For once, the Courier wished Benny could have aimed better.

Sure, it would have meant the Mojave would have gone the way of the dodos what with all the shit that had been going down but at least he wouldn't have to go through this hell. He just wanted to enjoy his bottle of home-brewed wasteland-brand tequila in peace.

"Six... Si~ix... He~ey..."

And not worry about four brats who had just come from another dimension. Seriously, did he stab himself on a hallucinogenic cactus or something? Who were this kids? How the fuck did you all end up here in the first place?

Blondie right next to him was piss drunk and going on mood swings. She would always start off with a brawl then after a few good minutes of her swinging her fists at him (until that one time when he snapped and socked her so hard she was out cold for half a day), she would start slurring about how she missed Remnant and how the wasteland was cool and how Remnant was better but the wasteland was cooler...

"Have y'ever thought of...y'know...shooting someone...with a baseball bat?"

The Courier exhaled. "No."

Yang burst out laughing. And doubled over the stool inside the abandoned gas station they were in, completely passed out after one too many shots of whiskey. Which he initially intended for himself. Hence the home-brewed tequila.

And to think he could finally get some alone time, here comes Red and Black. Oh, correction. Ruby and Blake. No, more appropriately, Hyper and Cat-girl.

"So what's it like in Vegas? Is it like Vale? Can we go in all the fancy hotels? Do they still take bottle caps there? If the NCR's there, does that mean we can use paper money now? Six? Hey, Six! Si~ix!"

The Courier groaned. "What."

Blake sighed and pulled Ruby off of him before she could batter him with even more questions. "She ate something that we found in the trash outside."

Goddamn it. "What did she eat this time?"

"Sugar Bombs. Probably expired. Are they even safe?"

The Courier let out a low growl as he massaged his temples. "For Hyper, no. She's sugar high, ain't she." Great. Hyper's got a damn sweet tooth.

"Pretty much."

Six glanced behind him to see Yang snoring on the floor, drooling over her yellow ballistic fists with the words 'Ember Celica' embossed on the wrists, and Blake keeping Ruby from bouncing off the walls. Orange beams filtered through the boarded up windows. Dusk was fading into night. The next stop was a long walk away on this stretch of interstate that hid more surprises than a professional cheater in a poker game. There was no risking that with these little shits hanging off his arm.

Could've saved precious mileage if it weren't for these damn kids. So much for making good time. Better hunker down for the night. Wait. Headcount: Blondie, Hyper, Cat-girl...

"Where's Snowball?"

"The bathroom stalls were caved in so Weiss went looking for a shrub," Blake answered nonchalantly as she kept her iron grip on the back of Ruby's collar.

A shrub? Here in the desert? "Oh. Well, it's getting dark so get her inside before the radroaches—"

An ear-piercing shriek ripped through the dry stillness from behind the gas station. Ruby, Blake, and the Courier bolted out of the building ready to take on the worst only to find Weiss furiously freezing an entire colony of giant ants surging out of an ant mound that had been so conveniently unearthed by the previous day's sandstorm. From the looks of it, the problem had already been dealt with. Weiss stood there, gripping her bottoms, panting and horrified with her weird revolver-rapier—she called it 'Myrtenaster' for some reason—aimed towards the rather macabre ice-statue of oversized fire ants crawling up on top of each other.

"Weiss, are you alright?" Ruby asked, her oversized shape-shifting gardening tool that she stupidly named 'Crescent Rose' planted firmly into the ground.

"I think she's fine," a vexed Blake said, sheathing her own weird pistol-sword combo. Yes, even that had a name: 'Gambol Shroud.'

"How the fuck... Did you piss on top of an ant mound?" the Courier demanded. "How did you not see that?"

Weiss saw him staring and nearly froze his legs on impulse. "Don't look!"

Oh, that's right. She wasn't wearing anything below the waist because she was busy doing her business on top of a damn ant mound. The Courier growled on the way back inside. He could feel an aneurysm coming on. And it wasn't from either the bullets Doc Mitchell pulled out of his head or all the other crap that had been shoved in there since then.

Later that night, the Courier awoke groggily to Ruby poking his side with the blunt end of her mechanical scythe-rifle hybrid. He turned on his side and hissed, "What is it?"

"I have to go pee."

Six blinked. "Then pee."

"But what if I pee on a giant ant hill or...or a camouflaged mole rat colony?"

The Courier ended up lying flat on his back on the old communal mattress that was shared by every passing traveler this side of the interstate. "You're smart enough to know what they look like."

"But it's dark. And I can't see without your Pip-boy light."

You have got to be fucking kidding me, woman, his mind screamed."Can't you just use your Dust or Semblance thingies to see in the dark?"

"That's not how it works," Ruby said. Pouting.

The Courier swore he could see her pouting in the dark. "You're a big girl. Go pee outside."

"But Si~ix..."

Try as he might to ignore her, she only kept poking him and poking him and poking him until he finally snapped, got up, and gracelessly dragged her by the arm outside and to a patch of clear ground away from Weiss's frozen ant sculpture. Hyper seemed happy to finally have some privacy behind a cactus...that was about the size of his boot.

"Don't look," she squeaked.

The Courier let out an annoyed hiss. His back was already turned. "Just get it over with. We got a long way to go in the morning."

"But it's already morning."

"Shut up and pee, already."

They all woke up to another sandstorm. A really strong sandstorm. So strong, in fact, that the sand could essentially flay off exposed skin after a good while, effectively trapping them all inside the gas station until it passed. It didn't help that visibility outside fell to at most two feet.

"I miss Remnant," Ruby moaned over the whistling desert, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, I miss it, too," Blake admitted beside her.

"Aw, this place isn't that bad," Yang chirped from the floor.

"I beg to differ," Weiss mumbled behind her knees.

At the counter, the Courier poured himself a shot of home-brewed tequila. Their trip to New Vegas was delayed (again) but at least he could finally enjoy some extra bonding time with his alcohol. And maybe pretend that this was all just a dream and he would wake up by himself without ever having to worry about four high-maintenance teenage brats who would bitch and whine about anything and everything...

"A little too early to drink, eh, Six?"

Son of a bitch. "Shut up, Yang."

"Not wise to start your day drunk," Blake admonished.

"I agree. What would happen if this sandstorm subsided and you were too intoxicated to lead us to Vegas?" Weiss ranted. "What would happen if suddenly raiders storm in or those mutant monstrosities start tearing through the windows like Grimm and you're too drunk to shoot straight?"

Ruby poked him in the side. "You should try some Sugar Bombs. They're a good energy boost. Better substitute to that this early in the morning. Hey, let's have Sugar Bombs for breakfast and lunch! Oh, maybe dinner too!"

In his mind, the Courier was strangling these brats. But alas, he could only controllably exhale with as much patience as he could muster and let his liquor slosh in the glass. Why me? Why the fuck do I have to babysit these brats? Why are they even here? Why, why, why, goddamn it, why?

He really wished Benny could have aimed better.

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: January 29, 2018

LAST EDITED: January 28, 2020

INITIALLY UPLOADED: January 29, 2018

NOTE (Jan. 29, 2018): It's an hour passed midnight and my mind's going places.