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Chapter Text

The Courier had done the impossible. He had made Vegas free from various threats to its sovereignty both foreign and domestic. He had kept the three families in line, stopping any treachery from taking place. He killed Mr House to secure his goal of a truly free nation that could begin again, untouched from any Old World relics of the past.

He brought peace to Freeside, and the surrounding areas around New Vegas. He convinced the Great Khans to leave the Mojave for Wyoming, to start anew away from their ghosts in the desert. The Brotherhood of Steel came out of its shell due to the Courier's words and actions. Now the metallic monks roamed the wastes again, keeping dangerous technology away from the bear and inept wastelanders.

The bear was driven back by the Courier with the help of his various tribal alliances with people such as the Boomers, Brotherhood of Steel and the people of Vegas. With its General killed at Hoover Dam, with his corpse floating among the water of the Colorado River. The oligarchs in Shady Sands thought the Mojave was too costly, in money and blood.

The bull was less cowardly and more straightforward. It had to be whipped and humiliated at the Hoover Dam, with its most skilled and knowledgeable centurions and legionaries put to rest at the Dam. Their red uniforms with the bears brown created a pseudo icon of death around the mass grave that was Hoover Dam.

The Monster of the East, Legate Lanius was no more, found himself among the dead in his own encampment, with his head cut clean off from his monstrous body. To make sure he wouldn't come back from the dead like his predecessor, to take his vengeance upon those who wronged him.

The crusade led by the Burned Man and his tribal friends made it so that the trade routes were free of any White Legs or Eighties, which were either all exterminated or on the run further North. The Courier had good relations with the Sorrows and Dead Horses, with the tribes treating him with nearly the same reverence as an old survivalist.

The Sierra Madre's secrets and treasures would stay guarded by the army of Old World Ghosts and specters behind its walls. The red cloud kept any wandering prospectors away, since the old voice of Vera Keyes on the radio was put to rest. The Courier had hoped and prayed that the man who couldn't let go was still there in the vault hadn't escaped and tried to make his ramblings a reality.

The Divide was conquered by the indomitable spirit of the Courier. None of the Marked Men or Tunnelers could have killed him. Nor could the recently irradiated troops of the bear or bull, or the hulking deathclaws. He then reached the temple of the wise men of a long dead tribe, holding onto the name of a long dead man. Spoke in tongues and circles, asked the Courier what made Vegas truly unique in its nature.

The Courier told the man that he was Vegas, the will of man, to keep progressing until the people could live in peace, free from fear, free from the burdens of the Old World and all of its complications.

The wise man saw the man's conviction in his words, but warned that words that weren't backed by strength can make his nation's tomb, much like the bear. Courier Six saw through the Divide and conquered the past life he didn't remember, through Ashton and Hopeville.

The Courier arrived at Big Mountain much like he did at Zion, the Sierra Madre or Divide. But he saw so much potential wasted in the petty rivalry between the scientists living there. He made friends with the Think Tank scientists. He grew accustomed to their quirks and mended the division between Doctor Mobius and the Think Tank.

However, even though Courier Six achieved his dream of an independent Vegas, free from various threats. One thing stayed certain throughout all of it, that war doesn't change.

But through retrospective look at the past, one could look past their old world blues and achieve something greater than themselves. To truly alter the course of history forever.

Not even the Courier knew on that day what he was going to do and how important the power of discovery was.

Xxx

He woke up in his queen sized bed in the Lucky 38 with a feeling of content. The Courier knew that he could focus more about the inner workings of his new nation than the larger than life geopolitics of the region itself.

Ever since the securitrons have been upgraded to his needs, the Strip and the surrounding areas saw a large decline in crime. The people were starting to know proper safety and luxury of Vegas was starting to pour itself into Freeside. Ever since he had approved of Kings keeping their rule in their ghetto, things have gotten better for the citizens of the area.

The King's members, along with his mark II securitrons make it nearly impossible to cause trouble in the area. New construction projects in Freeside along with the Followers of the Apocalypse helping the downtrodden could make Freeside into a proper outer Vegas area. Maybe in its wake making the Kings the fourth family of Vegas.

The Courier got out of his bed, and quickly changed out of his pajamas for his checkered suit that once belonged to a man that tried to kill him. It almost felt like ancient history to him now, a man more concerned about a petty vengeance against a gangster than building anew.

He then walked out of his room to the bathroom to quickly relieve himself before checking his hair in the mirror. His black hair only existed on top of his head, with it shaved off the sides of his head. His eyes were a symptom of his partial heterochromia, as Doctor Mitchell put it. One eye was blue, while the other was partially brown and blue.

His pale skin was also normal, according to Doc Mitchell, even though compared to other people that also had pale skin it was absurdly white in comparison. Although his physical appearance was very different and odd compared to everyone else he had met in his life, it did add to his legend and legacy.

The man that was the Powder Ganger grim reaper. The man who made people fear the iron birds in the sky through the Boomers and Devil's Brigade. The man who took control of Vegas from Mr House and Benny. The Courier who survived two gunshots to the head changed the history of the Mojave, forever.

So he entered the elevator and took it to the floor where Yes Man currently resided. Before he went to his room to sleep, the advisor had asked to talk to him about upcoming events relating to various areas in the wasteland. He seemed different, more worried, anxious in his programmed joyful tone of voice.

The elevator made its usual ding noise when it reached the floor and the Courier entered the penthouse floor. He walked to the massive complex computer which was Yes Man's current stomping ground within the Lucky 38.

"Wow, you finally came! I was getting worried that you would wake up late…again." Yes Man stated in his usual cheery voice.

"Well, when you're awake all night studying House's plans for New Vegas, you're going to have to stay up late." The Courier said, standing in front of Yes Man's monitor.

"Six, you don't have to do that! I could! That was the purpose Benny created me for. Focus on other things like the Brotherhood of Steel or those Scientists you found." Yes Man stated, with his face on the screen flickering a bit.

"What's there to discuss about the Brotherhood of Steel and the Think Tank?" The Courier asked.

"Well uh Six you haven't heard about what the Brotherhood's mission is? It's to hoard technology essentially and our little nation here is pretty advanced." Yes Man answered.

"You think they will turn against us?" The Courier asked, while looking through his pip-boy for something.

"Possibly, after this new elder dies, a more traditional paladin may become elder and not listen to us normal people! They do want to hoard technology after all, why would they stop at laser rifles and plasma pistols?" Yes Man implied.

"I don't think the Brotherhood is dumb enough to attack Vegas just for having somewhat advanced technology," The Courier said, getting the Big Mountain transportalponder out of his pip-boy. "If they ever attack Vegas, the Boomers will have new target practice in Hidden Valley with their bomber."

"Well uh I hate to tell you boss but the Brotherhood is also in Helios One now, they took it back from the NCR during the battle of Hoover Dam," Yes Man informed, with his face flickering on the screen once again. "House's predictions have told me, and by proxy you, that they would become our largest threat. But you're the boss, you know what's best for this place!"

The Courier rolled his eyes at Yes Man's remark. "The Brotherhood is a bulwark against potential threats to Vegas. Why would the NCR or Legion invade again when a more open and more successful Brotherhood chapter exists?"

Yes Man seemed not to like his passive aggressive comments about his opinions, but he couldn't voice them to the Courier anyway!

"Well, if that's what you think, then consider this potential situation and hypothetical forgotten! But there are also those old coots in Big Mountain to talk about. What's going on with them?"

"Nothing that I know of as of right now," The Courier answered. "Why ask about them though? They have promised to keep to themselves and not experiment in our lands."

"Well, uh I don't know how to put this in a very… nice way. But your friends have contacted me." Yes Man revealed.

The Courier had a small chill go down his spine. Why would the minds at Big Mountain contact him through Yes Man? Various thoughts and ideas swirled in his head, making him space out to think about the possibilities.

"Six are you there? Wow these guys must have left quite the impression on you! But they specifically want to talk about two projects they were working on now that we're now." Yes Man said, interrupting the Courier's train of thought.

"Did they tell you anything about those projects specifically?" The Courier asked, running his hand through his hair.

"They didn't actually say what, and if they did it was lost in their RobCo code of theirs." Yes Man explained.

"Well, before I go and meet with them can you run a quick prediction on what this will be about?" The Courier requested his advisor.

"Of Course Six! Let me run a quick program with House's various other statistics and predictions." Yes Man said, complying with the Courier's request. His face completely disappeared from the screen.

Now with Yes Man gone for a few minutes, the Courier can think of what man made horrors beyond his comprehension that the Think Tank made while he was securing Vegas from various threats. Could they have started to reproduce securitrons in their reconstruction plant? No that can't be it, Doctor Zero has too big of a grudge against House to do that.

Could it be some old project from their past that they have reignited? Maybe some new ways to vaporize people with new ammunition types for artillery? Maybe Doctor Borous created a new mutated animal. He has talked about hawks and tarantulas in the past, hopefully that wasn't the case.

In the worst case scenario not including them breaking their promise with him, nothing that serious could appear. New deadly creatures, toxins and weapons could be dealt with in time. With himself, Yes Man and the Think Tank, nothing could be irreversible or unknown to them for a long time. A solution could be found for all problems if you searched hard enough.

"Okay boss, I have finished my first prediction. We are making history here!" Yes Man stated cheerfully, with the computer's screen roaring back to life with the artificial intelligence's bright smile.

"What did you find out?" The Courier asked, with his artificial heart pumping his blood quicker and quicker in anticipation of the results.

"Thirty percent chance that they created some sort of soil that has been genetically modified to resist radiation, twenty percent chance that they domesticated night stalkers." Yes Man said, rattling off statistics.

This in the Courier's opinion, has been good so far. Farming and agricultural advancements are very important to a nation's survival and success. To become self-reliant and not rely on the NCR to keep the brahmin beef and steak flowing would be beneficial.

Taming night stalkers seemed like a pet project Borous would have created to right his wrongs, weird since he was rather stubborn in the fact that they were sterile in the first place.

"Fifty percent chance, unknown." Yes Man stated, with certainty.

The Courier was at a loss for words. Fifty percent of the predicted projects told to him by Yes Man were unknown or couldn't be calculated. A sign for things to come, hopefully not. He didn't want to run around Big Mountain anytime soon.

"Mr House didn't even know these guys existed, so there is very little data that could be processed about them. Besides your tales about your travels." Yes Man explained.

The Courier pinched his nose and sighed before making his way up the staircase leading to the elevator. He took one last look at Yes Man before telling him the obvious in his eyes.

"Yes Man, make it harder for people to hack into while I am gone. Can't have something like that happen when it's something more serious."

Yes Man gave a quick and easy affirmative answer back to Courier. But this one didn't hold any passive aggressiveness that Yes Man usually has, nor his sass. It seemed like Doctor 8's message disturbed the cheerful robot. Not that the Courier could blame him, the scientists at Big Mountain can be a bit much at times, most of the time.

All of the time.

The Courier wasted no time and entered the elevator and pressed the button on the inside that would lead him to the Casino floor, the bottom floor of his new living space. Just a few months ago he was taking a dirt nap in an empty grave outside of a ghost town. Now he had slept and lived in the jewel of the Mojave.

With the ding of the elevator admitting to him that he was at the bottom floor he nearly ran out his skin to leave his new house. He opened the door to the Great outdoors of New Vegas with its shining neon lights and casinos.

He moved to the front of the Lucky 38, and with the dexterity of a trained professional, pointed the Big Mountain transportalponder into the sky, and had the familiar blue light consume him without a problem.

He found himself on the Sink's balcony overlooking the inside of the crater that was Big Mountain. The various testing grounds and false towns were shells of their former selves, compared to what they were back in their glory days.

Before he entered into the Sink, he mentally prepared himself for what the various personalities in the room would say to him and to each other. He then entered into his old residency that was the Sink.

"It seems like the young patriot has returned! Do you have any books that need to be cleaned of their seditious ideas?" The Bookchute shouted in glee at the homeowner returning to the Sink.

One such personality that was more exciting than the rest was his very small securitron with an unhealthy cleaning obsession. Who scurried over to the Courier to do his life's purpose. The robots screen with a cartoonish mug on it flickering excitedly at his arrival.

"Do you have many mugs to give to me to clean? Please do, I have cleaned everything in this place and it's driving me crazy!" Muggy said, almost screaming at the end of sentence out of frustration.

"I don't have any mugs on me, Muggy," The Courier said, shooting down the robot's hopes and dreams. "But I could-"

"Of Course the one time you came back you just so happened not to have. Any. Fucking. Mugs. There has to be SOMETHING I can clean that you have!" Muggy exclaimed in frustration.

"I brought the minimal amount of things I could bring here, Muggy. Maybe clean the Toaster or the Biological Research Station." The Courier reasoned, trying to calm down the neurotic robot.

"You're crazy if you think I am going to be that close to them. The Toaster tried to KILL me, and that..thing planted…his seed in meeeeeee!" Muggy shouted in a mixture of disgust and fear, before rolling away towards the bedroom.

The Courier inhaled and exhaled, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. The memories of staying at the Sink during his first visit to Big Mountain after collecting all of the personalities for the Sink. All of the fighting, arguing and general rowdiness he wasn't used to.

Nobody in their lives ever expects to be a peace negotiator between two lightswitches in their lives. Or be constantly told by a toaster that they bring about the world's destruction. Or a literal sink begging you not to wash your hands due to it being a germaphobe.

"May I ask sir what he is here for,sir?" The Sink Central Intelligence asked, from the center of the main room that connected all of the others. The Courier made his way over to the intelligence unit in the hexagonal room.

"Yes Man told me that the Think Tank messaged him about two new projects they are working on. Can you tell me what they are working on?" The Courier simultaneously answered and asked, putting his hands in his suit pockets.

"Well sir…I am afraid I can't tell you even if I wanted to, sir." The Sink Central Intelligence answered, with some worries present in his tone. The Courier made a slightly peeved hand gesture, having his arms go up in the air and fall down back to his sides.

"Why can't you tell me then? You were never barred from telling me anything beforehand."

"Well sir, Doctor Mobius has tinkered with my programming to make sure I wouldn't, and I quote, 'ruin the surprise'." The Intel unit revealed.

"Of Course Mobius would do something like this," Courier Six murmured under his breath. "Well I am going to see the Think Tank, you know the protocol if I am not back in three days right?"

"Of Course, sir, I would lockdown the Sink until further notice. Then if a breach were to occur I would allow the Toaster to activate his death ray." The Sink unit answered in his posh accent.

The Courier then gave a polite wave goodbye to the unit displaying holographic images and made his way to the door that leads to the Think Tank itself. Only God himself knows what potential monstrosities lie ahead from that door.

Courier Six took another deep breath, but took his time with it, and prepared himself for the worst news possible. He then placed his hand on the center circle of the door, which opened it, and walked in.

The Think Tank itself didn't change much in appearance. It still had its dome shaped ceiling and hexagonal walls and futuristic look and feel to it. But there was one tiny, miniscule change to what was in it however.

There was some sort of strange build in the previously unoccupied central area of the Think Tank. It was clearly some sort of prototype, the appearance of the prototype was clearly somewhat new. The lack of rust and new looking parts, the platform at the bottom being porcelain white and having the Big Mountain logo on it.

To top it all off, there was some sort of bulb connecting two white metallic arms to the platform, almost forming a top of the machine. There was what seemed to be an old TV antenna on the bulb shaped roof of the machine connecting it to the various computers of the Think Tank.

"The Lobomite returns! No doubt to see the marvelous breakthrough in SCIENCE we have worked on while you were away.” Doctor Borous said, with his monitors lighting up each time he spoke a word. The Courier had never really taken account how odd the scientists of the Think Tank looked until now. Floating brains in jars supported by three skinny metal limbs which support three monitors, two for the eyes, and one for the mouth.

“Well Doctor Borous, one of you hacked into Yes Man, so I hope it was important enough to warrant such an action.” The Courier said inching closer to the invention in the middle of the room. Doctor Borous stopped him from getting closer however.

“I wouldn’t get too close to this right now. It might make your atoms do the HAPPY dance, which would lead to us cleaning your mess. Ew.”

“Can you at least tell me what it's supposed to do? I mean I came all the way here just to learn about it.” The Courier asked in a somewhat serious tone. Doctor Borous had his monitors slouch down as a sign of disappointment.

“I don’t know lobotomite, I am-or was a head researcher at X-8, not at some other place, unlike X-8. If you want to know, talk to DOCTOR MOBIUS or Klein about it.”

“WHY WASN’T MY NAME EMPHASIZED LIKE MOBIUS BOROUS! AND IS THAT THE LOBOTOMITE? WE HAVE THE MOST GOODEST NEWS TO GIVE YOU.” Klein said in his usual over the top and loud tone of voice.

“Uh, Doctor Klein sir, it's actually good news, not the goodest-”

“QUIET DOCTOR O. I WASN’T ADDRESSING YOU, BUT MY CLOSE COLLEAGUE THE LOBOTOMITE!” Klein shouted at his close colleague, Doctor O.

“It’s not O you imbecile! It’s ZERO, not O. Even besides that, I have been your friend since the 21st century!” Doctor O-Zero argued fruitlessly against the bull headed head scientist.

“FRIEND? YOU WERE MERELY ANOTHER SCIENTIST HERE AT BIG MOUNTAIN!” Klein announced to the gasps of Borous, and Zero. The Courier facepalmed both mentally and physically with his fingers almost digging in his skin.

“What is the raisin for all of the arguing, both of you are valued members of this think tank.” The former mad scientist, Doctor Mobius said never taking his monitors off the computer left of the machine. His look has gotten better after becoming friendly with Think Tank again, although the grime was still visible on his monitors, with cracks on his left monitor still visible.

“@@@$&&{[}[!!%###)()($$^^^^&&&&*****!!!&&&&$%#.%^&$#@!” Doctor 8 stated, helping Mobius in trying to bring an end to Klein’s and Doctor Zero’s argument. At least there were two reasonable…somewhat reasonable adults in this place in the Courier’s mind.

“Well are you two done yet? I still don’t know what you guys are planning to do with this machine of yours.” The Courier said, his large tank of patience slowly running out.

Doctor Klein stammered and stuttered out of anger and disgust against his colleagues. He calmed himself before answering Courier Six’s question.

“WELL, THE DEVICE IS A TELEPORTER….IN A WAY.”

“What do you mean in a way Klein? Don’t tell me you broke various laws of science in the pursuit of science.”

“WE BROKE THE VARIOUS RULES OF SCIENCE. I WOULD HARDLY CALL THEM RULES, MORE LIKE RESTRICTIONS THAT ARE MILDLY INCONVENIENT.”

“What rules did you break?” The Courier asked in an exacerbated tone. Doctor Borous, Doctor 8, Doctor Zero, Doctor Mobius and Klein all looked at each other for a moment before Klein continued on.

"WE HAVE PROVED STRING THEORY WRONG AND OBSOLETE. BUT WE MAY HAVE COMPLICATED THINGS FOR YOU MY FRIEND.” Doctor Klein revealed, boasting their achievements in science.

"What does string theory even mean Klein? I am not a scientist like you, can you explain it?" The Courier asked, crossing his arms waiting for an answer from Klein.

"WELL UM.. YOU SEE…UH…" Klein stammered out, looking for an answer. "IT'S TOO COMPLICATED FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND."

The Courier sighed and turned to Doctor 8 to explain what Doctor Klein was talking about. Doctor 8 looked up from the computer right of the teleportation machine.

"@#$^^^& $%^(@*@,@!!!!!(^^;:')" Doctor 8 explained with experience and expert level knowledge of science and the topics surrounding it.

"So this string theory suggests that there is one universe due to having strings inside each and every particle in the known universe?" The Courier said, repeating what Doctor 8 told him.

"Precisely said 8. We tested the machine on one of the smaller eye bots. Of course the bot was connected to the Think Tank so we saw what it was seeing. We saw some spectacular things." Doctor Zero interjected, elaborating on what Klein and 8 have said beforehand.

"We saw a world that looked like ours before the Great War. It was how I remembered the old country I grew up in. Remarkable really…" Zero said, quieter than the Courier has ever heard the man talk before.

"Did you find anything else out about this other place? Like radiation levels in the area or maybe something about culture?" The Courier asked Zero.

"It didn't detect any radiation in the air," Zero said, moving himself up to the computer just above Mobius on the left side of the teleportation device. "But it didn't get far. Some homeless man stepped on it. Funny how that works."

"Well Courier, we gave you the raisins for this device. We as a collective would like you to visit this place and collect samples for us to study." Mobius revealed.

"This is…amazing work, the possibilities are endless if you guys' device works again. Of course I will. This will help the people of the Mojave greatly." Courier Six said, agreeing with Mobius and by proxy the Think Tank.

"That's great! The popsicles of this would benefit your nation that you are building. But I would like to tell you about our second project we finished before this one." Mobius said joyfully, his screens on his monitors flickering in happiness.

"WE DIDN'T INFORM YOU ABOUT THE FIRST PROJECT DUE TO ASKING ABOUT OUR FINDINGS WITH THE TELEPORTER. ASK BOROUS ABOUT IT." Klein revealed to the Courier.

The Courier did remember that Yes Man did tell him that they were working on two projects. But why wouldn't Klein tell him about it, certainly it wasn't more important than a device that debunked various scientific theories and laws.

Courier Six walked over to where Borous was. He was behind Doctor 8, looking at another computer linked to the machine.

"Hey Doctor Borous, could you tell me about the first project you guys worked on?"

"Well lobotomite, I have created ARTIFICIAL life with the help of Doctor Zero. It was a rather tedious process, unlike my skills with sterilization, creating new life without DNA splicing is rather DIFFICULT." Borous stated, not taking his eyes off the computer monitor.

"Wait, what do you mean artificial life? Don't you specialize in biology? What's that have to do with Zero's speciality in robotics?"

"We created a synthetic skinvenlope. Meaning we have created a HUMAN from scratch. N-not in the hormonal way, the test tube and SCIENCE way." Borous informed the Courier on the first project.

"You created synthetic lifeforms? You didn't do anything strange to it?" The Courier asked, getting closer to Borous. Borous noticed this and quickly answered his question.

"No, we didn't do anything like that! We didn't POKE it or make it SQUIRM. It was merely a VESSEL, yes a vessel for Dala."

"What do you mean by vessel?" The Courier asked in nearly a whisper. Borous, proud of his creation, answered his question.

"It wasn't actually alive, it was a synthetic body without a brain. We didn't know how to truly replicate the HUMAN brain, it's very complex. So Dala volunteered for her brain to be put into it."

The Courier was at a loss for words. Dala was back in a somewhat bipedal form. Not that it was the worst scenario ever to brace himself. He really did overthink the prediction Yes Man gave him.

"Where is she right now?" He asked Borous.

"She is in her lab room right now, probably sleeping in. Let me take you to her right now." Borous replied, starting to float away from the computer and up the stairs to Dala's lab room. The Courier followed in tow until they reached the room.

Borous reached the door and used one of his eye monitors to knock on the door.

"Dala, me and the lobotomite are going to enter, just wanted to tell you so we don't interrupt your SCIENCE research." Borous announced to the person on the other side of the door.

"Come in, you two aren't interrupting anything." Dala said, inviting the two inside of her room. The Courier braced himself mentally to see whatever is beyond that door.

Borous opened the door, and revealed Dala in her new body. However to call it a new body would be disingenuous. The synthetic body resembled her old body before putting her brain into the robotic body designed by the Think Tank.

She had her white skin, although it wasn't the deadly pale like the Courier's. She had black hair that was tied into a bun, which matched her black eyes. She was wearing a light purple version of the scientist's scrubs, which surprised the Courier. He only found Mobius's and Klein's scrubs, he didn't know the other scientists still had them.

"Ain't she a beauty? Not Dala, my work on the SYNTHETIC body she is currently residing in!" Borous boasted proudly. Dala frowned lightly but not at comment by Borous, but at the implication on why the Courier was here.

"So my teddy bear, did they tell you about the inner workings of the device downstairs?" She asked, walking and getting very close to the Courier.

"They did, and they want me to enter a new dimension. World? Timeline? Borous, what exactly am I entering?" The Courier asked, turning to the other scientists in the room.

"Klein believes that it's another dimension, MOBIUS believes it to be an alternate timeline. Only in time will we know, through the SCIENTIFIC method." Borous said.

"Well if the lobotomite is going, can I join him?" Dala asked her colleague. The Courier was going to say no, but Borous answered before him

"Great idea Dala, I am sure having a true THINK TANK mind with him surely he will get the samples needed quicker he was alone. I will tell Klein about this." He then left the room quickly, going to tell Klein about the bright idea.

The Courier turned back to find Dala very close, too close for comfort. He stared at her in awkward silence for a few seconds before speaking.

"Dala, I don't think this trip will be that long. But if you do want to come with me, you're going to have to leave your…formography behind." The Courier said in an uncompromising tone.

Dala got closer to the Courier, running her pointer finger down his chest almost reaching his waist before stopping.

"Fine by me, I get to come with you instead of staying here with everyone else." Dala said, chuckling lightly at her innuendo.

Courier Six sighed at Dala's actions and words but accepted it as it was. He wasn't some prude or naive man, after all he was the one that brought her out of her shell.

The Courier walked out of her room, with Dala following him closing behind. He walked down the stairs to Doctor Klein who was manning and supporting the computer directly on the teleportation machine.

"I am ready to go to this new place you guys discovered." The Courier said to Klein. Klein seemed happy at his acceptance of going into the new place.

"GOOD, JUST STEP ON THE PLATFORM AND SO WE CAN START THE MACHINE. BOROUS HAS INFORMED ME THAT DALA WISHES TO JOIN YOU. IS THIS CORRECT?" Klein stated to the Courier.

Courier Six wanted to say no, that Dala wasn't going to go with him. But Borous made a good point, Dala was a very intelligent lady. She could help him in various ways with his new job given to him.

"Yes Dala is going to be coming with me." Courier Six told the head scientist. Dala seemed happy with his answer, but Klein was even more happy at the answer than her.

"GOOD, I DON'T WISH TO SEE HER PENISES ON HER FEET ANY LONGER. IF I SAW THEM ONE MORE TIME, I WOULD HAVE SCRUBBED MY OWN BRAIN." Klein stated with clear disgust evident in his voice.

"@#$% %*^*!///….==,!@$$^****" Doctor 8 said, informing Doctor Klein and the Courier about something important relating to Dala.

"YOU, ZERO AND BOROUS WORKED ON A CHIP AND IMPLANTED IT INTO HER SKULL SO WE COULD COMMUNICATE WITH HER AT ANYTIME? SIMPLY MARVELOUS 8! WE COULD TALK TO THEM ANY TIME WHILE THEY ARE AWAY." Klein stated, making Dala curious, and intriguing Courier Six.

"How would that work in practice? The Courier asked. Klein looked at the computer, setting it up to transport them to the new place.

"Like an internal monologue or thought. It is one of my prides and joys.Besides deconstructing securitrons that is." Doctor Zero informed Dala and the Courier.

"Seems like an invasion of her privacy though, even though this is very good for both of us in this situation." The Courier stated his hands in his pockets.

Dala seemed happy that the Courier was speaking up for her, even though she didn't mind the chip in her skull. Since it was all for science.

"Well it's not like we could read her mind like a telepath. It's more like-who am I kidding with that it's like telepathy in a way. We would deliver radio waves and sonic waves to the chip and deliver it to her brain and make itself into internal thought.But that doesn't mean that we or Dala could read minds or something silly like that." Zero explained.

"YES TELEPATHY, AN UNPOSSIBLE CONCEPT TO US MEN OF SCIENCE." Klein stated proudly.

"Please step on the platform with you two and no hand holding or touching during the teleportation! We don't want a mixing of atoms during teleport." Mobius urged. The Courier and Dala did what they were told to do and were on the platform.

The scientists of Big Mountain were hard working at trying to teleport the two of them to the new place. The bulb on the top of the machine started spinning, and the computer's connected to the TV antenna started to make sporadic beeping noises.

Then finally a yellow light consumed both Dala and Courier Six. After the yellow light disappeared, it revealed that they weren't on the platform anymore. The teleporter worked, much to the liking of the scientist's of Big Mountain.

"It worked as expected. Klein, did you prepare them to come back by giving them 8's upgraded Big Mountain transportalponder? So that they can come back?" Zero said.

"UM, NO…" Klein revealed. "I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THAT. DOES THAT MEAN THAT THEY ARE STUCK IN THE OTHER DIMENSION?"

"Oh my Bohr Klein, they're stuck in some unknown place with dangerous things potentially because you didn't tell them about the UPGRADED TRANSPORTALPODNER!" Zero shouted at his colleague. Klein's monitors shook at his mistake.

"LOOK I FORGOT TO OKAY! IT'S FINE, THE LOBOTOMITE CAN HANDLE HIMSELF AND DALA IS VERY SMART YOU KNOW." Klein defended himself.

"Let's trust in them, the lobotomite is very intelligent and so is Dala. We can contact them about it through the chip Borous installed." Mobius said to Zero and Klein.

"FINE…I WILL, NOT BECAUSE I WAS ORDERED TO BY YOU, MOBIUS." Klein stated.

And so the members of Think Tank crowded around the computer near Doctor 8, to contact the Courier and Dala.

Xxx

The Courier found himself in an unfamiliar place. He found himself in an alleyway, full with the usual objects found in gross areas. Trash bags and plastic bottles were plotted all along the ground. Grease and other liquid were found along the floor as well.

He looked around for Dala and found her standing next to him, taking in the new environment that they found themselves in.

"Well my teddy bear, it seems like this place doesn't clean up much." Dala observed, feeling the brick wall's texture with her hand. She took a deep breath to calm herself down.

"We should probably leave this alleyway right now, nothing of interest here." The Courier suggested it to his companion. Dala simply nodded to him in approval.

