In the ashes that were the remains of the United States of America, the remnants of the National Guard had attempted to reestablish law and order. Such as in Washington D.C and in the rest of the United States, the National Guard attempt was met with resistance from various groups. Eventually, the National Guard was disbanded due to a high attrition rate and desertion, with only a few exceptions.

The Mojave was one of those exceptions. When Las Vegas was hit by nuclear weapons, it was only hit with around a dozen, not fifty, not a hundred, like so many other places in the world. Most of the National Guard survived, and though they faced the same problems as other units, they were able to survive, and waged war against the raiders that settled the area. They were eventually forced to retreat, the remaining members fleeing and setting up a base of operations in the desert. The remaining members found themselves outmatched by the arrival of the Legion during the 2260s, and with that, they joined forces with the Desert Rangers, who were then integrated into the NCR in the 2270s. They then formed the nucleus of the NCR's Armor Corps, for they had surviving military vehicles. Most of their armor, which were nuclear powered Humvees and other vehicles, were either in the Core Regions or in Baja California, with only a few remaining in the Mojave.

Currently, Sergeant Dan "The Man" Reyes, was on top of his Humvee, looking down at a map of the Mojave, as he drank some cool water from a canteen. His AR-15 was being cradled between his legs, as the driver of the Humvee was idle. The Mojave Outpost was not the most interesting post and while most of the caravans that passed through used brahmin to carry their goods, the occasional supply truck making the trip from Shady Sands and Hoover Dam could be seen.

But all traffic had been suspended, due to the area near the Outpost being full of all kind of nasty bugs and things like that. He had asked for permission to go and clear them out, but Ranger Jackson, the man in charge of the Outpost, had denied them several times.

The Sergeant scowled, knowing that Jackson was one of those, by the books kind of guy. The garrison at the Mojave Outpost was sort of a joke. Only about a platoon of troops were there, and a handful of Rangers. The rest of the Armor Corps was at Camp McCarran, but they didn't have their vehicles, due to them being either out of service and need of fixing up, or being used by the rest of the Corps in hotspot areas to the South.

"Sarge, when are we going to get rolling?" asked Private Santos, a FNG, who was cleaning a 9mm pistol in the passenger seat.

"Hopefully soon, Private. Hopefully soon."

Dawn. It was a beautiful thing, something that Zephyr loved to see every morning when he woke up. He loved smelling the fresh wind off the grass of the oasis, before having to go off and do his work as a Lieutenant in the military. It was always a welcome sight than the Fortress. Anything was better than there.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" someone asked and he looked over his shoulder, to see a woman, dressed in nothing, with her figure, her unmarked, beautiful body, being covered by a thin blanket. She had blonde hair, golden as the sun, that went down to her lower back. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked at Zephyr and he felt his heart leap.

"Yes, my mother always woke me up at the break of dawn to watch the sunrise with her," his voice stuttered a little. His mother always used to sing to him, always caring for him.

"What was she like?" the woman asked, giving him a smile.

"She was like nothing you had ever seen. She was beautiful, an angel. She cared deeply for all my family. I just regret what happened to her," the young man said.

As he continued to explain, he didn't see the dagger aimed straight for his heart…

Or the man with the golden plated pistol aiming straight for his head.

"The game was rigged from the start."

Zephyr woke with a strangled yell. He was sweating and panting after the dream. It had only a been day since he had been awake from the gunshot, and he was wondering.

Who was the girl? What was this Fortress? The Oasis? Too many questions that needed answering, too many mysteries that needed solving. He wanted to find out about his past, wanted to know who he truly was. But those answers were in some corner of his brain and the brain wasn't just going to give it to him.

It was in the early morning, and Zephyr saw the result of the carnage that he and the Brotherhood had exacted on the Powder Gangers. At least twenty to forty Gangers had been killed, and the camps around the Correctional Facility had been destroyed. Now only a few scattered remnants remained, the main focus point being Joe Cobb's crew.

After the destruction of the main crew, Zephyr and Alexander decided to wait the night before returning to Goodsprings to see what progress Ringo was making. Stretching, Zephyr was still in his armor, while Alexander was cleaning his tri-beam laser rifle. The energy weapon was finely crafted and Zephyr wanted to know more about his traveling companion.

