This is my first post on this site. This story is set in the Fallout 3/ Fallout: New Vegas settings and timeline. I don't own the rights to these games, but do own the games. Enjoy, and please leave criticism.

Saint.

Chapter One

The Wastes.

"... I don't want to set the world on fire..."

Boom! The sound rang out between the destroyed buildings, echoing through broken windows and debris until it finally faded into the distance. The bullet that formed it into being hit it's target, obliterating it into a million shattered pieces. The music stopped, the solar powered portable radio crushed by my round. For a Pre-War gun, my old Smith and Wesson 500 worked wonderfully. Too bad finding the ammo was a huge bitch. Our guide, Rachel, looked at me in disgust.

"Just because they call you Hero of the Wastes doesn't mean you get to be an asshole. That cost three hundred caps."

I snorted, sitting down amongst the rubble.

" What makes you think I care? I've got a PipBoy. This thing is damn indestructible. And that music was pissing me off. All Three Dog does is play the same damn stuff over and over."

"You know," Rachel said, effectively ignoring my words, "life out here isn't all about you. This focuses my boys morale, and now you've screwed it up. Like everything else we've tried to do."

I leaned back against the concrete boulders, thinking back on my last couple of weeks with these Wasters. Rachel, the five foot nine, short haired blond, and I, the six foot four, two hundred twenty pound black haired man couldn't have made a worse pair. I remember looting the Hell out of some dead caravans, when Rachel and her "boys" stumbled across me. I can't think of a solid reason I chose to travel with them. It was probably because Rachel was a babe. Whatever the cause, I had traveled with this idiotic group for a while, and I could feel my soul getting restless. These do-gooders traveled all around, helping innocent little Wasters get their feet back on the ground. They were ruining all my plans. The way I see it, might makes right, and if I'm strong enough to take it, I will. This little entourage, on the other hand, seemed delighted at helping out the poor.

I sneered a little. Rachel shot her eyes up.

"What's with the ugly look, brute?"

My sneer, disappeared, replaced by a glare.

"I am not some animal, kid." I started, raising myself off the rock I had been sitting upon. "And you'll do damn well to remember it."

"Or what?" she shot back. "You gonna shoot me?"

I opened my mouth to assure her that I would, but I stopped when movement caught my eye from the right. I dropped to one knee, pulling my revolver with the other. A huge Sentry Bot rolled into view. A spray painted peace sign was splashed in neon green on it's chest, and it rolled quietly into our little clearing in between the fallen skyscrapers of downtown D.C.

"Not so tough with my boys around, are you? Little bitch..." Rachel spat at me, stepping towards the Sentry Bot. The Wastes were not a safe place for a smokin' hot chick, and therefore Rachel made protection in the form of her "boys". These "boys" consisted of the huge Sentry Bot, named Arnold, and a Mr. Gutsy, nicknamed Mathilda. I hated those stupid robots. They always rolled in together, just as I was about to show Rachel her place.

She probably rigged them to come back after a certain time, no doubt, I thought to myself.

"One day..." I muttered under my breath, standing up out of my kneel.

"Let's go," Rachel started, heading towards a broken down alley in between two pieces of rubble. "This place isn't as safe as home."

I rolled my eyes. It seemed a safe a place as any, and I had been in some deep shit. Death seemed to threaten me all around, almost taking me into it's fold back at Project Purity. Since then, it trailed me like some kind of dog, waiting for the day. I always seemed to avoid it, though. Even after Operation Broken Steel, and helping the Outcasts with their simulation of the Alaskan War.

Yeah, I thought to myself. I'm the man.

"Are you coming or not? Sweet God, we don't have all day." Rachel shouted back, now a considerable distance away.

"One day, God won't save you." I muttered again under my breath, trudging towards the alley where Rachel stood. I took a few strides, hearing the start of a whisper. I stopped, whipping my head around, searching for the sound. It sounded like...

"Muties!" I shouted, motioning Rachel to run for cover.

Just in time, as several Super Mutant Brutes burst from the alley on my left, filing into a crude formation. Two of them carried huge Miniguns, the warming of the barrels causing the whisper I had heard. Another carried a simple stick, but attached to the belt of his waist were several grenades. I dove behind cover, narrowly avoiding the hail of bullets that buried themselves in the rubble above my head. I scanned for Rachel, spotting her cowering behind the wall of a sky scraper to my right. She had her two nine millimeter pistols in each head, peeking out for any opportunity to strike.

There wasn't any, however. The Muties had been blazing rounds ever since they'd found us.

Suppressive fire, no doubt. I thought to myself. But for what...?

I had to act. Stupid, idiot Muties getting the better of the Hero of the Wastes? No way in Hell. I peeked from cover, attracting the fire of the two machine gunners. I ducked back behind the debris, formulating my plan. First, I take out the one on the right. With any luck, Rachel would be smarter than she looked, and take the opportunity to kill or maim the Mutie on the left. Hopefully. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves.

Funny, I thought. Even after all this time, I still feel a little nervous...

I snapped out of it. No thinking now. I checked my ammo, seeing a full clip. I smirked, booting up my PipBoy's V.A.T.S. Time to go nighty night, . I stood up, using the V.A.T.S. to finalize my aiming. I pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil as the bullet sprang from the barrel. It found it's target, burying itself in the head of the right Mutant before exiting, causing the Mutant's head to blow clean off it's shoulders. I let out a sharp laugh, looking towards Rachel. As I had hoped, she took advantage of the moment to fire angrily into the left Mutie, dropping it to it's knees.

"Stop!" I cried, electing a surprised look from Rachel.

I glanced towards the Super Mutant. It's knees and legs had horrific bullet wounds, and it looked in no spirit to raise itself from the ground. I quickly strode over to Rachel, who had position herself in front of the Mutie. She had a clear shot with two barrels, and I had no doubt that if the Mutant tried to rise, that action would be it's last. I reached Rachel.

"Where were your badass boys, kid? Did they get a little scared?"

She glared.

"No. I didn't want them getting hit."

I sneered.

"I'll take care of this. Go get your boys... if they haven't left you. I know I would if I were them."

I laughed to myself as Rachel strode angrily away. I could never get enough of that. I focused my attention on the dropped Mutie. It looked up at me, arms hanging at it's sides. A slow wheezing came from it's mouth, followed by deep, harsh laughing.

"What're you laughing at, you stupid bitch?" I said, angrily.

This only made Mutie laugh harder.

"Argh!" I screamed, pushing the barrel of my magnum against the Brute's skull, quickly pulling the trigger.

It's head, like the other's, blew clean off it's shoulders, leaving nothing but a squirting mass of flesh and blood.

"Not so funny anymore, huh?" I said, spitting on the beast's dead body. "Wait..."

Where was the stick carrying one...? I thought to myself, feeling a sudden shadow cast itself over me.

"Shit."

A board cracked itself over my head, immediately dropping me to the ground. My ears rang, and my vision blurred, sharpened, then blurred again. I saw Rachel, hiding behind some rubble. Arnold and Mathilda were no where to be found.

"Run..." I said weakly, the shadow forming into a huge, green mass. "Run!"

I hardly saw Rachel turn, before my vision blackened to the sound of harsh, rumbling laughter.