Soul Eater; New Vegas

By vivalarapture

Disclaimer- I have re-written and edited most of this story since the last time I posted. Some big changes, some small. Feel free to read it again if you already have!

Authors Note- I feel like a lot of the Fallout and Soul Eater characters mesh well, and have a lot of great little quirks that are similar. I'm excited to see how people take it and figure out who is who! If you've played Fallout, you can guess the Soul Eater characters counterpart from Fallout, and hope you like how I've done this! If you haven't played Fallout, I hope you will be happy with the new universe for the Soul Eater characters to flounder about in.

Shout out to my roommate, Charlie, for helping with ideas and providing me with alcohol when writers block kicks in. Thanks for helping me in exchange for Chinese food and cigarettes!

Btw, the image I've used for the cover is by Onagaku on Deviantart. Amazing artist.

Chapter One. The Light.

That incessant buzzing noise is here again, humming in the back of my mind. Why can't I stop it? Now there's a light permeating through darkness and I can feel my eyes twitch. Should I walk towards it? I scowl, pushing towards the bright formation interrupting my calming state. Getting closer to it is seemingly impossible. It feels like tar is sucking at my legs, pulling me down.

I am NOT going to go down. I squint my eyes and push even harder, trying to get to the light. For some reason, I feel like it's necessary. This illumination is going to save me from being sucked under. I fling my arms to the side, determination settling in my bones. I can feel myself screaming, wrenching my legs out of the black goo attaching to my limbs.

After what feels like forever, one of my legs pops free of the goo, and I grin in victory, flinging my other leg out with building momentum. The light is getting closer, and I throw my hands out, trying to clench the warmth burning from the source. My legs are pounding as I rush towards it, getting closer and closer. Finally I reach it, but it doesn't feel anything like I thought it would.

It is painful.

I wrap my arms around my head, crying out from the pain. I try to open my eyes, but everything is fuzzy and there's a high pitched whine permeating through my bones. I can faintly hear a voice, but nothing makes sense. I raise my head, trying to look around. I can see the outline of a man standing above me, but everything is too bright.

What is going on? Why can't I see? I take a deep breath, willing my sight to come back. The whine is slowly fading and I have to count back from ten to calm my heart rate. The bright light from earlier is wrapping my senses, warping everything into a glow laden haze.

Slowly, everything fades, my vision clearing, and the bright light completely dissipates, leaving me feeling empty in a now much too quiet environment.

Opening my eyes, I'm faced with a middle aged grey haired man towering over me, a large metal screw protruding from his skull, with scars like patchwork all over his face.

I scramble backwards, falling off the dirty bed I had been laying on. My back thumps on the ground, but all I can focus on is the pain in my head. My fingers delve into my hair as I roll to my side and wrap around myself.

The man stands up from the metal rolling chair he was sitting on, shaking his head, "With an injury like that, you shouldn't be moving around so much."

The mans' voice is calm and almost mocking, thick with a southern twang. I want to retort back with something witty, but I can't do anything but hold my head and groan in pain. I attempt to stand, and I feel the man grabbing my arm to pull me up.

He sets a hand on my shoulder and directs me towards the other room, "Since you're finally awake, I need to get some information from you." He pushes his glasses further up his nose, giving me a huge and somewhat discerning smile, "As much fun as it's been having a new specimen, it's time for you to go home."

I nod slowly, letting him guide me towards a beaten down couch in his sitting room. I wince as I notice the dingy looking examining table to my right, and the set of beakers and test tubes to my left. This looked like a scientist's set up, not a medical doctor.

He helps me sit on the couch, and sits across from me in a tattered orange chair. He chuckles at my eyes crossing with pain and I mustered my best death glare.

"What.. What happened?" I ask, feeling the bandages wrapping around my head.

The man sighs and lights up a cigarette, "You were shot. Whoever shot you meant to kill you. Patty dug you out of your grave and brought you to me. Somehow you were still alive. You've been out for two weeks now. So who are you?"

I tilt my head downwards, staring at my hands. They are rough and worn, scars lining my palms. I flip them over, inspecting the veins pushing towards the edge of my skin. "I..." I place the palm on my face, running it along my eyebrows, lowered in bewilderment, my small nose, my curved lips, my high cheekbones. "I..."

The man sits patiently beside me, and I look up to see him raising his eyebrows, eyes knowing.

