Hunterits309

1. Mean Sonofabitch Fallout New Vegas
2. Mean Sonofabitch Fallout

'Ah, don't mind Mean Sonofabitch,' I heard a voice say from behind me. It was a smooth, authoritative and very calming sort of voice. Try to imagine if a really rich, creamy, and thick molasses could speak, and you're about halfway there. Fallout new vegas fallout new vegas text its funny because Mean Sonofabitch is an angel and super nice fnv 1k 10k. Fallout fallout 4 fallout new vegas gaming meme. This is the story of Marcus. To the residents of Vault 101 he's just a regular 18 year old kid; who happens to be carrying on a secret love affair with the Overseer's daughter, Amata. But soon fate will step in, and he will be forever known to the rest of the Wasteland as 'The Lone Wanderer.' Formally 'Fallout: Escape'. The sonofabitch. How could it be so easy for him to lie down and sleep, like one of those old baby dolls whose eyes closed when you tipped them backward? Meanwhile, I had to lie there in anguish, pounding heart, racing mind, skin prickling as if I were entering a nuclear fallout zone? I knew something was wrong.

Sitting before a dim campfire, 'Rex Praedator' starred deep into the fading embers. He didn't know how he came to be here, but that was the way it always was: wherever he went, life or fate dragged him somewhere else. The man wasn't unique to the controlled chaos of the world's whims, however. Like many others, it was difficult for him to let go.

'Christ, baby, look at the mess you got yourself into!' A smarmy voice said.

The tall man looked up at a checkered suit-wearing fool as he walked out the infinite darkness and into the dying fire's flickering light.

'What? You ain't got nothin' to say?' Sitting down, the phantom clucked his tongue. 'Do you want me to start from the beginning or way farther up the time table of events? Let's start closer to the present, the past is a cold bitch; you fucked the brains out of that sweet piece you have in the Strip, headed over to crummy Westside, and proposed to the sweet crazy piece you have there not even a day after banging the other chick before you banged her night away.' Fancy Pants snapped his fingers in the brown-skinned man's direction and laughed. 'I swear, if I had known you'd do something like that back when I was still alive, I would've shook your hand before I busted those caps off in your skull!' Lowering a hand, he shook the other. 'I would've known you deserved it though.'

'Do you have anything meaningful to say or are you here to annoy me even after your long, agonizing death?'

A withered breath swept into the Swinger's chapped lips as the rest of his body thinned. 'You did me dirty, baby, dirtier than that poor broad you widowed, blackmailed into fucking, and killed all to prove a point. Couldn't you have just taken me out with that knife of yours? You know, the one you dug up from a grave? I actually knew the poor bastard it belonged to, did him in myself, man was better off dead. Anyway, you chose to have me crucified by a bunch of crazies in sports gear and scrap over facing off with me like a man… Aren't you a piece of work?'

'Even in death, you can think of no one but yourself.'

The corpse collapsed into the campfire, igniting it once again into an impossible bonfire.

'True, but you know I'm not wrong. See you on the other side, ya fink.'

'Rex' rolled his eyes as the fire burned away the world around him.

The honored man awoke with his red-headed love, naked, clinging to his bare side.

A moan purred in the woman's throat.

Yawning, 'Rex' kissed his fiancé's forehead.

Death would claim them both, as it would everything in time, but they had each other until then. Many others would be discontent with that fact. They, on the other hand, accepted death into their being a long time ago. Whether or not there was an after was irrelevant.

He snaked his hand down Lucy's back, grabbed her rump, lifted his hand, and brought it back down on her soft backside in force.

A surprised gasp swept in-between the red-haired women's lips as she awoke. Her pain mixed with pleasure as 'Rex' massaged her reddening skin, drawing moans from her again. 'Oh my bold hunter.'

'The morning has stirred my blood.'

Lucy's eyes moved down his face to his loins. 'I can see that, but mine needs more stirring.'

'Then let me stir you.'

As the sun rose, the two enjoyed each other to their delight.

Veronica, in a growing trend, didn't know how long she walked until she collapsed on the outskirts of Goodsprings. The feeling of something being pulled from her head, and the clicking sound like that of a bolt-action firearm awoke her.

A woman in leather, aiming a 'varmint' rifle at her head, stood above her beside is a teeth-baring dog. 'We don't have any energy weapons, high-tech farming equipment, or pre-war schematics, so you can just stand up and walk away before I put one through your skull.'

'…Um, I'm actually not with the Brotherhood.'

'And I don't have a rifle aimed at the space in-between your eyes.'

'Did one of u— them come in and take something from you folk or?'

'No, we just know better than to trust anyone coming to town in a tin-can that can probably take an entire stick of dynamite and still move who also worships technology and kills for it.'

'I'm not with the Brotherhood… They're all dead, actually, so you won't have to ever worry about them ever again.'

'And why should I believe you?'

'I stole this armor from them and found them all dead myself.' Veronica's eyes widened. 'Also, I think we might have a mutual friend: about 6'6, brown-skinned, occasionally talks in Spanish, two bullet-hole scars on his head, built like a super mutant, killing machine, last name is Cazador of all things?'

'You know that crazy sonofabitch?' The woman lowered her rifle.

Veronica shifted upwards, minding herself around the still somewhat hostile stranger. 'Don't you? He said something about taking care of some Powder Gangers for Goodsprings once.' She flinched. 'Also something about a small-time wannabe hunter…female dog thought he didn't know how to survive in the Mojave.'

'He said what now?'

'In complete fairness, he once made me eat some cooked gecko intestines and it was one of the tastiest things I ever had in my life.'

Scoffing, the unidentified woman shook her head. 'I knew he had that look on his face for some reason.'

'Actually,' Veronica said, bending down to pick up her T-51 helmet, 'his face always has that look. Only ever seen him smile when someone was suffering or dying, most of the time because of him.'

'With or without a machete? When he was making people suffer and die, I mean.'

'…A lot of things actually, with and without; why?'

'Because when we were about to have a showdown with a gang of Powder Gangers, Cazador ran straight to the bastards and cut them up with a machete. It made me think he was Legion, but the name made me realize he was a southerner.'

'Eh, knows too much about the west to be from the south. Maybe somewhere north?'

Hefting her rifle over her shoulder, the stranger held out her free hand. 'Name's Sunny Smiles.'

'I'm Veronica.' Blinking, the former scribe shook the previously violent stranger's hand as gently as she could.

'What brings you towards Goodsprings?'

'…Well, I thought I could make it there before I passed out, but I overestimated my stamina. Thank you for not killing me while I was out and in general.'

'You're welcome. Where you headed after?'

'East, through the long way north.'

Sunny's raised an eyebrow. 'Haven't you heard the Legion's taken Hoover Dam and is headed for Vegas? I know that armor can take a hit but numbers will wear you down, especially without a gun.'

'I've heard, it's why I came this way and part of the reason why I'm going east actually. The cazadors and khans won't be a threat so long as I'm wearing this. '

'Alright, I won't stop you. Hell, some of the settlers back in town might go with you for protection: news of the Legion's got them scared and they don't want to be paying taxes further west, so they figure the north might somehow have a future for them.'

Veronica hummed. 'There is actually one town up in the mountains to the north that might be safe.'

'Really?' Sunny tilted her head.

'Yeah.' The Brotherhood survivor nodded and blinked. '…It's populated almost entirely by super mutants though.'

The huntress scoffed. 'That's the worst joke I ever heard.'

'I wish I was joking, there actually is a town of super mutants in the mountains up north. Cazador brought me there once looking to fix an adorable cyberdog's brain. We also ended up helping a human and ghoul scientist with their research into fixing nightkin super mutant schizophrenia, probably one of the best yet questionable things that man has ever done.'

'Huh… Well, I guess some of those idiots are desperate for anything. A town of those behemoths would be safe from outsiders, which could mean them though.'

'Yeah, they're a bit iffy around humans. However, I think they'd welcome me back happily since I helped out.'

Sunny laughed. 'Sounds like you've got a perfect job set up for you.'

Veronica blinked again. 'What?'

'Some of those idiots looking to find a paradise north would give you anything they have, and, looking at that armor of yours, you can probably carry a lot more than you already are. They're farm boys and girls so they can fire a shot. All you'd need to do is take the lead and the brunt of any attacks while they take your attackers out from afar.'

'That's… actually a really good idea.' The former scribe shook her head. 'No, I've got someone to meet up with, and I don't know if they'll be at the place I expect them to be if I don't make it there as soon as I can.'

'Fair enough, it's just a suggestion.' Turning around, Sunny walked back towards Goodsprings. 'But, if you change your mind, head to town and go to the Prospector's saloon! Tell Trudy I sent you and ask any of the scaredy-cats if they want to head north!'

'I will! I mean, if I do!' Veronica shouted back at the increasingly distant hunter, fitting her helmet back on.

The lonesome girl in power armor made it past the Goodsprings cemetery before turning back to visit the saloon.

Squads and squads of legionaries marched past Boone's rifle crosshairs. He was tempted to take on the entire army, as his other friend would, but he knew the folly in killing foot soldiers. Even assassinating the commanding centurions would accomplish nothing in the long run.

'You need to learn how to play things smarter. Your 'kill everything' approach got you into that self-destructive pit.'

A sigh grunted past the sniper's lips as he skulked across the towering ridges above the Mojave.

