A/N: This story may become silly, non-serious, or awful at times. It may also contain and reference FNV mods. Namely, New Vegas Bounties; where you hunt bounties for money, and Project Nevada; which revamps the cybernetics department. I own none of the mods, the games, or the books. I am not making this story for a profit. Let's roll.
The Mojave Wasteland, 2283
Goodsprings was possibly the quietest town in the entire Mojave. It boasted a population of around seventy or so people, which was nearly double the population since the second battle for Hoover Dam. The defeat of the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion had seen an increase in population for the small town, and far more trading than it had ever seen.
Which was still not a lot of people, but for the sleepy little town it was more than enough to stay afloat as a part of the New Vegas Union.
The fact that there were so few people living in it also made it Courier Six's favorite place to retreat to when the struggles of maintaining a nation became too stressful.
Currently, she was sitting with both feet dangling off the edge of the Goodsprings cemetery's cliff. Yes Man and Arcade Gannon were in charge of the Lucky 38 and the rest of the newborn nation while she was away on an 'extended business trip'.
Six removed the elite riot gear helmet, clipping it to a utility belt while she reached for a smoke. Out here, there was no one to disturb her. Most people weren't awake at three in the morning, and fewer still braved the Mojave Wasteland at night in the middle of winter. A surprisingly extremely cold place to be to anyone who wasn't prepared for the rapid shift in temperature.
The cigarette bathed her face in soft orange light before dimming, and the Courier sighed out smoke while she contemplated her life.
The NCR was finally coming around and treating her as the leader of a sovereign nation. Caesar and Lanius were killed by her, and the Legion remnants were either warring with each other or falling. Not to mention that her days as being the greatest bounty hunter the Mojave had ever known had lead to the complete and utter destruction of organized crime and a sharp decrease in violent crime overall.
The national and local economies were stronger than ever, and the Big Mountain scientists had told her they would be able to produce additional Securitron robots shortly, with massive upgrades to boot.
The X-22 Botanical Garden's data was being analyzed and Dr. Klein had estimated they could populate the Mojave with a wide array of crops that required minimal sustenance and care. Overall, everything was only looking up for her and the Wasteland in general.
So why did she feel like shit right now?
She almost crushed the cigarette in her hands at that, but forced herself to relax.
There was no noise except the soft howling of the wind and the creaking of the ancient windmill near the town. The cold stung at her face, but the Courier didn't pay it any attention.
"How in the hell did things come to this"? she asked herself internally, wondering about the events in her life that brought her to this moment. Wasn't this where it all started?
Oh yeah. It was.
Dust got into her eyes, but when she tried to reach up to wipe them she... couldn't? Her arms felt so heavy and- oh shit. She was tied up. What the hell was going on.
She struggled, pulling with all her might but it wasn't any use. She had always been stronger than most women, but she wasn't superhuman by any means. Were those voices?
"...Waking up over here?"
A man dressed in the most gaudy suit she had ever seen flicked a cigarette to the ground. On both sides of him were men with black leather jackets, one with a shovel, the other looking on impatiently.
"Time to cash out," he drawled, crushing the cigarette underfoot.
"Will you get it over with?" the black man snapped, to which the man with the horrible fashion sense raised a finger.
"Maybe Khans kill people without looking 'em in the face, but I ain't a fink. Dig?"
He sighed softly and pulled out a chip from the inside of his suit. "You've made your last delivery kid," he said in a way that wasn't mocking but felt like it was. The Courier felt her blood boil at that, only stilling to fear when he replaced the chip with a gun.
"Sorry you got twisted up in this scene," he apologized, and her gaze was drawn to the 9mm handgun.
"From where you're kneeling must seem like an 18-karat run of bad luck," he mused while she tried to break free.
This? Her whole goddam life over a fucking poker chip?
"Truth is..." she could see the bullet in the chamber, staring straight into the barrel, and she almost missed his next words.
"The game was rigged from the start."
Six scowled at the memory, and glanced backwards. Yep, no one had been up here in a while, and the site was still the same as when she had last been after waking up. A shallow grave that would've been hers if it hadn't been for Victor and Mr. House.
The glare she had faded away to an expression of sadness. She hadn't wanted to kill him. It was just another part of her life that gradually went out of control.
She almost punched herself for that. The Courier wasn't an idiot enough to fool herself into thinking everything she had done was something that just 'happened.'
You try to act like you're above the rest of us, but truth is you're just like the old man. Just a different kind of greed. Curiosity. Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?
God had been right about that, at least. Curiosity certainly got the better of her more often than she liked to admit. Like with drive-in's midnight showing.
She sat up and winced immediately. One hand on the ground to steady herself and the other raised to grab the handrail the Courier paused. She brought her other arm up just to be sure and gaped in shock.
Surgical scars across both of them. Bits of ink from markings to designate cuts. She felt heavier and stronger somehow and she brought a finger to her spine. It felt harder, more durable, and not at all like a human spine. More like a metal endoskeleton, and her hospital gown did little to hide the scars that covered her.
Six got to her feet, wincing as she did. Someone was going to answer for this.
She didn't even notice she lacked a heartbeat.
