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Sixer is an interesting character for me to explore. I haven't really talked much about his story publicly, but within his world he is both a celebrity spaceship racer and an organism genetically modified to appeal to human taste and aesthetic. Although he is not living out his original intended purpose (his creators had much more diplomatic aspirations for him), his fame has still come at the cost of the commodification of himself and his image for the consumption of the public- did he ever really escape his predetermined destiny?
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What Makes a Man a Monster.
Chapter 2: Normal To The Human Eye?
(Gonna do a much longer chapter this time. Enjoy this trainwreck!!)
After an estimated few hours, Sixer stirred once again after rolling roughly down the hill from the Goodsprings Cemetery so... Unceremoniously. It was genuinely pathetic for a being of his status of omnipotence. He picked his ass up and stumbled towards a nearby saloon, dragging his still blood soaked boots as he walked. He didn't have time to read the sign or look back at the people giving him horrified looks of a man seemingly walking off being shot twice in the head. Everyone heard the gunshots in the night, but no one bothered to check what it was, so they didn't have to risk their own asses.
This was absolutely not the average day for the various folks in the bar, seeing a man with two gaping holes drilling through his head, saunter on in like it was just his average day. Hell, looking only slightly annoyed even. It was genuinely difficult to tell due to all the blood and bits of brain splattered across his face. No one even dared to approach Sixer as he sat down in a booth, fearing they'd seen death himself. But before you could blink.. he looked fine again, Although the blood still made his shirt stick to him and yes it's as uncomfortable as ever.
Blood dripped down his face and onto his neck, Making his clothes more ruined than they already were. Covered in dirt, muck and.. By the Lord whatever the hell else. That ratty old tank top he wore stuck to his skin and was honestly more of an inconvenience to him than the gunshot wounds in his head. The dusty old floorboards creaked beneath his boots, their dry, dead appearance getting dotted with bloody dust... or dusty blood. Because there's obviously a difference between the two.. Totally. But either way, Sixer was a fucking mess. Dirty, bloody, and dusty, walking into a bar.
The seat creaked beneath him as he sat down in the old booth in the dark corner of the bar, Sixer began to asses his situation. His bag was gone, his gun was gone, And worst of all, his damn dignity was gone. Not like he really had it in the first place, but still.
Soon enough one of the folks in the bar grew interested in this man, Sitting down in the booth across him. A woman with a dog that followed around at her ankles despite it's size and that It could very easily trip her. "What the hell happened to a newcomer like you all the way out here?" Her voice questioned Sixer, Who had to pretend he didn't already know her name. Sunny Smiles. He had to wait and be polite for her to actually introduce herself. Ah, the akwardness of omnipotence is.. greatly annoying. She looked so upbeat despite seeing a man covered in his own blood and chunks of brain.
[ Lot's of reasons I'm out here, none of them I can really explain. ]
And they did. They always did, so predictable.
Sixer uttered, with a voice unknown to him, but well known to everyone around him. Sunny looked slightly suspicious but kept that same smile on her face. It was damn annoying how nice she was, at least to Sixer. But a lot of people were annoying.. People are very simple minded creatures. All he had to do was wait for the usual "You better not cause any trouble then." words to come out of Sunny's mouth. It's always what people said when he came around like this.
[Not planning on it, I just want to get a drink then hike my ass outta here.]
"Well, Let's hope you don't cause any trouble around here. We're a peaceful little town here." Sunny Smiles said with caution, her dog looked a lot less trustful of Sixer. Well.. more like it wanted to maul him. Dogs hated him.
Sixer responded to her statement, before he remembered his lack of caps.. or anything to his name.
[Or not, Forgot I have.. No caps whatsoever.]
Sixer muttered under his breath as he shifted in his seat. blood continued to drip down onto his clothing, but it was from his nose, not his head.
"Well, since you seem to be pretty down on your luck here.. I can get you a drink this once. Since youre new here." She smiled, standing up and talking to the woman tending the bar. Sixer knew her name too, but it wasn't exactly relevant. Sunny placed down a few caps at the counter and came back with a beer in hand, setting it on the table Sixer was sat at.
[Thanks, I'll be out of your hair soon, Don't worry.]
Sixer took a swig of the beer and took a deep breath. He had no idea where to go.
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In season two, episode 15 (The Last Mabelcorn), Bill says, "Whoa, don't have a heart attack, you're not 92 yet."
He also says, "...and your name's Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world."
So, eventually, Ford got famous, and then had a heart attack at 92. I'm not sure if someone's caught this yet, I'm sure they have, but that seems to be what Bill's implying here?
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