Those Gomorrah Nights - Complete

by Joel Rodriguez

"Those Gomorrah Nights" follows Omerta Lieutenants Jack and Johnny along with an NCR Sergeant and an unnamed assassin as their paths intertwine in an elaborate game, each one being the perfect pawn for a plan set by the Omertas to take control of the Strip by force. Unlikely alliances and formidable enemies are formed in this story of betrayal, greed, and opportunity.

Part I: The Massacre

The spinning roulette tables and cranking slot machines seem to have caught me up in a daze in this oxygen pumped hell. Gomorrah is usually a favorite among NCR troopers, but not mine. I can't take it. The entire place disgusts me and I feel like if I touched anything, some unknown disease or bacteria would consume my body. The women seem to be washed out caricatures of Marilyn Monroe, the alcohol is watered down to the point where a baby could drink it and not feel the slightest difference in their body, and the gambling… just, fuck the gambling. The prostitutes are riddled with disease and drugs yet they have the nerve to turn me away because of my face. The entire left side got burned off when Legionaries threw a Molotov in my foxhole. My friends all burned to death, but all I lost was half of my face and my confidence. Another thing I'll never understand is the gambling. I once ran into a guy hanging around outside the place who described it as, "Wasting away their life savings for a 45 minute thrill ride." I did not know that later on, this man by the name of Jack and I would become much better acquainted. It all started that night when I hit the town with my buddy Howell. Howell was a Lieutenant in the NCR. He was greatly respected by his men, although some of them were intimidated by him. Not because he was scary or anything, but more because he was homosexual. The NCR isn't too fond of him because of it, but he is easily one of the greatest men I have ever served with. We were at the bar downing some whiskey when suddenly one of his privates rushed in from behind us, completely out of breath. Howell spun around on his bar stool and crossed his legs.

"Private Mackey. I'm surprised to see you here and not at your assigned post…"

"Sorry, sir. Something is going down in Freeside. Something big. Private Rodriguez and-"

"Rodriguez. Ah, shit." Howell cut off Mackey, "Well, my night just harder." He quickly downed another shot of whiskey and stood up from his stool. "I gotta go, Sergeant. Here, take these for the night." Howell handed me a small bag of caps and began walking away.

"Lieutenant… What's happening?"

"Come with me if you want and you'll find out too, sergeant. Mackey, you go back to the embassy. If I radio in, you send us backup immediately. You hear me, soldier?"

"Yes sir!" Mackey said as he ran out of the building.

We quickly rushed over to the main desk of the Gomorrah and demanded our weapons back. They returned our standard issue Service Carbines and we bolted out of the casino and onto the Strip. I expected Howell to turn right towards the embassy, but instead he took a left into Freeside. I was confused, but followed him regardless. The Securitrons slid open the gates and we ran through with our weapons readied. At our 2 o'clock, we could both clearly see the illumination of flames coming from the dark street. We began running towards it when the sounds of gunshots filled the air along with cheering, yelling, and the breaking of glass bottles. We turned the corner and crouched quietly. Up ahead there was a full blown riot of raiders, locals, and even King's gang members holding machetes and torches. Strung up from a lamppost was Pvt. Rodriguez, squirming and thrashing as the life slowly escaped from his body.

Howell immediately sprinted forward, yelling and firing his rifle into the air. The group immediately dispersed and retreated at the sight of more NCR soldiers. We ran forward and in front of us on the ground were three other bodies riddled with bullet holes along with Rodriguez's corpse still hanging from the lamppost.

"Do you know the other three?" I asked Howell.

There was a moment of silence.

"No… No I don't. They aren't NCR."

"What do you mean they aren't? Why would the locals tear them apart?"

"No tags, no armor, just bullet wounds."

Howell quickly turned around with his Service Carbine at the ready. Pvt. Mackey was standing there almost in tears. He dropped his rifle to the ground and then fell to his knees.

"Mackey, what the fuck happened here?" He yelled at the broken down soldier.

"R-Rodriguez was drunk on the job… We thought it w-would be f-f-fun to come into Freeside, maybe g-go to the Wrangler, but some locals p-picked a fight with him and then he sh-shot them… In seconds he was swarmed by locals… I slipped out and ran to you guys b-because I didn't know what to do."

Howell spit down at the ground in front of Mackey and picked him up by his throat. "The NCR has no room for cowards. You're gonna stay here and clean this fucking mess up. Bring the bodies to the Old Mormon Fort. They'll know what to do with them. I'll be talking to Colonel Jameson about you and Rodriguez once I get back to the embassy. You fucking grunts make me sick. You have no god damn discipline!"

I had never seen the Lieutenant that angry before. I'm actually surprised he didn't kill Mackey right there on the spot. I wouldn't blame him if he did. Would be just another grunt killed in Freeside. He'd probably put in the report that both of them were killed in the rioting.

"Sergeant, make your way back to Gomorrah. Tonight is supposed to be your night off. I'm heading over to the embassy. I need to talk to Jameson. "

"Yes sir." I said saluting the Lieutenant.

He nodded to me and then went through the second set of gates on his way to the embassy. I decided to head back to Gomorrah to hang my head down for the night. As much as I hate the place, I just can't seem to get enough of it. I parked my ass down on the same barstool as earlier and began picking at the bowl of peanuts. The Omerta I had seen earlier that afternoon pulled up a seat next to me.

