Shredding the Envelope:
Rome tossed some ice into the glass, unscrewed the cap on the bottle and poured an ample amount, watching the brown fluid slip over the ice until eventually lifting it up as the alcohol overpowered the will of the frozen water. She placed the bottle back on the counter and walked casually over to the fridge of her Ultra Luxe Suite, swinging the door open and grabbing an ice cold Nuka Cola. Rome sat down at her desk and popped the cap off the two hundred year old glass bottle, watching the steam come out as the carbonation was finally set free. With deft hands she added the Cola to the glass to create a cocktail, swishing it around for a while to mix it together, she finally took a sip and set it down; exchanging the drink for a pen which she aimed at a small, unlined notebook.
Rome's Journal Entry for Dec. 23rd, 2282:
Why I'm quitting bounty hunting-
Rome looked up and thought of ideas while she sipped her drink, but a book on her shelf caught her eye. Standing up and investigating, she realized there was an envelope stuck in between its pages. She didn't have to open it to know what it was, but she sat back down anyways and broke its seal. There it was, the names, the payment, taunting her. Rome slipped the list into her pocket and picked up the pen again and struck a line through:
Why I'm quitting bounty hunting
Abandoning her drink and writing she closed the notebook and picked up her pocket watch from her bedside table. Eight A.M.
What better a time? Rome grabbed her Beretta, put on her coat, slipped into some jeans and snake skin boots, and was down the elevator and out the casino in no time. Andy Scabb, hell of a name Rome thought to herself as she exited the Strip and into Freeside. He was in North Vegas, one of the greatest pissholes that the Mojave had to offer. And his name was Scabb. Poetic.
The sun beat down on her back as she made the loop around New Vegas and into North Vegas. Looking around she knew that he could be only one place, as there was only one housing opportunity in North Vegas: The Gray. The Gray was a piece of shit multiple story Old World apartment building that was due to collapse any day now. Of course, that didn't stop people from living in it.
Rome strode confidently up to the dump and let herself in, her eyes adjusted slowly to the dark must of the wreck of a building as she closed the door behind her. The Gray was littered with Vegas's less fortunate, and by littered she meant strewn across the floor with. Stepping over the sleeping shells of human beings she thought to herself. If this man was to die, he must have an amount, however miniscule, of influence and therefore could most likely afford- She turned the corner and saw them- body guards.
They were two gruff looking fucks, armed with shitty pistols and flanking either side of a door. Rome walked up to them so that she was in the middle of their stance. "Does Andy Scabb live here, by happenstance?" She felt like a complete piece of shit simply by saying, 'Andy Scabb.'
One of the men eyed her up and down in the way that must have happened to Rome thousands of times, and then said in a slimy voice, "Sure is, whaddya need him for baby?" Well, that confirmed it. Rome whipped out Spectre's gift KA-BAR knife with a back hand grip and slashed the one who had spoken to her's throat in the process. The other 'bodyguard' spun around but he was too late to avoid Rome covering his mouth with her hand and shoving the knife into his chest one-two-three times in rapid succession, seeing the lights go out in his eyes she allowed him to go crashing backwards.
Rome heard a scramble on the other side of the door, and then a ghoulish voice nervously shout, "What the fuck was that!" She cleaned off her knife diligently, sheathed it, then pulled her Beretta out and aimed it at the door as a lock slid out of its place. The door swung open to a ghoul, who was obviously Scabb, holding a knife and generally looking like a fuckface. Rome put a round through his forehead, his forward momentum sent him falling passed Rome and out into the hallway. She put one more round into the back of his head for good measure, and left the building as she had entered; stepping over unconscious people.
Rome was slightly disheartened when she remembered that she was to be walking back to Novac, again, for the second time in two weeks. Her sterling silver pocket watch, a 'Christmas Gift' from James, told her that it was around 10 AM which left plenty of time for Rome to get to Novac and for Julie to deal with OD'ing holiday season gamblers. None of this stigma would have even been around, had it not been for House and his obsession with the Old World, but Rome digressed.
Rome arrived in Novac at around 2PM, the trip there being as uneventful and mind numbing as last time. This kill was special, though, it was to be the last surviving (or, according to the note, surviving and relevant) Enclave member in the Mojave. There was something satisfying and yet grave about being the final death blow to a once powerful and feared organization. All things must come to an end, she supposed.
It wouldn't be too hard to find this person she figured; it would have to be a very old woman. Prepared to put her deduction skills to the test again, she took a step back and wondered if she even liked this town. Deciding no, she said fuck it and walked into the motel's main lobby. There was an old woman there, sitting behind a desk and scribbling something down on a notepad, but she didn't look like the Enclave type. Rome approached the lady, who must not have noticed her as she quickly placed her hand over the notepad when she noticed Rome's presence standing above her.
"Can I help you, darling?" Rome's memory surged, it was that crazy slaver woman! She'd forgotten completely about this, it had been so long ago since she'd spoken to her about whomever she needed to kill. She was so reckless back then. Well, maybe she could return here after all in this case. "Do you have a Daisy Whitman staying at this residence?" The woman smiled up at her, hand still on the notepad, "We sure do sweetie. She's the last room on the second floor, but you can probably just find her staring up at the sky near the door to her room."
Rome smiled back, "Thank you," she replied warmly. With that, she reached over the counter, grabbed the woman violently by the shoulders, dragged her across the top, and threw her down, her old bones becoming harshly acquainted with the cold hard floor. The old witch let forth a foul screech of, "You fucking bitch!" And attempted to get up, but before her palms were even in a position capable of righting herself Rome's snakeskin boot lain horizontally across her neck. The hag squirmed like a trapped animal during the final moments of her life, followed by Rome twisting her foot around her jaw and severing her vertebrae, ending the she-devil nearly instantaneously.
Rome exited into the sunlight, turned to her right and headed for the staircase, which she climbed with a renewed energy. Sure enough, there she was. The last of her kind in the Mojave: Daisy Whitman. As the now deceased motel manager had said, she was staring almost wishfully into the sky. Daisy must have been a pilot during her time in the Enclave. Rome shared the sentiment; she too longed for a return to the skies on occasion, but now was not the time for empathy.
Rome strode across the second floor walkway of the motel, whipping out her watch and checking the time on her way over. Nearing Daisy, she exchanged the watch for her Beretta and pulled the hammer back. Aiming it at the back of the old woman's head Rome spoke, "Your last flight departs at 14:45 hundred hours today, Ms. Daisy Whitman." Daisy chuckled, but continued looking into the sky, "May I see my pilot," in enormous contrast with the other elderly woman Rome had dealt with recently, Daisy's voice was truly gentle and sweet. Rome's hand held steady and she replied, "It's only polite."
Daisy turned around calmly, completely nonplussed by the pistol being aimed at her forehead, she looked at Rome with twinkling eyes. "You're so incredibly beautiful," she reached out to stroke Rome's hair, Rome didn't flinch. "Thank you," she replied, attempting to maintain professionalism. "A remarkable profession for someone such as yourself, I couldn't think of a better pilot." Daisy positively beamed at her. Rome's hand remained steady, "You don't want to be late for your flight, now do you?"
Daisy smiled again, "Of course not." The old woman held her hands behind her back, turned a little and looked to her left out at the sky as if posing for a portrait. Rome fired without hesitating, and blood sprayed from Daisy as she crumpled into a heap, a pool of dark red liquid forming around her. She may have become just another bloodied corpse, but she was a beautiful one. Rome holstered the pistol and turned around sharply, walking back across the way, back down the steps, and back towards Vegas.