//------------------------------// // Chapter 01: Alpha and Omega // Story: The Equestrian Survival Guide // by Gherkin //------------------------------// CHAPTER ONE: ALPHA AND OMEGA The Capital Wasteland 19th October 2277 It seemed, for the first time in two hundred years, Washington DC was peaceful, if only for a few hours. There were no raiders, no mutants. The harsh post-apocalyptic wasteland was quiet. Nothing saw fit to disturb them as they paid their respects. The mood in and around the run-aground ship was quiet and somber. The thriving community that had bloomed out of the wreck was silent, having abandoned their businesses for a while, to pay tribute to one of the greatest minds they had ever known. They all gathered on the shoreline by the destroyed boat, standing silently above a small grave, a makeshift crucifix planted above it. Some travelers had even come from other settlements, if not to bid him farewell, then to console his loved ones. One such traveler stood there, her bright red hair flapping in the wind, soothing the girl next to her as she sobbed quietly. It was a normal morning when she first walked into her store. Bright, yet naive, like all the Vault types. She remembered laughing slightly when the newcomer expressed her amazement in awe, saying that she "couldn't even see the ceiling in the main room." The storekeeper wasn't sure why, but she had taken a liking to her, so she offered the wanderer an armoured vault jumpsuit. She still wore it, even to this day. Perhaps as one last memory of the life she left behind. They had become good friends after that day. She went on to help their town, and the rest of the Capital Wasteland, in so many ways, both big and small. One of the first things she did, fresh out of her underground vault, was disarm the dormant bomb that lay in the middle of town. The storekeeper kind of felt bad for the people that worshipped it as a god, but hey, they didn’t realize, and what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. She remembered one time when the wanderer had come into her store, telling her how she had ventured into an old Vault, just to find a violin for an old lady. She always had stories of her travels every time she returned to what had become her new home. They tuned into Agatha's station later that night, just to listen. Of course, then there were the bad times. The wanderer had stumbled into the town, her face stained with tears. When asked what was wrong, she just embraced her friend, and cried. She cried all night long. It was only in the morning did she finally tell the storekeeper about her father, and how he died. She made a pledge to herself that day, to personally kill all of the Enclave personnel responsible for it, and she wasn't lying. Here they were, a few weeks later. She had meant what she said. The lone wanderer had just strolled into the Enclave’s main fort, at Adams Air Force Base, and completely destroyed it with an orbital strike. Reduced it to nothing but rubble and ash. The only evidence left that there was ever an Enclave on the east coast was through a few scattered camps, who were slowly dying out. Unfortunately, there had been some sacrifices along the way. James was one such sacrifice, having taken his own life in an effort to stop the Enclave's Colonel Autumn from taking the water purifier at the Jefferson Memorial. When the Brotherhood of Steel retook Project Purity, they found his body dumped on a beach, however they thought it best to leave the funeral until his daughter had regained consciousness and settled her business with the remnants of the US government. “He was a good man, and he died protecting the things he loved,” the reverend, Father Clifford, spoke, coming to the end of his speech. “Now, I believe his daughter would like to read us a passage from the Holy Bible. His favourite, if I’m not mistaken.” Moira Brown gave her friend a squeeze on the shoulder. The Lone Wanderer looked at her and smiled, wiping tears from her eyes, before stepping forward from the crowd onto the podium. The brunette girl took a few deep breaths before beginning. “Revelations, 21:6,” she began, looking out into the crowd. “And he said to me, “It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is the athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.”” She stopped for a second, before addressing the mourners once more. “As Father Clifford said, that was my father, and my mother’s, favourite Bible passage. It inspired him, drove him to continue with his work, to make sure that we have the privilege we have today. The