"These times we're living in… They sure are crazy, man." He said as he poured himself some whiskey. I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or not, so I kept quiet.

"You know, I bet a man with a face like yours has some interesting stories." said the Omerta.

I turned to him and glared, trying to not let the rude remark get to me, still keeping quiet.

"Woah woah, buddy. Sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot. The name's Jack. And you are?" he said as he extended out his arm for a handshake. I grasped his hand and squeezed down tightly, making him immediately retract and regret the decision to make fun of my face.

"Sergeant Helscath." I replied bluntly. I wanted nothing to do with this man, but apparently he couldn't take the hint.

"Nah man, what's your real name? What did your parents call you?"

"Fine. Michael. My name is Michael. What do you want?"

"Well Michael, I'm just wondering why you're so hostile to a man you just met."

"I know you're type, Jack. You fucking Omertas are all the same."

"Hah, I like you. Here, I got a proposition for you. Meet me in Room 4108, 4th floor. Midnight."

"Why? What could you possibly want from me?"

"Just come up, meet some people, drink, and you got a free suite for the night. That's all."

He put down an NCR $100 bill on the bar and slid it over to me.

"Your drinks are on me tonight, buddy. See you at twelve." He said and winked at me before walking away. I looked up at the clock to see that it was already 11:30pm. I had half an hour to think it over, but it didn't even take me half an hour. I had nothing to lose, really. I decided to head up to the 4th floor. I made my way over to room 4108 and waited for a bit outside. As the clock struck twelve, I firmly grasped the door handle. I held my breath and twisted the knob. The room was brightly lit and sitting around the fireplace was four Omertas. I didn't recognize any of them except for Jack who sat up and smiled.

"Here he is! The man of the hour! Michael, come join us. I was just telling them about you."

I went over to the couch and sat next to Jack.

"Michael, nice to meet you" the bald one said standing up. "My name is Cachino. That's Nero and Big Sal on the other couch. Nero, would you like to talk to our new friend here?"

Nero stood up, putting down his glass of whiskey.

"I'm not gonna bullshit ya here, guy. We know who you are. A friend of our down at the embassy dug up your file and handed it off to us. We're impressed. And we need a guy like you."

"What do you mean, 'a guy like me'?" I asked confused.

"A guy with your specific skill set; a guy who can get things done."

"Alright, cut the shit. What the fuck do you guys want from me?"

They were silent for a moment when Jack interjected:

"We need you to make a delivery to the White Glove Society."

I was confused. Why do they need a soldier to make a delivery?

"What kind of delivery?"

"Just a package to Mortimer. A special 'thank you' from the Omertas."

"Alright, when should I get on it?"

"Now" Jack said as he lifted up a package leaning on the side of the couch, "You'll be heading down there with Mickey and Johnny. They'll be waiting for you in the lobby. You'll get paid when the job is done, just return here. Hell, I'll even buy you a drink to celebrate."

Jack escorted me downstairs to where Johnny and Mickey were waiting. They both were anxiously awaiting my arrival.

"So this is the guy, eh? Name's Mickey. This other guy is Johnny" one of the men said to me. His voice was shrill and annoying like a hyena's cackle.

"Aight, let's go" he said, picking up a suitcase. Every time he spoke, I swear I could feel my brain cells dying.

After a short walk down the Strip, we ended up in front of the Ultra Luxe. This place always gave me the creeps. It's just too… normal.

"Alright, let's do this." Johnny said as he began ascending the steps to the front doors.

We were stopped by the greeter telling us to relinquish our weapons. We told him that we were just here to make a delivery and were unarmed. He let us past over to the main desk where I was supposed to drop the package for Mortimer. He was sitting behind the counter, half asleep leaning on his arm and obviously wishing he was somewhere else.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" He said with a yawn.

"This is for you. A gift from the Omertas." I said as I dropped it down in front of him.

"Ah, splendid. Must be the wine that Nero said he would get for me. Thank you, gentlemen."

I turned around to see Mickey and Johnny's true intentions. They had masks pulled over their faces, hiding their true selves and each brandished a 9mm UZI that was cleverly hidden behind a fake suitcase. They immediately unloaded into the booth, slicing up Mortimer with 9mm rounds. Screams began flaring up in the casino floor from the sound of the gunshots. Johnny and Mickey ran over and stood above the crowd, firing round after round into the gamblers and members of the White Glove Society shoving past each other to get to the exit. I needed to do something. I pulled the spare knife out of my boot and began to run towards Mickey. I couldn't let them do this. Suddenly, a huge explosion from behind me threw me into the air, making me land directly on top of Mickey, knocking us both down the stairs. Johnny must have thought that I was trying to attack Mickey and immediately started firing at us. I pulled Mickey over me as a human shield. His chest absorbed the blows from the submachine gun, tearing apart his insides. Johnny had stopped firing. I looked over and saw that he was out of ammo. He dropped his UZI, tore off his mask, and began running with the crowd as if he were nothing more than another frightened pedestrian. The bastard should have been an actor, not a mobster. I shoved Mickey's lifeless body off of me and grabbed his UZI right before brushing myself off. I should have known from the beginning that this job would be no good. It was right then that the Securitrons came rolling in. It was a setup. They brought me along as someone to fall back on. I was the delivery. The Securitrons readied their 9mm sub machine guns.

"Citizen, you are under arrest. Please drop any weapons you may be carrying and come with us."

