The Courier walked from the wind swept crags of the Divide for the last time. There was nothing left for him there, not hope, not curiosity, not battle nor riches nor pain. Everything he needed he carried along with him in the words of Ulysses, the dark sadness in his heart and the memories that haunted him.
Clearing the barricade of debris that officially marked the beginning of the Mojave he looked up at the sky. Free of the harsh storms that ceaselessly tore at the Divide it looked very peaceful by comparison. Weak even some might say. He thought of Ulysses' message about the Tunnelers tearing this fragile land apart and knew that it was true. The people of the Mojave could not imagine the horrors a denizen of the Lonesome Road dealt with daily just to live. If it came to it they would fall easily to the subhumans who viewed Deathclaws as acceptable prey.
Just outside the entrance to that wretched place the Courier came across the bodies of a small wolf pack he had disposed of on his way to meet the original courier 6. Crouching down by the remains he looked over how they were rotting and half scavenged. The wolves were microcosms of the road the Courier had walked all his life. They were a family just trying to survive who made the mistake of crossing his path. Like everything else had that made that mistake they had been destroyed and their bones served as markers for his path.
Walking away from the scene the solitary man began stripping his weapons from himself and throwing them to the dusty ground. Knives, guns, grenades, even his prized Shiskebob which had taken more lives then all of them combined cluttered to the earth. Unencumbered of everything he carried only Ulysses' bullet hole ridden duster and heavy staff.
Sitting down on a rocky outcrop the package bearer listened once again to the final will and testament of the man whose clothes he wore. He had listened to the holotapes he'd found many times on his way out of the Divide. He could not stop thinking of their final conversation where he nearly convinced his dread locked nemesis to join him. Instead Ulysses chose oblivion and joined the Marked Men in eternal rest.
Unable to stop the launch the Courier waited at the control panel nearly paralyzed by indecision. He had not supported the Bear, Bull, Vegas or anyone up to the that point. The other courier's words rang in his ears and there in the silo he made the choice. Unlike the first and second times he was responsible for nuclear fire this time he knew exactly what he was doing. Aiming the missiles at both NCR and Legion he became both the bear killer and scourge of the East.
This made the Courier's thoughts shift to his alliances and friends which were both in short supply. Everyone who had followed him met a grisly end or suffered atrocious injury. Arcade Gannon was laid up in a Follower hosptial with a shattered leg that he might never walk on again. Craig Boone had died as he would have wanted fighting tooth and nail with the Legion. The nightkin Lily took a score of Great Khans with her to the grave. Raul Tejada, the dashing pistolero, had been overwhelmed and slaughtered by a pack of Deathclaws. Rose of Sharon Cassidy was permanently blinded and embittered by a Cazadore attack they both barely survived. Finally his dearest and closest friend Veronica had been burned to a pile of ash right in front of him by a terrible laser weapon.
Leaning the staff against his rocky perch the Courier did something he was not even aware he was still capable of. Everything he had lost hit him all at once and he began to bawl into his hands. Tears cut out paths across filthy, dust worn cheeks. The strongest combatant in all of the Mojave cried for all the things he'd done and had been done to him.
It was possibly an hour or more when he could not summon any more tears. Drained in mind, body and soul he laid back on the rock and dirt to look up at the sky. Watching as night gave way to morning the Courier's stomach rumbled but he ignored it. He had to think of the next steps not just in the near future but the distant as well.
Two things kept repeating in his mind. Two sentences uttered by two couriers that were more long lost brothers than enemies. His own words, 'The Divide lives on in us' and Ulysses' who he kept listening to, 'If war doesn't change, men must change'. No one knew these two things better than the flag-marked man laying alone in the dust. Men would not change on their own free will or gentle suggestion. They had to be beaten like a white hot blade in a forge into something greater. It would be the Divide, where all things began and ended, that would teach the lessons of history to men. It would be the ghost of America and Ulysses himself who would be the ones to show them the way.
After many hours of thinking the Courier knew what he had to do. Forsaking his Old World weapons he set out for New Vegas. There would first be a reckoning with the weakening forcing seeking to control the Mojave. Next he would have to lay to rest the remnants of the Old World in the West and then elsewhere. In what would become his pattern he would first destroy the anima breathed into concrete and metal before destroying those as well.
Picking his way down the slope the Courier decided then that the flag on his back, the symbol of America and her sleeping spears, would be his sigil of doom and rebirth. History would be the judge, jury and executioner from now on. The Courier would simply be its avenging angel. There was much to do.
Five years had passed all to quickly. Everything had gone according to plan and just as Ulysses had predicted. With the supply lines cut the Bear began to crumble. With Lanius alive he drove the Legion towards easier targets than the Securitron armed Mojave. Yet as they continued to conquer the Caesar-less Legion began to show signs of disunity. New Vegas prospered no matter their troubles but that was of little consequence. It was still an Old World grave waiting to be filled. The Courier had been waiting for a sign and now his coming guest would confirm that the moment had come.
Waiting by his main screen and playing cards the duster clad courier anxiously passed the time. The elevator doors dinged open and Arcade Gannon stepped out into the Lucky 38's penthouse. Leaning heavily on a metal cane the Follower wore his trademark lab coat and laser pistol. He smiled as the Courier rose to greet him.
"Arcade! My friend!" he greeted warmly.
"Don't suppose you have a handicapped ramp? Or maybe one of your metal goons wants to carry me down there?" the ever snarky doctor asked.