Together with ED-E, the three of them explored the mountainous range. He wasn't used to the terrain but Cazador was. It was almost like he was born in the mountains with the way he climbed up and slid down on his feet. More than a few times, he fell on his ass attempting the same, much to the brown-skinned stranger's amusement. Boone did eventually learn how to glissade and climb up mountains without much issue, greatly benefiting him now in his evasion of marching Legion forces.

He watched as the 188 trading post fell.

The four or so heavy troopers defending it were quickly overwhelmed, stripped of their helmets, and decapitated or shot in the head. Michelle and Samuel, the father-daughter cook team Cazador looked down on for serving food he thought was subpar, were tied up, likely to be made slaves. As for the former NCR trooper arms merchant, she fought back and was beaten before being raped for her resistance. Veronica, the Brotherhood of Steel scribe who apparently left the insane organization, would've likely suffered the same fate if she had never met him or that man. Every other person he didn't recognize were put in the same position as Michelle and Samuel, with the exception of the kid who lived underneath the trading post bridge.

Narrowing his eyes, Boone shifted his crosshairs back on the child, free of his 'medicine,' now being fed and looked after by a genuinely concerned legionary.

'Do not look at it in the eye. Do not think of it in any pleasant manner other than a beast. If you see the ghost of someone you once knew, scatter that disgusting creature's foul brains. I don't care if it's a child. I don't care if it doesn't understand or if you don't understand. Kill it if it takes off that contraption.'

Cazador saw something in that kid. He didn't know what insanity his friend was talking about until they parted ways on bad terms. The sniper was curious, so he asked 'the Forecaster' what he did.

He lowered his rifle with a shake of his head.

Clay, the Forecaster, spoke of things he had no way of knowing about: a massacre, the haunting memories, her mercy killing, his acceptance, their fight, and what awaited both of them in the future. He saw or heard the lingering echoes in old world junk. It helped him block out the 'noise.'

When he asked about the hunter, the boy froze. He spoke of an old giant, a cultured swordsman, a mad old man, a reborn priest, an ambitious brother, old world gods, the Devil in Black, and the other courier bearing a message intended only for him. It was practically nonsense, but a part of the former NCR sharpshooter knew the courier would know what he was talking about, likely already having encountered those people.

Boone turned to Vegas, his thoughts returning to his plan. 'Cut off the head and the snake will die, but its body will linger for a time.'

Caesar was likely far out of his reach by now, but there was one person that answered only to him that would brazenly show his face.

'If I can't take out the head, I'll have to settle for its neck…for now.'

The sharpshooter continued on his way by mountain to the city where his love had grown up, above the sights of the legionaries.

Standing on top of a platform below a sewer grate, Red Lucy observed three fire geckoes fending off three nightstalkers with their fire. The Thorn was filled with cheers and jeers as the fire-breathing lizards fended off the rattlesnake DNA spliced coyotes. Usually, the genetic abominations performed better against the naturally mutated wildlife, but the opposite was in play this match.

'Rex' Cazador sat on the edge of his lover's platform, staring at what many considered a spectacle with half-lidded eyes.

'Oh fuck! The Legion are here!' A voice from above yelled loud enough to be heard through the grate.

The brown-skinned man didn't need to hear anymore words before he sprung up and began walking to the underground complex's main entrance and exit.

'Hell yeah, our best man's going up to handle those slaving fucks!'

Another guard cheered the hunter on. 'Leave some for the beasties, you monster!'

By the time he was climbing up the ladder, he was already thinking of ways to make sure they'd all get crucified.

'Under no circumstances are any of you to fight back!' The Thorn's most faithful servant declared. You may run into the sewers if you wish, but do not expect to be welcome if you return!'

Just like that, more than half of Lucy's guard ran to the sewer entrance. Far more 'citizens' of Vegas followed them, trampling each other to death. Several remaining guards felt ill at the sight of the bodies but still kept their place.

The red woman stood guard in her rightful position.

Like the beasts tearing each other apart in the battleground below, the cowards and the weak were sacrificed.

'Rex' rose from the Thorn's manhole into the world above.

The outside ruins of Westside Vegas were deserted as they once were after the far yet again. Much could be wondered about how the Legion would change the slums. Its pathetic population would be slaughtered, enslaved, and lord over as it's about to be, but the ruins couldn't stand: their continued decrepitness would cast shame on the people the Legion could become from settling at last.

Cazador shook his head free of fantasies before turning to see the advancing force of legionaries.

It was good he forwent his weapons, there was a good chance he would've been shot already otherwise.

'Name yourself, profli—'

A decanus raising his arm stopped the fool from finishing his sentence. 'State, this man is Kimball's assassin.'

'Vero?'

'Yes, vero.' The respectful man nodded.

'Rex' rolled his eyes at the fusion of Latin and English.

Intermixing languages, Spanish or otherwise with English or any other, always made a horrible, confusing abomination serving only to confuse and annoy everyone. He had no idea what possessed Caesar to adopt Latin but never make its use mandatory. A language could be a connecting identity when there was nothing else.

'Who and where is your centurion?'

'Aelius, he is in the tunnels beneath our feet to prevent any profligates from escaping.'

The hunter looked back towards the Thorn. 'Clever and inconvenient. The fools will keep him busy, but I suppose I can wait a little while longer.'

'Amicus?'

'Follow your orders and close off escape from the ground.' Cazador returned his attention to the soldier. 'Your centurion is already in a position to close off escape from below. Mind the big green mutant creature, however: he's likely to tear his way through more than a dozen of your men if you attack anyone. Follow customary procedure, enslave most of the commoners and let the officials be for further judgment. Make your intentions seem mostly peaceful, and the watchdog will relent as much as one could.'

'Are you sure of this?'

The hunter stood in silence. '…On second thought, it's better if I came with you.'

'Without any weapons?' The decanus looked down at the bare gun belt strapped around his waist.

'Don't need them.' 'Rex' turned around and began walking to the Westside entrance. 'Follow my lead and don't attack unless I give the order, no matter what happens.'

'By your order, amicus.'

The legionaries behind the decanus gave one another doubtful looks before following their commander regardless.

Cazador opened the Westside door and met the barrel end of a shotgun. 'Ah, the old Vegas welcome.'

'I-It's you!' The militia guard shouted and stepped back.

'Yeah, me.' Blocking the doorframe with his body, 'Rex' examined the various nervous guards lowering their horribly kept guns from his frame. 'Do you have any idea how terribly equipped you people are for a Legion invasion?'

'Offering to help?'

'No, a way out. Where's Mean Sonofabitch?'

'Somwan call fo me?' A colossal green man wearing a makeshift vest, carrying a pneumatic hammer the size of a woman, walked out from behind the fallen battlement that greeted everyone who walked through the south Westside entrance.

A female militia member nudged her elbow in the direction behind the hiding spot. 'Go back, Sonofabitch, you're our ace in the hole.'

'The phrase is 'ace in the sleeve,' Denise.'

'Oh shut the fuck up, Jack!'

The man to Cazador's left held out his gun and free arm to his sides. 'I'm just saying.'

'You all need to shut up and listen.' 'Rex' sighed before walking forward, letting the troops behind him enter Westside as well.'

'Ah fuck!'

'Like I was telling you all earlier, I have a way out for you all. You'll either be citizens living under the rule of the Legion or remain free after this.'

Denise scoffed, leveling her gun at the nearest legionary. 'Shove your words up yours, you fucking mail man! No way in hell am I giving up my fine ass without a fight.'

'…Huh.' The hunter tilted his head to get a better view of the woman's form. 'There's not much to speak of.'

A crack filled the air as a bullet bounced off the man's leather shirt.

'Jesus Christ! What the fuck was that!' Jack yelled at his fellow militiamen.

'….What in the actual hell?'

'Here's the deal you're all going to agree to because it's the best chance any of you idiots has of getting out of this alive.' Grabbing the barrel of the legionary to his side's rifle, he raised a hand as he lowered the gun. 'Me and Sonofabitch, one on one, no weapons, no holds barred, and finished when one of us can't stand or dies for this pathetic slum fit for rotting mole rats.'

Silence fell over the Westside entrance until the militia broke out into a fit of laughter.

'Oh my god! Did you fucking hear that?!'

'One on one, no holds barred!'

'Oh man, Sonofabitch is going to rip his fucking head off!'

Rolling his eyes, the courier frowned at Mean Sonofabitch's confused face.

The lives of these worthless men and women now lay with the literal gentle giant following through with his plan. He didn't like the thought of hurting what was the equivalent of a loyal dog, but he would if he had to. Everything in life never happened without someone getting hurt for it.

'We going to stand around hollering like Fiends tripping on psycho or are we going to get this started?'

'Alright, it's your death wish, man.' Jack led the other militiamen through the opening past the supermutant. 'Come on, Sonofabitch, you've got a sellout bitch to take out.'

'Rex' followed them to the opening but stopped and turned around. 'Decanus, have your men guard the exit. Follow me with a token force.'

The legion officer nodded and carried out his new orders.

Several minutes later, more militiamen plus Westside residents and the decanus with his handful of men crowded around Cazador and a super sledge-less Mean Sonofabitch.

A whimper-like grunt emanated from the super mutant's throat. 'Me no rike fight bu will so no mo pepple ge kill.'

'People die no matter what you choose to do.' The hunter clenched his fists and breathed deeply. 'And I love fighting.'

