YOU THOUGHT THIS FIC WAS DEAD, BUT IT WAS ME, A WILD UPDATE!

Goddamn, I blinked once and over half a year went by. My update schedule is really slipping, huh…

Well… uh… happy 2018… I guess?

I… I really didn't mean to be gone for 7 months without an update. If anything, this chapter should have been published in March or April. Things just kept getting in the way of writing by college, IRL stuff, and my job. Plus that writer's block I had a few months back. And I also got hooked on a Skyrim binge for the umpteenth time…

But I finally published the damn chapter, so go me.

Now that we have that out of the way…

Being honest, I wasn't exactly sure what kind of reception I'd get from last chapter. Sure, I've been hinting at the whole Ricksaw thing since chapters 1 and 4, hell I practically told you at the end of chapter 4, but I wasn't sure if any of you thought I'd actually be going that far. Self-insert fics rarely ever get this morally ambiguous. Luckily, it seems for the most part the large majority of you are cool with it.

Nice. That makes my life a whole lot easier.

KSt0ne: Maybe, maybe not. Throwing another SI into the mix has the possibility of going greatly, or ending horribly. I know there are people out there who don't like multiple self inserts thrown in one fanfic, so we'll have to see. I've never been particularly crazy about it, but if you guys really, really, really want another SI in here and make a big huff about it, I may consider it. As of this moment, I don't really have any plans for another SI joining the fray in the Mojave Wasteland.

Hitler's Mustache: CRAWLING IN MY SKINNNNNN, THESE WOUNDSSSS THEY WILLLLLL NOT HEALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

At least the SI attempted to justify himself and provide a logical argument, not just go "murder is cool as long as it's baddies mmmkay". And really, just slapping the label "edgy" on something because it's dark and whatnot is kind of a disservice to the work in question. Not saying that my fic is the best out there and isn't worthy of criticism (because it totally is), but the term "edgy" has just become… insulting.

To be fair, I did speed the whole Ricksaw mindset transition thingy up ahead of schedule (Originally I was going to wait a little longer before transitioning the SI into it), but there just wasn't time to fit it in later.

ShiggyDiggered: Just a reminder, this SI hails from our world, where such things like mass genocide, even if the people getting it deserve it, are considered taboo in our society. Since the SI hails from a much nicer place than the world of Fallout, he's got a unique perspective on life that's different from anyone else in Fallout-verse (except maybe the Sole Survivor). The SI is ashamed of himself for giving into his baser emotions of bloodthirst and violence. He knows that it's a bad thing to crave bloodshed, no matter the recipient. The SI needs to justify it to himself. The main reason why he did is because he's afraid of ending up like the people from the stories he's read who went down a similar path he's about to. As for the skeleton part well… admittedly not my finest work, but it's necessary for the story.

JKBaller: Currently, my update schedule is atrocious. Believe me, I'd love to update faster. Unfortunately, I'm in college (and have a job), plus my motivation to write has a habit of running away and abandoning me without warning at the worst possible moment. I know where I'm going with this story, but sitting down and putting my thoughts to words doesn't come easy at times.

That being said, I do intend to finish this… eventually.

Might take a few years.

10000+ words. Barely.

Chapter 9 – Master Plan


You know, I've never really cooked before in my life. Sure, I've worked in a fast food setting where you prepare the food for the customers, but all that shit's simplified to the point where any idiot with hands can do the job. This is different, and I do feel a tad bit out of my depth here.

Still, given the recent chaos of my life in the past couple weeks, the act of cooking is by far a tame comparison as opposed to the recent norm of hacking and slashing my way through the wasteland. Definitely easier by a wide margin.

With one last push with my knife, I finish cutting the third and final piece of gecko meat I'm using for tonight's dinner. Taking the cutting board and tilting it, I scrape the cut up pieces of gecko meat into a pot full of sizzling water.

It's been roughly five hours since my episode. Or "epiphany", if we want to get cute about it.

I've just about finished making peace with it. It feels oddly nice to, after all those years of denial, finally admit the fact that I like inflicting violence upon the… unjust. Need a better word for that. I'd rather not commit my actions under the pretense of religious zeal.

No, my actions are my own, and I will not shy away from bearing the consequences by pointing fingers and justifying it by means other than my own agenda. Reap what you sow, all that drivel.

I know I said I would kill all the raiders, although If I'm being honest to myself I wasn't exactly in a right state of mind a few hours ago, when I went berserk. I'm not blind, I don't know what but something happened when I looked at that raider. I got really, really angry out of nowhere and I- I well.

Well okay, maybe not out of nowhere. Seeing a defenseless and broken girl being beaten down would at the very least trigger a bit of anger from the average person. But it was very… unusual, what I felt.

Anger, hatred, bloodlust… followed by a period of mania, and then satisfaction. I never used to get that angry except on very rare occasions, and I have a long fuse followed by an extremely short period of genuine anger which usually subsides in a few minutes. What I felt was practically oozing in excess, emotions of the negative variety, if I had to attempt to describe it in words.

Could it be something related to my Gamer ability, like a, a…

Perk?

That's not a good indication to the wellbeing of my mental health, if I have a personal perk that lets me experience euphoria in the blood spilling of others. Definite red flags there.

Maybe it might have something to do with Rick? I still don't even know who he was, aside from the fact he seemed to be antisocial. Hell, I don't even know if he's actually gone. He could just be sleeping in my subconscious or something.

…Jesus, I hope I'm not going to black out at some point and have to fight him for control in our shared mindscape later on. That seems typical for a badly written self-insert fanfic. Bonus points if he has an evil inverted version of my personality and morals.

You know what, I bet my nonexistent hat that's definitely going to happen at some point. Calling it now. But it's probably not Rick given that this seems suspiciously tailored to me and my problems.

There's nothing I can really do about this, so I'll just have to wait and see if this supposed "perk" shows up in the pimp boy, assuming the thing works like it did in-game. Or would I have to look at the Courier's pip-boy? And will she experience pop-ups from me and other companions joining her party?

