Hello and welcome to the introductive chapter of Fallout New Vegas: Requiem for the Capital Wasteland, the story title is influenced (read; directly copied from) the mod of the same name, I hold no claim to the name and if need be I can change it.
I do not own any of the Fallout franchise, all rights reserved to Bethesda and Obsidian Entertainment.
Characters; Kaapro "Kane" Teuvo, Faye Roux others where indicated are created by me unless otherwise stated.
Fallout; A Requiem for the Capital Wasteland is a modification package owned by MasterYster of Newvegasnexus, I hold no rights to the title or anything pertaining the mod itself.
Pairings will be as such; Courier/Sarah Lyons, LoneWanderer/ Butch (possibly but not set in stone as of yet), with allusions to past Courier/Cass.
*EDIT* I was alerted to some errors in the chapter and realized i uploaded the wrong copy, it has been replaced and the errors and inconsistencies have been rectified.
Plain text – action
"Quotation text" – spoken word
'Italicized text with apostrophes' – Thinking or flashbacks
Bold text – Important names or events.
Beta read and corrected by – Irisu the Rabbit.
Fact Checking and Information gathering by – Garaa of the Funk
Without further interruption let's begin the adventure.
Chapter one – A tale of flashbacks and trips?
An experiment gone awry in the Big Mountain Research facility causes a temporal distortion which displaces the Sink and its occupants in time and drops them eleven years and several thousand miles away into the Capital Wasteland where the former courier and Ghost of the Mojave helps etch out the legend of another and brings his own brand of Vegas justice to the evils of the east.
The clicking of keys echoed throughout the inexplicably named home, The Sink, as graceful fingers dance quickly upon the keyboard of a refurbished RobCo Industries computer. The screen littered with the familiar glow of green text, detailed descriptions of another RobCo device fill the screen instructions on improvements and theories about the strange teleportation device that was given to him by the even stranger Think Tank.
A sigh interrupts the keys melodic dance as the digits' owner lifts his hands up into the air and wearily stretches his aching arms; the satisfying pop of his joints fills him with a small sense of relief as he lowers his hands to his eyes and removes the stifling pair of glasses that adorn his face. Removing the offending spectacles and setting them beside the keyboard, he leans back slightly in his chair as he rubs his fatigued eyes.
"Why did I let Arcade talk me into wearing these ridiculous things?" The man mutters, glancing back down at the eyeglasses. With a grunt he flicks the frames and lets the chair return to its rightful place upon the steel floor. The sensation of blurriness swarms his vision, forcing him to blink and shake his head in a futile attempt to banish the offending problem from his head. A touch of vanity and pride prohibited the waster from accepting that his vision was fading as he grew older, but out of respect from his close friend he accepted the frames.
Five years ago. One year after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Mormon's Fort.
"These are merely a slight corrective pair. You don't have to wear them all the time, but I'd like you to get used to wearing them while you are concentrating on something. It'll help I promise. "The blonde scientist explains holding out a pair of black rimmed glasses none too dissimilar from his own.
"Bah I have no need for such things; I am not that old Arcade." The second man dismisses with a wave of his hand, having no intention of wearing the glasses.
A mirthful chuckle escapes older man's lips as he pushes the frames backs towards his younger friend, who takes them with barely concealed contempt. Rolling the frames around in his hand he snorts shortly before slipping them onto his face.
"Besides." With his hand on his chin, he examines the face of his friend as he adjusts his new frames, a smirk dances playfully on his lips. "They make you look really handsome."
With a start the man tears the glasses from his face and tosses them back towards Arcade, "Oh now I know I ain't wearing them!"
Arcade's loud guffawing fills the tent situated in the rear of the old Morman's Fort as his companion sputters in an undignified manner, asserting sternly that they do not make him look 'handsome', but his denial and the dusting of red on the man's cheeks only serves to amuse the scientist further.
"Oh relax, Kane, I am just teasing you. But I am serious, please start wearing them. We can't have our savior going blind, now can we?"
With a grunt Kane snatches the glasses from Arcade's outstretched hands and slips them back onto his face. Another playful smirk forms on Arcade's lips as Kane again attempts to adjust the spectacles.
"I'm sure Cass would agree with me though."
Arcade's loud laughter drowns out the flustered sputtering before an irritated scream pierces the laughter.
A huff escapes Kane's lips as the recollected memory ends in his mind, Arcade, in all his brilliance, could act like a nagging woman when he wanted to, all for the good of his friends, but still. Another shake of his head cleared the memory from his mind and a light slap to his cheeks brought him back to his task. Casting his gaze back to his workstation, he eyed the objects lain out upon it.
One RobCo Personal Information Processor 3000, more commonly known as a Pip-Boy 3000, cover removed and the internal parts exposed, check.
One matter transmitter ridiculously named the "Big Mountain Transportalponder!" No doubt by either Doctor Klein or Doctor Borous. They both tended to be overly dramatic and loud, which reminded him, he needed to get Klein's volume knob fixed. Or add a mute button; both were viable options at this point.
Kane's goal, to combine the two and allow for instantaneous travel to his base and the Mojave without having to carry around that odd device, but the complexity of both devices made his task that much more challenging. With Zero's extreme hatred for Robert House's inventions, Dala's obsession with her "Teddy Bears", and Klein and Borous's distracted nature that left him with only Doctor Eight and Doctor Mobius. The almost indecipherable acoustician was of little assistance though; his specialty of sound technology did nothing to advance past his problems, so that left him with Mobius. Despite his oddity, he remained the only semi-stable member of the Think Tank.
His left hand hovers in front of his face, its alabaster white skin a stark contrast to the rest of his deeply tanned body. He felt almost alien without the little computer resting familiarly on his arm. Despite its simplicity, it has saved his life so many times throughout the Mojave; the light illuminating even the darkest paths, the maps always making sure he was guided and so many other minor things that he had taken for granted, were all thanks to it.
A slight headache began to materialize as the stress of his endeavor began to make itself known, thankful for the fact he shut the Sink's numerous appliance personalities on standby for their constant bickering and uproarious natures would only serve to worsen his suffering. Pushing himself and by extension the chair he occupies away from the table he stands up and makes his way into the main room, a large circular display situated in the center glows lightly as he passes and enters the rooms opposite his work station. Entering his included nursery he stops and opens the fridge, browsing for a moment he snatches a bottle of water from within and kicks the door closed and proceed back into the main room.
