the cart they were in however, did not. It was beginning to roll down the steel slope, its rusted wheels grinding against the steel tracks as it picked up speed.

"Uh..." Dillinger pulled back, turning the safety on his pistol as his stomach did a back flip. Coyote raised his head a little, his eyes widening in horror as they both looked at the direction the cart was going... down the slop, toward a broken part.

A Brahmin moo'd loudly as the two of them began to shout words that could not be heard over the rumbling of the cart. Down, down it went, drawing closer to the broken edge as they began to push one another. Chug, chug, chug, chug, KA-THUNK! It rolled off the edge, soaring, soaring... and landing onto the other side with a loud boom as Dillinger and Coyote gripped the sides, crying out in terror.

Despite surviving the jump, the cart was STILL rolling.. this time toward the downward side of another slope, which had a nice big pile of sharp metal poking out at the bottom. Chug, chug, chug.

"You idiot!" Dillinger shouted, pushing Coyote's head down as he grabbed for the Brief Case, "What is so important for you to get, that you had to buy us a ticket on the Suicide Exp-"

Dillinger never finished his sentence, the cart taking a sudden plummet down the slope. CHUG CHUG CHUG, toward the steel spikes! And then.. CLANG SMASH BANG! Dillinger and Coyote went soaring out of the cart, being launched at least ten feet in the air as Dillinger's red revolver and Coyote's black briefcase soared from his reach. Was it just him, or was the ground getting bigger?

Dillinger's body smashed against the dirt, sliding across as he let out a loud grunt of pain, shouting something that could not be heard over a Brahmin mooing in the distance. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his right arm that he landed on tightly and taking a few deep breathes before slowly opening them as he rolled onto his chest. Coyote could be seen slowly standing, the Black Briefcase open next to him, and Dillinger's Red Revolver lying a few inches next to Coyote's left foot.

Dillinger's eyes narrowed as he saw Coyote holding something... a needle, with a black liquid in it. He gave off a grunt, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth as he tried to push himself up, pain exploding through his right arm. He only got to his knees, watching as Coyote injected the needle into him, the liquid flowing from it into his arm.

"What?" Dillinger said in a raspy voice, calm, but weak, "Trying to get... one last fix, before you have to fold?"

"Something like that." Coyote said, his entire body beginning to shake as his eyes dilated. A wide grin formed on his face as he looked at Dillinger, glancing to the Red Revolver that laid near his own foot. "If I am dying today... I am taking this entire damn town with me, starting with you!" He kicked the revolver into the air, catching it swiftly and aiming it at a shocked Dillinger. No one had ever moved that fast in the mercenaries life, not even Benny when he and Dillinger met each other for the second time. "My Pack will know that I did a good job!" Coyote shouted, pulling the back trigger.


A gunshot echoed in the air... blood flew between Dillinger and Coyote, both of there eyes widened... a gust blew, brushing Dillinger's hair slightly and making Coyote's jacket sway as the two looked each other in the eyes, the blood landing on the ground between them.

Coyote suddenly collapsed face-first into the dirt, his body limp as a pool of blood began to form under his body, coming from the hole in his chest.

"What the..." Dillinger muttered, realizing he was still alive as he looked at the body of Coyote for a few moments. His eyes then looked up. There stood Myers, gripping a hunting rifle in his hands and breathing heavily.

"That... was the craziest thing... I have ever seen in my life..." the Sheriff said, Dillinger giving off a relieved sigh and collapsing on his back, looking to the clouds. Two of them that were side by side looked somewhat like the number 38. He raised his hand toward them, clenching it into a fist and sticking his thumb out.

"...Jackpot."




"Keep on walking, Wastelander...."

Oh my god... action scenes are hard to write!!!! Any criticism that can help me make those better would be VERY appreciated!

Come wednesday, Ill edit all of that up to make it more readable. Next episode of Chip-Toss Dillinger will come out Friday or Saturday!

Be exact and remember to write out every action they take, if you wish to write out fight scenes. For example:

Gabriel pulled the trigger. No shots were fired, the raider was still alive. As the emeny drew near, Gabreil held his rifle like a baseball bat, smashing the raider's temple. The force of the blow shook his arms, the wood splintering. Blood and spit sprayed from the raider's mouth, his head snapped back with a loud crack, skull crushed with gray matter and blood oozing.

Good luck!

Edit: But you're fight scenes are fine-great, even. This is just how I write them.

Rightyo. My main concern when it comes to fight scenes is that im either describing way to many things, causing something that takes three seconds to drag on for about a minutes worth of reading, or I hardly describe anything. Hopefully I can develop on that before August comes around.

