New Vegas: Sheason's Story

My Corvega was barreling down highway 95, ferrying us to our destination, the next member of the Remnants on the list: Orion Moreno. According to Arcade, this Orion character was living in an old house, in one of the run-down, old world residential neighborhoods east of Vegas. Given the (relatively) long drive, I had plenty of time to ask questions.

But not about Orion.

"Hey, Arcade?" I said, casting a glace over to ED-E buzzing along just outside my window. "You remember your parents, right?" Arcade nodded, staring out at the landscape rolling past as he answered.

"Yes... mostly. My mother, more than my father, really." he admitted, almost absentmindedly. "My father died when I was very young. Before we left Navarro."

"What was your mom like?" I asked. For a solid minute, Arcade didn't say anything. He looked at me like I'd lost my marbles. I was getting that a lot, lately. But right before I started to explain why I was interested, he started talking.

"She was... kind. The thing I remember most about her was her smile. She was always smiling. She was a giving, caring soul... someone without a single cruel bone in her body. I don't think she had it in her to harm anyone. Not even in self defense."

"Really?" I asked, a bit incredulously. The world was entirely too dangerous for that to be feasible.

"You need to understand... she wasn't a fighter. She wasn't a soldier. She was a doctor - a trauma surgeon in the Enclave medical corps, back when the oil rig was still around. Everyone on the oil rig was pressured into joining the military near the end, and she was no exception, but they couldn't actually force her to fight. So she became a doctor. A conscientious objector... because all she ever wanted to do was help."

"Wait, was she part of the squad, or what?" Arcade shrugged.

"Not really. Not officially. After she married my father, they were stationed together at Navarro. And then, after the oil rig was lost, and the leadership collapsed, she sort of fell into the de-facto position of medic. She was actually the one who started Doc Henry on his journey into medicine."

"I thought he was a doctor before?" I asked. Arcade shook his head.

"Well... yes and no. When he was with the squad, he was a combat engineer. But his specialty was cyber-genetic research - cyberdogs, basically - but it wasn't until after the fall of Navarro that he really started studying medicine. For people, that is" Arcade chuckled softly to himself, rubbing his chin. "And, truth be told, I started studying medicine because of her as well."

"Sounds like she was a wonderful woman," I said with a nod.

"She was a huge influence in the direction my life has taken. I got a lot from her. My skill in medicine. The desire to help people. My need to wear glasses... my blonde locks," Arcade laughed a little. "Yeah... I'm not sure... I don't remember enough of my father to know quite how much I got from him. But I definitely know that I owe my mom a lot." Arcade paused, looking over at me again curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"I never knew my parents," I blurted out, focusing hard on keeping my eyes on the road. "I grew up on the back of a caravan. Whoever they were, they dropped me off one day, and just never came back. So I just... I was just a little curious, that's all." The inside of my Corvega was silent for a few minutes. Then, I spoke up again. "What happened to her? Your mom, I mean."

"Cancer," Arcade said flatly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he seemed to be joining me in my 'staring straight ahead at the road' game. He sighed heavily. "Nothing any of us could do except watch. She just... wasted away."

"Shit, man," I said. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." Arcade just kept staring out the window.

"She deserved better."

"So, this is the place?" I asked aloud, as the car slowed to a stop. Arcade nodded.

Orion's house was a smallish, squat, one-story building that didn't look all that special. Like the other houses around it - the ones that were still standing, at least - the outer walls were a mixture of dull brown and dirty grey colors, with broken, boarded up windows set into the sides. The front door was underneath a small awning, and a dirty, moldy, torn up couch that was generally falling apart was sitting on the porch.

There were only two things that made the house stand out in any way at all, however. One was the flagpole in the yard. Two flags were fluttering in the gentle breeze. The one on the top was an American flag with a slightly tattered edge. The other flag I'd only ever seen once before: it had a yellow background, with a coiled rattlesnake in the center, and underneath I could see the words "DONT TREAD ON ME" written in big bold black letters. The other was a white, rusty pickup truck parked a few yards away from the house. I couldn't tell if it was a working truck, or just a wreck.