They began to walk out the dirty alleyway until they heard a banging noise behind them. Which prompted them to look behind them, which revealed a rusted dumpster. The closed hatch opened and revealed a middle aged man wearing baggy clothing. A loose fitting black jacket and loose jeans. He threw himself out of the dumpster and landed face first onto the paved floor of the alley.

He stumbled a bit before getting up, coughing up his lung as he did so. He looked into his jacket pocket and clumsily took out a pocket knife and pointed it at the pair.

"Youuuuu richhhhh ppricks took my friennds away from me durrring the war." The homeless man raved against the unlikely pair.

The Courier merely rolled his eyes and walked towards the man. The homeless man gave the mailman a dry chuckle in response to his action.

"Stay pack-back! I can cut youuu up really good. I did that to some prisoners of war during the offensive." The homeless man slurred and stumbled over his words. Courier Six ignored him and kept moving forward.

The homeless man launched himself towards Courier Six. The mailman simply pivoted to his left and held his foot out, tripping the man onto the ground. The man's nose made a cracking noise , then he whimpered in pain.

The Courier then picked him up and repeatedly smashed his head into the dumpster's side. It made metallic thumping noise each and every time the man's head connected to the dumpster. Eventually after a few minutes, he went limp, and then he searched through the man's pocket for valuables.

He found a few coins and a sliver metal with a griffin emblazoned onto it. If the Courier had to guess, it was given to the man for his contributions during the war he was a part of.

He quickly picked the corpse up of the man and dumped him into the dumpster. Shutting the hatch to contain and hide the smell of death among the smell of filth. He turned to Dala to see how she reacted, but it seemed like she didn't care about the dead man.

"My teddy bear, are you finished? What did you find on him?" Dala asked, walking towards Courier Six. The Courier turned to Dala and showed her the coins in his hand.

"Just these little coins and a silver war medal. You don't seem too concerned about that bum, why?"

Dala laid her head on the Courier's chest, much to the confusion of the man. She took her head off his chest after a minute or so.

"Well I know that you can handle yourself, you help us in our time of need when we were still fighting Mobius," Dala explained. "Also your heart beat brings me happiness in my new body. You should have seen yourself fight that homeless man."

The Courier knew what Dala was referring to by happiness. "Please don't do it in public Dala, that would make us look very…bad."

Dala simply let a sly smirk form onto her face before replying.

"Well my teddy bear, we should try to keep up appearances. If Zero was correct in his assumption about this place, it would be a lot like the time when I was still a child. Paranoia about the Chinese and Communism were at an all time high. People would get reported to the police for the smallest things."

"So you're saying we fake being a couple to not draw suspicion to ourselves?" The Courier asked, knowing the answer in his heart of hearts.

"Correct," Dala confirmed his suspicion. "However if I am wrong we can pretend to be colleagues instead."

Then the pair left the alleyway and saw something they both thought they wouldn't see again in their lifetimes. Paved roads with moving vehicles in them. Proper store fronts, with the doors that jingle when you open them.

The men wore suits and the women wore dresses. Even those who can be considered poor wore suits and dresses. Children were running free without a care in the world. It seemed like a recreation of the Old World, like the old nation that bore the eagle on its seal.

The Courier felt someone shake his shoulder. He looked to his side and saw Dala look at him with some concern in her eyes. It has appeared that the Courier was indulging in Old World blues, finding himself at home in a country he had never lived in. It was a strange feeling to feel.

"I am fine Dala, it was just a passing feeling. Y'know I want to recreate all of this back on the reservation back home, safety and freedom for all" Courier Six revealed to his scientist friend.

Dala narrowed her eyes at Courier's nonsensical comment. But then her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree in a realization that he was speaking in code.

"My teddy bear of course your reservation will be happy with the advancements you put into it for them," Dala said, taking his hand squeezing it. "But now we should find out which street we are on right now.”

The Courier simply nodded in agreement and held her hand while they walked down the street to keep up appearances. Dala seemed content with his physical contact with her, but not happy enough to woo in public. Which was good since it kept up the appearance of a happy couple around the unknowing public. But if Dala would be proven wrong, he would drop this act faster than a corpse falling down at the Hoover Dam.

They kept walking and started to learn about this new place they were in. Ostania was the country they were currently in, and they were in its capital city of Berlint. Other people in the street were talking about various other things than basic facts however. The locals talked about smoke shops, apartments, their families and various other things that seemed trivial to the pair from another world.

It was currently shaping up to be another world in a different dimension in both of their eyes. So once in their petty rivalry, Klein would come up on top of Mobius. No old books referenced the country of Ostania that was for sure back home. So they kept walking until Courier Six made people’s pockets lighter by ‘accidently’ bumping into them, and had enough money for survival in this New World.

The Courier saw a smoke shop in the distance, it seemed like they didn’t just have cartons of cigarettes to sell, but other things such as newspapers and small bags of snacks.

“We should stop there and ask about apartments to stay in temporarily. Also we could get some food for the two of us.” Courier Six stated. Dala looked at the Courier in a surprised fashion.

“You smoke? I didn't take you for a chem addict.”

“Well, it’s not really an addiction. It just helps me relax in ways sleep and alcohol can’t.” The Courier elaborated. Dala looked at him like he was walking without a head on his shoulders.

“Really now? Well when you smoke, don't do it on the inside. You will make a place smell like smoke.” Dala informed. The Courier gave a small salute with his free hand. As they walked closer they saw the front of the store which was green and had the word tobacco written upon it in red. The store was built into the brick building rather beautifully in the Courier’s eyes.

The Courier walked up to the store front, and waited for the shopkeeper so he could make his transaction with them. He waited a couple of minutes until the shopkeeper arrived in the area he was supposed to be in. The man had perm-like black hair and a short goatee. He was wearing a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up with black suspenders and a red tie. He also wore thick red framed glasses to top off his look.

“What can I help you with?” The man said to the Courier, scratching the side of his face. Courier Six put down some of the money he pickpocketed onto the table to pay for what he wanted.

“Can I have a pack of cigarettes and two twelve packs of water.” The Shopkeeper went into his store to find what he wanted, and got his goods out, and took the Courier’s money and put it into the register. In turn, Courier Six took the goods on the counter. He put the pack of cigarettes into his suit pocket and carried the two twelve packs by the ends of their plastics.

“Well before we go, my…friend and I want to know if there are places around here where we can stay in the long term.” Dala asked the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper poked his head out of his little shop and pointed to the right of the group.

"If you walk down a few blocks there is an apartment complex on 128 Park Avenue that still is looking for tenants.”

“Thank you alot sir. Me and my teddy bear appreciate you helping us. We were quite lost in this place.” Dala said from behind Courier Six. The Courier seemed a little rigid at the fact Dala called him that in front of a stranger

The shopkeeper scratched the back of his neck at Dala’s words of gratitude. The Courier looked somewhat scandalized at the comment. Dala seemed happy to hear her friend's breaths become more erratic, even if it was nearly the same as before.

The Courier gave his thanks to the shopkeeper and walked off in the direction that the apartment complex was in. Dala noticed he stormed off, and caught up with him.

"You didn't have to call me that in front of someone we didn't know. We could have just played it off like we're friends or co-workers." The Courier said, slightly embarrassed by the encounter.

Dala shot him a look of inquiry in response to his statement.

"Well, if I were in your position I would be happy that your significant other has a pet name for you." She countered in a way that wouldn't look suspicious to the crowd of citizens if they were listening in.

"Well I would rather not tell people the story of how we met Dala. If you understand what I am saying." The Courier explained, letting some, if all of his anger out with a single breath.

"I see." Dala said quieter than she portrayed herself normally. After that quick interaction between the two, they didn't talk to each other for a while. They just let the vast sounds and echoes of the Old World vehicles and lights guide them to their destination.

Finally they arrived at the apartment complex on the street that the shopkeeper mentioned. It was a rather beautiful building in the way it looked. Even the buildings that weren't holy or run by the government were made with passion here. The Courier looked to his side to his surprise that Dala wasn’t walking beside him, but in fact walking in front of him.

She walked up the stairs of the building to properly enter it. The Courier saw the look on her face before she entered. It seems that he had made her upset in a way. He would have to fix this due to the fact that Borous and the others in a way trusted him to keep her safe in his hands. He would talk to her later about it.

Both him and Dala entered the building to find a rather nice looking receptionist counter with an old lady manning the counter. She wore the stereotypical uniform a person could imagine a receptionist to wear. The Courier walked up the counter to talk to the old lady.

"Can we rent a room here for a few months?" He asked the employee. The old lady gave him a small smile in response.

"Of course dear, do you want to pay up front or at the end of the month?" She asked in a polite tone.

"At the end of the month please." The Courier politely requested. The old lady simply nodded and went to get a key on the massive key holder behind her. She grabbed one on the top shelf of the key holder and handed it to the Courier.

"The both of you are in room 153 on the third floor, just take the stairway up there." The old lady explained. The Courier gave her his thanks, and started to walk down the hallway to the stairwell.

Dala followed him all the way to the stairwell and motioned to the Courier to follow her. Courier Six did so, carrying the two twelve packs of water on his shoulder. Eventually the pair do reach the third floor, with both of them searching for their door.

I should probably ask her what's bothering her. The Courier thought to himself, he walked closer to Dala. She noticed what he was doing and slowed down so he could catch up with her since he was actually carrying things.

"What's wrong? You seem a little upset," The Courier said. "I am sorry if I came off rude about what I said to you know.."

"It's fine, I shouldn't cross that line you didn't want me to cross. I just misinterpreted what you meant by what you said. It was just heat of the moment anger, I shouldn’t reacted like tha-”

Dala was suddenly stopped by a very sloppy hug done by the Courier. Her face was pressed against his tie on his chest. The Courier leaned his head towards Dala’s ear, and spoke in a very quiet tone. Almost unhearable, and whisper-like.

“I didn’t mean in the way where I regret ever meeting you in the first place. I just didn't want to make a rushed story for this place, right?" He explained.

Dala looked up at the Courier and nodded, with a look in her eyes the Courier didn't understand. She started to feel his pockets on his suit, looking for something of importance. Courier felt his breath disappear for a few seconds at Dala's action.

Due to this the Courier stopped his rather sloppy hug. Not that Dala minded it however, since she found the object of interest that was on the Courier.

She then jingle said object in front of the city state leader. The key needed to get their temporary home.

"I am sure that our room is somewhere close by at this point and since you're carrying things I thought I would unlock the door for you." Dala said, explaining her actions. The Courier simply regained what little composure he had lost and nodded at her.

They walked down the hallway until they saw their room's number on the golden plate on the door leading into the room itself. Dala walked up to the door and jigged the keys into the lock and unlocked it.

But before she could open the door, she grabbed her head in slight pain, making her grab the door for support. The Courier dropped the two packs of water and made his way quickly to his friend.

"What's wrong?" He asked, holding her in support. Dala lightly laughed at his reaction.

"It's just that I remembered Doctor Klein didn't buy us a train ticket back home." She said, straightening her posture to how it was before.

The Courier didn't seem to understand what she was talking about at first. But then it hit him like a Deathclaw's warm embrace. His eyes widened at the implication if what she said was true.

"Well…when we get back home, I will give Klein a very stern talk." The Courier said, his teeth grinding nearly into a fine powder in anger.

"It can't be all that bad, we still have each other," Dala reasoned. She opened the door to the new place they were now indefinitely staying in. "We could discuss more inside, I think we did enough walking and talking today."

The Courier agreed with her and picked up the plastic cases of water and followed his scientific colleague into the new living space. He shut the door behind him with his foot, leaving room 153 and the hallway they walked quiet and peaceful.

However unknown to both the perverted scientist and the mailman, a person was eavesdropping and heard their conversation. Across from room 153, was room 154, where a young girl sat and watched her spy cartoons.

But what was more exciting to the girl than the hero Bondman saving the day was her new neighbors across the hall from her and her new family.

She couldn't help but feel excited at the fact that her neighbors were aliens from another planet!

Chapter Text

Anya woke up in her bed like most mornings in her house. She would wipe her eyes with her hands made into fist, and hop down from her bed. She would make her way out of her room with her stuffed companion and agent, Mr Chimera in one hand. She groggily walked into the bathroom to do her business, brush her teeth, and wash her face. She now walked out of the washroom and walked into the living room of her small home.

To her surprise no one else was awake in the Forger household. Her dad wasn't preparing breakfast for everyone or reading the newspaper on the dinner table closest to the door. Her mom wasn't waiting patiently for her dad to finish breakfast at the dinner table. Nor was she tending to her pet dog, Bond by giving him his food in the morning.

Everyone besides the youngest in the house was sleeping. Not because they were sleeping in or slacking off, but due to their jobs' high expectations of them both.

Her dad is a psychiatrist and had to work long nights at the hospital to help people in need. But Anya knew of his much cooler and exciting job as a spy for the neighboring country of Westalis. Yesterday he had to find out where the bad guys were hiding a priceless Nortican artifact from years ago.

It must have been a tiring mission because her dad fell asleep on the couch once he sat down on it. Her mom went out earlier in the day to find and get rid of Hungarian criminals that were hurting Ostania. She got home before her father and once she saw him sleeping on the couch she picked him up and brought him his bed in his room.

A quick and nearly quiet bark, or rather a 'borf' from her dog brought Anya out of her reminiscence-like state. Her dog Bond stretched his legs before trotting over to his favorite, who was sitting on the couch. Anya happily patted him on his huge head, much to the excitement of the pet.

Anya then started to pet and scratch Bond's face, much to the liking of the dog. She then squished the dog's face in excitement.

"Bond, can you tell me what we are going to do today!" Anya yelled-whispered to the dog. The dog responded by licking her face, which made her giggle lightly. She wiped her face to keep the dog's saliva from spreading down onto her pajamas.

"Bond, Anya just washed her face a few minutes ago." Anya teased Bond. The dog wagged his tail at the pure enjoyment of his friend and owner. The giant mass of white fur then left Anya for his bed and laid down.

Anya then reached on to the arm of the couch and grabbed the remote on top of it to turn on the television in the room. She pressed the button on the remote to turn on the TV, and with a quick flash of white turned on.

The TV had been previously left on the channel where Berlint in Love plays its reruns and new episodes. Anya internally gagged at the mushy and row-man-tick themes of the episode. She quickly changed the channel to cartoons that she likes to watch.

To her delight, Spy Wars was airing a new episode regarding Bondman and his adventures to save the world from evil. Sadly however, the episode went to a commercial break almost immediately after she changed the channel.

She did use this to her advantage. She hopped off the couch and ran to the kitchen, with her tiny feet tapping the ground somewhat loudly. Anya then looked up to the cabinet where her peanuts were usually placed in and stored. She couldn't reach the cabinet due to her height disadvantage, but that doesn't mean she couldn't try.

So she ran back into the middle of the area in between the kitchen and living room. This was where Anya, her mother, and father would eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. So she made herself push on one of the chairs at the table to the kitchen.

'Anya's height problem is gone now with this chair! Anya can now enjoy an early snack before breakfast. Anya's perfect victory!' She thought with one of her famous devious grins. She pushed the chair to the kitchen until it was against the counter. She climbed onto the chair and stood on it.

She then opened the cabinet door to reveal her bag of high-quality, high value peanuts. She rubbed her hands in anticipation and grabbed the half filled bag. She shut the cabinet door and hopped down from the chair and ran to the living room couch. She then sat on the couch with her bag of peanuts. It looked like she made it just in time, with Spy Wars continuing where it left off before the commercial break.

But before Anya could munch down on her hard work, she heard a light cough to her left. She turned to where the noise was made, to find her papa looking at her somewhat sternly, still in his pajamas. Which was a simple white tank top and blue shorts.

“Anya, you weren’t trying to sneak any snacks in before breakfast? You can get peanuts after you eat your food.” Her Dad reasoned with her. However Anya had a different plan, one that would succeed a hundred percent of the time.

"Papa, Anya sees no such thing." Anya said, while sliding the peanut bag behind her. She gave her dad her most convincing smile, one that would fool the most intelligent people on the planet.

"Anya, I can see the bag behind your back." Her Dad stated clearly. Anya gasped at her plan crumbling before her, before accepting her defeat and holding up the bag of peanuts to her dad to take. Which he did, and returned the bag to the cabinet where it once was.

'If I could channel her creativity into studying rather than this her grades could improve. Which means more potential opportunities for Stella stars. Perhaps reward her with peanuts after each question answered correctly when studying? I should probably pitch the idea to her first though.' Her Dad thought loudly in his head. He picked up the chair that Anya moved and put it back where it belonged.

"Anya, if you can get three math questions right in row when we study later today, I will get you another bag of peanuts." Her Papa offered.

Anya nodded her head as fast and frantic as she could in agreement with her Dad's offer. He then hummed at Anya's very quick support of his impromptu plan for later today.

"Anya, if you don't mind it, can you wake up your mother? I am going to make us breakfast today." Her Dad asked her. Anya gave him a mock salute and ran towards her mom's room.

Anya then reached the door and opened it, entering the room. She walked quietly up to her sleeping mom and lightly tapped her shoulder. Her mom continued to snore lightly even after Anya's touch.

So Anya accelerated the rate of pokes to her mom. She giggled slightly at her mama's new reactions in her sleep. It seemed like she mistook her daughter for her younger brother.

"Yuri… five more minutes…" Her mom muttered under her breath, turning her body to the other side, not facing Anya. The pink haired child then went to her last resort to wake up her mother.

She lightly hopped onto the bed and whispered into her mom's ear a sentence that would surely wake her up.

"Mama bad men are trying to take me away again.”

Her mother then shot up in an upright position with her crimson red eyes darting around the room for those who are planning to take her daughter away from her. After figuring out there was no threat in the room, her eyes laid onto her daughter who was grinning ear to ear at her reaction.

"Good morning mama!" Anya nearly shouted at her exhausted mother. In response her raven haired mother sighed in relief that Anya was okay.

"Good morning Anya. Is Loid up?" Her Mom said, wiping her eyes goop away. She then got off her bed and did a quick couple of stretches, making her bones crack and pop into place.

'Doing the job last night took a lot out of me. I haven't gotten sleep like that in a few months. Those mobsters had a lot of fight left in them, although it ended the same with the target…"

Anya then stopped reading her mother's mind to keep her childlike innocence. Unlike her first friend Becky who watches Bernlint in Love with all of the mushy love scenes and over dramatic acting. She doesn't know how people could watch that show for hours.

"Papa is up and making breakfast mama." Anya said, taking her mom out of her thoughts. Her mother smiled and yawned.

"Thank you for telling me Anya, can you tell Loid I will be out in a few minutes?" Her mother asked her daughter. Anya gave her a little salute and ran out of the room.

She then went back to her dad, who was in the kitchen now looking through the various cabinets for food. It looked like he didn’t find anything suitable for breakfast since he went over to the fridge and opened it. He then looked in the fridge for something, for anything that can be used to make a good nutritious breakfast.

Her father sighed and shut the fridge door. He then scanned the room for a bit before his blue eyes landed on his adoptive daughter.

"I got to get dressed." Loid said before sighing. 'WISE is going to kill me, the budget for Strix has gone through the roof recently.'

Anya could only inwardly laugh to herself. She was a good bargain at the end of the day. Plus it was for world peace, so it was worth it. Especially when they rented a castle out just for her, that was fun.

Loid then left to go to his room to get changed out of his pajamas. Nearly at the same time, Yor finished changing out of her pajamas into her usual clothing that she wore. A light lavender overcoat buttoned up with a matching knee length skirt of the same color.

"Mama, where are you going? Can Anya come with you?" She asked, wanting to go on an adventure with her mom.

Yor giggled into her hand before answering. "Anya, I wish you could. My job isn't that exciting, you will get bored easily," Yor leaned into Anya's ear to tell her the rest of what she wanted to say.

"I wouldn't want you around my co-workers, they can be mean to people sometimes."

"Are they mean to you mama?" Anya asked with a blank stare.

Yor gave a short laugh in response and rubbed her daughter's hair. Anya fixed her hair with a pout. She just brushed her hair a few minutes ago when she woke up, but now her mom destroyed all of her hard work. A betrayal of the highest order.

"Anya worked very hard this morning to brush my hair. It's only fair if mama helps me brush my hair as rep-eer-rations."

Yor brought her hand to heart with an amused smile. She then lifted Anya up into her arms and brought her to her room and placed her daughter on her bed. She went to her drawer and opened it, bringing out her hair brush.

She then sat down next to her daughter on her bed and started to brush her hair. Yor brushed her daughter’s pink hair gently and carefully to get rid of any knots, making her hair smooth and soft. Anya stood still for the entire time, making sure that her mom didn't accidentally scalp her in the process like some other times.

Yor finished brushing her daughter's hair rather quickly and intricately. Of course Anya didn't have as much hair as her, so the procedure was rather quick. Anya hopped off her mom's bed and showed off her hair to her mom.

"Does Anya look pretty?" She asked, doing a little twirl for her mom. Yor put her hands to her mouth covering her giggle so Anya couldn't misconstrue what she was laughing at.

"Of course Anya you are the prettiest girl I have ever known!" Yor said, putting her brush away back in her draw.

"If Anya is the prettiest girl in the world, then mama is the prettiest woman in the world!" Her daughter exclaimed happily. Yor gasped in surprise at Anya's comment.

She picked up her daughter and hugged her tightly. While Yor was extremely happy at Anya's compliment, her daughter seemed to be struggling for her dear life against her mother's deadly grip.

"Anya, you're the daughter a mother could ask for!" Her mom exclaimed happily. Anya gave a quick giggle in response to her mom's statement.

"It's been fun Anya, helping you with your hair, but I think it's about time for breakfast." Yor said in a more motherly tone. Which meant for Anya that she didn't have a choice in the matter. Which wasn't bad for her personally since her dad was a talented cook.

"Okie dokie mama," Anya said, before pointing towards the door leading to the table where they all ate together. "Can you carry me there? Please?"

Yor nodded to her daughter's request and carried her with one arm to the table where they all would eat family meals at. She then placed Anya on the one chair left to the two chairs put at either end of the table.

Then Yor sat down at the table, leaving only one chair vacant. But not for long since Loid came out of his room wearing his usual grayish-green suit with a red tie. He sat down in the last remaining chair at the table.

He closed his eyes and quickly opened them. His daughter knew the look her dad was giving to the two of them. The look on his face depicted him considering his words he was about to say to his relatively new family of his.

'How did I forget to get groceries after finishing the assignment last night! You're making simple mistakes Twilight! How did it come to this…"

"I didn't get groceries last night," Loid said with utmost seriousness. "So we don't have enough ingredients to make breakfast today."

Anya gasped at the comment, knowing that she wouldn't be able to eat her father's most delicious breakfast today nor her mother's barely edible poison. But they would have to go out into town to eat.

Yor looked to her husband in a confused manner, looking down to her lap before her red eyes landed on Loid's blue eyes.

"I thought you said you would go shopping on Friday? Today is Thursday, isn't it?" She asked.

Loid coughed into his fist awkwardly before answering his wife's question.

"No Yor, it's Saturday. If it was Friday today, I would be at work right now." He said, hopefully clearing up any confusion still left in her mind.

"Yea! Anya would be in school right now learning about boring stuff if it was Friday!" Anya said, supporting her Dad's statement to his wife.

Yor looked like she deflated both her husband's and daughter's comments. Not out of embarrassment, but out of relief that she didn't have to go to work on this day. She quickly recovered to her relaxed state. With a quick exhale of her breath she then asked another obvious question with a slightly less obvious answer.

"If we don't have anything to make here, where should we go to eat?"

"Anya thinks we should go to the store with peanuts and candies!" Anya exclaimed happily, hoping her suggestion would be taken up by her parents.

"Maybe another time, Anya." Loid said, shooting down her idea. In response Anya puffed out her cheeks in a childish pout, but quickly went back to her previous expression.

"There's a small diner near my workplace that just opened up. We could go eat there and then do something else fun. Like go to the park or visit a museum.” Yor suggested.

“Sure that sounds like a good idea,” Loid said, agreeing with his wife. “Anya do you want to go to this place?”

Before Anya could give an answer to her dad, her stomach gave a very large growl at the question given to her. Her eyes then hardened, with her facial features becoming darker and more serious.

“Yes papa, Anya is very hungry.”

“Well, Yor and I will be waiting by the door for you to get ready.” Loid stated, getting up from his chair and making his way to the door. Yor followed suit, getting up from her chair, but before going to the door she asked her daughter a simple question.

“Do you need any help getting dressed Anya? We don’t want you to wear mixed-matched clothing like last time.”

“No mama, Anya is six not four. I can do it myself.” She said, proudly of herself and her alleged accomplishments in dressing herself. She puffed out her chest with pride. Yor simply nodded and walked over to Loid, who was telling their dog Bond to not wreck the house while they were gone.

Anya then walked into her room and towards her dresser. She then opened it up and thought about what she would wear. Becky taught her some things about fashion but she didn't really listen to her first friend since it was somewhat boring.

She then took out some of her more presentable clothes. Some in her mind, she couldn’t even consider. That would include her Spy Wars t-shirt and pants, her various amounts of pajamas, and her friends' surplus amounts of gifts given to her during their shopping spree at the mall. But then Anya found it, 'old reliable’ as she called it. Something Anya would learn as her life processes, albeit so far it has been a short one. Her saturated black baby doll dress with a petite white bow in the center.

She quickly changed out of her blue striped pajamas into her dress. She then put on her white socks and her black shoes, which didn’t have any shoelaces so it was easy to slip into. But then, to her surprise, she heard some people’s thoughts. She didn’t really recognize them at first, but then came to a stunning realization.

Those were the aliens next door! Those martians from outer space with their flying saucers and laser weapons which disintegrate people into dust! Anya then, for the good of world peace, listened to the aliens' thoughts.

‘DALA PLEASE CALM THE LOBOMITE DOWN! I DON’T WANT AN ATOMIC WEDGIE LIKE IN HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN!’

‘Uh Klein, you shouldn’t be begging for forgiveness, after all it is your fault that they are stuck there with no way home for now.’

‘DOCTOR ZERO DON’T MORALIZE ME WITH YOUR UNSCIENTIFIC MORALS! I ALREADY EXPLAINED MY MISTAKES TO EVERYONE!’

‘ENOUGH arguing with you two. WE must work together to help them get back in one piece. Or pieces if we can’t’

‘Are you certain Borous? Klein and Zero aren't up to particle and biological rearrangement like you or I. Klein's like a big baby when he sees blood.'

'WRONG AS ALWAYS MOBIUS! I SIMPLY DO NOT ENJOY THE PRESENCE OF BLOOD WITHIN MY VISION.'

'#^#*^*_ @&@&'@&+>×,$([]@;@&@(()!'

'IT ISN'T A PHOBIA DOCTOR 8! IT'S SIMPLY A PREFERENCE. ANYWAY BEFORE I BECAME A PUNCHING BAG FOR EVERYONE…DALA PLEASE MAKE SURE THAT I WILL NOT HAVE ANY HARM HAPPEN TO MY BODY.'

'I see why Six didn't like this at first. This truly is a fate worse than death. But I must keep moving forward with science in mind!'

Anya rubbed her head to soothe the pain she felt in her head after listening to those thoughts. She never thought one person could have more than one voice in their head. But that person was an alien so she couldn't verify the facts with regards to her telepathy powers.

Anya then walked out of her room to her parents who were waiting for her at the front door. Both Loid and Yor looked at their daughter with various emotions a parent would feel towards their child.

'It seems that Anya learned some fashion and clothes lessons from the Blackbell child. With this she could earn a Stella star perhaps down the road from now? I would have to further investigate this.' Her father thought loudly to himself.

'Papa is plotting again' Anya thought, star-struck.

"Anya you didn't have any trouble getting dressed? You didn't get stuck in shirts or put on your dress backwards again?" Yor asked, unknowingly embarrassing the youngest in the room.

"No mama, I didn't do any of that. I got dressed like everyone else." Anya said, puffing out her cheeks into a small pout.

"Okay, I was just making sure." Yor said with a smile, patting Anya on the head, which made her giggle. Loid looked at this interaction with a smile before interrupting.

"Well if that is the case, say your goodbyes to Bond, we won't see him until noon possibly." He said with the warmth of a family man, which he was, most of the time.

Anya ran up to the white dog and hugged him tightly with copious amounts of love only a child could give to man's best friend.

"I will miss you Bond!" She said before squinting her eyes into a serious manner. "Keep our home safe from bad guys while we are away."

Bond simply let out a bark in response to his young master's request. Loid and then Yor went to say their goodbyes to the dog, although they were much quicker and adult like than Anya's, of course.

Finally at long last, the Forger family found themselves outside of their little home in their apartment complex. However there was one thing different about those other times where the stitch together family would go out to work or school, or even on an outing to the larger city. One thing remained constant however, they were always alone in the hallway. Since their neighbors were old retirees, who would usually sleep in and miss the larger day.

But just in front of them seemed to be a young couple. The woman to the right of man was wearing a rather expensive looking black evening dress, which also had a red trim to it. She wore a necklace of pearls around her neck, which added a huge monetary value to her dress. The woman also had pale skin, which matched her pearls. Her black hair and eyes juxtaposing her skin and necklace but doing the exact opposite for her dress and her dark black square heels.

To the left of her was her alleged significant other, wearing a matching tailcoat suit with a similar color scheme put together with a red bowtie and brown dress shoes. Everything else was normal about him besides his expensive clothing he was wearing, besides the fact that he was paler than a stick of chalk and was wearing sunglasses indoors. The man’s jet black hair also helped complete the look with his clothing and demeanor, a completely stoic face.

The two groups of people stood in silence for a few seconds, before Loid spoke up.

“Hello, my name is Loid Forger." Loid said politely with a smile, then motioned to his wife and daughter with his arm. Essentially giving room for the two of them to introduce themselves.

