“Oh, Twilight, I can’t just wait to have super duper fun there again! We haven’t been there in weeks!”

Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle left Ponyville when the former had a bad case of the Pinkie Sense. As everyone had come to know, the Pinkie Sense was not something one should doubt. Much to the latter's chagrin, they left without telling the others of their plight. So in all, this was an under the radar mission.

“Yeah, uhuh. That’s nice, Pinkie.” Twilight put off her friend as she tried to finish a very interesting and informative book.

“Wow, the Pinkie Sense is just off the charts! We need to get there soon, girl.” Pinkie added as she stuck her head out of the train car.

“Yes, yes. Your Pinkie Sense is always right.” Twilight groaned. She wanted to just arrive in Appleloosa already.

“How many of them do you see, Corey?”

“Well, at least a good twenty. And would you stop calling me Corey?!”

“Hey, it’s the best name I can give you so far. I mean, you’re the Courier, so the short version of that is Corey. Understand?” The man asked in a very dumbed down voice, insulting the Courier.

“Listen, man, just because you gave purified water and all of that good stuff doesn’t make you a badass.” Courier responded.

“I’d like to think that I am one considering I took down the Enclave after Liberty Prime got blown to shit.” The Wanderer jested.

“Whatever, just get your gun ready,” Courier reminded. “They’re getting closer.”

Three Years Earlier.....

The Lone Wanderer and the Mojave Courier have been exploring the remnants of the desolated and war-torn United States of America. Not long ago, a short while after the Courier had travelled to Zion National Park, the two heroes had met each other. While the mailman was making his way back to New Vegas, he took a wrong turn and ended up in a cesspool of a city called Tuscon. It was just as Raul had described it.

Not long after the vaquero’s departure from the decaying place, crime had begun to multiply by the hundreds. In fact, Raul Tejada was the only thing that had kept crime from entering the place. But upon the ghoul’s absence, all hell broke loose. Thankfully, the Courier had packed just what he needed to survive any harsh conditions. Upon his entrance of the vortex of crime, he was attacked by an ungodly amount of junkies. He fended them off with finesse but still had trouble when more came knocking around the corner.

Just when the Courier thought he was done for, a friendly blast of a laser rifle invited hope into his heart again. The Courier turned to face another man in a Winterized T-51b Power Armor suit coming to his aid. Without questioning the sudden reinforcement, the two dispatched dozens of junkies, thieves, and criminals that tried to take them down.

And so, after the entire gunfight was concluded, the two finally received a chance to talk.

“Thanks for the help, God knows I needed it.”

“No problem, making sure that people are safe is my duty.” The Power Armor clad man responded.

“You do this on a daily basis?” The Courier perked up.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Maybe we can help each other..”

The two saviors of the Wastes have been inseparable since. They were a good partnership, in that neither of them underestimated the other. They were equal in power and strength and were both learned of the same things. There was one thing that they found most homey in one another; they both stood for what was right.

The Courier and the Wanderer crusaded against crime since that day. After they returned to New Vegas, the Courier welcomed his new friend into the Lucky 38, in which he had his home and belongings. The Courier switched from his previous Black Combat Armor with a Vault Security Helmet to his prized NCR Ranger Combat Armor.

In this state of relaxation, the two were able to speak more freely and get to know each other better. They shared many interests; the good of the people, the saving of the weak, the love of guns, the fear of Deathclaws and Party Hats, and the common good of the Brotherhood. Also, why the fear of innocent Party Hats, you ask? No one knows for sure, but it is most likely something primal or other wise.

They also recounted one another’s ventures into the world. The Wanderer told of his life searching for his father, James. He recalled how he left his only known life in Vault 101 into the Capital Wasteland. In it, were all sorts of factions vying for their own power. Then there was the encounter with the Enclave, the venture into Point Lookout, Pittsburg, a Pre-war simulation, and hell, even an alien spaceship. Despite all of these power struggles, the Wanderer was able to meet good and friendly faces along the way. He met Harkness, an android who had wiped his memory to become a new person. He told of Elder Lyons and his daughter, Sarah Lyons. Lucas Simms, Madison Li, Reilly, and many others fit into the category of those who wanted nothing but good intentions for the Wasteland.

Then, the Wanderer recalled his misadventures with his companions. Despite their views on life, the Wanderer was able to make good of all of them. Jericho, previously a raider, had been turned good along with Clover, a slave. Then there was Butch DeLoria, a Vault rascal and Sergeant RL-3, an emotionless robot. But the rest of the followers were just like the Wanderer. Star Paladin Cross stood for the rights of the people. Fawkes wanted nothing more than to save humans from his own kind and the Enclave, despite being a Super Mutant and all. Dogmeat and Charon were particularly loyal. Despite any dangers, the canine and the ghoul would follow their master from the inferno and back.