Leaning against the nearby workbench, he cracks the bottle open and takes a long gulp from the contents, the chilled pure water refreshing his parched throat and easing his aching mind. His brief reprieve from work is interrupted by a stiff, overly-verbose and faintly British voice echoing from somewhere within the room.
"A most rapturous good morrow sir, perhaps sir would like to put sir's feet up, and I might serenade sir with the dulcet tones of a light opera to relax him?"
Alert to the active console his eyes drift to the lone pre-war clock he had scrounged from Dr. Eight's home, it indeed was the next day meaning he had worked throughout the night on his thesis. A groan escapes his lips as he rubs his temple, "No thank you Cin, I need to get back to work." He dismisses the automated personality with a wave of his hand and takes off for his work station.
"Very good, sir." The AP replies before returning to its numerous tasks, but its voice once again makes itself known. "Sir if I may interject, perhaps the sir should activate Light Switch 01's Smart Lights, according to the notes it is said to help brain processes."
The Sink Central Intelligence Unit's, shortened to CIN by its master, proclamation forces Kane to pause and glance down at the light switch directly next to him. After staring at the device a moment longer he sighs deeply and palms his face irritated at his own ignorance. With a flick of his finger, he presses a button underneath the primary on and off switch and all five rooms of the base are bathed in a calming green light.
"Thank you Cin that will be all." Kane comments before disappearing into his work station to continue.
"Of course sir." The automated response of the machine echoes slightly before the display dims and the personality returns to its many tasks.
Several Hours Later.
Soft snores permeate the Sink, its master face down on his worktable several screws buried under his cheek as a sliver of drool makes its appearance from his lips. After several more hours of no progress Kane succumbed to his body's call, his cheek resting upon the metal tabletop as sleep forced itself upon him. His previous headache and troubles gone as the sweet embrace of sleep comforts him, but even that is torn away from him as troubled memories of years past invade his dreams.
Six years ago, Hoover Dam.
A loud whoosh accompanies the agonized screams of two Republic troopers as the fearsome Legate's massive blade cleaves them in two, sending the butchered bodies down the cliff. With a testament to his strength, the giant aptly named the Monster of the East imbeds his massive sword into the ground in front of him and stares down at the man before him, his rifle aimed squarely at him.
"And who are you to come before me... You bear the insignia of the Bear, yet you do not wear it as a soldier of the West wears it." His gravelly voice echoing from within his crafted mask.
"What, Caesar giving you orders from beyond the grave now?" Kane spits out keeping his eyes trained firmly on the butcher before him.
"Caesar's will is the will of the Legion. And the West... all beneath the flag of the Great Bear exists to test the strength of the Legion. The West shall fall as the East fell, and all the tribes that stretch to the setting sun shall bear the mark of the Legion."
"Your atrocities end scum; I am here to halt the advance the Legion once and for all." A smirk graces the warrior's lips. "Nice mask; can't wait to make it a trophy for my wall."
A throaty growl emanates from the Legate's lips as he grips his massive blade tightly, "You will be crucified along all the other profligates, but if we must, at least fight me in an honorable combat."
Scoffing with a sneer, he tosses his rifle aside and draws the combat knife from his boot, "Honor, from the Legion? That's laughable but I will play your game if only to allow me to savor the feeling of your blood on my hands."
Arm bent and held level in front of his chest, he extends his free hand forward, knife pointed square for the man's heart.
A grunt is Lanius's only response before the massive blade is ripped from the ground and sent careening towards Kane's head, intent on cutting it in half. However, the Courier expertly rolls away from the blade and once he regains his bearings, slashes his slender knife towards a gap in Lanius's orientate armor but is blocked swiftly with the massive blade.
A stalemate interrupts their fight as both push against each other's blade. Lanius's natural strength fending off against Kane's artificially augmented strength. The blades screech as they grind against one another. However, despite his augmented strength, the Courier begins to lose the battle and the massive blade of the east bears down on him. With practiced dexterity and nimble fingers, his free hand disappears from the knife and into his coat withdrawing the hidden machete from his belt and with a deft lunge attempts to drive that same blade across the masked visage of the Legion Commander.
With practiced ease, he leans his head back to avoid the oncoming machete and, seeing an opening in the Waster's defenses, drives his spiked shoulder into the Courier's. The fiendish protrusion barely misses imbedding itself within his neck and instead opts to leave a deep gash across his shoulder, tearing the duster jacket and sending him sprawling to the ground. His lost knife is kicked from the perch by the approaching Lanius, an amused chuckle escaping the massive Legionary as he watches the profligate scramble back to his feet, machete held defensively in front of him.
The smirk that rarely graced his face is soon replaced with a sneer as he noticed the wound on his opponents shoulder slowly knit itself back together.
"You keep yourself alive with that old world trash."
Instead of answering him the Courier tosses the blade to his dominate hand and lunges forward, intent on impaling the massive warrior but an armored gloved hand smashes against his helmet shattering the optics and rendering the protective gear into nothing more than junk. The force of the blow sends the smaller man to one knee, his vision swimming, trying to regain his sense. Lanius, on the other hand, doesn't allow for it. With practiced ease he brings his massive blade down upon the dazed Courier.
The sound of the blade cutting through the air and an innate six sense alerts the Courier to his impending death. He attempts to roll backwards but his dazed state only allows him to escape death. The massive blade effortlessly cuts through the beaten helmet and down his face, etching in a shallow wound from scalp to jaw. Escaping further injury, he rolls back, propping himself up with his hands and knees; The ravaged remains of his helmet strewn in front of him as he palms his wounded face blood seeping down his arm.
Pain floods Kane's body as the PHOENIX Monocyte Breeder implant does its best to save the damaged eye. The pain is so stifling that Kane doesn't notice the loud echoing footsteps of his opponent until he feels the cold metal of Lanius's blade rest under his chin and lift his gaze.
"Pathetic, if this is the best that the Bear can offer then our victory will be swift and clean. You fight with the skill of a recruit and you will die like those who cannot measure up to Caesar's strength."
