New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our program. This is Mr. New Vegas. I've got some news for you. A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness and is expected to make a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on! Also, unconfirmed reports indicate that the NCR Correctional Facility is under prisoner control following a successful riot. Locals should avoid anyone who looks like they've done time. Today's headlines were brought to you by Primm: the other New Vegas. Got some Dean Martin coming up, talking about the greatest feeling in the world: love. Ain't That a Kick in the Head? It sure is, Dino. It sure is.

There were 13 miles of broken road between where I'd crashed my car and Primm. Once I'd installed the power cells in the engine and pushed it back onto the road, the trip was pretty uneventful… but that was to be expected. One of the biggest curses of the wasteland is also one of its greatest benefits: because people tended to cluster in small, tight knit communities, there would be vast expanses of very little, or nothing at all. And more often than not, "nothing at all" just meant giant mutant bugs, which made people even less likely to want to travel.

That's one of the reasons I was unsurprised to find my car unmolested after a week. The I-15 gets more traffic than a lot of roads, sure, but that just means it might get one or two caravans passing that way a month, if that. Add in the fact that (unless you saw it running) you could easily mistake my Corvega for one of the innumerable broken, rusted, burned out husks littering almost every road, it meant that if anyone did happen to pass by it, they likely wouldn't have even given it a second glance.

It was close to 10 pm when I rolled up to the outskirts of Primm. The town was cut in half by the I-15, with an overpass connecting the east side and the west side. The east side had all the casinos, like the Bison Steve with its broken down roller coaster, and the Vikki and Vance with its stupid death car exhibit. More important to me though, the east side had a Mojave Express outpost – specifically, the outpost where I was supposed to return and deliver the payment, according to the delivery order I'd been given at the same time as the Platinum Chip. If I was lucky, there might be some information there I could use to find the man who shot me.

Because of the wall surrounding most of the town, the only easy way into the east side of Primm was the overpass, and that meant going through the west side of town. The only things of note about the west side were a half dozen abandoned buildings – which is why the lights coming from the west side were so strange. The lights didn't look like fires. It looked like someone had got the street lights in a small section of town up and running. So I parked my car by the side of the road, and headed the rest of the way into town on foot.

"Hey!" A voice eventually called out to me from the darkness. I looked around, trying to find where it came from, my eyes landing on what looked like a makeshift guard shack made out of bits of scrap metal. "Where do you think you're going?" When I got closer, I could see the man speaking to me from inside the guard shack was wearing an NCR trooper uniform: light brown fatigues, brown shoulder armor with "NCR" stenciled on it, a pair of goggles on his face, and a tan helmet. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, across his back.

"I'm going to Primm," I said honestly, pointing in the general direction of the east side of town. "Is that a problem?"

"Primm is off limits," the NCR soldier said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. I looked at him questioningly.

"Off limits? Off limits to who? I didn't think Primm fell under NCR jurisdiction," yet, I added mentally. I had mixed feelings about the New California Republic, as did a lot of people. On the one hand, the NCR did a lot of good. Most of the territory that fell under NCR protection was among the safest you could find in the wasteland. People could live in relative peace, and even raise families without having to worry about raiders or slavers or mutants every moment of every day. But on the other hand, a good chunk of the people who ran the NCR administration – politicians, government officials, generals – they were all useless and incompetent, or horribly corrupt, and they were in serious risk of running the fledgling nation into the ground.

Part of the NCR's problem was that it was expanding way too fast. They were spreading 'the good word of the NCR' further east every day, without bothering to make sure the places they 'annexed' (a fancy word for conquered) were properly cared for or protected. "Uniting everyone under one banner so they can be ignored or interfered with equally" could've been their damn motto.

"Didn't you hear about the prison break?" the NCR trooper explained. "Some of the Powder Gangers came south and have taken over Primm. Everyone inside is either dead or in hiding. The NCR is here to contain the situation. And that means no one in or out."

