Chapter One: Return
The stars hung in the sky like an explosion that had been frozen in its midst. Sparks of white glinted and shimmered like precious gems, shining proudly where they could through the smog of New Vegas.
Arcade Gannon had stepped outside into the night to clear his head and, as usual, found himself lost in the beauty of the night. He recognized ursa major, and ursa minor. He saw Orion and his gleaming belt , joined by his dogs. He knew the names of every constellation, he had studied them night after night, but he never got used to jut how many there were.
Around him, the old Mormon Fort had grown silent. He could hear the scattered snores of the refugees in the tents, a gentle bustle from the direction of the Strip and somewhere a dog barking but for the most part he had the evening to himself. He took a seat by the glowing embers of the fire and put a log on it. He coaxed it into being with some kindling, smiling as he remembered how his old friend had taught him how.
Three years, he thought. It had been three years since the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, where the now legendary Courier had lead his makeshift army to victory against Caesar's Legion. Arcade remembered the battle as if it were yesterday; NCR and Legion clashed, lead flying backhand forth. Artillery rained down on the Legions camp even as an old world plane soared over the battlefield, laying waste with its bombs.
It went on for hours, he remembered that well. He was there in his power armor, right alongside Veronica in her's, and beside them the Brotherhood of Steel and the Remnants of the course, they were the calvary, the Courier had been fighting from the start.
He remembered coming over the ridge and seeing them. Cass was in the thick of it, firing her shotgun and lobbing dynamite while running from cover to cover. Rual, the ghoul, was wearing his vaquero outfit and firing a revolver in each hand. He looked like some sort of avenging spirit come from the grave. Surrounded by dozens of legionaries was Lilly, the mostly crazy super mutant. She was waving her sword made from a verti-bird blade back and forth, hacking her foes to bits. Boone and First Recon were hard at work as well, as was proven by Legion commanders suddenly collapsing in the distance from sniper fire.
Above them all though stood the Courier. He wore a long duster over his body armor that was being blown around in the wind and explosions. He had a 45 caliber Thompson machine gun and was causing a swathe of death to everything in front of him. He had a medieval style broadsword at his side, a sword that Arcade still wasn't sure where it had come from. He had a look of determination and fearlessness that only one who has stared death in the face and spit could have.
He remembered Veronica leading a charge down the ridge, plasma and lasers blazing. He was sure they were a sight to see, over a hundred troops in power armor rushing down the hill, mini-guns and plasma rifles firing. Veronica got right down to business punching people, she had a gift for it after all. They began to pour up the path to where Ceasar's forces were camped. It was then, when the tide had begun to turn, that the battle came to its climax.
The commander of Ceasers Legion, Legate Lanius, came down the hill wearing gold colored armor and carrying a huge blade. He challenged the Courier to a duel, and against all odds he dropped his gun and drew his sword. They fought up and down, back and forth, oblivious to the anarchy around them. Above, on a cliff overhead, was Caesar himself, watching.
The Courier won the contest. He stabbed the Legate in the side, wounding him, before lopping off his head with a wide, sweeping arc of his blade. It was then that Caesar realized he had lost. He turned to run, to retreat, but never got the chance. Boone had seen him on that cliff, nearly a thousand yards away and with the wind buffeting the entire battlefield, and took the shot. When they found the body later, they realized the bullet had hit him just as he turned, hitting the back of his head and coming out right between his eyes.
Afterwards, the NCR managed to work out a deal with Mr. House, keeping the two on even terms. The various factions and alliances broke up and went their separate ways, including the Couriers followers.
They celebrated at the Lucky 38, casino together, drinking and laughing. Arcade had noticed a sadness in his friends eyes though, a reluctant realization that all things must end. He went and talked to each of them, thanking them for their help and wishing them the best. He spent much time talking with Cass, speaking in low whispers. When they had finished talking, Arcade could have sworn to have seen a tear in her eye.
The next morning, he was gone. Arcade suspected that Cass knew where he had gone, but she never said. The only answer she gave was that he had went to drift again, and they all accepted it. When the Courier left, they lost their reason to stay together and went their separate ways.
