Father, Courier, Exile

Carrion's Journal- Entry One, 2nd December, 2284. (Or that's what my Pip-Boy says.)

My name is Carrion. Odd name, I know, but it's a family tradition that apparently stretches back to well beyond when our family lived in Vault 55. I was raised that Vault, the emotionless steel hell that it was.

The only thing that was good about that metal box was that you weren't being shot at quite as often as in the Wastes. Emphasis on 'quite'. Because some asshat in the company of idiots called Vault-Tec 'smashed' our entertainment tapes. So we all became deadeye shots since someone had the inspired idea to break into the armoury and set up a shooting gallery in the entertainment hall. Whoever that person was, the entirety of Vault 55 owes you a debt the size of New Vegas. You have our thanks.

It also had the side effect of making us into perfect Wasteland material. And when the reactor began to leak... Well, we all packed up and left.(I always thought the Water Chip would go first, but life has a way of proving me wrong.) I went south into the Mojave and things went from there. I became a Courier and Merc, doing what I had to do to survive.

Anyway, that's my somewhat dull and boring life before the Mojave, where I am today. Got the Sierra Madre signal, going to follow it to the source. Quite near, its somewhere in the Forlorn Hope battleground. Begin again, so to speak.'

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I tossed the old pen into one of the many craters that littered the ground before Camp Forlorn Hope, damn thing had run out of ink. I needed to get another since my Pip-Boy couldn't record anything like data, more Vault-Tec modifications from Vault 55.

I picked my journal up as night was falling on the Mojave Wasteland, the orange sun slowly moving below the mountainous horizon to my left as I observed the battleground before me.

The whole place was covered in craters, a few of which had dead or dying NCR soldiers lying in them. I didn't care for the NCR, and the feeling was mutual. In fact, the NCR was the only reason I was hunkered down in this crater, watching Camp Forlorn Hope through the scope of my Lever-action Rifle rather than traipsing along across the battlefield right now.

Lever-action spares were hard to find in these parts, unlike Idhao. They were all over the place up there. I even tripped over one that had been dumped on the ground when I left my fellow Vault dwellers to seek my own fortune, and it was the same rifle I was currently holding, but with a scope torn off a ruined Sniper Rifle duct-taped over the firing chamber where the iron sights had been.

My trusty pistol rested in my chest holster, the damn thing had saved my life more than once after I picked it up of the corpse of some Raider. Many in the Wastes had laughed when I drew my pistol- it appeared to be little more than your typical, low-powered pre-war Chinese pistol.

But I had made one hell of a lot of modification to it. The Fire Dragon, as I called it, had some strange Chinese name. Zhu Long, or something like that. Anyway, it was a incendiary pistol I had modified to fire the AP rounds found in the Mojave as well as being silenced. Damn good when you hit trouble in the Atomic Wrangler with a over-zealous NCR ranger.

I tilted my had sideways to better shield my eyes from the sun's fading glare as a NCR trooper walked away from the edge of the watchtower.

If I was ever going to get to the Sierra Madre, I had to take a few risks, including being shot at by First Recon. Damn were those guys good, if Boone was anything to go by in Novac. I kind of felt sorry for killing him, but a contract was a contract.

I waited a few minutes more for the sun to drop below the horizon, leaving the Wasteland in twilight. Perfect sneaking conditions for me.

A beam of light split open the night, blinding me for a moment before my eyes adjusted to the light from the darkness. I groaned, trust the NCR to have a static searchlight  at the frontlines.

I grabbed by rifle by the barrel in my right hand and began to cautiously move through the mass of craters that blanketed the battlefield, keeping my body low to the ground until I reached a crater next to the searchlight's beam.

I had two options at this point, by my reckoning. Either run through the beam and hope the NCR sentries were drunk, high, incompetent or a mix of the three or I could take out their searchlight and piss them off.

Not one to pass up a chance of pissing the NCR off, I opted for the second option as I brought my rifle up so it rested on the crater's lip.

I pressed my right eye to the sight, this would be a difficult shot simply due to the glare of the searchlight and the darkness around me. If there were any NCR patrols down here I would be dead in seconds after I fired. I lined up the crosshairs over where I thought the bulb was and squeezed the trigger, the bang of the bullet firing shattering the oddly peaceful evening.

There was a loud smash as the bullet struck home and the searchlight shut off, giving me my road to wherever the signal was coming from.

I grabbed my rifle and ran the fastest I could ever remember running across the twenty meters that separated me from my goal, a large crater that presumably had some bunker entrance in which is where the signal was coming from.

Various shouts of alarm and panic reached my ears from the NCR soldiers in the camp, no doubt they thought that was a prelude to a surprise attack by the Legion. I didn't mind the Legion, they were better than the NCR in my opinion- at least they didn't massacre an entire tribes civilian population like the NCR had at Bitter Springs or be riddled with a ruined economy and political corruption.