"I think I can handle myself," I said patting Roscoe, which I had strapped to my hip. "Besides that, I have business in Primm I need to take care of. I bet I could get in, get done, and get out before the Powder Gangers even knew I was there." The NCR soldier looked unimpressed.

"Normally I'd say it was your ass. But right now, I have orders to hold the line here, and orders are orders. You're not getting into Primm."

I rubbed my eyes in exasperation. I hated dealing with NCR troops.

"Look, who's your commanding officer?" I asked. He stayed silent, and I continued. "Call your commanding officer on that radio I know you have, and let him know there's a courier here who wants to speak with him about getting into Primm. That way, you can continue to follow your orders, and I can do what I need to do." He continued to stay silent, apparently weighing his options. Finally he reached for the radio that was sitting on the desk next to him.

"Lieutenant Hayes?" He said into the radio. A muffled voice crackling with static replied.

"What is it, Corporal?"

"I have a… Well, he says he's a courier, sir. He's requesting access to Primm and wishes to speak with you." There was a moment of static filled silence.

"Alright, send him down, Corporal. Good work." The radio clicked off.

"Head down the road; you'll find Lieutenant Hayes in a tent at the south end of town." The NCR trooper said to me, putting his radio back on the desk. "But if you want my advice, you'll stay on this side of the overpass if you don't want to get shot."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, walking past the guard post and down the dimly lit street. It wasn't long before I found the tents the trooper was talking about. There were two of them, with doors made out of corrugated metal; the tents were set up underneath a pair of streetlights they'd somehow managed to get working. Hanging from one of the lights was an NCR flag: a two headed bear on a white background, standing above the words "New California Republic," written proudly in gold. One of the bear heads was looking at a red star, and a red stripe covered the bottom of the flag.

The metal door on one of the tents opened up, and an NCR soldier stepped out to greet me. He was wearing heavier looking armor than the corporal at the gatepost, with a chest piece that covered most of his fatigues. Instead of a helmet, he was wearing a dark green beret, with a gold bear pin. He walked towards me, and held his hand out to greet me.

"I'm Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic Army, 5th Battalion, 1st Company." I shook his hand.

"Sheason Fisher. I'm… er, a courier." Not quite as impressive, I'll admit.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Fisher. What's your business in Primm?"

"I'm trying to find the men who shot me," I replied simply, pointing at the scar on my right cheek. "My only lead is the Mojave Express outpost in town. All I'd need is fifteen minutes in town to find any information I can. Thirty, tops. But I understand you aren't letting anyone in or out, right?" He nodded.

"We were sent out here to hold back the tide of convicts from the correctional facility. But the problem is, the convicts are better armed and organized than our intel suggested. We've cornered and cut off the small force in town, so they can't get reinforcements, but I've lost some good men, and I can't spare any more to make a push to drive them back."

"Sorry to hear that," I said diplomatically. Honestly, I couldn't care less. "I am curious, though… why are you telling me all this?"

"You said you're a courier, correct?" I nodded in response. He continued. "I'll let you into Primm, in exchange for a favor. I need some more reinforcements, but my men and I only have short-wave radios, and like I said, I can't spare anyone to make the trip to the Mojave Outpost," he reached into one of the pouches on his belt, and pulled out a folded envelope. "All I would need from you is to deliver this reinforcement request to Major Knight. He's in charge of requisitions at the outpost. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah," I nodded, as he handed me the envelope. "I think I can handle that." I put the envelope into my jacket. "Truth be told, I needed to head to that outpost for supplies anyway."

"Then we have an agreement. Be careful, though – most of the convicts have holed up in the Bison Steve, turned the place into a bloody fortress. I'd stay out of there if you want to get out of town in one piece. Good luck." I nodded, and as I walked away, I heard him speak into his radio. "Private, there's a courier heading into Primm. Let him pass."

