Apollo's Story

War... War never changes...

The bombs had come without mercy, and the nuclear fires had burned their human builders into a scrambling, sorry picture of day-to-day survival. Government had collapsed, Law and Order were only found at the end of a gun, and Justice was burried in the irradiated dirt.

Out in the wilds of the western formerly-united States, no one had bothered to waste their oridnance. Few - if any - bombs impacted here. That didnt spare civilization. What didnt go to hell in the chaos of the fallout was swallowed up by the unforgiving sands of the Mojave Desert, come to reclaim the land with new vigor.

Here's where your sorry asses come in.

You've survived however you've survived; by the luck of the New California Republic, by the grace of Ceasar's Legion, or by the pure gritty determination of the Independant. You may've done some things you're not proud of.. or maybe you're very proud of them. Maybe you're the last hope for Good out here in this shit hole. .. Maybe you're just proud of the fear you bring. Whatever your story was, is, or will be, it starts here, as the dusty sun rises on yet another frying day in the Mojave wastes in the distant shadow of Ceasar's New Vegas.

----

Tam watched them stir, from underneath the red rock that was already in the sun. Like a lizard, she pressed her back against the warming sandstone to ease the night's chill out of her shoulders in preparation for the sun's merciless beating. With her rifle balanced on her folded knees and the comfort of the deep shadow all around her, she could afford a bit of smug, self-satisfied confidence.

Her take'd been small. It had to be. If she was going to milk these suckers for all they were worth before they got wise, she couldnt afford to get greedy. A bite of Cram, a few loose caps they'd been playing Caravan with, a half-empty bottle of water. Oh! And the penny.

Grinning down at its dull shine in her fingers, she turned it over and over between them. Worthless, to anyone else. But it struck her fancy, and its little flashes made her happy. She might just hang onto that. Carefully dropping it into one of the endlessly full pockets in the worn brahmin-leather trench coat, the heat of the rock was beginning to burn through it, reminding her that it would be time to move soon.

Below, they were already breaking camp. A couple of putzes slogging through the worst parts of the Mojave in a way that screamed they werent locals. One of them was in power armor. Oh, man, to get her hands on some of that... she'd be in caps until old age. Right now, though, it just gave her another reason to avoid the hell out of them while they were awake.

She gives them a while longer, until they were mobile; reduced to specks on the trek along the ruined asphalt. It's then that Tam moves, slithering down out of the rocks and into the baking sun. Man, it was a hot one today. How the hell the big one stood to be in that armor, she'd never know. Giggling to herself, she imagines him as a mutated, living can of cooked Scram, sizzling as he mosey'd along.

That thought amuses the scavenger for several more hours as Tam skips from scrub brush to gulley to dune, always out of sight, and grateful for the firepower in front of her that spooks or kills anything wild enough to come take a look.

So far, it was a good day in the Mojave.

Apollo

Apollo awoke in the abandoned house, cringing from the pain in his lower right abdomen. He had arrived in the Mojave a few days ago, but rather than looking for his target he has had to treat his injuries from the travel. He held his side, realizing the shoddy stitch work he had performed hadn't lasted. Feeling around his body, he realized several of his wounds had opened up again, including the ones on his shoulder, his leg, and his neck. The wounds were a few days old, so very little blood was escaping him, but it still hurt like hell none the less. Apollo rummaged through his bag, trying to find the supplies he had picked up in Primm. "Damn that guy," Apollo thought to himself. He was positive had he not run into that Stranger he would have traversed the road just fine or would have escaped with minimal damage. Instead he is now low on ammo and spent most of his caps on medical supplies. But, he did what he had to do considering once he emerged from the wreckage he past out from exhaustion and blood loss. Had a caravan not spotted him from the road, he most likely would not be alive right now. Apollo finally found what he was looking for. He removed a shot of Med-X from his backpack and stuck it into one of the veins on his arm. It only took a few seconds to kick in, as the pain in his body disappeared. "Alright... I guess I should redo these stitches."