That's going to be "fun" to explain to Hannah if she gets the [The Gamer] ability and isn't a fellow SI like me, but a normal fallout-verse wastelander. I'd rather not open that can of worms unless I absolutely have to.

Anyway, I'm getting wrapped up in my own problems, and that's not something I should be doing right now. Because, I am currently playing caretaker for that girl I found. After I smashed her chains earlier, I managed to get her to stand up on her own two feet with me supporting her. Right now she's extremely weak and suffering from malnutrition, but that wasn't much of a surprise to be honest.

Using a bit of persuasion and gentle pushing, I've managed to move her to a room with a very nice bed, complete with a duvet. Probably belonged to that raider bitch I killed a few hours prior. Good riddance.

Back to the cooking thing I'm doing right now, I am trying my hardest to successfully create soup, edible soup for the first time. Yes, truly the pinnacle of trials and tribulations, no? Which is… not as difficult as I thought it would be, given that I've only done something this complex involving cooking just once before in my life. Might be the gamer bullshit working its magic.

I miss fast food. Sure it was bad for you, but it tasted so good.

Why I'm even bothering to go through the trouble of making soup and not just force-feeding her bits of gecko meat is that when I went over her wounds earlier, it turns out her jaw is broken. Plus, she's missing some of her front teeth.

I can't do anything about that, don't have the proper medical know-how or skill, so she's just going to have to bear with it for now. Not that I think she notices too much, if at all. Can't take her to Doc Mitchell or the Followers, seeing as right now she's in no condition to be traveling anywhere, especially a desert. She wouldn't survive the trip.

Plus the only "doctor" that's nearby is… Ada Straus, and I'm pretty sure I'm more qualified to be a doctor than that crackpot will ever be.

Radscorpion poison as a treatment… just… no.

I just need one more thing for the soup. Most of the stuff I've put in there is bits of corn and gecko meat cut into small pieces. Since my survival skill isn't that high, about half the meats sitting in my inventory I can't interact with except for the crap ton of gecko steaks I possess.

In hindsight, I might have ruined the local ecosystem surrounding Goodsprings. Whoopsies.

Worst comes to worst, I can probably ask Red Lucy for help with breeding the damn things back from oblivion into the hills of Goodsprings. I'll probably need to pay her a pretty penny (shiny bottle cap?) to do it though.

Let's see… I remember seeing a refrigerator earlier… where is… ah, here it is.

Sadly, the refrigerator isn't powered, which means I can't bask in the glorious wonder that is cold air. Aw man. The fucking desert blows.

Hmm… not a whole lot in here. No spices of any sort, just some jalapeño peppers and some pinto beans.

There's also your standard decapitated head on the shelf that's at eye level, so when you open the door it stares into your soul. The rotting head's missing its left eyeball, if you were curious.

Typical raider (cannibal?) humor. And unsanitary.

Reaching over to a nearby counter and slipping one of my gauntlets on, I grab what little hair is left on the head and remove the thing from its perch. Taking a moment, I marvel at the fact that I'm holding an actual human head. Something that holds the brain, the organ that controls everything in our body and shapes our actions via chemical reactions and neuron firing. Something that makes us what we are.

Suddenly feeling quite disturbed, I place the head on another counter away from all the food, facing away from me.

Now that I'm thinking about it, this pretty much shows how much I've changed over the past few weeks. Back then, something like this would have made me lose whatever was in my stomach. Now, I barely even blink when it comes to seeing gore. Guess I've finally become desensitized. Hoo-rah.

When I realized that the girl wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I started the rather unpleasant task of moving all the corpses outside so they don't begin to stink up the tunnel. I'll take the head and go put it in the corpse pile outside the tunnel when I'm done serving what is a combination of dinner and 4am breakfast.

Given the fact I don't really have the time or patience, I'm not giving them the dignity of being buried in a mass grave. The corpses of both victims and raiders are going to be burned instead.

In my defense, there's a lot to do and I'm just one man. Eddy has no hands and thus has been assigned baby-sitting duty to make sure the girl doesn't somehow leave her room and wander off while I'm in another room doing things. Given her state I don't think she's in any condition to move, but I wouldn't want her to set off all those hidden frag mines I put near the tunnel entrance. All twenty-six of them.

I don't even remember where I got that many, to be honest. I guess hoarding pays off eventually.

Taking the gauntlet back off, I take the food that's actually edible out of the fridge and begin chopping up all the jalapeño peppers into small pieces. Finishing a minute later, I scrape it into the pot of boiling water alongside the pinto beans.

Let's hope this tastes alright.

I do (not) apologize if this isn't exciting for you to watch. Truly, I exist only for your entertainment and enjoyment. So sorry I'm not doing my job properly.

Please, my omnipresent stalkers, have mercy upon me.

Ugh. I'm still talking to myself after all this time. It's gone beyond a simple coping mechanism now, it's turned into an outright obsession. At this rate, I'll actually begin to hear voices in my head and hold conversations with them.

Perhaps I should still be considering having a possible medical examination with Doctor Usanagi.

Oh well. Imaginary friends are better than no friends, amirite?

After stirring the pot for a couple minutes, I take a sample of the soup I've been making for the past forty-ish minutes and give it a taste test.

Well… I wouldn't call it great… but it doesn't taste horrible either, so that's a win in my book. Reaching underneath the pot, I turn the dial on the flamer pistol I've been using to boil the water for my soup all the way down to "off".

Flamer pistols. Exactly what they sound like, a miniature, pistol-sized flamethrower. Very portable, as you would imagine. They also serve as a great campfire alternative in a pinch. I took the thing off one of the dead raiders.

I've held it in place by making a sad looking contraption made out of pieces of scrap metal, two pipes, and pieces of duct tape and wire. The thing clamps onto a nearby table edge and has two bits of jutting metal that wrap around the handle of the flamer pistol and hold it upwards. Looks like I can get more use out of my repair skill than you could in the game.

