#a lot of this is like how ncr started but then lost its way

[dykedvonte]

An independent Courier would actually hate being in charge or enforcing standards in New Vegas. At least in my mind.

They made Vegas independent but I feel like that playthrough/style so clearly makes it apparent it isn't for them. They are making Vegas a place where people can live freely, like how House genuinely didn't care what people did but without the behind-the-scenes Big Brother surveillance he did. Having every family, faction, and other influence group or person comes to them about alliances or rules would be draining, and boring, one note.

In an independent Vegas, The Courier is also Independent. They like getting rid of lines and borders that impede freedom, they like to help give people the tool but I don't believe they want to be the one to shape it.

[papakhan]

im really sorry if this question was asked before 😭 but im super interested in khans' relationship with animals. not only like, in the religious way, but with pets and cattle. would love to hear your thoughts on that

Sorry this took me forever to reply I wanted to draw some things for it first but I feel like I'll forget if I don't post now :')

I think the Khans have a lot of different relationships to animals, I think it's pretty interesting how at multiple points they have had some relation to dogs, with their leader even having a guard (who I hc that he considered as his right-hand man, only because there aren't any named New Khans in that role) and in FNV there's cut NCR reports mentioning the Khans hunting dogs (the report actually mentions possible a dozen one group! 12! that's a lot of dogs!)

Personally, I hc that the Khans have their own standard breed of dogs similar to the Legion mongrel that's descendant from Darion's baddog, and you could probably trace its ancestry back to the guard dogs/pets of Vault 15. I think they have a lot of working dogs tho! I already have an oc whos the Khans newest houndmaster, but I think they also have pets, I think working dogs are very valuable to them though

In my story Sun gets given Rex by the King, leading the King to have an unexpected alliance with the Khans because 1. he had no idea who Sun was and just thought Rex seemed happier with him after Sun helped get his brain fixed and 2. Papa was so pleased and IMPRESSED about this other (smaller) gang leader giving his son a working animal/guard dog, I imagine he sent the Kings some real tanners, leather workers and armorers to reinforce their leather jackets or something

Sun also loves his new pubby (and has no idea that he's 200 years old LMAO)

Speaking of dogs, Papa Khan specifically has an association with wolves that isn't really seen anywhere else with the Khans, unless you count Baddog (which the Chosen One isn't even sure IS a dog) which I think is cute and fun for him, the way he calls the courier a cub and the Longhouse the wolf's den. Part of me hcs that it could be something to do with him being a different bloodline to the Death Hand linage but idk I haven't got very far with that. I don't think its a reglious thing, since the Khans have been shown to be areligious from the start, maybe just a splinter group of New Khans he was part of? idk I'm probably overthinking I do think its also interesting that the other 2 raider groups from Vault 15 picked animals to represent themselves and the Khans didnt

I'm gonna write about other animals under the cut because I just rambled about dogs :')

As for other animals, I know its not in game but I think the Khans 100% farm brahmin, at least a little, if only for their dung to make jet. I know the Khans are eating brahmin steak and have brahmin over spits but I think if its their dung specifically that makes jet then they probably would want to avoid killing them just for meat. So maybe brahmin are more like Jack's pets and he names them and loves them so so much. I think the Khans farming bighorners or something would be fun, especially since those are pretty regional to the Mojave so it'd mean that the Khans have picked up on it in the 14 years since they arrived, which is nice for them and something I could totally see them doing

CHICKENS as well this is some really old art I had for fallout chickens and I think the Khans would have them. Maybe not so many though, I think the Khans lost a lot of their animals in Bitter Springs either because they ran off, they got killed or because the Khans had to eat them when they first arrived in Red Rock with no other supplies.

I've also seen some people talk about Khan falconers which I think is SO COOL I'd love them to have that. I know that hunting with eagles is a thing in Mongolia so maybe they could pick it up from the book you get from Ezekiel? Please. I haven't really done anything with it personally but I SHOULD

Last but not least, horses. I think the Khans very much do have horses (because I believe in a horseful fallout) Again, I think a lot of their herd bolted during Bitter Springs but I think the Khans have been working to get them all back. I hc that Khans will insist on a person learning to ride a horse before learning to ride a motorbike because to them it teaches balance (strengthens the right muscles) and co-ordination and also a horse can take you home and bikes use up precious fuel and are usually reserved for the Khans messengers or long distance raiders A lot of the Khan's horses will have NCR branding on their flanks which the Khans usually cover either with their own branding or some other decoration. I think they'd be considered very skilled riders with an average Khan being just as if not more skilled on a horse than an NCR ranger. They do a lot of sport involving horses like their own version of jousting and also shooting on horseback. I hc that a lot of Khans will have their own horse but will also share, the fastest horses are often gifted to people involved in the Khan's communication who need something more subtle then a motorbike, like negotiators or scouts. Horses also pull their carts when the Khans are moving their location. Here's a drawing of Suns other dad Min and his caravan

Thank you for coming to my Khans and animals conference THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[2xplusungood]

Maybe Im just reading too deeply into things but I get the distinct feeling that Obsidian absolutely fucking hated Fallout 3 and it manifests in various subtle ways

One of the most iconic characters in Fallout 3 is the Galaxy News Radio host Three Dog, who has a very bombastic personality, is constantly talking about The Lone Wander's exploits and is a meetable/killable character. In New Vegas, Mr. New Vegas host of Radio New Vegas, is more of a calm, suave sort of character who mentions the courier specifically only once. You never meet him and he's only really mentioned in the game once (That I can remember at least) by Trudy at the start and never again.

Fallout 3's whole deal was the conflict between the blatantly evil Enclave and the blatantly good Brotherhood of Steel. In New Vegas the BoS are back to being cultish isolationists with almost no presence in the mojave and the Enclave is completely absent bar ONE questline that humanizes the people who previously were a part of the Enclave.

Stealth was extremely abuse-able in Fallout 3 with the Chinese Stealth Suit and Stealthboys. Stealthboys in New Vegas aren't nearly as useful and the only people who use it in the storyline are the Nightkin, who are getting mental illnesses from it and Benny, who is IMMEDIATELY captured while trying to use it. You can also find TWO unique Stealth Suits: The Chinese Stealth Suit from F3 which is hidden away in an extremely radioactive part of Hoover Dam and doesn't have its "Stealth field" function and the Stealth Suit Mk II, which constantly talks as a joke and gets you addicted to med-x

Power Armor was a huge part of Fallout 3's identity, appearing heavily in the promotional material and getting Power Armor training is part of the main quest and is near impossible to miss. New Vegas supplants this by having the "Flagship armor" be the NCR Ranger Armor and if you don't do the Brotherhood Questline or For Auld Lang Syne you can easily miss it.

This is more my interpretation but Fallout 3 (As well as 4) tend to glorify the times before the bombs "hey weren't the 1950s fucking AWESOME hey look 50s music! Gingham! Nuclear families!" to a degree that the satirical aspect ends up being completely lost. Hell theres something to be said about Nuka-Cola, a fake brand mimicing overabundance of advertising in the world, becoming what is essentially a real life brand to advertise Bethesdas big AAA game series. New Vegas, on the other hand, takes a giant dump on this idea by almost completely removing the "1950s but future" aesthetic with a much more fantastical "wild west but future" vibe while having a lot of its themes being "for a better future you need to stop clinging to the past"

The Karma system is a core part of Fallout 3 but I cannot stress enough just how much of a fucking meme it is in New Vegas. Like the most common way to gain karma is murder while doing things "looting the camp of the people who just tried to kill you" and "killing/disabling the immortal autocrat of new vegas" give you negative karma so the whole system feels completely random and arbitrary that affects very little in the game which I feel like is entirely intentional to point out how dumb the idea of a "good person/bad person" system in any game is and the reputation system is more "your actions will govern how people see you" rather than some vibe you give off of being good or bad

[sleights-of-hand]

1- Hey! first of all I wanted to tell you that I love Sleights of Hand and with every update my day gets better! How do the guys keep themselves stocked with their medications? I ask because I'm also publishing a fancomic abt Fallout and I'm always struggling to find a balance between the realism of living in a world that has lost a lot of its previous technology and medicine, and still being able to set certain narratives in it.

First of all, congratulations on starting a comic! I wish you a very good time, I hope you’re having a lot of fun working on it! Second off, thank you so much for your kind words! I really appreciate it, and I'm glad you're enjoying my story. <3

To answer your question about how my characters maintain HRT: first, a caveat. I chose a while back not to get bogged down in specifics because I realized early on in writing that the aspects of being trans that are enjoyable for me to write are not the medical ones. I could write about blood tests, prescriptions, doctors, and access to all the aforementioned, but it became clear to me that this was not fun or healing for me. I may explore it in another project one day, but I probably won’t get deep into it with Sleight. That said, I do have some rough idea of how HRT looks for my protagonists!

Lucky is implied to be receiving some regular self-administered dose although I don’t think I canonized whether it’s injectable, topical, or something else. I usually think of him as doing intramuscular injections, though. The only part of this I feel is in any way unrealistic for Fallout's universe is the line where Doc Mitchell mentions giving him a spare dose because injectable T is temperature sensitive-- I will go into this more deeply below the cut. If I had to write my way around this, I would either invent some cooling tool he could use, or I would take the line out and make it a plot point that Lucky must return periodically to some clinic or provider to receive another dose. Since he's a Great Khan, and I headcanon Khans as suppliers of chems for medical use as well as recreational use, I figure this is where he got his T in the past and this who he’d go to first if he needed more.  Nick has different health needs than Lucky which make topical and injectable less viable for him, and different privileges because he was a Ranger, and is an NCR citizen with privileged family willing to advocate for him. He has implanted testosterone pellets to keep his T levels stable, which means he needs to seek out specific medical care from a specific clinic a few times a year to replace them.

Now. A lot of text on storage options below.

I want to begin this section by pointing out that if you’re open to such a solution for your OC, subdermal implantation of T pellets was one of the earliest methods of administering TRT and would basically make storage a nonissue. However if you’d prefer your character use injectable T (or some other form of T) in your story I think you have some options.

When it comes to storage specifically the biggest obstacle I see is temperature. Most medication works best when stored within a certain range of temperature. That said, the game already allows us to run around with injectable chems that never seem to go off. For example it's my understanding that Med-X is injectable morphine, which also has very specific temperature requirements in real life. Yet merchants still carry and sell Med-X, and you + npcs can still walk around with it in your pockets no problem, so I think you could justify the existence of personally-sized temperature controlled storage if you wanted to.

Something that might work for a single person would be a tool like a cooling wallet or tote-sized cooler (sort of like an insulated lunchbox). Tools such as these exist for transporting temperature-sensitive medication such as insulin and EpiPens while traveling. There’s usually a time limit to how long they keep a sufficiently cool temperature, so your character may need to periodically find a working refrigerator or ice or water or whatever method of activation their tool requires to keep everything working. 

As for how your character would get something like this, if they’re a Courier then... maybe they got it from work? After all, wouldn’t it be important for the Mojave Express to have some insulated containers that could be used to safely transport temperature sensitive goods (including medication)? Alternatively, I can see the NCR producing insulated packaging and containers (especially for military use, but maybe some merchants or doctors can source them from California for medical or culinary use too) and that might be how your oc gets ahold of such a thing. 

Another option is to forgo your character having their own stockpile altogether and have them go to a clinic to get their next dose.

TRT has been around in some form for almost ninety years, and there are a variety of medical uses for testosterone, so I think clinics 100% could source and apply T even if it were synthesized elsewhere. Options that come to mind are the NCR, the Followers or Dr. Usanagi's clinic (where she can surgical implant prosthetic aids into people that heighten agility, improve eyesight, and make people more muscular for less money than some guns cost in game... for anyone doubting the feasibility of transitioning in the Mojave...).

Basically I think you have as many or as few options as you want. Fallout has a lot of sci fi tech. What your character has access to could vary spectacularly depending on what you *want* them to have access to for your story.

If I were in your shoes I would probably pick which themes or struggles I want to explore specifically and work those into my plot intentionally; there are just so many solutions a person could come up with based on canon! 

Best of luck with your project!

[ikroah]

You can say that you're leading me on but it's just what I want you to do. Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost? That's why I'm following you. — “Misty,” Johnny Mathis (1959)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #13 - 188 Trading Post

Collaborative Issue! Guest Inks and Colorist: @worthlesssix​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

This is one of my favorite issues I’ve scripted because it’s just Agnes and Cass kind of hanging out, a type of issue I don’t really have a lot of room for in a series that moves forward as deliberately and intentionally as IKROAH does. A year into this pandemic I’m also really, REALLY missing diners, so it was natural for me to interpret the 188 Trading Post as such.

Also, the next issue, #14, is the final issue of Volume One. It feels like I’ve been working towards it forever, but also that it’s sneaked up on me so fast. Anyway, it’ll be out two weeks from today on March 27th. Readers, I’ll see you in Boulder City then.

Also also, it seems like @worthlesssix​ is just destined to do the inks and colors on all of the scripts that I love the most, because she really painted this one in a lush, warm, lovely style that just took my breath away. The desert sun, all the intimate little details of the 188, the mauvish and cracking overpass...just an absolute privilege to work with such a wonderful artist and friend a second time on this project.

Also also also, the traveler in the gas mask chatting up Veronica is Charlie, who belongs to @jepsxyhn​ / @comrade-shrimp. It was so much fun to draw them in! There’s tragically not a lot of good crowd scenes in IKROAH for cameos like this, or else I’d do them more.

