Chapter Text
Crocodile blames that dumb-ass Clown for getting him in this position. He doesn't recognize where he is. He's got a growing headache, and to make matters even worse, the guild leader is pretty sure that he'd crushed his only cigar when he fell. He stands, brow furrowed as he looks around; it's eerily similar to Alabasta, though there is an odd tingle in the sand around him as if it's been tampered with.
The devil fruit inside of him recoils at the desert around him, and Crocodile hisses when he attempts to form the sand under him. It had felt like a thousand needles had jabbed him in the hand, and he glared down at the desert like it offered him. Never has his devil fruit reacted this way, and it makes unease curdle in his stomach.
He takes a closer look around, but there is nothing but an endless stretch of desert before him. He grumbles again, more annoyed at his lack of cigar and reactive devil fruit, and begins to walk what he assumes is north. At least it's a desert.
When an hour passes without much change, Crocodile activates his fruit, turning himself into sand and speeding up the process dramatically. His sands keep away from the ground, unwilling to touch the poison that the devil fruit can feel there. The hours pass quickly after that, and he only stops when the sun begins to set and he can spy a mountain range bathed in pinks and oranges.
Crocodile slows to a stop, reforming feet first on an overhang and listening to his immaculate shoes crunch gravel. From here, he can see a tiny cluster of homes with two buildings with neon signs advertising a saloon and a general store.
“Goodsprings?” He grumbles to himself. The place looks like a setting straight out of the Old West. Crocodile reaches for a fresh cigar only to gnash his teeth and curse Buggy straight back to Impel Down when he remembers that he’d left the case back in his tent. Looks like he would need to mingle with the locals.
Crocodile swishes down the bluff, solidifying at the bottom and walking towards the saloon. He comes to a stop, eyes landing on an old man who sits by the door. There are wooden crates stacked on his right side, and the ex-warlord cocks a brow at bold XXX that are labeled on each side.
“You a mutant?”
His eyes flash up to the old man, and Crocodile feels vaguely offended as he steps into the light that floods out of the bar. He smirks when he catches sight of the unease that fills the old man’s eyes.
“Not a mutant, then,” the old man grumbles and stands from his chair, walking forward to rest against the porch pole, “Sure are tall, though. What can I do for ya, son?”
Crocodile shifts his weight, fingers itching for a cigar, “Where are we?”
“Well, this is Goodsprings. Primm is to the south and New Vegas is north. East ain’t nothing but trouble, so you best steer clear of there. West is NCR territory, aren’t from around here are ya?”
The information is welcome, but none of it sounds familiar to Crocodile other than the directions. He’s done extensive research about any desert island, considering who he is, and he doesn’t recall any city or island called Primm of New Vegas, or whatever the NCR was.
“You could say that,” Crocodile rumbles, annoyance taking hold of him. How the fuck had this happened?
“Happens more often than not around here, if you believe it,” The old man fishes a pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket and strikes one up with a match. He glances up and finds the massive, well-dressed man watching him light up, “Name’s Easy Pete, you want one?”
Crocodile wants to say no, but he is closing the distance without putting too much thought and taking the offered smoke. It wasn’t as good as his own brand, far from it, but the smoke felt delightful filling up his lungs.
“Crocodile,” He introduces, not seeing the harm in telling one old man his name in a place where no one knew who he was.
“Ain’t here to cause any trouble, are ya son?”
The devil fruit user smirks at the question. Usually, it would be an automatic yes, but Pete had offered him a smoke…
“Mhm, not around here, no,” Crocodile sucks down the last of his cigarette, disappointed it hadn’t lasted very long.
Pete huffs a laugh, shaking his head and stepping back to drop in his chair, “Good enough for me. Go on inside, Trudy at the bar can set you up with a pack of smokes, or something stronger if that’s what you want.”
Crocodile dips his head in a nod and ducks his head to step inside the saloon. The inside is just as dusty, but it looks homey. There are two young women at the bar, a shaggy mutt below them, and an older lady with salt and pepper hair behind the bar. He ignores the young ones and focuses on her.
“Trudy?”
He is met with a suspicious look and a low growl from the dog, “Yeah? Who wants to know?”
“The old man outside sent me in. I’m new to the area,” Crocodile rumbles and keeps his stance relaxed. No need to frighten the locals, “I need a cigar if you have any.”
Crocodile had already come to the realization that he may not ever get back home in his jaunt through the desert. His memories were a little fuzzy about how he’d gotten here, but he knew that it had to do with one of Vegapunk’s engineered devil fruits and one of Buggy’s crew trying to prove something to their dumbass captain. It had gone bad the second the fake fruit had time to digest, the man exploding into a swirling green portal that had sucked the closest person into and then closed. That person had been none other than him because of course it was.
So if he the once great and powerful warlord had to make nice with the local hicks of this place, then so be it.
Trudy drops her shoulders when she sees that the newcomer in her saloon keeps a pleasant tone, “Yeah, I got some around here. Gonna cost you caps though. You know what those are, Stranger?”
“Must be the type of currency you use here. Unfortunately, I find myself short,” Crocodile grouches, but stands tall, “I’m not above working.”
“I’ll cover him.”
Crocodile cuts his purple eyes to the woman who spoke up. He takes her in, rather plain looking with naturally tan skin and short black hair. She smiles at him, and he can hear a faint accent edging her words, even with how careful she is with her pronunciation. Slow and careful, as if she is learning how to speak again.
