The year was 2285. It had been four years since Kevin Yeldon, a man more famously known as "The Courier", won the Second Battle of Hoover Dam alongside Vegas C.E.O. Robert Edwin House. Kevin was known as one of the finest killers in the Mojave. Not only was he strong and quick, but he also had a remarkable brain, one that gave him a exceeding amount of wit. He wasn't a charismatic man. He did not charm people upon his first conversation with them, nor did he care to. Kevin kept to himself for the most part, and that's exactly how he liked it. Following the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, most word on Kevin became blank. The man became a recluse, and hardly ever left the Lucky 38. He stayed that way for months, even years, as Mr. House began to slowly but surely improve the quality of life in New Vegas. The wall surrounding New Vegas was knocked down six months after the war, and a taller, stronger one was built all the way around Freeside, Westside, and North Vegas. New Vegas had finally become whole. It took a long time for Freeside and Westside to be properly renovated. It took years. The buildings had become old and decrepit due to centuries of abandonment and misuse.

The dirty, repulsive, and starving population of what now made most of Vegas were hard to incorporate into the vibrant, fast-paced lifestyle that defined the Strip. In fact, despite popular belief, Freeside and Westside did not become extensions of the Strip. Rather, Vegas became not only a collection of grand casinos, but a home for many. Freeside and Westside was filled with hotels and houses from the old world, many of which were renovated by the Kings (with the help of a robotic labour force granted by Mr. House). New Vegas, as a whole, became an independent power, one that happily progressed day-to-day under the banner of the American Flag.

Due to Kevin's insistence, Mr. House, one of the most intelligent men he had ever known, began to send securitron scouts into Big MT. To House's astonishment, Kevin was right. Many of the pre-war facilities had remained, and had still continued their regular scientific functions after the war. For over two centuries, they had no knowledge that the world around them had effectively ended, and continued to work toward the bettering of America. After searching the entire crater, he realized that one of the facilities, strangely enough, was dedicated to the de-construction of securitrons and the converting of their computational matrix to an insane, psychotic one. House was eventually able to reverse this system, and use the assembly lines of the facility to create new securitrons.

With his new found source of soldiers, House was able to send numerous patrols into the wasteland, increasing in number over time, keeping the wasteland safer and creating more incentive for NCR citizens to travel to New Vegas and gamble. In additions, settlements who requested protection would gain the assistance of several securitron soldiers. Due to a safer Mojave, settlements took a large effort to trade with each other. Quality of life in the Mojave was quickly rising, but Kevin was not satisfied with only being Mr. House's right hand man. Kevin had traveled before. He had seen the west, and traveled it many times, and he had, in recent years, even seen parts of the east. But, he wanted to see more. He wanted to learn the stories of the Great War, all over the united states. Perhaps to learn of new technologies, or meet new civilizations that had started to form in the east. He did not know. All Kevin knew was that Ulysses' tale of walking the east had taunted him. He wanted to see it all for himself. The sights, sounds, and legends of the east....ripe for the taking.

Disclaimer:

The locations, conditions, groups, and just about everything else about the varying settings in this fan-fic are logical assumptions by me about what each locations could be like following the Great War. The locations I develop and elaborate on are not canon. Thank you.

Kevin's Standard Travel Equipment:

Elite Riot Gear- The dark green paint has mostly worn off, revealing a darker, more natural color for the steel. An old world flag, with crude red, white and blue paint, has been etched into the left shoulderpad. The duster is torn and frayed in several parts, and several scratches and dents line the chestpiece.

Elite Riot Gear Helmet- Similar to the armor, the green paint has mostly chipped off. The white star is still prominent on the helmet, but considering it has been used for years, it is in good condition.

Modified Laser Rifle- Can fire three lasers. Slightly larger than the average laser rifle, it is also painted black.

Holorifle-Slightly modified.

Modified Laser Pistol- Painted red and black. Recalibrated to produce a more powerful laser shot.

