Chapter 1: Ain't that just a kick in the head.

Rolling down the old highway. The roar of his engine being the only thing to keep him company, well that and the music blaring from his radio, a simple strumming of a guitar crossed the empty and desolate landscape surrounding him and the highway.

Old wrecks long moved and piled along the edge of the road by NCR logistic crews. Considering he was heading back west just to see where the wind takes him. Maybe he'll head south, see Raul again.

Miss that old fuckin' ghoul.

Ah well... any-

"WHAT THE FUCK IS-" Jon shouted as he pulled and leaned trying to stop his motorcycle. Only for it not to be enough. Surprise, taking him over fully as only just suddenly a great large ball of blue energy seemed to appear, almost as wide as the highway as a whole.

Sadly, it wasn't enough as the ball swallowed him whole all of a sudden and the man known as Six, was gone from this world, back home to start another fresh adventure.

Wonder who'll piss him off first…

"How lucky can one guy be~" Echoed across the planes of grass as a man groaned there, slowly coming to his feet in pain. Slowly sitting up he looked around to find his bike sitting up right surprisingly untouched mostly. The music from his pip-boy attached to it played loudly as he looked around.

"What in the blue blazes of hell…" He slowly began to stand, feeling his joints pop a little bit as he does, and once he is on his feet he stretches just a bit. Absolutely thrown for a loop as he approached his bike, at least he was confused until he saw on the screen had a warning, a machine ever so connected to him.

The pip-boy 2500, basically just a hand-held computer instead of wrist mounted, and on the screen a warning was flashing, 'Wild Wasteland Alert' Of fucking course, how could he forget, Vault-tec's world changing technology.

"Piece of shit…" Shaking his head for a moment as he slipped his hand across the pad, shifting it to its map and finding himself, even more confused when the screen displayed a connection error.

"You gotta be shittin' me."

And then as he turned off the radio, this would probably be a good moment to take stock of himself and his equipment.

His eyes traveling over the bike, an unholy hybrid with a high performance motorcycle, and a dirt bike. It was larger and heavier, but still there. Powered by a single hyper-charged Fusion core snagged from an old side project from the Big Empty.

Sighing at this his eye shifted its look over to the saddlebag. Which was a storage of, well food, water, ammunition, and most of his tools made for crafting...well that and his Axe. Can't forget his trusty axe.

Old silver fire-axe, cleaned, sharpened, and given the foundry in the Big Empty, he did have it remade with a much stronger material, which made him gleem and almost glow in the night.

A smirk as he looked it over from its holster in the saddlebag. Trusted tool there, shaking his head he walked around the back of it and on the very end, in a hard case which he flipped open, a mirror flipped up with a razor and some sort of gels inside in tubes.

His grooming kit Willow got him before she left Vegas was really gonna come in handy it seems.

Looking at himself in the mirror, only to freeze for a moment to take himself fully in. Truthfully? It had been a long time since he looked at himself. Reaching up and touching his lower jaw, he took full account of himself.

Six foot tall, semi-tanned skin, a dabble of scars crossing his lower neck to up to his lower face. One particular one showing on his jaw stopping a notable amount of facial hair from growing along the slash mark.

On his top left temple was a dot of scar-tissue from the headshot he originally received from Benny boy. 'Dick.'

His eyes, or well, eye. Truthfully he's been wearing this eye-patch for so long he was just, use to it at this point. His originally steely grey eye had long been replaced by a bright purple almost pink colored eye that was semi-slit to allow him to gain an almost serpent look to his motion.

Reaching up and taking the patch off from his left eye, looking it over. Now it worked, his eye was fine, more than given the augmentation he received, it was just, unnaturally colored is all. Where the whites were all black, the iris, an acidic green, fully slit like a dragon, and the pupil, straight red.

Along with his shadow of facial hair, his long hair that stopped just below his upper back, all of which was black, he looked like his step-mother…. 'Aunt? Whatever…'

He looked like whatever Lady Stark must have thought he looked like at this point.

