-Sorry if this feels slow, I just thought it would be useful to give some exposition to the story. And sorry if this feels tediously long; I thought about making this into two chapters, but I felt where it ends is appropriate. Further sorrys go out to my fans of "Death of a Follower, Birth of a Dictator" who were likely expecting an update yesterday. I've decided to alternate between these two; if you haven't checked the other out yet please do so! And I love reviews, so please don't be shy! I suggest setting aside a decent amount of time to read this, it's certainly not short. Ok, ok, I'll shut up, enjoy! (hopefully) :)

Chapter 1

As Phillip sat in the Penthouse at the Lucky 38, he examined his beautiful city through the large windows as he had done many times before. This was the first time, however, that he had done so with doubt and precariousness.

His journey started outside Goodsprings, along I-15. He was tasked with delivering a platinum chip to the enigmatic Mr. House, the de facto ruler of New Vegas, until he was intercepted by Mr. House's perfidious right hand man, Benny, who sought to usurp New Vegas from House's rule using the chip. By the end of the night, the Courier was in a shallow grave with two bullets in his head, and his package was gone.

For whatever reason, he was able to survive. In fact, through some strange twist of fate, the bullets left him with a genius level intellect, exceptional charisma, and heightened reflexes and perception. Most of his memories of whatever life he had lived prior to the incident, however, were gone. He had a backpack with the name Phillip on it, so he assumed that's what his name was. Besides that, his only memories were of working as a courier for the Mojave Express, and of the man that shot him.

As can be assumed of someone who had just been shot and dumped in a grave, Phillip was curious as to why it had happened. Working with tips from several inhabitants of the Mojave, Phillip tracked Benny to his casino in New Vegas, but not before witnessing the corruption of the other two factions vying for control of New Vegas and its surrounding territories; the NCR and Caesar's Legion.

He first encountered the NCR in Primm, the village from which the Mojave Express was based. The town was overrun with escaped convicts, named Powder Gangers. The raider group originated from a correctional facility run by none other than the NCR itself. People were being shot down and tortured in the streets. The NCR had sufficient troops to at least attempt to force the convicts out; instead, they remained at their outpost across from the town as the pandemonium unfolded. Why? Because they weren't ordered to assist.

Their bureaucracy and indifference disgusted Phillip; they had a genuine chance to earn the love of the people in the Mojave, to protect those they wanted to rule over. They proved that day, however, that they were only interested in collecting taxes, water, and electricity from the Mojave; anyone who lived there would have to fend for themselves.

Phillip's first experience with the Legion occurred in Nipton, a town along I-95 near the Mojave Outpost, one of the NCR's primary bases. As he entered the town, the smell of burning flesh overwhelmed him; bodies were piled upon burning tires, and many others were crucified. The leader of the group that had perpetrated the vile act, Vulpes, insisted that it was because they were corrupt, because they offered services to Powder Gangers and NCR soldiers and then tried to hand them both over to the Legion for caps, because they didn't do anything even as friends and family were dragged away to be killed.

Phillip wanted to throw up at the sanctimonious explanation; they didn't want to die, so they deserved to die? They offered services to the NCR and the Powder Gangers, what of it? They didn't do anything as their friends were being dragged away, what of it? They were still people; living, breathing people, they weren't sadists or rapists, like the Legion. What the people in Nipton attempted to do was wrong, immoral even, they should have answered for their crimes in some capacity, but if the Legion had its way like it had in Nipton, the Mojave would be a ghost region.

Phillip wanted nothing more than to kill Vulpes and his cronies as they walked away, to destroy him and his philosophical nonsense ideas of how it would somehow be better to murder, crucify, burn, and rape a town full of people as opposed to tolerating an occasional selfish act in order to survive, or at least punishing it with something less than this atrocity. Instead, he consoled himself in the knowledge that the Legion was a society fueled by hypocrisy and false holiness, it wouldn't last forever.

Likewise, the NCR was fueled by greed and apathy, they were spread too thin, they cared more about what their citizens could pay them than they did about their citizens, their long term survival was doubtful.