"My name is Yor Forger, and I enjoy supporting my family through cooking and my job!" She said, proudly about her dedication to her family, although nobody that she knew knows the true lengths she has gone through to secure a future for her family.

"My name is Anya, and Anya likes cartoons, peanuts and uh…" Anya said, until she couldn't think of another hobby she liked personally until it had struck her like a lighting bolt. "And my bestest friend Mr Chimera!"

"Nice to meet the three of you, my name is Marshall Van Graff. I enjoy being with my…" 'Marshall' said trailing off. Unbeknownst to everyone he was having an internal civil war about his answer.

'Six what were you thinking!? Taking the Van Graff last name and giving a fake first name based on an economic plan! Now with this open ended question! THINK DAMN IT!'

"Wife…" He said, his voice slightly changing into a mixture of an defeated and amused tone. He then wrapped his right arm around his supposed wife, who seemed to be rather shocked at his physical touch.

'What is he doing? Touching me like he is right now… not that I dislike it or anything.' She thought to herself.

"My name is Maria Van Graff and I enjoy the sciences and spending time with my husband." 'Maria' said, while a slight bit of red crawled upon her face.

'By Avogadro, I am a Big Mountain scientist! I did so much to further science. Now I am hiding behind a fake identity with an amnesiac mailman. What has the world come to? But.. he does have some very strong muscles, and skin tissue…may need to test my synthetic body functions later.'

Anya had no clue what she was referring to, but she didn't care for it. For there was something bigger happening unbeknownst to both her parents. The two in front of them were not from this world! She would have to figure out their intentions with her world.

'Hopefully mama or papa could figure out who they really are. But they might not find out in time,' Anya thought with increasing worry. 'An alien invasion would destroy world peace!'

"If you two are married, where are your wedding rings?" Anya asked the aliens, her voice shooting up a decibel. The infiltrators looked at the child, with amused smiles.

"Well my ring got stuck on my finger due to it being swollen. My teddy bear helped me get it off a few days ago." 'Maria' said with some enthusiasm. Her alleged husband looked at her with a blank stare after her comment.

"Yeah, it's a simple maneuver really, just run it over hot water and tie a string to it." Six said, adding a little bit of laugh at the end, which was forced and strained.

'Even Captain Curtis had a better alibi than this mess. I hope Dala isn't completely socially inept with actual people.'

Six and Dala were odd names to her. A number and…whatever Dala meant. Does that mean there are four others with them? Assuming that Dala counted as one of them. However, before Anya could brainstorm further on alien naming conventions, her dad's voice broke her chain of thought.

"Anya, that's not a very nice question to ask other people. You don't know the situation they could be in."

Six snorted at Loid's assertion and put his hands on his sides, away from his supposed wife.

'If only they knew how bad things are.'

"Well the kid was just curious about it, she didn't mean it to hurt my feelings you know? It was just a question." The mailman said, defending his secret enemy for life.

"Anyway, how long have you guys that lived here?" Six asked, inquiring information and pivoting at the same time. Loid gave a polite little laugh in response.

"Me and my family have lived here for about a month now, we moved after an unfortunate snake infestation in our old apartment." He explained quickly.

'Why would he ask that question specifically? Could it be an asset sent by the Handler to test his knowledge and capabilities? No, she wouldn't do that on a mission this impactful and important. Could he be an SSS agent sent to investigate him and his family? No, probably not since they would have compromised my position weeks ago.'

Anya looked at her dad with stars in her eyes practically. He was going to bust them and bust out his spy moves and kick their butts! She balled up her fists in excitement. A real spy action in front of her again!

But her hearing another pessimistic thought from Six ruined her optimism about the situation.

'Snakes? Really? Was someone close to figuring there was some sort of affair in the past? Green eyes and pink hair. I can see the eyes from the dad but nothing from the mom. Interesting situation, but not my problem'

'A fair? Papa didn't take me to a fair when they had the old apartment. Mars sent their dummies to take over the world instead of their smarties.' She thought snidely with her famous grins which made a certain classmate all red in the face, in anger of course.

"Well me and my family were going out to get breakfast before we started to talk. You know, the one near the town hall?" Yor said with a smile on her face oblivious to her child's schemes, husband's paranoia, and her neighbors cynical thoughts.

Dala gasped at Yor's comment, although the authenticity of it could be called into question. Not that mattered anyway, since Yor nor anyone else noticed it.

"Wow! My husband and I had the same idea. You guys don't mind if we come along with you guys?" She suggested. Loid looked content at the question.

"Of course. We wouldn't be good neighbors to say no." Loid stated, wanting the new neighbors to accept and like his family just as the other neighbors did.

'This would be a good time to gather information on these people. If I could figure out more about them I will now find their alignment in the world of politics and espionage. But if the best were to come true I could also make a connection here and blend in further.' Loid thought, analyzing the situation.

"I wouldn’t want to keep your little family waiting much longer than we already have. Are we going to walk or drive there?” Six said, wanting to go out to eat and learn more about his surroundings.

“Traffic should be building up soon due to some construction nearby, so walking would be better.” Loid stated clearly. The couple in front of them both nodded in response, nearly at the same time as each other.

The group of five then left their floor of the apartment complex, and then the complex itself. They found themselves on streets of the lively city which seemingly never sleeps. Anya was in front of the group, with her father and mother keeping a close eye on her.

Meanwhile both Courier Six and Dala followed suit behind them. With Dala nearly dragging her now husband around due to him ogling at every sight of basic architecture and functional automobiles.

The area surrounding the walk was rather well off compared to the other areas of the city. It wasn't very impoverished and people walking around weren't poor, but rather upper middle class. Eventually the unlikely group made its way to the center of the city.

The city center was nearly the oldest area of Berlint. The architecture of the building's and roads were almost Victorian in style and nature. Some places however did keep up with the times, but it seemed that it wasn't organic, like it was out of necessity due to an outside force.

The outside force clearly wasn't something like a natural disaster or external migration making the buildings vacant or useless. The conduit of this odd stylistic clash was the statue that could be found in front of the city hall.

The sculpture depicted a soldier with a rifle slung over his shoulder saluting, facing away from the city hall and westward. With the inscription carved into the limestone beneath its feet stating 'Dedicated to the fallen during the Great Patriotic War'.

After passing the statue of the soldier and by proxy the city hall they finally made it to the diner. The diner itself was one of those buildings that didn't fit in with the rest of the older buildings. It had an Art Deco style to it, with its outer building being somewhat colorful compared to the Victorian brown.

The group headed to the diner with Loid holding open the door for the group. The inside of the diner was just as colorful as the outside. There was a counter, where behind it were various cooks making numerous dishes and drinks. On the other side of the counter were several customers waiting for their orders.

All around the interior of the building were various booths where several types of people were enjoying their breakfast. Families, loners, and couples all found themselves in this place. The floors and ceiling were tiles that formed patterns which made the eyes water at its simple beauty.

"Do y'all need five seats?" A waitress asked, carrying three plates of food in both of her arms. Her uniform was very simple, it was a white apron covering her yellow floral pattern dress.

"A booth preferably, if you can." Loid stated, not wanting to be sat at the counter, which was overly busy and somewhat crowded.

"Of course! Take any booth that is open and clean." The waitress said with a smile, before leaving to fulfill the other customers' orders.

So the neighbors took the booth to the left of the counter, and nearest to the bathroom. The booth wasn't a circular one, but rather a typical rectangular one with cushioned seats on either side. Yor took an inside seat, while Anya sat in the middle, and Loid took the seat on the end of the left side of the booth. While on the opposite side, Dala took the inside seat and the Courier took the aisle seat.

“So what brought you guys to 128 Park Avenue? Other parts of Berlint are usually where people move to, especially the more industrial areas for work." Loid asked politely, reading the menu.

"Well we were looking for job opportunities since our respective jobs laid both of us off. We heard there is a good market here." The Courier explained.

"Oh that sounds awful! What did you guys do beforehand?" Yor said, with her voice plagued with empathy.

"Well for me I was a soldier, then the war ended and I took odd jobs to make ends meet." The Courier explained.

'I killed hundreds directly and indirectly. I am a wanted terrorist and criminal in California and Arizona. But I also scrubbed some guys' floors once for money.' Courier Six thought sarcastically to himself. He chuckled to himself, and then his fake wife answered her part of the question.

"I was a scientist for the government after the war. But the sector I was in was defunded and layoffs happened. I was one of them sadly" Dala stated.

'BUDGET CUTS TO BIG MOUNTAIN? UNPOSSIBLE. ONE OF US GETTING FIRED IS MORE INSANE THAN MOBIUS ON PSYCHO. DOCTOR BOROUS, YOU'RE THE ANIMAL EXPERT, WHY IS SHE LYING ABOUT THIS?' One of the voices in Dala's head shouted.

'Well it seems like our colleagues have found some neighbors in the place they are staying at. They simply are not telling the truth due to the CIRCUMSTANCES they find themselves in.' The other voice stated matter of factly.

'Well Klein, for what we know so far the lobotomite and Doctor Dala are blending into their environment. If you weren't such an ignoramus, you would have gotten that already.' Another voice snarked.

'ZERO, I AM GOING TO LET THAT INSULT GO BY ME. AS MY MOTHER SAID, "WHEN PEOPLE PICK ON YOU, YOU MUST HAVE THICK SKIN". HOWEVER IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN I WILL PUT YOUR BRAIN INTO A CYBERDOG.' Klein shouted again.

'O-okay Klein you don't have to do that. But I must ask, as a hypothetical of course, what do we do if they are caught?' Zero asked.

'Of course! It's simple Doctor Zero! We send my robo-scorpions to terrorize them until they give us back both of them!' Another voice said cheerfully.

'I HATE TO AGREE WITH MOBIUS, BUT THAT SEEMS LIKE THE MOST LOGICAL COURSE OF ACTION IN THAT SCENARIO.' Klein reluctantly agreed with his rival.

Anya on the other hand gasped, widening her eyes at the shocking revelations given to her by her esper abilities. These aliens are planning to attack her home if these two are taken in for questioning!

"What are you so shocked at Anya?" Yor questioned her daughter with the sight of her odd behavior. Anya turned and looked at her mom, with a serious expression.

"I just looked at the prices on the menu, mama, they are so low compared to other restaurants we went to." Anya stated, with her serious voice. Well, as serious a four year olds voice can be.

"Awwwwwww," Yor cooed. "Look at you, being responsible at your age. That's a good trait to have when you are older."

Anya would have responded to her mom's comments, but her Dad's thoughts interrupted her.

'A former soldier and scientist for Ostania. I couldn't ask for a better opportunity for information. But I can't take this for granted, they may grow suspicious of me for anything as former agents of the state. For the mission, I must know more.' Loid thought, with his grip on his menu tightening a bit, but unnoticeable to the naked eye.

But before any more questions on either side of the table could be asked, the same waitress that welcomed them came to the table with a pen in one hand and a notepad in the other.

"Would yall like to order anything? A drink perhaps?" The waitress asked politely. But not in a real genuine manner, but more in a corporate way.

"Orange juice, please." Loid said, before looking at Anya expecting her to order for herself.

"Anya would like chocolate milk, please" Anya asked politely, before looking at her mother the same way her father did to her.

"Can I have coffee with one sugar cube in it please?" Yor also asked politely with a smile.

"May I have some water please?" Dala said before looking at the Courier. The Courier skimmed through the drinks section of the menu before answering.

"Do you guys have any cola's?" He asked the waitress. She nodded in response. "If you can, can you keep it in the bottle? Thanks."

With that, the waitress walked away from the table to the counter where they prepared the food and drinks of the diner, leaving the table alone again.

"What do you guys do here? A big city like this must have some interesting things to do in it." Courier Six asked, curious about the sights in the capital of Ostania.

"There are many sights and attractions in Berlint like famous plays, operas, and museums," Loid said, before smiling. "For me however, the best thing in this city is my family."

'I may have over done that. Too on the nose, how could you do that Twilight!' Loid shouted in his head.

'That was sickeningly sweet. If only he didn’t cheat on his wife.' The Courier thought snidely.

Anya gave a blank stare at the alien. A person couldn't cheat a person like they could on a test. Her dad wasn't a cheater, he was rather smart, smarter than this dummy by far!

However, before Anya could be internally angry at her new extraterrestrial neighbor. The waitress came back with the drinks in her hands. She placed them down to their respective consumers, before leaving to fulfill other customers' orders.

Everyone's glass seemed nearly identical besides the contents inside of the cup. However Yor's coffee was inside a real cup made out of metal, unlike those given to customers of coffee shops. The Courier had his cola in the glass bottle, which he seemed happy about. Anya's cup was smaller and had a pink bendable straw made into the shape of a heart.

She drank her chocolate intensely, locking eyes with the mailman across the table. The Courier looked like he noticed the shift in the child's mood, which was clearly directed at him.

'Why is the kid staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face? No, Anya here probably just doesn't like me due to me being an unknown.' The Courier thought quickly.

"Hey kid, you want to see something cool?" He asked Anya with a more upbeat tone than he is used to. Anya looked at him, lessening his glare towards him, waiting for whatever to amaze her.

The Courier reaches over a nearby booth with nobody in it and takes a knife, which was clearly used by the previous occupants to butter their food, he takes his hand and wipes the excess off the knife.

Courier Six then tapped the base of his cola with the knife, then he did it again to get Anya's attention. Then with a fake out knife tap to the glass base of the soda, swiped off the cola's cap without twisting off, making the bottle cap hit the wall next to them. Anya gave a small gasp at his carnival trick.

"Cool party trick right?" The Courier asked the child at the table. Anya just continued to stare at him, even more intently than before. Courier Six shrugged and started to chug his soda.

'Is that one of the aliens tactiks? Could it be that he knows about my psychic ability? That wouldn't be too good, uh oh.' Anya thought worryingly.

‘Kids over in Freeside loved that trick I did. Tough crowd I guess' The Courier internally sighed. Anya internally sighed as well due to him not knowing her secret. However, his friend with benefits right beside him looks at him with clear disgust.

“Do you have to drink your soda like an animal in front of a child?” Dala asked, with her voice being a mixture of playfulness and revulsion. The Courier stopped gulping down his soda and looked at his supposed wife with a scandalized look.

"Any meal could be my last Maria. You don't have to yank the old ball and chain though." Courier Six said, calling Dala by her cover name. Dala in return rolled her eyes and gave him a chuckle in response, before taking calculated sips of water from her glass.

'I missed this feeling so much! Oh Chatelier! The water's coldness went down into me through my throat! It feels so much better than the biogel that made my brain function for a hundred years. Maybe later I will convince the lobotomite to let me… ' Dala thought with an internal squeal of happiness. Although Anya didn't hear the last parts of her neighbors thoughts.

"What do you two do for a living?" Courier Six asked the married couple in front of him, knocking Anya out of her own thoughts. Loid finished his glass of orange juice before replying.

"I work as a psychiatrist at Berlint General Hospital. After the war ended I wanted to help the people it hurt the most. Clarity and support is hard to come by in government when it comes to the mental needs of its soldiers and citizens." He explained.

"Oh? Are you saying that the government didn't provide enough to its people after the war ended?" The Courier prodded, wanting to see how far he could push a man to his intellectual and charismatic limits.

'Loid Forger was a war veteran turned psychiatrist due to the effects of war he saw on his brother's in arms. He is a patriot to Ostania.' Loid quoted his debrief on Operation Strix in his head.

"I didn't mean for you to take it that way Marshall. Ostania helped its people economically after it ended. It's just that people of the time didn't fully understand the mental effect of war on people truly until afterwards." Loid explained, with a smile. Although Anya knew that it was somewhat forced.

The Courier shrugged his shoulders in response. It seemed like he got the reaction he was looking for.

"Fair, times have changed so much since then." The Courier said, laughing a bit. Anya looked at the man and noticed that he was still wearing his sunglasses, curious if his alien biologically was his species ultimate weakness.

"Why do you wear sunglasses inside of places? My teacher says that it's an inelegant and obnoxious thing to do." She asked, with an internal smirk smoldering inside of her. Her parents however nearly gawked at her rather rude question.

The Courier in response to the child's inquisitive question took off his sunglasses to reveal his heterochromia affecting his eyes.

"I wasn't hiding lasers behind my eyes kid," He said before snickering. "Or am I?"

Anya gasped at the Courier's statement before recovering from this massive reveal. Before she could speak again, her mom began speaking.

"Anya, that wasn't a very kind thing to ask someone. Think if he couldn't see well or was blind." Her mom stated. Anya crossed her arms before answering her mother.

"Mama he isn't blind so Anya didn't do anything wrong. Plus he doesn't care." She retorted in her own way. Yor put up one finger to object, before realizing that her daughter was right, putting her finger down immediately after she put it up.

Before another word could be said, the waitress came back with her slip of paper, prepared to take orders from the group.

"Have you had enough time to think about your orders?" She asked. Loid turned to her and told the worker his order.

"May I have the buttermilk pancakes with sausages?" The waitress simply nodded and jotted down his order.

"Anya wants a hamburger steak!" She demanded happily.

'Anya asking for a hamburger steak isn't out of the norm. Usually I wouldn't care for her favoritism when it comes to food, but it could spiral into spoiling her appetite for steaks. Which would lead to various other negatives for the operation.' Loid thought seriously, pondering his options when it came to his daughter's choice of food.

'Papa thinks I am spoiling my appetite? How could Anya do such a thing? Anya can't spoil herself like food.' She thought, confused at her dad's thoughts. She pouted at the thought of not ordering her favorite food, but relented and changed it before the waitress could write it down.

"Anya wishes for waffles with syrup please." She shouted nearly. The waitress was seemingly used to this behavior from children and simply wrote down her order again with a smile. But her smile was more strained and forced than beforehand. Clearly peeved at the kids' action.

"I would like an omelet please." Courier Six requested the waitress politely. She nodded while writing down his rather plain order.

"Could you make me some blueberry pancakes please?" Dala asked the waitress quickly after her friend ordered. There was still one person left that needed to order food however, that being Loid Forger's wife.

She looked at the menu over and over, her red eyes tracing for something she would enjoy eating. But it seemed like there wasn't anything that caught her eye.

"Oh! I guess I will have what Loid is having!" She announced to everyone, somewhat stammering at all the attention she was receiving.

The waitress nodded and quickly left them alone again. The little group of new neighbors went quiet for a few seconds before one person spoke up.

"I work at the city hall that we passed by on our way here!" Yor said, explaining her cover job to everyone after the prompt was answered by Loid and pivoted to another subject by her daughter. However the Courier didn't really care that she couldn't really couldn't really read the room, so he continued the conversation.

"Oh really. What do you do at your workplace? Are they hiring as of now?" He asked, hoping for a positive answer from the other wife in the diner.

"I don't know!" She exclaimed thoughtfully and cheerfully. She looked across from her to her neighbors to two very different reactions. The pale man looked shocked for just a moment before regaining his happy mask. While his eccentric wife just gained a broader smile while drinking her water.

"Oh! I mean that I don't know if they are hiring right now," Yor stammered nervously. "I do paperwork and other office work."

"That's too bad, sounds like simple enough work." The Courier said, sighing a bit to sell the bit to the others around him.

"Well, there are other jobs around town. Like um…" Yor stated, losing her train of thought for a bit before responding. "You know… minimum wage jobs."

"Sounds good enough for me. A permanent job is better than what I used to do for money." The Courier said, before putting his arm around the scientist sitting next to him. She noticed and felt the move by her alleged husband.

"Well.. I have been thinking about getting back involved with the sciences again. Maybe as a teacher." Dala said, making up her future occupation goals on the spot.

'Oh thank God she understood that I wanted her to continue the conservation. With her chipping in now I won't look too talkative and annoying' Courier Six thought, internally sighing.

"There are a lot of public and private schools that probably need more teachers in Berlint. There are alot of school districts that would love someone with your credentials." Loid complimented.

"Well I have over two hundred doctorates in various scientific fields, so I would want to teach in a perfect world in one of the prestigious colleges in this country." Dala revealed.

Everyone at the table was silent for a bit. However they all had different reactions. Yor and Anya were similar in the fact they were shocked, with Anya having one of her signature shocked faces adorning her. Loid and the Courier nearly had the same reaction, the more reversed but still shocked reaction.

'Two hundred doctorates? That's impossible, doctorates take years to earn. She has to be lying, but what would she gain from this? But there is a slim chance that she is telling the truth…going to have to investigate this further when I have the time to.' Loid analyzed in his head.

'Maybe I shouldn't have let Dala continue the conversation. We might have to leave this city now…can't wait to sleep on the ground, again.' The Courier thought cynically to himself.

Dala seemed to notice the stares she was given by the people surrounding her in the booth. She gave a sheepish smile in response.

"I was…joking of course. I have three doctorates in the scientific field. Biochemistry, anatomy and biology respectively."

"What does that mean?" Anya asked, confused on what the three words mentioned by the Big Mountain scientist.

"Biochemistry is the study of the physical and chemical processes of organisms. Biology is the study of living things like animals and plants. Anatomy is the study of the human form, like my husband." She explained with a small smirk growing on her face while finishing her last sentence.

The Courier spat his soda back into the bottle at the scientist's statement. His head whipped back to face her, only to see her smug grin.

"You can't say that in front of people-"

"I was talking about the time we met during the war. I was a nurse and you were wounded during the advance," Dala informed with a smile."What do you think I was referring to?"

The Courier's blank stare reformed into a more amused look, with some red making his way onto his cheeks out of his embarrassment. He leaned back into the booth in a more relaxed position.

"Yeah, I can see that now. You saved my life back then. All the other medical professionals in here thought I was a waste." He replied back.

Although shock was still present in both Yor and Loid from Dala's previous statement. It lessened after the Courier's fake story was added on afterwards. Before anyone else can comment on the current conversation, or start a new one, the waitress came with plates in her hands.

One by one, the entrées found themselves in front of their respective people who ordered. Each and every main course meal looks delicious and beautiful. The pancakes looked fluffy with a crisp exterior. The sausages looked cooked to perfection. The omelet also looked fluffy and delectable.

Anya looked at her waffles for a few seconds before realizing what it was missing. The syrup.

"Mama, can you pour the syrup on my waffles for me please." She asked politely. Yor nodded and grabbed the syrup bottle from the side of the table where a ketchup bottle can also be found.

She opened it and held it over Anya's waffles.

"Okay Anya, just say when." She said with a smile.

Anya nodded in response, waiting for the syrup to drip onto her waffles in a satisfying manner. What actually happened was Yor squeezing the bottle once so harshly and hard so most of the syrup that was in the bottle was spat out brutally onto the waffles, drowning the food in the sweet condiment.

"Oh I am so sorry Anya! I didn't mean to do that! There is some syrup on your cheeks too, let me wipe it off for you!" Yor said, grabbing one of her napkins and started to wipe the syrup off her face. Anya started to fuss for a bit, before giving in and letting it happen.

After that, everything went normal for a certain amount of time. Everyone ate their respective food that they had ordered. Anya enjoyed her waffles even with its surplus amounts of syrup on it. Loid and Yor nearly had the same positive reaction to their own entrée. Yor had a more openly happy reaction while Loid's was more reserved.

The other married couple had similar reactions to their own food. The Courier ate like an animal, chowing down on his omelet like he hasn't seen food in years. While Dala took her time savoring each bite, chewing slowly to truly indulge in her own little fantasy of her past now seen through.

Anya noticed however that both her dad and the Courier were thinking very similar thoughts even though they weren't related in any way she could think of.

'He uses his fork in his right hand. Going to have to watch what is in his pockets when he reaches into them.' Loid thought with a semblance of paranoia in his head due to his very secret and important mission.

'He's right handed too? Gonna have to watch where that hand goes in case the worst happens.' The Courier thought with a semblance of paranoia in his head due to his upbringing in the Mojave and his scientific mission.

There was some small talk between everyone with some menial topics, but they mostly focused on their food. After they all finished their individual breakfast, Loid called over the waitress for the check to pay for the breakfast. The waitress gave the spy the check, which made him look it over.

'Not too inexpensive nor too expensive. If we ever have a similar situation that we had this morning we could just come here again.'

He then pulled out his wallet and started to count out the money to pay the restaurant. Before he could even place down the money to pay, the Courier took some money from his breast pocket and placed it on the table.

"That should cover it for the five of us." He said, scratching the back of neck. Loid smiled at the recently anointed despot.

"We offered you guys to come along with us. So it would be the right thing for me to pay for it." Loid explained, putting his money paying for the check and the tip for the waitress.

The Courier shrugged his shoulders and brought back his money into his pocket. After that, the waitress took the check into her hand and took some of the dishes back into the kitchen to clean them for the next customers that were to come in the future. Nearly immediately afterwards the group of five left the booth and made their way out of the diner itself.

Once they made it out of the diner, they stood off to the side of the diner entrance to enter into one last conversation before they diverged into separate groups once again.

“The food at this place was really good, I ot thank you and your wife for introducing us to this place." The Courier thanked the man beside him. Loid gave him a polite wave back.

"No problem, it was a pleasure to introduce you and your wife to Berlint." Loid replied back.

"Hopefully we can get to know each other more! All the other neighbors aren't too talkative to us so this is new to us." Yor said happily.

"Anya wishes to go out to eat more food!" She exclaimed, before turning her head to the side. "And you guys too."

"It was a new experience for me. Never really talked to many people outside of my work and personal life. A nice change of pace." Dala revealed, although it wasn't a ground breaking revelation.

Then the two groups said their goodbyes to each other. With each individual person in either group making distinctions on each other, good or bad. However due to the lack of information on one another they didn't see the one similarly they all shared.

The fact that they all were trying to prevent a great catastrophe from happening. Whenever it be through espionage, assassinations, mind reading, science or philosophy.

But time will only tell if any of these methods actually are effective.

Chapter Text

Once the breakfast was over, with the Forger family making their departure from the diner, it left the newly wed couple to themselves. Both the Courier and Dala were satisfied with how the breakfast went in general, but there was obviously room for improvement for the two of them.

The Courier looked around at his surroundings and saw what he could assume to be normal everyday happenings occurring in this city. The people, either by walking or driving, were heading to the places they needed to be. The weather was nice and the sun was out, shining its beautiful rays upon the city itself.

"We probably are going to need IDs and other papers to prove that we are rightfully here before we go hunting for jobs," The Courier said before turning to his new wife. "We got to head back to our new home."

Dala nodded in response, and walked beside the Courier on their way back to their apartment room. The streets were more crowded than before. Every type of person was using the sidewalks and roads for their intended purpose since it was later in the day.

The duo kept walking until Courier Six suddenly stopped near what one could consider the outskirts of the city hall for Berlint. His eyes darted all around the building looking for something, before turning back to Dala.

"We definitely have to go back now. I don't think the place is open right now."

"Well Yor stated that she worked there and ate with us so I suppose you are correct." She replied back, before continuing to walk back to their new home.

Eventually they both found themselves in front of the apartment complex once again and entered back in their little home. The interior of the apartment was rather nice and cozy, albeit it was small. Though it was perfect for just two people. The flooring was wooden and done professionally by a specialist.

The two rooms most obvious to the naked eye would be the living room and kitchen. Which weren't separated from each other. The only thing signaling that the living room started and kitchen ended was that the kitchen had titled flooring compared to the rest of the apartment's wooden flooring.

Both rooms had the basics needed for the room's specialities. The living room had a television set and a couch. While the kitchen had various appliances and cabinets for storing food or other general appliances.

Dala locked the door behind them and sat down on the couch, with a sigh. Tilting her head to the man in the room with her. Courier Six then went up to the television and flicked the dial to turn it on. The TV then began speaking like a politician about whatever on the channel left on previously.

Then the Courier sat down right beside Dala. He looked at the TV before talking to the scientist right beside him.

"I'm going to break into the city hall to forge documents." He stated nonchalantly, Dala looked at him and giggled into her hand.

"Oh really? In broad daylight? I don't know about that one Marshall." Dala teased. The Courier rolled his eyes in response, while flicking through the different channels with the remote.

"I was put on the spot, Maria. I had to think of something. I don't think people would be trusting of a man named Courier Six or a woman named Dala." He replied back with some snark, settling on a news channel for the TV, placing the remote back on the arm of the couch.

"Oh, are you saying that I am too unique for this place?" She said with a sly smile. The Courier again rolled his eyes at her actions.

"Yes. Is that what you wanted to hear?" The Courier said before chuckling. Dala nodded childishly and leaned into the Courier a bit, her head laying on the man's shoulder. He stiffened for a few seconds before relaxing himself.

"So…colored TV…you ever think of that in the Big Empty?" The Courier said, wanting to pivot away from the teasing game laid out by his fake significant other. Dala looked at him sharply before replying to the amnesiac.

"It's the Big Mountain, not the Big Empty. Only the illiterate would think that. Please don't refer to Big Mountain as such again in my presence." She said without compromise.

"Why not?" The Courier asked with a grin. Dala gave him a stink eye in response before answering.

"I have the other scientists in my head. Imagine hearing them yelling in your head each time to correct the wrong doing," Dala said before answering the Courier's question from before. "But no, the Big MT didn't care that much about colored television sets when inventing things like security holograms and resource duplicators."

The laughter from the Courier was quiet and light, but it still got him a glare from Dala who was right beside him. She separated herself from the man and crossed her arms, pouting.

"It's not funny! I didn't get my seven hours of sleep due to them arguing about the nature of this place," Dala explained, before continuing. "You also abandoned me last night to sleep on the couch!"

"You kept crawling over the pillow barrier on the bed and crossed into my side!" The Courier said, somewhat complaining. Although it was clearly just a playful jab at the only woman in the room.

"Well I have to test out the various synthetic components and abilities of my new body and who is better than my new husband." Dala said with a smirk. The Courier just gave her a blank stare in response.