The cold feeling disappears as Kane begins accept his demise, images of his friends flash before his eyes; sharing a bottle of whiskey and slinging flirts back and forth with the sassy caravaneer, Spotting targets with the stoic NCR sniper, watching the flushed and elated face of the perky scribe as he hands her a dress, the sarcastic old ghoul endlessly tinkering away at anything, his faithful cybernetic hound wagging his tail happily as he travels with his master, watching the former Enclave scientist help a wounded waster. Each individual face flashes before him.
Lanius watched in a curious interest as many emotions flashed across his fallen opponent's face, whatever guilt once held this man's arm back had long since vanished as he tightened his grip on his sword intent on ending the pathetic profligate's life and securing the Legion's destined victory.
"We will take Hoover Dam and move forward until our feet crush the setting sun beneath them. You could not stand against what was destined to come."
However before the Legate can complete his work, a massive explosion rips through his camp as a stray packet of bombs from the explosive loving Boomer's jet land within, sending clumps of dirt and wood about.
Distracted by the attack the Legate doesn't notice his enemy regain his bearing and grip his machete until the blade breaks against his armor. The Courier's stab, while failing to kill the Legate did enough damage leaving a hole large enough to be a liability, reeling from the explosions and the sudden attack Lanius is unable to muster a defense in time. The cold barrel of the Courier's 12.7mm pistol pressed against the Legate's bare stomach, seconds lapse in silence before seven deafening cracks pierce the silence and seven bullets implode within his stomach and mushroom tearing his insides to shreds.
Blood erupts from his mask as his sword slips from his hands and imbeds itself into the dirt behind him, blood pools beneath him as he collapses to his knees, hand attempt to contain the gushing blood from his abdomen. His gaze spies the pistol that spelt his demise, a groan escapes his lips as raises his head but instead of his killer he finds nothing for behind him the Courier has snatched his sword and with a roar that would rival even the mightiest Yao gaui he arches the blade over his shoulder and down towards the kneeling man with all the strength
Blood erupts from his mask as his sword slips from his hands and imbeds itself into the dirt behind him. Blood pools beneath him as he collapses to his knees, hands attempting to contain the gushing blood from his abdomen. His gaze spies the pistol that spelt his demise, a groan escapes his lips as raises his head but instead of his killer he finds nothing. For behind him the Courier has snatched his sword and with a roar that would rival even the mightiest Yao gaui he arches the blade over his shoulder and down towards the kneeling man with all the strength his artificially augmented arms can muster.
'The roar of a bear…a fitting end…'
The roar and the sound of the sword cleaving through the air are the symphony of the fallen Legion Legate's end as it tears through the armor, flesh and bone. The head slipping from the body and falling to the ground beside him, the body remained upright, blood spurting like a fountain from the exposed arteries coating Kane's face and hair in the thick, pungent fluid. With a fierce boot to the now dead Legate's back hurling it down the cliff, his armor impacting the ground resonates the Legion second failure at the pre-war wonder.
A massive explosion rips through the gate to Legate Lanius's compound. Out of the smoke, four veteran rangers of the NCR rush out, flanking the doors and eyes scanning the surroundings with guns ready to neutralize any Legion who dares to tempt them. Once it is secure, they signal another figure beyond the smoke, a man dressed in formal drab uniform steps forward accompanied by another ranger. He surveys the scene before whistling;
"Damn, that kid is a beast, he left nothing ali-"
The harsh sound of armored boots alerts those present. Though they are at first alert and ready to intercept the foe, the sight of familiar black coat puts them all at ease. General Lee Oliver moves forward to congratulate their champion but stops abruptly when the massive sword of the Legate clatters to the ground in front of him and the severed head of their hated enemy is shoved roughly into his arms.
The Courier's iron grip clamps down onto his shoulder; the General suppresses the urge to flinch, but when his wild emerald eyes bore into his own he could not help but shudder, face and hair soaked in blood only served to cement the Courier's terrifying gaze.
"I have won your war, now it is your turn. Keep the peace or I will bring hell to you as I did to him." Kane rasps out, squeezing the generals shoulder tighter he pushes him away and disappears into the smoke, the gleaming helmet of the Legate the last thing they see.
With a start, Kane awakens from his slumber, the dreams of the past still fresh in his mind, the brutality of the war and the atrocities both sides had committed. No. Slapping his face, he forces those thoughts from his mind and rakes a hand through his brown bedraggled locks. The nap he took, while not the best sleep he's ever had, sufficed to quelch the creeping exhaustion and with a sigh he grabs the reassembled pip-boy from the table. His efforts fruitless and amounting to nothing more than exhaustion, the glove slips onto his hand neatly and covers the alabaster skin leaving naught a trace of untanned flesh exposed.
With a few practiced movements, the arm-mounted device flairs to life without problem; The Courier sighs in relief as his trusted sidekick remains operational. With another deep sigh he leans back in his chair, which has been his bed many a long night, staring blankly at the intersecting beams as his fingers unconsciously tracing the long scar over his eye a glaring reminder to his vicious battle against the Monster of the East.
Forcing those memories aside he slips from his chair and into his bedroom, the overwhelming feeling of cabin fever beginning to creep into his mind, "Maybe I'll go visit Arcade and Veronica, see if they have any helpful ideas."
Below within the confines of the Think-Tank six floating brains resume their dubious experiments oblivious to the conflicts of the Mojave and world; a single brain floats away from the others watching over them as he had done for decades. Now, thanks to the friendly Courier, he could do so without worry.
Mobius's thoughts drifted to the problem that the Courier had inquired of him, a way to integrate the bulky teleportation gun into his wrist computer. It was quiet the conundrum as he has no prior knowledge of such a device, making his task quite difficult. But the aged floating brain understood why the intrepid warrior chose him over the other unique members of Big Mountain. Minutes further along he still could not deduce the proper method of integration, his mind unfocused and muddled by lack of 'inspiration'.
"Time for some of those science-arific chalky tablets of science!" The odd scientist mutters before floating off to find a stash of his Mentants.