"Wait!" As I started to get out of the car, Arcade held out a hand as if to stop me. "Maybe I should... I think I should be the one to talk to him first, alright?"

"Seriously?" I continued getting out of the car. "C'mon, Daisy was pretty cool. How bad could this guy be?"

The next thing I knew, I heard the sound of a door being kicked open, and the unmistakable click of a lever action rifle. I didn't even need to think - Roscoe was already out of his holster and held right above my Corvega's roof, pointed in the direction of the sound. Slowly, a elderly bespectacled man advanced on me out of the relative darkness under the porch awning. He had white hair, a pair of jeans, dusty black boots, a leather jacket, two ammo bandoliers crossing his chest... and a very old looking Winchester rifle was in his hands, pointing straight at me.

"You've got five seconds to get the fuck off my property," the old man growled. I didn't say anything. All I did was mentally curse. I should know better by now than to even say a variation on the phrase "how hard can it be?"

"Orion!" Arcade shouted, getting out of the car. "It's okay! For God sakes, it's me!" He looked at Arcade with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow... but didn't stop aiming the rifle at me.

"Arcade..." Orion snorted. "Damn. Been a while. Last I heard, you were with the Followers of the Apocalypse..." He looked over at me; as long as he was aiming that rifle at me, I wasn't going to lower Roscoe. Suddenly, there was a burst of marching music that broke the tension, and ED-E buzzed down between myself and Orion.

"Friend_Courier! Are you in need of assistance?" The eyebot bobbed back and forth. Orion looked stunned - but still didn't lower his rifle.

"What the... an Enclave eyebot?" Orion looked at the three of us with wide eyes. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"Look we... we just..." Arcade looked over his shoulder at me desperately, then back at Orion. "Can we talk?" For a few seconds, Orion didn't make a move. And then, slowly, he raised his rifle away from me, and I lowered Roscoe as well.

"Alright," The rifle clicked as he de-cocked the hammer. "Let's talk." He turned around and walked back inside; I holstered Roscoe, and let Arcade lead the way.

"Hey, ED-E? Keep watch above us, alright?" The robot nodded, and flew back up into the sky. We followed the old man down a hall and into a darkened living room.

"Look, I'm..." Orion growled back at us as we followed him deeper into the house. "I'm sorry about that. I came out this far to get away from everyone, but it seems like every other day, I have to chase some..." He let out another frustrated grunting noise. The hallway emptied us into a small living room, with a few easy chairs, and a cold, darkened fireplace set into a wall. Near the fireplace was an old easy chair. He set the old Winchester onto a gun rack over the mantelpiece, and pulled the ammo belts off his chest, setting them on the back of the easy chair.

"I would've written, to give you warning, but I -" Arcade was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a thundering cacophony from somewhere else in the house. I turned to the sound, and saw a very large white bulldog with a black patch over its right eye bound out of a nearby room, barking hysterically. Each one of his paws hit the floorboards with a force that seemed to shake the whole house, and the mutt made a beeline for Arcade.

"Jackson!" Orion shouted over the barking, slobbering bulldog. "Jackson, calm down boy!" Arcade knelt down to the dog, and started scratching him behind the ears; the dog stopped barking, and instead started panting heavily while wagging his tail. He looked around the room several times - and then, when the mutt's blue eyes settled on me, he stopped panting. He closed his jowls, showing off his terrific underbite, and tilted his head as he stared directly at me.

"So," Orion sat down in the easy chair, letting out a tired sigh. "You said you wanted to talk, let's talk. Why are you here?" He looked over at me, narrowing his eyes. "And who the fuck is this queer?"

I tensed up reflexively. That was an odd choice of words, considering the company. I glanced over at Arcade subtly. He didn't seem to react. He simply kept petting Jackson, the dog.

"Well, this guy is Sheason Fisher," Arcade said, giving the dog one last pat on the head before standing up straight. "People call him the Courier." Orion just raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

"Never heard of him," Orion frowned, sinking further back into the easy chair with another grunt.