Bowie Knife

Canteen- Normally holds water, but also used for medicinal liquids if need-be.

Backpack- Carries most of Kevin's travel belongings, such as food, water, and medicine.

Assorted Medicine Supplies- A few tourniquets, stimpaks, healing powder bottles of rad-x, and RadAway.

Food- Mainly canned food, such as beans, but also assorted fruits, vegetables, and meats stored in lunchboxes.

Purified Water- About a half dozen refillable bottles.

Pre-War Atlas- This book, which was found by Kevin in the Divide, has various maps of the United States. He also brought several pens to draw in notes on the map.

Journal- Along with a few pencils.

Camera- Mr. House insisted that Kevin bring a camera with him, to take pictures of any remarkable pre-war landmarks he would find.

Swiss Army Knife

T-Shirt, Bullet-Proof Vest, Leather Jacket, Jeans- A change of clothes in case his standard armor would become ineffective or unnecessary.

My hand slowly trembled as I emptied the remaining contents of the wineglass into my mouth. It had been what, my third glass? I was never one for excessive consumption of alcohol, but I was going to need it. I looked upon the wasteland from the clean, polished window of the cocktail lounge and looked down toward New Vegas. It was odd, how similar New Vegas was to an adoptive child. I was not part of its conception, but I adopted it. I cared for it, and I watched it grow. New Vegas had become strong, free, and wondrous. A true oasis of light, Mr. House's beacon to show mankind the way to the stars. If an average man were to sit and wonder; I wonder what Kevin Yeldon's life is like? I am sure that such a man would be filled with envy. But now it was I who was envious of the average man.

For years, I had claimed the spotlight. Indeed, I had made the spotlight my [censored]. Pardon my language. I was one of the richest men in the west, I was the right hand of the most powerful man of the era, and I had somehow managed to gain the support of a vast majority of the tribes in the Mojave. Thousands looked up to me, and I did not let them down. Nor did House. But I was not satisfied. In a way, I was angry. Not a murderous or shouting type of angry; rather, a frustration with the past. I stepped away from the window and set down my glass on the table, a slight ring being audible as it touched the surface. I wasn't angry at myself, or anyone. I was angry at the platinum chip.

At first, I wasn't sure why, but as I sank into one of the bar stools, it came to me, prominent and clear. It was as if I had a new philosophy drilled into my head from Caesar himself, yet the idea had always been there; the platinum chip had robbed me of my chance to have a normal life. Once I started to ponder such a thing, it infected the corridors of my mind like a pestilence. Dozens to hundreds of pre-war films and books had changed me, for I did not always think this way. At first, I thrived under the headlines and glory. I loved it. I thought that it completed me. But then, I realized that my life was as hollow as the NCR. From the outside, it looked promising and fulfilling, but underneath, there was hardly anything to be happy about. Hardly anything to believe in. Only the longing to be something, someone else. For the first time In a long time, I felt very empty.

The pre-war novels and shows I had watched only filled me with envy for the American gentleman. He would happily rise from his comfortable bed. He would stride toward the door and pick up the daily paper, smiling and waving at the paper boy as he rode by. He would depart to the kitchen, where his loving wife and bright children would be eating a hearty breakfast, ready to make the best of this day. This man wasn't famous and he wasn't exceedingly rich or handsome; he was normal, and content. My eyes began to swell with a light stream of tears. I ran my hand across my brow and eyes in astonishment. The Kevin Yeldon who had shaped the world around him four years ago was not I. Perhaps I had become a different man altogether.