For a town supposedly taken over by convicts, Primm was really quiet. I hadn't met a single person, convict or otherwise, after crossing the overpass and heading down the main street. I still had Roscoe drawn, just in case. I could see my destination – a square, two-story building with "MOJAVE" on the front and "EXPRESS" on the side written in big (but unlit) neon lights.

As I approached the building, I saw the first signs of violence. There was a body slumped up against the side of the building. As I got closer, I could see a splatter of dried blood on the wall at head height, and a trail leading down to the deceased man's head. Something didn't feel right about this. I looked around, suspecting the body might be bait for a trap, but I couldn't see anyone. I even checked my Pip Boy – one of the features I'd discovered was a compass that had a built in "friend-or-foe" radar (how it determined what a friend or a foe was, I didn't know) – but even that turned up empty.

I knelt down to get a good look at him. His left eye was missing, replaced by a bloody hole. This didn't look recent; the body was cold, and the blood had dried up to become almost black, which probably meant he'd been dead at least for a couple of days. And then I recoiled, not because of the wound… but because I recognized who he was. This was Daniel Wyand, a courier like me. I'd met him before, two years ago, when we crossed paths during a job in Shady Sands. He was a really nice guy – last time I saw him, we'd shared a drink when the deal we'd both been hired to do went tits up, and both of us ended up without a client.

That was when I noticed that he still held something in his right hand – a piece of paper. Gingerly, I worked it free from his hands (how could a dead man have a grip that tight?), and took a look at it.

INSTRUCTIONS

Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for the delivery. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express agency in Primm.

Bonus on completion: 250 caps.

MANIFEST

This package contains:

Two (2) Oversized Dice, composed of fuzzy material

CONTRACT PENALTIES

You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until the delivery is complete and payment has been processed, contractually obligated to complete this transaction and materially responsible for any malfeasance or loss. Failure to deliver to the proper recipient may result in forfeiture of your advance and bonus, criminal charges, and/or pursuit by mercenary reclamation teams. Mojave Express is not responsible for any injury or loss of life you experience as a result of said reclamation efforts.

I had to read over the delivery order several times, to make sure I'd read it right. Then I reached into my pocket, pulling out my own delivery order, and comparing them. The instructions were exactly the same, the payment was exactly the same… the only difference between these two orders was the package itself.

Something wasn't right. Something was seriously not right. I took another look at Daniel, and then at the Mojave Express building. If I was going to find anything, inside was my best bet, so I put both delivery orders away, and carefully opened the door. Nobody was inside. Two things on the counter caught my eye, however.

The first was a very large metal ball. It looked like a robot, with a reinforced speaker grille on the front, transmitters and antennae coming off it, and… a laser? There was a license plate bolted to the side, and I could tell that it was there in a futile attempt to fix some kind of problem. Most of the letters on the license plate had either been worn or shot off, so the only thing left was "ED-E." My curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled back the license plate to get a look inside. It was broken, obviously – some servos and gyroscopes looked like they needed either recalibration or replacement. It looked advanced, sure, but a lot of the components appeared to be, at the very least, similar to components in my car. I could've probably had it up and running in five minutes. But I left it where it was. It wasn't mine.

The second thing I noticed was a simple note. I unfolded it, and gave it a look.

Ruby: We've taken refuge in the Vikki & Vance. Get there as soon as you can.

-Johnson

I knocked on the front door of the Vikki & Vance casino, checking around to see if there were any convicts. A panel on the door slid open, and I was greeted by a pair of eyes.

"Who are you? What do you want?" a voice growled at me through the eye slot.

"I'm a courier. I need to speak with Johnson Nash." The eye slot slammed shut, and I heard a muffled voice from inside yell: "Johnson! Courier to see you!" There was a pause. "He don't look like one 'o them bandits!" Another pause, and then the eye slot opened.

"Alright, Johnson says to let you in. But I got my eye on you. Pull any funny business, an' I'll perforate you." And with that, he opened the door, slamming it shut and locking it as soon as I stepped inside. It was a dusty casino, with a weak sort of orange lighting. In the center of the building was an ancient car, riddled with bullet holes (the "death car" exhibit), and a Protectron robot stood nearby, wearing a cowboy hat.