Real niiiiicccceee. Really, good job. Not too much to complain on. Some grammatical errors with, ellipses(still), commas, and I think a semi colon was needed at one point. But those are small things, I'll focus on the biggest of those tiny things and one other thing that relates more to story telling than grammar. Both of these are about your dialogue.

First off, the grammatical part. When dictating who says what, a comma is used.

"What the hell," I said.

This excludes "!"

"What the hell!" I said.

And "?"

"What the hell?" I asked.

It does not exclude ellipses

"What the hell...," I said.

That sums up the grammatical part of this critique.

The story weaving part. Let me use this as an example:


First glance, nothing appears wrong. That hyphen doesn't seem necessary, but isn't entirely out of place, no need for a comma since it's an exclamation. But the problem lays here:



You don't need to tell us that he shouted, we know that from the exclamation mark and the actions that came before it. Telling us is almost redundant, though it could be there just to point out who is talking, you already gave an indicator before. That means you don't need the shout,said, yelled, whispered, etc stuff. Just the:


Allowing the dialogue to stand on it's own is a good thing. Usually all a writer really needs is "said", and most of the time they don't even need that, just letting the dialogue be. But sometimes there is a need for a shout, moan, assured, confided, to make it more clear reader. That is entirely up to your discretion. This is a hard line for me to draw, cause a lot of it relies on style of writing, and I don't want to cramp your style. But I think these are basic enough dialogue tips.

Regardless of your style, never write something like:

"I don't like the taste if raw lemons," he grimaced.

"We should tell him about his car," she chuckled.

Go ahead, chuckle a sentence. Besides sounding utterly ridiculous, it's almost physically impossible.

Not much else to say. Session two, I'll try to give more tips top help the story and not so much the grammar.

Good Luck.

Thanks Ytrium! Im still trying to get the hang of ellipses. I think Ill just save them for suspense and sad scenes only from now on.

Come Wednesday Ill post a edited version of this up on fanfic net and get to work on Session 2. From the looks of the poll, we will be having Dillinger and Brigg go down a manhole with a ghoul and having them get in trouble with his pet geckos during the one second of time that takes place between Friday and Saturday.

Oh my god Ytrium, you were not joking about those ellipses and how i abuse them. I have gone through and edited everything up, tried to make it more readable. I noticed that my describing tends to stick to minor details that people could probably put together without wording, so I will try to cut back on that as well. And finally, the dialogue seems to be... to much of it.

EpisodeTwo will fix all of these problems, I promise. And speaking of Episode Two, it looks like Ill release the segments of it in this order. Friday morning, friday night, saturday morning, saturday night.

From this point on, all Episodes of Chip-Toss Dillinger will come out in that order. I hope you all are looking forward to reading it as much as I am looking forward to reading your feedback!

He was falling from the Lucky 38, glass shards with him. The rain pelted his face as the blood rose off his chest, his body becoming numb. Suddenly, memories began to flood him. Memories of the life that was about to end.

He was shooting back to back with Benny, the two of them surrounded by NCR Veterans that had there carbines firing at them. On the other side of the Hoover Dam, Legion soldiers could be seen charging forward... only for a massive blast to engulf them, knocking them into the water. All but one. A raven-black haired man stood, walking through the flames in a black trench coat. He held in his left hand a Chinese General's blade. His right eye had the tattoo of a Valkyries wing. A gunshot rang in the air, as the memory changed.

Dillinger was now lying in bed, stroking the cheek of a brown haired woman whom slept. Her eyes slowly opened, a violet color that Dillinger never did figure out the story of. It didn't matter. They were beautiful to look at, no matter how many secrets they had behind them. She looked back to Dillinger, smiling slowly and gently grabbing his wrist.

"Daniel.... it's time for us to go." she whispered, a soft, knowing smile forming on Dillinger's lips.

"Yeah... one final lottery. Maybe if we are lucky, we will get the jack pot. Pay off these debts once and for all. You and me can finally be alone. We won't have to worry about Benny.... about Mars."


Another gunshot, and the memory shattered, Dillinger's eyes opening to reality.

He had his head against the wooden counter of Vick and Vann's bar. Giving off a groan, Dillinger slowly lifted it up and ran a hand through his hair. In his left hand, a empty shot glass was visible. In his right, his red revolver. He looked to it for a moment while listening to some Blues coming from the radio nearby.

"Veronica... you always were in my thoughts. Even after that day." He gave off a sigh as the song came to a end, a Vegas-Accented voice suddenly shouting in the empty bar.

"What is up my babies! John Red here, playing all your depressing blues, just for you!" Dillinger gave off a agitated grunt, grabbing a nearby bottle and pouring its contents into his shot glass, gulping it down and repeating. "Today marks the anniversary of Chief Benny's victory at Hoover Dam! Now, the good boss himself has asked me personally to teach all the new kids on the block a little history lesson of our beautiful empire!"