Also also also ALSO...that butterfly on the Forecaster’s finger is a desert black swallowtail, a native to the Mojave! Just a fun detail, in case you were curious.

Original Pencils (click for full size):

Six’s inks and colors on this issue are so incredible and stylish that I almost forget that the she drew it over the skeleton of my own pencils. But yes! Every line, every detail, every tough perspective shot was real lead on real paper first, and to be honest, folks, I’m really proud of these ones, especially the deep shot of the Forecaster and Gun Runners on the third page. Note the extremely intense Frankensteining that went into the first and second page. The reason there’s two floating mugs in the pencils for the first page was because I originally intended for there to be three panels, not two, with one of the panels being Cass taking a sip, and the other panel being her saying it was too bitter. And then...I just fucked up the pencils, haha. But the layout was definiely better for it, it would have been too cramped otherwise. I also decided against “switching” the top two panels like I originally must have intended.

Transcript:

EXT. 188 TRADING POST.

AGNES SANDS and CASS are seated at the small, sheltered bar of the 188, having a late breakfast and coffee. A few other travelers stand around or sit, with MICHELLE KERR manning the counter. The RADIO behind the bar is playing, and CASS takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee as MR. NEW VEGAS introduces a song:

RADIO: You know, sometimes the journey beats the destination. Especially when your spurs go "jingle, jangle, jingle," and you meet some nice gals along the way. We'll be back with some news, after this.

CASS: That's not bad. Smoky. A bit too bitter.

AGNES: A bit too bitter?

CASS: I guess I'm not one for strong flavors.

AGNES: Not one for...? Cass, when I first met you, you were deep in six bottles of whiskey.

CASS: And I was deep in another six last night trying to forget what Searchlight smelled like. Sorry to disappoint, but maybe I've just burned my taste buds off by now.

(NOTE: *IKROAH #11—Lou.)

CASS bites into her sandwich with a CRONCH, then looks askance at AGNES.

CASS: I didn't do anything embarrassing last night, did I? I don't remember much.

AGNES: Not that I know of. When I went up to our room, you were still talking to that sniper. I was asleep already before you came back.

CASS: Uh-huh.

Beat. AGNES takes a bite of her omelette, CASS has some more coffee.

AGNES: Wait a minute. You were already out when I woke up, too. You did come back to our room, right?

CASS: OHHHH MY GOD, now I remember.

CASS’ head hits the bar with a miserable THUD.

AGNES: How bad?

CASS: You ever try to come onto a guy who's grieving his dead wife?

AGNES (sipping coffee): No, I don't come onto men in general.

CASS: Ha ha. Funny. Good for you that you don't have this problem. Ugh.

MICHELLE swings by the two, a pot of coffee in her hand.

MICHELLE: More coffee, ladies?

CASS, head still down, gestures her mug affirmatively.

CASS: Please. My head’s still killing me.

RADIO: ...aaaaand we're back, folks. It's midday in the Mojave, and boy, is it a hot one out there...or is it just me?

RADIO: Our top story today...the stand-off at Boulder City between the NCR and a splinter group of Great Khans has entered its third straight day of tensions.

AGNES (flash of recognition): Huh.

RADIO: The Khans refuse to yield their hostages, but they can't stay holed up much longer, according to an NCR spokesperson. Folks...let's just hope they don't blow it up again, am I right?

AGNES: Cass, do you hear this? Those might be the Khans who shot me.

CASS: I thought you said some guy in a checkered suit shot you.

AGNES: He hired two Khans as help.

CASS: Alright, so the accomplices to your attempted murder might be in Boulder City, and you want to...do what, exactly?

AGNES: I...I, uh...

CASS: Just saying, if you rush in guns blazing, all you're gonna do is get yourself killed. For real this time.

CASS: I'm not saying don't go...if all this had happened to me, I'd make all these fuckers choke on the end of my shotgun. But we're really going to need a plan, is all.

AGNES: We? So you don't mind squaring up against Khans?

CASS: I'm a red-blooded Californian, ain't I? Fuck the Khans. Speaking of, it's not like the NCR and them are having a tea social together. How do you suggest we interrupt a standoff?

AGNES stands up, throwing some caps onto the counter with a jingling of light, metallic KLINKA-KLINK sounds.

AGNES: We'll just...think of something when we get there. We should probably go now, too, if we want to get to Boulder City before nightfall.

AGNES starts to leave as CASS gets halfway out of her own stool, hurriedly finishing her coffee.

AGNES: Come on.

RADIO: ...you know, they say no news is good news, but I think my program would be awfully dull if that were the case.

RADIO: You’re gonna love this next song. I guarantee it.

[katerix]

(How old is New Vegas? And it’s still my fav part! I feel like I need more Raul content even after all these years🥺)

Drink with the living dead

Characters: Raul Tejada x Reader Summary:  Courier and her companion returned to New Vegas after a long wandering to get a drink and gamble, but faced serious inhospitality. Six was not ready to leave her friend behind, so they changed their plans. Warnings: - Words: 2781

***

It was almost half past midday, when a dusty dirty road to New Vegas welcomed the wanderers with just another sandstorm without any declaration of war. Courier’s mirror aviator sunglasses could hardly stand that gusts of winds, so she decided to hide it in the pocket of her jacket until the better times. Six and her ghoul-companion were on foot for nearly five hours, and now the hightower of «Lucky 38» looked huge in contradiction from its look an hour ago.

It was not their first visit to New Vegas, but every time she saw a glowing and sparkling casino’s signs, she was bringing up the idea of going there and wasting an evening gambling and drinking. Just like everyone does. The fact that she spent here some time, passing all the entertaining places by, met with Mr. House and performed several missions for NCR ambassador, but still never took a break to try some of those things, these poor fellows from all Mojave wasteland were arriving for - was a crime by its definition.

Coddling this thought, Courier continued to trudge the nasty weather, until they walked up to the Northern gates of Freeside.

- What’s the plan when we reach Strip, boss? - asked Raul, shaking his dull-green jumpsuit down: it all was full of pervasive grains of sand, as well as the girl’s clothes.

- At first I wanna visit the «Lucky 38» apartment and change the outfit, then go to the bar and win big in the kazino!

- Perfect plan, chief, ironclad like my revolver. - the ghoul was sarcastic as usual, but didn’t evince any sight of disagreement.

When she turned around to continue movement, he added: “Wait, amigo, there's a tuft of straw stuck under your collar.” - and carefully extracted an annoying piece of flora, stuck to during the storm.

“Gracias!” - Six smiled widely and made a fast gesture of gratitude with her hand. Without wasting time, they passed heavy metallic gates.

Freeside met companions with a funky, stinking smell. She still couldn't get used to it. Dusty air seemed to mar the cityscape: it looked much pale and lighter than from the outside. Just fifteen minutes and they’ll reach the destination. The picture couldn’t be called unusual for this time of the day in this part of town: one or two shabby hobos against the dingy walls, kids in wrecked clothes playing a tag-game in the area of the «Mick & Ralph's», random citizens with roving glances, sneaking around, wasting their time in an idle attempts to figure out how to spend their life in this Dump. On the other hand, there are many places where people live even worse: take a look at Westside, for instance.

«What a hopeless sight, - thought the girl. - Hope the Followers are really able to do something about this in the future».

- Something on your mind, boss? - it felt like nothing could hide from Raul’s inquisitive look.

- Just thinking. I find this picture quite dismal, like there’s no tomorrow, and humanity is still doomed. Like there’s no chance to restore life, as it was before.

- When we are on the road again, I’ll tell you about the Football Cup in Mexico, if you like to hear another one “before the Bomb” story. - he obviously picked up on her mood and decided to cheer up the girl, carefully diverting the theme.

- I do. Have you attended it?

- Sure thing. That was a big day. We drove to the capital to see it with our own eyes.

- Sounds pretty good! Let’s not ruin the intrigue.

- You asked.

They passed a small cross-road, which didn't have to be called like that anymore, as it was just one of the ghosts of the past with it’s burned skeletons of cars, left here motionless as evidence of human lost ambitions. The air in this part of the town was stale, despite the fact that they were in the streets, the smell of some broiling meat and spoiled vegetables was sticky like an ant's nectar. Sudden wild cryings and shouts were heard from the nearest dead end. 

One glance was enough to understand that the Kings had cornered swashers, their prey, who were too fucked up and all-fired sure of themselves to attack the town’s main showrunners just a couple of minutes ago. And the Courier was not going to do anything about that: she herself was nearly butchered by one of them, shown up from nowhere. If it was not her loyal companion who dealt with it with one precise shot, she, probably, would be dead by now.

It took more than ten minutes to cover the distance between the East and Strip gates - right now there was no reason to hurry. As they got closer, the protectrons took up their positions immediately. One of them articulated “Move along” with a familiar metallic cold of lifeless voice of his, when companions were passing by.

“Never liked these guys. They are like slow mines: you never know what they do the next second.” - grunted out the Courier, as two of them found themselves on the first line of the Strip between “Lucky 38” and “Gomorrah”.

“Hey, so who is an old one here?” - the ghoul chuckled in response.

She went ahead, so he could never see how her lips slightly bended in a ready-to-laugh smile.

***

Presidential luxe met nomads with a deep, wrapping silence of a broad, gloomy space. This was definitely not the place a person could wish to stay in: walls with, once being gorgeous - now - greasy dark-wine wallpapers were giving an oppressive feeling. Six was happy that they didn’t have to stay here for long. Only to sleep or change the outfit maybe.

She got near to the wardrobe in her room, where the majority of things, accumulated during the long travels, were stored. Took out two dresses, went to the guest-room with a billiards. Raul was civilly waiting for her there.

- What you think? Which one?

He raised up his head, looked from under the sunglasses for several seconds, examining, and answered in a casual tone:

- It’s really up to you, boss. - made a pause, then added, like a little confused: - But I like the pink one. Might look graceful.

- Great! Exactly the one I wanted to pick.

The ghoul just gave her a hesitant nod, wondering if she noticed that detail. Courier went back to her sleeping-room and returned after some minutes, informing: “Ready to go! The next stop is “Ultra-Luxe”, yee-haw!”

***

After a while they were in the street again. All they needed was just to reach the second line of the Strip and pass a hundred meters to the “Ultra-Luxe”. Lots of NCR soldiers were hanging around, goofing off, as long as they had a chance, and indulging in lust in the nearest private clubs. Nothing unexpectable. When they passed by a small group of drunk, barely balancing on their feet big guys, Six suddenly heard a hushed voice from behind her back, addressing his teammates. “Do they let ghouls on the Strip now? Perfect, let’s make it a spooky ghost-town.”

“Yeah. That’s why civilization will start floating away again. Our attempts are meaningless.”

Only just Courier wanted to turn around and shout out something to those sons of a b or event take out a gun and shoot beneath their feet, Raul caught her arm:

- Hey, hey, calm down, that’s okay. NCRs are many here, you know, even for a dashing rider like you, boss. Even with me backing you up. From behind the farthest stone.

- But we can’t simply swallow that shit, Raul!

He just spreaded his hands:

- Fine, then go shoot them and be killed by protectrones because of two drunk idiots. Very helpful, chief. I’ll stay all alone, without my beloved companion but with a protected pride. Thank’s.

Six stood still for some seconds and nodded after that.

- Fine. Whatever.

Then merely continued walking in the direction of the cazino. The ghoul hesitated for a bit. He understood that she was acting out of good intentions and she just wanted to protect her partner, as she was the one who had a right of speech here. And that made his heart melt and he was silently praising her for that, because nobody seemed to do anything like that for him in a while. But picking a fight with these dummies, who fill the streets of Strip like water fills the canyon, was not wise.

“Sorry for that, Niña. I really appreciate what you do. I just don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You don’t notice, but there are often lots of sidelong looks and hardly heard whisperings along the way. I'm used to it and don’t want it to affect you.” - he tried to lighten things up.

The girl turned her head a bit just for him to see her glance softening.

- Let’s just reach the bar and relax.

*** 

An unexpected trouble struck them further - black line has not ended yet. Courier already picked her place at the bar desk in the distant hall and ordered a glass of whiskey, when a bartendress leaned over and said in a low tone:

“I’m sorry, but here, in “Ultra-Luxe”, we serve only the citizens and guests of the Strip. I’m able to bring a drink only for you, ma’m.”

That was the last drop of her patience. The girl slowly raised her head at the bartendress, ready to blow up, and responded:

- Are you fucking kidding me?

- That’s the rule. I don’t need problems. You can ask any guard or another worker.

She bowed her head and gave a fast hidden glance at her ghoul-companion. He was sitting there next to her and looking straight at his arms crossed on the desk, like he had nothing to do with it. But he, of course, heard every word. His eyes weren't moving, just a finger was slightly knocking the air, producing a rhythm he alone knew. Six couldn’t even imagine what her friend might feel at the moments like that. An anger came upon her.

“Are you all that scumbags here? Keep your drinks for acceptable ones. Ma’m.” - the girl said, getting up from her barstool and heading towards the exit.

Raul stood up without a word and, as he always did, followed Courier. He had mixed emotions. On the one hand he was glad they left that place and that Six is such a kind and loyal partner, but on the other hand he felt a little guilty for himself. After all, it was him who was the reason for such inhospitality in some kind of place. Even now she couldn’t get what she wished for so hard. Her idea of “winning big” in the kazino seemed to be falling apart, as together they won’t be even let to the gambling table. And she, obviously, won’t leave him in the street and have fun on her own, and an old ghoul didn’t want to be a ball and chain.

