A bang of gunfire shattered the silence of Mojave Wasteland, a single headless body falling in front of the dino bite store. Blood, guts and gore falling on top of a man wearing reinforced combat armour. His expression hidden behind a reinforced combat helmet and a surgical mask. Walking up to the corpse of a Jeanne May Crawford, the Courier took everything that seemed valuable, outside of the clothes he had no use for. Standing up, he made his way back to the Dinky the t-rex shop in the middle of the night, walking upstairs to the mouth of the structure.
"That's it then, how did you know?" Boone, a former NCR sniper asked, his expression grim.
"I found this bill of sale in her safe, you should have it," The Courier answered and handed over a sheet of paper. The man in front of him holstered his trusty hunting rifle to his back, before taking the note and reading it. From Courier's point of view, he could see his eyes narrow, the paper crumbling slightly under the pressure before the man released a deep sigh and put the note in the back of his pocket.
"I guess, I shouldn't be surprised. It's like them to keep all the paperwork," He said, before handing over the Courier a bunch of caps. "I think our dealings are done, then."
"I believe so, what do you intend to do now?" He inquired before taking the caps and making them disappear thanks to his pipboy, which made Boone raise his eyebrow slightly.
"I am not sure just yet, maybe I will wander just like you?" He suggested while the Courier smiled slightly in response.
"You will figure it out, I am sure. And if not, who knows we might go against the Legion together?" He countered and the two shared a small chuckle, before saying their goodbyes and going their own way.
"I haven't had that one in a while," The Courier muttered to himself, before standing up and stretching himself to get all the aches out of the way, his bones popping as he did so.
Sleeping on a hard surface, compared to a bed was something he was used to, especially with his armour on and his weapons ready to be drawn, even though it wasn't the most pleasant experience. Checking his vitals, he was relieved to see that his dehydration level was still rather low, thanks to power armour's recycling system that could turn human waste into water and reduce the amount he needed on a regular basis, which was incredibly useful in all kinds of climates, especially the scorching heat of the Mojave Wasteland. Although, he still needed to bath on a regular basis to prevent infections and diseases, not to mention, to not smell like a brahmin waste when talking to other people.
Now that he thought about it, the last time he had bathed was before he left the Earth's surface. He sniffed the inside of his power armour and winced as the smell of sweat entered his nostrils. To make things worse, he still had to get rid of the biological waste left during the recycling, which is to say his faeces. Going out of the spaceship, he noticed it was still dark, the current time on his pipboy reading 3 AM. It meant that he had slept around three hours, as usual, the result of all the implants and tech in his body. He wasn't sure, how long did the night or day last in this world, but he really hoped it was similar to Earth's day and night cycle. On the upside, the holograms were in the same spots he left them at, so there was that.
So, without wasting any more time, he crouched and began sneaking towards the edge of the crater, Old Glory in both of his hands, ready to strike. However, it seemed this time lady luck was on his side, as nothing jumped at him ready to rip his head off. With a sigh of relief, he materialized a shovel, dug out a hole and took care of all the waste from the recycling system. Once that was done, he took off his armour – standing only in a pair of pants and a ton of bandages that covered every inch of his body, leaving only his green eyes visible. It was something he learnt from Joshua Graham, but instead of wounds that wouldn't heal, he had his own personal reasons for that.
To put simply, he hated his face being seen by other people, it was one of the reasons he hid behind bandages. The second one, the scars he acquired over the years, which he wasn't keen on showing to anyone. One could see his pale complexion, being a proof of using armour on a regular basis to prevent sunburns, stray bullets, and lasers from hurting him. It used to be different, but one did not go through the same crap he went through, without having serious emotional baggage and making enough corpses to fill a small graveyard.
Shaking his head, he took off the used bandages, placed them in a metal pot he had set up, before adding Abraxo and washing them thoroughly – the water turning brown from the sheer amount of dirt and sweat inside them. After that, he pulled out a piece of handmade soap made from brahmin fat and Abraxo cleaner, as well as a bottle of purified water and began to clean himself, making sure to not use more than half of the bottle. Once he was done, he smelt himself and smiled. Hygiene was one of the most important parts of medicine after all.
