Fallout of Grace: New Vegas, Eva Bree's journey through the Mojave Wasteland Options

[Diamandis]

Hello all!

I'm Eva and I'd like to share with you my story based on Fallout: New Vegas.

The story follows Eva Bree, a courier who found her self being almost mortally wounded for reasons she is unsure of.

Her story starts after waking up from her ordeal in the town of Goodsprings after being rescued from near death.

First, I shall tell you a little bit about Eva.

Eva is originally the protagonist of my original Fallout 3 fanfic (which I will post as a prequel as soon as I find it as I lost the portable hard drive it was on! Oops). After the events in Fallout 3 she decided to travel the wasteland, eventually getting a job as a courier as she tried to live as normal a life as possible. Unfortunately, this was not meant to be...

[Diamandis]

3. Primm Ain't Proper

Part Two

I grabbed the door handle to the casino, shaking it violently in a desperate attempt to open it before one of the convicts bullets actually hit me.

“LET ME IN! PLEASE!” I unashamedly begged as I banged the door.

I turned my head, seeing the convicts getting closer and closer to me. I gulped. I felt like a deer trapped amongst Lions.

“OKAY!” I bellowed, raising my hands in surrender, “Okay, guys. Cool down.”

I slowly turned, looking at the convicts who, surprisingly but welcomingly, lowered their weapons.

A convict to my left began to approach me, “Get on your knees.” He ordered.

I turned my nose up, “… Really-“

“GET ON YOUR KNEES!” He screamed.

“Okay, okay…” I replied pathetically as I knelt, putting my hands behind my head. Why does this always happen?

I slowly looked around, seeing the eyes of the convicts examine me. I recognised the look instantly. Urgh… totally not in the mood for a seven-way, I thought, tricking myself into not feeling threatened.

The convict who yelled at me stood before my, kneeling down so we were at eye level.

He squinted his eyes, giving me a dirty smirk, “Well, good thing we didn’t kill ya… shame to waste such a pretty face.”

I sniggered, acting unthreatened, “I bet that line works on all the girls.”

The convict immediately slapped my cheek.

“Shut up.” He spat.

I refused to look at the convict. I could slowly feel my nerves evolve into s gentle eruption of rage; which I had to force myself to keep locked away.

The Convict then began to gently stroke the cheek he slapped, “Now what are we going to do with you.” He then stood back up, “Get up.”

I looked up at him, swallowed my pride, and then did as he asked. Once I was on my feet the convict edged closer to me. He then slowly closed his face near mine. I began to feel even more uncomfortable.

So I spat in his face.

He recoiled, then wiped my saliva off his face. I began to worry slightly as a look of intense anger grew in his eyes.

He then violently pushed me against the casino door, jamming my lower back against the door knob.

“ARGH!” I gasped.

The convict then raised his gun, holding it to my head, “Just when I thought we could be friends.” He angrily mocked.

Oh crap… I’m gunna die. Note to self: Never spit in the face of your captor-

Before I could finish my thought I heard the casino door I was leaned against rattle and open, and I was quickly grabbed from behind, then dragged into the casino. It all happened so quickly it took a moment for me to realize what had happened.

As I looked about I saw a small group of people quickly bar the casino door shut as the convicts tried to bust their way in, to no avail.

It didn’t take too long for the convicts to give up trying to get in; they knew they had us trapped.

Once he was certain the coast was clear, one of the men in the group edged away from the door and approached me, offering a hand and lifting me to my feet.

“You okay, little lady?” He asked.

I smiled, then rubbed my lower back, “Yeah. Nothing major.”

I took a moment to observe my surroundings. The Casino was very dull. There was no natural lighting, or much lighting in general. The air was thick with a rather musty smell; these people had obviously been here a while to leave such a ripe smell… not that I smelled a whole lot better. The whole place was almost pitch black; apart from a lit up 1920’s style car on display in the centre of the casino. It was a pretty cool decoration piece among the bland casino.

“So what are you doing here?” The man asked me.

“I’m looking for someone… guess I should have come when it wasn’t vacation season.” I weakly joked.

The man laughed, “My oh my, It’s been a while since I’ve met a spunky young girl like yourself. What’s your name?”

I smiled, “Eva.”

The elderly man shook my hand, “Nice to meet you Eva, I’m Johnson. Johnson Nash.”

A spark of realization hit me, “Oh… with the Mojave Express?”

“Why yes… although business has been slow recently…” He replied, attempting light humour.

“I think you might be able to help me. I’m a courier and I was sent to deliver a package through you guys.” I reached into my satchel to grab a receipt, “Here. See?”

Johnson took the receipt and looked at it. “Yes, I remember this order. We were given a few packages to deliver.”

“… Do you remember who made the order?” I asked, feeling slightly anxious.

Johnson thought for a second, “Some cowboy robot. Gave us six packages, each with odd little things in each of them.” He then folded his arms, “Although we got reports that all the packages apart from yours were delivered?”

“Yeah, got shot in the head and the package got stolen. Long story.” I rushed, “Now I don’t suppose you know anything about a man in a checked suit? Have you seen anybody like that pass through here?”

“Well not recently, no.” Johnson replied.

“So you have seen someone wearing a checked suit?” I asked.

Johnson nodded, “Yeah. Couple of days ago. Deputy Beagle saw him.”

I scratched my head in frustration, why is it so hard to get a straight answer nowadays?

“And where is Deputy Beagle?” I asked.

“Well he’s being held hostage inside the hotel over the road.” Johnson replied with a strange calmness.

“Seriously? “ I groaned, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to be going back outside; not unless I fancy dodging a bunch of bullets.

“Haven’t you tried rescuing him?” I asked.

“You’ve been outside; you know how dangerous it is.” Johnson politely argued.

“Right…” I said, folding my arms, sitting on a stood by one of the slot machines.

Looks like I’m gunna be stuck here for a while.

This post has been edited by Eva: Mar 3 2013, 07:26 PM