privilege of clean drinking water.” The crowd was silent as they waited for James’ daughter to continue. The Lone Wanderer took a deep breath and carried on. “But he did not die in vain. As I am sure you are all aware, the Brotherhood of Steel retook Project Purity, and are distributing water to settlements throughout the wasteland. The Enclave have been reduced to nothing more than a fragment of what they once were. Also, during my travels, I came across a way to return life to the surrounding countryside in only a few mere decades.” She sighed, remembering her adventure in Oasis, and convincing Harold to spread his life around the rest of the Capital Wasteland. “I am not at liberty to discuss how or where I managed to do this, through respect for the people that helped me achieve it, however I can reassure you that, in about twenty to thirty years, Washington will be well on its way to being back to it’s pre-War glory.” There were a few patters of applause from the audience. “It may take some work, but, if the settlements of the Capital band together, we can make it a much better place. And that, I am sure, is what my father would have wanted.” The crowd started to applaud politely as she made her way down from the podium, back to her friend. Moira gave the wanderer a hug, before watching solemnly as James’ casket was slowly lowered into the grave. Tears started to well up again in the Lone Wanderer’s eyes as she silently bid farewell to her father for the last time. There were a few moments of silence as the grave began to be filled in, before most of the crowd started to disperse. “Hey,” Moira whispered to her friend. “You okay?” The Lone Wanderer sniffed and looked at her friend. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “You did well,” the shopkeeper told her, giving her a small hug. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you.” The wanderer sighed. “Maybe. I can’t help but feel I let him down. He left me in that vault so I’d be safe, you know?” “Let him down? Nonsense!” Both of them started to walk back towards the main entrance of Rivet City. “Look around. You’ve become a hero for these people. You’ve made so many lives better. Of course he’d be proud of you.” The Lone Wanderer smiled modestly and chuckled. “Stop it, Moira. I’m not that good.” Moira grinned. “Sure you are! I mean, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to get my book written and published!” The two of them were interrupted as someone tapped Moira's friend on the shoulder. They turned around to see a young man, clad in a leather jacket, and hair styled in a greaser-style quiff. "Hey," he said simply, addressing the wanderer. "Look, I just wanted to apologise. Properly, I mean. For all the shit I gave you when we were kids." He paused and looked back at the grave for a moment. "Your dad was a great guy." She smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Butch. And thank you. I mean it." "Yeah, don't mention it," he replied sheepishly, stepping past them. "Anyway, guess I'll be getting back to the Rudder." "You know, Butch, you could come travelling with me, instead of holing up in that bar all day." "Sorry, but no. I know I said you were pretty cool for saving the Vault and all, but I've got a reputation to keep," he called back, his trademark bravado kicking in. "You're too much of a saint for me to be seen hanging with, y'know?" She chuckled, and rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Alright then, tough guy. See you." He gave her a wave, then turned and walked away. Still smiling, the wanderer turned back to her friend. “You give me too much credit when it comes to your book, Moira." "Don't be so modest!" the shopkeeper insisted. "It wouldn't have been possible without you!" The Lone Wanderer smiled sheepishly. "Maybe. Hey, who knows, maybe one day people all across the entire wasteland will be reading it.” “Yeah, maybe,” Moira told her. “One day.” *** "Hey hey, folks, Three Dog here with your regular scheduled GNR news broadcast! "Now, as you all know, the Capital Wasteland has been getting progressively better over the past few years, helped in no small part by the hero from Vault 101 and the Brotherhood of Steel. Raider and Frankenstein attacks are at a record low, while fresh food and water consumption are at a record high! Why, yours truly ate, for the very first time, a carrot the other day! Heh, ain't life grand? "That's not what ol' Three Dog wanted to talk to you about though. Do you remember our little book club, from way back? The one I said you had to join? We only