“Wow, that’s a pretty good story.....for kids. Let me tell you mine.” The Courier remarked.

And so, the Courier told of how he was shot in the head point blank, how he had managed to survive, his adventures within New Vegas, and his dealing with Caesar’s Legion. The Courier hated the Legion. He also hated the Whitelegs inside of Zion Canyon for wanting to follow in the tyrannical horde’s footsteps. But worst of all, he hated the treatment of women in both of these cultures. The Courier was an equalist, meaning that he wanted all to be treated the same. That was why he had joined the Brotherhood in the Mojave Chapter and the New California Republic. He joined them because he thought that they would be able to improve living conditions. The Brotherhood could share their technology and the Republic could provide food, water, and shelter for the poor. After fending off the Legion and Mr. House, New Vegas was finally under control.

After the giant battle over the Hoover Dam, the Courier was called to many new places. He was brought to an Old-World Treasure, he was invited to an expedition to the Zion National Park, and he was taken to the Big Empty or the Big MT as it turned out to be. There, in the Think Tank, he met a collection of scientist who were in a conflict with another. From this place, he gathered technology, weapons, armor, and new body appendages.

All the while, good friends had managed to keep him safe the entire way. Craig Boone’s veteran NCR Ranger skills were greatly used, as were Arcade Gannon’s medical set. Veronica’s specialization in unarmed combat proved useful in close-quarter situations and Cass’ precise shotgun skills provided much needed back-up. ED-E was like a pet in a way, and Rex was just a plain out pet. As for Raul and Lily, the Courier felt much sorrow for them. Raul had lost his family due to greed and jealousy while Lily had gone crazy and had most likely lost her grandchildren to the world.

The two gunslingers shared this in common. They shared a long knowledge of sorrow. And to this sorrow, they drank. What transpired after they drank inside of the Lucky 38 is another tale that is yet to be revealed. All they could remember from the pervious night’s events were that they managed to have a threesome with Sarah Weintraub, who spoke in kinky mechanical dialogue. They managed to be banned from the Gommorah for filling the outdoor pool with dirty liquids. While inside of the Tops, they brawled with a few of the guards for one reason. All of the guards seemed to have the same voice, clothes, and lines. As soon as a body guard walked up to the two paragons, he would speak “Nnnhey, there’s the high rollers.” And  finally, they had a strip party with NCR Military Police officers, all of whom were men. And no, the two protagonists are not gay.

But still, since that day, they have travelled all across the remnants of America, purging evil and crime with Lucky and Vengeance.

Back to Present Day...

“Ready?” The Courier asked.

“As ready as a Radscorpion!” The Wanderer answered.

“.....Alright, go!” The Courier got into a vantage point while the Wanderer charged head on with his gatling laser, Vengeance.

The plan formulated by the gung-ho BoS Paladin was simple. He would run and gun while the mailman had stayed back and picked them off. It wasn’t entirely the best plan they had agreed on but it seemed right for the moment. Within seconds, the Wanderer’s weapon could be heard firing in bursts while the Courier clicked off his safety. The Courier looked into his Anti-Materiel Rifle’s telescopic sight and saw the Wanderer mowing down more than six  Legionaries.

All was going fine for now, the Courier had managed to blow a few brains out while the Wanderer was ripping the limbs off of the slavers with his precision laser repeater. Saying it was a bloodbath was an understatement. Things were going just smoothly when three Legion Recruits jumped on the Wanderer’s back, causing him to spin out of control while firing his weapon blindly. Sure, Power Armor was durable but it’s pretty hard to wear while having three guys on your back. Within moments, the Wanderer was on the floor being trampled by the Legion troops.

“Shit!” The Courier exclaimed as he switched to incendiary rounds. “Oh no, I want to go and rip their balls off. Screw strategy, they’ll never see me coming. It’s not like I have a hulking suit of forty pound metal.” The Courier mimicked the Wanderer’s previous plea. He switched magazines and fired three controlled shots into the crowd of maniacs. They were quickly set ablaze as the Courier slid down the rock slope and rushed at the group. He threw his rifle to the ground for a moment and took his trusty side arm in hand.

He wrapped his hand tightly around the white ebony grip and studied his weapon for a moment’s notice. The black three leafed clover represented its namesake while a long black sleek barrel and chamber made up the rest of the gun’s portion. At the very end inscribed the word “Lucky.” With a mental kiss to his revolver, the Courier fired six rounds into the remaining attackers.