"Well, I've heard of you," I said. "Arcade told me about the Enclave Remnants. The Devil's Brigade. Not everything, but enough." Orion started at me over the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, and smiled wickedly at me, letting out a single laugh.

"That right?" Orion asked.

"We're trying to find the old members of the team," Arcade said. "I was hoping that the two of us could convince you guys to bring the squad out of retirement for one last mission." Orion snorted.

"Really?" Orion looked back over at me again. "Why us? Can't find yourself any younger mercenaries?"

"I'm sure we could," I said with a shrug. "But young mercenaries? That would be a mistake." Orion raised an eyebrow, so I continued with my subtle attempt to get this guy on side. "Age and guile will always win over youth and innocence. No one else around has the same equipment and expertise as the Remnants." Orion let out a harrumph.

"Well, you can thank those NCR faggots for that one," Orion growled out. Again, Arcade did not seem to react. Orion paused, and screwed up his face. "Wait, hang on. This 'one last mission' you're talking about - this isn't gonna be on behalf of the NCR, is it?"

"Do you have a problem with the NCR?" I asked. Arcade finally reacted to something - by shooting me a look of immense frustration. Clearly, this was the wrong thing to ask.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Orion said with a voice full of barely contained rage. "The NCR has a habit of wrecking homes. Control Station ENCLAVE, Camp Navarro... I came out here to the frontier of civilization to get away from all those fucking assholes. Didn't work out so well. Next thing I know, those fags knock on my door, tell me that I'm squatting in their land. Never mind that I'd already been living here for years!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I said, holding up my hands in a feeble attempt to get him to stop ranting. "Does that mean you're not coming with the rest of the Remnants?" Orion snorted.

"Oh no," He got up out of the chair with another straining grunt. "I'll come. But depending on whatever the fuck the plan is, I might not be staying." He walked up to me, and stared me straight in the face with a heavily lined face, exaggerated by his intense frown. "I want to make one thing clear, straight off the bat, youngster. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that you'll ever find me helping out the NCR in any way. They've caused me too much grief over the years."

"I'll keep that in mind," I nodded. "So... what did you do in the Enclave?" Orion raised an eyebrow. "Arcade just told me about your service, and where to find you. He didn't say anything about your role in the squad." He walked past me, straight to the wall behind me. I turned and saw a large tattered black flag - a POW/MIA flag, like I'd seen in Boone's room - mounted on the wall.

"I was a heavy weapons trooper," he said, looking at the flag. He turned back with another wicked grin, and his arms folded across his chest. "Nothing better than hosing down a target with an excess of bullets and laser fire. By the time I got through with things, not much was left standing. Any morons that didn't run when they saw me coming got what they deserved..."

As he spoke, I leaned in close to get a better look. On the flag, I could see several out of place things sewn and pinned onto the flag - sergeant chevrons, medals and ribbons, and a few patches. One of the patches almost matched the devil patch I saw on Daisy's bomber jacket earlier. There were a pair of ribbon designs on the top and bottom of the black oval: "SPECIAL FORCES" was written inside the one on the top, and "DEVIL'S BRIGADE" was written in the bottom ribbon. I also saw a small circle with an "E" inside it directly underneath the two crossed pitchforks.

"Back then, it was war," Orion muttered, bitterly. "If we'd been on the winning side, I'd be called a hero."

A few minutes later, Orion had grabbed everything he'd wanted from his house - including all the flags - packed it all in a duffel bag, and tossed it into the back of his pickup truck. He made a point of telling us that he wasn't going to leave anything in the house for someone like me or "those NCR faggots" to nab if he had any say. When he put the rifle onto the gun rack in his pickup's cab, his bulldog bounded into the passenger seat with a happy bark.

"Fuckin' shame," Orion sighed heavily, looking at his house as he opened the driver side door of his pickup. "Those fuckin' NCR nancy boys'll probably bulldoze this place as soon as they realize I'm gone." He looked over at Arcade, who was waiting by my car. "See you at the bunker, Arcade. And you..." he looked over at me. "... whatever your name is." Orion snorted loudly, spat on the ground, got in his pickup, and drove off.