Picking the pot up by the handles, I carry it down the hall, then down a flight of stairs, across one of the multiple subway tunnels, and finally through a series of small rooms.

This place is big and not very evenly spaced, probably because it wasn't built to be a residence in the first place. Most of the doors in this place are missing, and instead very filthy looking curtains have been put up at most of the room entries to give a sense of privacy.

Pushing my shoulder against the rotting husk of one of the few doors still present in the tunnel, I reach my destination.

The girl is fast asleep in the bed I put her in. Which is good, because sleep is probably the best thing her body needs right now. Eddy has perched himself on top of a bookshelf nearby. As I walk in, his thrusters activate and he hovers himself off the shelf. Walking past him, I set the pot of stew down on a nearby lightly stained white table.

Reaching a hand out, I gently shake the girl awake. Her eyes snap open and wander slightly with an unfocused gaze, before focusing on me. Reaching over, I slowly coax her into a sitting upright position.

If I hadn't spent the time actually tending to her wounds a couple hours earlier, I might have been unnerved at the blank look in her eyes. To avoid getting her open scars more infected than they already were, I had to treat her wounds and wash all the dried blood and dirt off her from what was likely months of beatings and probably worse.

So what? I hear you say.

In case you have somehow forgotten a very important detail, let me spell it out for you.

To get to her wounds, I needed to remove the dirty rags soaked with sweat and blood that were her clothes.

I am male.

She is female.

What else was I supposed to do? Let her rot in her own filth?

I'm not a prude or squeamish about naked bodies, but it was, hands-down, one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life. It was made even worse by the fact she didn't even resist my reluctant removal of her rags, and while I did my best not to look directly at her nude form while I was treating her wounds and wiping her down with a wet towel, she stared at me with that blank look the entire time.

Thankfully, there wasn't a huge age difference between the two of us, because that would have made the entire situation worse. I'm roughly a young adult in terms of my actual age, but Rick's body is definitely older than I am. Only by like a few years however, maybe four or five. The girl's like fifteen or a bit older, if I had to guess, looking at her body.

At least mentally I'm a young adult and not an older man like this body suggests. Rick looks like he's in his late-twenties early thirties.

To give you all the benefit of the doubt, the experience was not sexual in the slightest. Really, I mean it. Not only would it be really fucked up, but she was absolutely covered in bruises and badly healed scars (some were even bleeding) under those rags. I doubt she'll ever be able to wear any clothes comfortably in the future without feeling extremely itchy.

Forgive my crudeness, but it's kind of hard to get turned on by that kind of thing. Unless you're into that sort of thing, which in that case you need help. Lots of help. Plus my fist in your face.

Now that she's fully awake and up, I slowly reach my hand over to brush away what little hair she has left so I can check her bruises. Ah, good. In what was a short span of several hours, the bruises look much better, and have started to fade slightly. It's amazing what fallout medicine is capable of. I also took the chance earlier to inject her with a small dose of Med-X and a single tablet of Buffout. I don't fancy staying here for a week.

If only my world had this sort of technology…

Eh, it's probably for the best we didn't. Because we would definitely abuse the hell of it for wars and the like.

Satisfied with my examination, I proceed to get her out of the bed. Don't worry, she's dressed. Before I let her drift off to sleep hours prior, I made sure she was wearing actual clothes, mainly a t-shirt and the essentials.

Taking a (washed) spoon I found in the kitchen, I place it into her hand and make her wrap her fingers around it. Removing my hand, she manages to hold it without letting go. I then place a bowl of soup in her lap.

"Eat."

The girl sits there, staring blankly at the soup I had placed down in front of her. She then looks back up at me with that stare of hers.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I grunt.

"I can and will force-feed you if necessary, girl. Eat the soup."

Now what exactly I'm trying to do by making her feed herself, is to see if I can determine how much of a person is left in there. From prior observation, she was actually able to move on her own, granted it wasn't very far before she collapsed and more along the lines of mindless wandering, but she did move. Which is the reason why I'm having Eddy watch her.

However, the girl didn't react to me undressing her in the slightest. Possibly the result of being raped in the past and she didn't resist because of not wanting to be hurt. Don't have enough information or actual experience in this sort of thing yet to decide. Maybe if I raise my medicine skill…?

Hmm… she's still not doing anything… maybe needs a bit of prompting.

Pouring myself a bowl of soup, I take my own spoon and slowly begin to eat with exaggerated motions while looking at my charge expectantly. A minute passes with no result.

I sigh. I'm giving her too much credit. I guess I'll have to feed her.

I reach out my arm and pick up the spoon from her bowl. Raising it, I bring the spoon to her lips and use my hand to gently open her mouth. Putting the spoon in and closing her mouth, I suddenly realize I have no idea how to make her swallow.

Goddamit, I'll need to- wait hold on she's-

Mercifully, the girl swallows, and I sigh with relief. I was not looking forward to the prospect of having to solve that particular conundrum.

Over the next several minutes, I continue to spoon-feed her as she swallows down the soup. Her eyes are still unfocused and blank. I guess her body still has a will to live, even if she doesn't seem to be at all there. Perhaps the damage isn't as bad as I thought, and there's a possibility she might get better in the future.

Probably not.

Once I drop her off with the Followers, she won't be my problem anymore. I'm not dragging a sickly and possible braindead girl all across the lethal desert with me.

When I finish feeding her, I turn to my own bowl of soup and eat it, watching Eddy as he beeps at the unresponsive girl. I'd give her a name or something, but my naming skills are being rather uncooperative as of this moment. Perhaps another time.

I put my empty soup bowl down. I'll need to wait for at least a couple days, maybe two or three, before I want to risk moving her to a more appropriate doctor. I turn my head towards Eddy.

"Continue watching her. Defend her. Make sure she doesn't leave the tunnel. Find me if there's any problems, I'll be nearby."

