Revised on the 9th of October 2017


AN: Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! For those who don't know, as of the release of this chapter (the 20th of December), Blizzard had just released a Christmas-themed comic for Overwatch titled "Reflections" and I highly suggest you guys go read it. Why am I mentioning this? Well, the reason is that the story/lore given to us in that comic has complicated some things I had planned for the story, going forward. It doesn't completely muck up Nathan Brin's adventures in Overwatch's world, but it could incidentally lead to some"unlore-friendly" choices if I decide to go along with them. On the contrary, the comic also gave me details that I am pretty excited to build upon and incorporate into my story, and how the Courier fits in all of it. With that out of the way, thanks for reading my story and have a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!


Germany, Europe

2076

The robot curiously peeked over Nathan's shoulder and watched as the man gathered his gear and adorned his black armor and duster. The bird was also watching intently, perched upon the minigun on its robotic friend's back. That was a rather precarious spot for the little critter to be on.

The man finished packing his gear and was ready to set out but he turned around and saw the robot towering above him, looking down at him with its head turned to the side like a curious puppy. Looking at its rusted hull and the flora growing all over it, Nathan imagined it must have been out here for some time. Why, though? Why was a robot, formidably armed and apparently capable of chopping down rows of trees, out here in the forests of Germany? And how long has it been out here? It didn't look nearly as humanoid-like as Zenyatta, so he couldn't tell if it was an Omnic or just some ordinary robot. Whatever counted as an "ordinary robot" in this world.

The Waster just shook his head and walked away from the machine. He already had enough problems to deal with and he doubted a hermit robot could help him much. Other than bringing unwarranted attention.

"Bwoo bwoo?" the robot uttered out, making Nathan turn around to address it.

"Pardon?"

"Bwoo bwoo?" it repeated, signifying curiosity in its "tone".

"I'm just going anywhere but here," the human clarified, already getting back on the trail. "Now, as much as I'd like to stay and chat I have to cover as much ground as I can- Wait."

He stopped himself, holding an open palm in front of him and looking back up at the machine. It couldn't see it under his mask, but Nathan's face had bewilderment on it as he realized something about the sounds the machine made. It sounded… Familiar.

"Did I just understand you?" he asked, wondering if he'll understand what else will come out of the machine.

"Dwoo yoo?" it asked, the words somehow making sense to Nathan.

"Yeah. I think I did. Huh."

Indeed, the boops and beeps this bipedal robot were speaking sounded vaguely like the speech of Eyebots. Not completely the same, but enough for him to understand the machine's speech. The Courier now saw a window of opportunity and that he might need to ask another metallic automaton for assistance on a journey. He walks up to the machine, warily and carefully, before addressing it.

"So, if I can understand you," the human says, looking the robot in the eye. "And if you've been in this forest for some time. Maybe you could help me, then?"

"Ooo wzz?" it asks.

"Yeah, I'm lost. I'm trying to get into contact with some friends of mine but I don't exactly have the right tools for it. Wondering if you knew of any place nearby that could possibly help?"

"Boo doo woo zwee?"

"I don't know… A town, maybe? Somewhere that might have communications equipment. Do you know of any place like that?"

The robot turns its head to the other side as if suggesting he was thinking over the man's question. Or, whether he wanted to help him at all. The automaton stood there, its eye unblinking as it just stared at Nathan. Nathan couldn't but help notice the bird in all of this, tending to a nest on the robot's armored shoulder.

The robot then lets out a high-pitched chirp and nodded its head, apparently agreeing to help the human in front of it. The man in the black armor silently felt relieved, taking some solace in the fact that he wasn't completely alone in this. He wasn't a stranger working with robots, after all.

"Thanks," he said, showing his gratitude until another question popped up in his mind. "What's your name, anyway? If you even have one?"

"Zwoo?" it asked, indicating it was confused about something.

"A name, like what people call you. Do you have anything like that?"

It looked up, trying to come up with an answer as it sifted through its memory, then looking back down and regard the man with a response.

"Boo doo weedoo eedoo vwee beeplehlehleh eefweety foo."

"SST– what? That's quite a mouthful. Anything else that's shorter?"

It once again dipped its head to the side, trying to find anything else in its mind. It came up with another response. Much shorter one.

"Bee woo cheche."

"'Bastion Unit', huh? That what you guys are called? How about Bastion?"

The "Bastion" surprisingly beeps in a jovial tone, like a child. Approving of its newfound name. Nathan watches it address its feathered friend by letting it land on its metallic hand. It is a colorful specimen, probably the most colorful he's seen. He'd probably have to come up with a name for that bird, too if it was going to stick around.

