Fanfiction A Tale of Two Wastelands

[Yun Lee]

(Written by Ringmaster. Can also be found here.)

Chapter One

Monday

The Wasteland ain't no place for heroes. Everyone who grows up on this world knows this fact for certain, what with everything out there trying to kill you. To say nothing of how the greatest danger comes not from the monsters, but rather the people. Selfishness kills, strong eat the weak and frankly its not a hard choice to make for many. If you had a choice to save your family or some random stranger? No brainer. I know I'd do anything to save my sister or my new adopted sister. But heroes do exist, even out here in the Wasteland. I close my eyes as I write this and can still sees the fires of Mercy rise and the stranger, not so strange anymore in my minds eye. But Lucifer is gone now, him and Elizabeth. Left this world in search of home, wherever that may be. Heh.

I really do hope he finds it. He could use something going his way for once. But I digress.

My name is Piper Wright and this is the record I keep of the real happenings of the events of New Vegas, before the death of its long-running warlord. All the events I have had opportunity to eyewitness is true, on my honor as a journalist. Though to be frank, I can scarcely believe it myself even upon review. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

It began at least a week before the final end....

-------

Like the triumphant cry of some great beast, the Iron Dragon once more crossed the frontier of the American West. The railroad that was the dream of the united Brotherhood of Steel and their allies, despite setbacks was finally open for wider business. Travel meant trade. Trade meant more opportunities, colonists and towns could have a greater chance of survival without waiting on the caravans of old. And faster! So much more faster! Piper Wright laughed aloud, realizing she was seeing history in the making once more on their world. No longer reduced to clans or gangs in the desert, scraping by and attacking to live another day. Now? Civilization of a sort, was coming back and it all came back to her.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

Despite herself, Piper's stomach still did flip-flops as she smiled to her traveling partner in the booth. A blond, smiling woman dressed in a Minuteman-styled outfit, no rankings to be seen but with a hat that framed her eyes just right as she peered out from beneath the brim, a smile on her dimpled face that made Piper flushed. Like Lucifer, she too was one of those rare gems in the Wasteland....A hero. Someone who unselfishly did all they could, to make the world around them better then what they saw coming in. To everyone, she was Gwen. A general, a charmer and unbeknownst to all but her circle of friends, a complete dork.

Piper simply called her 'Blue'.

Nervously, she began to tap her fingers on her thigh, looking out the window before smiling broadly.

"Well...Its hard not to. Look at that! Look how fast we're going! Not much I guess, compared to memories of cars that worked and planes....But still faster then anything yet! We're rebuilding history right now and despite everything we lost, this is the first real progress we made. Not some big weapon to smash everything, not some new gun or what have you....The Railroad is a symbol of everything we could be. How could I not? Er-"

She flushed again as she waved her hand.

"-Sorry, kinda...Going off on a tangent there!"

Gwen laughed quietly. Piper listened, loving that tinkle every time.

Yeah, she had it bad.

Shaking her head, Gwen spoke on.

"Don't apologize. I rather like seeing you go on about stuff you're passionate about. I think its cute actually."

"...Saaay, is it getting hot in here or is it just me?"

Piper chuckled falsely, waving her hand like a joke though against that thrice-damned expression of content, she was fast losing against-

The shrill whistle of the train roared once more, the shock killing the mood as Piper sighed out inwardly. Disappointment? Relief? She didn't know. Dropping her pen, she sighed out and leaned forward to pick it up.

Just as a bullet hole appeared where her head once was, prompting Gwen to tackle her as she cried out.

"GET DOWN!"

------

Blue.... She was one-of-a-kind. She was a Vault inhabitant and with a particularly sad story as well. Her kid was stolen, her husband shot...She showed me the body once, to reveal why she fought so hard. And in that moment, I realized just how strong she was. How many other mothers would have kept their cool, remained as they were? If it was my sister, I think I might have ripped down the world for her. I couldn't even begin to imagine if it was my kid.

But what she had most was charisma. She solved her problems with words, revealing a better way then the one we tended to use for a while. Shoot first, ask questions later? But she was never afraid to pick up a weapon in defense of those who needed it.

What I found amazing though was everyone she befriended, regardless of who they were. Strong, that big lump was an absolute adorable bundle of psychotic tendencies around her. Cait? Gwen went out of her way, giving the ex-cage fighter a hand, up to and including cleaning her of her old addiction. To those who preyed on others without remorse, she served to them the same as what they gave out but to us? Her friends, her followers? She was kind without expecting a damn thing. She showed us that life was more then survival, then a hand-to-mouth basis.

Was it any wonder I fell hard?

Seems strange to write these down in this record, but I suppose its as good a tribute as any to the greatest woman I love. Anyway, yeah- The train...

-------

"What the Hell?!"

Much as Piper was enjoying this particular posture, the bullets and the whole almost-dying tended to kill the mood. Gwen for her part would be scrutinizing Piper, sighing in audible relief before smiling.

"Looks like raiders. Now it feels like an old Western."

Gunfire and the smashing of windows mingled with screams filled the air further down the car line. Giving Piper a look, her hand went for the briefcase at her side. Piper groaned and rolled her eyes as she rose and began to check her weapon with the ease of someone whose done this more times then she cared to think.

"Tell me you didn't bring it."

Gwen smiled brightly and opened the briefcase, revealing its contents.

"Ok. I won't."

"Is this really the best-Aaaaaand you are. Ok. You know, you are waaay too into that for your own good, you know?"

Clothing flew, as Gwen began to adorn the uniform she brought with her, kept in the briefcase for moments like this.

A fedora in place of her general's hat.

A scarf, neatly wrapped.

And over her clothing, an armored, silver trenchcoat as the Sole Survivor, the Railroad Charmer and the Minutemen General put away all such things.

