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The Ghost of Caesar

A Furout: New Vegas Fan Fiction

Obviously all copywritten work belongs to the wonderful folks at Both Bethesda and Obsidian studios for giving us such a wonderful masterpiece of a game. Easily one of the best games of the generation. All original content, new characters, new plots and new ideas presented in Ghost of Caesar belong to me. I will happily sue your fluffy asses.

Please be aware I will dabble into graphic content, gunshots ain't pretty. Not full blown gore, just what you'd expect to see in the game itself with maybe a modest graphics mod installed. Also plan on sexual content, I do enjoy a good knotty time, I may or may knot include such content. So this is totally M rated. First and only warning. Alright well probably not only warning, I'll give em for knotty chapters for sure.

Ropes around my paws. Bound together in front of me. I looked down and briefly strained against the bindings. Won't budge. I'm sitting in a ditch. A big hole.

No, not a hole. A grave.

My grave.

There are three furs standing above me, I recognize the two coyotes as Khans, their signature red jackets distinctive enough even in the dim lantern light. Not just lanterns, that's New Vegas glowing in the distance. Damn its beautiful.

The man in the center speaks up "You've made your last delivery, kid." He's a dalmatian, checkered suit matching flawlessly with his checkered spots. Such an absurd fashion statement meant he had to be the leader of this little group. The smarmy attitude simply confirmed it.

Taking a puff of his cigarette, the dalmatian continued, "Sorry you got twisted up in this scene".

He held a small silvery poker chip, gleaming brilliantly in the lights of the far off city. A flick of the wrist, he slipped it into his jacket pocket and pulled a pistol in its stead. "From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck".

He took aim at my head.

"Truth is... the game was rigged from the start."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My head rang, white blurs and shapes moved past my vision. There was pulsing, so much damn pulsing. I think my eyes were open, wait, yes that was a ceiling fan, a room, I'm in a room.

I tried to sit up, more blasts of white. I think I'm in someone's bed.

"Woah, woah there, take it easy." I hear a gentle voice over the throbbing in my ears. wait, yes that's what the pulse was, MY pulse.

I'm alive. Good.

Fuck it hurt being alive.

My eyes clear enough again to see a young shepherd mix arm's distance out from me, helping to prop me up.

"You musta had one hell of a night, if you mind me saying, fella. Your head must feel like all hell. I'm surprised you're even sitting up right now.'' The shep offered a good natured smile.

wait. the shot to my head. didn't I get shot?

my first intelligible words past groans were something along the lines of "Sweet fucking mother of long dick johnson, did someone fucking shoot me in the god damn head?!?"

An angry snarl from the doorway to the next room signaled the entrance of an elderly bear, who had to be thrice my age by the greying of his fur. A sizable scar going down his left cheek and a hole in his right ear hinted at some violent past.

"If I catch my grandcubs repeating that language, I'll skin you alive, pup. And no, you ain't got shot, just piss drunk. I bet it feels like it though. If you did get shot in the head, I wouldn't bother putting you back together, good Lord knows I've wasted enough time on lost causes already." he gave a brief glare to the shep, whose ears folded back in classic submissive form.

Drunk. Oh. Yeah. That's right, Max took me and Char to Goodsprings to get hammered. "Best still in the Free State" he called it. Yeah that fucker is gonna get his ass beat. The moment I can think straight. Damn why is it so bright in here?

"Pup, you got 30 caps?" The gruff bear demanded, seemingly in total non sequitur. Maybe it did make sense. I couldn't tell. I nodded yes.

He walked over to the bedside, practically shoved the shep to the side and I felt a stab in my arm, jolting me awake a bit. "Holy fuck!"

"What did I say about the language! Ugh, ungrateful little punk. It's just addictol, it'll clear most of that hangover up in a minute. You owe me caps. I wont charge you for the bed last night but chems dont grow on trees." The bear went back over to the counter on the opposite wall from my bed, adjusting some papers on the counter there. "Bingo! Go tell your folks to send those other kids in here, their pals awake. Finally."

The shepard, presumably Bingo, jumped like he'd be electrocuted, nodded and hastily ran out the door around the corner.

"Damn boy wants to be a surgeon. Ain't never gonna have the nerve for it if he don't steel himself. Way too fidgety." The bear mumbled, mostly to himself, partly to me I supposed.

My head already felt much clearer, I realized I should probably be friendly to the ursine at least. And pay him of course. "Hey thank you for looking after me and not leaving me in a ditch. Most people probably would have just left me."