"I.. I don't know who I am.."

The thought immediately tickles some far away corner of my brain. How can I not know who I am? The man sighs again, itching at the bulbous metal sticking out of his head.

"Post-Traumatic Amnesia." I tilt my head, contemplating his words, but also trying to inspect the metal shoved perfectly through his hair. "What?"

He takes a drag from his cigarette, and looks at me again, "Post-Traumatic amnesia. You were shot in the head. I'm surprised I was able to keep you alive as it is. I must not have been able to fix everything."

He snickers to himself, "Isn't that a kick in the head?"

I disregard his stupid joke and finger the hair spilling over my shoulders from under the bandages. I pull a few strands in front of my face, noticing the color as an ashy blonde. My hope that something will click inside me at the information dissipates, leaving me emptier than before.

"Who are you?" I ask carefully. Despite his odd appearance, this man saved my life, and I should thank him.

He flicks some cigarette ash in a skull on the ground beside his chair before answering, "My name is Dr. Stein. I'm the only doctor anywhere near this area, so you're lucky your would-be killers dropped you off so near."

I nod, wondering lightly if fate was something I believed in, "Well.. Thank you. You don't even know me and you took care of me."

The lines of Steins face seem to smooth, and his smile seems genuine, "We have to take care of each other out here. When you were dragged in here, you looked so small, I couldn't just let you die."

His smile takes on an edge, but there's humor dancing in his eyes, "And I haven't had a new body to perform experiments on in too long."

I roll my eyes, ignoring the pain it causes in my head, "What do I even look like?"

Stein looks up, glancing at me like he hadn't even thought of it, "Well, you're tiny, for starters." He looks intently at my face, "You've got green eyes and blonde hair. Although I thought you were a red head at first, all that blood in your hair. There's not much more I could tell you that would matter. Looks aren't exactly important in Goodsprings, much less the Mojave Wasteland."

I raise my eyebrows, curiosity pooling in my stomach,

"Goodsprings? The Mojave Wasteland? Is that where I live?"

He flicks a hand up and twists the metal in his head, making me cringe at the cranking noise it made. "Goodsprings is the town we're in now… This could be interesting."

My eyebrows raise towards my hairline, my lips twisting into a grimace, "What do you mean?"

He stands up and heads into the next room, calling back at me to stay put. I take in my surroundings, really looking around for the first time. This place is a dump. The floors, walls, and furniture are dirty and dingy. The yellowing wall paper is peeling back, and most of the appliances are covered in rust and grime.

The skull that Stein had been flicking his ashes into looks like it came from an animal, much to my relief, and science equipment is littered all over the house.

I shift around on the couch, feeling more and more claustrophobic in the tiny house. "Stein? What are you doing?"

He returns holding a charred book in his hands a moment later. He sits down on the couch next to me, and hands me the frayed book. "That's Doc Stein to you, by the way. This is a book on amnesia. I figured it might help you understand things better. Can you read?"

I scoff at the remark and gently open up the book, pawing at the fragile pages, "Of course I can read. Why is this book burned?"

Stein doesn't reply, once again cranking the knob in his head. I flash him a scowl and scan over the words, feeling a familiar pang of joy as I soak up information.

"I should probably explain some things to you. With your amnesia, I'm not sure how you'll react to the situation of our... Environment, if you will."

I look up from the book, closing the cover and giving the doctor my full attention. He lights another cigarette and looks directly at me,

"This is the year 2281. 204 years ago, The Great War of 2077 took place. There was a nuclear holocaust, and most of the world was destroyed. Radiation has destroyed much of how life used to be. I don't know what 'normalcy' is to you, considering your amnesia, but waking up in an irradiated wasteland has got to be jarring for anyone."

I sit still during his entire speech, taking everything in. I sit still for a moment, my hands clenching at my sides. I swivel my eyes towards the dingy window to my left, and peer through the dirt streaked glass.

I had no idea what I was expecting. He was right, to an extent. What was normalcy to me? I had no idea what my own name was. But a nuclear war? I had a faint image of what a nuclear bomb was. A far off memory torn apart and shredded by my own subconscious, and I was left with bits and pieces of information.

"Radiation?" I question, fighting with my own mind, trying to force the knowledge from deep inside myself. He nods, puffing on his cigarette.

