Story was written, or actually beaten out of me, after a 7 month writer's block. A period where notebooks were destroyed, Microsoft Word was uninstalled, and I tried to force myself to stop writing. Hopefully this can get me back into it.

Based on my Fallout NV gameplay with a Legion companion I made.


I woke up and the first thing I felt was pain. A sharp, hot pain that burned in my forehead and branched out throughout my body. My head was throbbing, my vision was blurred and spinning. The blurry vision didn't bother me too much since I always had piss poor eyesight, but everything else was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I rolled over onto my side on the dirty cot I was laying on and then it hit me; This dirty cot smelled better than my dirty cot back home.

My eyes snapped open and I bolted up into a sitting position, but the sudden rush of blood from my head made me feel woozy and I fell back down again. My breathing was heavy and cold sweat dripped from my hairline and into my eyes, making them sting.

Where the hell am I?

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to rack my brain with what happened the night before, which only made my killer headache intensify.

I remember…I was delivering a package of chems across the Mojave and…oh shit. The NCR arrested me and now I'm in one of their prisons. Shit, shit, shit.

"You're awake. How 'bout that?"

The voice and the presence of someone else in the room startled me so much I nearly fell off the cot. But the blurry man sitting on a stool across from me managed to reach out and steady me.

"Whoa now, take it easy." He laid me back down against the cot and my eyes finally adjusted to the light. He was bald with a gray moustache and judging by his clothing, it was apparent he was not an NCR prison guard. Also the room I was in looked more like a clinic than a prison cell, so it was safe to toss that theory out the window.

"Where…how…?" My voice cracked as the words stumbled from my mouth and even forming them felt like an machete was being shoved into my brain.

The man shook his head. "Let's start simple before I answer any of the questions you probably have. How 'bout we start with your name?"

I sighed a bit. "Celeste."

The man scribbled my name down on a clipboard and I began freaking out again. Yep, he's going to turn me in.

"Hm, not the name I would have chosen for you. But if that's your name, that's your name. I'm Doc Mitchell."

"Well I'm not particularly fond of it either." I reached up to wipe the sweat that was gathering on my forehead, but something felt off. There was something rough and warm and almost squishy beneath my bangs.

I guess Doc Mitchell saw my look of confusion and fear because he sighed and shook his head.

"I take it you have some questions, but first I need to make sure you don't have any serious trauma."

I lifted my blonde bangs up. "What's on my head?"

"First, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a doctor, chemist to be specific. What's on my head?"

"Now, I want you to point to your left knee with your right hand."

I complied. "What's on my head?"

"Do it the other way now."

I pointed to my right knee. "What's on my head?"

Doc Mitchell frowned. "Alright, alright. Hold your horses, miss. Long story short: you were shot in the head."

My jaw dropped. It was all starting to piece together now, although very loosely.I was tied up and shot while delivering the chems. Unfortunately, I didn't remember anything more than that.

"I managed to fix you up, stopped your brains from spilling out." Doc Mitchell crossed his arms, seeming pleased with himself.

I kept poking at the scar, even though it hurt like a bitch. "Wait, where am I?

"Oh, my apologies. Welcome to Goodsprings."

I traced my finger across the smaller rows of stitches that branched out from the main scar. I should probably stop doing that.

"Let's see, do you think you can stand?"

With a good deal of effort and Doc Mitchell for support, I managed to sit up completely. I still felt lightheaded, but it certainly wasn't as bad as before. I took a few deep breaths and pressed my feet against the creaky floorboards. My legs shook like a newborn animal's and Doc Mitchell held his arms out in case I fell.

I kept my balance with my arms and nodded. "Yeah, I think I can."

"Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his pocket and handed me a pair of eyeglasses. "I believe these are yours."

I nearly squealed when I saw them and hastily shoved them onto my face, but my smile deflated when I saw a huge crack sprawled across the glass like a cobweb.

"They're broken."

Doc Mitchell shrugged. "For being on your head when you were using it to catch bullets, I say they're in pretty good condition."

I frowned and pushed them up further on my nose. This was going to bother me all day.

"Now that you can see properly, do you think you can walk over there?" He pointed to the far side of the room, but it might as well have been the other side of the world.