A bright flash within the empty confines of the Mojave Drive-In, materializing out of the flash is a single figure clutched in his hand is a strange black, blue and orange device. The tall armed figure scans the horizon as he slips an odd device into his pouch and examines the device strapped to his wrist, 'that damn thing always disorients me, now which way was Route 95…'
A second later, he traces the route on his Pip-Boy and closes the map screen. Instead of bulky power armor or conspicuous ranger armor, Kane instead opted for a simple set of leather armor. Service Rifle on his back, pistol at his side and combat knife in his boot, it was more than enough to tackle any threat that the Mojave Wastes can throw at him, now that the Legion was driven from the Mojave. Although the occasional assassin foolishly made his way into the area in a vain attempt to avenge the deaths of their leaders.
Pressing forward, he makes his way towards the charred ruins of Nipton. Since Vulpes Inculta massacred the townspeople and razed the two, no one has attempted to resettle it. The town, filled with nothing but whores, thieves and others of questionable morals, still didn't deserve its brutal fate. Their deaths were swiftly avenged though; Kane and Boone made sure of that. A small smirk appears on his face with a chuckle as he remembers his first encounter with the fearsome Legion.
Six years ago. Nipton.
Flanked by several legionaries and mongrels, a man wearing a wolf cap and sunglasses beckons Kane closer. Watching from Nipton's General Store is Boone, his rifle aimed directly at the stationary Legionaries, waiting for Kane to move to safety.
"Don't worry; I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of the degenerates. It's useful that you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar's Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across."
Eyeing the armed soldiers dressed in odd armor warily, "And what lesson did you teach here?"
Crossing his arms across his chest he thinks for a moment, "Where to begin? That they are weak, and we are strong? This much was known already. But the depths of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson."
"What exactly happened here?"
"Nipton was a wicked place, debased and corrupt. It served all the comers, so long as they paid. Profligate troops, Powder Gangers, men of the Legion such as myself - the people here didn't care. It was a town of whores. For a pittance, the town agreed to lead those it had sheltered into a trap. Only when I sprang it did they realize they were caught inside it, too."
"And you captured everyone?"
"Yes, and herded them to the center of town. I told them their sins, the foremost being disloyalty. I told them that when Legionaries are disloyal, some are punished, the others made to watch. And I announced the lottery. Each clutched his ticket, hoping it would set them free. Each did nothing, even when "loved ones" were dragged away to be killed."
Clenching his fists tightly and barely containing his urge to draw his 9mm pistol, "So you slaughtered innocent civilians?" Kane spits out through clenched teeth.
Scoffing, "Innocent? Hardly. Cowardly, though. They outnumbered us, yet not once did they try to resist. They stood and watched as their fellows were butchered, crucified and burned, one by one. They stood and hoped their turn would not come. Each cared only for himself."
Pausing Vulpes waits for the man to answer but when naught but the crackling of fire answers him; "Then I bid you "Vale" – until we meet again."
Turning on his heel, Vulpes signals his Legionaries to move on; however they do not get more than a couple steps before the dissolute stranger regains his voice.
"Your crimes are unforgivable!"
Before they can react, Kane's pistol is out of its holster and two shots ring out, two nine millimeter rounds explode the heads of two Legion Recruits before another succession of shots finish off the two remaining escorts, .308 rounds easily piercing the flesh and bone and showering Vulpes in gore.
His 9mm aimed directly between Vulpes's eyes, the two stare each other down; Kane trembling in rage and Vulpes staring impassively at the Profligate scum who dared to challenge the Legion's rule.
A sudden growl distracts Kane as one of the Legion mongrels latches onto his forearm, sinking it's fangs in deeply causing the former Courier to curse and attempt to shake the hound off. When that fails he brings his pistol down harshly against the hound's skull, a sickening crack and a yelp signal the hounds demise and release from his profusely bleeding arm. A second growl immediately alerts him as the second mongrel leaps for his throat.
Wheeling his pistol around, he squeezes off three rounds in succession, the kick on the pistol arching it upwards, one impacting its shoulder, second its eye and the final fatal bullet hitting dead center, spilling more gore upon the pavement. Panting slightly and still trembling from the sudden excitement, his focus distracted, he forgets about his primary target until the menacing throaty grinding alerts him and, with a desperate move, blocks the incoming Ripper aimed for his head.
The miniature chainsaw digs into the metal gun showering both with sparks and bits of metal, a brief deadlock ensues before Kane lands a haymaker across Vulpes's face, sending both men sprawling to the ground weapons scattered.
The first to regain his composure, Kane doesn't let up his assault and backhands the fallen Frumentarii, leaping to his feet he drives a boot across the dazed Legionnaire. "You punish these people for their supposed sins! What of your own! You are nothing more than a cold blooded murderer!" He lands several more kicks across Vulpes's face, knocking the glasses and hound helmet from his head.
Grabbing the man by the scruff of his armor, Kane drags him towards a nearby curb, "People like you are exactly what is wrong with humanity!"
Without another word or sound, Kane pries the man's mouth open and places it upon the curb; a vicious kick of his foot drives the fallen Frumentarii's open mouth into the concrete. Teeth, blood and other unidentifiable parts of the man spew out, without pause Kane resumes his assault, grabbing his head and repeatedly slamming it into the bloodied curb.
He continues his frenzied assault until a hand grips his shoulder roughly. In his fury, he lashes out to remove the offending distraction, but the hand is caught simply by his companion. Staring down through sunglasses, his eyes meet the wild emerald eyes of his young spotter;
"Kid, it's over."
Boone's calm stoic voice pierces the righteous fury and Kane's tense body suddenly falls slack. He blankly stares at his blood soaked hands before eyeing the bloodied pulp that remains of the Desert Fox. Inhaling a shuddering breath he tries to speak but his mouth hangs limply open, nothing but incoherent squeaks emerge. A rough hand pulls him to his feet but Kane shoves him away, stumbling a few feet before toppling to his knees and retching louder.
Craig Boone, grizzled veteran of the NCR's bloody war with the Great Kahn's, could only watch as his companion fell apart in front of him, like many rookies before him after experiencing an up-close and barbarous kill. No man, no matter their boasting, is prepared mentally for such things; all Boone could do was to make sure the area was free of enemies and wait for him to regain his composure.