Four thuds confirmed his kills as he moved to his friend. The remaining seven Legion forces retreated. The Courier looked down to his Power Armor wearing friend.

“Hey, you good?”

The Wanderer groaned in response. “Don’t speak about this again, Corey.”

“Stop calling me that and we have ourselves a deal.” The Courier accepted as he extended a hand.

Mr. Power Armor accepted as he was helped up by his friend. “Alright, I’ll stop calling you ‘That’ and I’ll keep calling you ‘Corey’” The Wanderer laughed heartily.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too!”

After giving him the finger, the Courier could not but help laugh also. Though they had been surrounded by death, bloodshed, and guns, comedy was the only thing that helped them get through the day.

“So where to now?” The Courier asked.

“Still have the Trans-whatdamafier?”

“You mean the ‘Big Mountain Transportalponder!’?”

“Yeah whatever. Do you?”

“Of course, it’s always handy to have in case I want to ditch your ass.”

The Wanderer growled.

“Hehe, anyway, yeah what about it?”

“Ever been on a spaceship?” Under his helmet, the Wanderer grinned. He wanted to see just how far the teleportation device could go. So he planned on bringing the portal onboard, and using it when the ship would travel a good few planets away.

“Actually, no. I have seen one before! I killed the Alien Captain for his Alien Blaster. I have to say, it is one of my most prized treasures. I even have a picture of the Aliens’ faces when I smacked them upside the head with the Oh Baby!.”

“Right..well let’s go back to DC. We can go on Mothership Zeta and test something out. Besides, you have to see what the world looks like from up there.”

“Fine, lead the way.” The Courier motioned his hands towards the road.

“Hold on, my boots are killing me. I think there’s a rock or something because this floor is hard!” The Wanderer began to move his feet around.

*Beep*

“Did you-” The Courier tried to say.

*Beep* *Beep*

“What is that?” The Wanderer wondered.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

“I think-” The Courier looked down at where his partner was standing. “Shit.”

*BOOM!*

The Lone Wanderer and the Courier were thrown a few dozen feet away as the plasma grenade exploded under their feet.

They both tried to move but their bodies felt numb and were unresponsive. Black forms began to crowd around them as they blacked out.

“Hey, wake up!” A voice called.

“Wake up!”

“I said, WAKE UP!”

The two pals woke up as they felt electricity surge through their veins. Regaining their sight and consciousness, they tried to observe their surroundings.

“Good, now that you Profligates are awake, we can truly enjoy this occasion. Decanus, the prisoners have awakened!” The Legion veteran called out.

Another Legion member moved to the cage holding the Wanderer and the Courier.

“Finally, we have the two troublemakers. You two have been a thorn in the Legion’s side for some time now. You,” The Decanus turned to the Courier. “Killed our great leader. Many sorrows were had that day. And you,” He turned to the Lone Wanderer. “Have been chasing our forces out of the East for too long.”

The Decanus stood to his feet. “I, Dead Sea, former leader of Nelson, have taken judgement on these two meddlers. I order their deaths by crucifixion. But first,” Dead Sea turned back to the two. “We shall have them fight each other.”

Loud bouts of cheering and shouting surrounded the two. They came to realize that they had been tossed into a Legion camp. If they did not devise a plan soon, this could be the end of them.

“Hey, I got an idea.” The Wanderer whispered.

“Oh not again.”

“Listen, we pretend to fight. I did this with Somah on Zeta. Then, we pretend to knock each other out. Once they come in to smack us around, we get the jump on them and take their weapons.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly comfortable in these.” The Courier pointed to his absence of armor. All he and his friend had were undershirts and briefs.

“Me neither. You ready?”

“Like a Radscorpion.” The Courier grinned.

The cage was slowly opened as the Legion recruits moved them out towards an arena. The gate closed behind them as dozens of eyes gazed upon this spectacle. The Wanderer, who had a rough black beard and a clean haircut, much like his father, waved to the crowd like a show dog. The Courier, who sported the same beard but had brown messy hair, flexed his muscles.

“Get on with the fight, slaves!” A recruit beckoned.

Cracking their necks, stretching their arms and legs, and loosening the stiff bones in their hands, the two friends faced each other. The Wanderer made the first move, which was charging, and landed a “punch” on the Courier’s eye. He, in turn, did the Ranger Takedown. The Wanderer fell to the ground as he kicked the Courier. And with that, they knocked each other unconscious.

“What?! These two fell that easily? No matter, take them and string them up!” Dead Sea commanded.

