Kinks: Awesome bad-assery? Characters: F!C, M!LW, Fallout 3 companions, New Vegas companions. Summary: Good karma F!Courier meets her match in bad karma M!LW. Spoilers: ALL DLC, (just be safe) and of course, all endings of New Vegas and Fallout 3.
It was right about the time she'd returned from dealing with Ulysses that she learned about Primm, crawling half-dead back from the Lonesome Road. Things had been tense around New Vegas when she had left, but she couldn't keep putting off the other courier. He had a certain way about him. Benny may have been the dick-head who shot her, but Ulysses was the man who pulled the trigger. And when she realized where he was hiding? She knew he had to be dealt with. He had more power at his command than Caesar and the NCR combined, and even less sense about what to do with it.
She figured things were looking good for both NCR and New Vegas, they could stand on their own for a few weeks while she made sure they had lives and land to bicker about. And as her lone excursions often did for her, her outlook was changed, once more. Lessons learned, roads had been walked, problems solved, the usual. Only this time, when she came back to the familiar, ancient pavement of the Long 15, something was wrong.
The smoke rising from Primm obscured her view as she returned from the canyon wreckage. She ran in to the settlement, coughing, wind-whipped and sore. Legion? This far in? No. That was insane . . . It was . . . Less clean, if that made sense. There were no neat little piles of dead bodies, there were no nicely posed heads on pikes, the buildings were not strategically looted, the raging fires she had come across looked like someone's idea of a good time, not a message to the profligates. Jackals, Vipers, even the Powder Gangers couldn't have done it. It was too bold, would require too many people and too much ammo to accomplish, especially with the town under NCR protection.
But the NCR encampment across the way? Same state. Bodies littered about, limbs separated from hosts, ammo completely gone, buildings alight. She was used to destruction. But this? This was something else. Vulpes Inculta would have had an orgasm looking at the carnage before her, if he hadn't been disgusted at the waste of useful resources.
Two people were sitting, one man staring out into space, the other staring at the first, fingering a pistol, dry-firing over and over underneath her chin, whimpering and crying. NCR. Hardened vets.
“What the Hell happened here?” She said to them, looking at the blank slate of a man who she only realized was alive after watching his chest rise and fall steadily. The woman didn't respond, just weeping and pulling the trigger over and over. Her left arm was completely missing, severed at the shoulder, still bleeding. How in Hell had she survived so long, the Courier had no idea. So she tried her luck on the quiet man.
“Sir, please, look at me. I need to know who did this. Powder Gangers? Fiends? Is it the Legion? Is the Legion here? Is the Mojave Outpost still standing? Which way did they go?” Her voice was gentle, but firm. He didn't even glance at her. He was alive, but he was gone. There was no one home.
She turned to the woman, opened her mouth to try and calm her down, and was just in time to see the woman fall over, dead, a laser burn in the back of her head. A tall woman in power armor, her skin dark, her hair gray, was lowering a laser rifle with a somber expression marring already severe features. Beside her, an even taller ghoul with what might have been patches of red hair stood combat ready with a shotgun.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 1/?
Characters: F!C, M!LW, Fallout 3 companions, New Vegas companions.
Summary: Good karma F!Courier meets her match in bad karma M!LW.
Spoilers: ALL DLC, (just be safe) and of course, all endings of New Vegas and Fallout 3.
It was right about the time she'd returned from dealing with Ulysses that she learned about Primm, crawling half-dead back from the Lonesome Road. Things had been tense around New Vegas when she had left, but she couldn't keep putting off the other courier. He had a certain way about him. Benny may have been the dick-head who shot her, but Ulysses was the man who pulled the trigger. And when she realized where he was hiding? She knew he had to be dealt with. He had more power at his command than Caesar and the NCR combined, and even less sense about what to do with it.
She figured things were looking good for both NCR and New Vegas, they could stand on their own for a few weeks while she made sure they had lives and land to bicker about. And as her lone excursions often did for her, her outlook was changed, once more. Lessons learned, roads had been walked, problems solved, the usual. Only this time, when she came back to the familiar, ancient pavement of the Long 15, something was wrong.
The smoke rising from Primm obscured her view as she returned from the canyon wreckage. She ran in to the settlement, coughing, wind-whipped and sore. Legion? This far in? No. That was insane . . . It was . . . Less clean, if that made sense. There were no neat little piles of dead bodies, there were no nicely posed heads on pikes, the buildings were not strategically looted, the raging fires she had come across looked like someone's idea of a good time, not a message to the profligates. Jackals, Vipers, even the Powder Gangers couldn't have done it. It was too bold, would require too many people and too much ammo to accomplish, especially with the town under NCR protection.
But the NCR encampment across the way? Same state. Bodies littered about, limbs separated from hosts, ammo completely gone, buildings alight. She was used to destruction. But this? This was something else. Vulpes Inculta would have had an orgasm looking at the carnage before her, if he hadn't been disgusted at the waste of useful resources.
Two people were sitting, one man staring out into space, the other staring at the first, fingering a pistol, dry-firing over and over underneath her chin, whimpering and crying. NCR. Hardened vets.
“What the Hell happened here?” She said to them, looking at the blank slate of a man who she only realized was alive after watching his chest rise and fall steadily. The woman didn't respond, just weeping and pulling the trigger over and over. Her left arm was completely missing, severed at the shoulder, still bleeding. How in Hell had she survived so long, the Courier had no idea. So she tried her luck on the quiet man.
“Sir, please, look at me. I need to know who did this. Powder Gangers? Fiends? Is it the Legion? Is the Legion here? Is the Mojave Outpost still standing? Which way did they go?” Her voice was gentle, but firm. He didn't even glance at her. He was alive, but he was gone. There was no one home.
She turned to the woman, opened her mouth to try and calm her down, and was just in time to see the woman fall over, dead, a laser burn in the back of her head. A tall woman in power armor, her skin dark, her hair gray, was lowering a laser rifle with a somber expression marring already severe features. Beside her, an even taller ghoul with what might have been patches of red hair stood combat ready with a shotgun.