So here it is, my take on Fallout New Vegas fanfic. It is set in its current storyline, so expect to see old faces, but also new characters, one of which is going to be main POV for the most of the story. Though it does start a around a week before the main storyline.
It will contain refrences and such to other canon games, Fallout 3 included, so those that might not know anything of Fallout verse might miss out on a few snippets, but I´ll do my best to offer some info on places that are visited and such in author notes.

Oh, and as always, no copyright infringement is intended, nor am I making money off this. Fallout Universe belongs to bigger folks than me.

NEW VEGAS BLUES
ROUND 1, BROWN AND RED WASTELAND

Mojave Wasteland is a bad place to live in these days. Not that it was better before, but these days, ever since the NCR and Legion started clashing all over the place after the First Battle of Hover Dam, things were escalating horribly. Their fights have been happening on Vegas side of the river too, too close to comfort for some.
Things weren´t being better with small bands of raiders, remnants of once widespread Jackals, pillaging and killing in the south, very near the main roads.

Still, Vincent Kane always tried to make the best of his options. So when an opportunity for work presented itself, even if it meant trekking all the way to the Goodsprings to deliver some package to local doctor, he took it without hesitation. Well, he did have to deliver a one other package to Sloan first.
After all, he liked his new job. It was safe enough, he was paid well and it was unlikely he will run into any old acquaintances or even old enemies.

Now that he was going over the countryside, avoiding the road and settlements to make the most of his time, he did feel a bit lonely. Usually, there are quite a number of folks going in and out of the Mojave Express office, but it was so empty, like there was some big job that needed all the folks out there. Only one he saw was that Ulysses fellow, who promptly took off after they exchanged few words, saying that he has some urgent stuff to do.
Vincent shrugged it off and went his own way. After all, he will be the first to tell someone not to poke their nose in someone else´s business.

That being said, he did have to admit that Ulysses was an odd one who apparently did not mind at all some of the rumors that are circling around about him. Which only made Vincent more curious, but well...
At least others weren´t that introverted, Vincent got along with several of them, but he couldn´t call any of them friends yet. They weren´t that close and he was reluctant to get close to someone in case his past surfaces, however unlikely that may be.

He released a tired sigh as he glanced around the place he was at right now. Nothing but rocks and dry grass, with dominant color brown. Everything was brown. It hardly gave any character to this place, all that damn brown. Coupled with the seemingly always cloudless sky, this place becomes quite unbearable from time to time. Like today... if some radscorpion, raider or other thing wasteland can spit at him does not get him one day, the bloody heat most likely will. With another sigh as he kicked off some dust off his shoulders, he continued on.

Luckily, he made it to Sloan without any troubles.

As he approached the miner that was standing on the road, weathered old man in rugged worker clothes wearing a yellow protective helmet looked him over with more than little suspicion in his eyes.

Vincent didn´t blame him for doing so, because he did look a bit dangerous in his custom outfit. He wore worn out military boots, brown trousers that had several light metal plates sewn into them to protect the wearer and a chest piece of desert pattern camouflage combat armor that had more than a few scratches and dents. Over it all he wore a coat that reached down to his knees, also brown and dusty from the road. He had just one visible weapon, which he carried on his hip.
His old custom M1911 Colt, with an more durable barrel that carries an inscription ´Ipsa scientia protestas est´ on the side and an white oak reinforced grip.

´Hello there stranger. I advise you not to walk any further north of here, or you might end up as deathclaw snack.´ old man said, still suspicious about him.

´ Deathclaws? I see... I´ll take your word for it old man, though I did not plan on going there in any case.´ Vincent reached into his pack, taking out the package and handing it to the man. ´ Here, I´m a courier and this package is for Chomps Lewis, the foreman of the quarry. ´

´ Oh, I see. You´re a courier. Thanks son, I´m Chomps. ´ man accepted the package, that suspicion rapidly fading away. Vincent merely nodded, pleased that he guessed right that this man is the foreman. ´ Isn´t it a bit early for it to arrive? I was told I would take at least another day for it to get here. ´

´ I walked through most of the night. They said it needed to be delivered right away. ´ Vincent told him, taking out a cigarette.

´ That´s mighty nice of you son, but you ought to be more careful. Desert ain´t a safe place at night. Or day for that matter... ´ foreman voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder.

´ Something bugging you? ´ Vincent asked as he lit his cigarette. He liked having all the info on the situations around himself. It is always good to be prepared for all possible scenarios.

´ Son, best not get me started. I´ll give you a fair warning though. Some of them convicts from that NCR prison facility rioted and took it over. Now they´re all over the place, blowing things up, stealing and setting up sentries. ´

´ That so? ´ Vincent muttered. He didn´t think things were this lousy and this might make his return trip to Primm a bit more difficult. Perhaps he was lucky, he thought, because he didn´t run into any of the prisoners on his way here. If he does run into them, he will deliver some proper wasteland justice. That always works. ´ Thanks, I´ll keep that in mind. I hope someone comes along and takes care of those deathclaws soon enough. ´ he said as he turned and walked away.

´ Yeah, me too. ´ muttered to himself the foreman as he watched the courier walk off under the light of the morning sun, the light wind making his cloak sway to the side as the dust swirled around his boots.