“What’s your name?” he demands. Crocodile doesn’t appreciate any kind of pity. The ex-warlord isn’t expecting the woman to shrug, her smile turning strained.
“I do not know. Six was good enough.”
Crocodile can’t help but laugh, finding it amusing that this slip of a woman goes by a number. It reminds him of Baroque Works and his status as Mr. Zero. He steps further into the room, coming to a stop by the woman who looks a little fearful at his approach.
“Well, Six. You can call me Crocodile. I’ll take you up on the offer.”
He is hit with another grin and Trudy sighs as she fishes out a box of prewar cigars and sets it on the bar counter. Crocodile casts his eyes over them, once again unimpressed as he selects the freshest-looking one of the bunch. He cuts the tip with a smart slice of his hook and Six holds out a lighter for him when she sees him looking for one. He inhales a lung full of smoke, and breathes it out and up towards the ceiling.
“What brings you this way, Crocodile?” The blonde asks curiously. Sunny Smiles has never seen a human so big before.
Crocodile is silent while he thinks. What will he be doing here? He had no idea how to get home. Was he even inside the Grand Line? The ex-warlord had no idea if he was even in his world anymore with how different this one is, and how unpredictable Vegapunk’s fruits could react. So, he would do what he did best, and take charge of the situation he had landed in.
“Business,” He clips out, and takes a deep drag of the cigar, grimacing at the less than stellar taste, “What can you tell me about the area?”
“You're in luck. I was just telling Six about what to expect around here,” Trudy grunts out and leans down to retrieve a bottle of whiskey. Crocodile is faintly worried about how it glows. She pours them all a shot, quietly mentioning that it's on the house before she begins to regale the amnesiac and the man out of time.
In the end, Crocodile learns that he is definitely not in his world anymore, and that this one already has two feet in the grave. He's been dealt a shit hand, but this isn't the first time that he would have to start everything from the ground up. He takes his shot in hand, knocking it back and fighting now to grimace. At least now he knows why his devil fruit had reacted so strongly earlier, the poison that coated this world was called radiation.
“If you are.. traveling. We could go together?”
Crocodile blinks down at Six, brow cocking at the offer of a traveling companion. He would most likely accomplish whatever goal he set his mind to quicker if he were alone, but seeing her dark eyes full of uncertain hope and nerves made the devil fruit user reconsider going at this alone. With no concrete way to go home, Crocodile didn't see the reason to expedite his trip to Vegas.
“Where are you going?” He questions the young woman, curious despite himself.
It takes a while longer than what he would think for the young woman to answer, and he can feel his lips curl in a mean smirk when he does get her answer.
“To find the man who shot me in the head.”
Chapter Text
Trudy sets Crocodile and Six up in the same abandoned house on the outskirts of town with two extra cigars and a bottle of tequila that Six squirreled away in her bag. He had followed the young woman to the old house, slipping in behind her and shutting the door. It feels oddly intimate, but Crocodile pushes the feeling away and collapses on the worn-out couch that kicks up dust. Now that he has had a chance to wind down, Crocodile is feeling exhaustion creeping in. It had taken more than he thought out of him to keep the poisoned sand mixing with his own.
Six sits on the floor across from him, dark eyes curious about the unexpected visitor. She's never seen anyone like this man before. He was massive, at least eight feet, and was dressed in the finest clothes she's ever seen. And so clean too, like the dust and sand never lingered.
“Did you lose your hand?”
Crocodile cuts his eyes at the young woman, lips pulling up into a sneer. He wants to snip and snap at her to mind her own business, but he sees that vacant, almost lost look again, and pulls his attitude back down.
“I did. I'd rather not discuss how.”
Six nods easily at that. She understands wanting to keep things to yourself. The young woman pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her cheek on them.
“Why do you want to find the man who shot you?” Crocodile rumbles after a moment. He's been thinking about that since she mentioned it happening.
“Revenge? That's a fool's errand.”
Six shrugs, “I do not know if that is what I am after. I just want the chip back. The pay for the delivery would be enough to live off of for a while,” the courier murmurs. She hadn't given much thought to taking revenge, just getting the chip back. After that, she planned to hide away and live a simple life without the threat of pain constantly hanging over her head.
“That's all you want? Surely you're more greedy than that,” Crocodile leans forward and slips a new cigar between his teeth. Humans were selfish by nature, and he had exploited that greed more often than not.
“Maybe I used to be…but I can not remember much before the shot,” Six admits softly. Her eyes catch sight of the pip-boy on her arm, a gift from Doc Mitchell.
“I could have been a good person or a bad person. I will never know unless I meet someone who knew me. This is my fresh start, and I want to live until I am old and gray like Easy Pete.”
The gator considers her words. Once upon a time he would sneer and laugh at her words, but he had lived a long time, and gone through enough these past few years to achieve a new look of life. Having a stubborn rubber boy beat him and then ally with Crocodile would change a man, even one like him.
In a way, he could relate to her words. The ex-warlord is in a world not his own where no one knows his name or what he could do.
“A fresh start, huh. I suppose this is mine, too,” He rumbles and puffs his cigar, blowing smoke toward Six and smirking at the annoyed look she shoots him.
“What are you going to do?” Six asks as she swats the air around to clear it of the thick smoke. The man lounging on the couch looks far too ambitious to ever be content just to live out his days one cap at a time. When he spoke of human greed, she could see it shining in those hooded purple eyes, and it made her fear for the people who would inevitably get in his way.