I bit my lip and nodded, smoothing out my scruffy blonde hair. With tiny steps I slowly inched my way forward. My vision swam and I began to feel lightheaded again, but somehow I was able to stay on my feet. After a while the baby steps evolved into normal sized steps and I found myself on the other side of the room. I wondered if this is what an infant felt like after taking their first steps, but I would like to say that walking across the room after getting shot in the head is far more impressive than some baby walking.

"Looking good." Doc Mitchell walked over (just had to upstage me). "How do you feel overall?"

I stretched my arms. "Like I'm going to puke, but otherwise I feel great."

He chuckled. "Well now you're able to walk to the bathroom if the urge hits you."

I managed to laugh back and tried walking around the room more. "I think I made a pretty good recovery, though." My vision still swam, like I just got a hard punch in the back of the head.

Doc Mitchell nodded. "Your stuff is over there." He gestured to a pile by the door. "There are still bloodstains on your clothes, but I tried to wash most of it off."

"Oh, thanks." I moved over to the pile and grabbed the green cargo pants that were folded on the bottom, causing everything else to topple over.

Doc Mitchell cringed. "Yeah, I was going to ask about that. Do you normally travel with a grenade launcher?"

I yanked the pants on and pulled my head through my white (and now red-ish) tank top. "You never know when it will come in handy." I got down on my knees and began placing the chemical grenades into my tote bag.

He gave me a skeptical look. "You don't think it's overkill?"

I clipped my pistol to my belt and slid my spiked knuckles on. "Hey, it's dangerous in the Mojave. You have to be prepared for anything." I shoved my feet into my boots and I clipped the grenade launcher to my bag before swinging it over my shoulder.

Doc Mitchell sighed. "Whatever suits you, I guess. Just don't fire that thing around here."

I patted my bag. "Well they're chemical and biological grenades, so I only use them for special occasions." I tried to give a warm smile, but Doc Mitchell just paled.

"Don't make me regret fishing that bullet out of your skull."

I moved towards the door and gave a dismissive wave. "You have nothing to worry about, Doc. Thanks for everything."


Despite making a pretty impressive recovery after catching bullets with my skull, nothing prepared me for the blinding invasion of light that shot through me when I opened the door. I shielded my eyes and I wanted to crawl back to that old, musty cot and never open my eyes again. I took a deep breath of that dust-filled Goodsprings air and trudged onwards, the soles of my boots sliding on the loose dirt and rocks that lead to the main part of the town.

Technically Goodsprings would be considered a small town, but I haven't seen so much civilization in one place since I moved from the east. There were a few houses next to little fields surrounded by barbed wire. The fields usually contained bighorners or a few plants that was supposed to pass as a crop. The plants looked as dry and thirsty as the barren earth and I suddenly became aware of my own thirst.

Next to a dusty general store was a saloon, its broken neon sign struggling to light up against the dust in the air. I licked my cracked lips and even though I know water should have been my number one choice, my tongue itched for something harder like whiskey or scotch.

I made my way to the saloon. Surely someone there can give me the information I needed. Plus, I needed a drink.

The inside of the saloon was only slightly cooler than the air outside, but at least it wasn't as bright. The floorboards squeaked under my feet as I walked through the saloon. The place was nearly empty, although I suppose that shouldn't surprise me too much since this town probably had a population of ten. A few people stood crowded around a pool table, but I decided not to bother them. I would probably have better luck with someone who worked here anyway.

The room with the pool table lead into the main part of the bar. Of course the bar was also completely empty, except for a man and a woman in the middle of a rather heated argument. I sat down in one of the booths, trying to find a convenient place to cut in.

"…but I'm done playing nice." The man pointed his finger at her. "If you don't hand Ringo over, tonight I'm getting my gang and we'll burn this town to the ground."

Judging by his clothing and overall charming attitude, I could tell he was a Powder Ganger. Occasionally I would have a few come into my clinic and I found that with them, like with all gangs, it was best to just do what they said. However, the woman didn't seem too phased.

"We'll keep that in mind. Now buy something or get out." She crossed her arms. This woman was an unmovable force against him.

The Powder Ganger stormed out and the woman just shook her head, stepping behind the bar.

"Um," I raised my hand.

"Oh yes, sorry about that." She began rearranging the bottles of liquor behind her. "So I hear you're the one who was shot nearby."