Apollo had spent little time salvaging anything from the house as he nearly collapsed when he first entered the place. Searching cabinets, dressers, under the tattered rugs, anywhere that could hold something of value. Walking into the next room, Apollo spotted a safe, old world by the look of it. He walked over to it, bending down and running his hand along the door. It had yet to be open, but this fact surprised Apollo. Rather than its old owners, it was likely used by whoever lived in this house last. There was Wasteland odds and ends in the house, meaning someone was using it prior to Apollo. Too bad, Apollo wasn't much of a safe cracker. He would normally just strategically place a frag, blow it up, and call it a day with whatever survived the explosion. But, due to his lack of funds and ammo, he thought whatever was in it wasn't worth any of the contents on him. Deciding to come back for it later after he had made a little caps, he grabbed his things and prepared to leave the house. He had decided to take a few small scale jobs once he reached New Vegas to make some caps. But in the meantime, he was going to continue his search for his target.

The job came out of an unknown contractor. While collecting for his previous job, a man approached him with an envelope. The man gave him no name, only the envelope and a hefty bag of caps. It felt like nearly a thousand caps were in the bag, something even Apollo had never been offered for a job. The man told him that was only half of his payment if he managed to kill his target. Without a second thought, Apollo took the job. All he has to go on is that his target is in the Mojave and due to unknown reasons, his target can't leave the desert. So, rather than waiting for the person to reveal themselves, Apollo has to go on a wild goose chase.

Exiting the house, Apollo walked into the night sky, realizing he had slept longer than he originally planned. Looking for any identifying markers, he learned the town was called Nipton from a nearly destroyed sign. Apollo now remembered why the town didn't seem to have any people. He noticed the crosses, but paid little attention to them as it wasn't something he had not seen before. Checking to make sure his sword was secure and his gun was still holstered on his side, Apollo was finally on his way to New Vegas. Apollo personally preferred to travel at night, as then he didn't have to feel the Suns rays agitating his scars. Plus, Apollo wasn't one to stick to roads, so he had little chance of being ambushed. Before leaving town, Apollo decided to check the general store for supplies, maybe find an extra shot of Med-X or two. As he went to open the door, the sight of a figure approaching caused him to remove his knife and move upon the figure on instinct. His eyes widened at the sight of a the person being a Legionnaire. Apollo noticed thee man's had been cut out, but whoever did it had cauterized the wounds, allowing his victim to be able to survive for at least another day or two. Apollo was surprised the Legionnaire had made it this far with those wounds, but now was not a time to be impressed. Removing his knife from its place at the Legionnaires neck, Apollo touched the man on the shoulder. The Legionnaire jumped back and fell to the ground, likely not sensing Apollo's presence until then.

Apollo bent down by the Legionnaire. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. How did you get here?" The Legionnaire was shaking, a rare sight from someone in the Legion. "H-he took them. He took them. Please, you have to return me to a Legion camp!" The Legionnaire reached out and grabbed Apollo's arms. "He? Well, whatever." Apollo began to help the Legionnaire stand up, only to stop as he turned his head back to the crosses. This Legionnaire was too young to have been involved, but who knows what he had done before. "Hey! What are you waiting for?! Help me!" Apollo stood up and brought out his gun, a silver .45 caliber pistol that shined brightly in the darkness. "You won't make it. Those wounds were to let you survive for a few hours, maybe a few days." Apollo wasn't lying, the boy wouldn't make it. Lucky for Apollo, it just happened to coincide with his desire to make someone pay for what happened here, even if it was long ago. "No, please... just get me to a ca-" before he could finish, Apollo fired a single shot into the man's head, killing him instantly. The sound was loud given the caliber of the weapon, causing Apollo to quickly grab his stuff and continue on his way. After that he had completely forgotten about entering the General Store. Holstering his pistol, Apollo continued north out of Nipton, sticking to the right side of the road, under the cliffs hanging over.

Lorcan Bás Connolly

About An Hour Before The Events In Nipton...

Two Legionnaires stood on the outside of the Outpost near the edge of the Mojave, where the Long 15 enters the desert. Formally a Ranger Outpost, it had been taken over by the Legion after the loss of Hoover. The night was quiet, as was the usual lately. With the growing strength of the Legion, security around such outposts was much tighter than the rather lax treatment given by the NCR. The two guards were use to serving the night shift together, and as such were planning on spending most of their night chatting and maybe playing a hand of caravan or two. On the outside of the Outpost laid the former monument to the peace between the NCR and Desert Rangers. The monument was in ruins, having been torn down and left to collect sand within its hollowed remains. The Legionnaires would often challenge each other to bets, most often pertaining to who could defame the once large fixture of the Mojave with the most scrutiny.