He just snorted in reply.

"Oh and..." I dug around in my pocket and dug out four bands of caps. I usually wrap ten caps together in a band, keeping them easy to count. "Here, this is for the chems and the bed. If't be insulting after saying it was free earlier, count it as a tip."

The grey-brown bear half turned, reached back and took the caps, all without even looking back. I suppose his bedside manner left a bit to be desired, but he was a small town doctor after all. Those scars though suggested he might have seen combat back during the war.

"If you don't mind my askin, did you fight at the Dam?"

At that I got a snarl as he flipped around, eyes wide as bottle caps. "Didn't your folks teach you it aint polite to go just askin people those sorts of questions?"

My lupine ears folded back, "No sir, my mother was never around and my dad actually talked quite... vividly about his time at the Dam. I sorta have nightmares about what he described to me. Sir."

His face mellowed a bit, but not much. "Second hand nightmares aint the real thing. But at least he taught you a bit about the costs of war. Ain't just blood that spilled at that dam. Ain't just the dead that were lost for good either. Lots of good men and women walked away and went home west but were just as dead as those the Legion stuck on spikes. You ever kill a man before Pup?"

"Yes sir. A raider. I know I had too, it was me or him, and I like me a whole lot more." I replied.

"Hmmmph. Fair enough. least you ain't a total city pampered dog like so many of your generation. All safe and secure with all those securi-bots in the city." His eyes narrow at mentioning the Securitrons.

"They patrol the highways too, all the way to the NCR border south of Primm, down out past Searchlight, the other side of the Lake too. Barely even radroachs bother merchant caravans anymore." I said, a hint of pride in my home's accomplishment.

"And that's why all you Vegas folk going soft." The bear pointed accusatory.

"But there's Securitrons here in Goodsprings too. Your protected by them yourself." I know I shouldn't have argued back, it was wrong to belittle the intelligence of your elders. Even if I was totally right and he was just being a stubborn old prick.

Before he could scream at me, muzzle half way open, the door to the clinic opened and I heard the familiar heavy footfalls of another bear.

Max charged right across the room and tackled me on the bed, slamming my just recovering head against the wooden walls of the clinic. "Damnit Max!"

"Last night was awesome! I told you it would be awesome!" the bear retracted from the aptly named bear hug and loomed over me while I still sat.

Maxson Boone, 22 year old brown grizzly bear, easily weighed the better half of a wrecked converga atomic car, had zero capacity for subtlety and was basically my best friend. Well, not like I had a lot of choices in best friends, but he was a pretty good one.

"If you two are gonna fuck, least give me a heads up so I can get me'self a seat and watch." The typical lewd, bombastic comment one got to expecting from the muzzle of Charlotte Cassidy.

Char, the 20 year old red fox with a foul mouth to match her famous Aunts', had followed Max in sipping on a flask. Unsurprisingly she didn't have a hangover. Fucking Cassidys.

The Sheppard from earlier, Bingo, poked his head around the corner. I had to admit he seemed a bit quirky but wasn't bad on the eyes. Too bad I made such a... poor first impression being so hungover and all. He seemed a bit concerned, turned back towards the door and I realized he let the fourth member of our little band into the room too.

A lanky short red-furred Dachshund awkwardly walked across the room and gave a little wave. "Heya Lu, you feeling better?" I noticed he had something behind his back.

Giving his short arm a tug, I found the beer I thought I smelled on his breath. Hard to tell of course, everything still smelled like alcohol right then. "What the... heck, Jet, why are you drinking?" the bear still standing in the corner glared at me, seeming satisfied with my censorship but not my role modeling ones.

Jet, a very much too young for booze at 16 dog and member of the Boomers gave me a very shameful look, tail tucked and everything. "Sorry Lu, Char said I could have one while you slept. You were out so long, Max and I ran outta bullets for target practice and"

My death glares at my two friends stopped the dog right in his tracks. "You two do realize we're in deep... water if anyone finds out we snuck out of the city, let alone with Jet, right? And if Elder Boe found out we took her son with us we'd be shot out a cannon." I turned my death glare to the Dachshund "Thanks for putting us in the predicament by the way."

The damn dachs helped us sneak out of the city undetected. Apparently the boomers had access to the old sewer tunnels. Wasn't glamorous but it got us past the cameras and our folks. But to get the key to the locks Jet demanded he come with us.