- Boss? Are you sure we need to leave? Maybe you’d better stay there? And I’d wait for you somewhere else or go back to “Lucky 38”. Fresh air won’t do any harm for my old lungs.

- What are you even talking about? You know, even the best drink worth nothing, if there’s no one to share it with.

- You have a heart of gold, chiff. - these words came fast, in an undertone, as if he was embarrassed, - Well, I saw a small sign in Freeside. I believe we’ve never been in that part of the city before.

- Hope it’s not an «Atomic Wrangler».

- Nope.

- Great! You lead. They passed the ruins, generously spread all over the suburbs, while every their step sounded louder thanks to trash, small pieces of brick and other rubbish. The sun was already going down and the heat was getting less intense.

Finally they reached a small inconspicuous wooden door. Only a little sign next to it represented that place as a bar.

As they entered, nothing changed. There was not much to be changed. There were no crowds of gamblers, no fancy casino machines and no shiny-polished bar desk. Bartender was a man in old ragged clothes, probably in his late fifties. He was slowly wiping cut glasses with a gray dusty piece of fabric full of holes.

When the companions stepped in the room he just looked up at them without raising up his head and got back to his plain, simple activity. There were not many customers besides the two of them. A woman was sleeping on the table in the far corner - her head rested on her arms while her shoulders were calmly going up and down. Another guest settled down at the edge of the bar desk.

“Fancy,” - giggled the girl.

“Ah, let’s get down. Ladies first.” - Raul just waved his hand.

Six made a few steps in the direction of the bar desk and sat down, Raul followed her.

“Barman! Two beers, please”. - she laid some bottle caps in front of him.

The barkeeper took them and then put two opened bottles onto the surface.

“Bon appetit.”

Courier took her bottle up and clinked it loudly with Rauls one. His soft non-blinking sight of half closed eyes was locked on hers, while he made a sip. His heart always went pop when it felt like there were just two of them in the world, though he never showed that.

Raul looked around and suddenly his eyes stopped on a guitar lurked behind the racks.

“Hey, can I…?”

The barman followed ghoul’s gaze and shrugged his shoulders: “This piece of wood? Be my guest.”

In the next second he was on his feet. The courier raised her eyebrows as she almost forgot if she saw him that agile. Raul approached the metal shelves, put aside some garbage and waste paper, then carefully extracted the instrument and blew away the dust.

Six and the bartender were watching him closely. The ghoul got back to his chair, sat down crossing his legs to position the guitar more comfortably. Then pulled the first string to check out the tuning. It was no surprise that it was out of tune, so the next minute Raul spent trying to fix the instrument.

When everything, as he thought, was ready, he played a couple of notes in fingerstyle to flex some life back into his fingers. After nearly 200 years the skill was obviously weakened.

“I didn’t know that you could play the guitar.” - said the girl.

“Sure you didn’t. I never told about that.” - he looked back at her with a little smirk, - “What was the point if there were no music instruments left anyway?”

He laid his right arm down on the body of the guitar, fingers on the cracked wooden surface, and took a deep breath.

At first Courier could hardly hear or see the slightest movement of ghoul's fingers on strings, but soon the sound became more clear. She was sitting there with a bottle in her hand, unable to look away from her companion.

The sound of slow mexican melody floated across the room, filling every corner of the room with itself. The windows were closed with wooden boards from the outside, so the sunlight was trickling down through narrow gaps between them. Warm light was leaving gold-yellow lines on the walls, tables and the bardesk where the Courier and Raul were sitting. She could even see the tiniest specks of dust freeze in the air. The ghouls face was half hidden by a shadow and the sunbeams were highlighting one of his eyes which now looked like a beautiful transparent crystal and his hands all covered with veins and partially with thin skin.

The whole space imbued with peace and calm, even the impenetrable bartender set his glass aside and leaned his head on the hand, listening to the sensual music.

They travelled together for a while now, but never before had Six seen him the way she did now. Something new was arising in her soul.

“Hey chief,” - Raul closed his eyes and slightly threw back his head grinning a little, fingers still dancing over the strings. - ”You’re the best friend and partner one could ever wish for, you know. Thank you for always being on my side.”

“Raul, I’ll never leave my partner in crime behind!” - she chuckled as she felt like something pinned her heart.

The ghoul continued playing the tune without opening his eyes. A grin turned into a soft smile and the feeling of joy span all over him for the first time in a while.

“I’m following you to the world’s end, boss.”

Also, here’s a link to this fanfic on my AO3 (gif is mine \ use credits if repost)

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[believerindaydreams]

Hey I might as well write my Boone and Manny meet Carla story, huh?

Manny

Usually, you know, the charm wears off the Strip after a while. A soldier gets too caught up in the slots and winds up broke; or indulges too much in the chems that the NCR wishes House would ban, which he won't; or gets kicked out of the Gomorrah for having partied a little too freely and gets tossed in the slammer.

But I'm from here and Boone's vices aren't really in the direction of being a party animal, so it's never stopped being a good vibe for us. Right up to now, anyway.

"C'mon, we'll miss the next Tops show if we dawdle."

Boone pulls his hand out of mine, lets it linger too close to his machete for comfort. "That girl over there. Think she's in trouble?"

"If she is, so what? That's a job for the MP."

He ignores me and approaches her. Lil' bit taller than Boone, dark hair and light skin, buck teeth that show when her mouth's open. Such as when she's shouting.

"How can you change the terms on me like this? That braiding alone is worth an extra ten caps a piece!"

"Times change," a Mr Handy says, one that's holding, surrounded by, and wearing a ridiculous number of hats. "These aren't the good old days, and vendor licenses for the Strip are increasing in price. I'm only passing that fee along."

"Oh, yeah? Suppose I took that NCR contract and went over to making army caps full time, where would you be then?"

The robot has a try at an apologetic shrug. "If the opportunity is available to you, Ma'am, you would be best served by taking it up. I fear I am not long for this cruel, cruel world-"

"Axles, you'll outlive the rest of the vault. Just shut up, would you?" She starts packing hats into a vendor trunk.

"You okay?" Boone asks her.

"Sure. Fine. Exasperated out of my wits- hey, either of you want to buy a hat? Good quality, hand made by yours truly."

"I already have one," Boone says, pointing at his First Recon beret.

She snorts. "I can smell it from here. Centuries old US surplus, scratchy wool, with that weird greasy lining that makes your forehead sweat like nobody's business. Have a look at this. I make it myself, from soft Bighorner hides..."

It's my unofficial job to keep Boone out of trouble on leave, sure; but damn, I can enjoy a good sales pitch when I see one. She butters him up, gets into his space to hold up a mirror as he tries the new beret; I can see the way her fingers brush against his flank, the little shiver of pleasure he gives at her touch.

"-and I'll maintain it too, if you like. Someone came in with a bullet hole through their cap the other day, you couldn't tell the difference when I was done mending."

"Huh."

Okay, so it's cute.

But I think the Strip has well and truly lost its charm.

*****

Next day's the end of our leave; we're going back to Camp Golf for awhile, until the higher-ups decide how to process everyone. Winning at Hoover Dam left a lot of holes, else we wouldn't be in First Recon at all.

Still, they're not too busy that coming back six hours after he was due to check in goes unnoticed. He gets written up, which is unusual for Boone, and obviously doesn't care, which is more so.

"So. How's playing for the other team?"

"Every damn thing that could go wrong went wrong," Boone says, as we get on the monorail. This time of night it's easy to get a solo car, that's something. "The singer we were gonna see at the Tops killed himself. Some asshole said something about the Khans at the Ultra-Luxe, and...long story short, we got kicked out."

"...thanks."

He grins. "She didn't mind. But I couldn't take her to the Gomorrah."

"Why not?"

"What kind of sick would I be, inviting a date to the Gomorrah? Not happening."

I've taken him there. The recollection of it suddenly gets very uncomfortable.

"So she said she'd take me to the Vault 21 diner instead...and you know, it was fine. We talked a lot. Or she did. I listened."

"Uh-huh."

"She used to live there, before Mr House destroyed the vault. Said she'll never forgive him for it...guess I don't blame her."

I can think of someone I might never forgive, by the name of Vargas, Manny. Why the hell did I go catch up with friends instead of inviting myself along?"

"...she wanted to see me again next time I have leave. I said yes."

"Mmm."

He's still looking stupidly happy. "You know, I owe you. All that advice you gave me, how to be confident even if I am quiet."

Yep, I sure did shoot myself in the foot on this one. Maybe she wouldn't have looked twice at Boone if he still had that stupid pudding bowl haircut. "Don't mention it."

"Thanks."

He ends up snoring his way into a happy stupor, leaned against my shoulder; and I let him and wonder how many more times he'll do that.

[aspiringhorrorauthor]

With A Little Help From My Friends

For @chaosintheavenue ‘s Fallout Mini-bang Event! I worked with the insanely talented and awesome @paladinthrockmorton for the event, please check their blog out! 

Game: Fallout 2

Characters: Chosen One OC, Goris, Lenny, Marcus, Sulik, Vic, New Khans, Darion

Summary: The Chosen One and his crew are headed to the Squat to try and get access to Vault 15, both on request of the NCR and to try and find the fabled Vault 13. On the way, they run into a strange, cloaked man, wandering through the desert alone.

(Read it on AO3 here if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27857697)

Without further ado, here is ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’!

Two hundred years of sand, stubborn enough to not have shifted from its spot, flew out of the way of the car tires as the Highwayman sped past. The people of California were used to strange sights in the post-apocalypse; massive mutants, zombie-like people and reluctant heroes with a purpose, but seeing all of those crammed into an antique car, darting through the desert, was another sight altogether.

Add in that they were all wearing scavenged sunglasses, slowing down each time they passed travellers on the road to let them ogle, occasionally leaping out to shoot molerats, and the spectacle was certainly unique. Marcus was wedged in the back between Vic and Sulik, with Lenny sat up front, silently pleased of winning shotgun simply by being the only one who knew how to drive and teaching the car’s owner. The driver himself was Theo, far from his home in Arroyo, and loving the freedom of his car. Lenny was very glad there was hardly anything to run over out here, though.

They were headed to Vault 15, travelling East from NCR, with maybe only another couple of hours to go. The end of Theo’s grand quest was so near, if the stories were to be believed. As soon as he dealt with the squatters, and accessed the Vault’s computer system, he could find Vault 13, where he’d finally get the GECK to save his village. Victory was so close he could almost taste it.

A hooded figure at the side of the road caught his attention as the car shot past, too fast for the stranger to have really appreciated his beloved car. So Theo braked and reversed it to meet back up with them, rolling down his window and keeping his car going at a crawl to match the hunched stranger’s shuffling pace.

“Beautiful day today!” Theo called out cheerfully. The stranger lifted their head, but Theo couldn’t spot their face through the cloak.

“Ideal weather for a stroll,” the stranger agreed, an unusual tone to his voice that Theo couldn’t quite place. Theo scrunched up his face; sure, at this time of year the desert was somewhat cooler, but an aimless stroll in this heat was never a good idea, and who went strolling this far away from civilisation?

“What do you mean, a stroll? You’re days of walking from anywhere, mate,” Theo pointed out. The stranger seemed to shrug under his cloak.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m heading to NCR, but I may have gotten lost on the way,” the stranger gave an odd sort of laugh. Theo bit his lip; this stranger barely looked able to walk properly, never mind fight off any threats out here.

“Uh, you know there’s rumours about deathclaws roaming around these parts, right?” Theo asked. “Big, sharp fellows, could rip a super mutant apart in a jiffy?”

“Oh yes. Perfectly agreeable fellows, always keen for a reasonable debate,” the stranger replied, his tone so solemn that it was difficult to tell if it was a joke or not. Lenny shot a look of concern at Theo; who would want to debate a deathclaw?

“M-maybe he’s been out in the sun too long?” Lenny suggested quietly, to which Theo sighed. Of course he’d run into someone needing help out here, didn’t he always? Curse his good nature.

“Hey, we’re running some errands first, but we’ll be heading to NCR after. Want a lift?” Theo asked. The stranger paused, peering into the car, where Marcus waved back.

“It seems crowded in there already. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. Lenny, jump in the back, will ya?”

Theo stopped the car, giving Lenny time to squeeze in between Sulik and Marcus while the stranger settled into the empty front seat. His cloak sat strangely around his body, hanging too long at the arms, and the bottoms were scruffed up from dragging along the floor. The stranger took a moment to get comfortable, as if they weren’t used to sitting in seats. Well, car seats anyway. Theo held out his hand.

“Call me Theo. What do I call you?”

“My name is Goris, I’m a travelling scholar,” Goris nodded slightly, but didn’t shake Theo’s hand, “Forgive the robe, but genetics hasn’t been kind to me. I tend to scare people.”

“Well, you’re in good company here,” Theo laughed, shifting the car into gear. “Hold onto your hood Goris, this baby’s got speed.”

The car sped across the desert like a bullet, Goris desperately holding down his hood while the wind roaring through the open windows tried to blow it off. Marcus offered him a bottle of water at one point, but Goris declined it, seemingly too enraptured by the speed they were travelling at.

The drive was peaceful; they didn’t run into any further trouble on the way. Goris was keen to talk to all of them, asking about each of the towns they came from and grilling them for questions on their histories. Soon they came across the spot that Tandi had marked out for them, the squatter camp located just outside the Vault that was stopping NCR from gaining access. Theo offered to let Goris stay in the car, but the draw of possibly learning the history of the squatter camp pulled him from it.