And the Silver Shroud walked the earth once more as she bellowed heroically.

"Come Piper! Let us teach these scum, the FOLLY of train robbery, whilst in the presence of the SILVER SHROUD!"

The flat look of Piper was only slightly mitigated by the very real tommy gun that came with the costume, Gwen's favorite weapon as she loaded up and rushed away down the direction of the screams.

With an imploring look to the Heavens, Piper ran after her, muttering under her breath.

"I bet Elizabeth doesn't have to worry about this sort of thing..."

-------

Yes, Gwen is the Silver Shroud.

.....Who could have seen that coming?

I asked her once, a while back why she got into it so much. She told me her and her husband used to listen to the radio drama all the time. It was cheesy, but heroic and in the Wasteland, people needed that sometimes. They needed symbols, heroes that set the example and paved the way. I could get that, I really could.

But did she have to talk like that all the time, while in costume?

-------

Despite the costume and the speech, the tommy gun was very real.

Moreover, its user knew how to use it well and as it roared, there a bandit would drop to the ground. Gwen would be yelling as she charged, declaring her intent to smite everyone down for their CRIMES.

Piper in a rare, support position for once had little to do. Gwen was a one-woman army, who could take everyone on her own. So as Piper followed, she was able to pay more attention to the little details. Details such as the attackers, who she recognized off the bat.

"The Great Khans? I thought they were all wiped out."

A sudden click told her that the gun ran dry and the few remaining bandits still alive whooped and charged, machetes in hand.

Piper could have told them that was a bad idea.

For them.

Gwen met the oncoming thug with a bashing blow with the stock of her gun, actually charging forward to get inside his guard. He dropped like a light, just in time for the second to bring his machete down.

It never even pierced the trench coat, Gwen raising her arm and using the armor woven into the sleeve to defend herself, before jabbing a quick blow for the throat, followed by a flip to the floor and a stomp on the collarbone with a sickening crack.

That one she learned from Cait.

The last one would be finished with a single bullet, Piper's gun smoking as she watched the bandit drop. Well. So much for a peaceful train ride. And ignoring all else, she looked at Gwen in concern.

"You alright?"

Gwen inhaled deeply...Before putting her hands on her hip and laughing.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha! JUSTICE is a shield in which CRIMINALS cannot pierce!"

-------

I was going to kill Kent.

Even as I watched my friend play the part with no small degree of agony on my side, little did I know that what had seemed like a routine bandit raid was actually the precusor to something more.

A war between Blue and the Monster of New Vegas, that would only end with one of them dead.​

 

[Yun Lee]

Chapter Two

Tuesday

A courier in the Wasteland is the bravest of men. Alone, often on foot and by ways he himself must deem best, he travels from one end of the wasteland to the other on his appointed duty. Neither sandstorm, nor bandit nor deathclaw must stop him in his task. Bearing the trust of his employers, he must sleep with one eye open and his hand on his weapon that none may steal it. Even should he make it, there is always a chance that such places may think to withdraw his pay, his employers pay or even to kill him and take what they want. Only the insane may think to enter such a rank with such a thankless job. And only the strong, may deem what is truly sane.

-Doc 'Marrow' Johnson.

---------

Years had passed since the Card Tower incident, where the whole thing crumbled and New Vegas came under new management. How it all started however was one thing all authorities agreed upon, the day Benny(may-he-rest-in-peace) decided with his Great Khan hirelings to remove the last link in a chain to cover his tracks. Said chain link being one of many Couriers who made a living, delivering packages and messages to people all over the Wasteland. He looked him in the eye and shot him in the head.

Unfortunately for a great many people?

He got better.

Stories filtered as they often did, with the miraculous story of a man brought back from Deaths embrace by the hands of a skilled doctor in Goodsprings. Soon followed by stories of someone organizing a militia to repel a group known as the Powder Gangers from taking over. People who heard it applauded and maybe even admired such. But as time went by, stories began to take on an entirely new tone.

Surviving members of the now defunct gang spoke only in whispers, looking over their shoulders of a man who slaughtered them to the last in their own stronghold. Of body parts cleaved and with an expertise of a man who knew what he was doing. Still more stories came later, as an NCR soldier reported a hulking figure approaching from out of the darkness.

-------

I was assigned to Primm you see. I was on-duty watching the road and wasn't expecting anyone, you know? But it was a hell of a lot better then watching in the day and as I kept an eye out, I noticed someone. I thought it was a Legion scout, but they come in groups usually- This guy was alone. He looked as though he could have taken down a Deathclaw barehanded, wore a Vault Jumpsuit and a stetson, all black and hiding his face. Only weapons I saw on him was the machete and a pistol. But I did my thing, called out. He asked me if this was Primm and I said yes. I can't recall what else he asked but as he passed me by, I smelled...Well, you never really forget it.

I smelled blood. Old, but it pervaded his aura like you wouldn't believe and I shuddered. Had I known then just who I was talking to and what he'd become, I'd have shot him on the spot. Instead, here I am....Unsure if everything that happened since might not be in part my fault. Makes a man wonder...

-------

Villain or hero, he didn't leave his mark upon the Mavajo Wasteland so much as brand it. Wherever he went, life and death followed in abundance according to strange whims. One day, stories might come of a giant doctor, who with gentle hands eased pain and ensured the sufferers might live. Other times, stories of a Grim Reaper descending upon towns single-handedly would come from caravans, such as in the case of Novac: A ghost town now, with the only the dead and scavengers to inhabit it.

The NCR didn't care- They had bigger things to worry about and whats more, considering how many of their jobs the man was taking....Well, they could afford to look away.

Order of a sort returned to the Wasteland, bit by bit.

