Hey folks! *waves* It's your friendly neighborhood Kantus here. This is my Fallout/Mass Effect Crossover. Please tell me what you think.
Fallout Effect: Prologue
War. War never changes. There are many legends in the Mojave Wasteland, tales of monsters, told to children to keep them close to home, or legends of vast caches of technology and treasure. There are tales of heartless villains taking advantage of the helpless, and of the selfless heroes who rose up to defeat them. Of all the tales of the Mojave, none are as well known as the legend of the Courier, who led the New California Republic to victory at the second battle of Hoover Dam, and then mysteriously vanished a few months later. Some say he left the Mojave in search of somewhere to call home. Others say he died while out exploring the wastes. What really happened was far more strange and wonderful than even the Courier himself could imagine.
Along the one of the many winding roads of the Mojave Wastes, a lone figure marched eastward. His name was Zachary Browning, but most people called him the Courier. More than once, his enemies had fled upon seeing him. Most weren't that lucky. He wore a thick metal helmet, dented and scarred from the many battles he had fought, and a full-faced gas mask that had dark green lenses. His torso was covered by a sheath of composite body-armor, which was painted with a desert camouflage pattern. His light brown pants were tattered at the bottom, where they hung slightly over the top of a pair of heavily worn hiking boots. Draped over all of this, he wore a long leather trench-coat riddled with bullet-holes and coated with a fine layer of dust and sand. On his back was a large duffel bag, with two rifles hanging from its sides. He walked with an air of calm confidence, his movements almost silent, despite the weight and bulk of his belongings.
Zachary had first heard of the mysterious disappearance of the inhabitants of the Bitter Springs refugee camp while listening to his radio. Upon hearing this, he had gathered his belongings and set out eastward, on his way to the camp. Most people assumed he wanted to help find the missing refugees, but that was only partially true. Zach's main reason was simple curiosity. He wanted to know what could possibly cause so many people to vanish without a trace, but his insatiable curiosity did not mean he would wander off unprepared, his many experiences in the Mojave wastes had seen to that. The Courier never left his home without a variety of weapons, plenty of ammo, enough food and water to last him a week, and a generous amount of medical supplies. It paid to be prepared for any situation.
The Courier walked along the long road connecting the eastern outskirts of New Vegas and the northwest corner of Lake Mead, slowly looking left and right, watching for signs of recent trouble. He no longer needed to worry about being ambushed by Caesar's assassins, though they had never been the biggest threat. He was more concerned with avoiding the roaming packs of deathclaws and swarms of cazadors that still roamed the area despite the best efforts of well equipped hunting parties. It seemed like every time one nest was found and destroyed, another popped up somewhere else.
'Better safe than sorry.' Zach thought as he pulled his trusty Anti-Material Rifle (AMR) from his back and carried it loosely in his hands. 'Hopefully I won't need this just yet.'
Seeing an elevated ledge on the left side of the road, Zach made his way to the top. Lying prone, he peered through the scope of the AMR, scanning for trouble that might be lurking further down the road. About two hundred yards downrange, a young deathclaw was busy eating the remains of a pair of giant mole rats. Seeing an opportunity to rid the world of one more abomination, Zach steadied his breathing, lined up his crosshairs on the creature's forehead, and gently squeezed the trigger, and heard a satisfying Crack! In an instant, the heavy caliber round crossed the distance, entering the deathclaw's snout and exploding out the back of its head in a shower of blood and gore.
"Headshot." Zach muttered with a satisfied grin.
Moments after Zach said this, he heard a loud guttural roar behind him. Instinctively, he rolled to the side, barely avoiding the razor-sharp talons of a large and extremely pissed deathclaw. Coming out of his roll, the Courier drew his Colt M1911 sidearm, and unloaded the entire clip of armor-piercing slugs into the creature's chest, tearing through its thick hide and into the vital organs underneath. Enraged, the deathclaw bellowed a challenge just as Zach slid a fresh clip home. The monstrous creature charged straight for the Courier as he fired every shot he had at its wounded chest. The last slug tore clean through the deathclaw's heart, killing it instantly, but its momentum carried it forward, crashing into Zach, and sent him rolling down the hill, landing in a heap at the bottom.
"excrement. That was too close." Zach muttered aloud, before he climbed back up the hill to retrieve his AMR. Picking up the rifle, he slung it over his shoulder before sliding down the hill and walking back to the road he'd been following. Pulling his Thompson SMG from his back, Zach held it loosely in his hands, in case of any more unpleasant surprises. Humming happily to himself, the Courier continued his journey without incident until he reached the abandoned campground on the northwestern shore of Lake Mead.
Having scanned the area for hostiles and found none, the Courier sat down at the nearest picnic table for a quick rest. Sitting down, Zach opened his Pip-boy 3000 and reviewed what little information he had regarding the disappearances. All Zach knew was that the entire population of the refugee camp had disappeared one night. The NCR rangers at their station nearby hadn't even noticed until the next day. The strangest part of all was that it seemed like no one had even tried calling for help. Unable to resist his intense curiosity, the Courier set out heading northward towards the slot canyon of Bitter Springs.
A few minutes later, Zachary arrived at the southern entrance of Bitter Springs. Upon entering the canyon, Zach felt a chill run down his spine, his instincts telling him that something was wrong about this place. Raising his rifle, he slowly walked further into the camp. Bitter Springs hadn't changed much in the weeks since he had last been here. Every time he saw a place like this, Zach was reminded of just how far he had gone up in the world. The camp itself was a mixture of canvas tents, scrap-metal lean-tos, and other debris masquerading as shelter from the sun situated in the gully between the canyon walls. Walking up to one of the cooking fires, he immediately noticed something strange. Scattered around the fire, and in fact all around the camp, were footprints that were obviously not made by any creature he had ever seen. Zachary followed the strange tracks up the small hill to the NCR military tents overlooking the camp. The tracks separated again before converging into a double-file line leading towards the gaping maw of the northernmost of the two caves in the canyon wall. Turning off his radio, he drew his sidearm and slowly entered the gloomy darkness of the cave.
Finding himself surrounded by an impenetrable wall of darkness, Zachary activated the low-light optics built into his helmet. What he saw surprised him greatly. Inside the gloomy tunnels of the cave laid row after row of pods made of a strange material that appeared to be organic. Unable to resist his curiosity, he approached the nearest pod and was horrified to find it was occupied. Reacting on instinct he drew back his arm in an attempt to break open the pod, but the moment he did a strange insect landed upon his wrist. He paused, staring at the strange creature, but the moment he stopped moving it bit him right through his armor. The Courier tried to smash the vile creature, but was horrified to find he could no longer move. He then heard footsteps followed by a strange chittering noise, and then everything went black.