Title pending: Fallout New Vegas

[Agent Fisher]

So, I've decided to get back into the fanfic game. Here is my untitled (for now) Fallout: New Vegas fic.

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Early morning. Can’t say I always loved it. But I certainly embraced it. Before the sun rose, I would be up, getting my stuff squared away. Pack set, weapon ready. Enjoy a breakfast, maybe some coffee as the sun rose. Well, ok, I guess coffee would be a stretch. After all, the last time anyone made real fresh coffee was over two hundred years ago. But hey, those freeze dried coffe packets from old military rations, well, they last for quite a damn long time. Yep, a meal of brahminn steak, nicely seared over the fire, a cup of coffee and a sunrise. Great way to start the day. It’s a hold over from growing up really. Life on a brahminn ranch always started early. Mom and Dad would kick us kids out of bed, we’d get our varmint rifles and good keep watch over the herd. It was long, boring. But, we had plenty of caps, a very nice house, fresh water, unirradiated food. We were in the top twenty precent of all the NCR population. Now, we were no Gunderson Family, but we did just fine. Especially compared to some of the people in Dayglow, or the Hub.

But it was a boring life and around sixteen, well, the local NCR Army recruiter sounded like he was making a lot of sense. Get off the ranch, earning a decent living. Plenty of caps for pay, not having to pay for food or clothing or shelter. See the country, maybe even make it out to New Vegas for leave if I lucked out and got stationed at Mojave Outpost, maybe further than that. Plus, the posters in his office seemed pretty cool. He had them all, the Fortieth Infantry with their fatigues and armor and rifles. The Second Heavies, their pre-war power armor looking like it could take every bullet my dad’s old service rifle could spit out and still keep coming. The Air Assault Unit. Captured and manufactured Vertibirds, zipping around, dumping out the high trained infantry, or mowing down the bad guys. ‘God it would be cool to do that,’ I thought to myself. But two posters really caught my eye. NCR Rangers. Black pre-war armor, dusters, high tech optics. Night vision. See the darkest wasteland night like it was day. But the one that really caught my eye. First Recon Battalion. Eyes of the Republic. The last thing they never saw. Dad and Mom had both been First Recon, still had their berets and medals. To be just like them, that’s what I wanted.

So, at the tender age of sixteen and five months, on a winter night, I told mom and dad that I had signed the papers and was leaving for The Fort. Well, they took it ok. They nodded, said good luck and told me to look up my cousins who lived nearby, at the Hub. So, I packed my bag, and headed to the local trading post, got a ride with a caravan and went south. About two weeks later, I had arrived. The Fort. I don’t need to tell you it’s the largest military base in the NCR. Everybody who wants to be an NCR soldier goes there. Eight weeks of training, then another five depending on what you signed up for.

I won’t say much about my training. Ask any NCR vet and they can tell you what it was. Getting up early. Pt. Weapons. Marching. Survival. According to Dad, used to be a lot shorter in his day. But there, the habit of up before the sun was reinforced. My NCR career wasn’t anything spectacular. Actions against the Khans and various gangs for most of it.

And then I got my break. Mojave Outpost, then Camp Golf. The Battle of Hoover Dam. We were big god damn heroes. I got a medal and a post into First Recon. Then my luck turned. Two weeks before I’m supposed to head back to the Fort and start my Recon Indoc, I was leading my squad on a routine patrol. Nothing major. The Great Khans were hiding, licking their wounds after Bitter Springs. Jackals and Vipers and Fiends decided to lay low for now. And the Legion was pretty much gone as a fighting force. Blown up at Boulder City. Too bad no one told this group. There were fourteen of them. Led by a Decanus. They were clever. Fuckers left a mine field in the gully we were crossing. My point man passed the mine. I guess it wasn’t on proximity, maybe a legion boy was holding the detonator. All I know is the next two men in the squad were walking and then boom, one was just gone, the other had their leg half blown off. We were down to ten men. A spear sailed through the air, hitting our tail Charlie. He went down, finger clenching the trigger of his carbine, rounds spraying out. We reacted instantly, service rifles barking as they spat led, our RTO yelling into the radio we were engaged and needed backup. He gave the thumbs up as he fired. Vertibirds were incoming. I raised my carbine, sighting through the ACOG, rifle jerking back into my shoulder. Two of the legionnaires dropped with no problem. The rest though… The Decanus hurled another spear. This man had to be robot, his aim was perfect. The spear punched right through the fabric of my pants, embedding it in my leg. I screamed, dropping to the ground. My men were getting cut down one by one. Finally, the legion stopped attacking. Me and three others were alive.

I still remember it clearly. That red and black armor. The feathers of his helmet, his hand pulling the goggles away and the mask down off his face. “Pathetic.” He said. The Decanus raised his machete, ready to end my career in a most permanent manner. I’ll never forget the next sound I heard. The rhythmic thumb of vertibirds. Three of them, looking more beautiful than anything I recall. They came in, guns rolling. The legion ran for cover, cut down in the process. It gets fuzzy after that. Blood loss and shock will do that. Next thing I remember, I’m waking up in the Camp McCarran medical center, an iv in my arm and bandages in my leg.

For me, the Army was over. I had two choices. Catch the next Vertibird Medical Flight back to the Fort and take my discharge there, or take it here in New Vegas. Well, at that time, Mojave Express was offering really nice wages to NCR Vets. Guess they figured we were disciplined, used to marching and could survive in the Wastes. So, hell, I took the job.

So, that’s why I’m here. Heading south from Sloan. After just heading north to there. Damn Deathclaws. The long fifteen was worthless now. And I hate backtracking. Started south of goodsprings this morning. Now I’ll be stopping probably in the town. I’ll stop for a bit, rest, restock before heading south (again), through Nipton and then up through Novac. Maybe another week and a half of travel. But, it’ll be good to see some old faces. I heard one of my buddies from the Army who went Recon got out and is at Novac. Not really sure the big deal about this chip, but hell, someone’s paying really good caps to get it. So, I’ll trudge along. After all, with a great sun rise, a nice steak and a cup of coffee, easy walking, no cazadors to deal with, the life of a courier wasn’t too bad. And with the sun starting to set and the Goodsprings water tower near by, I knew everything would turn out alright in the end.


Still wish I had seen that fucking Khan and his shovel though.

[FaxModem1]

I like it, you going to do the entire story of a playthrough of New Vegas?

[Agent Fisher]

I like it, you going to do the entire story of a playthrough of New Vegas?

Yeah, of course it'll be a bit more realistic story. As in my character won't be sprinting everywhere and won't be carrying a ton of stuff.


Still can't decide which of my two characters I want in this story. Either my guy with a silver tongue and a laser sharp wit/laser rifle, or my girl who likes guns and things that go boom with a minor in science/medicine.

[LadyTevar]

Still can't decide which of my two characters I want in this story. Either my guy with a silver tongue and a laser sharp wit/laser rifle, or my girl who likes guns and things that go boom with a minor in science/medicine.

I have to wonder if you'll take ED-E or Rex.