Fallout 1. Chapter 1

Okay, before anyone asks: NO I AM NOT CANCELLING EON. This is a side-story/prequel to the events of the S1 Trilogy and is something I just wanted to do. I came up with it a few days ago actually while trying not to think about how royally screwed this country is right now as well as to escape some other problems I've had. To that end I came up with this. It's just a pet project, Eon is still my priority, but I do hope people will enjoy this. It's more character focused then my other stories, John Hollister being at the forefront yet again except with a few differences compared to the one you saw in the Trilogy. If Eon was the darkest story I've written, this is the lightest, a lot less tragedy then my others with the characters reflecting that as well. So again, hope you enjoy.

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The Scope

Chapter 1

On the charred soil of a broken world, beneath an unforgiving sun, there stands a city. Still surviving two-hundred years after the fall of civilization, this city was a den of vice and sin, greed and gluttony, life and death. All it had left a mere four buildings, but they stood tall and defiantly against the scorched wasteland that surrounded them. People were drawn to it like a moth to a flame, but rather than kill them outright, this city robbed them of everything they had. Caps, equipment, everything, simply because the people who came didn't know when enough was enough. Yet this was only the skin of the city, for beneath it, a far more noble group of people existed. People who would one day change the world, and one already had. A man quite ruthless yet noble.

This city was New Vegas. That man was the Courier.

Inside his palace, John Hollister sat in a chair, throwing a baseball against the windows of the Lucky 38 casino's observation deck AKA the former Cocktail Lounge. He seemed bored, his face cross, his face young yet his hair and beard a snow-white. He was rolling his eyes as he kept throwing and catching the Baseball against the glass. From his outward appearance, you would think he was just a bored alcoholic, which was true. He was bored and he was an alcoholic, but there was so much more to him. He had done the impossible more then once and soon enough he would do it again at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam.

For now, he was just another opportunistic wastelander in a duster coat, a spade and 21 emblazoned on the back. If you didn't know him, you didn't care. He was no one. Sometimes he wished things would stay that way. That he could be anonymous, just another hired gun or delivery boy waiting for his next payday. At the same time, however, he knew he was beyond turning back. His armies and allies were ready for the coming battle, they just had to wait for their enemies to make their move.

"Are you still up there?" Veronica Santangelo's voice called from an intercom nearby. John sighed and walked over to it.

He pressed the main button. Go for Courier. He said, his voice echoing into the intercom.

"Oh good. Listen, I need to discuss something with you. Can you come down to the Penthouse?"

"Can we do it over the intercom? I'm a little busy now." He said, still throwing the baseball just at the door instead of the windows.

"No you're not!" She cried. "I can hear the echo off that stupid ball of yours!"

John caught it again as it made its way back to his hand. "Fine. I'll be right down."

"Great. See you when you get here." There was the sound of whispering then the intercom made a brief click and shut off. John fiddled with the ball he had in his hands, rotating it from one end to the other. He could see every scratch, every burn, and every imperfection on that ball, but where others would have been bothered, he took comfort in those imperfections. Even if it was a wreck, there wasn't that many of these left anymore. At least on the West Coast as far as he knew.

Remembering that Veronica would have his head if he wasted so much as a minute, he pressed a button on the elevator, waited for the familiar ping of the elevator arrival, before stepping inside and heading down to the Penthouse.

* * *

When the elevator stopped at the Penthouse, it opened to an almost pitch dark room, something John had yet to take as a bad sign. He walked out of the elevator, the night sky of New Vegas penetrating the windows, and moved towards the main room where he found that it was even more dark. He didn't raise so much as a hand to reach for his pistol, he simply gazed around the room, unsure of what to expect.

"Hello?" He called, noticing that even Yes-Man's screen was off. "I'm here Veronica. This better be important." Suddenly the lights flickered on to a loud chorus of one word.

"SURPRISE!"

A hardy laugh followed that as the Courier flinched in surprise, discovering all his friends and allies surrounding the room. Not simply the friends from around the Mojave, but several from his adventures at Sierra Madre, Zion Canyon, and the Big Empty. They were all cheering and clinking glasses together, drinking and enjoying themselves.

John looked around the room, a look of joyful surprise on his face, like he had just opened a present on Christmas Morning. "What is all this? What are you doing here?" He asked, noticing that among the guests were Christine Royce, Dog, Dean Domino, Joshua Graham, and Follow's Chalk among others.