A mining operation plagued by Deathclaws would return to work, helped in part by a drifter who was passing through.

The Legion began to fear treading where they once marched freely, a new enemy emerging that came brutally out of nowhere, using a chainsaw to slaughter them and seemingly untouched by bullets. It got to the point that Caesar himself sent his best to bring to him this person who caused all this trouble, to determine some kind of cease fire and whether or not he could sway him to his point of view.

He was killed on the spot and every legionary died that day in their attempt to avenge their master. The only eyewitness, a merchant who saw a giant figure in a black coat and stetson, chainsaw in hand and soaked in blood as he dragged behind him by the hand a woman he knew to sell what crude medicines they had.

Only the scavengers and the slaves profited that day.

Bodies piled in heaps wherever he walked. Innocent and guilty alike it seemed. The Great Khans eventually hiding for fear of the one who had some kind of grudge against them. They even allied with the legion, seeking their assistance against a common foe.

It didn't work and save for a single boy, The Great Khans were all but hunted to extinction. The NCR was thrilled.

Aloud they may tsk and shake their heads, but it wasn't their hands getting dirty. Their enemies were dying and their territory was ripe for the taking. Everything was going to plan.

And then one day, the Courier found himself in New Vegas.

And Hell followed after.

----------

Benny? Yeah, I knew him. He was a real slick talker, liked to look the part too. Always had some kind of code, about shooting a man while looking him in the eye? I'm telling you, it was bullshit. He was a gloater, plain and simple. Liked to brag about how he could out-talk anyone, no matter what. Everyone had a price he liked to say and maybe here in New Vegas, that was true. It was a status quo- No one wants to lose their piece of the pie, right? So was always better to talk. Well, that didn't work so well the day he walked in. Benny and his bodyguards were wandering the Casino- He had a place he liked to put his feet up in, rented out exclusively. Well anyway, at one of the tables this big man accompanied by one of them NCR rangers? You know, the helmet and all that? He walks right in his path and tells Benny 'Remember me?" Now Benny, he goes all white for a moment but then he starts talking...Claims that it was nothing personal and that he had an offer.

Seems to be working and they go up to the suite. The Ranger stays behind and just has a staring contest with the bodyguards. Maybe...I dunno, fifteen minutes later? Elevator dings and the big guy walks right out, heading to the bodyguards. He says something and slips them a little cash before tossing them the thing in hand. They almost puked and I don't blame em. Was Benny! Er...His head anyway. I dunno what they did with it, but they pretty much all but ran afterward. Cleaning staff later told me when they removed the body, that the head was twisted clean off. Now is that all? I'm just a dealer man. I do my job and I keep my head down. Benny's world? Huh.

He can keep it. See, thing about the status quo is that now and then, you get someone who doesn't give a shit. And when he does show up? Trouble follows.

Trouble always follows.

----------

Things fell quickly into line after that and the Empire that was once Mr. Houses crumbled down into oblivion. Chaos had come and it had full control of the robots, as well as not afraid to get its hands dirty. Some of the major players such as the White Glove Society didn't survive the purge. After walking in for a while, the Courier returned with a flamethrower and everyone within burned. Gomorrah was intimidated easily enough, the NCR presence in the city removed...Violently. In the end, the only winner of the conflict strangely enough was Freeside; a section where no one deemed valuable save for the Courier. But the house of cards had fallen and in its place, was the new lord and master. New Vegas would be independent as always, neutral territory...Save under his control. Naturally, NCR decided it was time to put this son-of-a-bitch in his place and sent soldiers to take over.

Two hundred men, reduced to three. Two to adorn the spiked pole out by the door of his personal HQ and one to return as the shell-shocked survivor. Fear and death were his chief weapons and he used them like a man used to them all his life.

Now you can scarcely believe your eyes at New Vegas as it is.

Its wilder, more exhilarating. Drugs are sold freely on the streets and a fighting pit has been established where the White Glove Society building once stood. Freeside is the only place safe from any of the dealings of the main Strip, though you pull a weapon on a resident there at your own peril. All of them have been quietly armed and supplied and the Courier himself stalks the streets at random.

Legionaries are welcomed but under strict rules if they wish to deal. Slaves are automatically freed beyond the border and the fate of a malicious slave trader who detonated all his wares collars out of spite for the rule still adorns a cross by the gates. So now you know, as much as anyone does of the mysterious Courier.

Is he a villain? A saint? You'll find many divided on the subject. As for me?

-----------

Its a quiet, spartan quarters. And yet, far more luxurious then the Ranger ever imagined. A comfortable bed, a sink and a writing desk where the memoirs on the man known as the Courier were being penned. By the side the helmet would be at rest, its blank visor reflecting the face of its owner.

Once a slave in the Legionary Fort, now a free woman, the ex-slave known now as Lora pondered as she chewed her bottom lip in thought. And as she did, she marveled once more at what the Courier did for her. When he took her, removed her collar? He wasn't content to leave her as she was and he instilled that same desire in her. He taught her to read and write, along the journey. He taught her to shoot and to shoot to the death; Wounded foes were a waste of bullets. One shot, one kill. Combat came naturally, as she found herself yearning to please him in all she did and she came to know him a lot more readily then most.

A moment later, she set back to scribble the rest of her words.

--------

I suppose I'll never really know. But to him, I owe everything I am today and if it takes me the rest of my life? I'll pay him back. One way or another.

-------

There was a knock at the door, Lora turning in annoyance as she got up to open it, peering down at the one who did so. One of the cap-a-dozen thugs, who gulped upon seeing the expression on her face. He knew who she was....The Warlords personal retainer, currently looking as though she had scraped something off her boot as she said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Umm...Its the boss. He wants to see you."