The Courier brought a hand to brush against the riot gear's breastplate unconsciously. She had gotten her spine and brain back, but left the heart. On the upside, it made it harder for robots to detect her and gave immunity to poisons.
And that alone was worth it. Fuck Cazadores.
She sighed and brought her legs away from the cliff, lying on her back to look at the sky in an effort to be more comfortable. It didn't work, and she couldn't even see the stars. Too many clouds.
She snarled and threw the cigarette that had been burnt almost to a stub away before the anger faded away back to sadness. She wasn't like this before. What had changed her?
"Hello, welcome to Randall and Associates!" the man greeted her in a distinctly southern accent. A wide brimmed hat, a mask, and goggles obscuring his face. She nodded politely and sat down in the chair, eager to discuss the holotape message that had been posted in the Goodsprings bar.
She wondered about the credibility of the man at first, if she should even show up, but he seemed like the real deal.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Steven Randall, owner and operator. I understand you're here for the position, is that correct?"
"Yes, if it's still open," she confirmed. The Mojave Express likely wouldn't be very happy she'd lost her package, and it was good to look into different careers.
Hey, the bounty hunting job said it would pay well.
The man nodded. "Hell yes it's open! I can begin the interview if you're ready."
The young woman gave a nod.
"I only have one question - are you willing to kill people for money? Yes or no?"
That was an easy one to answer. No one really lost sleep over killing rapists, murderers, and the scum that plagued the Wasteland. Lord knew the NCR weren't doing shit to stop it.
"Absolutely," she said, conviction lining her face.
"That's good, but I need to be up front with you. You'll be pursuing high-risk bounties. Many of the targets are extremely dangerous," he cautioned her, and she nodded in agreement.
"But with the high stakes comes increased rewards. There's cash for every bounty, and increased payment as you complete more contracts. There's quick money in bounties, but you can rapidly make a name for yourself, and a lot of people will be looking for payback."
Randall was courteous, and gave the inexperienced courier time to ponder what he had said. "So, what's your decision?" he asked shortly. "Are you still ready to pursue the bounties?"
"I'm up for anything."
"Your first target is Tom Quigley, a former NCR ranger who's rumored to be the best marksman in the Mojave..."
Yes, she decided. Randall was an alright guy.
The Courier gave a genuine smile to herself at that. Those were the best days of her life. Doing odd jobs for people in the wastes, helping those she could, and killing outlaws for money. Really, it was a dream come true.
She just wished it could have lasted longer.
The knife lodged the note against the painting, and the tightening knot in her stomach told her it was nothing good. She drew her trusty riot shotgun and read the messy scrawl.
"Courier, Randall & Associates is finished. Your employer is dead. Javier will be with you shortly. Sincerely, the Judge."
"You found the note. Good."
She didn't even hear the door swing open to see who must undoubtedly be Javier. He was dressed in black business attire, and carrying a pump action shotgun in his hands.
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"What happened to Randall?" she demanded softly.
"I buried him in the desert," he answered gruffly.
She was done talking.
The Courier stopped grinning. Yeah, that was probably around the time where she stopped being a bounty hunter out of a sense of justice and started doing it out of a personal vendetta. It probably wasn't healthy for her at all.
She snorted at her own thoughts. Now she was criticizing herself internally. Her mental state was probably debatable at this point.
Deciding she was done reminiscing, she ended that train of thought, and just focused on looking up at the sky. At the swirling dark gray clouds and what few stars she could see.
There was a sudden flash of light, and the Courier turned her head to see a streak of light cross the sky. Huh, she hadn't seen a shooting star before. Meteorite. Whatever. Weren't you supposed to get three wishes when you saw them or- no wait, that was from that other pre-war vid. You get a wish if you see one? Yeah, that sounded right.
Still, just to entertain herself if only for a moment since no one else was watching, she spoke aloud to no one in particular.
"I wish I was far away from here."
The wind still whistled, the clouds still churned, and there was a distant boom of thunder in the distance. Nothing had happened.
Well it was worth a shot, the Courier mused as her pip boy materialized a sleeping bag while she glanced at the clock. Four AM. Still enough time to get some sleep before she trekked back to the Lucky 38.
She only just managed to lay out the bedroll before the sky lit up with lightning and deafening thunder.
And just like that, the Courier's wish was granted.
The 'Old World Myths' DLC has been loaded. Your level cap has been raised by 10!
A/N: Hello everybody! Sorry there's so little/I went on and on about stuff/that was the best you could come up with for starting a crossover?
Not gonna lie to you: Totally not sure where to take this story. It's just something I'm making on the side while I focus on my other fics. Mostly The Fateless and other such stuff.
The stats for the Courier in this story is gonna be posted to my profile, but first let's get a few things straightened out.
Before anyone gives me shit about being overpowered with too many perks or skills and whatnot, let's all take a moment to reflect upon a few things. The Courier is, canonically, someone who defeated 3, at least 2 entire armies, either through cleverness, negotiating, or fighting. Plus this is just a story. No need to get worked up over shit.
Now that we've got that out of the way, I'd like to thank everyone who's been brave enough to stick around this far. Hope you enjoy the story and have a good day.