Four Legion recruits piled into the arena and neared the two brawlers. They bent down to drag the two but ended up being smacked upside the head. The Wanderer and the Courier sprung to their feet and locked jaws with their respective Legion duos. Within moments, the Legions apprehenders were killed from either a snapped neck or a bashed-in cranium.

The pair looted the simple machetes off of the bodies and charged for the gate. Everything went by like a blur. The Wanderer and the Courier dispatched any who stood in their way. Their intended location was the storage room in which all of their equipment was stashed. They were not invincible, however, as they were shot at, cut, bludgeoned, and everything in between. Finally, after receiving many cuts and bruises and returning the favors, they reached the armory.

“Cover me while I put my Ranger Armor on.” The Courier said.

“Oh, I get it. It’s easier for you to put that on so then you can cover me. Gotcha.”

“Actually, I just wanted to go first, but thanks for giving me a better excuse.” The Courier said as he put on his helmet. The two red eyes flickered on as he gave the Wanderer a thumbs up.

“Fuc- You know what, fine.” The Wanderer moved over to his one of a kind Winterized Power Armor and began to equip the clean version of the T-51b.

Power Armor was actually more complex than one would think. It wasn’t just a simple suit of metal that protected one from harm. It was a suit of metal that had gyros, built in filtration, lights, and strength enhancers that would protect one from harm. Special training had to be given in order for one to wear any variant of the armor. It was a difficult and tedious task to lift the heavy joint of the armor and learn how to move it fluidly. Underneath the armor, one had to wear an interface suit, or Recon Armor, which would attach to the larger suit of metal.

Well, for the earlier models such as the T-45d. As for the T-51b, the circuits and parts were more cleanly and efficiently built, so no interface suit was needed to wear them. They were both made of a special poly laminate composite which would protect one from laser, and bullet damage. While T-45d was also made with primitive steel parts, the T-51b was made with specialized plastic. All-in-all, the T-51b was more sufficient and protective. But, they were common in that they had bullet-proof visors and they had enough power to run for lifetimes.

Now that the lesson on the armor is over, let’s get back to the story.

“Well, you done?” The Courier asked impatiently while shooting out of the door.

Legion soldiers were trying to enter the room but thankfully, there was only one way in. And that one way was being covered by a skilled marksman with two revolvers in his hands.

“I’m running out of Sequoia ammo.”

“Stop your fussing. This stuff gets hard to put on, ya know.” The Wanderer said from the locker room.

“Why not just wear something else? Maybe you could wear that Winterized Combat Armor you showed me.” The Courier inquired as he shot three rounds from Lucky.

“That...is a good question. Why don’t I wear it? Oh, I know, maybe because it doesn’t give me radiation resistance?! Besides, I’m not even sure how I got it. Some malfunction in the simulator was able to give me everything from the simulation.”

“DC is weird.” The Courier commented. He peeked out of the door, only to be met with a dozen shots from Marksman rifles.

“Hey, that’s my home you’re talking about!” The Wanderer was silent. Then, the sounds of thumps and metal grinding against each other was heard. “Anyway, I’m all done. Here, take these." The Courier took a few stimpacks from his buddy and they both injected themselves with the healing syringes. "Move out of the way.” The Wanderer took his trusty weapon in hand. “Let’s go, baby.”

The Wanderer kicked the door open as he fired madly upon the crowds of Legion troops gathered around the door. They all fell to the ground as the beams of a neon red cut through their flesh. Some tried to fire at the Paladin but it proved useless when the bullets were absorbed or reflected. Not long after, the shooting stopped.

The Wanderer made quick work of the defenders. “Would you look at that? Legion-kebabs!” He laughed at his stupid joke.

“Har-har, that’s great. Now can we get moving. I don’t plan on being a slave, crucified, or just burned. Now where’s that ship of yours?”

The Wanderer put one of his black gloves to his helmet’s chin. “Hm..well the last thing I remember, we needed to head west, since we were facing east. But..I don’t even know where this is, so...I have no idea.”

“Well great, just great. I fucking hate the Legion.” The Courier complained.

“You and me both, friend.”

“No, I mean I REALLY hate the Legion. Like I....if there were a better word to use than hate, then that’s what I’d use.”

“Despise?” The Power Armor-wearing man suggested.

“No no,” He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s not good enough..hm..”

“Let’s take this somewhere else.”

“Fine, but I know there’s just a word for it..”

The dynamic duo made their way out of the camp and towards any kind of civilization nearby. After what seemed like a few days, which in reality was only four hours under an excruciating sun, they reached a small town.

“Welcome to Gold Rush, strangers, the mining town of Arizona. This here is Legion territory.” The farmer pulled on his suspenders proudly.

