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Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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Evil!M!LW vs. the ENTIRE Mojave
(Anonymous) 2011-12-24 03:40 am (UTC)(link)gender and alignment inverted version of http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4875.html?thread=7086091#t7086091
So M!LW with Clover/Jericho vs. F!Courier and the NCR.
Bonus points for:
M!LW being characterized as a inhuman engine of destruction
Survivors being traumatized to the point of catatonia
Use of custom weapons (the original story featured A3-21 plasma rifle, it seems reasonable to showcase the rail rifle/shishkebab/deathclaw gauntlet/rock-it laucher/etc.)
Re: Evil!M!LW vs. the ENTIRE Mojave
(Anonymous) 2012-02-08 03:56 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Evil!M!LW vs. the ENTIRE Mojave
(Anonymous) 2012-02-11 07:17 am (UTC)(link)OP here
(Anonymous) 2012-02-24 02:34 am (UTC)(link)As they part to lick their wounds, he turns to his opponent, he points two fingers at his eyes and then to her. And in that moment, she'd know, that this wasn't over.
As for the alignment thing, have her be good, and NCR.
Re: OP here
(Anonymous) 2012-03-01 04:01 am (UTC)(link)Bad Moon Rising Pt. 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:12 am (UTC)(link)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. 2/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:13 am (UTC)(link)Still, looks can be deceiving, and the Courier didn't take chances. She didn't lower her shotgun completely. Her eyes were wary. She had an old tribal stance about her, and her other hand was ready to go for the bowie knife in her boot if they so much as moved too quickly. They looked like they had the same ideas.
“I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you didn't do this. But I know the Brotherhood, and that isn't this chapter's armor. Who are you?” The Courier's voice was nice and even. She knew how to talk. She liked talking. If you didn't wear heavy armor all the time, you got good at it. Used it like a weapon.
The woman had a mirthless quirk to her lips that never made it into a smile.
“Star Paladin Cross. My chapter is--,” She cut herself off, looked angry, then her features smoothed out as she continued. “Was located in the Capital Wasteland. And you, are very lucky. Had you arrived moments earlier, you would not be speaking with us now.”
“Maybe. A good chance I would be, Cross.” Arrogance. She'd just come from the fight of her life with Ulysses, she was feeling cocky. A sin that might have been her undoing, but she felt like she'd earned the right to swagger a bit.
Cross shook her head, just as the tall ghoul let out an arid bark for a laugh. “I doubt it, lady. You don't know this kid like we do.”
The Courier shook herself slightly, her gaze turning hard on the ghoul. “Kid? You mean, one person wiped Primm completely off the I-15? All while just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the Mojave Outpost? Bullshit.”
Cross looked implacable and somber again. The ghoul nodded slowly, looking at Cross.
“Who are you, woman? Where did you come from?” Cross demanded.
“People call me the Courier. As to where I came from, some things are best left buried.” She didn't dare tell them where she had come from. She couldn't afford people going to try and rummage through the Divide. God, no.
Cross was not impressed with the vague answer. Neither was the ghoul.
“I'm assuming you're the Courier who was shot in Goodsprings, then. You've been mentioned on the radio. I'd rather not have to call you 'Courier' every time I have to ask you a question.” Cross stated plainly.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 3/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:14 am (UTC)(link)The ghoul kicked at a dismembered limb on the ground, and the Courier shuddered. Even desensitized, outside of combat she hated gore. The people of Primm were not nameless or faceless. Johnson and Ruby Nash were good people, honest, fair. Hardworking. The world was a lesser place without them. And to die at the hands of one kid...
“Felicity.” She said with a head tilt. “I honestly don't think I've had one person ask my name since I was shot.” She mused aloud to herself. Oh maybe a person here or there. None came to mind.
“Now maybe you can tell me who did this so I can kill them.” Her head cleared of cobwebs, she looked back and forth between the odd pair.
“You said people call you the Courier? They call him the Lone Wanderer. In the Captial Wasteland, he was known as 'the kid from Vault 101'. To anyone still alive from the vault itself? He's the Devil, pure and simple.” There was no trace of irony or sarcasm in her voice, just determination.