Looking down his clothing, a long armored duster, the plating made of a titanium, and plasteel mixture, once again from a big mountain, though only this time, it was colored a shade darker than his close to black leather duster.

Shaking his head he looked past that, averagely wearing his riot gear under the coat like normal, once again a shade darker than it normally is, along with extra-webbing for extra ammo pouches, utility and other such things. A knife strapped to his chest and a few mags for one of his rifles finished the tacticool look.

Reaching down and feeling his thigh, a familiar weight of a very powerful sidearm. More or less a six-shooting revolvering weapon of death.

Sitting on his thigh was mostly a hand made weapon. The full idea behind it was simple following the rule. "It should only take one." On anything it was shot at. Whether it was an angry mutant or a deathclaw. It should ONLY take one.

A chrome outer body with a comfortable leather shooter's grip, on Jon Snow's thigh, was a mag-railed Gauss Revolver. A large brick of a handgun chambered in a special load .460

Letting out a comfortable sigh he began swiveling his head left and right taking in his surroundings, 'well that's enough pissing around.'

Kicking his leg up and over, Jon sat himself down on his bike and pulled on the throttle whilst giving a kick to something below him, and once done a familiar roaring growl came from the best he was sat upon.

And away he was, driving though this...sea of grass really.

Somehow, he was really missing the familiar mojave desert.

A loud whistle came from Jon upon his bike, surprised by that huge city he was driving up to.

Eyes widening with a decent amount of shock before shaking it off, he needed to find a port, but this solidified his opinion. He was home… Or at least sort of.

Slowly riding down the dirt path on his bike, and slowly up to the also insanely large blackened walls with the dragon etching melted into it.

Shaking his head as he slowed to a stop and looked around, given how loud his bike was, he could understand the sudden surrounding of people. From the look it was a mixture of people both military and civilian came to greet him in person.

Cutting the engine, and reaching down to flip a switch as he kicked his leg up and over, slowly rising to his feet.

As he sat and listened to the shouting he relaxed and waited, someone would be there to greet him shortly. The language that he was hearing was something of a bastardized version of latin or something like a mixture of german and latin language. Which caught him off guard honestly but, in the end it won't matter.

Standing there for only a moment, he was approached by a man, wearing red robes, with a pretty wicked set of tattoos across his balding face and head. The words he spoke made Jon quirk a brow for but a moment before he spoke up. "Hope you can speak a language I actually understand." Not that they need to know he could get the gist of things from what he knew of latin alone.

"Ah I uh...apologize. My good sir you've come here upon the back of this roaring beast of metal...I'm to ask, who are you?"

"Depends, for the people of this city? A traveler trying to get from point a to b. Simple as that."

"Oh nothing is as simple as that."

"True, but if we're being honest you can already guess that I wanna keep my business private, so let's get down to brass tacks. What's gonna take for me to be able to get into the city."

This made the man look confused for a moment. Then nodded his head, wandering away for but a moment it seemed to go and converse with someone else for a moment before returning.

"You are to be allowed entrance to Volantis under the ruling that you do not actively harm anyone here again...and that you don't allow that...thing of yours to roar again."

"Fine." And with that Jon was in, though obviously he could tell what was gonna happen about half way through his day. He was probably gonna get jumped for his bike. Ah well, that'll be fun.

'Knew it!' Jon was surprisingly accurate with his assessment, given how he was holding down some poor schmuck with his boot by his collar bone. Staring down at the squirming man, couldn't really be more than, maybe 30? The man was one of those tattooed boys with that old wheel bit. Neat thing that. Him and two others tried to distract and rob him of his bike.

Looking up from the man under his boot to his friend who was still awake while the third was currently, well his forehead was through someone's kitchen wall and his body hung limply from the hole in the wall not a few feet away.

"So, wanna explain what I caught you doing or do you need me to spell it out for you?"

The man spoke in a studder of the language that Jon only had partially deciphered.