We would have ditched him at the far exit, but that one had a keypad he had a code for. The same code we'd need to get back in the city.

"This is all the little blackmail'in bastards fault. I said we should'a left em but the clever fuck is a clever fuck al'ight. The shooting practice was all Maxie boys idea t'o." Leave it to Char to verbally throw her friends onto the railroad tracks like that.

"Hey!" was his best defense Max could give.

I just rolled my eyes. Taking a pawful of Max's arm girth, I pulled myself into a semi standing position to the wonderful chorus of more ringing in my ears.

Fuck. My 21st birthday was supposed to be the lucky one right? Well I suppose I'm 21 and one month now, so a bit late. First chance we could all manage to sneak away from our parents for a few days, though. Damn overprotective zealots.

Max chuckled at my resolve to get out of bed. "Here I thought when that other wolf challenged you to all those drinks you'd be down and out for DAYS. Look at you powering through it." He beamed with a bit of pride.

Hmm. Oh there was that other guy we met last night. He was a local, I think. Real nice wolf, about our age. What the hell was his name again? Yeah I'll have to thank him for all those bad ideas last night. Damn I had hoped to wake up in bed with him. Not here. Uggh.

Max had his moment of awe at my supposed tolerance levels shattered when the doc threw the spent addictol injector at him and just snorted, muttering about "powering through it my ass" just under his breath as he walked out of the room.

Yeah sorry to disappoint, Max. Eh, best get the rest of my clothes, least I'm mostly dressed still. Not that I would've minded that shep undressing me. Ah well, maybe next time I'm in Goodsprings.

I adjusted my loose fitting shirt. My light brown duster jacket was folded over a chair by the bed, I picked that up and threw it on, drawing up the left sleeve. My Pipboy was tucked in the inner pocket of the duster, I pulled that out and affixed it to my wrist, the familiar pressure took some of the nails out of my skull. Belt next, with a holstered 10mm pistol. Modded to all hell, thanks to my dad.

Finally, my hat. Custom fit, jet black leather with a silver band around the rim, capped on the front by a Lucky 38 platinum chip replica. My upright ears poked out specially fitted holes, lightly twitching with the now familiar weight. I only had it for a month, but I already felt like I couldn't go the rest of my life without the damn thing.

"Alright, we probably should get going. It's a long walk up the 15. And Max, maybe if we're fast we can see the muties."

At the offer of a slight detour, Max lit up with joy. To potentially see the super mutant labor force out at the Sloane Quarry had been on his mind since planning this trip months ago. That and getting shitfaced at the saloon. Which we did. And we got samples to go if the clinking in Chars backpack told me anything.

"SWEEEEEET! Oh man, if I had one of those Pro-snap cameras I'd be all over that place taking pictures!" I'm not sure what Max's obsession with super mutants was, the nasty furless, bloated, generally dimwitted monsters weren't good for much. Normally just plain monsters out in the wastes. New Vegas put the local Mutant population to work mining in the quarry. Building material went to construction in the city via the rail lines, and the muties got a productive outlet to... smash things. Smashing rocks was much better than smashing people the way New Vegas looked at it. Out west Muties usually smashed people. We don't have that problem here.

Poor Jet had a confused expression. Char just took another swig of her flask and made to pass it to the dachs. My eyes met the foxes and she retracted the offered flask, putting a cap on it. "Well, best we get a hoofin it while we still got sun a shinin. And while I still got booze."

What time was it anyway? Checking my wrist, the pipboy read 2:47pm. Fuck. Not much daylight left, we'd have to camp for the night somewhere along the way. Great way to get stabbed in your sleep by some jet-junky. I bit back a growl.

Having caught the way my hackles raised at the wrist computer, the ever clever vixen cracked a grin. "Don't worry about it, boss. I gots us a caravan group. Don't you worry your pretty little head bout travelin tonight, they got a wagon and everything."

Relief washed over me. Char may be a total ass and a fuckin drunk, but damn did she know how to handle shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down the hill the main drag of Goodsprings stood mostly vacant, the high sun keeping most folks inside the Saloon or their homes. The afternoon heat always sucked, especially for us thick-furred wolves. My duster did a decent job of reflecting a bit of that off, and the wide brim of my hat shielded my eyes from the cloudless, unforgiving Mojave skies.

Char briefly explained to the ever inquisitive Jet that her Aunt made more than a few merchant contacts, and by simple association, Char had already begun building her own network. One such merchant whom the vixen had good terms with and was owed a favor or two was here in Goodsprings, about to leave around dusk back towards the city.