"That's me." I looked in the direction of where the Powder Ganger left. "What was that?"

"Oh, that." She shook her head and got a glass out. "Don't worry about that. I'm Trudy, can I get you something to drink?"

"Maybe later, but I have a few questions. Regarding whoever shot me."

"Oh, of course." Trudy put the glass away. "Well the leader was some city boy in a checkered coat, typical Vegas type. He had some Khans with him, possibly hired guns. They came here, tried to skimp out on paying for their drinks."

I rubbed my scar under my bangs. "Hm…do you know where they went?"

"The leader said something about the Strip, but I'm not too sure." She frowned. "You're not seriously considering chasing after them, are you?"

I shrugged. "Well obviously I have some questions for them. I don't like going down easily."

Trudy sighed. "Typical."

"So, what was that argument about?" I looked back over to the door. "You get Powder Gangers often?"

Trudy leaned against the bar. "Some fellow named Ringo came into town a while ago. He was freaking out about something so we gave him a place to stay. Little did we know that the Powder Gangers were after him." She sighed. "We've been getting threats like that from them for days now. Truthfully I don't think they're going to do it. A little town like this is hardly worth it."

I frowned. "Why don't you just turn Ringo in?"

"Listen here, miss." She narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't know what it's like wherever you're from, but here we don't just throw people at the mercy of gangs. Goodsprings should be a safe place."

"Alright, alright." I held my hands up. "So, where's Ringo now?"

"I'm not letting you kill him."

"I promise I won't. I'm not planning on sticking around for much longer anyways."

Trudy still looked a bit skeptical, but she seemed to believe me to a certain extent. "He's hiding out in the gas station."

I looked over my shoulder to peer out of the dirt window, but I couldn't see anything. Really I couldn't bother to care about Ringo or this Powder Ganger incident; I had enough problems to work through. Still, can't imagine that could be a great hiding place, but then a sudden thought hit me.

Maybe one of the people who shot me was still hiding out in town, or maybe someone who knew them better.

I thanked Trudy for the information and hopped off of the stool. Okay, I was making a bit of progress. I at least had an idea of who I was looking for, but I still didn't know why they would try to kill me. What would some Vegas hot shot want with a scientist trying to deliver a simple package of chems? Unless he was the most hardcore anti drug activist ever.

The saying "Don't shoot the messenger" now holds a greater meaning for me.

I wandered around Goodsprings for a bit longer. A few bighorners gave me some rather unpleasant looks so I hurried up my walking. In one of the far corners of the town, I saw a worn down, well, even more worn down building. The red paint was chipped and it looked like no one had stepped foot in it in a long time.

"A schoolhouse?" I frowned and walked over to it. Seemed like an ideal hiding place. Plus I didn't feel like dealing with that Ringo bastard at the moment.

I stepped carefully over the chain-link fence which laid collapsed around the perimeter of the building. The door was barely hanging on its rusted hinges and although I wanted to be a badass and kick it down, I found it in me to open the door like a normal human being.

The sunlight streaming through the broken window and roof was the only source of light in the school. The ground was covered with the corpses of bright green mantises, their innards scooped out and their exoskeletons tossed to the side.

On the far side of the room, I saw a sort of barrier formed out of desks. My fingers ghosted over my pistol.

"Hello?" I called out.

I saw a figure stand up from behind the desks, and although it was just a silhouette I could tell they were aiming a gun at me. Not this shit again. I unclipped my pistol and tried to aim for the figure.

"That's as far as you go." His words were slightly muffled as if his mouth was covered. "Now leave."

"You people are really bad at shooting me." I crushed a mantis shell with my boot.

The figure still stood there, but not once did they fire the gun. I sighed and walked over to the desk blockade. When he still didn't shoot, I picked up one of the desks and threw it to the side.

The young man standing behind the desks had his face covered by a black bandana and a helmet so I couldn't see his face, but his clothing indicated that he was part of a group that I never had the pleasure of encountering, but I certainly heard a lot about.

"You're Legion?" I lowered my pistol slightly. Back when I ran my clinic, I had encounters with all sorts of factions, but never someone from the Legion.

Legion dropped his rifle and held his hands up. "I would prefer it if you killed me here and now rather than turning me in to the NCR."

"What's a Legionary doing here?" I took a step forward and he cowered away slightly.

