Red Annandale
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Fallout Nurse Vegas Intro
🕑 Added 2022-10-01 22:32:04 +0000 UTCWar.
War never changes.
In the year 2281 you live as a courier, a package delivery woman traveling across the Mojave. On a day-to-day basis you face every sort of threat both human and not. Whether it be raiders or radscorpions, brahmin or bloatflies, you do it all because it’s your job, how you make a living. There are some packages that simply must be delivered, even across great distances, and the couriers of the Mojave Express do it to keep the gears of whatever is left of society working.
You’re told that over 200 years ago the bombs fell, and a nuclear cataclysm wiped out the world humanity had previously known, turning the planet into an unkind wasteland. You’ve read before that humanity used to be a lot different, something called “men” having existed once, but now they didn’t. The radiation apparently had plenty of disastrous effects on them, quickly leaving only women in its terrible wake as the men ineffectively struggled to survive. The ones left behind were quick to adapt, possibly also due to the radiation, with a rising population of fertile “futas” entering the gene pool to keep humanity going.
The pre-war world honestly hardly matters to you. It’s so far in the past and you look toward the future. You’ve traveled a long way as a courier. You've delivered packages throughout all of New California—you've seen New Reno, Vault City, and even what was once called Death Valley in the old world. All of that has brought you up the Long 15 to the Mojave where you took on your next delivery. One that would change you life forever
The Mojave is different than anywhere you’ve ever been. As a contested area it’s somewhat hard to travel.
From the west, The New California Republic marched in, claiming that their control of Hoover Dam marks it as their territory. Typically the NCR inundated themselves with locals by setting up outposts in towns in the name of progress and governance, using promises of protection and social programs to persuade the residents that their way is what’s best for them.
From the east, Caesar and her armies of converted tribes march from Arizona, laying waste to everyone in their path that isn’t willing to join them. They offer none of the same securities as the Republic. Instead, The Legion works to take land by force, overwhelming many towns with sheer numbers alone.
Unfortunately for them, the Bull stands a long way from Flagstaff as does the Bear from Shady Sands. One person who’s controlled the Mojave for longer than either faction has existed has little interest in giving up her power over the surrounding area.
Roberta House controls the Glimmering Jewel of the Mojave, New Vegas. It’s a city relatively untouched by the war, lit up with the miracles of neon and electricity. You plan to spend some time there after you make your delivery. It’s not often you’re near such an exciting place. Your last visit to New Reno feels like it was a lifetime of traveling ago.
You sit now at the bar of The Vikki and Vance Casino, blue moon blaring on the radio as you sip at a glass of moonshine the owner brews herself. Primm is a nice town. It’s somewhat small, but a room at The Bison Steve is cheap, the post office is nearby, and the owner of the V&V makes an amazing drink.
Behind you, the call of the slot machines sounds enticing as you hear a few chips clink into the reward tray. You have a few caps, so what could it hurt losing five of them to the one-armed bandits?
Just as you move to get up somebody sits down next to you. You stop, captivated by her for a moment. There is an audaciousness you don’t see out in a small town like this. The checkered blazer that seems a size too small pops especially because it seems almost immaculately clean. The gray skirt she’s wearing is also far too clean as well as being extremely short. The material threatens to ride up her thick thighs with each shift of her legs.
You lock eyes with her, spotting an intensity within her that causes you to pause. You sit back down on your stool, motioning for another drink for yourself as well as one for the person who’s just sat down.
“Hey thanks,” she says, “real sweet of ya to buy me a drink an’ all.”
You nod, raising your glass in a mock toast before downing another gulp of the burning moonshine.
“I’m Bunny, by the way. You wanna tell me your name, toots?”
You cock an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond. The way this woman speaks only serves to sound alarm bells in your head. She’s obviously not from around here and yet she walks in like she owns the place. You give your name, though somewhat reluctantly.
Bunny nods approvingly. “Cute name,” she comments, taking a sip from her moonshine. By the way her face twists slightly you can tell it’s a little strong for her, like she’s used to something not quite so pure.
The questions from Bunny continue, with you giving only as little as required. This woman intrigues you. Her interest in you even more so. She’s a looker too. Her swept-back brunette hair and tight body catch your eye.
Part of you wants to invite her back to The Bison Steve and see if all that refinement applies to the bedroom, but you can’t shake that unnerving feeling either, deciding it best to keep your guard up. The last question Bunny asks is where you’re heading. About this, you lie.
You tell her the next stop is Boulder City for a pick-up. You’re however heading in the opposite direction. You need to make a stop at Goodsprings first and then loop back around up toward Vegas.
With all of her questions seemingly satisfied Bunny orders another drink, making sure the bartender brings one for you too. To you, it almost feels like a challenge, like she’s daring you to match her drink for drink.