The memory of his first Legion battle flooding his mind, he found himself staring at the exact spot where he brutally beat Vulpes Inculta to death. The faint remains of the bloodstain linger still, the body long since removed either by the Legion or, more likely, the many carnivores that populate the wastes. Lingering for a moment longer, he sets off to the east towards Nevada highway 165 and eventually Novac.
The trip along the highway was uneventful, as the gangs of raiders had been long since wiped out by the combined efforts of the NCR and Kane.
Dinky the T-Rex, the pre-war tourist trap that adorns the small town of Novac, it had been six years since he first set foot in the small community. Here, within the mouth of the massive reptile statue is where he first met the former NCR sniper and his mentor Craig Boone, and after assisting him in locating the party responsible for his wife's demise, they set off into the Mojave to find Kane's prey.
With a sigh, he pushes away the half-eaten Brahmin steak, his appetite disappearing from him and his thoughts lingering to his former mentor who, after the battle at Hoover, left to rejoin his old unit in California. The last he had heard he was still hunting down slavers, ridding the world of the horrors that they wrought. 'Well good for him' thought Kane, though he was still haunted by what he had done at Bitter Springs. He now had a purpose to reconcile.
Laying a couple caps on the table, he exits the tent and back into the heat of the desert, the sun setting behind him, and his body casting a long shadow across the pavement. Continuing on he passes Novac's resident kook, No-bark Noonan, staring straight into the wall of the Dino Dee-Lite hotel, muttering incomprehensible nonsense.
As he made his way out of the town, he gave a lazy wave to Novac's lone defender high within Dinky's mouth, Manny Vargas, whether the sniper noticed was unimportant to the former courier.
His long solo-sojourn to New Vegas is interrupted by the appearance of a pair of heavily armored warriors, clad in old world powered infantry armor and toting energy weapons, making their way towards him. Stopping right in front of him, they examine him before lowering their weapons;
"Paladin Teuvo? Is that really you?" a cheerful but confused male voice, distorted by the helmet calls asks as he moves to remove his helmet.
Kane's face remains impassive as he examines the young features of the soldier before him, "Knight Stanton, it is good to see you and how are you Knight Watkins?"
"Oh how did you guess it was me?" Melissa Watkins's whines with a huff as she removes her helmet, her partner rolling his eyes at her childish behavior.
"It's been six years but you two are still paired together and most likely causing Elder McNamara trouble." Responds Kane before continuing down the cracked pavement, motioning the two to follow him.
The two Brotherhood knights share a chuckle before obliging, helmets tucked underneath their free arms. "Paladin Teuvo, where have you been these last two years? Hunting down more Legion bastards?" Knight Melissa Watkins queries, bedazzled by the Paladin's legend.
Silence reigns for a few moments before he responds, "No, I've just been….preoccupied. I am heading towards the Strip to ask the Followers for assistance in a task. And please, enough with the formalities just call me Kane. Everyone else does."
"Of course, Paladin Teuvo." both knights respond officially, leaving Kane to shake his head and sigh.
"What do you need help with Paladin Teuvo? Maybe we can help?"
"Unless you can help me with integrating a quantum field displacement apparatus into a wrist mounted terminal without compromising the apparatus's field integrity." He gives pause for a brief moment. When he is met with nothing but silence, he continues. "Then no, you can't, I appreciate the offer though."
Sharing a look, the two knights continue following the honorary brotherhood paladin as he makes his way towards a lone gas station in the distance.
The lone female Knight ponders quietly before perking up and closing the distance between them, "Well then maybe you'd allow us to travel with you until you reach Vegas? I mean, it can be dangerous in the wastes…Not that you can't take care of yourself! But even someone as strong and powerful as you can be hurt but-"
An armored hand muffles her ramblings, "Melissa that is enough, please for Steel's sake."
Kane's amused chuckles give the two young knights a start, they had never seen the Slayer of the Bull laugh and frankly to see someone of his legend act like a human was disconcerting.
"Well I won't turn down the offer of company. "
Night came quickly as the three made their way down the desolate highway; the only sound accompanying their excursion is the gentle footfalls of Kane's boots and the heavy thud of the two brotherhood knights that accompany the lone sniper.
The cracked and disheveled road did nothing to deter the motivated pace of the courier, his mind focused only on completing his task and moving onto another of the long list of tasks he had made for himself.
His quick and professional pace is interrupted when his boot impacts a discarded whiskey bottle, the idle distraction stirs up long old memories in Kane's mind forcing him to pause in his stride and stare down at the abandoned beverage, so engrossed on his focus he doesn't even notice the armored hand on his shoulder or the concerned voice of Knight Stanton.
Both the knights are confused by the sudden change in demeanor of the courier, despite their inquiries the only answer they receive from the catatonic courier is a single word barely above a whisper;
"…Cass."
Six years ago, Hoover Dam Barracks, night after the battle.
Cass survived to see the NCR flag flying proud over Hoover Dam, and thought for a moment... this is what a hero must feel like. She was about to tell the Courier not to get too proud of himself, then she figured he knew that already. So that night, Cass kicked in the door of his room to celebrate, bottles of whiskey in hand, however all thoughts of her celebration died upon what she saw.
The invincible slayer of the bull was laying there simply reading a book, not even the violent force of his bunkroom door slamming into the wall could shake him from his concentration. This was the same man she witnessed tear through countless Legionaries and various mutated creatures of the waste and to see him laying in a bunk reading like a normal person was baffling. A bandage wrapped around his head, coating the injured organ protectively, the single bare emerald eye scanning briskly across the pages of the magazine, Pugilism Illustrated.
Finally after what seemed to be an eternity of staring at him, the former courier finally notices his spunky companion;
"Is something wrong Cassidy?" a small smirk flashes across the mouth of the courier as he sits up.
Cass continues to stare at the courier until she recognizes the barb and flashes her own smirk before kicking the door closed behind her and slowly sashays towards his bunk; "Quite full of yourself aren't you Kane?"
"Kinda hard not to be Cass, I am that great."
Rolling her eyes she shoves a bottle of whiskey into his hands and uncorks her own; "don't get too cocky there, mister hero."