"Me and some of the other recruits were on a raid, but a group of NCR troopers outnumbered us. We were separated and I hid here. I've been trying to make it by on the mantises or whatever else I could find." He adjusted the bandana so it was tighter on his face. "You're sure taking your sweet time killing me."

I clipped my pistol back to my belt and knelt down. My eyes fell upon a particular weapon on the ground; a machete.

"Looks like you have the materials to attack me too."

He scoffed and trailed his fingers against the rifle. "Ran out of ammo a long time ago, and besides there is no point. If I were to kill you, then there would be a corpse I would have to live with. It's not like I can leave either. I'll be dead before I'm even halfway back to camp."

I picked up the machete and examined it. I never really used blades in combat before, usually I relied on firearms or my spiked knuckles. Can't see how someone could defend themselves with this.

"You can use that if you want." He wiped the dust off of his black goggles. "You can even keep it as a trophy. You can take my head too. You'll be a hero to the degenerates."

"Stop that." I placed the machete back down and Legion seemed genuinely confused.

"Who are you? Did the Legion send you to bring me back or something? Why would they get a woman to do that."

I shook my head. "I'm Celeste, and no. I actually never encountered the Legion before."

"Most people like you would call that a good thing."

I shrugged. "So are you going to tell me your name, or will I have to keep calling you Legion?"

"Livius." He bowed his head. "Now, why are you here? Why aren't you killing me?"

"Due to recent events, I'm not a big fan of the whole 'trying to kill people when they're not doing anything to you thing. Plus, I've always been fascinated with the Roman Empire." I adjusted my glasses and leaned against one of the desks.

Livius laughed a bit. "You're a strange degenerate." He sighed a bit. "Listen, if you're not going to kill me, could you possibly spare some food or water? The mantises only lasted for a few days."

"Let me check." I pulled my bag off of my shoulder and began sorting through it. "I have a few scraps of gecko meat, but it's not much."

"No, please." He sat up straighter. "Anything will do."

I handed him the meat and he pulled the bandana down. As he devoured the meat like a vulture tearing apart a corpse, I searched through my bag for my canteen.

"Hm…" I shook the canteen, the tiny bit of water sloshing around inside. "Sorry, I meant to refill earlier."

"It will do, please. I haven't had water in so long." He held his shaking hands out, his eyes begging me from behind his goggles.

I handed him the warm canteen and he downed the entire thing in just a few seconds.

He handed the canteen back to me, catching his breath and wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Thank you, Amicus." He pulled the bandana back over his mouth.

My ears perked up. "So you speak Latin?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm not as fluent as some of the older Legionaries."

I grinned. "Mihī placet lingua latīna."

Livius froze. "You…you also speak Latin?"

"Like I said; I love the Roman Empire. Also I'm a doctor and learning the language helped me with remembering the names of diseases and stuff like that." I tugged at my tank top, wondering how Livius could handle the heat in that uniform. "Of course I never had someone to talk to, so I'm a bit rusty."

"Tu modo facis." Even though his face was covered, I could almost tell he was smiling.

I smiled back and glanced up at the ceiling.

"Listen, Livius, I have a weird proposition, but hear me out."

Livius picked at the hem of his kilt. "Yes?"

"Well, I'm trying to track someone down and apparently they went to the Strip. Do you know how to get there?"

"Yeah, sure." He sat up a bit. "There is a quicker way, but the road is overrun with deathclaws. Any sensible person would take the long way, which leads through Primm, Nipton, and Novac. It's a long walk, but you'll be less dead."

"Hm, you seem to know your way around the Mojave."

"I've been on multiple raids on both sides of the Colorado. We actually have a good understanding of the roads. So, what's this proposition?"

I can't believe I'm doing this.

"I am willing to help you get back to wherever you're from, if you help me track down the man I'm looking for."

Livius looked stunned. "You would be willing to travel with a Legionary?"

I shrugged. "Well we both have the abilities to help each other. I think it's a fair compromise."

He scratched his head under his leather helmet. "I guess…but this better not be a trap."

I sighed. "I told you, I'm not going to kill you." I pushed myself back to my feet. "Now stay here, I'll be right back."

He seemed worried, but he nodded. "It's not like I can go anywhere else."