An old man walked up to me; he had a dark, wrinkled face that almost looked like leather, a weary expression, and short, very curly grey hair. He was wearing a grey work shirt with dirty brown overalls. He had a cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth that he didn't even bother to remove while he talked.

"I don't know what it was brought you to Primm, youngster, but you might wanna rethink your plans. Whole town's gone to hell." He let loose a puff of smoke from his nostrils when he finished.

"You Johnson Nash?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yep. Husband to Ruby Nash. Lived in Primm goin' on eight years now, thick and thin. I'm a trader, primarily, for what it's worth with things like they are."

"But you run the Mojave Express outpost in town, too, right?"

"Yeah, Jimmy told me you was a courier when he let you in. I don't got any work for you right now, I'm sorry to say. We kinda got bigger problems." I shook my head, and reached for the delivery order.

"No, you don't understand. I was supposed to deliver a package and it was taken from me. I thought you might be able to help me find who would try and take it, if I showed you this." I handed him the delivery order, and he studied it carefully, a look of dawning comprehension coming over his face.

"Oh," he said, as if he suddenly understood everything. "So you're talking about one of them packages. That just had strange written all over it, but we couldn't turn down the caps." Suddenly, I had a sinking feeling in my gut.

"What was strange about it?"

"That cowboy robot had us hire six couriers. Each was carrying something a little different. A pair of dice, a chess piece, that kind of stuff. Last word I had from the office, it looked like payment had been received for the other five jobs. Guess it was just your chip that didn't make it. The first deadbeat we hired to do the job cancelled. Hope a sandstorm from the Divide skins him alive. Well, that's where you came in, I guess." Something that he said earlier caught my attention, and I decided to pursue it.

"Cowboy robot?" I took a look around the casino, and my eyes returned to the Protectron with the cowboy hat. Someone walked by it, and it turned with a shudder. Even from where I was at the front of the casino I could hear its voice (completely free of any kind of emotion or inflection) say HOW-DY PART-NER. YEE-HAW. I pointed at it. "Do you mean that one over there?" Johnson shook his head.

"Nope. Different fella. Bigger. Had himself a face on a screen, and he talked more like you or me." I paused. No… no, he couldn't mean… could he? I shook it off. It couldn't be Victor. The way the people in Goodsprings talked about him, it sounded like he'd been living there for 15 years, and had never left. Instead of pursuing details about the robot, I decided to ask about the other courier.

"The other guy – the first courier you hired for the job. You said he cancelled?"

"Yeah, got this look when he saw you next down on the courier list. His expression turned right around, asked me if your name was for real. I said, sure as lack 'o rain, that's the name I'd been handed. Then he turned down the job, just like that. I asked if he was sure, it was good money. Nope. Let 'Courier Six' carry the package, that's what he said. Then he just up and walked out."

"Do you know who he was? Where he went?" I asked. Things were getting stranger by the minute, but maybe the original courier knew who shot me.

"No idea. Sounds like you two had a history for him to act like that. And turn down the money, too. Maybe he saw trouble in that package of yours. Maybe he thought your name was bad luck. Not for me to say." Or more likely, I thought to myself, he knew someone was after the chip and didn't want to get shot in the face. Either way, I could tell the original courier was a dead end.

"Look, back to what I was asking: some men stole my package, and left me for dead," I said, to try and grab his attention. "A man in a checkered suit and some thugs. Do you know if they came this way?" He tapped his chin, and a bit of ash fell off his cigarette to the ground.

"Well… now you mention it, a few nights back one of the townies was out scavenging for supplies. He said he saw a fella in a daisy suit come through with some 'o them Great Khan misfits. They was talkin' about a chip. If you wanna find 'em, your best bet is goin' to be talkin' to Deputy Beagle. Since they came to town he was keepin' a good bit of notes on 'em. He may have heard where they were going. Only… well, there's a sorta… hitch." What now?