Without another word, they both take a long swig of the alcohol and toast to a victory, leading to a long night of drinking.
Several hours and more bottles of whiskey later, a thoroughly intoxicated Cass leans against a sober courier as she rambles on about several different subjects at once, all the while Kane listens contently.
"I wass tahkinna to Bob and hesa all do it" Cass mutters half-lidded as her gaze lingers on the empty whiskey bottle secured tightly in her hand. The silence sobers the former caravaneer as she tears her eyes from the bottle and to her companion;
"Heey ya'll listenin too mee Kaney?"
Leaning back against the cool metal wall eyes closed contently he listens to Cass mumble endlessly, feigning interest every once in a while, taking a small swig from the same bottle of whiskey she had given him hours beforehand. Drinking was not exactly his favorite thing and he did it usually only at her insistence, but she enjoyed it and that was enough for him. A finger roughly poking his cheek interrupts his thoughts as the intoxicated caravaneer garners his attention, grabbing her hand he gently pulls her hand from his face as her incessant jabbing begins to irritate him.
"Kaaaney, whys you no drinky?"
"Cass you know I don't drink much." He tries to reason with her but already knowing his reply falls upon her liquored up ears.
"Buuut celebration!"
A soft chuckle as the childishness begins to worm it's way to the surface from the constant whiskey, but despite the intoxication she managers to surprise Kane with her quickness and in a blink of an eye she is soon straddling him, her face dangerously close to his own.
"Oh-ho someone's face is red and I don't think it's from the whiskey~" she giggles as she presses her body closer towards him.
"C-cass, what are you doing?" Kane stutters out a little shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor.
"I told you, celebrating and if you won't drink, then we'll have to find another way to celebrate~"
Any attempt at protesting was quickly silenced by the rough and sloppy embrace of their lips. Though at first he was surprised at the sudden contact, his strength of will begins to crumble as her tongue expertly snakes itself around his.
The warm embrace almost completely engulfing his mind leading it to surrender to the primal lust but his conscious finally makes itself known along with a wave of regret and guilt. Pulling Cass off of his lap and back onto the bunk, he stumbles to his feet, his hand over his heart as he tries to process the recent events.
"Ca-cass, what the hell?" He was confused by her actions, sure they had flirted before but Cass had explicitly made it clear that nothing could ever happen between the two of them, and to now have her throwing herself at him…
"W-why"
A soft squeaking sob interrupts him as a side of Cass he's never seen before begins to manifest, "Is-is it because I am not as wholesome as that vault girl or as sultry as that Red Lucy women bu-but"
The rest of her speech becomes incomprehensible mumbling and sobs leaving the former courier baffled by the sudden change in her demeanor. Never had he dealt with a distraught woman and, with no prior experience in the matter, he just did what he felt was natural.
She was a mess, she didn't know what she was doing, whiskey was hell but it made things much more enjoyable then being sober did. Be that as it may, it did cause endless trouble but what the fuck, that's part of the fun of life; this, however, was not fun. Babbling like a pussy and trying to seduce Kane, she hoped to whatever fucking god was up in the clouds that she could explain all this to him when she sobered up, she didn't want him getting the wron-
Everything stopped when she felt herself wrapped in a warm tight embrace. Looking up she saw the soft emerald lone eye of her long time friend, and as soon as she felt his calloused but gentle hands stroke her disheveled hair she couldn't help but let the floodgates lose.
As Cass resumed crying and clung tightly to him, Kane could only attempt to comfort her and hope it would end soon, for he felt quite uncomfortable dealing with such a stark difference in Cass's normal sassy attitude.
Hours had past; neither knew what time it was and neither seemed to care as they laid on the single bunker bed. Cass's tear long dried up, now resting peacefully upon Kane's tear-stained chest.
The last figments of the memory finally flushed from his mind he notices that dawn has begun to break over the hills and he wondered just how long he had been standing there deep in thought. Unknown to him though, while deep in thought, he unconsciously palmed the pendant he wore around his neck, his thumb carefully and meticulously caressing every groove and detail of the strange jewelry that adorned the battle-scarred courier.
"Oh? Are you finally awakened Paladin Teuvo?"
Quickly turning on his heel, his hand reaching for its sidearm he is suddenly confronted by the armored visage of the Brotherhood of Steel Knight Michael Stanton, hands up in a placating manner. Quickly noticing his mistake the courier relaxes, a hand massaging the bridge of his nose, "Fine Knight Stanton just, distracted."
Though both are excitedly curious at his strange behavior, they decide not to push and continue to follow him as he resumes his journey towards the jewel of the Mojave, the bright lights of the Lucky 38 visible from all corners of the wastelands.
Hours Later.
The rest of the trip was, to put it bluntly, very very boring. Frankly, even an attack from a deathclaw was preferable to this deafening silence that had enveloped the group. That was the thoughts of the young blonde Brotherhood Knight as she steadily followed the courier; she figured that being with the famed hero of the Mojave would be more exciting; battling Legionnaires, ghouls, super mutants, or at least the occasional raider. But there wasn't even a mole rat to shoot, and when Melissa Watkins got bored she got mischievous. She was about to play a trick on the courier when he stopped and turned his attention to the two Knights who accompanied him; "I thank you for the company but I believe this is where we part ways."
Thoroughly confused, Melissa begins to question the courier before being elbowed by her partner then directed to the large colorful gate of Freeside. Shocked and embarrassed at how long she was distracted, she only manages to sheepishly chuckle before regaining her composure. Both Knights attain a rigid posture and salute the former courier turned Paladin, "It has been an honor to accompany you Paladin Teuvo!" both exclaim in a professional and stout utterance, much to the annoyance of Kane.
Deciding that any attempt at scolding the two for their obsessive need to address him formally would be an exercise of futility, he continued on towards the gate without another word leaving the two Knights to their own devices. They were capable, young warriors and could handle any threat in the wastes on their patrol of the highways, so bereft of another thought about them; he made his way through the large doors to Freeside.
Eventually after passing many thugs, rubble and dilapidated masses that populated the poor sections of the Strip, he reached the one chaste portion of the wanton debauchery that littered the stretch of Vegas.
