Fallout: New Vegas

by T.J. Smith

During the year 2281 (204 years after the Great War of 2077) in a post-apocalyptic Las Vegas and Mojave Desert. Vegas was not struck directly by a nuclear attack. An amnesic courier sets out for vengeance against the mysterious man who shot him, and reclaim his stolen package containing untold power. But others may want the package, as the Mojave erupts into war. War never changes.

2. Last Delivery

The Courier woke up. Instantly he realised his hands were bound together, rope restraining his movement. He couldn't scream, or cry out, as he had also been gagged. Yet nothing restricted his heart from pumping at an insane rate. The dirt on his clothes suggested he had been dragged across the desert floor, violently. Being captured was not comfortable.

There were men around him, discussing something.

"Guess who's waking up over here?" A rough voice teased. The Courier raised his head to see the speaker. The speaker was one of a small gang of men, dirty tribals with unkempt facial hair and wild hairstyles. One was hard at work digging a shallow grave. About twenty miles across the desert, the night was lit up by the lightshow that was Vegas.

With them, clearly in charge, was a very different man. A clean shaven, neat haired, wealthy looking man, in an expensive checkered suit. Looking with snake-like eyes at the Courier, he took a final puff from a cigarette - flinging it down without care.

"Time to cash out." The leader said calmly, stamping out the cigarette.

"Would you get it over with!" One of his darker skinned mercenaries complained. The suited leader raised a hand to silence him.

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" He never moved his gaze from the kidnapped Courier's face. So these hired assholes were 'Khans', the Courier mentally noted.

The leader reached into his blazer, getting out a poker chip. Made of platinum. Stolen, this was the item the Courier had been told to deliver to Vegas.

"You've made your last delivery kid." He threatened, with a kind tone.

Benny puts Platinum Chip away.

"Sorry you got twisted up in this scene" he sympathised as he put the Platinum Chip back into his blazer, and in its place drew a 9mm pistol. "From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck." He said, observing his gun, then pointing it at the Courier's head, "But, truth is...the game was rigged from the start."

A second later, the leader of the kidnappers shot; and the world became a shallow pit of pain and darkness.