"Hitch?"

"Well, he was skulkin' round the Bison Steve when those thugs who call 'emselves Powder Gangsters or whatever rolled into town. That was a couple'a days ago, and I ain't seen him since."

That was bad news. I remembered what Hayes had said – the Powder Gangers had turned the Bison Steve into a fortress. I doubted that even with Roscoe, and the enhanced accuracy of V.A.T.S. that I'd stand much of a chance on my own. I needed more firepower. And that was when a thought crept into my head, followed shortly by a smile.

"Hey, Johnson? About that broken robot of yours…"

When I stepped into the Bison Steve, the little round robot I'd found in the Mojave Express outpost (who I'd decided to call "ED-E" after the license plate) hovered in the air beside me. ED-E emitted a soft whirr and a few chirps as it floated along. I scanned the inside, but didn't see anyone. Then again, the lighting inside was so poor, I could barely see anything. There were a few overturned tables in front of me, acting like barricades.

ED-E and I moved forward. I came to a doorframe, and peeked my head around the corner. Off in the distance, down the hall, I could see one of the Powder Gangers facing a corner; from the sound, I could tell he was… relieving himself. I turned to ED-E.

"Well," I whispered. "Let's hope that laser of yours still works."

Seemingly taking that as a cue, the robot beeped and chirped as if in response, and then some very loud music – like the trumpets and drums you would hear in a military march – burst forth from the speaker in front. It zoomed around the corner, heading straight for the convict, who had stopped pissing long enough to pick up his rifle.

Well, so much for stealth.

With a flash of light, and a sound which could only be described as ZOWNTCH!, the robot fired its laser at the convict's rifle. The Powder Ganger dropped the now glowing hot weapon immediately, giving me the perfect opening to land two V.A.T.S. shots in his chest. He hit the back wall, and collapsed forward onto the ground, dead.

ED-E floated back to me, a triumphant sounding trumpet song playing from its speaker.

"Uh… Good… job?" I offered. ED-E beeped cheerfully. Any sense of congratulations or victory was short lived, however; all around, I could hear the authoritative sounds of people yelling and shouting orders, accompanied by the sound of boots tromping through the hotel closing in on our position.

There were two ways I could go at this point: straight ahead and around a corner, or towards a nearby door. I rushed for the door – and cursed when I realized it was locked. I banged my shoulder against it at least twice, to try and force it, but it didn't budge. ED-E started playing that same marching music from before. Going for broke, I kicked hard against the door with all my strength. The lock broke off, and the door swung inwards.

"He's in here!" I heard a voice say. I spun around in time to see one of the convicts coming around the other corner, and then get hit by a glancing shot from ED-E's laser. Two more came around the corner, and I fired a few shots in their direction, backing up into the open door. ED-E fired a laser into one, hitting him right in the middle of his face. He glowed white hot for half a second, and then crumbled into a smoking pile of ash. The ganger next to him ducked back behind the wall out of sight.

For half a second, I thought ED-E and I might actually be able to take them all on… and then a nearby couch erupted into flames. I flinched, but looked up just in time to see another ganger come around the corner… carrying a flamethrower! The lobby lit up by the stream of superheated napalm. I ducked into the hallway, ED-E having already flown in, and slammed the door against the heat. Without a lock, it wouldn't hold him for long; I just needed some time to figure out a way to deal with him.

I ran around the corner and down the long hallway, ED-E floating just behind me. There was another door at the end of the hall; I heard the other door behind me splinter. I tried the door and cursed my luck – this one was locked, too. I turned just in time to see the flamethrower ganger round the corner.

I had one chance, but only if V.A.T.S. was with me. I took careful aim and tried to hit the fuel tank on his back. One of the bullets was a little too high and hit the wall behind him; another bullet was a little too low and grazed his shoulder; the last bullet hit the tank, but it was only a glancing shot, and deflected off into the ceiling. I let loose a very loud, violent exclamation.