The Squat, as Tandi had referred to the camp, was a squalid little shanty town bordered by trees, made up of tents and inhabited by nervous looking locals. The tents were weather beaten and worn, the tears spoke of years of being dragged down in a hurry, with patches sloppily sewn into place where the tears had become holes. The greyed out colour of what could possibly be the original fabric was mostly covered by the patches, the only hint it had once covered the whole tent being it’s unusual material and how often it was seen on separate tents. But mostly, the tents looked old, as if they’d been standing when the bombs, and still stood out of sheer determination. At the far side stood a more permanent building than the tents, still crumbling and falling apart. The roof was more of an old umbrella than something to keep out all weather. It was bordered by a rough forest gnarled trees, with a guard patrolling them.

The squatters, dressed in clothes only slightly younger than the tents themselves, watched them closely as they made their way to the permanent building, keeping a distance from the strangers. Theo waved at a child staring slack jawed, only for their mother to whisk them away.

“Don’t you just love a warm welcome, boss?” Vic deadpanned under his breath.

The only permanent building in the camp seemed like the best place to try and find someone who was in charge. Theo knocked on the door, and let himself in, only to narrowly dodge a rock that flew at him.

“Oh no, not dealing with you NCR lot today. Out!” a man on the other side of the door yelled at them. Theo picked up the rock and glared back.

“Hey arsehole, your rock nearly hit my head,” he called out, “Learn to aim, dipshit!”

“I told you to leave. We don’t want your kind around here,” the man insisted Theo tossed the rock back to Marcus, who crushed it between his hands while the man watched, slack jawed and terrified.

“You don’t want to make an enemy of us, old man,” Theo warned. The old man staggered backwards, “good thing we don’t want a fight you. We’ll come back later when you’re in a more agreeable mood,” Theo slammed the door behind him, taking a step back before yelling. “Arseholes! This wasteland has two types of people in it; arseholes, and people who want something from me!”

“What does that make us, boss?” Vic asked in mock offence. Theo rolled his eyes.

“Oh don’t get me started. You needed to be rescued from slavers. You,” Theo pointed at Sulik, “needed a debt paid off. You,” Theo pointed at Marcus, “Needed a murder solving and your mine fixing. You,” Theo pointed at Goris, then faltered. Technically, Goris hadn’t asked for his help at all, “Well, I’m sure you’re just here for the car ride. And Lenny,” Theo turned to point at Lenny, only to find him missing. “Wait, where’s Lenny?”

Everyone else looked around in bewilderment; none of them had noticed him leaving at all, and there were no signs of Lenny anywhere. With a resigned sigh, Theo started to wander between the tents, lifting heavy flaps and yelling Lenny’s name under each one, much to the ire of the squatters within. He eventually found Lenny quietly talking with an older lady, who looked terrified.

“Oh Lenny, did you round a corner too quickly and scare people again?” Theo asked with a mock tone of concern to his voice.

“Her d-daughter’s m-missing, possibly kidnapped.” Lenny stated. All mirth drained from Theo’s face in an instant, as his hand went to his gun. Hero time.

“Your daughter, do you have any idea where she might be?” Theo asked. The lady glanced between Lenny and Theo, biting her lip.

“There’s people in the vault, just East of here. Chrissy’s too adventurous for her own good, I was always catching her trying to sneak out there. The people don’t want us going anywhere near there, so maybe they--”

“Hang on,” Theo interrupted her, quietly stepping back towards the tent flap, dragging it away just in time to see someone rush away from the tent.

“Were they listening?” The woman asked in horror. Theo gave chase as Lenny tried to reassure her but had lost track of the person by the time Theo rounded the tent corner. Instead Theo ran up to the rest of his crew.

“Did someone just run past?”

“Someone just passed that guard over there,” Vic pointed to a guard stood by the edge of the trees, “why?”

Without answering, Theo turned and lead the way towards the forest. The guard, patrolling the outskirts, caught up with them, stopping Theo in his tracks.

“You might want to turn around stranger, there’s nothing to see here.” She said.

“What are you guarding?” Theo asked, standing up on his tip toes to try and see over the guard’s shoulder. She stood up taller to block him again.

“I’m not guarding anything, just making sure no-one wanders off this way.”

“Then why not guard the way into the desert that way?” Theo pointed to the far side of the Squat.

“Why do you care anyway?”

“A young girl has been kidnapped. D-did you see someone pass by here?” Lenny asked. The guard stopped for a minute, looking torn.

“…Yes, they did. Do you think they’re linked to it?”

“Almost definitely.”

The guard sighed, running a hand through her hair and looking back through the trees, before finally coming to a conclusion. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. They hired me to stop anyone passing through after they had troubles with the girl snooping, I’m not with the people that took her, honest. You can go through. Just, don’t tell them I let you in, and save Chrissy, okay?”

Theo gave her a wink and took the lead through the copse of trees, more dense than any forest in a desert had a right to be. But the branches looked gnarled and dead, as if whatever had let them grow in the first place had run its magic and left them to suffer alone. At some point, this place must have been verdant, but now it was as worn down and withered as the Squat itself, a fitting nest for the camp. Theo ran a hand down the bark out of curiosity, pulling away large chunks effortlessly.

The trees thinned out again, marking the edge of the small forest, and bringing into view a shack  that stood in a clearing near a wall of rocks that boasted a poorly hidden metal door. Another guard, this time wearing armour unlike any Theo had ever seen, leant against the shack wall, smoking a cigarette. He stared at the crowd, removed the cigarette and rubbed it out against the wall behind him as Theo marched closer, laser pistol in hand.

“The fuck do you want?” The man snarled.

“We’re looking for a missing girl, do you know anything about that?” Theo asked. The man eyed up Theo with a look of disdain.

“Maybe we do? What are you gonna do about it?” He taunted.

“You’re looking at a crew with a supermutant and asking what we’ll do about it? I’ll give you three fucking guesses. Where’s Chrissy?” Theo demanded, gripping his laser pistol tighter.

“As if I’d give her over that easily to a little punk like you. Nah, we can have some fun with her yet.” The guard teased.

“Up yours and eat a bullet breakfast, arsehole.” Theo snapped, getting a lucky quick shot that hit the man straight in his eye. His body slumped against the wall as footsteps from inside the house rushed towards the door, unlocking it.

“What’s--” The woman that appeared didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence as Marcus aimed his minigun at her, tearing her apart in a flurry of guts. Once the gun stopped spinning, Theo rushed over to the body, searching for the keys and pulling them out with triumph. Meanwhile, Vic and Sulik rushed into the house, weapons at the ready, checking each room was empty.

“There’s a locked door at the back!” Vic called out. Theo rushed to meet up with him, quickly unlocking the door, only for it to fly open in his face as a teenage girl rushed out, kicking Vic in the groin and making for the front door, to find it inadvertently blocked by Marcus and Goris.

“Chrissy, I presume?” Theo called after her, holding his bleeding nose. “Your mom sent us.”

///////////////////

“The mayor’s quite nice when he’s not throwing rocks at me, isn’t he?” Theo snickered, spinning the key card in his fingers as they headed back to the shack. Chrissy’s mother had been overjoyed that she’d been returned safely and convinced the man in charge to let Theo’s crew deal with the raiders in the vault on their behalf. The ones that had taken Chrissy were just the surface crew, and had been paying the squatters in ill-gotten gains to keep the NCR away, but if he could get rid of the raiders, who called themselves ‘New Khans’, then maybe they’d deal with the NCR again. Well, at least he was getting into the vault now. Even if it was to help someone else again, “why is the name ‘New Khans’ so familiar anyway?”

It was mostly a rhetorical question, but the rest of his group looked baffled by it. Clearly it wasn’t for them.

“I think I’ve heard locals speak of some old rivalry between a raider gang and the NCR, maybe this is the raider gang?” Goris suggested.

“Maybe.” Theo agreed quietly. Maybe another of his grandfather’s adventures involved the Khans, and he was just keeping up with family tradition. “Hey, Goris, you don’t need to come with us, you know. We’re going to wipe out a raider camp, it’ll likely get a little hairy and I can’t promise we can cover for you.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. I can handle myself.” Goris assured him. Theo couldn’t keep the doubt from his face.

“They’ll be armed, and deadly. We can come get you after we clear it if you’re desperate to look around the vault, you know.” Theo tried again.

“Thank you, but I am more than capable of keeping myself safe. I do usually wander the wastes alone. I would like to return your kindness from earlier.” Goris insisted.

“Well, alright. It’s your funeral.” Theo shrugged and swiped the keycard in a slot in the door, stepping back and watching the rusted old door slowly open with an ear piercing creak. Beyond it lay a cave lit by primitive torches. With a small wave to tell them to keep quiet, Theo led the way in, running a hand against the wall to keep on track if the torches went out. The rocks were dark dry, but sturdy, Theo couldn’t pull out any stones with his bare fingers; a sensible choice to build a vault in, he supposed. The deeper they went, the darker it got; the rocks seeming to absorb light, until, more often than not, Theo couldn’t even see his own hand brushing against the walls through the blackness. Very easy for the raiders to hide in.

“Who the fuck are you?” Came a sudden bark from further in the cave, causing Theo to jump, hand reaching for his laser pistol. Damnit, he could barely even see down here, never mind shoot. He needed a different plan.

“Uh, new recruit?” He hazarded.

“Oh, right, yeah. Go on in.” The Khan replied. Barely believing his luck, Theo stepped forward, still holding his pistol ready, but the Khan didn’t react, just waved him and his oddly shaped entourage along. “You’ll want to see Darion, he’s on the bottom level.”

“Darion, got it.” Theo nodded. Past a turn, the cave opened up somewhat, with more torches giving him a better view of it. He recognised the vault door, almost identical in design to the one on Vault 8, except this one lay discarded on the floor, far past repair. Some more Khans stood around in the cave, chatting, paying him little attention. They made their way through the empty doorway and through the halls of the vault. It stank of rust, and the lights didn’t seem to work, the same torches from within the cave illuminating the metal hallways with only marginally more success. This vault had long been abandoned; it didn’t have the crisp, clean, almost sterile look to it like Vault 8 had; this was beyond disrepair, it was a health hazard; a tetanus epidemic just waiting to happen. They tried to avoid touching the walls as much as possible as they headed to the old elevator, barely squeezing everyone in.

“We suspect a trap.” Sulik warned.

“Definitely. Hands on guns, everyone, and expect a fight. Got enough ammo, Goris?”

“Don’t worry, I always travel fully armed.” Goris assured him, adjusting his robes but not pulling out a gun.

The lift itself was slow, rickety. It shook and creaked down the levels, and once it stopped the doors crept open. Marcus exited, minigun first, checking the surrounding corridors before signalling everyone else to follow him. It was eerily quiet down here, except for the muffled dull thud of a leak and the gentle crackle of the torches along the walls. Theo headed towards the Overseer’s room, past many closed doors that his companions checked behind him. The door was shut, and when the button was pressed, it opened much faster than it should in a place this ruined.

Beyond the door was pitch black; no torches, no lights, and no sound, as if someone had scared away anything that could make noise. As if the room was holding its breath.

Theo took a step back, ready to leave before the trap was sprung, but his companions hadn’t seen it, and continued walking, knocking him further into the room. The creaky hiss of pistons behind him told him that the door had shut them in, and the torches lit up around the room, highlighting jeering faces and glinting off of weapons. Too many Khans to count surrounded them, each armed to the teeth and ready to shoot. They were surrounded, and outnumbered, and hopelessly outgunned. One khan, an old man, stepped forward, hatred written across his face, sizing Theo up. “You look just like him, that damned Vault Dweller.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Theo shrugged, trying to look for a way out. But the only way other than the locked door was further into the vault, and they didn’t have emergency exits. Damn. “Are you Darion? Wouldn’t want to waste my ammo.”

“The one and only. I have waited eighty years for my revenge against the NCR. Getting to kill a man that looks like their attack dog is the icing on top.”

“Would a distraction help?” Goris asked quietly. Theo had absolutely no idea what the shuffling scholar had in mind, but anything would be better than nothing right now, so he nodded, not straying from Darion’s gaze.

“You couldn’t kill my grandad back then, and I won’t be killed now. Guess you’ll just have to wait a little longer.” Theo bragged. Darion opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes widened and his jaw dropped instead, as he and his two bodyguards stumbled backwards in shock, a scream tearing from their throats. Theo turned to look where they were staring.

Only to see a deathclaw stood next to him.

Theo stumbled back as the deathclaw threw itself towards the nearest Khan, giving an almighty roar that rattled Theo’s skull. It swept its claws across their helmet, sending it scattering across the floor, the second hand following shortly after, leaving deep gashes down the raider’s face that flooded with blood.

The Khans had stopped screaming and were aiming their guns now, some at the deathclaw, some at Theo and his friends. Theo pulled out his own laser pistol and aimed for Darion’s eyes.

Darion collected himself, and in turn faced Theo, narrowly dodging the laser shot and returning with a flash of fire from his flamethrower. Theo jumped back just in time, the searing heat flashing against his face, and firing another laser at Darion, hitting his shoulder.

A burst of bullets behind Darion hit the man with a yell as one of his guards, in blind panic over the approaching deathclaw, accidentally fired at Darion instead.