Two drinks later you regret taking that challenge on. Your head feels fuzzy and an ache in your bladder tells you it’s time to stumble your way to the bathroom. Pushing yourself off the stool you feel your world spin a little, but your equilibrium is restored by an unlikely source. Bunny’s hand has gripped your wrist before you can fall over.
“Hey there girly, where you runnin off to? Why don’t you stay with me huh? You and that pretty little metal chip of yours would look perfect with me.”
Bunny’s words are tinged in sweetness like they've been dipped in a Sunset Sarsaparilla, but you know better than to trust her. You never mentioned the package you were carrying so how does she know about it? Is that the only reason she came over to sit next to you?
You let her know you just need to take a trip to the bathroom. At this, Bunny scoffs. "Pshhh, the bathroom—what a rip. I figured you'd do the sensible thing and just get padded up.
You ask what she means by “staying with her” and "getting padded up", avoiding the matter of the chip you’ve been tasked with carrying entirely. “Well it’s just, you know it gets lonely around the Mojave. I’m feeling pretty tired of havin’ to rent hotels for myself ya know? As for the padding, just figured a smart girl like you would be diapered is all. All that traveling and whatnot."
You tell Bunny that you have no idea what she means despite her eyebrow waggle explaining it all. “Just a cutie like you, somebody I can spend my time with. I’d take care of ya you know. I don’t ask a lot, just that you stand around looking cute. Maybe get used to some diapers for me?”
Bunny says this last part sheepishly, as if testing your interest. There it was, the complete deal breaker. Diapers. The wasteland had become completely inundated with the things, some strange leftover of the old world that had spread all through the culture of several tribes and factions. Some used them as a part of their uniform or worked to include the huge population of diapered individuals in their infrastructure. You’d never understood the appeal of it yourself.
You tell her that that kind of thing isn’t really for you and that you’ve always preferred to be a fucking grown-up. The promise of being some kept baby isn’t really enough to have you break your duty as a courier, not by giving up your package or abandoning your post.
After a trip to the bathroom you set out from Primm with the gentle waves of intoxication sloshing inside your skull, leaving you placated as you stumbled out into the desert. It wasn’t as if you were planning to be caught unaware. You could still hear a gecko coming from several hundred feet away and you were relatively quick on the draw with the pistol on your hip.
You covered the distance to Goodsprings in a few hours, following the highway through the desert all the way up north where a small town made up of a dozen or so buildings waited. Only the neon on the front of the prospector saloon glowed against the dark of the deep night.
With the package sitting behind the counter of the general store you’d have to wait until the morning to get at it. You figure what better place to wait than the saloon. At least another drink will help you forget about that annoying woman Bunny.
You take your first step toward the before for an explosion of white fills your vision.
There’s a brief feeling of falling before the ground smashes against your body and then blackness.
When you come to, the slow crunch of dirt fills your ears, but the world is still somewhat blurry. The obvious problem is the pain in your head, the blow that knocked you out solid and guaranteed to leave a mark.
“Ya know, all you had to do was say yes to my offer.”
Your head may as well be full of cazadors with all the pain you feel in it, but Bunny’s voice is even more grating than that. The annoying checker print of her blazer practically glows just like the neon of the saloon did and is tinged slightly red by the lit cherry of her cigarette.
Next to her two Khans stand with arms crossed over their leather vests. None of this made sense to you, why did this woman who was dressed so fancily give a damn about a stupid metal poker chip? Who was she to make demands about you becoming her diapered pet? Why would a rough and tumble group like the Khans be doing her dirty work for her?
One thing made a little more clear, Bunny’s obsession with diaper girls may come from the company she keeps. The Khans don’t wear pants of any sort. Instead shin guards and heavy leather chaps frame the shiny white plastic of thick diapers. That was their way: The Great Khans couldn’t be bothered with toilets, they just went everywhere diapered. That didn’t mean they were babyish like some of the others though. You’d be hard-pressed to find a meaner group than them.
One of the Khans digs a grave next to you, while Bunny and the other two argue about money.
“You got what you wanted, so pay up.” The tough Khan with a well-kept mohawk said.
“You’re crying in the rain sweetheart.” Bunny replied.
The other Khan interrupted their argument. “Guess who’s waking up over here.”
You flex your wrists against the rope bonds around your wrists, hoping to flex them loose. You’re having no such luck as they’re far too tight.
Bunny drops her cigarette to the ground, grinding it beneath her heel. “Time to cash out.”
The mohawked Khan seems annoyed. “Will you get it over with?” she asks.
Bunny holds up a finger, letting her know to be patient while stepping toward you. “Maybe Khans kill people without lookin em in the face, but I ain’t a fink.” She turns to address you. “You’ve made your last delivery toots. Sorry you had to get twisted up in this scene. From where you’re kneeling it must seem like an eighteen-carat run of bad luck. Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.”
Bunny points her gun directly at you.
*BANG*
FALLOUT: NURSE VEGAS
Comments
...hell yes.