I looked down at the UZI in my hand, and then down at Mickey's corpse. There was a grenade hidden underneath his jacket. I dropped the UZI to the ground then got down on my knees with my hands at my sides. The Securitrons lowered their weapons and began moving in towards me. In just the blink of an eye, I quickly removed the grenade from Mickey's jacket, pulled the pin, and wound my arm back for the carefully placed throw…

Part II: The Hit

One last job. One last job and then I retire. An early retirement at the age of 26. Tonight is the night that Swank dies. They will find him with a .45 round lodged in his brain. A round that he placed there himself. I'll have nothing to do with his demise. At least that's what the reports will say. They will assume he cracked under pressure from matters they will never know of or that life was just too much for him. The reason will not matter to them, however there will be many questions asked. No one will suspect me. I'm just another commoner looking to spend some time on the strip to gamble away my caps. That's all they'll think of me. The Omertas will give me my pay when it's done and then I'll move on to a new place. Find a new home, perhaps. Goodsprings has some empty houses. Maybe I'll settle there. I need to stop rambling on. Let's just get this over with.

I entered the Tops unaware of the sight I would take in. It was my first time in the place. I usually just kick back in Gomorrah like every other untied man in Vegas, but this was strictly business. I climbed up the frail stairs and slowly approached the cashier. She looked up at me and granted me with a smile. She's the first to ever have smiled at me on this strip. She knew what I was here for. Cachino had stopped by earlier to give her the word and the pistol. Not to mention a little bag of caps to get her to go along with it. My jet black suit was what gave it away. I leaned against the counter, ringing the bell just twice. That was the signal. I gave her 50 caps and she gave me 50 chips and the pistol. It was a .45 ACP H&K USP. Silenced. Tabletop grey. The perfect handgun. I slid it into the holster underneath my jacket and grabbed up the chips. I flipped one off of my thumb and she caught it and smiled; just a small token of my appreciation for this woman taking the risk.

He was still standing at the front desk greeting people. He was wearing a navy blue blazer with khaki slacks and shoes that shined so bright they could blind anyone who gazed directly upon them. He caught me staring at him so I quickly looked away and headed down to the floor. Maybe a little blackjack will clear my mind. I sat next to some rancher claiming he had hailed from Texas and that he was the most successful rancher in the region. He shut his fucking mouth when I left with all of his chips after about twenty minutes. I took my chips up to the cashier and turned them in for my payout. I told her to hang on to my caps for now. I didn't want to be jingling down the hallway on my way to Swank's room. I went back to the front lobby and Swank was gone from the front desk. It was 12:00am. The Omertas said this was around the time he went up to his suite. 13th floor. 5th door on the right. Room 1308.

I strolled into the elevator and checked my weapons. I had my switchblade that I sneaked in on my leg holster and my silenced USP at the ready. I slowly clicked off the safety as the doors to the 13th floor slid open. Two guards were walking back and forth down the hallway. The one on the far left was the one that noticed me first. He quickly moved in with a combat knife at the ready. He lunged and swung at me, barely grazing my arm and tearing my suit. As he stumbled forward after missing his lunge, I drew my USP and aimed it directly at the back of his head. He stood straight up and dropped his knife and gestured to the other guard to do the same.

"I'm not here for you" I said reassuringly to the two guardsmen. They both sighed with relief and put down their arms.

"On your knees" I said to them. They quickly obeyed so I decided to make quick work of them, firing a round into the back of the first one and then right between the eyes of the second. I ran in between them, catching both of their limp bodies and easing them onto the ground softly. Their blood flowed out to the walls of the hallway, making a small stream down to the elevator. I now had his room in my sights. I could hear opera coming from within. A familiar tune my father once played for me. "The Flower Duet" I believe it was called; a beautiful song for a beautiful ending. I reached into the guards pocket and pulled out his key ring and slid off 1308. The ancient key fit perfectly in the lock and the door creaked open. He was surely aware of my presence now if he wasn't already from the quarrel outside.

"I knew it was only a matter of time" he called out from the other room. I turned the corner to see him sitting in large velvet chair next to an unlit fireplace. He was facing me and breathing heavily. He was panicked. "So who hired you?" he asked as I stepped forward.

"The Omertas" I replied bluntly.

"Ahh, the Omertas. Always jump the gun instead of trying to talk out situations. A bit like myself" he said as he whipped a .38 Special from his sleeve. I leaped back and threw myself behind the wall as he began firing. He fired three shots, missing each one but struck two lights and left us in complete darkness. I quickly turned around the corner with my weapon ready only to be greeted by Swank and his switchblade. The blade dug deep into my left arm, and exited the other side. I screamed out in pain and dropped my weapon to the ground as he threw me against a bookshelf and began to swing. He hit me in the face with his elbow twice and then got me with an uppercut. I fell back onto the ground, breathing heavily and tearing from the pain in my arm.

"You regret taking this job yet?" Swank said as he stretched down and picked up my pistol.