Lora nodded, her expression less annoyed now as she moved to grab her helmet, placing it under her arm as she set out without him. She knew where it was. All the way, at the top of the tower she headed for it. Where Mr. House once entertained visitors and now, where the new master of New Vegas dwelt. By the window he stood and she took him in.

He was massive- The stories were true about that. Looking more akin to a supermutant in build, over this he wore a tailored longcoat such as the one he wore in more desperate times. A rebreather hiss filled the air, placed over his features and combined with his wide-brimmed desperado hat, created the image of one all had come to fear.

Save her.

To her, he stared with eyes like a reptile. Cold and calculating, like a crocodiles patience as he said to her.



"We've work to do."

-------

 

[Yun Lee]

Chapter Three

When evil walks the streets of New Vegas, one woman lurks in the shadows. Shielding the innocent! Judging the guilty. That guardian is....The Silver Shroud! Today's episode!

The Shadow Knows.

It is a lonely night in New Vegas, despite the copious amounts of liquor and flesh traded for those seeking respite from the Wasteland. Talented singers croon old hits from way back when, before the bombs dropped while in other places, fortunes are lost and won at the turn of a card and the spin of a wheel. There's a free, easy spirit in New Vegas. One that if you don't keep your head, will sweep you off your feet like a lover in the dark before it has its way with you.

And in the New Vegas of today, that might just be the last thing you'll ever do.

As a robotic patrol rumbled past an alley, a shadow took the opportunity to sneak on past them. This was a lonely part of the strip, a place far away from the more festive atmosphere it played for the delight of its visitors. Here, the guards were more hard of face and their hands rested upon the handles of their weapons. Skulls adored spikes on every corner, some smaller then others to the shadows disgust. Women, children, soldiers- It didn't matter. It was a blatant and macabre display and she knew where it all came from.

These were all the people of the old NCR embassy and those who opposed it. When some protested, the Courier responded in the best way he thought possible.

He killed every man, woman and child in the district and spared no one in a brutal display of what it meant to speak against him. And coincidentally, was able to transform the place into his personal garrison and storehouse district. Its not as though the former inhabitants could protest it.

For the Silver Shroud, it was utterly reprehensible.

She had heard the stories about New Vegas and the conflicting tales of the man behind it. A brutal man of good intentions, she could understand. But this? This was not the work of a man, but rather an animal. And while she was on a particular mission for the Brotherhood and Railroad? She was going to send a message of her own.

And so the Silver Shroud walked the streets of New Vegas, heading for what had once been a Vault-centric hotel....

-----------

Reggie always hated sentry duty. Quiet as it was, doing it here creeped him out. Eye sockets stared blankly out and made him uncomfortable, the grisly trophies of the massacre staring as though judging him for his part. Which of course was ridiculous. He was only a thug for the Gomorrah casino at the time, before the Boss took over everything. He had nothing to do with it, so he had nothing to be guilty over.

But in his nightmares he could hear the screams of women and children and the roar of a chainsaw as it sliced through flesh and bone. Yeah, this job scared him.

But failing it and the Boss scared him even more and so he stood. Hating his post and hating whatever he half-imagined on the site in which so much blood was spilled.

He was almost grateful when the distraction occurred and a figure in a trenchcoat, scarf and fedora stepped out into the torchlight, accompanied by a pretty woman. Turning his gun on them regardless, he spoke.

"Password?"

"Justice."

"Wha-"

And then all went black.

----------

Gwen lowered her gun hand, the silenced pistol still smoking as she breathed in and out. Piper looked at her, worried sick. This was a bad idea, she knew it from the start. And cautiously, she asked.

"Blue, you alright? You wanna head back to the hotel? I can do this, you know I-"

"No. I'm not alright. And I'm not going back."

The fact that Gwen broke character shocked Piper more then anything as she stared at Gwen. The face of the Silver Shroud, the symbol of hope and the kindest person she ever knew or loved.

Seeing it twisted into something approaching apocalyptic rage was a very unnerving experience as Gwen spoke in terse whispers.

"Look at this! Its all- Its sick! If there is a Hell, I am going to send the Courier back to it and then I hope I go there myself, so I can kill him again for what this place has become."

"Blue..."

Piper bit her lower lip, worried even more. Blue was so strong and brave, it was hard to forget at times that she was only human. She had lost so much and had so much to fear for, and she still smiled. She still tried to instill hope into everyone she met, inspiring them to be better then they believed themselves to be. Seeing her in the confines of New Vegas was horrible on Piper.

The moment they entered the gates, it was like the whole city began to sap them of their soul and vitality. Where people saw casino's, Blue saw the crosses where crucified victims laid out, like a forest of them before they entered the city; rebels and enemies of the Courier. Where others saw beautiful women for sale, Blue saw the signs of drug abuse and heavy makeup for when one got too defiant. Tonight as they both snuck into the warehouse district, was the final straw.

A storm had been unleashed, the only thing you could do was get out of the way.

Which as Piper considered in hindsight, might have been the plan after all. She thought back to that meeting where it all started....

"Gwen."

"Danse."

It was a terse, if somewhat unfailingly courteous meeting. Piper felt like an intruder as she watched Blue and Paladin Danse greet each other as though they were casual friends rather then the old lovers they were. Some part of her was glad, honestly enough. The rest of her slammed it down, as an unworthy thought. Danse and Gwen loved each other, she knew that much. Seeing them act so distant to each other only intensified her own discomfort.

More so when Danse turned to her and smiled, more at ease.

"Piper. Good to see you too."

"Hey Danse. No more tin man, huh?"