ever read one book, but that's 'cause it was the only one worth reading. That's right, the Wasteland Survival Guide, from Moira Brown of Megaton. "It seems as though Miss Brown is gonna be leaving us for a while, folks. She, along with some guys from the Brotherhood of Steel and that kid from Vault 101, are going on a cross-country tour, handing out free copies of her book to families across the country. According to Brotherhood reports, she's ending her little trip in the prestigious city of New Vegas, way out west, before heading back home. Three Dog wouldn't mind a little vacation himself, but the Good Fight is just too important. Don't worry, children, I ain't goin' nowhere. "Well, that's it for the news today, folks! This is Three Dog, wishing Moira a safe journey. "And now, some music..." *** Megaton 15th December 2281 “Jeez, Christina, for the last time, you weren’t abducted by aliens!” Moira hurried around her shop, the Craterside Supply, laughing as the Lone Wanderer, Christina Mills, attempted to tell her the story of her latest exploits. Even the bodyguard, who seldom smiled or even said anything at all, was getting a bit of a chuckle out of the whole situation. “I’m telling you Moira, I was up there! In a real alien spaceship!” The wanderer cried, desperately trying to convince her friend. “There were even others who went through the same thing!” The shopkeeper crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? And where are they now?” Her friend paused. “Well, they’re still up there, but I’m telling you, they’re real!” Moira scoffed, and grabbed a broom. “Yeah, yeah. And just who were these plucky little companions of yours?" she asked sarcastically as she began sweeping. "A little girl, maybe? Ooh, how about a cowboy, or an ancient samurai perhaps?" Christina raised a finger. “Well, actually...” Her friend cut her off, smiling and putting the broom away. "Oh, it's okay Christina. We all experiment with Jet at some point or another, whether we do so intentionally or otherwise." Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the store’s door creaking open. Lucas Simms, the town’s sheriff, stepped inside. “Good morning, Moira,” he said to her warmly, tipping his hat. “And to you, Christina.” “Morning sheriff!” Moira called out cheerily. “Kinda busy here, but I guess I can talk for a bit. What do you need?” The sheriff of Megaton stepped up the counter, pulling out a bag of bottle caps. “Just a few clips of ammo for my rifle. Me and my boy are going out hunting later.” The storekeeper ducked underneath the counter, emerging a few seconds later with a handful of .32 calibre clips. “Sure thing! Here you go.” “Thanks. You packed yet?” Moira turned and pointed at her half-packed luggage, which was scattered in a messy pile on the other side of the room. “Almost. I still have a few copies that need to be put into boxes. Boy, when the west coast gets a hold of my guide, we’ll really be back on track with rebuilding humanity!” Lucas chuckled. “Yeah, I bet we will.” He turned to the Lone Wanderer. “When are those Brotherhood of Steel types showing up?” “A few hours,” Christina answered. “First stop’s the Commonwealth, then Texas, then we hop on over to the NCR on the west coast before stopping off for a tour of the Mojave on the way back. Still going to have to walk from California to Nevada though, apparently. Brotherhood have commitments here, but hopefully we'll be able to find a caravan to take us.” She paused for a second. "Hope it isn't too far." “The Mojave.” Simms nodded. “People have been telling stories of that place. Say there’s still a bright, shining city in the middle of the desert.” The Lone Wanderer shrugged. “Yeah, well, we'll just have to tell you all about it when we get home, won't we, sheriff?" Lucas chuckled and nodded, smiling. "I guess you will. Have a safe and pleasant journey, the both of you." He pulled a few caps out of the bag on the counter and pushed them over to her, before picking up the bullets and stowing them in his pocket. He tipped his hat to the both of them before stepping back outside. Moira pulled open a drawer underneath the counter and slid Lucas’ bottle caps into it. She paused for a second, then muttered, "Eh, on second thought, might need them." She opened the drawer again, grabbing a small cloth bag and putting the caps inside. "You better hurry up and finish packing, Moira," Christina warned. "You know how the Brotherhood have a knack for arriving ahead of time." "Don't you worry, I've got it handled," she reassured her. "Besides, I'm almost done. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes." The Lone Wanderer chuckled, picking up a piece of cloth and unholstering the scoped handgun strapped to her leg. "Whatever you say. I'll just be over here, polishing the Blackhawk. I'll stay out of your way." The two remained in silence for a few minutes, preoccupied with their respective tasks, until Moira spoke up. "So, how've you been?" she asked, looking across to her friend. "Y'know, besides your little, uh, extraterrestrial experience." Christina shot a glare towards her, before relaxing. "I've been alright, I suppose. Everything's gone pretty quiet, as I'm sure you know." Moira nodded, shoving more copies of her book into her luggage. "And how's Dogmeat? The poor fella's getting old now, isn't he?" For a moment, Christina stopped. She put the gun down and closed her eyes for a second, reminiscing about her adventures with her trusty canine companion. Then, she turned around to face her friend, putting on a smile. "Yeah, he is. Too old to be going off, running around with me, that's for sure. He's staying with Manya while we're gone." Satisfied with her work, and needing something to distract her from her memories, she picked up her gun and checked the scope, before loading it again and slipping it back into its holster. "That's probably a good idea," Moira commented. "Poor Manya hasn't been the same since Nathan passed away, has she?" The wanderer shook her head. "No, she hasn't. Guess having the old boy around to keep her company will do them both some good." The two of them were quickly interrupted by a sharp, brisk knocking at the door of the shop. Smirking, and raising an eyebrow, Christina turned to her friend. "What did I warn you about, Moira?" The shopkeeper replied," Yeah, well, lucky I just finished up, huh?" She stuck out her tongue playfully. Giggling slightly and rolling her eyes, the Lone Wanderer turned and opened the door. Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her face as she came face to face with an old friend. "Sarah!" she exclaimed, bouncing forward to hug the Sentinel. An impressive feat, considering she was clad almost head-to-toe in full Brotherhood power armour. Taken aback by the sudden display of affection, the fair-haired woman awkwardly tried to return the favour. "Ah!" Christina suddenly yelped, trying to push away as Sarah hugged back. "Can't breathe..." Lyons chuckled, and released her friend. "Heh, that's why hugs in power armour don't quite work, Chrissie," she told her. "Gotta remember that you could snap a super mutant's neck as if it were wafer thin in one of these things." Her friend went to reply, but ended up catching her breath. “Well, you know I was never one for power armour,” she managed to gasp, chuckling slightly. Two Brotherhood soldiers, one to either side of Sarah, moved past the both of them and inside as Moira came to the door. “Everything’s just behind the counter!” she called back to them, before looking up at Sentinel Lyons and beaming. “Hi!” she exclaimed, holding out a hand. “Moira Brown.” “Sentinel Sarah Lyons, of the Brotherhood of Steel,” she replied, with an air of formality. Christina smirked and rolled her eyes, before hopping back into the shop to pick up her rifle, the Xuanlong. “I read your book, by the way,” she continued. “I have to say, I was very impressed. You’ll be helping lots of people with these new copies.” Moira smiled modestly as the three of them started to walk away from the shop. “Ah, it was nothing. Besides, I couldn’t have done it without Christina.” “What have I said about giving me too much credit, Moira?” the wanderer called across to her with a smile on her face. “Give yourself some for a change.” Her friend went to retort, but she cut her off with a hug. “Hey, you finally did it. Everyone across America is going to read your book.” The three of them were interrupted by a loud, cheerful yap, and the sudden sight of large blue heeler bounding towards them. Christina grinned with glee, and kneeled down to be face-to-face with her canine companion. “Dogmeat!” she exclaimed, giggling as the aging pup reared up and licked her face excitedly. “I see getting old still hasn’t made you lose any of your get-up-and-go, huh?” Tail wagging back and forth, Dogmeat hopped down and barked happily. His tongue lolled out to one side as Moira patted him gently. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone, buddy?” the Lone Wanderer asked, scratching him behind the ears. They drooped, and he gave a small whimper. “Aw, don’t worry,” she reassured him, kissing him on the nose. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She leaned forward and hugged her canine friend earnestly, before standing back up. “Okay, guys, let’s get going. The vertibirds will be waiting for us” Moira beamed. “West coast, here we come!” *** Mojave Outpost 12th March 2282 “Caravan, citizen, piligrim, or...?” Moira paused. “Uh... caravan, I guess.” Huh, these NCR types sure don’t mess around. Everything here was so organised. Ever since the two of them had made it to California, it was as if they’d stepped back into the Old World. A proper government, who could have thought? She was having doubts about just how much people around here even needed her guide. According to some of the people with their caravan, though, there were some that could use some tips on basic survival, so it wouldn’t go completely to waste. “Okay then,” the soldier behind the desk muttered, signing off a few forms. “Should have a squad ready to escort you by tomorrow.” He stamped the forms, and handed them back to her. Christina cut in. “Sorry, but why do we need an escort, uh...” “Major Knight,” he answered her unspoken question. “And escorts are required for each caravan because there are still a few pockets of Legion spies left out there, ready to ambush. No doubt you heard about the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, last week. Legion’s wounded, but not quite dead.” “Shit, you guys don’t mess around,” she offhandedly commented. Knight shrugged. “Just be glad we can even move caravans through here at all. Place was locked down until the battle, ‘cause the threat was so high.” “No shit?” He shook his head. “If you need somewhere to sleep, head on over to the barracks next door. There’s a bar, and a few spare beds I’m sure Lacey wouldn’t mind letting you use.” Moira turned to her friend, who shrugged. “Sounds like a pretty good idea to me. Thanks!” “Not the best place to go if you want peace and quiet though,” he warned. “One of our guys is throwing a celebratory party over there at the moment.” “Celebratory? What, for the battle?” The Lone Wanderer was puzzled. “But you said that was a week ago.” “He’s a pretty strange guy. This is the third celebratory party.” Okay... well, that’s more than a little weird. “Alright then. Well, I guess we’ll head on over there anyway,” she told him. “It’s been a long day, and we could both use a drink.” Knight nodded. “Alright then. Have a good night.” “We will!” Moira replied cheerfully as they pushed open the door, stepping out into the evening sun. I think the Mojave is going to be an exciting place! she thought to herself. The two friends started to make their way towards the outpost barracks. Knight hadn’t been lying; the two could hear drunken shouts and cheers, as well as music, blasting from inside the small building. “What do you make of this guy, throwing the party?” Christina wondered. “Seems pretty weird to me.” “Hey, if he’s happy...” Moira pointed out. Her friend shrugged. The wanderer went to push open the door to the barracks, but paused as a slurred, booming voice suddenly echoed from within. “Hey, baby! What do I have to do, to make you love me too?” She cast a confused glance towards her friend, before pushing open the door and stepping inside. The bar adjacent to the barracks was absolutely packed with NCR soldiers, drinking and celebrating their victory. Almost everyone was whooping and cheering, but the most ruckus came from a couple in the middle of the room. A red-haired woman in a dusty old jacket, and a taller man sporting a desperado-style hat and an old duster. Both of them were quite obviously drunk, and seemed to be singing along to a song blasting from a nearby radio. The man was even using the half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand to imitate a microphone. It was a spectacle that was amusing to watch. He had even got some of the soldiers to sing along with him. Christina, tearing herself away from the couple, forced her way towards the bar. The bartender, who she assumed to be the Lacey that Knight mentioned, was looking on at the display in disbelief, but turned her attention to the two as they approached. “Hey,” she called out above all the noise. “You from that caravan that just came in?” The Lone Wanderer nodded, and Lacey chuckled. “Kinda overwhelming, ain’t it?” Lacey said, glancing over at the drunken partygoers as they sang along. “Can I get you anything?” “Just an ice-cold Nuka, if you have one,” she requested. “Sure do.” She ducked underneath the bar and handed the bottle of soda to the wanderer. Christina thanked