The Courier lined up his shot. His target was scurrying about on the ground about a hundred or so metres from him. The bright orange wings and unique silhouette made anyone who had seen it once recognise it immediately. The deadly cazadors. They could be a problem to you even if you were immune to their

"I'll take the one on the left," Courier Six began. "You take the first one on the right."

Boone, the retired NCR sniper, nodded. He lined his shot and made ready.

The deafening, but muffled, sound of an anti-material rifle rang out. One of the cazadors found itself incinerated by an explosion caused by the explosive .50. A few other of the mutated bugs found themselves slightly damage from the blast, but otherwise fine. That was until the much humbler sound of Boone's .308 hunting rifle followed.

Two cazadors went down after three shots, but one survived and was heading right for the duo.

Quickly going through his inventory, the Courier pulls out his riot shotgun loaded with 12 gauge dragon's breath. Ninety metres. Eighty. Seventy. Sixty. Forty. Thirty. Another, smaller shot rang out; the bullet hitting the base of the left wing, tearing it off.

Joshua Graham got up from his cover and fired a few more shots, putting the creature down for good.

"Pretty good shot for a legionnaire," Boone remarked.

Graham frowned at that. "My past as Caesar's legate has nothing to do with my marksmanship."

"I'm just saying, you do-"

"Craig, please don't," the Courier pleaded. "I get enough petty bickering from Arcade and Veronica already."

Both of them silenced themselves and focused back on their mission.

Courier Six walked over to the now abandoned hive and dug his arm inside it. He pulled out a few eggs and stuffed them in a sack. Then, he moved on to another nest on an adjacent rock and did the same.

Graham and the Courier had returned to the Mojave just in time for Red Lucy's bimonthly gladiator stock up. He and Boone usually used this opportunity to sharpened their shooting skills. But, with the Burned Man around, Courier Six thought it was a good place to introduce them. He was very wrong.

Boone nit-picked everything that Joshua did ever since they left The Thorn. The Mormon, to his credit, managed to remain calm and kept his emotions in check.

Another hive cleared. On to the final one.

He reached in as he did the others. Then, the Courier felt a sharp pain bear down on his hand. He immediately retracted it and found a young cazador attached to it, stinging him. He entered VATS and drew the Mysterious Magnum. His hand seemingly moving slowly as his hyper-boosted brain calculated the best angle to score a hit at. Once he found it, he moved his weapon into place and squeezed the trigger. The little bugger exploded brilliantly into a mist of insect guts.

A fine work in just under a second.

He really loved that feature of the Pip-boy. Connecting to his brain and sharing some of its processing bits, the VATS allowed him to see the world in a super slowed state. That made him able to properly think out battle plans in the span of a few seconds, or hit something better like just then. Problem is that neurolinking with a piece of two-hundred year old wrist computer is that it could be very unsafe. But, that was what the AP system was for. The AP, or Action Points, are a measure of how much your body can link with the Pip-boy. The more tired you are, the less you could use VATS.

He shook off the gore from his hand. By now, the venom in his system was already filtered out thanks to the Courier's artificial heart.

"You good?" Boone asked.

"Yeah," Courier Six replied. "Little shit got a hit off, but I'll be fine."

He checked his Pip-boy's status affect just to be sure. Why am I addicted to med-x?

The Courier stared down at his body. More specifically, he was staring down at his Stealth Suit Mk2. "Did you stab me with med-x?"

"We had to numb the pain somehow," came a reply.

God fucking damn it.

The Courier reached into his medicine pouch and grabbed his remaining med-x. "Boone," he called.

The sniper turned to him and Courier Six handed him his chems.

"What's this about," Boone asked.

"Got addicted again. You hold on to that till we get back to the Followers."

The ex-NCR marksman nodded.

The Courier hoisted the egg sack and started walking. Following the canyon trail that led them back to the sandy plains of the Mojave proper. Travelling past the urban ruins of South Vegas that marked the old Fiend's Territory, they saw the Camp McCarran from far away.

Boone stared at the gates that were now guarded by securitrons.

The Courier looked at the retired sniper. Clearly he was missing his old unit, the NCR First Recon. Finest snipers the republic could offer. They were good people, too. Unlike most of the officers and elites of the Californian army, First Recon didn't have a stick up their ass.

Courier Six walked up beside him. "I still won't stop you from going back west."

"It's not that," Boone said.

"Oh. What's bothering you, then?"

"I still don't think you turning it into a hotel is a good idea."

"Boone; we've been over this. First, it's not a hotel. Second, the unrest in Freeside meant that any NCR-"

"-customers would be harassed and the monorail removes that factor completely." The ex-marksman turned to regard his friend. "Only Cass slept through that development plan of yours, y'know."

The Courier chuckled. "Probably should've made it shorter."

"Still, it feels odd that civilians are just using that as a vacation spot."

The Courier sighed and pulled out a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. "I know what you mean. Last night I looked through some of the old photos we took before we routed the Legion at Hoover Dam, and... how far we've come in just half a year." Six opened up the bottle and checked the cap. [Luck 10] It had a bright, blue star on it. "Things go on. The NCR left, and so did the Legion. But, I guess one 'Courier-walk-the-wasteland-fuck' stuck around, huh."

Boone chuckled. "Are you still not over that?"

"The nerve of that guy to walk up to me, ignore the hundred securitrons behind him, ignore the power armour trotting ex-Enclave soldiers behind me, and ignore all of you guys just to spit in my face. Each day more than the other I regret not throwing that bitch off the dam."

The Courier downed the whole bottle in one go and stored it for later use.