Eddy beeps an affirmative.

The tunnel is essentially a giant dead end with the girl at the end of it, so there isn't too much trouble the girl can get into. I've already removed all forms of sharp objects and weapons from the surrounding area, and to get out of the tunnel, she'll need to shamble past the room I'll be in. Besides, someone that malnourished and injured isn't going far, no matter how fast she heals thanks to Fallout medicine.

Plus, Eddy's there, and he doesn't have a convenient off switch anywhere on his chassis, so she won't be able to disable him. I've already muttered a list of things to him earlier that she might do that would require him to come find me, including but not limited to:

If she tries to bash her head on a hard surface.

If she tries to lap up any blood in the corridor from that pink hair bitch's earlier "accident".

If she begins to have a panic attack.

And most importantly; if she needs to use the bathroom.

You get the idea.

Taking my 4d out, I materialize the pot of soup into the device so the girl can't injure herself with it. Leaving her alone with Eddy, I walk out of the room and begin searching for a certain room. I saw a mirror earlier when I was clearing this place out, and I want to get the first proper look at my appearance I've had in weeks.

After a little bit of searching, I manage to find it.

Hmm… Rick's beard has grown in the past few weeks, becoming more scruffy and long. I'll have to take a switchblade to it eventually, lest I want it become an annoyance because of my armor.

That's not going to be fun. I've never shaved with anything that wasn't electric before.

Speaking of hygiene…

To my dismay I haven't been able to find a single tube of toothpaste or toothbrush in all the time I've been here, leaving my only option to scrub my teeth with a wet washrag every night. Since that isn't obviously as good as a toothbrush, I've unfortunately gotten used to the semi- grungy feeling surrounding my teeth. I haven't even looked at my teeth for a few days.

Alright, here goes. Please, please let my teeth be okay…

Come on, let's see those pearly whiiiittaaaaatthefuccccck?!

Looking into the mirror, my own reflection of Rick's body stares back at me, mouth agape. If you would take a moment to look in said mouth, behold, the source of my woes.

My teeth are not the natural pearly white color as they should be. Instead, they are a dull silver, almost greyish if not for the fact that I can see my reflection in them, albeit not very well. In addition to their new coloration, the teeth have an unnatural metallic sheen to them, the nearby lightbulb above the mirror giving the inside of my mouth a glow similar to how light bounces off a watch.

"Metal?" I rub my thumb slightly against my teeth. Apart from saliva, it comes away relatively dry. Not any kind of mutant radioactive plaque. But then what the hell is this?! How did my teeth become-

I gasp in realization. Of course! My teeth are bones as well!

Damn, when Adamantium Skeleton said it would replace my entire skeleton, it really wasn't kidding. But if my teeth have become this sort of… metal, does that mean they've become tougher?

I should probably test this.

Few minutes later, I start off small, with bits of easily chewable food, eventually moving up to the harder consumables, like an entire corn on the cob (inedible part included) and chewier bits of various meats, both cooked and raw. My impromptu cuisine ends with me ripping off a piece of raw mole rat meat (very chewy and hard when raw) with my teeth effortlessly. Chewing it slightly, I spit the piece out.

Definitely tougher. Sharper, too. I could probably cut my finger on these if I wanted to.

Forcing my lips to twitch into a smile I grin with my teeth, and flinch at my own reflection.

I look utterly terrifying. Definitely slasher film worthy. Rick is definitely not a smiley type, not with that mug.

Well, it's a good thing I don't normally smile with my teeth.

And now, I never will.

Hmm. I might as well see if these adamantium teeth are stronger than the average as well. Taking a piece of scrap metal lying on the sink, I wash it a bit under the tap. Then putting it in my mouth and slowly applying pressure-

I hope I don't mess up my jaw doing this.

-I bite down, gradually increasing the power behind my chomp. I can feel the metal flattening under the pressure, the piece widening in my mouth as it becomes larger. I take the piece out and stare at it.

Yup, definitely stronger. Looks like the perk effect is applied to every bone in my body, regardless of placement. Nice to see that enduring that pain wasn't for naught. I guess I also don't need to worry about my teeth ever rotting, so that's a plus.

I just hope I don't get into a situation where I need to bite someone or something. Whatever or whoever it is, it probably won't bode well for my poor taste buds.

Taking a moment to check myself for any other unpleasant body modifications, I find none, bar my eyes which lack pupils. Oh right, I never did tell you guys about that.

When I replaced my eyes with cybernetics, it turns out that my new ones don't have pupils, and are now a brown-blackish color when "off". Not very noticeable unless you knew what to look for. I could talk to someone up close and they probably wouldn't notice.

Now that I'm sure I'm not due for any more nasty surprises soon, I can finally get to fixing up that missile launcher I found. One of those raiders was carrying it on his shoulder, but I managed to off him before he could fire it.

Gave me one hell of a scare when I turned the corner to be greeted with that. I would have been fucked if it weren't for that headshot crit. But at least I finally have the firepower necessary to blast my way through a wall of super mutants to reach Raul, so maybe we can rescue him soon?

Maybe. I need to drop the girl off somewhere safe before I go trying something dangerous like that. She is my responsibility after all.


Alright. I've cleaned my armor, cleaned the chainsaw (that was unpleasant, so much gore on the chain, but no one's going to buy it if it's dirty like that), repaired the missile launcher to a working condition, made sure to account for the needs of my charge, booby-trapped the entrance, and done just about everything essential I can think of.

Stretching my back and cracking my fingers, I let out a yawn as I sit down in a nearby chair in the little room I've commandeered as my temporary base of operations. I take a moment to adjust the collar on a red button-up shirt I liberated from the dusty confines of a wardrobe in the Bison Steve Hotel.

I decided having a pair of normal clothes would be beneficial for downtime. That metal suit isn't exactly comfortable to relax in. Alongside a pair of jeans and two mismatched socks, one white and another black, this is probably the most casual I've dressed since I've ended up here. Unfortunately, I still have to use my metal boots as shoes on account of being unable to find a pair that fits me. Good thing my armor can be dismantled into individual pieces.