“Goddamn it.”

It took some time, but they eventually made their way all around Arizona, hoping to avoid the entirety of Caesar’s Legion, and travelled east. Colorado was somewhat a bit of a rest stop. There was a foothold held by the Brotherhood there. Although it was a small foothold, mainly due to the huge concentration of the Legion forces there, the two adventurers were able to rest there and stock up on ammo and food supplies. After this, they continued on their way east.

In Kansas, they found a great ally. The Brotherhood of Steel had a strong presence in this area, making the entire trip through worthwhile. Their damaged weapons and armor had finally received the attention and care they needed. All the while, they were able to receive better directions and shortcuts through the bordering states.

Missouri was no different from the previous two states, and the Courier and Wanderer progressed quickly. At this rate, they would reach the Capital Wasteland within a week or two.

“Whoa.”

That was all that the Lone Wanderer had to say when they had arrived in Kentucky. It was just as John Henry Eden, the President of the Enclave, had described. It was still standing and many of the Pre-war buildings were left alone. It was still tricky for the two though, as the Enclave, although disbanded, held a strong presence on the area. After a few run-ins with the Remnant, they high-tailed it out of Kentucky and into Virginia.

“I welcome you to my home, Corey. Welcome to the Capital Wasteland.”

They had finally arrived. After some very harsh times, they had managed to travel from one part of the country to the other. And their efforts were about to pay off.

“May I suggest that we stop by my favorite partying place, Dukov’s place?”

“What the hell is a Dukov’s place?” The Courier asked.

“Why, Dukov’s place is a Dukov’s place!” The Wanderer explained, annoying his friend.

“Let’s just get there.”

Surprisingly, they ran into multiple groups of Super Mutants on their way to Dukov’s place. Also, they had to fend off the occasional visit from everyone’s favorite mercenary group, the Talon Company Mercs. Not only that, but they also had to fight Mirelurks which had baffled the Courier.

“I’ve seen some weird shit, but what the hell is that?” The Courier pointed to a Mirelurk that was as blue as the ocean.

“Oh, that’s just a Nukalurk. Must’ve got out from the Nuka Cola Plant.” The Wanderer explained as he shot his shotgun at it. “The Ol’ reliable Terrible Shotgun. Never leave home without it.” He swaddled his scattergun into his arms. “Who’s a good little shotgun?”

“Why do you carry a weapon that’s called the ‘Terrible Shotgun?’”

“Because it’s terrible.”

“That’s..”

“Terribly awesome!” The Wanderer continued.

“Whatever. I think this baby has your gun beat. No one crosses the Dinner Bell. Ring-a-ding-ding!” The Courier said as he shot a Mirelurk in the face.

They arrived at Dukov’s place not a moment later. It was certainly a playboy’s safe haven. There were drinks, games, and naked women. Although it was missing a certain hot red head that the Lone Wanderer had escorted to live at Rivet City.

“Hey, my buddy! How did it end with that old grump Crowley, eh? Come, come, there’s enough drinks for everyone!” The Russian man was joyful as always.

“Oh that..well, let’s say that two in the head makes sure you’re dead. If you get my drift.” The Wanderer said. He dealt with Crowley in the best way possible. When the Vault Dweller found out that the quest was for a special piece of Power Armor, he kept it and shot the old evil bastard ghoul with no remorse.

They spent the rest of the day there, drinking to their heart’s content. They slept with some new girls there as well. When they woke up, the Wanderer was slamming his head into the wall, trying to end the hangover. The Courier, who was chuckling, moved up and put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“It is that bad?”

“Uhuh.” The Wanderer answered.

“Serves you right. I told you, traveling with Cass has given me a huge tolerance to alcohol. So after that thirty sixth shot glass, you should have given up.” The Courier slapped his back hard.

“Shut up, Corey! Oh man, I don’t understand the principle of the thing. I mean, I’m about ten years older than you, and I can’t hold my liquor? That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s alright pal, you gave it a good try. And anyway, that’s not ridiculous. What’s ridiculous is walking around Freeside with a golden Pip-boy. Have you even tried that? It’s like walking up to the White Glove society with a sign saying ‘Eat me.’”

They both laughed at the prospect and freshened up. After they put their clothes back on, they gave Dukov a good amount of caps for his trouble, which was to say one thousand caps, and left. In all of their adventures, the two had actually accumulated a large amount of money. The Courier had at least, a hundred thousand caps back home. On his person was another thing. And the Wanderer had double that amount back at Megaton.

The bright sun of a desolated planet greeted them for a new morning. The Wanderer turned to his NCR friend.