"We should get moving," Courier Six said.

Boone nodded, and all three of them continued along.


"Very good, stranger," Red Lucy purred. "Fred; give him the caps."

A guard standing next to her wearing reinforced leather armour walked up and gave the Courier a briefcase. The hunter opened up his prize and looked down at his Pip-boy. The machine confirmed that, indeed, there was 1,200 caps in the worn container.

"Neat," Courier Six commented. "I'll take my leave, then."

"Oh? You aren't staying? They'll be deathclaws fighting in the next round."

"Tempting, but no." The Courier turned away. "Got work to do."

Red Lucy chuckled. "Should I expect you in two months?"

"Maybe."

There was an unspoken rule out in the waste. You never make a promise or give someone an expectation. Half the time you'll only disappoint or fail people. Unless you're ready to be roped into shenanigans you didn't see coming, don't give your word on anything.

The Courier made his way up the catwalks that dot The Thorn. He got to a ladder and climbed it up out of a manhole. Poking up in Westside, he turned to see his companions leaning against one of the buildings.

Walking over to them, he noticed that, though they were standing together, both of them kept an awkward space between them.

Following Courier Six, all three of them went back through Westside and out its west entrance. Then, they kept walking until they pasted the H&H tools and the New Vegas Square. Finally, they arrived at Freeside's North Gate. A few Kings greeted them as they walked in.

Sounds of construction filled the air. Many workers - Californian, local, and others - go about their business in either rebuilding the ruins, tearing them down, or making something entirely new. The Freeside Recronstruction Project was a plan to completely remake the slums around the Strip into a commercial hot-zone. Where the Strip would house the Three Families and their respective enterprises. The new Freeside would house a more affordable version of its luxurious counter part. That and make the area profitable for the Courier.

The whole idea wasn't actually something that Courier Six thought of, but rather an adapted version of Mr. House's plans.

Of course, there was a bit of local discontent with all the foreigners here to do all these jobs, but those were kept to a minimum by making the workforce filled with Freesiders. That, though, was very difficult with how malnourished, drug-addicted, and generally unhealthy the population was. So, some of the more delicate task demanded more specialised workers that the Mojave just couldn't provide.

"I'll go to the Old Mormon Fort," the Courier announced. "You guys wait outside or somethin'."

"Very well," Graham acknowledged.

Courier Six passed through the ancient wooden gates and mercenary guards into the Followers base. Inside were various men and women in white lab coats walking around mending different injuries and concerns. A few Californian workers who got ganged up and beaten. Some of the locals who didn't understand that, no, you shouldn't operate heavy or sharp machinery when drunk or high. And a whole lot o' the usual addicts.

The Courier walked up to one of the tents and found Julie Farkas, a Follower of the Apocalypse with a mohawk hairstyle, inside. She was tending to someone who seemed to have twisted their arm.

"Sup, Julie," the Courier greeted.

The doctor turned to him and he saw the bags under her eyes. "Oh," she said, "what are you doing here?"

Courier Six laughed nervously. "I...uh... might've gotten addicted to med-x again..."

"Jesus Christ, Six. I can't spare anything."

"Oh come on, don't ya got a fixer or somethin'?"

Farkas turned her attention back to her patient. "I do, but we have too many other people who need it. With how often you do this I'm surprised you don't keep this stuff on you."

"I do. Just ran out."

Julie sighed. "No."

"Please."

"No."

[Barter 100/50] "I fund most of your equipment anyways. You sure you can't spare some?"

"Well, then you should know where to get them then."

[Barter 100/75] "Yeah, I'll give back twenty. Just really need one right now. Withdrawal is fucking killing me."

"...there should be four on the table here." Julie motioned at a table in the tent. Said table was covered with a mess of medical supplies. There were a few stimpacks and mentats, but the real prize were the four blue boxes of fixer. The Courier took off his helmet and popped one in his mouth.

"You're a damn life saver, Jules." Courier Six put his helmet back on.

"So I try to be."

"'s Arcade here?"

"Not quite sure. Been too busy to check."

The Courier nodded. "Right, thanks."

He turned and walked out.

Meanwhile, the two companions waiting outside where observing the reconstruction process.

"Quite the sight to see," Graham commented.

"Yeah," Boone added, "it is, isn't it."

The two stood in silence for about a minute longer.

"What's your game, Graham."

"I don't understand what you mean."

Boone gestured around. "As in, why are you here?"

"Curiosity, mostly. I simply wanted to see how much has changed in the three years since I've been here."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"Hmpf. You're telling me, you're risking being stoned at, being hunted down by NCR elements in the region, and whatever else just to see a few sights?"

"Lord willing, those things won't happen. But, yes."

Boone was about to say something else when Courier Six waltzed out of the Old Mormon Fort. "ALRIGHT," he announced. "I am sober and ready to destroy the moon."

His two companions walked up to him, ignoring the odd statement.

"So, to the 38?" Boone questioned.

"Uhhh, no."

The marksman raised a brow.

"I think I'll visit the Big Empty today. Got a few coffee cups and toasters I wanna drop off."

Graham just looked at the Courier.

"Hey, man. It's a Wild Wasteland out here."

"... I see."

The Courier took out the Big Mountain Trasportalponder! and held it out. "I should be back in abou-"

Bang!

Everyone's survival instincts kicked in and they all dove for cover. The Burned Man found a hiding spot behind a pile of bricks. The Courier found a spot next to Graham. Boone, the ever brave warrior who knew no fear, simply stood behind a streetlamp and returned fire.