"I could just give you a microfusion cell and you can do your business in the bathroom." He calmly stated. Dala looked at the man before looking down at the floor, her index finger colliding together in an embarrassing fashion, much like those school girls in old movies.

"How would you even know about that..maneuver?" Dala asked, her face now having a small red tint to it. The Courier, knowing that he had won the teasing competition, had another statement to close the deal.

"In your bedroom in Higgs Village, I sacked the place while trying to get my brain back. I saw some things that weren't meant to be seen." The Courier said, laughing a bit. Dala looked at the man, and dropped her embarrassed state. She held her hand out to get the microfusion cell.

"You have to help me insert it in then. I haven't been in a bipedal form in a long time-"

"Wow, look at the time! It seems like it's time to commit misdemeanors and felonies for science!" He said very quickly while darting into the bedroom and shutting the door. The Courier's internally seethe a bit before steadying himself.

Dala may have won the battle here, but he will win the war! He will not fall for flirtatious tricks, and dastardly tactics! The Courier looked over the bedroom with a newly found resolve.

The queen sized mattress was on the right side of the rather small room, facing directly to the left of the closet. The room had a window on the wall which was closer to the bed than the closet. There were other things in the room such as a little rug near the bed itself and a cabinet mirror combination near the window, but that wasn't important now.

Courier Six walked towards the closet and opened it. The closet itself was rather empty besides the various suits and Dala's scientific scrubs. Each suit he had represented one of the three families of the Vegas Strip. The regular, most normal suit was from the Chairmen. The pinstripe suit was a gift from the Omertas. Finally, a suit with coattails, a rather fancy suit from the White Gloves society.

Besides them being the most fancy family on the Strip. It felt like the personalized suit from them was a silent token of gratitude for not exposing their depravity and degeneracy to the public. It made sense to him, Marjorie and Mortimer wanted to keep their traditions away from the public eye.

However he didn't come to the closet to reminiscence about his new nation. In the dark corner of the small storage room was a little box. The Courier picked it up and brought it to the bed.

He opened the box to reveal three things of importance. The most important was his pip-boy, which was a storage device of great importance to him in a sentimental way. A gift from the good doctor who saved his life in a little out of the way town.

The second item was the Mark Two Stealth Suit. It was nicely folded, which put an emphasis on its armored breastplate. He took it out of the box and laid it out on the bed. It was useful for stealth of all kinds and had a kind personality oddly enough.

The suit itself was rather revolutionary for its time. A testament to late American ingenuity and genius against the Communist Chinese. It was a mix of whites and blues, with a white stripe connecting all of the armored parts of the suit. The dark blue itself was more of the generic color of the suit, it served no technical purpose.

Finally the third item of importance was a simple silenced .22 pistol. Simple in design, a white barrel and a generic pistol grip. The only unique thing about it was the built-in silencer. Although the weapon was explicitly made stealth in mind, and wouldn't be useful in an actual gun fight.

He took off Sinclair's suit and changed into the stealth suit. The put his pip-boy back on his wrist and placed his silenced weapon in its holster. Before he could inform Dala that he was leaving to aid in their alibis, the suit quietly hummed to life.

"Status:online, Med-X and stimpak amount, in surplus. Welcome back Courier Six! How may I assist you?" The suit asked in her usual tone of voice. While most sane people would think they have lost their mind in this situation, the Courier has realized that truth is stranger than fiction.

"We are going to infiltrate a city hall to make some documents." The Courier explained to the suit.

"Yay! It's just like us in the X-13 facility getting access to all of the upgrades for me. Or us sneaking into the Gun Runners to get secret weapon blueprints! Or what about us trying to stop the assassination of President Kimball! That didn't end so well…" The suit rambled on happily. The Courier looked down at the suit before replying back.

"Not so loud, we are in a new land where talk like that could get me arrested." The Courier explained.

"Oh, okay! Should we get going? I wonder if we could do this completely stealthy like. Like hiding in a cardboard box or maybe putting the corpses of the enemies in ice boxes?" She suggested innocently.

"No killing for this mission, nobody can know that we are going to be there," The Courier said before continuing. "Hiding in a cardboard box like a cat? How would that help me?"

"Well, one of the doctors that worked on me tested it during one of the trials before you found me. It had a ninety five percent success rate!" She said happily. The Courier gave a look that questioned what she stated, but didn't question the artificial intelligence.

The Courier then left the bedroom and went back into the living room to where Dala was. Clearly the living room television wasn't on the news station it was previously on, but on some kids channel.

"Dala I am going to head out, I am probably going to be back in a few minutes. A half an hour at most." He said nonchalantly before looking at the TV screen. Dala looked at him funnily before saying anything.

"You're using the psychoanalytic cardiac-dampening sneaky stealth suit? That's good for us. Big Mountain never got to use it outside of X-13," Dala said, her eyes returning back to the television. "Make sure you don't get seen with that, it may cause complications."

The Courier felt the stealth suit tightening around his body, a probable sign that the suit was wincing and embarrassed about Dala saying her full name. But the suit didn't make a comment about it.

"Well, I have a plethora of stealth boys in my pip-boy. Gonna use one right now to make sure no one sees me get in or out." The Courier explained quickly. Dala just nodded, completely immersed in the show she was watching. The only man in the room looked at the TV and back to the scientist.

"You like kids cartoons? Aren't you a centennial at this point in your life?" The Courier asked jokingly. Dala's head nearly snapped to face the Courier's.

"Well technically I am, but I haven't aged a day since the year 2077. I was probably around twenty four to twenty nine years old. I wasn't an old man like Doctor Klein or 8." She spouted quickly, her eyes narrowing at the man. In response, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

"It's been about 200 years since the Great War Dala, but I guess you're right since you're in your old body again," The Courier conceded, he brought up his pip-boy and took out a microfusion cell, tossing it to the woman, who caught it sloppily.

"That's the microfusion cell you wanted. Don't do what you're going to do on the bed or couch please." The Courier requested politely, before opening his pip-boy again to take out a stealth boy. The stealth boy itself wasn't anything special, just a little pouch that held together machinery that made a little red button turn whoever pressed it invisible.

Dala nodded viciously before standing up, energy weapon ammo in hand.

"Well, hope you have fun and get home safe. Thank you for the gift." She said, thanking the man. The Courier just gave a quick salute in response and pressed the button on the stealth boy, making him invisible to the average person.

Dala opened the door for him so it didn't just look like the wind somehow opened the door. Once the Courier stepped out of the apartment, Dala gave a knowing smile to the man before shutting the door.

The Courier knew the limits of the stealth boy. It mainly had two really big ones that he would have to worry about. Although most likely he would only run into one of them.

One of them was that if you were specifically looking for something who activated a stealth boy, you would probably notice them due to the nature of the piece of equipment's invisibility. It didn't make the user truly invisible in the comic book sense. It just manipulates molecules to transmit light to make it so you look invisible to the naked eye.

The second problem was the much larger one. The time limit on stealth boys was always one hour maximum. Nothing more or less. So he had to do his little act of criminality in under an hour if he wanted to succeed.

He made his way to the staircase leading down to the exit of the apartment complex. However there going up the stairs he would have to go down, was a family of three. A really familiar family of three.

It was the Forger family. It seems like they returned from whatever they were doing after they ate at the diner this morning. Loid was left of his wife, Yor and their daughter Anya was in the middle. Scowling at the early hurdle in his way, he decided that the most easy way to succeed was to simply wait them out.

Although his intrusive thoughts were telling him to just leap over the kid in the middle. Although due to how lanky he was, he would probably have his feet clip the kid and make her tumble down the stairs. He simply couldn't do that.

Before he could think of another way to go by undetected. Anya had adopted a look of shock, with her eyes nearly bulging from her skull. Loid seemed to notice her daughter's odd reaction to seemingly nothing and asked about.

"What's wrong Anya?"

"Anya is tired. My wittle stubby legs can't handle walking anymore." She explained, sweat dropping a bit. Her mother Yor bent down and picked up Anya into her arms. Leaving a little space between the two.

There the Courier found his opportunity to leave the complex due to their daughter's tiredness. He would have to time his footsteps perfectly with their own so they don't suspect anything was out of the ordinary.

As his neighbors made their way near the second to last stairway step, he made his move. Moving in complete unison with the two. Yor was too preoccupied with her daughter in arms to notice anything out of norm, although the same couldn't be said about her husband.

His left eye trailed the supposed empty spot between him and his two significant others. He seemed to have noticed something off about the spot where the Courier was at currently. The invisible man's eye met the husband's eye and a little contest of will was initiated between the two.

Although Courier Six was sure that he was just imagining that the man somehow saw him. He pushed that thought out of his head, as it seemed like the blond man only heard his footsteps. However it seemed that Yor would unknowingly help the Courier.

"Loid you aren't tired too? I could try to carry you up as well." Yor offered, not realizing the potential intimacy from the action. Loid waved his hands side to side in a frantic manner, taking his eyes off the infiltrator right next to him.

"Oh no you don't have to do that Yor! I was just admiring the structural stability of this stairwell." He explained passively, before putting his hands in his pockets.

The family finally found themselves at the top of the staircase and made their way to their apartment room. Although the Courier thought his eyes were deceiving him when Anya over her mother's shoulder squinted at him.

But there was no way a kid her age saw him. So as soon as he heard the family enter their house, he made his way down the stairs and into the same lobby which held the old lady manning the counter. However the opportunity to slip out of the apartment complex itself came when a man opened the door. He slipped out of the apartment complex without any issue.

Now he had free reign to get to the city hall undisputedly. He nearly sprinted to the place, since he knew most people wouldn't even notice or believe that an invisible man was near them.

Eventually through the weaving in and out of people in the city he reached the outskirts of the city hall building. It wasn't anything special compared to the other city buildings, but it was still well made.

He then looked for anything obvious enough to where he didn't have to do much to force an entry. An open window, or door would be in his best interest at this point of time. Although that was probably not likely.

He circled to the back of the building to where most people wouldn't be looking and bothered to go to. He saw a back door entrance and walked towards it, and crotched down, trying to open the door.

However the door wasn't bulging at all. The Courier then resorted to picking the lock with a bobby pin and screwdriver. He moved the bobby pin with the help of the screwdriver to the left and unlocked the door. He opened the door quietly and entered, shutting the door behind him.

He then resumed crouching and moving slowly and methodically through the back area of the city hall. It wasn't anything special, all things considered. It was just a holding area for various cardboard boxes and all metallic cabinets that were probably just replaced recently.

"We're Sneaky, sneaky, sneak!" The suit sang quietly, the Courier's soul almost left his body at the stealth suit's childishness during this situation.

"C'mon! This has high stakes! You can't be singing when infiltrating this place!" The Courier whispered-yelled to his clothing. The stealth suit just sighed in response.

"I was just trying to have fun before you make me go into sleep mode!" She whined like a baby, making the Courier's eye twitch. He kept moving throughout the inside of the building until he reached an office area full of cubicles.

"If I wear you to more missions like this will you be quiet?" He offered the stealth suit, making her gasp in response. It seemed like she liked the offer given to her.

He continued to make his way through the cubicle office area, carefully checking each cubicle to make sure nobody was there. The lights were all off, since nobody was here today, if Yor were to be believed.

The Courier then kept looking until he found a sort of break room, although it was a part of the office area. It was just a little off to the side, with various things expected for an office break room. A coffee pot and one of them old fashioned phones.

He decided he wouldn't even enter it due to the unlikely probability that anything of use was in there. He kept looking around until he found a door. Courier Six then opened the door to find some filing room with large metallic cabinets and a table with a typewriter on it.

He entered the room, closing the door behind him. He stopped crouching and stood up, and took a look around the room. The Courier opened up one of the cabinets and ran his fingers through the files in one of the draws before settling one.

He took it out and it had all of the important information on this random person. Occupation, age, date of birth etc cetera. He placed it down on the table next to the typewriter. Courier Six cracked his knuckles, preparing himself to learn some esoteric knowledge on how to work the writing utensil.

"Okay..the keys are the same as the ones on computers. But how do I make a new row of words on this thing?" He asked himself, not really knowing the answer. He put a piece of paper in the typewriter and started to learn about it.

He tried just typing, but that would just type letters out where he already put letters. He tried sliding the roller knob to adjust, but that wasn't really solving his issue either. He was starting to see why these things went the way of the cat after computers were invented.

"Have you tried checking the back of the typewriter?" The suit suggested politely. The Courier looked at his suit like she was insane.

"No, why would they design something like that?" The Courier replied with sarcasm dripping from his voice. The stealth suit just sighed exasperatedly.

"Just check the back please." The suit suggested, in a more whiny fashion. The Courier rolled his eyes and did what she asked him to do.

Low and behold, there were two little switches waiting for his use. He adjusted them to what he thought was necessary and took out an old paper and replaced it with a new one. He began typing vigorously, starting to form his alibi first before Dala's.

He almost finished his forged document when he heard footsteps in the hallway outside of the room he was in. The Courier stopped typing and crouched down, unholstering his silenced pistol and aiming it at the door, where a person's head would be. Before realizing he wouldn't be able to kill a person without good cause.

Quickly holstering the weapon and moving to the side where he wasn't in front of the door had its advantages. The Courier could just slip out undetected. But that would leave evidence that he was here, and that wouldn't be good.

However, before he could formulate a proper plan the door opened, and a gingered haired girl wearing a uniform entered the room he was in. She wore a red ribbon on the right side of her hair and wore a more feminine uniform than the Courier was used to seeing.

Besides the loose fitting uniforms in the Gomorrah that is.

"Why are all light's off in this place? I thought we had work today?" The worker asked herself before sighing. "Why didn't no anyone tell me that?"

She looked around the room before her eyes landed on the typewriter. She had a look of intrigue on her face and walked towards the Courier's hard work. Courier Six internally cursed, and formulated a new plan that would make her leave. He stood up and stomped his feet all the way to the door and slammed it shut. The employee jumped and turned around quickly.

"That wasn't funny, Camalia! You can stop this prank now!" She said frantically hoping that her co workers were just pulling her leg. The Courier smiled at his plan working ingeniously, without fail.

"WHO DARES INSULTS THE GREAT LATE EMPEROR OF OSTANIA!" The Courier shouted, deepening his voice. Making it almost unrecognizable from his real voice.

The employee shrieked in response. She stumbled back and fell on her rear end.

"This isn't f-funny anymore!" She said, with her voice wavering like a girl first going through puberty. The Courier gave an over the top laugh in response.

"YOU DARE INSINUATE THAT I AM NOT A TANGIBLE BEING! I HAVE RISEN FROM THE GRAVE TO DELIVER A MESSAGE." The Courier shouted again with fake anger. Although the worker didn't know that.

"You're not real! I am just hearing and seeing things! Yeah, that's right. Ghosts aren't real." She tried to reason to herself, however how could she believe what she was saying when the signs were already there.

The Courier slammed his fists into the nearest metal cabinet, leaving a physical imprint on it. This caused the ginger to flinch, and start to have tears form in the sides of her eyes. Courier Six felt a little sympathy for the girl, but it was buried by the mountains' worth of relief that his plan worked.

"n-NOW THEN, YOU MUSTN'T TELL ANYONE OF THIS CONVERSATION WE ARE GOING TO HAVE." The Courier demanded, maneuvering himself closer to the table where his cover could be blown.

The employee kow tow, with her forehead touching the ground.

"I won't, I promise!" She said, in a frantic subservient manner. It surprised the Courier that she actually bought into this, but he continued his deceit.

"YOU WILL LEAVE THIS BUILDING AND THINK ABOUT YOUR LIFE IN GREAT DETAIL. AS A MAN STUCK BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL, AND AS YOUR EMPEROR, IT'S OF GREAT IMPORTANCE THAT YOU REFLECT. LESS YOU END UP LIKE ME." He said, opening up the door to allow her to leave.

Which she did, thanking her rightful sovereign for his wisdom quickly as she was bolting out the door. The Courier listened in, to make sure that she still wasn't in the building. When he knew for certain, he started laughing like a mad man before calming himself and resuming his forgery.

It was like this until he finished creating the fake documents, and he placed them into the cabinet which housed all the other real documents. With his work done, he went to leave the building.

He continued to be stealthy, until he made sure that nobody was in the building, and at that point he just wanted to get back home and prepare for phase two of his master plan.

Getting a job of course. So he ran through the streets of Berlint, expertly dodging the various amounts of people, pets and cars on the sidewalks and streets. The day continued on during the time he was in the city hall. The sun was still out, but out in full force, with him feeling the sun's rays on his back.

Eventually he did reach the apartment complex. Although he didn't know how he would enter without looking suspicious. He looked around the sides of the building to see if there were optional ways to enter into his apartment room, but there wasn't.

"How long do I have until the stealth boy runs out?" He asked his stealth suit for her proper opinion. The stealth suit gave a polite reply back to him.

"Three minutes until the stealth boy runs out."

The Courier silently cursed to himself before walking up the steps to the apartment complex and leaning towards the doors windows to see if anyone was there. Currently nobody was in the lobby, not even the old lady behind the counter was there. He couldn't waste any time.

He opened the door just slightly enough so he could fit in and closed it behind him. He looked around a little bit more and started to slowly make his way up the stairs.

Although it had seemed like luck was on his side since there seemed like there was nobody on their way up or down the stairs. He quickly made it to his floor and briskly walked down the hall to his room, knowing that his stealth boy was probably about to run out.

But he did reach the apartment room just in time and just when he entered his apartment, the stealth boy ran out of juice and he became visible again. However he wasn't too pleased that the door was unlocked. Sure it helped him in this particular situation, but this could lead to his place being robbed or worse.

Besides the Courier having an analytical monologue thinking about the possibilities about a potential home invasion, Dala was still sitting on the couch with now a newspaper in hand, watching the TV. She changed back into her scientist's scrubs, which seemed to act like pajamas for her.

"You're back, how did it go?" Dala asked while paying special attention to the television. The Courier just held out his hands in an exacerbated manner.

"You know that could have been anyone that has walked through the door, right? You could have been in trouble without me around to help you." Courier Six lightly criticized. Dala just kept watching his cartoons.

"Please, I memorize the noise your footsteps make so I knew it was you. I wasn't in any trouble." Dala explained with a small smile. The Courier just sighed and took a seat right beside her on the couch.

"When did you get that newspaper?" He asked, turning his head to the TV, seeing that it was still on the cartoon channel.

"While you were gone I went to that smoke shop and bought a newspaper with the last of our money." She simply stated, handing the newspaper to her husband. He took it into his hands.

"Okay…what's so special about this newspaper that you used the last of our money on?" He asked sarcastically. Dala just turned to him with the biggest grin he had seen her do.

"I just applied to a job, a teaching job specifically," Dala explained, turning her head back to the television. "I already sent my application and now I am just waiting for a response."

The Courier put the newspaper back in his lap and sighed. His overly introverted and perverted companion is getting a job before him? It was pretty out there, but it was a good development.

"You are still watching these cartoons? What's so good about them?" He asked with some curiosity. Dala just shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Mobius was really big into cartoons, he always invited us over to his house to watch them with him." Dala explained with a sense of nostalgia in her eyes. The Courier smiled a bit before responding.

"Well, it's a good thing you guys are starting to remember your pasts. Mobius did a number on your memories."

"It's more thanks to you than anything. Without you, we would still be obsessing about Mobius." Dala said, thanking the Courier. He just gave a thumbs up in response.

"I should probably go and try to get a job now." Courier said, getting up from the couch. Dala looked at him like he said something crazy.

"You just came back here! You're making me a very lonely woman, plus Spy Wars is coming back on." Dala said, trying to convince the Courier to stay a little longer.

"Nope. I got to create a cover for me while we do our scientific mission and find a way home." The Courier said, waving his hand in dismissal of her concerns.

Dala pouted a bit before standing up herself. She then went to the kitchen counter and picked up something. She then went back to the Courier with something in her hand.

"You want your microfusion cell back?" She asked, while opening up her hand to reveal the piece of ammunition. The Courier gave a scandalized look before reverting back to his normal face.

"No..you can keep that for yourself. Think of it as a gift." Courier Six muttered, while walking past her to the bedroom to change out of the stealth suit into something more presentable. Dala didn't really react in return at the Courier's remark.

He made his way into the bedroom to find that the dress he gave Dala was on the bed, next to the box where he stored his equipment. He first removed his pip-boy from his wrist and placed it back in the box. Then he put his silenced pistol back in the cardboard box. Finally, he undressed and folded the stealth suit and patted it gently.

"I did good today, right?" The suit asked. The Courier smiled a bit before answering.

"Of course, you kept me in good company and helped me out during the mission. But I can't leave you out in the open due to you looking suspicious to other people." He explained carefully so he wouldn't hurt her feelings.

"Oh okay! If that's the case…sleep mode activated." The suit said before turning herself off. The Courier put her into the box and closed it.

He picked it up and walked to the closet. He then placed it into the corner where it was. The Courier then took the plain suit that the Chairman gave him and took it out. He then put it on and grabbed Vera's dress that was used by Dala earlier in the morning and left the bedroom.

He walked into the living room again. Courier Six looked around until he saw Dala again. He started to tell her what he was going to do to get a job.

"I am probably going to head to a laundromat to get your dress washed for your interview. I am going to try to get a job at the laundromat for convenience honestly."

Dala nodded to her husband's words. She turned up the TV's sound volume to make it louder to the point where he could hear what the cartoon's plot was.

"Bondman, your mission is to infiltrate the palace to retrieve the tiara for the princess." The boss of Bondman ordered. The Courier rolled his eyes at the basic plot of the show, but knew it was for children so he didn't complain.

He then opened the door and left the apartment room again. However this time he was under less scrutiny than before. He wasn't sneaky around to create alibis for himself and his fake wife. Now he just looked like a caring husband who went out to help his wife with laundry.

He made his way out of the apartment complex again, but this time he took his time while walking around the city. He held the dress under his arm to make sure nobody stole it. Courier Six scanned the stores on each side of the street to see if there was a laundromat to clean Dala's dress.

The more he walked, the more he had grown to love everything about it. The well dressed people and the infrastructure are everything he wanted the Mojave to be. A place where civilization triumphs over barbarism and tyranny. A place where every man is a king, and a free man walking.

Before he could ponder further, his eyes landed on a laundromat across the street. It wasn't anything special by any means. It didn't even have a unique name, it was called a laundromat in big bright red letters above its store windows and double door.

He waited for the cars to stop zooming on the room before he crossed. Then he walked into the laundromat itself. It wasn't too special on the inside either. It just had rows upon rows of washing machines and dryers on top of each other. With benches nearby for people to sit down at. Although these weren't needed right now since it was empty besides him, the man at the counter and some other man in a leather jacket.

The man at the counter was an interesting looking man to say the least. He had two scars on his face running down vertically nearly on his right eye. His eyes itself were a light blue and he had a rather tall stature. He had platinum blond hair which was neatly combed and his clothes were all a matching black.

The other man wearing the leather jacket was less interesting in comparison. Besides his leather jacket he wore a pair of jeans with brown shoes. His hair was a messy brown and his eyes were a sharp dark green. He was sitting down at the far end of the bench, which was closer to the man at the counter than the Courier.

But the Courier didn't really care about either man, but he did care about the one article of clothing that he had to wash. He opened up the washing machine and placed the beautiful black dress in it. However the machine didn't start when he pressed the button that would normally start the machine.

He pressed the little switch on the pay box timer so he could potentially pay for the service. But then he remembered that he doesn't have money for it, since he was technically broke by this world's standards. The Courier hoped he would become lucky and felt around in his pockets for any coins that could potentially pay for two hours at least.

But he did find one coin, a Legion coin to be exact in his left pocket. It wasn't anything special to him, it was just a silver coin with Legion memorabilia. It had the Legion's bull on one side of the coin and the helmet of a prime decanus on the other. A celebration of the conquest of Arizona for Caesar.

He placed the coin in the pay box timer and shoved it into the washing machine. Making the washing machine activate for one hour. He sighed, usually the Legion's currency is better than the others, but not here apparently. Even though it is mostly silver.

But before he can wallow in pity about how he basically got scammed out of his money. He heard an argument brewing between the two other men in the store.

"C'mon man I know you have some spare change you can give to me." The leather jacket man said, his voice plagued with aggression and malice. The scarred man on the other side of the counter just gave a reasonable response.

"I can't just take money out of the cash register sir. But I can direct you to a church or homeless shelter-"

The leather jacket man slammed his hands on the counter in rage. The other man narrowed his eyes but didn't make any moves that could be considered aggressive towards the man.

"I am going to ask you to leave now,sir." The scarred man said. The man in the leather jacket put his hands up in an defensive and defeated manner. He backed away from the man and went back to the bench and stretched his right leg.

However this wasn't as innocent as it may have seemed. He pulled up his jeans on his right leg to reveal a snubbed nosed revolver tucked into his socks. He took it into his left hand and pointed it at the scarred man.

"Now, I am going to ask again politely one more time. Give me the money." He demanded.

The Courier couldn't believe his luck. First the washing machine eats his silver coin that's worth fifty dollars but now he is stuck in a robbery situation. He could potentially just walk out of the store itself and avoid the problem in its entirety, however the dress would still be here and it was worth more than all of the cash in the register on the counter.

Although the homeless robber didn't somehow see him, he knew that any noise that was off putting to man can cause the scarred man to potentially gain another scar or worse. The Courier slowly inched his way to the homeless man.

It seemed like the scarred man behind the counter saw him and understood what he was doing and tried to stall for more time for him.

"You don't have to do this. It's not too late to just leave." He stalled for time. The homeless man laughed.

"It's been too late for a while. I got laid off from work and keep getting beat down by everyone! So screw off you bum." He yelled in disappointment at himself and the man in front of him. The scarred man let out an uncharacteristic chuckle.

"That's ironic coming from you."

The homeless man's eyes widened at the insult and it squinted in fury. He straightened out his form with his gun and stiffened his body. His breathing became erratic and uneven.

"Why you little shit! I am gonna put a bullet through your skull!" He yelled in anger.

However before he could potentially kill the man in front of him, he found himself in a chokehold suddenly by none other than the Courier.

"You forgot about me, don't rob someone without casing the entire store." Courier Six whispered into his ear before slamming him into the ground, making the robber lose his grip on his gun, making it slide across the ground.

Due to Courier Six's superior athletic ability the struggle became more difficult for the homeless man. Eventually the man went limp and stopped struggling. The Courier then let go of the man and stood back up.

He then grabbed the gun and pointed it at the homeless man. But the scarred man stopped him from sending him to Hell.

"You don't have to kill him, the police are already on the way." The scarred man said, leaving the counter. Courier Six then put the revolver down right beside the homeless man's head.

"That's one scumbag off the streets. You should probably get some security guards." The Courier suggested. The scarred man shrugged his shoulders before looking Courier Six in the eye.

"The country needs more men like you. People that take action to get rid of evil." He complimented politely. The Courier just shrugged it off.

"I took an oath to defend this country against both foreign and domestic threats when I joined the army during the war. So it isn't special to me." Courier Six lied, although he did care enough about Vegas to take an oath once he became the leader of the free economic zone.

The scarred man held his right hand out for a handshake, and the Courier took his offer and shook it with his left. Courier just said a polite goodbye and left the laundromat, not wanting to be involved in a police report.

He then walked back to the apartment complex again, deciding to get the dress back later. He knew that the scarred man wouldn't even attempt to steal the dress due to him saving his life and the police presence coming to his store.

He entered the building and walked up the stairs all the way until he reached his apartment door again. He stopped in motion to open the door when felt something in his left hand.

It was a simple folded card, most likely given to him by the scarred man. He opened the card and revealed a message for him. The top part of it had some crest on it that he wasn't familiar with. It depicted a striped shield with an eagle on it with one big eye. With intersecting rifles at the bottom of it. Finally it had a ribbon in between the eagle and intersecting rifles that had a name of some agency on it.

It had the words State Security Service on it.

On the bottom of the card was a message written in cursive.

Come to the laundromat tomorrow at five o'clock in the morning sharp if you wish to serve your country.

The Courier's smile grew a bit upon reading the message.

This just made his fake life as Marshall Van Graff much more interesting.

Chapter Text

Courier Six liked to know more about the world in general. His world, as battered and bruised as the dirt beneath him, was beautiful. He knew about the cruelties of the world he inhabited. The bloodshed, the betrayals and most of all, the previous generations' failure of maintaining the hegemonic structure of the Earth. But he still saw the good in the world.

The Courier had great conversations about this concept to many people in the recent past. Many of these people were people just like him. Members of the Greatest Generation to grace the American continent. This generation, after the Great War picked up the pieces to great something greater than themselves.

Some were deceased now, but others such as the Burned Man were still alive. The average man doesn't tend to realize that they are standing on the shoulders of long deceased giants.

People such as President Tandi of the NCR had created a society modeled off of the Old Eagle's ways. Which paved the way for the world's largest nation on the earth. Although her achievements were largely undone by her predecessors after her death, the influence of her actions can still be felt to this very day.

On the other side of the spectrum, a younger nation to the east of Vegas was formed. A great warrior society bloomed out of the savagery and barbarism of New Mexico and Arizona. One man formed a razor sharp scythe to which he would cut down his enemies with. Edward Sallow, the despot known as Caesar, was also a great man of history. With the help of Joshua and Calhoun, he brought civility to the wastes under his iron fist.

However due to unforeseen circumstances, he would perish before the Second Battle of the Hoover Dam. Much like President Tandi, much of his progress was lost after the death of successor, Legate Lanius.

Although he wasn't born after the Great War, Mr House was also a worthwhile mention. The man was a true visionary in every sense of the word, a head of industry and a secretive, ominous leader of Vegas. He saw the city of sin as the remedy for mankind's derailment after the war. Although the Courier disagreed with his methods. House would argue that the ends justify the means if it means that humanity reaches the stars again and comes out of its fallen state. But he was gone now too, buried in the Lucky 38 itself, an unlikely tomb for the significant man.