Sure, they were slavers, but they offered what the Mojave most needed right now- stability.

A bullet hit a rock next to me with a ping as it bounced off while I continued sprinting towards my goal.

I dived into the crater, skidding down the loose sandy side and ending up in a heap at the bottom, with my back against what looked like a sewer grate.

I pushed myself to my feet and dusted myself off, checking I still had all my weapons and ammo in the process. Satisfied that everything was in its proper place, I pulled the grate off, revealing a concrete floor with a ladder leading down to it before I heard a voice croak something in the darkness from in  front of me.

I flicked my Pip-Boy light on, revealing the half-dead form of a NCR soldier, hand clutching a bloody stump of a leg. "Water... Please..." he said weakly as he held out his other hand, begging me to help.

I reached inside my jacket and he smiled faintly, presumably glad a complete stranger was going to help him, before he saw me pull Fire Dragon out.

"No... Not like this... I have a family back home..." he pleaded with me as I levelled the barrel at his chest.

"Then I am sorry for their loss. Better I give you a merciful killing than leaving you to die here of dehydration or for the Legion to grab you, though?"

The soldier nodded slowly as he realised his comrades had no doubt labeled him as K.I.A. "Do... It..."

"Gladly." I pulled the trigger and the 10mm round sped from the gun, ripping its way through his chest and letting blood gush from the wound in a crimson tide, covering his armour and the ground in blood.

I placed my pistol back in its holster inside my jacket as I climbed down the ladder into the bunker.

The bunker was dimily lit with old Pre-War strip lighting along the walls of the room. Other than a empty crate, a headless corpse wearing a white jumpsuit with a red X painted on the back and stairs that had 'Serra Madre' crudely painted in red paint on the wall above with a arrow pointing down, the room was empty.

I wasn't that interested in the corpse, probabaly from some long-dead Raider warband that used this as a base, so I walked down the stairs, my boot heels making loud clangs against the steel floor as I passed a collapsed tunnel and another tunnel, this one with a door in front of it.

I reached over to the door and tried to turn the handle in the middle, but it wouldn't budge and I didn't have any bobby pins on my person, so I continued walking down the corridor until I reached another steel door with a handle in the middle, with the faint sounds of a woman's voice coming from behind it.

I spun the handle and the door slid back into the walls and floor, revealing a strangely styled radio sitting on a small table in the centre of the room,

I walked forwards, curious as to how this related to the Sierra Madre before I felt my foot go down slightly further that it had before.

I glanced down, and saw that I had just stepped on a pressure plate. I looked back up to find that hidden vents were releasing a noxious-looking brown gas into the room before I heard the door shut behind me.

I cupped my hand over my mouth and took a deep breath as I saw my vision begin to haze over. I turned and stumbled towards the door, grasping the handle with both hands as I tried to force the lock.

I began to feel faint as I saw my hands drop away from the handle before I collapsed to the floor, and all I saw after was blackness.

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"Urrrgh..." I groaned to myself as I pushed myself up, my one good eye looking around to see where I was. I was standing in a square, built in a Pre-War style that the Vault history classes had called 'art-deco'. The square was dominated by a large fountain with a blue projection of a old man.

"Are you listening? Good. From now on, when I talk, listen- and follow my instructions, Play stupid, play clever, make the mistake of saying 'no'? That collar on your neck'll go off and take your head with it."

I glanced down at my neck, and sure enough there was one of the explosive collars used on slaves strapped around my neck. I groaned, whoever this guy thought he was, he messed with the wrong Courier.

"How did I get here?" I asked, slightly annoyed both with whoever was speaking and myself for asking how I got here rather than what he wanted me to do.

"Hmm! Get here? You walked into one of my traps in the Mojave... following the Sierra Madre signal. Now you're here, with that collar on your neck. Its like that Pip-Boy on your wrist, except filled with explosives. A little radio of the Old World, just needed some tuning."

"Do what I say, and the collar won't go off... refuse, try and run, disobey me? I'll kill you and find someone else. There's no escape from here until I let you go. The sooner you accept your situation, the better."

"Then maybe you should tell me what you want?." I said, still slightly dazed from the gas.

"That structure you see above the fountain?"

I glanced to where the voice had told me to look, and sure enough a structure that reminded me of the Vegas Casinos loomed over the city. I nodded.

"The Sierra Madre casino... You need to break inside. A...heist. Too many years in the making. But to get inside, avoid its traps... you'll need to gather the team. As I've fount, one cannot do it alone."

"So you need others to carry out this.. heist. Who?" I asked, curious about the help I'd be getting.

"Around the Villa are four other collars like yours- Collar 8, 12, 14 and 53. Find the first three and get them here, to the fountain. Then, we'll talk more. Collar 53 is on the other side of the fountain. And should you get any ideas about killing each other and taking the treasure of the Sierra Madre for yourself- a warning."