Arcade sighed. He missed the others, even Boone. He had kept in touch with Veronica, but she was too busy running the Brotherhood to visit. He received a letter from Cass now and again, and he tried to send her some medical supplies if she stuck in one place long enough. The others had just faded away, like a sandstorm in the Mojave.
"Three years is too long, don't you think?" said a familiar, scottish accent out of the dark.
Arcade spun around, hand on his plasma pistol. His eyes widened when he recognized the voice and familiar silhouette that leaned against the wall. It wore a long duster and his face was obscured by the shadow from his wide brimmed hat, only a faint outline being visible from the ember of a cigar.
"Leo?" Arcade asked, almost in a whisper.
"Glad to know you didn't forget me," the man answered, a grin in his voice. He stepped forward into the flickering light of the fire, revealing his face. It was him all right, his sharp, lean face and trademark grin illuminated by the fire. His dark blue eyes seem to radiate his smile, one of them partly covered by his unruly brown hair coming from under his hat. He had grown a beard and had kept it trimmed neatly.
"Leo!" Arcade dropped his gun and impede to his feet. The two friends embraced each other like old veterans reunited. Leonardo Lars, The Courier, the man who spat death in the face was back.
"What are you doing here?" Arcade asked after the greetings had been done.
"I decided to come back for a while," Leonardo explained sitting down next to the fire and motioned for Arcade to do the same. "The wasteland outside of the Mojave isn't nearly as hospitable as you'd think."
Arcade knew he was dodging the question, but let it slide. He was just glad to have his friend back.
"Tell me, Arcade, how are the others? I haven't run into any of them since I got back."
"I haven't seen much of them," Arcade admitted. "Veronica is running the Brotherhood now, and they have formed a sort of alliance with us Followers here."
"Head of the Brotherhood, eh?" Leo murmured, "Should have known that girl would go places."
"Boone joined back up with the NCR and I haven't heard from him since," Arcade continued. "Lily went back to Jacobstown, she seemed to be doing well with her condition."
"How about that rascal Rual?" Leo asked.
"It... Took him a while to adjust," Arcade said. "He wouldn't say it, of course, but it was pretty clear he didn't know what to do without his 'Boss'."
Leo took the cigar out of his mouth and breathed a puff of smoke out, a hint of guilt on his face. "He turned out OK though, right?" the courier asked.
Arcade smiled, "If you believe the stories. After you left he just sort of hung around for a month or so, helping out. Then, one day, he grabbed his gear and headed West, said something about Los Angeles. It wasn't long before stories started coming in about a ghost vaquero who protected the innocent and hunted the wicked."
Leo smiled. "Glad to hear it, there aren't enough guardian angles in the world."
"Yeah, they tend to take off and vanish," Arcade commented. He wasn't sure if his tone was meant to be accusatory or joking. Regardless, Leo's only response was to take a long draw from his cigar. There was silence for a while as Leo smoked, and both listened to the barking of that dog again as it started back up again.
"How is," the Courier began but faltered. He desperately wanted to ask the question, but was afraid of the answer. He coughed, clearing his throat before trying again. "How is Cass?"
Arcade thought about how to answer that for a moment, not sure what his friend was really asking. Did he want to know what she was doing, or if her heart was still broken? Not knowing the answer to the latter, he went with the first.
"She took the caps you gave her to rebuild her caravan business," Arcade said. "Of course the Crimson Caravan company owns the Cassidy name, so she calls it Whisky Rose Caravans now. They seem to be doing well, even offering Crimson some competition."
"Good for her," Leo said, but there was something in his voice that told Arcade that he was hoping to hear more than that.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before the Courier decided to change the subject. "So, have you been putting those caps to good use?"
After he left, Leo's friends had found a note, almost a will, he left for them. In it he offered no explanation, only instructions on what to do with his considerable fortune he had left. He had given Cass enough caps to start three caravan companies if she had wanted it and passed on his collection of technology to Veronica to study. To Rual went his treasured revolver "Lucky". Boone received some caps, but Leo knew he wouldn't want much. Instead he gave him a custom built, one of a kind anti-material rifle with the First Recon motto inscribed on the side: "The last thing you never see." Lily received plenty of caps for her medicine and Legate Lanius' sword. To Arcade he gave nearly everything else, telling him to use it to help people and aid the followers.
