Dear Mother,
How are you? Are you well? I don't know why i'm even bothering to write that down, it's not like you'll see this. But eh, what the hell?
Right now I'm in a land called America, in the wasteland known as the mojave. A Lot has happened and I'm now fighting in an army that belongs to a nation called the NCR. In short, The New California Republic. It's a hard life, but its…. Worthwhile is what I would say? Everyday I fight for my life. It's strange...But i feel oddly alive...Weird huh?
Right now I'm writing this pinned down by a Sniper. No worries, it's not like you'll read this anyway.
Well, it's just a waiting game for now. Sooner or later this bastard will slip and i can hightail it the fuck outta here. Or, worst case scenario i fuck up and buy the farm. Either one I don't really mind at all.
In this envelope is a photo of me and the boys. To me it's a precious thing. So I figured why not put in a precious letter for a precious person.
With lots of love,
-Corporal Whitley, Ncr 88th Division, 69th Assault engineers "Old Fritz's" Brigade"
Willow Schnee was...a broken woman. A failed, unhappy, unescapeale marriage… A distance with her children that can never truly be mended. Every day, within the hour she would turn to the bottle. It got even worse when her only son, Whitley disappeared one day. She would drink into the night, cry herself to sleep, And proceed to throw up in the toilet each and every day.
Today was going to be the same..Or so she thought. That morning, imagine her surprise when a courier arrived at her door with a bundle of letters. Addressed to her, it was a curious thing, the bundle of letters. But what was even more curious was the handwriting on the letters. It was immaculate, fancy. It was penmanship reminiscent of her missing child...But it couldn't be...Right?
Willow schnee was awash with a myriad of emotions as she held the battered, fragile photo in her hands. Shock, sadness, anger , mystification. She knew she shouldn't believe it. It could be a prank, no. It was most likely a prank. It was just too unbelievable. But there he was. In the photo was undoubtedly her missing son, Whitley Schnee in a brodie hat, an army uniform that belonged to this "NCR", A cocky grin on his face as he posed with an old army revolver in one hand as he had his leg on the head of a dead vicious monster. Around him were men dressed in the same uniform with cheerful grins on their face.
Willow was absolutely appalled by this. Was this really her soon? What could happen for him to change? Was it even him? His handwriting before, elegant. Gentlemanly, classy, refined was now...In lack of better words, quite crude. She knew she shouldn't have, couldn't have, but something started to light a flame once again in her burned out hurt. Hope. She knew it was foolish, but it was her son brothers damn it! No matter what had happened she could never give up on him.
She gulped, A side glance to the bottle before a sigh. Slapping both her cheeks, she shook her head. This took more precedence damn it. She did the only thing she could do, she started reading the letters.
Getting the authorities involved would complicate things, they would doubt her, view it as a waste of , to her knowledge this america her son spoke off wasn't real. They wouldn't care, her husband merely called for the authorities, he didn't panic one bit. Weiss? She was surprised to be sure. But didn't do anything further. Winter was simply too busy in the army.
Willow grit her teeth in frustration at these thoughts. No, as far as anyone was concerned she was going to find her son, even if she was all alone in this matter.
With frustration and rage, she opened the next letter. This one contains a medal with the letter this time.
Dear mom
I have escaped the sniper successfully and am now writing to you in a ….Should i say intoxicated state? No, He who states that he is drunk is not truly drunk at all. But that asks the question? Are you not drunk when clearly you've had too much to drink and claim that you are drunk? For to be drunk you get quite tipsy, warm headed and the like which is clearly what i'm feeling right now. Butt hehe If you claim you are not drunk, most of the time it's to try and get into a bar so you can pop a couple more drinks eh? So for simplicity's sake, i shall say i'm not drunk! Cause i can go for a couple more bottles right about now. Anyway, back to what I was writing, escaped the sniper, hauled ass through the desert And got ambushed by a couple of Legion fucks. Seriously fuck em!. Anyway, cleared the bastards out with my trusty revolver. Dropped them dead on the spot. Came back, Central heard about it. Was pleased, and gave me this medal. Something that I could care less for. If they wanted to reward me they should have given me booze and tobacco. Seriously the medal of honor? What a cringy fucking name Ha! This medal could have easily been smelt into bullets or something useful. But I digress. The lads wanted me to keep it. Apparently it's a thing given to only the best of the best. Don't know why they gave it to me. I spend my days Drinking, fighting, smoking and gambling. And boy am i good at those things. I reckon I could beat just about anyone in a game of caravan. Don't know where to put this scrap metal so i guess i'll put in this letter. Don't know why I'm still bothering to write these letters though. It's impossible for you to see them. But eh, a guy can hope right?
Your son, -Whitely schnee. "Old Fritz's brigade"
Willow eyed the medal curiously. She was going to have to analyze it later. The most important thing however, was that her 12 year old son was now drinking and smoking….Dear brothers why? She was going to have to scold him once she found him.