“Okay. So..do you want to go straight to the ship, or do you want to visit my home? And no, not Vault 101. Amata’s still a little touchy on me being there after I..killed her dad..” He trailed off.

“Ouch, that had to hurt your relationship.”

“Yeah, it did. It did. I thought she was the one, ya know? I mean, I knew her my whole life, I defended her, we were best friends as kids, and you know what? I always found something about her that was just so special.”

“What? What was it?” The Courier asked with genuine care.

“I mean, you had to see her in the Vault 101 jumpsuit.”

“What was it??” He asked more curiously.

“And her cheeks. Man, did she have the cutest cheeks you could pinch.”

“What was it?!” The Courier asked with a slight hint of annoyance.

“And those breasts. They were just a good size, you know? They were as soft as a pillow but as big as melons. You could sleep on them.”

“Would you tell me what it was??!”

“It was. That.”

“‘That’ what?”

“That Ass.” The Wanderer nodded his head while folding his arms across his metal chest.

“Let’s just get to the ship.” An irritated Mojave Delivery Man said.

“Fine. Don’t get mad at me when you can’t have fun with the Scribes there. The Citadel has a bunch of Scribes and Initiates just begging for some of that sweet, sweet-” The LW was stooped.

“I get it!”

And so, after much grumbling from the both of them, they made their way to the Mothership Beacon. While on the way there, they stopped at the Wanderer’s house at Megaton to stock up on weapons.

“Pass me that, there. Yeah that.” The Courier took the weapon in hand. “I don’t know what to choose, man. I mean, I like everything I have. The Anti is a pretty good ranged, but Ol’ Painless seems like a vintage gun..I’m not giving up these two revolvers though. Lucky and the Sequoia have saved me more than once. Also, I worked hard for Dinner Bell and you never know when you need CQC. I could trade my knife..Chance’s Knife is pretty old, and that Trench Knife of yours seems pretty clean..”

“Stop bitching. Just keep them then, and take up some bullets. Wadsworth! Get over here and give the man some water.”

“Right away, sir!” The British Mr. Handy responded. He came down and gave the Courier a bottle of purified water. “A neuron walks into a bar and asks for a drink. The bartender complies and proceeds to hand him a shot glass. The neuron asks ‘How much?’. The bartender responds ‘For you? No charge!’”

The Lone Wanderer shook his head. Wadsworth wasn’t exactly one for telling jokes.

“Wow, that was actually pretty funny.” The Courier complimented.

“Why thank you, sir. I’m glad someone here appreciates the jokes that my internal circuit board processes for days on end.”

The Lone Wanderer sighed and took his weapons in hand. “Are we done? I’d like to get a move on.”

The Courier deadpanned. “You’re taking that with you?”

“What? I prefer big guns!” The Vault Dweller took in hand his Vengeance and put the blaster along with the pack on his back. He put the Terrible Shotgun away in a weapons locker. He had taken up the Wazer Wifle for two reasons; one, he wanted to have something with range, and two, he wanted to disintegrate enemies. He put the precision laser beamed rifle on a special storage spot on the Vengeance’s ammo box. Following this, he put his Fisto! on and his gifted Supersledge, the Oh Baby!, on the other hand, which the Courier had given to him as a gift.

“Well, you know what they say about people with big guns. If they have big guns, they have small di-”

“Don’t you dare finish that line.” The Wanderer shook his head disapprovingly while he pointed Oh Baby! in his friend’s face.

“Okay.” They left the room, and moved northeast. Upon leaving the door, the Courier whispered under his breath. “Dick.”

“I heard that!”

It took some time, as Raiders would impede their progress. But the two elite fighters made short work of them and pressed onward. The sun was not as hot as it was back in Vegas, which they were both glad of. While they traveled, the Vault Dweller would tell tales of his father’s past and how he came to be. He also talked about the secret romance that he and Sarah Lyons were involved in. After his stories, the two began to sing songs of their respective radio stations to pass the time.

“Blueeeeeeeeeee Mooooooon, now I am no longer alone. Without a tear in my heart, without a love of my ow-”

“Shh! We’re here. Enough with the bad singing. I’ve heard ferals sing better than that.”

“Hey!” the Courier was insulted. “You’re not exactly Bing Crosby yourself.”

“That’s because I don’t sing Bing Crosby songs. I sing the ones by Ella Fitzgerald. She has the best voice, ya know.”

“You sang in a falsetto voice..”

“So?!”

“Whatever, Pally, let’s get...up...how does this thing work?”