"Alright, let's get a move on… Bastion," the Courier uncertainty said, already antsy to get out of there. But before he could go on, it sounded out from behind him once more.

"Ooh woo?"

"Nathan. Name's Nathan."


They traveled through the forest, Bastion taking the lead as it said there was a human settlement on its map and followed the waypoints laid out for it. The robot "said" it was close, but it couldn't really give a distance. It apparently wasn't familiar with any system of human measurements, for some reason. Didn't bother the man too much, only if they got there before sundown.

While his boots lightly thumped against the forest soil, Bastion's "feet" clanked as they did so. The sound of hydraulics and motor systems humming with almost every movement the machine made. The noise reminded the Courier of Protectrons, how loud they were anytime they tried getting anywhere. Sounding like a box of scraps falling down a set of stairs. At least this model of robot was much more fluid in its movement, but Nathan was wary that the mechanical noises would attract some unwanted attention in the forest. At this point, they had been walking for a couple of hours and they haven't seen another soul since. They were probably the only human and robot for miles around. It's a wonder that the bot even found the man in the first place.

Still, the Waster wondered what Bastion even was.

"So, Bastion," he said aloud, trying to garner the machine's attention. "Are you… An Omnic?"

Bastion turned around – correction, its top half did as the legs kept on walking – and let out a quizzical beep at the question.

"An Omnic," Brin repeated. "Is that what you are?"

There was silence from the machine other than the sound of its footsteps before it raised its shoulder plates and let out uncertain beeping as it didn't really know what that was. Or didn't have a complete understanding of what the word meant. The man frowned under his mask at the lack of clarity, so, he decided to change the subject.

"Where were you made?" he questioned, getting more specific. "I doubt the forest is where you really are from."

Bastion beeped his response, saying the words but not really understanding the meaning behind them. At least the human could transcribe the sounds.

"SST Laboratories? Any idea why they made you? Must've had a reason for making a robot with an arsenal like yours."

The Unit looks down at its own arm-gun, examining the limb with its blue eye. Again, it could only let out an unsure response.

"Really is just a blur to you, isn't it? I wonder why?"

Nathan was apprehensive as to why a robot that seemed rather sentient remembers nothing about the life it lived before the forest. Obviously, Bastion must have been designed with combat in mind, but how it ended up in the forest was unclear. It was like the robots that mindlessly roamed the wastes for hundreds of years after the bombs fell, not really serving a purpose.

It reminded him of ED-E.

"(inquisitive beeping)"

The noise makes Nathan cast his gaze back up to the machine, still looking at him with its blue eye. He responds shortly after.

"Me? California, I guess."

"Ooo wee?"

"Why was I made? Afraid that answer isn't as clear-cut for people as it is for machines, Bastion."

"Zwee?"

"I wish I could tell ya'."

Slight pain and a grumbling sensation caused the human to place a hand on his stomach. Bastion stops in its tracks and went over to the man, beeping concern for what was happening. He waved off any help it tried to offer.

"I'm fine," he reassured the machine. "I'm just hungry, that's all."

Bastion lets out a curious noise as it dips its rectangular head to the side.

"It means I have to eat something, or else I'll starve to death. Never seen your bird-friend eat something?"

The combat unit looks at the yellow-hued bird, perched in its nest and fixing up the feathers on its side. It beeped and nodded in confirmation.

"And that's why your friend does it," Nathan clarified, then noticing how asinine this entire conversation seemed. Trying to explain the intricacies of hunger to something that doesn't have a mouth or a stomach.

Even so, he pushed on and followed Bastion further through the forest, covering some more ground to get closer to whatever human settlement the robot was going on about. The human was still a bit wary of the machine leading him, but if its child-like mannerism and interactions with the bird were any indication, he didn't have to worry too much about being stabbed in the back. Not a lot of machines double-crossed him. Well, most of them.

More grumbling annoyed Nathan, but he became distracted from it when he looked ahead and saw that the robot had led him to a river with rocks at its shore. The Tribal looks down at the spears he held in his hand and goes up to the river bank. Crouching down, he looks at the water, clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. He takes his helmet and right glove off, bowing down further as his exposed hand dips into the somewhat frigid river. Cupping water in his palm, he brings it up to his face, sniffs its, before finally taking a sip and swishing it around his mouth. It doesn't taste too bad, and it certainly wasn't the worst bit of water he's drunk. Gulping it down, he lays on his stomach and starts lapping up more water, rapidly bringing his cupped hand to his mouth in succession. After hydrating himself, he reaches back and pulls out his trusty Vault 13 Canteen, pouring out the little remnants of liquid it had inside before dipping it into the river and filling it. Screwing the cap back on and putting the canteen away, he looks over to his left and sees Bastion holding the bird in his hand lapping up some water the machine scooped up from the river. Nathan couldn't help but be a bit amused by the sight.