After that was taken care of, he put the, now clean, bandages back on, before making his way back to the shuttle. He was about to get down to work once again, when he felt his stomach rumble, stopping him in his tracks. He hadn't eaten since yesterday now that he thought of it. Taking off his helmet and putting it upside down, to keep it from getting dirty, he materialized a coyote steak, from his Pipboy, which he bit into like an animal and devoured it with the grace of one. Once he was done with the steak, his belly now satisfied, he put the helmet back on and resumed the process.
The next day and a half were spent disassembling the ship, until there was nothing left, except the crater itself and the skid marks it made on contact. He had to make them disappear, but considering the amount of dirt he would have to shovel to get through, it could take an additional day or more. He weighed his options before he remembered about demolition charges, he found at the Sierra Madre. Putting them along the lines of skid marks, he pulled out MF Hyperbreeder Alpha and fired once, resulting in a chain reaction that destroyed whatever remained of the shape of the impact.
With everything important taken care of, including the holograms, he began his trek across this new alien world, a part of him excited at the prospect. He was the Courier, after all.
"So, did you find anything?" Hermes, a god with blonde hair and orange eyes asked.
"Not a single thing," Asfi replied, her aqua blue hair blowing in the wind, while her cyan coloured eyes focused on the leader of her Familia.
"Not a single thing, huh? Any idea what it could have been?" He inquired, while the woman shook her head.
"No clue, the only thing we have noticed is that multiple explosions were triggered here quite recently too. Possibly with the use of Kaenseki, dropped by Flame rock. Outside of that, we haven't been able to find a single thing. Whoever came here first, left nothing behind. To top it off, we were the only group sent here from Orario, which means, an outside third party had to come here before us and carried the meteor or whatever it was with them," She explained.
Hermes bit his lip, as he thought of any other Familia that could have made their way here, before them. "Don't suppose they were aliens?"
The glare Asfi gave him told him everything he needed to know. "Very unlikely, considering the knowledge we have got. In any event, it seems this whole expedition was a waste of resources."
That lead to Hermes laughing before he managed to calm down. "You know it was a joke, right, Asfi?" She just glared at him. "Fine, call everyone off. There is nothing left for us, but just in case report it to the guild, could you?" The woman nodded at the order and began to gather the rest of the Familia. Hermes though, was hell-bent on figuring out what really happened and he would not stop until he got the answer.
Somewhere, far away from the group, the Courier sneezed. "Somebody must be talking about me," He muttered, followed swiftly by a chuckle.
Currently, he was heading South, or at least that's what his pipboy told him and so far, he had yet to see another human being or anything outside of some animals like deers, squirrels, birds and so on and so forth. That in itself only reinforced what he suspected, this wasn't Earth, the animals looked normal, without an ounce of mutation on them. He considered hunting them down for food but he decided against it. He had plenty of supplies to spare and didn't want to hunt without knowing it was safe.
For all he knew, there could be aliens, similar to elves, that would gladly murder him for killing an animal. It took another hour or two, before he found himself at a dirt road, the sun at noon. On the right side of it, a single road sign stood written in a language he could not understand for the life of him. It seemed similar to runic at best, but he wasn't certain of that. Definitely not Chinese or English.
Seeing that he had nothing better to do than follow the signs he set off towards the direction it pointed, still suited in Remnants power armour. One thing that he was worried about was the fact, that he didn't know a thing about the technological level of this world. For all he could know they could be somewhere between Renaissance and Neolithic level, considering the lack of lights he saw from the shuttle. Biting his lip, he stopped in the middle of the road, brought up his pipboy and began browsing it in search of three particular items.
Once he found them, he smiled under his helmet and materialized them on himself, while his previous armour and weapons were stored inside the pipboy. The first one was known as Armour of the 87th Tribe, based on the design of Legate Lanius. The second one was the helmet of said Legate, which he took from his corpse after he killed him with the Old Glory. And last but not least, was the Blade of the West, carried by Marked Men from the Divide. Courier Six, Butcher of the West, that has got a nice ring to it.
With his new outfit equipped, he assumed he seemed far less suspicious as he continued his trek towards his destination. The reason he preferred to wear power armour over his current one was simple. Not only did power armour increase his strength, but it also provided waste recycling, which helped conserve his supplies, despite the fact that he had enough water to fill a small well by himself. As he moved forward, he noticed the road descending into a small rocky valley, a perfect place for an ambush. That stopped him in his tracks, as he decided upon the course of action.
