The Number Six
Person of Interest
Well, this might be one of the strangest things I've ever written.
It's a one shot for now but I may continue this if anyone's interested.
Fallout: New Vegas belongs to Bethesda/ Obsidian Entertainment
Akame Ga Kill belongs to Takahiro and Tashiro Tetsuya
He had spent over six months in this joint and he was still...unimpressed. Not really angry but annoyed enough to show it. The Courier let out a puff of smoke as he looked out the window overlooking the street below. The Imperial Capital, it didn't have such an impressive name. It was big sure and grand but he felt that it was more akin to looking at a golden turd. Yeah it was nice looking and all but it was still a piece of shit.
And the crime rate. Christ fucking almighty, it was easier to keep track of who he didn't punch in the throat. Pickpockets, murderers, even rapists. To make matters even worse not only was the capital on the road to Shitsville it was surrounded on all sides by dangerous tribes. Even better there was a revolution growing both inside and outside the capital. Inside there was a jolly crew of assassins going around killing people left and right. Outside was the revolutionary army. Awesome vacation spot my ass, the Courier mused. He should have never taken a brochure from that asshole back in the last town he visited.
The Courier let out another puff of smoke as he finished off his cigarette in irritation. The Courier scratched his nose idly as he relaxed his shoulders. No need to be angry right now. The Capital may have been a miserable shit-pit compared to New Vegas but the pay was pretty good to be honest. Even if the 'nobles' here were corrupt, money grubbers they had connections. Connections meant ammunition. Connections meant power. That was how one took over a city, connections. Do favors for people and they owe you. And when everything was said and done, reap the rewards. Rinse, repeat. Simple as that.
The Courier, who usually went by the name Marcus, was a bit on the short side with a lean frame which was usually hidden by armor. His Elite Riot Gear lay in sections on his bed. The helmet which held a combination of low light optics and gas mask, was next to his left forearm. Its red optics glared ominously at the door. Marcus was wearing a dark colored shirt and baggy work pants. His boots were next to the door. The Courier had dark, tanned skin which was a result of his travels in the Mojave. His dark hair was short and unkempt. Cold indigo eyes glared out from behind his bangs. His sharp, young features said that he was in his twenties. His hardened eyes said that he was two hundred. The Courier was not the nicest looking sort and as one of the deadliest men in the Mojave it showed in his eyes just how far he had come from being buried alive in the graveyard of a small town called Goodsprings.
"Going out again mister Courier?" The Innkeeper said with a ratty smile. Rat Fucker, was what Marcus called the innkeeper out of earshot. He said his name was Gabe or something like that. He had a ratty face.
Hence why the Courier called him Rat Fucker out of earshot.
"Yep," the Courier answered politely as he clipped his helmet onto his belt. "Got a little social gathering going on, some noble wants me to escort his daughter at the ball. Folks have been disappearing so I've heard."
"Aye, the rebellion's been getting worse and..." Rat Fucker's voice got all quiet like and he leaned in close. "I hear assassins are out and about now."
"Well," Marcus said arching one of his brows. "Best be careful then. I'll be back in a few. Have a good night."
"Aye you too mister Courier," Rat Fucker nodded his head politely. "Please enjoy yourself."
Bodyguard duty wasn't exciting but if you were good at your job you got a bunch of recommendations.
Lord Amsel Brimley and Lady Brimley were fat, obnoxious and greedy. But they were, ironically enough, very generous with their money towards good mercenaries. Marcus, who had caught their eye back when he was busy choking the life out of some thief who tried to stiff him, was offered a simple job. When he was done blasting some poor bastard's head off with his gun, they were quite pleased with his results and offered more money as they were preparing a small party for their daughter. Amsel commented that he wanted everything to be perfect for their precious daughter.
So they wanted the best guards and since the Imperial Guard were currently getting slaughtered...
That same daughter, Janice Brimley, was currently chatting up one of her friends while he leaned against the wall just checking the area. Guards were on patrol outside and due to his own particular skill set he was one of the few allowed inside. Standing there in his full gear, Marcus wasn't approached by anyone especially after they got a glimpse of the guns he had on his person.