"Morning Zephyr," the Paladin greeted the Courier, not even looking up. In T-51b Power Armor, the man was massive, standing well over six and a half feet tall. Colored gray and built to last, anyone wearing power armor was granted the best protection in the post-war world.

"Morning Alexander," Zephyr responded, grabbing his 9mm from the ground. He slid into his pistol holster.

"What's your story?" Alexander asked out of the blue and Zephyr just shrugged. He didn't know much about his past, only that his father's name was Zachary, that he was shot by a guy named Benny, and that he carried a sword.

"Nothing much to tell. Just got shot in the head a few days ago, woke up yesterday, and then decided to take out the Powder Gangers. I owe that much to the people of Goodsprings, especially after the Doc there patched me up," Zephyr said. Alexander looked at him, his expression unknown due to it being behind the helmet. Zephyr was a bit ticked off that Alexander just kept looking at him without saying anything.

"You're the Courier?" Alexander asked finally, just before Zephyr was going to pull out his 9mm and shoot the giant.

"Uhh...I don't know how I got that name, I mean I was a courier before I was shot, at least I think I was. But yeah..I guess I am," Zephyr said, before rubbing the back of his head. He didn't know that he was called that, but well...he kinda liked the name.

"Well, Mr. New Vegas, he's the radio announcer for Radio New Vegas, and he said yesterday that a Courier woke up after being shot in the head, or something along that lines," Alexander explained to Zephyr and Zephyr decided to one day, hunt this Mr. New Vegas and ask how he knew all this stuff.

"Well, glad to know that everyone knows who I am. Just freaking great," Zephyr muttered. His rifle, the long beautiful weapon of death that served so well, was on his back already, strapped and ready to go. He slid a small combat knife that he had found in the prison into his boot, before grabbing his pack.

"Alexander, I want to ask you something. You are willing to follow me on my journey?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Yes," Alexander said, without hesitation. The powerful filtered voice boomed through the air and then Zephyr leaned back.

"Because I am going to reclaim my past. I have risen from a grave only to know nothing but my own name and scattered memories. Whoever took my memories away will pay for that. I will not stand by and wait for whoever shot me to escape. I will show them what it means to fear the grave, what it means when the Courier returns. I am not one for a speech, but remember this Alexander, whatever we do, you must speak your mind. Speak it so that I may know, can I trust on you for your help?" Zephyr asked seriously. Alexander leaned back, deep in thought, before nodding. He then spoke.

"If you do anything that harms the Brotherhood, such as telling where they are to the NCR, or actively trying to do harm to them, I will leave you and then kill you. You work with any outlaws, such as the Fiends or the Great Khans, I will leave. You work with the Legion, I will leave. You kill innocents, I will leave. Other than that, I will follow you," Alexander briskly answered. Zephyr then thought about it.

Strong will. Idealistic, though no stranger to the wasteland. Will be of great help on this journey to reclaim my past. Brotherhood of Steel. Must learn more of them. Must reclaim my suit from Chet. Need to learn more about my past. My past. My past. What is up with my past?

"Deal."

And then two men shook hands, a pact forged in blood. The two then left their campsite, heading towards Goodsprings, to end the reign of terror from the Powder Gangers. One was a Brotherhood Paladin, an idealistic man who was forced from his own people due to his actions. Another one was one that did not understand, his past, his actions or even himself.

It was near noon when the two men neared the small town. They came from the south side, near the well and other areas, watching the high desert heat beat on them. Alexander was fine, due to the power armor having a self cooling unit, but Zephyr was sweating profusely, only stopped by the liberal amounts of water he was drinking. After his canteen went dry, he then went to mumbling.

"You all got five seconds to give up Ringo otherwise we are going to burn down this town!" yelled a man. But Zephyr and Alexander were on high alert. Zephyr drew his pistol, while Alexander drew his tri-beam laser rifle. Eight men, most of them dressed in ragged dress, smelling like someone hit them with feces, and otherwise dirtied, were standing in a mob, all of them heavily armed with dynamite, shotguns, and rifles. Five men and women, Zephyr saw that they were residents of Goodsprings, stood outside the Prospector's Saloon, all of them dressed for battle. The ranger Sunny was in her leather armor, while Trudy was in her outfit. A man with an old long white beard was also there, armed with a revolver, and one man dressed in the same armor as Sunny was crouching below a cart, armed with a small caliber varmint rifle. The fifth person, Zephyr saw with pleasant surprise, was Ringo himself, his 9mm pistol ready for action.

