New Vegas...

Whenever someone mentions those two words to anyone in the Mojave and elsewhere, they would only have one thing in mind: luxury. Yeah, all the big shots thrive and rest in the big city of bright lights and caps a-plenty. Whether they struck gold on slots or Blackjack, given nice entertainment to the hosts and the strumpets, or just drink themselves silly with the endless serving of booze...they are living it, feeling as if they are standing on top of the world. Or in this case, the whole Mojave Wasteland.

Now, not all is fine and dandy within the inner walls of the luxurious paradise. Nah, they could kick you out if you look at them funny, screw them over, or just being a massive prick in their posh and reputable palace. Hell, even the foolhardy wouldn't notice the cunning, cheap moves from any of the card games. They know when to hold them, now when to fold them, and know when to walk away with their hard earnings. That is, they would have a very good excuse in making you look bad in front of everyone around you. Just don't try to start a fight, otherwise... But enough about them...let's talk about the current events!

The Dam is in a tug of war with both the megalomaniac NCR and the misogynistic Legion. Everywhere you go in the Mojave could kill you, and the whole area is just sand, bland, and barren. Well, that's what you get for living in the Wastes a couple of centuries after the Great War. But it's relatively quiet, for the most part. Until you either get skewered by a Deathclaw, dying a quick death by a Cazadore's toxic stinger, get radiation poisoning by Feral Ghouls...yeah, everything can kill you. Even those that you've made enemies with.

Now, I for one, rarely make any enemies. I am just a wandering courier, passing through just to deliver what needs to be delivered, and I get my caps. Done and done. Of course, there would be an occasional drop off of an unexpected time bombs that would detonate the moment someone opens the box. How should I even know what's in the damn things? It's not in my job description to inspect the packages! But damn it, do I ever get harsh comments from those I pass by on a day-to-day basis. No one wants to even make an effort to make the extra caps in being a courier...we are always looked down, saying that it's a dangerous job, or they would think we are working with the enemy in disguise. Well...fuck them! Let them run their mouths. I have a job to do, caps to receive, and go on with my business. Simple as that!

But it isn't so simple...everything is dark. I have no idea what happened to me. All I could remember was straying away with my party of four to find rations for a long days journey. All I have is a small, unlabeled box with a note stating the contents of the box being just one chip made of platinum. A Platinum Chip, is is some sort of a personal memorabilia or they just paint it to make it look like that? But in a blink of an eye, I crossed paths with some guy with this strange checkered attire on my way to my destination. He seemed suave and kind of a gentleman at first, hell...even somehow convincing at times, but that's when I got hit in the back of the head and knocked me out cold. Did I get ambushed? If I did, they really did a number on my head. Ow... Wonder who I pissed off this time and why?

"You got what you were after," Some husky voice echoed as I soon slowly regain consciousness. "now pay up!"

"Hmph," I hear a familiar voice replied to whoever spoke to him. "you're crying in the rain, pally..."

All I could feel right now is the cold ground against the left side of my face, my head still banging from the hard hit, and...I'm bound in rope? "Mmph..." Wait, why can't I speak? Is my mouth covered in cloth or tape? Either way, whatever those guys did to me was thoroughly prepared.

"Hey, look! Our guest is waking up!" Everything was blurry at first when I fluttered my eyes open, but my vision soon became clear upon the sight of the same checkered suited person along with two ruffians holding shovels. What the fuck is going on here? Glaring with both confusion and annoyance, I tried to shimmy out of the ropes...although the rugged braids seems to be too tight around me that it's even digging into my clothes. "Careful, sweetie. You wiggle some more, and that will cut your pretty skin easily."

"Pick her up. I want to see her during her final moments." Final moments? The fuck he's talking about!? While his lackeys walked over to lift me off the ground, the guy in the checkered suit was smoking a cigarette, sucking in a hit before slowly blowing it in the air. "So sorry that you were caught in an unfortunate event, babe. So unfortunate that you happened to be caught in this little game." He dropped his finished cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with his pristine dress shoe before slipping into his pocket in his buttoned shirt. What he brought out is the huge platinum chip, shimmering and glistening from the moon's light above us and a lantern sitting next to a shallow grave, giving it a good flick upwards with his thumb before catching it again. "But I, for one, have checkmated you." He placed it back in the pocket.