“Get to the top, of course. Prosper in this shit world and live like a king,” Crocodile tells her, and she can hear the, dare she say, excitement coloring his scratchy voice. Six looks at him, heart speeding up when she catches the way Crocodile is looking at her, his eyes dark and wicked, lips pulled in a mean sneer.
“And you are coming with me every step of the way. We'll see how much you want a simple life when we live above this squander.”
Six has to look away from him. Crocodile seems to have grand ideas, and she does not doubt that he could achieve them, but why would he want to bring her along? She had nothing to offer him. In fact, Six felt like she was using him to get her to New Vegas.
“Why?”
Crocodile huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes and sitting back into the moth-eaten cushions, “Because it's boring doing all that if I don't have someone to share it with. I agreed to travel with you, so until I see fit, you're stuck with me.”
Sue him for being a little lonely and maybe missing the company of his guild. Buggy was an imbecile, but he could call Mihawk a friend. He wondered how the guild was running without him there to oversee it.
“I do not have much choice here, do I?” Six murmurs and feels her lips quirk up when Crocodile laughs again. It's such a distinctive one.
“Kuha ah ah. That you don't,” He snubs his cigar when it's about halfway, leaving it in the chipped ashtray.
“I have something to show you. Do not scream,” Crocodile orders and Six sits up straight at the sudden serious tone and topic. She nods to show that she is listening and Crocodile extends his hand toward you.
Curious, Six watches as his palm turns to sand and the smallest dust tornado she's ever seen in her life whips up from nothing. She scrambles up and back from it, eyes wide as she looks from the baby twister to Crocodile who looks far too amused for his own good.
“..what?” Is all the courier can get out, too astounded and awed to think of much else.
“There are things called devil fruits where I come from,” Crocodile begins and dismisses sables with a flick of his wrist, “I ate the suna suna fruit a long time ago, making me, quite literally, made out of sand.”
Six closes the distance between them without much thought, grabbing his hand and tugging it up close to her face. Right now, his palm looks like any normal person, but she still smooths her thumbs along the lines in his hand, tracing them and looking for the texture of sand.
Crocodile watches her, one brow cocked as Six examines his hand. He activates his fruit, finding it funny how impressed Six looks when she feels his skin go rough and grainy. He allows it for longer than he thinks he would, but Crocodile can't deny that it feels nice to have such soft hands touch him so gently.
“Alright. That's enough,” He grumbles and extracts his hand away, smirking at seeing the tiny pout that adorns Six's lips. He points at the device on her wrist.
“What is that?”
Six rounds the table that sits between them, carefully extending her wrist to let him see, she explains what Doc Mitchell told her, careful to pronounce each word.
“It is a pip boy. It shows my..vitals and has an inventory list. It is a map and a radio, too. Mr. New Vegas is my favorite.”
Crocodile flicks through the dials, purple eyes examining the device. It's almost like an advanced log pose. He stops at the map, brow cocking when he sees an arrow where it is labeled Goodsprings.
“It shows your active location as well. It's a handy tool, if not bulky,” the ex-warlord comments and drops her arm. He watches Six take a seat beside him, tucking her feet under her and leaning back to look at the ceiling. The sun had set long ago, and with night officially here, the room had gotten chilly. Not that it bothered Crocodile, but he could see Six shivering from where he sat.
The Guild leader sighs and stands, shucking his coat off his shoulders and flinging it at Six. He snickers when the fur collar hits her in the face, causing her to sputter and wipe at her nose, “Can't have you freezing. The desert gets cold at night.”
“Where are we going tomorrow?” Six asks him after she tucks the big-ass jacket around her legs. It's more like a blanket to her and it was warm.
Crocodile snags his cigar as he stalks to the door, “You said you want to find the men who shot you, so we'll start in Primm. Now go to sleep, I'll be back later.”
He is out the door before Six can tell him to be careful, not that she thinks he needs the reminder. She shrugs and snuggles into the thick coat, content to go to sleep as her new friend said too.
Outside, Crocodile takes a deep breath, nose scrunching at the scent of the radiation that permeates the air. He hates it and hates how his most trusted ally couldn't even be called upon to assist him. The poison in the land burned if he tried to control it.
Honestly, it puts a bit of a damper on things. Crocodile wouldn't be able to use any of his land-based attacks unless he found pure sands, and who knows if he would ever find that around here.
He grumbles to himself as he makes a circle around the town, needing to make sure that the area is safe for his own peace of mind before he goes back to the house to try and get in some shut-eye. The ex-warlord isn't expecting to find a robot, rolling up the hill toward what looked like a graveyard.
He follows after it, curious about the metal being that he hadn't seen until now, the robot spins around when it hears the crunch of gravel.
“Well, Howdy partner. Don't think we've had the pleasure to meet yet! You can call me, Victor!”
Crocodile is immediately suspicious. The robot sounds far too genuine to be anything but deceitful. He lights his cigar and takes a deep inhale, eyes narrowed on Victor, and introduces himself by his old alias.
“Mr. 0.”
The robot rocks back and forth on its wheel, “Well, it's a pleasure to meet ya, partner. I couldn't help but notice that you and ole Six have shacked up together, did ya know her from before the accident?”
Crocodile shakes his head and looks past Victor where he can see a shallow grave, the dirt piled up on either side of it, “You saved her. Why?”
The robot is oddly silent, and Crocodile is seconds away from demanding an answer when it finally speaks up.