“Watch where you’re shooting!” Darion yelled back, giving Theo the window to fire again, getting Darion square in the side of his face, knocking him down to the floor.

The deathclaw had thrown the guard to the wall and leapt instead at Darion, landing on the man’s shoulders before swiping his head clean off in one fell swoop.

Theo backpedalled as quick as his legs could take him, but the deathclaw didn’t even look at him, just threw itself horns first at another khan.

Theo hit a second khan in the crotch, felling the man just in time for the deathclaw to catch him across the neck, before turning to where Lenny stood. Theo went to shout out a warning to Lenny, but the deathclaw had already sprung.

And completely missed Lenny, instead taking down a khan stood behind him that was aiming a shot.

Sulik took down one of the raiders guarding the door, the heavy thud of his supersledge against the raider’s skull making Theo wince as Sulik yelled for the rest of them to retreat.

Vic and Lenny did so quickly; Marcus and Theo backed off while aiming at the remaining Khans, who’d all but ignored them in favour of trying to take down the deathclaw, with little hope. It was too fast, too strong.

By the time Theo reached the door, no Khans were left standing. Just the deathclaw in the centre of the room, breathing heavily and covered in blood. Marcus raised his minigun, getting it ready to fire, while Theo did a quick head count.

Vic, Sulik, Lenny, Marcus… where was Goris? Had he been injured? Theo quickly glanced around the room, but the only sign of him was his robe, discarded on the floor where Goris had last stood. Beside Theo. Where the deathclaw had--

Theo shoved Marcus’ arm just in time to redirect the bullets away from the deathclaw, who had now turned to face them. Lenny and Vic had their guns trained on it, while Marcus shot Theo a dirty look, having just wasted an entire magazine on the wall.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t point your guns at me, thank you.” The deathclaw said casually. The shock very nearly caused Vic and Lenny to drop their guns entirely.

“What evil spirit is this that talks to us?” Sulik demanded in horror.

“It’s fine guys, lower your guns.” Theo tried to assure them, barely keeping the quiver from his voice. He stepped forward cautiously, picking up Goris’ robe. “So, uh, why didn’t you tell us you were a deathclaw?”

A gasp behind him told him someone else had figured it out too. “To be fair, you didn’t ask.” Goris pointed out. Theo had never been this close to a deathclaw, nor had he ever wanted to be. Those thick, grey scales almost seemed to glow in the torchlight, giving an ethereal look to Goris, so different to the sandy coloured scales he’d seen on the deathclaws they’d raced away from in the car. And those legendary claws, thick as a radius bone and sharper than a sword, and blood red after the fight; most waste landers thought it was a good life if they’d never seen one at all, nevermind gotten up close and personal with them. Goris didn’t move, just watched Theo with dark red eyes that didn’t blink anywhere near as often as a human’s did. Theo stepped closer still, every instinct screaming to run, not getting close enough to be in Goris’ reach, and held out the robe for Goris to take, glad it covered his wobbling legs. He didn’t have reason to be afraid, did he? This was still Goris, the desert weirdo who thought debating with deathclaws was-- oh wait.

Goris slowly took the robe back from Theo, giving a quick thanks and quickly putting it back on and deftly retying the cord around the waist. Once the hood was up, he looked the same as before, but Theo could spot all the little details that would give him away, now that he knew what to look for. The hood sitting too far forward from his horns, the overlong sleeves hiding his claws, the way it trailed to cover every inch of him.

“Clever disguise.” Theo complimented, feeling a bit more comfortable now that Goris had hidden himself. “Wish I could do that. Where’d you learn to talk and not kill humans on sight, then?”

“Um, the lift is rattling.” Lenny pointed out, bringing Theo back to the vault again. Right, the other Khans would’ve heard the commotion, and were no doubt on their way to find out what had happened. He pushed his way through the doorway, reaching the corner leading to the corridor for the lift and peering around it. No doubt about it, the lift was in motion.

“What’s the plan then?” Theo asked.

“Going in guns blazing isn’t good enough for you this time?” Marcus smirked.

“No, ‘cause we’ve always got the element of surprise on our side now.” Theo grinned back at Goris. He was still keeping his distance, and everyone else keeping their distance from him in turn, still unsettled by the deathclaw in the room.

“There’s a room just inside this corridor, if I hide in there I can jump out behind them too.” Goris suggested.

“Right. We’ll take cover here.” Theo agreed.

“I think I’ll go with Goris. I don’t do ‘hide and shoot’.” Marcus raised his gun for emphasis.

Goris and Marcus hid in the room, Goris’ tail flicking out with every step now he wasn’t shuffling everywhere, while Theo and Lenny hid behind the far wall, Vic and Sulik by the near. The lift stopped with a ‘ding’, the doors slowly creeped open, and footsteps cautiously marched out.

Theo nodded to Vic, pointing their pistols around the corner, hitting the front two raiders blindly. They gasped out, firing back while everyone pushed themselves against the wall, holding their breaths for what they knew was about to come.

Sure enough, with a loud thud against the metal floors and an almighty roar, Goris jumped into the battle, and they leapt out from hiding. The Khans were too busy screaming at the deathclaw behind them to see their attackers in front of them, and they fell quickly to a hail of bullets, lasers, hammers and claws.

But the lift continued to rattle regardless.

“More Khans?” Marcus asked.

“Ready for round two, everyone?” Theo asked with a smile. Oh, he could get used to this.

[sinnerburrito]

Jeremy's Companion Dialogue

It could have more stuff but i think it's big enough already.

- Can you tell me about yourself?

If you are up to listen the three hour long narrative of how I bravely explore the wasteland, sure why not?

I'm a courier, just like you, minus the whole "shot in the head" ordeal, used to be a prostitute too, a very good one, now I just deliver packages, read fortunes, steal, ya know, the usual.

- Fortunes?

Call it what you want, magic, lucky, madness. I know and see things... sometimes.

- And what do you see? (Answer differs based on karma/ affiliation)

You're a odd one, the cards you have is always shifting, but right now I see ...

Independent: a bright light smiles to you, thousands of wheels will guide you to freedom out a hill. The Bull don't know what's under its roves.

Legion: Blood paint the crosses, be careful with the fox, 83 is a large number and the man in gold will be not be followed.

NCR: Old laws of the old world has no place here, Shady, Sands, everything is corrupted. To others live some has to die.

MR. House: An delayed delivery, seven went and six came back, are you ready to bet all your caps in a platinum dream?

- Uh... Prostitute?

Look we all did things we are not proud of. It kept me alive and I'm thankful for that, but I'm out of this business.

-(Confirmed Bachelor) Maybe I can change your mind?

Maybe. But i think it would cost you 100 caps to try.

- Nice Tattoo.

Hey thanks. Is a family thing. And it actually goes around my body so if you're nice, I might show you one day.

-What's your thoughts on the Legion?

You're really asking me that? For real?

Okay I'll let that pass cause you got shot in the head but I'm a tribal and then a Legion slave some years ago. What the fuck you think it's my opinion.

-You don't look like a tribal.

Can't blame you. I only dance wearing my feathered headdress with paint in my body in very special occasions.

-Whats your thoughts on the BoS?

Same as the Legion, but not that bad.

I say i wouldn't beat the living shit of a Brotherhood member if they stood in a 1km radius near me.

- What's your thoughts on the White Glove Society?

They have quiet a....refined taste. Just stay away from them, trust me, better not try our luck to see if the rumors are true.

I know them seem polite but don't get fooled, I'm a fool myself and even I can can see what's up.

-What's your thoughts on the Omertas?

Oh, I'm going to be honest with you, they have a special place on my heart, there's not a single day I don't think about them what they did and keep doing.

I don't think they're a suitable sacrifice but this won't stop me to throwing every and single one of them into The Pit.

- Looks like you have something personal against them.

Is that obvious? Well, I do, and no, I won't elaborate.

- What's your thoughts on Mr. House?

Dude's a mineral and somehow still kicking everyone in the guts.

He's not so different from the Brotherhood. He only has more power.

- What's your thoughts on The Followers of the Apocalypse?

I'm on the fence about them. They're good but also not, kinda hypocritical if you want me to be honest, I think they sometimes act like everyone else is just poor lost stupid souls.

And for an anarchist group they depends an awfully lot on the NCR.

But you see, I have a talent to break bones, mine specifically, I don't know where I would be without their help. Probably alone in a shallow grave.

Oh fuck, sorry.

- What do you know about Benny?

The guys at The Tops? Head of the Chairman ? Checked train wreck?

A whole fucking lot.

If I could write it would be a hell of a book. He's an asshole as much he's ambitious.A compulsive backstabber too beautiful for his own good.

Don't underestimate him, if he have a plan for that chip of yours: Listen.

After his personal quest is completed

- So the Vipers are your family?

No No, I came out of a egg.

Yeah I guess so, I guess Ma still alive, somehow. I heard I had a sister once, ironically she didn't woke up after the Great Awakening but this was before I born.

My father....I have no idea, he was a missionary, whatever that means, i think he was sacrificed. That's all I know.

And you? Do you remember anything before the shooting?

- Yes/ No/ Just few things.

Well, maybe it's for the best, a opportunity to a fresh start.

- Let's talk about your tatics.

Constructive criticism only.

- Use a ranged weapon.

I was afraid you would say that./ Keep your distance just to be safe.

- Use a melee weapon.

No need to ask twice. / I'm already using? /Stab stab stab.

- Be agressive

Like that ever worked/ Have you noticed I'm not really an intimidating person?/ Like...angry?

- Be passive

For you? Always./ Anything for you, dear. /Oh,l I like your style.

- Wait here.

I'm not responsible for my actions from now on. / Okay I'll wait here...by myself...in this dangerous place. / Don't be long.

- let's trade equipment

These pockets are not just for Aesthetic. / If I find anything interesting I'll keep. / Be my guest.

- Overburdened

Okay, maybe it's better if my pockets just compliments my fashion sense. / Do i look like a damn Brahmin? / I knew you would break me in half but this is ridiculous.

- I would like you to go the Lucky 38.

(If his quest is not completed) The casino? At The Strip? Sorry, but I will wait for you at Freeside wandering aimlessly like a vagabond. / All those lights make me dizzy but okay / will try not steal anything there.

- Why don't go the The Strip?

Why don't you mind your own business? Sorry, it's not your fault. I just want to avoid conflict, that's all.

* In Courier's iron sight*

Do you have a death wish?/There's easier ways to get rid of me, ya know? / Of all the thing you could shove in my face, why the gun?

*Courier lays mine*

Uh...I feel like I should keep my distance./ It's a honor seeing such tatical magnificent working. / Full recovery my ass.

- It's time for us to part ways.

Awn fuck, I'm terrible with goodbyes./ I thought we had a great thing going on./ Okay, I'll go then. All by myself. In the big bad Wasteland.

*Player steals items or pickpocket*

Go, steal from the rich. / I could show you a tricky or two. / Just keep your hands off my stuff.

*Injured*

Have you seen my kidney by any chance? /Is this blood mine or yours? Nevermind. / I don't get paid enough for this.

*Crippled limb*

Quick question, bones are supposed to be inside the body, right? / It's ok, it's ok, I'm not going to cry. Not in front the mailman. / I don't think this sound is a good sign.

*Dying*

*Incomprehensible mumble* / See you in the other side. / Run...

Location

-Goodsprings

So peaceful, you can even hear the cazadores buzzing around./ Do you hear...never mind" (close to the cemitery) / Is it too much to ask to see your shallow grave?

Would you freak out if i told you never really left this grave? (By the Courier's shallow grave)

-The Strip

Can you believe a guy like *him* runs a place called The Tops?/ This place reeks of cheap cologne and bad sex. / Ugh, this lights will give me a migraine.

- Gomorrah ( unlocks completing his quest and let him in charge)

Welcome back! Thirsty? Hungry? Horny? We got you covered. / Hey if it isn't our Or Royal Highness of Vegas / Don't look in the backroom.

(If the player enter former's Clanden's secret filming room, after picking a Very Hard Lock, Claden himself will be tied up to a chair with a camera set up right before him. It's impossible to either free or kill him).

- Gomorrah / The Fort ( unlocks selling him back to The Omertas or to the Legion)

* Yawns* / Next time give me something to work with. / Already? (After the Player has sex with him in the Fort or Gomorrah)

How the hell do you still alive? / Enjoying the view, asshole? / Told you, you never left that grave.

-The Tops

Do i look presentable? / I know why we here, don't kill him, please. / I regret giving Benny that fucking gun.

- Companions

Craig Boone, why I feel a bitter taste whenever he's around?( When Boone is nearby)

Bad knees my ass, I saw him running from a cazador (when Raul is nearby)

How Grandma Lily can stand Leo? Guy's an asshole. (When Lily is nearby)

Think I have any chance? (When Arcade is nearby)

*Hums Heartaches by the Number* ( When Cass is nearby)

Don't you have to steal a child's Pib-Boy or something? (When Veronica is nearby)

[signutai]

can you still share your rangers thoughts too? i'd love to hear it!

The rangers, historically, have largely existed outside of the rank and file of the army proper, and one relic of this is that rangers do have ranks but mostly don’t use them. Some of the old-timers refuse because they don’t like having been swallowed up by the military, and most agree that it makes being taken seriously a lot easier when the army types they deal with have to take them as they are, rather than judging them on rank alone. Among the rangers themselves, ranks are given almost no consideration; the time someone’s been a ranger is a bigger basis for the amount of “pull” they have than anything else.