I knew for a fact that a life as carefree and fulfilling as one in the old world was impossible. We lived in a new era. An era in which, even in a safe, clean city such as New Vegas, only the strong survived. Survival of the fittest. Not literally. House was among the fittest, but I knew for a fact that the man was as decrepit as an old, starving animal. My sentiment slowly faded, and my thoughts coalesced into a purpose. I wanted to leave the Mojave. Forever. I didn't have anything against it; I had helped it grow, and I had learned to love it over the years, but I had outgrown the Mojave. It no longer satisfied me. The spotlight and headlines weren't good enough. I wanted to drop a few pegs. I wanted to become invisible. What I wanted more than anything was solitude. Once I realized that such an endeavor was impossible in a land where I was famous, I knew that I would no longer be able to live in New Vegas.

Ulysses' boasts of traveling the east had taunted me. The east looked dark from our side of the world, but, in that darkness, I knew for a fact that the old world soundly slept, waiting to be cracked open. I wanted to learn the secrets of the old world. Ones that the NCR hadn't already dug its dirty claws into. I wanted to go east, alone and unafraid. I would be invisible once more. Just a man. Not "the courier", not "Mr. House's protege". Just a man. In that darkness, perhaps I would find a nook to call my home. One where I could count the rest of my days in peace.

I stood up from the bar stool. It was time to be honest to Mr. House. I quickly strolled toward the elevator and remained expressionless and cold as I ascended to the penthouse. I entered the main room, in which Mr. House's gigantic screen stood tall. I straightened my tie and looked up to him.

"It's nice to see you, Mr. Yeldon. You should really get out more. I know I granted you a nice penthouse, but confining yourself to it for weeks at a time isn't good for you. Trust me," buzzed Mr. House's almost mechanical voice. "However, I do not believe that I was aware of this visit beforehand, so I assume that you are here on something somewhat urgent?"

I nodded slowly, at loss for words as I tried to formulate my speech.

"So? To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I'm....I'm leaving, Mr. House." I was sure that if the mysterious image of a young Mr. House was more than a frozen picture, he would be raising his eyebrows in confusion.

".......Why?"

"It's hard to explain, so let me give you the blunt version. I want to go east, and I want to never come back. You're not in a position to refuse, Mr. House. I won you the dam, I won you your independence from the NCR, and I want you to grant me this one final wish." Mr. House remained silent. "I-I want to discover the secrets of the old world myself, and in the years to come, perhaps pick a home of my own and live the remainder of my days there."

"You're making a mistake, Kevin," sighed Mr. House.

"Perhaps, but it's a 'mistake' that I want to make," I retorted back. We were both silent for a few minutes. We were both at a loss for words. I don't think the silence coming from House's end was fueled by emotion. I was sure that he was thinking about how he would have to adjust to move on without me. Robert Edwin House was not a compassionate man; he was a pragmatist.

"Then, my last request of you is to not only bring the spirit of America with you proudly, but to take a camera. Should you ever return, I would very much like to see if there are any surviving landmarks left." I nodded slowly. This was a reasonable request. "Intelligent men have little need to bark at each other to achieve a common understanding. I can suspect that this is goodbye, courier."

"Yes. Perhaps I will see you again someday, if my travels ever bring me back here."

"How will I know if you're dead or alive?"

"You won't. I'm sorry. Try working on the half-glass-full mentality. Goodbye, old friend," I said confidently as I turned away. Robert Edwin House would not shed tears over me; 'twas not in his nature. But he would miss my contributions. I did not turn back to the mainframe as I slowly waited for the elevator, and took the ride down to the presidential suite.

***

I finished packing my belongings quickly. My backpack had been filled with everything I would possibly need on my travels, and my weapons were loaded and cleaned to their fullest. I was ready. I stepped into the elevator and descended to the casino floor. It was the longest elevator ride I had ever taken.

After I quickly strode out of the door, I looked upon the beauty and lights of Vegas one last time. Perhaps nighttime was not the best time to begin my travels, but I was sure that I would be unable to gain any rest in the Lucky 38. I was restless and ready to hit the road once more.

***

As I approached the edge of freeside, I turned back to New Vegas one last time, giving it one last nod and a wink, before disappearing into the desert to begin again.

"Here we go, life's waiting to begin."