Dysphoria: A state of unease or generalized dissatisfaction with life.
Prologue
Van wasn't your typical kid. Like a lot of others, he grew up in the NCR territory known as the 'Bone Yard' a city based around a vault in California.
When he was old enough, he enlisted in the NCR just as they began their tour of Nevada. Van was 17 the first time he picked up a service rifle in boot camp, and he knew that the gun was something more to him than just an instrument of death.
At the time, Van was 5'11 with brown hair that he let grow out, it swept in front of his eyes and he found it quite annoying at times to keep brushing it our of the way, but he did so anyway. He had eyes that matched his hair, and they seemed to gleam and sparkle in the sunlight of the Mojave. He was rather slim and nibble at that. Sitting still just wouldn't do for him, he was constantly moving about, like an old world commuter. Everything about life fascinated Van, from the great war to the way Gammorah was ran. He had a thing for knowledge, wanted to know so many things about everything. This infatuation led him in to the worst situation he had ever been in, and it's the sole reason he is who he is.
Chapter One: Betrayal.
Two years had passed since Van had joined the NCR's First-Recon regiment. Van was one of the tops when it came to distance shooting, and everyone was well aware of the fact that he was no schmuck when it came to violence. He sort of had this John Wayne type idea in his head, that he could clean up the wastes with a gun, and that's what he aimed to do.
Van's captain, Cpt. Chu, had received word that a well respected senator, by the name of Dr. James; he was from Colorado, in the NCR had been leaking information to Caesar's Legion for some time now and was ordered to assassinate him, it was off the record and no credit would be taken or given.
For those who are unaware, Caesar's Legion is full of slavers and thugs who's only wants is to enslave every member of the Mojave that will now bow to Caesar's will, he is a ruthless tyrant and will stop at nothing to get what he wants from this desolate desert.
Chu had wanted Van to take the assignment himself, Van had bad blood with this particular senator, he often pressed charges against young recruits in the NCR for insubordination, or small time business owners for fraud. Van accepted the job under the table, but officially refused to take it.
"20,000 in caps. Just for one bullet Van, I know you can do this, son, we've trained you for this particular job." Cpt. Chu told Van as they met in his bleak office. Chu was nothing special by any means of the word, he was 6 feet tall, broad chested, bald, and had a plastic face that one might think was peeled right off of a mannequin's head. The only thing that stood out on his face was his eyes, they were bright blue, like they were contacts maybe, but for sure they could make you pay attention to him.
"I know. I'll do it, but I need to handle some things first, when is the hit taking place?" Van said as he leaned back against his captain's door, his round billed sniper hat turned backwards.
"It's in two weeks, I'll personally brief you the night before, dismissed."
With that, Van was back in the terminal of the McCarren airport. It was the headquarters and main hub of all NCR action in New Vegas.
As Van walked down the steps of the escalator, one of his squad-mates, everyone called him snacob, ran over to him, and he looked as if a group of Legion assassin's were hot on his tail, "Hey, Van! Ten minutes, holding cells, don't be late!" Snacob then rushed off towards the front doors, in a hurry like usual, but definitely paranoid. He looked like how any teenager from California was stereotypically expected to; wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, the works!
Van raised an eyebrow as Snacob left the building but did not stop walking to his destination. He needed to drop off the papers concerning the target that Cpt. Chu gave to him. He bunked with two other guys, they were not First-Recon more along the lines of special infantry, and he knew that they don't mess with his things and he appreciated that.
His bunk was a little messy, that's how he liked it. Underneath it, was his duffle bag and some things he bought from the on-base commissary. He looked around the room to make sure no one was around, and he slipped the manila colored folder inside of his duffle bag. As Van looked up, he saw one of his roommates enter the room, he was tall, around 6'2 about 4 inches taller than he, had brown hair that was close cropped like a military buzz cut that hadn't been trimmed in a couple of weeks, green eyes, and mischievous looking features. He wasn't someone that Van trusted too much. He leaned against Van's bunk and crossed his arms, "They're going to kill you, Van. Watch out for them."
Van looked up from his duffle bag, still crouched on the floor, "I doubt that, I'm the best sniper in the regiment. There is no way that they would want me dead."
"It's called tying up loose ends, it's not about personality or skill of the sort, it's knowledge, and now you know too much. I'm just watching out for you is all. I wouldn't share this with you if I didn't care, I heard your captain talk with one of the mercenaries about your task. Be careful."
"Chu just wants it to get done. There are a lot of caps on the table for me with this job." even though Van said that, he didn't believe it. He knew how odd it was to get paid for this sort of mission, without a spotter. Regardless, he wasn't going to miss his mark. He needed to take his shot.
"If you find yourself in a spot of trouble, go here," Van's roommate handed him a plastic card that had writing in a form of permanent black ink, it read: Hidden Valley Bunker #108 Password: Backward Remarks "When they come out, put your hands up, and tell them that Paladin White sent you." With that said, he walked out of the room, and all was silent.
Van turned the card in his hand, and shoved the card in his cargo pants. He had a feeling that Snacob was waiting for him, so he left his room and started towards the escalator. On his way up, he had the sinking feeling that someone was watching him, but he shook that thought, he had to keep his mind straight.
As Van entered the holding cell area, he noticed how empty it was, not physically speaking empty, but it just felt so vacant and hollow. On the bench inside of the main cell, was Snacob himself, and sitting raise him was a civilian looking male with long black hair that was swept back in a ponytail. Van pointed to the male and opened his mouth to speak, but Snacob raised his hand in protest and then beaconed him to cone forward.