"Chief Benny ehh?" Dillinger grunted, looking the empty casino over. 2:46 AM read a clock on the wall. "Keep talking."

"Nearly five years ago, there was war. Chaos! Tension! The beautiful city of New Vegas was run by the evil Mr.House!" the voice rang loudly, echoing throughout the empty Casino. Dillinger was in the process of lighting himself a cigarette, smirking.

"Go on."

"The bald-bastard, Caeser and his right hand man, General Mars sought to control the land! [censored] the woman! Train the children! EAT THE MEN! And the NCR? They were willing to provide order, yes. But who here want's to take orders from some masked chums that worship bears. I sure as hell didn't, and neither did Benny and some friends of his!"

"Is that what they call me now?" Dillinger took a drag from the Cigarette, pouring himself another glass and gulping it down. "And then what happened, John Red?"

"There was of course, Mr.House. He was the meanest of em. Nasty little robots everywhere, you dig? I didn't. And neither did Benny and his friends! So, what did they do? They got together, united a bunch of tribes like The Boomers and The Great Khans together! Rigged the game using the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel chums hate for one another to there advantage! And man oh man, I almost forgot. Benny and some chump known as The Courier both made one hell of a NASTY ruckus over at the Legion's fort! Killed Caeser, blew the place apart. Proceeded to Mr.House afterward s!"

"You forgot the part regarding-" Dillinger was interrupted by the obnoxious man on the radio.

"AND THEN! Mars! That little cold blooded bastard gathered what little remained of the Legion, and initiated a attack! Anyways, the rest is common history that you can find by asking the locals, good newcomers. What Benny really wants me to talk to you about today, is how hard he has worked to keep the Alliance he forged in tact. Day and night, he works to keep the tribes feeling happy. Delivers to The Boomers, escorts for The Great Khans. Who can forget his generosity toward the Legion chumps? He went so far as to let remnants of them form a tribe under his command! Nice guy, right? But, there are people that want to crush this fine empire. Fools like the uh, Red Fang. The NCR from the West. Legion heretics from the east. But folks, these threats are nothing compared to those that are on the inside. Those that are quite good at uh, backstabbing... and it was no more then four years ago when a threat of that sort presented itself."

Dillinger gave off a yawn, though a small flare of frustration had burst through him. Not only was Red John's voice irritating him, and he was being as confusing as humanly possible for this little history lesson. It was as if he wasn't even trying to hide the fact he was reading off a script. Pathetic.

"Yes folks, even a man as beautiful and charming as Benny get's back stabbed. A plan was made to KILL the poor guy! His good old friend we called The Courier wanted the power all for himself and his little lady, you see? But smooth old Benny, he knew the game better then The Courier. He killed that lying, back stabbin traitor and his little girlfriend in a damn HEA-"

Four gunshots rang through the empty casino as Dillinger emptied the bullets of his revolver into the radio, sparks flying from the poor thing. His eyes narrowed as the glass in his hand shattered, cutting into the skin. He gave no reaction, sweat rolling down his forehead as he pulled the back trigger, about to fire a fifth shot into the destroyed radio.

"If your going to tell lies," he said, not in his calm voice he usually carried around, "You better make sure that you make them sound like facts, John Red. Not something your reading because someone is holding you at gunpoint."

"You know kid, it ain't nice to talk to something that can't hear you." Brigg's voice said from behind, Dillinger turning and looking at him... no... glaring at him. "Need a mop for your hand?"

"What could you possibly want? It's almost three in the morning." Dillinger dropped his revolver onto the counter, giving off a sigh as he began to pull the glass shards from is hand.

"Well, I have some news that may interest you," Brigg said, seating himself at the counter and tossing Dillinger a dusty rag, "I got us a new job, for a very heavy sum of caps. From a ghoul to, so maybe he has some know-how on the Virtibird."

Dillinger gave off a smirk, pulling the last glass shard out of his hand and wrapping the rag around the cuts. "How much do you mean by 'a very heavy sum of caps', Brigg?"

"Ten-K, kid." Brigg said with a smile, Dillinger's eyes widening. That was a lot of money, considering the fact no one dared to play Caravan with him anymore. "But... there's a catch."

"Always is. What would that be?" A smile was already on Dillinger's face as the thought of all the cigarettes he would soon have grew bigger and bigger, like a balloon.

"We are being payed to clear his friend's and his home of Geckos."

The Balloon in Dillinger's head went POP as his heart sank. "Brigg," he said quietly, closing his eyes and giving off a sigh of frustration, "tell him to get someone else to feed his lizards."