"No, not exactly." I quickly pulled out the blade from my leg holster and plunged the blade into his foot with all of my might. The blade soared through his flesh and then deep into the wood floor beneath. He screamed out in pain and dropped down to the floor next to me. I climbed on top of him and ripped the switchblade out of my arm. The sudden rush of pain and adrenaline fueled me and readied me for the kill. I grasped the handle with both of my hands and raised it above my head, ready to throw the finishing blow. I drove the blade down with immense speed, aiming for his heart. He deflected it, causing me to instead lodge the blade in his shoulder. He yelled out in pain and pistol whipped me with my USP he took off the ground. The gun colliding with my face released the magazine. The magazine flew across the room and collided with the wall. He attempted to put the gun to my head as there was still a round in the chamber. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and smacked his arm against the floor repeatedly until I could feel his bones cracking between my fingers. He dropped the pistol and grabbed me by my hair and drove his forehead into my nose with all of his strength. I rolled across the floor in pain. We both slowly pulled ourselves up to our feet and stood across from each other, each of us ready to jump and make the first move. Swank still had the switchblade dug deep into his right shoulder. He ripped it out and tossed it aside on the floor. He then glanced over to the fireplace. Above it was mounted a double barrel shotgun. He looked back at me and then at the shotgun again and made a run for it. As he was running, I quickly jumped to the ground and grabbed my pistol with one hand and the magazine with the other and loaded in the ammunition. I turned to look at Swank as he was reaching up for the shotgun. I quickly fired two rounds into his back and he fell forward, knocking the shotgun to the ground. He rolled himself over and was gasping for air. I limped towards him slowly ready to deliver the finishing blow. I pulled up my USP and fired two more shots into his head and chest. My nose and arm were bleeding profusely. I coughed up a bit of blood onto the floor and fell to the ground as I attempted to stagger out of the room. The job was done. Not in the way I had hoped for, but it was done. Time to cash out and retire.

I couldn't just walk out the main lobby looking the way that I did. I pulled myself over to the bathroom and washed off my face and the wound in my arm. I ripped up a hand towel and wrapped it around the deep hole. It would have to suffice until I get back to Gomorrah. Next was the clothes. People would question a torn suit drenched in blood. I briskly jogged on over to Swanks wardrobe and pulled out a nice clean black blazer. My pants were fine and didn't need to be changed. I threw my dirty blood soaked coat to the ground and threw on the new one. It was cotton and hand-stitched. It fit absolutely perfectly. I holstered my USP and exited Swank's room.

Outside the door there were two chairmen on the other side of the hall, investigating the dead guards. I quickly turned the other way and tried to think up a new exit. There was an emergency staircase at the far end of the hall. Right next to the door was a fire alarm. It was the only way out. I pulled down on the fire alarm and slipped through the door and began running and leaping down the stairwell. Every alarm in the Tops casino was now going off. After a few moments of running and vaulting down the stairs, I made it to the first floor. The Chairmen were evacuating those who came down from their suites and those who were on the casino floor. I casually slipped into the crowd and followed their lead outside onto the strip. Everybody was panicked and horrified except for me. Several Securitrons rolled past the crowd and into the main lobby as I began my stroll down the strip back to Gomorrah. I would check in with Big Sal and Jack in the morning. I needed my rest.

I woke up around 10am to a loud knocking on my door. I loaded a fresh mag into my USP and approached it slowly. I looked through the peephole to see the face of Jack Rogers, or "Handsome Jack" as most people called him. He was holding a large leather suitcase in his left hand and appeared to be unarmed. I let him in and he gestured me over to the dining room. The sun shined bright through the large windowed room. You could see for miles around. I leaned up against the glass as Jack sat down at the table, laying out the suitcase.

"You didn't carry out the plan" he said with a grimace.

"I had no choice. There were guards. I had to improvise."

"The report came back showing clear signs of a struggle. It was supposed to be quiet. He was supposed to off himself. Worst of all, the finger points right at the Omertas"

"I know things didn't go according to plan, Jack. I had no choice. He came close to killing me and I needed to act."

Jack opened up the suitcase and slid it across the table. The left half was filled with NCR $100 bills. I was promised more for the job. I looked back up at Jack to see him glaring at me.

"You got the job done. But you didn't go through with our plan. Therefore, you only get half the pay."

I nodded grabbing the suitcase and stood up to my feet. I tossed him the room key and turned to walk out of the suite.

"One more thing…" Jack called out from behind me.

Before I could fully turn around, three hollow point rounds had already pierced into my side, tossing me against the wall. I dropped to the ground with my pistol in my hand, but not the strength to raise it. The USP slipped from my hands and fell to the cold tile. My blood pool formed around it and spread out on the dining room floor. Jack sat up and walked forward with his chrome M1911 in hand, smoking still rising to the ceiling from the barrel. He squatted down at my side and stared into my eyes.

"Maybe in your next life you'll be able to follow orders" he whispered as he grasped the handle of the suitcase, prying it from my cold hands. He holstered his pistol and pulled out a walkie talkie from his jacket.

"Sal, send a cleanup crew to Room 417. I tied up the loose end." He slid the walkie talkie back into his jacket and kept his eyes fixed on me as he stood back up.

"Thank you again for your services." He said as he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Part III: The Heist

Gomorrah… The place where you will find the most vile creatures of the wasteland; disgusting beings trapped in their own minds by their greed and egos that don't deserve any of their belongings and should be hanging from the gallows. I won't be telling you a story of how great I am. I won't call myself a legend although many regard me as one. I won't boast even though I have every right to. My name, you ask? The name is Jack. Jack Rogers. I'm just going to take it from the top:

"There's never enough money" Johnny said as he put down his now empty glass.

I looked at my drunken friend quizzically.