Something about it coming from Cross was disconcerting. She didn't seem like a terrible person. Maybe the opposite? Too soon to tell.
“Sounds personal. Both of you came all the way from the Capital Wasteland just to find this kid? I wasn't aware the Brotherhood went after criminals.” Her head tilted back curiously, eye-balling them both.
The ghoul responded with a growl. “They don't. Look, lady, we don't have time to chat. We have to get to him before he hits another settlement.”
“He does this often? Just wipes out settlements for no reason?” The Courier asked, bewildered.
Cross closed her eyes in an incredibly tired gesture. Not the physical kind of tired, either. “Sometimes. But this was not just for fun. This time, he saw us. I don't think it was that he was trying to take us down so much as make us regret following him. This was the first time in three years that we've been able to catch up to him.”
“You've been following this guy for three years? How old is he, exactly, that you've been following him so long? Why haven't I heard of this?”
“He's probably about twenty-two or twenty-three. We've only just entered the Mojave Wasteland. Everyone else who's outlived their usefulness to him are dead. Yes, entire towns included. Yes, some of them for fun. I thought we'd be ready by now, but he could have killed us without so much as a scraped knee.” Cross sighed softly, almost inaudibly. “We're going to need help, Charon.” Her eyes lifted to the ghoul.
But the Courier was thoughtful. She'd think he'd be older. It wasn't possible for a boy of twenty and two, or for anyone, to be from where they claimed to be from. Maybe an experienced, well-armed caravan. Maybe an elite strike team of the fabled Enclave, in one of those Vertibirds. No one, especially not some kid who was hardly out of his teens could make what was at least a year long trek into the Mojave from the mythical Capital Wasteland.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 4/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:17 am (UTC)(link)But he was the very reason she wouldn't be going anywhere.
“Let me help you, then.” The Courier raised her hand to stop the 'no' forming on their lips. “I just so happen to know where the Mojave chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel is. I also happen to have connections; places for you to stay, people who will fight with you, and arms like you wouldn't believe. I'm the best possible person for you to run into for help with this guy.”
Cross looked like she was desperate to say yes. But she shook her head.
“You don't understand. He isn't like other men. He took out the last real force of the Enclave and my Brotherhood chapter in one fell swoop. These were people who had aerial and satellite defenses trained on him, the most powerful weapons, armor and training. Armies. He didn't just show up here one day and started killing again, he carved his way here. He's smart, vicious and ruthless. Sometimes he'll decide you're worth letting live for whatever reason, sometimes he'll decimate entire platoons for fun.”
The Courier shook her head. “How? How could he possibly take out the Brotherhood and the Enclave? The Enclave doesn't even exist around here.” She didn't mention a certain ragtag team waiting for her call to arms...
Cross looked cold. “He has infiltrated our ranks and used our own tactics for the Enclave against us and them. He's not... he's...” She trailed off. “It won't matter. Take us to the Mojave chapter. This time, we'll be ready for him.”
“I'm not sure they allow ghouls, Cross. I don't know what you chapter was like, but these guys are pretty by-the-book. I'll have my friend Veronica come with us, but I'm not sure it'll be enough to persuade them.”
She seemed sharp at that. “He isn't Brotherhood.”
Charon looked pretty neutral at that statement. Didn't faze him in the slightest.
“Why is a Brotherhood Paladin--” Cross cut off the Courier.
“Star-Paladin. Charon has his own reasons for being here. His... former employer dealt him a hard hand. The Lone Wanderer made the single mistake of firing him.” Cross said with a sort of pride.
The Courier replaced Dinner Bell on her back. Her feet itched to get moving. She didn't need a one man army to tip the balance of an already delicate situation. “I can see that the 'Lone Wanderer' is a little bit of a shit. Anything else I need to know?”
This time, Charon spoke, all matter of fact. “He has two companions with him. An ex-raider named Jericho, and a slave named Clover. They're both as chaotic as he is, and loyal. Or maybe just scared shitless of him.”
