Prologue.

Capitalism and communism, two ideologies that served as the new excuse for hatred between humans ever since the ending of World War II. The Soviet Union, once a feared superpower, slowly declined and lost its immense power and relevance, finally replaced by The People's Republic of China not only as a communist superpower, but also as the new rival to the United States of America, the undisputed global power and the cradle of the capitalist ideology.

Decades and decades of ideological hatred and exploitation of the planet resources finally culminated in the Energy Crisis, and with that, the Resource Wars. Man's pride blinded him enough to start a senseless bloodshed, to aim his gun at his own kin just to perpetuate a pointless and consumerist lifestyle. The Middle East, a region long cursed by instability and now one of the last bastions of fossil fuel left in the world, was the first to experience the horrors of nuclear destruction at the hands of the European Commonwealth. This was just a prelude for what was to come.

It was inevitable that the world's greatest powers would go at each other throats for what little resources they could take. China attempted to conquer Alaska, the last known oil reserve in the planet, resulting in a bloody war with the USA that concluded in a stalemate where neither side could take the upper hand. The situation was desperate, civil unrest was common, inhuman experiments were made in secret, unholy creatures created with the sole purpose of bringing death to the battlefield, a sense of dread was easily felt across the nation. The whole world held its breath… and then the bombs fell.

On October 23rd of the year 2077, the hands of the Doomsday Clock reached midnight. Nuclear fire surrounded the earth, consuming everything that humankind spent millennia building. All the efforts, all the accomplishments, every single success registered in history, all reduced to nothing as the flame of civilization finally extinguished with the Earth itself poisoned by radiation, forever changed. The only planet with sentient life in the solar system cried in pain, murdered by her own children, only to be listened by an uncaring universe.

However, man's history was not destined to end with a bang, no, for such species still held dearly to life. Few managed to survive the initial bombardment, even less where the ones who managed to prosper in the contaminated wasteland that once was America, but they persisted. Slowly but surely new communities arose, little settlements endured the trials that the now enraged and vindictive nature had for them, but like a phoenix, man was capable of rising from the ashes. Nevertheless, even a nuclear holocaust was incapable of curing humanity's subconscious desire for violence, for in this new world man was still the wolf of man.

Raiders stalked the roads in search of prey to rob; slavers enriched themselves by treating their fellow as nothing more than objects, lunatics and maniacs with their brains rotted due to the use of drugs ran without direction and with ungodly intentions. Disputes were common in the lawless territories, with murder being the likely and most preferred solution, and with the raise of new ideologies came the justification for new wars. Armies marched across the lands with the same intentions that their forgotten ancestors had.

Society changed, so did the environment, but war did not, because war never changes.

The Mojave Wasteland, a godforsaken land burnt centuries ago, home to all kind of abominations who could only thrive in such an inhospitable place. Mutated scorpions whose size rival that of automobiles, giant wasps with a venom capable of causing a quick but painful death, genetically engineered predators with claws that can easily tear in half a human adult in just mere seconds, and even more dangerous and mysterious beings that crawled below the earth.

It was a hell like none other, but ironically, it was also the less damaged land in the whole territory that once composed America. Thanks to the defense systems of a luxurious casino, the Lucky 38, the majority of the nuclear warheads where destroyed before they could arrive to their targets, saving the Mojave from absolute destruction. One of the targets spared from destruction was the Hoover Dam, an enormous construction capable of producing electricity to such scale that it made for a desirable objective for anyone, and so it did.

Two major battles took place for control of the dam. The forces of the New California Republic and the Legion of Caesar collided in battle, both sides wanting to annex the Mojave to their own respective nation. The NCR emerged victorious from the first battle, but its corruption, nightmarish bureaucracy, and lack of supplies built the way for what seemed to be an inevitable Legion victory. However, a wild card appeared in the midst of the battle, at first a supposed ally to the republic who managed to drive back the invading forces and then talked face to face with the Terror of the East himself. The content of their conversation forever lost to time, but whatever happened between the two, it ended with the Legion retreating. The NCR celebrated, but their joy only lasted a few moments, for no one expected their mysterious savior to bring with him an army of robots.