When he arrived at Benny's casino, The Tops, he found a reprogrammed robot named Yes Man, whom Benny planned to use to assist in his coup. It was then that the true capacity of the Platinum Chip was explained to Phillip; it was an upgrade unit that contained the Mark 11 operating system for Mr. House's personal army, the securitrons. They were already a fearsome army that the NCR could not contend with while simultaneously fighting the Legion; with the Mark 11 system, Mr. House would be able to completely eject both factions from the Mojave.

The idea had instant appeal to Phillip; long had he witnessed what people in the Mojave suffered daily, under the indifference of Mr. House and NCR vultures, and under factions like Caesar's Legion looking to stir chaos in hopes of furthering their own agendas. Treacherous weasels like Benny were hardly any better; Phillip could see in his eyes that Benny was more concerned with furthering himself than providing security and safety for the Mojave. The ineptitude of all four to rule the region efficiently was not in question, only one remained; could Phillip do any better?

Phillip had long sought to advance himself, but he wasn't a selfish person; he was just ambitious, and he despised the way each of the other factions perpetually sought to advance themselves, even if it was detrimental to their people. Could Phillip perform the tasks of government himself? To ensure security, resolve conflict, maintain order, and provide services to his people? "Worth a shot." He thought.

After giving Benny a well-deserved fate and retrieving the borderline priceless Platinum Chip, Phillip had to perform a task that he wasn't looking forward to in order for his plan to continue. After feigning servility and ignorance of the chip's true value, he was let into the Lucky 38 to see Mr. House, who was ecstatic at the delivery of the chip that he had awaited for over 200 years.

Unfortunately for Mr. House, in his state of overjoy, he had yet to consider the possibility that the lowly courier was even more ambitious and driven than he was; the mistake was met with an end to an incredibly long life when the courier was taken up to the Penthouse, which was foolishly built next to Mr. House's stasis chamber.

The task brought Phillip no pleasure; he actually respected House for his extraordinary intelligence and for the fact that New Vegas only existed because of his efforts. That said, House was also indifferent to the sufferings of the people in the Mojave, and had no real way of knowing the world that he wanted to rule; he was no more fit to rule Vegas than the corrupt republic that was trying to sweep it out from under his feet.

After uploading the highly tractable Yes Man to Mr. House's databanks and gaining control over the securitron army, Phillip witnessed firsthand their true capabilities. The robots were previously incapable of accessing their Mark 11 systems; now, with the chip, Phillip had an army that didn't need to be fed, paid, or tended to medically, an army with missile launchers and onboard auto repair systems, an army worthy of protecting New Vegas.

Phillip had, unintentionally, caught the attention of both the NCR and Caesar's Legion in the process. After all, both would find their planned annexation of New Vegas much easier if they didn't have to deal with hostile Securitrons controlled by Mr. House. Upon receiving invitations from both and being offered pardons for crimes committed against them, it seemed to the NCR that Phillip was more of a sympathizer with the Legion when he made his way to the Fort instead of NCR's Embassy.

NCR rangers were dispatched to deal with Phillip, but first they were ordered to capture and interrogate him. After all, Caesar wasn't exactly in the habit of giving a personal audience to outsiders; Phillip was likely to have at least some information on the sociopathic warlord's plans.

Upon his return from the Fort, the ranger group that was following Phillip took the opportunity to capture him and proceed with their questions; how many men does Caesar have at the Fort? When will he attack the Dam? What factions is he attempting to enlist? Through it all, Phillip calmly insisted that he had no allegiance to slavers, and had actually killed Caesar during his trip to the Fort.

The rangers were extremely skeptical of the claim; to their knowledge, Caesar was under constant Praetorian protection twenty four hours a day. From what they knew the man never even left his tent; he was also likely sensible enough to have the Courier's weapons confiscated the moment he set foot in the Fort. The rangers even saw the ferryman taking him back to Cottonwood Cove, yet he is claiming that he murdered one of the most feared and powerful men in the Southwest?

To the shock of the NCR, the claim had one hundred percent validity; one of the snipers they had placed near Cottonwood Cove confirmed that, exactly two weeks after the Courier's return from the Fort, much of the Legion had assembled for a funeral. The head of Caesar's guard, Lucius, was seen placing an elderly looking man (also absent of hair) on a boat, placing two coins on his eyes, and sending the boat off into the water after lighting it on fire.