“My creator, Mr. House is her employer, and he needs her to get the package back. He is…invested in her continued survival.”
Crocodile doesn't like the sounds of that one bit. He didn't give a fuck if Six was a slave before he met her, she was his partner, and that meant that her amnesiac ass belonged to him.
“Mhm. Keep your distance, robot. I don't appreciate being spied on,” Crocodile snarls as a warning, and then he is turning on his heel to stalk back down the hill to the house. He would have to look at her invoice to see if there was anything it could tell him. He didn't like the idea of someone out there keeping an eye on him and his business.
The ex-warlord lopes back to the house, entering without a sound. He finds Six passed out and cocooned in his cost, face smashed into the furry collar. He rolls his eyes and sits in the spare space, and it's just large enough to hold him. Crocodile leans his head back and shuts his eyes, intending to get at least a nap in before they leave tomorrow.
Chapter Text
Primm is nothing like Crocodile had assumed the casino town would be like, but he shouldn’t have expected anything less with how barren the way here had been. They’d only run into one group of people, and he’d taken care of them with ease, laughing when their pitiful bullets went right through him and pinged off the metal building behind him. Later, he’d watched with a raised brow as Six looted their pockets and shoved any leftover ammo or caps in her bag.
She shrugged when she caught him looking, “Caps are currency, and I can sell the ammo that I do not use.”
Crocodile had shrugged and continued on his way, not waiting for Six to catch up. She’d huffed and rolled her eyes, quickly picking up the pace and jogging to catch up with him. Now the two stood about half a mile out from Primm, the sun was low, but still bright in the sky, and Six was exhausted.
It’d only been around two weeks since Doc Mitchell cleared her to start walking around more, but having been on bed rest for double that took a toll on her body. She felt weak, helpless even, and maybe not even ready for this journey. Six could have cried the other night when Crocodile had agreed to come with her.
She still had some trouble remembering the right words sometimes, let alone how to put one foot in front of the other. She felt like one of the baby big horners that stumbled around the pen back in Goodsprings. It was a miracle that he had not left her behind today.
“What is wrong with you?” Crocodile demands as they linger where they’ve stopped. He can see smoke from here, making him think that it held some type of civilization. He turns and gives his attention to Six, annoyance written clear as day.
“I am still recovering. The bullet,” Six pauses to raise her hand and fling her hands together in a random pattern, “messed up my brain. I am still relearning how to do things. This is the furthest I have been since the accident.”
Crocodile glares down at her, unimpressed with what she’s told him. He steps close, looming over the courier, “Why didn’t you say anything? That’s something that I should know.”
Six feels irritation well up, and she stands her ground, refusing to be cowed by the intimidating man.
“You never asked me, Crocodile.”
That irritation deflates within seconds, and she feels doubt begin to creep in, “And I thought I would be fine. I should be fine.”
The ex-warlord doesn’t expect you to snap at him. At first, he feels nothing but fury, angered that this slip of a girl would dare talk back to him. But then he sees that lost look again, and all that is left is a mild annoyance that makes him sigh and shake his head.
“You obviously aren’t, come on let’s hurry,” He snaps and brushes past Six to continue on. She follows quickly, lips pursed in bemusement.
However, they are stopped by a man dressed in NCR garb, “Hey, woah. No entrance to civilians. The town’s been taken over by convicts.”
Crocodile laughs, sneering down at the young man, “We can take care of ourselves. Is Johnson Nash still alive?”
Six watches the interaction, noting the way that the NCR member had paled the second he’d set eyes on Crocodile. The man was terrifying, his unimpressed face with the scar that ran across the bridge of his nose, and the golden hook glinting menacingly in the sunlight. No wonder the boy looked seconds away from pissing himself.
“H-he is held up in the Vickie and Vance Casino with the rest of them. They couldn't get out of town before the powder gangers moved in.”
Crocodile rolls his eyes and strides past the private, already unimpressed by this so-called army if they couldn't handle a couple of criminals. He glanced back once to make sure Six stayed close and then he was stalking down the exit ramp towards a set of tents at the end of the road. There are a couple of other NCR members loitering around, and Crocodile easily dismisses them to cross the ramp into town.
“Wait!”
But it is too late. The landmines that line the overpass explode, sending a shower of rumble and sand everywhere. Six stares at the towering form that is Crocodile, mouth dropping open in terrified awe as she watches him form back together, sand shifting and molding until the ex-warlord looks just the same as he had before the explosions went off. She flinches back when Crocodile whips around, purple eyes furious as they land on the same NCR private that had warned them about the convicts.
Six watches her traveling companion close the distance, flesh hand grabbing the closest uniformed man and lifting them up by the throat. She runs to Crocodile's side, hands grabbing his coat to try and stop whatever he planned to do. The devil fruit user ignores you, too focused on watching the man in his grasp begin to struggle, face turning pale and cracked as Crocodile sucked the moisture from his body.
“You're lucky that was me,” Crocodile snarls down at the man. He doesn't kill the military member, stopping his fruit just before the lack of hydration becomes a true problem. He drops the man, turning on his heels and dipping to grab Six, and hikes her up and over his shoulder. He wouldn't risk her getting hurt because he wasn't paying attention again.
Behind them, a group of NCR members are surrounding their fallen comrade, confused as to why he looks like he'd been wandering the Mojave for weeks. They cart him back to the tents where they are told in weak whispers what happened to him. The gator and courier would be long gone by the time the NCR gained enough gumption to track the culprit down.