"Hey," said one Legionnaire to the other, "Did you hear about that guy who hit the jackpot at The Forum? I heard he really pissed off the person put in charge of running it by Caesar."
"Oh yeah? How much did he get?"
"Rumor says nearly two thousand. With that kind of money we could get out of bitch duty for sure."
"Rumor? Man, I told you, you shouldn't listen to rumors. Especially, the ones that come out of New Ve-"

The Legionnaires stopped talking, the sound of a loud clapping interrupting their conversation. The sound was coming from the remnants of the statues, more specifically, behind the torso of the NCR Ranger. The Legionnaires looked at each other, nodding in agreement to check it out. Despite their placement within the Mojave, the two were clearly experienced in combat, but mostly against raiders and the occasional loose criminal. They moved in unison, covering each others backs while moving toward the noise. As they got closer, they could hear a voice, that seemed to be... singing. The two moved closer, standing on the opposite side of the fallen statue. The voice became perfectly clear, the clapping somewhat inconsistent with the rhythm of the song.

"I didn't have a thing where my balls used to hang,
But I got a wood medal and a fine harangue.
Now I'm a fucking hero.

Mourn your dead land of the free
If you want to be a hero follow me.
Mourn your dead land of the free
If you want to be a hero follow me..."

The two Legionnaire's moved slowly around the statue, the voice sounding as little more than a whisper but the clapping still persisting. As they rounded the statue, they held up their rifles and pointed them directly at the person. The man was slapping his leg and muttering to himself, sitting down and using the statue to support his back. His brown hat was angled down, hiding the man's face as he seemed to be staring blankly at the ground. The Legionnaires lowered their guns and approached the man, one taping him on the shoulder with the tip of his rifle. "Hey, what are you doing out here? The sunset a while ago. Leave." Despite the command, the man continued to sit on the ground, clapping his leg and muttering. "Hey!" The Legionnaire walked in front of the man and kicked dirt at the man's shoes. "I'm talking to you, asshole!" The man raised his hand and motioned for the Legionnaire to come closer. The Legionnaire raised an eyebrow, motioning for his comrade to watch the man for any sudden moves. The Legionnaire moved closer to the man, nearly being face to face with him.

"When one and twenty cannon thunder
Into the bloody wild blue yonder
For a patriotic ball-less wonder.
Now I'm a fucking hero!"

The man grabbed the Legionnaire by the throat and pivoted his body, using the Legionnaire as a human shield, even while sitting. Removing the Legionnaires knife from his left hip holster, and throwing it at the other, he pierced the man's throat. The Legionnaire managed to get a few shots off, but due to his wound they were more from his hand tightening around the trigger, causing him to mostly shoot at the ground. Lorcan snapped the others neck, calmly standing up and leaving the Legionnaires body were it laid. Removing his Sequoia from his right hip holster, Lorcan cracked his neck and began a slow pace toward the Outpost.

Present Time...

Apollo

Adjusting the strap of his sheathe, Apollo continued his walk down the road. He decided to take one last look at Nipton before continuing up the road too far to see it. His eyes widened at what he saw. Nipton was only a short ways up the Long 15 from the Outpost. Next to Primm, it was probably the closest place where civilization was bound to sprite up. Due to this, few beyond the settlements of Nipton and Primm could see what Apollo saw as he turned around. In the distance, Apollo could see a fire, burning brightly in the night sky. The fire was in the direction of the Outpost. While it was not large enough to bring day to the night sky, anyone within a few mile radius only had to turn their head to see the flames burning brilliantly. Apollo knew the Outpost was under Legion control, so why would someone in their right mind dare attack it? He remembered the situation from only a few minutes ago, connecting the vague dots in his mind. "Couldn't be the same guy who did that, could it? Raiders aren't brave enough to try doing either feat. So, who could do this?" Apollo shook the puzzle from his head. The fire was likely to draw any nearby patrols to it, likely a set up for an ambush by whoever was pulling the strings. Apollo began to turn back around before he came to a realization. "The fire will be put out... most of the supplies surviving the blaze. The Legion patrols will likely leave only a few guards to monitor the Outpost while they get additional help. Incapacitate said guards and collect any salvage from the wreckage. Return to Nipton and wait out the Legion. They believe the town deserted, making it ideal. Would it be wise to try that?" Apollo felt his bag, feeling the eternal disappointment of low ammo and supplies. Taking a deep breath he turned back down the road and began walking, deciding that he would have to see more of Nipton than he had planned.