I ran out of the schoolhouse and back into the main part of town. There was a part of me itching to tell the town about the Legionary living in their town, but I managed to fight the urge. I stopped in front of the general store and dug my hand into my pocket. I didn't have many caps on me, but I still had them. At least whoever shot me had the decency not to loot my corpse.

I stepped into the store, a broken bell clinked as I opened the door. The shopkeeper who was sweeping the area behind the cash register looked up.

"I take it you're the one Doc Mitchell was patching up."

I shrugged. "Looks like my reputation gets around. Do you have any clothes here?"

He pointed to a wooden chest against the wall with his broom. "Right over there. Five caps a piece."

Livius better thank me for this.

I knelt down by the chest and searched through it. From what I could tell, he had a rather small frame. I tried finding the smallest pieces of men's clothing I could find, although it would have been funny to bring him women's clothing.

After digging through the dusty clothing, I found a simple pair of slacks, a white button-up shirt, a green sweater vest and a pair of leather shoes. Not the ideal outfit for venturing across the Mojave, but it was the only thing that appeared to fit him. Plus, anything that wasn't Legionary would have to do.

I dug out twenty caps from my pocket and dropped them on the counter. The shopkeeper examined my items and gave me a weird look.

"What's the outfit for? No offence, lady, but that looks way too small for you."

I paled a bit. "Um, I found someone stranded outside town. Raiders took his clothes."

"Raiders are taking clothes now?" he sighed and shook his head. "These are weird times. Take care, miss. Sorry about that." He took the caps and began counting them.

"It's okay. Have a nice day." I formed the clothes into a bundle and tucked it under my arm.


"Oh, Livius!" This time I kicked down the door and, yes, it felt great.

Livius yelped and jumped back, aiming his rifle. When he saw it was me, he gave a sigh of relief and lowered his weapon.

"Please don't burst in like that."

"You know, if you're going to aim a weapon at anyone, you should make sure it's loaded first." I walked over and dropped the clothes in front of him.

He looked up at me. "What's this for?"

"We need to make sure no one knows you're Legion." I adjusted my glasses. "Hopefully it will fit you."

Livius picked up the green sweater vest. "I'm not going to abandon my Legionary status."

"Either you abandon your status or you abandon your head. It's a temporary disguise too, stop whining."

He sighed and dropped the vest. "Fine. Mind turning around? Unlike our historical counterparts, we don't exactly tolerate nudity."

I chuckled a bit. "Of course. I'll be outside."

I probably spent ten or fifteen minutes sitting outside of the school house. Right when I was considering going back in just in case he didn't know how a sweater vest worked, he finally stepped out.

The shirt and vest seemed slightly too big on his skinny build, but overall it didn't look out of place. He combed his fingers through his sweaty dark hair, his large green eyes and overall young features didn't exactly scream "savage slaver and killer" to me.

"Oh good, it fits."

He sighed and rubbed his eye. "This feels weird. Do you have any more water?"

I handed him my canteen. "Fortunately for you I filled up before I came here."

He grabbed it and began chugging the water, making me wish I was able to have a few sips before I gave it to him. Hopefully he wouldn't drink like this all of the time; I didn't want my trip to the Strip to me littered with bathroom breaks.

As he drank I stared up at the sky. The sun was just about to start setting, causing streaks of orange light to cut through the town.

"We're going to have to build your reputation around here slightly. Just in case any rumors leak from here."

"Hm?" Livius looked over at me, still drinking from the canteen.

I glanced over at the gas station. "Let's just say, tonight, a Legionary is going to save the town from a Powder Ganger attack."


It was difficult to find normal conversational phrases in Latin, since most people look for the philosophical quotations, I guess. But I found a few sources and used Google Translate as a last resort.

Amicus—Friend, trustworthy person

Mihī placet lingua latīna—I like Latin

Tu modo facis—Now you do

Of course I changed the original story a bit, since I don't see the point in just rewriting my gaming experience completely without bringing something new. And besides if I was to do that, it would be about 50 chapters of:

"And then I walked through the desert."

"And then I accidentally lead Livius into a mine field."

"And then I walked through the desert."

"And then I opened the door on my body and got stuck."

"And then I accidentally lead Livius off a cliff."

"And then I walked through the desert."

"And then I accidentally lead Vulpes into a mine field." And so on.