"Indeed I did," Arcade answered, "and still am. We managed to buy some top of the line medical equipment and, with the extra funds, have finally made Freeside livable. We even started a group to help people build houses. Crime has dropped to almost none, of course the NCR and Mr. House's securitrons help with that. I think we're really making a difference Leo."
"That's great, Arcade," Leonardo said. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."
"Leo," Arcade said hesitantly, "don't take this the wrong way, but why are you here? I get the impression that you didn't come back just to check up on New Vegas."
Sighing, Leo took a final draw and then stamped out his cigar. That was a habit he had developed that Arcade was familiar with; it meant the catching up was finished and it was time for business.
"Arcade," the courier began, "while I was drifting, I kept hearing rumors. People vanishing, whole villages being turned to ghost towns overnight. Being the curious sort I am, I decided to investigate. Everywhere I went, there was no signs of struggle, no blood, bullets or laser burns, nothing.
"At the same time as these vanishing towns, I heard other stories. Stories of men in power armor dropping from the sky into Ghoul infested areas, and even peaceful ghoul communities. I investigated that too. Every ghoul was turned to ash, not a corpse left."
Arcade shuddered. What was he getting at?
"It couldn't be happenstance," Leo continued, "the two had to be related. So, I found a group of feral ghouls and followed them for about a week. I saw it happen, three verti-birds came in and dropped troops. They wiped out the ghouls, but one of them was injured. His friends got him out, but he had dropped something; a dog tag."
Leo was silent for a moment, and Arcade had to stop himself from screaming at him to finish, he did not like where this was going.
"He was Enclave," Leonardo finished. "The Enclave is back."
"What?" Arcade demanded, "That's impossible, we were wiped out. The only thing left of the enclave are the remnants who fought at the dam."
"A few towns in Kansas would beg to differ," Leonardo countered. "I managed to track some of them, but unfortunately I was caught. While I was captured I managed to overhear some information. Most of it was useless, but I heard them mention New Vegas several times, and it didn't sound like they were planning a charity drive."
Arcade was quiet for several moments, unsure of what to think. The Enclave, the last remains of the American government, belived that America should be restored to its former glory. Unfortunately they believed that in order to do this they had to wipe out the "impure", which meant basically anyone mutated by radiation and anyone who was not Enclave. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked, "What do you expect me to do, tell them to stop?"
"I'm telling you because I need your help," Leo said. "You grew up with the Enclave, your probably the only person outside of them who has any clue about how How they operate, how they think. I don't know what their planning, I didn't stick around long enough to find out, but it can't be good."
Arcade found himself getting angry. "I have a life here now," he said. "I'm making a difference, I'm helping hundreds of people and you want me to drop it all to follow you on some wild goose chase?"
"Why would I lie?" Leo asked. "This is very real, Arcade. I know your helping, I know your happy here. I'm not asking you to leave that behind, I'm asking you to help me preserve what you have accomplished. If the Enclave follow through with their plan, whatever it is, I can promise you that New Vegas will suffer and your three years of work burned up in an instant."
Arcade sighed, why did he always have to be so right?
"You've made your point," Arcade conceded. "What's the plan?"
"They mentioned supplies moving through the Caravans in New Vegas. The Crimson Caravan Company and another one, one that that ended in 'Rose'."
"Cass," Arcade concluded.
"Exactly," Leo said. "Their smuggling something around the Mojave using the caravans, probably right under their noses. I say we start there."
"So," Arcade said, "Its the pair of us against a crazy, xenophobic, old world obsessed shadow government intent on some nefarious scheme?"
Leo grinned. "Pretty much," he said, "Though it won't just be us. If their using the caravans, we're going to need a someone who knows caravans."
"Is this someone a red haired woman who has a taste for whisky?" Arcade offered.
A smirk appeared on Leo's face as he pulled another cigar from his pocket and lit it. "Indeed," the Courier said, taking a draw from his cigar. "We're off to find Rose of Sharon Cassidy."'