Unknown Origins

by Cyberweasel89

Her memories gone, a shy Courier must learn to adapt to a new life where no one's going to cut her slack for her nervous stutter. Hopefully she'll be able to find some friends as she hunts down the man who left her as a clean slate.

1. Prologue: Fade to Black

Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout: New Vegas. It belongs to Bethesda, who purchased the rights from Black Isle.

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Rating: M

For swearing, nudity, sex, blood, and violence. Hey, it's Vegas, baby.

Genres: Adventure, Action, Romance, Sci-Fi, Post-Apocalyptic, Western

Summary: Her memories gone, a shy Courier must learn to adapt to a new life where no one's going to cut her slack for her nervous stutter. Hopefully she'll be able to find some friends as she hunts down the man who left her as a clean slate.

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Fallout: New Vegas

Unknown Origins

By Cyberweasel89

Prologue: Fade to Black

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"You got what you were after, so pay up."

Shit... her head hurt so much... Wait, why the fuck was her vision blurry? Had she been chugging the absinthe again? Or did some asshole slip something more than Mentats in her atomic cocktail?

"You're cryin' in the rain, pally."

Wait, her hands were tied? Shit... this couldn't be good...

"Guess who's wakin' up over here."

Three men in front of her, even more gathered around, obviously all pricks. Judging from their outfits and bandanas, they were all Great Khans. Directly in front of her was a Khan holding a shovel and an African-American one. Between them stood a man in... a checkered suit? Seriously? Ugh. Talk about bad taste.

"Time to cash out."

The checkered suit man threw the butt of his spent cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. She could smell the delicious smoke wafting over her nose right now.

"Will you get it over with?"

The African-American man on the left seemed annoyed... The checkered suit man raised his hand, his index finger skyward. "Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' 'em in the face... But I ain't a fink. Dig?"

The checkered suit man reached into his jacket and pulled out a poker chip. She instantly recognized it as that stupid platinum poker chip she was hired to deliver to the Strip, faintly lit up in the distance. "You've made your last delivery, kid." He placed it back in his jacket, his hand lingering inside as he spoke. "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene."

He was holding a nickel-finish pistol with an ivory grip when his hand emerged. Nine millimeter by the look of it. Highly engraved, with some bullshit religious image on the grip. She couldn't make it out with his fat fingers in the way and her vision so goddamn blurry.

"From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck." He pointed the gun at her. She promptly spit in his eye. The gaggle of Khans took to laughing uproariously as their boss removed a handkerchief from his jacket with his free hand and wiped the loogie from his face.

"She's gotta lotta fight in her for someone lookin' down the barrel of a gun!" the one with the shovel howled.

"Bull's eye, too! Even after that whack in the back a' the head!" the African-American one wailed.

She smirked at the checkered suit man's visibly repressed anger, satisfied that she had humiliated him in front of his Khan goons as a final fuck you. He stepped closer to her, returning the handkerchief to his jacket.

"Cute. Especially for a broad your size."

"What're ya doin'?" a Great Khan to her right asked.

The prickweed pressed the gun right against her forehead. "I don't wanna miss after that." he explained with a smirk. She only smirked back.

"From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck. But truth is... the game was rigged from the start, sweetheart."

Even as he squeezed the trigger, she continued to mock him with a smug look on her face, delighted that it was upsetting him all the more. Hey, at least she'd had a good run. She'd have to remember to come back and haunt this sorry dickhead.

There were two loud bangs, but she only heard one and a half bangs before her world faded to black...

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"You're awake. How about that."

An unfamiliar voice greeted her as she opened her eye. The light was blinding at first, but her eye quickly adjusted. She attempted to pull herself into a sitting position.

"Whoa, easy there. Easy. You've been out cold a couple a days now."

A hand steadied her. When she looked, there was a man in front of her. An older gentleman, balding with white hair and a white mustache, dressed in a white lab coat and blue jumpsuit, an odd device on his wrist. He seemed concerned, but calm.

"Why don't you just relax a second. Get your bearings."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Then she felt the draft... and looked down to find herself sitting on a bed, the white sheet that had been over her having fallen onto the ground when she sat up... and she was completely naked.

"Are you okay? You seem-"

She shrieked. A loud, deafening, high-pitched shriek of distress as she thrust her arms over her breasts and pulled her legs up against her body.

"Wh-Where am I? Wh-Who are you? Wh-Where are my clothes?"

The stranger reached a hand out, trying to calm her. "It's okay. This is Goodsprings. I'm Doc Mitchell. You're clothes couldn't be salvaged."