Veronica was of course the one to respond. "I set it up." She said, giggling like a school girl. "I figured that, seeing as though we might all be dead within the month, might as well throw one last, err, shindig."

John was in shock. "But how..?"

"Did I get them? Dean helped out there." She said pointing at the Ghoul in the torn up tuxedo.

"I followed you out of the cloud. Been in Vegas a few weeks now." He said, raising his glass. "I may be old, but I still remember how to get back to that cursed city. You can thank me later."

"To the Courier!" Said the voice of Follows-Chalk from somewhere in the back. "May he lead New Vegas to victory!"

"To the Courier!" Echoed the crowd with a roar of pride and hope.

John looked around at his friends, who had started to go about socializing and spreading out across the Penthouse. He stepped down to join the festivities as there was home-grown food from Zion, Purified Water from Lake Mead, and fresh liquor from right inside the Lucky 38, plus a few homemade tribal dishes readied by Cass, who was completely drunk yet acting perfectly normal as she wandered around the party. John shared a passing greeting with Craig Boone, one of his best friends and an excellent sniper, made a brief remark to Raul Tejada, an engineer with a smart mouth, before reaching the person he wanted to speak to: Christine Royce.

"I'm glad to see you here, Christine." He said, shyly. "I wasn't sure you were ever going to leave the Sierra Madre after what happened there."

"To be fair, it took a bit of convincing from Dean, and I'm not staying for very long." She said hastily yet confidently. "I came to celebrate your efforts, that's all. I don't know about Dog, but I'm heading back tomorrow, there's still a lot to do."

"What do you mean?" He asked, having not set foot in Sierra Madre in some time.

"The Ghost People are still roaming out there. Some of them tried to break free. You know what could happen if they broke loose." Christine said, grimly. "Not to mention Elijah's still in the Vault and as long as I breathe I'm going to be sure he stays there."

The Courier gave a brief smile. "Same old Christine: Battle-scarred, serious, and downright lethal. It's like I never left."

"Well I did learn those things from a great teacher." She said, beginning to glare at him.

John looked side to side awkwardly. "Let's just enjoy the party okay?" John asked, a bit unnerved by her mention of the "teacher". He knew she wasn't referring to him, so there was only one other person be talking about. "I'll see you around."

"Fine. Just don't leave without saying goodbye. Might be your last chance considering what I've heard." Christine replied to nothing, as he was already gone in search of someone else to mingle with, someone less willing to bring up that they were about to go to war. Sadly, to that end, he ended up stumbling upon Joshua Graham, who was standing by himself in the bedroom to the left of the main control center, looking out onto the Mojave. His face, still covered by bandages, seemed to be emitting a deep sorrow. He watched the people stumble completely drunk down on the road below while the lights around them flickered and flashed.

"Poor fools. They don't even know how close they are to dying out here, so far away from home." He said, paying special attention to the NCR Troopers on the street.

"Yeah well. Not much anyone can do about it." The Courier said, taking a swig of the Moonshine Bottle in his hands.

"Especially considering there one road home is in ruins. What a shame, isn't it John?" Graham's voice was suddenly becoming hostile and angry.

"Don't start this with me again Joshua. I've got enough on my plate without that thank you." John replied

"You can't just ignore the lives you took, the people you hurt."

"Perhaps, but I can ignore you. So I'm going to take advantage of that mystical ability now and try to drink myself to death." He took another drink of the bottle.

"Listen to me Courier! You may regret your actions, but that doesn't make you any less guilty. Nor does it give you any right to spare the monster who put that plan in motion." Graham's bandages were shaking as he verbally bombarded the Courier.

"Leave Ulysses out of this. He's my problem not yours."

"He's everyone's problem." Joshua countered.

"I can control him."

"And what if you can't?" That question did not yield a response from the Courier, who suddenly went quiet. Joshua waited for a response for sometime, expecting some clever remark or a weakly justified strategy. Instead he got some rather simple words.

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it. For now, we just give the Divide a wide berth. Ulysses is an effective weapon against the Tunneler threat and a valuable ally if the need arises. So for now, we leave him alone. Besides we've got bigger fish to fry if you haven't noticed." John said, pointing out the window in the direction of Hoover Dam, where just beyond campfires were sending smoke into the air, the orange glow of the embers glistening beneath the moonlight creating a rather ominous effect.

