“HEY WHO IS MAKING ALL THAT RACKET!” An older voice screamed out from the junkyard entrance. A chorus of dog barks followed behind her.

“Shit, that is Ms. Gibson. It is just me, Boone!” He yelled out.

“Boone! What are you doing out here at this time? Shouldn’t you be watching the town right now?” She asked.

We walked to the front of the junkyard. Ms. Gibson was standing there with her shotgun and three of her dogs. They were well trained because they remained next to their owner despite their growling and teeth-bearing. Ms. Gibson had relaxed a little and rested her gun on her shoulder.

“There was an incident, but we took care of it. Have a good night, miss,” Boone said, waving for Franklin to follow.

“She seemed nice,” Franklin joked. His whimsical smile had returned as one of the more important things he wanted to do in Novac had been a rousing success.

“She is probably the nicest person this south of Vegas. Everyone else is too worried about the Legion or some rad-touched animal to be pleasant to strangers,” he sighed.

He was probably right about that. There wasn't much around here that created a healthy lifestyle so people couldn't lead happy lives.

“You didn't explain what you meant by helping people. You said you were a doctor. Like one of those Follower types?” Boone asked.

Franklin tilted his head in confusion. “Followers?”

“The Followers of the Apocalypse. Used to work with the NCR till something happened that made them leave. There is a fort in Freeside that a bunch of them work out of. Help people fight addictions and patch people up for free,” Boone explained. His tone implied he thought them naive, but there was still some respect.

“No, I am not a Follower, but I will be doing some charity. I might tackle things a bit differently, though. They like reactionaries, while I am more proactive with my methods,” Franklin said proudly. One recent time he practiced proactive care was by removing Vulpes Inculta’s head from his body. The world was already better off with his death.

That thought made Franklin shiver a bit. It had only been a few weeks since he was mourning his first ‘murder,’ and here he was, taking pride in another. Franklin momentarily mourned the loss of his innocence before clearing his mind.

“I am going to start by fixing a few of the issues I have heard affecting Vegas. Take water, for example. Farmers draw from old pre-war wells and water pumps. I know a few designs that could help them get more clean water. I will share them and some parts to make them free of charge,” Franklin said.

“Free? Most folks would think about how many caps they could get something like that, and you would just give it away,” Boone said doubtfully. He had stopped and crossed his arms. His dark shades hid his eyes. It was a wonder how he saw at night with those on.

Franklin sighed. When he was still flesh, he had the bad habit of nicotine addiction. It wouldn't have been hard to break the habit, but he kept doing it for some weird reason. This would have been the perfect time to share a cigarette with Boone.

“Two hundred years ago, someone somewhere thought the world wasn't worth it and fired the first shot. Then, across the world, someone else saw the bomb coming and decided that if they were dying, they would take everyone else with them. So they fired back, followed by everyone else doing the same. Now, two hundred years later, we are here fighting over what's left. Worse, some people are using this as an opportunity to spread their ego across the world. To try and become something equal to the end of it all.”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Franklin exhales like he had just expelled a lung full of smoke.

“I am just trying to make the world better than I found it. That means helping everyone and every individual. I will do this for a long time until the work is done and I am no longer needed. Then I will blast off into the stars looking for the next poor group of souls that need a little help.”

Boone lowered his glasses so he could look the doctor in the eyes. “I dealt with a lot of bullshit in my life. Everything you said ain't any different than some of the shit I have already heard.”

He then stared at Franklin for a breath before saying, “I don't know what it is about you, though. You are walking around like I didn’t just put a bullet in your head. You look like it bounced off you. Same with the other shots I got off. I would bet a thousand caps you moved Jeanne’s head away after I fired my gun. There is a lot more to you than you have said,” Boone said, pointing a finger at Franklin’s chest.

“But despite that, I believe you. I have to. Because someone has to give a shit, this world wouldn’t be worth it otherwise.”

Boone stood there for a moment, thinking about that. Franklin didn't think this world had the great power, great responsibility speech but it was what he chose to live his life by. He could help people, so he would.

Boone turned around and started walking back to Dinky. Most of the way there, he asked, “What can you do?”

“I will give you a small hint at my abilities. Curing cancer is child's play for me,” Franklin said with a flat tone.

Happy beeps.

ED-E and Cass were waiting for the two of them by the van. The floating radio drifted over, beeping excitedly at the sight of the two.

“See, your head is still intact, doctor. Guess you ain't that good a shot after all, vulture,” Cass said.

“Vulture? Sure thing, little miss sass,” Boone shot back.

“Enough, you're both pretty. Boone got in a few good shots—good enough that I invited him to join us. It's always good to have someone there to watch your back. How is the prisoner?” Franklin said, opening the back of the van.

The Legion traitor was squirming inside. Her feet were bound together, her hands tied behind her back, and she was gagged. She tried to scream and break her bindings, but Cass had the skills to back up her cowboy persona. This woman would be hogtied until she was dropped off with the NCR.

Boone ripped the gag out of her mouth.

“Boone, sweety. These people have lost their minds. Spent too much time out in radioactive dumps. You gotta help me here,” Jeanne pegged.

Franklin couldn’t believe this level of bullshit.

“I read the bill of sale, Jeanne. I know what you did,” Boone said, venom dripping from his voice.

Jeanne’s face twisted through several emotions, from pleading to anger to a serious resolve. She looked at Boone and said,” She deserves every dick the legion sticks in her. That noisy bitch didn’t care about anything or anyone. Not even you, Boone. All day she bitched about the floorboards being too squeaky or the dust hurting her eyes. She didn’t love you, Boone, and you are better off with her gone.”

Franklin slammed the van door closed before she could say anymore. Boone was seething with rage. He stood there for a minute before tears started to stream from his eyes.

“Cass, can you and ED-E take her down the road to Camp Golf? I recorded her confession and more. We have enough evidence to have her behind bars for the rest of her short and hopefully painful life,” Franklin asked.

“Sure. You gonna take care of the cow murderer now?” Cass asked,

“Yes. Boone, how would you like to help me find a… Moodurer?” Franklin asked.

“...what?” Boone whispered

________

“What the hell?” Boone asked.

“Somebody with a minigun is going to murder one of those Brahim. They are also using a device to make themselves invisible. They Have attacked each night, so we just have to wait for the Moodurer,” Franklin explained.

Boone sighed at the horrible pun.

“Yes, horrifying, isn't it? What kind of monster would do this to a poor, defenseless bicephalic cow?” Franklin said, oblivious to Boone-s disgust.

They were waiting behind a boulder near the McBride farm waiting for something to happen. Franklin was trying to keep Boone's mind off his wife by dragging him into his own world of whimsy and puns.

“Who would have beef with these bovines? By my cowculations this rascal is gonna be udderly cowering in fear of our wrath!”

“...Ugh,” was all Boone could say to the pun moonster.

________

“When he asked us to take care of this bitch, I thought I would be the one driving,” Cass said, annoyed at the fact she was still a passenger in the only functioning car for over 100 square miles.

Snide beeps.

ED-E was sitting in a docking station Franklin built into the dashboard of the van. He had complete control of the van and its systems. From there, he was driving them to Camp Golf, an NCR military base. It was orginally a golf course on the shores of Lake Mead but has now been turned into the regional headquarters for the NCR Rangers in the Mojave.

In the backseat, Jeanne was screaming and trying to break her bonds, but the old woman no longer had the strength to free herself. Her fate was sealed the moment they drove into Novac.

ED-E drove the van over a hill, following the bright lights coming from the north. Upon reaching its peak, a full view of the New Vegas Strip’s neon lights twinkled in the distance. A monument to human survival and, more importantly, their greed.