Courier Six looked up to see street thugs shooting at him. At least, they sort of looked like street thugs. The most powerful weapon they had between all of them was a 9mm SMG. And, the protection they got were suits of worn leather. One of the faces of his attackers was familiar to the Courier, though. He was one of those bodyguards that stood outside the Strip and would escort visitors in for an expensive price. They clearly downgraded in kit, and wouldn't be a problem.

Graham got up from his cover and began firing too.

Courier Six stood up and pulled out Maria, the Trasportalponder still in his other hand.

By this point, about half of the attackers were dead, and the locals had joined in on the murderous mailman's side. The Courier shot one of the assailants right between the eyes, covering the pavement with their brain.

The one with the SMG sprayed at their target. Most of the shots missed their mark completely, but a few of the shots bounced off the elite riot gear helmet or the stealth suit. One of the shots, though, landed right on the piece of Think Tank technology. That caused sparks to fly from it as it made new sounds that the Courier didn't recognise.

"O'fuck," he cursed.

A bright light blinded him and everyone around. The Courier ducked back down into cover just in case his attackers were still shooting him. Not like he could tell, the sounds have gotten so loud that he wasn't even registering Graham's shooting anymore. Wait, was he still shooting?

Courier Six felt something landing on his back just as a blue hue filled his vision. Like being transported to Big Mountain, but a lot more intense. Electricity arced around, burning the him and the ground.

This was one of those times when a med-x would be welcome.

The bright light around the Courier finally disappeared and blinked away the blur. He turned to see where his friend was taking cover earlier and... it was just a small spherical crater. Quickly rushing over the Marksman found that the pieces that remained were smooth. Surgically smooth. Like, not-even-a-laser-rifle-could-cut-like-this-smooth.

Wild fucking Wasteland, huh, was his only thought.


My vision was blurred, my gut felt like vomiting itself out, and my head felt like someone was beating it with a baseball bat.

I tried to push myself up, but felt like there was some extra weight on me. Thought that my muscles were giving out. Probable answer. The rest of me felt like being cooked alive, so I just stayed there... on the grass... Grass?

I quickly registered the odd feeling between my fingers as grass. I turned my head away from facing the ground and looked around. Forest. Big forest. Like, holy shit Vault 22 might've gotten loose sort of big.

I couldn't see very much on account of it being dark. Well, not that dark, but it was clearly night.

I pushed myself up again, my [Strength 10] finally showing itself. Then, I heard a body fall to the ground. Stopping and looking behind me, I saw Graham face first against the dirt. He was bleeding. The crimson on his white clothes were easy to identify even in the dark. I activated my helmets night-vision and moved him to face at the sky. Half-awake, but that was fine. He seemed to still be recovering from whatever happened back there.

I looked all over his body. Many intense electrical burns all across. I then checked myself as well. A few dark spots on the white armour plates. Many more areas around that had tears and damages, but wound underneath.

"How long was I out?" I asked my armour.

"About a minute," came a response.

Clearly I was wounded with the same thing as Graham, but the sneaky suit gave me a dose of stimpacks to heal me up. I dug into my medicine poach and pulled one of the life-saving syringes. I nearly jabbed it into him, but I remembered something about Mormons and chems. Not knowing if stimpacks qualified for a ban, I decided to spread some healing powder on his new burns.

My weapons duffle-bag was still on me; torn, but serviceable. I still felt the weight of my backpack, so supplies were set. Sidearms that were on me were spared the damage. Maria was on the ground next to the Big Mountain Transportalponder!, so I picked them both up and examined it. Maria was burned slightly at one spot, and would still function like a charm. The other, though, was completely fucked. Everything was fried. Like, everything. Metal that housed it was deformed, too.

I sighed and checked my inventory. The chainsaw I bought took the most of the damage. It would need some repairs, but it wasn't completely gone. The other weapon that took a hit was the assault carbine. Only took one shot, but it fucked over the firing mechanism completely. I would need a bloody workshop to make it work again. The rest were fine. Thank God the ammo didn't get cooked.

I moved a bit away from where Graham was and dropped my backpack on the ground.

"Alright, you're going to chill in the bag until I get something to repair you with, aight?" I said.

"Do you not love me anymore?" The stealth suit asked.

"It's not about that. I'll take you out again when we need to hide."

"I'll miss you."

I mentally sighed, took off the Stealth Suit Mk2, and equipped the elite riot gear. It had a few burns on it, but nothing beyond the duster. I then took out the trusty All American. If there were anything less that deathclaws and roboscorpions around, 5.56 surplus could handle it without much problem.

I probably jinxed myself with that thought process.

Stopping to admire the view for a minute, I attempted to process what was going on. The green was like nothing I had seen before. Admittedly, D.C. was supposed to be pretty green. But, I didn't think this was the green those merchants were talking about.

I walked back to where Graham was. He was still on the ground, but he was awake this time.

"Have looked up?" he asked.

"No, wh... what the fuck." Mid-reply I followed his gaze up into the night sky. It was beautiful. Would've probably been more beautiful if I had my night-vision off. But, I've seen the Mojave sky, so seeing the stars here wasn't anything new. What was new, though, was that ol' Luna was fuckin' broken in to a shit ton of pieces. Who the fuck destroys the Moon? Was I high? Did I time travel into the future where the Think Tank had escaped Big Mountain and blew up Earth's natural satellite?

Definitely not normal.

"I take it that you've only just noticed, then," the Burned Man said.

"Does it look bigger too, or is that just because it's spread out?"

Joshua only chuckled in response.

We were there in silence for about a minute before he spoke again.