The NCR practically idolized Phillip after it was confirmed that the man was Caesar; he had eliminated two of the biggest threats to them within a month, and he even offered his continued services to them after he was freed, even though they had him detained for weeks. Of course, the NCR still needed help in gathering allies and ensuring that the Legion's chances of making any were slim, so his proposal to work as an unofficial contractor was gladly accepted.

But what the NCR didn't know, what few in the Mojave knew, was that Phillip had secrets. He wasn't just squatting in the Lucky 38 because it had a nice view; he was working surreptitiously with his robotic sycophant, biding his time until the opportunity to oust the NCR and the Legion presented itself.

Phillip didn't go to the Fort just to feign loyalty to the warlord before killing him either; he was there to upgrade an entirely separate and previously undisturbed army of Securitrons that Mr. House had enough foresight to create before the war. Of course, the fact that the Legion was now inadvertently using the site as a base now was a stroke of bad luck. Not disastrous, but unfortunate.

It turned out to be a relatively easy task for Phillip; all he had to do was pretend that he was sympathetic to the Legion's principles. Caesar, in his anti-technological wisdom, wanted the Vault destroyed anyway, so it also turned out to be a decent way to gain the Legion's trust since they were unaware that Phillip had actually reactivated the army as opposed to destroying it.

Phillip was generally a humble person, but he prided himself in the clever manner in which he was able to dispose of Caesar. After returning to Caesar's tent, while still maintaining his servile facade, he insisted that he bow to Caesar, and shake his hand in honor and respect before taking on his next task. Caesar accepted, of course; appealing to his narcissism was the right way to go.

It was almost too easy; he'd just killed Caesar, and they ferried him right out of the camp. For someone who was by all accounts a very intelligent man, Caesar failed to notice that his obsequious new toy was wearing gloves when he shook his hand, and he attributed the wetness of said gloves to the fact that the Mojave was a very hot and sweat inducing place.

In reality, the liquid on the glove was an extremely lethal poison of Phillip's own making that could be absorbed through the skin. It was called "Bleak Venom", and consisted of three barkscorpion poison glands, a cazador poison gland, and some White Horsenettle. Phillip, however, added a little personal touch so any antivenom would prove useless. In the course of Phillip's travels, he visited a charming little place called the Sierra Madre, a prewar casino about which rumors of treasure and other incredible things circulated frequently. In reality, it was just an ancient Villa filled with some clever technology and obsessed people who couldn't let go of their pasts, pervaded by a noxious gas called "The Cloud".

Phillip, being a skilled chemist himself, took samples of the gas for later use at his leisure. The fact that it was not a poison that could simply be cured by standard doses of antivenom proved to be useful, particularly when he mixed it with the Bleak Venom. Caesar was in agony for two weeks; such agony, in fact, that his ability to lead was completely impaired.

His men assumed that it was part of the headaches he suffered frequently, and had no way to effectively help with their ignorance of medical science. Lucius sent out Legionaries frequently to search for modules for the Auto-Doc in Caesar's tent that might have been able to help, but to no avail.

It was certainly not a pleasant way to die; as the Bleak Venom rapidly destroyed Caesar's blood cells, the Cloud literally ate away at his internal organs for two entire weeks before taking his life. Of course, Caesar had longed since earned whatever fate came to him; his empire was based on murder and treachery, and Arcade Gannon correctly noted that he displayed malignantly narcissistic traits, as well as signs of megalomania.

Of course, the NCR was pleased with Phillip's deception, and troop morale skyrocketed when the exact manner in which Caesar had died came to light. The Legion was hardly out of the war, of course; Caesar's death was likely to have little immediate detriment, and the Legion had now found a new fuel to push their ruthless campaigns as opposed to blind loyalty; rage.

So, the NCR needed allies, especially ones who were willing to assist at the Dam; through his hard work ethic and boundless charisma, Phillip was able to convince the Great Khans, Brotherhood of Steel, Enclave Remnants, Boomers, Kings, Omertas, Followers of the Apocalypse, White Glove Society, and Chairmen to assist the NCR, both directly and indirectly, when the conflict finally broke out.