The green giant stepped forward and a deafening slam thrummed through the air not a moment after. Sonofabitch had to pause at the sharp pain flaring in his jaw. It was the first time a human had ever hit him so hard with just their bare hands.

Grinning, 'Rex' kicked at the side of the mutant's knee.

Mean, reminded of the fight by the added pain, move his large arms to grab the inhumanly strong human.

A laugh escaped the hunter's lips before he moved to the large green man's side and kicked him far harder in the already wounded joint.

The mutant sonofabitch fell on to his other knee for support.

Cazador took a few steps behind the downed giant, ran and lunged at him, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed the poor creature's skull against the asphalt with all his weight put behind him and all the force he could muster. He didn't stop there. Taking advantage of his momentum, the inhumanly strong man hopped back around the giant and more than a few steps back.

Mean lifted his head back up just in time to see a boot collide with it full force, the heel of which shattered his teeth.

Adrenaline filled growls emanated from both men as they prepared for their shared final moments of the fight.

As Sonofabitch lifted his upper body off the ground, 'Rex' jabbed him in the right side of his chest with his left hand, transmitting much of the impact into his liver.

The mutant's already wide eyes grew in size at the blow. He didn't get to move before another liver shot made his eyes look upward. One more made them retreat inside his skull. The last and most brutal blow to one of his most vital organs sent him unconscious frothing.

Cazador took a deep breath, waved his limp hands, and began walking back to the Westside south entrance past his still audience. 'Decanus, I'll tell the men at the entrance to enter. Begin enslaving and purging these wastrel junkie filth.'

'Y-Yes, amicus! Legionaries! Corral the women and lower men!'

The few soldiers there began following orders with no difficulties, their target populace's morale devastated.

A sigh escaped 'Rex's' lips as he walked through the crowd of pouring in legionaries to the Thorn.

It was quite the disappointment.

Half an hour passed until the Courier was face-to-face with a centurion in highly effective scavenged armor and several of his soldiers.

'My decanus, Maximus, told me of how you faced a great mutant in single combat barehanded and won flawlessly for control over the ground. Odd that you're here, however, instead of in Vegas to help secure Caesar's hold on the city. Has Camp Golf been dealt with?'

Cazador nodded. 'Slaughtered to a single squad and a single crippled ranger. I would've killed them, but someone needed to bear witness what happened there and spread word.'

'Understandable and a wise move.' Aelius turned to Red Lucy. 'Who is this woman that stands at your side and before me bearing arms on her back?'

The huntress grabbed hold of her lover's arm and closed the distance between them. 'I am his wife to be, and I have a gift of mine to share with the Legion.'

'What is this 'gift?'

'Follow me.' Lucy moved from her position underneath the circular grate overhead towards the Thorn's cages.

Aelius and his men turned to 'Rex.'

'You heard the woman, didn't you?' He walked behind his fiancé. 'Come on.'

Having not much else to do, the Legionaries followed the odd couple to the Thorn's cage rooms.

The first cage before them had a table with dead ravens resting atop plates before it. Inside, annoying insects and their eggs populated the rather spacious domicile.

'Here, we start with giant mantises.' Lucy walks to the cage, takes out a key, and opens up the big green creatures' home.

Aelius' men lift their guns but are signaled to back down by the Courier.

Six of the mantises approached, making odd croak-like squeaks.

The beastmistress grabbed and handed out about four raven corpses.

Quickly tearing the relatively fresh meat apart, the mantids feasted on their meal and scattered bits among the younger, smaller of their kind.

'They're really quite useless. Good for feeding the other beasts though.' Exiting the cage, she locked the gate, and moved to the next one filled with fire geckos. 'Now these adorable creatures are at least capable of putting up a fight. Good for burning out prey, making a fire, or scaring away other animals.'

Rex had to laugh at the table holding up mantis bits by the holding cell.

As Lucy opened the cage, a few geckos approached and chirped, obediently waiting inside the cage for their meal.

The little fire-breathing reptiles happily received some mantis legs and head-pats before being locked up again.

Radscorpions populated the next home made from entwined steel with no table in sight.

'These irradiated scorpions are savage. I don't need to feed them anything because they eat each other.' Opening the cage, she held out her hand.

A little blue-carapaced insect skittered over.

Lucy stroked its tough shell and cooed as it refused to attack her. 'They've all known me since they were hatchlings. They understand their place. I can't think of much use for them beyond their poisons but they make for good company when others are too loud.' Retracting her hand, she closed the cage door and locked it.

More than a few nightstalkers were slithering their tongues by their steel home's entrance when they arrived.

The Thorn's most faithful servant opened the locked door, letting the creatures circle around her feet and jump up at her. 'There, there.' She pet one, grabbed a cut of meat from their table, and threw it back into the cage for some space. 'Nightstalkers have a dog and a snake's sense of smell. You can harvest poison from them, have them stand guard, and track down your prey. Really quite helpful. Possibly the most helpful of beasts that live in the land.'

Blood-curdling buzzing occupied the next cage with an odd assortment of plants on its table.

Even Cazador had to step back as his woman opened a cage of Cazadors.

Not many of the winged death dealers flew to Lucy, however. The bodies already in the cage occupied most of their attention.

'Cazadors are the most fascinating of predators. Their men aren't predators at all but scavengers.' Grabbing a pod of honey mesquite, the woman guided the plant into the giant wasp's mandibles. 'Beyond being deadly in combat with their poison, I wonder if they could be used as scouts. Sent to fly high and observe before coming back down to report.' She pet the creature before shutting the door.

The finale exhibit was somewhat tame in comparison but still horrifying to everyone except two incredibly odd people that were intimate.

Red Lucy opened the cage and entered without fear.

Four baby death claws approached and cooed in her presence.

A giant, darker-toned fully grown one darted over and bellowed above her pups.

The woman head out her hand to the concerned mother.

It sniffed her once before lowering its head and nuzzling the Thorn's most faithful servant.

Cazador was the only one grinning as the Legionaries stared dumbfounded at quite possibly the most effective beast tamer that ever lived closing up her Deathclaw cage.

'That is my gift to the Legion, if Caesar would allow it. I will tame the fiercest beasts and pass on my knowledge as best I can. My faith in my groom to be ensures my complete loyalty.'

'I… You must speak to Caesar himself about this. Let Rex Praedator take you to him and introduce you, you are his woman. I will come with you and back your claims with report of my success in conquering Westside.'

Lucy furrowed her brow. 'Will my men be allowed to remain free and guard the Thorn?'

'My own men will secure it and help feed the beasts if necessary. You have nothing to worry about, beastmistress.'

'Good. Then we should depart to Vegas at once.' She turned to her lover and smiled. 'Shall we?'

He grasped her hand in his, smiling as well. 'We shall. From there, we'll look upon the future, our future, as one.'

Aelius ordered one of his decani to manage the Thorn as respectfully as possible before setting out with the hunter couple alongside a guard of his own men.

Facing Your Demons

Marcus Lincoln was in the ruins of Tenpenny Tower. He was covered in dirt and dust and was laying on his back trapped under some pieces of rubble. As hard as he tried he couldn't break free. Debris of concrete, rebar, wood, furniture, and the skeletal remains of the former residents lay scattered. The wind was gusting, blowing around dirt and dust everywhere. The sun was beginning to set under partly clouded skies. As he continued to try to free himself, he started to hear the sound of footsteps through the rubble. He quickly turned towards the sound and saw a figure walking towards him, carrying a rifle. Due to the sun's position, Marcus couldn't see who the mysterious figure was, he only saw black. But he was able to guess that the figure was wearing power armor, due to its size.

'Is this what you wanted?' the figure asked in a feminine voice. 'Is this what you were looking for?' She said as she looked around at the destruction. 'Was betraying everyone you knew, everything you stood for, everything you compromised…..everything you've done worth it?' The figure stopped, and was close enough so the sun was now directly behind her and Marcus could see who it was. Sarah Lyons. She glared at Marcus, eyes full of hatred. Marcus tried to speak, but couldn't muster the strength to.

The ground began to crunch under Sarah's boots as she began to walk towards him. 'All hail the conquering hero.' She began, reciting a poem she read long ago. 'Let us remember him as our protector, and not the one who gave us this.' She raised her arms outward, gesturing to the ruins of Tenpenny Tower and the remains of its inhabitants. 'As our savior! And not our betrayer! Let us see him forever as how he was, and not how he is.' Sarah slung her rifle onto her back and took out a pistol. 'All hail the conquering hero. All hail The Lone Wanderer. The one who was supposed to save us all! But now I must save us,' Sarah was now standing right on top of Marcus, 'save everyone,' she took the pistol in both hands and aimed at Marcus, 'from you.'

Marcus raised his free hand upwards to try and stop her, but it was of no use.

BANG!

Marcus shot up breathing heavily and in a cold sweat. It took him a moment for him to process where he was: he was lying on a run-down navy cot in the cabin of the Duchess Gambit. He sat up on the edge of the cot and held his head in his hand. The dream. That damn dream that had haunted him for two weeks. Marcus reached for his whiskey bottle, then tossed it when he realized it was empty. Drink had been the only thing that kept the dreams at bay, but even that seemed to be no longer working.