But with these great minds in his mind, where would that leave himself? A successor to the CEO of Robco Industries? A man with the violent tendencies of the East but the diplomacy of the West? He didn't know why he survived those gunshots to the head by Benny in that graveyard, but there was a reason behind it.

The Courier sighed and took another puff from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the window, which trailed into the dark sky. It was more lit up than the Mojave's sky due the massive buildings and street lights below them. He couldn't even imagine how this New World compared to the Old World. Not the Old World that was covered in ash or blood, but rather the one that reached the stars and the depths of the sea.

He pondered a bit more before puffing on his cigarette one more time before flicking it outside the window onto the streets below. He shut the window and made his way to the bed in the room.

He found himself looking at the scientist sleeping soundly on the right side of the bed, clinging to a pillow in a hug. She wasn't snoring or making much noise, even her breathing was rather quiet.

Dala wore the bare essentials to bed since she didn't have any pajamas. The Courier being the shy guy he was, covered her with the blanket. He then went to his side of the bed and laid down, sinking into the soft bed.

He stares at the ceiling for a bit before his eyes start to flicker. Eventually everything went to black for him. Although that didn't last long, he found himself standing in a stream on clean and clean water surrounded by beautiful rocks painted with tribal symbols.

He wasn't wearing his undershirt and underwear to bed, but was in fact wearing the full armor set of the old Survivalist of Zion Canyon. He knew by extension that this battered and the old Survivalist's rifle was on his back.

In front of him was a scene he remembers in great detail. It was the last part of the White Legs camp that wasn't cleared by the combined forces of the Sorrows and Dead Horses. The camp itself only had two tents and a fire kept alive with two logs.

But that wasn't the important part. The more dominant matter at hand was the four White Legs with their hands bound by rope on their knees. With one of them being their exalted war chief, Salt-Upon-Wounds. A person could tell it was him due to his unique helmet with dreadlocks in the back of it, with White Leg markings seen all over.

The man holding these tribals in this state was a man covered head to toe in bandages. He wore a simple pair of jeans and white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. He also had an old police vest on his chest. He was the legendary Burned Man, Joshua Graham. His piercing blue eyes portrayed malice towards the four on the ground.

He took his .45 pistol out of his holster and aimed at three of the four men. He shot dead three of them, their bodies slumping onto the floor face first. He then started speaking to the war chief.

"You chased our people out of New Canaan and killed those who couldn't defend themselves. Women, children, the elderly and sick. Now you come to Zion to pollute this holy land. Even the man you deified looks at you in disgust and horror. Now you will get put down like the dog you are for Caesar." Joshua sneered, with his heart hardened by the White Legs actions towards him and the tribes of Zion. Salt-Upon-Wounds turned to the Courier before pleading.

"Kuma-man gone mad! He kill all the White Legs! You talk! You stop!"

"Never thought I would agree with the raider here. But yes you deserve something more." The Courier stated coldly, his hand reaching for the belt of the ranger armor he was currently wearing, and took out a simple machete. He turned to Joshua who understood what he was referring to.

The Burned Man then went behind Salt-Upon-Wounds and cut the rob that binded the man's hands. He looked at his hands in confusion at the bloodlusted man's merciful act. Before his personal power fist was thrown to the floor right in front of him by Joshua himself.

"Stand up and fight for your tribe's right for survival, Salt-Upon-Wounds." The Courier demanded, entering a defensive stance. Salt-Upon-Wounds put on his power fist and stood up. He looked at the Burned Man for a second before realizing that he could kill him at any moment. The only way that the chief could win was if he won his duel against the Courier.

With a prideful, animalistic roar, Salt-Upon-Wounds charged at the Courier with a wild right hook. The Courier dodged it, making the water beneath him splash roughly.

The Courier swung his machete at the war chief but he blocked it with his power fist and countered with his other fist, although it was rather ineffective. Although this led to Salt-Upon-Wounds following up with his other hand with the power fist to collide with the Courier's helmet, which caused him to stagger.

Pressing his advantage, the chief pushed forward with more tactical punches like jabs, trying to set up a combo that would land the Courier on his rear end in the stream. Courier Six dodged and blocked until he found an opening in Salt-Upon-Wounds fighting style.

The Courier then did an upward slash towards the chest of the war chief which connected. His blood mixing with his recently painted on war paint. He cursed him to his pagan Gods before wiping his chest to check the wound.

"Outlander! You're dead now! Now man will walk with spirits!" He roared while throwing another punch at the Courier's hand with the machete, which connected, making him drop it into the stream of water.

Salt-Upon-Wounds tried to get his killing blow on the Courier while he could, but unfortunately for him, his opponent blocked it with great pain to himself.

Grunting, the Courier started to go on the offensive and started punching at the tribal leader which connected due to his sluggishness. This was probably due to Salt-Upon-Wounds' wound on his chest.

But then the Courier threw an uppercut that sent the tribal onto his rear end, making a huge splash in the water. Pressuring the advantage for hopefully the last time, the Courier got on top of him and started to choke the man out while holding his head under the water.

Salt-Upon-Wounds knew what the Courier was doing so he started to throw punches from his power fist at the Courier's helmet that protected his head. But through sheer determination to kill the tribal, Courier Six ignored the pain and continued on.

Slowly but surely, the man's fruitless attacks became slower and slower, and less frequent. Until finally he stopped entirely, with his head bobbing up and down gently in the stream of water.

The water, once pure and clear, was now stained with blood and murky. Courier Six stood up and walked back to Joshua and breathed heavily due to the recent duel.

Joshua's eyes softened at the sight of the corpse of Salt-Upon-Wounds' in the stream, and did a cross sign over his chest.

"May God have mercy on his soul." He softly stated. The Courier didn't reply back to Joshua Graham. As Joshua started to walk back to Dead Horse Point, the Courier's vision turned pitch black.

He woke up in the bed as quietly as he went to sleep in it. He looked out the window and saw that it was still night out. He sighed at the memory but saw no use reminiscing over the destruction of a backwards tribe that needed to be exterminated.

He got out of the bed to see that Dala was still asleep, which was good for him. He walked to the closet and changed into the Omerta suit given to him. He left the bedroom and checked the time on the television set which read four forty one.

If that didn't wake him up immediately, he didn't know what would. With that information the Courier would take the spare key to the apartment that was in the kitchen and put it in his pocket. He would then would unlock the door to the general apartment complex and leave his apartment, locking the door behind him to keep undesirables out.

He then left the apartment complex, and started to head for the laundromat that the man told him to meet if he wanted to join the State Security Service. He quietly walked the eerily quiet streets at a moderate pace. The moon was still in the sky, with its shape still in its crescent form.

The Courier had always felt a strange connection to the moon. Other people were fascinated by it, or hated that it signaled the end of the day. But he was truly connected to the moon. When the moon was out in stronger phases other than the crescent, he had felt goosebumps and the need to hide from the moon's sight.

He didn't know the cause of such a strong emotional reaction, but it was probably linked to his past that he didn't understand. He had deduced through his travels in the Divide that he wasn't a native to the Mojave, but rather the West. Although he didn't know the exact location in the NCR he came from.

He saw only one person with the same skin tone as him and that person was a ranger at the Mojave Outpost. He didn't know if she had the same eye condition as him due to her aviator sunglasses she wore, but it's the closest he was probably going to get to seeing someone just like him.

The Courier crossed the street to the laundromat and saw that the lights were off and that there seemed to be nobody in there currently. He tried to open the doors that he went through earlier, but they were locked, and he couldn't pick the lock due to him not having a bobby pin on him.

So he did the best thing and looked into the inside through the large glass windows, but he didn't see anything of note or importance. Although it was safe to assume that there was a back entrance to the building, the Courier couldn't really see inside where a backdoor would put him inside the building.

So he continued on with his search until he saw an alleyway between the laundromat and the other buildings beside it. It was probably one of the more clean alleyways the Courier had seen in his life. There was little grime and dirt in it, and there were no homeless people inhabiting it.

So he decided to walk through it, where it was almost deadly quiet. There wasn't a sound of crickets chirping or any other nightly sounds. It was too quiet for his liking.

But then he heard it. The most faint sound of footsteps. Somebody was tailing him, although they didn't dare to approach him. He kept his ear open as he turned the corner to leave the alley.

Now he was behind the laundromat itself to see nothing special. Just a rather perfect dumpster behind the laundromat. He walked up to the back door and held his hand on the knob. He felt the doorknob reveal to him that it was unlocked.

The Courier's eyes narrowed at revelation. Why would the man from yesterday leave his store vulnerable like this? He got robbed the day before, why would he leave the backdoor unlocked?

But then he made a rather obvious observation. He was going to apply for a secretive government agency that specializes in covert operations, if he had to go off of the agency logo's design.

He pressed his ear to the door and heard a very, quiet breathing coming from the other side. He smirked at the sound. Courier Six then backed away from the door and ran towards it at full speed. With a simple running kick, the door flew open upon his foot making an impact.

He then entered the building itself. It was just as dark as it was from the outside looking in. Before he could even think further a fist flew into his direction from the right of him. He dodged it by moving his head out of the way.

The Courier knew that he couldn't just kill these people attacking him, due to them being opponents meant to test him to see if he had the qualities to join the group. He sidestepped the man and punched him in his throat, making the man in the darkness stagger with a gurgle.

He then heard the cacophony of footsteps in the building and outside of it. The Courier then took the man he punched in the throat and threw him at the wall, making him unconscious. Courier Six then looked behind him to see two more people, both men, standing outside of the door he kicked in.

The two men wore matching clothes. A black ski mask with a plain black shirt with loose fitting jeans with plain shoes. The two attackers charged at him, running into the building. It seemed like the one on the right had a switchblade in his left hand, the Courier had to be careful now.

Courier Six held his hands out in a taunt to the two approaching him. The pair didn't react to his taunt but tried to press their numbers advantage. But the Courier was used to being outnumbered and fought defensively against the pair, dodging their attacks with very little grace. Bumping into various objects within the laundromat.

Grabbing one of these objects that the Courier would presume was on a table was a vase. He grabbed it and slammed it over the head of the man without the knife, making the vase shatter into pieces upon impact. Making the man tumble into his arms.

Picking up the man, the Courier used the semi-conscious man as a meat shield to protect himself from the incoming stab from the other attacker. The knife wielding man cursed himself as his knife connected to his almost conscious friend.

Courier Six then threw his meat shield at the knife wielder, making him fall to the ground. Due to this disadvantage, the armed attacker couldn't get up too easily due to his friend's weight on top of him. Then the Courier stomped his head in for a solid minute until he heard his nose cracking and his body stopped moving. However he was still alive because he was still breathing, indicated by his chest moving up and down.

The Courier picked up the knife from the floor and gently brushed the blade against his hand. He was expecting a metallic feel and sharpened edge. However all he felt was elastic rubber, with the blade bending comically and snapping back with a cartoonish noise.

That's why there wasn't any blood from the alleged stab wound from one of the men. Although there was a small trickle of blood coming from the formerly armed attacker's nose.

Courier Six's eyes at this point had gotten used to the dark and saw rough outlines of the various objects surrounding him. They weren't things of any use to him currently so he walked further into the laundromat.

Until he felt a cold plastic barrel pointed at the back of his head. It was most likely a fake gun, since they were using a fake knife from earlier.

Before the man with the gun could make his own move. The Courier flicked his head back harshly, making a connection to the man's head, making him snarl in pain.

Courier Six then turned to the man and grabbed his hand with the gun and harshly tugged him forward, making him lose his grip on the gun. The Courier then forced his elbow into the face, making him tumble to the ground and drop the gun.

The man did get up rather quickly after the elbow strike to his face, but once he was back on his feet, he was face to face with the gun he used. He froze in place, making him easy pickings for the Courier.

"Bang! You're dead." The Courier exclaimed jokingly, squeezing the trigger of the gun, causing little pellets to come out of the weapon. Causing minor danger to the man. Who scowled at the man's actions.

The lights were turned on rapidly, with the Courier hearing a light golf clapping behind him. He turned around and saw the scarred man from yesterday. He seemed to have switched into a formal uniform. It reminded the Courier of the dress uniform General Oliver wore but green and more classical.

"It seems like you nearly aced the test given," The scarred man complimented, before continuing. "You were aware of your surroundings, and knew how to fight in various circumstances. Although I must deduct some points due to your appearance, it makes you stand out too much."

The scarred man reached into his pocket to bring out a leather wallet and flicked it open, revealing his badge to the Courier. It was made out of some mixture of nickel and silver, and was just the logo of the SSS.

"In a logical sense you probably have the most potential I have seen in a recruit since the second lieutenant joined us three years ago. Although it seems like you have more experience in fighting on all fronts, no?" He asked, folding his arms.in a serious fashion. The Courier just shrugged off his interrogative question.

"When you fight in war, you tend to gain experience." He explained. The SSS officer looked at him for any signs that the Courier may be lying. Body movement, a waving voice or his eyes to portray differently from what he was saying. But that even came.

"You do understand what you are getting yourself into? You cannot under any circumstances tell anyone about this job if you are accepted. You will not get any praise for your work as an agent and you risk death daily through our line of work." He explained, giving the Courier an easy out if he wanted to not work at the SSS.

However Courier Six wasn't an easily swayed man. He held his head high and raised a fist in determination.

"I will serve this country well! I already heeded the call once, and I will do it again."

The scarred man, for merely a second, held a very small smirk before going back to his stoic nature. He turned his back on the Courier before picking up a moving box and handed it to the Courier.

"That's all you will need for the SSS for now. You will be assigned under the second lieutenant and will report to him tomorrow at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building on the East side of Berlint. At nine in the morning." He informed the Courier, before going to turn the lights off again.

The Courier nodded in response and headed out the back door with the rather large box in his hands. He went through the alleyway and made his way back to his apartment in a short time. Unlocking the door with his spare key and placing down his moving box on the kitchen table. He then shut the door and locked it again.

Courier Six then opened the box to find that Vera's dress was neatly folded in it, at the top of it. He took it out and placed it out on the kitchen table. He would have to make sure to thank the scarred man for kindness later. But for now he had some investigating to do first.

After lifting the dress out of the box, it revealed a simple beige file. He took it into his right hand and opened it. It revealed many important factors about his new job, although it seemed like the scarred man went over most of it with him already.

But the Courier eyes would maniacally read over the second to last page in the file in disbelief. He looked at the second lieutenant's picture with shock. He looked too young for the job, like a puppy. The Courier would have to take orders from a man with a baby face.

But it couldn't get any worse for him right now, right? This thought of the Couriers would be proven wrong when he turned to the last page. Where he couldn't even believe what he was reading.

You are to take the job of an average government worker working under the second lieutenant in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Due to this, you will not be needed often for your real job as you need to keep the facade of a patriotic office worker.

The Courier's eyes widened at the job description. Even if his superior was on his real job he couldn't aid him and or join up with him. Was this the status quo in the frumentarii of the Mojave? Even back home all of their agents were doing some act of espionage to benefit the Legion.

Courier Six swore that he heard an out of tune recorder being played at his misfortune of signing up for the most boring, specialized job in this country. His eyes and body felt heavy, due to the early use of energy in the morning. He felt his body start falling backwards before darkness consumed his mind again.

But he sleeps more peacefully than before.

XxX

Dala woke up to the unusual sight of the Courier not across from her in the bed. Could he have left for the couch? She stretched her arms, making her bones pop and crack, which made her smile.

It was different from her actual body from before the Great Static. Of course there was the technical aspect of her having an artificial body. Her bones weren't truly like the bones of other people. It was more of an imitation of organic matter within the human body.

Then there were the more cosmetic changes Dala insisted Borous and Zero add to the synthetic body. Like convincing the pair of oblivious scientists to make the breast size bigger than before. She also asked the two to make the hair longer on the synthetic body.

For science of course.

She got out of bed, and went to the bathroom rather quickly before leaving it and heading into the living room to see that the man wasn't on the couch, but rather on the floor sleeping next to the kitchen counter. He was on his back, wearing some suit he owned, and was drooling lightly.

Dala tried to pick up the sleeping man and move him to either the couch or the bed. However, the Courier was rather heavy and Dala knew that she couldn't truly carry him due to her lack of strength.

So she did the next best thing, which was drag him across the floor to the living room and prop him up on the couch. Dala then tried to lift the Courier onto the couch, which failed and ended up with him falling to the floor.

However, Courier Six didn't wake up when fell, he just continued to sleep. Dala grimaced at the potential damage her teddy bear could have gotten, and started to check for any bruises or cuts.

The two's relationship with each other was rather distinctive and unique compared to the other Big Mountain scientists. The other scientists like Klein, Zero or Borous saw him as more an acquaintance than anything else. A man needed them to understand the outside world and get ideas for inventions or experiments.

Doctor Mobius and Doctor 8 saw the lobotomite as a friend, a trusted companion. Which made sense to her since the Courier helped mend the broken relationship Mobius had with the rest of the Think Tank. He also helped Doctor 8 communicate with the other scientists more clearly and maintain his human characteristics.

But the lobotomite's relationship with her was always the odd one out. She was always the one most fascinated with him. All the other lobotomites were merely reduced to vapid animals with basic motor functions. But he remained sane and human throughout his time at Big Mountain.

But then the Courier talked to her for the first time and helped her open up more about her interests. The type of interests that the other scientists abhorred and hated for being unscientific and too hormonal in their eyes.

They were wrong of course. Learning human anatomy through a physical experiment of one's self is a great experience for a scientist to have. It had nothing to do with hormones at all.

The Courier had indulged her little experiments with the human body and even encouraged her to do so. He didn't look down on her for her personal interest. So where did that leave her and the Courier's relationship?

It wasn't romantic, that was for certain. She didn't even believe in love as a concept. It wasn't scientific and was only anecdotal in its existence. The human brain produces chemicals that make the opposite sexes reproduce offspring to carry on their genes and diversify the overall gene pool.

He wasn't just an acquaintance either though. Since he helped her find her last bit of humanity within her more robotic state. Which would make him more of a friend that does certain things for her others wouldn't.

A friend with certain benefits one could say. She kept her little inspection of the Courier going until she concluded he didn't receive any significant or minor damage from the little tumble. Dala gave a very faint smile at the inspection's findings before trying to lift the Courier onto the couch again.

This time it succeeded, with the man now seated onto the furniture. But he was still asleep around soundly, but now looked like he fell asleep watching TV rather than on the floor which was beforehand.

Dala then turned to the kitchen counter which held two items of interest. One was the dress the Courier gave her on the second day they were here so that she could blend in more. The second was a cardboard box which sat on the counter.

She walked over to it to find nothing in it that she could have seen. Then Dala looked around to see if she could find the contents of the box. She found it on the floor, a simple beige file with some paper peeking out of it. She picked it up and started to skim through the contents of the file.

It wasn't anything too shocking to her if she had to be honest to herself. The Courier got a job as a secret policeman by the Ostanian government. Dala knew that he could have gotten a job like that since he did play two governments to leave the Mojave region to form its own nation.

Dala then organized the file and put it back into the box. She then picked it up and placed it within a kitchen cabinet near the refrigerator. She then went to grab her dress and put it on to cover up her body and undergarments.

However before she could put on her pearl necklace or anything else that was a part of the outfit, she heard a simple knock at the door. She went to the door and unlocked it, opening the door to reveal a mailman. Not the one that survived two bullets to the head, but rather an actual postman.

"Is this the Van Graff residency?" He asked, having his right hand hover over his little pouch filled with various letters of all kinds of sizes. Dala simply nodded in response. The postman then searched in his pouch and handed her a rather elegant looking letter.

"Have a nice day, miss." He said, tipping the rim of his hat before leaving to deliver more mail to other people within the apartment complex. She thanked him and shut the door behind her.

Dala went on to open the letter and take the paper out. She then started to read the letter itself.

We at Eden Academy are thankful and blessed to have someone like you apply for such a prestigious position at our school as a professor. The school would like to hold an interview today or tomorrow at noon when possible.

Dala was somewhat happy that the school was putting her application under review. She knew that her expertise in the field of science helped her get considered for the job in the academy. Although her thoughts would be interrupted by her colleagues.

'DALA, WHY IS THE LOBOTOMITE DEAD ON THE COUCH? DO WE NEED TO SEND THE CYBERDOG DOGS IN WITH THE ROBO SCORPIONS?' Klein asked with some worry in his voice.

'It looks like the Lobomite was ASSASSINATED by COMMUNIST forces in his sleep. Today is a sad day for America.' Borous stated with some twinge of sadness in his voice.

'He isn't dead, you two, he's just sleeping. A little anticlimactic I know, but it's the truth.' Zero stated with certainty.

"He is asleep right now, you can tell by his chest moving up and down. Slowly and methodically." Dala insisted, seemingly talking to herself to anyone that could have seen her. However she was confirming the scientist's hypothesis.

'Well it seems like you are getting a job at school. What's the raisin for it?' Mobius asked in his usual over the top tone.

"I said to the neighbors next door that I would look for a job as an educator at a school." She explained simply enough to the gasps of her coworkers.

'As a former high school principal myself Dala, I should tell you that the little children are little TERRORS. Why would you want to work with them?' Borous asked incredulously.

'Borous' is right about that. Can you even handle a few dozen children at a time? They're very delicate and needy creatures.' Zero said, backing up Borous' point about children.

'THOSE LITTLE DEMONS ONLY KNOW HOW TO EXCRETE AND DROOL. THEY HOLD NO TRUE INTELLIGENCE TO TEACH THEM ANYTHING OF WORTH. DID THE BIOGEL IN YOUR TANK ROT YOUR BRAIN?' Klein asked, partly ranting about the mental capacity of kids.

"It's a little late to reconsider now, I have to go to an interview later today." Dala informed the rest of the Big Mountain scientists. She then went to the bedroom to retrieve her pearl necklace gifted to her by the Courier. She found it by her bedside and put it on. She then left the bedroom and went to where she placed her heels, which was near the door that led to the outside.

She then puts on the heels and goes to open the door and leaves the apartment. She shuts the door behind her and enters into the hallway. But then she realized something rather important.

She didn't know where she was going. Dala knew that her teddy bear probably didn't know either. So she did the next best thing in her eyes. She walked to her neighbors door and knocked on the door politely.

Dala was expecting the father or mother to answer the door. However, their daughter Anya answered the door. Opening it, and looking up at her new neighbor across the hallway from her.

"Hey, uh, can you get your parents real quick? I need to talk to them about something." Dala explained politely to the child. Anya just looked at her like she said something crazy.

"Anya could help you!" She exclaimed, with her holding her hands up in an excited manner.

"If you insist. I don't know the directions to a school called Eden Academy. Can you tell me if you can?" Dala asked, in the softest tone she could muster.

'LOOK AT THE CHILD DALA, SHE WOULDN'T EVEN HOW TO SPARK A NUCLEAR REACTION IF SHE HAD THE CAPABILITIES TO DO SO. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK SHE CAN TELL YOU BASIC DIRECTIONS.' Klein commented insultingly.

'Oh shush Klein. She is just a little girl, of course she wooden know about all of that advanced scientific knowledge we know. Give her time Dala, she will tell you what you need to know.' Mobius urged, rebuking Klein's claims.

'@#$$(())//$%^#^@&@&!!**%#^@.' Doctor 8 urged as well, supporting Mobius' claims about the child.

Before Dala could react or respond, she felt a small hand pat her leg. She looked down to find Anya looking at her sympathetically for some reason before she stopped. The little girl had a look of determination in her eye before she gave Dala an answer.

"Just take the bus to the school, that is what Anya does every day." She informed Dala, with a small smirk. Dala just deadpanned at the child.

"I am not a student of the school, so I can't take the bus." Dala explained. Anya just looked up at her with her own deadpan stare back to the scientist. It was silent for a few seconds before Anya replied back.

"Oh."

"It was nice of you to try Anya, but can I please talk to your mother or father please." Dala asked again, softly as to not scare the kid. Anya nodded, and slightly shut the door, leaving it slightly open. Dala could hear her little feet scampering across the floor to get one of her parents.

'I TOLD YOU, SHE DOESN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU WERE ASKING. IT IS PROBABLE THAT SHE HAS LESS INTELLECT THAN THE AVERAGE LOBOTOMITE!' Klein spouted, happy that his hypothesis was technically correct.

'She technically did help in her own way Klein. She just didn't memorize the address.' Zero said, defending the child slightly.

'I EXPECTED A BETTER ARGUMENT THAN THAT DOCTOR ZERO. BUT IN ALL HONESTY WHAT ELSE WOULD I EXPECT FROM THE ROBOTICS SCIENTIST WITH NO IDEA OF WHAT HE IS DOING.' Klein shouted at Zero.

'That's an unfounded claim Klein. You just hate me for moronic reasons! This is getting out of hand and quite rude!' Zero accused with annoyance plating his voice.

Although listening to their argument was quite entertaining, she had to focus on the more important issue at hand. However, she wouldn't have to wait much longer for her answer. As the Forger family door would open and reveal the wife of the household, Yor.

Yor was wearing a simple red sweater with a matching red skirt. Beneath the red skirt she was wearing black tights with simple white shoes. She looked rather normal to Dala, but for a certain scientist, she was rather odd looking.

'Dala that lady right there is a communist spy. Her eye color shares a similarity with the CHINESE COMMUNIST parties' own colors. Not even an alternative dimension is safe from the RED menace.' Borous rattled on with an unhealthy amount of paranoia.

'...that's the most insane theory I have ever heard in my life. This girl can just have red eyes you know? It's not the most common color, I give you that but a CCP spy? Really?' Zero doubted, voicing his dissent. Klein scoffed before replying to either man.

'BOROUS…THAT WAS THE MOST INTELLIGENT OBSERVATION YOU HAVE EVER MADE. DALA, YOU HAVE TO SACRIFICE YOUR OWN LIFE FOR THE GREATER GOOD HERE. WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME, YOU HAVE TO ACT QUICK!' Klein urged, his voice somehow getting louder.

"I am surrounded by idiots." Dala whispered to herself. Yor somehow heard this, and tilted her head in response.

"What did you say Maria?" Yor asked kindly enough. Dala looked shocked when she heard what she said, scratching the back of neck in nervousness.

"Oh! It's just that I don't know where I am going when it comes to Eden Academy. I have a job interview there today but I don't know where I am going." Dala explained, hoping that Yor didn't realize what she actually said and misconstrue it.

"That's really impressive! Eden is a very hard school to get into,” Yor complimented, moving one her hands onto her hips, while the other was pointed into the roof. Like she was educating a child on something. “Anya had to fight tooth and nail to get into Eden since she wasn’t rich or well connected. She just had to rely on her strengths.”

“Thank you, but I still need to know where I am going.” Dala informed again, with one of her hands running through her hair. Yor blinked in response before replying back.

"Oh right! I could just drive you there right now," Yor offered before walking out of Dala's sight before coming back with a pair of car keys in her right hand. The scientist waved both of her hands back and forth in an awkward fashion.

"I don't mean to be a nuisance! I could just walk there by myself." She insisted, before putting her hands back to her sides.

"The school is across the city, it would be way quicker just for me to drive you there." Yor explained in a good natured way. Dala realized then it was probably the better option to accept Yor's rather kind offer. She gave Yor her most convincing smile before responding.

"Oh okay! If you insist." Dala accepted. She then moved out of the way to let Yor out of her house in a more dignified and open manner. Yor shut the door behind her and started to walk towards the staircase that led out to the streets below. Dala followed close behind her, with her trying to strike up a conversation with the other wife.

"How did you and your husband meet?" Dala asked innocently enough. Yor stopped by the stairwell and turned to scientists.

"Loid and I met in a tailor shop where Loid had a favorable impression of my face," She said, recalling the event, before acting like lightning struck her and changed the story. "We met at a Tailor shop but we struck up a conversation where I realized that I like him!"

"That's pretty sweet. Much better than how me and Marshall met for the first time." Dala complimented slightly before pivoting the conversation. They walked down the staircase to the lobby room of the apartment complex before Yor got curious enough to ask.

"You told us a little bit about how you two met each other yesterday. It was during the war, right?" Yor asked, politely opening up the door that led out to the city. Both then would walk out of the apartment complex and into the city itself. Dala would then respond once the door to the apartment complex closed by itself.

"Me and Marshall met after he was wounded during the offensive. I sewed him up like a teddy bear and helped him recover. It was something out of those war movies about the time period." Dala lied somewhat, mixing the truth with a vignette of a lie.

Yor gave a small chuckle at Dala's short story. They both made their way to the parking garage where the Forger family car was. As they were walking to the parking garage, they passed by a laundromat that was closed for the day while the stores nearby were open.

"That does sound like a movie plot from some writer trying to make it big. It's good that you two worked it out to make it official." Yor commended, while she and Dala made it to the parking garage itself.

The parking garage itself was nothing really special compared to the rest of the city's architecture and style. It had a small toll booth loosely guarding the entrance to the concrete building. It had two floors in total, both filled nearly to the brim with the cars with nearby residents.

The two ladies walked into the parking garage unbothered by the teenager within the toll booth. They kept walking and chatting about various small subjects before they finally reached the car.

The car itself was rather well made and beautiful. From Dala's fragmented memories of her past, she remembered the old American cars which were powered by an atomic engine. They were rather bulky and excessive in appearance. Of course they would slim down due to the Resource Wars, but they still held the old Americana nostalgic aesthetic to them.

The Forger's family car was clearly not powered by nuclear energy, but rather it was powered by fossil fuels. It had a black paint job done almost perfectly and recently done. It wasn't the longest car in length, nor was it the shortest, it struck a middle ground. It did remind Dala of those foreign cars Zero used to ogle at before he dismantled them.