Though it wasn’t always the case, the rangers are only allowed to recruit either NCR citizens or people from NCR territories these days. At one point, some 75% of the rangers’ numbers were tribals from outside of the NCR who believed in the cause. However, in the past ten years, even recruitment from NCR-controlled territories has gone down, partly due to public sentiment that non-citizens are less capable and partly out of fear of being infiltrated by enemy spies. As of the current day, the rangers recruit almost exclusively out of the army.

The rangers have lost nearly half their number to death and injury in the past ten years. Though they’ve always been considered an elite force and were relatively few in number, between heavy combat losses and stricter recruiting protocols, they’ve been having marked difficulty maintaining the sort of fighting force they were in the past. They may present a cool, brave, unified face to the world, but beneath the surface are stretched far too thin for the demands expected of them, and with fewer more experienced members to train and protect the next generations, the mortality rate of new recruits has gone through the roof despite their best efforts.

It used to be that stations moved with their companies or squads. Most ranger stations were never intended to be even semi-permanent installations; the rangers moved where they were needed, and “Ranger Station Tango” was wherever Tango Company happened to be. Between the long Mojave campaign forcing squads to remain in one place and the rangers’ dwindling numbers, the practice has largely fallen out of use.

A ranger can more or less decline veteran status when they reach the twenty-year milepoint. It’s not common, and the reasons vary by person, but it’s done and is respected. Jackson is one notable example--though he’s been a ranger for twenty-five years, he doesn’t consider himself a veteran and uses neither the sequoia he was awarded nor the trademark black armor.

Elise remained a sharp and capable leader and ranger up until her death, despite her age.

She also mellowed out in some respects as she grew older. Though she remained just as committed to the cause of combating slavery wherever she could find it as always, she gradually loosened up and relaxed when it came to leading her men. Seeing how the growing military treated its troops made her rethink wanting to be an unquestioned authority figure to her rangers.

Hanlon was Elise’s right-hand man for most of his career. The two harbored feelings for each other, but refused to act upon them out of a sense of professionalism. They thought they were being slick about it, but everyone knew; the rangers used to semi-jokingly refer to them as their mom and dad, especially during their many disagreements. “Mom and Dad are fighting again!”

Elise’s “friends in high places” conveniently dried up as the NCR discovered how profitable prison labor could be. Her staunch abolitionist views had her at odds with the government frequently, and public sentiment turned against the rangers in the period of time before the Legion became a well-known threat (when, of course, the propaganda machine started to point to them as a beacon against slavery again).

There is a not-so-secret movement within both the NCR government and military to dismantle the rangers entirely, even as both continue to paint them as heroes during the Mojave campaign. Part of the reasoning is purely envy--politicians and military leaders alike don’t like the idolization of the rangers--and part is that they simply don’t want “free radicals” that don’t fall in lockstep with their plans. The rangers and army having a common goal of stopping the Legion has led to the rangers being brought more in line, but the fear is that once the threat is gone, they’ll buck against the NCR’s authority once more, and the public will back the more popular side.

A good number of rangers find the hero-worship to be tiresome, though most will admit that it makes it easier to do their job without being questioned every step of the way.

Even though public opinion of the rangers as a whole has never been higher, they’ve sacrificed their reputation with communities and tribes on the both the outskirts of and beyond NCR territories. Where they were once seen as a more neutral party just trying to help people, their increasing involvement with the military has soured their other relationships, many of them irreparably.

Elise’s intentions when unifying the NCR Rangers and Desert Rangers were ultimately pure--her main concern was lending what strength she could to stopping the Legion, and bringing the people who had the most experience with fighting them into the fold and learning from them was logical to her--but learning that the NCR had used the unification less for combating slavers and more for getting a foothold in the Mojave angered her greatly. She spent the next three years, up until her death, trying to correct her mistake.

She was killed in battle during the NCR’s ultimately vain attempts to stop the Legion as they marched towards Hoover Dam. The Legion wasn’t aware of what they’d done until later, and by the time they’d realized they killed the ranger chief the remaining rangers had already rallied around Hanlon. Even today the vast majority of the Legion is unaware that the rangers had any chief beside Hanlon; it was intolerable for their leaders to think that they were unable to capitalize on what should have been an important victory, and that the constant thorn in their side for the last several years had been headed by an old woman.

Hanlon had been considering retirement in the years before Elise’s death, but her passing, a need to protect his rangers and avenge her, and the Legion still being on the move put off those plans. He was ill-equipped to take on the role of chief so suddenly, but ultimately found himself with no choice; there was little time and no other candidates willing or able to step up at the time.

Most rangers considered Kimball dropping Elise’s name during his speech at Hoover Dam in poor taste at best and nearly blasphemous at worst, considering how contentious the relationship between her and the government was and how little respect she got in the years before her death.

I’ve got more but I can’t uhhhhhh think of them right now.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

Vigil.

this prompt was sent in may 31st, thank u for ur patience and here are eleven hundred words for no particular reason 

Blondie and Angel stopped for water at a little caravanseri halfway between Primm and the Outpost, brahmin lowing in the central courtyard. 

The Courier had vanished, again, which was a little embarrassing because she wasn’t subtle. Two chatty women and a robot dog were as good as a parade. 

Their one literal job from House had been to keep tabs on her from a distance and not interfere, since he either didn’t trust one small woman with a recent traumatic brain injury to serve his interests or he didn’t have anyone else available to keep an eye on her. 

They lost her for good somewhere after she’d killed a trio of deathclaws, scattered south where the Long 15 met the hills marching up to Black Mountain. They’d been a solid day behind her tacking back and forth across South Vegas ruins, and she hadn’t looped back to Goodsprings (although they did pay the five caps each out of curiosity to look at her small, half-filled grave). Wasn’t in the Mojave Express office in Primm. Not dead in a ditch somewhere along the way, as far as they could tell.

Height and a recent sighting, that’s what they needed. 

The switchbacks up to the Outpost weren’t worth it. After the polite sign-countersign dance, another one of House’s subcontractors, a quiet sniper on the roof, had never seen her.

Inside the bar, the bartender eventually took pity on Angel losing at Caravan to a cranky redhead. “Haven’t had a courier through here since, mmmm, September? He hasn’t come back through this way.”

Their only faint lead was the other semaphore tower on the hills behind Nipton, serving the greater Searchlight area- or what used to be the greater Searchlight area- and relaying messages onto Novac. House’s advance was running low, and the semaphore operator in the hills next to the Outpost was on the New California Republic’s payroll and refused to send a message through collect.

If she’d been through the southern half of this patch of desert everyone was fighting over, if she’d kept near main roads, if she followed any sort of reasonable path on her tour southwest, away from everyone House had told her to secure as allies or eliminate- there were a lot of ifs in this plan. 

The Nipton tower didn’t follow the Outpost’s layout at all- topped by a radio dish angled toward Vegas proper, on top of a backup manual semaphore system on top of a shack built up around a pit head. The shack wrapped up and around the tower for shelter and cover, a beached lighthouse keeping vigil over a sea of brush. 

Hiking up yet more switchbacks, Angel was distracted from observing, in an exhausted detached way, how nice Blondie’s thighs were under the poncho by someone shooting at them from the top of the tower. 

The gun the woman in front of them was holding couldn’t stop a deathclaw, but it would come pretty close. 

Blondie, not reaching for his guns under the poncho while Angel covered him, nodded at her rifle. “That an Allin conversion?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thought so. Every gun makes its own tune.” 

She huffed, tipped a hat back from her close-cropped head. “Coulda started with that. Or had any sort of warning from him-” she jerked her head north, toward Vegas, “- but heaven for fuckin’ bid we get any kind of support out here.” 

The sniper at the top of the tower, under a big striped umbrella, kept their sights trained on- well, hopefully it was Blondie, although getting back to Vegas on his own wouldn’t be fun, and Blondie was at least competent within the confines of the job so far.

A seat and harness with a little hand crank sat in the center of their living room, open to the sky, but they were shooed up the stairs. Angel didn’t think he’d miss the flattened ruins of New Vegas, but it’d been a long day hauling himself up and down various inclines 

Lizbeth at the top of the tower came rattling around on a big armchair on tracks, taking the umbrella with her. The NCR beret didn’t provide a lot of sun protection.  

Angel let Blondie keep doing the talking and describe the Courier- short, ambiguously tan, favored shotguns, liked poking her nose into everything. The other woman had a power fist and dressed in sacks. The robot dog was the most difficult to describe. 

The sniper shot her partner a glance. “She was in Primm last month, cleared out the hotel. Sounds like a handful.” 

“But not since then?”

“One of us is always up here- we cover from the Outpost up to 95. Usually me on nights, but it’s hard to get down the trail to confront strangers.” the sniper said. 

“Glad to see two people still here.”

The sniper and her- ah, a capital-P Partner- shot each other a glance. “Yes.” she said blandly, like this was old boring news they should have known already. “Chris decided to move on. Luckily, Vita was passing through.” 

Vita’s hand hovered behind her in a way Angel didn’t like.

“We’re not paid to care about staffing changes,” he said a little irritably. Something was up here, yes, the way Vita wore a high-collared shirt and a bandanna, but it probably didn’t have anything to do with the Courier, who hadn’t even been this way, and they didn’t have a good incentive to lie, so why was Blondie still staring at her? 

“Or report on ‘em. The house doesn’t always win.” Blondie lit up one of his terrible cigarillos once the women visibly relaxed. 

“Didn’t know you leaned that way.” he told Blondie when they were back on a real road.

Blondie gave him a look he couldn’t decipher yet. Probably never would, this was a temporary job. “No reason to disrupt them.” 

“Something’s funny up there, but it isn’t the Courier’s doing.” 

“Job House needs doing is still getting done, two people are still getting paid, I don’t see why we need to fill in a gap for that all-seeing eye.”

“Can’t tell House what I don’t know.”

That got him a little bit of a smirk. “Legion slaves get branded on the back of the neck. She’s got a good chance of a quiet life if the NCR holds the Dam and nobody else finds out.” 

Angel thought about whether he’d ever seen the back of Blondie’s neck- yes, splashing water over it at the caranversari. “I mind the business that pays me.” 

Blondie made a disbelieving little huff around the cigarillo.

[courier-sux]

brain decided it’s jace time, so here’s the layers meme for him — feel free to say i tagged you if you wanna do it!

Jace: Wasteland Savior

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: Jace M. Black

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Style/Color: Dark brown, short-ish, and usually a little messy

Height: 5’11”

Clothing Style: A blend of military and country. Mostly t-shirts, flannels, jeans, and boots — either combat or cowboy. Almost always wearing a black bandana, as well as his holotags, cross necklace, and bracelet fashioned out of a .308 bullet.

Best Physical Feature: Jace wouldn’t know — he doesn’t see himself as anything special. But he’s been told once or twice that he has a handsome face.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Fears: Losing or hurting anyone he cares about. Feeling like he isn’t in control of himself. Public speaking. Large crowds. Insects/spiders.

Guilty Pleasure: Smoking, but he’s trying to quit.

Biggest Pet Peeve: When people go out of their way to kill a bug after someone asks if they can take it outside. What is wrong with those people?

Ambition for the Future: To help as many people as he can, ideally through healing rather than violence — helping the Followers is as good a start as any. Personally, he’s always wanted to start a family, but that dream was moved to the back of his mind a long time ago.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

First Thoughts Waking Up: Jace rarely wakes up without a nightmare on his mind. His first thoughts are usually attempts to calm himself down, reminders of where he is and that he’s safe.

What They Think About the Most: A lot of problem-solving and thinking about the future or the past. It’s hard to shut his brain off sometimes.

What They Think About Before Bed: What he’s going to do tomorrow. If he’s feeling lonely, his thoughts might shift towards someone else.

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: He’d say his ability to persevere. He’s gone through hell and come out singing.

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: Jace is terribly shy, and could never go on a group date — it’s hard enough to psych himself up for a date with one person.

To be Loved or Respected:  Love — either from family, friends, partners, or faith — is the reason Jace gets out of bed in the morning, and it’s the reason he falls asleep at night. He will always take it over respect.

Beauty or Brains: Though Jace is a sucker for a pretty face, he appreciates being able to have an intelligent conversation more than someone’s appearance.

Dogs or Cats: He loves both, but if he had to choose, dogs — they help with his PTSD and it’s a bit harder to have a cat when you’re constantly on the move.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: Very, very rarely, as he really dislikes when others lie to him. If he did lie, it would probably be to make sure someone isn’t worrying too much about him.

Believe in Yourself: Some days are harder than others. It’s easier to believe in himself when others make it clear that they believe in him too.

Believe in Love: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” -Corinthians 13:13

Want Someone: Usually, as he has a bit of a problem with passing infatuation. But this time feels different.

LAYER SIX: HAVE YOU EVER?

Been on Stage: Absolutely not, and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

Done Drugs: Only a few times — almost always for medicinal reasons.

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: Somewhat. The NCR breaks all its recruits down to certain extent, and Jace was a much gentler person before he signed up. His time as a soldier changed him, but he refused to give up his empathy and compassion for others — even if it made him stand out, and even if it makes life more complicated.

LAYER SEVEN: WHAT’S THEIR…

Favourite colours: Blue, black, and dark red.

Favourite animal: Dogs, but frogs are a close second.

Favourite book: Almost impossible to choose. If not the Bible, then probably the Odyssey — he has a copy that he’s carried for years and re-read enough times to cause the cover to have almost worn off completely.

Favourite game: Caravan or chess.

