The Courier adjusted the straps of his pack. His boots crunching against the Mojave Desert. The sky was dark, a deep navy blue punctuated by the pale glow of stars—but in the distance, lights beckoned him forward.

They weren't the familiar lights of New Vegas. These lights were brighter, sharper.

One final hill loomed ahead. As the Courier reached the top, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Below him stretched a city unlike anything he had ever seen in this world.

It wasn't the skeletal remains of Old World Vegas or the fractured, patchwork glitz of New Vegas. This city alive and thriving, its towering buildings illuminated by countless lights. The skyline was unmarred by the ravages of war. Skyscrapers reached toward the heavens.

The Courier's gaze followed the headlights of functioning cars along the highways. Above, planes flew through the sky, toward a massive airport on the city's edge.

He let out a low whistle, pulling off his helmet to take it all in. The cool breeze brushed against his face.

"The others aren't going to believe this," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the thrum of distant life.

For a long moment, he simply stood there. The people back at the Mojave Outpost couldn't imagine something like this. There were no Securitrons, no gangs squabbling over scraps, no NCR troops patrolling the streets. This was a world that had never known the Fallout.

Months Later

Operation: Nestwrecker

NEST Laboratory, Deep Underground Raccoon City

Two Umbrella Security Service Alpha Team soldiers walked down a hallway. Hunk, the squad leader, moved in front. He turned slightly towards his partner, J. Martinez, and motioned forward.

"This way."

The two soldiers approached the lab door, which slid open with a metallic hiss.

Inside the lab, William Birkin was hunched over a table, examining a vial of his precious virus—a sample of the G-virus. His face was alight with an obsessive gleam, and he admired the sheer perfection of his creation.

"My precious G-virus," William murmured, almost in awe. "No one will ever take you away from me..."

The sudden sound of the door opening snapped William from his reverie. He spun around, quickly slipping the virus sample into a metal suitcase. His eyes widened as he saw the two armed soldiers pointing their MP5s directly at him.

"There he is!" Hunk called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

William's eyes darkened. He reached under his lab coat, producing a pistol, his expression defiant.

"So, you've finally come," William said, his voice full of contempt.

Hunk took a step forward, his weapon still trained on the doctor. "Doctor, we're here to collect the G-virus sample."

William's lips twisted into a grim smile. "Sorry, but I won't just hand over my life's work."

Backing up, William accidentally knocked over a metal container, which crashed loudly to the floor. The sudden noise startled J. Martinez, and he fired his weapon, the bullets thudding into William's chest.

"BANG! BANG! BANG!"

William staggered, falling back against the counter, blood spreading rapidly across his lab coat.

Hunk turned sharply to J. Martinez. "Stop it! You might hit the sample!"

Martinez lowered his weapon, his hands shaking slightly, his eyes wide with shock.

William slumped against the table, still clinging to life, his breaths shallow and painful. Hunk walked over, inspecting the metal suitcase and its contents. He nodded to himself.

"That's it alright. We've got what we need." He turned to J. Martinez, his voice cold. "Okay, let's move out."

The two soldiers grabbed the suitcase and quickly left the lab, leaving William behind, bleeding on the floor.

Later, NEST Laboratory

Annette Birkin burst into the lab as she spotted William lying in a pool of his own blood. She rushed to his side.

"William! Oh my... Hold on, darling... I'm going to take care of this. Stay here!" Annette' scrambled to find medical supplies.

William, barely conscious, stared down at his hand, his fingers curling around a vial of the G-virus. He knew what he had to do.

Alpha Team Extraction Point

"Alpha Team, have you retrieved the sample yet?" the radio crackled.

Hunk brought his hand up to his earpiece, his voice calm. "Affirmative. We'll be at the rendezvous point in one minute."

"Roger that," came the reply.

Back in the Lab

William stared at the vial in his hand. With a trembling hand, he prepared a syringe, drawing out the purple fluid. He gritted his teeth, plunging the needle into his arm, injecting the G-virus into his bloodstream.

He let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening, his body convulsing as the virus began to take hold. Pain spread through every cell, his veins bulging, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. His face twisted in agony as the mutation began.

Sewer System, Near the Extraction Point

Two other members of U.S.S. Alpha Team paused, hearing something echoing down the sewer. The unmistakable sound of gunfire followed a guttural roar.

"What the hell was that?" the first whispered.

"Something's wrong. Let's check it out. Over there!"

#

A massive, grotesque figure appeared at the end of the tunnel. The G-mutant roared.

"Shoot it! Eat this, you freak!" Hunk yelled, opening fire.