The ballroom smelled like shit, perfume permeated the place alongside several other odors of bodily nature. The Courier crossed his arms as one of the other mercs the Brimleys hired walked over. He recognized the guy as a man named Carver. Wearing a pretty good looking set of armor his skull like iron mask was strapped to his belt. A sleek looking assault rifle was slung over his shoulder. Marcus met Carver when he got hired for guard duty by the Brimley family. It wasn't a close relationship. But it was close enough.
Carver nodded grimly to Marcus who offered the man a cigarette. Both decided to smoke, the ballroom smelled like shit anyway. Who was gonna complain about a little smoke?
"Damn...these are good." Carver commented to Marcus.
The Courier shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "Anything interesting?"
"Apart from passing by a gangbang in one of the corridors? Nah." Carver puffed out some smoke. "Sick fucks, the lot of them."
"Hey, they pay me well." Marcus said. "I'm good so long as they don't mess around with my paycheck."
"A true mercenary," Carver chuckled taking another puff. "I wish I had your fortitude."
Marcus took his own puff before letting out smoke from his mouth. He was bored. All those times he spent battling for his survival in the Mojave and he was bored.
"Well, in a city of sick fucks you learn how to take it." Marcus said with a scornful laugh. "Hey who knows? Down the line maybe we'll get hired to waste the lot of them."
"Jeez man turn it down!" Carver whispered harshly. "Walls have ears!"
Marcus shrugged and apologized. Truth be told it didn't matter to him either way. He had a plan for killing anybody he met, even Carver, cantankerous bastard that he was. The Courier finished his cigarette as the lights started flickering. The fuse box must be overloaded or something, goddamn idiots probably didn't realize how much of a drain having all these lights on was having on the fuse box. Far be it from him to tell these degenerates how to take care of their houses. In the Mojave he'd have killed to have one of those chandeliers in his quarters at the Big MT. Then again the Light Switches would have probably complained.
They flickered again and finally darkened. The estate was in total darkness and apart from what lights the city outside had it was pretty goddamned dim. The guests started murmuring in confusion. Janice Brimley looked upset and yelled at a servant to check what was going on. The young man who had his head between her legs also looked around confused.
Marcus pulled his helmet on as he shrugged his weapon's sling off his shoulder. It was a Brush Gun, a lever action rifle that fired .45-70 Gov't rounds. Beastly stopping power combined with high accuracy. It had shed more than its fair share of blood in the Mojave and in the six months that the Courier had spent in the Imperial Capital it was one of his favorite weapons in the Mojave.
"Damnit," Carver said as he chambered a round into his assault rifle. He pulled on his mask. "Looks like we have to earn our pay now."
"Cheers." Was the calm answer. "I'll go check out the fuse box, see if I can do something about this light."
"I'll stay here and make sure the guests are okay." Carver said. "Go man, I got a bad feeling about this."
In hindsight Marcus should have stayed with Carver. Yeah, he definitely should have stayed with Carver. Because as he ventured to the rear of the estate there were a shit load of bodies. Most of them were...unrecognizable. Marcus rolled over a dead guard and pocketed whatever cigarettes he had. The Courier stowed what he found then went on with his ghoulish journey to the estate's fuse box, looting bodies as he went.
Waste not, want not.
The fuse box was a fucking mess. Even with the experience he had, the Courier knew that there was no way to repair this thing without any spare parts. He wasn't about to go looking for parts anyway because there was no point. Gunfire had erupted on the other side of the manor.
"Damnit." Marcus swore as he ran towards the sound of battle. He had never fucked up this bad before...Maybe he could salvage this still.
The Courier turned the corner and stopped, watching the girl with the giant pair of scissors cut a man in half. It would have been quite ridiculous if the situation hadn't been so serious. Shit.
"I'm sorry," The girl bowed then turned around to look him right in the eye. The Courier responded by standing up and opening fire. Blinking in surprise as the girl seemingly dodged his bullets the Courier kept firing until the girl slipped him.
He kept his sights trained on the area for a few seconds before a second bogey showed up. This one was a guy in what looked like power armor. Holding a spear. The Courier rolled out of the way, barely dodging the attack as the power armored warrior slammed the tip of his spear into the ground, at the very same spot he occupied a few seconds ago. The Courier, lying on his back, fired a couple of shots into the bastard. The rounds bounced off but the effect was enough for the guy to back off. The .45-70 Gov't rounds were only able to dent the guy's shoulder plates. He kept firing watching with some dread as the power armor moved gracefully into cover. He managed to scratch the bastard's armor but it would take a solid, accurate shot to actually punch through to get to the wearer of the armor. The .45-70 Gov't rounds were pretty powerful. He was punching through Deathclaws with ease back in the Mojave.