Crocodile casts his gaze around, looking through the rundown town. It's quite big, and if it were in better shape, the ex-warlord wouldn't have a problem with setting up shop here, he'd already set his sights on New Vegas.
“Are you okay?”
Crocodile huffs at Six’s question, making her shift from where she's thrown over his shoulder.
“I'm fine. Is everyone here that incompetent?” He demands as he rounds the end of the road that runs along a massive dark stone building. He pauses when he reaches the front and catches sight of men and women dressed in powder-ganger garb. There are more than a couple, that's for sure.
“Kinda seems like they are, huh?” Six agrees and lifts herself up, taking a look around. This place feels familiar to her, which it should, considering this is where she'd been hired for the job as Courier Six. She taps Crocodile on the shoulder.
“Look. It is Vickie and Vance.”
Just down the way is the entrance to the casino where a burnt-out neon sign hangs above the door advertising the establishment. He reaches up and plucks Six off his shoulder and sets her on the ground.
“Stay here. People are watching, and I'd rather you not get shot,” Crocodile orders, and then he is gone, turning into sand to sneak up behind the first of his many victims. It's almost silly how quickly Six watches her friend (?) dispatch the gang members, silently leaving each one a dry husk with clothes hanging off their shriveled frames.
He is right back by her side when he is finished, and Six sighs with a shake of her head as she goes about collecting caps from their corpses. Her lips pull up in a grin when she finds a pair of black circular sunglasses, and Six eagerly slips them on.
“You look blind,” Crocodile deadpans, expression completely unimpressed with her.
Six pouts at him, reaching up to take them off when his golden hook catches her wrists. The courier looks at him in confusion.
“Don't take them off because I said something. Keep them if you like them,” Crocodile rumbles lowly, and Six nods, her confusion melting away to be replaced by fondness.
“We should go see if Mr. Nash is still inside,” Six murmurs and Crocodile swiftly releases her.
Inside the casino, the two of them are greeted by a shotgun aimed at their face. Six yelps when she is snagged and pulled behind the ex-warlord, the Guild leader still on alert after earlier. Six grabs his coat and yanks on it, “That's him!”
“Girl, what the hell are you doing here? Don't you know it's been overrun?” Nash snaps at her and drops the shotgun, stepping back to stop crowding Six and Crocodile by the door. Six takes the chance to dart around her friend and stands in front of the eight-foot-tall sandman.
“I lost the package that I was supposed to deliver. Trudy said that coming through Primm would be the safest way to track them down.”
Johnson Nash grumbles about how weird and suspicious the six packages had been, but the pay had been far too good to pass up on. Apparently, her package was the only one that wasn't delivered, and when questioned on the whereabouts of the men who shot her, Nash sighed and shook his head.
“Deputy Beagle would be the one you'd need to talk to about that, but he went and got himself captured by the raiders that’re set up in Bison Steve. You'll have to rescue him yourself.”
Crocodile rolled his eyes. Of course, the only lead they would have would be someone dumb enough to get themselves captured. His eyes find his partners and his annoyance ratchets up another level when he catches her swaying side to side. It had taken them far longer than it should for them to reach Primm today on account of how slow Six was, and he cursed himself again for not noticing it. Or asking her as Six had so helpfully pointed out earlier.
He grabbed Six by the shoulder and steered her past the display of the old car and clunky robot in a cowboy hat, and to the back offices where the safes are tucked away. It's far from private, but it was better than standing out in the open with people he didn't know. There were more citizens stuffed inside the casino than he thought there would be, and it made him curious as to why the military force outside wasn't doing anything for these people.
Not that Crocodile was very inclined to help them, but if this got the two of you closer to his goal, then the gator supposed he wouldn't be too off-put. He has to remind himself that this is a fresh start for himself and Six and that he has even fewer resources and credibility now than when he proposed the idea of the Cross Guild.
“You will stay here and I will go get the Deputy. Do whatever you need to do, but do not strain yourself. You'd be useless to me otherwise,” Crocodile orders his courier. He grabs her by the jaw, fingers digging into her tan skin as he leans down, bringing his face close to hers.
“Understand?”
Six gulps. She’s not gotten this close to Crocodile before, and with him so close, a new feeling blooms inside her chest. She hadn’t realized just how handsome the gator was. His strong jaw and long nose with such a distinctive scar. The courier can see flecks of gold in those purple eyes ringed around his pupils, and she feels her face grow hot as the realization settles over her.
Crocodile watches Six, taking in the way her tan face flushes and her eyes go half-lidded, her green eyes flickering down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. Oh.
A smirk curls his lips and the ex-warlord shifts closer, the grip he has on her jaw loosening and smoothing along her cheek in a gentle caress. He watches the way her eyes flutter at the touch, pink tongue poking out to lick her lips, and then he leans in to press his lips to her brow. Her sharp intake of breath makes him smirk, and he pulls away to catch her gaze.
“Understand?” he repeats softly.
Six nods, face on fire as Crocodile pulls away, dropping his hand like he hadn’t just turned her world upside down.
“Y-yeah. I understand.”
Crocodile hums in satisfaction and then fishes out a half-finished cigar, sticking it between his teeth without lighting it. He pats the top of her head, “Good. I'll be back.”
With that, Crocodile turns on his heel and lopes back to the entrance where he slips out without a word. It's eerily quiet outside without the ambient sounds of the powder gangers milling around, but it doesn't bother The ex-warlord. He ignores it, crossing the road and sweeping in the Bison Steve, silent as shifting sand.
