Disclaimer: You probably guessed already, but on the off chance some Bethesda lawyers are killing time on this site, I don't own any of this.
Chapter 1: Dreams of the Old World
The Second Battle of Hoover Dam was one of the greatest military undertakings of the Post-War world. Within the ruins of one of the greatest societies of the old world, many smaller empires scavenged whatever they could over the rotting carcass of the nation. Three of the most powerful would intersect at the desert oasis New Vegas. The expansionistic NCR, the imperialistic Caesar's Legion, and the enterprising Mr. House. For nearly five years, a stalemate locked the bear and the bull in a standoff perpetuated by a ghost. It was only in the final year of the conflict that the final pawn made his move. Introduced by Robert House, Lars "Vega" Perez went from being a simple courier to the single most decisive factor of the Mojave conflict.
Amassing an army of robots, tribals, and steel soldiers, the courier's coalition became the army that House could never lead, ultimately leading for the pawn to overthrow his king. With his skills honed through many adventures, friends and followers earned through force of will, and a century old battle plan, the courier went against the Legion with the NCR at his back. After confronting the dreaded Legate Lanius, the courier forced the legionary champion to concede defeat. However, when General Oliver attempted seize New Vegas for himself, the courier responded by throwing him off the dam.
It was seen as the greatest "dark horse victory" in the history of the city of odds-makers. In a few months, a courier became a king, a city became a nation, and, unbeknownst to the players, a dragon was awakened.
Three hours after the major fighting dies down.
Remus and Barnabas had just splintered off from the rest of the horde as it traveled back to Arizona. Though they had been as loyal centurions as Caesar could have hoped, the man was dead, and Lanius commanded neither of their respect. Though that was what they told each other, in truth it was because they were both deeply afraid of that man. Shortly before the battle entered its final stage, they had both appraised the outcome and figured that, rather then return to Flagstaff as the vanquished, they could gather up a few soldiers and raid the caravans. Though it pained these prideful legionaries to stoop to such a degenerate level, the Mojave had been so kind to them, they refused to leave what they believed to be their true home.
After settling in an abandoned homestead, Remus and Barnabas had gathered around a campfire. Between them, thirty legionaries had joined them in deserting the main host. The men were spread out, cleaning their weapons, doing pushups, and establishing a perimeter.
"So, what now, stulte! We have too few soldiers to survive more then a month," Remus growled.
Barnabas tried to shush him. "Not in front of the men. We are all on this ship together. Complaining won't help us at this juncture."
Remus spat in the fire. "You know what, you are right! Let us, instead, talk about how we are going to die. The NCR's dogs, the wildlife, the courier's robots, or the man himself, which do you think will kill us first? That is if Vulpes doesn't kill us once he finally realizes where we are?"
Barnabas threw aside the iguana he was roasting. "If you are so eager to die, allow me to assist you in your passing!" Remus rose from his position, reaching for his machete, while Barnabas grabbed his spear. Only the fortunate arrival of a scout stopped any further bloodshed.
"Brother Remus, Brother Barnabas, I bring news!" the scout panted.
Remus wheeled towards the scout "Be quick of it, we are in the middle of something!" The scout composed himself before continuing. "The NCR is gathering their forces and preparing to return to California."
Barnabas snorted. "They're sending most of their men home because there's no war left to fight. What did you expect them to do?" The scout shook his head. "That's not what I meant, they are ALL leaving."
Remus and Barnabas lowered their weapons, looking at each other with disbelief. "But wasn't the one named Vega working for NCR?" Barnabas asked.
Remus was hit with a realization. "The courier won the war for himself. No NCR, no Legion, just him in that huge personal castle," he said as a smile slowly crept over his face. In a few short hours, the numbers of threats that menaced them had dwindled in half, and their chances of survival had risen from doomed to plausible. Remus and Barnabas embraced like brothers, laughing for the first time since the battle ended.
Later that night, Remus and Barnabas had taken up patrolling the camp perimeter while the men slept. "Alright, so I propose Primm. With the NCR gone, there is a single sheriff guarding the town. Against all of us, we can take the town with little trouble. We can have shelter, slaves, and an excellent trap for caravans." Remus proposed.
Barnabas smirked. "Since when were you an optimist Remus? How long until the courier sends his machines to clear us out?"
Remus shrugged. "The man is at home in a world of alcohol, money, and women. Why should he lose any sleep about that little town when he has a belly full of drink and his prick in a harlot every night for the rest of his life?"