"Do you have plan of action?"

"Not really," I said, lowering my gaze back to a normal level. "Guess we could get walkin' if you're up for it."

Graham looked around us. Probably he was looking for a way to go. So, I did the same thing. I looked around for a good place to walk, maybe settle down and eat.

Aside from the menacing, wide Yao-Guai looking thing that was lurking a hundred yards away, nothing was really concerning.

I aimed All American at it. If that thing were to charge me, it would find a piece of lead in its brain.

"Might wanna get up if you can. Yao-Guai."

Joshua pushed himself up with ease and grabbed his .45 auto pistol.

The mutated bear slowly moved closer. It was then that I realised the damn thing had armour plates. Who the fuck armours a Yao-Guai? Even more, they'd put spikes on the damned thing. The protection that beast had looked thick, too. I was considering changing to armour-piercing when it rushed at me.

Didn't need to use VATS to score a hit right in the head.

The creature stumbled and hit a tree. Said tree almost fell over from the weight of the impact. I lowered my marksman carbine down only for the armoured Yao-Guai to slowly try and pick itself out. Not bothering to properly aim, I hip-fired twelve more rounds into it - two of them headshots - before it finally stopped moving and stayed dead.

I changed out my partially spent magazine for a full one.

"More of them!" Graham yelled.

Turning around in his direction, I saw about three armoured, bear-sized, anthropomorphic canines rushing us. Joshua opened fire and managed to kill one and wound another in six shots. I laid down fire as he reloaded his weapon. Another one of them died, and that left the wounded one. Graham had hit it in the leg earlier, and I walked up to finish it with Blood-Nap.

The injured beast still had some fight in it, however, and swung at me as I tried to kill it.

Getting a closer look at it, I thought this thing appeared demonic. I turned off my night-vision so I could see without the grey-scale.

"Fuck. Your mother ever tell you ya look like shit?"

The canine snarled and swung its gigantic hands at me. It was sort of a dangerous beauty, that claw. The same white material that made up its spiked armour. It was like when I first saw a deathclaw. I recognised its danger, but hot damn did I wanted one as a pet. And those and the pitch-black fur and glowing red eyes...

I drew Maria and shot the beast in the head. The bullet pushed through its bone-white protective plate, cracking it. The lead tip lodged itself firmly in the centre of the creature's skull. Can't get distracted.

I withdrew Maria and holstered it.

Then, I kid you not, the body started evaporating. I had to double take as I saw a black mist starting to rise from the corpse, some of its mass going with the wind. I looked around to see the other bodies doing the same. "Wha...?"

Graham was inspecting one of them as it did so.

"I presume you haven't seen this before," he commented, not looking away.

"Yeah, no." It kicked the one I killed. "Damn. I was gonna make a fist out of that."

Before Graham could respond, another one of those Yao-Guai things jumped him. I raised All American and shot it in the leg, but that was all I could do before another black wolf-things ran out from the bushes. It hit me in the head and sending me to the ground. It was only thanks to being [Big Brained] that I wasn't crippled.

I rolled and dodged its attempt to finish me. All American was knocked out of my hand when I fell, so I would have to use something else. I drew the Mysterious Magnum. That jingle played as it always did. The wolf tried to hit me again when I entered VATS. I loosed two shots. One at its torso, and one at its head.

The first shot went right through, recoiling the creature. The second went in under its head and out through the top. That sent a spray of black liquid flying behind it. I got up just in time to see Graham finish the Yao-Guai off. He was using his left hand to hold the bears head up by its bone plate, and his right to pin his pistol against its throat. He fired off two shots. The Yao-Guai fell limply to the ground after Joshua let go.

I holstered the Mysterious Magnum - hearing that jingle as I did so- and knelt down and picked up All American.

"Not seeing anyone else," I reported.

"We shouldn't idle," Graham said. "I agree with you earlier suggestion. Staying here would be waiting for the inevitable."

"Right. I say east."

Joshua looked at the shattered moon and the direction where east would be.

"Southeast."

I raised an eyebrow under my helmet. He didn't see it, though.

"Why?" I asked.

"The creatures came from the north and southwest. If we head in the opposite direction, we might avoid them."

I nodded. "Good point."

I unloaded All American and replaced it with Medicine Stick. If any more of those Yao-Guais showed up, I'd need a bigger caliber. Last I checked, .45-70 was definitely bigger that 5.56.

"You want somethin?" I asked Graham.

He eyed me for a moment.

"No," came his response.

I wasn't going to argue with the guy. He knew his what he was doing.

And so, the two of us walked southeast. The journey was quiet. Well, quiet in that we only got one or two of those monsters at a time. That was fairly quiet in my book. Medicine Stick proved itself to be a magnificent tool on putting the rabid beasts. The high-power custom bullets tore through their armour like paper. Admittedly though, their beefiness made it so that I had to double-tap. But, effective none the less.


Brian Almond didn't know what to expect when gunfire rang out in the woods near his home of Black Plains. He had been woken up in the middle of the night along with the rest of his town. He quickly got out of bed and got dressed in cargo pants and a puffy jacket to shield him from the night's breeze. Almond looked out of his second floor window and thought about what to do. Why else would anyone be shooting things out there if not because the grimm? That and the sound seemed one-sided.

He reasoned that if someone was fighting grimm nearby, most likely some of that creatures would be stirred and spill over to the town. Uncertainty and concern filled his heart, he was unnerved. Not quite afraid, but not calm. Walking down the stairs and opening a gun locker, Brian left his home with a double-barrel shotgun in hand, ready to aid his neighbours.