J. Martinez joined in, the bullets ripping into the creature, but the G-mutant seemed unfazed. It moved closer, the bullets merely slowing it down.

"The bullets... they're not stopping it!" J. Martinez shouted, backing away.

Hunk cursed under his breath. "What is this thing?!"

Before he could react, the G-mutant lunged forward, its massive claw slashing across J. Martinez's chest. He let out a gurgled scream, the sound carrying through the sewer tunnels cut off abruptly as he collapsed.

The suitcase fell to the ground, the force spilling out the T-virus and G-virus samples. The G-mutant growled, crushing one of the T-virus containers beneath its claw and greedily consuming the G-virus samples.

Hunk was nowhere to be seen, disappearing into the shadows.

Sewer Tunnel, Minutes Later

The rest of Alpha Team hurried through the sewer, drawn by the sound of gunfire and screams. They stopped abruptly, horror spreading across their faces as they saw the twisted figure feasting on the samples, the bodies of their comrades scattered around.

"Hurry!" one of them yelled.

"Wh-what is that thing?!" another stammered, barely holding his gun steady.

"Fire! Fire, you son of a...!" The team opened fire, and the muzzle flashes lit up the dark tunnel.

The G-mutant let out a roar, lunging forward. The monstrous claw caught one of the soldiers, his neck snapping with a sickening crunch. The other fell back, his screams echoing until they were abruptly silenced.

Nearby, rats were drawn to the spilled T-virus. They began to lap at the pooling liquid, their eyes glinting in the darkness as they unknowingly became carriers of the nightmare that would soon engulf Raccoon City.

2 Days After Operation: Nestwrecker

Raccoon City, Breb Avenue, Night

Raccoon City Police Department officers were called in for reports of a violent domestic case. Senior Officers Nathan Hernandez and Haley Barton were dispatched to Breb Avenue.

They rode the elevator up to the fifth floor of the apartment building. The two officers walked side by side, looking for number 16.

When they finally reached the door, Hernandez knocked. "Mr. Smith? This is the R.P.D.! We've received reports related to domestic violence! Open the door!" he called out.

No answer.

Hernandez reached for the door handle, feeling that the knob was unlocked. He shot a glance at Haley, and she nodded. They entered cautiously, the door creaking open. It was dark. Hernandez raised his flashlight, seeing a cluttered living room.

"Mr. Smith?" Hernandez called again.

As the light swept across the floor, he froze. A dark, red stain smeared across the old carpet, leading further into the dark. He felt his stomach clench. "Oh... shit," he muttered under his breath. "Look at this."

Haley stepped closer, her eyes widening. They exchanged a tense glance. They both drew their handguns, weapons ready.

The trail of blood led them into the kitchen. The smell hit them next, something sour and fetid. They spotted a puddle of blood. The trail continued, ending at a closed door.

A noise filtered out—a wet, slurping sound. Hernandez hesitated, then nudged the door open with trembling fingers. It swung open slowly. He pointed his flashlight in.

A man knelt over a prone figure, his face buried in the flesh. He was covered in gore.

Hernandez's breath caught in his throat.

The bloodied Mr. Smith was eating his wife.

Hernandez was paralyzed.

"Oh my god..." Haley whispered.

Suddenly, Mr. Smith's head snapped up with hollow, lifeless eyes. He lunged toward them.

#

Additional R.P.D. officers arrived within minutes, securing the scene as Hernandez and Haley were rushed to safety. The apartment was cordoned off.

Detective Jonathan Reed arrived on the scene and assessed the situation. He stepped through the apartment and examined what remained of the incident.

Officer Donovan waited to give his report.

"So, Mr. Smith murdered and ate his wife, correct?

"Yes, sir."

"When he was discovered, he attacked the two officers?"

"He went for Hernandez and injured him."

"Officer Haley had no choice but to retaliate. Then... I can't explain it, sir. According to Officer Haley, the wife's corpse... it got up. It attacked them, too."

Jonathan paused. "The wife got up? She wasn't dead?"

"They weren't sure. In any case, she was fired at as well.

"Good God..." He shook his head.

"Both bodies have been transported to the morgue. Hernandez is being treated at Raccoon City Hospital."

Jonathan nodded. "Alright. I'll head over to check on Hernandez. Keep an eye on things. I want to know immediately if there's any... development. Good night, Donovan." He gave one last look before turning away.

"Good night, sir," Donovan replied.

Brian Irons' Office

Brian Irons was pacing back and forth, his face showing frustration, as he held the phone tight against his ear. His voice got louder as he spoke, clearly annoyed.