Turning my head to the side, my eyes glow white as I use electromagnetic vision to confirm that both Eddy and the girl haven't moved since I last checked up on them. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I turn my eyes back to default vision and prop my arms up on the table, resting my chin on my hands.

Now it's time to do the one big thing I've been putting off for the last few hours.

The whole "killing raiders" thing.

I've established that at this point, I couldn't give less of a damn about the rights of those who hurt people, be it raping, killing, and etcetera. I've also established that I feel absolutely ecstatic as the prospect of killing them in very horrible, painful ways. And lastly, I've decided to take that feeling of being ecstatic and use it to undergo a guilt-free, self-righteous crusad- purge to rid the fair lands of the Mojave Wasteland of their disease ridden carcasses.

Now. About doing that.

I've already decided that I'll start on the areas closest to New Vegas (specifically, Freeside and Westside), and work my way outwards after I destroy the Fiends. Because the largeness of the Fiends (No thanks to AWoP, The author added like 5 or so extra locations with buffed Fiends in them) it will probably be rather difficult. That's also not accounting for the AWoP raider faction, Tech Raiders, who are basically the Fiends + Brotherhood of Steel on steroids.

So, let's first ask a question and weigh the positives and negatives.

Do I want my face known, or unknown?

If I reveal to the general public my "real" identity while committing genocide (or "war" if we want to wink-wink-nudge-nudge at Fallout's obsession with that word) upon the raiders of New Vegas, the people will likely support my actions and I will possibly get resources to help with the war effort. The Strip, The Followers, Freeside, and Westside will be totally on board with what I'm doing.

The NCR will probably have no qualms with what I'm doing, with the small possibility of some small-dick military officer getting anal that the NCR is getting showed up by one guy doing what the entire force in Camp McCarran, plus 1st recon, can't.

Hoo boy, I feel a rant incoming. Hold on to your pants, audience.

Ahem.

Seriously. You guys have veteran snipers who've probably killed dozens of legionaries and the Fiends don't. Fucking use them. The Legion are actual trained soldiers and a much bigger threat than a bunch of trigger happy junkies. You people shouldn't be struggling with killing such an insignificant threat.

Jesus Christ, I could probably do better tactics than those useless NCR commanders. It's not like there's a lack of ammunition out in the wastes. Have people scavenge shit instead of waiting for it to come for you on a silver platter. If the NCR were to put 1st recon on top of Camp McCarran's wall with some cover, they could probably kill a lot of Fiends. Maybe even snipe Viola and Driver Nephi. Cook-Cook at least has some cover in area he's sitting in via the large amount of destroyed buildings, but not sniping the other two Fiend leaders who are literally sitting out in the open is inexcusable.

But do they? Noooooooooooo-

Although, since this is real life and this world is no longer bound by the limits of a game, they might actually have fucking brains now and do smart things. Probably have the stick of democratic paperwork bullshit shoved too far up their asses to actually do any of the things I've said though.

Oh~, I can't wipe my ass because I don't have a ten page, small font report that details the strategic significance of wiping my ass so I don't ruin my pants~.

It's no wonder the NCR never accomplished anything without your help. They're so bound by paperwork that they can't get anything done without getting approval from everyone. It's like they took the absolute worst parts of democracy (excessive paperwork and worthless laws only made for political dick-waving) and decided to build a government on only those parts.

Democracy. The only political system that promotes paperwork, amongst other things, over actually getting the fucking job done.

Probably the worst political system for a post-apocalyptic society. Just because it worked for America, doesn't mean it'll work for the NCR. Plus they pretty much ruined it when they allowed wealth and Brahmin farmers to dictate their leaders.

Wait. That applies to the America I came from too. Not the Brahmin farmers part, but the wealth.

Damnit. At least we haven't exploded yet.

Point is, I'm probably not going to ask for help from the NCR. Problems with authority and all that. The law is only as good as the people who wield it, and the NCR are obviously lacking. They're not bad people, at least the soldiers for the most part, though I'll happily tell Yes Man to throw Oliver of the top of Hoover Dam.

Rant over. Alright. What about the Legion?

They don't really get that close to Vegas aside from that thing they did with Gloryhole Van Graff, so I probably won't have to factor them in. Probably wouldn't care anyway, given their policy on raiders/drug runners plus the fact that I'm a male.

Ah, the advantages of being a cis white male. Eat your multi-gender hearts out, SJW's.

Some joking aside, I'll probably kill them all later because they do very bad things, and I don't like people who do very bad things.

Huh.

I've just summed up my whole hate boner for raiders in one sentence.

I feel accomplished.

Okay, who else is there…?

Oh yes, the "friendly" raider faction, the Great Khans. Well, they're not really- ehh- actually they kind of are raiders. They've been shat on a lot by the time your character meets them (even if they do kind of deserve it), and everybody who plays New Vegas usually spares them and make them leave the Mojave out of pity.

Unless they do something stupid and attack the poorer parts of Vegas, I'll… probably just leave them alone. Even though they're raiders, they're not as outright "evil" as some of the other factions, and they only thing they really do aside from the occasional raiding party is fuel the drug trade. The NCR kind of deserve being attacked by them for what happened at Bitter Springs, so I'll just let the Courier deal with them. If she decides to kill all of them, that's that.

I don't hate the Great Khans, but I don't like them either.

The other nearby faction that comes to mind is Jacobstown. I've haven't even seen a mutant yet, but I'm sure I get along with Marcus and Super-Granny just fine. In-game, Jacobstown mutants seem pretty chill, and Marcus is the rare combination of Reasonable Authority Figure and All-Loving Hero. Plus he'll live for the next couple of centuries if someone doesn't off him. Definitely need to ensure his survival in the event of a genocidal Courier.

