Chapter One: Ain't That a Kick in the Head

AN: So... sup. The names Phantom, and I wouldn't say this is my first story, more like my first shot at a game novelization with my own twist. And yes I know you guys have seen this done a million times, but dammit I'm doing this my way! Hope you guys enjoy!

War. War never changes.

Humanity doomed itself in the late 21st century, bombing themselves to oblivion. Hell, for a while the Earth was just a dead wasteland. Then the vaults opened.

Ha,vaults. They were just supposed to be your average anti-apocalypse home, but more often than not they were showed the worst of humanity. However, one vault stood out among the rest, mainly due to the person the came from it. What followed really changed the wastes.

Vault 13. Located near Shady Sands if I remember correctly. Hell of a place to start. The Vault Dweller, Alexander Dawson, came from that place. He left in 2161, for… something. Either way, that lucky bastard was a newbie to the wastes, but managed to stop one of the wastelands greatest threats: The Master. Long story short, he was obsessed with 'unifying the wastes.' Thankfully Dawson stopped him. After that, he helped build the foundations for the NCR, before disappearing.

After the Dweller, his grandson came into to play. A tribal known as 'The Chosen One', Alex Dawson Jr. Hell, considering what this guy went through, he might as well have been chosen. I mean, stopping a monster like Frank Horrigan and taking out most of the Enclave? You gotta have someone watching out for you.

Finally there was the Lone Wanderer from DC. Good old 101. They fled from their Vault into the wastes. Not much is known about them, but what is known is that they were responsible for taking down the Enclave once and for all, and uniting most of DC under the Brotherhood of Steel.

All these people were heroes. Someone to inspire to be, or to look up to. Sadly we didn't have that kind of stuff here in the Mojave. We had a corrupt NCR and the hellish Legion. Caught between a rock and a hard place. That's where I came in. Me? I never considered myself a hero. I was just a simple courier. Always had been. Of course that all changed when I got a certain package.

Oh shit, what vertibird hit me? I was really groggy. That's when I heard someone, could have been one of the Khans that attacked me, speak.

"You got what you were after, so pay up." One guy spat. Then another voice, definitely from that asshole in the suit spoke up.

"You're crying in the rain pally." Suit said. Oh I was really going to hate this guy, I just knew it. I looked up to see that checker suited asshole looking down at me, the two Great Khans standing on either side of him. One of them smirked.

"Guess who's waking up over here." The asshole just stood there smoking a cigarette, before taking it out of his mouth and stomping down on it. He looked at me and said "Time to cash out." He said. Oh shit.

The other Khan looked at suit "Would you get it over with?" He snarled.

Suit held up a finger, not the one I would have used, but a finger nonetheless.

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" He said. He reached into his pocket, and I was waiting for the gun, but instead he pulled out…. Oh that son of a bitch! My package! I struggled a bit to move, but my hands were tied down.

"You made your last delivery kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He sighed. Yeah well fuck you too asshole.

Suit put the chip into his coat and, oh shit there's the gun. This is going to end well. Well, figured this job was going to kill me sooner or later. Glad I don't have any regrets. That's when the asshole started to speak again.

"From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is, the game was rigged from the start." Then he aimed. Well… no point in trying to avoid this. I closed my eyes, and heard the shot.

Huh, it actually didn't feel that bad. Oh course I was fading in and out of consciousness, but I could faintly see…. A light? I think... could have been something else. Then something weird….. well weirder happened. Humming. Not the usual humming you would hear in the wastes, this was far more…. Different. It was beautiful. I heard a voice say something.

"Not yet Michael. Not yet."

Not yet? What the hell do they mean by not yet?

I woke up, a bang echoing in the back of my mind. I was in a really comfortable bed, and I did not want to get back up. What the… where the hell am I? What happened?

"You're awake. How about that." I heard a voice next to me say. I turned, trying to get a good look at the guy, but my vision decided to screw me over. Was the room supposed to be spinning like that? I put a hand to my sore head, trying to dull the pain.

"Whoa easy there. Easy." The man said, putting a hand on my chest to stop me from moving. I started to cough, and man did it hurt. My throat was burning from disuse. How long was I out? Finally my vision started to clear up. I could finally see who was speaking.

He was an older man, bald with a white mustache. Funny enough I didn't recognize him.

"Where...where am I?" I finally managed to ask. "Who are you?"

"I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings son." The old man said.

Goodsprings. Huh. I vaguely remember this place. I was supposed to pass through here to… oh. Oh shit. My packaged. I was supposed to deliver my packaged when I was... Fuck, I was shot in the fucking head. How in the ever loving fuck did I survive that? I shook my head. No time for that. Right now I needed to get my bearings

"Well now that we got that out of the way, can you tell me your name son?" Doc Mitchell asked.

"What?" I asked, confused at the question.

"Your name. I hope you remember it. I couldn't exactly ask you while you were unconscious. Figured now would be a good time to ask who I've been fixing up." Mitchell said, passing me a glass of water.