Gone was the armor that had characterized the stoic soldier she had known for some time. In its place was a more limber and interesting uniform. Instead of the barracks for the soldiers, Danse was in his own tent. A cot in the back of the impromptu desk with a map and pins stuck into it, with paperwork on the side showed Piper just how little Danse changed in general. He worked hard and he slept near it, so as to be better prepared just in case. As to why, Danse had risen up the chain of command in the wake of the successful Imperial Wasteland campaign. One that Piper in particular might have had a bit of inside knowledge on. Her thoughts flashed to red eyes and a desperado looking stetson, prompting her to smile. Mistaking it for a greetings, Danse nodded.

"Yes, Paladin Riley thought to promote me in the field. Now it just means I push papers more."

"Its a huge responsibility though- Riley must really trust you to do this well."

That was from Blue, the sincere compliment actually cracking the ice long enough for a rueful smile from Danse before he spoke.

"Be that as it may, it means I can finally send people in about this."

More serious now, he took a folder from the files as he passed them over. Within were photos of a skeletal monstrosity, from the waist up like some horrific nightmare. The bottom were unmistakably robotic as Danse spoke.

"These pictures were taken in the ruins of Mercy."

Pipers head looked up swiftly, her eyes narrowing.

"Mercy? Are you sure?"

Danse nodded, Blue looking mildly confused.

"I knew that'd get your attention. This creature is merely one of many, showing up in various sites...All connected to the same situation as Mercy. A town is destroyed and these things awaken. No one knows why....Until now. We believe there's a connection between the attacks and New Vegas."

Now Pipers attention was well and truly caught. It had seemed far too random in addition to the Brotherhood traitor. That there was an actual purpose in these random massacre fields was at once, unnerving and elating. Finally, they had a lead. Danse continued on.

"We've an intercepted message, suggesting that the late Triad leader was in contact with New Vegas. Its a long journey but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. ... And we need the very best we have."

Blue traced a picture with her fingernail, before looking at Danse. She read Piper's article... And that decided everything.

"When do we leave?"

That was then. Now?

------------

Now they descended into the depths of the underground warehouse. A former vault-turned-den of secrets and lies, a trail of which extended from Mercy onto this point. No guards were seen to bar their path-sloppy, to Pipers frame of mind. Whatever savagery the Courier wielded, he seemed to rely too much upon it. Anyone could just walk in here, much like her and Blue-Oh no.

Gwen froze, a beeping noise so innocuous as to be insignificant making her stop dead in her tracks as she turned her head in rising terror.

As before her sight, Piper stared in ashen resignation at a land mine hidden up till now by her feet.

"BLUE, NO-!"

The explosion was short, if brutal. A small, if deadly mercy in the confines of the hall.

----------

"Blue..... No. Why?"

Pipers voice cracked, distraught at what had happened. There was no hesitation on the part of Gwen. The moment she knew Piper was in danger, she tackled her. The armored woven trenchcoat saved her, but it was cold comfort. It was such a selfless, altruistic thing to do.... It was Blue all over. Feeling like she'd been kicked by a mule in the ribs, Gwen had the gall to chuckle.

"Tis the... Pleasure of the Silver Shroud, to save beautiful maidens."

And that both killed and enhanced the mood, insofar as Piper was concerned. The rising twin urges of 'throttle' and 'kiss' fought for supremacy before they had bigger things to worry about.

"How touching. So this is the Silver Shroud?"

To Piper, it felt like Death had just tapped her shoulder and yelled 'boo.' Gwen reacted an entirely different way, leaping to her feet as though she was just napping.

"Show yourself knave! Death has come to your door and I AM ITS SHROUD!"

"So I see. Two halls down and a left. I'll be waiting."

The voice was confusing... It sounded natural rather then an intercom. But it was too shadowy to determine where it was. But they had a direction and their goals hadn't changed.

Well.... Maybe one.

"Blue?"

"Yeah?"

"When this is over.... Can we talk?"

"Sure. Now we're definitely surviving this."

Piper blinked and despite herself, a laugh sweet and pure left her lips. Like a defiant gesture, it lingered in the cursed halls as Piper smiled and followed after.

It was time.

--------

I was a fool.

Even that brief amount of time didn't drive it into my head that Blue wasn't immortal. She was only human. She could bleed. She could die.

And I was about to get the most brutal reminder, borne from my worse nightmares.

​

 

[Yun Lee]

Chapter Four

Despite how she looked and how she acted while in the guise of the Silver Shroud, Gwen was every bit as sharp and on point as she usually was in situations like this. Really, it wasn't too far off from what she usually did so she never really thought of it as a separate persona. Much like when she was studying law back in the days before the bombing, one thing they learned was presence of personality. It was harsh, but often how you conducted yourself could mean just as much as the actual evidence on which the client was convicted upon. A charismatic lawyer adapted to the changing grounds in which the Law was contended and bantered back and forth.

The only difference here was that she now got to shoot people who deserved it.

Speaking of which, their way was curiously free of people. Not even a second landmine, which had her paranoid and tense as she slowly, stalked forward. Both hands gripping her tommy gun as Piper breathed quietly behind. It was a trap...It had to be. But for her? She had just got here after all, how would anyone know she was coming? She thought of her late husband, the soldier- A good man and honestly, Danse reminded her so much of him that it hurt. One reason why she had been attracted and drawn to him before....Before everything. Gwen bit her lip, her expression unseen to Piper and yet there was her soft voice once more, worry unfeigned spoken just as before when she showed her the body of her husband.

"Blue? You ok?"

"...Yeah. Just thinking. Not the best time, I know."

Behind her, Piper was fighting the urge to hug the other woman. Something in the posture, that while ready for battle at the drop of hat, nevertheless looked...Distorted. Like whatever spirit that drove Blue had left, leaving behind all the bad memories. And Blue had enough of those, God knows. This was a bad idea....It was obviously a trap. Blue had just belly-flopped a land mine and this entire city seemed to suffocate her by its mere existence alone.