"I only know about the world before The Great War through books and stories. But it seems things like giant Radscorpions were not always normal and accepted. Not that they're accepted now. Disgusting creatures."

My brain seems to be going haywire. Words flickering around, bouncing off the walls of my mind, fighting to be let out. But something was keeping them locked away, and it made me furious. Irradiated Wasteland? I didn't even know what that meant. All I know is that I'm alone in this world. I have no idea who I am. I don't even know my own name. I fist a hand in my hair, growling under my breath, trying to tame my frustration.

I stand up quickly, ignoring Steins flat accusations of hurting myself even more.

"I.. I just need to get some fresh air." I blurt out, flinging myself towards the door and throwing it open. My legs feel more jelly-like than I'd ever admit, and I cursed at my own weakness, then slightly congratulate myself for remembering what jelly is.

Throwing myself outside was not the best idea I had ever had, although, to be fair, I couldn't remember any of my other ideas, so this wasn't necessarily the worst. That thought didn't make me feel much better.

My head aches as I run, but I had to get away from that cramped house. I force my legs to go faster, slamming past the gate outside Doc Steins house, and almost tripping down the hill.

I pass dilapidated looking houses, and a few confused and dirty faces. There's a man with a burly beard sitting outside a saloon, raising an eyebrow as I barrel past. I see mountains in the distance and suddenly start to feel more calm.

Somehow I knew the open air would help my rapidly moving thoughts. I run faster, my breath sharper and louder than I liked as my heart pulsed in time with my feet. Finally out of what I guess I should call a "town", my running starts to slow down. I let myself smile, another small victory at the thought of remembering another seemingly lost word.

I'm surrounded by dirt, and it seems to stretch for miles, only interrupted by a stray boulder, a patch of dead-looking plant, or the mountains off in the distance. The ground is littered with rocks, the entire environment looks as if it had been slammed to the side, all of its inhabitants thrown haphazardly around.

Looking up, I noticed a giant statue of a cross in the distance. It looks menacing, sitting on top of the mountain, and I figure they didn't mean for it to look so terrifying.

I place my hands on my knees, leaning my head down to catch my breath. I close my eyes, my brain finally ceasing its spinning. I'm going to be okay.

I sigh, rubbing a hand through my hair and sliding down to sit on top of a rock. I have no idea who I am, but I know I'm strong. Whoever I used to be doesn't matter.

I smile slightly, propping myself up on my thighs and standing up. I look down and flinch, noticing for the first time that I'm not wearing shoes. I pull up one of my feet to inspect the bottom of my abused skin. It looks like my poor feet took the brunt of my brashness. I gingerly set the foot down, wincing as it hits the dirt.

"I guess I should head back.." I murmur to myself, walking back towards the town, careful of my injured feet and trying to ignore the buzzing in my head.

I take a few steps and immediately stop dead in my tracks. About 10 feet away a creature stands baring its teeth at me. Standing about as tall as my hips, its bulbous body is naked and a dirty pink color. I freeze, my eyes widening as it takes a step forward, it's pincer like front teeth aiming directly at me.

It starts barreling towards me, and I take a step back, trying to turn and run. I trip over a rock and tumble onto the ground. I let out a terrified whimper as I hear it wuff angrily behind me, its claws scuttling across the dirt as it comes closer.

I flip around and throw my hands up over my face, trying to shield myself from most of the damage. The creature snaps its jaws down on my arm, and I scream, trying to throw it off of me.

It claws down my other arm, trying to rip the skin from my bones. I cry out, tears flowing down my face. I fling my arm away, shoving the creature as hard as I can, scrambling to get up.

There is no way I'm going to die again.

It's quick to react though, and scrapes at my calf as I try to stand up. I fall again, my arms tearing at the dirt hoping to get some leverage to stand and run. The creature is now busying itself with gnawing on my leg, and my face is caked with mud from the dirt and tears mixing there.

It slams its front legs down on my back, and my head cracks on a rock. I yowl in pain, my brain already rattling and becoming fuzzy. Over the ringing in my ears, I hear a gunshot and an angry mutter of, "Stupid mole rats."

I try to turn over, but my brain is already fogging, the figure in my vision blurred and hazy.

I groan and everything is going black. I try to raise an arm to my head, to grasp it together so it doesn't fall apart. All I can do is gape at the shredded flesh and hold back vomit before everything goes completely black.