This was going to be a major problem.
Marcus got back to his feet and drew his pistol, A Light Shining in Darkness, and took aim at the girl with the gigantic scissors who was charging at him. He tapped the trigger twice sending a couple of rounds her way. She dodged them again and this time retreated with her armored buddy. The Courier kept his pistol raised then swore under his breath.
"Here we go." Marcus reloaded his pistol and rifle as he ran into the estate. Not good, not good. These guys must be Night Raid, the jolly group of assassins he'd heard about. Judging from those two they were a high class group. Marcus had faced down the Praetorians and the Legate Lanius himself. He wondered if these guys were just as good.
He chambered a round into his Brush Gun's receiver. The Courier would have to put them to the test then.
"Night Raid." Marcus smiled under his helmet. It was not a good looking smile.
"Targets have been neutralized." Akame sheathed her blade after finishing her gristly work. Behind the assassin lay several dead men. One was already succumbing to Murasame's poison. It mattered not how they died, so long as the target was taken down it was a good end to a long day of work.
As she walked outside she found her partners already waiting for her. Her brow raised as she saw the dents in Bulat's Incursio.
"Are you hurt?" She asked Bulat who shook his head.
"Nah, I'm cool." Was the answer. "But we did meet someone interesting. He's quite a marksman too, barely dodged everything he threw at me."
Sheele nodded in agreement.
Akame frowned. There was a report from one of the spies that a new mercenary was walking around in the Capital. Typically there was nothing to worry about but seeing the dings and scratches on Incursio made her think otherwise. This could get complicated. They had to report to Najenda quickly. The former Imperial general had marked him as a person of interest. More reports said that he had no Teigu to speak off, and yet he was quite the mercenary. It was like he just appeared six months ago. Already during that time he had blazed quite a trail as a ruthless marksman who never seemed to miss. Rebel, Imperial he didn't care who his target was so long as he got paid.
"Let's go home." Akame said turning briskly to walk off.
"You're hungry aren't you?" Sheele asked.
Bulat just chuckled.
The sound of an assault rifle being readied made all three of them stop.
All three Night Raid assassins jumped out of the way as someone fired a full burst of automatic fire at them.
"Retreat now!" Akame barked. "Our job is done!"
When they were finally gone Marcus finally revealed himself holding Carver's assault rifle. He sighed. Everyone was dead or had already fled the scene when Night Raid came around. It was just too bad that his employers were dead. Oh well, at least he could loot their shit before the Imperial soldiers came around. He smiled under his helmet.
Waste not, want not.
Night Raid HQ
"So you succeeded." Najenda finished her cigarette and ground it into the ash tray. "Good."
"There was one other thing." Akame said quietly as she sat down in front of her superior. "Bulat and Sheele encountered your person of interest. He opened fire on us."
Najenda frowned as she considered what Akame had said. Yes, she knew who this mercenary was. No Teigu but had the tendency of doing the impossible anyway. She had heard whispers of the man who calls himself the Courier. Several of their targets had been killed by this stranger. Mine, their resident sniper, said that most of those shots should have been impossible. To hear that from a crackshot Najenda was suddenly very nervous. And very impressed.
The Barley twins, ruthless guardsmen who were famous for their fighting style and high grade armor, were targets she assigned to Mine. When she returned Mine reported that both twins had been killed. Both targets had succumbed to headshots...from one bullet. These men had high grade body armor that was almost impervious to gunfire. The Courier had no Teigu or anything in particular apart from an old looking lever action rifle according to the reports and yet he still killed the both of them in one shot.
"In any case," Najenda shook out of her reverie. "You succeeded and the targets are dead. We'll deal with this Courier later. We have to step up our operations. Go ahead and take a break Akame, I'll be giving you a new target soon."
When Akame left Najenda reached into her pocket for the picture of the Courier. All the spy managed to get was a picture of the helmet he wore. Other than that...there wasn't much they knew about him. Should she recruit him? Probably.
He just might be the edge that she needed.