Sighing softly as he noted figures approaching quickly towards them he could see a couple of armored warriors, along with another one of them priests. Oh and, someone new. A young lady and an older gentleman approached, wearing, well truthfully, what looked to be luxurious things like gems, jewels, and all that. For Jon it was nice as it painted the picture of 'master' over a lot of these slaves.

The warriors surrounded him and the two fools. One of which was still struggling under his foot, though with the pressure and crackling noise coming from him obviously putting a stop to any of that now.

Jon looked down from him once more before pulling his foot up and giving him a simple kick to the gut, before walking off towards the gathering crowd. Guiding his bike past them without so much as a shift in his eyes.

He hadn't paid most anyone else any attention, only stopping when he was called out to after having passed the older man and younger woman.

His uncovered eye locked with the young woman for just a moment. Silvery blonde hair, violet colored eyes, pale skin, which made him quirk a brow, and then next to her was….

Almost an exact copy, well except that this one was male and a little taller than her. This made him quirk a brow and tilt his head. These two were regal and gave a very distinct picture, but there was another thing that stood out about these two.

It was that they had no tattoo whatsoever upon them to mark them as slaves…

So either they were master's or-

Well actually he could already guess who they were as it was a bit of a better known fact amongst the Westeros nobility two of the original Targaryen family. Hell he remembers distinctly on several occasions his fa- well, Lord Stark would reminisce about Lord Baratheon, then King, specifically he remembered how Lord Stark felt disgusted with the man on how he reacted to the not so subtle attack upon the rape and murder of Elia Targaryen and her children.

Jon looked around curiously for a moment, taking note of anyone around them, only noting the odd figure who was sitting on a barely rolling what he could only guess were dice. The figure was obviously male, and kind of taller than the rest of the slaves, but what stood out was…

Well in Jon's words he stood out because he looked like a stereotypical medieval assassin. Cloaked hood and everything. God, these people were nothing if not predictable. Damn was he really from this place? Or well, guess not Essos but Westeros.

Shaking his head he looked up to the obvious siblings and curled a brow as the two approached him. Given his distinct look amongst everyone here it was obvious he wasn't a regular here.

"Say you there, traveler. Where are you heading…" asked the brother of the two.

"Now that's a question, but I'll tell you what, you tell me why you're asking, and I'll tell you where I'm headin'."

"We're looking for someone who can watch over us, and you look nothing if not at least experienced."

Jon blinked in surprise. He didn't actually expect an answer, so he chuckled. "The docks. I'm looking to charter a ship."

"I see, and from there?"

"Somewhere." Was a cheeky response, which got him an irritated deadpanned look. He chuckled at that before rolling his shoulders. "The North of Westeros...Me and Lord Stark need to have a long chat."

That got a look of surprise from both of them, and admittedly a look of thought from the girl.

"Ah. I see, well I hope it goes well with you friend, but it seems fate as said-" The words of the prince were cut off by the younger woman.

"Actually brother, perhaps it'd be best if we went with him? Hide underneath their nose after all?"

That made her brother look at her like she was mad, but he had to admit, not one would look north.

At least that was until suddenly the brother was knocked over into his sister.

To the surrounding natives who new better than to listen in or get involved, after all, that tends to get one hurt, the ones that saw it were surprised and shocked, the noise confused everyone and was drawing attention but what they saw surprised them.

Standing over the two siblings, was two people, Jon, who moved with inhuman speed to become in between them. And the formally cloaked man, who was no longer hidden away from sight. Who's face screamed surprise and shock.

A blade, stabbed through one of the smaller gaps of Jon's armor, blood running down it, and sticking out of his back and out of the back of his armored coat.

Jon was gonna really need to look into that. His gear was geared more towards bullets and other things. Not swords and such.

Unfazed as a full length of a sword was inside of him, Jon's hand was holding the handle, and the hand of the man who had stabbed him. Holding on tightly, the wolf of the wastelands chuckled softly.

"Really? This was your plan, charge the pair of surviving dragons out of the blue while they were distracted? Really? God your such a fucking Amatuer…" As he said his last few words his grip tightened, the sickening crunch of bone was heard, and the crumbling of the sword handle was also heard and could be seen in a surprising feat of strength.