Yor unlocked the door and opened it, entering into the car. She then started the engine with her keys and motioned Dala to join her in the automobile. Dala did join her, deciding to sit in the passenger seat right beside Yor. Then Yor would pulled out of the parking spot and slowly drove to the toll booth and paid for the day at the toll booth. She then drove out of the parking garage and started the drive to Eden Academy.

"What made you want to get a teaching job? Since you had a job previously as a scientist wouldn't it be easier to get another job in a different science field?" Yor asked as her hair blew in the wind due to the window. Dala turned to Yor, with her own synthetic hair waving in the wind, although way less than Yor's longer hair.

"I have the qualifications for teaching. I know much about the various sciences and I have the ability to teach people about them." Dala explained, before turning her eye back to the road in front of her.

"What time do you have to be there today?" Yor asked Dala while keeping her eyes on the road, stopping at a redlight.

"At noon today." Dala answered, with her eyes watching the buildings, people and other people pass by quickly through the slightly ajar window.

The light on the traffic light turned green, but the car didn't move. The other lines beside them moved, but not Yor. This eventually led to the cars behind her to start honking their horns to get her to start driving.

Yor's eyes hardened, her gentle red eyes almost turning a blood red crimson. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, almost bending the leather on the steering wheel. She turned her head to Dala, which made her flinch slightly.

"You can't be late to an Eden interview Maria I am sorry but we have to go fast to get there quicker!" Yor blurted out at lighting speed, going back to her gentle caring nature and flooring it. Making the car's two wheels in the back spin in place before making the car shoot out of its previously unmoving state.

This made Dala sink back into her seat unwillingly due to the speed at which the car moved. Although it seemed like Yor was unaffected by the change in pace, and had a look of determination in her eyes to achieve her goal.

The objects outside of the car seemingly turned into blurs of white light. Dala couldn’t even turn her head back to face the windshield, since the wind was pushing her back into her seat. This continued for a few minutes, which was a pain for Dala mostly due to the panicked pleas of the other Think Tank scientists.

‘Dala, I told you that this COMMIE was no good! Now it seems like you two BROKE the sound barrier!' Borous stated, thinking himself to be vindicated on Yor's political allegiances.

'@%&&&***@%&*()##@!!$^^^&!' Doctor 8 spouted quickly about the dangers of the speeds she was traveling at. Zero injected 8's claims.

'Well it seems like she hasn't gone splat onto the windshield yet, so maybe there is hope for Dala so far.'

'The sound berries haven't broken yet since we can still hear the wind going onto Dala's body and seat.' Mobius claimed, using real evidence to support his claims about the situation Dala found herself in.

'DALA WE WILL REMEMBER YOU FONDLY. ALTHOUGH I LIKE TO INFORM YOU BEFORE YOUR UNTIMELY DEATH THAT MOBIUS WOULD GET YOUR OLD LAB ROOM.' Klein stated clearly, not believing in the survivability of Dala in this situation to be very high.

Dala didn't like the fact that many of her colleagues didn't believe in her surviving a harsh car ride. But they have doubted various things in the past and have been wrong. Such as intelligent lobotomites and Mobius becoming a member of the Think Tank again.

However, her untimely death wouldn't come. As the car suddenly stopped in front of some sort of old timely gate leading into some college of sorts. She turned to Yor who simply smiled at her.

"We made it a little bit early, but that's probably for the better," Yor said, taking the keys out of the ignition. "Eden is about status and proper manners. Maintaining a person's intellectual or physical strength. It's one of, if not the most prestigious school in Ostania."

Dala unbuckled her seat belt and unlocked the door on her side of the car.

"Thanks for the car ride and the tips for my interview. I know you have a family to get back to so I won't keep you away from them much longer." Dala said, wanting to get away from the death trap that was the car she was currently in. She opened the door and was in the middle of getting out when Yor spoke.

"Well I can always pick you up after the interview right-"

"NO!" Dala shouted, to the confusion of Yor. Dala cleared her throat before building on her previous statement.

"No, I believe that Marshall will be picking me up after my interview with Eden. Thank you for your offer though." Dala remarked nervously at her horrible, bold lie. But it seemed like Yor didn't pick up on it, since she waved her goodbye with a smile, rolled up the passenger seat window before driving off.

Dala took a sigh of relief at the sight of the automobile driving off. She didn't know cars that ran on gas based fuel mechanisms could even go that fast. But she couldn't think about her near death experience forever, so she turned to the gates of Eden Academy.

The gate itself and the buildings beyond it were very well maintained. The sun's light almost beamed its reflection off perfectly on the metal and windows of each building. In what looked like the gymnasium building, stained windows adorned the walls. It signified the wealth and prestige of the school she was about to enter into.

"May I ask what are you doing loitering in front of my school's front gate?" An old man asked politely. The old man wore a neatly put together tracksuit with a monocle on his right eye. His white hair was perfectly groomed and brushed into an imperial style mustache. His head hair was brushed back into a ponytail.

"I have an interview today to apply for this school as a science teacher at noon today." Dala explained, subconsciously brushing her hair with her left hand to make it look more presentable.

"You came thirty minutes early," The old man informed, making Dala almost go slack jawed. "Although it is good that you came earlier than everyone else. It means that we can spend more time reviewing your application."

With three coordinated claps from the old man, the gates to the school opened up slowly and systematically. Dala then entered the school itself where she could see the campus in its full glory.

Everything about the campus was perfect in every sense of the word. Local Pravda news networks wouldn't even need to lie about the true beauty of the area. The grass was even, and greener than fresh vegetables from an old grandmother's garden. The stone pathways that connected the areas of the campus had no cracks, and were perfectly even and rectangular.

'This school here reminds me of my days in American HIGH…and Richie Marcus.' Borous said with contempt near the end of his statement.

'Borous this isn't the time for your nostalgic trips! Dala needs to focus so she could blend into this society.' Mobius stated, wanting Borous to not let his old grudges get in the way of Dala. Borous huffed in response and became silent.

"We at Eden Academy take great pride in our elegance and status we have obtained over the years. Through our work ethic we have maintained our top spot over all other schools." The old man said, before turning his back on Dala. He then began to walk in a direction towards one of the bigger buildings on the campus, so Dala followed him closely.

"But recently, we found out through rigorous research that our previous science teacher wasn't the person we thought he was. A complete fraud, he lacked any of the qualities of a good teacher or the qualifications for teaching science." He continued, before stopping to salute a statue of a bald man holding an open book. Dala followed in his footsteps, and saluted the statue.

The old man then turned to the scientist to ask a simple question.

"Oh? Do you know of our founder's accomplishments?"

"Of course I do. I would be foolish not to. The man laid down the foundations of this great institution. The man that understood that greatness was a choice, and made a school that would act as a channel for bright minds to be sharpened into something greater." Dala lied through her teeth, not knowing who the man was talking about.

The old man hummed in response, not in a positive or negative manner. Which worried Dala slightly.

The small talk ended there, with the two of them reaching one of the main buildings where classes were held, although they both weren't there for that. The pair entered the building, where the old man guided Dala to a room where it seemed like her interview would take place.

The room itself was rather roomy and open. The flooring was wooden and the furniture in the room reminded Dala of her old home at Higgs Village. She sat down on one of the plush chairs across from the rather large leather one. Dala bit the inside of her cheek to not show her deviant delight at the sensation the chair she was sitting brought her.

The old man sat down in the leather seat, still in his tracksuit. He adjusted his tracksuit before starting the interview.

"Firstly before I start the interview process, I would like to apologize for not being in proper uniform."

Dala waved off his apology with her right hand. She then reeled it back on to the armrest.

"It's fine, I came too early for you to even prepare in the first place." The old man's eyebrow cocked at her statement.

"It seems a little unfair to me that you know the strict dress code of our establishment and adhered to it while I was caught not wearing proper attire. But I understand your thought process." He remarked, before continuing.

"My name is Henry Henderson, history teacher and headmaster of Cecile Hall here at Eden. Me and two others usually go through this process together," He said, before he sighed. "However, due to both of them having personal issues, they couldn't attend today's interview."

"Now then, what makes you think that you are fit for a teaching role here at Eden Academy?" Mr. Henderson asked politely as ever.

"I have the knowledge needed to teach people and I have taught my own scientifically inclined colleagues about my field of study." She explained, looking Henderson in the eye while stating what she said.

"And what field of science do you participate in?" He asked, folding his hands perfectly symmetric. Each finger aligned with the opposite flawlessly.

"Chemistry, human anatomy and various other life sciences." Dala revealed, keeping her eye contact with the old man in front of her.

"If I may ask, why choose those specific fields?" The man pushed further, hoping to find an infraction or even a compliment to her resume to potentially work at his academy.

"Chemistry is the science of change," Dala stated, making sure Henderson was listening. "When I was younger I wanted to prevent a war between the East and West through the works and wonders of science. All the other fields relate to that ideal."

Henderson nodded silently before asking another question.

"Did you have any careers after your work in science?"

"I was a nurse during the war. I helped the wounded when I could. I even met my husband through my second job." Dala explained, building on her previous lie. Henderson had a look of intrigue on his face.

"Why hasn't your husband decided to come along with you to this interview? It's standard for married applicants to bring along their spouses as a sign of faith in each other." Henderson explained while asking a simple question.

Dala knew that her teddy bear was probably still out like a light on the couch, but she couldn't just say that to her potential coworker.

"His work as a government employee for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs isn't the easiest or less stressful job for a man to take. He has to translate and relay new political policies to parliament or guide ambassadors to and from embassies in this country." She lied, knowing his actual job probably wouldn't earn her any favors with the old man.

Henry Henderson stood up and gave a long winded sigh. Although it wasn't one out of negativity but of what he was probably about to say next.

"You passed the interview, so you have my congratulations." He said nonchalantly, which made Dala rise out of her own seat and extend her hand out for him to shake. To seal the deal for her employment. However Henderson wasn't done with what he was going to say.

"Tomorrow, before classes start at eight in the morning, come to Eden. You are going to be a student teacher for a day, shadowing me. If I find that your conduct to be inelegant or unbecoming of our school, you will not be an employee here at our establishment. If you pass, you become a teacher with me and the rest of the staff." Henderson explained, shaking Dala's hand out of respect.

Dala shook his hand before saying her more formal goodbye to the old man. Before she would almost fall to ground due to the obscene amount of curses and complaints from the various Big Mountain scientists.

If she had to deal with them for nearly two hundred and twenty-seven years, how bad can kids be?

Chapter Text

The Courier found himself back in Zion but not during the extermination of the White Legs tribe nor the beginning of his journey when they raided his caravan. Leaving him as the only survivor among the Happy Trails sponsored caravan. He found himself wearing the Father's ranger armor, complete with its helmet with its various depressing markings on it. A kill tally was scratched onto the right side of the helmet, with each tally beneath an abbreviation of various months of the year.

The front of the helmet had the most obvious marking on it, which the sentence 'Forgive me Mama' painted on with black paint in all capitals. The back of the helmet had the previous owner keep track of time during his military service in China, with the abbreviations of months of year found underneath the cities of Nanking and Shanghai like a graphing table.

Courier Six had a firearm strapped to his back. A storm drum, as the White Legs called it. An automatic submachine gun that took .45 rounds and cut through White Legs and the wildlife like a hot knife through butter. It was ironic to the Courier, since the storm drums were a staple of the White Legs tribe, much like how .45 pistols were seen as holy weapons to the Mormons of New Canaan or the intricate designed war clubs of the Dead Horses.

But the Courier didn't find himself with either Waking Cloud, the Sorrows tribe women who the missionary Daniel sent with him to help with the preparations for the Battle of Zion. Nor was he with Follows-Chalk, the scout who defied the traditions of his elders. He was all alone, only the sounds heard were the pure untouched water streaming into the valley and the usual mutated wildlife noises. The rocks surrounding him were a dusty red and helped him get a vantage point over a certain section of Zion. The vantage point was named the Red Gate by the local tribes.

But he wasn't at the Red Gate for an advantage against the White Legs, but rather to piece together the truth about the Sorrows faith in the Father in the Caves. The man who lived before the Great War, the survivor who fled to Zion after the nuclear destruction of Salt Lake City and the death of his family. His name was Randall Clark, a man who was drowning in grief and sorrow after his losses in the new world he inhabited.

However, through his travels he found the man's old journals and terminal entries throughout Zion in abandoned caves. A taboo to the locals due to its religious significance for them. The Courier didn't have such restrictions and explored. If the previous journal was correct, Clark headed out to the Red Gate to watch the sunset hit the valley walls before whatever illness took him from the world. It also hid the man's body from the Sorrows tribe, not wanting them to see their God as a frail old man.

Now, the Courier saw what he came for. A duffle bag stuffed with various goodies stuffed inside to the right of an old charred looking skeleton. Its skull being a place where a flower spouted out from. Even in death, the Survivalist was giving back the valley which housed him after the bombs dropped. Courier Six walked over the duffle bag and muttered an apology to the skeleton. He opened it and found a holotape called Year: 2124.

He put the holotape into his pip-boy, and listened to the last words of one of the greatest men the world never knew.

Maybe the only point of all this living was to keep those pictures in my head going for as long as I could. It was the only life I could give you. Not a day went by without. It wasn't a choice. I chose to die again and again. Just never did. Body had its own drive. Well, the little ones will need it. Species will need it if it's to continue. That blind drive onward.I wish them well. It's been a gift to me, at the end of it all, to behold innocence.

Goodbye, Zion.

Courier Six, listening to the tape finally reach its end, had his little investigation reach its end. Randall Clark had helped the Sorrows when they first formed, and died of lung cancer, watching the sun set one last time. He placed the holotape with his ranger duster and continued with looting the last of the man's caches. There were miscellaneous medical items and magazines relating to outdoor camping and survival. Twelve millimeter rounds were plenty in the bag strangely enough, the exotic round seemingly in a never ending supply. But then the Courier found out quickly enough why it was so plentiful.

The rifle in the bag probably accepted that ammo type if the Courier had to guess. It resembled the mass produced service rifles of the NCR, although it clearly showed its old age and usage. With the wood on the stock and barrel being faint and fated. The sights on the gun were bent out of shape to the left. Maybe Clark's left eye had better eyesight than his right? The stock of the rifle had some motto or saying carved into it, but Courier had no clue what it was saying due to it being in a foreign language that he didn't recognize.

Although the Courier felt a silent hot rage build within him. The White Legs were threatening the peace Clark had built in the Autumn of his years. The savages were going to strip this land of all its worth just so that they would be accepted into the Legion for killing the Burned Man. Although they would never be recognized for the potential achievement due to the laws and taboos of the Legion. The dumb tribals didn't realize that they were just pawns in Edward Sallow's ego driven game of chess against his former friend.

He took the gun out of the duffle bag and slung it over his back just like the storm drum. He zipped up the duffle bag and looked towards Randall Clark for one last time. His eyes hardened beneath the mask, and his knuckles turned white due to them being formed in righteous anger. He got on one knee to get on the eye level of the skeleton like Randall Clark was still alive.

"Mister Clark, me and Joshua will make sure that the Sorrows will continue to live and prosper in Zion just like you wanted. I would bury you, but it looks like you wanted to be up here." The Courier promised the corpse, rambling on near the end of his statement.

He stood back up, and turned on his back on Clark's skeleton. He then made his way back down from the Red Gate and silently walked to Dead Horse Point to talk to Joshua one last time before the Battle of Zion began. The world began to fade to black, ending Courier's recollection of his travels in Zion.

The Courier woke up not on the floor, but on the couch in front of the television in his apartment. He got up and looked at the time, hoping that he didn't sleep the day away. It was in the afternoon of the same day he hoped. If he was wrong, he would be late to his first day at work. He shot up from his seat and made his way to the front door. Opening it quickly, he was going to dash out of the apartment and make his way to where he needed to be, but he found Dala staring at him like he was a weirdo.

"You seem to be in a rush. What's the big deal?" She asked, making her way into the apartment and shutting the front door behind her. The Courier saw that Dala was wearing the dress he got from the Sierra Madre and squinted at her, a sense of confusion washing over him.

"When did you go out? Better yet, why did you go out?" He asked, his eyes darting to the door behind Dala. She smirked a little before chuckling a bit.

"I had a job interview to go to. I left a few hours ago while you were still asleep on the floor," She stated with a grin. "I moved you to the couch so you wouldn't hurt your body by sleeping on the hard floor."

The Courier calmed down at the realization that it was still the same day he fell asleep. He then made his way to the couch and sat down. Dala made her way next to him, still wearing her smug smile proudly.

"It went really well for me. Although I do have to do a practical test before I get the job." She explained further and got closer to the Courier. He noticed this, but didn't comment on it.

"So you're free today? I don't have to go in until tomorrow morning. What do you want to do until then?" The Courier asked, switching the television channel to a sports channel that was airing a baseball game between two local Ostanian teams.

"Yep. Although I think due to my success in my interview you should reward me with something." Dala insisted on with a smile, though it lost its smug nature. Courier Six's eyebrow tilted upward in a questioning manner, before he stopped with a sigh.

"What…type of reward do you want? I won't do or give you anything that is too crazy." The Courier replied, his eyes watching the game while his ears were listening to Dala.

"I want the pillow barrier gone. It's childish in its nature and you made it in a way where your side was bigger than mine." Dala demanded, her voice portraying a large amount of teasing mixed in with a simple request. The Courier didn't respond for a few seconds, as he was fully engrossed in the baseball game on the TV.

"Nope. I rather not have you molest me in my sleep. Anything else you want?" He asked, with a mix of seriousness and teasing to be found in his tone. Dala gave a smug smile in response to his comment before replying.

"No, I want the pillow barrier gone. It's childish and stupid. It doesn't make sense that my husband would do such a thing." She reasoned, not wanting to give up her need. Courier Six faced her, and sighed at her reasoning.

"You make a fair point. But if we get rid of the pillow barrier, you can't wear only your bra and panties. Plus you can't hug me or do anything to me while I sleep." He negotiated. Dala then shook her head in a more negative manner.

"That's not fair. You wear barely anything in bed too! Your undershirt and underwear leave very little to my imagination," She said, smirking. "Not that I care that much about that."

The Courier didn't show any reaction to Dala's obvious provocation. He gave a quick fist pump at the sight of the home run scored by one of the baseball teams. He then responded to her comment.

"I understand that, it does seem a little hypocritical of me to say that. Fine, you get to wear as little as you want. You just can't get physical with me in bed at all." He stated, making some adjustments to the deal which leaned into Dala's favor. She then crossed her arms and leaned in closer to the Courier in a coy way.

"I don't know why you're acting so bashful now. You helped me in more risqué ways before." She teased with a light laugh. Courier Six turned his head to face the scientist after one of the batters struck out on the television.

"It was different then. You weren't…" The Courier stopped himself to think about what he was going to say. "Human in the bodily sense."

"Just because I had monitors for a face doesn't mean it was different. So what's the big deal about a little snuggling in bed when you helped shock my internal systems." Dala argued, her tone becoming more coy and more overt.

Courier Six was going to bring up another fact to counter her argument but didn't feel like debating any longer on sleeping arrangements. He has slept with women platonically in the past out of necessity, so how different would sleeping next to Dala be?

"Fine…you can get physical if you want but you can't go downstairs with it without my permission while I am awake." The Courier conceded, not wanting to drag out this conversation. Dala grinned and nodded along with Courier Six's concession.

They both continued to watch the baseball game until the game ended in the ninth inning. The Courier thought it was nice that Ostania had normal sports. Caesar's Legion didn't really allow for normal sports since it interfered with the war effort. However they did allow for gladiator fights between men, which he heard that the fights were rather entertaining. The NCR formed a football team during the last years of Joanna Tibbett, one of the only good things to come from Tandi's vice president.

"That was pretty boring, don't you think?" Dala asked, showing her disinterest in the sport. The Courier turned to face Dala with a look of intrigue.

"You don't like sports? I thought you liked to see the body being pushed to its limits." The Courier asked, rolling his right shoulder. Causing loud popping noises to materialize.

"I do like it when that happens but sports is largely a waste. It could be used in better fields of work such as science," Dala stated before pivoting to another subject. "My teddy bear, is your body working like it's supposed to?"

The Courier cocked his eyebrow at her question. He didn't know why his physical condition became a subject now. Dala scanned him various times during his first stay at Big Mountain and knew about his right shoulder's weird quirk.

“It works just fine, Dala. Why do you ask?” The Courier answered before adding onto his statement. “My right shoulder has done that since I visited you guys the first time.” Dala looked at him like she had caught him in an egregious lie.

“When was the last time you went to a doctor? Surely they would have said something about that” She asked, getting up from the couch and walking in front of him. "I doubt anyone in the Mojave has the same credentials I have."

"That's not true! My friend Arcade and Doctor Usanagi are trained medical professionals by uh.." He said, before losing his train of thought only to regain it moments later. "Well I guess they couldn't compare to you, no?"

"Of course. I was probably top of my class and trend setter in my field of expertise. Now, I am going to do a routine inspection of you, if you don't mind." She explained, getting closer to Courier Six. He didn't really care that she was somewhat close to him since they did more imitate things together in the past. Although under different circumstances.

She undid his tie and placed it on the couch right next to him. Dala then took off the top of his suit after a minute or so. Leaving him only in his dress pants and undershirt. She then lifted his arms up to help her remove his undershirt. Which left him shirtless.

His chest and overall body wasn't the most abnormal besides the lack of pigment in his skin being apparent due to his unique skin color. He wasn't the most fibrous man to live, but by no means was he scrawny. Having early signs of a six pack and muscle was obvious in his chest area. However the more interesting thing for Dala besides seeing him undressed was the surplus amount of scars all over him.

Scars from bullets were scattered across his chest like acne in a way. Although it was like little black dots across his very pale skin. More stereotypical scars from sharp objects could be found all over, along with the more rare burn mark. Which were small islands of pinkish red in a sea of porcelain white.

"Are you gonna keep ogling at my chest or get on with your check up on me?" He asked in a rather neutral tone. Dala did as he requested, but that didn't stop her from staring at his body every once in a while.

"You don't feel any phantom pains from any of your scars at all?" She asked, taking her finger and tracing it over a rather large scar that was significant in size and seemingly caused by a sharp object. "How did you even get this one?"

"I fought a general of the second largest army on the West coast in one to one combat. Wasn't the smartest decision in my life." He explained chuckling at his past decisions at the end of his explanation. Dala narrowed her eyes at the man.

"What weapon did he use to even cause such a wound?"

"A giant sword customized to fit into the hand of a seven foot butcher. I'm surprised I didn't bleed out before I confronted the general of the largest army on the West coast." He explained further. Dala didn't look like she believed his story.

"And you got all of these other scars from the other general that you totally defeated in hand to hand combat." She said sarcastically, analyzing his arms for anything out of order.

"For that coward I just told him to fuck off. I had my yes man throw him off the Hoover Dam while his troops watched." He said, laughing a bit at his actions that made him a world leader.

"The soldiers didn't try to stop their commander from being killed?" She asked, moving her inspecting to his neck and chin. She saw one bullet scar beneath his lower jaw, and it was much larger than the scars on his chest. She frowned at the sight of it.

"Well he was a glory hound and brown nose for special interests. Plus they couldn't really do anything without risking their own lives. They were outnumbered by my own forces at that point." He explained in detail, trying to paint a vivid picture of the events to Dala.

"I know that the Mojave is a rather cruel and unforgiving place if I consider your anecdotal stories as fact. But I fail to see the probability of a bullet hitting the back of your neck where your jaw and chin meet." She said, pivoting the conversation away from the Courier's stories.

"I was cleaning my revolver, Lucky, and there was a bullet left in the chamber. An unfortunate misfire that's for sure, almost died right there." He informed the scientist, although it lacked the same luster and comedic tone he had before.

Dala then moved to inspect the man's shoulders. Gripping the man's arms and making them rotate for a bit before moving to the other. She went to the right arm and did the same motion she did for the left shoulder and a much larger popping noise emitting from the Courier's right shoulder.

"What the hell did you just do?" Courier Six asked, feeling his shoulder before rolling it although this time it was without the various cracking and popping noises. Dala smirked at his curiosity and answered.

"As an expert and enthusiast of the human condition and body I have nearly mastered all techniques in healing its ailments," She boasted before leaning into his right shoulder. Courier Six was left rather confused at her actions.

Until he felt a warm wet sensation hit his shoulder, the one that was seemingly plagued by small aches and rather loud noises following movement. The Courier eyes dragged themselves to where he saw a pretty unusual sight.

He caught the sight of Dala kissing his shoulder. She stopped and looked up at the Courier. Courier Six turned away quickly, and forced any red in his face to diminish.

"I heard that parents kissing their offspring causes a placebo effect in them, making their brain think that the pain or problem is gone. Is it working Six?" She asked before standing up completely.

"I guess so…aren't you going to keep going on with the check up or are we going to do something else?" The Courier answered and asked a question in the same breath.

"Welllll I don't have any equipment to really check anything too advanced and I know you have multiple implants. Which makes it rather redundant to check," Dala said before gaining a rather devious smile. "Although that leaves one thing to check."

"And what would that be?" The Courier asked, not wanting to really know her answer. She moved towards his ear and whispered a rather concerning statement. At least for Courier Six.

"Your libido." Dala then laughed a bit before removing herself from the ear of the mailman. He was as solid as a rock for a few seconds, his eyes were still as a radstag caught in front of an NCR military convoy. He then got out of his stupor, with his near shutdown at the rather intimate question completed, he then answered Dala’s rather questionable inquiry.

"My… desires are normal like other men. I'm just not too open about it or perverted." He explained, before getting up from the couch. After this he made his way to their bedroom, with Dala's snickering being heard from behind him. He entered it and shut the door behind him.

Courier Six then went into the closet and took out his pip-boy. He scrolled through his apparel section and saw that he had another type of clothing. He took it out of the pip-boy and again laid it out on the bed.

The clothing itself was more lower class than his usual clothes he wore. It was a black leather jacket with a silver crown on the back of it. It also had a brown undershirt. Within the silver crown itself was the words 'The Kings' within it in black lettering. Blue jeans and lower cut black jack boots.

He of course switched into this outfit and then looked in his pip-boy again for another outfit for Dala to wear. All of his clothes were rather masculine and probably would be frowned upon by this society. He knew that Dala didn't really care about cross dressing, if the amount of suits found in her bedroom can build a case for it.

Although it seemed that his luck prevailed again since he found some formal wear that the White Gloves gave him. He requested the more feminine clothes for a close friend of his. Although he would give her something he thought she would like more.

Courier Six then brought the dress out of his pip-boy. It was a dull pink in color and didn't have anything that was too special. It wasn't too frilly or too high class to a certain extent. Although it wasn't too low class like the clothes he was wearing right now.

He then searched his pip-boy for the last time for the day for two somewhat similar rings that could even resemble those worn by married couples. He couldn't find anything in the apparel section of his pip-boy so he started to look through his miscellaneous section.

The miscellaneous section of his pip-boy served some purpose such as holding vast amounts of cigarette cartons for him. But he would put the occasional knight knacks in them to sell them to vendors later on.

He continued to scroll and scroll, only to find various levels of junk he probably needs to get rid of. Bullet casings, explosive components and even used cigarettes. But it seemed like he would catch a break.

Two rings, one of silver and the other being gold. The silver one didn't have any engravings on it at all. Nothing noting the date of its creation or its previous owner. The gold one had some engravings but they faded to the point where he couldn't make out what it was saying. It had some city named on the inside of the ring. Compared to the engravings on the outside it was visible.

The city or region of Venezia, Italia. The Courier had no clue where that was on the West coast but the ring was of high quality compared to the silver one. So he put the silver ring on his ring finger on his right hand and placed the gold ring onto the dress. He put his pip-boy back into the closet before leaving.

He then walked to where he saw Dala last, the living room. The Courier saw Dala sitting down on the couch where he was previously sitting. She was currently folding his suit’s tie and placed it onto his suit vest, which was also neatly folded.

“I laid out a new dress for you in the bedroom along with a ring.” He said, motioning his arm to the door that led into said room. Dala looked up at the Courier and gave him a grin. She stood up and walked to the room. With the room's door being shutting with its usual noise, Courier Six then began to think about the implications behind his actions.

Would Dala take his words as a suggestion that he plans for the both of them to go out on the town? They both didn't have much money to their names. He was certain that Ostania didn't accept bottle caps as legal tender like the Mojave. Why else would she look at him like that? He didn't want Dala to think anything too suggestive about the ring or the dress he is giving her.

Of course it was all for their alibis so that they wouldn't look too suspicious to anyone at any point in time. Sure he used the excuse of getting their wedding rings stuck on their fingers one time but it occurring more than once in a few years is rather suspicious to a fault. But the bigger question is how she would respond to his statement.

He already knew that she had accepted, by her going into the room and presumably getting dressed in the new outfit. Marjorie had teased him about a potential spouse with her gift of the dress to him, but he brushed it off. He didn't have time for personal happiness like that, or even the guarantee of an hypothetical significant other's safety in the case of an attempt on his life by the Frumentarii or NCR rangers.

He was married to his job as the practical king of Vegas. The free economic zone needed someone to make it a viable alternative to California and Arizona in a certain amount of time. The Legion and NCR would come back eventually for his head.

Nevermind the practical problems with him having a love in his life, he also had a deeper reason on why he didn't really seek a wife for himself. He knew the aftermath of it all, whenever it be peaceful or violent.

Boone with his wife, Raul with his family, Veronica with Christine and Father Elijah, and so on. It always ends in tragedy, no matter how good it seems. Nothing could last forever and the Courier knew that. The ideals of memento mori could be applied to most things outside of the human lifespan.

He knew some would call his decision cowardly, but he would hardly disagree. But he knew what had to be done, nation building didn't happen off the backs of wedding bells but rather funeral pyres. Bloodshed lubricated the wheels of human civilization since before he was born, and he knew after his inevitable death it wouldn't change.