Remaining close to the entrance and out of the way of the many hurrying faculty, he scans each one, attempting to locate his intended target. He is about to give up when the familiar sight of a spiked mohawk, the signature hairstyle of the leader of the Followers of Apocalypse Vegas branch, catches his eye. Brushing his way past another hurrying scientist, he closes the distance and calls out for the kind doctor.
"Miss Fawkes!"
Craning her head around to address the call, she tilts her head to the side at the sight of an unfamiliar face, that is until the man moves closer and she can take in his features; bedraggled auburn brown hair, scarred left eye, stern calculating emerald eyes…
"Oh, Kaapro!" she exclaims, grabbing his extended hand in greeting. "It's been too long since you've made an appearance. We were beginning to think you had up and vanished."
A snort of amusement is her response as the larger man scans the fort, an old habit ingrained in many of the warriors of the wastes; his gaze falls back on the doctor as he suddenly remembers her words.
"Please Miss Fawkes, you do not need to address me by my proper given name, Kane is fine."
"Only if you stop calling me Miss Fawkes." She battles back, moving a hand to her hip as she does her best to drive her point home, meeting the man's narrowed gaze.
"Fine, whatever." Was Kane's concession, deciding to end, what he considered, the childish game between the warrior and doctor. He got enough grief from the other two Followers he was close with.
Smiling at her minuscule victory, she elects to steer the conversation back its original point, "So what brings a legend such as you to our little slice of paradise?"
"I came to ask Arcade or Veronica a question pertaining to a problem I have been struggling with for weeks."
Nodding in understanding, she motions for him to accompany her as she makes her way out of the fort and into Freeside, "They are at the Lucky 38, studying more of Mr. House's technology, which by the way, I have to thank you again for allowing us access too. The discoveries in the first year alone have assisted us greatly."
"It wasn't a problem, I'd rather it be of some use than for it to be picked apart by salvagers or left to rot" he dismisses with a wave as he continues to follow her escort to the subway car that separated the two sections of Freeside.
"It has and the people can't ever repay you for your contribution."
With a nod, Kane continues on his way before her voice sounds again, "Oh and don't forget to visit Rex, you know how much he misses you!"
"I planned too, don't worry." He exclaimed before disappearing behind the folding doors and into the north end of Freeside.
After a brief but excitable visit with his cybernetic canine companion and his "wife" Roxie and their terrifying army of pups, he bid farewell to the King and the pups and pursued his primary goal.
Upon arriving at the Lucky 38, he is scanned by a single securitron guarding the entrance and allowed to proceed; inside the former casino he finds a veritable festival of activity. Objects lay strewn out on the casino tables and bar tops, being examined and dissembled by various men and women all whose focus is solely on their work and not of the newcomer.
A shrill gasp and squeal alerts the former courier but not soon enough as a bundle of white and brown appears and latches itself onto his torso in a tight hug.
"Kane!" the chipper voice of the brown and white blur as its grip tightens around the courier's torso.
A chuckle escapes his lips, "It is nice to see you too, Veronica" playfully patting the excitable scribes head as she pulls away.
Elated to see her long lost friend, she links arms with him and pulls him further into the crowded casino, despite his slight resistance to the idea. The former scribe would have nothing of it and forcibly draws him towards the elevator. After a short elevator ride, the two arrive at the presidential suite and into the recreation room, the scribe urging him into a chair before she drops down into one directly across from the former courier.
"So where have you been? We haven't heard so much as a peep from you in two years and then you just show up out of the blue without so much as a phone call? Rude!" Huffs out the former scribe childishly as she wags her finger at him disapprovingly.
"Well I-"However before he can barely begin to explain his reasons he is thoroughly cut off by Veronica frantically calling out for Arcade to come join them.
Arcade, who had just woken up from sleeping several hours after a long week of work, decided to grab a bite to eat before reviewing his notes. However, as he passed by the recreation room the voice of the ever-energetic voice of Veronica calls out to him. Removing his spectacles he rubs his weary eyes before moving to ascertain the meaning for Veronica's enthusiastic call; he hoped it wasn't for some inane reason. Like another fiasco involving Emily Ortal and a dress, he would never understand how or why it happened but it did and he had to intervene. Replacing his glasses and entering the recreation room he was about to question her when he notices a familiar face, one that the former Enclave Remnant had not seen in over two years.
"K-Kane? That really you?" The scientist queries in disbelief, the reappearance of cherished comrade was something that he could not have predicted. Rising from his chair Kane extends his hand to Arcade but is once again enveloped in a hug, though he stiffened at the sudden contact at first he patted the jovial scientist on the back before removing the blonde man from him.
"It is nice to see you too Arcade, the years have been kind to you it seems."
"They have but not as kind as I wanted them to be, still no man has swept this charming bachelor off his feet. Tis truly a tragedy worthy of the Romans."
Rolling his eyes at Arcade's obvious melodramatic take on his love life, Kane gestures for Arcade to take a seat alongside Veronica and, hopefully without another interruption, continues explaining to his two long time confidants the dilemma that has been vexing him for several weeks.
After several minutes of explaining the trio moved to a nearby table and had both items laid out upon it for all three to examine, and dispute their combined expertise they could not come up with a viable solution. With a groan, Arcade drops down into a chair and plucks the glasses off his face and, pulling a cloth out from the innumerable number of inside pockets his lab coat seemed to posses, diligently cleans them.
"I can honestly say I am stumped Kane. It would be one thing if we had several of the, Transportalponders to experiment with. But without dissecting it or at least having the blue prints, I'm not sure how you would accomplish such a feat."
Veronica, who held onto the strangely named device, continued to examine every inch of the equally strange device, utterly fascinated at its ability and construction. "Have you asked the people who gave it to you how it works?"
Scratching the stubble on his chin, he nods, slipping the pip-boy back onto his wrist, "Yeah but unfortunately they have no memory of its creation. Even if they did, I doubt they'd be willing to help they are a …unique bunch who become far too engrossed with whatever they decide to busy themselves with."
A silence overcomes the group as they still ponder a solution, seconds later Veronica's spirited voice dashes it away, "What about Raul? He is a genius with all things mechanical."