An hour later or so, Vincent found himself looking down an grisly scene on the I-15, quite close to the junction that was leading to the NCR correctional facility.

A trading caravan was ambushed there, most likely with explosives, because there were brahmin and man pieces all over the place. A couple of surviving traders were desperately fighting off some men that wore prisoner clothes or even riot guard armor. Their fight ended abruptly as another dynamite charge exploded, blowing the two men apart. Remaining guard, a woman, was caught moments later.

´ Looks like I arrived just a moment too late... ´ nevertheless, Vincent took out his custom Colt and made his way down the slope as fast as he could, keeping to the rocks so that they don´t notice him.

Three remaining prisoners were now holding the woman down, stripping her. Most likely, they would pass her around and then kill her.

Vincent did not plan on letting that happen. Without a word, he walked up to them, pressed his gun by the temple of the first guy and pulled the trigger, blowing his brains all over the place. Second one had time to turn his head and look at the barrel before he too got killed. Third one had some sense, jerking the woman up and placing a knife by her throat.

´ Stay back! Or she gets it! ´ he yelled at Vincent. Woman looked pleadingly at Vincent, noticing for the first time the man who just killed two of those bastards without hesitation. He looked like a wastelander, but his eyes were something else. He stared at her captor with such cold, controlled hate as he raised his gun and aimed with an expressionless look on his face that she too felt a sting of fear clasping her heart, even though she was already frightened more than ever before.

´ Drop the gun! ´ her captor continued ´ ... or sh...´

She never saw the intent to shoot in her would be savior eyes. She never expected that someone would shoot like that, without regard for the hostage, which made what he did all the more shocking.

´ You...you...´ she could hardly find words, staring in shock at the dead body of the man who had a knife to her throat a moment ago.

Slight stinging on her cheek, where the bullet grazed her as it flew by, felt insignificant at the moment. Everything was so surreal... She reached for her neck, sighing gratefully as she found no wound.
She turned her head as she heard a pained moan. One of the prisoners that her friends shot was still alive and her savior was now poking his wound with an old hunting rifle Donnel always slugged around. Then, he raised the rifle and swiftly lowered it down, using the butt of the rifle to smash that prisoner´s windpipe, after which he took a closer look at the rifle, checking it for faults. She felt oddly dejected as she watched that scene. Perhaps she was still too scared or shocked by the whole thing, she thought.

When he turned to her, she had a good look at him for the first time. Under a high brow, those blue eyes were looking at her with concern. His hair was black, unevenly cut and reaching over his ears. Few stray hairs were falling over his forehead. He also had a distinctive scar that started by his right eye and went from his temple to his jaw.

´ You okay? No... don´t answer that question... you can´t be okay. Here, put this around yourself. ´ he offer her his cloak. Only then she noticed that she was bare to the waist. Those animals ripped her clothes apart. Had this man not arrived... She shuddered at the thought.

´ T-thank you. ´ she said weakly as he turned to look around for any survivors.

´ She is too traumatized even to cry. I should get her to Goodsprings as soon as I can. Doc there will hopefully know what to do with her. ´ he thought as he checked another one for life signs. Sadly, nobody lived but her. If he had time, he´d search for anything valuable, but as things are, it won´t be long before more of those convicts arrive to the scene. Still, he took some ammo pouches and an ammo belt off one of dead guards. It was .32 ammo for the bolt action rifle which he took off a dead guard. Rifle was still in good enough shape, so he slung through the rifle loop he had made on the backpack. He also picked up one off smaller backpacks and threw in it several water bottles lying around. Caravan lunch meals that were neatly packaged inside the small backpack came as a bonus. They´ll need the food and water.

´ Can you walk? ´ he walked to her and offered a hand. She took it without a word and stood up. He offered her some water. ´ I am Vincent Kane. Look... you are the only one that survived. We cannot linger here or we will get more of those guys on our tail. ´ he regarded her for a moment. She was quite pale, though with what she has been trough it came as no surprise. Her blonde hair was now dirty and messy, with several strands falling on her plain face. She had blue eyes, but unlike his deep blue, hers had color of the crystal clear sky.

´ Ringo... he... he ran away. ´ she finally spoke up after taking a sip, looking around. It finally hit her. ´ They´re all dead... ´

´ Come.´

Vincent placed an arm around her and started walking, a sullen expression crossing his face, one that she did not see. He was against taking the road, because he feared someone else might show up. Instead, he took her west, into the hills, to an old shelter he knew of near that memorial. It is well hidden, abandoned for quite a while now and should be a safe place to spend a night. Or even two by the looks of the weather. It looked like a storm was brewing.

Before long, she started to quietly sob. As tears ran down her cheeks and he felt more pathetic than ever, because he had no words to comfort her, this stranger he just saved. He kept his arm around her, offering her what little comfort physical touch could give.

Just like back then...

´ Why is it that I can´t ever save someone before they´re hurt...?´

Author Notes:

When things are in italics, its characters thoughts. Just putting that out there in case someone did not already figure that one out.

Hmm... other thing I should probably note is the timeline I´m going with, which is the one we most commonly use as canon in Fallout.