At least, that's what Phillip told the NCR. All these factions had actually pledged themselves to Phillip's cause for an independent Mojave; why would they feel any genuine sympathy for a republic that had to send messengers, that didn't even come to ask for aid directly, that was interested more in money than protecting people? The NCR was particularly asinine in believing that The Great Khans and Brotherhood of Steel, factions that they had nearly decimated, would simply offer aid without any hesitance.

In between gathering allies, Phillip undertook more personal quests. Aside from the Sierra Madre, Phillip also visited Zion Canyon and The Big Empty/Big Mountain (unintentionally). Zion was a beautiful location somewhere in Utah, though the scenery was hardly what was to truly behold. The true miracle was that Joshua Graham, Caesar's humiliated Legate who had been assumed long dead, was alive and living there, assisting the tribes wherever he could.

He was genuinely remorseful for his acts of depravity as Legate, and had once more rekindled his faith in Christianity (whatever that was). After helping him to destroy a hostile tribe and earning his and the other tribes' respect, Phillip moved on, aware that a new adventure awaited elsewhere.

The Big Empty was a pre-war research facility for some of the brightest minds in America, called "The Think Tank". Such was the extent of their intelligence, in fact, that they had managed to cheat death via the use of highly sophisticated technology. However, they could also be, in a way, considered evil; Phillip identified a very clear superiority complex in at least one of them. Anyone who wandered into Big Mountain had their brain plucked from their head, replaced by "Tesla Coils" that kept basic motor functions going, but destroyed intelligence, replacing it with nothing but primal hostility.

Through the course of his visit, Phillip had also learned that the nightstalkers and cazadors, two of the Mojave's most dangerous creatures, originated from Big Mountain; he even discovered that the Cloud that pervaded the Sierra Madre came directly from the Think Tank, as well. The evidence already presented a clear resolution; if the Think Tank couldn't be persuaded to create more benign technology for the betterment of mankind as opposed to playing god, they would need to be eliminated for the sake of humanity.

Thankfully, they were persuaded to back down after Phillip played on the idea that he knew was the only one they could possibly still care about; pre-war America. Phillip promised to promote the ideals of the prewar U.S. the best he could once he took power, while making sure that he didn't emulate it to such an extent that it was a disadvantage, as had been the case with the NCR. They were even persuaded to start creating technology for Phillip himself; no doubt their ingenuity would be useful at one point following the battle at the Dam.

There was one last task before the battle at the Dam that needed to be wrapped up; from what Phillip had gathered, all of these little quests that he happened to stumble upon were being manipulated by someone, someone very mysterious. All that he truly knew about him was that he was a courier who was alleged to also be a Frumentarii, and that he'd been to the Sierra Madre, Zion, and the Big Empty. Of more personal importance to Phillip was the fact that he was the original Courier Six; the one who was supposed to deliver the Platinum Chip in the first place.

When he saw Phillip's name next on the delivery list though, he backed off from the profitable job, and told Johnson Nash to let him deliver it. Phillip would have assumed that he was working for Benny to deliver the chip and its carrier right into his hands, but if that had any truth to it he would have backed off of the job immediately, and he wouldn't have been so surprised to see Phillip's name; whatever he was doing, he was acting alone.

Dr. Klein, head of the Think Tank, stated that the mysterious courier asked him a question, one apparently too dangerous to even think about since it was immediately erased from his logs. Of particular interest to the visitor was a meteorological facility containing information on some location known as "The Divide" where some experiment overseen directly by the Think Tank apparently went very wrong.

Phillip didn't want to proceed with his plans while there was a chance that someone out there was a threat to him, so he began to think of ways to draw the mysterious man out. Then, he was extended something very unexpected; an invitation, seemingly from the courier himself, to this so called "Divide".

The place certainly lived up to its reputation; if the nightmarish creatures weren't enough to inspire fear, the skin flaying storms and unpredictable earthquakes were. What could there have truly been here that this courier was so obsessed with?