Barnabas grinned. "I take it back, since when have you been so convincing?"
Remus laughed as he continued, "and should the man ever leave, he would be so fat and sickly a Khan could kill him!" Barnabas had to stop as he caught his sides from laughing. If there was anyone he hated more then an NCR Ranger, it was that courier, and the thought of him being murdered by such a degenerate brought tears of joy to his eyes. It was then that he felt a hand on his back and heard a hushed "Silence, brother."
Barnabas looked up at his comrade, and noticed that he was staring at something a short distance away. Looking up, he saw, silhouetted against the lights of the city, was the figure of a woman, her back turned to the recently active raiders. Barnabas looked back at his partner, returning his grin. In the old days, it was standard procedure to take any female captives back to the stronghold before one could… partake in how a man takes a woman. Now, however, they could take her right then and there, and give her to the men when they were finished. If she was still alive by morning, she could make herself useful and carry the supplies. Weapons in hand, they approached the woman. She was standing by an overlook, so she had no avenue of escape. As they approached, she held out her arm in a halting gesture.
"You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish, profligate." Remus barked. The woman did not turn around. "Signal not for you," was all she said. It was then that the centurions heard a shimmering noise around them, and they looked seeing a dozen men in black, gold-visored high-tech suits pointing high-powered rifles at them. Only then did the woman turn around. "If I chose not to stop them, you would have died sooner." She was Asian, young, and not-quite-short with neck length hair. She wore what looked like a silk jacket, though her leggings betrayed that she was also wearing a suit similar to the men surrounding them. Remus and Barnabas did not flee Hoover Dam so they could die like this, so they nearly dropped their weapons, but the woman shook her head.
"Keep them," she commanded, then barked an order in a strange language to the men, who promptly re-shimmered and vanished.
"I have sent my men away. I have a proposition for you. The two of you will fight me. Should you win, I am yours to do with as you please. Should I win, I wish for y…" she was interrupted by Remus charging her in an instant. He lashed at her wildly, but the woman only moved slightly, dodging the onslaught with no space to spare. Barnabas stared in bewilderment at the woman, who seemed to be putting as much effort into avoiding the strikes as one would put towards breathing. Enraged at seeing his comrade in arms humiliated in such a manner, Barnabas readied his spear, waiting until Remus had pressured her back against the fence. He aimed it at that bitch's head. The moment her back touched the fence, he threw it, and after an eternity of anticipation, witnessed a sight he would never forget.
The woman, in a space of time that could not have exceeded a second, noticed the spear, moved her head out of the way, reached out and grabbed the spear, spun with the projectiles momentum, parried a blow from Remus when she came full circle, and buried it into the man's neck. Barnabas was still trying to process what happened when the woman spoke up again.
"If I win, I would like for you to send a message to…" once again she was interrupted, this time by an enraged fist. Clearly annoyed, she grabbed his extended arm, and drove her knee into his straightened elbow, snapping the arm like a dry twig. She held on to the snapped arm, twisting it until she forced Barnabas to his knees. Her polite exterior was now extinguished, leaving nothing but a burning disgust etched in her face.
"Very well then, I wish for you to send a message to your former leader, the one they call the Legate. Tell him that I represent a powerful group, one that can fulfill even his wildest ambitions. Should he accept my invitation, I will meet with him in a location of my choosing. Otherwise, he can stay and grow old in his meager empire."
The quiet of the night was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire in the distance. Despite the muddied nature of his thoughts, he immediately knew that he was completely alone. The woman held his face, her fingers digging into his skin. "Go back to your master, and pray he will have mercy on you. For I. Have. None." She dropped the man, leaving him to his heaving sobs and broken arm. As she walked away, one of her men re-shimmered next to her. "Madame Zhang, shall we send word back to the Empire?"
Zhang looked pensive. "The Mojave desert will not be this vulnerable forever. The window of opportunity should close within a year. Make the call."
Six months later.
