Fallout Dimensional Shift

Courier Number Six

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The animosity reflected in Enrier's eyes deeply resonated with Six and it spurred up memories from a time he'd rather forget.

It stemmed from a rupture experienced by those who entrusted others, only to have that trust violently shattered. It grew from the seeds of anger, evolving rapidly into a profound thirst for revenge.

He understood the emotions within the Dwarfs eyes because it was not the first time he had been on the receiving end of such ire.

Six could feel the unspoken desire of revenge because he too had once existed in a state of indignation. 

As he looked at Enrier he started to realize just how difficult of a situation he had caused for himself.

He had thought that they would part ways quickly, and that their clash of ideals resulting in an unfinished argument would end up being a sour memory from an already displeasing experience in the overall journey. 

But now Six could see that things had spiraled into a darker place than he could have foreseen.

The cycle of hatred breeding more hatred and violence begetting further violence should have been an obvious warning to Six as he grasped these truths intimately.

He knew the results of such actions because he once embodied the very essence of such aphorisms.

The remnants of his early memories were blurry.

In the days and weeks following his awakening in a harsh wasteland he pushed himself with cold intent, ever fueled by a hunger for greed and a thirst for blood.

He operated with the sole, selfish, destructive goal of revenge. And anyone who got in the way of that payed the ultimate price.

This was the look he saw in Enrier's eyes, and it caused his breath to hitch.

For Six knew that if the him of today met that which he was before. 

He would shoot them on sight. 

-

*Crunch*

*Crunch*

*Crunch*

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. This is Mr. New Vegas! Thank you very very much for listening." 

*Crunch*

*Crunch*

*Crunch*

"If you like news then your gonna love our next segment-" 

The sounds of boots grinding against two hundred year old asphalt paired with the charismatic voice of a distant radio host was all the man had to focus on as he walked along a seemingly endless highway through the desert.

"A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery."

"...?"

The man stopped and brought out the old device that had been gifted to him.

He looked at the screen, the jumping lines of the broadcast signal indicated that he hadn't imagined things.

"Now that is a delivery service you can count on."

"I don't remember seein any reporters around... Does this make me famous?" He mumbled to himself with a chuckle, however it quickly turned into a grim frown as a concerning thought crossed his mind.