He jogged down the cobblestone street. Almond saw that many other people had been woken up as well. The lights of most houses were on. Some of the townsfolk had the same idea as him and had come out with their weapons at the ready.

The militia had hastily assembled and readied themselves for whatever was to come in the town square. Conveniently, that was quite close to the main gate. The mayor and huntsman, Katherin Almond was dressed in her combat gear - a few bandoliers over an armoured vest that was on top of her normal clothes. Her weapon - Gros Fer, a sword with a curved handle that doubled as a revolver - in her hands. Her brown hair tied into a ponytail and directing the assembled townsfolk. The adult men and women of the town mostly appeared in their casual-wear. Some wore more protective clothing, but most just grabbed their weapon of choice and rushed out.

"Greys; I want you to hold the eastern wall with the Blady's," she ordered. "Brian; I want you with me and Pierre on the gate."

Brian walked up and stood beside his sister. She continued to send everyone to their positions for another minute until a group of faunus walked over. Their clothes and weapons were in worse states than everyone else. The leader of the group was a dear faunus with small antlers growing from the top of his head. He held a semi-automatic pistol in his hand.

"You," the mayor said with slightly suppressed contempt, "find some way to make yourself useful."

Though Brian didn't really share the same hatred towards the faunus as his sister did, now wasn't the time to comment on it.

The faunus nodded and made his way up to one of the walls, the others doing the same. All of them silently insulted Katherin as they got into position.

The mayor looked around to see a few other people coming to join. She didn't have enough patience to keep directing people. The gunfire was getting louder and most likely closer. She ordered one of her deputies to use the ones who had just arrived as reserves. To let them fill the gap when a wall was breached.

Katherin turned around and jogged towards the tall, granite walls. A wooden stairway led up to the top of it where the population of Black Plains stood vigilant.

Then the gunfire drew closer. The deep, echoing booms followed by smaller shots. It was a pattern, the mayor realised. The bigger gun would fire first, and the smaller gun would follow.

She looked around her. The others all bore a face of nervousness and uncertainty. Why wouldn't they? No one goes around at one in the morning shooting grimm. Were they huntsman? Possible. Black Plains was close to Vale, after all. That still didn't explain the time that they were doing this at. If they were huntsman they would've done this at a reasonable time. Or, at the bare minimum, have arrived in a bullhead or some other means of transportation. Nothing made sense!

Katherin gripped the handle of Gros Fer tightly. Who on Remnant is out there?


The two wastlanders had come up with an easy way of dealing with the grimm. Courier Six would shoot one, crippling or killing it. And Graham would finish any job. Sometimes, it was up to the Burned Man to kill the grimm by himself. Medicine Stick could only hold eight rounds, after all.

The Courier had given Graham some of his custom ammunition to ease the process. Needless to say, it did. For example, an ursa major had decided to charge at them. Six shot the beast in its leg, punching a large hole and making it hit the ground like a sack of bricks. Joshua followed that up with three round from his pistol to the grimm's head. Effective and cost efficient.

They had marked the forest path they travelled with the black blood of their enemies. That was until they evaporated. The blood-thirsty, murderous mailman silently grumbled about that. What was the point of leaving gory scenes of carnage if they were just gonna disappear?

[Perception 10] More of them on the left. He turned around and looked for them. A single well placed shot from a .45-70 SWC could kill and ursa, and a couple more could kill and ursa major.

A beowolf lunged at the Courier. He used VATS to easily place two shots in its head. The beowolf's head exploded into a mist of black blood. Some of it sprayed onto his helmet and obscured his lenses. He used his left hand to wipe off the ink-like blood.

Courier Six checked his Pip-boy. He wasn't sure why, but when Robco designed this thing they decided to add a kill-tally system. Whatever the reason was, he was using it as a bragging tool. Bigger the number the better, right?

Forty. It felt like less than that.

He kept walking along until he went over a hill.

Then, he saw something.

The Courier changed out his lever-action rifle for All American. He looked down the scope and saw a settlement. It was lit up, too. It was walled. Similar to how New Vegas was, but this seemed a bit more pleasing to the eyes. He couldn't tell what the walls were made off, but it didn't look like scrap metal.

There were silhouettes on the walls. Humanoid. Probably its inhabitants. The town was surrounded by large fields. Farm, if Six had to guess. They had little lit up houses too.

Some grimm were crossing the fields and trying to climb the walls, but the locals shot at them with what seemed to Courier Six like tracer rounds.

"Fuckin' hell," the Courier muttered.

"Is something the matter?" Joshua asked.

Courier Six pointed at the settlement he just spotted. "Town. Fairly big and very populated." He looked through the scope of All American again. "It's got electricity."

Graham was beside him now. "Perhaps we could talk to them."

"Yeah, maybe," the Courier considered. "Got more of the shadow demons attacking it. They're doing well so far. Lot of dragon breath if I had to guess."

Graham's right hand still gripped his .45 auto pistol. It wasn't the same as A Light Shining In Darkness. It didn't have a Bible verse etched onto it. It didn't have the snakeskin grip. But, it did have a similarly shortened barrel. He remained silent as he stared at the town.

"Somethin' wrong?" Courier Six packed up All American and brought out Dinner Bell. He wanted to test out how effective shotguns would be. Rifle bullets were expensive.

"It's almost a peaceful sight," he replied. "A quaint little town tucked away in a lush green forest. Sounds almost like a dream."

"Yeah." Six loaded 12 gauge magnum into his weapon. "I still think the evaporating armoured bear is weirder."