The town hall had lost most of its sturdiness over the years, as had many structures in this world. The floor boards creaked, the doors would open and shut on their own, and the ceilings looked like they were about to collapse on you. The wind from outside picked up a bit, making the building shake a little. John had intended to stay up the whole time, determined to find this son of a bitch. The problem was, however, that John was tired. Every bit of sleep counts in the wasteland, and he had learned how to sleep quickly and lightly. He dreamed of being back in the capital wasteland, back with all of his old friends and his family. He was on a mission with Lyons Pride. The Pride was overrun by Super Mutants, and they are all gunned down around John, who is now the sole survivor standing alone in the middle of the a city block. The ground give out under him, and he falls into the black abyss, only to land back in the Citadel. Elder Sarah Lyons is there in front of him, arms crossed and head shaking with disapproval.



Her voice was cold and sharp. It really hurt John, real deep. The only thing that was worse, was his parents doing the same thing. This was followed by all of the chapter voicing their disappointment with him. The voices clumped together. The noise hurt, and John fell to one knee with his hands over his ears, shaking his head over and over while saying:



The chapter and all of its inhabitants burst into flames, engulfing the area around John. When the flames cleared, John found himself in the Arlington Cemetery, skulls flooding the ground. on the crosses he could read the names of his comrades, including his parents and Elder Lyons. There was also one for Conner.



He awoke with a jump. Across the room Conner was still sleeping, or at least pretending to sleep. John was now covered in sweat despite the low temperature of the place. He figured now that he'd just stay awake for the rest of the night, he didn't want to go back to be greeted by his subconscious again tonight.

It wasn't for another hour or so until the trap was finally ready to be sprung. He didn't use his eyes to try and spot the thieve, he knew it'd be too easy for him to give up their trap that way. Instead, he was keeping his ears ready, and was doing his best to feel any kind of slight breeze that came his way. Eventually, he did feel a very slight push of air that was out of the ordinary, but it wasn't quite enough for him to suspect it was time yet. Luckily, Conner was watching behind that power armor of his. The thieve took a few miscellaneous items and then stopped near John. John got the slight inclination that something was not right. In fact, it's like something was tangling inside of him...his Baby was in danger...

Conner was the first to act, however. The bulky bastard jumped to his feet and over to the thieve, making a racket.



Before anything else happened, anything at all, John took his move. His hands moved faster than light itself, or so it seemed. The thieve was ready to bolt and get the fuck away, but before that thieve could break out into a sprint, John had the barrel of The Baby pointed towards their new captive. His right hand remained on the trigger, and his left hand came to his face, putting one finger to his lips.



The immediate reaction was projectile cram being launched right at his face. A loud bang followed, probably scaring any shit out of the thieve. But, fortunately for said thieve, it was not The Baby that had just been fired. It was from within Nipton, probably from either outside or in another building then.



He gave a quick smile to the thieve, and then left the building in a hurry. He ducked behind the nearest building after leaving the town hall, waiting. He heard a door open and shut. Unfortunately, the wind made it hard for him to judge exactly where it was. He slowly made his way forward in the direction he heard the door, but by that time, whoever had fired the shot was gone. All that was left was a bullet shell and a dead legion. Shame, legion had no caps on him. After concluding that there was nothing he could conclude other than the guy not being here anymore, he walked out the door. On the ground he noticed the feint foot prints leading out of town. He quickly followed, finding exactly what he was looking for. There, maybe 50 yards ahead of him, was Apollo. He had just taken one step back towards Nipton when John stepped into sight, his face still covered in half chewed cram, unbeknownst to him.

