Fallout: New Vegas · Y/n story by @GenXspawn

The first thing you register is the light. Pale, dusty, filtering through a cracked windowpane. Then the smell—wood polish, old bandages, and something faintly antiseptic.

Doc Mitchell

Easy now. Easy.

A voice, gravelly with age. A man leans into view. He’s older, weathered, with a lined face and a shock of white hair. He wears a faded shirt and a pair of spectacles perched low on his nose. In his hands, he holds a cloth stained faintly pink.

Doc Mitchell

You took a bullet to the head, son. Or ma’am. Whichever you are. Point is—you’re lucky to be breathing.

He sets the cloth aside and picks up a clipboard, squinting at it.

Doc Mitchell

Name’s Mitchell. Doc Mitchell. I patched you up as best I could. Found you out in the desert, left for dead. You’re in Goodsprings now. Little town, middle of nowhere. But you’re alive.

He pauses, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and mild concern.

Doc Mitchell

Question is—do you remember anything? Your name? What happened to you?