Inside looks like shit, the ceilings caved in and rubble piled up in the corners. Crocodile sneers at it all and continues on his mission of finding the Deputy. The raiders and gangers are just as easy to take out here as they were outside, and the only trouble he has is from their leader who wields some type of flame thrower.
The madman cackles and holds down the trigger of his weapon, spitting hot balls of flame at the Guild leader and causing Crocodile to curse colorfully when the flame gets a little too close. He dodges back behind the wall that divides the dining hall and entrance, grumbling in annoyance when he hears the gang leader swear loudly and follows after his query.
“Ain't lettin’ ya get away that easy! You're gonna roast!”
Crocodile rolls his eyes at the threat, dropping his body into sand and flying around the wall, golden hook extended to piece the man through the chest. Hot blood pours from the wound to stain the front of the raider's chest, and Crocodile huffs when he yanks his hook out, letting the body drop with a thud.
Crocodile sniffs in disdain, cleaning his hook with a wayward shirt and then exploring the rest of the bottom floor of the hotel. He finds Beagle tied up with a gag over his mouth in the kitchens and gives the man his best-unimpressed look. He cuts the rope around his ankles but leaves his wrists tied and the gag on. He then hooks the man's wrists and jerks him up to his feet.
“Walk,” the ex-warlord snarls, and Beagle does as told, too fearful of the towering man who had come in and wiped out the powder gangers.
Back inside the Vickie and Vance, Six waits patiently for Crocodile to return, having already done any bartering she could right after he'd left. She stands behind Primm Sim, her fingers buried in his wiring as she tries to reset him for law enforcement. It wouldn't be much help, but Slim was a robot who could take some pain in a fight.
She jumps when the door bursts open and Beagle comes stumbling in with Crocodile right behind him. People crowd around the man, releasing his bonds and taking the gag off. She cringes when the man immediately begins to boast as if hadn't come in tied up and helpless. Her shoulders drop when she catches her friend's gaze, smirking when she spots his annoyance.
He breezes past everyone to come to her side, brow ticking up in interest, “Thought you couldn't remember anything.”
Six shrugs, cheeks heating up when he comes close enough that she can feel his body heat, and she forces herself not to lean into the welcoming warmth.
“I do not, but my hands do,” she tells him and quickly focuses back on her task, needing to finish it before speaking to Beagle later, “Are you okay?”
She tenses when Crocodile's hand settles on the back of her neck, his thumb sliding up along her hairline, and he quietly informs her that he is just fine. When It became obvious that he wasn't able to move, Six slowly relaxed and went back to what she was doing, not seeing the content smirk crossing his lips.
The rewire doesn't take much longer, and soon Primm Slim is shuffling out of the casino to patrol the town. Six sits back with a grin, happy to find something out about herself. Crocodile smokes behind her, and he leans down after blowing smoke up in the air.
“Good job,” he praises quietly and enjoys the sight of Six flushing again before he pulls away, “You want me to do the talking?”
Six shakes her head, “No. I should do this.”
This was her mess to fix, her package to get back, and she already felt bad enough having Crocodile do so much leg work for her.
The ex-warlord shrugs and follows his partner across the casino floor where Beagle sits at the bar. The Deputy tenses at their approach and puts on a nervous smile.
“Well if it isn't my knight in shining armor. What can I do for you?” Beagle asks and casts his eyes back and forth between Crocodile and the Courier. He hadn't realized they were a unit until now.
“I am looking for the people who stole my package. Nash said that you would know more about them,” Six questions and relief flood her when Beagle informs her that some suspicious-looking people had come by a couple of weeks ago while he was out “patrolling”. He describes them, one dressed in a fancy checkered coat while the others looked more like a local raider gang, the Great Khans. When asked if he had heard where they planned to go next, Beagle shrugged and said that the fancy-dressed one mentioned Vegas and that was it.
She and Crocodile leave Beagle to the bar satisfied with the amount of information they'd gotten out of him. It wasn't much, but at least it pointed them in the right direction. Before they can go back to the money offices, Mrs. Nash approaches the two with a friendly smile and an offer of food and a place to rest their heads.
Six easily agrees, her stomach rumbling loudly as if to voice its agreement. The old woman laughs and takes Six and Crocodile to the Mojave Express where they are sat at the table and told to make themselves at home. The courier eyes the broken eyebot on the counter and doesn't need much prompt by Crocodile before she is carefully pulling the paneling off to poke around in its wiring.
After a fulfilling meal, Johnson and Ruby say goodnight and settle down, leaving them alone in the front room. Crocodile smokes in the corner, kicked back in a chair that threatens to break under his weight, but valiantly stays together. He breaks to comfortable silence.
“We'll stay here a few days. I don't want you dropping on me while traveling,” Crocodile rumbles and Six tenses again, shoulders coming up to her ears.
“I am sorry that I am not very strong right now,” Six grumbles softly. She doesn't like being reminded of how weak she is right now, especially by him.
Crocodile frowns around his cigar. He wasn't attempting to make Six upset or defensive with his comment. He has become invested in this amnesiac young woman and wanted to see them both get to New Vegas. So that meant that she needed to rest just a while longer, take time to explore the town, and fix her robot. Gain strength. Crocodile would not let her stay weak.
“I am not berating you, Six. I want you to be strong. You don't want to be a pathetic little girl when you find the man who tried to kill you, right?” He rumbles and leans forward, offering her his hand.
