Prologue: New Arrivals

"Most amazing thing ever, Courier," he bitterly muttered. Why, he could say that his whole life was just an ongoing parade of amazing things and every last thing was more amazing than the previous. Life-threatening ordeals were coming at him like the beams of a laser gatling and only served to convince him that some higher power was seriously pissed at him on a daily basis. Really, the only thing that kept him going most days was the thought that, apparently, said power was not cross with him only. Empirical proof of that hypothesis was the fact that almost all of the ordeals ended horribly for everyone but the Courier. On good days he liked to think that it was because The Powers That Be held him in higher regard than the poor sods who tried to kill him, but deep down he knew that the only thing that saved him was his supply of Turbo.

What was it with him and murder these days? Was it Benny that started him on this dark and bloody path? Or was the bastard just a convenient excuse for the Courier's homicidal tendencies? Depression kept sipping in through the cracks in his soul and left a bad taste in his mouth. A drink was in order, it seemed, so a hand entered the pocket of a duster and withdrew a small bottle with a crudely written "Sierra Madre Martini" on it. A large gulp later the depression was safely repressed and the Courier decided to address the matter at hand, namely where was he, by the name of all that was fuck.

"Well," he mused a second later, "fuck Kansas and also fuck Earth for that matter." Beneath him was a lush, green forest and the sun was just rising, thus giving the place a most idyllic appearance. The gentle breeze picked up and made him smile. Said smile turned strained and just a bit angry when he noticed the state of the resident moon, namely blasted in pieces."Nope, fuck Earth and fuck me as well," the Courier thought sullenly as he drained the martini and threw away the bottle.

Sometimes he entertained the thought of retirement, just going away somewhere quiet and growing crops or something. And then the wanderer within raised its ugly head and kicked him in the bum and urged him to go forward. "So many people to meet," it seemed to say in a jovial tone, "so many places to see." Deep within, The Courier knew that as long as he could move, he'd keep walking the roads… and that was the bloody problem, because all this fucking wandering had put him in his current place - sitting on a rock, a whiskey in his hand, watching the sunrise… on the same planet with beings capable of blasting their own moon in pieces.

"Well, enough self-pity" he decided and lit a cigarette, the second for the day. Standing up, the man turned his back to the sun and started looking for a way down. If he was lucky, he'd find some people (hopefully) that needed things delivered, or at least with some shit that needed doing. He was a courier and he had some new roads to walk and new people (hopefully) to see… as soon as he figured what to do with the malfunctioning Pip-Boy 3000 map tab.

Yeah, fuck Earth.