"Moreover, as far as I can tell, you did it alone. So either you're an idiot...OR, you just didn't wait for whatever allies you had…" Shaking his head as the man was writhing in pain unable to let go of the blade, he was on his knees crying his eyes out.

"Ah well, better luck next time kid." With that Jon let go of his hand, but within once again in human speed and grace, he spun and gave a low round kick to the man's head. Shattering his neck, jaw, and anything on the left side of his head.

When the man hit the ground, it was obvious he was dead.

Sighing at this Jon turned his head to see the Twins staring at him in surprise, he reached up and pulled the blade out of his chest tearing it out, all the while feeling what wound would have been left being stitched up automatically and healing on its own. Wiping off the blood and tossing the blade to the ground.

Shaking his head and he gave them a smirk. "So, you wanted me to help you?"

They both shared a look before looking back at him.

"So let me get this straight…" Jon sitting on the boat he 'chartered' to White Harbor.

"You want me-" He placed his hand on his chest before moving it to point at the two of them. "-To play bodyguard to you both?"

"Indeed." was the response from the brother. Which made Jon look curiously. The boy when he met him, looked broken, you see Jon had a decent ability to read people, and when he says he thought the boy was broken, well, he meant like, psychologically.

Like as in the stress of protecting himself, and his sister from would-be assassins and other such things drove him to an edge he'd just yet to jump over.

An interesting line of thought, but time to apply a little pressure.

"And knowing I'm going to Westeros, the North, one of the biggest traitors to your family, you want to tag along cause you think I'll be able to keep you safe even under their noses. Correct?"

"Again, that is the sum of it."

"Okay, so what's stopping me from taking you with me, then handing you over?"

"..." The boy had opened his mouth, but shut it. A look of painful realization crossed his face before Jon sighed and shook his head.

"Mmm, nothing huh. Don't worry about it, I didn't plan on it….Especially depending on how things go in the north, we may end up closer than we wanted to be."

That made them both snap and look at him in confusion before he sighed.

"To sum that up, Lord Stark admitted behind closed doors to his wife that I was not his actual son, I am blood, but not his." That got a look of surprise to them. Truly the girl looked in massive shock.

"What- but how would that mean you are-" Jon cut him off by gently tapping his right cheek right below his right violet glowing eye.

"This, and more over...fire tends to not really do anything to me… So if I'm being honest with you, it's just a theory, you and me maybe...a lot closer than we think Vinny."

That made them both blink in surprise, and in semi-horror. The girl spoke then, "But, how?"

"If my theory is correct, my mother would be Lyanna Stark, and your elder brother...But again like I said until it's either confirmed or I find evidence it's just that, a Theory. The fire resistance thing while it's semi-proof, something else can possibly explain that away. God knows, given where I was residing before I came back to this side of the world…" That made Jon shrug. Truthfully, he didn't care in the end. Family was an interesting subject to him.

Blood doesn't make family to him. Those who stick with you through your trials, through your struggles, those who watch your back and you them. Those are your family.

There was an awkward silence as they both seemed to be taken by their own thoughts, though Jon stood up as he noted the crew of the ship was making their final checks before sailing. He looked at the two of them and spoke. "Alrighty then decision time. Stay if you're staying, or get off quickly while you have the chance."

Both of them stayed for a moment before looking at each other, and as if having a silent conversation before Viserys looked at him. "If what you have told me is true, we cannot just leave you with this. No other Targaryen, trueborn, baseborn or otherwise should be sent back to that hell, at least not alone we shall come with you. So long as you are willing to protect us."

Jon was surprised, the kid showed far more conviction than he expected. Chuckling softly. "Alright then kids, I'll cover you so long as you stay close, but you two need to keep your heads down...and maybe hide how you look.. We'll look into it later."

Within the Red Keep of Kings Landing, within a decently sized meeting room several people were within, these people were Robert Baratheon, Current King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Renly Baratheon as Master of Laws.