"I know, and when the time comes I'll play my part. Just be sure you play yours and hopefully we'll meet again before the End of Days arrives. Goodbye Courier." Joshua took his own statement as an excuse to leave and stepped back out of the room, unwilling to continue this argument with the Courier. As for the Courier, he pondered that question that Joshua had brought up. What if he couldn't control Ulysses? What would happen then? The last time the Courier had barely stopped Ulysses from destroying the NCR, only for the Courier himself to accelerate the launch while firing a good half of the missiles against the Legion as well in one last act of immorality. All together it had been a nasty little ordeal on the Lonesome Road, one that Joshua had uncovered not long after and had since been quite angry with the Courier over his actions, sparing Ulysses being at the top of that list.

"How much of that did you here?" John seemingly asked the air, his eyes shifting from the windows over to his left. There was a brief screech and the quiet echo of footsteps, revealing the man in question, Ulysses. His feet continued to hit the floor until he was right behind the Courier's shoulder, his breathing mask making a faint metallic sound as air entered and left it.

"It does not matter." Ulysses declared as John turned to face him, the mutual distrust and anger between the two of them creating a vicious tension, each watching to see if either reached for their weapon. Neither did which let the tension slowly disintegrate leading to both of them being willing to talk again.

"Then what does matter, Ulysses? Revenge? Glory? Redemption? Which is it today?" John's question did not make Ulysses expression change for even a second, it was still set in stone as a scowl of disgust.

"Salvation." He eventually replied. "Salvation of everyone in the Mojave under one symbol. One flag rather than many."

"And where does that leave you and me?" John inquired, dubious of the motives of this enigma of a man.

Ulysses reply was less cryptic then normal, but that was still definitely him speaking. "That is a road either of us have yet to walk. To use a phrase of yours: We'll burn that bridge when we come to it." That answer satisfied John enough to the point where he dropped this topic of conversation. However there was one other thing that Ulysses had failed to hide.

"And?" John said without any discernible reason. Ulysses's expression shifted slightly as his eyebrow climbed his forehead. "You didn't come her to eavesdrop." The Courier threw on a small yet smug smile. "I doubt you even knew anyone was going to be here. You've got something on your mind and I want to hear it." Ulysses, despite his stoic and usually hard expression, did seem to have something eating at him behind his Breathing Mask and Braided Hair. Deep inside, something was troubling him, and the Courier wanted to know what.

"When you walked the Divide, I mentioned my family. Do you remember?" He asked surprisingly straight forward.

"Yes. You said you lost them to the Legion?" John recalled every moment of that search vividly, including almost every word Ulysses said.

"Indeed." He replied, his expression starting to crack in way John had never seen. "My wife, Rosa, and my son, Theodore." His voice was starting to lose some of its usual mysticism in favor of a more straight forward tone. "They were my world at the time, my life, and the Legion took them away when they burned the Twisted Hairs down. I was pressed into service for Caesar's Army under the command of the Burned Man himself at the time, while my wife and son were taken from me. Rosa was sold as a slave, while Theodore..." He paused momentarily, showing a sorrow and sadness that the Courier had never seen before. Then he continued, only this time far more saddened.

"I don't know what happened to him. I believed they had both died from Caesar's hardship some time ago, but now I know differently." Ulysses began to regain his composure. "You're probably aware that I keep tabs on everything and everyone in the wasteland, the only exception being yourself, and recently, most likely due to the Legion's movement against the NCR, many slaves are being moved around within Caesar's Legion, by the hundred in fact."

Let me guess: Your family is among them. John finished his sentence for him. It was the logical conclusion, the obvious idea, and it was almost assuredly right.

"Yes. At least I believe so. In light of most of them coming here to the Mojave, many of these relocations have been directed towards Flagstaff, the Legion Capital." John's eyes widened as he heard that, his expression suddenly turned to shocked realization as he understood why Ulysses had arrived.

"That is why I am here, Courier. I need you to come with me to Flagstaff and rescue my family."

* * *

**NOTE: I said less tragedy, not no tragedy at all. If you think there was going to be no dark moments at all in this, you've got the wrong address.**


	2. Chapter 2

Glad this had somewhat of a successful start, I'm most likely going to continue if I get enough feedback for it. So, yeah, enjoy. As a heads up, I won't be writing any new chapters throughout the month of November. There's a month long contest for writers called NaNoWriMo here in America, so I'll be participating in that. It requires 5000 words a day so I'm going to be putting my writing skills to the test, and I won't have anytime to work on my stories here. I'll try and get one chapter out of Eon before then though because I know people want that to continue and may be a little confused if nothing comes out for a month.

