Hey, guys! This is one of my new projects with two of my favorite worlds, Fallout and RWBY. Hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter 1

The field the man found himself in a barren, empty field. He could see nothing for miles around; there weren't even any clouds in the sky. It was at this point that he noticed that there wasn't any sound either. A situation like this didn't scare him, but it sure as hell unnerved him. With no other option available, he just shrugged and began walking forward, hoping that he eventually found something. He kept walking for what seemed like hours, still nothing in sight. However, he had a nagging feeling that something or someone was watching him, and had been for quite some time. If whatever it was chose to attack him, he was all but defenseless; a far cry from his usual situation. He stopped, deciding to see if he could potentially coax out whatever it was.

Before long, the man felt an intense amount of heat scorch his back along with light so bright that it threatened to blind him even with his back turned. Although his mind screamed at him to stay as he was, he overrode the overwhelming sense of dread and turned. What met him brought back a flood of horrifying memories. Two massive grey mushroom clouds towered over the horizon, with a distinct and horribly familiar set of ruins sitting under each. Craning his neck to the very top of the clouds, he saw a distinctive emblem carved into each of them, as if a master craftsman had taken to plying his trade. On the left stood a clear image of a two-headed bear and on the other a rearing bull sat in the other. A third great blast of light shone in the middle of the two, causing the man to cover his eyes with his forearm, lest they burn out of their sockets. Hesitantly lowering his arm, he found a mushroom cloud much larger than those that flanked it and the silhouetted form of a man standing in front. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but once he could make out the newcomer's features, His eyes widened in shock. This also happened to be the moment that the screams hit him. He collapsed to his knees, cupping his ears to desperately try and block out all the pain, anger, and shock that those screams held. He felt his eyes well up in salty tears, for the first time in many years. He had caused those screams. He had given the clouds life. It didn't even register to him that the ground below him cracked and broke open, a fiery glow emanating from below. It was only at the last second that he managed to grab some form of purchase, but even that was tenuous. As he desperately clung to the cliff, he looked above him to see the newcomer above, looking down on him with a look of simple indifference on his face. The figure knelt down as if to help him, yet offered none; he just continued to stare. As his hand left the cliff, he heard the newcomer growl underneath his gasmask.

"You can go home now, Courier"

The Courier bolted upright, a cold sweat soaking his sheets and body. He began massaging his temples, trying to forget anything and everything about his nightmare. He'd had this dream many times before, in addition to many others, over the years. The frequency and intensity came and went at largely random intervals, although he realized that he'd had this particular nightmare much more frequently than the others. As much as he'd hoped that living a solitary existence in the Zion wilderness could bring him some measure of peace, at the same time he knew how naive that notion truly was. At this point, he'd grown used to the nightmares and the lack of peace but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Pulling himself out of bed, Six stretched himself out and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Letting his eyes adjust to his surroundings, he let a small smile creep onto his face. No matter how many times he looked at it, he was always supremely impressed and happy with himself over the improvements he'd made to his current home, the old Ranger Substation Peregrine. He'd kept a lot of what was already here, with minor repairs and adjustments of course; two centuries of abandonment and misuse tended to leave things in less than ideal living conditions. He'd managed to find a serviceable trunk in an old trailer at the nearby campground at Virgin Fork, which he used to keep typical Wastelander clothes, random supplies, and trinkets. The repaired bookshelf was full of intact pre-war books (courtesy of of a raid on House's penthouse and New Canaan merchants) of various genres while the table was covered with various random objects, par for the course as far as Six was concerned. He'd covered up most of the large open window space with timber he'd salvaged from the crates in the storage space underneath the station and whatever else he could find. A small section was left open to let some natural light in, of course, but Six had created curtains from scrap metal and leftover clothes. All in all, they'd worked better than expected.