"What do you mean by that, Johnny boy?"

"What do you think I mean? Fucking Sal, Cachino, Nero, man they're a bunch of greedy fucks. They could be paying us so much more than they are, but yet they keep all the fucking cash for themselves, locked away in the god damn vault."

"I know man. That's just the way things are though. I mean shit, we have it pretty good here at Gomorrah: We have our own suites, free drinks, free women, and shit, we control pretty much half of the Strip with those Ultra Luxe fuckers out of the way. We got it made man. Quit your bitching."

"But we could do so much more man. Think about all the cash in those vaults. They don't fucking deserve it. We bust our asses man and are expected to take a bullet for them, yet we get treated like fucking dogs."

"I don't know, man…"

"I have a plan. We can't talk about it here though. Meet me in my suite at midnight, okay?"

I sighed and told him that I would go. I didn't like the idea of ripping off the Omertas at all. They were the kind of people you didn't want to stab in the back. They were monsters who fed off of the lust and greed of the innocents that wander onto the Strip. I decided to take a walk outside to cool myself down with a cigarette. I yearned for the false chill of a menthol planted between my lips. I lit up the cigarette and leaned against the wall outside, nodding my head to gamblers about to enter and waste away their life savings for a 45 minute thrill ride. I never understood how somebody could fall for the tricks the dealers lay out in front of them. I'll never understand that feeling of excitement because I feel I am too intelligent to be fooled in such a way.

I made my way back inside after about half an hour of chain smoking and leaning against the front of the building, lost in thought. I looked around the main casino floor of this haven for thugs and drunkards, all the while thinking about Johnny's words. He was right. Why don't we just take what's ours? Although inebriated, Johnny made sense. It was almost midnight. I took one last look down at the greedy pigs down on the casino floor and made my way to the elevator. I clicked the button to get to the fifth floor as fast as I could because a couple of drunken slovenly bastards began stumbling towards the elevator, asking me to hold it open. I don't like sharing elevators. I already have bad enough claustrophobia being inside these metal crates.

The doors slid open moments later to the fifth floor. Johnny's suite was at the end of the left hall. I darted around the corner with a brisk pace, keeping my eye on the door. Before I even reached it, he threw it open and his eyes darted around the hallway. I walked past him into the living room and planted my ass down on the couch.

"I'm in." were my only words to him as he closed the door.

"Good. I didn't think I would be able to pull it off alone. I want to do this clean, but we may need some firepower. What do you think we can get?"

"I can go see Mick in Freeside. He's a close friend. He can hook us up with whatever we need. What'd you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking two silenced .45's. That should be all we need. I'm gonna have my UZI with me just in case."

I wrote down our robbery shopping list on a ripped piece of paper as Johnny listed them off:

2x Colt .45's with silencers and two magazines for each

28x .45 Hollow point rounds

1x extended UZI 9mm magazine

30x 9mm rounds

4x tear gas grenades

2x M40 gas masks

2x Kevlar vests

½ pound of C4

"This is a pretty long list, man. I got it down though. What is the actual plan now?" I asked Johnny.

"We're going to need a distraction to get into that vault, a big one."

"What do you have in mind?"

" I don't know, I just don't fucking know."

"What about the Chairmen?"

"What do you mean, Jack?"

"We've been at war with the Chairmen for quite some time. With Swank out of the way now, the Chairmen are in disarray and are looking for any chance to strike back at us. Why don't we fire another shot? Get them riled up? If they attack Gomorrah, we'll have the perfect chance to slip out. "

"Jack, you're fucking brilliant." Johnny stood up from his chair to come over and hug me. He still stunk of alcohol.

We had our plan. I had just gotten back from Mick with our weapons. Now all we had to do was cash-out. I went up to my suite and unloaded my duffle bag. Inside I had the ammunition for Johnny's UZI and both of our silenced .45's. Johnny opened the door into my suite a few minutes later as I was loading up a fresh magazine into the .45. Johnny grabbed his pistol and slid it into a holster under his jacket. He loaded the other magazine into his UZI and slung it around onto his back. I couldn't stand wearing this white and black pinstriped suit another second so I headed quickly into my bedroom and peeled it off. I threw on a bright blue polo shirt and a pair of relaxed khaki pants. I topped them off with a pair of aviator sunglasses and walked out back into the living room where Johnny was sitting.

"How do I look?" I asked him jokingly.

"Like you're about to retire" he replied with a chuckle.

We had our plan all ready. Before coming up to my suite, Johnny had given one of the grunts of our gang a package: a package that was titled as a treaty to the Chairmen from the Omertas. That package will be detonated as soon as it is opened, killing whoever is sitting at the front desk of the Tops casino. That should send them a message. They will follow up with a counter attack on the Gomorrah, and that is when Johnny and I will make our escape. Right as I picked up my pistol and the duffle bag, the shooting began on the first floor. Johnny smiled as he ran over and held the door open for me. I reached into my duffle bag and pulled out the two M40 gas masks and handed one over to Johnny. We slid them over our faces and rushed over to the service elevator. I slid my keycard through and the doors screeched open. We walked in, readying our weapons and hit the button to bring us down to the cashiers lounge. As the doors rolled open, several bullets whizzed above our heads. We jumped down and took cover behind the counter. I looked down at my feet to see the corpse of Gilberto, one of our cashiers. Half of his face was missing, most likely stolen from a 12 gauge buckshot round. I looked to my left to see the other cashier, Cliff, cowering and crying in the corner with his SPAS-12 shotgun at his feet.