Nine years have passed since the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, where a single man managed to subdue three armies, seizing power for himself. The inhabitants of the Mojave were skeptical at first, fearing the rise of a new dictator and the beginning of an era of oppression, fortunately the new leader had his heart in the right place. With the help of his companions, the allies he made across the land, his natural charisma and political skills, not to mention the technology he brought from far and unheard territories, the new leader of Vegas managed to create a completely new nation: The Mojave Federation.

While The NCR and the Legion were busy with their endless confrontations, the newly born Federation flourished and quickly became a hope spot in the post-apocalyptic world. From Jacobstown to Primm, the communities that inhabited the wasteland preserved their autonomy while enjoying the benefits of the centralized state. Trade routes finally protected; laws made to protect the citizens and to guarantee their rights, healthcare programs heavily implemented, the newly reborn Desert Rangers now served as an effective security force who, with the help of the upgraded securitron army, were successful in keeping the towns safe, not to mention the advances in education and food distribution.

The man responsible for such change had many names. The West knew him as the Traitorous Mailman; the East gave him the title of Legatus Occidentis, one certain Mexican ghoul called him Boss. He did not really care about that, he was satisfied with just the nickname of Courier 6.

The town of Goodsprings, a little settlement of hardworking and honest people who had something thought lost to time, something called hospitality. The good folks helped the Courier when he was executed by a shot to the head and left for dead in an unmarked grave, something that he paid back by helping them repel the Powder Gangers, and later, integrating their little community in the Federation, assuring their autonomy and sovereignty.

Courier lived in The Strip, now the capital of the Federation, but he liked to pay a visit from time to time to his old friends, not to mention he loved going to Prospector Saloon for a drink. Sure, New Vegas had more luxurious places to get wasted, but there was some kind of charm to that place, like a sense of familiarity and warm like no other. There, sitting in the stool next to the bar wooden counter, rested the man who changed the destiny of Nevada.

He wore his old and reliable duster, one who had the emblem of a black spade with the number "21" in his back, the very same he had when he stood face to face with Legate Lanius and General Oliver. It was his pride, the symbol of who he was and his ideals. Underneath that, he was equipped with the elite riot gear, a marvelous piece of armor he found during his travel to the Divide, his favorite so far since it gave him almost the same level of protection of a power armor without interfering with his speed and agility.

His elite riot helmet rested on his lap, that way showing his face. He was a Hispanic man in his thirties, with light tanned skin and green eyes. His hair was black, with the form of a well-kept pompadour, but with little parts painted gray. Almost a decade of building and leading a nation finally took a toll on him, resulting in his premature graying, not to mention how he pushed his body to the limit with all the implants he had. He was now a cyborg, with only a few of his original organic body parts, like the brain and spine, remaining. There was also all the cybernetic improvements he made to himself with the help of the Think Tank.

He knew that if he died, the Federation would collapse in a civil war and then annexed by the NCR or the Legion, thus undoing all of his work. He needed to live as much as possible, and if that meant becoming some kind of robotic hybrid who lived for centuries, then so be it. The irony didn't went unnoticed to him, how hypocritical it was to think such a thing when he killed House to avoid having an immortal dictator ruling over Vegas, just for him to slowly take that same path. He was sure that his old boss was chuckling at him; it was a bitter and hilarious irony.

"It's me again, Mr. New Vegas, reminding you that you're nobody 'til somebody loves you. And that somebody is me. I love you." Said the voice from the old radio.

The Courier sighed with delight, dropping the weight of his head on his right hand while smiling. No matter how many times he heard that, Mr. New Vegas always managed to make him feel like a teenage girl in love despite being thirty and something years old man.

"He sure knows how to make your heart beat, ain't he, Trudy?" He asked while looking up, only to meet the angry stare of the saloon owner. "Why the long face, sweetie? Something wrong?"

Trudy, the usual jovial and maternal woman everybody respected and loved, had her arms crossed while glaring at her client in a way that could easily make a deathclaw blush.

"THAT is what's wrong."

She replied while pointing out the corpses scattered across the saloon. Three undercover assassins tried to ambush him minutes ago while he was enjoying his drink. Two of them had the mercy of a quick and painless death with a bullet to the head, but the last of them did not have the same luck. The poor bastard ended up cut clean in half by the protonic inversal axe the Courier carried in his back; his last minutes consisted in him watching in horror at how his internal organs spilled from his body while he slowly died. Where they from Caesar or Kimball? Honestly, it did not matter; they ended up the same anyways.