He could hear the hum of the steam boat's engine as it gently made it's way down the Potomac. After two weeks of languishing in Megaton, Marcus had to get out of there. After destroying Tenpenny Tower he had accepted (even welcomed) the fact that the Brotherhood would execute him, but when they spared him, he didn't know what to do. Three days after he was cast out he had nearly done it himself, but at the last moment, Marcus had shot his juke box instead. Maybe it was fear, or a stubbornness to not die that stopped him. I didn't matter. He was still here...alone. His friends (the ones had had left) tried to reach out to him. Charon came to visit, and told him that while Reilly was not happy about what he'd done, she was quote: 'More forgiving then the Brotherhood'. Marcus was great full, because his Ranger armor was the only set he had left after the Brotherhood stripped him of his. Before Marcus had limped back to Megaton, the Brotherhood had raided his home and took all his high tech weapons. Wadsworth protested, but the Knights simply deactivated the robot. All Marcus had left was his desert eagle, 'Lucy', a few frag grenades and mines, his 40mm grenade launcher and Lincoln's Repeater. The only reason they didn't confiscate RL-3 was because the robot was still at the Satcom array when they arrived.

Though he appreciated the gesture, like everyone else, Marcus pushed Charon away. When the ghoul refused to leave, Marcus flew into a drunken rage and cursed Charon, calling him a useless zombie. He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done, and Charon stormed out. The truth was deep down Marcus believed he was better off not having friends - they had a habit of getting killed around him. So after leaving Dogmeat with Billy Creel (Maggie loved the dog), he made his way to the Duchess after hearing Tobar's radio advertisement. When he arrived, he was met by a frantic woman named Catherine who begged him to go to Point Lookout and find her runaway daughter, Nadine. Reluctantly, Marcus eventually agreed - after she offered to give him a reward.

'We'll be arriving at Point Lookout in a few minutes.' Tobar, the owner and captain of the Duchess Gambit, announced as he entered the cabin.

Marcus nodded as he stretched.

'Couldn't sleep, hu? Ah well, you just need time to get your sea legs, is all.'

Marcus ignored the man's statement. 'What can you tell me about this place?'

'Well, Point Lookout was the site of the Point Lookout State Park; a tourist trap before the war. It had a boardwalk, rides, all kinds of attractions. It was also a favorite of Civil War enthusiast. The bombs didn't hit Point Lookout, but the fallout left it's mark. Most of it is covered in swamp land, and it's inhabited by mutants we just call Swamp Folk. They're a by product of radiation and...poor breeding.'

Marcus listened as he cleaned his repeater. 'Are there any settlements?'

'A few scattered about; the largest is Pilgrims Landing near the boardwalk where we'll be docking. When you get there you should check out Madame Panada's House of Wares. It's the biggest general store at the Point. Be careful, though, Swamp Folk aren't the only things to worry about. There's a lot of feral's in the swamps, and we have occasional visits from pirates and smugglers. I guess where your from they'd be called Raiders.'

Marcus cocked back his rifle and aimed down the sites. He knew how to deal with Raiders. 'Do they take caps?'

Tobar nodded. 'Oh yeah, but the real wealth is in the punga fruit that grows here. It's the only food source that takes radiation out of your system. A lot of people come here looking to make a fast buck and haul back what they can, but that swamp has a habit of swallowing people up.' Tobar watched as Marcus checked over his desert eagle. 'Say ah, you never told me your name.'

Marcus slapped in a magazine and released the gun's slide. 'You're right, I didn't.'

Tobar shrugged. 'Suit yourself. I understand; a lot of people coming here wish to remain anonamis...' Something outside caught the man's eye. 'Holy shit!'

Marcus stood up and looked out the port hole. 'What is it?'

Tobar headed for the bow of the ship, and Marcus followed. 'There's smoke coming from Calvert Mansion.'

Marcus looked out over the horizon and got his first glimpse of Point Lookout. He could see the old boardwalk was mostly in tack, but in desperate need of repairs. Closed shops and game booths lined the once busy tourist attraction and seemed surprisingly untouched compared to structures in the Capital. A large Ferris wheel was still standing; a ghostly reminder that this was once a place teaming with life. Off in the distance, Marcus could see a non-functioning lighthouse, and just off to it's left a large plum of smoke was rising towards the sky. 'Does anybody live there?'

'Yeah, Desmond Lockheart. He's a ghoul who was some big shot around here before the war; and he's a mean sonofabitch! He must've pissed the wrong people off this time.'

Marcus continued to stare at the smoke. Might as well check it.

After the Duchess Gambit was tied up, Marcus disembarked the boat and slowly made his way past the boardwalk and headed inland. An errie fog hung low over the streets, and Marcus could only see a few feet in front of him.

'You do not belong here...'

Marcus spun around in the direction the voice came from; his repeater at the ready. The voice was feminine and had a heavy accent, and Marcus could hear light foot steps approaching. A moment later a hooded figure appeared through the fog, and Marcus tightened the grip on his rifle. The figure stopped and removed the hood - revealing the face of a young woman with black hair. '...he who wanders alone.'

Marcus studied the woman carefully. She looked and sounded like an old world gypsy fortune teller. 'Who are you?'

'My name is Madame Panada.'

Marcus lowered his rifle. 'Tobar told me about you. He said there was a settlement here and you owned a general store.'

Panada nodded. 'I did, but the settlement is gone. Most of the people were taken by the dark heart. The others fled.'

Marcus gave this strange woman a sideways look. 'Dark heart. What is that?'

'It is an evil that corrupts the soul. It traps it's victims in their own nightmares, and causes them to loose their will. They act as though they are awake, but they are not.'

Marcus continued to stare at Panada with a confused look. 'Okaaaaay! You said the people fled. Where did they go?'

She pointed North. 'They fled deep into the swamp; to the Turtle Dove Detention Center. It was a P.O.W camp during the Great War. They all be held up there.'

Marcus checked the old world map on his PIPBOY. This detention center was definitely a hike, but there was a chance Nadine was there. He would have to check it out - after investigating this fire at Calvert Mansion. 'How did you know who I was?'

Panada approached him. 'The fates told me a great warrior who wanders alone would arrive. They said he has slain many an enemy...but his heart was broken and empty.' She raised her index finger. 'They said though you have won many battles, victory has defeated you.'

As Marcus listened to the gypsy, he came to a conclusion: this woman was completely out of her mind. 'Riiiiiight. Well, it was very nice...and strange to meet you. Good luck.' He turned and quickly headed towards Calvert Mansion.

Madame Panada just shook her head.

'Come and get it you fuckers!' Desmond yelled as he fired his combat shotgun at another tribal, blowing her head off. Since last night the brainwashed disciples had been trying to storm the ghoul's mansion, and both he and his attack dogs had managed to hold them back. Now they had breached the main entrance, and were pouring in despite the constant fire from Desmond's defense turrets. The two-hundred year old ghoul reloaded his shotgun just as a tribal swung an ax at his head. Desmond rolled out of the way, dodging the fatal blow, and repaid the tribal by blowing a hole in his chest.

An explosion in the mansion's main entrance got his attention, and Desmond could see half a dozen tribals lying on the ground dead. A lone figure wearing green body armor appeared in the main doorway, raised a repeating rifle, and fired three shots in rapid succession. Each shot landed between the eyes of a tribal, and Desmond's would be rescuer entered the mansion.

Desmond took aim with his shotgun and opened fire, killing two more of the surprised tribals. Two more were dragged to the ground by his attack dogs and had their throats ripped out. He spotted the green armored stranger take cover behind a pillar to avoid being shot with a double-barrel shotgun. Desmond took out the stranger's would be killer with two shots from his own shotgun. He didn't know who this man was, but the ghoul would take all the help he could get.

Marcus saw the shotgun wielding tribal go down, and he quickly raised his rifle and took out the last two who had fallen back inside a dinning room. Once everything was quiet, Marcus joined Desmond behind his make shift barricade.

'I don't know who you are, but if you want to survive, we will have to work together.' Desmond said with a low-gravelly voice.

Marcus stood next to the ghoul and began reloading his rifle. 'You're welcome.'

His sarcasm was not lost on Desmond. 'Oh I'm sorry, were you expecting gratitude?'

Marcus glared at the ghoul. 'A little.'

'I'm sorry, but I tend to have a lapse in manners when brain-dead fuckers are trying to kill me! Now focus! There will probably be another wave any second.'

Marcus finished loaded his repeater and cocked it. 'And why would I stick around for it?'

Desmond sighed. 'Of course! No one does anything for free, do they? Alright kid, tell you what. You see these weapons?'

Marcus took a quick look around. Desmond had quite the arsenal: assault rifles, frag grenades, a minigun, even a flame thrower were in the room.

'These are only a fraction of what I have stored underneath this place. You're free to help yourself to it, if we get out of this alive. Agreed?'

Marcus nodded.

'Good. Now load up on ammo, they'll be here any second.'

The battle turned out to be more intense then Marcus had imagined. The tribals mindlessly charged at them from three directions, and the suicidal attacks nearly overwhelmed the two defenders. Marcus had to use everyone of his weapons, even his knife, before the battle was over. His Ranger armor was covered in blood, and Desmond's suit had more then a few rips in it.

'If you're still waiting for that thank you,' the ghoul said as he caught his breath, 'don't hold your breath.'

Marcus stared at the ghoul. 'This guy is a real asshole', he thought. 'Actually, I just want those guns you promised me.'