But if he could make New Vegas into the one area on earth bloodshed wouldn't be necessary for the common man, woman and child. Then his own little sacrifices would be worth it. However, the noise of a door opening would take him out of his thoughts.

He turned around to see Dala wearing the White Gloves Society dress, with the gold ring now on her left hand. She sauntered on over to Courier Six to where they were rather close. Not enough for a hug, but rather in each other's own personal bubbles.

"You know, I haven't worn dresses like these in a long time. Even before my brain went into my own think tank, I don't think I wore anything but nightwear, my scrubs and my lingerie.” She commented. Courier Six shrugged his shoulders to show a more candid non-verbal response.

“That’s good for you, not many women outside of the core states of the NCR and within the Vegas Strip wear anything as good as you.” He said, giving her an unknowing complement. Although neither spoke on his statement, Dala asked the Courier a rather important question.

“I appreciate my favorite lobotomite giving me a nice dress to wear, but what are we going to do now? To go get breakfast I presume.”

The Courier raised his eyebrow in response, before replying himself. Courier Six's face became stern and serious. His body language portrayed a sad truth.

"We don't have any money to pay for breakfast." He mumbled, moving his hand to the back of his head to scratch his scar. It's quite remarkable that tesla coils could be made into an artificial brain. A rather rare occurrence if the amount of animalistic lobotomites roaming the Big MT could tell him.

"Don't you rule over a gambling city state? Why don't you have enough money for that?" Dala questioned.

"It's not that easy, we don't share a similar currency that looks remotely familiar. Bottle caps and their dalcs are nothing alike." He explained. Dala's face seemed to look like she came to a sudden, abrupt realization.

"You tricked us." She accused, pointing her finger at the Courier. He chuckled at her accusation.

"No, I just asked Klein for the bottle caps and he gave me them," He said, his grin forming and growing. "All five thousand of them."

She pouted before hitting him playfully on his shoulder. To Courier Six, the punch felt like a child throwing a plush at him. So he simply laughed her accusation off before bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“If you are hungry I could dip into my own personal stash in my pip-boy.” He offered, gesturing to the door that led into the bedroom where the Robco device was located. Dala looked at him like he told her something great.

“Really? What types of food do you even store in there?” She asked, her eyes nearly sparkling at the fact that she could indulge in eating food once again. Although the Courier’s expression really didn’t keep her hopes up.

“Well, I have a few MRE’s from Hopeville, some Sierra Madre’s martini’s, although you probably have to hold your nose to drink that,” The Courier rattled off his list. “Then I have some irradiated Pork N’ Beans and an Iguana on a Stick if you want that.”

Dala just looked at him like he said something crazy to her. She turned her head to the side and mumbled something underneath her breath. The Courier, not hearing her too clearly, asked her what she said.

“I didn’t say anything of note, my teddy bear. Just comparing your food with a colleague of mine.” She answered before turning her head back to face the Courier’s. He had a look of disbelief on his face.

"One of..them made something for you to eat? How is that even possible? They don't have any arms!" He asked in disbelief. Dala's eyes shifted a bit, as if she was telling him a deep dark secret.

"Mobius would try and find any meals of substance for me for the first few days after they put my brain into my synthetic body. It was.. mortifying to say the least." She explained, with a very small twinge red gracing her face.

"It was especially awful when he would just watch me struggle to open a bag of chips. He would encourage me to eat slowly and take my time like I was a toddler! I didn't have the most control of my motion functions at the time and he would say the most…" Her hands now cupped her face to hide her embarrassed expression.

"Embarrassing things. Your hands need to firmly grasp the bag Dala! You mustn't do that motion with your wreck when eating, it might ruin your posture! You can't just suck the bottle down Dala! Do you need a mentat Dala?" She quoted with a Mobius impression. Although it was rather exaggerated.

"It seems like Mobius is a good friend." The Courier concluded. Dala put her hands off her face, the red in face fading.

"Please, he only did that so Klein wouldn't throw him in the Sink due to his large grudge. I don't even know how you got that madman and Klein to put aside their differences for science." Dala said, insisting that the mentat addict only did it for her favor. The Courier disagreed.

"Mobius is a good man, he cares alot about each of you. Even if he is a bit eccentric in his ways. He probably sees everyone as his grandkids or something." The Courier insisted. Dala scoffed the man's argument.

"Doctor 8 and Klein are older than him by seven and five years respectively. What you are saying is factually wrong, my teddy bear." Dala refuted. The Courier gave her a knowing smile, before putting up his hands in a mock surrender.

"I yield to the great Think Tank scientist, of course my feeble little mind couldn't comprehend your reasoning." He said, dropping his hands before changing the conversation.

"So since you don't like anything in my supply and we don't have enough money for food. Do you want to just go out on the town?" He asked politely.

"Sure, since you and I have nothing better to do." Dala said, agreeing to the Courier's impromptu plan. Courier Six and Dala made their way out of their apartment room and out into the hallway, before leaving the complex itself for the wider city.

The city's glitz and glamor had nearly run out for the pair, as they grew used to their new environment they now found themselves in. They walked with no real place in mind, just wanting to do something with each other before their respective beckoned them away from each other. As good friends with some limited benefits.

They kept walking the Berlint streets until they found themselves in what the Courier thought was a financial district of sorts. A more respectable area with more higher end business with high end people. The building style of the building's were rather familiar to them both at this point, although it is more modern than what they were used to for this city in particular.

Glass was a prominent feature of all of these stores, showing off their material wealth and mercantile goods. Perfume, clothing of all sorts littering the storefront windows. Compared to Vegas and Freeside, the stores were for kids.

The Courier doubted that any store sold military grade weapons for the average man or mind melting chems for consumption. Although that said a lot about his world rather than theirs.

The pair kept walking until they found a park of sorts. It had the iconic staple of greenery that they were known for, but it also had some stone paths that led to various different areas.

The paths mostly led to other areas of the park if the Courier had to guess. Although he was more interested in the path that led to the more sport-like area.

The area had various walls of chain linked fences walking off large swaths of land to various different sports. One had a turf field with two rather large goals. One was rather open and had two baskets with the pavement below them colored in specific chalk patterns. It reminded the Courier of one of his tribal friends.

The two fields didn't have anyone in their age group playing. Although one did, the two people playing some sport neither of them recognized. A rather small, somewhat closed off court. It had a net that cut the court into two halves. The court itself was formed by white lines, which cut the court in two equal sides. Each side was then cut into two halves, indicating two server boxes.

The rather unusual pair that was playing the sport. The man on the left side was glistening in sweat. He was wearing a rather tacky and outdated track suit that was a mix of red and green all over. He had a rather scruffy hair style and big square glasses, which made his eyes look bigger. With his racket in his right hand, he lunged to hit the fuzzy yellow-green ball, although it seemed to be too late. As the ball whizzed just by his head and hitting the fence behind him.

The person playing on the right side of the court was a woman of a similar age. The girl was clearly more skilled at the sport than the man. She had short lavender hair which covered her left eye. The woman had a similar unmoving expression adorning her face to that of one of the Courier's military friends. She wore a similar tracksuit to the man she was playing against, although it was more fashionable. A mix of white and light blue.

While picking up the ball, the man noticed the Courier and Dala watching the two play. He gave the pair a smile and walked towards them. His smile was one of familiarity, like he knew them. He reached where the pair were watching him and the woman play, through the chain link fence surrounding the court.

"Hey, you guys bought some stuff from my stand a couple of days ago right?" He asked politely in a rather nonchalantly way. Though it was rather strained due to all of the physical activity he was doing.

The Courier didn't recognize the man, his eyes squinting at the man slightly, before his eyes lit up in a realization. He was the storefront worker that sold him cigarettes on their first day here.

"You're the guy who sold me that carton of cigs, right? The store near 128 Park Avenue?" The Courier said, knowing the answer to his question.

"Yup that would be me. I put my blood, sweat and tears into that store," He informed the pair before continuing on. "My name is Franky. What about yours, teddy bear?"

The Courier's eyes narrowed at man, his lips tugging down into an almost cruel fashion. Before he could say anything too out of the ordinary, he calmed himself before replying back to the man.

"Please, only my wife calls me that. The name is Marshal Van Graff and this is my wife, Maria." He motioned with his arm to Dala.

"Of course I would also prefer you to not call my husband that. It isn't polite to plagiarize someone else's work." Dala said somewhat jokingly. although it was clear due to her tonal shift in her voice that she didn't actually like usage of her nickname given to her favorite lobotomite.

Franky just gave an awkward laugh in response to the pair before responding himself.

“Sorry about that, didn't mean to seem like a jerk or anything," He apologized somewhat, although it didn't bring down his mood whatsoever. "You guys want to play tennis with us?"

Courier Six never really engaged in sports outside of the somewhat competitive shooting between him and Boone and betting on which wasteland creature will tear the other apart in the Thorn beneath the West Side streets.

"Sure, although I am sure I won't be any good at it. But I am pretty sure I can do better than my wife here." He explained, throwing a playful verbal jab at Dala. She turned to glare at him for a few seconds before reverting back to a more positive look.

"We can start a new game if you want, though it would have to get past my friend here. She's pretty serious about the sport." Franky said, pointing his thumb back to the non expressive woman who was still waiting for him to serve the ball, if her form and stance were correct. She noticed Franky talking to the pair on the opposite side of the chain linked fence and walked over.

"Franky, why haven't you served the ball yet?" She asked, with little to no emotion behind her words. Her one eye quickly scanned the two, up and down before settling on the Courier. He met her stare awkwardly, she was probably rather socially inept. It seemed like she didn't know how to carry a conversation forward. Thankfully, Franky nudged her in the shoulder, which didn't move a bit.

"I invited these two to play tennis with us. They moved into the city near me." Franky explained. The lavender haired woman's expression didn't change at all, her stoney expression not changing at all. She must be taking tennis very seriously as a player, perhaps she is a prodigy in the sport? The Courier knew only time could tell.

"I could use some more practice against people who aren't you. What's the idea for the game? Two on two? One on one?" She asked in the same dead tone. Her one free eye now shifted to Franky, who nearly buckled under pressure from either physical exhaustion or peer pressure.

"I am good, I have been playing this game since the crack of dawn. If they want to play against you, that's up to them." Franky said, excusing himself from the game. Dala saw the trend set by the scruffy haired man and did much the same.

"I don't have a large interest in sports and can't say that I could help either of you in your tennis match." Dala insisted, seeing herself out of the match before she was even in. That just left the probable prodigy of the sport, and a mailman who didn't even know how to play.

"That just leaves me and you, miss…" Courier Six said, leaving the door open for the woman to jump in and tell him her name. Luckily for him, she did just that.

"Frost. Though I rather you call me Fiona." Fiona said, wanting the Courier to be casual with her name rather than formal. He understood wanting people not to call you by your last name, especially if yours was just a number.

Franky gave the ball to Fiona, while both Dala and Courier Six made their way into the court itself. Dala went to sit on the court next to Franky, who was probably going to talk her ear off the entire time. Franky handed the Courier his racket to use, and he grabbed it. He gave it two quick practice swings before walking onto the court proper. On the opposite side of the court, Fiona bounced the ball on the floor a few times before asking a rather obvious question.

"How many sets do you want to go for?"

"Best of three." The Courier answered, gripping his racket tightly, setting himself up on the left side of the court. He didn't actually know how to play tennis at all, so Fiona serving the ball will be a great educational opportunity for him.

She hit the ball on the ground for a few before tossing it in the air, before hitting to the Courier's side of the court. Almost blind sided by the speed and velocity of the ball, he hit it back haphazardly. Making it an easy hit for Fiona, and had the hit back at him. Although this time, he couldn't hit it in time. The ball whizzed by him and hit the fence behind him.

"Fifthteen to zero!" Franky called out, before resuming his conversation with Dala. The Courier walked over to pick up the ball and tossed the ball to Fiona to serve it again. Which she caught flawlessly in her free hand. She served the ball again, without bouncing the ball on the ground.

This time however, the Courier hit the ball back with some force. Not anything too special, but enough where it would go over her head hopefully. It wouldn't go over her head at all, but rather into her racket itself. Again Fiona would score another point for herself.

Courier Six again got the ball and shot a look at Franky this time. Before he could even ask his question, Franky answered it.

"Hey man, I did this all day today. I ain't subbing in for you."

The Courier mentally sighed at the comment before tossing the ball back to Fiona to serve again. This time he switched which side he was on. Hopefully it would change his luck to be more favorable.

She served again and this time he actually hit the ball with some good form and good force. It would have been a rather competent hit if it didn't hit the net before passing itself into Fiona's side of the court. The Courier had no idea about the general rules of the tennis, but he knew his action wasn't the best.

Wordlessly, Fiona bent over and grabbed the ball, which landed right in front of her. Again she would serve, and again score a point and in the Courier's unfortunate situation, made sure that he lost the first match.

"Clean sweep for Fiona Frost as Marshal Van Graff clueless challenges the best tennis player Berlint was graced with!" Franky shouted in a teasing manner. The Courier's more happy expression became more neutral and that neutral expression became a small frown.

He was going to score a point, no matter what! So he had a small trickle up his sleeve. His GRX implant slowed down his perception of time much like the chem turbo, but without the addictive properties of the drug. However he couldn't abuse it, unless he wanted to lose his perception of time and go unconscious.

He grabbed the ball again, and threw it at Fiona's opened hand, to which she would serve it again. However he would activate his implant, which made everything around him enter slow motion, at least for him.

The Courier then hit the ball back to her in his current state. Eventually his perception of time returned to normal, and finally scored a point of the woman with an unbreakable poker face. He cracked a small smile, before catching the ball Fiona eventually threw back at him. She threw it back at him with some force and with good form.

It almost reminded him of how NCR troopers throw grenades with precision and strength. He couldn't really dwell on that for now, he had more important things to worry about. Such as serving the ball correctly without consequence. He bounced the ball on the ground three times, looking up to see which side of the court Fiona was currently at.

He hit the ball with some strength, making the ball through the air towards his opponent. She hit the ball rather effortlessly right back at the Courier. This time however, Courier Six hit the ball back to Fiona, which made her hit it back to him.

He lunged to hit the ball that was going through the air to the right of him. He hit the ball, albeit just barely. Causing it to zoom across the court back to Fiona's side. They continued to volley the ball to each other, which showed their differences in skill. Fiona was still calm, cool and collected and making rather graceful plays. The Courier on the other hand, was getting rather impatient and started to quicken his strikes against the ball. Making it lose its precision but have more velocity. It mirrored the strategy used by Caesar’s Legion, to overwhelm one’s opponents with sheer force and numbers, while saving the most skilled for last. Courier Six couldn’t really replicate that last part in tennis, but the first part of it was easy enough.

At one particular volley of the ball sent back to him by the stoic woman, he hit it downwards causing the volley streak he had with Fiona. She tried to hit it back at the Courier, but came up short. The ball bounced on the floor and rolled to the back line. Another point scored for the Courier.

Silently and quick, Fiona picked up the ball and served it back again to Courier Six. Again, using his newly invented bull style of tennis started to harshly hit the ball back to women. She of course hit it back, although it was curved and hit the ground adjacent to the man. Although he wasn't close enough to even make an attempt to hit it unless he wanted to make a fool out of himself.

He flashed a quick smile at Fiona to gauge her morale at this point in the second game. She didn't smile back or wave, or do anything remotely friendly. She just stared back at him wordlessly, no doubt calculating her next move in the art of tennis. She took her sport rather seriously, which is something someone could admire. The Courier turned to pick up the ball. Bouncing the ball on the floor, he strategically planned out his next moves.

He couldn't replicate his new strategy or he would lose the game. So he used another military strategy to apply to tennis. He knew California liked to strike from afar, with their snipers and rangers picking off their enemies. Traps also play a large part of the Bears strategy against the Bull, effective mind games.

He served the ball but rather than moving into the center of his side of the court like a sane individual and how he was playing before, he stayed in the back, waiting for the ball to come to him.

And it did, just like before. Though this time he was being patient and resourceful, hitting somewhat gracefully back at Fiona, only for the both of them to start volleying back and forth. The two of them are both waiting for an opening to score a point on one another. Until Fiona tried the same trick as before, but instead of curving the ball back in the spot she switched to the other side of the court.

Courier gripped his racket intensely, and activated his GRX implant for the second time, knowing that he wouldn't make it in time. His perspective of time slowed again, and he sprinted to where the ball was and hit it before his implant would again run out. His perception time went back to normal, though his eyes had the odd black spot floating around for a few seconds before disappearing.

He could probably get away with using the implant one more time before he fried the coils he calls his brain in his head. Before he could think more about it, a simple whistle broke his train of thought.

"Are you ready for the serve?" Fiona said, calling out to the Courier. Not a single bead of sweat could be found on her face or any of the areas associated with it. She must be a trained athlete or a near crazed hobbyist if she could keep her composure this long.

The Courier gave a thumbs up to the woman, causing her to hit the ball into his side of the court. Although it lacked the previous skill that was associated with her play style. It was probably a mind game all things considered, to lull him into a false sense of security.

But apparently it was just possible that she just had a bad serve, or something distracted her, since she made a rather childish swing to hit the ball. Obviously she missed, causing the ball to connect to the fence behind her. Fiona again threw the ball back to him to serve for what felt like the hundredth time today.

Again he served the ball, and again Fiona missed it. Tossing the ball back to him. He didn't know why she would try to mind game him now in the second game where she was down substantially in points, but he didn't really care. His pride needed him to tie it up between her.

Eventually through the same circumstances, the Courier would win the match. Though it felt like Fiona threw the match just to play more against someone that wasn't Franky.

"You did great, Marshal!" Dala called out from the sidelines with Franky. The man who needed a haircut also chimed in on the second match results.

"Fiona Frost loses match two to upstart Marshal Van Graff in a stunning-" Although before he could finish his sentence, Fiona merely glanced at him, causing him to sulk a bit and return to the small chat he was having with Dala prior to the match ending.

The Courier, being the gentleman he was, walked over to the net and held the ball for Fiona to take. She looked at his gesture with the same poker face she held onto the entire time he was playing with her, and spoke.

"You want me to serve? You won the last match."

"It wouldn't be chivalrous of me to serve first." He replied back.

"If I accept the ball will you stop holding back on me? I have noticed that you speed up when you believe you would be down a few points compared to my score." She asked, stating her observations to the man.

"That makes sense, though I would request that you do the same. Without going against a pro of your caliber I wouldn't improve at the game." He requested. Without saying another word, she took the tennis ball from his hand, accepting his request and by default he accepted hers.

The Courier walked to the right side of his court and gripped his racket tightly. Preparing himself for whatever Fiona could potentially do. She bounced the ball on the floor more times than she did before in the other two games. She tossed the ball up and slammed it against the racket, causing it to come at him at a great velocity.

Tensing his muscles he hit the ball back with his own force to the opposite side of Fiona. Although with simple footwork and what the Courier could only describe as acrobatics got to the ball and hit it back to him. Although he wasn't too prepared for such an advanced maneuver to occur, chasing the ball to hit the fence behind him.

He walked to get the ball and saw that it was literally in the fence and pulled it out. Revealing a new hole in the fence. She wasn't joking around, she truly did have a passion for the sport she was playing. He tossed it back to her and prepared for her serve.

She served again without any fanfare right to the Courier. He felt his bicep muscle flex into place while he hit the ball with his racket, causing it to rocket back to her. Then they began to volley back and forth with the Courier borrowing NCR and Legion tactics while Fiona was currently gracefully hitting the ball back with her pure skill, foot work and strength.

They began to trade blows, point for point. Causing some damage to the court and the surrounding fence. The court had literal tennis ball sized craters on both sides of the court. Holes in the fence became more commonplace, while both Franky and Dala made their way out of the tennis court itself and watched from afar.

Eventually it was a tie game, it was a tiring game of endurance but neither showed weakness to the other. The Courier had just tied the game against the best tennis player he had ever seen in his life. Meaning that he got to serve, a potential win condition for him if he played his cards right. He bounced the ball off the floor, its ball now resembling a man’s hair during an unfinished haircut, with fuzz pieces missing from the ball. His eyes locked on Fiona, bouncing the ball some more before throwing it in the air and hitting the ball to her.

Of course due to the ball’s easy trajectory, Fiona hit the ball back right back to the Courier. Its speed increased, but there were no tricks behind the volley to him. Again Courier slammed the ball back into the back of the court, right over her head. He couldn’t believe what he saw. Fiona did in a rather rapid succession, two backflips to reach the ball and while mid flip, hit the ball back into the opposite corner of the court.

The Courier sprinted and jumped to hit the ball, much like how a bodyguard would jump in front of their employer to take a bullet. He hit the ball back to the stoic Fiona, although his hit did put him in a disadvantage for a time being. Due to him flying across the court, his elbow and his body dragging across the floor. He shot up to get ready for the next volley from his opponent. However, it seemed like Fiona pressed her advantage, hitting the ball into the opposite corner from him. With a small frown, Courier Six activated his GRX implant for the last time and booked it to the ball.

He then put both of his hands on the racket and swung like a Super Mutant with a sledgehammer when they saw unruly humans. With an exhale of his breath he made the connection. His implant stopped his slowed perception of time for the third and final time, his senses recovering from his usage of the experimental technology. If it was anyone else, the Courier would have won.

But Fiona Frost was no ordinary woman. She, just like the Courier, with both hands put all of her strength into her swing and hit it over the net right to the man. He planted his feet into the ground and buckled down, preparing for the connection to his racket. He readied his swing, winding it back before swinging and hitting the ball.

Though the Courier heard the ball make a connection to the fence behind him. He looked at his racket and saw that the strings that held it together were all broken, fashioned with a ball size hole. He turned around and saw the ball behind him, beckoning him to pick it up.

He had lost to Fiona, although it wasn’t the worst way to go out. With a small sigh, he tucked the racket between his arm and armpit, and walked over to pick up the ball. He got the battle scarred ball and walked to the woman who bested him and handed it to her.

“Good game. Most people couldn’t come back from that volley.” He complimented. Fiona didn’t really show any emotion to his small praise, which to him was rather humble. If he was in her position, he would have gloated.

“I would have to say the same thing to you. You did rather well for a person who hasn’t played much before.” She said, giving the lightest praise to the mailman. The Courier knew when a person had natural talent or passion for something such as a sport, so he had to ask the obvious question.

“Why did you choose tennis out of all of the sports in the world?” He asked politely. Fiona looked at him with some scrutiny, not in a way that was negative, but rather critical. Wanting to know why he would ask such a question.

“I have played since I was a child for fun. Recently I ran into an opponent I couldn't beat, so I started to train hard for our imminent rematch." She explained, putting some thought into her words. The Courier shrugged his shoulders at the new information.

"Well good luck with that, even though personally I think you'd be just fine in that rematch of yours." He said before handing off his racket to her as well, before waving good bye. He knew Dala probably made some excuse to get away from Franky, since it seemed from what little he saw that she didn't really like his more talkative nature.

He finally exited the tennis court and made his way back home, slowly and methodically. Truly taking in the beauty around him that was lost to the world after 2077. He let a small smile creep onto his face.

Even though he lost a sport not even a minute ago, today was a good day.

Chapter Text

5:45 P.M MOJAVE OUTPOST, NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC

It was a beautiful day in the Mojave. The Sun was beginning to set, having the Sun's rays turn slowly a great mix of red and bright yellow shades scattering across the sand. Much like the neon signs in Freeside and New Vegas, a signal of a turning point on the day that passed. It reminded Bitter-Root of the siege of McCarran during the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, and Bitter Springs when he was younger. Though with the gentle sounds of the hot wind blowing and crickets chirping replacing the sounds of war within his memory of those days long past.

Now in the present, Bitter-Root looked down from atop the bar of the Mojave Outpost towards the winding road below, just in between the giant statues of the NCR and Desert Rangers handshake, a time of hope and change back then. Before the blunders of the Mojave Campaign could occur, Camp Golf became a Ranger Headquarters in the region, and was still on the Frontline. Before the massacre at Bitter Springs, before the Battles of Hoover Dam.

Today you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

Bitter-Root took a puff from his cigarette and blew away with a grimace and a small amount of sarcastic laughter, more bitter and ironic than humorous. His laughter caught the attention of the Ranger sitting down at the table next to where he was standing, leaning on the sandbags. Her lever action rifle on the glass table, along with an ashtray with more than enough cigarette buds planted within them. Like seeds ready to grow, or artillery shells sleeping in the craters made. Bitter-root lean towards the latter.

The Ranger he was with was as pale as moonlight, and wore the more ceremonial uniform of the Rangers, little to no armor, and more for clerical and administrative roles. She wore sunglasses all the time, and was quiet just like him, at least most of the time.

“What are you thinking about?” The Ranger said, looking through her binoculars to the sights below for any movement. Back in the day, she would have been looking for overconfident Powder Gangers, Jackals or Vipers thinking they could sack Mojave Outpost, the loud crackle of her rifle always made them go back into their little holes. Now, it was the stray gecko or giant ant getting too close.

“Nothing really, just thinking about if your callsign refers to the fact people don't see you when you kill them or that you are as pale as white paint.” Bitter-Root responded, sitting down beside her, before burying his cigarette in the ashtray. She chuckled, before letting the binoculars go slack around her neck with its harness wrapped around it.

“The latter in Ranger training. I tell the regulars in the army the former. Keeps my image clean. Plus Ghost is one of the more…nice call signs within the Rangers.” Ghost explained, reaching beneath the table to grab a bottle of whiskey, opening it with a quick breath before drinking half of it in one chug before placing it on the table.

“What kind of call signs are there in the Rangers? They can't be that bad.” Bitter-Root asked, turning now to face Ghost, her blond hair glistening in the sunsets rays unlike his brown hair kept in a buzz cut beneath his red beret.

“A guy from Arroyo got the call sign of Savage, another got Liquid, a dumbass got Shrapnel.” Ghost explained with a very small smirk on her face.

“What's wrong with Liquid? Sounds like an alright call sign to me.”

“He was a bedwetter and chronic…masseur to the local ladies. So people called him Liquid and it stuck.”

“I mean it's the same with Ghost, no? No soldier is gonna know that the guy pissed himself when he was Ranger training.”

“I suppose so.”

The pair went quiet, with Ghost returning to her whiskey and Bitter-Root just staring ahead now, intently at the road that leads to New Vegas. He wants to leave this outpost, and will travel towards that cursed city to have his vengeance against that bastard warlord in the Lucky 38. And he will, at midnight tonight.

“You're thinking about something big, Bitter-Root? You have been staring down the road like it was having an affair with your wife.” Ghost said, pushing her binoculars back to face to scout the area below them, before she put them on the table and picked up her rifle, aiming at whatever she saw.

Bitter-Root, being both a great sniper and spotter in 1st Recon, saw nothing from atop this vantage point to the road below besides the caravans heading towards New Vegas on I-15. He squinted at the interstate and the surrounding areas to see if any wildlife encroached on the caravans, and yet, he didn't see anything.

“You know the higher ups are deploying me elsewhere. They don't need me here anymore.” Ghost said, standing up now, leaning on the sandbags and aiming down sight at whatever target she had. Bitter-Root gave a look at her while standing up himself and taking the binoculars from the table and looking through them at the road below.

“Where are they sending you?”

“It's classified, can't say. Higher ups would have my ass if I disclosed it.”

“Unofficially where are you going?” Bitter-Root asked, spotting a wild beast just a few feet away from an old broken car, rusted to hell and missing its tires. It was stationary, green and prickly with its skin being somewhat putrid looking. Its arms pointing in opposite directions, with a flower on top of its head like a crown.

“Hostile wildlife three feet from the rusted sports car on my left.”

Ghost shifted her rifle and pointed at such an indomitable creature, sights on such a devious creature blending into the desert environment. She snorted at the callout, and took her shot, shattering the beast before it could hurt any of the merchants below. Its clear blood and green gore coloring the sand and rocks surrounding it. Ghost then pulled the lever on her rifle and brought it back in, having been prepared for the next terrible beast.

“I'm vacationing in New Reno, visiting family near the old Shark Club, babysitting my two cousins.” Ghost explained tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and fixing her cowboy hat, straightening it.

“What a funny coincidence, I'm taking a vacation too. I saved up enough money to get into the Strip. I always wanted to get an assignment that had some gambling.” Bitter-Root said, with an edge to his voice. Ghost's smirk from earlier narrowed, and nearly evened out.

“Is it a paid vacation?”

“No.”

The two stared at each other, with neither breaking. Sunglasses meeting his coal like eyes, burning with a plan that would make his Great Khan parents blush. Pieces of shit that got what they deserved at Bitter Springs. Vile excuses of people who tried to sell him for chems.

“Are you visiting anyone while in Vegas?” Ghost asked in a plain voice, looking at her empty whiskey bottle on the table, and then back to Bitter-Root who was unshaken by the implication. He doubted that Ghost was scared of him, since Rangers had little fear in them if the stories from his squad mate Sterling were to go by.

“My old squad mates Ace of Spades, Sterling and Betsy. Might even see my old friend if I get lucky.”

“And your friend?”

“He used to work in the Mojave Express allegedly, we grew apart after what happened at Hoover Dam.”

“You and I both Sargeant. Grew tired of his antics a long time ago.”

“So will you let me take my unpaid vacation tonight?”

“It's not my place to deny your vacation, have fun. And be sure to visit that friend of yours.” Ghost said, though through her more monotone and laid back voice Bitter-Root knew that Ghost wanted him to succeed.

And he will, he will be the last thing Courier Six never sees.

7:30 P.M SAFEHOUSE, SOUTHERN MOJAVE

For all of the terrible events that occurred for Caesar’s Legion during the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, it worked out for him as the Primo Frumentarius. If they had won and Legate assumed the title of Caesar, Mars only knows what the man would have done to him.

