This is a series of one shots from Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, and Fallout 4. I do not own any of the characters, of course.
All One Shots are in alphabetical order for your convenience.
Anything with an ➵ and a title has been reread, and (hopeful...
Vulpes Inculta Fallout New Vegas Warning: Light Violence
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Being quiet and shy never got me anywhere, except into trouble. Mainly just for 'not answering fast enough', so people think I'm ignoring them when, in reality, I just can't comprehend the right way to answer their question. So being a messenger was, of course, an amazing job for me! All I do, is take a note, and give it to someone else, or take a package, and get it to a specific place, no words needed! It was amazing!
Being the messenger of Caesar would be great too, possibly. Sure, plenty of people would want my head on a plate, but he was apparently a friend of my dad, who recently disappeared to go kill some Courier. Didn't bother me any. I hardly knew the guy. I was only going to Caesar simply because I didn't want to be alone, but I wanted to keep busy. He was basically just going to keep me under his wing, which I didn't mind. My father told me to go to him, and simply said that this was the moment in which it was time for Caesar to repay his favor and keep an eye on me.
I'd never been anywhere near this specific camp before, but Caesar sent a Courier to give me his Mark, which I had tied to a leather bracelet and worn on my wrist, seeing as a necklace could make noise when running, and was just generally tactically unimportant.
I'd only just gotten to this side of the lake and I was already lost. A man at the front told me that Caesar's tent was the red one with the gold tassels and the flap door, but there were three of them like that! I closed my eyes, and spun a pencil slowly on my fingertip. It pointed to the one a little farther back, and I walked in that direction, moving my hair from my face pleasantly for a good first impression on my future boss.
I entered the tent, and it was large, but there was no one inside. Maybe he was just out doing something. Still, I expected the Leader of the Legion to have a slightly more... impressive home interior. There was a bookshelf filled with different novels, and some wouldn't fit on the shelf with the others, so they lay stacked up on the floor next to it. There was a large red and orange bull flag above the bed, which was also everywhere else around the camp, and a small round table with a map and numerous little bitty knives stabbed through it in numerous spots, and some spots marked with burnt matches. As my father would say, 'Maybe there's some meaning in that'.
I heard a bold voice from behind me, "Aren't you supposed to be with the other slaves?"
Wasn't quite the greeting I was expecting, but oh well. I turned around quietly, seeing a handsome man standing with his arms crossed and leaning against the bookshelf. I kept my mouth wired shut, blushing profoundly, unsure about what to say. I simply stared at his Mojave-tanned biceps dumbly. He asked the question again, in a louder tone, and I simply held out my wrist, showing him Caesar's Mark.