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 5/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:19 am (UTC)(link)“Clover is insane. She loves him as if he was her husband and her father all rolled into one. Jericho lusts after the carnage they make. He would never betray the Lone Wanderer and give up the power that being at his right hand gives him. They are all but untouchable.” Cross answered truthfully.
The Courier sighed. “So not only is he a murdering bastard, he's a slaving bastard as well? Is there nothing good about this guy?”
“She already told you that they call him the Devil back home.” Charon grunted.
The Courier nodded. “It's hard to believe one guy can do all of this.” She gestured around. “Is there anywhere else he's hit? Do you know which way he's headed?”
“He only struck here because he found us. These people died because he wanted to make a statement. He could have killed us but he likes the game we play.” Cross looked pained, sound as though she were repeating something.
“He'll pay, Cross.” The Courier spoke forcefully.
“Many have died saying that.” Cross fired a shot into the catatonic man behind the Courier.
“And many more will.”
---------------------------------------------------------
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 6/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:21 am (UTC)(link)When he found Nipton, he knew there were some people he'd like to meet. He took one of the flags left up by a pile of bodies and made his merry way on to Vegas. He made a quiet pit-stop in Novac, and a not so quiet one at the 188 Trading Post. Jericho was enjoying his new head gear. Clover was enjoying her new dress. They just loved pit-stops with him. They always got new toys.
Sometime around the crumbling remains of Boulder, he decided he just didn't like the NCR. The land did better, in his opinion, without some nosy half-assed government stealing what little resources there were. And the farther he got into Vegas, the more he disliked the robot army of one mysterious Mr. House, who's love of order and perfection were driving the Lone Wanderer up the wall.
101 liked himself a little chaos. He believed strongly in survival of the fittest. He'd spent enough time in a sterile, utilitarian vault that he hated any sort of resembling features. He hated lifeless, blinking computers, despite having a natural talent with them. He hated councils of elected people who were held above like untouchable gods, or really, any time, place, or thing where people could squawk about their worthless, meaningless problems.
That was no way to get things done.
People needed to earn their rights, or they didn't respect them. He knew also that people who were afraid needed to be killed. They begged for help, but never worked for themselves. Like fat Brahmin, waiting to be feed. No natural defenses, always demanding something in exchange for nothing. The moment he had stepped from the Vault, they wanted something. But they never stayed useful. And no one ever just wanted to help, or wanted nothing at all. They could never just help. It was always something for something. A lesson he learned all too well.
Megaton had been his first real something for something that he had paid them back exactly what they had deserved. Because he was young, they always assumed they could make him to do whatever they needed, like he would be grateful for the guidance, as though he had nothing better to do, or his own goals to pursue.
The bomb had been the most wonderful opportunity he'd ever been presented. He allowed himself to be used for that purpose, because the people of Megaton had outlasted theirs. The Tower had remained useful for so much longer, and the neighbors were better. Especially after the ghouls moved in.
Oh he supposed there were times like that he didn't mind being used. But he always, always used them up right back. The ghouls stopped being amusing too, eventually. There was so little to be gained in the Capital Wasteland, after he picked it over. Without the Enclave or the Brotherhood, there wasn't exactly any challenge in staying, either. So he went west.
When they were a little closer to New Vegas, he began hearing more about Caesar's Legion, from scared folks, from the radio, and from annoyingly desperate NCR. He'd liked what the Legion had done at Nipton. He knew they wanted Vegas, just like the NCR. He knew he hated the NCR, and Mr. House's bloodless robots. He thought that maybe he might like the Legion by default.
They did not disappoint.
Cottonwood Cove was already right up his ally. There was order, but only in a primal, barbaric sense. The way a community should be run. They were all about survival of the fittest. The Aurelius of Phoenix liked the Lone Wanderer instantly, and they had many little chats about the Legion's firm beliefs, about where 101 came from. He had heard about Primm and the 188 Trading Post. So he gave him a little side project.
Take Nelson.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 7/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 03:22 am (UTC)(link)But he was not stupid. Caesar wouldn't last. Something would have to take over that beast.
It could be fun to try.
