Chapter 1

Fire on the Strip

The Courier gazed out on the Strip from his throne, down below fires and explosions lit up the night. He could hear the muffled sounds of screams and gunshots as the battle for Vegas raged below, battle was a generous word more like……slaughter. He stood and took in the penthouse suite, the monitor from which Mr. House once gave commands was now smashed a chair thrown into the center. His image still flickered on the screen though no longer spoke, Mr. House’s corpse laid at the bottom of the monitor. Two ghost people were mulling over the corpse, fascinated by it. The Courier continued his walk around the suite heading towards the elevator. He stopped only once more to observe Victor, who had now become nothing more than a fire in which the ghost people tossed books and snow globes.

The elevator stopped at the lobby, the Courier stepped out almost tripping on the pile of bodies at his feet. A twisted knot of ghost people securitrons and lobotomites, some still twitching as if they hadn’t accepted their death. The Courier reached the doors they had been broken down, and the doorways along with the stairs outside were covered with bodies. Walking down the blood-soaked stairs the Courier gathered a following of ghost people and lobotomites, who had been looting the bodies of both strip goers and N.C.R troopers alike. He directed them to reinforce the attack on the embassy, as N.C.R troopers still defended it. The Courier reached to his hip and took the modified T51-B helmet there and placed it upon his head. The H.U.D flicked on and began scanning the area in front of him, taking in everything from vantage points to possible ambush areas. It was comfortable knowing everything before it would happen, it sadden him that one day it would no longer be needed.

The fight for the embassy was a vision from hell as the horde of ghost people, lobotomites, ghouls and crazed securitrons assaulted the small garrison of N.C.R troopers. The majority were veteran rangers, each standing upon a pile of fallen foes and friends. For every ten of the abominations killed one ranger was dragged down and hacked apart. A round from an A.M.R struck a ghost person next to the Courier; there was a feral shriek of pain as the ghost person held its hand over a hole in its gut. The ranger who fired lowered his rifle in disbelief as the ghost person continued to run towards the battle, his shock was cut short as a spear was rammed into his chest his body disappeared under the tide of corpses. The Courier grinned beneath his helmet as the last of the rangers fell and the horde overran the embassy.

“Bring me ambassador Crooker ALIVE!” The Courier shouted at his minions, the responded with a mix of shouts, shrieks, and barks. He could tell they had understood him, and they would obey him because to them he was a god and their god was vengeful one. The battle for the embassy was over in a matter of seconds, the horde had broken down doors and dragged down the defenders and hacked them limb from limb. Walls and ceilings were splattered with blood; the carpeted floor was a marsh of gore in which mutilated corpses floated. The Courier walked into the ambassador’s office, it was swarming with ghost people. They were huddled in circles over bodies or were onto of filing cabinets spears and knives in hand. Ambassador Crooker was on his knees in front of his desk, a ghost warrior on both sides of him their spears in hand. Ambassador Crooker raised his head

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I want answers Crooker” the Courier responded with voice altered by both surgeries, respirator and helmet.

“I will tell you anything, just please don’t kill me!!” Crooker pleaded

“Where is the passage into McCarran?” The Courier asked his voice harsh and uncaring