There was a pawful of canines engaged in a lively debate in front of the general store, as Char led us up, presumably to her merchant friend who'd be giving us a lift. A middle aged herding breed mix of some sort gestured quite emphatically with the merchant.

"Your already going that direction, you already have passengers, why can't I pay you to add two more?" exclaimed the mutt.

"I told you already Mr.Ringo, we don't have enough room. I don't do passengers, these kids are gonna pull their weight same as any of my hands." Seeing our little group of four approach out the corner of her eye, the lanky dingo turned to us, "That was our agreement, yes, Mrs.Cassidy?".

"Of course it was, we'll be pulling our weight in gear without pay, an we getta ride and some company, and that other thing we talked about. Cali did I ever lie to you before?" my Vixen companion smirked to her business partner.

The Dingo crossed her arms, "No your not a cheat. Except at poker". The two women shared a brief laugh.

The shopkeep, Ringo, still pressed on. "I can't travel that far without a wagon, my leg is no good. I NEED to get to the city to pick up a replacement coil for the freezer, without it my whole stock of foodstuff will be bad inside a week. I'm cutting it close as is." the dog gestured with incredulity. Fuck. This store was the only one in town, if they're stock goes bad there'd be a shortage.

"And my lead Brahmin busted her leg on the road up here. I've had that girl for going on ten years, tonight I'm going to have to put her down. I simply can't take on someone who can't sling their own weight on their back and keep pace."

Understandably, she was in a predicament herself... Maybe there was something I could do.

She looked the dog over again. "You got a son, yeah? The shep working for the doc on the hill? I could take him with me. He'd have to arrange transport back again, but... ah naw that won't work, will it."

"I couldn't have my only son go on his own like that. Not that far, not an option, sorry." the shopkeep shook his head.

"If I might suggest, sir, a compromise? There's a freight train headed from the city to Jean in three days. When I get back to the city, I could arrange to have your replacement parts sent with it, where you could send you son could pick it up. Jeans not even a half day's walk there and back and it's safe terrain. He could meet the train there, pick up the part and be back in Goodsprings in almost the same timeframe it'd take you to make the two days travel to the city and back. We could still take the other hand you mentioned with us, if he's capable of pulling his share. Now, since there's so many of us extra going, it'd be an undue strain on Ms." I turned to the Coyote.

"Casey Wilkins," the provided

"An undue strain on Mrs.Wilkins' supply. Perhaps we could take some of your stock that's closest to expiration, and in exchange Mrs.Wilkins can leave her Brahmin here in Goodsprings under your care, where you can still get milk from her. I take it she's still of value in that sense, Mrs.Wilkins?".

The coyote narrowed her eyes at me, "Yes she still gives milk. Not as much as she could, and I can't take her with me anymore with her bummed leg. If she didn't have to travel she'd be able to live her last good years out. I really wasn't looking forward to killing her. Although, I must say, why would Mr.Ringo take you up on such an offer? Should you be pulling his tail and we just run off with part of his stock, he never sees his part off that train, what good is a brah-..." she cut herself off mid sentence, eyes wide, catching my offer.

The more humble town shopkeeper clearly didn't follow, so Char finished connecting the dots. "What my pal here means is everyone here involved has some sort of collateral on each other. We all'd need each other. My group needs transit, you sir, need us to get to New Vegas within three days, you need to trust we keep our word, and Cali here needs you to keep her pres'is two-header alive. We fuck up, you kill her Bo she leave's us tied to a post in the wastes. She fucks up, her Bo dies. You don't get yer part, your stock now goes bad, but then you just cut yourse'f up some new brahmin and restock. E'ry one of us suffers if some'un fucks the pooch. Mutually assured destruct'tin".

The Coyote and dog both looked at one another, tilted their heads and studied the other's face.

Ringo spoke for both elder traders, "I think those sound like agreeable terms that satisfy everyone's needs. I'll go clean out the front freezer, it's all yours. Tie your injured Brahmin to the fence here and I see that she's fed some grain and given water."

The mutt went inside the shop, while the she-yote stood to face me. Her hardened gaze of almost lupine yellow eyes met my own. It was almost a primal challenge for dominance, our silent stare. "Some sizable balls on you, offering my girls life up as collateral like that." She extended a paw which I immediately took in as firm a grip I could and shook.