"Where do you think we are?"

"I've been through some crazy shits over the previous year-and-a-half. Hell, this place would rank in the top 10's. That said, I haven't got a damn clue." A beowolf ran out from behind him. The Courier spun around an entered VATS. He targeted the grimm's torso, blasting hot lead into it. The beowolf fell limply with a dinner plate sized hole in its chest. Courier Six's face morphed into a smile. "Neat."


The gunfire was different. The deep boom of one of the guns were replaced. This new one sounded a bit louder. Like a shotgun rather than a high-caliber rifle.

The mayor blasted another grimm that ran out from the cover of the forest. The tension was attracting them. Luckily, only a few were showing up. Even then, they were just beowolfs.

Cold sweat ran from Brian's forehead, down to his chin, and dripped off on to his double-barrel. He used his left hand to wipe it off. It felt some of the scratches and gaps in the paint as it removed the drop of moisture. He was getting too relaxed on his weapon maintenance. Most of the time, Katherin was the one doing the fighting. She would clear out any grimm that got too close to their little frontier town. Just like their father used to. Unlike his sister though, Brian was no Huntsman. He was just a guy who ran a market stall. It was only natural that he would forget the ever-present threat beyond their walls.

Brian remembered a trick that Katherin taught him when she got back from Beacon. Breathe in. Count to three. Breathe out. Panicking never helps anyone especially when you're in combat.

The gunfire was in the edge of the forest then. Close to the farmlands. Most of the farmers had come into the town proper to get the additional protection that the walls provided. A few, though, decided to stay where they were. That was either because they were sure it was a false alarm, or that everything would blow over without bothering them. That changed when grimm stated running through their fields, though.

The mayor bore a calm exterior. She was not only the leader of Black Plains, but also its sole huntress. She had taken after her late father who was one of the town's founders.

Lights. Muzzle flashes, Katherin realised. About two-hundred metres from the edge of the forest.

The brief lifting of darkness's veil revealed two people. One of them was a figure wearing some sort of white clothing with a black vest. The distance hiding away details. He was using a pistol. The other was someone wearing a duster and carrying a duffle bag. She didn't get a good look at either of their faces.

The others noticed it, too, albeit not with any of the details.

After that, though, things went silent.

The night was bright on that one, but none of them could make out where the mysterious gunmen went. They were clearly out there somewhere along with the increasing amount of grimm.

Another one, Katherin thought as she saw a pair of bright, red eyes near the edge of the woods. She raised Gros Fer. The mayor squeezed the trigger, a trail of flames following the fire dust round. It impacted its target right in the eyes. The grimm, to her surprise, let out a yell.

"FUCK," the grimm cursed.

It was at that point that Katherin realised that might not have been a creature of darkness.


Someone shot actual fire at me.

No shit.

At about five hundred metres from the town wall, and about twenty from leaving the sea of greens, someone shot something akin to a dragons breath at me.

My emotions then were a mix of anger and shock. Angry because I was shot at. Angry at how hot it was. And most fucking certainly, angry at how my clothes were burned. It wasn't like the small, negligible electric burns that were dotted around my elite riot gear. It was like being hit by an incinerator. I knew right then and there I was going to need a visit to the tailor.

My shock came from the range that I was shot from. I would've shrugged it off as someone shooting an incendiary round at me if it wasn't for the fact that my [Perception 10] noticed a trail behind it. A trail of fire like one would get from shooting a dragon's breath 12 gauge round.

I did the natural thing and shouted a curse into the air.

"FUCK."

Then, I did the sensible thing and stopped-dropped-and-rolled. I stopped what I was doing, I dropped down to the ground - loot still on me, and I rolled around. It wasn't a pleasant roll, either. Aside from the burning that was going on, all the extra equipment on me made it hard go through the manoeuvres. At least it doubled as breaking line-of-site with the whoreson that shot at me, so that was nice.

I heard the sound of Graham's pistol firing. At first, I thought he was returning fire and showing them some wasteland justice. It was only when I was sure no more flames were on my magnificent apparel did I look up to notice the opportunistic bastards that were swarming us. I don't know where they were hiding, but I realised that Joshua shooting at about a dozen rushing shadow canines.

Not one to want to die by the hands (or paws, I guess) of beasts I didn't even know the names of, I took out Maria and fired wildly. It wasn't meant to kill anyone, just give em somethin' to think about. Maybe they'd even back off. Given how little they cared about getting shot at, though, I doubted it.

I used my free hand, the left, to grab Dinner Bell. I had dropped it when I tried to extinguish myself.

One of them jumped on to my chest, pinning me down. I tried to lift Maria out to shoot it, but the shadow wolf pinned that down with its left leg. The impact let out a sickening crunch. Didn't need the Pip-boy to tell me that I definitely had a crippled limb.

The way it leaned over me was quite terrifying. I wasn't panicking, but damn I'd be lying if I said that the sight didn't remind me of fighting Rawr.

It tried to bite down on my head, but I let go of Dinner Bell and delivered an uppercut to its jaw. Recoiling and stumbling back, the shadow wolf allowed me a chance to get up and regain my footing. But, I didn't do that. Instead, I drew the Mysterious Magnum and shot it once in the chest and once in the throat. Only after it fell to the ground did I get back up and fired at more oncoming monsters.

Joshua had probably killed five of them in the time I was down. He was dodging their attacks and returning the favour in unarmoured spots. I joined in by missing two shots from Maria aimed at one that was trying to be cheeky and flank Graham. Fucking hate being crippled.

Easy to say, that definitely drew their attention.