Vulpes and he were very different, but very much the same. Whether it was brute force, or subtle deception, they seemed to like the way the other thought. Naturally they were still wary wouldn't trust the other at their backs, but it came with the territory. 101 took care of a few things for Inculta to ease his mind, after all. Vulpes, in turn, gave 101 interesting information.
“She's been a thorn in Caesar's side at every opportunity.” Vulpes confided to the Lone Wanderer in his disguise on the Strip. They gambled loosely at the Tops, 101 drinking a club soda, the act of which which pleased Vulpes to no end. 101 had too many enemies to let his guard be dropped for the vain pleasure of alcohol.
“A woman in the NCR? Don't exactly sound like someone who's a threat to you guys.” Jericho snorted at his Boss's side. Clover, making eyes at Vulpes covertly, whilst jealously guarding 101's free arm, just listened. She wouldn't shut the Hell up on the road, but in public, she knew her place, and kept her trap shut.
“A woman who supports everything but us. She intrigued Caesar enough that he had me give her his Mark. Unworthy, of course. Had we but heard of you first, things might turned out differently.” The was something to Inculta's tone that was intriguing, but not entirely discernible. Jericho didn't notice it. Clover didn't catch it. But the Lone Wanderer was a league all his own.
He was just that damn special.
“So, what... you want to fuck this chick or something?” 101 asked tiredly. He was going to kill him right then and there if he wanted 101 to play match maker. Clover giggled madly be his side. It was lucky she was good with a pistol and at least moderately attractive. She could get annoying as fuck.
“No.” Vulpes said with a perfect poker face. Well, maybe he'd never know the truth. Good, because he didn't care. “She is a profligate... but unlike anyone I've ever come across. She is...” Vulpes, a master of the silver tongue, had no words to describe her. But he managed something. “She is like you.”
“I doubt that.” 101 snorted, unimpressed. Jericho coughed wetly at that. Clover went rigid in offense.
“She doesn't take pleasure in the same things as you or I, no. But she has the same determination you do. She can accomplish anything, which is why Caesar wanted to meet her.”
“Interesting.” 101 cocked a brow at him. “And she's made Hell for you guys?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Vulpes concurred.
“Well, if were so much alike... isn't it time I meet Caesar?”
Vulpes smiled slowly. “Yes, I think it is.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 7/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 04:38 am (UTC)(link)Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 7/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-09 12:15 pm (UTC)(link)OP here
(Anonymous) 2012-03-14 03:58 am (UTC)(link)Great start. LW is basically how I act in sandbox games: fight the biggest collection of powerful people and kill the shit out of them.
Re: OP here
(Anonymous) 2012-03-14 09:02 am (UTC)(link)Re: OP here
(Anonymous) - 2012-03-15 01:22 (UTC) - ExpandAlso OP
(Anonymous) - 2012-03-15 01:25 (UTC) - ExpandBad Moon Rising Pt. 8/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-25 11:24 am (UTC)(link)Not. Fucking. Human.
188 was gone. It wasn't just decimated. It was... gone. There weren't even bodies this time, just piles of plasma goo with footsteps trailing through them casually. Boone, who'd she'd collected on her way to get Veronica, was just as lost as she, and he was the Goddamn veteran. They looked around in mute horror, shock palpable between them.
“Not another one,” Cross whispered painfully as she and Charon walked up, having trailed back as she and Boone raced to comb through the ruins. They had known all along what they would find. Even the courier had known... she just couldn't accept it.
“It's... it's not possible. It's just not fucking possible...What could they have done, what could they have possibly done to deserve this?” She muttered to herself as she looked around, frantically moving through junk, trying to assure herself that there were no burnt set of scribe robes amidst the rubble. Trying to assure herself that the strange little boy that had guided her before would have known this was coming and gotten himself to safety.
There had been no time, no time to help them...
She never found the scribe's robes.
The trip from there to the Hidden Valley Bunker was silent, strained. The pace was strenuous, even for the experienced, and nigh unstoppable courier. No one said what was on everyone's mind, no matter how hard she made them move through that unforgiving desert. Without a word, she forbid them to speak.