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DOB: April 15, 2252

How Old Will You Be: As Jackal’s twin, he’s the same age as her — 27 when she gets shot in Goodsprings, 28 for most of New Vegas, and 29-30 around the time of Hoover Dam.

Age You Lost Your Virginity: 22

Does Age Matter: If it causes an imbalance of power, yes. Otherwise, not really.

LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: life.

I feel: too much, sometimes.

I hide: my insecurities.

I miss: my sister.

I wish: I could just tell him.

[socksual-innuendos]

OTP Meme

art by @yesjejunus​

Do they fight often? If so, what is their dynamic like?

Sort of, they’ve actually calmed down since first knowing each other. It use to be that they hated each other because ‘fuck you, I want to leave this stupid ass valley why do I need to fetch quest when my survival is maxed’, and ‘goddamnit you made me care about this kid that youre dragging into war I cant live with myself if he dies due to your little game of exterminate the raider tribe’.

I...am indecisive about how Emilia ends Honest Hearts, but even in the worse case scenario they do become at most tolerant of each other. Still, their arguments is mostly Emi poking and prodding for a reaction, and Joshua feeding right into it. These usually end in him being moody, but he rebounds well enough. Their big arguments though are usually over how things should be handled, in which case both do their own shit and then one has to bail the other out. 

Who is the most skeptical of the two?

Joshua, hands down. Emilia is so eccentric compared to anything he’s use to, he almost always has something to say about anything she brings up. Even if its sound to him he still questions it if it comes from her mouth. It isn’t always voiced, but the eyebrow does raise. He’s stopped being amazed at her actually accomplishing what she says she will and has started getting annoyed with it...what a show off.

Who would be most likely to suggest a night of dancing?

Emilia, and she’d dance whether he comes along or not. My Joshua never learned how to dance, but I don’t think its his cup of tea either. He hums while he works, though, and Emilia has honed in on that.

What would they do if the other was injured in battle?

Assess the situation and then adjust. I think both would cover each other, though I think Emi is more likely to haul his ass to safety. That’s her target, damnit! Unless one was really fucking up patching themselves up, I dont think the other would help with wound dressing though.

How do their fighting styles complement each other?

Complement is a very interesting word here. Their entire schtick is that Emilia is adaptive, dynamic, changing to fit the situation and he is....just headstrong and very determined, haha. They work well together in that she forms to fit his methods and is his fall back if things ever go south. It works out well, some of the time. Other times its Emilia stealing his kills and him getting angry at how fast her draw is. 

Do they want children? Does it frighten them? How many do they want?

Together? No. He is particularly someone she would be cautious around. In their canon I don’t think they sleep together, just because Emilia has Thoughts about a man like that being on top of her, or at least having some kind of mindset about having slept with her. 

Still, I think my Graham is old enough to realize that kids wouldn’t have fit well into his life, Legion existing or not. Both grew up with religious and family pressures to marry and have kids, and neither really felt that it was for them. I think my Graham tried to find a greater purpose than starting a family in Legion, and that was his justification for never trying.

What happened when they took them home to their families? If their families aren’t in the picture anymore, how do they feel about it?

Joshua learns about Emilia’s family and past in a round about sort of way. Camila introduced herself to him, which was a heart attack to Emilia, and he’s seen the photos she keeps in her cigarette case. In honesty, he feels a bit envious at how closely she was able to keep her sister. Though I don’t know how I headcanon his blood family situation, I do think that he misses kinship. After Edward, he becomes very lonely, and even reconnecting with New Canaan he feels lost. How does a man his age find another friend that close? It’s part of why he so easily falls in being war chief again in my canon. It’s familiar, and its something he knows he’s good at, and that in itself is its own comfort. 

For Emilia, I think she envies his community. Though she was young when her life started falling apart she still knew what a stable home was, what a loving family was, and what it felt like to feel safe. She knows that even after all the tragedy he’s caused and how much misfortune fell on his tribe that he still has a home to go back to, and that they’d accept him with open arms. She misses being on the receiving end of that type of love, and most of all she hates being so closed off to people about herself. Even her sister she hides things from, and even then her sister doesn’t share her faith. I think if Joshua ever invited her meet his family she’d accept, even if she thought it would go poorly, just to feel things out and see if she could find some community in there.

How does each person show affection towards the other?

Again, its in the small things. When Emilia springs him from NCR custody, it was for entirely selfish, headhunting reasons, but she brought him bandages and his bible, and those were the small comforts that mattered. She’s hard on him in areas that no one else was, like teaching him genuine wilderness survival, or how to be independent. She also tries to get him to slow down and think about what he really cares about. Sure he gets his purpose from being war chief with the Dead Horses, but he truly does miss his tribe. These show themselves in small conversations, but if she didn’t care for him she wouldn’t even bring them up.

For him, its a bit of the same. He entertains her bullshit, but he also cleans and repairs her weapons. During their end game, Emilia has a robotic prosthetic leg, and he learns how to repair and upkeep it on the fly. He becomes receptive to her teaching (if only for a while), and to humble himself enough for that should speak volumes. 

Who cries the most? Who is better at comforting?

Neither really cry, though I think Emilia at least doesn’t feel pressured to keep face around him. Sharing a religious background and a lot of similar-but-different viewpoints, they actually comfort each other well in a passive sort of way. If their problems don’t relate to each other, they can usually talk through their issues. For Emilia, it’s a huge comfort to have someone else religious to talk to. She doesn’t often get this with most people, and even if Joshua isn’t 100% on the same thought train, the core belief is still there. 

For Joshua, it’s nice having someone who is also religious but doesn’t feel like he has to perform for them. Emilia isn’t here to judge him, they’ve both done and do horrible things in their life, and she’s just different enough that if she says something he doesn’t agree with he can dismiss it. Having someone he doesn’t have to keep face around is a breath of relief. Its nice to not have any expectations set on you, and although it annoys him a majority of the time, her laid back personality allows him to let his guard down. 

When it comes down to it though, a lot of what Emilia has already lived through are things that are popping up in Joshua’s life now, and he often finds reassurance in that she’s found ways of coping, and that she is willing to talk with him when he needs it.

Who is the bigger flirt?

Emilia, no contest. Making passes at him is a pass time to her. If he didn’t have his face covered, she’d probably see just how hard she could make him blush. 

[lady-daydream]

A little bit more about Zadkiel - FNV OC

-She’s was around 21 when she got shot but is 23 now

-Her name means the angel of forgiveness/mercy/freedom

-Her weapons of choice are:

A sniper rifle- since it’s quick , keeps her a distance away from danger but also she knew she a good shot it’s efficient and give those who deserve it a quick and merciful death.

Old glory- The old Melee weapon gifted by Ulysses was what symbolised her a freedom from her old actions. The bird symbolising freedom also helped with that. She also feels like it fits perfectly in her hand and swings nicely when the enemy gets a little to close.

Rocket launcher/ Shishkebab - when things seem to get to hairy these are her go to’s

-She has dark skin, light brown eyes with out blinded, with a scar alongside her right forehead from the bullet wound. She also has three tattoos , a hollow small heart over where her heart was, a circle with two horizontal lines through the middle of it on the back of her neck, the first one she got on an NCR base when she turned 16, the second she got on one of her leaves and it was both a symbol of forgiveness but also served as an almost target on her neck saying she accepted when death arrived it would arrive. She has also got a crown tattoo on the inside of her left forearm to show her support of the kings.

Her past:

-Her mother was a simple and peaceful settler in a more religious based community similar to The New Canaan. Her father was originally a mercenary working as a caravan guard. After meeting her mum her was happy to leave his old more violent past behind and stay with her mother working as a guard/go to sheriff for the community. He didn’t want kids just due to him believing he wasn’t fit for being a parent however when Zadkiel was born he happy accepted his paternal role. She was named Zadkiel due to its meaning of forgiveness by her mother seeing her birthday as a forgiveness of her fathers violent past and her mother’s nativity.

-When she was 7 however her pregnant mother along with most of the community were killed. While the guards were dealing with a situations the people sitting and preying during ‘Sunday service’ were barred into the building and it was set alight by raiders. Zadkiel and her father were late to the service since he was about to deal with the situation but the other head guard told him he could handle it then Zadkiel started stropping about not wanting to go. The few guards that survived the attack along with her father couldn’t save anyone in the church. He wasn’t religious before but went to the services to make his wife happy and see it as a peaceful break. Afterwards he abandoned religion as a belief altogether. The silver cross he wore seen more as a burden that had his wife name Lydia engraved into it

-After that, her father set off with her. Though unwilling to return to his violent past he knew that it was the best chance if there survival due to his skills. He took on bounty’s and any job where a gun for hire could be found. Though he would normally leave Zadkiel at there camp sometimes she would come along sitting on caravan carts or walking along. Her father taught her to shot once they hit the road her first kill was when she was 10 when she shot a raider when they were attacking her father. They stuck even closer after that, however they both wore face covers or masks to hide there identity due to word that the raiders were still searching for them .

-However when Zadkiel was 12 her father who had been burying his hatred and need for revenge became sick of having raiders and mercenaries hunt the two of them both so he handed his cross with her name engraved into it by him over to Zadkiel before leaving her in the care of a caravan trader he trusted,  then went to as many of the raider groups he could find as either planted explosives or just sniped them off. In a few months he had destroyed 15 raider camps. Some closer towards the Mojave which catch the NCR’s attention. They offered him a place in their ranks. One where he could do what he did with protection and with a purpose as well as fighting a good cause alongside a decent wage due to his skill helping him jump a few ranks. Knowing that his job as a merc wasn’t gonna last forever he agreed. Returning to Zadkiel calmer and with a goal to be a better person for her, with the thought being a soldier was one of the better ways a man like him could do that.

-After that Zadkiel became an NCR base kid, either exploring and observing training on base, talking to the groups of soldiers that seemed happy to talk to her or listening to the slightly watered down stories the soldier had to tell. That or she was in her fathers shadow. The both of them still wore face covers even though they were considerably safer, but after a while people got used it it.

-Zadkiel father had taught her how to shoot and how to use her own size and high in an actual fight. However it was only after multiple comments from other supervisors and trainers alike that mentioned her shooting ability as well as her ability to handle herself in a fight, that he even considered her joining the army. After bringing it up with Zadkiel hesitantly, a bit wearily due to disliking the idea of his daughter becoming a soldier, she was excited to join and started officially training when she was 15.

-It was quickly found that , likewise to her father, she was an extremely skilled sniper in the making. However she had no interest in explosives. However her father didn’t mind as his love of them was replaced by her own love of medicine. And though she wasn’t the best she knew enough to keep herself and those around her safe and alive. She also gain enough physical strength from training that she was a fearful opponent in hand to hand or a simple Melee fight, so much so that with the mask on and her build people mistook her for a guy. She didn’t mind and due to her somewhat quiet nature (another quirk that she had picked up from her father as well as from the many days they would travel in silence or the times they would have to stay quick in order to sneak through dangerous territory) she never corrected them, others did that for her.

-As she was training her father moved slowly up the ranks until he reach a point where he was on base more so than on the battlefield. Mostly he moved from base to base a lot however both Zadkiel and him kept together, her helping the medics or being sent on missions where her sniping skills would always come in handy. Briefly however the both of them did got stationed in the Mojave. Zadkiel was briefly stationed with first recon. She even met a much younger Boone who was a lot more friendly. However they only saw each other briefly not giving each other a passing thought, her mask and skill the only thing being remembered.

-She dated every now and then throughout her NCR life, including a cute nurse who said he was once an new Canaan but they split due to his conflicting views on her skills at violence undoing all the good she did. She also dated a a female caravan trader for a while who looked pretty in a dress and had an amazing aim however the distance wasn’t kind to either of them. While she was in 1st recon she started flirting with one of the snipers there but they passed away before things could get anymore serious than drinks in Freeside.

-She enjoyed her place in the NCR, enjoying the fact she could use her strength, Wit and intelligence to help protect people as well as make her father proud. However as she spent her leaves helping others where she could when she started hearing stories of the NCR not being able to protect the roads , of supplies not reaching soldiers of settlements being forced into joining. However she shook it off - rationalising it as the best option out of a bad lot. However soon after she was moved from 1st recon  the Bitter springs massacre happened. She quickly began losing more and more faith in the NCR. She was only 20 but had served for 5 years. She brought up the war crime to her father but her father dismissed it as an accident that happened or the NCR just doing the best with what they had. Normally she would believe him and a part of her wanted to, But a part of her couldn’t be so forgiving. Over the next month constantly arguing and butt heads with her father she couldn't stand herself being part of the problem. She took nothing but what she carried in her pack and after finishing her mission she walked away. From her old life. And everything that was held in. And she ditched the mask leaving it in the desert.

-She still wore the cross but still never considered herself religious,  But she kept it hidden as if I soldier had been told to keep an eye out for a girl with a cross engraved it would be a give away and life asked she would use her mothers name.

-Her father originally didn’t start looking for her. He thought originally she just needed to cool off. He knew what it was like to need to have a break from your life. However after a month he started to worry, putting word out. Thinking either she had run off or  worse. When they found her mask it put a stop to the NCR search. However he never stopped looking. Guilty he had lost the last thread of his old life, as well as losing the one person he trusted the most. For the rest of his life he hoped she had just run off and found a peaceful life like he had had once, regretful that their last conversation was hateful.