“Pally? Is that the new name for me? Ain’t that bad, actually. Oh, and I have no idea. I usually kick this thing a few times and hope for the best.”

“What.” The Courier said emotionless.

“Yeah, I just kick it and some time later, the ship comes.”

“So you’re telling me that we went all of this way, just for you to kick this thing and hope that it comes?”

“Pretty much.” The Wanderer shrugged.

“That is..alright. Just kick it.”

They both kicked the homing beacon and voila, nothing happened. They decided that camping there was for the best, well, after the Courier stopped slapping the Wanderer’s helmet like a bongo.

“Stop touching me, man” The Courier groaned, trying to sleep.

“You stop touching me.” The Wanderer replied.

“I’m not even...wait.” The Courier’s eyes opened, almost ripping his eyelids off. “Ho...ly...”

“Shit!”  The Wanderer completed.

They were floating in mid-air, unaware of why of all times would Sally and Elliot decide to drop in on them. More specifically, fly in. The giant beam of blue light blinded them as they were suspended in the air. They closed their eyes and a closing sound of some sorts alerted them. They opened their eyes and found themselves in a very damaged spaceship.

The Wanderer led the way as the Courier followed. Many of the doors had become jammed from the space battle that the Zeta had proven victorious in. Also, there were many boxes and miscellaneous items strewn about the floor. Not to mention, there were a great supply of pipes spraying unknown liquids on them. The Courier hoped that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

They reached the deck and were met by five familiar faces.

“Somah, Sally, Elliot, Paulson, and foreign guy, nice to see you again.” The Wanderer waved.

They all waved back, except for the foreigner who spoke no English. The little girl named Sally moved up to the Wanderer. “I found out that his name is Toshiro Kago. When we were talking, I pointed my hand towards my body and said ‘Sally’ a whole lot. He eventually just stopped with the gibberish and said Toshiro Kago. I wish we could understand him.”

“Me too.” The Wanderer nodded. “Oh, I almost forgot! Everyone, meet my buddy here, the Courier, or more simply, Corey. He’s almost as tough as me.”

“Almost?” The Courier barked.

“Don’t mind him, he’s a bit on the arrogant side. Private Elliot Tercorian, at your service.” The medic shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Might I ask what you’re wearing? It looks a lot like what the Wanderer got from the Anchorage simulation.

“That’s because it is. I was abducted by these...aliens..during the war. Well, me and my squad. When they were alive, anyway..” Elliot was sad that his only known comrades had died.

“I know how you feel.” The Courier added sympathetically.

“Hey mister, where are you from?” Sally asked.

“Well, last I remember, New Vegas.”

“I did some runs back there. Pretty rich if you ask me.” Somah added from her chair.

The BoS Paladin and his Mojave counterpart said their goodbyes and moved to an untouched experimentation room. Out of the window was a view of the entire planet.

“That is beautiful.” The Courier commented. He had never truly seen his planet from this view before. Despite the large chunks of nuclear fallout, and the green irradiated bodies of water, it was still his home. As it was the Lone Wanderer’s.

“I know, isn’t it? Makes you wish you could go back and stop all of this from happening.” Snapping out of his daze, the Wanderer tugged on his ally’s arm. “Hey, get out the Big MT portal.”

“Alright.” The Courier complied and took out the special device. “What now?”

“Now,” The Wanderer took a tool from the table nearby. “We practice science.”

An audible amount of footsteps came from behind them. They both turned to meet the Japanese samurai staring at them, speaking in his foreign language.

“警戒して、仲間の戦士である。良いものは何もあなたがやっていることから来ることはできません。そのことは、これらの悪魔に呪われている。”

“We don’t understand you man.” The Courier said.

The foreigner continued.

“自分を見て、私の祖先は、使用している金属のその部分に眉をひそめる。”

Toshiro walked away as the two stared at each other in utter confusion.

“Whatever he said must’ve not been important.”

“I concur.” The Wanderer followed.

They continued on their attempt at modifying the complicated device. After a few unnerving beeps, clangs, and crashes, the two friends looked at each other and nodded.

“Think this’ll work?” The Wanderer asked.

“Of course. My Science skills are off the charts!”

They took the Big Mountain Transportalponder! and pulled the trigger. Expecting a beep or some kind of noise to confirm their modification, they were met with silence.

“Well, that was a bunch of hooey!” Vault Boy remarked.

“I guess so. I think that we sho-”

*Beep* *Beep*

A loud beeping noise came, alright. But it wasn’t from the teleportation device. The ship was beeping loudly. The ship intercom turned on.

