Fallout: NV Time to get a move along

Fallout: NV Mojave Express

All Italicized passages contained in quotation marks are directly from the game and are NOT MY WORK,  all rights belong to Bethesda Softworks for Fallout New Vegas so please don't kick my ass! 

"With the expansion of Post-apocalyptic society across the American Southwest, courier groups such as the Mojave Express have appeared to take on the difficult task of carrying letters and packages over enormous distances"  -Fallout  New Vegas loading screen

 Today was my second time getting to deliver an important package, over such a long distance. Couriers are what they called us and there are six to be exact. At the exact moment that I opened the door to the Mojave Express' office, the chatter stopped. All seven individual's attention was on me. I smoothed the material of my overalls with my gloved hands, nervously. The only person that I had not recognized was a man at the front desk. He was pretty tall and possessed a muscular build, his hair was short and twisted into thick, dark brown dreads. Beads decorated only a few of his short locks. The man was almost my color in skin tone but just a bit darker. The most dazzling characteristic about him was..his voice. It was like rolling thunder and caused a shiver to run down my spine. I clung to the open doorway, watching curiously as the unknown man talked to my boss, Johnson Nash. "Are you positive?" Nash questioned him, raising a dusty eyebrow. His only response was a pat of the desk's wooded surface and a curt nod before moving away turning toward me. I visibly shrunk before him, anger etched his aged but handsome face.

"Excuse me I can't leave if you're blocking the doorway," the comment was short but louder than I expected it to be, making me jump. Up close, he towered over me, his figure blocking the lights. His eyes were a pale bluish-grey, which I hadn't noticed before now.

"O-oh! I'm sorry.." I slithered my way around him into the office, accidentally brushing along his thick arm. The scent of sweat and earth invaded my nostrils upon passing him. He took a last look at me with those depressingly shallow blue eyes, then he was gone.

"This one is yours," Nash's voice broke my train of thought.

"Yes sir," Handing me the clipboard with a weary expression, Nash turned to finish stacking mail in their correct cubes behind him, in the 'Mail Wall' as he called it. But..it was just that, a mail wall.

I signed out next to my name briefly eyeing the black-ink scribbled blotch underneath it. The only visible letter of the name was the first, a 'U'. That was most likely the guy who had left only seconds  ago. After signing the clipboard I handed it back to Nash taking my package in my left arm after tying my hair. Wrapping it into a tight bun and covering my head with a large wide-brimmed beige hat as well as covering my face with a dingy and faded blue scarf.

"Hey. I appreciate the work you gal and guys do.." the older man announced, interrupting the conversations of the other, male, Couriers. "...and I just wanna say, like I always say, be safe," with that he shook our hands allowing us to finally file back out into the hot, dry air of the town known as Primm. Primm is often called the other New Vegas, for it's small casino is close enough to home for most gamblers and settlers. The Bison Steve Hotel owners were notorious for promising to fix the long forgotten roller coaster that ran the building's grounds, also promising to bring the town more visitors, if done. 

Neither ever happened.

A couple feet in front of the Express office my left foot caught a dip, in the ground, catching me off guard. And I fell, pretty hard.
"Ow!" I grunted falling over hard onto my knees, balancing on one hand as the other clutched the package tightly. Letting out a weary sigh and turning over, facing the Mojave office, to sit momentarily, my knees ached, throbbing rhythmically. I pushed my hat's brim up revealing the building's giant, orange letters. M-O-J-A-V-E E-X-P-R-E-S-S.

In an entirely different time-frame, I sat staring at the giant letters. Just as I had that day, long ago. The first day of an important chapter flashed before my eyes in an instant. And was gone all the same. I moved back toward the dead man reaching into his pockets finding a small scrap of paper reading: 

"You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until the delivery is complete.." And so on. At the bottom of the old scrap was familiar cursive writing reading: Courier 4. 

In the distance, I could hear shouting and guns being fired hurriedly I opened the screen door to the office and crawled inside to safety. 

It was dark, and the air was so heavy and hot. I thought I might suffocate. I sat in silence for several minutes while the shouting and shots died down. I had sat still for so long that the aches and pains of my body presented themselves to me again. 

Scooting along the wall, to the right and away from the door I slide up the wall in a standing position only to be scared half to death when the dim, buzzing lights flicked on. Immediately tears stung my eyes in memory, the shop's appearance registered briefly while I was outside. Inside, was a different and completely nostalgic tale. I remembered everything to be in the exact same space they sat in, a layer of dust accumulating on top was the only change. The posters above the mail boxes, the Mojave Express drop boxes, the radio that used to play while we waited for our orders. All the same. My boots thumped against the old wooded boards of the creaky floor, I stood in front of the desk now.

Blankly staring ahead to the space ahead, where my former boss would stand. My memory could not place a face with his name, which saddened me. My fingers trembled running along the desk's dirty surface and my breath left in a quivering sigh from my dry lips. This place...I thought I'd never see it again. Atop the desk in a heap of scrap metal, cogs and dust was an eyebot next to the old radio. Turning the knobs the thing had not made a sound, but banging it's top in frustration produced a series of static before a whisper of a song's lyrics reached my ears. The radio's light blinked on and the static would interrupt from time to time, but it was just fine. As for the eyebot, I wiped my broken nose along my sleeve once again, beginning to reattach the mechanical guts back inside the robot's interior. I had read many Pre and Post war books about these things, miraculously learning enough to fix one for real. It took a good while to put it together right, testing it several times resulted in nothing. Most of the trials. A license plate on it's metal plate read: ED-E, a series of frenzied beeps rung in my ears. This time the bot vibrated and rose shakily from it's side. The hum and crunch of the inner cranks being turned widened my eyes in surprise. It ascended to a height a couple of inches above my head turning from side to side as if it was looking around in search of some missing thing. The antennas nearly gouging me several times.

My mouth turned up into a delightful smile. Maybe the Wasteland wasn't as bad as I thought. 

 Anyone wanna take a guess as to who the guy is that leaves the Mojave Express building in the beginning of the story? 

 P.S. Again, the words in Italics isn't my work. Fallout New Vegas and it's content belongs to Bethesda Softworks, meaning all rights GOES TO THEM!