"Well..." I stuck my hands in my pockets, and walked over to Arcade as soon as the dust began to settle. "He's an incredibly repellent, flatulent minded individual." Arcade laughed nervously. "Do we really need him?" Arcade nodded.

"The rally point for the squad is an old bunker. The only way into the bunker is a voice key encrypted password. Each member of the squad has a single word. We need all five words in the phrase to get into the bunker."

"Great," I sighed. For some reason, that setup reminded me of the password to get into the Sierra Madre's vault. "So... don't take this the wrong way, but why is he such a fucking asshole?"

"Orion took the fall of the Enclave hard. He never questioned his orders. He never questioned the legitimacy of what the Enclave was doing. To him, it was all one unbroken chain, from George Washington to Dick Richardson. I was too young to remember myself, but apparently the day we left Camp Navarro, he raised a glass of scotch and said 'Kiss America goodbye, boys.' After we left the Enclave behind, the love in him burned itself out. Now, there's nothing left. Just a bitter old man."

"Begin again... but know when to let go," I said with a slight smile. Of course that's what I would say, after being reminded of the Madre. Arcade just continued staring out into the distance at the shrinking speck that was Orion Moreno's pickup truck.

"It's been decades, you know. By now, he's been out of the Enclave a hell of a lot longer than he was in. Most people know when to hang it up and start over... but not Moreno."

"He's a stubborn bastard," I said; as I spoke, ED-E floated down from his circling patrol high above us. "Even if he's faced with impossible odds, he won't back down. He'll never quit. I can respect that in a man." I paused, and looked back over to Arcade. "What I can't respect is... okay, seriously. I gotta ask. Does... does he know? Did you ever tell him you were -" Arcade cut me off with a very loud, single laugh.

"Oh, GOD no!" Arcade buried his face in one of his hands and started laughing feebly. "Telling someone that homophobic about my interest in men? Christ, could you imagine? That would be just... It would be awkward."

Our next stop was a small cave in one of the southern peaks of the Frenchman mountain range, even further east than Orion's house. We were perilously close to Vault 34, but I didn't think we were close enough to run into any wandering ghouls. At least... I hoped we weren't close enough. Especially since the approach was way too rocky and steep, and we had to leave my Corvega parked about quarter of a mile back down the mountain.

"So, who are we picking up here?" I asked as we approached the cave. ED-E was buzzing in the air just above us.

"Hannibal 'The Cannibal' Johnson," Arcade said simply.

"Wait, what?" I halted in my tracks, holding up a hand. "The Cannibal? Seriously? He's not... he's not actually a cannibal... is he?"

"You'd have to ask him," Arcade said in a vaguely noncommittal sort of way. "But I doubt it. If I had to pick anyone who didn't belong in the Enclave, it would definitely be Johnson. He hated what the Enclave was doing. Day to day, week to week, he would question orders, subvert mission objectives... he did anything and everything he could to serve without serving. Honestly, it's amazing he was never court-martialed."

"So, the polar opposite of Orion?" I asked. Arcade nodded, and I just smiled. "Well then. Sounds like 'The Cannibal' and I might get along just fine." Arcade smiled back, and we continued up to the cave.

"He always had good things to say about my father. Said I was like him in a lot of ways..." Arcade paused, and then added after a minute or two: "I wish I knew."

"I'm sure your father would be proud of you," I said, patting him on the back. He let out another 'Hmmm.'

"Maybe. Honestly, I wonder if he would. It's pointless, I know. But sometimes... sometimes I wonder what he wanted me to be. Maybe being a doctor in the middle of Nevada wasn't exactly what he had in mind for his little boy..."

By now, we'd reached the entrance to the cave. It must have been the right place, because it was blocked off by a ramshackle door made out of scraps of wood and metal. Someone was definitely using this place as a hideout.