-Once she left, Zadkiel worked any job that would accept her. From bodyguard to farmer, to caravan trader and even as a medic. She tried to avoid mercenary work, knowing her skill might travel via word back to the NCR. However after a year she got bored of staying in the same place and when the option of being a courier opened up she jumped on it with no hesitation. She started working mostly in the Mojave, mostly message from settlements to settlements, enjoying seeing families getting messages from each other or food and supplies. Then came a job for a certain platinum chip.

After Being Shot:

-When she woke up from the bullet wound she couldn't remember anything about her old life. She couldn’t even remember her name. She guessed correctly that the one of name on her cross was her name using Zadkiel as her first name and Lydia as a second name. 

-The shot itself has left some permanent damage. She couldn’t speak more than a sentence without being unable to speak and confused. She was blinded in her right eye which was her previously dominant shooting eye. She also had a permanent pain from the bottom of her ribs to her left hip where benny or one of the khans with him had kicked her into her own grave. She got used to the pain in her leg and though it slowed her down and made her less agility she still had the strength she had before. She also had to reteach herself how to snipe but due to muscle memory she picked it up quickly. She also slowly got her voice back, being able to speak more and more as time went on. She found once she found the right words she was pretty good at charming and talking her way through a situation. However she much preferred the silent intimidating tactic or staying silent altogether.

Her views on different factions:

-Goodsprings: Part of her doesn’t believe she deserves the grace of being saved, thinking there must have been a reason she had been shot and left for dead. However the kindness the community had made her want to help as well as mend any bad deeds she had done before losing her memory. She will regularly go back to Goodsprings with supplies she can spare of offer free service as her way to say thank you as well as reminding them that if they ever need help to always ask.

-Primm: Her first interaction with NCR after she had reawoke. She felt like she was being watched constantly. The doctor had commented that the scars and her build could indicate that she used to be a soldier but with nothing else to go on it didn’t really lead to much. She kept her head down. However when helping Primm find a sheriff she called the NCR for help thinking there values would protect the town the most. She wishes later on that she had found a way to make the town independent. The citizens also were friendly but side eyed her after doing this making her feel more like an outsider.

-The NCR: As mentioned before her relationship with the NCR was born out of good values and principles. However after hearing stories of the greed and lack of empathy towards those she’s knew she had wanted to join to protect she left. However she put more blame on the higher ups than the individual soldiers and still respected them. However after the bullet wound, history seemed to repeat itself. She started to help the NCR again after meeting Boone. However before she committed to much ,stories of the NCR reached back to her. She choose to keep a distance but still helped when possible . Helping get supplies and helping medics when possible as well as taking our bounties. After she quickly and easily took care of the three bounties the base had available she went to the first recon group and told Corporal Betsy that Cook-Cook was dead. Zadkiel was approached by Lieutenant Gorobets offering a place but she refused stating she was glad she could help but didn’t really want to get to involved. Unbeknown to her  Lieutenant Gorobets knew who she really was due to have seen her face briefly while she had worked at first recon when she had got attacked and it had slipped briefly. He was also let on by her sniping skills which made her stand  out . He didn’t push but would always keep an eye out if she was on base since he remembered her father mentioning to look out for her after he had passed a year after her disappearance.

-The Legion: Maybe it was subconsciously hatred from her life before or maybe even her own forgiveness and mercy could only go so far. She believes a society is defined by how it’s most vulnerable are treated. The Legion treat their most vulnerable like objects to kill, fuck or rule over. She has mercy for who were once legionaries but saw the wrong of their ways and found a way to leave however their were few of those that abandoned the Legion were hunted down and killed. When she arrived at Nipton, and after forcibly stopping herself from attacking them all, knowing she was seriously outnumbered she tried to get those on crucifixes off cause even though they were powder gangers no one deserves to be crucified. She couldn’t save any of them. She will always try and heal any victims of Legion and will save as many slaves as possible. Eventually she and Boone killed Caesar letting Boone have the final shot. Finally casting her view that everyone deserves mercy and learning that forgiveness is measured subjectively not objectively.

-The Kings/The Followers - The two groups she stands for more than anything. She uses her medical knowledge to help out were she can, as well as bring supplies. Seeing the followers as just people helping others. However she actually has just as strong of a liking to the Kings - so far as to offer to be the Kings personal bodyguard herself. She is a king herself and will do odd jobs when possible. She didn’t get on with Pacer but she believed in the kings views on independence. She got a crown tattoo on the inside of her left forearm as well to show that she really did believe in the kings as well as the independence of freeside. She will cover it if she knows it would cause a dispute such as when she visits NCR territory however she happily shows it elsewhere.

Those she’s close with: Boone, Arcade, Raul and The King and Julie and Rex

-Boone; Her first companion. At the time she first met him she still could only talk more than a few sentence tops at a time and she had original gone to met Manny however when she saw him it was almost a complete hit of nausea and nostalgia over something she couldn’t remember. She got the same feeling with Manny as well. Originally she was neutral about Boone, respecting him due to recognising he was NCR however there was an hollow emptiness mixed with a overwhelming feeling of resent and anger wherever he went. Battling her own resentment over Benny she could emphasis enough to agree to help him find the person who sold Carla. She still had the images of those at Nipton on her mind when she found the Bill of sale. She couldn’t justify  Jeannie May Crawford's actions, furthermore lying about them. She let Boone have his Justice. However when she got back up she notice that nothing had changed that he was still hollow and angry. So she offered for him to come along, more to keep an eye on him to make sure that his anger didn’t become apathy, but also because she felt like if she could help him find peace that was the least she could do, knowing the only way she was gonna help him was by exposure over time. Over time she found him a good friend, and one of the few people she felt safe around. A part of however enjoyed the presence of someone who wasn't burdened by the expectations of forgiveness and would happily fuliful revenge if she couldn't. She helped him find mercy in himself by returning to Bitter springs and in return he listens, and answers bluntly but honestly what he thinks is the answer to any question she askes. He only kept one lie from her and that was that Lieutenant Gorobets had pulled him aside when they both were at Camp McCarran . At first he thought they were gonna ask him to re-join and was ready to turn him down, however he had enough respect from the Lieutenant to hear him out, and he was told who Zadkiel used to be. He told him not to let on that he knew. Only to keep an eye out for her, as a last wish for her passed away father. Boone remembered the mask and her presence at 1st recon briefly. He agreed to keep it a secret, tailoring his answers in hopes that the small hints he gave would jolt memories. On very rare occasions they do, however time did the most work. However Boone worries that she is going to be struck with the same feeling of guilt he felt when she finds out her father has passed.

-Raul- Raul was the closes thing she had to a father figure after she lost her memory. She knew that a lot of people saw him more as a grandfather figure however, maybe it was his accent the subconsciously reminded her of her father, or his habit of tinkering that she had watched her own father do when he had free time, or maybe it was the sarcastic humour but she always felt comfortable talking to him or just spending time with him. She wasn't the only one that felt the same, Raul blamed it on her looking like an older and more hardened version of Gabriella. However the both of them didn't mind. On very rare occasions they have been heard calling each other mi Padre and Mi hija. If one gets injured, the other one is close by, if one needs something the other ones  already on the way to get it. When Zadkiel started getting nightmares with snippets of memories was found more frequently with Raul telling him what she remembered, him cheering her up by joking or talking her mind off it. He had seen enough ghoul slowly turn feral and lose all memory so he wasn't phased by her own memory loss, knowing at least she could get it back.

Other Random Facts about her:

-She forgave and let Benny go twice. Boone was with her both times and asked both times if it was more the case she couldn't do it and needed him to take the shot. She had come to terms that she was just an unfortunate victim in the incident, and that anyone could have been in her place. Not to say she didn't want to have revenge, to make him pay from taking her past and causing her to go blind. However she showed him the mercy that he never showed her in hopes that he would change, as well as with the thought that with out his actions she never would have met the people she would call friends today. Despite this most of the companions keep an eye out for anyone in a black and white check suit, more than happy to bring justice for there friend if he even thought of causing trouble.

- She is both friends with Ulysses and Joshua Graham. Not friendly enough to take a bullet however they enjoyed each others company. With Ulysses she felt extremely guilty about the harm and damage she had caused to the divide. And when they were fighting she believe she deserved punishment. She didn't blow up any faction however late at night she sometimes thinks would it have been better to blow up both the legion as well as the NCR and let there be independence. With Joshua she always felt a little uncomfortable being in his presence. Maybe it was the fact that she was an old NCR soldier and he was a Ex-Legionary that caused the distance. She slowly over time learnt to forgive his past and will happily sit and talk with him. She feels slightly off about his adoption of Religion to justify his violence. However after Daniel gave her a copy of the bible and a few lines of it brought back memories of the past she asked them both. When Joshua mentioned the community she had been born in she felt the same nostalgia  feeling she had felt with Boone. Learning it had ben destroyed she concluded her family were probably dead. 

-She is a vegetarian. It wasn't due to values it was more that even as a young girl meat would cause her to be violently ill. She also lost most of her taste after being shot, including the ability to feel temperature. She often burns her mouth. 

Hey I'm sorry this took longer than expected, to make up for it I've made it a bit longer and explained on some of the things written down. This one is for  @jayofsunight  I hope you all enjoy and if you have any asks or requests for companion reactions or anything to do with my OC just comment or send a message my way. I hope you have an amazing day, love you all <3 xx

[ladyinred02-blog]

Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag

Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag

By Lino Brocka

INTRODUCTION

Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag is a drama film based on a novel of Edgardo M. Reyes called In the Claws of Brightness. It was directed by Lino Brocka and was produced by Miguel De Leon and Severino Manotok. It was entitled as one of the greatest films in the Filipino Cinema. It has garnered the greatest number of awards during the 1976 FAMAS Awards such as Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Actor, and lastly Best Supporting Actor.

Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag tackles about the reality of how could an urban city influence or corrupt a person’s mind especially from who have lived all their life in rural areas with no idea what’s like in the city. It was also in comparison with the folktale, Ibong Adarna, wherein a singing bird enchants people and turns them into a stone. Similarities of how could the singing bird and an urban city capture everyone living from the province.

BODY

Perceived Meanings

A. Referential

There was a period in the Philippines until now, where people who grew up from provinces or rural areas have always dreamed of studying or living in Manila, the central city of the Philippines. They would think that they would easily earn money and be rich by living here. But in reality, it’s quite opposite because of the harsh and unfair living conditions. To them it is a stepping stone to their dreams but it will soon be crushed if they would realize how ugly and unfair it is living in busy city. Another thing is the stereotype wherein people from provinces usually have no idea or clue on how to survive being a part of a city. Similar to the film, it is pretty obvious that this stereotype was applied in the film.

B. Explicit

After being separated from the love of his life, he now searches all over the city to look for her. Overcoming numerous obstacles that kept coming his way, he still pursues to look for her. However, the tables have turned after finding out that she was now corrupted by the people who convinced her of a better life. He realizes that things could have been better for the both of them if she had not left for him and live in the city. Reality strikes in and now he imagines that living in the province could give them a better life than being in the city.

C. Implicit

A provincial boy journeys and starts searching for his long-lost love in an urban city but soon finds out that his loved one was now held captive by a delusive and dangerous man. Hope turns into a tragedy when his loved one died from trying to escape with her child. With so much anger he tries to avenge her death but tables have turned when he finds himself in a danger where there is no escape hole.

D. Symptomatic

In a society wherein one’s survival depends on their capabilities of being a street smart. If you can’t deal with harsh conditions coming at you, means that living in the city is not the best option for you to be in. Your survivals skills are put in to a test and now the only option is to suck up whatever opportunity is being given or going back to wherever it is you came from.

Film Criteria

A. Realistic

The film is realistic as it gets. Because until now everything that had happened in the film still happens to some people and a lot of them are being put into hardships and difficult situations, they did not intent of getting into. The injustice from then is still evident today considering what our government and current administration has done to our people. Even though years and decades have passed, it is pretty clear that some Filipinos don’t have the capacity to learn and change from their mistakes.  

B. Moral

Personally, there might be some disturbing scenes or factors included in this film such as mild nudity and the same gender sexual intercourse. It might bother some audiences because not all of us have the same moral acceptances within these kinds of issues. But for me, it wasn’t really a bothersome because there were limits in terms of nudity and also these kinds of things what makes film be more real and open-minded to its viewers.

C. Coherence

I could say that there was no built up of confusion while watching. I could clearly understand and follow through as the film continues.

D. Complexity

Complexity was visible in terms of storytelling. There was also a mild built up of suspense and thrill whenever the main character tries to find the person he is looking for. Those built ups make the film more engaging and quite exciting for some viewers. It wasn’t really a complicated movie, however, it depicts the ups and downs what type of situations anyone could be in.

E. Originality

I could say that the plot of the film was pretty common not only in the Philippine setting but also internationally. Some parts were so predictable that there’s no feeling of excitement or curiosity. But overall of the film, it was quite relatable and a number of people could really relate to what the film is all about. It is relatable because of the fact almost everyone came from the provinces and migrated to cities like in NCR to earn money and to provide the needs of their families back home.

CONCLUSION

Maynila, sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag is an interesting film wherein it is quite relatable to many Filipinos until today because it may raise some concerns about Filipino mentality and stereotyping on how they can avoid these kind of situations in the future. This also represents the social issues we have today such as injustices among our society. It also shows how unfair it is for some people of being not given the same opportunity and equal treatment from other people. This film might awaken some sense into our humanity that we all don’t have the same privileges and opportunities and thatvwe should treat each other as humanely as possible.