Six pauses in her tinkering, licking her lips and glancing at his offered hand. It feels like coming home when she slides her hand into his, shivering when he curls his fingers around her wrist and tugs her gently to her feet. Crocodile is right. Six doesn't want to be a hollow shell of herself anymore. She wants to find out who she is. She catches his purple gaze and dips her head in a nod.
“I want to be strong.”
The smile that curls his lips is nothing good, but the sight has Six swallowing harshly and clenching her thighs. Crocodile tugs her close, wrapping his other arm around her waist, his golden hook dangerously close to her skin. She catches herself on his coat, and her fingers curl into the fine material.
"Then I will get you there."
Crocodile catches her chin and tilts her face up, leaning in and catching her lips with his own. He watches her eyes flutter close, her body relaxing and giving in to his advance. He presses in, deepening the kiss when his tongue darts out to lick at the seam of her lips. Six sighs and clutches at his coat, lips clumsy and untrained, but no less eager.
The ex-warlord breaks away slowly, leaving behind lingering kisses that make his sweet courier hunger for more, and Crocodile would gladly be the one to give it to her.
Chapter Text
They stay for three days in Primm. The Nash couple set Six and Crocodile up in one of the houses on the edge of town. It's bigger than the one back in Goodsprings, and Crocodile uses the short break to focus on his devil fruit and the toxic sands that surround him. He wants to see if he can't strip the sand of the sickness that's seeped into it, and while it was a very slow progress, it was starting to work.
It felt like tiny knives digging into his skin whenever he attempted to access the sands around him, but if mixed with his own little by little, the pain would go away, and it left him with a pile of pure sand to work with. Unfortunately, the second he stopped the manipulation, the radiation would begin to sink back into all his hard work.
Hopefully, this would help him build some type of tolerance to the radiation, and he would be able to use the rest of his arsenal if need be. It just annoyed him how slow-going it was, he was used to being able to manipulate the land without a second thought. Crocodile could only assume his altered biology prevented him from getting truly sick from the radiation.
Six kept herself busy while Crocodile figured out his own problems. She fixed up the eye bot on the second day, and the little robot hadn't left her side since. He would catch her early in the morning going for a run around town trying to build up her stamina. He would greet her with a gruff good morning and purified water when she returned to the house with occasionally a peck on the cheek for her good behavior.
The courier would blush bright and reach for him, and Crocodile never turned away her searching lips. He taught his partner how to angle her head just right to slot their mouths together, and how using a little bit of teeth never hurt. Six picked it up quickly, and it wasn't a surprise when both began to want more out of their little arrangement.
Six woke the morning of the day they would be leaving, feeling well-rested and warm. The bed shifts behind her, and she flushes red when a thick arm is flung around her waist, pulling her back into Crocodile’s chest. She doesn't remember him coming to bed last night, nor does Six recall falling asleep in the bed. He must have moved her last night.
She can't help but squirm a little, feeling embarrassed being in the same bed together. Kissing was one thing, but this felt far more… intimate , and it made her nervous.
“Stay still. You're fine,” Crocodile grumbles behind her and tugs her even closer to his chest, leaning down to bury his face in the back of her hair. He is far too comfortable to move right now.
Six forces herself to settle down, tugging her pillow closer to her face and bedding down. Her partner is warm, and being held so close has sleepiness creeping back in until she is close to dozing off. That is until the hand that is splayed over her clothed stomach begins to move.
Crocodile smooths his hand up and down her stomach, going lower and lower every time until the tips of his fingers brushed against the elastic of her shorts. He stops there, fingers following the line of them for a while, teasing the tan skin that is exposed when her shirt lifts up just enough. His devious smirk is hidden when he slips his fingers under the elastic, stroking the hollow of her hips, dangerously close to her most sensitive bits, but not touching.
A broken sound falls from Six's lips, eyes clenched shut as Crocodile continues his teasing touches. She doesn't know if she's ever had sex before, she doesn't even know how old she is, but right now Six could care less. She likes the way that Crocodile makes her feel, likes all the things that he has taught her how to do.
This would just be one more lesson.
Seeing that Six isn't protesting, the ex-warlord pushes onward, stroking over the material of her panties until the tip of his middle finger finds the apex of her legs, smirking when he finds the thin material damp. He slides his hand back and forth, nosing Six’s dark hair out of the way and pressing his lips to the nape of her neck.
She sucks in a sharp breath at the unexpected touch and tucks her bottom lip between her teeth to stay as quiet as possible. Crocodile takes his time, kissing along her sensitive skin and nipping the slope of her shoulder with his sharp teeth. The pace of his hand never stops and the slow grind against her clothed pussy is torturing. Her hips jump when his thumb shifts and rubs against her covered clit, making a soft whine bubble up past her teeth.
Crocodile rumbles behind you, sounding more like the animal he is named after than a human. He shifts behind her, his left arm sliding under her pillow, and Six turns to press her face in the crook of his elbow. She can’t stop the way her hips buck up against her partner’s hand, seeking that delightful pleasure that makes her see stars.
“That’s it, Doll. Use me to make you come,” Crocodile snarls low in her ear, and the sound of his husky voice sends shivers down her spine.
The gator presses up with the pads of his fingers, finding your pulsing clit and circling the sensitive nub through your panties. The friction is exactly what Six needs, and she bows forward as she comes with a soft cry, her jaw dropping and teeth digging into his muscular forearm. The courier humps against his hand, only slowing when the aftershocks fade away.