The last time, he came across this kind of ambush was close to Nipton. He was lucky back then and decided to go around the hills and managed to get a drop on the bandits, reducing the damage he received. Crouching once again, he began to go around the valley, climbing the rocks surrounding it.
Reaching the peak, he noticed something that caused his jaw to drop a bit. Around the valley, he could see around thirty small green and plump humanoid monsters, dressed in a patchwork fur and wielding rusty daggers and primitive bows. 'Are these supposed to be goblins? Like in those fairy tales?' He had no clue how to react. A small part of him wanted to go to the nearest doctor and see if he was still sane. However, the augmentations in his body prevented fake images, signals, and effects such as frenzy from affecting him. He had no clue what to do, obviously, they were bandits or something along those lines, judging by their position.
However, that didn't mean he could kill them without repercussions. Just as he considered his options, he could see a small caravan heading towards the valley, compromised of what he could see humans. It had a single merchant riding a cart with two horses pulling it, followed by four guards, dressed in what looked like leather medieval armour, stationed at the corners of the vehicle. It seemed like for once, the world decided to throw him a bone. Good thing he had an internal stealth field implant, which was yet another one of Big Mountains many useful inventions.
It allowed him to turn invisible for short periods of time. Unlike the traditional stealthboy, the duration was shorter and it also drained energy from an outside source. Luckily for him, Microfusion Breeder, which he adapted from a recharger pistol served well at keeping it active. One major downside of the implant was stability, which became worse with time, so he only had four minutes at most, before it had to recharge for the next half a minute.
Sneaking up on the goblins, making no sound in the process, he drew his weapon and waited. One minute later, they tensed, drawing their weapons, ready to ambush the caravan. It was time, turning the stealth field off, he swung the oversized sword, hitting three goblins at the same time. The monsters exploded into a pile of guts, blood and gore, their remains falling on the road below, startling the horses and stopping the caravan.
The rest of the twelve goblins on his side panicked, giving him plenty of time to chop them up, one by one. One of the goblins decided to lunge at him, but to the Courier, their movement was as slow as that of a snail. The monsters could not compare to guns and bullets back in his world, which he could dodge to an extent. So, with a practised movement, he stepped back, before delivering a vicious kick to the goblin's torso, blowing its body into pieces and sending its remains to the other side.
Seeing what happened to their brethren, the monsters did the only sensible thing they knew. They took their weapons and run away with a screech. With a smirk on his face, the Courier holstered the sword to his back, which clung to it, despite the lack of the holster itself. One thing he noticed after the fight, was the fact that each of the monsters possessed some kind of gemstones, which upon extraction turned the rest of the body into ash. Whenever he tried to remove a piece of meat, it would turn into ash as soon as it separated from the rest of the body. He really didn't know what to think of it. He considered putting the gemstones back in his pipboy, but using it in front of the people of this world could lead to some uncomfortable questions. So instead, he pulled out a duffel bag, put everything inside it, except all the blood sausages and thin red paste the monsters dropped, before throwing it over his back and sliding down the slope.
The guards had their weapons drawn, mostly spears and swords with shields for additional protection, their attention focused on the man in front of them. Showing he was unarmed, he emptied the contents of the duffel bag on the road in front of him, before pointing towards the slope he came from. That got attention from the group, who turned towards each other and began talking among themselves in an unknown language, before putting their weapons away. The merchant was a fairly old man in his fifties, judging by the greying out hair and a beard of decent size.
"Thank you for helping with the goblins, stranger. They can be a pretty nasty bunch, especially in a group. Is there something I can do to repay you?" He asked while the Courier tried his hardest to figure out what the man just said. Judging by the tone, he didn't seem hostile, but it could mean anything. So instead of making a fool of himself, he pointed at his own throat and shook his head. "...You can't speak?" The Courier shrugged, before turning around and leaving the merchant behind him, waving his hand in the process.
The merchant himself wanted to repay the stranger, especially since he left all the drops of the monster behind, but seeing that the man couldn't speak and his lack of skill in non-verbal communication, there was only one thing he could do. He ordered the guards to gather the drops of the monsters, before spurring the horses and catching up to the Courier, gaining his attention. After that, the merchant took a handful of valis and threw it to the stranger, who caught them in one hand, before nodding towards him and hiding the payment in his duffel bag. With his debt regulated, the merchant let the Courier be and waited for the guards to catch up with him.