ZOWNTCH!

The fuel tank glowed white hot, but rather than disintegrate into ash, it exploded in a massive fireball, showering the end of the hall in flame. The light in the middle of the hall shattered in a shower of glass and white phosphor, and a wave of heat washed over me. As soon as the dust settled, and I looked at the end of the hall I could see all that was left of the ganger: flaming chunks of meat and a bloody stain. I was sure my mouth was hanging wide open, while I just stared at ED-E, which floated happily in the air next to me.

A triumphant sounding trumpet song played from ED-E's speaker.

I opened the door to the hotel's kitchen carefully. ED-E and I had run into a few more gangers after the one with the flamethrower, but it seemed like they'd gotten the message. I'd figured out how to signal to ED-E to be more cautious, and not just shoot everything in sight. Even so, we'd only run into two more – maybe. The rest seemed to be hiding.

Inside the kitchen, however, there were no gangers – just a single solitary figure on his knees. He looked to be about thirty, with feathery blonde hair, and oddly soft features – something you really didn't see on people in the wasteland, much less on a man. His hands were bound in front of him.

"I do not suppose you came here to rescue me?" He said, looking up at me, eyeing Roscoe. "I would cross my fingers but my hands are numb."

"You must be Deputy Beagle," I said, motioning for ED-E to watch the door.

"Why, yes. Yes I am. Pleasure to meet you. As you can probably see, I am in a bit of a predicament here. I would be most appreciative if you would set me free." I don't know if it was the nonchalant tone in his voice, but for some reason this 'Deputy' seemed incredibly shady. Even so, he was the best lead I had.

"Way I hear it, you have information on a guy in a checkered suit who passed through here a couple of days ago, with some Khans." He nodded.

"Indeed I do, good sir, and I would be thrilled to share that information with you as soon as I am released from captivity." I narrowed my eyes. This guy was trying to play me, I could tell, but he might have information I needed. I looked around the kitchen, and my eyes fell on a nearby serrated knife. It was dirty, and still had a bit of dried blood on it. I put Roscoe back in his holster, grabbing the knife and kneeling down to Beagle's level so I could talk to him eye to eye.

"Alright. I'll set you free." His face lit up.

"Oh, that's just marvelous! I -" before he got a chance to continue, I held the knife close to his face. He shut up instantly.

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Beagle. If you try and run away without telling me what I need to know, I will find you, and I will gut you with this knife. Clear?" He started sweating bullets.

"Oh! Why, uh, of course! I would never let you fight my kidnappers with my help. Uh, without it! I meant without it! You just… lead the way!"

I cut the ropes around his wrists with a snap.

"Well! That was quite the adventure!" Beagle exclaimed as the two of us walked into the Vikki & Vance. "We taught those convicts a thing or two, didn't we?" I just sort of… stared at him for a minute. We hadn't run into any Powder Gangers on the way back out. Turns out, he wasn't shady – he was just a coward. I sighed.

"Whatever. Look – deal's a deal. I set you free, you tell me about the man in the checkered coat. What do you know?"

"Ahh, yes. My memory is much clearer, now that I am free from my bondage." There was something odd about the way he talked. I couldn't put my finger on it. "I was skul – er, I mean, performing recon, gathering information on some of the Powder Gangers, when some Great Khans arrived in town with your friend in the suit."

"He ain't my friend," I said with a glare.

"Well, yes. I gathered as much, since I heard them talking about some delivery they took from a courier. That must have been you then?" I nodded. "They said they would be heading through Nipton to Novac to meet a contact there. And that is all I know, I swear."

Well, it wasn't much. But it was more than I had 20 minutes ago when I entered the town. I flipped the knife around in my hands, and presented it to Beagle, hilt first. He flinched as I twirled it so close to him.

"Take it," I said. "A memento of your… 'glorious escape," I said with a smirk. "C'mon ED-E. Let's get out of here."

The robot chirped happily and floated behind me out the door.