"We should leave. They're expecting us for sure."

It was said, leaving her mouth and exposed for all to hear as Gwen from behind stiffened and for a moment, Piper hoped wildly that she'd say yes. Up to the point that obnoxious laughter came and the intonations of the Shroud reached her.

"Hahahaha! It would be a CRIME then to leave our Host WAITING! There is an Appointment Evil has tonight, and it is with my FIST OF JUSTICE!"

"This is serious!"

Piper yelped, all patience gone as she stormed forward and turned Gwen around to face her.

"You're hurt, they're expecting us and you make...Jokes?! We have to-"

"Piper."

It was the quiet, non-hammy tone that cut through Pipers fury as Gwen fixed the reporter with the most piercing stare she had, smiling sadly to take the edge off. In that same voice, she continued.

"If they know who we are, who's to say they aren't waiting for us back at our hotel room? With all those people? You think they're the type to care about bystanders? We've beaten worse odds and we'll beat these too. At least here and now, we're armed to the teeth and as well equipped as we can be. It has to end now, tonight.... Before this place consumes more people."

Piper reluctantly conceded the point, her expression showing understanding if a little disquiet as she let go. Gwen smiled and added coyly.

"Besides, I owe you a conversation. No way am I going to die. And nor are you."

Now there was a faint flush that Piper thanked her lucky stars that the tunnel was somewhat dark to hide it as she tried to scowl.

"Fine. I'm holding you to that."

Gwen smiled and together, the pair rushed down the hallway.

-------------

It didn't look like a trap. Then again, traps that looked like traps probably defeated the purpose of having traps altogether. It was an idle thought anyway, one of the strange ones that come just before an imminent and often violent situation. The room that the voice directed them too was dark and vast...Various crates here and there for possible cover. No sign of land mines either or anything else....Making a motion for Piper to stay where she was, Gwen stepped inside first. Slowly, gun out as she fanned it over the room.

Nothing. A waste of time? She gestured for Piper to come inside, the reporter switching on a flashlight to assist them as she stepped through the door. Just in time to scream as the air rippled and two massive hands gripped her and lifted her up.

"BLUE!"

"PUT HER DOWN, FOUL-"

Gwen bellowed and the lights suddenly came on. High up, on platforms stood a number of quiet looking people. Armed and led apparently by an NCR Ranger with a sniper rifle. Black helmet, gasmask and all. It confused Gwen at first, how none of them raised their weapons. Around Piper, the Stealthboy shut down as the Nightkin gripping Piper growled...But didn't attack. The quiet solidarity from the humans and mutant together unnerved Gwen though she refused to show it. And with a glare discernible even from this distance, she pointed accusingly at the Ranger.

"COURIER! DO YOU FEAR ME? TO RESORT TO SUCH TACTICS AND TO HIDE BEHIND NUMBERS? THEY SHALL JOIN YOU IN DEATH UPON MY WORD AS THE SILVER SHROUD!"

"Not at all Shroud."

.....That wasn't the Ranger.

She turned her gaze lower, the clink of spurs jangling and everyone else seemingly holding their breath. There was fear here, tangible in the air...Mostly from the followers, mutant included Gwen noted. Save for the Ranger, whose pose was merely impassive. And so it was, for the first time that Gwen, the Sole Survivor got her first look at the man the Wasteland knew as the Courier as he stepped out behind a stack of crates.

He was a big man, the first impression that Gwen had of him. His boots were custom, crafted from Deathclaw leather and with spurs spiked and spinning. Gloves, the same adorned his hands, the thumbs tucked into suspenders connected to slacks as a gray, pre-war buttoned shirt modestly cared for revealed itself. A longcoat black and worn filled out the rest of his look, accented by the rebreather over his mouth and nose and the desperado hat he wore to finish it.

Gwen stared carefully, the Courier seemingly uncaring as he took her in just as frankly, stopping when they were a good twelve yards away.

"They're just here to watch the show."

Show? Something flickered in Gwen's eyes as her grip tightened on her weapon.

Show?!

"Evil Doer, you shall suffer like no other! Judgement has fallen upon you, and I AM ITS SHROUD!"

To this, the Courier clapped politely, the minions doing the same as the room filled with applause.

"How very like the original. Very evocative of pre-war radio drama, I'm a very big fan so you know. Unfortunately, this is business. Take her away." He flicked his gaze behind Gwen and the Nightkin began to back out, Piper yelling out curses that made hardened ex-raiders in the audience wince to hear it.

"-SIDEWAYS! BLUE! KICK HIS ASS! DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME!"

"You need not worry. She will live, on that you have my word."

....Curiosity was beginning to rise and recalling why she was here, Gwen narrowed her eyes as she delved into her past. This was just another day at the bar, with the jury watching and the judge in session.

"What worth is the word of a known psychopath? I know who and what you are, I've seen this city. Your word means nothing to me."

If anything, that seemed to amuse the Courier, still in that relaxed pose as he began to circle her.

"Then if you can't trust my word, trust in the fact I need a reliable witness for the Brotherhood of your passing. Riley needs a little wake up call, and I will not tolerate any attempts to push into my holdings."

"Disregarding the fact your agents have been supplying the Imperial Wasteland conflicts? So you dish it out, but you can't take it in other words. What did you think would happen, when you struck out at civilians and others unable to defend themselves?"

"....You speak passionately of matters you know nothing about, Shroud."