The mysterious courier made himself known to Phillip, calling himself "Ulysses". He was extremely confusing to talk to, almost as if he preferred spouting riddles and philosophy as opposed to having genuine and direct conversation.

What confused Phillip the most, however, was that this Ulysses claimed that the Divide's current state was his fault. The mere notion offended and terrified Phillip; what if Ulysses wasn't lying? He didn't remember anything from before the two bullets; could this place really have been a result of his actions?

Phillip would never know for sure, but Ulysses had no reason to lie. After coming face to face with the former Frumentarii, he gave him a message that he had long awaited to deliver; a story about Phillip that Phillip didn't even know. These storms were a result of the Think Tank's prewar experiments, but it didn't inhibit its potential, or that of its inhabitants. Over time, a community grew, allegedly created and kept alive by Phillip himself since he was the one who opened supply lines to the settlement.

Ulysses actually came to live in this community; to love it, to commit himself to an idea outside the Legion, one that could be a real home. It prospered, so much so that the NCR swooped in like vultures to claim it for themselves, as it had done so many times before. The attention of the Legion was drawn as well since this community obviously had the potential to become a valuable supply line for the NCR, and conflict ensued.

The NCR was outnumbered, with seemingly no chance of holding the valuable community. Until, of course, the discovery of an eyebot in Navarro with similar markings as those found in the Divide; the same one, in fact, that Phillip had discovered and reactivated just after entering the Divide. Out of options, the NCR contracted Phillip to take the strange package from Navarro to the Divide (known then as Hopeville) in the hopes that it could somehow function as a trump card.

Of course, irony was obligated to dictate that the strange machine wasn't a trump card at all; it was a Joker. The machine, when activated by the soldiers stationed at Hopeville, sent an activation signal to that which made the Divide as it was years later; nukes. For whatever reason, they remained buried beneath the earth, unfired during the war.

The Courier was already long gone when the nukes detonated, tearing the landscape apart, causing massive earthquakes, releasing radiation so lethal that Legionaries and NCR troopers physically survived; mentally though, there was nothing left inside them save for rage. The community was obliterated, though obviously Ulysses survived to visit his vengeance upon Phillip.

Ulysses had legitimate reason to hate Phillip, but his actions now were driven by lunacy. His intentions were quite vindictive; he admitted that he didn't care if he lived or died, his only goal was to destroy Phillip's home as he had destroyed his; Vegas.

The only reason he contacted Phillip was so that he could bring the eyebot that functioned as the detonator to the nukes that destroyed Hopeville to him, it was too risky to trek across the Divide himself to find it. The fact that Phillip would also be there to witness firsthand what Ulysses was going to do was still sweet irony, of course.

Little did the NCR know (or possibly care) that there was still one operational nuke left in the Divide after Hopeville was destroyed; and it was large. Ulysses was going to fire it straight into I-15, NCR's primary supply line. Then, when the NCR would be forced to fall back, the Legion would take the Dam and Vegas, slaughtering the city that Phillip sought to rule.

Over time though, without an enemy to fight, the Legion would be forced to consume itself, fighting amongst each other, destroying themselves from the inside out. Ulysses seemed unbothered by the fact that his plan would mean the death of the Legion as well; then again, the Legion also assimilated and murdered a large portion of his tribe, absolute loyalty can hardly be expected of an individual after witnessing such an event.

Even if the Legion could somehow be defeated, the NCR would still be cut off from Vegas, unable to supply the city with what it needed to survive, eventually killing it. Ulysses' anger and willpower were astounding; he would destroy three major factions with the push of a button, all because of what Phillip did. Of course, Phillip didn't try to minimize it; regardless of the inadvertent nature of his actions, it still happened, he should have asked what he was delivering. His heart ached over the idea that such destruction could have been wrought thanks to him, but it was no excuse for Ulysses to destroy something even bigger.

Thankfully, Phillip was able to talk Ulysses down with the same reason he labeled the destruction of Hopeville as unjust and cowardly; New Vegas and the Mojave were in their precocious stages. It had a chance to develop, to evolve, to become prosperous; Ulysses would be a hypocrite if he sought to take that opportunity away.