Splashing snapped the Tribal's head in the other direction, seeing ripples on the surface of the river as if something had been thrown in. Standing up, he sees there's something in the water, somewhat shiny with a long body. It's a fish. A big one.

Nathan slowly crouches down and grabs one of the spears, holding it with his one hand as he tries to gauge the distance with the other. It was a smaller target than the deer, and the shimmering of the water distorted its silhouette. He'd imagine it would be fast under water, so chasing it wouldn't be as straightforward. Raising the spear slightly, his torso pivoted as the spear was flung from his hand. It splashed water around, sending ripples and droplets throughout. He could hear Bastion walking up from behind, making curious noises as it watched what was happening. Waiting for the water to settle down, Nathan spotted his spear and saw there was no fish impaled on the end. Turning and seeing Bastion regard him inquisitively, he sighs.

"How 'bout we stay here and rest up for a bit?" he suggested, albeit he was sure the robot didn't really need to recuperate as much as he did. "I need to score myself some lunch."


Only in his boxers, Nathan crouched on top a rock and quietly watched the river as he cradled a spear. Bastion was nearby, sitting rather human-like with its legs splayed out in front as it supported itself with its arms planted behind. Its eye wandering from place to place, looking at anything that caught its attention whether it was Nathan trying to spear fish, its bird-friend collecting twigs, or a falling leaf that looked interesting.

The human spent about half-an-hour trying to catch something and he wasn't successful so far. Fishing apparently isn't something he's caught on too well, and he doesn't really have any memories of his tribe teaching him how to hunt anything with scales that wasn't a gecko. It was a bit embarrassing, though, how these small, slimy things are easily eluding him. He was shivering, as he had to go into the river multiple times to retrieve his spears. It wasn't really comfortable for the New Californian. He never liked the cold.

"Slippery bastards," the Courier muttered under his breath as his eyes darted all over the river surface, trying to spot anything large and moving.

The sound of actuators and hydraulics whirring caused him to look behind and see Bastion getting up and start walking somewhere else, the opposite of where they were heading.

"Hey!" Nathan exclaimed, the robot turning around. "Where are you going?"

"Kee koo peeooo!" the robot let out, making the human lift a brow.

"Looking for what?"

"Beep boop boo boop."

"Alright… Just don't stray too far…"

He watched it go, soon disappearing behind some trees with the faint whirring of its chassis fading and being replaced by the sound of the forest. Nathan almost cursed himself for letting the machine go on without him, yet, something inside told him to have some faith. Bastion, even with a gun for an arm and a minigun on its back, didn't have a reason to lie to the human or backstab him in any way. Besides, it was Bastion leading the party.

The Courier shook another thought out of his head as he tried to concentrate. Looking back at the river, nothing really changed and he couldn't see any signs of prey. It was like that for what seemed like ages. Nothing but the rushing of the river and his shivering breath to accompany him. He was very well about to call it quits and try to track where Bastion went. Until he heard croaking.

The Tribal changed his stance, positioning himself to get up as his head swiveled and tried to get a bead on where the sound was coming from. He looked across the river and saw nothing. He looked to his sides and saw nothing. Scratching his head, there was another croak and it sounded close. It sounded like it came from in front of him. Slowly, he rose and got close to the edge of the river and looked over, seeing some rocks protruding from the water surface. On one of the rocks was the source of the noise. A small, dark-green colored creature with four legs, the back legs significantly longer than its forelegs. It was a frog, possibly the first frog the Wastelander has seen. He did remember reading about how some people ate the little critters and were considered delicacies. The amphibian seemed awfully small, so he couldn't really see how anyone could make a proper meal out of it. Might make a decent snack, though, and Nathan's not finicky when it comes to food. Wasn't really by choice with the life he led.

He crawls on his stomach, inching himself closer to the little thing with a spear at his side. Was a little overkill to use a meter-long stick on something that wasn't even bigger than his hand, but what can he do? The frog seems oblivious to the man eyeing it as it continues croaking, its chin reverberating rapidly. It wasn't long until Nathan was practically hovering over the critter, his spear ready to thrust. That was when the when the frog decided to jump, with no warning beforehand.

Nathan rushed and thrust the spear but narrowly missed the amphibian. He then tried to scramble after the frog reaching for it mid-air. He wrapped his finger around its slimy body, but he lurched forward too much and fell into the cold water. As quickly as he fell, he rocketed up, coughing and gasping as he rubbed excess water from his eyes and tried to shake it off. After recuperating from the sudden change in temperature, he opened his eyes to see his hands empty, with only the slime of the frog on it.