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CyberJordan: Glad you like it. Yes it was a dark start but it will become lighter from here on out, albeit this chapter is a bit gloomy.

Kirchnerdan: Yeah that's mine. Anyhow, I'm glad you like this version of John, that was what I was worried about. Originally I was going to use a different version of the Courier, not even John because I thought this was a little out of character for him. Guess I was wrong.

Dragonclaw1000: It's good to have you back. Yeah, I guess he was a little bit like this back in Price of Defiance, before I decided to not hold anything back when it came to dark storytelling. His flaws are what make him who he is so I couldn't walk away from those, especially when the events of Lonesome Road will definitely play into this story quite a lot.

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Chapter 2

Despite the ongoing celebrations in the room next door, John was not the least bit happy. He wasn't afraid or shocked or even angry at what he was being asked. He was just standing there, eyes locked on Ulysses. Then a word left his lips.

"No." That was it. No follow-up, no remarks, no little games, just the word no. Plain and simple. Not once did he break eye contact or flinch while watching Ulysses, who didn't seem to change as he heard that answer. He obviously wasn't leaving quite yet.

"Why?" He eventually asked, not sounding disappointed or upset, simply inquisitive.

"Oh, let's see. The last time I tried to help you, it ended with a firestorm large enough to decimate the Long 15 and Dry Wells as well as earning me the ire of some of the most dangerous men in all the world. That good enough for you?" John's veins nearly popped out of his head he was so frustrated with the fact that Ulysses even asked him that.

"Quite." Ulysses declared. "We'll part ways now but know that if you change your mind, I shall be just north of Camp Guardian for a few days. I must... set affairs in order." He seemed to sulk as he said that, his face growing weary, before looking back up at him. "Farewell Courier." He cloaked and disappeared into shadow, unseen by anyone else as he did.

"Change my mind, yeah right. I'd sooner throw myself off this tower." He said to himself before washing a bad taste off his mouth with a rush of scotch.

"Change your mind about what?" A deep voice asked from the door. John turned to see Dog standing in the doorway. The noble Super-Mutant had definitely improved since he had last met him, or rather them. His two personalities had dissolved into one, becoming the Dog that stood before him. He had taken the bear trap off of his arm, although the scars still marked his body. Past that, he definitely showed signs of healing, possibly due to no longer being forced to carry out atrocities for Father Elijah.

John threw on a fake smile. "Nothing, old friend. Care for a drink?" He said, holding out the bottle of scotch.

"No thanks." He said, walking closer. He had definitely changed, he was still obviously a Super-Mutant, but because he was no longer eating everything that moved, he was sleek and slender, his purple skin having withered down to mere muscle and bone. Who were you talking to?

"Hmm?" John asked, trying to act unsure. I wasn't talking to anyone.

"Don't lie to me Courier. I may be a mutant but I can still hear. There was someone else here, talking in patterns and tones that I haven't heard before. He sounded like, like a Courier." Dog's deductive skills were rather impressive and John didn't want to lie to his friend. At the same time however he wasn't sure he could handle the truth either.

"He's an old friend of mine." He eventually decided on saying, as it was true in some regards. "He came asking for help, something I can't really give him."

"You said the same thing about me." He said, standing next to the Courier. "Yet here I am."

"Dog, listen to me. When I told you that, I didn't know anything about you. All I wanted was to get out of that city." John said honestly. "It was only when Christine showed up did I know that I could make a difference. It's different with Ulysses..."

"THAT'S WHO THAT WAS?!" Dog yelled in surprise, startling the Courier.

"Um... Yes?" He replied meekly, unsure of what to say.

"That man from the Big Empty? Christine's savior, the one that was searching at the Divide for that..." His eyes opened wide and bright at John with realization.

"Courier." He muttered the word airlessly. "That was you? You were at the Divide?"

"Who else could it have been? Anyone else wouldn't have come back." John answered sounding ashamed.

"That mean's... The Divide, the Long 15, Dry Wells, all of it you?" John nodded. "Why?" He asked in shock.

"I wish I could tell you, my friend. I wish I could tell you." John's voice sounded lost as he spoke.