I squeezed down on the trigger again only to hear a click as Maria was empty. One of the shadow monsters was rushing me then. I tried to back off but ended up tripping on an exposed root. I fell ass-first onto the grass. That creature held its claw back. It was sure to hurt me. Definitely wasn't killing me. I didn't spend 8,000 caps on the NEMEAN Sub-Durmal armour implant just for nothing. That and the elite riot gear. But, it would hurt.

Before it could swing down on me and made me waste stimpacks, a blanket of flames covered the shadow wolf. It backed away and howled in pain. I felt a rush of adrenaline go through my system and entered VATS. My AP was in a fairly bad spot, so I planned to finish this guy in just one shot. I pulled the trigger of the Mysterious Magnum and sent a .44 into the fucker's head. It cracked through the bone plates and sent a spray of whatever the thing had as a brain on to a tree behind.

I turned around to see a woman with a brown ponytail and hazel eyes wearing a two bandoliers crossed over each other on top of a vest that was on top of a t-shirt. Her leg wear was just a pair of slightly torn jeans. Her weapon, though, was something that would've looked very nice on paper, but a difficult piece to use properly. If the Ranger Sequoia on my belt was a 'big iron', then what she had was a bigger iron. It was a revolver with a very, very long barrel. An arm's length, I guessed. The whole length of the barrel had a blade welded on under it; a bit of it going longer than the barrel. It was a good weld, too. Very seamless. The wooden pistol grip with a stock attached was something that would take getting used to. It was curved at about 45 degrees - enough that you could aim it, but also straight enough for you to slash it around.

I made a mental note to ask what caliber she used.

She flew past me and swung her revolver-sword-thing with unnatural speed, decapitating a shadow wolf in the process. Another one rushed out from out of sight and lunged at her. She moved her weapon to wait for it. The creature ended up skewering itself on her bigger iron.

She flicked the corpse off by swinging it in the direction of Graham. Luckily for him, he noticed and ducked. The body flew over his head and hitting another one of our attackers.

While that was happening, I grabbed Dinner Bell off the ground and had accounted for all my gear using the Pip-boy. My sidearms were back in their holsters and I was ready to kick ass.

Joshua was already ahead of me in that department. Another one of the Yao-Guai things came out and was running at him. Graham fired his pistol at its head, staggering it and cracking the armour. He then ran at the beast. The bear, unexpected but not unprepared for the Burned Man's advance, got on to his hind legs and came down with all its weight.

Using his agility, Joshua rolled forward under the bear and unloaded his entire magazine.

"You two should get to the wall," the woman said. "I'll hold them off here."

I looked at the destination that she was suggesting. Not a bad spot. The people on the wall were shooting down at a bunch more of the shadow demons that were running out from the forest. More of those dragon's breath ammo, but there was also some other odd ones, too. One of the bullets struck a shadow wolf and its target began to spasm like it was electrocuted. I was just going to pass it off as nerves being struck causing muscles to contract and other such things when I noticed blue sparks spreading across its form and scorching the skin.

I tried to track whoever it was that did that, but with the chaos it proved too difficult.

Heavy steps. I spun around and found a giant shadow wolf right behind me. It looked bigger, too, with more, spikier armour. I cursed myself for being too focused on something as irrelevant as an electric bullet when I was surrounded by weird ink monsters with the strength of juvenile deathclaws. That didn't last long 'cause I got slapped into a tree by it.

If I wasn't [Spineless] that would've left be crippled. Not in the 'oh I'll just stab a stimmy into my veins' kind of crippled. It's the 'I can't properly control my body since my back is broken' sort. In short, not fun.

Still hurt like hell, though. I forced myself up only to get a paw in my stomach. It flung me up about six metres, making me drop my duffle bag. I landed on my feet about fifteen metres away. I pulled out Ranger Sequoia to quickly finish it. Using VATS I lined up a shot in its unarmoured centre. Couldn't do the torso like I usually did since I loaded this with hollow-point and this one had rib-like armour there. .45-70 could probably punch through that, but testing out theories was for when my head didn't feel like bursting.

I squeezed the trigger. The hot lead flew through the air. It would tear through the unarmoured black fur and leave out the other side, taking a large chunk of flesh with it. That was if it hit. My arm was still crippled, and even VATS couldn't fix that. I tried compensating for it, but the fact that the shadow wolf was running at me showed that I failed.

Begrudgingly, I decided to use my trump card. Graham and that women in the distance were already making their way out of the forest in a fighting retreat. The only thing standing between me and regrouping was the large creature in front of me.

I used my agility and [Quick Draw] to change out Ranger Sequoia with my conceal carry flare gun that I had hidden in the depths of my duster. My hand disappeared into the leather coat and reappear within a second. The beast barely had time to react as I fired my secret weapon. Sure, I still had the Sonic Emitter and A Light Shining In Darkness hidden near my secret weapon, but with how I was crippled I wasn't trusting myself with scoring a hit before a giant claw teared through me. The flare gun solved all of these problem by not needing to hit in the first place. All I needed to happen was to slow the damn thing down, and a bright red light that blinded it worked well enough.

Stopping to shield itself using its forelimbs, the shadow wolf gave me an opportunity to change the tide of battle.

I redrew the Mysterious Magnum with my left hand. The flare was now dissipating, so the shadow wolf lowered its arms just in time to meet .44.

Two rounds missed, but another two found their target. The first tearing off parts of its left shoulder. Made it so that it couldn't swing properly with one of its arms, but that wasn't what I was looking for. The second went right into its noggin, exploding like a ripe mutfruit.

