Phoenix's Soul: Alright it's time to get to work. Haven't worked on a fanfic in a while, and I've been playing some New Vegas and this just popped into my head. Basically Male Courier, and all the goodness that will follow. Plenty of violence, cursing, and sex of course, so if you've got a problem with any of that go ahead and just click the back button. If you're cool with it enjoy the show. Oh and I don't own anything from the Fallout series. Also a lot of the lines will be changed up, but I will do my best to keep it in line with the proper stories just tweaked here or there.

Chapter 1: It all begins again.

The first thing he realized was his head was pounding, and not the good kind of pounding like the morning after he'd drunk 4 bottles of whiskey or vodka. But rather it was the bad kind of pounding where something had hit him hard enough in the head to knock him out. He groaned a little as he tried to move before realizing his hands, and feet were tied. What the fuck?

"Hey, you got what you wanted," said a rough voice coming from nearby. "Now pay up."

"I don't think so just yet my friend," responded another voice this one smooth and oily. "Ah it would seem he's coming to."

He looked up from where he lay bound on the ground to see two men standing side by side. He could just make out a few others standing just out of range in his peripheral vision, all he could see where legs. There must have been another one behind him because he was suddenly pulled up roughly to sit on his knees. The world spun around him, slowly his vision cleared, and he looked up to face a man in a checkered suit.

"Now look I don't know about you Great Khans, but I don't shoot a person without looking them in the eye you dig?" he said when the man to his right said something in a low whisper. "I ain't a fink."

He watched as the man pulled something out of his jacket pocket. It was a large shiny chip. Was that what I was carrying? He's gonna shoot me for that thing? What the fuck?

"Well now any last words my not so fine man?" Checkers asked as he put the chip away and pulled out a gaudy pistol.

"Yeah," he growled as he shifted on his knees a little.

"Oh really?" Checker's said with a mocking grin. "And what might that be?"

"You'd better make that fucking shot count!" he yelled as he managed to lunge forward he had almost reached him when Checkers fired, and all was black.

"Aaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhh!" he screamed as he flung himself up into a sitting position.

His head was pounding and heavy. His body felt weak and stiff. He felt sick and hungry. Suddenly he felt a pair of hands, one on his shoulder one on his chest. And a calm voice spoke but seemed muffled by something though he could make it out.

"Woah, Calm down there fella. I'm glad to see you're awake, but carry on like that and you're just gonna hurt yourself even more."

"What's…." he tried to think, but as he tried to the pain in his head increased. "What's going on? Where am I?"

"You're in my house," the voice answered as he was gently pushed back to lie down on something. "As for what's going on, well I was hoping you could tell me."

"What do you mean?" he tried to open his eyes so he could look at the person speaking to him, but something was preventing him from doing so. "Why can't I open my eyes?"

"That would be because of the bandages around your head, son," the voice answered in a matter of fact tone.

"Bandages?" this was strange and his head wouldn't stop hurting. "Why do I have bandages on my head?"

"Well because you got shot in the head, and I patched you up."

Suddenly a flood of memoires came rushing into his head at the sound of this fact. He remembered being there on his knees. The man in the checkered suit. The gun shot. But there were plenty of things he couldn't remember; his name, where he was from, who was.

He reached up and put a hand to his head to feel the bandages. He could tell there was a lot by how thick it was.

"You can call me Doc Mitchell," the voice beside him said. "And what, I'm wondering is what I should call you?"

"I can't remember," he said turning his head to face the voice. "I can remember some things, but there is a lot that is just missing."

"Well, given time it'll probably all come back to you. Now let's get those bandages off, and see how that hole in your head is looking."

He nodded his head slightly and let the doc do his thing. While he did so Doc Mitchell told him how he had come to be in his care. A robot cowboy named Victor had dug him out of his grave, and brought him here late in the night. Once the doc got his bandages off he tried to open his eyes, and was blinded by a bright white light.

"Just take it easy. Nice and slow," Doc Mitchell said as he helped the young man sit up.

"My head still feels pretty heavy, Doc," he said as he felt slightly off balance.

"Ah yes, I almost forgot," Doc said nodding his head. "The bullet didn't go straight through your head, so much as taking out part of the front. I gotta admit you must be one lucky son of a gun. The angle it went in, really just took apart part of your skull. I had to use a bit of metal to do a patch up before I could work on getting your skin back up. It's gonna leave a scar that's for sure."

He reached up and felt the area that felt heavy. He flinched a little the flesh was still tender and sore. "Well I guess it could have been worse."

"Yeah, I think so," Doc said chuckling softly. "You could have wound up dead."

Phoenix's Soul: