† Fallout: New Vegas †

【Save your flattery. I'm not in this for admiration. I'm in it for survival.】

Art ✎ Rusembell

As the night settled over Novac, Boone found himself perched atop the familiar watchtower, his keen eyes scanning the darkness that enveloped the town. The night was quiet with an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind and the distant howls of coyotes.

Boone adjusted the scope of his sniper rifle, his gaze fixed on the desolate horizon beyond the town's limits. His mind drifted, lost in memories of battles fought and comrades lost in the unforgiving wasteland, combined with the loss of his wife. But tonight, there was a different kind of tension in the air, a sense of something similar to danger that prickled at the back of his neck.

Suddenly, he sensed movement behind him, a subtle shift in the air that signaled another presence. Without hesitation, Boone spun around, his rifle trained on the figure that had emerged from the shadows. It was a lone traveler, clad in weathered armor.

Boone's grip tightened on his rifle, his eyes narrowing as he studied the stranger. He knew better than to trust anyone wandering the wasteland, especially under the cover of darkness. But something about this person gave him pause, a sense of familiarity that tugged at the edges of his memory.

"God damnit, don't sneak up on me like that," he growls. "What do you want?"