Cautiously, I reached out and pushed the door open. The inside of the cave was pretty dark, but the darkness wasn't complete. Some lights were flickering from deeper inside the cave. After a minute of walking (and disabling about three bear traps hidden in the darkness that I saw with the nightvision mode of my cybernetic eyes), we reached the center of the cave. A single beam of sunlight fell into the center from a hole in the ceiling, and other lights were coming from a small string of Christmas lights circling the roof. There was a rusted bedframe and bedroll, a few dented lockers... and an old man sitting on a lawn chair with a hunting rifle across his lap.

"Well now... it's about damn time," the old man said getting up, and he held the rifle at his side, not even bothering to raise it. He stepped into the beam of sunlight, and I got a good look at him. His white hair was tangled and wild, and his equally white beard was huge. What little I could see of his face beneath the tangled mess of hair was old and wrinkled, but a pair of bright blue eyes stared at me with a fierce intensity. He was wearing a set of patchwork leather armor, with several pieces of metal attached to it with brown leather straps. On his left knee, I could see a patchwork frame of metal - a knee brace. "What took you -" He paused mid sentence. "Oh."

"Oh?" I repeated. The old man - Johnson, apparently - just laughed grimly.

"I've been in the Grim Reaper's shadow for a long, long time now. I thought that he'd finally showed up to collect." Johnson snorted, and shook his head. "He's just mocking me, now."

"You sound like you're eager to die," I said. It was a concept I couldn't fathom. Wanting to die? Accepting it? Madness.

"There's a twitch in my trigger finger, I've lost my eagle eyes, and the other day I could've sworn I heard Sergeant Dornan chewing me out. I'm old, and I'm starting to feel it. It's not pleasant, especially when you know your mind's slipping away. We all go sometime, but I was hoping for something a little more... heroic." He shook his head again, and stepped closer, tilting his head as he stared at me. "So... who are you, and what are you doing in my cave?"

"I'm Fisher. Sheason Fisher. Arcade showed me where to find you," I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder at Arcade behind me. "We're gathering the Enclave Remnants." Johnson peered around my corner and chuckled.

"Ahh... thought I recognized the fellow with you. How're you doing, Arcade?"

"I'm doing good, Hannibal," Arcade said. Johnson nodded, and turned back to me.

"So, what's this reunion all about, then?"

"I don't know how much you know about the rest of the world outside this cave, but pretty soon the NCR and Caesar's Legion are gonna butt heads over the dam again. Arcade thinks that the Remnants should get together for one last mission. Your fighting skill and advanced technology could be the ace up our sleeve to rig the fight in our favor. Interested?" Johnson's beard twitched.

"Well now... there's an interesting idea. Do a bit of good before we're all dead and forgotten." He nodded several times, bringing his rifle up to rest on his shoulder. "Sure. You can count me in."

"Excellent," I said with a smile. "So, what was your role in the squad when the Enclave was still around?"

"Designated Squad Marksman," Johnson said with a shrug of the shoulder the rifle was resting on. "I'm proud to report that I never killed a single soul who wasn't trying to kill me or one of my team first." I was a bit taken aback. I wasn't really expecting that.

"You make it sound like avoiding innocent deaths was uncommon in the Enclave..." I said, looking around. Arcade closed his eyes and subtly nodded.

"I'm sorry to say that it was. Civilian casualties were acceptable, and sometimes... even encouraged. And people like Moreno? He didn't need encouraging. Orion and I might've killed each other if Captain Kreger hadn't been there to pull us apart..."

"Yeah, I can believe that," I said with a smile. "So... out of sheer, morbid curiosity..." I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase my question.

"Yeah?" Johnson said with a raised eyebrow.

"You really a cannibal?" He laughed heartily.

"Ah, I'm not saying," he grinned broadly, showing a mouth full of (mostly) intact teeth. "It's part of my mystique, after all."

"Damn," I said with a sigh. "Sounded like there was an interesting story behind it." Johnson laughed more.