"You saved her life, I appreciate that. I owe you a drink once we get to New Vegas and settle this man's request. I'd like to hear what other sorta ideas you can bring." She met my grip with her own. From that simple gesture, I knew I had made a sizable impact on Wilkins. I was simply glad I could provide a mutually beneficial solution.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We helped Wilkins stock the remaining travel-worthy brahmin, and loaded the wagon to capacity. It took Max, Wilkins and myself all together to get the cargo straps tied down, the wagon packed to near bursting. It should hold. Maybe.

Wilkins had a single guard with her, a quiet lab by the name of Bill. Seemed fairly well armed by the looks of it, reinforced leather armor and a laser rifle. Plenty capable enough for the roads of the Mojave these days.

Back before the formation of the New Vegas Free State, caravans such as this were killed regularly in firefights between raiders, fiends, legion slavers and mutated animals. Now it was just the beasties really to worry about. No matter how many Securitrons got lobbed at the dry lake beds, there never seemed to be an end to those damn giant ants or radscorpions. Better than fiends I suppose.

Charlotte sat at the head of the wagon to guide the beast of burden. She weighed the least of all of us so made a perfect choice to climb the mound of supply and crates. Max had a pack almost as big as Char slung on his back, the bulky ursine showed no flicker of noticing his own burden. Wilkins had been merciful to Jet, he was tasked with guiding the reins of the other pack brahmin, only having to carry an oversized skin of water. Not much more weight than a typical travel back, really. I had a fairly decent load, a large satchel at my left hip, a travel bag on my back and a bandaloir with rations and a few extra water canteens. It'd be an uncomfortable load, but manageable. Plus my arms were free; so was my sidearm, should we need it.

The last member of our train had yet to arrive, supposedly he was getting the camping gear from where Wilkins stashed it. Aforementioned coyote tapped her foot somewhat impatiently waiting for her final charge.

"I'm coming! I got the gear! I'm sorry that took so long, ma'am, I had to top off my canteens." I was fairly surprised to hear the familiar voice.

Our seventh member was a wolf, early twenties, moonlight silver fur and golden eyes. Damn, yeah he was hot. I could stare at those eyes for hours. Hmm, I wonder if he's silver-white like that all over? Certainly a hell of a contrast to my dark black fur and blue eyes.

The wolf hadn't taken notice of his partners yet, simply offering his profuse apologies for being late to Mrs.Wilkins. So I took the opportunity to tap him on the shoulder, drew my fist back and as he turned his head my paw met the side of his muzzle with a full forced punch. The lupe fell backwards, to the much surprised face of Wilkins, and the chuckle of Char and Max.

"THAT, was for leaving us with your bar tab last night." The utterly baffled lupe, half sprawled across the dirt lit up in acknowledgement, recognizing his attack. I knelt down and offered him a paw back up, he did still have the bedrolls and crap slung on his back. He got to his own paws, and with the momentum of pulling him up, my left paw came to his nose and playfully booped it. "That was for the fun time last night." I said stepping back, a wide grin spreading across my muzzle.

Equally amused by what he now knew to be play, the other lupe broke his own grin. "I'm glad I made such a lasting impression. I have to admit I had my doubts you'd remember anything from last night."

"Ha, yeah it's all still a blur, but Char here is basically immune to alcohol and she remembers everything clearly for us." I motioned to the fox. She gave a brief wave of her own.

"Char? Charlotte, right? And Max?" He looked at the big bear who grinned and nodded. Looking at the dachshund, "a chem right... uh Jet! that was it!"

Jet laughed, poor dog had been named for the planes not the addictive chem, so it was frequent people made the mistake in his names origin. He took it like a good sport every time though.

"And your...?" He looked at me.

"Lucas. I'm sure I'm not the only one glad you're our other hand. If you can keep pace on the asphalt like you did at the bar, we should be in New Vegas in no time." I pat my fellow wolf on the back.

The elder Coyote laughed at the display. "Well, I'm glad you're finally here, Mr.August, we'll be needing those bedrolls. The trip takes the better part of two days. We leave right now just before sundown, make camp just north of Jean around midnight then start back up again a bit after dawn. Tomorrow we go till dusk, cook us a nice meal, by then we should be within sight of the city."

"Of course Mrs.Wilkins, again, I'm sorry for the delay, and please call me Remy. My big brother is Mr.August." he chuckled.

Our caravan host Wilkins gave a nod to her guard; Jet and Char tugged their reins and we started trodding down the road out of Goodsprings.