"All your collars are linked... one of you dies, you all die. If that's what it takes to make you cooperate, so be it."

"Seems easy enough."

"I've downloaded the instructions and markers onto your Pip-Boy... in case you forget. And yes, I have access to that device on your wrist, Get the other three here, after that.... I'll have more instructions for you."

"Do this, I'll let you go. I'll let all of you go."

"Well thanks." I muttered sarcastically. "Who should I get first?"

"Yes... Collar 53 is in the fountain square with you. I haven't been able to identify what Collar 53 is, yet. Some kind of Longstrider from out east, but it has... interesting capabilities. After that, Collar 8, the FEV reject, the Super Mutant. He's docile, predictable, and provided he's not starving, should be easy to command. I lost contact with him some time ago... probably after he dragged you here from the trap. Find him, he'll follow you, collar or no."

"What even is FEV?" I hadn't come into anyone knowledgeable on the subject but the Old Man seemed like he knew about the stuff, so I took the opportunity.

"A long story. FEV... a virus with a even longer story. It gave birth to the docile one , turned him into a Super Mutant long ago."

"And that is all I needed to know."

"Good. If necessary, I will guide you through the Villa's broadcast systems- if you get lost, return here and I'll direct you. I've downloaded instructions on a audio log to your Pip-Boy in case you can't read."

Did this Old Man just insult my intellect? If he did he would regret it later.

"If you forget why your here, let my voice remind you."

Yes, he was definitely insulting me now. At that point, I noticed something very important. Or rather, the lack of something very important.

"Where the fuck is my stuff?"

"Madre's security system wouldn't let it in,  screens the place for chems, guns, radioactive material. I wouldn't let you go unarmed though- you have one of several Holorifles I made to bypass the security systems."

I glanced around the square as the Old Man's hologram was replaced by that of a beautiful woman who began to say something. I didn't bother to listen, instead climbing onto the fountain and picking up all the poker chips scattered inside.

Never let free chips go to waste. Ever. Even if you are in the legendary City of the Dead beneath a blood-red cloud. I looked up, and sure enough the entire sky was covered by the infamous Cloud.

I de-atomised the Holorifle from my Pip-Boy, and checked the ammo.

"Well, crap." I swore as I opened the ammo chamber. This thing used four Microfusion Cells per magazine. I checked my Pip-Boy to see how many MF cells I had, hoping the Old Man had given me a load of them. "And that just makes this even worse." I had 21 MC cells to use. That gave me five reloads and a spare. There better be more weaponry around here or I was going to end up as a bloody mess very soon.

A loud groan broke the stillness of the Sierra Madre and what I can only describe as a logic screwing thing stood up on the other side of the fountain..

I mentally laughed to myself, people had said history wasn't useful in the Vault. I doubted any of them could have named what stood opposite me.

It was a unicorn. A God-damned real, live unicorn. If it weren't for the fact I couldn't remember drinking any booze or taking any drugs for the last two weeks, I'd have sworn that I was drunk, high or hallucinating from lack of food and/or water.

I levelled the Holorifle at the unicorn's body before I noticed a blinking red light, this thing was collared as well.

I lowered the Holorifle, not wanting to accidently kill the unicorn before it unfurled a pair of wings and it's horn ignited in a dark shade of blue.

Winged unicorns? What was the term for one of those? Unisus or Pegacorn?

"It's alicorn, human."

Make that talking, winged unicorns. Could this thing read my mind or something?

"Yes, but some of the things you have in there are... Mildly disturbing, even by the standard of the Wasteland. I think I'll stay out of it while I crush your puny head under my hooves and escape this place." It sounded female, so I labeled it as a mare.

I tapped my collar and pointed to her neck. "The collars are linked. One of us dies, we all die."

The black alicorn turned its eyes downward towards it's neck before it looked back up. "So it seems we are pack mules under the same master. Very well." The alicorn held out a hoof, presumably this was their version of a handshake. "Nightmare Moon."

I walked over and shook Nightmare's hoof. "Carrion, also known as the Courier, but call me Carrion."

"A unusual name."

"I could say the same about you."

"So who put the collars on us, and what do they want?"

I shrugged. "Some Old Man, and he wants us to gather the rest of the collared ones and then break into that." I pointed at the Casino.

Nightmare stared at the Casino before she sighed. "Seems easy enough."

I grinned as I holstered the Holorifle. "That's what I thought..."

"Let's get going, I have a nation to liberate after I've finished business here."

(Companion Perk gained: Machine's Nightmare)

Nightmare's presence confuses the logic circuits of robotic targeting systems, slowing their processing capacity. All machine-based enemies (turrets, holograms, robots) will now deal 15% less damage and fire 15% slower and Nightmare is invisible to machine-based enemies.