The Last Quest

The Last Quest

Chapter One

The Courier, a name that was given to the savior of the Mojave. The real name changes with a few stories depending who's the teller, but that title remains unchanged. The Courier stands around five foot ten, short dark blond hair, square goatee, green eyes, and is known most to his enemies for the wide variety of weaponry he uses. Most see him as a savior, some a troublemaker, others try their best to kill him. Despite all the challenges, despite his enemies best manipulative efforts, he's never once strayed from the path of good.

A lot of things had happened in the last seven months since the Courier seized the Hoover Dam from both the Legion and the NCR. Firstly his allies that had banded with him slowly began to go their separate ways. Next the Legion withdrew from the Mojave as a civil war began to tear it apart from within, the territory they left was later claimed by New Vegas. Then after two months of peaceful trading and treaties being drawn up with the NCR, a large caravan was destroyed along the final stretch of the long 15. The following investigation pointed to an enemy the Courier had never wanted to encounter again.

The tunneler nest had been small and not as deep as he had anticipated. So the Courier did the only thing reasonable and poured fifteen tanks of flamer fuel in the holes and killed them all in one foul swoop. This small victory was the marking of the end for the Courier and the newly founded New Vegas Territory.

The other leaders on the strip harass the Courier from the tiniest of things, to the large issues and his ideas on them. This of course was normal as the families didn’t like being told what to do, but they all agreed the courier was the lesser of the evils that had been after New Vegas. When the news of the tunnelers came up during one of the meetings, the Courier was instantly blamed as he had been the one to enter the Divide and come back alive. Knowing that soon the securitrons would be needed the Courier went to awake his dormant army, but all he found was a disaster zone.

The loss of the of the robotic army had been the second most humiliating defeat the Courier had ever suffered. Not only had a tunneler gotten into the secure bunker, but it had destroyed all the equipment inside as well as the securitrons. To this day the Courier swears that a single tunneler couldn't of done it, but that's what the evidence pointed to. Everyone thought nothing of the NCR sending papers that warranted the surrender of New Vegas and the surrounding territory just a few days later. With out an army to defend it the Courier knew the best thing for these people, his people, was to choke down his pride, sign the papers, and pray the NCR could handle the Tunnelers. The day those papers where signed was the day of the Couriers greatest defeat.

With the loss of New Vegas the Courier now had no purpose in the Mojave. The NCR saw him as a smiling trouble maker and often just stayed away from him as long as he did the same. Then the Legion hated him with a passion that rivaled the intensity of the sun. After he finished his last visit to the Big Mountain the Courier smoothed over the relations between his allies and the NCR to insure no one else died, and they stayed focused on the looming threat coming from the Divide. He wanted to stay and protect the city he had grown to love, but something inside told him the fight was over. He had lost his city and it was time to leave and wander once more.

Despite the loss of New Vegas’ independence the courier still carried the old world flag on his back. It spoke a very clear message, one that stated he had, and wanted, no affiliation with the NCR and Caesar's Legion. With the entirety of the west at his back the Courier walked along the long southern routes around the edges of the Legions grip. He was returning to where his legacy all began, where he first ventured out of the vault known as 101, where he had made a place to call home and wandered away from it. He was returning to the Capital Wasteland.

Behind him trailed six pack brahmin that he had purchased to help him take a good amount of his belongings home. The rest was created up and the Brotherhood promised they would send it to the Citadel when they finally got a Vertibird running. The trails where the same as when he first traveled them over three years ago. They were long, hot, barren, and had few places for water and food, possibly the reason the Legion didn’t have control of it yet. To answer the water and food problem he had a brahmin packed up with nothing but food and water for them all.

He had passed some familiar empty Enclave buildings awhile back and knew he was close to his stopping point. It was a good thing too as he had to ration the food and water more sternly four weeks back and the Brahmin all looked about to fall over and die. Soon the harsh desert began to give way to the cold relentless night. The sun was beginning to set, but his objective was coming into view. An old building that had scared him to no end when he was younger, the Dunwich Building.