He glanced over at me and Johnny and scurried over on the floor to get closer to us.

"W-what are you g-guys doing in here!?" he yelled while choking on his tears.

"We're retiring. Don't try to stop us." I reached down into Gilberto's jacket and took out his key to the vault.

"WHAT!? N-NO! I WON'T LET YOU STEAL FROM THE OMERTA'S!" Cliff screamed as he jumped on top of me, attempting to pin me down. I dug my knee into his gut and threw him off of me. The scrawny bastard got back up and unsheathed a knife. He began lunging towards me when Johnny grabbed him behind, wrapping his arms around Cliff's throat. In a split second, he snapped the kid's neck and threw his limp body to the ground. I nodded to him and we both ran over to the vault. I stuck the key into the rusty lock and pulled it open. Inside were mountains of crisp NCR dollars and bags of caps.

"My god, look at this!" Johnny exclaimed. "We can live off of this for years!"

I just smiled while taking in the sight and began shoveling the money into my duffle bag. I can't believe we are actually doing it. We're going to be rich and live like kings. Eventually, I couldn't fit anything more into the stuffed bag. The shootout was still going on outside. It was right then that I realized we had no escape plan…

I was about to yell at Johnny when it hit me. I took the four tear gas grenades and started chucking them into the casino floor. Johnny and I waited for the cloud to consume the room, and then we made a run for it. We sprinted directly through the casino floor, keeping our heads down the entire time and ducking into cover whenever we could. Luckily in the blinding cloud, we were able to make it out to the Strip. We made a break for the Atomic Wrangler in Freeside. A haven for thugs, thieves, and murderers… people like us…

Word spread pretty quickly about the heist at Gomorrah. Over 40,000 NCR dollars and 5,000 caps had been taken from the casino's vault in the middle of a firefight between the Chairmen and Omertas. They looked back at the holodisk tapes and had us identified almost instantly. The Omertas didn't hesitate to put a bounty on our heads. 10,000 caps dead, 15,000 alive. I can't believe we pulled it off. We made ourselves at home in the Wrangler for a few days while we decided what we were gonna do with ourselves. Johnny planned on moving out to Goodsprings seeing as he had family out there. Me, I had no family. I was all alone in this world now. I gave up the closest thing I've ever had to family for this money. It's too late to go back now though. Too clear my mind, I decided to go out for a cigarette and take a walk around Freeside for a while.

The Atomic Wrangler was completely empty when I arrived back. The Garrett twins were gone along with every lowlife that spends the night there. I could see the door to our room up the stairs, the light inside illuminating the cracks in the old rotten wood. I opened the door and was warmly greeted with a bullet in the stomach. I fell to the ground in pain and clenched my gut. I looked up to see Big Sal, and Johnny standing there laughing at my pain. Cachino was behind me, holding the .45 that was just fired into my side.

"You're friend Johnny here decided to trade his life for yours. He came to us begging that we spare him and that he'll tell us where you are." Sal said, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Nothing personal, Jack. Just business. You understand. You were an Omerta once." Johnny said while smiling.

I pulled myself up with help of the door. "So… What now?" I asked. I coughed up blood right afterwards on my shirt.

Sal stood up from the bed with a groan. He smiled at me and then whipped out his 9mm pistol and spun around, unloading the magazine into Johnny's chest. Johnny's body fell to the floor with a thud, void of any life. It was then that I felt the cold steel of Cachino's .45 against the back of my neck. My head jerked to the side as the pistol fired right in my ear. My ear drum couldn't take the thunderous clap of the Colt and burst. I spun my body around with my leg out, greeting Cachino with a kick in his chest. Cachino fell backwards onto a coffee table, snapping it in half with his weight. I turned back around towards Big Sal and jumped towards him, pinning him down on the bed. I put my forearm over his throat and began to push down with all of my weight, crushing the fat bastard's wind pipe. He coughed and gasped for air underneath my weight. I almost had him when Cachino ran up behind me. The porcelain lamp he was holding broke over my skull, causing me to fall off the bed onto the cold moldy carpet. Cachino stood over me and pulled out his KA-BAR knife, ready to strike down on me. I wasn't proud of what I did, but I had no choice. I kicked up, driving my shin into his testicles with as much strength as I could. He yelled out in pain and I kicked him back onto the floor, grabbing his knife and leaping on top of him. I drove the knife down right into his forehead, killing him instantly. I stood above him and glanced over to Big Sal who was struggling to load in a new magazine into his pistol. I reached down and ripped the knife out of Cachino's skull and then jumped towards him. Right as he put the magazine into the pistol, he fired off a single shot into my chest, but Cachino's knife cut through his throat like butter. I landed on top of him as he gurgled and drowned in his own blood. I was barely able to pull myself off of him. I looked down at him and picked up his pistol. I put it to his chest and repeatedly pulled down on the trigger until I heard the unsatisfying click of the hammer striking an unloaded chamber. Both of the fat fucks were dead by my hand. I picked up Johnny's UZI and slung the duffle bag filled with cash over my shoulder. I stumbled over and almost fell to the ground. I took a glance at the mirror between mine and Johnny's beds. I was losing blood fast. I pulled myself up and looked over at Johnny's corpse and grimaced. I still couldn't believe that he betrayed me. He was my best friend. My brother. But I guess money makes you do crazy things. He had all the cash he needed, but there's never enough money…

I took one last look around the room and decided it was time for me to take my leave. I twisted open the door handle and in front of me stood a dark figure. The figure emerged into the area illuminated by the lamp in the room. I didn't look at his face just yet. He wore a torn up NCR field jacket with a white tank top underneath and a pair of ragged jeans to top off his combat boots. His dog tags dangled in front of his jacket. I couldn't make out the name for they were covered in dry blood. I looked up to that familiar face; that burned, unforgettable face.