Veronica could NOT be dead. She wouldn't allow it. She fucking refused for that to be the case. The courier shaped her own destiny, and she shaped her own course. She was the courier who carved roads into the world. Veronica was under her protection, one of her personal friends. She would NOT let that evil bastard take her friends from her. She would not let him take the Mojave from her, either. It was hers first, and she'd done so much to get it back on it's feet.
This was her damn desert. He could go crawling back to the Capital Wasteland.
This game he'd played with her, for the past few weeks, taking Nelson, reactivating Helios One, fortifying Cottonwood Cove, wiping out the Boomers, infiltrating the NCR camps, rearming the very Goddamn bomb for the Monorail that she'd taken out... She hadn't even been back to the Strip yet and the bastard was running her ragged as she scrambled to clean up his mess. It was all taking a serious toll on her, and she'd never even seen him.
When they reached the Bunker, she was all but sprinting the last of the way inside the chain-linked fence surrounding the mounds she knew so well. She could see black tufts of smoke rising from the sandstorm vents, and apprehension prickled along her short hairs. She actually left Boone, Cross and Charon to navigate for themselves as she ran ahead. They were all tired, but she never slowed, even as she approached the one dune where the Brotherhood hid themselves.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 9/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-25 11:29 am (UTC)(link)“Veronica,” The courier breathed, heart skipping a beat. She almost fell trying to get close to the girl, her hand reaching out even as her knees slid into the dust before her. Veronica, the woman she thought of as her little sister, not moving even in greeting, even in surprise or fear at her sudden appearance Still... she was so still... was on earth was she so still...
Instinct so acute you could sharpen diamonds on it had her pulling up Dinner Bell to shoot whoever was pointing a souped-up plasma rifle at where her outstretched arm had been. For her, at this close range, it was nothing to use the hunting shotgun the way a surgeon uses a scalpel to pick that rifle out of the hands of the dirty, bald old man who'd been shooting it a second before.
The man looked incredulously at where the rifle had been for a split second before dropping out of sight as she fired again, this time, only as a warning to him. She didn't like to kill people right away, after all. She liked to give them the chance to run the Hell away in fear, maybe learn the error of their ways. It would have been nothing for her to take him out, even as she didn't move from her place in front of the too-still scribe.
A fit of crazy giggles came from somewhere to her right. Her whole body tensed as she turned just her head, a feeling of premonition coming over her as she used Dinner Bell to block a flying, well-aimed hatchet that then clattered to the ground ominously. She didn't move from her point in front of Veronica, who she still had yet to determine was alive, and she wasn't going to.
A couple of powered shots into the dune next to her informed her that Boone and the others had caught up. Boone didn't miss, so it was probably more for her benefit than it was for anyone else. A shiver ran down her back as she could feel something cold in the air, despite that this was the Mojave desert and it was always fucking hot as Hell. But this was no premonition, or at least it wasn't in the way the hatchet had been.
The Courier could feel the Lone Wanderer's inky velvet voice crawling along her eardrums, slithering down her spine and teasing along her skin. She'd been told he was persuasive, when he wanted to be. Charming, hard to ignore. Gregarious, smooth, intelligent, powerful. Larger than life, enigmatic and even enchanting... descriptions that she'd even had thrown at her, though they hadn't always been compliments at the time. Cross and Charon both had told her this kid was a lot like her, in a lot of ways that weren't easily described.
The thought had been unnerving at the time.
“You're 'The Courier', then.” He drawled lazily, completely at ease with all the tense, well-armed, well-trained vets staring down at him through their scopes. None of those present were push overs, but he sounded like he was speaking to a group of gawky teenagers, like this confrontation had been of his own choosing, planned years in advance, not some chance encounter.