"Do any of the others know?"

"Graham does. As for my companions, no. None of them that I know of. Raul has some suspicions I'm sure and I know Boone was looking into it, but none of them have anything solid. I make sure to cover my tracks." Dog suddenly looked fearful, as if he thought John was going to kill him where he stood. "Don't worry you're not in danger, my friend. If they do uncover it, I'll live with the consequences. That's how life works."

Dog took a deep breath. "I suppose so."

"Let's enjoy the party? All right? For all I know this could easily be our last." Dog nodded and they walked back into the party, acting as though nothing ever happened as every mingled drank and enjoyed themselves, no one even giving a second thought to why he had been absent so long. Yet, deep in the Courier's mind, something was pulling on strings while trying to get him to grasp basic morality. Even if Ulysses had been his enemy, even if he had done horrible things to him and the world, that didn't make him any less of a human being. Somehow he knew he would regret it if he didn't help Ulysses, but that was just a small part of him.

As for the rest of him, it wondered why he didn't just shoot Ulysses while he had the opportunity.

* * *

The next morning, John woke in his bed alone, despite knowing that he had gone to bed with Cass the night before. They had recently started a relationship, despite Cass's proclamations that they would never be more than friends, and so far it had gone well, at least to his knowledge. The sheets were open on the other side of the bed so she had gotten up, no doubt to start drinking again right away. She never got hangovers or any side-effects from being drunk, something he envied to no small degree. His head now felt like an entire orchestra was banging drums in his head while two-thousand cannons were fired at the same time. He stood up, dazed and stumbling, but regained his balance and mind fairly quickly. He threw on his duster coat and stepped out of the room, heading to the kitchen for something to eat. He could hear Cass in the living room, humming along to Heartaches by the Number on Radio New Vegas.

He opened up the fridge, immediately spotting a bottle of Purified Water and taking it to quench his thirst. Finding nothing else worth taking, he walked back towards Cass, noticing how surprisingly undamaged the place was. The last time they threw a celebration, not long after gathering all of their allies, the entire place was a wreck. He could still hear Yes-Man's voice, forced to hold back agitation at how long it took the Securitrons to get things back in order. In John's mind, that was a good price to pay all things considered and the others had agreed.

John peeked around the corner as Heartaches by the Number reached its instrumental and turned into the room, where Cass was sitting on the couch.

"Hey." She said, her hands behind her head, her feet on the table next to the radio, her hat's brim lowered across her upper face, concealing all but her lips beneath it. John, taking that as an invitation, sat down on the couch and unscrewed the cap from the water bottle. She heard it come unscrewed and raised her hat up to see what he was drinking. "Lightweight." She muttered.

"What? Not everyone is trying to drink their life away." He reasoned, something that sounded quite hypocritical coming from him, a bitter alcoholic with a death wish.

"Right." She said, stretching the I out as long as she could with the most sarcastic tone she could. "What's wrong? Rex chew on your baseball again?" John looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I know you. You only drink clean water when you need to have a clear head and if you need a clear head, something's gone wrong. So what is it?" John was slightly amazed and impressed that she figured all that out. Deciding not to hide it, he reached over and switched off the radio, then took a swig of the water before lying back to tell the story.

"Ulysses came here last night. Must have snuck past all of you." John started, catching Cass's attention. "He came here asking for help, said his family is still alive and are being held captive at Flagstaff."

"The Legion's Capital?" She asked, more curious than surprised.

"Of course, because a suicide mission needs a suicidal goal. He wanted my help in rescuing them. Not sure why." John fiddled with the empty bottle in his hands.

"What did you say?" Cass seemed very interested now.

"I said no. Said I couldn't help him, made up some bullshit that he probably saw right through, but then he just left." John seemed slightly unnerved as he started to clinch the bottle. No follow-up question or any arguments. Just left, without so much as a last word."

Cass, who had listened intently, spoke again. "I'm guessing you're not sure you made the right call?" She asked, almost sure of the answer.

"Do I look that desperate?"

"Yes." She said with a smug smile. Her reply got a smile out of the Courier, that quickly faded as his conscience beat him back in line.

"I don't know what to do. On one hand, I'd be helping a dangerous madman on a suicide mission. On the other hand, I do owe him at least that much. It was my actions that lead to him becoming who he is." John started to push his fingers against his temples as he fell back against the couch. Cass while watching his plight, tried to brainstorm some ideas. Ultimately, it all came down to one solution.

