My Little Fallout: New Vegas
Chapter One: A Meeting of Chance
Foreword:
It was supposed to be a simple courier job: deliver a poker chip to New Vegas.
Like everything that is said to be simple, it wasn't. I was shot in the head and buried alive, all because of that fucking chip. Whatever memories and life that I had were erased when that nine millimetre bullet penetrated my skull.
With no name and no memories, I swore that I would take my revenge on those responsible.
I have been through hell and back in that time. I was lucky enough to have a companion: she has been by my side since I was shot ever since we met in Goodsprings.
I am the Courier, and this is my story.
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I woke up to the soft sound of wind. I cautiously opened my eyes and saw, through blurred vision, a ceiling fan slowly rotating. I stared at the fan for several seconds, trying to remember where I was. The last thing I remembered was a man in a plaid jacket holding something...
I sat bolt upright, remembering what had happened.
I... I was shot. I was shot by that fucker in the suit for that godforsaken Platinum chip!
As my vision started to clear, I heard a male voice speak to me. "Whoa there! You've been out cold for a couple of days now. Why don't you relax a second. Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is."
I took his advice. My head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and I doubted that I would have been able to do anything else. I took several deep, calming breaths and waited for my murky vision to clear. Slowly but surely, my eyes adjusted to the light and the haze melted away. I took a quick look around and noticed that I appeared to be in someone's home. Sitting in a chair opposite me was an elderly man.
"Glad to see that your finally awake. I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings." He paused for a moment. "What's your name? Can you tell me your name?" asked Doc Mitchell.
"I... I don't remember. I don't know my name," I responded.
The doctor sighed. "Well, I guess that's to be expected. You can't just take a bullet to the head and walk away without any side effects." He paused again, evidently thinking. "What can I call you, then? I can't just call you 'You', now can I?" he added with a chuckle.
"Courier!" I blurted. The doctor was startled by my outburst. "Err, that is, you can call me Courier. That was my job. It's the closest thing that I can think of that resembles a name."
Doc Mitchell grinned and said, "Courier it is, then. Your speech and mindset seem to be fine. Can you try and walk around for me? I need to see if your motor control is up to par."
I obliged the good doctor, sliding off of the bed. I found my balance easily, as I had always been light on my toes. I started to jog lightly around the room, but as soon as I did, the doctor stopped me.
"Take it slow now! It ain't a race!"
Grumbling to myself, I slowed my pace to a brisk walk. With the exception of my headache, I felt perfectly fine. After displaying my working appendages, the doctor nodded and said, "Why don't you head over to that Vigour Testing Machine there. We'll learn right quick if your faculties are all working."
"Sounds good," I replied. I walked over to the 'Vit-o-Matic' and let it scan my body. I was amazed that the doctor had something as complex as a full-body scanner in his rather rundown house. The machine whirred for a few seconds before the previously blank screen flashed to life. I looked at the results and was mildly surprised.
My status was separated into seven different groups: Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, and Luck. The fact that it that the acronym was 'S.P.E.C.I.A.L.' did not escape me. Doc Mitchell walked up beside me and we went over the results together.
"'Your Strength level has been rated at 7 out of 10.' Seven out of ten ain't half bad, if I do say so myself," the doctor commented. I shrugged in response. Carrying packages across the Mojave got you into shape whether you wanted to or not.
Doc Mitchell went down to the next statistic. "'Your Perception has been rated at 6 out of 10.' I'm glad that your senses are alright, what with me having to dig around in your noggin' to pull all the bits of lead out." The doctor continued reading out my stats. "'Your Endurance has been rated at 7 out of 10.' I suppose being a courier has its downsides, but it seems you at least got plenty of exercise."
"Travelling the Mojave will do that," I said wryly. I decided to read out the next one. "Your Charisma has been rated at 3 out of 10.' I guess I shouldn't be that surprised. Couriers don't get a lot of chances to socialize."
"Fair enough. Let's see here. 'Your Intelligence has been rated at 7 out of 10.' A bit of a bookworm, are we?" said the doctor with a smile.
"Well... yes, sort of. There isn't much else to do besides read when you're camped in the middle of the wasteland," I replied lamely.
"Don't sell yourself short, son. It takes more than just brute force to survive out in the Mojave," said Doc Mitchell.
I wasn't sure how to respond. "Umm, thanks." I cleared my throat and began reading the next S.P.E.C.I.A.L. statistic. "'Your Agility has been rated 7 out of 10.' That makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it. I always seemed to manage to deliver the goods a day early."
The good doctor nodded. "Well, one left. 'Your Luck has been rated 3 out of 10.'" Doc Mitchell frowned and knocked on the machine a few times. "Now that don't make a lick of sense. Seems to be you're the luckiest son-of-a-gun in the Mojave."
"I certainly don't feel lucky," I said dejectedly. "Getting shot over a package is one thing. Getting shot over a package and then being told that it was rigged from the start is another."
"Hmm. You're right, that certainly doesn't sound very lucky," said the Doctor. He glanced at the clipboard that he was holding. "You wouldn't happen to remember if you had a pet, would you?"
I shook my head. I had never wanted nor needed a companion. I preferred solitude.
The doctor sighed and asked, "Could you please follow me? There's something I need to show you..."
"What is it? Is there something else wrong with me?"
He shook his head. "No, not besides your memory loss. What I'm going to show you might stress you out, seeing as how you just woke up from a coma."