There was a softer, more darker intonation to the Couriers voice and for those who recognized it in the audience, they began to turn pale and step back from the rail. The Ranger watched on, impassive as she leaned forward, listening carefully. Behind the door, Piper watched on. Unable to get out of the Nightkins grip, listening with fascinated horror as well. It was almost hypnotic....On one hand, the Silver Shroud. The hero of the Wastelands of Boston and whose reputation had soared to ever-higher heights. On the other, the Courier. The Monster, the Savage. His fury and violence scoured the Mojave desert and seeing them both in this setting was almost surreal.

For a moment, the clink of his spurs was the only noise, as in his circling he paused in front of Gwen, his back to her as he breathed quietly before speaking again.

"What would I care, for cities and people I will never see, nor who will have any sort of ramification on what I have now? Look around you. This is my realm, shaped by my will and my own hand. I broke the back of the Legion and the NCR fell to me in turn. Everyone and everything fears my name and my shadow, because I have made it so! What would I care, for anything beyond it....No. I did not send my people out to attack your own."

He turned and there was a flicker of amusement now as he added.

"But there is a lesson to be learned yet. The Brotherhood has sent agents...Not just any agents either, but their greatest! The Silver Shroud stands before me! Which I regard as an affront to me and my holdings. There is only one judgement."

He reached a hand to his coat and flicked it away, revealing a holster with a revolver of all things. Around them, the thugs began to chant. Their feet stomped and the sound rose like a living thing, engulfing the two figures on the ground as Piper watched on in rising anxiety.

"DEATH-DEATH-DEATH-DEATH-DEATH-DEATH!"

No more talk.

Gwen roared and raised up the tommy gun, firing away at the Courier. She was fast.

He was faster.

Out came the pistol, his left hand fanning the safety as the roar of the revolver filled the air, the Courier stepping to the side to avoid the spray of bullets. Gwen staggered, three bullets for each knee impacting as she stumbled. Fast....And a very good shot. He aimed deliberately for her knees, the armored weaving saving them from a more gruesome fate. One was shattered though and in that realization, she knew. He wasn't fighting to end it.

He was fighting to prolong it.

The thought gave her strength as she stabbed a red vial from her storage, letting it fill her with its healing properties.

In that time however, he had already come close to her, his hand flipping the now empty revolver as he smashed the butt of it on the side of her head, sending Gwen flying to the ground.

"Kevlar weave in the costume? How very pragmatic. But we know all about pragmatic don't we Shroud? We the survivors of a world that wanted us DEAD!"

He lashed out with a kick as Gwen tried to get up, a sickening crunch of ribs breaking causing Piper to scream in horror and the crowd to cheer. Once more, the Courier circled her, waiting this time as Gwen came to her feet, hands up in a boxing stance learned from Cait. The Courier chuckled, pleased.

"You've spirit. I appreciate that. But you would have done better to stay down."

"....I...I can do this all day."

Gwen coughed, blood spattering the metal ground.

What followed next was systematic butchery. The Courier disdained honor in a fight and it showed. As Gwen swung, he stepped into her guard to punch where he kicked her ribs, prompting a pained scream before his other fist came in an uppercut. Her face smashed through a wooden crate, the back of her head gripped by his hand. He was brutal and like an uncaring beast for his enemy, dealt with her in a clinical way that made Piper shudder.

Her voice was hoarse, her screams and yells for Blue to get up lost in the crowd of excited thugs watching. Out of all of them though, only one seemed to remain silent and quiet....Right before she left, the Ranger turning and stepping out a door on the upper platform area.

On the impromptu arena, Gwen would be lying on the floor. The Courier watching as once more, she got up. It was slow, it was painful to watch- But she finally staggered to her feet.

She shifted her weight on her right leg, the left one dislocated with no time to put it back in. Almost hunchback now, her internal organs were a mess from the beating she had gotten- He was strong and pulled no punches. Her nose was broken, she was sure she lost a tooth or two and her eyes were puffy and black, blood dried and flowing from wounds accenting the blunt trauma she was subjected to.

"...Death...Holds no fear...For the Shroud."

In silence, the Courier watched before shrugging.

"As you like."

And from the other side of his coat, another revolver would be seen as he drew it out and shot her twice in the heart.

Gwen fell over with a heavy thud, the cheers suddenly silenced and the screams of Piper rising that you could almost imagine it reaching the Imperial Wasteland. It was horror and terror in mixed measure, borne of love.

"BLUUUUUUEEEEEE! YOU BASTARDS!"

​

 

[Yun Lee]

Chapter Five

Her throat was hoarse. Her eyes felt drained of tears and what was left in its place, was a gaping maw that swallowed her emotions. Because no matter how much she cried or how much she screamed, Blue was still dead. Her pretty features beaten to a pulp and then shot like a dog. Guilt surged like blood throughout her body. If it had been Strong, he wouldn't have let this happen. Or Cait. Hell, even Dogmeat would have done better! And what did she do?! Stay on the side and watched her friend die slowly and in great pain.

Anger began to flow and Piper glanced at the Courier.

For his part, the Courier looked down at the body without a trace of regret. That was the nature of the game and something he took from his little incident that shaped who he was. Some things, you just needed to do yourself. It was what separated you from the Benny's of the world, looking at people at mere obstacles to be leaped over like some pre-war race course. Obstacles after all in the course, didn't rise up as you leaped or ambushed you down the second lap. Take the Silver Shroud for instance here....A legend, one who built it up in the Wasteland as he did his own. It was all about the story and what they sung about you, and what they sung about the Silver Shroud was a relentless immortal being. A figure of justice which he could well appreciate himself. Perhaps they might have even been friends in other times, but here and now? He was the Master of New Vegas and the Silver Shrouds legend had to be utterly shorn of all that made it great.

Only human, in the end.

He winced and a hand moved to his chest, his breathing slightly irregular. Lora stepped forward, one hand raised to help him before he waved her off and sighed.

"Sir? What do we do with the body?"