When she turned to see him, her poker face at it's peak, her breathing hitched, albeit silently. He was... he was a lot more than she could have imagined. She'd been imagining a genius kid, a smooth-talker who was a little weak on his own, but made up for it in brains, using his two buddies to fight for him. Someone she could peg, something she'd come across before, though with far less destruction in their wake.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 10/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-25 11:31 am (UTC)(link)He was... something else, to say the least. His presence was hyper-real, like everyone she'd ever met before had not be real at all, and he was the first person she'd ever met that was. He drew the eye, even if she turned her head completely away from him. He was young, but he was very... defined, for a young man. He wasn't small, or youthful. He lacked any insecurity, any doubt. She could see it in his face. He was every inch the confidant leader and the magnificent bastard, and yes, his features with both beautiful and brutal, like someone had carved him lovingly, spent eons making him agonizingly perfect to behold. She even suspected she'd been wrong, and like Charon and Cross had told her, he was a one-man wrecking ball.
If she didn't know he was such an evil shit, she would have had to talk herself out of having a thing for him. Hell, only her good sense held her back from gaping now. No wonder he got what he wanted. He held a heavy looking plasma pistol that was obviously either modded or a prototype, and he held it like it was nothing to him, seemingly casually, but she knew his stance mirrored her own. A small slip-up and it'd be a real firefight again.
A feeling of feedback from a microphone came over her as she stared him down, willing him to really squirm. He may have been the juggernaut back home, but this was her turf.
“Aren't you a little far from home, kid?” She bit out venomously. Her own voice was a thing she'd practiced and tuned like an instrument, so her words were almost enticing, but threatening. It was a voice she used on faction leaders to make sure their attention didn't wander. Never had it failed her.
“Looking for a new one. Thought I might settle in here, actually.” He spouted conversationally, suddenly more jovial. She got the distinct impression he was enjoying this.
She smirked in response. Even though she could feel his twisted presence choking the air between them, threatening to overwhelm her, she felt pretty damn confidant herself.
“I got a feeling that this place ain't big enough for the two of us.” She said truthfully, steadily, and completely un-ironically.
His face split into a wide, Glasgow grin. The look was unsettling, and she fought not to visibly shiver, staring at him as he perched just atop the dome that was the entrance to the Brotherhood Bunker. He had the advantage in having the high ground, but she was pretty confidant she could save herself if he started shooting. She just wasn't sure she wanted to give him a clear shot to Veronica, or have him take the focus off her. After all, she could take it. The others? Probably not.
“I take it you already know who I am. I'm sure Cross has talked your ear off about her one beloved godson. You know how old women are.” He chatted pleasantly. His stance was perfect holding that gun, and she knew his prattle was nothing. He was alert and ready, waiting for the wrong movement. The man was good, she'd give him that.
And Cross had not mentioned that little tidbit, but it didn't matter. She knew that tactic.
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 11/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-25 11:33 am (UTC)(link)“It doesn't matter and he knows it, Cross.” She snapped, her eyes on his face. “Let's not play that game, kid.”
“Then how about we talk about you, courier, 'Woman of the West'.” His voice took on a thoughtful intonation, his eyes boring into hers. He was a very, very intense person, but she bet he had no idea. She wondered if she was the same way. She shook off the thought.
“I take it you've been hanging around the Legion, then. That explains why they've suddenly gotten a lot more frisky around here.” She responded tartly. “They couldn't be doing it on their own.”
“I suspect the NCR is much the same way, in that respect. Neither of them can pull up their pants like big boys without a little help.” Somewhere, she heard maniacal giggling at that. She vaguely remembered something about his female slave being something of a nutter, so she suspected that was who it was.
“Well, the NCR has one huge point over Caesar's Legion. No slaves.” She offered simply.
“Yes, the one thing the Legion has over the NCR. Slaves. You'd make a terrible slave, wouldn't you? Simply inadequate for their purposes. Suitable for mine, however.” His eyes were gleaming, and his face held what was hopefully an insincere leer, trying to unbalance her. It wouldn't work.
“Asking me to join you? Pretty lame, if you ask me. Planning on putting on a monocle and tying me to the train tracks next?” She drawled, sounding disappointed. “I'm hardly suitable for that.”
“True.” He agreed readily. “But you're still suitable for something.”
“Dare I ask?” Already feeling her nerves respond to his answer as she prepared to move.