Next is the Boomers. A nonfactor, for now. They'll become a problem later for when we're deciding which factions get to live and which get to die.

Like the resident Brotherhood of Steel chapter, it's probably a better idea to kill off all the Boomers (barring the children and pregnant women) than risk them becoming a problem later on. I wouldn't usually advocate genocide of a certain group of people (except raiders, they're pure scum), but it has to do with the fact that the Boomers respond to anything they don't recognize or like by bombing the hell out of it. That severe xenophobia could very well bite Vegas in the ass later down the road.

I also don't feel very inclined to give a group of pyromaniacs an airplane that enables them to strike anywhere in the wasteland against people they don't like the look of. Best nip them in the bud when we get the chance.

This world isn't a game anymore, and these people will be a problem later on. Just because Pearl was reasonable (somewhat? She made you run through an artillery salvo before you could even talk to her) doesn't mean their future leaders will be. And history has a very nasty habit of repeating itself. If we are really going to pull humanity back on its feet, xenophobia of other groups is the last thing we need, lest we want another war between nations.

And boy, didn't that go well last time? Turned the entire damn planet into an irradiated rock for 200 years. Still is, in some parts.

Doesn't make the fact that completely wiping out the Boomers is morally right, far from it, but as someone probably more famous and wiser than me said, sacrifices are always needed for progress. But once again, I am getting into another discussion for later, one that can be saved for when I become acquainted with House and/or The Courier.

I really hope Hannah is a stable individual and has better social skills than I do, because otherwise I'm going to have to fuck up my S.P.E.C.I.A.L massively by giving myself a lot of Charisma points via Intensive Training.

For now, let's get back to the whole killing raiders thing. Getting help would be nice, but then I'd be establishing myself as one man, and thus only capable of being in one place at one time, which is counterproductive to being seen as an omnipresent boogeyman. From the looks of it, probably best to be an unknown hiding behind a mask.

Now, how we sell this persona is important. If I just simply walked around The Mojave killing raiders, it would achieve my desired effect of depopulating the wastes of raiders. However, it would only be temporary at best. A good majority of people who raid aren't doing it for shits and giggles, they're doing it for survival. Setting up New Vegas proper has a good chance of giving people jobs and stuff in the future so they don't turn to banditry.

No, what we need, or what this persona needs to be violent, gory, and completely over the top if we- if I wish to achieve the desired effect of halting raider growth as a whole. Which means I'm probably going to get my hands dirty and do really terrible things to my fellow human beings. I'm not opposed to doing said things, but it makes the parts of me that were (are? It's complicated) Christian writhe with shame.

Greater good, it's all for the greater good…

I hope what I'm doing will be worth it in the end. Because if it isn't, well…

Best not think too deeply on it for now. Plus, I'm pretty sure someone is dying on the inside/rolling their eyes to my angst overload right now. I've already got a couple plans in mind for operation boogeytown boogie, but I need somewhere where I can get my hands on a large amount of metal, and also where I can shape said metal into… things.

It's a secret. You'll find out later. And before you assume, no, I'm not going to crucify them. That's the Legion's thing and I'm not going the DEUS VULT route. As tempting as it would be…

Hmm… Isn't there an abandoned steel mill somewhere in Fiend territory? Yeah, I think so.

I'm going to have to find that later. I'll also need a lot of detergent, corn starch, and sugar.

My current plan as a whole is still unfinished, as I'm still working out the kinks. It'll come together in time, and I already have a good idea of who's going to serve as the metaphorical spark for my future killing spree in the areas surrounding Vegas. Now, just what exactly are we going to call this boogeyman persona?

Hrm. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's decide on what I'm going to look like before we get to the name. My face is obviously going to be covered, and I'm already planning on using the reinforced metal armor set for my… well, armor… but what about my weapon?

I'm going for the edgy serial killer look, so it definitely has to be something "unique" instead of using something as sensible and mundane as a sniper rifle. As mesmerizing as explosions are (I should have thought about the possible effects of Mad Bomber on my psych before I took that perk) they aren't much in the way of stealth, and I'm going to be doing a lot of creeping around and scaring the pants off raiders before disemboweling them.

Disemboweling… I glance at the chainsaw I have resting on a nearby table. Hmm. It is a common horror trope for the murderer to use a chainsaw, plus the thing has an intimidation factor going for it. But- I get out of my chair and walk over to the table- how well would it perform as a weapon?

Picking up the unwieldy hunk of metal, I try swinging it with both hands. As expected, I nearly lose my balance and fall over. This thing isn't exactly balanced like a sword or fireaxe, as much as I wish it to be. I do however see a way for me to use this thing in a much more creative way than just mindlessly charging forward with it as you did in the game.

It's going to be a bitch to clean though…

You know what, that gives me an idea.

Have you guys ever heard of a little game on the wii called MadWorld?

If you have, you know exactly where I'm going with this.

Jack Cayman, I am going to shamelessly steal- I mean borrow- your weapon idea and build myself an arm mounted chainsaw if it's realistically possible to create one.

Hey man, if they can make actual laser weapons here, they can probably make something as ridiculous as Jack's weapon. Probably just need the blueprints for an Industrial Hand from Lonesome Road and make some adjustments on the placement and to replace the saw with a chainsaw blade. With my current eight strength and endurance, I could probably swing the thing more than three times without getting winded.

Not only would it be fucking badass to use, but it also gives me a free hand to carry a pistol or something while fighting.

Settled. Chainsaw weapon here we come. That just leaves the name now.

How about…

Ricksaw.

It's just "Rick" plus "chainsaw", very elementary in creativeness, but it has a nice ring to it. I like it.

But if I'm going to run around killing raiders and calling myself "Ricksaw", I can't go by the name "Rick" anymore. The correlation between the two is too obvious, so much so that even a child could figure it out. My disguise is going to be hard enough since "Ricksaw" and I share the same body-build and both of "us" use melee weapons.