"Well, the truth of it is... I'm not really a cannibal. I did cut out a raiders heart once, but I only took a bite to mess with his buddies. They had me dead-to-rights, and I went with the first thing I could think of. Some ran... and the rest were startled just long enough. People found out about it later, and I guess the name just sort of stuck."

"Let me guess... " I said as the three of us exited the cave; ED-E bobbed down and fell in beside us. "You've got some kind of car around here too, right? Something like the last of the V8 Interceptors, am I right?"

"Wait, what?" Johnson stammered out. "Uh... no. Not... I don't really - what, did you guys drive here?" I nodded, pointing at my car below us. Johnson let out a nervous chuckle. "Well, in that case... do you think I can get a ride? The bunker is awfully far... it might take a while if I was going to walk. The other guys would probably get tired of waiting for my old bones."

"Sure thing, man," I said. "I think there's still... a little bit of room in the backseat..." I scratched the metal studs on the back of my head and sniffed. "So... who's Sergeant Dornan?" Johnson let out a huge belly laugh.

"He was a drill instructor I knew, back when I was stationed at Camp Navarro. He was the meanest, toughest, saltiest bastard I've ever known. Once, he caught this private out of uniform, and old Iron Boots went off on the most ear-blistering rant ever known to man. It was inspiring!"

"Inspiring, huh?" I asked. Johnson nodded. "Almost wish I could've heard it..." Next thing I knew, ED-E zoomed around in front of my face and let out a series of short, shrill beeps.

"What is-" Arcade started to speak, but was interrupted by the voice the emerged from ED-E's speaker grill. It was a rough, gruff, gravelly sort of voice.

"Welcome to Camp Navarro. So, you're the new replacement?" There was an indistinct shuffling. "What's your name, private?"

"My name is James," Another voice spoke up, not quite as gruff, and certainly younger sounding.

"What was that?" The first voice growled. "Did you forget something, maggot?"

"My name is James, sir!"

"I AM NOT A SIR!" The first voice bellowed. It was so loud, ED-E shook in midair. "I work for a living you MO-RON! You will call me Sergeant, or Sergeant Dornan! If I like you, you can call me Sarge. But guess what? I DON'T LIKE YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"Yes, sergeant!"

"Fan-fucking-tastic, maggot! Now, perhaps you'd care to explain to me WHY THE PISS YOU ARE OUT OF UNIFORM, SOLDIER!Where is your POWER ARMOR?!"

"I wasn't issued any armor, Sergeant!"

"Don't have any?" There was a short pause in the shouting. "YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT, MAGGOT? The truth is that you have LOST an expensive piece of army-issue equipment! That suit is going to come out of your PAY! And you will remain in this mans army until you are FIVE HUNDRED AND TEN YEARS OLD! Which is the number of years it will take for you to pay for a Mark II Powered Combat Armor that YOU HAVE LOST! Report to the armory and have a new suit issued to you, then report back to me private! DISMISSED!"

ED-E beeped tonelessly to mark the end of the recording and floated in place, leaving us in silence for a few minutes.

"Well, I'll be damned..." Johnson stared at ED-E. "How the hell'd that cute little eyebot get a recording of that?" ED-E bobbed in place, as if confused.

"Friend_Courier," ED-E spoke up. "What recording is Remnant_Hannibal referring to?"

"I don't think ED-E knows," I said, turning back to the old man following us. The three of us walked down the mountain back to my car in relative silence. It was only broken after Johnson took a look in the backseat of my car.

"Damn..." He let out a low whistle. "You weren't kidding about there only being a little bit of room in the backseat." He looked over the large collection of parts I'd bought at Mick & Ralph's earlier. "What's all this for?" I smiled at him.

"Just a little project I'm working on," Johnson looked back at the pile.

"Is... is that a toaster?" he pointed at the top of the pile. I nodded.

"Well, sure. I'm gonna need its electric heating coil of doom."

Johnson stared at me in silence for a minute or two. When he finally regained control of his faculties, he looked at Arcade, gesturing at me with a face that screamed 'Is this guy nuts?' Arcade just shook his head and sighed.

"Don't ask. It's a... It's a long story."