“Target practice.” The stream of plasma narrowly missed her as she responded by jumping forward into Veronica, who she grabbed like a child with a favorite dolly. The Lone Wanderer had a moment where he was stunned at her speed, though he recovered too quickly for her to gloat. He never really stopped being utterly pleased with himself, that was for damn sure.
The courier held Veronica in her arms with her back taut against the wall before the door. The angle made it impossible for anyone atop the dome to shoot her, but it wasn't for lack of trying. She could smell the singed dirt from their energy weapons as his previously unseen slave took potshots at her from her own vantage.
Her own companions were providing more than enough cover for the courier to fiddle with the Bunker's door controls, only to find the damn door wouldn't budge. So, like any normal, reasonable woman, the courier began to pound on it like it was going out of style. Nothing. It didn't even sound as hollow as it should have.
The black smoke that had been rising from the sandstorm vents... Did this mean...?
Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-25 11:37 am (UTC)(link)“I thought I'd lost you, lady.” The courier said with a relieved smile despite the noise and danger apparent.
“Dead, all dead.” Veronica spoke, and the courier studied her face, at last being able to see it. The expression there was not exactly endearing. She looked lost, pale, indifferent... She had seen something that she was still in shock from. Veronica, of all people, in shock. Wonders never ceased with that bastard around, apparently.
It also meant that the Lone Wanderer had taken out the Mojave's Brotherhood chapter. It was the only thing that could have done this to Veronica. Only time would tell if she would be okay, as the courier didn't immediately see any injuries on the girl. Maybe some time spent with the Followers and Arcade would be good for her. But all of that was moot if they couldn't get out of there alive.
It did force her to wonder, though. Why did he let Veronica live?
Kicked up dirt and a couple of falling pebbles had the courier turning with Dinner Bell just in time to shoot the bald bastard as he came down from the hill to try and surprise her. She didn't bother trying to be nice anymore, and shot him in the arm just as he was turning his rifle to shoot her. Scatter shot tore him up as he tried to right himself, arm now pinned to his side in pain, his face an ugly cacophony as he cursed her up and down.
THAT drew out the insane slave that had thrown the hatchet earlier. She would have be absolutely adorable in the pink spring outfit (that actually looked relatively new, interestingly enough), save for the irrepressible rage crossing her features, rifle ready and pointed at the courier as she sprinted into sight. She was baring her teeth in good impression of one of the junkie fiends from vault 3.
It was all too easy to bring up Dinner Bell for a well-placed shot to the slave's legs, when a vicious grunt behind her had her turning her head...
All too slowly...
...To see Cross go down on her knees, the power armor she wore creaking as the pale suited Lone Wanderer brought the modified plasma pistol to the woman's head. He had such a dashing smile of triumph on his face, Cross looking dazed and muted as her eyes traveled up to see his. His grin was so winning, he might have been a model or a politician. Instead, he pulled the trigger.
The courier found herself standing as the older cyborg fell into the desert floor, dust billowing around her as her heavy body settled, dead atop the apparent graves of the Mojave's chapter of the Brotherhood. In a way, it was fitting for the old warrior, and maybe the courier would come to accept that later. But right then, all she could see was the Lone Wanderer's shark-like smile as Star-Paladin Cross fell before him. In her mind, he wasn't worthy to give her a true soldier’s death.
She stood with her heart in her throat, not paying enough attention as Clover came down on her like an angry dog. It wasn't exactly like the world had slowed to a stop as she watched Cross land. Clover was proof that it did not. The enraged slave was screaming wordlessly as she brought out a combat knife to flay the courier, who threw back her elbow almost awkwardly into the woman's face as she turned to her, her other fist a perfect response as she punched Clover in the gut.
Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-29 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)/cry
finally she gets a much deserved starring role in a fic (she was favourite companion as a good karma LW) only to be squished like a nug. No justice!
Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-29 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)*bug
damn my typos
Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-30 07:00 am (UTC)(link)Re: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?
(Anonymous) - 2012-04-04 15:20 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Bad Moon Rising Pt. 12/?
(Anonymous) 2012-03-31 01:48 pm (UTC)(link)