Lars Perez, known as Lars Vega to the locals, enjoyed a meteoric rise to prominence in his short thirty-five years on this hellscape. Once a tribal in the land formerly known as Oregon, he became a caravan guard shortly after he entered adulthood. After a few bad runs cost him some of his employers, and hence, his paydays, he took a more active approach as a mercenary, flushing out raiders. Eventually, he grew tired of that lifestyle and opted for a job at a slower pace as a courier. Heh, if only he had known. Now here he was, the grandmaster of New Vegas, the Lucky 38 was his new home, and he shared it with a few of his friends. Arcade Gannon and Veronica Santangelo had stayed with him after the battle of Hoover Dam, along with Rex, Rosie, and a handful of cybernetic Boston Terriers who chewed on the slot machines. He loved his friends, almost like a family, but sometimes he felt lonely, and he would often leave the tower to travel throughout the city. The Three Families were enjoying a relatively stable peace, and he was on good terms with all the current heads. But today, like most days, he wanted something quieter.
Being something of a celebrity, he had worked to slowly but surely perfect the ability to make secret, non-discernable excursions. Sometimes he'd dress up like a gambler or a tourist and try to blend in with the guests. Usually, he wasn't recognized, and he had a plethora of disguises in case he had to retire one prematurely. Sometimes he'd gamble, sometimes he'd walk the wastes, and other times, he'd run an errand for Arcade or Veronica, any kind of outlet to stop feeling pent up. Recently, he was spending time with an outlet named Sarah Weintraub.
The perky, blonde, twenty-something had first met Lars after he had arrived at the Strip and tried to find a place to spend the night. After bonding over Vault-Tec gear, particularly the jumpsuits, Sarah made a bet with the courier that he couldn't find thirty intact vault-suits still in the wasteland in a week. Lars took her up on her offer, though after he left, Sarah suddenly felt guilty. She was agoraphobic, Molebu…err, Doctor Mitchell told her, and what she had learned about the outside world was enough to guarantee that she remained in Vault 21 forever. So imagine how shocked she was when he returned with all thirty suits just before the seventh day. Partly out of guilt, partly out of respect, she offered him dinner on the house. A couple hours later, one thing led to another, and she had gone from letting the courier come into her Vault, to into her life, to into her room, to into her.
Before New Vegas became independent, even before Lars came to New Vegas, he had usually enjoyed a good night at a brothel as any passerby would, but after becoming the man who "freed" Vegas, he had grown to treasure the "real" moments. Sarah, like his few good friends, didn't see him as some kind of "great visionary" or some bullshit like that. He was just a guy who shared an interest in vault suits, chess, robotic dogs, and bi-weekly one night stands.
After another session of intimacy, Lars laid in bed awake while Sarah wrapped her arms around him while she fell asleep. When the woman started to snore, Lars sat up, walked over to her fridge, grabbed a beer, and sat at her desk, trying to wonder what to do next. If there was one lesson he had learned after the NCR-Legion War, it was that the conquest tasted sweeter then victory. He winced, the last thing he needed to do was sound like that pompous Caesar-wannabe Lanius, but he had to confess, there was some wisdom in that. In actuality, one of the main reasons he took over Vegas was so he could put the screws into Mr. House and Benny. Come to think of it, spite dictated a lot of his reasoning, the more he thought about it.
He wasn't stupid, though, and when he focused on the bigger picture, he could see that if he wanted his new kingdom intact, he was going to need both the Legion and the NCR as strong as they could be. Sometimes, the safest place to be was between a hungry bear and an angry bull, he guessed. That was why he let Lanius walk away, in order to keep some semblance of order in the Legion. Even though he hated them almost as much as Boone did, a healthy Legion kept the NCR on its toes.
Speaking of the NCR, despite the generally friendly nature he held towards them, the reason he kicked out most of the NCR military was mostly because from what he had seen of them, they made better tourists then managers. As expected, there was a lot of backlash towards the NCR's failure to take the Mojave. Fortunately for Lars, most of that backlash went towards the leaders in the government who pushed for the campaign. Eventually, it was decided that the lions share of the blame would be directed to General Oliver, who was somewhere at the bottom of the Hoover Dam. Though it was a regrettably impulsive move on the courier's part, he was relieved that the general's bad calls and glory hounding had caught up with him back home, where few mourned his loss. Apparently, only President Kimball and Colonel Moore really missed him, though allegedly Moore got over it quickly enough thanks to a recent power vacuum that promoted her to general.
Recently, Crocker and a small (emphasis on small) contingent of NCR troops were allowed back into the city to handle negotiations. He figured he could leave them to his team of diplomatic ambassadors, Lars thought to himself. The thought made him start to chuckle. "What's so funny, Perez?" Lars, startled to the point he almost choked on his beer, turned around to see Sharon Cassidy leaning on the doorframe. Of all the companions he had travelled with, Sharon Cassidy was, in his opinion, the best. They both had a propensity for shotguns, brawling, alcohol, dry humor, black humor, sexual humor, and sleeping under the stars. Lars stood up, before realizing that he wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion.