"I know this might sound insane, John, but I think you need to help him." Cass declared as John looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a look of surprise. "Don't get me wrong, I'd rather let him rot and die alone in the Divide, but at the same time I'd be a hypocrite if I said that reuniting a family isn't a noble goal. I'd give anything to see mine." She seemed to becoming somber, but quickly hid it behind her sarcastic expression. "It's your choice John, but remember what you said you'd do for your family. Even if Ulysses is Ulysses, he's still a human being and it would be wrong not to help him in his time of need. Like you said, you owe him that much."

John took that moment of philosophy into account, surprised that it came from Cass, before standing up and straightening his duster. Thanks Cass. He said, before leaving without another word.

* * *

North of Camp Guardian

John, having finally made his choice, ventured out into the wastes again, not leaving so much as a note to tell his allies where he was headed, although they were fools if they thought that would ever change. He passed the roving bands of Feral Reavers on those northern rocks, barely so much as breathing in their direction. He may have been powerful, but numbers could easily make the difference in a fight, and in a fight with some of the most ferocious creatures in the waste, that could easily be all it took to overwhelm him.

Yet they didn't pay him any mind, they just kept feasting on what John was sure was a Centaur Corpse. He kept moving forward, passing the ruins of Camp Guardian with a chill crawling up his spine as he looked at the rotten corpses baking in the sun. It had been months since the camp was wiped out and the NCR hadn't even paid one visit. Either that or they had visited and simply ignored the sight, so obsessed on Hoover Dam to the south that they didn't even care about what happened to there own troops on what was supposed to be there territory.

Once he reached the rendezvous spot, he found that it wasn't at all hard to find Ulysses. He was doing what he always seemed to do: Sit on a rock while watching the land shift and change around him, stubbornly refusing to change with it. Ulysses didn't even look at him, but he knew the Courier was behind him.

"You came after all." He said, looking straight forward into the desert while the Courier walked up next to him.

"Yeah, well don't get sentimental. I'm not doing this for your sake."

"I expected nothing less." He replied, raising suspicions from the Courier.

"You expected this? You knew I'd come?" He asked with frustration.

"Couriers know each others paths. You always travel in circles." Ulysses declared.

"And you seems to be making this up as it goes." John mused. "So, why are we waiting? Let's get going already."

Ulysses stood up, brushing the sand off of his duster. "It seems we are not walking this road alone." He said, turning towards the Courier and pointing past him. John pulled out a pair of binoculars from his inventory and looked through them, revealing two figures tailing them. They weren't far out from the two Courier's current location, they would be on them in a matter of minutes. The worst part was that John reccognized both of them: Dog and Joshua Graham.

"Damn it." John muttered under his breath. "That'll put a sizable dent in your plan, won't it?"

"Not particularly." Ulysses replied, surprisingly optimistic. "While Graham may know the roads of the Legion, I made them. The path we walk he will not follow."

"And what path is that?" John asked, unsure of whether or not he wanted to know the answer.

"The Scorched Earth." He revealed to a now terrified John.

"I'd rather storm the gates of heaven." The Courier replied with a shiver. "You do know that no one goes there for a reason?"

"Of course, but it is the only road that the Legion doesn't patrol that has passage into Arizona."

"Yeah, because any patrols they send there come back as skeletons. Even Deathclaws don't go there, with good reason!"

"We could make it." Ulysses said, seemingly confident in his declaration although it was hard to tell with Ulysses as his face never seemed to change.

John looked at him cynically, turning back for just a moment to see if the figures were getting too close, which they weren't. They actually seemed to think they had missed the Couriers. He looked back at Ulysses, his eyes locked on the former Legionarre with uncertainty.

"You could walk away now John. I wouldn't blame you, but ask yourself this: Would you blame yourself, Courier?" Despite the roundabout way he asked the question, John knew what he meant: Would he be able to live with himself if Ulysses died when he could have helped him? There past had bound them together, now it was time to see if it lasted.

"All right." He replied, finally, taking a deep breath. "Let's go." Ulysses nodded as the Courier adjusted his backpack and they started off on there rescue mission, leaving Joshua Graham and Dog to search fruitlessly for them. The truth was that they didn't know what they were going to find, but whatever lay ahead, they would have to see it through.


End file.

Fallout, Adventure, Hurt-Comfort