I grabbed it, downing it quickly. Oh sweet relief. Man I did not realize how thirsty I was. Oh, forgot about the doc. "I'm Strife. Michael Strife." I said, shaking Mitchell's hand.

"Well I can't say it's what I would've picked for you, but if that's your name, that's your name." He said, standing up and moving to a nearby desk. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He came back, giving me a mirror before speaking again. "Now, I take hope you don't mind, but I had go rooting around in your noggin to pull out all the bits of lead out, even pulled out a whole bullet. I take pride in my needlework, but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place."

I took a long look at myself. My black hair was still short thankfully, so I wasn't out that long. Looks like I grew a small beard as well. My blue eyes widened when I saw the scars. I was shot twice in the head. Both scars sat on my forehead, leaving small but noticeable marks, both with a small amount of stitching. I traced over them, wincing at how tender they felt. Damn. I chuckled in small relief. At least neither of them left a scar near my mouth.

"You did a hell of a job Doc. Appreciate it." I said honestly. Doc Mitchell chuckled.

"I do my best son. Can you stand?" He asked. I nodded, and stood off the bed. I stumbled a bit, before catching myself. Okay... that's better. Well that's promising.

"That's good. You're doing real good for someone who was shot in the head." Mitchell said proudly. "Now if you don't mind, I have a few questions I wanted to ask you."

I shrugged when I noticed something. "No problem. Question though. Do you mind if I got dressed first? Feeling a little exposed here Doc." I said chuckling.

"Oh that's no problem. I left all your stuff in that footlocker right there. Just meet me in the other room when you're ready." Mitchell said, pointing to a locker next to me before going into the next room. Now that I looked around, I could see the place was rather cozy. I moved to the footlocker, pulling out my pants, shirt, boots and jacket. I put those on, before pulling out a bag with the rest of my stuff. The first thing I checked was Blackout. Blackout was a 9mm I had on me. It was a gift from my mother, and still worked despite being over 15 years old. It was surprisingly high tech for a simple pistol, with a mounted laser sight, a burst fire function, and suppressor that Mom had added. Good thing is it was still there.

Going through the rest of my stuff was no problem. Combat Knife? Check. 500 caps? Yep. Rounds and magazines for Blackout? Check. Cigarettes? Yep. Delivery order for the Mojave Express? Yep. Now all that's left is... wait a minute. I searched the footlocker. It's not here. The bullets were here, but the gun wasn't. Motherfucker. They took it. All the more reason to catch up with them. Damn.

I was about to make my way to the next room when I saw this little tray with... oh. Looks like I found the bullet that Mitchell was talking about. You know what? Fuck it. I grabbed the bullet, putting it in a jacket pocket. I'm keeping this as a reminder. Nobody else is going to get the drop on me again. What was I going to do again? Oh right questions with the doc. That's when my stomach grumbled. Fuck I'm hungry.

A couple minutes later I was munching on some squirrel bits and iguana. Well munching was an understatement, I was scarfing this shit down. Turns out I was out for about eight days, so right now I was fucking hungry. When I was finished, I patted my stomach in relief. "Thanks for the food Doc." I said gratefully. Mitchell shrugged.

"Don't mention it. You're still my patient after all." He said with a grin, sitting across from me. "Besides, you were pretty patient when we did the psych evaluation to make sure your dogs were still barking. Now that we have a minute, mind telling me how you ended up in that ditch? Victor wouldn't mention anything." He asked.

I shrugged. "Not sure myself. I'm just a courier. Guess I was just carrying the wrong package." I said, before realizing what else he said. "Victor? Who's Victor?" I asked. Mitchell shrugged. "He's the one who brought you in. He's an odd fella, but he's nice enough. You'll notice him right away." He said.

Mitchell stood up from the table. "Come with me. I'll see you out." He said. I followed him, where he was standing there, holding a... no way. "If you're heading back out there, you ought to have this. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war. We all got a Pip Boy. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you've been through." He sighed, looking down. "I know what it's like, having something taken from you." He continued.

Wonder what got him all sentimental. I took the Pip Boy from him, inspecting it. It was a bulky thing, weighing a decent amount. The screen was the main thing, taking up most of the space. Beneath it was three buttons, labeled STATS, ITEMS, and DATA. To the left of the screen was a dial, knob, and what looked like a Geiger counter. I slipped it on, feeling an odd sensation going up my arm, before it disappeared.

"Thanks for patching me up Doc." I said, shaking his hand. He waved me off.

"Don't mention it. It's what I'm here for. And remember, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back and I'll fix you up. Just try not to get yourself killed anymore alright?" he said with a smirk. I let out a small chuckle.

"I'll try. I'll see you around Doc." I responded, leaving a hundred caps with me. I turned, opening the door. Time to get back out to the wasteland.

AN: So that's the intro. Hope you guys liked it. I don't have much to say, so until next time, read, review and enjoy!