Desmond grabbed his shotgun. 'Humph. Follow me.' The ghoul led Marcus down a long staircase leading to the mansion's basement. When they arrived, the only thing Marcus saw was old furniture and junk.

'Is this a joke?' Marcus asked.

'Relax.' Desmond approached a pedestal with a vase on top of it, and to Marcus' surprise, he pushed the vase into the marble. Marcus noticed there were three more pedestals; one in each corner of the room, and Desmond began pushing them in some kind of memorized sequence. When the last one had been pushed, a secret door opened inside the basement wall, revealing an even larger room. Desmond led Marcus inside, and it was filled with ammo boxes, MRE's, AK-47's, dragunov sniper rifles, PKM machine guns and RPG's. As he stood in awe of the arsenal on display, Marcus also noticed the Chinese propaganda posters hung on the walls.

'What is this place?' Marcus asked.

Desmond opened a locker and began to take off his torn jacket. 'Before the great powers blew themselves up, they spent years playing cloak and dagger games against each other. The Chinese sent spies and sleeper agents into this country that were to be the vanguard for an invasion. This bunker was to be the main safe house for the state of Maryland.'

Marcus looked at the assortment of weapons in the bunker. There was more then enough stored down here to start a war. 'Were you one of them?'

Desmond stared daggers at Marcus. 'Do I look fucking Chinese to you?'

Before Marcus could attempt an answer, Desmond slammed the locker shut and put on a new jacket. 'No. Those of us with brains knew the end was near; it was just a matter of time before the politicians fired their nukes to prove who had the biggest dick. The man who owned this mansion, Professor Calvert and I were business partners before the war. We came up with a plan to play both sides against each other, with the ultimate goal being our survival.' A slight grin appeared on his face. 'Hu, I admit it was fun watching them chase each other around; giving each side just enough information to keep them in the dark. Calvert allowed the Chinese to build this place, but they never got the chance to use it. We made an anonymous tip to Uncle Sam, and the little commies were rounded up and sent to the Turtle Dove Detention Center. No one knew about the bunker of course except for me and Calvert.'

Marcus listened to the ghoul with a mixture of intrigue and disgust. 'So what happened to your friend?'

'I got wind the little bastard was planning to betray me, so that he could keep everything for himself. I got him first.' He looked around the bunker. 'This place protected me from the fallout, but not enough to prevent this.' He waved a hand over his face.

Marcus shook his head and snorted. 'You're a real piece of work.'

Desmond took a few steps towards him, and stared Marcus dead in the eye. 'Who are you to judge me, you little shit?'

Marcus had no response. As much as he hated to admit it, the ghoul was right: who was he to judge anyone. The Lone Wanderer walked over to the assortment of weapons and began examining an AK-47. 'So why do you think those tribals attacked you?'

'How the fuck should I know! Those brain-dead idiots all follow that old bastard Blackhall.'

Marcus placed the AK on a bench and began opening ammo boxes. 'Blackhall? Who's that?'

'Obadiah Blackhall; the last descendant of the Blackhall family. He lived in a mansion, Blackhall Manor, on the other side of the Point. About a year ago he shows up with this book, I don't know what the fuck it's called, and the next thing I know, people are worshiping him like he's a fucking god.'

'So these tribals are what...part of some cult?'

'They weren't always mindless savages, and they sure as hell never dressed like stand-ins in a fucking Tarzan movie. They were settlers here, decent folk. They never bothered me, and I never bothered with them. Now most of them have been brain-washed by that demogodding fuck, and those that don't join him are killed or never seen again.'

Marcus remembered the words of the mysterious gypsy woman on the boardwalk. 'That Madame Panada spoke of something called the Dark Heart. She said it took control of people.'

Desmond laughed. 'Yeah, that's what all these superstitious idiots call it. They think Blachhall has some kind of magic powers. Personally, I think it's bullshit! He probably gets these people so fucked up on drugs, they either become a mindless slave, or a drooling vegetable. Well, if they want me, they're going to have to drag my rotting corps out of here.'

'What about those Swamp Folk I've heard about? Does Blackhall control them, too?'

'Nobody controls those freaks! But for some reason, they won't attack Blackhall or his followers.'

'Why?'

'I have no fucking idea, okay! Those inbred-ed fucks attacked just about everything and everyone since the beginning of all this. They believe in the same voodoo shit as Blackhall, and they too, probably think he's a god.'

Marcus continued to open up ammo boxes, and began loading his grenade launcher with 40mm rounds he discovered. 'I'm looking for a girl named Nadine. She's about sixteen, white skin and red hair.'

'Yeah, she came by just before the attack. She was a smart-mouthed brat and I told her to try her luck at the detention center with the rest of the hold-outs. If you're looking for her that's probably your best bet, but if you want to get out of here alive, you're going to have to kill Blackhall.'

Marcus finished loading his launcher. 'Trying to get me to solve your problem for ya? Sorry, I'm no charity.'

Desmond glared at Marcus and crossed his arms. 'You don't get it smart ass! Blackhall owns this shit hole, and now that you've killed his people, he's going to be gunning for you. You're only chance of getting out of here is to take him out.'

Marcus slung the grenade launcher on his back, and picked up the AK-47. 'If he gets in my way, then I'll kill'em.

Deciding that stumbling through a dangerous swamp at night was not the smartest course of action, Marcus slept at Calvert Mansion and headed out at dawn. The dense vegetation coupled with the strange sounds of the swamp gave Marcus an uneasy feeling. Feral ghouls seemed to come out of nowhere, and for the first time in his life, Marcus actually began missing the Capital Wasteland.

A shotgun blast off in the distance got his attention, and it was quickly followed by the sound of a pistol being fired. Marcus picked up the pace, and soon the gunfire was getting louder. Staying hidden in the tall brush, he spotted a girl wearing a black merc outfit and brown hair, running for her life. Her left arm had been hit with buckshot, and her only weapon was a Chinese shanxi type 17 pistol in her right hand. It didn't take long for her pursuers to come into view. Based on the descriptions Desmond gave him, Marcus knew these were Swamp Folk. One was a Scrapper armed with a double barrel shotgun, and the other was a Bruiser armed with an ax. The skinny Scrapper raised his shotgun and fired again, missing his target. The woman dove behind a tree, and struggled to reload her pistol.

Marcus quickly got as close as he dared without being seen, and got down on one knee. Raising Lincoln's Repeater, he activated his VATS and targeted the Scrapper's head. The rifle's .44 caliber round scored a direct hit, and the inbred mutant's head was blow apart. The Bruiser spotted Marcus and immediately charge. 'I'll get you!' The creature yelled.

Marcus took aim and fired three rounds into the mutant's chest, causing him to stumble, but the creature kept coming. Marcus quickly stood up straight, activated his VATS again, and put two rounds into the Bruiser's head. Once both targets were down, Marcus came out from cover and examined the grotesque mutants. The Bruiser especially reminded him of the mutants he saw in an old horror movie called: 'The Hills have Eyes'. He remembered that movie gave him nightmares for a month.

The woman, clutching her wounded arm, made her way over to Marcus. 'Oh thank God you came! I prayed the good Lord would rescue me!'

Marcus didn't respond. Placing his rifle down, he removed his first aid kit. 'Sit down.'

The woman sat down on a log, and Marcus began treating her wound. 'Thank you. My name is Marcella, I'm a missionary from the Commonwealth. I was on my way to the detention center to bring them relief supplies.'

Marcus ignored her as he injected a stimpak into her arm.

Marcella winced. 'What's your name?'

The Lone Wanderer hesitated before answering. 'Marcus.'

Marcella smiled. 'Thank you, Marcus.'

He finished bandaging her arm and stood up. 'You said you were on your way to the detention center?'

Marcella nodded. 'Yes.'

'Good. You can show me the way.'

Marcella carefully stood up. 'Okay, it's the least I can do. Listen I...don't have anyway to repay you so...' she reached into her satchel and pulled out a book. '...here, take this.'

Marcus took the book and examined the cover. It had the words 'Holy Bible' written on it. 'What's this?'

'It's the word of our Lord and Savior. That's why I came to Point Lookout, to spread the good...'

Before Marcella could finish, Marcus tossed the bible over his shoulder, and the book landed in the muck of the swamp. 'I don't need your words, lady. And your god didn't save you, I did! Now let's get moving before more of these things show up.'

Marcella's jaw dropped open, and she stared at Marcus with a mixture of shock and confusion. Clearly he was not the man she thought he was. 'Fine.' She said while trying to control her anger. 'This way.' She picked up the mud covered bible and stormed off with Marcus following.

Even though it was located deep in the swamp, the Turtledove Detention Center turned out to be a good place for the remaining residents of Point Lookout to hold out. The area was surrounded by a barbed wire fence, had three watch towers, several bunk houses, a medical shack and a large administrative building. Though long abandoned, the camp was in surprisingly decent shape, and after fixing the breaches in the fence, the Point Lookout refugees had managed to hold off Blackhall's tribals for weeks. As Marcella and the Lone Wanderer approached, the missionary ducked behind a tree, and Marcus did the same.

'There it is up ahead. Now they don't know you so let me go first.'

Marcus nodded, and Marcella raised her hands and stepped out into the open. 'Don't shoot! It's me, Marcella!'