The lifeless corpse fell to the ground and began to vaporise.

I felt a bit exhausted after that. Even considered a hit of jet to wake me up, but I remembered how I didn't have any fixer. So, I did the next best thing and jabbed a stimpack into my arm. I felt the bones and flesh mend itself up.

My loot became my next priority. Quickly running over to my duffle bag and grabbing it, I found Dinner Bell near it. With all my equipment back on me, Courier Six was ready to wipe the floor with ink demons.

The wall, I reminded myself. That lady said to go to the wall.

Graham and that woman hadn't moved much since I last saw them. I surmised that they were waiting for me to appear from the forest.

No reason to keep em' waiting.


Katherin had jumped down from the wall to assist the strangers after she realised she shot them. She didn't they would be hurt, mind you. Anyone who was out there shooting up grimm infested woods for over an hour was sure to have an aura, and most likely a huntsman. So, she expected to meet a huntsman who might've been slightly hurt but otherwise fine. It was their fault for having such glowing, red eyes after all. What she didn't expect was a man covered head to toe in armour. He had a helmet with a gasmask built into it and the glowing red lenses. A duster with armoured shoulders and metal guards strapped to each joints. Not to mention that under that was a thick, metal protection piece that seemed to cover to whole torso. Over that were some bandoliers, storage pouches, and a blue canteen hanging from the belt.

She had saved this one from being killed by a beowolf. Almond noted that his apparel had seen better days. Then, her attention turned to the other one. He was only using a pistol, but grimm all around him were being felled as quickly as a chainsaw would cut through branch.

A single shot from the mummy-looking stranger caused one of beowolfs head to burst open and spray its contents around. His firearm clicked empty just as one of the creatures of darkness dove at him. He side-stepped the attacking monster and spun his pistol, gripping it by the barrel. The beowolf spun around only to get pistol-whipped.

The bandaged man's strength strong enough to chip off a lump of the canine's bone armour. It recoiled back, determination unfaltering.

Preparing to strike again, the grimm wasn't expecting to get its head chopped off by Gros Fer.

The man reloaded and turned around to see Katherin skewer another beowolf. He ducked as she threw the body in his direction.

The mayor of Black Plains continued to kill grimm left and right like she had been trained to do and Vale's most prestigious huntsman academy.

As the fight went on, the two slowly backed out of the forest. They were still hundreds of metres from the wall, but Almond wasn't knew she wouldn't get the pistol wielding man to leave without the armoured one.

Suddenly, a bright, red glow shone from inside the forest. It blinded Katherin as her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The light illuminated the armoured man, showing a scene of him fighting a beowolf alpha. She was about to fire when the man loosed four rounds from one of his many weapons. Almond didn't get a good look at what it was, but she felt that it looked like a smaller version of her weapon.

What happened next shocked her slightly.

The alpha's head erupted into a spray of black gore.

Katherin had never seen that before. Sure, killing a beowolf wasn't that hard for a huntsman, but that was usually done with with a bigger weapon. A small pistol like that shouldn't be able to pack the same punch as a sniper rifle. The man walked past the dissipating corpse of the grimm. He picked up his pump-action shotgun and over-stuffed duffle bag. After jabbing something into his right thigh he ran over to the duo in the field.

"To the walls, right?" he asked.

The mayor broke out of her confusion. "Yes," she replied. "We'll be safer there."

Red-eyes nodded. They all ran across the farmland, killing any grimm that got too close. A lot of the grimm that were drawn in by the fear caused by the mysterious gunmen had already died from the defences put up by the townsfolk. Some of the older ones elected to leave after seeing their juniors get killed along the way. Some of the people who weren't in the safety of Black Plain's granite walls were massacred. Others were either still fighting back or were close enough that the militia could protect them.

The trio crossed the fairly ruined farmland with ease.

What followed for the next quarter-hour was essentially cleanup. The large oak gates opened up after no more creatures of darkness were in sight.

The armoured one and the bandaged one walked inside and were greeted by a mass of curious and cautious people. All of them were armed with some sort of weapon.

"Now," Katherin spoke. "I think you have some explaining to do."


Author's Corner

Is plural for 'beowolf' beowolfs or beowolves?

After revisiting Honest Hearts to write this story a bit better, I realised how shit my prologue was. This chapter isn't that good either tbh.

Q&A [Slight Spoiler Warning. Not game changing, but you'd lose the surprise of it.]

ISuckM8 : PLEASE! Try to be unique, I don't "dislike" Courier-Goes-To-Beacon fanfics but they get old pretty quickly. Looking good so far, with Graham here.

- Yeah. There are many authors who do that with better writing than my noob ass. I won't say what my plans are, but it won't be Buried In Ash's Dust In The Wind with the Burned Man tagging along.

Egus235 : this looks quite promising! i can't wait to see in what kind of trouble both of them will get into, especially graham, in remnant. I'm also wondering how you will deal with the ammunition issue, if you will make the bullets made on earth better or worse than the bullets made from dust, or if you will try to find a middle ground between the two.

- I'll explain in detail later in the story, but lets just say I'll treat dust as spicy hollow-point.

JaJnsonn : A new one! I'm curious to see how VATS will be depicted and viewed by bystanders. Will the Courier move at superhuman speeds or just percieve the world around him and swiftly intake information? Or will the VATS work more like a HUD instead? I'm excited to see where the story leads. Go get 'em!

- VATS'll only help with processing data. Some perks like 'Grim Reaper's Sprint' will be explained later.

Your words of encouragements fuel me!

Anyways, next chapter early FEB or late JAN