"Fuckin' fantastic," he cursed, shivering more as he went back to dry land, his clothes soaking and dripping. At least he had to sense to wear only his boxers.

He bends down to wash the slime away from his hand with the river water. After doing so, he takes off his boxers and twists them to squeeze the water out from it and onto the river, grumbling all the while. Apparently, the cold dampened his sense so much that he wasn't expecting a circular red bulb to suddenly cross his vision from the right. Nathan looked up and saw it was Bastion, holding a red apple in its metallic hand and offering it to him. The nude man took the apple and examined it, looking as if it was freshly picked.

"Heh, thanks," he said, astonished the machine could find something.

"Wee!"

Nathan bit into the apple, ripping a sizable chunk out of the fruit and chewing on the sweet and juicy meat. It was delicious, taking his mind out of what just transpired moments earlier over the frog. He nodded in appreciation towards the robot as he kept chewing on the fruit. However, the delight that coated his face slowly morphed into confusion as he chewed on something that didn't feel like fruit. Grinding his molars on it, it had a plastic texture and tasted bland. Reaching into his mouth, a small piece of paper was pulled from within. It was ripped and torn, covered in his saliva, but it had a word on it printed in black that was barely legible: "Organisch".

"Bastion," Nathan began, apprehensively as he looked up at the robot. "Where did you find this?"

Before following Bastion to the origins of that apple, the Courier adorned his gear and black armor. He followed Bastion for a couple of minutes until it led them to an open patch of forest that someone had made camp. There were two tents, one larger and with more space than the other, around a campfire that was still smoking. Supplies and food also surrounded the fire, especially a cooler that was opened and looked like it was rummaged through recently. Nathan looked down at the apple, seeing that it did not sprout from this forest but somewhere else. He watched as Bastion reached into the cooler and pulled out another red apple, beeping jovially all the while. At least he knew they weren't alone in the forest, but doubted that they would appreciate having their camp raided by a gun-bot and a man in black armor.

"Bastion, put that down," he asked of the robot, looking around for the owners of the camp. "We should get out of here and get back on the trail…"

"BARK!"

His helmeted head snapped forward and saw a fluffy, dog with a grey-black coat growling and snarling at them. Unhappy at the intruders. Voices slowly approached from behind the dog.

"Wilhelma?" yelled a voice belonging to a man. "Wilhelma, warum bellst du-"

A man, a woman, and a boy, all dressed in hiking gear came into view, just behind the dog. Their eyes widened in collective shock from the site they came across, with the man instantly splaying his arms out to act as a barrier for the woman and boy. The woman held her hand over her mouth, while the little boy blankly stared as he held a jar filled with water and tadpoles. For once, attention wasn't entirely on the tall, armored Courier, but the hulking metal behemoth next to him.

"F-Ferdinand," the woman meekly whimpered, shaking. "I-ist das eine-"

"Shh, shh!" the man hushed her, also trembling and his eyes as wide as disks.

His eyes then darted to the right of him, Nathan's eyes following and seeing that he was eyeing a hatchet laying against some logs. The man dove to the tool, but Nathan intervened before anything else could happen.

"Woah! Woah!" the tall man yelled, holding out his hand in front of him as he stepped between the family and Bastion. "There's no need to do that! Calm down!"

Their eyes are now on him, staring at the man instead of the machine. The man had the hatchet in his hand, ready to strike when the need arose. But he kept it still and in sight.

"Do… Any of you speak English?" the Californian asks, remembering what country he was in.

They continue staring at each other, but the man and woman exchange glances. The man looks back from his wife and addresses Nathan, hesitantly and with a tremble in his tone.

"I-I s-speak English," the husband states in a light accent, uncertainty clear in his eyes.

"Good… Good," the Californian remarks, slowly nodding his head. "Look, I'm sorry we're intruding on your camp, but, we're not here to hurt anyone. We're just passing by."

He watches the German man's face go from horrified to bewilderment as he looks back and forth between Nathan and Bastion. A tinge of anger crosses his brow as he began to yell.

"But that is a Bastion!" he screams angrily, making his wife and child jump in surprise, and the dog more hyperactive. "Do you have any idea how many people those damn things killed?! Who are you?!"

Nathan's face scrunched up and looked back at the robot behind him. The gun on its arm and back, the imposing figure, and the armor plating made it obvious this machine was designed for combat and killing. But the man's reaction… Did that mean…?

'How many did they kill?' the Courier asked himself, afraid he found a darker reason for Bastion's construction.