Jacob Humboldt, an African-American Civil War enthusiast, was manning the guard tower when he heard the shout. Taking out his binoculars, he could see the woman standing in front of the gate with her hands raised. He quickly waved to her. 'Nice to see you, Marcella. Come on in.'

Marcella put her arms down. 'I have someone with me, so hold your fire.'

'Alright. Tell him to come out so we can get a look at him.'

Marcella turned to Marcus. 'It's alright, come on.'

Marcus cautiously walked out into the open, and when they were given the all clear, he and Marcella entered the camp. Once inside they were met by throngs of people who looked like they'd been through hell. Marcus counted just over forty people - half of them women and children. Marcella opened her satchel and began handing out canned food and provisions to the starving refugees, but it was apparent to Marcus she didn't have nearly enough. Some of the people thanked her, and a few said 'bless you' to the missionary, while others just snatched the food and ran.

Marcus felt someone tugging on his armor, and when he looked down he was staring into the eyes of a nine year old girl. 'Do you have any food, sir? I'm so hungry.'

Marcus stared at the malnourished girl, and without saying a word he reached into his pocket and handed her an MRE. The girl's face lite up a child's on Christmas morning. 'Thank you, mister!' She ran off, and Marcus watched her go.

The entire scene was not lost on Marcella. 'Maybe there is hope for this one', she thought as she walked over to him. 'I wish there was more I could do for them.'

Marcus didn't say anything. Marcella watched as the refugees began opening and preparing the provisions. She turned to Marcus. 'You're welcome to join us for dinner.'

Marcus didn't acknowledge her. He just stared at the faces of the refugees; none of whom matched Nadine's description. Another dead end. 'No.' he reached inside his armor and pulled out another MRE. 'I've got my own. There's an empty tent over there. I'll be inside if you need me.'

As Marcus walked off to eat alone, Marcella watched him and shook her head. She couldn't figure this strange man out. On the surface he seemed lost and angry, but then he also showed signs of compassion.

'Looks like we live to fight another day, Marcella.' Plik, one of Point Lookout's few non-feral ghouls said as he approached her with a plate of food. 'Who's the new guy?'

'He calls himself Marcus. He saved me from some of the swamp folk over near the trash heap. I've never seen anyone shoot the way he did before.'

'Then you've obviously never seen me shoot, darling.' Rip Smithy, an arrogant gun for hire said as he joined them. In an attempt to keep the feral ghoul population at the Point down, Plik would invite people to go on quote 'safari' in the swamps to kill as many ferals as they could. Rip Smithy had accompanied him on his last outing, but because of Blachhall's tribals, the mercenary found himself trapped like everyone else.

'Marcus?' Plik said. 'You mean...Marcus Lincoln?'

Marcella shrugged, and Smithy caught a glimpse of Marcus just as he went inside the empty tent. 'That can't be Lincoln; he's not tall enough!'

Plik was not about to give up. 'Yeah, yeah it must be! The Ranger armor. The crack shooting! I'm telling you that's the Lone Wanderer!'

It was as if a light bulb went on inside Marcella's head. The Lone Wanderer. She definitely heard that name before. 'I thought the Lone Wanderer was some big hero in the Capital Wasteland.'

'He is,' Plik said, 'or was. I heard something...pretty bad went down and he was run out of town or something. That could explain why he's here.'

Marcella stared at the tent that Marcus had retreated to. She had a feeling the pieces were starting to fall into place. She turned to Plik and Smithy. 'Tell me about him.'

Marcus sat on a cot in the empty tent, staring at the image of Amata on his PIPBOY. He carefully traced the imagine of her face with his finger, trying to remember what her skin felt like. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the taste of her lips on his - but instead all he could remember was the feeling of her blood on his hands...

'She's very beautiful.'

The sound of Marcella's voice made Marcus jump off the cot, and he quickly turned off the image. The fact that she was able to sneak up on him like that made Marcus uneasy.

'Who was she?' the missionary asked.

Marcus turned his back to her and didn't answer at first. Finally, he let out a sigh. 'Her name was Amata.'

Marcella took a couple of cautious steps towards him. 'She was very special to you, wasn't she?'

Marcus looked over his shoulder for a moment, but he did not answer. Marcella nodded. 'It's alright; I understand if you don't want to talk about it. Tonight I'll say a prayer for her.'

Marcus made a clicking sound with his tongue and rolled his eyes. 'Well you're a little late - she's dead!'

'It's never too late to pray for the dead, Marcus.'

Marcus turned to face her. 'Ah, yeah it is! They're fucking DEAD!'

Marcella maintained her composure despite his anger. Marcus stomped over to a small table and began cleaning his AK. 'Tell me about Blackhall. How is he controlling people?'

'His power comes from the Krivbeknih.'

Marcus looked at her as if she had three heads. 'The whatewhatin?'

'The Krivbeknih. It is an ancient and evil book that must be destroyed.'

Marcus continued to stare at her in disbelief. 'A book? Are you serious?'

'Yes! With the Krivbeknih Blackhall has the power of the Dark Heart; an ancient evil heathen creed that gives him power over almost anyone. When I first arrived here my goal was to spread the Word of our Lord to the people here; to try and get them away from their superstitions. But when I discovered that Blackhall had the Krivbeknih, I knew the Lord sent me here for a higher purpose: to destroy that evil book once and for all.'

Marcus shook his head. 'Is everyone here FUCKING insane!'

For the first time, Marcella's face showed a hint of anger. 'You can mock me all you want but I am telling you his power is real. I have seen it!'

Mean Sonofabitch Fallout New Vegas

'Lady, the only power this guy has is the ability to manipulate people with fairy tales and a shit load of drugs. His powers are no more real then your god.'

'Oh my God is real, and whether you believe it or not he is here with us...Lone Wanderer.'

Marcus slammed the AK down on the table and pointed his finger in Marcella's face. 'First of all...DON'T call me that!' He lowered his hand. 'Second, if your god does exist, then why did he do all of this?' He spread his arms out and looked around. 'Why, after creating this world in six days did he then nuke it! Was he bored!'

'God did not destroy this world, Marcus. Evil, proud and corrupt men did that.'

'Well he sure as hell didn't stop it now, did he? He stood by and let it happen, just like he stood by and let Lucy West get gunned down! Just like he stood by and let my father get shot to death by a genocidal maniac! Just as he stood by and watched as the only person I ever loved DIED IN MY ARMS!'

Marcus stood there inches from Marcella, his fist clenched and his body trembling with rage. To her credit, the missionary didn't back down. She was finally beginning to understand the lost soul standing before her. Marcus was a man who had seen too much...and more importantly, had lost too much. Marcella's calling was clear: she had to try and bring him back from the brink. 'Do you think you're the only one who suffered? We've all lost somebody, Marcus. But it is in our darkest hour, when we must have faith.'

Marcus snorted. 'Yeah well...you can keep faith in your fairy tale,' he reached over and picked up his AK, 'I'll keep faith in this.'

Marcella sighed. 'Those who live by the sword, will die by the sword, Marcus.'

Marcus rolled his eyes. 'Any more bumper sticker slogans you want to try on me, lady?'

Marcella bit her lower lip. Even her patience had it's limit. 'Only one. You may have lost faith in God, and you may have lost faith in yourself, but I haven't! I believe God has a plan for you, Marcus. I believe you were sent here to stop Blackhall and destroy the Krivbeknih.'

'Lady I'm here to find some runaway girl, bring her back to her mother and collect my reward, that's it!'

'That's bull and you know it! Like it or not, Marcus, God still has a plan for you.'

Marcus got right in her face. 'Oh really? And what plan is that, hu? To make me into a killer? Because that's all I've done since the day I crawled out of that Vault, lady. I've killed HUNDREDS of people! And what did your god do for my troubles? He took away everything that meant something to me. If this is your god's plan then I don't WANT IT! ANY OF IT!' He backed away and took a moment to compose himself. 'Do you know where Blackhall and his tribals are?'

Marcella crossed her arms. 'They're main ritual site is located underneath the Ark and Dove Cathedral east of here.' She snorted in disgust. 'It's his way of further mocking God. You must listen: as long as he has the Krivbeknih Blackhall is indestructible. You must get it away from him so that I can use the obelisk to destroy the book.'

Marcus shook his head and laughed. 'Okay, lady. If it makes you feel better, I'll bring back your scary book, alright. After that, I'm going to put two bullets in Blackhall's head, get Nadine if she's still alive and get the hell out of here.' With that, Marcus stormed out of the tent.

Marcella leaned against the tent's post and sighed. 'God, give me strength.' she whispered.

Marcus reached the Ark of Dove Cathedral just before dusk. The closest he managed to get without being seen was the cemetery located about a hundred yards away. The church was surrounded by a large brick wall and a locked iron gate. Marcus could see several tribals guarding the perimeter, and he cursed as he tried to figure out how he was going to sneak in. His answer came just after the sun went down, when the church bells began to ring, and Marcus watched as more then half the guards went inside. Deciding that stealth would be better then brute force, Marcus buried his grenade launcher, repeater, AK and Ranger armor in the cemetery before quietly advancing to the wall. Sneaking up on a lone guard armed with a sledge hammer, Marcus used a move Charon taught him and snapped the guard's neck. After hiding the body in the bushes, he dressed himself in the tribal's clothing, (wrapped rags around his PIPBOY to hide it), rubbed a little mud on his face, and managed to talk his way inside the church. It seemed all you had to say to this people was 'you seek enlightenment', and they would trust you.