Cass feigned shock. "Oh, good sir, your indecency may just cause me to faint," pretending to swoon.
Lars grabbed his pants, which had been flung haphazardly on Sara's dresser, putting them on. "Don't peep shows cost money?" he said, holding out his hand, expectantly.
Cass snorted, "Oh, what, you've already blown your jackpot so badly that you're hitting up little old me for help? As soon as Cassidy Caravan is back in the black again, you're a paying customer, just like everyone else." Despite selling the name to her caravan out to a rival competitor, recent events, which she totally had nothing to do with, lead the Crimson Caravan to sell back her name at loss. Upon getting back her name, she purchased a Brahmin, and hired Craig Boone, Raul Tejada, and Lily Bowen as security. After their one-sided annihilation of a joint Viper-Jackal ambush, their services were in high demand throughout both the NCR and New Vegas. Even clients in Legion territory were interested, except for Boone's…emphatic answer to any and all such requests.
"What are you still doing up anyway? It's like…" he glanced over at the clock on the wall "…three in the morning."
Cass laughed it off. "Like bed time ever meant anything for us, Perez. The gang was in the area and we figured we'd drop by and say hello." She looked from Lars to the sleeping Sarah. "Seems you've found ways to entertain yourself without me."
Lars rubbed his eyes awake. "You are more then welcome to join us any time you want." Cass looked Sarah over. "I'll admit; she's cute. Lousy taste in men, though," she assessed. Lars threw on his duster, a gift from a "friend" he was in no hurry to meet again.
"Alright then, Cass, so what's your deal, today?" he asked. Cass looked at him, as if she wanted to say something, but chose not to. The courier knew better, though. "C'mon, since when have you ever been for biting your tongue?" he goaded.
Cass wistfully sighed. "It's just… is this you?" she said, motioning towards the vault, and the direction she came in. "A handful of casinos and some slums? This is all you are worth? And you're OK with that?"
Lars stalled by looking for his bandana and black cowboy hat. He had avoided asking himself this question for a while. "It's not about worth, it's just that I feel… responsible for it," he answered.
Cass scoffed at the response. "Vegas could take care of itself before you came along, Vega, I don't think you should have to worry about it. You've set up a decent enough administration so the city won't fall apart the moment you leave the gates. I'm sure Yes-man and the families can deal whatever comes up in your absence. What do you say? Miss the Mojave?" Lars mulled it over, before downing the rest of the beer in a single gulp. "You still didn't tell me what the plan was," he insisted.
Cass cracked her neck. "A client from the NCR has requested we make a delivery from the Hub to San Francisco. We were just going to spend the night here, then head out in the morning to meet with the contact. It'll be just like old times; what do you say?"
It had been years since Lars had set foot in proper NCR territory. Surely, he thought, if anyone could use a vacation, he could. "Alright, just let me get my affairs in order, and I'll be right with you. Just… let me wait until morning, if it's all the same to you."
Cass nodded, then yawned. "AAAAaalrighty then, I'll just rent out some rooms at the Tops and wait until you're finished. Don't be a stranger, Perez," and with that, the Rose of Sharon Cassidy slunk back to the surface world. Lars sat back at the desk, and before he could stop himself, pondered if he should have worked harder at keeping their relationship after things had gone south. No, Lars, that's enough; you've dwelled on that shit for way too long. Now he needed something to take his mind off of it. Fortunately for him, Sarah was waking up.
EXCERPT FROM THE WEST COAST WASTELAND SURVIVAL GUIDE: 2282 EDITION
Mojave: Formerly an old world desert, the Mojave Wasteland makes up much of southern California, Nevada, and parts of Utah and Arizona. While the western end is largely behind NCR territory, the eastern end in Nevada has become part of a new nation. With New Vegas situated as the capital city, Mojave takes up the southern tip of Nevada, bordering the three other states. Its leader, Lars Perez, rules the sovereign nation as a semi-autocratic governor. After usurping Robert House's securitron army, the ex-courier ousted both the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion from South Nevada, consolidating his territory. He largely focuses on security, leaving domestic and economic issues to his immediate subordinates, led by Yes-man.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is chapter one. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thoughts, critiques, and encouragement are all valued here!