“Boss, boss! There’s something messing with the communications and the homing beacon back on Earth. The sig-  mes--  can’t u-” Elliot’s voice was buzzed off as a loud bang was heard.

The two looked at each other, at the Transportalponder, then back at each other. Another beeping came as they looked down into the Courier’s hand. The Big Mountain Transportalponder! was glowing a pink hue and flashing wildly.

“It never glows pink..” Courier was stunned.

“We’re fucked, huh?”

A long silence ensued as the two mask-wearing friends looked at the bright peculiar light.

“Like a Gommorah prostitute.”

*Zap*

The Mild West. This place was a stretch of land that not only was a giant gulch full of buzzards, prairie dogs, and scorpions, but was a home to ponies and bison alike as well. It was a hardy place to thrive in as the sun and weather was merciless. The days would go on for weeks with scorching hot heat. The nights would get so cold that it would be like that of winter. And the vegetation, was scarce and hard to grow.

The single town that had managed to set itself up and thrive was barely hanging on. Appleloosa was this town. It had one sheriff, Sheriff Silverstar, and he was a by-the-book law keeper. He enforced what law there was for the frontier town. And there was no way he would see his home falter. He stood against the bison when they threatened to trample the town, as well as he managed to handle the pink mare from Ponyville’s incessant singing.

Thankfully, he had not seen these ponies in weeks so he might have ended his encounters with them since then. He had also accepted the common agreement between Chief Thunderhooves and he. The bison would still be able to run through their treasured grazing trail while the ponies would grow their apples. And so, the situation was more than satisfactory for this little Western town.

The sheriff was making his rounds as usual. The Salt Block was his first on the trip. As usual, all of the debtors and rowdy ponies would go here for a good drink. So he kept a sharp eye for any troublemakers. He trotted through the flapping doors and took a good look around the saloon. It was quiet...for now.

He turned his attention away when he heard that god-awful familiar tune.

“You gotta share, you gotta care!  It’s the right thing to do! You gotta share, you gotta care!”

Sherif Silverstar turned his attention, and mustache, back to the piano where an all-too familiar mare was singing. He shook his head and face-hoofed. He proceeded to make his way for the door when the aforementioned mare appeared in front of him.

“Hey, Sheriff Silverstar! Nice to see you again!” She smiled at him, that of which stretched ear-to-ear.

“It’s nice to see ya again, miss, Now if you’d be so kind.” He gestured for the door.

She saluted. “Yessiree bob, Sheriff!” She gave him room to move. “Oh, and if you see anything falling or any weird thingies, tell me. My tail’s been a-twitching all day! All day! And it pointed here! I had to bring Twilight here, of course, but boy, was it fun! I got to see all of the-”

Sheriff Silverstar left the saloon, long after Pinkie Pie began to speak.

“But wait! You didn’t let me finish!” She yelled.

“I’m sure that’s nice and all, but I’ve got rounds to go. Have fun here.” He left the pink mare, who watched him as he left.

She spoke to herself. “I’ll show you, sheriff. Just you wait, I’ll bring whatever’s falling here.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Then she turned to the sky. “Fall already!” Her body started to twitch and her knee pinched. After that, her shoulder ached. “Doozy....*Gasp* something scary! And then....Gummy got in the tub again? I guess I’ll have to get him out."

Pinkie Pie went upstairs to the room that they had rented for the time being. The current patrons of the saloon were a jolly bunch, meaning that they actually enjoyed her constant and random singing.

“Hey Pinkie, what were you doing?” Twilight asked as she looked up from her book. It read ‘How to Deal with Psychotic Mares’.

“Oh, just singing to the fun ponies downstairs. Oh, and Gummy’s in the tub again.” She went towards the bathroom. “And something scary’s about to happen!” She called.

Twilight scanned the room for anything but it was just normal.

“I wonder what it could be...”

Twilight Sparkle shrugged off the questioning feeling as she tried to read the last few pages of this intriguing novel. It would definitely help her decipher the mysteriousness of Pinkius Piecus.

The Lone Wanderer and the Courier rubbed their heads. Their bodies were definitely worse for wear and they needed to get some help soon. Had they understood any part of what the Japanese samurai was saying, they might have stayed away from their foolish experimentation. For what the early historical living relic said, were words of warning against their plans and intentions. Had they just paid a bit more closely, they would’ve saw the look of apprehension and fear in his eyes.

“I....what happened?” The Wanderer asked.

They both groaned, feeling as if they had just gone in a two-on-two boxing with Deathclaws or Super Mutant Behemoths.

“I honestly don’t remember.” The Courier answered. “Hey, remember the word I was thinking of that was stronger than ‘hate’?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I rancor you.”