He just looked at them for a few seconds, blinking twice before turning his head to her.

"I don't see your point."

Trudy was more than ready to shout in anger, only stopping once she heard the Courier's laugh.

"I'm joking, I'm joking, I'm sorry."

He grabbed a little bag he had in his pocket, passing it to Trudy. The bag contained over three thousand caps, a lot more than what he was spending in the drink, but he knew just how much of a hassle was cleaning the mess he left behind. It was the less he could do.

"Besides, it's not my fault. They tried to kill me! It was just self-defense." He said while looking up to his robotic companion. "Ain't that right, ED-E?"

A small eyebot levitated next to the bar, but it was not just any robot, he was the Eyebot Duraframe Subject E, better known as ED-E. One of the last duraframe model eyebots, a project led by the once feared Enclave, an institution that decades ago claimed to be the legitimate government of the United States, now only but a shadow of its former self. ED-E was the loyal companion of the Courier; one could easily say that they were almost like family due to all their adventures through the years. From their first encounter in Primm to their crossing of the Divide, the Courier started to slowly see the little robot as the child he never had.

The small robot answered with a series of beeps, causing the black-haired man to gasp and cover his mouth in shock.

"ED-E! You kiss your mother with that mouth!?"

The man burst out laughing once again while the eyebot moved from side to side in a childish attempt to imitate laughter. Trudy could only sigh in defeat as she grabbed the bag of caps.

"Shouldn't you be in The Strip leading a nation or something?" She asked while serving another bottle of Sunset.

"What, can't a man enjoy a nice cold sarsaparilla with his pals without needing a reason?"

Trudy answered with a stare, the same one could expect from a disappointed mother.

"Besides, Yes Man is doing a good job in my place. It doesn't hurt if I take a little vacation or two."

Yes Man, the AI who helped him overthrown House and defeat both the NCR and the Legion, a most loyal servant who, after a good update, became only obedient to him, that way preventing a cycle of betrayal. The AI was in control of the Lucky 38's network, giving him omnipotent control over New Vegas, securing the Courier's position. It was truly terrifying to think of what would have happened if an individual with dark motives had found their way to the securitron instead of him.

The Mojave was a wild and merciless land, even with the all the resources and help the Courier had in his disposal. A new day brought a new problem, be it some rascals trying to start problems with the super mutants of Jacobstown, or little gangs attempting to take the place of The Kings in Freeside, he spent most of his days going from place to place to solve disputes before these escalated. There were also the numerous factions that conformed the Federation, who where apathetic to each other in the best days and at each other throats in the worst ones. Without him keeping them in line there was little doubt that the whole region would fall in violence and anarchy in a couple of days.

Courier finished his drink, letting out a little cry of joy.

"That sure is a damn nice sarsaparilla." He said with a silly and satisfied smile while leaving the empty bottle in the wooden bar.

The frown in Trudy's face finally disappeared, replaced by a little grin. That man had the magical ability to get on your nerves one moment just to put you in a good mood in a matter of seconds.

"Anytime, honey." She answered while taking the empty Sunset Sarsaparilla, turning around to grab another for her favorite client.

Despite the recent and bloody accident, one could say that it was a quiet and peaceful afternoon, a little breath of so needed of fresh air for the tired man. Unfortunately, that would not last for long.

"Catastrophe! Disaster!"

A sudden and loud voice flooded the saloon. The noise came from ED-E, who was receiving a transmission from the Big Empty. The Courier once again sighed, not in a pleased way like before, but in a tired one.

"What is it, Mobius?" He questioned while getting up from his seat and putting on the elite riot gear helmet.

The older and panicked voice belonged to Dr. Mobius, the ancient scientist whose brain was sheltered in a think tank, an advanced and unique model of brain bot. He kept his memories and intelligence, now stripped off from the mortality of a human body, although it made him susceptible to madness and senility.

"Those fools, they are unraisinable! I should send a hundred robo-scorpions to sting their rotten brains! "The older voice exclaimed with anger.

"Mobius, did you take Psycho again? You know what happens when you trip on Psycho."