"He's my connection in the embassy. Don't ask his name, he won't tell you." Snacob said in a low hushed tone.
Van sat on the floor and leaned himself against the bars closest to the door, "Tell me what I'm doing here, Jacob."
"You are not here, you are in the commissary right now. Understand?"
Van nodded and closed his eyes, resting against the cold of the metal bars.
"Good. I have a receipt for you, from the Gun Runners. A new rifle barrel was ordered in your name, I'm guessing that you hadn't done this?"
Van shook his head And opened one eye, "But who ever did, I thank them, I'm guessing you summoned me because of the job I was asked to take up?"
A deep yet soft voice spoke up from Snacob's bench, the informant spoke, "You're welcome. I heard that a First-Recon sniper was to take the shot, and figured that some new gear was in order. But be warned that you are not suppose to return alive. Even if you do, you will be Court-Marshaled for going AWOL and assassinating a political figure."
These words startled Van, how has everyone been informed about this job already? He just took it up, "What should I do then?" he asked with a twinge of hatred in his voice.
"Take the shot. You have no other choice."
-Two Weeks later, location: Grand Junction-
Getting up to the summit of the cliff was difficult enough without being spotted by Legionaries and DeathClaws. The climb was worth it though.
Van had been scouting this spot for the past week and a half. He unpacked his rifle from his case that he had planted up there the past night, and began to set it up. He practiced using the new barrel over the previous week. He had gotten so used to compensating for the rust spots on his old barrel that using something so new and accurately made, it was difficult adjusting. None-the-less, he found it comforting.
Once the scope was set, Van twisted his brown hat, round bill and all, to face the back of his head. He sat on one knee, and rested the barrel of his gun on the other, he stared towards his objected mark; it was a run down building that wouldn't typically be of notice. It's walls were crumbling and roof was half caved in, that was the spot that Dr. James was supposed to be in about ten minutes "Early is on time, but on time is late." Van told himself as he laid on his stomach to set up his shot.
He did a pre-reading of the distance, and had his scope set up to compensate for it. The wind was a higher speed than what he previously thought it would be. Having to make up for that speed would be difficult, but doable. He took his time, got a read for his surroundings, and planned a bug-out route if things went south.
Dr. James stepped out from the building, briefcase in hand, and took a look around, "Right on time." Van said aloud just like he was greeting an old friend. The target was 500 yards away, that's twice the distance that any NCR First-Recon boy had on record. Obviously there had been longer, but none had wanted to go that far to confirm it.
Van pulled back from the scope and pulled about 3 or so .308 rounds from his pocket and lined them up next to the gun. He picked one up and turned it in his hand, thinking of what the others had said the day he was assigned this job, was he really supposed to die out here? He couldn't find that conceivable.
He pushed those thoughts aside and his left eye went back in to the scope, his right hand did a once over of the round again and slid it in to the chamber it made a CHINK as it found it's place. He pushed bolt the forward with his thumb and locked it in place as he tugged down upon it with the entirety of his hand.
In a moment of doubt, Van closed his eyes and felt something was watching him, the same way he had been feeling for the past two weeks. He couldn't shake this feeling anymore. He figured he had a couple of minutes until James was in place, so he sat back and sighed his hair sweeping back as he did, "Whoever the fuck is out there, you might as well reveal yourself, I won't fight."
"Well now, Van. Your perception is far better than I anticipated." Cpt. Chu said from a point just below the summit, he seemed to come out of nowhere, like a spirit or something like that.
Without turning to face him, Van rubbed dirt on his hands as he laid back down for his shot, "Why me, Chu? Why was I chosen?"
"Well, you knowing would defeat the purpose of me personally killing you. Is he in place yet?"
"You know; your impatience is going to get you killed one day. Just you watch. Why is it that you wanted to handle me yourself? And not send another assassin? Or a mercenary? We have plenty of those around the base."
"You see Van, everyone that deals in these matters become loose ends, I figured that I might make it easier to just handle this on my own."
Van closed his eyes once more as he peered through the last scope he figured he would see, "Better to die doing something I love, than to die at the hands of some Legionary," Van mumbled to himself. he could feel the captain unholster his pistol and ready it to take the shot.
In his scope, Van saw Dr. James hit the distance marker, and he led his scope a little bit, figured he would walk in to the bullet, and exhaled softly as he pulled on the trigger. A comforting feeling came to his arms as the gun jumped back in refusal to stand still. Within five seconds, he saw James' body crumble like a soda can before him and knew that he was a gonner.
He stood up, he was going to die on his own terms, and turned around slowly to find Cpt. Chu brandishing the barrel of the gun at Van's head. "Thank you for your service, Van. The New California Republic thanks you."
"Don't thank me, not yet anyways."
Van closed his eyes and shut the world out, he could not feel, nor hear anything anymore. He felt something hit his chest like a hard unexpected punch, and fell backwards, off of the cliffside. Tumbling, Van saw his life flash before himself; crying to his mother as a child about some of the bigger kids picking on him, his dad's squad mate giving Van the dog tags of his deceased father, him signing his name on the recruiting list at the NCR center.
Everything went black, he was weightless in thin air. He didn't lead a life that anyone would hear about, he was too discreet for anyone to take knowledge of him. Van realized at that point, that he was dealing with Dysphoria.
Author's Note! Hello there, my name is Fable and I do hope you enjoyed this first chapter of a story that I am working on. Not sure how often I will be putting this out, it really depends on if I feel like writing certain days. Any inquires you have about the story or anything else really, don't be afraid to contact me through my Twitter ( That_Fable) or just leave a review, complaining about how shit I am! :)
Have a splendid day, Fable.