A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first Fallout based fic, but not my first fic. This is focussed on two original characters and their travels in the Mojave.
Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own Fallout New Vegas or any content or characters. Characters from the game belong to Bethesda Game Studios and Obsidian Entertainment; original characters are of my creation (duh). I hope you don't mind that I took some liberties about what happened after the game ended.
Tara was scared. She was out of her element, surrounded by mercenaries and seriously regretting her decision to move to the other side of North America. She had grown up in The Commonwealth, and the Mojave was a everything The Commonwealth wasn't. It was hot, dry, desolate, and uncivilized.
She had grown to hate the Commonwealth, despite the comforts it had offered her. She had gone to school most of her life, and was a credited Technician-considered to be one of the best of her generation. She was overjoyed when she was hired to work for The Institute. With the Institute's access to advance technologies—second only to the Chicago Brotherhood—she knew she could help make a difference in the world. She had grown up listening to stories of The Vault Dweller, The Chosen One and The Lone Wanderer. They were her heroes and while she didn't expect adventures like them, she wanted to follow their examples and help others.
Reality, however, was a far cry from what she had expected. The Institute wasn't interested in purifying water, providing wasteland inhabitants with power and food or treating diseases. What they were interested in, was money. And money came from the rich and the government. She spent her first year aiding in designs of more efficient power armors, better plasma rifles and laser rifles. She was paid extremely well. She hated it. She had applied to The Institute to help save people, but she instead was making better ways to kill.
One day, a Caravan arrived in The Commonwealth to drop off some packages and trade found technologies. She had volunteered to meet the caravan, anything to get away from making more weapons and a chance to hear stories of what the Lone Wanderer was up to in DC. Instead, she heard the stories of The Courier and Mr. House, rebuilding the Mojave with technology. Tales of The Divide, The Courier's journey down the Lonesome Road, and how he lead an army of Robo Scorpions, Securitrons and old friends from the Mojave to end the threat posed by the fearsome Tunnelers. She quit her job the same day and signed up with the caravan to head West.
She reflected now, that it was perhaps a rash decision and should have been given a few more days of consideration. She had second thoughts several times on the journey to the Mojave, but she had always been with the caravan and it's guards. Before, she was with others and they never stayed in one place too long, it had created a false sense of security that she had just now seen through.
Now, she was by herself in someplace called Boulder City. In a rebuilt bar, where the caravan had dropped her off; there was a very large knife pointed at her, held by an even larger and meaner looking man. He was about 5'6'', slightly shorter than Tara, and all muscle. He was wearing a suit of Metal Armor, covered in scrapes, dents and blood stains. He had identified himself as Dax, and was insisting that she now belonged to him.
He took a moment to leer at Tara, and although she was wearing her old lab coat over the Vault 77 jumpsuit she had purchased before she left with the caravan, she felt naked under his gaze and pulled the lab coat close over her chest. This only seemed to entertain Dax, as his smirk grew into a toothy—even though he was missing two teeth—smile and he started laughing.
"Heh-heh-heh. Don't worry precious, I'm going to see all of it soon enough. No point in fighting."
His rotten breath made Tara gag. She turned her head in an attempt to stop the pungent assault. Looking around the bar in a desperate plea with her eyes, she was met with downturned eyes from everyone. She stole a glance down to her bag, inside was the old laser pistol she was given when she started to work for The Institute. He fingers began to edge towards her bag when they were stopped by the touch of cold metal to her cheek.
It was Dax's knife. A light amount of pressure was applied and her head was turned back to face Dax. His face was full of glee.
"No one's coming to your rescue here. They all know I'm with the Jackals, and if anyone touches me they'll have a target on their head and get a bullet in the back. Now," Dax leaned closer, his rancid breath assaulted Tara's nose but she was too terrified to move, "you're coming with me, and you are going to come quietly. If you behave, you'll be treated well-gah!"
The report of laser fire cut Dax off, his head jerked to the side and he fell onto the table in front of Tara, his weight knocking the table over. Resting on the bar across from her was a Laser RCW—a rapid firing laser rifle resembling an old 'Tommy Gun'—with a wisp of smoke coming off the barrel. All eyes in the bar were on the man next to it.
He was a younger blonde man wearing an old, weathered leather coat. After a few seconds, he stood, put on a Cowboy Hat, picked up a backpack with the handle of a shotgun poking out the top and a silver breifcase with a Vault-Tec logo on the side, and shouldered the Laser RCW . He looked around the bar, threw a bag of caps onto the bar and addressed the bartender, "That should more than cover my tab and the damages. Sorry for the trouble."
The bar was dead silent until the man left the bar, when the rest of the customers exploded into conversation about what had just happened. Tara sat there stunned. She looked at the crumpled man lying on the ground; he had two burn marks on the back of his head and was snoring. She wasn't sure if she was happy that he was still alive. That shocker her, she had never before wished serious harm on another person before, but just hours after she had arrived in the Mojave she was almost made a gang members sex slave and then contemplated killing him. This place was nothing like The Commonwealth. She had known The Mojave was dangerous, but this wasn't some story anymore: it was her life.
She grabbed her bag, paid her tab to the bartender, muttered an apology and ran out the door after the man who had just saved her life. She needed someone who knew about life in this place, and the man who had saved her seemed to know what he was doing. As she left the bar, she had no idea what the next chapter of her life would hold, but she knew that she had to take charge of her life or this place would tear her apart.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. This first chapter was largely just to set up who the characters are. The next chapter will have a bit more set up and start the main storyline moving forward.
Please Review so I can keep what works and fix what doesn't!