her, and dropped a few caps on the table, before turning her attention back to the singing couple. “Ooh, ooh, ooh-ee,” the woman sang, surprisingly in key for someone barely able to stand. “Baby, you ain’t movin me...” “She’s not usually like this when drunk,” a gruff voice made Christina jump and snap her attention to the man now standing beside her. “At least, that’s what he tells me,” the man, sporting a red beret and sunglasses, told her, pointing to the woman’s friend. “Apparently she’s more... violent. Guess this is a welcome change.” “Huh. Good to know, I guess.” “You from that caravan that just came in?” he suddenly asked. She nodded, and he held out his hand. “Craig Boone, First Recon. I’m part of the squad that’s going to be escorting you tomorrow.” Christina smiled, and shook it. “And I guess he will be too, if his hangover’s bearable enough.” She looked back at the pair, and chuckled. “With the way he’s drinking? It’ll be a miracle if he’s not dead by alcohol poisoning in the morning.” “You’ve never seen him drink.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, he the one who threw this party? The guy next door told me it was the third one.” Moira took a swig of her own Nuka-Cola. “Seems he has a knack for it, huh?” “Yep, you’re right,” Boone confirmed, nodding. “Don’t let looks deceive you though. This is the guy who almost single-handedly tipped the war in our favour. Hell, some soldiers were even calling him the “saviour of the NCR” at one point.” “Must have a bit of an ego, then,” the wanderer pointed out. “He has his moments,” he agreed. “Got the skills to back most of it up, though.” Moira tapped her friend on the shoulder. “So this guy is a hero to the people or something? Sounds kinda like you, Christina!” She grimaced, but Moira continued to beam. “Please, don’t compare me to...” She took a glance back, and saw him drunkenly kissing the woman he’d been signing with. “...that.” Sighing, she looked back at Boone. “This guy got a name?” The sniper shook his head. “Not one that I know. Doesn’t really share it with anyone.” “So what do you call him?” Moira wondered. “The Courier.” *** Nevada State Route 164, east of Nipton The next day The baking heat of the midday sun did little to deter Moira as they walked away from their first stop on their tour of the Mojave. The town of Nipton was just starting to get back on its feet after a devastating attack, so every copy of her guide was a blessing to the town’s new residents. The caravan, which consisted of a few mercenaries in addition to the two friends, was being escorted by a decidedly small squad, comprised of Boone and his courier friend alongside a couple of privates. Not the best protection, Christina found herself thinking, but, hopefully, we shouldn’t have too much trouble. “Ah, shit,” she heard The Courier mutter. Turning to look at him, she saw him groaning, lifting his sunglasses to rub his eyes. She smirked and moved closer to him as the caravan continued down the road as it curved to the left. “All that drink catching up with you, Mr. Courier?” she commented. He readjusted his glasses and glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. “Heh, hardly,” he scoffed. “And it’s just The Courier. What, you think I’m some sort of lightweight? No, this place is a prime spot for an ambush. We should keep our eyes peeled.” “How do you figure that?” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “What, apart from the fact that we’re flanked on both sides by steep cliffs, or that there are plenty of burnt out cars to hide mines in?” He warily eyed the wreck of an old world vehicle as they continued to walk. “I’ve walked this road before. Shit, just a couple of months ago, but feels like years. Back then it was Vipers and Jackals, nothin’ really to worry about. Now, we’ve got pockets of Caesar’s Legion. The main force might have retreated at the Dam, but these sons of bitches left shouldn’t be underestimated.” “You think there’s a high chance of us being attacked?” she wondered. “Wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t, lady,” he murmured, reaching into a satchel bag and pulling out a strange device. “Plus, this fuckin’ thing has been acting up,” he muttered to himself, inspecting it. Christina edged closer. “What is that thing?” “Hm?” Her voice seemed to snap The Courier out of his thoughts, and he glanced towards her. “This? Just a transportalponder.” “Transporta-what?” “Prototype old world technology, much more complicated than any of that Vault stuff you’re used to,” he explained dismissively. She shot him a glare, but