Courier waved his hand to say goodbye to his old friend, who in return reciprocated in the same way, before heading down to the door and leaving the saloon. It was afternoon, the sun almost hidden on the horizon. Soon the stars would fill the sky.

"Oh, just one or two, the Mentats just weren't enough… but that's not the point!"

It was common for Mobius to have an anger episode anytime he consumed Psycho; after all, it sent anyone who consumed it into a violent frenzy. Even so, something was wrong, Mobius's voice did not sound like his usual drug-induced anger. There was sincere panic in there.

"Treportation!"

The Courier could only give a blank stare at ED-E, trying to process what Mobius had just said. His speech disorder was just getting worse with every day that passed.

"Say what now?"

"Teleporpation!"

"Once again, c'mon buddy you can do it."

"Tele… portation!"

Courier raised his arms in celebration. Mobius was like a gentle, senile, and sad grandpa, so instead of feeling mad or frustrated, he just felt pity for the old brain.

"Yes! You did it Mobius, you sai-"He froze, realizing what Mobius had just said. "Wait, teleportation? "

"Those fools are trying to teleport the entirely of the facility!"

Hearing that made his mechanical heart shrink. This was bad, really, really bad. Those brains were smart, yes, but they were not wise. Trying to teleport the entirety of Big MT could end in such a variety of tragedies, with each one being worse than the last one. In the best scenario, they would only explode and bury with them centuries of valuable technology and knowledge, in the worst one… God, he could not bring himself to even imagine it.

"Ok, let's keep calm here. I'll just go to The Sink and try to reason with them."

"Raisin?"

"Reason. In the meanwhile, I need you to use your robo-scorpions to find whatever device they built and destroy it, just to be sure. Understand?"

"Stan… tant… Mentats? Oh dear, it's my Mentats break, goodbye!"

The transmission ended, leaving the Courier and the eyebot to look at each other in a stunned silence.

"God damn it."

He inspected his guns, melee weapons, explosives, stimpanks, chems, and of course, ammunition. He was not going to kill the brains, but experience had taught him that most of the time their inventions would shoot lasers at anything that moved, so he needed to take precautions.

"I need to move fast. ED-E, be a good boy and stay here".

The eyebot answered with a refusal beeping.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me, young man! You stay here and that's that."

ED-E proceeded to start a little rambling of beeps that, for anyone close, would have sounded like the noise of a broken computer.

"Well… damn, when you put it that way." He conceded defeat, the speech left him deeply moved.

A single and victorious beep came from the cocky robot.

"All right now, let's get everything ready."

There was only one way to have a safe travel to Big Mountain, and that was the Big Mountain Transportalponder, or just the Transportalponder. A little teleportation device with the appearance of a stylish detonator that, once triggered, teleported the user to the Big MT, and if used inside of it, then teleported back to the Mojave Wasteland. Originally, it had its limitations, for example being how it could only work in one person, being useless if one had company. Over the years, the Courier made modifications to his equipment and gear, including the Transportalponder, now being able to work in a longer range and teleport more than two people.

In retrospect, maybe the modification of the teleport device woke up the interest of the Think Tank in creating more useful and effective teleporting methods. Meaning, whatever happened from here on out, it was the Courier's fault.

"You ready, ED-E?" Asked the Courier while wielding the device in his right hand.

His little companion answered with a determined beeping.

"Then let's hit the road."

Courier 6 was a lucky man; the fact that he survived a shot in the head and then buried alive was proof of that, but sometimes he underestimated just how much Lady Luck was infatuated with him. Unbeknown to him, the Think Tank had already started their teleporting experiment the moment Mobius ended the transmission. The fabric of reality already begun to suffer, with time-space itself warped in Big Mountain. Had he decided to teleport immediately instead of having that little conversation with his robotic companion, he would have ended as a calcined skeleton buried in the hole where once stood Big Mountain.

Instead, he teleported in the right instant, when the frequency of the Transportalponder was still strong enough to find its objective, but without finding himself in the midst of the erratic explosion of energy that made possible a teleportation of such magnitude. The result was that he managed to follow the Big MT while the facility traveled between dimensions. Of course, his modified and yet human body was incapable of the same level of resistance for such voyage, so he ended up shipwrecked during the transportation.

For the first time ever, Courier did not found himself in The Sink. Rather, he landed in a completely new world.