******

“Finally, tomorrow I’ll be home.” Chase muttered as he led the brahmin to the building that had been a fair bit of nightmare fuel for him. Despite the low raider activity, Chase had wore his Advanced Riot gear for the past week with his leather duster over it. Let's just say for once he was looking forward to seeing Tenpenny Tower more than Megaton, even if only for it's showers.

He slowly approached the front door, scanning his surroundings for any of the robots that normally wander the wastes. Finding none and confirming it on his Pip-boy he tied the brahmin to one of the destroyed cars and began setting up camp. He got into one of the brahmin packs and retrieved a number of frag, plasma, and pulse mines, as well as some grenades to make trip wire traps.

It was long and strenuous work, but being able to sleep peacefully was worth the effort. Looking at the impressive, and obvious, minefield he had at a safe distance from his camp Chase nodded his head in approval before walking to one of the brahmin and retrieving a box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. Just as he opened the box and was about to partake in a delicious, irradiated, 200 and some odd years old snack cake, a high pitch scream came from within the building.

Years of instinct kicked in within a moments notice. Chase dropped the box on the ground and charged into the building after retrieving his fully modified Assault Carbine off his back. The same skeletons from the last time he was in this building greeted him as he sprinted down the hallway. He reached the end and heard another scream and some words being shouted, but he couldn’t make them out. He couldn’t tell the direction the screams were either so he stopped at the end of the hallway and listened.

As always the dust hung in the air and the wind from opening the door wasn’t helping. Chase could hear the sound of something hard striking the floor as well as the raspy yells from feral ghouls. He began trying to remember the layout of the building in case he had to run through it to reach the one in trouble.

“HELP!” someone shouted. Immediately Chase knew they were on the path going away from the obelisk chamber and coming towards him. Quickly he dropped to one knee and raised his Assault Carbine to a door to his left on the second floor of the building. The door was easily visible as the floor had long since fallen to the floor below. The sound of feral groans and hard soled shoes striking the floor drew closer and Chase noticed from the sound their might be two people.

The group drew closer and Chase was already thinking of the witty one liner he was going to say. What he wasn’t thinking is what to do if the door burst open and a little pink horse stumbled through, followed by four feral ghouls.

For the first time in the past twelve months, Chase stopped thinking as the sight in front of him was that bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing he had seen in the wasteland, but it was a doozey. The pink horse fell over the edge of what little ground the second floor had. Chase came back to his senses as the closest ghoul dived after it. He pulled the trigger and sent a spray of of automatic fire into the ghoul mid-dive. The ghoul flew off course and landed with a solid thunk, dead.

The other three quickly followed as the 5mm bullets found their marks. Chase then leveled his gun with the pink horse on the ground lying on it's side. The mane, if Chase remember correctly, and tail were of a slightly darker shade than its coat and poofy. It's flank had a tattoo of three balloons in a triangle, the top was yellow and the bottom two were blue. The strings coming from them where the opposite with the yellow having a blue string and the blues having two yellow strings. There was also a blood colored patch of fur behind it’s right ear that trailed across the top of it's head and disappeared into the pooffed up mane.

‘... Oh wait, that is blood.’ Chase thought as the blood dripped down off a piece of stray hair and splashed onto the ground. Chase stuck his weapon on his back and carefully approached the pink horse. 'I really hope this things okay, cause it will be one hell of a conversation starter...' Chase thought to himself as he tended to the cut behind the horse's left ear, 'Heh, if people didn't think I was weird or crazy before they will when they see me with...-' Chase leaned over it's stomach and noticed a certain lack of equipment, '-her.'

Chase brought his hand up to his chin and stroked his goatee in thought, 'Wonder how it got here though? Definitely didn't come from the wastes, too adora-pink... yeah pink, that's more manlier of a thing to say. It's too pink to of survived in the wastes...' Chase poked it in the stomach a few times, 'Not an android, I don't think...' Chase then remembered that something had yelled for help and, since there were no blood curdling screams from a victim, 'This horse must of yelled it.'

Chase picked up the small horse with little effort and began carrying it back to the doorway and to the brahmin where all his medical supplies where. One thing was certain though, 'It's going to be one interesting morning.'