[[Chip-Toss Dillinger]]
[[Episode Two: Ghoul's and Gecko's, Gecko's and Ghoul's]]

What? Veronica dyed her hair and become Dillinger's LOVER? Cool.

I was honestly not even aware that there was a character in the game named Veronica... oh well. ITS MY DAMN STORY, ILL UPDATE IT WHEN I WANT, AND HOW I WANT! *stumbles around drunkly and falls out of the Lucky 38*

To be serious though. Sorry about the wait. This goes to show that when you are in the writing business, don't make any deadlines cause your not going to make them X_X. ))

"So who is this guy anyways?" Dillinger and Brigg walked side by side. It had been six hours since there little talk in the bar and Dillinger felt he was sober enough to do work. Today, he was sporting a dark green shirt and black pants, his red revolver attached to his hip. He ran a hand through his hair and gave off a yawn as the two walked the bridge that separated Primm from the old NCR tents that had managed to survive over the past few years. "You said he was a ghoul. He isn't going to eat my brain is he?"

"Hey now, don't talk that way about ghouls," Brigg said as they walked toward a small tent that looked like it had been recently adjusted, "They are people to you know?"

"Yeah yeah, five years ago I went around with one that was a engineer after saving him from Black Mountain." Dillinger gave off a smirk as he slid a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it. "Funny thing is I saved him on complete accident. I was looking to see if a Super Mutant I had encountered in the old Repcon Facility happened to find any Stealth Boys that I could use for some snooping around Novac... did I ever tell you about the Repcon Facility? I met the funniest guy there, thought he was a ghoul because he was going bald."

"Nah, you never tell me anything about your past. As for our client, from what I can tell he is just some ex-scientist or something." Brigg gave off a shrug as he pushed a tent flap out of the way, gesturing to the inside. "See for yourself." Dillinger walked in, seeing a heavily-scarred ghoul with a black mustache and brown eyes in a chair, his fingers locked together as he looked to Brigg, then to Dillinger. Dillinger felt his stomach to a backflip for some reason as he looked in the ghouls eyes... was that pure hate he saw for a moment? Or was he still a little drunk.

"You must be the one your friend speaks so highly of," the ghoul said, wearing a scowl. His hands adjusted the lab coat he wore for some reason, "Call me John Smith. I hear you can help my friends and I with a little Gecko infestation we have?"

"I hate geckos, alot," Dillinger said as he took a puff of his cigarette, "They move to fast, you can't shoot them, but most of all there damn mouths are to big. Ever been to Vault 34? The ones there are ridiculous."

"You don't say." John Smith gave off a sigh, closing his eyes, "Yeah, Vault 34 is one hell of a place. Anyways, the fact that you stand before me says that you are ready to take on this job.. you are ready to take on this job, right?"

"Not really, but I will anyways." Dillinger gave off a sigh, tossing his cigarette onto the floor and crushing it out, "When do we start?"

"Now," John Smith slowly rose, beginning to walk outside the tent, "Follow me. And make it snappy!" Dillinger and Brigg passed each other a look before following him out of the tent and on a path south.

---------

"When you said clear geckos out of your home, this isn't what I had in mind," Dillinger said with agitation as he looked down the open manhole that John Smith, Brigg, and himself stood over. A nauseating smell was emitting from below. "It smells like poop that was left to rot for centuries."

"Yeah... I think that's what it is," Brigg said with a sigh, picking up the crowbar he used to pry open the manhole. "Unless, you have some experiments going on down there John?"

"Not at all," John said, gesturing to the manhole, "after you two." Dillinger gave off a irritated grumble as he slowly began to climb down the rusty ladder, muttering about how it would collapse any second and land him in a pile of lizard poop. Brigg followed, the ladder giving off a creak as he climbed down. Finally, the ghoul descended, landing on the concrete below.

"It smells really bad down here. Why does it smell really bad down here?" Dillinger looked the underground over. They were in what appeared to be some sort of a dried up river, two platforms at there sides. A skeleton could be seen laying against a wall with a sign that said 'The End is Extremely Fackin Nigh' near it.

"Stop complaining kid," Brigg grumbled as the three began to walk forward, John Smith's hands in his lab coat, "Back during the grand battle between The Enclave and The Brotherhood at Death Valley about... thirty years ago was it, we had to smell the stench of our dead brothers."

"Well aren't you just a joyful sack of rainbows?" They made a left turn down the corridors, reaching two steel doors and a terminal. The ghoul raised a hand to them, typing something into it. The doors slid open, revealing a messy room with a map on a wooden table, and a yellow lamp.

"Right, let's get to the briefing..." John Smith said, walking to it.

[[Chip-Toss Dillinger]]