Flapping wings and a yellow-green blur made him look down to the ground and saw that Bastion's bird was scouring the campground apparently oblivious to the confrontation. However, as it pecked around and tried to find more building supplies, the dog apparently took offense to this and saw the bird as another intruder and charged toward it. Nathan heard a gun charging from behind him and spun around to see Bastion jutting its gun forward with a blood-eye replacing the blue.

"Nooo!"

He rushed forward and pushed the arm up, the rounds that let loose flying into the air and booming throughout the once quiet forest floor. He hears screams and turns his head to see the family running, the man holding onto his wife's hand as he carried their child, with the dog running after them. Nathan was then knocked down to the ground and looked up to see Bastion continuing to fire its gun. The man got up and ran in front of the machine, held his arms out to act as a barrier and forcing it to look at him to get it snap out of it.

"Bastion! Bastion!" he yelled, the robot then rotating its head to look directly into his visors.

Nothing happens until Nathan heard fluttering and sees the bird land on Bastion shoulder and proceed to rearrange the twigs of its nest. The robot's head turns and looks at the bird, its eye then flicking blue and red until it finally blinks blue and stays that way. The man sees the machine's body become tense, somehow, and steps back to watch as Bastion looks around the campground and the mess they made. Its visor eventually lands on Nathan and visibly sulks.

"Bweeeeeeeeeeeoh…"

The human could only but scowl at the automaton, exhaling deeply as he took off his helmet. He looked around and saw the family nowhere to be seen, leaving their belongings. Nathan still has the social touch, he sees. He goes over to the cooler, pick up and empties a plastic bag they had and begins packing some of the food but takes nothing else.

Getting up, he goes over to Bastion and lays a hand on its plate, prompting the blue visor to meet his gaze.

"Let's go," he simply said. "We wasted enough time."


After silently trekking through the forest for a couple of hours and long enough for the Sun to almost set, they finally reached the "human settlement" the machine had beeped about. The two found themselves on the outskirts, seeing houses and buildings clearly of human origin. There was also some more "primitive" architecture and what appeared to be a castle in the distance. However, as soon as the town came into view, Nathan almost instantly noticed something off. Everything was quiet, the sound of villagers going about their daily lives completely absent. Only the howling of the wind and other sounds of the forest reaching his ears. If it wasn't for some the more modern-style building alongside the medieval construction, he would've dismissed it as being abandoned for hundreds of years. It looked abandoned for around thirty years at most.

The Wanderer walked forward, scanning the surroundings for any sign of life. However, he stopped when he noticed he was walking alone. Turning around, he saw Bastion staying where it was, not daring to venture beyond the boundaries. It looked around, apparently hesitant to follow. Civilization was probably something the bot rarely ventured to. In fact, Nathan wouldn't be surprised if he avoided it all together.

"Bastion, is something wrong?" the man called out.

"W-w-wooooo...?" the machine responded, still unmoving.

"I think we're all alone. Just a ghost town here. There might be something worth looking for, though. Come on, you owe me."

Bastion let out another long, uncertain noise, fidgeting in place as it looked back and forth between the town and the forest. Looking back at the town and seeing Nathan there, waiting expectantly, it relented and followed the man further into the ruins of the German village. It soon gained a name when the two passed a wooden greeting sign with words carved into it.

"Will… co-men off… I-shen-Wall-day…?" Nathan tried to pronounce, butchering the German words. The meaning of the greeting was the same, nonetheless. Bastion let out a series of electronic noses looking at the sign as if trying to pronounce the words as well. Nathan kept walking and followed a series of stairs that seemed to lead to an upper district of the town, rising above the surrounding pines. Climbing the steps and following them to a street, Nathan was very surprised to see a crater formed by the remnants of what seemed to be a tank. Except it wasn't a tank.

"What in the fuck is that?" Nathan asked aloud, walking up to the rusted red and black shell of a large, quadrupedal robot with legs like that of a spider. It had a huge cannon atop it hull and a dimmed red visor that seemed to act as its eyes. It sustained heavy damaged but looked like it was pummeled to death by a huge hammer. It was one of the larger robots the Courier's ever seen, even bigger than some sentry bots.

The echo of flapping wings turned him around to see Bastion, next to a building's sign that had a tankard on it, looking at a pile of metal on the ground that the bird was scouring over. He strode to the machine's side and saw that it was another Bastion Unit, long since turned into a pile of scrap. On the other side of the building's entrance was another dead Bastion Unit, making Nathan's curiosity pique as he looked at the door and opened it.