Petyr Baelish, The Master of Coin.

And a few more such as the Spider, and Grand Maester, and for the conversation…

"What in the hell do you MEAN the assassination failed… and you also tell me they've gone MISSING!?" Shouted the king, absolutely enraged by the news from the Spider.

"There is not much more I can tell you my Grace, with everything I know a third party was involved, but I do not know whom nor do I know what they look like."

"What blood-fuckin' use are you then if you can't even get me the correct information on the asshole to saved those dragon fuckers!" The kings mouth almost foaming from his suppressed wrath.

"First Jon dies, and now I have to deal with this!? To hell with this I am getting Ned here, I must ask him to become my new Hand…"

Shaking his head before the Spider spoke again.

"It isn't all bad news sire."

"What is it now?"

"Well, as it so happens, a little bird informed me a young Jon Snow was found within the very same city as the two, and moreover...he chartered a ship for White Harbor just the other day."

That made everyone in the room snap their eyes to the Spider.

Now most would probably wonder why anyone would worry about a bastard well…

As it turns out, when Jon went missing, Eddard Stark was quite...Open with his search for the boy. Actually that's not the whole of it. Eddard Stark asked everyone he knew, every lord, every lady. He begged, threatened, bargained. The man was so besides himself with worry for the young man that he actually threatened, and successfully intimidated Lords of Riverrun, his wife's family, as he had openly stated of his knowledge of how they look at bastards, and if they so much as touched the boy wrongly and he found out, he'd burn the entire Riverlands to the ground.

Hell it was like seeing a more terrifying version of Robert within his Wrath, but unlike Robert who was loud, Stark was anything but. Cold, calculated with his words. Truly he was like staring down a great beast.

And given how he had two direwolves flanking him regularly. The original Runt of the litter 'Ghost', who grew to be twice the size of all of them, and the mother, who was named simply enough, 'Luna'.

That made Robert lean back and sigh. "At least there is some good news…" Ironically enough though no one knows what made the boy run. Ned always admitted to it being his fault, but never elaborating about it.

Hell, the man was in so much of a worry that Cersei, the Lannister wife, had given him her own, surprisingly heartfelt hope for him to find the boy. It kind of shook Robert. But he didn't ask, hell he was scared to if he was honest. The world around him seemed to be changing rapidly, and he just didn't understand it.

Taking a drink from his Goblet, a swig full of wine, truthfully Robert has been drinking more and more thinking of the past and realizing his own mistakes, but in the end it doesn't matter. Now matter what he does he knows he'll have to live with what he's done.

Shaking his head, 'no time to get somber now.'

"It's time I head North and speak with Ned. I believe he will fit well enough in hand, as well I can finally get a look at this bastard to see just what the fuss is all about."

That made the room share a look before sighing. After the king gets like this, it is best to let him run with it as they've found.

"And when he accepts we can hold a grand feast and tournament for his honor!"

And within seconds a couple of groans were heard from the room as the meeting ended.

WELL WELL WELL! Another chapter, surprisingly this one was, kinda more difficult, and probably not for the reason you think. I had drafted this 2 with it branching two separate ways problem with draft one though, it felt a little more forced.

This ones dialogue felt semi-awkward but as I have learned, I am not good at GoT of medieval dialogue all that well...Then again given how I plan on having Jon talk all I gotta do is fake til I make it.

Well anyways, I hope you enjoy, review if you want, I don't really care as I said before this is more about keeping my skills up and all that...also though to the few that did review thank you and I'm glad you enjoyed it, as for how this is a crossover, well you'll see. Jon's got a few tricks up his sleeves as well as the fact is, well his pip-boy(Pad) is both mobile, as well as attached to a vehicle, so by that ruling it can technically carry more mass if going by how most people use the pip-boy in other fanfictions (Like digitization or some other atomizing it and adding its mass to the character)

but again anyways. Hope you enjoyed! Do not expect this rapid fire of posting ever normally I've just been finding the right time and mood truly.