Perhaps I should actually start investing more into energy weapons for my "normal" persona. And I just remembered something crucial about fallout drugs. I can actually overcome my Charisma issue rather easily. Party-time mentats give like a +5 increase to charisma. I can make my "Ricksaw" identity super charismatic while keeping my "normal" identity a grumpy loser.

Why didn't I think of this before? Better late than never I guess.

So much for keeping myself drug free. Bah, you hypocrite. I think party time mentats only have a 15% addiction rate anyway. Weekly or monthly visits to my auto-doc back in Goodsprings should keep me safe assuming I don't go overboard with the things.

But getting to the point, the name "Rick" has served me well so far for the several weeks I've been here. But whoever Rick was, that is not who I am. And in truth, I've only been referring to myself as "Rick" these past few weeks out of respect for this body's previous owner.

So, it is time I come up with a new name. A new identity.

I am fortunate Rick was a hermit. Er, I think. Let's hope that assumption doesn't bite me later on. Probably will.

Hmm. I cannot simply use my real name for… reasons… and my favorite moniker that I used to use for anything online, Neurax, is too weird of a name to be used for anything outside of an online presence. It'll draw too much attention, which isn't something I want if I'm going to be moonlighting as a mass murderer- I mean vigilante.

There are a lot of people who need to die in this game.

Let's see… uhhh… Jerry? No, that's dumb. Sawyer? No, Ricksaw. Jonathan? Nahhh…

Alright, going into deep thought here. Play some music or something while I'm thinking.

Samuel?

Yeah, that could work. I want something that isn't associated with "Ricksaw", and Samuel fits the bill nicely. I should also get a last name as well.

Samuel… Winchester? No. Samuel… Eh, fuck it, just Samuel.

Samuel? Sounds nothing like any iteration of "Rick", nor my actual name.

"My name is Samuel."

Perfect. Now that's done, the only thing left to do is to decide how to handle the companions and the Courier. I don't think recruiting all the companions is necessary for a "good" ending of real-life FNV, but their combat prowess would be most appreci- I slap myself across the face.

No. I need to be thinking of them as people, not pawns to move around as I please. They are real people now, and I should treat them as such. Treating them like fictional characters and manipulating their emotions based on the fact that I know all their touchy points will make me what I'm trying not to become.

That being said, it's not necessarily bad to recruit them. Most of them are moping around, being miserable until you come and convince them to join you. I just need to disregard my game knowledge when it comes to talking like them and interact with them like a normal human being. Get to know them as people by experience, rather than stick to what I know from what happened in the game. Who knows, the game might not be 100% accurate when it comes to that regard.

It won't be easy. I was never the sort to let my followers die for good or kill them for fun, always reloading a save in the event of one of them bit the dust, but it's all I've ever known them as, NPCs. Fictional people.

The "conversation" I had with Cass doesn't count. I spent over 90% of the duration with her absolutely wasted. I don't even think I had a proper conversation with her once. And then there's the Courier.

When I do eventually find her, I need to walk on eggshells around her because I have no idea what kind of person she is or how much of a badass she'll be by the time we get in close proximity to each other. I want to be reasonably sure that I'm strong enough to actually kill her should the need arise. Not attacking a level 50 Courier without being max level myself and preferably having a large amount of end-game explosives at my disposal.

Hmm. Assuming she starts out at level 1, that's not actually too bad. I've stolen most of the exp surrounding the Goodsprings area and I'm pretty sure things don't respawn here by blinking out of nowhere like they did in the game. Of course, that raises the potential problem of her being too weak to actually finish the game…

Oh well. A problem for another day. Worst comes to worst I can babysit her through the Battle of Hoover Dam. If Hannah makes it to level thirty she's fine because thirty was the max level before all the DLC's came out.

I still don't know how I'm going to handle the Platinum Chip. Due to the possibility of Hannah not being a very good person, I don't feel very comfortable letting her have the chip until I can properly judge her character and faction alignment. But I also can't just waltz into The Tops and kill Benny, because the last thing I want is getting on the Courier's bad side in the event she's already at max level, assuming she's not a homicidal maniac.

Getting on her bad side is going to make gaining her trust much harder, and simply going up and telling her I'm from an alternate reality where this world is a video game has an almost nonexistent chance of working, let alone being able to prove it. Assuming she doesn't have amnesia, my only real option for convincing her is the "You blew up The Divide" card, and even then it might backfire by her saying I was just another survivor or something.

I don't understand why people who write SI's think they can pull that off, going up to a character of a series and saying they're from an alternate universe, because I doubt that a fictional character will believe they are fictional. It's just for the better I keep pretending I have no future knowledge.

Most of my information is stuff that happens in the future that directly results from the player's actions. I could rattle off every companion's backstory when we first meet them, but that's not really something I want to resort to unless I have to. It wouldn't endear me to any of them, given that about half of them have skeletons in their closets.

Just for memory's sake, let's make sure I correctly remember each companion's backstory. Beware, spoilers ahead.

ED-E: Neutral. Enclave eyebot. Has a cuddly counterpart in the Divide. Needed to go to Navarro because he had important information about enclave stuff (haven't triggered the audio log yet and I don't remember what it was about).

Boone: NCR. Killed a bunch of innocent civilians at Bitter Springs. Also had his wife sold into slavery and shot her as a mercy killing. Has a death wish, and is one of the reasons he agrees to travel with you, thinking he'll go down fighting.

Cass: NCR. Had her entire caravan wiped out by Crimson Caravan and Silver Rush dipshits. Drinks enough whiskey that it's a miracle that her liver hasn't given out.

Veronica: Brotherhood. Elijah's pupil and the only member of the Brotherhood of Steel aside from the Lyons family that I don't want to shoot in the face. Naïve and idealistic. Also a lesbian and likes dresses. Important note to self: give Veronica a dress at some point.

Arcade: Independent Vegas. He was born and/or a part of the Enclave. Doesn't like talking about it. He's gay, and you can be a total ass by selling him into slavery. He can get you a bunch of his old buddies to help you with The Battle of Hoover Dam.