The old wood creaked and dust shook from the door frame as he pushed them inward. The Courier drew his sidearm before turning his Pip-Boy's light on. A dim blue from Bastion's eye also shone off the dark walls. Slowly peering around the corner, the two found themselves in the dilapidated wooden remains of a brewery, some of the tables and flooring ruined by Bastion corpses and encroaching flora. There was a holographic light on one of the tables, next to a set of large brewing kettles. It beckoned Nathan over, who, upon closer inspection, saw it was a map of some sort with representations of mountains. There were blue symbols and red symbols, German words imposed on them. Much of it didn't make sense to the Californian, but some were easy to guess.

"Artillerie."

"Infanterie."

"Crusader."

But one word had Nathan's utmost attention. A word that's been alluding him for the past couple of days. The holographic images of a Bastion head conveniently accompanied the word.

"Omnic."

He looked up and saw a familiar image on a poster in front of him. Walking over, it has the visage of a man in power armor, almost a carbon copy of Reinhardt's, with the words "Die Crusaders Stehen Wache" beneath him. Next to the poster were flyers that seemed haphazardly plastered, as if they were put up in a hurry. If he had to guess what the word on them meant, "evacuate" would be his first choice.

"So, this is what the Omnic Crisis was?" he asks shaking his head, not really expecting an answer other than what surrounded him.

He looks over his shoulder to see Bastion, looking out the large windows towards the forest with the bird. The Courier should have seen this earlier, the reason for why a rusted, overgrown robot armed to the teeth wandering in the forest for God knows how long. In retrospect, this makes Nathan even luckier than he deserved to be. That the death robot found him first and didn't pump him full of lead. Everything made sense now… But it didn't.

Why didn't Bastion kill him, the first chance it got? Why did it snap out of attempting to kill that family rather than just continue with the objective? How were the humanoid Omnics, like Zenyatta, considered the same league as this tank of a machine? Why was this Bastion mostly passive in the first place? And most important: How large was the Omnic Crisis?

Was it as large and world-destroying as the Great War? He couldn't tell, mainly because civilization was still intact on this Earth...

The human looked towards the door and walked out, venturing back out into the long-abandoned cobble streets. He wanted to see more of the German village. Or, what was left of it.

Walking among the ruins, scars of war greeted Nathan wherever he looked. From the collapsed remains of a building that once served a beneficial purpose to the inhabitants, to the mangled corpses of Bastion Omnics and even larger automatons in various, lifeless positions. The quiet atmosphere, sights of ruin and decay, coupled with a dark sky made walking through the streets too reminiscent of exploring Pre-War ruins. He didn't like it. He kept expecting a mutated abomination or chemmed out raiders to jump him at the next corner. Or in this case, killer robots. It was probably morbid curiosity that was making him do this.

Eventually, the Mojave Wanderer came across a building in another section of the village, located on what seemed to be a town square. It had a yellow sign, hanging by its side, calling itself a "Jagdhütte" with the stylized art of antlers underneath the word. Inviting himself in, the first thing that catches Nathan's eyes were the trophies posted along the wooden walls. Antlers and horns of big game, most likely local. A fireplace with a gray-brick chimney rising to the roof had a staircase wrapping around it. He climbed the steps, following them to the second floor of a living area, furniture was strewn about. There were more trophies, but of smaller game. One of the critters looked like it could be a cousin to Bastion's friend. Stepping into the center and looking around, the shimmer of the moon's light bounced onto Nathan's eyes, making him face something with a reflective surface. It was a cabinet, but instead of storing books or alcoholic beverages, it had an old rifle. The Courier was instantly interested.

He walked up to the gun cabinet and tried to open it, but his attempt was blocked by a metal lock keeping the doors shut. Nathan growled at this as he lacked the proper tools to pick. And even if he did, the lock didn't even have a keyhole and was more evidence of how different technology was in this world. Planting his fingers on the glass, it didn't feel particularly strong and felt like it could break with enough force. Then, unholstering his sidearm and taking the mag out along with the round in the chamber, he held it by the muzzle with the grip pointing away from him. He looked around, seeing he was still alone before he swung the pistol and shattered the glass, sending the fragments flying. Clearing more crystal debris out of the way, he reaches in and grabs the rifle by the fore end. He pulls it out into the open and shakes off some dust, the moonlight shining off its wooden body.

It was a bolt action, had a large scope bolted to its left side and hung over the receiver but leaving enough space for rounds to be loaded in one-by-one. It was more than a meter in length and had metal rings wrapped around its fore end where there was still wood. The barrel jutted out and separated from the wood, with a thin rod under it. It had some dings and scratches on the wood and metal, but nothing too serious. The only noteworthy embellishment was a spot on the side of the receiver where its serial number was, where some of the markings on the metal were filed down. Figures, since the rifle was stamped with the manufacturing year "1942".