With a renewed determination she opened the next letter. This time, the letter contained a beautiful silver brooch ingrained with emeralds and and a ruby
Dear mom,
Found this at a traders caravan the other day. Had a shit ton of money blow so i figured why not buy it. It's a beautiful thing. I figured if i wanted you to have anything this would be it. Don't know what i did to piss you off, with the distance between us and everything...But, the other day the darndest thing happened. For just a brief moment, i couldn't remember your face...Silly, i know right. But still frightened the fuck outta me. I know… this shits awkard to write in a fucking letter. But, i'll never have the chance to speak with you in person. I know that. Hell, chances are you'll never see the letters I write you either...Perhaps it's for the better. I can't help but curse in every fucking sentence now. Chances are, I'll never see you again. Part of me is fine with that. I've never been more alive in the Mojave than I am at home. But still… A part of me can't wish but to see you again, one last time. One last time to say how thankful I am to you for raising me… Hah! I'm turning into a sentimental old man. Figures, I spend my days smoking late into the evenings watching the sun go down and nights drinking until the early fringes of dawn...Anyway, that's basically all I wanted to write down. Legion's building up around the mojave. Shit ton of more skirmishes lately. It's obvious caesar's target is Hoover dam. He takes that fucking dam and the mojave is all but his. We're not gonna let that happen however. They'll have to step over my cold dead body first. But yeah! That's about it. Lots of love,
-Whitely. "Old Fritz's" brigade
A tear fell then another. It was like a goddamn waterfall. Cursing under her breath, Willow gasped. A moment went by then another, soon minutes as she sobbed. She couldn't help it. It was pathetic. Could she truly be called a mother? For years she made her own son feel like that, and now here was, trying to close the gap, trying to find her son...Was she even deserving of this? Did she deserve him back?
As she hiccuped and sobbed uncontrollably, Her elbow accidentally bumped the table. A soft whirring sound could be heard in one of the few remaining letters.
Steeling herself, she paused. Still sobbing she...no dammit. She started this, she was going to finish it.
Inside the letter was an old cassette player. The one found normally in the old days of the great war. It was playing to her surprise. She waited with bated breath as she eagerly awaited for a voice from the cassette player.
"Ahem! Hello? Is this working?" A familiar voice played through the machine.
Willow gasped, it was her son. She was for the first time in months, hearing her son's voice. Tears still dreaming, she awaited eagerly, desperate to hear her son's voice even more.
"Things are heating up around here. Legion fucks are everywhere, hell you can't even go out on patrol without being engaged once. Once if you're lucky."
A pause, then a sigh from Whitley.
"Caustiles are piling up more and more. Morale at an all time low. Everyone thinks they're gonna die."
"...Right now I'm on sentry duty. Entire camps on edge, we're just too short staffed. Sigh, it was my day off today too. Anyway, recently bought this cassette player and a couple of blank tapes for the fun of it….This is boring as hell. I'm reading a book. The art of war. An entire book dedicated to stratagems and battle tactics ….Winter would have loved it.
"Oh what else. I'm just beginning to grow facial hair. Give it a year or two and I'll have a rocking beard. Hehe."
"...What else? Oh, we got new replacements but I have no hope in them whatsoever. Casualty rates for old fritz's brigade are high...Hell, most of the boys that I hold to be brothers are gone now. Nothing can be done. We're, afterall, assault engineers. First to fight, first to blow a hole in the enemy's defenses and first to die."
"...These days, I find myself looking at the sky and asking myself, is this worth it? Is this what life truly is?...Shockingly, it is the little things. The actions we grunts take when where in danger that makes life so...great,"
"We would take a bullet for each other no doubt about that. We Engineers leave no man behind. Hell, we'd blow a hole into hell itself if it meant getting a buddy back into the fold. So many have died for each other, and here I am, patiently waiting for my turn."
"You know? At first, i thought this was exciting, compared to my old life, living in a cold empty home where the word love was nonexistent...I found myself so fucking alive. I made friends, true friends who would lay down their lives for me, and vice versa… But...I think I understand why you grew so distant from us… You didn't want to lose us, perhaps that's why you grew to be so distant. You didn't want to grow close with us, didn't want us to completely trust you, only for something to happen and you lose us…"
"I find myself doing the same exact fucking thing, heh. Like a mother like son right? I'm a sergeant now. It's sad that I'm now one of the most experienced men in the brigade… You heard it all before. Keep your head down and you'll be alright. Well that's a fucking lie. Somewhere out there… There's a bullet with your name on it. And it's gonna find you regardless of what you do. So I ask myself, ``Why even try?"
"...Look at me, i'm just a kid, saying these things. What am i? An edgy middle schooler?
"...Death's in the air. That's it…..Mom, i….I love ya. That's...it. Whitley...out."
A heavy silence hung in the air. There was only one letter left. No. it couldn't be. Desperately, she opened the last letter. One last cassette tape. With fury and speed, she popped it in the cassette player.
Eager, desperate, sorrowful, she waited for her son to speak.
"...Got orders from brass. It's finally happening. All available men are hereby called to the dam, Caesar and his fucking dogs are finally doing it. It's going to be bloody. We're already short on men as it is. Now we're cut off. We can beat them, but it's gonna cost an arm and a leg."
"...If i live, you'll get plenty more letters from me. But...Don't expect it."
"...Hah! What am i even doing…."
"...Seriously, mom...With all my heart…."
"No! Don't say it...Please don't say it!" Willow sobbed desperately. This was the last letter, there wasn't anymore.
"...Thank you."
Just like that, the tape cut off. There was no longer any sound. Nothing.
Willow sobbed as her heart clenched in pain.
She cried. That was it. No fancy words to describe her actions, just tears.
She cried. The tears wouldn't stop. She didn't care either way.
She cried so hard that she didn't pay any attention to her surroundings.
She didn't care if her husband walked in on her.
She didn't care if weiss or Winter or hell, anybody walking in on her.
She only cared about her son.
She cared for her boy who smiled ever so fondly in the picture he had sent her.
She cried for her son.