(A/N: I am hoping to maybe cover an entire novelization of the game, based on the choices my courier makes. Depending on the feedback I get here, I'll plan accordingly.
Also: I do not own Fallout.)
A full moon shone brightly in the dark Mojave sky, bathing the land in a gentle white glow. The bright lights of New Vegas glittered on the horizon, almost as if competing with the moon.
Clunk clunk clunk
Miles from the Strip, in a small cemetery illuminated only by a lantern, a man in a clean checkered suit stood silently, occasionally drawing on his cigarette. Two Great Khans of the Red Rock Canyon accompanied him. One stood impatienly, his dark skin flickering with the lantern flames. The other Khan dug into the earth methodically, his mohawk swaying with each movement.
A shallow grave began to take form as the shoveling Great Khan continued to unearth the ground before him.
"You got what you were after, Benny, so pay up!" the dark-skinned Khan demanded, glaring at the checker-suited man.
Clunk clunk clunk
Next to the grave, a young woman clad in simple leather armor and a rawhide hat, lie motionless on the ground, her loose strands of hair dancing in the breeze. Her wrists were tied tightly together with a thin but coarse rope. Her mouth was closed off with a cloth gag, preventing her from making any noise.
Clunk clunk clunk
"You're cryin' in the rain, pally," Benny replied dully.
The sound of the shovel eventually roused the young woman, albeit slowly. She blinked a few times and opened her mouth slightly, burrowing her brows when she realized she couldn't. Her frustration deepend when she lifted her arms to remove the obstruction, only to stop when she noticed the rope keeping her hands tied up.
Her movements caught the attention of the men before her. "Guess who's waking up over here!" the shoveling Great Khan exclaimed, his voice shrill.
Benny smirked. "Time to cash out."
The woman raised her head to the three men. The checker-suited man stared at her, silent. He raised his cigarette to his lips, drawing on it before gently blowing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. He then let the cigarette fall before patting it out with his foot.
"Would you get it over with?!" the first Great Khan demanded, his deep voice seeping with impatience. Benny calmly raised a hand to him, silencing him.
"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' 'em in the face," he said pointedly, his eyes upon the woman before them, "but I ain't a fink... dig?" He reached into his suit and produced an unusually large poker chip that glistened even in the low light. Alarm flashed through the woman's eyes for a moment, earning a chuckle out of the man.
He held the chip before her. "You've made your last delivery, kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." He placed the chip back into his suit, and this time, pulled out a gleaming, engraved silver 9mm pistol.
The woman's eyes widened in fear, then deepened into a scowl as she realized what he was going to do.
"From where you're kneeling, this must seem like an eighteen-karat run of bad luck."
He raised the pistol, pointing it at her head. She glared up the barrel at him, daring him to pull the trigger. The Great Khans glanced at their companion in increasing apprehension.
"The truth is," his voice soft, "the game was rigged from the start."
A bright flash appeared, complimented by an ear-splitting bang, followed by uneasy silence.
Benny shot again, for extra measure. The woman slumped backwards, appearing even more lifeless than when the grave was dug. He stared at the woman smugly, noticing the thin trail of blood along the side of her face.
"McMurphy...," he nodded to the first Great Khan, "Jessup," Benny glanced at man who had shoveled the earth before them. "Finish the job. Then let's get out of here, this place is giving me the heebie-jeebies."
Grunting in response, Jessup gestured towards McMurphy, who lifted the woman effortlessly as he dropped her into the grave, her arms and legs swaying like a rag doll.
The men said nothing to one another as Jessup filled the shallow grave in swift, mechanical movements. After the last pile of earth was tossed upon the grave, the three man swiftly left for New Vegas. Benny glanced back over his shoulder every few minutes, an uneasy look upon his face.
Hours after they were out of sight, an old securitron approached the fresh grave, its cowboy face occasionally flickering in the dark. After a quick survey of the graveyard, the securitron thrust its metal hand into the shallow grave, pulling out fistfuls of dirt and rock.
As it uncovered the body buried beneath, an old-world tune played from the speakers adorning its bulky shoulders. The singer's rich voice filled the graveyard with counts of finding love once in a blue moon.
The securitron dug up enough dirt to expose one of the woman's hands, seemingly frozen in place by rigor mortis.
The old machine only stopped briefly when it noticed that same hand twitching occasionally.