"At least I know this world had that shitshow…" the Courier remarked as he pulled back the bolt to check it if was loaded. "Guess we aren't too different, after all."

He frowned when he saw it was empty, but recanted when he thought about how leaving a rifle loaded indoors would be irresponsible. Looking down back at the cabinet, he started to rummage through the first drawer and found nothing. He searched through the second and found nothing. Finally, on the third, his hands came upon a box that jingled when it moved and a wooden case with a simple brass latch. The box wasn't labeled and had a plain cardboard coloring, and opened to reveal around twenty rounds with no serious signs of degradation. The wooden box opened to display a collection of cleaning equipment all snug in pockets of green velvet. Honestly, holding old memorabilia and finding the ammo and kit for it almost made the Courier smile.

Until hunger struck him in the stomach with a tightening sensation.

"That's getting fucking annoying," he winced, gathering the rifle, ammo, and cleaning kit to bring it downstairs.

It started to rain when he situated himself downstairs and plopped his loot on the table. Filling the fireplace with some of the remaining logs, he soon got a fire roaring back to life and showering the room with its golden hue and crackling. Felt warmer and better than the campfire he made a night prior and provided an adequate place to cook the canned goods he knicked earlier. As he "drank" beans from the can due to the lack of a spoon, the thought of how to contact Overwatch crossed his mind. There was still much of the village he had yet to explore, so there had to be something he could use. Since this town was a point of contention for the Omnic Crisis, there could be some military communications equipment he could try his luck with. If he could figure out how to use it, that is. He heaved a sigh, too fatigued to formulate a plan on how to get back. In the case that if he does get back, he might need to ask Angela on some pointers for German. He stopped himself from getting his hopes up.

As he listened to the rain pattering against the roof and the outside streets, he heard the approaching hydraulic steps of an automaton walk into the building. Nathan turns around to see Bastion walking in, glossy and dripping with rainwater. The bird is with it, inside its nest, its feathers soaked and trying to shake excess water off and fix its coat.

Bastion gets close to the fireplace, moving the empty chair out of the way. Then, without another beep, its mechanically shapes itself into a more cube-like form. Its arms and legs hugging close to the core of its body. The head recedes further into the torso until the blue light shuts off, the machine soon whirring to silence. It wasn't long until the bird followed suit, planting itself into its nest and closing its beady eyes.

"I guess robots in this world need sleep," he observed, yawning after he did so and closing his eyes as he reclined into the chair. "I guess I do, too…"


Goodsprings, Mojave Wasteland, Nevada

2285

The Scribe, the Sniper, the Ranger, and the two hounds found themselves on the outskirts of the little town that lent its name to the water source that provided sustenance for the inhabitants. The town is known for being where their "mutual friend" was saved by the good folks who inhabit it and holding off an attack of convicts with the help of that friend. A place that has more things happen around it than it has any right to. Seeing it, they instantly knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Multiple pillars of smoke could be seen from the distance, and there was a lot of bustling activity for this usually quaint little town. As the party cautiously moved over the broken road where the town saloon and store were established alongside, they watched as NCR Troopers and townspeople hauled bodies covered in cloth over stretchers. The faces they wore were grim, many of the troopers forced to put on blank, hardened expressions while some of the townsfolk had tears running down their cheeks. Some of the corpses, which they were carrying to a row of bodies set up opposite of the general store, were dressed in NCR uniforms. Others were not. They couldn't see in great detail of what wounds the bodies bared, but if the blood staining the cloth was any indication, they were torn to shreds.

"What the hell happened here?!" Veronica exclaimed, clearly hurt to see this quiet town she's spent many a night in suffering this much.

They looked around, trying to see if there was anyone they could recognize from the limping crowds. Veronica's eyes eventually landed on the patio of the store, seeing wounded soldiers and civilians being tended to by a balding man in a field hand outfit. She ran over, recognizing the old doctor.

"Doc Mitchell!" she yelled, causing the old man to stop and turn around, eyes widening as he saw who was running to him. He barely had time to react before Veronica grabbed him in a hug, the doctor hesitant to hug back due to the blood on his hands.

"Ms. Santangelo?" the old man let out, surprised to see the younger woman back in town. "What're you doing here? It ain't safe here no more…"

"I can clearly see that," she responded, letting go of the Doc and looking at the wounded he was tending to. Most of them were soldiers wrapped in stained gauze and bandages, some were covered head to toe. One man was lying on a cot on the floor missing one of his legs. She looked back at Doc Mitchell's face, what was usually a calm and passive visage was now tired and stuck with grief.

"What happened here?"