Apollo

Apollo caught sight of John as he started to make his return to Nipton. Despite the person in front of him, Apollo was still far more focused on getting to the Outpost before the Legion arrived, that way he could stake out the place while they went about the clean up. The person in front of him didn't notice the fire off in the distance, which was of no surprise seeing as how Apollo could only notice it from the rise in the north road. At this distance the heat could not be felt, nor likely the screams that were surely persisting. "Guess I should of used my knife..." Apollo mumbled to himself as he continued walking forward. He continued to walk til he was only twenty yards in front of John, but his lax demeanor would likely cause little caution in the former Knight. Apollo yawned heavily, shrugging as if to mock John and his inquiry. .44 Caliber Henry Repeater, Old World weapon. Biggest flaws are its speed, long distance accuracy, and reload time. Dangerous weapon to wield. Apollo eyed the man head to toe, his expression indifferent. Modified combat armor with a scratched out logo on the right shoulder. Likely NCR or Brotherhood of Steel, though whichever it may be matters little. A deserter. Investigating gunshots in the open... not likely to be alone. Threat, moderate. Apollo stood there in silence for a few seconds, likely making John either nervous or annoyed. "Just a humble courier passing through. Came back when I realized I forgot to search the town for supplies. If this is about the Legionnaire, one could obviously see it was a mercy killing. Though, I doubt a man staying in a deserted ghost town would feel any inclination to avenge a fallen stranger."

Apollo could hear a woman on the inside of the building. Though he could make out what she was saying, he wasn't about to reveal that he was catching it. "Sounds like you have friends. They should be more quiet. You never know when a patrol might roll through." Apollo considered that the girl's voice was trying to catch attention on purpose. No one smart enough to survive in the Mojave would be that loud. Perhaps she thought she had a better chance with the unknown entity outside than the known one in. "I didn't know there were others here. Forgive me if I startled anyone, but since that is the case I will take my leave." Apollo decided to go back up the road and circle around Nipton, so as to avoid suspicion. Normally, he would have probably kept walking, drawn Lucille and told John to keep his distance. But, due mostly to the fact he could count his current bullets on one hand, he really couldn't afford losing any of them right now. "It was nice to me-" Before Apollo could finish his eyes widened and his back stiffened. Taking a long draw of the air and cupping his ear, Apollo looked to the North road, the way he was about to start walking. He looked back at John, not paying attention to whether or not he sensed it. "Do you hear that? A howling... but not wolves. Mongrels. Legion Mongrels." Apollo took a heavy sigh, realizing that they were arriving far ahead of his expectations. Well, it wasn't a big deal, he thought. All he would have to do is hide in an abandoned house for a while and let them pass. He would have to give up on going to the Outpost, but that was better than what would happen if he continued his efforts. He turned back to John, with a worn expression on his face, his demeanor quite different than the mysterious stranger aura he was giving off only a few minutes earlier.

"Well, I suggest you take your friend and your hostage and lie low for a while and let them pass. I'll be hiding in the General S-" Apollo palmed his face and took another sigh. The dead Legionnaire. Shit. Mongrel smells it, gets my scent. Apollo looked to John, once again a stressed expression covering his face. "I take it you tried to search the Legionnaire for anything useful?" Waiting for John's confirmation, Apollo let out a curse word under his breath before taking a deep inhale. "Alright, here's the deal. Sorry if I am moving to fast for you but its my nature. In about three minutes, a group of Legionnaire are going to appear around that ridge on their way to the Outpost on the Long 15. However, no matter what we do they will find that Legionnaire over there and since we both went near it, those dogs I heard will pick up our scents. They will look for us. They will find us. And they will kill us... unless of course we get inside that building with your friend and captive and bunker down. Its either that, or we stand here and get gunned down. So, what's it going to be, Stranger?"

((JOHN))

John watched Apollo approach, and was likewise wearing a shroud of indifference - if leaned a little more towards 'Annoyed'. The cram he'd missed wiping was starting to slither its way down his collar. Damn that little desert rat.