"I thought that as well, however I haven't heard anything from him other then the occasional rumor. Not since he took up his old Vaquero ways. He might've been able to help with the pip-boy but I think such advanced quantum theoretics would be out of the old ghouls grasp."
Several hours later.
Aside from his reunion with his companions, the entire trip to the Strip was a waste of time. So after delivering the transportalponderer to Dr. Mobius, he had a meal, washed the accumulated dust off his face and prepared to sleep away his burden, however this plan was halted by the blaring screech of the intercom and the aberrant voice of the ever strange Dr. Mobius;
"Oh my, is this thing on? Maybe I should take it apart and fix this confounded thing, always breaking for no apparent reason. Oh me oh my…"
Kane rushed over to the communicator before Mobius tore it apart and forced him to repair another thing one of the Think Tanks had disassembled without thinking and refused to fix. "That won't be necessary doctor, what is it?"
"Oh! There you are, always running off and blowing things up and stealing my delicious Mentants, which reminds me I should see about restoring my supply of those science-arif-" the odd doctor's monologue is cut short when Kane pushes the talk button down, repressing the urge to groan at how short Mobius's attention span could be.
"Doctor, you called me for a reason?"
"Yes yes of course, I think I've finally figured out the solution to your lit-"
An eruptive boom and the shrieks of several Think Tanks prelude the massive tremor that rippled throughout the dome, knocking books and various other minor sundries off their arranged shelves. Kane himself barely kept his balance as the oscillations continued. Finally managing to regain his footing, he urgently fingered the intercom; "Doctor! Doctor, what the hell was that! Doctor Mobius are you still there?"
When Mobius fails to reply, Kane rushes down to the main command room, not knowing what he would be walking into once he arrived. Rushing into the main chamber he is greeted by the sight of a large swirling mass of blue energy, a cascade of white bolts of energy arcing haphazardly. Below the occurrence, lay the damaged bodies of the Think Tank. Banishing the orb from his mind, he darts forward to check on the disembodied scientists. In his fevered dash, he ceases to notice a spindle of energy arc off the dome ceiling and straight for courier, being drawn like a bee to nectar.
A sudden force latches onto his left arm causing him to pause midstride. Then, before he can even blink, an indescribable degree of pain floods through his arm instantaneously. His attempt to endure the agony fail completely as guttural howl of torment erupts from his lips. Though he put all of his strength into freeing his encapsulated arm, the attempt was in vain as the energy dug deeper into his arm. For a reason he still does not understand, his gaze turned to the mass of energy that has captured him, and for a brief second time seemed to stop as the once luminescent blue abruptly changes into a violent crimson. Without warning, it suddenly and violently exploded enveloping the former courier in the light, continuing further and further out until the entire dome and surrounding area fall under the advancing engulfing light.
The bright crimson light is visible throughout the surrounding area and even discernible as far away as the New Vegas strip but, just as suddenly as it appeared; it shot up into the sky with a violent burst. A devastating shockwave followed its disappearance, laying waste to the entire Big Mountain Research facility, and when the dust and debris settled, it was a sight was to behold. The massive dome which housed some of the wastes most brilliant pre-war scientists was now gone, a corrugated crater was all that remained, leaving many in the wastes to ponder what happened and to forever wonder where their hero had disappeared to as well. Many believed that the strange event that took place in 2288 was related to the Hero of Hoover Dam's disappearance but without any way to confirm it, the idea soon becomes nothing more than supposition. So, the story of Kaapro "Kane" Teuvo ends within the Mojave Desert.
However, though one legend had ended, another was beginning and the influence of Courier Six would have a telltale impact on its outcome…
Indeterminate amount of time later.
The crackle of arching electricity and the groan of stressed metal is what Kane awoke too, eyes still blinded from the light and the immense pain that wracked his body. Attempting to sit up only accomplished a violent spasm of hoarse coughs as the particles of metal and dirt flood his lungs. After several minutes, his vision finally cleared of the blots of random colors and despite the continuous throbbing that his whole body experienced in protest to his sudden moments, he managed to rise to his feet.
Though the scene that greeted him made him wish he didn't wake, the dismembered corpses of the Think Tank strewn the command center, dirt and stone protruding from the ceiling and in mounds on the floor. He briefly wondered what caused such a horrific event then it suddenly came back to him and with several pained steps, he ventures closer to the bodies of the Think Tank. Their braincases broken and the gray matter strewn near them signified the end of six of the greatest minds the pre-war world had produced.
After making sure that the dome was in no danger of collapsing and administrating first aid on the more serious of the injuries he sustained, Kane set out to bury the remains of the Think Tank, not knowing what they wished he figured that they desired to be buried in the land they had lived for hundreds of years. Eventually, after clearing the rubble from the corridor and forcing the metal door open, he was assaulted by the blinding rays of the sun. Shielding his eyes from the offending light, he makes his way further outside only to be greeted, instead of the numerous pipes and concrete buildings of the Big MT facility, by a stark, barren brown foreign wasteland.
Although he would not find out for some time, the former courier of the Mojave Express had found himself within the desolate wastes of the pre-war capital.
The Mojave's own legend would find himself intertwined with another who follows a path non to dissimilar to his own and both would carve their names into the Capital Wasteland."
Whelp, twenty-one pages and just a smidge over ten thousand words later I have finally finished, though not completely happy with the way it turned out. Sadly most was written in the wee hours of the morn when my muse decided to make her presence known, and it's not fun working long shifts on only a few hours sleep.
I got the sudden inspiration to write a Fallout story after reading both of commandocucumber's Fallout 3 stories; Modus Operandi and Aqua Vitae. A wonderfully authored series that makes me crave more and more each chapter, I highly suggest it to any Fallout fan.
Also special thanks to my acquaintances; AbatedDust, SonicBlue777, MisterT, CassieCakes, DiscardedAngel and Neko Rena Arai for their assistance in writing the story.
Next chapter won't be anywhere near as long and will detail Kane's meeting with the Lone Wanderer and his realization of where he ended up.
Until Chapter two of Fallout New Vegas: Requiem for the Capital Wasteland.
Meetings, rescues and, mole rats?
Hope you enjoyed it, feel free to leave a review praising or critiquing it, any questions or flames are always welcome.