"I wish I could tell ya'," the Doctor grimly said, his voice a bit weaker from lack of sleep. "Things were peaceful and the same about a week ago, but a few nights ago, we noticed strange things happenin'."

"Like what?"

"Well, first, some of our crops became uprooted and it wasn't long until we lost a few heads of our Bighorners. Then, these strange burrows kept popping up all over the town. We thought they were molerats and tried to plug them up best we could. Then, all hell broke loose."

"Why? What happened?"

A voice spoke up from behind, one belonging to a woman. "Monsters. Monsters came out from the ground."

Veronica spun around and saw a shorter, orange-haired girl in leather armor and with a varmint rifle slung over her shoulder. She had one of her hands nuzzling her neck for some reason as the other lightly pat the head of a dog next to her. Her eyes and cheeks were red as if they were bawling moments earlier

"Sunny?" Veronica let out, surprised to see the gecko hunter in such a state. "What monsters?"

"I have no idea what the hell they were," she let out, rather coldly but not in disrespect to present company. "They were scaly like geckos, had big claws, and crawled on all fours. And their eyes… Their eyes glowed so brightly in the dark…"

Sunny Smiles gritted her teeth and sucked up air, standing up straight to gain some semblance on her emotions. She began to explain further what happened.

"We were being harassed by the buggers but could never get ahold of any of them. They always kept digging away before anyone could see them. Then, someone said they found a huge mound where the schoolhouse is, big enough for even a man to fit in. We kept losing bighorners and crops, so we had to do something before people started getting hurt. We thought it would be a good idea to go into their home and blow them all to Kingdom Come with dynamite, or block them off. But…"

Her stiff visage broke, as she brought a hand to her eye to wipe away incoming tears.

"It was awful. Only a few of us made it out… E-easy Pete, the old fart who had the dynamite we were going to use, he didn't make it…"

Sunny Smiles was about to burst into tears again, prompting Veronica to get closer and hug the girl, bringing a hand to caress her red hair. Boone and Parmley stood to the side, looking all around. Boone looked to the south and saw a big rising pillar of smoke where the schoolhouse was.

"What about the troopers?" the Sniper asked, looking at all the wounded. "Where did they come from?"

"They arrived not long after Sunny's expedition went awry," Doc Mitchell clarified. "They finished off what Sunny's crew started, but without taking some hits of their own."

Boone and Parmley exchanged uncertain glances, thinking back to what Elder McNamara hold told them days earlier. Soldiers, both NCR and Brotherhood, were deployed on high-alert to some threat. A threat that, as Lieutenant Hayes had told them, supposedly had something to do with the Divide. This made things more uncertain, as they were sure nothing could live in the Divide.

Boone walked over to Veronica, still hugging Sunny, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Did Nathan ever say he went into the Divide?" he asked, in a hushed tone.

The Scribe's brows furrowed, before shaking her head slightly. "No, he never said anything about that place. Never mentioned going there. Why?"

"Just a thought…"

Veronica's face contorted in confusion, wondering what did Nathan have to do with the Divide. For as batshit crazy as that man could be, she honestly doubted he would venture into the hell-hole that was once the Long-15. Who would've imagined that a community once prospered there…

Their thoughts were interrupted by an approaching NCR Trooper, a Service Rifle slung over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry for bothering you guys," she said, her face veiled by a bandana and goggles. "But I'm afraid you're going to have move on. This place isn't safe anymore."

"Hold on a second!" Parmley said, walking up to the soldier. "Just what in the hell happened here?!"

"I'm afraid I can't say, Ranger. I just think it's better if you guys got a move on."

"Seriously? We're on the same side and you can't tell us anything?! What about the guy over there? The one with the weird hair? Why is he being held up like that?"

They looked back to see a man on the other side of the road, his hands restrained behind his back and kneeling on the ground, with two Troopers standing guard over him. He had twisted hairs upon his head, a breathing mask covering most of his face, and a long dark duster with no sleeves. His head was bowed down, so they couldn't get a good look at the uncovered parts of his face.

"I'm afraid I can't say much, sir," the trooper remarked. "We just… Found him one day. He has some interesting things to say. About the Divide. Other than that, most of what he spouts is nonsense. But like I said, you need to keep moving. It's not safe here anymore."

As much as the group wanted to stay and help the good folk of Goodsprings, they were unfortunately too late to make much of a difference. Besides, Nathan might know what to do with this situation, so getting him back wasn't just for themselves. They moved on, heading north to a cave that isn't too far from the town. However, as they went back on the old road, Veronica noticed something when she looked back at the town. The man kneeling on the floor had his head up and was watching them leave. She was a bit creeped out but thought nothing of it as she moved on.