Boone was using an old bolt action rifle of an unknown make and model. It was chambered in .308.

A bullet fired from his gun has an average muzzle velocity of around three thousand feet per second, which will drop quickly based on distance.

Boone fired a single bullet from his rifle about a hundred yards away. It would enter Jeanne May's skull in less than a tenth of a second or around one decisecond.

Franklin did the math for this shot a few minutes ago because, despite the deal he made with Boone and Jeanne's heinous confession, Franklin was not going to let Boone kill her. There were better ways to heal from tragedy than murder.

Plus, Boone might get more satisfaction from telling her what a bitch she was himself.

One decisecond wasn't a lot, but for Franklin, it was more than enough time to move Jeanne's head out of the way of the bullet's path.

“Fuck,” Boone cursed and lined a second shot.

Franklin quickly moved his body to cover Jeanne’s.

“Looks like he is pissed. Don't move, or he might give you a new breathing hole,” Franklin said, covering her head.

“What the fuck is going on here!?” She yelled.

“Poor Boone up there knows what happened to his wife. He didn't know who, so he asked the only person he could trust, a stranger, to find out who sold out his wife and give him the chance to avenge his wife.”

Her face changed quickly from anger to horror and fear.

“Don't worry. I won't let him kill you," Franklin said. She started to look relieved, but next, he said, “You haven't suffered enough yet.”

He kept her head down and dragged her back to the van. He had the backseat prepped for prisoner containment, so he shoved her in there for now.

A second shot went off, but the trajectory was different from before. It had come from inside the motel's courtyard. Franklin rushed over and found Cass hiding behind the motel's defensive barrier.

“What happened?” Franklin asked.

Cass was holding her shotgun, trying to keep her head down. ED-E was playing a western battle theme floating next to her.

“That bald-headed vulture came running out of the dinosaur and shot at me! Guess he didn't appreciate being betrayed like that,” Cass yelled at Franklin. She was probably not mad about what he did, but he didn't tell her he was going to do it beforehand. Okay, maybe she was a little pissed.

Excited beeps.

“Alright, I will take care of Boone. Can you two keep the townsfolk from interfering?”

“Easily. You can deal with the paranoid sniper,” Cass said.

“It's not paranoia if someone was actually out to get him,” Franklin replied and chased after Boone.

The sniper couldn’t have gotten far in just a few minutes. His military training had more than likely kicked in. Franklin didn’t know what the NCR taught, but Boone definitely knew the area better than him. He is going to want to increase the distance between us as fast as possible. When he feels safe, he will try to hide or find help.

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The closest place is the Helios One Solar Farm. The NCR had apparently been occupying the facility for a while.

Franklin would need to beat Boone there, or he would disappear into it and then probably back into the NCR. The man was hurting and needed to vent his stress, and Franklin dreaded what he might do after that.

FLASH

Or he was gonna fight back.

Boone had fired his rifle from two hundred yards this time. This meant Franklin had about two deciseconds to decide how to react and what to do afterward—plenty of time.

The fastest thing would be to open a hole in his body where he would be hit and let the bullet pass through. Then, he would charge toward Boone. This would probably result in more shooting and some hand-to-hand combat with him. Not the worst decision.

He could let the bullet hit him. It wouldn’t hurt or cause any damage he couldn’t fix. Perhaps even pretend to be dead after. This plan was out because there was no guarantee Boone wouldn’t just continue to run away.

There was the superhuman option. Catch the bullet. This was the most fun and might give Boone some pause. Or it would cause him to run harder. Either way, it was the option Franklin was going to go with.

Franklin grabbed the bullet when it was a foot away from his shoulder. To prevent most of its kinetic energy, he grabbed it with his whole hand. Small streaks of smoke drifted out of his fist.

“Well, at least he seems to be going easy on me,” Franklin commented and ran towards where the shot had been made.

Boone was running west toward a junkyard. Probably trying to use it to put some distance between them by using it as an obstacle. Franklin didn’t want to lose him, so he decided to create two shells and sent them around the outside to catch him if he got through.