But of course that didn't happen. A certain damnatio memoriae from Goodsprings dueled the Monster of the East in battle and won. Causing a great upheaval in the Legion since there was no obvious and declared heir to Lanius in case of his death. He knew who it was, and it wasn't going to be him. For he was a spy at heart, and wasn't trusted by the veterans in the military due to his covert methods.

While Vulpes Inculta wasn't trusted by the centurions and the general military outside the Frumentarii, the leader of the Praetorian Guard, Lucius, was. While he wasn't respected by the younger legionaries, the upper echelon of the military did respect him. With centurions like Gaius Magnus and Aurelius of Phoenix backing him, Lucius ascended to the throne.

But now with most of the centurions and decanus backing Lucius' reign as Caesar, he can focus on his own devices. This mission wouldn't have been approved by Edward Sallow, but was approved by Lucius, wanting vengeance against the profligate that killed Lanius and denied the Legion her rightful victory.

Now Vulpes found himself in front of a small home, with a faint orange paint job and red door. The dirty white curtains block any visibility through the only windows in the home. An old generator on the side of the house hummed softly, granting the home its gift of light. Behind him, was an old and used campfire, with a broken hotplate on the ground right beside it. Taking his right hand, he knocks on the door, then again, with a small break in between, then a heavier knock, like he had a warrant.

“What is the password?” A voice on the other side of the door said, obviously male and middle aged.

“Fidelio.” Vulpes answered, fixing his black tie, which juxtaposed his tan suit and fedora. The voice inside the house went quiet before asking another question.

“Who am I?”

“Whoever will please and serve Him.”

The man on the other side of the door went quiet, and in a matter of seconds the door's latches and locks were undone.

“Come in amicus.” The voice said, opening the door to reveal a man wearing an aged gray bandana, a plain white shirt and suspenders. His face showed his experience through its wrinkles and white hairs in the sea of black in his bear.

Vulpes stepped inside and his colleague shut the door behind him. The safehouse living room wasn't the most appealing to his eye, but it will do for now. Dirty tiled floors, the wallpaper peeling, the green becoming like mold in its texture. A small orange red couch was on the left of him, along with a staircase that led down to the cellar.

“Atticus has maintained this place secrecy under the noses of the profligates, and now the degenerate cowards of Vegas.” Vulpes' Colleague said, standing at attention before relaxing onto the couch.

“You understand that Caesar wants to avenge our loss at Hoover Dam, and that we are to kill the people's dictator in their so-called Free Economic Zone? Cato, this will pale in comparison to your mission prior to Hoover Dam, though I don't doubt your experience.” Vulpes said, his insidious smile coming to his face once again.

“First the profligate leader, now the damnatio memoriae that rules over a city of whores and addicts,” Cato said, putting one leg over the other. Confidence shining through his words. “No difference to me, just another kill to my name.”

“That much is true, but we must formulate a plan of action. Our speculatores have said that Courier Six hasn't left the Lucky 38 in four days, even skipping his weekly meeting with the three families of Strip and the Kings. Which means a few things.” Vulpes explained to his subordinate. He sat down next to Cato and crossed his arms with a small confident smirk.

“He is plotting a scheme similar to our own, to kill Caesar or the puppet in Shady Sands out West. He has traveled, as his name suggests, as a courier for the Mojave Express and Western institutions within the NCR. He has gone out to Northern California with that former profligate sniper and Ghoul from the Far South for more…personal reasons.”

“And those were?” Cato asked coldly, staring ahead at the wall.

“Irrelevant for our mission Cato.” Vulpes answered, before continuing on.

“He could also be dead, killed by his AI slave. The rumors on the Strip say that the securitron with a smiling face started to assert itself to others, but not the Courier publicly at least. They say that the AI is called Yes Man ironically, and despite his name can be quite…sassy towards anyone not named Courier Six. But some sort of upgrade occurred shortly after Hoover Dam making it more independent.”

“Tch, typical. Profligates pour gasoline onto a fire that they think will warm them. Tell me Vulpes, is it more than likely that has perished by the golem he has empowered?” Cato asked snidely, his smile thin line slowly becoming u shaped before defaulting back to his neutral expression.

“It's possible, but in the case of his death, Caesar wants confirmation that he is gone. Pictures of his corpse, severed head etc. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it isn't the case since he is aligned with the Brotherhood and quite technologically adept,” Vulpes said, explaining a scenario to the Arizona Killer.

“Then what do you think made the man a shut in?”

“He has been known to slink off into little adventures prior to the forming of the Free Economic Zone of New Vegas. Our scouts and frumentarius spotted him in Utah near Zion Valley. Another rumor says that he survived the Sierra Madre, though I doubt that the place exists. So that leaves two locations, assuming he isn't just in the Lucky 38. The Great Divide or the Big Empty.”

“Not to doubt you Vulpes, but how can you be so sure? The Divide is inhospitable to life and the Big Empty, much like the Sierra Madre is a myth, a legend for prospectors.” Cato said, looking at his boss. Not to doubt his judgments, but to see his reasoning.

“Scared of traveling to the Divide? It's not our first option of course, but a possibility nevertheless,” The dirty blond explained before continuing. “I believe that we should go to the Lucky 38 first, and if he isn't there, or a lack of any more new information learnt from our informants there, we go to the Divide.”

“And you seek out me, and not your second in command?” Cato asked, meeting Vulpes' green eyes with his brown.

“Gabban is out near Denver, helping our legionaries remove a Brotherhood chapter in the local mountain range. Whatever they are guarding, they seem to be protecting it with their lives.” Vulpes said before motioning to stairwell down to the cellar, before standing up himself. Cato got up and followed his boss down the old and metallic stairs to the cellar.

The cellar itself wasn't the largest, but it wasn't the smallest. Its old white walls were faded and seemingly catching the flu with the amount of dew on the inside. On the ceiling was a singular aged light bulb dangling from up above, emitting a yellow light. Just in front of the entrance and hanging on the wall is the flag of the Legion, a golden bull on a scarlet red background with a golden trim boxing the bull in the center of the flag.

To their left was left of the rations for the safehouse, bags of yeast, local fruits and cans of meat were few, since the last supply run was prior to the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, and was scarce since. To their right however is what they were looking for, three twin size beds with no sheets on them, with some blankets and a singular pillow on each. Beneath the feet of each bed was a medium sized metal cache full of all sorts of goodies.

Cato leaned down and undid the latches of the cache on the floor near the left most bed. He opened it and took out the more rustic frame of the 9mm submachine gun, with a drum magazine. He placed it on the bed, and then took out a rather used and rusted combat knife.

“How are we to confirm the Courier whereabouts or even enter into the Lucky 38?” Cato asked, turning to Vulpes who was digging through his own cache nearest to the stairway, leaving only the middle cache unopened for now. Vulpes took out a hunting revolver, a model of gun similar to the famous ranger sequoias that Veteran NCR rangers used. Though it is without it so called ingenious engravings and equipped with a scope. Vulpes, without looking, answered him.

“There are many ways to confirm his location. Though it's best we accept the fact that we aren't getting into the Lucky 38. We have informants on the Strip and Freeside we can meet with. The scaffolding on one of the larger buildings in Southern Freeside should somewhat allow us to look at the balcony of the building, albeit very obscured,” Vulpes then took a silenced 10mm pistol and put it on the bed before meeting Cato's gaze.

“We can also pose as members of the Followers of the Apocalypse and gain entrance to the Lucky 38, but if the man was that stupid already, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

“You are too kind to this profligate, he may have seduced the natives of this desert with his markets of vice and sin. But it still bleeds like men do.” Cato said, moving to the middle cache to open it.

“This sort of underestimation leads to a fool’s death Cato, many of our assassins thought the same. The NCR rangers thought the same as well. Neither group returned at all,” Vulpes warned, his voice growing stern though it was more professional than offended. “Courier Six is the most dangerous man in that city of cowards, and a jack of all trades.”

Cato nodded with an affirmative hum, and opened the last cache. There was a lot of healing powder along with a ripper, a single handed mechanical chainsaw. Along with a brush gun, the lever action rifle most commonly found with the NCR rangers and higher ranking legionaries such as the vexillarius or centurions. The gun itself wasn’t too interesting, with its wooden grip and long barrel, though it was worth noting it was a lever action rifle.

Vulpes smirked at the weapons taken out and sauntered over to them, and Cato knew why he came over. With the smallest twitch in his left eye, he handed the brush gun and ripper to Vulpes, and in return he got the hunting revolver. Wasn't the worst trade since he still had the combat knife and submachine gun.

Cato tucked the combat knife into where his knee was covering it with his pants, and put the submachine gun into the pants’ right pocket while the revolver got into his left pocket. Vulpes on the other hand attached the ripper to a makeshift holster on his right hip, and was seemingly content with just carrying the brush gun, with his silenced pistol tucked away in his waist right where his spine met his tailbone.

“Remeber Cato, while the world is full of sheep, we are merely wolves disguised as men,” Vulpes said, handing Cato the healing powder left, not taken by him. “For we are the elite of the Legion, the few surviving old stock frumentarius left from the Mojave Campaign.”

Cato accepted the healing powder and put it in whatever pocket had more room. He then turned to the old Legion flag on the wall. Cato walked over, brandishing his knife and cutting a corner piece off, and wrapped it around the knife before putting it back in its hiding place on his person.

“And I am right to assume that if we fail this task….”

“We would be better not coming back, Caesar wants blood,” Vulpes says, turning his back on Cato and beginning to walk out of the cellar. “In hoc signo taurus vinces, victory at all cost.”

Cato looked at the spy master and smirked before he returned to his neutral face, now following Vulpes up the stairs.

“Infiltration, assassinations, atrocities to break the dissolute spirits. Unsullied by our enemies demented and weak culture. But I must ask, Vulpes, if Mars is with us, then who is against us?”

Vulpes laughed, though it was restrained and trained.

“You know the answer to that already, Cato.”

Both wolves went out of their den at night, in search of a shrewd fox among a sea of sheep and dogs. Knowing that their hunt will be successful, no matter what.

9:36 P.M AEROTECH OFFICE PARK, OUTER NEW VEGAS

God, he fucking hates this place. It almost makes him wonder if it was worth it to bash Motor-Runner's skull in. Sure he's alive now, along with some of his former Fiend crew, but this place sucked.

Aerotech was one of lamest and saddest places on planet Earth. Old Pre-War office buildings turned into housing units for the disenfranchised, poor and addicted. Sheet metal covered the old metal fences to keep people in and out. Once the NCR pulled out, the place fell into disarray. It became better after a while but still it wasn't as good as his former compound in the Southern Ruins. Aerotech was cramped, tight and small for the former refugee camp. While there were definitely less people with most of them following the NCR back West or moving into the various ranches in Outer Vegas and Freeside, some still remained here.

This would have been an easy target if the Fiends were still an active gang. Small amount of NCR presence and a lot of easy pickings. Plus it was defensible with its walls, and two story buildings. He would have had a sniper perched on one of the roofs at all times, but that wasn't the world he found himself in anymore. He accepted the Courier's deal for clemency and protection against any NCR aggression for his loyalty, just like some other Fiends.

Most of them were too far gone unlike him and a handful of others, they were sadistic or reliant on chems,and were too focused on the deviant side of life. Culled by either the NCR during the fighting at McCarran, his coup against Motor-Runner in Vault 3 or simply drifted after the group disbanded.

While the Fiends were officially gone, that doesn't mean that the members that made the group up disappeared over time. The more sane ones like him were pushed to get clean, hanging out, working at or residing at the Old Mormon Fort. Some became prospectors or tried to form smaller raider groups to reclaim former glory. They didn't find success, obviously too many new factors came about after the battle at Hoover Dam, order was restored by a single man with an idea of an independent Vegas.

The days of raiding were over, and the things that bothered him now were these freaks at this camp and his quiet struggle with Med-X. As much as he loved to shoot up and just laze about like he used to, he couldn't. It would violate the agreement he made with Courier Six.

He still kept his golf club though. People still widened their eyes at him, shielding their children when he walked by or even crossing the street with their eyes never leaving him. Just because he killed about a dozen NCR soldiers with his golf club and was a hard chem addict then doesn't mean he just kills people carelessly now.

Sure he did then, but that was in the past! He would have loved to have caved in his bunk mate's skull, fucker threw up his entire dinner near his bed. God, being a “nicer” person can be exhausting sometimes. How the Courier thinks a person like him and the other Fiends can change is beyond him, but he's happy that he's alive.

It was a dark night in the Mojave. With only the subtle light from offices surrounding him, along with the barrel in front of him emitting a light based fire from its top, rather than the electric lights illuminating him from his back. The small courtyard in the middle of the small settlement. He heard footsteps behind him, but didn't turn his head to face them, recognizing the pattern. Holding up his hands to feel the fire's warmth.

“Nephi, it's nearly ten o clock! You should be inside resting.” The man called out, his raspy voice giving away the fact that he was a ghoul. Nephi rolled his eyes at the man's remark.

“I'm just keeping watch Bert. In case some unsavory people try to snatch people away at night.” Nephi said sarcastically, now turning to face Bert. The ghoul doctor wore a plain white t-shirt with blue jeans, and a light green bandana wrapped around his forehead.

“It's good that you kept your sense of humor Nephi, but I think there's another reason you're outside besides… some cultural differences,” Bert said, putting his hand on Nephi's shoulder in a friendly manner. “You've fallen off the path before, but now you strive to follow it just like in Utah. It will take awhile for your sins to wash away, but these people will grow on you and they will begin to trust in you.”

“Fuck off with your cult nonsense Bert. Some God he is huh? A lot of my kills cried out His name and He never saved them from my hands. You think me handing out food and water to these losers will have me absolved of all wrongdoing! I can't just rebuild someone's skull!” Nephi said, his anger rising. Bert raised his hands defensively, his tone becoming a more quiet, paternal almost.

“Nephi, listen to me. We are going to do a breathing exercise together, and we are gonna hold our breath for five seconds before releasing it.” Bert said, taking a deep breath in. Nephi, fists clenched at his side followed along reluctantly breathing in and holding.

One

He doesn't know he goes along with it in the first place! This entire thing was bullshit! Bert thinks the Courier spared him out of the goodness of his heart, but Nephi knew better. That warlord in Vegas just wanted bodies in his quick war with both the NCR and the Legion. After that, he didn't give a shit about the Fiends, only that they didn't continue raiding. He didn't have to worry anymore, his gang, his way of life was gone. No more easy pickings from tourists and locals from the Westside. No more chem runs from the Great Khans, and certainly no more fun.

Two

Besides the fact that he had no choice to agree to the Courier's plan after he convinced Cook-Cook and Violet to overthrow Motor-Runner. Not long after that coup and their siege of McCarran during the battle of Hoover Dam, Cook-Cook would mysteriously fall in battle, his flamer's gas tank exploding and engulfing him in flames, the man still laughing high out of his mind, not even realizing that he was a dead man walking.

Three

Afterwards the Courier gave the rest of Friends clemency and pardons for their previous actions. With some stimulations obviously, their freedom was more conditional than unconditional. No use of chems or alcohol, no raiding caravans or citizens, and restrictions on settling the southeast. No clue why any Fiend would want to move near the solar plant, where the tin cans took military grade toasters from the unknowing merchants.

Nephi's scowl slowly started to dissipate as his brows began to unfurl, taking a more natural expression. The shine of the flames in the barrel reflecting from atop his head liberally behind him. Bert followed his own advice and word, with silence between the two New Canaanites.

Four

Now Nephi was here in Aerotech, with seemingly no future for himself. It didn't matter to all these people that he was doing “good” or that he didn't refer to himself as Driver Nephi anymore. But God, he wishes he could. One more clean line drive into a hole is all that he would need recently.

Though at the same time he couldn't, not anymore. While he was still speedy and strong enough to break people's skulls with his 9 iron, his heart as damaged as it is, did ache now.

Nephi didn't know if he was someone magically redeeming himself or if all the Med-X had taken a toll on his heart. Like he gave a shit anyway.

Five

Both Bert and Nephi released their breaths they were holding. The flames within the barrel flickered a bit before returning to form.

“Bert what the fuck is the point of all this,” Nephi asked with snark apparent in his tone. “These people in the offices aren't going to suddenly like me, they won't better themselves for their own sake and this place in a few months isn't going to be standing.”

“Its the right thing to do Nephi, that's why. I didn't join the Followers of the Apocalypse to convert people or for notoriety. These people need help.” Bert explained.

“Even people like me?”

“Even people like you.”

It was silent after that for a while. Bert put his hands to his sides before talking after a small silence between the two.

“Nephi, can you do me a favor?”

“And that would be?”

“One of the residents here needs some Med-X to ease his back pain from a beating he received in Westside. I understand that due to your previous addiction to the drug, that you may not-”

“Say less, I'll do it Bert. I wanted to go on a little jog anyway. Better than standing around doing fuck all.” Nephi accepted. Bert gave his friend a faint smile, before responding.

“Okay Nephi, just be careful when entering Freeside. While the securitrons helped with lowering crime, it still is pretty lawless.” Bert warned. Nephi raised his shoulders while putting his hands up in a mock surrender, his bravado becoming more apparent.

“You should worry about the thugs not me, where do I have to get the Med-X shipment anyway?” Nephi said before walking towards one of the office buildings, past Bert.

“Old Mormon Fort, just tell Julie that Bert sent you.” Bert said. Nephi gave a thumbs up before entering the office buildings where people were taking refuge. The inside of the building wasn't very special. While some old desks, cubicles and file cabinets remained, they were mostly replaced by makeshift beds made out of straw and cardboard, with some actual mattresses on the floors beside its cheap imitation. The refugees, drunks and others were either sleeping in their beds or socializing with each other. Playing cards, mostly war and caravan, or just holding a conversation.

Nephi ignored them, and their stares as their polite conversations became discreet whispers about him. The man who killed dozens of NCR soldiers with a golf club, and stormed McCarran while doubling his confirmed marks.

Pathetic is what they were in his eyes. Missing teeth, some entire limbs with stumps stopping short of their kneecaps or just below the ankle. Some were huddled in their own cliques, eyeing him up like he killed their dog. He probably did, but he didn't care. What were they gonna do? Hobble on over to him and strangle him?

Reaching his bed, and opening up the old desk drawer revealed his old battle Fiend helmet. A leather cap with a brahmin skull on top, its lower jaw cut roughly half and half, and put on the sides of the cap. With the rest of the skull on top, with a dusty red swirl on the forehead of the skull. With some gold house keys tied to the horns of the animal skull, just for some extra flavor.

Putting it on his head and hiding his bald head, Nephi felt nostalgic for the simpler times. But he couldn't linger on that thought for longer. Opening up the larger bottom desk draw revealed the metallic grip of his infamous weapon, his 9 iron.

Taking it into his hand and eyeing his toy up and down, liking the weight behind it. Not too heavy, not too light. It was perfectly straight, and with a singular spade on the club part of the old sports equipment, and remarkably clean. He always cleans this thing with Abraxo cleaner, and it paid off clearly, with his past kills seemingly not haunting the weapon.

Leaving the office building and the greater Aerotech faculty if one could call it that was easily enough. Nephi cringed at Bert wishing him, well but no matter, it was going to be a quick errand to run away. He didn't need Bert to act like a mom sending her son off to school.

Now he found himself in Outer Vegas itself. Nothing too remarkable really, just some small and medium sized ranches littered the sandy ground, like pebbles in a sand dune. With some being vacant, and others occupied. Nephi walked quickly and quietly to the entrance to Freeside. Its walls tower over him and anyone who wishes to enter the ghetto. On his way there he passed by the Gun Runners factory, chained off by a fence and guarded by snipers in some rustic towers. And the old Crimson Caravan Company headquarters entrance and concrete wall greeted him. Although the words Crimson Caravan were spray painted over with the color black, and replaced by the New Vegas Caravan Company. With the city's name painted on the black paint with a small brush clearly, in the color light blue.

Finally reaching the entrance of Freeside, he saw three Kings members guarding it and the nearby water pump, with some more standardized equipment of the NCR's Battle rifles and service rifles. Though they still wore their black leather jackets, and put too much gel in their hair, and styling it into slickbacks or with one curl in between their forehead or brows depending on how long it was. They didn't stop him from entering, they didn't really care.

It wasn't their job anyway. They were more interested in magazines and fixing the water pump than him. Freeside itself was a welcoming change of pace. The buildings of the slum surround him like he owes them caps from a bet, two to three stories at the minimum. Though some were in better conditions than others. Clearly in a state of disrepair and neglect, but yet scaffolding supported them like crutches. And with many of the locals living and making themselves comfortable with their broken homes.

The sidewalks and roads were full of people. Locals conversing with one another on street corners, with them being surrounded by criers paid by the local business to bring them new customers. Much like the prostitutes who were to bring home money for their pimps. An odd bunch of people really. On the sidewalks, the vagrant and less fortunate homeless were sitting on the floor begging for scraps or caps. Or sleeping eerily still, with only the faint rising of their chest. A familiar sight to Nephi.

The Kings were out in force, along with the securitrons. The Kings were scattered among the populace handing out bottles of water and food, and even stimpaks occasionally. One King member even took his time teaching a young kid how to dance. With the King swaying his hips and arms in a weird sensual pattern with the kid awkwardly following along.

Another group of Kings were surrounding a barrel with a lit fire on its top, along with a handful of locals. One of the Kings had a makeshift drum made out of a bucket and another had an acoustic guitar preparing a song to play, while the other Kings and even some of the locals began to snap their fingers in unison. The guitarist began to strum his instrument gently with care, when one of the taller Kings began singing, with a small chorus behind him

“I only have eyes for you~ My love must be a kind of blind love. I can't see anybody but you~”

Nephi rolled his eyes at the song, before he turned the corner to see the securitrons. Robots that keep order along with the Kings. Machines with a boxy masculine appearance, with a cartoonish soldier wearing a webbed green helmet and smoking a cigar on its television screen in the middle of its chest. A little antenna on top of where a head and neck would be spun rapidly, with its arms kept at its sides, scanning for potential threats. With it rolling slightly back and forth on its one wheel, like a boat rocking back and forth in the gentlest of waves.

Nephi stared at the securitron, before moving on with his objective. Passing by a mural on an aging wall depicting The King with a white bird on his shoulder with words written on a wavy ribbon above him.

Every man is a King! But no one wears the crown!

Nephi snorted. Yeah right. Walking passed the graffiti art, he saw two boys chasing a giant rat with a baseball bat, wearing nothing but rags. Nephi scoffed before, looking back seeing the older boy swing and miss. Badly. Like he was more so trying to hit the air than the rodent.

He was going to continue walking to the Old Mormon Fort, but he saw the boy miss again, with the young one flicking open his switchblade and springing after it as the older kid with the bat face planted. Nephi's eye twitched and he chuckled quietly to himself, as he saw the rat turn towards him.

The former Fiend, winded up a swing with his golf club and planted his feet down like the roots of a tree as the rodent charged at him. Swing his weapon at the rodent, it directly hit it in its head, causing the giant rat to whip its head back with a loud groan due to pain. As almost as if the rodent cursed him out with his last gasp of air as it connected to the ground. Twitching a bit before going completely still.

The two boys finally caught up to the rodent, with the boy with the switchblade crouching down and beginning to skin it, to reveal its meat. The older boy, now with a small stream of blood trickling from his left nostril was on the other side of the rodent, telling the younger boy what to do before turning to Nephi.

“Thank you mister! If it weren't for you we wouldn't have gotten dinner tonight.” The boy said enthusiastically. Nephi took the bottom of his tank top and wiped his prize possession off of the rodent's blood before replying to the kid.

“It wasn't anything special, kid. You could do it if you hadn't eaten shit earlier.” Nephi said. The boy giggled and was about to reply back. But it seemingly died in his throat as his eyes widened. He hits his partner in crime arm a couple of times to get his attention, causing the younger boy to look up from the carcass. His eyes widening too, not before long, he shot up and sprinted away from Nephi.

The man's face turned into scowl, before he cupped his mouth.

“You ungrateful pieces of shit! Next time I'll let the rat run past my legs and into the fucking sewers!” Nephi yelled.

But then he heard it. Barking. A whole lot of dogs barked behind him, getting louder and louder before it reached him. With one of the dogs jumping onto his back, causing him to drop his weapon onto the floor away from his arms, and for him to be dropped to the floor. With his head hitting the concrete face first. It hurt a bit, but not as much as the gigantic dog standing on his back. Two other dogs ran past him, and to the dead animal, and started to tear it apart. The dogs themselves looked familiar, and less feral than before. Not domesticated by a normal dog breeder, that's for sure. With their skin looking more normal though their muscles were well toned and obvious to the naked eye.

“Hey Violetta! What-What did I tell you about jumping on strangers without my permission? You can hurt yourself!” The dog owner said, seemingly not caring about him. “BoneGnash, GnashBone! Bad dogs! You could get worms and momma would have to get you checked out.”

The two dogs whined a bit before yielding to their owner and leaving the carcass along. Violetta however wouldn't get off his back as Nephi realized who was the dog owner.

“Violet, get your chem riddled dog the fuck off my back!”

The former fiend dog breeder giggled madly, and walked over to the struggling Nephi. Their brown eyes meeting each other as Violet laid down besides Nephi.

“Hey Nep! It's-It's been a long time since the Courier cut us loose. I even got to keep my dogs! My sweet and lovely dogs. I feed and bathe them so well, and they get fed good treats. Good dogs get fed good meat, but not the meat I gave'em back then!” Violet said sporadically and quickly, which caused Nephi to groan.

“It's a pleasure to see you again Violet.” Nephi said, strained due to his rising anger and the dog on his back.

“Really? I thought you didn't like anyone and was going to fuck off somewhere. Not like my doggies, so cute and beautiful with their hair, and-and their wagging tails. Whose a good girl Violetta? You are!” Violet said, talking to her pet more than him.

“No you fucking dolt why would I ever have the pleasure of seeing you again? How did they even let you in here! Your dogs are unique and are,” Nephi struggled to find the right word. “Special.”

“Hey! My dogs are not stupid! Smart dogs, big dogs. You're lucky they don't eat you alive for that. Violetta, get off Nep's back.” Violet said before the large dog did as she was told sitting by her master's side. Violet stood up fixing her own fiend helmet along with her bandolier which were knocked askew a bit from her antics. Her light blue mercenary grunt outfit contrasted her darker skin tone and her fiend helmet. She rubbed Violetta's face and started to baby talk to her.

“Who's momma's good girl? Yes you are! Who's gonna rip out their becks, bring me their weapons and heads! You are!”

Nephi stood back up and retrieved his golf club and sighed deeply at the fact that he ran into this crazy bitch again. The only two things she had in common with him were that they were both Fiends and that they are both bald.

Nephi tried to sneak off to the Old Mormon Fort, not before a securitron rolled over to them, with its soldier face changing to a white background with a smiley face on it.

“Hello you two! My friend has you guys on a list full of….interesting people that may be of use for my super duper fun mission!” The securitron said joyfully. Nephi squinted at it, while Violet continued to play with her dog, now rubbing her belly as her tail thumped wildly against the pavement while she was petting to the two other dogs' heads evenly.

“Wow! You guys surely are…special and one of a kind! Like snowflakes. But I guess you guys wouldn't know what that is huh?” The Securitron joked.

“What do you want? We-I,“ Nephi corrected before continuing. “Didn't break any laws, and I have to deliver a shipment to Aerotech from Old Mormon Fort.”

“Don't you want some adventure in your life? I can pay you all handsomely. I can also see that what you would do during this adventure will be waved away from your restrictions put in place by my boss. Oh! And my name is Yes Man! Pretty cool right?”

“No.”

“Violetta thinks the name is stupid.”

“Ouch, tough crowd! But hey Driver Nephi, I can have the securitrons deliver it for you! Don't you want one last run? One last chance to let loose and go wild? Well my job can do that just for you! And your..friend.” Yes Man said, his tong like fingers twitching inward. Nephi looked intrigued, while Violet was in her own world at the moment. Yes Man looked at Violet and his screen flickered up and down.

“I can pay you Violet in dog treats, toys and-”

“I'll do it! BoneGnash broke his ball the other week and he was very upset. He almost took out his anger on some drug dealer. Nixon? Dixon? Mason?” Violet said as she stopped to think about the drug dealer's name.

“What's the job?” Nephi asked, swinging his golf club absent mindedly.

“Just some lost and found stuff. Nothing too serious! Besides, you'll get to have some fun! Isn't it boring to just lay about every day?” Yes Man, turning slightly to face Nephi.

“Why aren't you being specific about it? You can just tell us if you think it's so easy.” Nephi said.

“Because you never know who could be listening! A lot of people are very talkative and this stuff could be sensitive, y'know? They could try to undermine you, or me if they stole or even destroyed this item I'm looking for!” Yes Man explained.

Nephi weighed his options. Being able to kill someone again would be nice, but he would be partnered with Violet, the most insane person he knew. But he did know and saw first hand that Violet is a great sniper at McCarran. With his melee and her range, it would be easy like the robot said.

“What about payment? I don't need dog food and any of that shit.” Nephi asked.

“Caps obviously! But I could pay you in dollars or coins if you wish. And the payment can be discussed along with the mission later at the Lucky 38.” Yes Man said, his screen flickering again.

“Fine, I'll do it. Just get one of your bots to deliver a Med-X shipment to Aerotech. The package is at the Old Mormon Fort, and has it said that Bert sent it.” Nephi said, accepting the job.

“That's super awesome you two. Now just follow me to the Lucky 38, and we can discuss in more detail there!” Yes Man said, excited, turning around and rolling himself back to the old casino. Violet ran after him, followed by her mutts. Nephi sighed and walked after them.

What the hell did he get himself into?