Marcus carefully made his way inside the church. Nearly all of the tribals, over eighty people, had gathered inside and were on their knees; their hands open and facing upward as they chanted in a language Marcus couldn't understand. Deciding to play along, he stayed in the back of the church, got on his knees, and mimiced what they were doing. At the front of the church, near the alter, a man dressed in a long, black robe and hood appeared from a side room, and slowly walked to the front of the alter. Facing the tribals he removed his hood, reveal the face of a Caucasian man in his seventies. He had red make-up on his face in the same manner as the tribals, and he wore a neckless containing varying types of bones. 'That has to be Blackhall', Marcus thought.

Blackhall looked out at his congregation, and held up a strange looking book (that appeared to be covered in blood), over his head. A roar escaped from the tribals, and they began to cheer at the sight. There was no doubt in Marcus' mind that this was the Krivbeknih Marcella was talking about.

Blackhall brought the book close to his chest and began speaking in the tribal's strange language. Marcus observed the tribals, and they seemed to be in a trance as they listened to their leader. A scream from the church's side room got everyone's attention, and Marcus watched as two tribals dragged a young girl over to the alter. The woman was obviously not one of the 'flock', and she was begging and crying for her captors to let her go. The tribals bent the woman over the alter, so that her head was facing the congregation. Blackhall placed his hand on her head and began to chant in a strange tongue. Two more tribals appeared caring a marble basin, and it was placed in front of the alter underneath the frightened woman's chin. Blackhall placed the Krivbeknih inside the basin, then removed what looked like a ritual stly knife from his robe. The tribals began chanting and working themselves into a frenzy, and the young woman began struggling even more. Blackhall said a few more chants, then in one swift motion, slit the girl's throat as the tribals roared in approval. In a few seconds her blood filled the basin, and the Krivbeknih was covered by the crimson fluid.

Marcus watched the entire scene in silent disgust. 'Come to Point Lookout - great idea, Marcus.' he mumbled to himself as the tribals continued to cheer. 'Religious zealots, inbred-ed mutants, and now...the Temple of fucking Doom!'

After a few more chants, the tribals dragged the woman's corps away, and Blackhall picked up the blood soaked Krivbeknih. Using his fingers, he smeared some of the blood covering the book on his face, drawing two lines from his eyes to his jaw. He turned and headed back to the side room, and the tribals began to disperse. Marcus did his best to blend in, and as he made his way to the front of the church, he spotted a young tribal female with red hair. Nadine!

Marcus had to be careful approaching her; he wasn't sure how much she was under Blackhall's influence. He decided to wait until they could be alone, that way if she turned on him, he could kill her without being seen. Following her into one of the church's side rooms, he closed the door behind him and decided to make his move.

'Nadine?'

The young woman turned around. 'Well, looks like another newbie in the tribe.'

'Your mother Catherine sent me her to find you.'

'Ah, and still able to string together whole sentences - ain't you the lucky one.'

Marcus began to relax. Nadine certainly wasn't acting like most of the other tribals, so perhaps she hadn't fallen under Blackhall's spell. 'What are you doing here with Blackhall and his people?'

'I came here to find my fortune, and instead I get kidnapped by these religious nuts. They think this guy Blackhall is some kind of god, but if ask me, everyone here seems to be on a permanent acid trip! He tried that voodoo shit on me, but I was able to fool'em into thinking he'd succeeded. I've been trying to find a way out of here ever since.'

Marcus took a look around the room. There were dozens of punga fruit scattered around in what looked like some kind of incubation chambers. 'What are they doing with all this punga fruit?'

Nadine shrugged. 'Beats me. They say they're 'refining them', whatever the hell that means. Listen, I just want to get out here, okay. Can you help me?'

'These people seem to think Blackhall's power comes from that book. Now you and I know that's bullshit, but if I can get it away from him, then maybe his flock will begin to loose faith. Do you know where he keeps it?'

Nadine nodded. 'Yeah, in the ritual sight below this church. We're not suppose to know where it is, but I did some snoop'n and found a secret entrance: there's a well over by the cemetery not too far from here. Down there is a back way inside the catacombs.'

'Perfect. As soon as you can, meet me over by the well. We'll grab the book and then head for the refugee camp.'

Nadine sighed in relief. 'Okay.'

Forty-five minutes later, Nadine made her way over to the well, where Marcus was waiting. Deciding it was better to stay in disguise, he left his armor and weapons where he'd hide them, and he followed Nadine down a ladder inside the empty well. Once they reached the bottom, Nadine lite and torch, and Marcus followed her into the underground catacombs. Inside these ancient caverns were tombs, many of them going back to the American Civil War. A few were still intact, but most had been broken open by scavengers and grave robbers long ago. Soon they reached what looked like a central chamber, with a sacrificial alter in the center of it.

Nadine stopped at the chamber's entrance and pointed. 'There - the Krivbeknih is in that basin on the alter.'

Marcus looked and sure enough, there was the evil book, lying in a basin full of blood. He entered the chamber and headed for the alter - and that's when heard a loud crash behind him. He spun around and saw that an iron gate had sealed the chamber's entrance - and Nadine was on the other side.

As he stared at the girl in disbelief, he noticed she now had the same blank stare in her eyes as the rest of the tribals. 'I'm sorry,' she began, 'but Blackhall has shown me enlightenment. I will serve no other.'

Marcus clenched his fist; he couldn't believe he had been lead so easily into a trap. 'You just made a big mistake, kid.'

'Not as grave as your's...I assure you.'

Marcus slowly turned around to where the voice had come from. Standing before the alter, covered in his black rob and holding the Krivbeknih, was the evil prophet himself.

'Blackhall!'

Obadiah Blackhall removed his hood and stared the Lone Wanderer down. 'Let's not stand on ceremony here...Marcus Lincoln!'

Marcus was taken aback by that. How the hell did this madman know who he was? He would have to worry about that later, because now over a dozen tribals had entered the chamber, and were slowly surround him. Marcus looked around and realized he only had one chance: he had to put Blackhall down now. Activating his VATS, Marcus drew his desert eagle, targeted the man's head, and fired three shots.

Nothing. Marcus expected the man's head to be in pieces, but instead he just smiled at him. Marcus looked down at his PIPBOY. Was his VATS malfunctioning? Taking aim at Blackhall's center mass, Marcus fired again and again, until his gun was empty.

Still nothing. The man didn't have a scratch on him. Marcus looked at his now empty pistol and back at the smiling Blackhall. This didn't make any sense! Dropping his empty gun he reached for his sawed-off, but was struck in the face by the handle of a tribal's spear; breaking his nose and knocking him on the ground. The rest of the tribal's descended on him, and once he was disarmed, Marcus was forced on his knees and found himself staring up at Blackhall. 'What the FUCK are you?'

Blackhall flashed an evil smile. 'Something beyond your understanding, infidel.' He began to pace back and forth. 'I'm curious as to why the great Lone Wanderer is here. Marcella must be getting desperate. Hu...little heathen bitch! You broke into my house, tried to steal my property, and killed my men. I should skin you alive, but I think you would be better suited serving me.'

Marcus laughed. 'You think you're going to convince me to join you? You're a damn fraud! You play on people's superstitious and you drug them...'

One of the tribals punched him in the jaw. Blackhall held up his hand, and the tribal backed off. He grabbed Marcus by the hair and force him to look into his eyes. 'Is that what you think? Well, soon you will know the truth...just as all will come to know it.' He released his hold on Marcus and addressed his followers. 'Take him to the Sacred Bog.'

The tribals let out a cheer and dragged Marcus from the chamber.

Just as Marcus thought the Point Lookout swamp couldn't get any creepier, his captors dragged him to the Sacred Bog. Most of the area was covered in murky water that looked to be at least waist deep, and it was infested with mirelurks. To Marcus' shock, these beast did not attack them, but kept their distance. If he didn't know any better, Marcus could swear these creatures feared Blackhall. It didn't make any sense...none of this made any sense! Soon they dragged him to what appeared to be a giant, nine foot tall punga fruit. Strange vines were protruding out of it, and the vines were covered in what appeared to be spores. The tribals forced Marcus to kneel in front of the fruit, and they held his arms as Blackhall stepped in front of him.

'Beyond! The Mother of all Punga. Magnificent, isn't she? She survived the slaughter of the Civil War, the nuclear fires of the Great War, and now she will help me to fulfill my creed.'

Marcus let out a mocking laugh. 'So this is your god? A fucking fruit!'

'NO, you troglodyte!' His eyes were filled with rage, and he held up the Krivbeknih. 'This is where the power of the Dark Heart comes from, and very soon, you will be introduced to it.' He turned and began pulling spores off the vines.

'I told you,' Marcus growled, 'I'd rather die then serve you!'

'Yes you did - and I believe you.' Blackhall put the spores in a wooden bowl and began crushing them. 'You do not fear death. In fact, I think you'd welcome it. The Mother's spores help tap into a person's deepest fears...' he turned and looked at Marcus. '...and everyone fears something. The human mind can only handle so much fear before it is destroyed. Before that happens you will come begging for me to end the nightmares...and then you will serve me.'

Marcus struggled against his captors as Blackhall approached him with the bowl. 'If you will refuse submit, then your mind will be lost to insanity...and your body will be fed to the mirelurks.' He reached into the bowl, and pulled out a handful of the spores. 'Either way, you will no longer be a problem.'