"No! We all know what you going to do this town anyway if we give Ringo up. We know your type Joe Cobb, we ain't stupid!" Sunny retorted and the man recoiled. He was dressed in a prison guard outfit, a bulletproof vest over it. Two weapons were on his holsters. A finely made revolver, most likely made to shoot .357 rounds, and a weathered looking 10mm pistol, the weapon looking like it had seen finer days. The pistol looked familiar, looked like it belonged with Zephyr…

"Five!" Joe Cobb started to count down. The members of his crew started to raise their weapons, aiming it at the ragtag group of residents and the single caravan merchant that had survived. They too, raised their weapons, a collection of shotguns and rifles.

"Four!" The maniacal faces on the Powder Gangers were scaring the ever letting shit out of the Goodsprings Militia, but they held their ground. Two Powder Gangers flipped open the cover to their Zippo lighters, ready to light their dynamite.

"Three!" Trigger fingers itched waiting for the order to fire. Zephyr and Alexander continued to walk calmly up the road, their weapons drawn and ready to tip the balance. A Powder Ganger sneezed before aiming his single shot shotgun back at his enemies.

"Two!" The lighters went lower, their flames dancing along the side of the fuse that was about to blow. Ringo had his 9mm pistol aimed straight at Joe Cobb, while Cobb had his revolver drawn straight at him. The old man, looking at least sixty years old, aimed his revolver at one of the Powder Gangers with dynamite.

"One!" And nothing happened. The expression that Joe Cobb made was one of disgust and he then aimed his revolver straight at Sunny.

"Kill em all," Joe Cobb ordered, and the two Powder Gangers who were armed with dynamite, obeyed that order, lighting their sticks of dynamite, before throwing them straight at group of hostiles. But before one of them could chuck it, the old man shot him in the hand, making him drop the dynamite and howl in pain. Only did he realize that dropped his dynamite and tried to dive, but the dynamite detonated at the same time as his dive. He didn't die, but the resulting explosion tore his right leg off, sending the chunk of burning flesh towards Zephyr and Alexander.

However, the other stick of dynamite landed right next to the fifth militia member, making him scream in fear and jump away. But like the man that had his leg torn off, he jumped away at the last moment and that cost him his left leg, making him go screaming down into the dirt, and then Sunny screaming bloody murder.

"Alexander, you take the left half, I will take the right half. But leave Joe Cobb for me. I need to ask that son of bitch some questions," and Alexander nodded, before sprinting. His laser rifle was up and soon several tri-beam lasers came scything from the south, surprising the Powder Gangers. One of them disintegrated into ash, his molecules unable to take the heat, while another was wounded in the leg. Sunny and Trudy killed one of the Powder Gangers with a combination of their firepower, the buckshot and rifled bullet making crumple to the ground, but the combined firepower of both the 10mm pistol and the revolver from Joe Cobb kept their heads down.

Zephyr's rifle barked, smooth and steady, adding to the already loud orchestra of death. Two Powder Gangers went down hard into the dirt, but not before exacting some kind of revenge. Five bullets impacted on Alexander's helmet, forcing him to go down behind cover, which allowed the remaining three Gangers to continue firing on Zephyr and the militia. The loud echoes of firearms was added by the occasional boom of a laser rifle.

Ringo, popping in and out of cover, kept firing on Joe Cobb, his 9mm pistol kicking in his hand, but another Powder Ganger fired his varmint rifle from behind a burnt house, decaying wood rotting, and hit him on his left shoulder, forcing him down behind a crate that he was using. Blood started to seep into the dirt, and Zephyr saw the Powder Ganger smile broadly, before a barrage of bullets from Zephyr forced him back into cover.

Sunny took a hit from the 10mm and went down hard into the dirt, clutching her arm in the afternoon sun. Trudy screamed and pumped buckshot after buckshot into Joe Cobb's cover, but the rock outcrop he was using provided excellent protection. Zephyr aimed for the Powder Ganger that he had failed to kill and was rewarded when his target went down, crumpling as he was hit by multiple bullets.