The Courier looked down at the broken form of the Silver Shroud. So small in death she looked like. Surely, she would never come back.

"Take her to the Forest."

But why take chances? To the crosses littering outside the city she'd be put. For wind and heat and scavengers to desecrate the body and increase the fear of him in his surrounding territories. A fitting and pragmatic end.

"And her partner?"

The Courier stared at Piper. If looks could kill, the Courier would be a pile of ashes and impassively, he spoke.

"Let her perish with her with her friend."

-------------

There were many ways to die in New Vegas, long before the shadow of the Courier darkened its doorstep. Currently however, there now exists a series of more public methods of execution, all formulated and decided by the Courier who brings his own brand of justice to keep what is his. Those who have committed light crimes are sentenced to labor for the good of New Vegas. Even then, he feeds and shelters them. Do you starve horses to make them work harder? No, of course not. And many times, these are the ones who if they prove themselves, ascend into his working force as paid and honored craftsmen. Desperation plays a big part in the Wasteland after all and the Courier does not kill for desperation alone.

Those who can well afford to pay however, or perform some act unforgivable are...Not so fortunate. To them, there is either the Pit or the Forest.

The Pit is the newest addition to New Vegas and stands where the old hotel, where the cannibal cult once lived. Key word 'once'. The Courier took one exploratory look and returned with a flamethrower and chainsaw. Its ruins has been pulled down and in its place, is a Roman-styled arena. An arena where bets like most of New Vegas, caps flow everyday from hand to hand. Here, the monsters of the Wasteland are gathered but the prize of the collection is the Courier's personal monster, the albino Deathclaw he has named Moby.

But even death as food for the Deathclaw is lenient compared to that which awaits outside.

The infamous forest, where lies the corpses of Legion, NCR, thugs and more....The very personal and therefore, important enemies of the Courier. Dead and stricken upon the crosses that litter it. Perhaps one of the few, ironic punishments the Courier took from the Legion. They lash both to their own crosses and leave.

Piper saves her voice. She'll need all her strength as she waits. Here, they don't believe in leaving guards. The Courier's reputation does enough to prevent anyone from freeing the bodies. And the scavengers and predators of the Wasteland do the rest. Its so hot...And Piper stares at Blue's cross, biting her lower lip before slumping.

".....I never thought you'd go out that way. Not like that."

She's dead the rational part declares. Dead and unable to hear her, but she speaks regardless. It passes the time as she sighs out in defeat.

"Not to a punk like that....And yet, its fitting. Your husband was a soldier, he followed orders. But you were a lawyer...You had to think. Out here, an imagination can be a setback. No ones going to want a newspaper without food. Or hear stories without drink. But they keep us going and you knew that. The Silver Shroud was more then just an idea, it was a symbol. You believed things could be better, if you stood out as one."

She thought back to a black night, in the grasp of a pyromaniac as a traveler in black had his arm broken in three places for daring to help her.

"....But maybe it was fitting. If you stand up for whats right, maybe it inspires others to do the same. Against that, what could the Courier's of the world do?"

Tie them up to crosses perhaps and she sighed once more. Time passed....In a quavering voice, she spoke.

".....The Wasteland needs people like you. Blue? Please....Just once, for me....Live? Do something, anything."

"....Piper."

Blue! Her heart soared, everything else became secondary to what she had just heard. She was alive! Blue was alive! She could have sobbed for joy as she as with renewed hope she spoke. "Wait for me! I'll get us out of here, I'll-!!"

Her eyes widened with horror as she saw someone walk down between the crosses in their direction. A club in their hand and she began to thrash against her bindings. No! She knew this part....To ensure someone was dead, they would break their legs and let the shock kill them. In Blue's case, that might just be enough to prove fatal. Blood began to seep against her wrists, so mighty was her attempts to get free.

"NO! YOU LEAVE HER ALONE! BLUE, COME-THE-FUCK-BLUE!"

The thug stopped before their crosses, he stared....And out of nowhere, came a voice Piper never expected to hear here.

"What kind of a greeting is that, to an old friend?"

"Deacon?!"

"Hold still, I'll get you down first. I'm going to need help for Gwen."

Deacon?! Sure enough, it was. The best disguise artist in the wasteland as he helped get her down, then after letting circulation flow and a quick bandage patch job, he then spoke urgently.

"Alright, gonna need some help like I said. She's fragile, but I know some contacts who can help her. Problem is getting her to them. Alright, ready? Easy does it- There."

Slinging Gwen on his back, Deacon handed over a pistol to Piper.

"Think you can shoot anyone who stops us?"

The look in the reporters eye was all Deacon needed as he nodded with satisfaction.

---------

"Gone?"

The thug gulped, sweat pouring down his face as he kept his eyes averted. The Courier was standing by the window, looking outside in the direction of the Forest. By his side, watching the thug was Lora. Her mask preventing any change of expression detected as both remained silent.

The thug swallowed again and spoke.

"Y-yes....Cut from her bonds. No mistake, when we went to check."

"....Good."

Lora and the thug were startled, revealing it in different ways as the Courier spoke.

"Kevlar weaving. Enough to take her down, not enough to kill. The Silver Shroud is a symbol of hope. She is hope incarnate, to those who resist me. They will take her to be healed...And when they do, I will be waiting for them. After tonight, search all hospitals, healers and the like. I know what sort of damage I inflicted, they will need a doctor...A proper doctor. Not to many of them here."

"There is a chance they will evade us and come for you."

Lora replied. She alone spoke her mind to the Courier, who fashioned her from Legion slave to devoted second in command. She did not fear him as others did and thought only of his well being. With this in mind, the Courier considered the Shroud as he faced her before chuckling.

"Let them. We will be ready."

​