"D-Don't touch me! G-Give me something to wear, please!"

The doctor sighed to himself, standing to walk into the other room. "Okay, alright." He chuckled. "And here I thought modesty was dead in the youth of today..."

She sat there on the sofa, in a quasi-fetal position, shivering and trembling. She wasn't cold. She was scared out of her mind. How else was she supposed to feel, waking up in some stranger's house completely naked?

The stranger soon returned, holding some folded-up light blue garment. He held the garment out for her, and she shied away, whimpering. "It's okay. Don't cry now. I'll leave it here and go into the other room while you change."

He set the outfit on the sofa, and left to the other room just like he said he would. When she had found her ability to move again, and made sure he wasn't going to peek in on her, she grabbed the garment to find it was some sort of... light blue gown with ties in the back. She hurriedly slipped herself into it.

"Done yet?"

She gave a start at the stranger's voice. She hurriedly tied the back... only to realize something. "Um... uh... uh... S-Sir?"

"What is it?" came his gentle reply.

"This... um... doesn't have a back."

The doctor walked back into the room, and she showed him, blushing a deep crimson. Sure enough, it was completely backless, leaving her naked rear on display.

"Yeah. It's meant to be like that. It's a patient gown, commonly used in hospitals before the War."

Blushing even deeper, she looked away from the stranger to try and keep some semblance of her dignity in this backless gown, trying not to think about how much of her ass was on display. Sighing, she sat back down on the bed, the country doctor pulling up a chair to sit in front of her.

"Ready? Calm again? Okay. Let's see what the damage is. How about your name? Do you remember your name?"

She opened her mouth to give her name... only to close it when nothing came to mind.

"So, you lost your memory, huh? Can't even remember your own name? Well, hopefully it'll come to ya with time." He shifted positions in his chair, leaning forward with his hands clasped under his chin. "I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. And just so ya know, I've been a doctor all my life. So I've seen plenty of people in all kinds a states a undress. No reason to be shy around me."

She blushed and averted her gaze again. His occupation wasn't making her feel any less embarrassed.

He reached to the side and handed her a mirror. "Here ya go. Take a look at yourself. You were shot twice in the head. I had to go rootin' around in your noggin' for all the bits of lead. Let me know if I left anythin' outta place."

She stared into the mirror... only for a total stranger to stare back at her. Pale skin, almost completely white, emerald green eye. High cheek bones, a button nose, freckles peppering her cheeks and nose. Her hair... it was long. It even fell in front of her face, the back falling down to mid-back. How could anyone have this much hair? It was incredibly frizzy, too. Kinda messy, possibly from being out for so long. As if matching her pale skin, freckles, and green eyes, her hair was a deep, slightly rusty red color. She pulled part of her bangs aside, and was surprised to find bandages wrapped around her head at an angle to cover her right eye. She reached for the edge of the bandages, but the doctor reached a hand out to stop her.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you. I said ya got shot in the head, right? Twice. I may have been a good enough doctor to save your life... but I couldn't save your eye. And ya might want to check your forehead."

She moved the fiery hair from her forehead, and was surprised to find a scar there. Circular, with vein-like protrusions extending out in oblong directions. Yes, definitely a gunshot wound.

"Um... h-how long do I have to wear the bandages, doctor?"

"Well, I had to remove your entire right eye to avoid infection. It's just a heavily scarred socket right now. You should fully heal in a few days, but don't remove the bandages until you've got somethin' else to protect yer socket with."

She took a moment to look around the room, and found it very blurry. "Um... doctor... why's everything so fuzzy?"

Doc Mitchell quirked an eyebrow. "Hm? Oh. Well, you still have one eye left. You must be nearsighted in it. Lemme go fetch a pair."

The doctor got up and walked into the other room. He soon returned with a pair of glasses with perfectly round, thick lenses with no frames around then, as well as a green ribbon. He placed the glasses on for her, making her lightly blush from the tender care, then held out the ribbon for her to take. "You can use this to tie your hair with. Someone like you with that much could probably use it."

She squeaked out a tiny thank you, running her hands through her frizzy, messy hair to tie it with the deep green ribbon. When she struggled with it, the doctor patted her on the shoulder, motioning for her to turn around. She turned, blushing as he carefully and gently tied her hair. When he was done, her hair was, save for a great deal of untidy frizz that fell from her bangs to frame her face, swept back into a ponytail and tied with the ancient ribbon. Beyond that it poofed quite a bit in most other directions. She hoped some of this frizz would go down once she washed her hair... She turned around, fidgeting with her fingers nervously. "Th-Thank you, doctor... y-you've been so nice to me."

