Minda’s Story: Fallout New Vegas Chapter One

Getting shot in the head truly sucks. I don’t think anyone can really understand just how much it sucks until it actually happens but since most people don’t survive the process you’ll just have to take my word on this. What truly sucks is that I’m not the kind of person who gets shot in the head. I know that the post-apocalyptic world is one where you could easily get shot but I normally keep to myself I’m not a Kahn, I never joined the army, and even though I hate them I never even crossed Caeser’s Legion. What I do is carry packages and that should have kept me out of trouble. See there’s really no reason to rob a courier since no one ever sends anything all that valuable with a courier so it ends up being pretty useless stuff at least to raiders, and besides courier’s are always well trained and tangling with them is difficult so no one would fight a courier just to open the package and find grandma’s favorite fountain pen or some shit. That doesn’t mean we don’t get attacked for our own valuables or by animals wanting to eat us but I usually just run and hide or talk my way out of getting killed and if that doesn’t work I shoot the shit out of them. If I can’t do that I can always just screw them, which gets me out of a lot of trouble. But it appeared that I had finally met my match in the guy in the checkered suit and I was all ready to go ahead and croak when I suddenly jerked awake to the worst headache I’ve ever had. (and that includes radiation headaches)
“Whoa, easy there you’ve been out for a while and you don’t want to jerk anything loose.”
I turned my head slowly to the side, trying to ignore the pain, as my vision started to clear and saw a bald man who was probably in his early sixties, quite old in the wasteland, he was wearing a pre-war work outfit with overalls and had a kindly smile on his face.
“I’m Doc Mitchell and this is the town of Goodsprings. What’s your name.”
“Minda.”
“All right then Minda can you try to sit up for me.’
I did so groaning slightly with the pain in my head. My legs had fallen asleep and moving them was difficult but I managed to sit up on the bed and swing my legs around so I was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Very good, now I had to go rootin’ around in your noggin to get all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needle work but take a look just to make sure I got everything right.” He said handing me a mirror. I looked a bit worse for wear and there would be a permanent scar but he had done a good job.
“Yeah looks right.”
“Alright good now let’s get you up and moving around.”
He helped me to my feet and sent me across the room to a vigor tester on the far wall. It was only a few feet but I barely made it.
“Looking fine so far now let’s check your vitals.”
I grabbed the handle of the vigor tester and it started spitting out numbers. I scored fairly well on the intelligence, agility, and charisma, while scoring lowest on luck which was not much of a surprise considering the week I’ve had. Everything else was fairly standard.
“Well that looks good”
After that everything else was just a battery of tests and paper work. Doc Mitchell gave me a psychological evaluation and I filled out some medical history tests. By the time it was all over my headache had started to ease and I had begun to feel like a real person again. On my way out the doc handed me my backpack with all my stuff in it including my orders from the Mojave Express my 9mm handgun and some ammo and my other personal effects. I blushed a bit realizing he must have gone through it and would have found my strap-on dildo I carried with me.