"Alright, but I'm serious...! No! I'm not leaving town. The vacation's canceled. Did you even hear what happened last month?" He paused, listening to the person on the other end, his expression getting even more upset. "Yeah, I know! Just... calm down. Maybe we can go next month, but not right now, okay?"

Irons rubbed his forehead. "Good, good. Look, I'll talk to you later. I need to call someone else." He ended the call and quickly started dialing another number. "Rebecca?"

"Huh? Irons?"

Brian didn't waste time. "How long are you supposed to be out of town again?"

"Uh, oh... um... I think I'll be out for about a month, maybe a bit longer. But I'll return to the police department after, don't worry!"

Irons raised a brow. "Uh-huh... and where are you again?"

"In New York City..."

"Right... just wanted to make sure..."

"Alright then, have a good day."

"You too," Irons muttered before hanging up.

Irons dialed another number, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah? It's me, Irons. Rebecca Chambers, one of the S.T.A.R.S. members, says she's in New York City. She didn't give an exact location, but I thought you should know."

Elsewhere

The engine of the customized Highwayman hummed through the rural county. The Courier crested the hill as he looked out over Montana's vast, untouched landscape. Rolling hills and open plains stretched endlessly in all directions, with the crisp, green grass bending softly in the breeze. There were no craters, blackened soil, or skeletons of burnt-out buildings. Just wide-open sky and land untouched by bombs. The sun sank low, casting the land in a warm, golden light, highlighting the Rockies in the distance, their peaks framed against the clear blue sky.

He took a step forward, almost cautiously, like he was afraid he might wake from a dream. This was Montana, but from a time that didn't feel real. Back home, Montana had been nothing but charred earth and memories, the land warped and scarred by the war. He remembered the ghostly remnants of trees and abandoned houses, reminders of a world that once was but which he'd only ever seen through stories.

But here, everything was... alive.

Tall grasses swayed around him. The vibrant green was a startling contrast to the dusty, dead plants he was used to. He saw wildflowers he'd only read about—golden sunflowers, purple asters, and scattered lupines, all blooming freely in fields untouched by radiation. The air was fresh, and he took a deep breath.

In the distance, he spotted an old farmhouse. Smoke rose from a chimney. It stopped him in his tracks, his heart beating faster. People lived here. People... thrived here.

He took in the rusty old windmill, turning lazily to the cattle grazing peacefully in the fields. This was the Montana he'd only heard about in stories. And now he was here, in a world that had never known the scars of war, standing on the land that had shaped him.

He smiled just a little as he walked past the fence line, feeling the sun's warmth on his face. This was the Montana he'd always wanted to see. And for the first time, he felt what home might have been had the world never fallen apart.

#

The Courier sat by a campfire in the quiet evening, spreading his map across his knees and examining the terrain and roads. So far, he had traveled from the Mojave to California, up the West Coast, and eastbound. His daily radio reports back to Big Mountain and the Strip helped keep him grounded that everything was, in fact, real.

He traced his finger along the thin lines markings, many of which had vanished or fallen into ruin in his world. But here, they were still relatively intact. According to the map, the most direct route to his next destination wove through a place called Arklay County. His finger paused on a small, unassuming dot near the county's border: Raccoon City. According to those he spoke to at a diner, they recommended staying away from the place. Apparently, there were reports of murderers attributed to serial killers, cannibals, or cultists. He tilted his head, intrigued. He'd been in dangerous places before. If anything, this was more of an invitation than a deterrent. Perhaps he could take care of that little problem while he was there.

Leaning back, he thought through his options. Skirting Raccoon City would be out of the way. He could take up some odd jobs again if he needed.

He took a sip from his trusty Vault 13 canteen. The idea of a city with bad rumors didn't faze him. He had raided the Sierra Madre, settled the Zion conflict, restructured the Big MT, faced his past in The Divide, and reshaped the Mojave.

"All right. Raccoon City it is."

He folded the map carefully and tucked it into his pack, his mind already working through the details. In the morning, he'd break camp and head northeast toward Arklay County. For now, he rested.

#

AN: Special thanks to Seana, Jebest4781, Charles, vividlearner744, OmegaDelta, Henry Stickman, fearmegu, Kitsune Robyn, SonicSonicsSonic, Dragon lord, Shooter1344, Alexander, Red Rasher, Ajax Roranson, trey, Asaf, Legion, DJC, $hane-08, Daniel, Alex, nighnight, Camden, decimator, Roswell, SpeX Smoking_ash12, Giorgie Baramidze, Kyan Christian, Professor Xivass!

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