The Courier, satisfied with his good deed well done, returned to the task at hand, leaving the merchant to his own problems. This whole encounter taught him a few things. One, the goblins were a threat, two the currency was different from his world and three, the technological level of this world was centuries behind his own. Nobody even had the basic black powder gun, which meant he had a massive advantage when it came to range and firepower. Also, VATS analysed both the goblins and the humans, which he found to be weaker than in his own world.
The armour they possessed wasn't even strong enough to stop the weakest of rounds such as the .22 and their durability was weaker than that of a Radroach. Jogging down the road, he thought of all the possibilities, the things that he could introduce to this world and uproar it would cause if anyone found out. It would be better if he stayed low profile for as long as he could. Still, the technology was not that outdated, they had some basic understanding of metallurgy and the knowledge he possessed would allow him to rebuild the space shuttle given enough time and materials. All he needed to do was to find some major city, start his own business, gain enough money to pay for the materials, a patch of land to build the whole thing at and he would be set.
The next few hours were spent in silence, as the Courier sneaked past all the obvious attempts at the ambush, the Caravan left behind. The monsters certainly didn't possess much in terms of intelligence and hunting them was a bit pointless, since he had no clue what to with materials they dropped. He could probably trade them away, but without the ability to speak or even write, he would be ripped off, taken advantage of or worse. He didn't want to risk it. As the sun began to set, he found himself on a huge plain filled with grass, one major city located behind tall stone walls that could be easily seen from the distance. While on his right, what he presumed was some sort of lake or even sea, with a smaller village located on the coast.
"Sea..." He muttered, as he gazed upon the massive pool of water in the distance. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the sea, outside of photographs perhaps. Maybe during his travels, but even then, he was not certain. While going and taking a dip into the sea was tempting, he first wanted to get inside the city, learn to speak and then think about some leisure time. Letting out a sigh of pure undiluted disappointment, he began his trek towards the city.
As he got closer, he could see more and more details, most importantly, a giant tower standing in the middle of the city, taller than anything he had ever seen, even taller than Lucky 38, which could be seen from miles away. It was made of stone and somehow was able to stand straight, despite it being physically impossible last he checked. He wasn't an architect, but the strain the floor and the lowest bricks would have to endure meant it couldn't be ordinary stone.
Then there was the fact it was standing perfectly straight, despite all the winds that could cause some serious damage. It seemed like he underestimated the inhabitants of this world if they were able to create a structure of this size. Outside of that, the walls itself were standing at impressive fifty meters tall, making a sneaky entrance to the city very unlikely. Outside of that, he could see multiple gates leading to the city, people pouring through the gates in swarms.
On top of that, many more caravans were heading in and out of the city, the traffic far more intensive than it was a few hours ago. Some even glanced at him, as he moved towards the gates, whispering between each other. It was problematic, but nothing he couldn't handle. As he got closer, one thing became painfully obvious, the gates were checking each of the individuals that passed through them. The person would get into the booth for a short period of time and then enter without a hitch. The ones trying to leave the city took at least twice as long before they were allowed to leave.
He wasn't sure what happened inside the booth, but with his lack of ability to speak, write or even understand their language, getting through official means would probably cause a lot of trouble, assuming they even let him in the first place. So that option was out, but that didn't mean he couldn't enter with the help of the skills and perks he possessed. Finding some way off the main road, he made sure nobody was watching him, before crouching down and turning his stealth field on. With his mind made up, he carefully manoeuvred around the caravans, the guards and all the people in the line, avoiding contact with everyone until he found two guards with halberds blocking the entrance. Fortunately enough, there was a pretty big gap between their weapons, making it easy to get past the guards. Once he was inside, he immediately dove into a side alley, making sure there was nobody in the vicinity.
Only then, he let go off the breath he held, turned off the stealth field before he headed in the opposite direction to the gate. Now that he was inside, he had plenty of things to do, including but not limited to exploring the entirety of the city, finding some kind of book store to steal from, learn the native language of this world and figure out how things worked in this crazy world. For whatever reason, it filled him with excitement, as the last time he went on such a journey was before the second battle for Hoover Dam.
"Some things never change…" The Courier muttered to himself and chuckled.