The last Powder Ganger besides Joe Cobb, a white male dressed in nothing but a bandoleer and a pair of jean shorts, came screaming from his cover, in his hand a large butcher knife. He was quickly gunned down by the old man, his revolver barking three times, and the Powder Ganger laid still in the dirt, his mouth in a silent scream.

"Hey Powder Ganger fuck! You the last one!" Trudy shouted, before advancing forward, her shotgun aimed for the killing blow.

That was when Joe Cobb struck. His pistol, the 10mm weathered looking pistol, barked three times, each pull of the trigger, pushing the supersonic round towards the target. Trudy was hit twice, once in the arm and once in the leg. She went down hard, screaming silently, before Joe Cobb then threw a hand grenade, not a stick of dynamite, towards Alexander. The Paladin didn't see it and when he glanced down, he was thrown up three feet in the air by the massive explosion, his armor scarred. The old man then drew his own stick of dynamite, only for Joe Cobb to shoot him twice in the stomach, making the old man collapse. Joe Cobb then turned towards Zephyr.

The two remaining men on the battlefield, Zephyr and Joe. Zephyr was impressed by the man, having taken down a Paladin and three residents with an ease that came with a seasoned veteran. His mouth twisted into a sadistic smile, the black man raised the 10mm pistol and fired.

The chamber clicked empty. Cursing he fired his revolver, but the amount of time that it took to transition from one sidearm to the next, let Zephyr close the distance. Dropping his rifle, Zephyr drew his sword, the sweet sound of steel withdrawing from leather being music to his trained ear, and he brought the sword to his chest level.

"DIE!" Joe Cobb raged and fired the revolver straight at Zephyr's chest. The .357 bullet exited the chamber of the revolver in a flash of smoke and sped towards Zephyr. Zephyr was only five feet away. He felt no fear, only peace. He felt no anger, only compassion. And then the bullet struck.

The .357 round struck the katana and ricocheted, and left a nasty bruise on Zephyr's chest, but the look on Cobb's face was priceless. A combination of horror and puzzlement was etched on his face forever,before his head was removed from his body by a downward arc that sent it flying into the air.

The newly awaken Courier saw that Joe Cobb was dead and the reign of terror that his faction had enacted and that he had repaid the debt he owed to Goodsprings. He collapsed to the ground, exhausted at all the fighting he had done, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Benny was quietly smoking a cigarette as he looked at the town of Novac he was in. Four Great Khans were sitting down in a circle, humming something that he didn't care for. He quickly took out the radio he had and decided to check the news for anything that could be useful. Quickly checking Radio New Vegas, he heard the ending line to Blue Moon, by the cool cat Frank Sinatra, before Mr. New Vegas smooth voice came over the radio waves.

That was Frank Sinatra reminding us all about the possibility of love. News from the north, it appears that a strange flying object has landed near or in the Boomer's territory around Nellis Air Force Base. Nobody knows for sure and NCR authorities say that there is no way to go and verify without quote' being blown the hell away by artillery.' A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on. This is Mr. New Vegas and now here is Nat King Cole reminding us what really matters with Love Me as Though There Were No Tomorrow. Because in New Vegas, hey, you never know.

He froze when he heard the the Courier had woken up. Vengeance was coming and he was the target. He needed to head toward New Vegas as fast he could. He was only a few miles away from Boulder City. He could hole up there for the night before ditching them and then meeting up with his bodyguards at the 188 Trading Post. Sucking in more of the smoke, he then withdrew it and stamped on it. Mr. House no doubt was tracking him. But he had aces over kings, while Mr. House had a pair of kings.

He knew he would win in the end.

Because in New Vegas...

Fortunes were won and lost in a single roll of the dice.

Hello everyone, it is DeathBladeVI with a new chapter. The addition of new characters is my crusade to keep this as loosely based on the game as possible. Juno will return next chapter, as well as the mysterious squad of that unnamed faction. The Courier will continue on his journey, and will eventually meet all the characters I introduce...in what circumstances, I do not know. Please read and tell me what you think, what I can improve and what you like about it. Also huge thanks to the three people who followed this story. Please continue to read it.

-DeathBladeVI