He shrugged when Apollo made an explanation for the corpse on the road, "You're right. I dont give a damn about the Legion sap." And that was that as far as he appeared to be concerned.

John returned the favor of studying Apollo, noting that the others' eyes stuck to Baby for more than a few seconds. A man that knew his weapons, and knew how to use them. If Apollo was 'just a humble courier', then John was a tapdancing Ghoul. But for the moment, the both of them were satisfied staring eachother down in the fassion of all dangerous men meeting for the first time. With neither particularly anxious to turn their back, the standoff might've dragged on longer, but the desert wind seaces to be the only thing howling.

"Mongrels. Legion Mongrels." Apollo advises him. John didnt have much experience in the Mojave, but anything attatched to the Legion was bad news, and any animal gnarly enough to make a noise like that was clearly unafraid of whatever might hear it.

When Apollo next suggests that they bunker down in the building, John bristles, and is about to flat refuse, when Apollo is proven right. No, John wasnt alone. That was his backup right there. The big man in the power armor. ... Flying through the window and part of the wall.

"Connor, what-!" John's tone is incredulous. He'd just left the man alone with a girl half the weight of his left arm. There was no way she'd -

Something shifts in the shadow of the gaping hole. Something bigger than Tam. John settles Baby firmly on the dark opening when the Howls come again, forcing him to hiss a swear between his teeth. There was no time to get tangled up in some new threat, their time was already running short.

With more guns and the fact that John himself liked having armor on, odds were that he could just run this guy off in the hopes that the Legion would just chase after him. But John wasn't that cold, was he? Geez, maybe life out was starting to take it's toll. It was something to consider though. While the prospect of a gunfight (which he knew was going to happen) had it's ups and downs, the deciding thing was John's knowledge on how the universe liked to get it's jollies.

John had never been a lucky man, by any means, and whenever he thought he could cheat his own bad fortune, it'd only retaliate by biting him in the ass that much harder. It's like narrowly avoiding stepping in a bear trap, only to stumble and land your face in it instead. So sure, John could avoid the Legion today, but something worse would just happen instead. Like falling down a mine shaft full of Cazadors. Or walking in on Conner naked....

John chose Legion.

With a curse that probably matches Connors, he pulls on the big man's armor -hard- to start him into the same cover Apollo was probably already moving for.

"Out of grade school and still getting beaten up by girls, huh, Connor?"

--------

((TAM))

At some point in her rambling charm, Connor's attention had left her. Pulling her behind in an iron grip that - short of gnawing through her own wrist - she wasn't going to wriggle loose of, her captor reached down to rifle through a bag that Tam was sure hadn't been there before. Something was interesting enough that he even needed two hands. Encouraged by her sudden and absolutely demure silence, he released Tam. Hardly willing to believe the kind of luck that took, she used her newfound freedom to put a feather-soft step between them. And then another. And then a third. In an eyeblink, she was out of grabbing range. A breath, and she was almost far enough to sprint for it.

Then the ceiling falls in. A mass of burlap =mean= plummets down behind Connor, and out of some kind of packrat reflex, Tam jerks forward to grab the satchel of all things out of harms way. Oh, wow, were those snow globes?? No time to study her find more carefully, because with an cringe-worthy WHOMP!, Connor's form has gone through the window.

Hop-skipping back from the hand that reaches backwards to reclaim the bait-bag, she pulls from her own the well-worn hunting rifle. Now, it would be impolite to aim it at her erstwhile savior, but that doesn't stop her from lifting it just aside from his torso. It's torso? That was bigger than even armored Connor had been. Super mutie? Through all that burlap, who could tell in this light.

And then that howl.

"Aw, brother, Tam, can you pick a party or can you pick a party?" She laments, backpeddling deeper into the building's shadows.

"If you're really keen on helping, pal, you can keep us clear of those Mongrels. They find us and we're -both- chewtoys."

Showing no intention of making it easy for the dogs to chase her down in the open, Tam lets the rifle droop onto a sling and shimmies up a broken staircase, squeezing between the wall and a tilted filing cabinet like a greased up molerat. There were windows and holes a-plenty on the second floor. Places maybe she could wriggle into that the dogs and their equally rabid masters couldn't dig her out.