he ignored it. “Emphasis on the prototype part. Thing barely works like it’s supposed to.” The Lone Wanderer inspected the odd device. “And just how is it supposed to work?” she asked skeptically, looking up at him as he groaned and tapped it a few times. “It’s all really complicated,” he told her, still messing with the device. “I’m sure it’d just bore someone like you.” Insulted, she went to retort, but shut her mouth, resorting to glaring at him instead. Man, what a dick. Only God knows how a guy like Boone could be friends with him. And he says to keep our eyes peeled, then gets distracted by that hunk of plastic crap? Yeah, this guy's nuts. She glanced over at the sniper, who was listening to Moira drone on about something from her book. From the looks of him, he seemed pretty disinterested. “What the hell is wrong with this thing?” The Courier murmured under his breath, holding the Transportalponder up towards the sun in an effort to see what the problem was. The bright, blue light emanating from the device flicked on and off intermittently, for no obvious reason. Suddenly, there was a loud, echoing crack, and the device sparked and flew from his hand. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed loudly, grabbing onto his hand as it started to throb with pain. He glanced around, and saw the caravan mercenaries and NCR soldiers ducking for what little cover was available. For God’s sake. I knew it! Boone quickly readied his rifle, and scanned the cliffs surrounding them. “Ambush!” he bellowed, but too late. Almost all of the mercenaries and soldiers were cut down in a hail of bullets before they could react. “It’s the goddamn Legion!” “Moira, get down!” Christina screamed, pulling the Xuanlong rifle out of its holster on her back and ducking down behind the wreck they had just passed. She pulled the magazine out to check it was loaded, before slotting it back into place. Bullets flew past her head, and she dared not to pop her head out for fear of losing it. Instead, she fired a few rounds blindly back in the direction of their attackers in the hope of deterring them. Growling with annoyance, The Courier dived behind the same car, ducking down next to her. "Don't these assholes know when to give up?" he complained, unsheathing his rifle from its scabbard. "You'd think they would have learned their goddamn lesson after Hoover Dam!" A ear-splitting scream came from above, and Christina looked up just in time to scamper out of the way of a Legion soldier's lifeless corpse as it tumbled from the cliff, having been brought down effortlessly by Boone as he covered Moira. The wanderer took a brief moment of solace to inspect the attacker. Is that... a football helmet? Were these guys seriously the biggest threat to the Mojave? A few of the soldiers were advancing upon them, finding safe routes down the cliff in order to get up close and personal. Christina saw one charging towards her friend, machete at the ready, and promptly shot him down with a controlled burst from her rifle, before squatting back down to reload. The rest of the descending soldiers were easy targets for Boone and The Courier. Damn, this guy isn't a bad shot, Christina found herself thinking as she watched him pick off soldiers, one by one. Only one soldier, a legionnaire, remained, but had closed the gap between himself and Boone as the latter stopped to reload. The Lone Wanderer did not dare to fire, for fear of hitting The Courier's friend. All the two of them could do watch as Boone grappled with the soldier, with Moira standing close by, ramrod stiff out of either shock or fear. The scuffle went on for what seemed like minutes, as Boone parried the legionnaire's wild machete swings with his own. Finally, the First Recon soldier managed to kick the soldier backwards, sending him sprawling to the floor. Come on, Boone, you got this, The Courier thought, not thinking to shoot the Legion soldier now that he was exposed, having been too caught up in the fight. Boone went to pounce, but the soldier rolled out of the way, and grabbed something that had been lying on the ground nearby. What is he doing? The Courier thought as the soldier raised the device towards Boone and Moira. Oh shit. "No! Wait!" he cried out. "That's not a..." He was interrupted by a flash of light. Both he and the Lone Wanderer shielded their eyes from the blinding assault, before it dimmed down. Dreading what he might see, he lowered his arm. As he had predicted, Boone, Moira, and the Legion soldier had disappeared, leaving the Transportalponder behind. "...gun."