"Don't mention it. Now... are you hungry?"

She was about to answer no, but then her stomach growled, making Doc Mitchell chuckle.

"Lemme go fetch ya somethin' to eat."

The girl nodded, watching the doctor walk away into another room. She looked down at her body, getting a look at it for the first time.

Like her face, her body was very pale, like most redheads, but her shoulders and arms were dotted with freckles like her cheeks and nose, which she could see when she pulled up the sleeves of her jumpsuit, or pulled the collar off her shoulders. Her breasts were... very large. Especially on her small frame. She guessed she was about five feet tall, and quite petite except for her breasts. She wasn't slender, though, nor athletic. The little roll her stomach made when she sat down and leaned forward proved that. She lifted the skirt of her patient gown up next to get a look at her lower areas, surprised to find her red hair was completely natural. She really was a ginger, wasn't she?

"I'm back."

The girl hurriedly pushed her patient gown back down before the doctor saw her staring at her nether regions, turning to see the doctor walk in with a tray holding a metal spoon and a brown bowl of steaming liquid that smelled really good. He sat down in the chair and placed it on the girl's lap. Grabbing the spoon, he dipped it into the bowl and held it out for her mouth to take it, which she blushed and allowed.

"What is this?" she asked after she swallowed it.

"Wasteland penguin soup." Doc Mitchell explained.

"What's a wasteland penguin?"

"Well, they're pretty common around here, but I guess you wouldn't know that due to yer amnesia, so I'll try to explain. There were these animals around before the War called chickens that were used to lay eggs for eating, and also had pretty good meat. Supposedly, their ancestors were big lizards that lived millennia ago. Well, after the bombs fell, the chickens devolved back to reptilian scales, though they still kept their overall body structure, still lay good eggs, and still have good meat. Farming towns like Goodsprings raise them along with centisheep, Brahmin, pig rats, and bighorners."

"Centisheep? Bighorners? Brahmin? Pig rats?"

"Well, those are long stories. The bombs caused mutations in a lot of other animals, too. Centisheep are really long sheep with lots of legs. Pig rats are like mole rats, but with more pig like qualities and really good meat, unlike their more mole-like cousins. Brahmin are two-headed cattle, while bighorners are mutated mountain goats, or something like that. We mostly raise bighorners in this town."

"What do you use them for?"

"Meat and hide, mostly. Ya can't put a pack on them like ya can a Brahmin. Bighorners just lie down until ya take it off again."

She giggled at that. Seemed like bighorners were both lazy and smart.

"Now, finish your soap, then we'll be ready for some more tests."

"Tests?"

"Well, I need to make sure you're still physically capable. Not to mention a few psychiatric tests. Nothin' sayin' those bullets did leave you nuttier than a bighorner droppin'."

She nodded, finishing up her soup quickly so as not to make the doctor wait.

"Done? Good. Now, try standin' up. Let's see if we can get ya on yer feet."

Doc Mitchell held out his hand, and she carefully grasped it, blushing once more at the contact. She stood up from the bed, took a step forward, and stumbled. She would've wiped out had the doctor not caught her as she fell forward. She looked up at him, her face a deep red. "Um... uh... um... th-thank you, d-doctor..."

"It's alright. I figured you'd have some difficulty at first. Try to take a few steps forward. Test your legs out. Good. Now follow me over to the vigor tester machine over here."

She followed him over, crossing her arms under her breasts. It wasn't that she was embarrassed by the their size, even if the material of the patient gown was very thin and really bulged out in the chest because of them. As much as she was embarrassed by the size, her arms had a much more important job in guarding her dignity. She... was bouncing...

"Good job. Your legs are in fine shape."

She looked down sadly. "I'm... I'm five feet tall..."

"There's nothing wrong with bein' short. At least you're..." he cleared his throat. "Proportionately petite."

Except these... she thought, hiking her crossed arms up a bit more under her hefty bosom.

"Now, don't worry. Just give the Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester a try. We need to see what faculties come with your compact size."

She looked up at the strange machine before her. "Um... h-how does it work?"

"Just push the button with your palm. It'll give ya a fortune on your prowess in various fields."

She reached a hand forward and pressed the button. The machine began flipping through various phrases before coming to a stop. Strength... Lightweight. Perception without glasses... Squinting Newt. Perception with glasses... Sniper Hawk. Endurance... Handle with Care. Charisma... Diplomat. Intelligence... Smartypants. Agility... Walks on Water. Luck... Stacked Deck.