“BOONE! Stop, it's not what you think,” Franklin shouted out.

“Yeah, right. I just saw you save your Legion buddy, and I escaped your ambush at the motel. I ain't falling for any more tricks,” Boone said from somewhere in the piles of crushed cars and piles of trash.

“It is not like that man. Jeanne May is the one who sold your wife, but I can’t let you kill her like that. She deserves a lot more than just a bullet in her head, and you need better closure.”

“Closure! I want more than fucking that. I fought at Hoover Dam. I saw what the Legion does to its slaves. They sent out sick and wounded slaves at us first. We tried to save a few, but some had bomb collars. I saw dozens die before the brass sent out orders to kill ANYONE that crossed the damn,” Boone shouted, his gravelly voice filled with rage.

“I am not excusing her, Boone. She will pay, but there is a better way. You don’t have to be a murderer,” Franklin said, moving between stripped cars and following Boone's voice.

“Too late for that. All that I have left is this rifle and the memories,” Boone whispered. It took Franklin’s enhanced hearing to pick that up. Next, he heard a click as Boone chambered his next round. Wherever he was, Boone was ready to take a shot at him… Oh fuck he hoped it was for himself.

“Boone! Life has fucked you over. I know the little piece you took for yourself has been taken from you. You saw some fucked up stuff in the NCR. Hell, this whole world has probably taken something from you at every point, but it is going to get better. I will help you bring the bitch responsible for your wife's enslavement to justice. Then you can join me out there on the road. I plan on helping a lot of people. I can help you, too,” Franklin said, rushing through the junkyard.

BANG

Franklin was worried at first but became quickly relieved when he saw the bullet zooming towards him. At least Boone wasn’t suicidal.

Sadly, there was less than 1/50th of a second to react. This did limit his options a bit, as his speed was limited under 1/25ths of a second. The best Franklin could do was take the bullet to the head. He could tank the damage with no problem.

DIng.

It was still a bullet to the head. Not a pleasant experience, no matter what your body is made of. Franklin decided to play up the hit a bit and fell over, playing possum.

Boone moved from his hiding spot behind an old car door. The doctor had to give this grumpy sniper some credit. They hadn’t spent but a few minutes in this junkyard, but Boone had chosen a perfect place to hide and take cover. He might have even practiced for a scenario like this.

Boone walked over and pointed his rifle at Franklin's prone body.

Franklin quickly rolled towards Boone as a bullet passed through the space he had been in. He then jumped up and grabbed his gun.

Boone tried to struggle, but Franklin’s superior strength made it impossible for him to get his gun back.

“How are you this strong, Gugh,” Boone said, then punched him in the face. His fist collided with what probably felt like a wall of stone. A crack could be heard, and Boone pulled his hand back in pain. “Fuck what are you made of!”

“About 78% steel alloy and another 20% various metals and plastics. The last 2% is a secret,” Franklin said with a wink.

“What?” Boone was stunned and confused. Unsure of what to make of that statement.

“You will understand soon enough. Has the pain helped clear your head for a second,” Franklin said. He was still holding onto Boone's gun, not willing to let the sniper get another shot off.

“Ugh, fine,” Boone said for a moment, then stared silently before speaking again. “Did she really do it?”

Franklin handed him the bill of sale he found in Jeanne’s safe. Boone’s face twisted in fury as he read the letter. A sliver of a tear streaked down his cheek before he pocketed the document.

“We had a deal. You find out who did it and let me handle the rest. Why did you save her?”

“Because it would have been too easy. Because I believe it wouldn’t have been enough to help you. You deserve better than you have gotten. Come with me, Boone. Come help me make this shitty wasteland a lot less shitty.”

Boone stood there for a bit, considering the doctor's words. Franklin didn’t explain how or why he was going to make things better. He also didn’t explain how Jeanne would suffer for what she had done, but Boone didn’t have any better options. There was nothing keeping in Novac now anyway.

“Alright fine.”