Blackhall blew the yellow powder in Marcus' face. He screamed as it entered his eyes and lungs, and within seconds he began having convulsions. The world around him was becoming dark, and soon Marcus was consumed by it.

Mean Sonofabitch Fallout

When Marcus woke up, he was lying flat on his back at the foot of the Mother Punga fruit - alone. When he stood up, he realized he was back in his Ranger armor, and his desert eagle was once again in it's holster strapped to his side. 'This has to be some kind of an illusion', he thought as he began walking away from the Mother Punga. He could hear the sounds of the swamp, but there were no creatures - not even the mirelurks were in the bog. As he slowly began to retrace his steps towards the bog's entrance, he noticed something on the ground a few feet in front of him. He approached, and realized it was a Vault-Tec Boy bobble head - the same kind that Jonas had on his desk back at the Vault. Everyone used to tease Jonas about it, but he didn't care - he liked the Vault-Tec novelty. Marcus picked it up, and noticed there was something written on it's base. It said: 'This doesn't look right, not right at all.'

Marcus tightened his grip on the strange bobble head and then tossed it into the swamp. He continued to move forward, and eventually he came across another one. Picking it up, he read the inscription on the base: 'This is one situation your not going to be able to fight your way out of.'

Marcus snorted and tossed it away. 'Is that the best you've got!' He yelled into the bog.

'Funny how you keep getting into these situations.'

Marcus drew his gun and turned around. A man wearing a grey suit, dress hat and dark shades was leaning against a tree. It took Marcus a moment to recognize him - and his mouth dropped open. 'Burke?'

Mr. Burke gave a slight nod and smiled. 'I'm flattered you remembered me. After all, it's because of you I'm dead.'

Marcus continued to train his gun on the man. 'This is a trick. Blackhall's trying to get into my head but it won't work!'

Burke lite a cigarette and walked towards him. 'News flash: he's already in your head. Consider me your...tour guide through your conscious.'

Marcus tightened the grip on his pistol. 'Whatever you do it won't matter. I'll beat you. I beat you at Megaton and I'll beat you here!'

'Yes...you did beat me. You've beaten everybody. The Enclave, the slavers, Super Mutants. Why, the Wasteland is just littered with the corpses you've left behind.'

Marcus suddenly felt a cold wetness from the waist down. He looked down and realized he was standing in waist high water - and it was filled with hundreds of dead bodies. Bodies of Raiders, Enclave troopers, slavers, and Super Mutants. As he struggled to wade through the lake of corpses to reach dry land, Marcus spotted the bodies of Eulogy Jones, Richardson, O'Brian, and Dukov. After what seemed like an eternity, Marcus finally found dry land and was out of the sea of corpses. He turned around, and the bog water was once again empty.

'Wow, that's quite the body count.' Burke sneered.

Marcus turned and fired his pistol, and the apparition disappeared. 'Shut up! Everyone of them fucking deserved it!'

'That's true,' Burke was once again behind him, and Marcus spun around, still pointing his gun at him. ',you've killed many evil people, Marcus.' Burke walked towards him, and for the first time, Marcus began to back away from the apparition. 'But they are not the only ones who paid the price for your victories, are they?'

Marcus bumped into something, and when he turned around to see what it was, he found himself staring at Jeanette's corpse hanging upside down from a tree. He screamed and jumped back, but found himself bumping into the corpse of Lucy West. Soon Marcus was surrounded by corpses hanging from the trees: Vargas, Dr. Kaplinski, Garza...everyone he couldn't save. He screamed and fought his way through the gauntlet of swinging bodies, until he tripped on a log and fell face down. Only instead of falling onto the soft ground of the swamp, Marcus found himself lying on a floor made of steel. He quickly got up and looked around. In front of him was a glass door, and on the other side was his father. Panic began to fill Marcus as he realized where he was. 'No! This is not real!'

His father placed his hand on the glass and began screaming. 'Marcus! Help me! Help me, Marcus!'

Marcus shut his eyes and covered his ears. 'Thisisnotrealthisisnotrealthisisnot real...'

His father's screams were getting louder, and Marcus opened his eyes. James' skin was beginning to melt off. 'MARCUS! HELP ME!'

'DAD!' Marcus began pounding on the glass, only this time, it began to crack. He began hitting it even harder. This time, he was going to get his father out of there. He was going to save him! 'Hang on Dad, I'm almost through...'

The chamber exploded, and Marcus watched as a fireball consumed his father.

'NOOOOO...DAAAAAAD...'

There was another explosion, and Marcus was knocked on his back. He wasn't sure how long he was out, but when he awoke, he realized he was no longer at Project Purity. He was lying on a pile of rubble and twisted rebar. He got on his feet and looked around. At first he didn't know where he was - until he spotted to mangles corpses of the residents of Tenpenny Tower scattered in the twisted rubble. Even though the explosion would have left nothing of their bodies, there they were - all around Marcus for him to see. He began feeling sick to his stomach, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing up.

'It's okay, son.'

That voice. It wasn't Burke, it was someone...worse. Marcus spun around, his pistol at the ready. Walking through the rubble, in his tan coat, was Colonel Augustus Autumn. He smiled at Marcus and looked out at the devastation. 'Collateral damage happens in war.'

Marcus' throat went dry. That was exactly what he told himself before...

'NO!' He screamed as he fired his pistol again and again at the apparition. 'I AM NOTHING LIKE YOU!'

Marcus lost his footing and slipped off the pile of rubble...only to land once again in the bog of Point Lookout. He quickly picked himself up and began running. He had to find the bog's entrance and get the hell out of here. He ran and ran until finally coming to a clearing. He frantically looked around; he didn't know where he was.

'Face it, Marcus.'

He turned around, his pistol at the ready. Burke appeared from the shadows and slowly walked towards him. 'You can't escape the truth.'

Marcus heard foot steps behind him and he spun around. Colonel Autumn also walked out of the shadows. 'No matter how much you try to fight it...'

Marcus heard more footsteps, this time from his left. He turned - and nearly screamed when he saw Alphonse, Amata's dead father, walking towards him. '...no matter how much you try to run away from it...'

A fourth apparition entered the clearing. This time it was Chief Hannon - the first man Marcus had killed in cold blood. '...the truth is, you've been a killer since the day you were born.'

Marcus suddenly heard the sound of a heart monitor flat-lining, and when he looked down at it's source, he realized he was standing in front of a hospital bed. Lying on the bed was a female skeleton, wearing a Vault 101 jumpsuit. The skeleton had a birthday hat on it's head, and the bed was adorned with birthday balloons. On the balloons was the date July 13th, 2258. His birthday.

'Mom?' Marcus whispered as he stared at the skeleton. It was becoming difficult for him to breath, and it seemed that his heart was about to beat out of his chest. His body was trembling so much that he dropped his pistol into the mud of the swamp. Marcus looked at the four apparitions, and they each flashed him an evil smile. 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARCUS!'

Marcus overturned the bed, knocking his mother's skeleton to the ground. 'NOOOOOOOOOO!' He ran into the swamp screaming as the four apparitions laughed at him. No matter how far he ran, he couldn't get away from the laughter. He continued to run until he was finally out of breath, and he fell face first in the mud. Lifting his head up, he spotting someone standing in a clearing - someone wearing a Vault 101 jumpsuit.

'Amata?' He whispered. He stood up and got closer, and soon her beautiful face came into view. 'AMATA!'

Amata smiled at him. 'Marcus! I've been waiting for you.'

Marcus sprinted over to the woman he loved, and fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around her and wept. 'AMATA! Oh thank God! Don't leave me! Please...don't leave me! Please...'

'Shhhh, it's alright.' Amata gently began to stroke his hair. 'I won't leave you.'

Marcus held on to her tight. He didn't care if this was a hallucination - he was not going to loose her. Not again. He carefully stood up, not letting go of her, and he slowly began to calm down. Everything was going to be alright now. He pulled away to look at her beautiful face - and was staring at a rotting corpse.

'You're coming with me!' the Amata corpse said with a demonic voice.

Marcus was pulled down with the corpse, and they both landed in a six foot deep grave. Marcus screamed and scrambled to get out, but then the corpses of the Tenpenny Tower residence began falling into the grave, knocking him back down. He screamed and thrashed around, trying to get out, but soon the pile of bodies began crushing him further into the grave...until finally, he couldn't draw enough breath to scream...

Marcus let out one final scream before collapsing at the foot of the Mother Punga. Jackson, the tribal's field commander and Blackhall's right hand, kneeled down to examine him. After a while, he looked at his master and shook his head. 'I'm afraid his mind is gone, Master.'

Blackhall sighed. 'What a waist; he could've been such a great addition to our community. Oh well...dispose of him.'

Jackson bowed. 'I obey.' He and two other tribals picked up the catatonic Lone Wanderer away from the ritual sight, and placed him feet first into the waters of the bog. Off in the distance, the mirelurks prepared for their next feeding.

Note: I hope you all like my version of Point Lookout. The whole thing about a talking brain in a jar being a villain just didn't do it for me. In my opinion Blackhall is a much more interesting character (I admit, a put a little bit of Thulsa Doom into his character). I would like to give a shout out to my friend blaiseingfire, who wrote the dream sequence in the beginning. As always, reviews are welcome.