"Well, your agility is top notch. Charisma and Intelligence are really good, too" Doc Mitchell mused, sounding impressed.

"But... my strength and endurance... they're..." she said sadly.

"Below-average is all. I wouldn't worry about that. Now, how about you come into the next room and I give ya a quick psych test? Gotta make sure them bullets didn't leave you nutty in the head."

He led her into the next room. She followed quietly behind, her arms still crossed under her breasts not for coverage, but for support... as embarrassing as that was.

"Just have a seat on the couch. I'll ask you a few questions."

She took a seat, squeezing her legs together and sitting up straight in a very rigid and unrelaxed sitting pose.

"All right. I'm gonna say a word. You just say the first word that comes to mind. Dog."

"Um... cat."

"House."

"Uh... sh-shelter."

"Night."

"D-Dream."

"Bandit."

She swallowed hard. "Um... c-crush."

"Light."

"Uh... inspiration?"

"Mother."

"Regret?"

"Okay, now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me if they sound like somethin' you'd say."

She wasn't sure why that came to mind... she couldn't even remember ever having a mother... "Um... o-okay."

"First one. Conflict just ain't in my nature."

"Uh... s-strongly agree."

"I ain't given to relyin' on others for support."

"Um... Strongly disagree."

"I'm always fixin' to be the center of attention."

"S-Strongly disagree!"

"Easy there. I'm not accusin' you of anythin'."

She blushed, averting her gaze from the doctor. "S-Sorry."

"It's okay. Next one... I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

"Uh... strongly disagree?"

"I charge in to deal with my problems head on."

"S-Strongly disagree."

"Almost done here." He turned around and grabbed some flashcards from behind his back, holding up an inkblot drawing. "What do ya say ya have a look at this. Tell me what ya see."

"A b-broken chain... I think..."

"Okay. How 'bout this one?" He flipped to the next one.

She immediately blushed and looked away. "I'm... I'm too embarrassed t-to say what it looks like..."

"That's okay. Now, this is the last one."

"A... a light in the darkness." On second glance, it looked more like two bears high-fiving...

He set the cards aside. "Well, that's all she wrote."

She gave a sigh of relief. All this attention was making her head swim...

"Hope ya don't mind, but I ran some tests on ya while you were unconscious to get a sense of your medical history. Just a formality. Ain't like I think ya got a family history of gettin' shot in the head. I don't have nothin' to compare it to, so maybe you'd better just have a look at the results. See if it all seems right to you."

The doctor handed her a sheet of paper, which she looked over. It seemed he did a number of tests, and the result were primarily that she was terribly nearsighted and needed eyeglasses, had a small body frame that might make her limbs more susceptible to injury, high metabolism as the likely reason why she was so petite, a slight natural resistance to radiation, absorbed less radiation from ingested food and drinks than most people, and showed a natural resistance to the addictive effects of chems like Med-X.

"Um... It looks okay, Doctor. But... If my metabolism is so high, why are my, um..."

"Why are you so... well-endowed?" She blushed. "My guess would be good genes. It's really the only thing that determines proper breast size. They look about a DDD if you use American bra sizes, but my guess is they'd be even larger if you put on more weight."

She right then and there vowed she'd never do that. She didn't want them getting any bigger.

"Alright, I guess that about does it. Come with me. I'll see ya out."

He got up, gesturing her to follow him. She sat up, again resuming the position of her arms crossed under her breasts for support. She followed him to the door, swallowing hard at the sight of it at the end of the long hallway.

"Here. These are yours. Was all ya had on ya when you were brought in."

He handed her a few bottlecaps, a blue canteen with a yellow thirteen on it, a red magazine titled Pugilism Illustrated, and a piece of paper with something written on it.

"I hope ya don't mind, but I gave the note a look. Thought it might help me find some next of kin. But it just mentions somethin' about a platinum chip."

She glanced over it.

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Mojave Express Delivery Order (6 of 6)

INSTRUCTIONS

Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for the delivery. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express agency in Primm.

Bonus on completion: 250 caps

MANIFEST

This package contains:

One (1) Oversized Poker Chip, composed of Platinum

CONTRACT PENALTIES

You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until the delivery is complete and payment has been processed, contractually obligated to complete this transaction and materially responsible for any malfeasance or loss. Failure to deliver to the proper recipient may result in forfeiture of your advance and bonus, criminal charges, and/or pursuit by mercenary reclamation teams. The Mojave Express is not responsible for any injury or loss of life you experience as a result of said reclamation efforts.

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"I guess I'm a courier..." she mused.

"Then I guess that'll have to do for a name for now."

"Yeah... um... and I should probably see Johnson Nash in Primm. H-He might know who I am..."

"Well, if you're headin' back out there, you oughta at least have this, so ya don't have to walk around in just a patient gown. Belonged to my wife. We used to live in Vault Twenty-One. She didn't like wearin' it after we moved. Felt it was too brazen." He held out a folded-up blue garment for her. She took it and unfolded it to find it was some kind of blue jumpsuit with a yellow twenty-one on the back. She slipped it on, only to find the arms and legs were too long, and when she tried to zip it up, it wouldn't fully zip over her breasts.

"Um... D-Doctor? It... d-doesn't fit."

"Oh. Well... Like I said, it belonged to my wife. Guess she was taller than you and..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "...not as well-endowed."

The newly-dubbed Courier sighed, gazing down at the ground.

"Oh, don't feel bad. Her, you can have this, too." He held out some sort of device. "They call it a Pip-Boy. Like I said, I grew up in Vault Twenty-One. We all had one of these."

He held out a hand for her right arm, which she gave, letting him fix the device on her. "It's a Personal Information Processor made by RobCo and Vault-Tec before the war. It's got a built-in clock, radio, and map readout. Ya can download and store Holotape messages, be it audio or text, and scan paper notes for storage as well. It has readouts as a health monitor, Geiger counter, and substance analyzer. The screen can even light up as a flashlight, and it's waterproof, too. I've also heard word that ya can play games on it and it's got enough data storage to download an entire dictionary and encyclopedia, but ya'd have to find those add-ons somewhere else, 'cause I don't got 'em. Ain't much use to me now, but ya might find a need for it. I know what it's like to have somethin' takin' from ya."

She looked up at the elderly doctor, her eye wide. "You're... you're really giving this to me? But... it must be worth so much..."

The doctor crossed his arms and shook his head. "Not to me, I'm afraid. Left the Vault life behind me after what happened to Vault Twenty-One. Besides, I wouldn't feel right sendin' a little lady as young as you out into the world with as much as I could offer."

"But don't you need it?"

"I already have one." He showed the Courier his wrist, where he indeed already had a Pip-Boy fixed to it. "That one belonged to my wife, too, like the jumpsuit."

Her eye teared up. "Th-Thank you, sir..."

"Oh, and I don't want the locals pickin' on ya for lack a' modesty in that half-zipped Vault suit. So take this to the general store and ask for some good clothes."

He handed her a slip of paper. She gazed down at the numbers and words written on it. "Um... what is this?"

"It's an invoice for the clerk who runs the store. Show him that, and he'll set ya up with any supplies ya need to set off, for free. Let's just say bein' a Vault doctor in a farming town earns ya a coupla favors."

She sniffled, wiping her one remaining eye with her hand. "Th-Thank you, sir. You've been so nice..."

He just smiled warmly. "Don't mention it. I'm a doctor. It's what I'm here for. Now, before ya leave, you'll likely wanna talk to Sunny Smiles, our town's unofficial sheriff. She can teach ya some tricks to fend fer yerself out in the wastes. You'll likely find her down at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon might be able to help ya out as well. Like the metal fella, Victor, who pulled ya outta yer grave."

"Um... Metal fellow? G-Grave?"

"Just talk to him. You'll see. Ya ever get hurt again, ya come right on back and I'll fix ya up. Just try not to get killed again."

He winked at her, and she gave a small giggle at his little joke. Thanking him one more time, she took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the Mojave sun.

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Author's Notes:

1. The Two Bears High-Fiving thing is a reference to a mod that adds that option for that ink blot. The mod is so popular that it was referenced with a character in the Honest Hearts DLC.

2. Doc Mitchell wearing a Vault Lab Uniform is simply because I figured he'd only be comfortable in vault attire, having grown up in one, like Michael Angelo and Sarah. He does say the vault suit was his wife's if the Courier is female, so I figured, why not the Pip-Boy he gives you as well?

3. It has been brought to my attention that Doc Mitchell says the vault suit isn't his style if you play as a male Courier. As I have only played as female Couriers, I was not aware of this at the time of writing this.

4. For those of you reading the reviews and finding them inconsistent with the story, please know that I am currently re-writing this story to make it more appealing to the non-anime crowd. As a proud otaku, I was not aware that my anime-isms had snuck into the story and the protagonist, so I shall be fixing some of them to appeal to the Fallout fans who don't like anime. However, this is still my fanfic, so not all of them will be changed. Please be on the lookout for updated and re-written chapters.