"Nonsense! Allow me." the host said and headed up the stairs. Throwing Arcade over his shoulder he carried the smaller man down to his table. Arcade readjusted himself as the Courier cleared his card game away.
"I forgot how much of big, strong man you are." the doctor winked.
Smiling back the host gestured towards the available chair. "So you have news for me?" he asked.
"I do and it isn't good." Arcade said as he eased himself into the chair. "Those Tunneler things are making their way east. Guards have shot a couple of them above ground. They look just like you said."
It was a troubling development but not an unexpected one. "This won't be an issue." the sleeveless man said. "Arcade, what do you want out of life?"
"Me?" the doctor blinked. "I don't know, unlimited resources, peace in the Mojave, a cocoa skinned life partner."
"Hmm. Yes. Peace." the other man echoed. "I have always thought highly of the Followers. We want the same thing even if we have different methods."
"What do you mean?"
Reaching down to his side the Courier picked up a freshly printed book and slid it across the table. Turning it around Arcade looked at the circular, starry flag embossed on it and read the cover aloud. "'The Word'." he wrinkled his nose. "What is this?"
"Keep reading."
Flipping open the cover he continued. "'The Word of Ulysses: The Might of the Divide and the Rain of Ashes'. Did you write this?"
"I did." the Courier nodded. "Every cap the casinos and the Dam have made have gone towards printing copies of this book."
"Really?" Arcade asked as he had always wondered what became of House's fortune. "What is so important about this book that you would do that?'
The Courier stood and paced for a few moments before he began to explain. "In those pages I tell the whole story. My story. Every word of it. The sacred history of what really happened. History will be the only teacher men will listen to, Arcade. Surely you can understand that."
"Yes but...what does that have to do with you? And the Divide of all things?"
"You still don't understand. Ulysses once said that I was deadlier than the Platinum Chip that made all of this possible. I did not understand at first but I do now. The Divide you see...that was my handiwork."
"What!"
"There's more. Not once but twice again did I scar the earth with Old World spears. The Long 15's destruction was my doing as well."
"That was you!" Arcade gaped. "But...but how! Why!"
"It's time to change. It is not war but men who must be different. You Followers have failed because yours is a way of gradual, peaceful change. But men do not learn from peace. They learn from war."
"What will you do?" the doctor asked in shock.
"I'm going to level New Vegas and the Dam simultaneously."
"What!" Arcade exclaimed.
"I will then give out the thousands of copies of this book I have made across the remnants of America. All will hear the warnings of Ulysses. If they do not heed them the Divide will come for them."
"You mean you will come for them." Arcade correctly deduced.
"I am the Divide and it is me." the Courier answered. "I will sniff out the rest of America's giants. I will turn her Old World spears against any who fail to learn the Word."
"You're talking about nuclear war! What do you think people will do when they hear about you?"
"They will fear the Divide as children fear the boogeyman. Only I will be very real."
"You can't be serious..." Arcade breathed. "Do you have any idea how many lives you're talking about? You can't do this!"
"The flag on my back will show them the way." the Courier promised. "Return to its ideas and hubris and be annihilated. Only when a place free of the Old World is born will the Divide rest."
"This is insanity! You've totally lost it!" Arcade shrieked.
"No, old friend." the duster wearing man shook his head. "Insanity is letting the cycle continue. The Old World must be erased for something better to take its place."
Though he was older and lame Arcade still had the lightning draw of a cowboy. His hand came up with the laser pistol in it before the Courier could even take a step towards him. "I can't let you do this." the dcotor said and the other man held up his hands with a chuckle.
"Bang!" the Courier said as if it were a joke. "I was going to ask you to come with me but I see that is no longer an option. Do you think two hours is enough to evacuate the city?"
"You won't need to find out." Arcade said grimly. "I am sorry for this but you're as mad as a hatter. Goodbye."
The master of the Strip grinned as Arcade pulled the trigger. The gun clicked empty over and over as Arcade repeatedly pulled at it to no effect.
"Looking for this?" the Courier held up the battery pack to Arcade's gun. "You always said I had the lightest fingers."
"Crap." was all the doctor could think to say. "You took it when you carried me down here."
"Yes Man." the Courier said to the room. "Throw Arcade off the top of the Lucky 38."
Securitrons rolled into position behind him and picked up the hapless man by his arms. Yanked into the air off his feet Arcade screamed, "You can't do this! Think of the people!" as he was taken away.
"Yes Man, begin the city wide countdown at two hours. Prepare the convoy for travel to the Hub."
"Yes sir!" the program answered.
"No! Stop this!" Arcade called as he was taken out of the room.
"Are the explosives ready?" the Courier asked.
"Yes sir! And might I say with all the tons that are about to go off there probably won't be much left but a crater and a really big rock slide!"
"Good."
"Anything else before I jump to the mobile platform, Word-Bearer?" Yes Man asked.
"Just make sure the message makes it to every corner of the city."
"Yes sir!"
Heading to the windows the Courier took one last look at the city below him. A screaming Arcade plummeted past the silent observer a few seconds later and the racket stopped a scant moment or two later. Picking up his eagle crested staff he set out for the open road once more. This time he would not be a package carrier but the Word-Bearer for the shadow of a nation just behind him. He was convinced that one day it would have the chance to be born again.
If it wasn't then the Divide would stretch from West to East if it had to. Maybe when men changed the Courier and his destructive nature would no longer be needed. He could set down his flag and take his much deserved place in the Void. Until then he would continue his war upon war itself. It would be the one enemy he wasn't sure if he could defeat.
Because war, war never changes.