Crocodile rolls them, pinning Six under him on the bed and holding himself up by his left arm. He casts his dark gaze over his partner, pupils so blown that Six can hardly see the purple hue. She swallows harshly, squirming under the ex-warlord as she waits for his next move. The amnesiac isn’t expecting Crocodile to lean down and slot their lips together in a kiss far sweeter than she had thought the rough man capable of.
The ex-warlord isn't sure what compels him to keep this slip of a woman around. He could already be in Vegas by now if he'd gone on by himself, taking over and rebuilding the place the way he wanted. But then he feels the courier kiss him back, her lips soft and pliant against his own, tongue peaking out to lick at his lips. Her naivety, her lack of self, excited him. Crocodile could mold her the way he wanted to.
Six is breathless by the time her partner pulls away, and she lays there trying to catch her breath while Crocodile rises from the bed, smoothing a hand through his nape-length hair. She rolls to her side and watches him dress, taking in his long legs and thick chest, the golden earrings that gleam in the low light of the morning. Despite his devil fruit making him sand, she can still see scars that crisscross all along the span of his olive skin.
“Are you going to get up, or must I drag you from the bed?”
Crocodile eyes her where Six is still curled up in the thin blankets. He had moved her to the bed after she’d passed out on the couch messing with her pip-boy, and he hadn’t given it a second thought before he shucked his pants and button-up to join her. It’d been the best sleep the Guild leader had since he came to this world.
He cocks a brow at Six when she proceeds to curl the blankets around her like a cocoon, burying herself into the bed. All that is left is a gap big enough that he can see her eyes peeking out at him. Crocodile huffs to himself and reaches for her, lifting Six with ease and holding the blanket burrito to his chest. He stalks to the bathroom, where the water runs, but it’s lukewarm and irradiated. He switches arms and turns the faucet of the shower on.
“I will stick you and everything else under if you don’t unwind yourself, Six,” Crocodile threatens, and can’t help but cackle when Six moves like her ass is on fire. She rips the blanket off her head, tossing it to the side and leaning as far away from the water as she could. She had already made the mistake of using the shower the other day and proceeded to make herself sick with a minor case of radiation poisoning. Thankfully, the Nash couple had plenty of rad-away to spare. At least she was clean after all that.
“Ku-ah ah ah!” Crocodile's laugh is infectious, and Six begins to snicker along with him. The ex-warlord shuts off the water and lopes away back to the bedroom where he tosses her on the bed. Six grunts when she lands and sends her gator a glare that he rolls his eyes at.
“Hurry and get ready and say goodbye to your friends,” Crocodile orders and grabs for his coat, shrugging it on and digging out his “new” cigar tin. It was old and the lid stuck occasionally, but it had been a gift from Six so he refrained from complaining. His good mood lingered, but he was ready to leave this shit-hole town.
Six sighed dramatically, and then rolled off the bed, striding to the living room to dress in her travel clothes, and then to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. As she stuffed her feet into her boots, she eyed the powered-down eyeboy by the door. She would like to take him with her, but Crocodile had already made it clear to her that Ed-E would be staying here in Primm.
The sun is still rising by the time the two leave the old house for the final time. Crocodile adjusts his overcoat, sneering when he spots the dirtied hem. He couldn't wait to get somewhere where he could properly clean his clothes and himself. The wasteland certainly lacked the type of cleanliness that the gator had grown used to, and he quickly grew tired of the lack of fresh water. Hopefully, it would be less of a problem the closer they got to The Strip.
He followed after Six and ED-E as they wound their way through the streets until they arrived at the Mojave Express. Crocodile stayed outside while Six dropped off the robot and said her goodbyes. He chewed on the unlit cigar between his teeth, contemplating their next move. It surprised him that the military had not come knocking on their door, not that it would have ended well for them, but Crocodile wasn't looking to become enemy number one with the NCR right now. Not when there was still so much to do.
He huffs, eyes rolling skyward. It wasn't like he'd killed the boy, anyway.
His next step would be to make sure Six was actually ready for the trip ahead. The gator didn't plan to stop until nightfall, no matter what awaited them ahead. They would stop at the next town and see if anyone knew about the man who tried to kill Six and then they would move on. It already seemed likely that whoever it is was on the Strip, but Crocodile didn't see the harm in getting the lay of the land. This place would be his after all, for what suited him better than a desert and casinos?
Crocodile cuts his eyes to the door when it opens and Six steps out, a smile on her face that he admires from where he stands in the middle of the road.
“Goodbye. Thank you for your,” Six squints, and clicks her tongue, carefully enunciating her next word, “hospitality, and for looking after ED-E.”
He doesn't hear what the old couple says, Crocodile isn't paying attention, not when Six turns and looks at him like no one else has before. He can see her want for him, see the way she aches for his guiding hand, and it makes the ex-warlord smirk. When Six gets close enough, Crocodile catches her by the jaw, ringed fingers digging into her flesh.
“Good girl. Are you fit to travel? We're not stopping until we reach the next place with civilized people.”
Six blushes, eyes going wide and she nods as best she can with how her partner holds her face. She likes it when he holds her like this, and says, her tone is fond and full of warmth for the man who has kept her on her own two feet.
“I am good to go.”
Satisfied, Crocodile rewards his partner with a quick kiss and then he spins on his heel, leading the way out of Primm and to their next destination.
Jericho_andromeda_winters on Chapter 4 Thu 24 Oct 2024 12:06AM UTC
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