I grinned as I stared directly into his eyes. I decided that it was time to break the silence.

"Heh. So you made it out of the Ultra Luxe then… How about I buy you that drink now?"

Part IV: The Partner

He spared me. I wouldn't have done the same for him, but I suppose the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Michael lowered his pistol away from my forehead slowly and then placed it back in its proper holster. He pulled out a small pack of cigarettes from the front breast pocket of his NCR field jacket and placed one in his mouth. He gestured to the pack in a way of asking if I wanted one, but I refused. He then pulled out his scratched-to-hell Zippo lighter and lit up the end of the cigarette, inhaling slowly and smoothly.

"You shouldn't smoke those; the cancer will put holes in your mouth."

Michael couldn't help but smile at the remark. I could already see into his mouth from the peeled away flesh. Cancer wouldn't make any difference in his appearance.

"So… Why aren't I killing you again?" Michael asked me with a grin.

"Because man, it takes more than one person to take down an army of mobsters, ya dig?" I replied, taking up his offer for a cigarette after a brief hesitation.

"Yes, but you used to be a part of that army… That army that tried sending me to my death." Michael said, his grin turning into a grimace.

"Heyy, listen buddy, that was all Nero's plan. You see, you were no more of a pawn than I was in this whole thing. Why do you think I left that dreadful place? Why do you think I just killed these disgusting fucks?" I said to Michael, pointing back towards the bodies laying about the hotel room. He peaked around my shoulder to see the bullet riddled and blood soaked corpses. I felt something coming up my throat and let out a cough, getting blood all over the NCR Sergeant's jacket.

"Michael, my main man, sunshine of my fucking life… I need to get to the Mormon Fort… Now…" I said to him, beginning to lose my balance. Before he could respond, the door to the bar area down stairs was kicked open.

"JACK YOU SON OF A BITCH, WE KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE!" the gruff voice yelled out. It was more of Nero's Omerta goons. Jack pulled out his M1911 and I pulled the UZI out from behind my back. We ducked behind the walls around the door for cover and listened to the buffoons down below.

"Did you hear the shots?"

"Ye, I heard the shots."

"I heard the shots too."

"Shut the fuck up Donny, nobody asked you."

"But you just-"

"I was asking Jimmy. I was looking at him in the fucking eyes when I asked him."

"Well I couldn't see. It's dark in here."

"No shit it's dark in here! Jimmy, go turn on the lights."

"Where are the lights?"

"I don't know, what are you ask-"

Before the loudmouthed Omerta could finish his sentence, the door behind them slammed shut, leaving them blind in the pitch black abyss. Moments later, Michael's KABAR knife dug deep into his side. The other two Omerta's could hear the screams of their superior and began firing in that direction. Michael fell back to the ground with the fat bastard on top of him as the two Omerta grunts unloaded their weapons into his corpse. When each of their MP5's thirty round magazines reached their end, the room was once again dark. Donny dropped the SMG and turned to run, only to have the Sergeant's blade dig deep into his stomach. He pulled the large razor up, cutting through the man's torso and pushed his lifeless body to the ground. A moment later, the lights in the lounge flicked back on. Jimmy the Omerta was standing there in between the corpses of his former associates shaking with fear. Michael pulled a small handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped the blood off while walking towards the frightened mobster. Jimmy slowly turned around to see the half burned face of the soldier as he stood eye-to-eye just inches away from him.

"Who are you…" the gunman asked, still shaking.

Instead of responding, Michael laid his hands on the man's face. The Omerta flinched and Michael let out a slight chuckle. In one fast motion, it was over. The last gunman's neck had been snapped. I looked down at it from atop the stairs and began a slow clap.

"Bravo, friend. Why is someone like you taking side jobs that would usually be reserved for mercs? You should be in the Rangers, man."

"Yeah. Yeah, I should be. Let's just go to the Mormon Fort and get you patched up. We'll raid Gomorrah tomorrow night."

Part V: The End.

Tonight is the night. The night where it all ends in Gomorrah. Michael and I are going to storm the front doors of the palace of lust and greed to get our vengeance on those who wronged us. Big Sal, Cachino, Johnny, all out of the picture now. The only one left is Nero who just sits in the top floor for days on end, staring out onto his empire, waiting. Waiting for us to make a move. The ball is in his court, but you know what? We're about to blow that whole fucking court to smithereens.

We were ready. After stopping by Mick and Ralph's early to pick up some extra firepower, we strolled passed the South Gate guards and onto the Strip. My fedora luckily shadowed out my face, making me just another gambler looking for his 45 minute thrill ride in Gomorrah. Michael walked through the front doors of the Gomorrah, each wearing our finely tailored black suits with a long overcoat to hide our weaponry beneath. The doorman Moe was the first to be disposed of.