Rex: Neutral. Cyberdog that's dying because his brain is rotting. Somehow retains his memories of you and The King despite having his brain replaced by a completely different dog's brain. Probably makes as much sense as having your brain replaced with a tesla coil in OWB and you somehow still functioning like yourself.

Raul: Caesar's Legion/Neutral. He's a "natural" ghoul, which means he exceeds over 200 years of age and lived before the Great War. Thinks he's useless because of his old age. Killed a bunch of guys all by himself for killing a… whore… who looked like his sister. You can convince him to either stay a mechanic or pick up his vaquero outfit once more to become the Clint Eastwood ghoul cowboy the wasteland needs.

Lily Bowen: Neutral. She was a granny before she got turned into a Super mutant. Now she's a super granny, and has a conundrum involving memories of her grandchildren and her meds. She also has a split personality named Leo who is basically a mindless berserker.

I have to pretend I know none of this information when conversing with them. Save for Eddy and Rex, and maybe Lily.

The Courier: Due to the nature of being a player avatar, I have no idea what kind of backstory Hannah has. The only thing I know that remains a constant is that the Courier caused The Divide to explode. That and they banged some woman down in Montana, but that bit of info doesn't apply since Hannah is female.

Shame that a male Courier isn't The Lonesome Drifter's father. Would've been a hell of a family reunion. I wonder if there's a mod or fanfiction for it somewhere…

…Oh my God. I can write a fanfiction involving Fallout New Vegas while I'm in Fallout New Vegas.

Does that mean its fanfiction anymore? Is it just fiction then?

Somebody play the inception foghorn.

Alright, alright. Enough playing around. Judgment on the Courier will have to wait until I get enough information, and I'll just have to tread carefully until then. And listen to the radio whenever I get an opportunity.

So… uh, now what?

Plans for the immediate future?

Right. Well, as soon as I feel like the girl is stable and moving her won't kill her, I'm going to pass through Novac and make my way to that Follower's Outpost…

Oh wait. Boone.

Now that I'm thinking about it, Boone's probably got one of the most tragic backstories out of all the FNV companions. Originally, I was going to leave Boone alone for the purpose of letting the Courier have him but… again, that's treating the man like a disposable npc. And I really want that Crawford bitch dead. Women sells Boone's pregnant wife into slavery for insulting her hotel? That's a special kind of evil, one that I would happily introduce the blade of my ripper to.

Shoot. If I just gave a letter to him with the deed attached, there's no telling what would happen. I doubt Boone is going to be subtle about it if he takes matters into his own hands instead of letting the Courier quietly grab the bitch and lead her to her execution.

Going by what happens in the game, Boone is still a broken mess even after he gets justice for Carla. I get the feeling it would result in Boone having to leave Novac, with him either committing suicide or getting himself killed by the Legion for having nothing left to live for. Not a pretty picture, or the ending he deserves.

Unless I want the Courier to take care of it, I'm going to have to take Boone with me if Crawford's going to die. And I'm not just going to ignore someone so evil like that and wait for the Courier to deal with it. Shit. Recruiting Boone wasn't in the plan, but if I do need to kill Hannah, I'd rather have an ex-1st recon sniper with me than against me.

Besides, it wouldn't be right leaving someone that broken alone despite knowing I can help. I'm no therapist though. Maybe… I can get him a session with someone who can help. I'll need to build up trust with him first, though.

I'll need to rethink my approach with him. Before I put any real thought into it, I was going to stop by Novac, approach Boone anonymously and give him evidence of Jeannie May Crawford's betrayal, and leave him for the Courier. Glad I didn't. It would have turned out disastrously.

I smile.

Helping a man find purpose once more in life does sound nice. Even if it's to my own violent ends. At least I won't throw him away like trash when my time in the Mojave is done and when the time comes to expand outward to other parts of the U.S.

Assuming I live that long.

Hmm… do you think he'll be onboard with the Ricksaw idea if I plan to tell him the Legion will be included with it?

Having multiple iterations of "Ricksaw" across the continent would be most… convenient.


Finally. This chapter was more of an informational chapter than anything action packed. It was also supposed to come out much earlier.

*shrugs* Bah, oh well.

I try to update once every 3-4 months, or at least I originally did. College is starting back up again for me, and I have a regular job now. I'll try to make sure that chapter 10 doesn't take another 7-8 months like this one did, but no promises.

I'm not shy to answering questions or criticisms about this fic, so PM me or leave a review if you wanna ask me anything. Keep in mind I won't give out spoilers and I prefer to have reasonable questions/criticism. I would suggest PMing me if you have anything urgent to ask me.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and sorry again for the long wait.

Profile

Name: Samuel

Level: 15

Title: Vegas Legend

Karma: Good

Perks

Adamantium Skeleton

Animal Control (Rank 2)

Bionic Eyes

Bug Stomper (Rank 2)

Built to Destroy

Comprehension

Day Tripper

Fast Metabolism

Finesse

Hot Blooded

Intensive Training (Rank 4)

Life Giver

Lord Death (Rank 1)

Mad Bomber

Melee Hacker (Rank 1)

Stonewall

Super Slam

Toughness (Rank 2)

S.P.E.C.I.A.L

Strength – 8

Perception – 7

Endurance – 8

Charisma – 1

Intelligence – 10

Agility – 5

Luck – 5

Skills

Barter - 11

Energy Weapons - 25

Explosives - 45

Guns - 23

Lockpick - 75

Medicine - 36

Melee Weapons - 65

Repair - 60

Science - 45

Sneak - 45

Speech - 35

Survival - 40

Unarmed - 45

Faction Reputations

Brotherhood of Steel (NVC): Fugitive

Goodsprings: Liked

NCR: Neutral

Novac: Neutral

Primm: Accepted

Powder Gangers: Vilified

Edited 4/10/2019.