Six walked through the makeshift door, also made of excess clothes, and walked down to the nearby Eastern Virgin. This was a daily routine of his, washing himself in the river and cleaning himself up. When he'd first started bathing regularly, he found it extremely refreshing. Sure, he'd taken plenty of showers back at the Lucky 38 but even those had been few and far between. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the memory. It'd been nearly seven years since he'd last stepped foot in Vegas. Although he sometimes missed the brights lights and the activity of the city, Six was content with staying in Zion. He'd left much of that life behind, especially after everything that'd happened at the Dam and the Divide. Besides, the Mojave reminded him too much of all the mistakes he'd made; it held nothing left for him and it sure as hell didn't want him. He paid plenty of attention to what happened in the Mojave so he'd heard of the numerous legends and tales surrounding him. It didn't surprise him all that much that he wasn't held in the highest regard. He'd left all that behind a long time ago however; he could care less what they thought of him at this point.

Drying himself off in a homemade towel, Six changed himself into a simple white t-shirt and some faded blue jeans with some black hiking boots. Walking back towards the substation, he made sure to flex his artificial arm. He'd lost it courtesy of a showdown with the Legendary Deathclaw back in the Mojave, one of the toughest fights he'd ever had. Thanks to the Think Tank back at the Big Empty, though, he'd managed to get one hell of a replacement arm. Klein had assured him that it was nigh-indestructible (although he had yet to test that boast and frankly had no plans to try) and that it would never malfunction. So far, it had lived up to its claimed reputation. To avoid any potential problems with people, he'd had Klein and Dala create an artificial skin to cover it. To all but the most perceptive people, it looked like a regular arm; he'd had to dial down all the extra features that Klein had built in, obviously, but that didn't bug Six much.

Grabbing the key to the ground floor room from upstairs, Six opened up his workshop. It was yet one more addition to his home and had proven quite useful. He'd covered up most of the hole with excess material from upstairs and scrap metal with the door coming from one of the other substations; the door had taken up nearly all of his weight limit but he'd been able to move by some miracle. Once he'd cleared out the boxes, the Courier had found the alcove much bigger than he'd thought; he'd managed to grab various tools, a re-purposed pool table, a small workbench, and a reloading bench from the surrounding areas and buildings although it'd been a pain to move even with help from both the Sorrows and Dead Horses (that had further added to the problem considering how scared they were of pre war buildings). The shop was littered with parts, tools, and weapons while off to the other side was a trunk for gear and armor. One of the center pieces was a homemade stand holding his Elite Riot Gear, one of the most worthwhile things he'd picked up from his escapes in the Divide. On the pool table-turned-bench sat several different weapons, such as his anti-material rifle and 25mm APW. Moving to the trunk, he cracked it open and pulled out his Assassin Suit, a prewar prototype from the Big Empty. Changing his clothes and replacing them in the trunk, Six grabbed La Longue Carabine from the workbench. Closing the shop back up, he began heading towards The Red Gate.

Might as well do something hunting today, Six thought as he jogged towards the arch.

It was dusk by the time the Courier was finished. Unfortunately, he had little luck; nothing overly substantial showed up and even the common Bighorners decided to stay away. While Six was less than pleased, it didn't really bug him too much. Between trading for food with caravaners, foraging, and trading with the Dead Horses and Sorrows, Six had plenty of food to last him quite a bit. Hunting was more of pastime, one he found surprisingly enjoyable. It felt much better to gather supplies and materials from something that couldn't potentially rip you to shreds (he still had plenty of scars from Red Lucy's little hunting escapades she'd sent him on). One thing that had weirded him out, though, was strange noises he'd heard coming from Two Skies, the cave right in between the Gate and Peregrine. It happened off and on, but enough that it freaked out any tribals or animals who went by. He'd been asked by Daniel a few times to check it out, but he'd never bothered too; frankly, he thought it was just one of the many wasteland creatures in the area that had decided to make its home inside. As long as it didn't bother anyone, he found no point in investigating. However, the Courier didn't yet realize just how important that cave would be.

Not sure how this first chapter sounds as this is my first crossover but I'm hoping you all enjoyed! Prologue 4 and it's full story are also coming soon and still in the works so don't worry. Constructive criticism and tips always welcome!