"Hey, nobody but Omertas are allowed to carry weaponry in here. Hand it over."

My fedora still covering my face, I chuckled and locked my eyes with his.

"Moe, don't you remember? I am an Omerta."

Michael and I removed our long coats and pulled up our AK47's and each fired several rounds into Moe's chest. Screams began pouring out the door of the casino floor as seemingly hundreds of gamblers tried escaping. Michael and I each ducked behind cover on one side of the entrance to the casino as several Omertas tried shoving through the crowd. One Omerta shoved through the crowd and made it into the entrance lounge of the casino. He couldn't see Michael and I in the crowd so I dropped my AK47 and made my way towards him. I slithered through the civilians trying to make their escape and pulled out the switchblade that hung onto my belt. I lunged forward as his back turned to me and dug the blade deep into the back of his skull. Another Omerta pushed through and saw me. As he raised his UMP, Michael, leaped onto his back and stabbed his KABAR repeatedly into his chest. He tossed the corpse forward and then dashed onto the casino floor. Immediately the sounds of sporadic machine gun fire filled Gomorrah. I shoved through the remaining gamblers trying to escape and leaped behind a blackjack table as 9mm rounds began peppering it and the walls around me. We had walked into a deathtrap. What the fuck were we thinking? We couldn't take the Omertas on.

At least, that's what I thought. I looked over to see Michael leaning out and unloading magazine after magazine into the bodies of the Omerta soldiers running out of cover. As he did this, I pulled out my Beretta and made a dash for better cover. I jumped behind one of the many large pillars in the middle of the room as I got fired at by the thugs. I jumped out from behind the pillar to see three Omertas running towards me. I raised my Beretta and put a round into the face of each one then ran forward to pick up the SPAS-12 that was brandished by one of the thugs. I held it against my chest as I ran forward to the far wall. After a few moments, Michael followed after realizing we had disposed of the Omertas on the main casino floor. We trotted along the wall until we rounded the corner to the elevator. Michael repeatedly hit the button to bring the elevator down to us. Suddenly, the door behind us was kicked open and out ran two Omertas. They were unarmed and looked more afraid than anything else, but Michael disposed of them anyways and then tossed the AK to the ground. We heard the *ding* as the elevator doors slid open followed by a thunderous clap. Michael fell to the ground and I turned to see Nero holding his golden Desert Eagle right to my forehead. Before he could fire, I shoved his arm out of the way and rammed my knee into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. I tried to pull up my Beretta, but another Omerta exited the elevator and knocked it out of my hands with the butt of his rifle. I went to the ground to pick it up only to have the stock of his rifle bashed into the back of my head.

I woke up tied to a chair in a Nero's suite. Beside me was Michael, coughing in pain and bleeding out from his gunshot wound. I struggled trying to break free of the rope, but it was no use.

"Ah, I see you have finally woken up, Jack." I heard Nero call out from the other room. He walked out of the bathroom on the left side cleaning blood from a switchblade. My switchblade that I thought I left embedded in that Omerta's skull. He took off his jet black blazer and loosened his tie to get a bit more comfortable.

"Jack… Well, I don't need to explain this to you. You were an Omerta once." He slowly walked towards Michael and then patted the burned half of his face.

"Now, Jack, where is the money… my money?" he asked, holding the knife to Michael's face.

"Don't tell h-him shit, Jack." Michael said, coughing up some of his own blood on Nero's white dress shirt.

Nero looked down in disgust and swiped the blade across Michael's face, cutting it open from one end to the other diagonally. Michael cried out in pain.

"You know what? Fuck the torturing, let's just get right to the point." Nero pulled out his golden Desert Eagle and put it to Michael's head. Michael began struggling against the straps in the chair, trying to rip free.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three." Nero said with a smile. Michael continued to struggle.

"One…"

I tried sliding my hands out of the straps, but they were far too tight.

"Two…"

I looked over to Michael. He was still tearing at the straps that held his arms behind the chair.

"Thre-"

Before Nero could even finish, the straps broke free from the chair and Michael tackled him to the ground. He held up his fist to strike down on the Omerta Leader, but Nero pulled out his switchblade and stabbed in deep into Michael's shoulder. Michael rolled off of him and yelled out in pain. I continued ripping and tearing at the ropes tied behind my back. Michael pulled himself up and Nero stumbled back near his large window that took up the entire wall. Michael began sprinting towards Nero and yelled at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, I broke free of the chair and ran at him as well. As this happened, Nero reached down and picked up his Desert Eagle and fired a shot right through the chest of Michael, knocking him down to the ground. His body didn't move and his face was still. I lunged towards Nero and tackled him against the window, shattering it and sending us both down into the courtyard of Gomorrah.

The pain of hitting the water in the pool was like that of smacking against concrete. I fell almost unconscious while sinking to the bottom but was able to swim to the shallow end and pull myself up over the edge. I laid out on the side of the pool and looked over to the fountain where Nero's deformed and mangled corpse had landed. I tried pushing myself up to my feet, only to fall back down. My arm had been broken along with my foot. I felt immense pain all over. I looked away from Nero's corpse and towards the entrance of the courtyard to see a man push through all the concerned prostitutes and civilians. A man I thought I had disposed of. A man wearing the suit of another who he had killed. I couldn't help but give a chuckle as the assassin knelt down next to my body and put his H&K USP to my forehead.