I let out a soft, low growl at the asshole. He continues to taunt me by showing off that stupid chip as if it's some prize he cheated through to get. I grunt and shift my arms a bit, not minding the worn out twine nearly digging into my skin, to try to break free. Until something made me leaned my head back by grabbing a handful of my hair. It hurts, but I still got to think of a way to get out of this situation before it gets me killed. Opening my eyes once more, the asshole walked over and knelt down to one knee to see me face-to-face. "Mrr mu mu muh!?" Of course, no one will comprehend what I just said...not like they even cared anyway.

"Listen, hun." He shows off that crooked, triumphant smirk with his fingers firmly touching my chin. "You look like the kind of gal that has the attitude to never trouble oneself when it comes to things like this. Or, perhaps, wanting to live a better life than what you are currently. If we can make a deal, I might let you live." He slowly leaned in, chuckling. "I could use someone li-" I instantly land a crack on his so-called 'perfect' nose with my head. The smell of his breath, a concoction of the cigarette he was smoking and possibly poor hygiene, was enough to almost make me vomit. "You...fucking bitch!" I can only glimpse at his bloodied and bruised nose for one short moment until my face met with his fist. "Great, I need to see the doctor before I head back to The Tops...can't let them know how about this!"

"Come on, if we can get this done quickly, you wouldn't have to worry about it!" A voice unknown to me to my right expressed his impatient tone to the guy in front of me. My head is straightened back up once more with something sharp pressed against my throat. "Let me get the job done!"

"No..." The checkered suit guy raised a hand, grabbing a cloth from his pocket to wipe the blood from his nose. "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face." He spits on the ground to the left, turning his head back to my direction. "But I ain't no fink...dig?"

Khans...as in the infamous Great Khans? Why is this guy working for them? What dirt does he have with me!? And why is that stupid chip so important? "Mmu...mu mih mo..." Just let me go please...I don't know what more you want from me. "Muuh..."

The guy up front pulls out a polished, golden pistol with engraved designs around the barrel and sides. The grip looks pretty, although it has a picture of some lady with some strange outfit and gown. Not like the ones I've seen in any casinos. He walked forward and forcefully pressed the muzzle under my chin. "I'm afraid to say this, although I do wish we can further negotiate this whole ordeal, but you made your last delivery, babe. Looks like you you've got yourself twisted up in this scene." He raised his armament and gradually ease back the hammer, making ticking noises in the process. "From what you're kneeling...it must be an 18-carat run of bad luck. I do apologize if your luck has struck out." Eyeing his pistol, he swiftly whipped it on the side of my head to make it go limp from the impact. "Let go of her." From the way my body swayed, I got tossed over to the ground from his command., laying now on my right side.

"It's almost the crack of dawn. We need to finish this up before we head back to New Vegas." I opened my left eye, glaring up at the trio towering over me. "If we extended our stay for another hour, the townies will find us and get suspicious."

The one in the middle point his gun directly at me. "Don't worry, once we kill her and bury her, it'll be another grave no one will come to visit." I tensed up the moment he uttered the first words, prompting me to give my possible one last go in breaking free. "Oh, don't worry, babe. Things will be over right away before you even know it. The truth is...the game was rigged from the start."

Ain't that a kick in the head...

Authors Note:

Hey there, everyone. Crymson here with my newly revamped version of Caught in the Crossfire! I have recently started playing Fallout: New Vegas again after a small burn out from the last game I played. After a while, I was thinking of the original story whole trying to get all the achievements for the game, and decided to reread it. But...let's just say it's nothing but cringy. The story felt rushed, everything was a mess, relationship and character growth were being forced...it made me have second thoughts on how the story went. So, I decided to just cut it off and remake it for the better...if possible.

As stated in the latest update, chapter releases will be sporadic depending how things go IRL along with how motivated and inspired I am, please bear with me. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the prologue and will look forward to the first chapter! ~CS