"Don't worry, doc. I can take it. Whatever it is," I replied, anxious to see what all the fuss was about.
"Alrighty then. Follow me."
I followed the doctor into what appeared to be his study. I was going to ask what it was I was supposed to be looking at when I noticed something curled up on a blanket in the corner.
No... It can't be...
I stood there in my underwear and gawked at the purple creature that was sleeping peacefully. "That... what... how..?" I managed to say. The doctor seemed to share my opinion.
"I don't know what it is or why it was beside your grave when Victor dug you up, but I figured it belonged to you. Now that you've said you didn't have a pet, I don't know what to make of it."
The doctor's words slowly sunk in. Grave? Victor? Pet?
I managed to tear my eyes off of the creature and look at Doc Mitchell once again. "I was shot in the head and buried alive. I was then dug up by someone named Victor. This is true?"
The doctor snorted. "More like something named Victor dug you up, but yes. That's all true."
I nodded, showing an outward calm that I didn't possess inwardly. "Okay. Now explain to me where that—" I pointed at the purple creature, "¬—came from."
"I don't know. Victor said that it was lying beside a freshly packed grave, which he found mighty suspicious. He dug up your shallow burial site, found you, and assumed that the odd creature was some sort of exotic pet of yours," explained the doc.
I looked over to the creature. "Can... can I go see it?" I asked.
The doctor put both palms up in the air and said, "Be my guest. I don't know how to take care of that thing."
I slowly walked over to the sleeping creature. As I got closer, I noticed more and more details about it. It had four legs with hooves on the end, its body was covered in a fine, purple fur, and it didn't appear to be the result of some strange variety of the local wildlife. In fact, I had never seen another creature like it in the flesh, but something seemed very familiar about it...
The realization dawned on me. It's a... pony, just like the old 'Giddy-up Buttercup' advertisements. What the hell is a creature that went extinct since the bombs fell doing here?!
I did not voice this sudden comprehension, thinking that the doctor might think that I was insane. Instead, I crawled forward on my hands and knees to get a closer look at the pony. I noticed that the purple colouring seemed to be natural: I could find no different shades in its coat. The pony's mane went from dark blue in colour through the majority of its length, but with a stripe of pink in the center. Looking closer, I also noticed a small stripe of purple separating the other two colours.
Its head was fairly large and its two eyes were firmly closed in sleep. It wore an expression of peace on its face as it slept.
I stood up and asked the doctor, "Has it been asleep the whole time I was out?"
"Yep. It's been out cold for as long as you have. I didn't want to try waking it up before you did, so I just let it sleep."
I turned my attention back to the sleeping pony. "Is it alright if I try to wake it up? I'll do my best to subdue it if it's aggressive..."
Doc Mitchell sighed. "Might as well. I doubt we'd be able to move it outside without it waking up, anyways. Go for it."
I crouched down and gently poked the pony in the side. It didn't stir, so I cautiously and carefully placed my hand on the pony's side. I could feel it's heartbeat, strong and stable, through the touch. I also noticed that the pony was very warm: my hands were ice-cold in comparison.
My touch was still not enough to get the pony to awaken, so I gently shook it. The pony still didn't wake up, so I put more effort into shaking it. My effort was rewarded when it yawned and stretched its limbs out in front of it. While the pony was stretching, I carefully backed away, not wanting to be too close when the pony became fully aware of its surroundings.
The pony sat up into a sitting position, blinking repeatedly. It looked around the room in confusion until it locked it's eyes with me. The pony's eyes grew wide as it looked at me with a mixture of fear and apprehension and it pushed itself into the corner, trembling. I thought that seeing a pre-war creature in the flesh was strangest thing that was going to happen. I was wrong.
Quivering in the corner, the pony opened its mouth and asked, "W—Where am I? What are y-you?"
I heard a thud behind me. I quickly turned around and saw the doctor sprawled on the floor, unconscious. I figured that he must have fainted. I didn't blame him. Sentient creatures that aren't human are few and far between.
Turning back to the creature, I spread my palms in an act of non-aggression and said, "I'm human. A human, that is. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you..."
The pony visibly relaxed, although it still held a wary posture. "Where am I?" it asked again, this time more calmly.
"You're in the Mojave Wasteland, in a town called... Goodsprings, I think." I scratched the back of my head, not sure how to proceed. "Uh... If you don't mind me asking, how did you get here? In the wasteland?"
The pony seemed to think for a moment. I saw the frown on its face deepen. "I... I don't know. I don't know how I got here."
This is the strangest conversation that I've ever had. I'm talking to a sentient pony.
"O—kay. Do you at least know your name? Do you remember anything else?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"I think my name is... I know my name is Twilight Sparkle. I know that for sure. Actually... that's the only thing I know."
Of course it doesn't know. Its... it's a she, if her voice is anything to go by.
"Great. That's just bloody great. Now there's two of us," I said bitterly.
The pony cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean? You're not a pony..."
I shook my head. "That's not what I meant. I mean, now there's two of us amnesiacs. I was shot in the head, which made me lose my memory. I have to use my profession as a name. Courier."
The pony nodded, seemingly understanding. "I guess... it's nice to meet you, Courier," she said, sticking her hoof out. It took me a second to realize that she was offering a handshake. I slowly walked over, bent down, and grabbed her hoof with one hand.
"Nice to meet you too, Twilight Sparkle."