Bowing to Phillip's clearly wiser judgment, Ulysses allowed him to launch the nuke into Legion territory instead of NCR territory. It was difficult for Ulysses to accept, but the Legion had long since proven that it was fueled by Caesar's pride and greed; it would never change, or it would just fall apart, hastening the inevitable could be seen as an act of mercy by certain standards.

Phillip invited the now aimless courier back to the Mojave with him after the nuke fired; he denied, claiming that the Mojave belonged to Phillip, but the Divide was still Ulysses' home in a way. Phillip accepted the fairness of the deal, and the two parted on amiable terms.

Naturally, the Legion's rage wasn't even close to assuaged in the wake of the destruction. After interrogating a Legionary assassin, Phillip learned that the nuke actually hadn't caused as much damage as he'd anticipated; some of the less important areas in Arizona, like Dry Wells, were destroyed in the attack. Flagstaff, however, still stood, along with some other major cities.

Nonetheless, the fact that the nuke didn't destroy as much as Phillip previously predicted wasn't a major impairment to his plans. Killing just one Legionary made it worth it, and Phillip knew that he'd killed many. The Legion was now even further crippled, and the NCR was further singing praises of their mysterious ally; Phillip even managed to rescue their president from an assassination attempt after he returned from the Divide.

One task remained, one final obstacle between him and his goals; he needed to go to the Dam personally and send power to the Fort to activate his Securitron army lying in wait. Phillip didn't think doing so during a moment of levity was likely to have a high chance of success, so he patiently waited for the fury of the Legion to crash against the walls of the Dam, led by Caesar's monstrous Legate and successor; Lanius.

In the state of bedlam and confusion, Phillip was easily able to slip into the Dam's control room and direct power to the Fort. He found a temporary moment of humor in the faces that Caesar's top men would likely be making once row after row of Securitrons began pouring out of the weather station. There was no time to revel in triumph just yet though, Legate Lanius was still perched at his camp, waiting for any who might be brave enough to challenge him; Phillip would have hated to disappoint him.

After a long and difficult fight against the vicious and heavily armored Legate, The Monster of the East finally fell, and the rest of the Legion retreated back east across the river in fear; the threat that was the Legion, if it wasn't gone, was at least severely diminished. When General Oliver arrived at the Legate's camp to congratulate his best agent, however, something very unexpected happened; something that still created bad blood, even two years later.

After months of playing errand boy and making secret alliances, Phillip was finally able to eject the NCR and the Legion from the region using his newly acquired Mark 11 Securitron army, courtesy of the over trusting Mr. House. Nonviolent force and intimidation were utilized against the NCR since the Strip's visitors were predominantly NCR citizens, going to war with the city's best customers was hardly a sensible option.

The Legion's only hope of survival after Caesar's death and the nuking of their territory was taking Hoover Dam, which it had failed to do. Now, it had been reduced to little more than several large warring tribes, no longer possessing the homogeneous identity that had united it for so many years, similar to the way in which it began.

With an army that the NCR was currently incapable of matching and the Legion in full retreat, the future of the Mojave seemed secure following the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Phillip's first act as de facto leader of New Vegas was to organize a council with the majority of the faction leaders; raider leaders (except for the Great Khans) were obviously not sent invitations.

Phillip made it clear that, so long as they offered their support, he would offer Securitron protection, water, and electricity. Phillip made sure to keep the Boomers especially close as allies due to the already instrumental support that they had provided at the Dam, and he often pushed their agenda in matters such as trade that were put to vote by the council.

The NCR representative on the Strip Ambassador Crocker was even invited to the Council, but only for the New Vegas Treaty to be renegotiated. Instead of 95 percent of all water and power being sent to NCR free of charge, they would now have to contend with 51 percent, while also having to pay for it.

Furthermore, all military personnel would evacuate the region immediately, though the NCR's presence on the Strip and at Mojave Outpost was still tolerated since their troops brought significant revenue into the region, particularly at Gomorrah. It was one of the few aspects of the treaty that favored the NCR, since they obviously didn't trust Phillip on the Strip unsupervised.

Of course, citizens with caps were still welcome on the Strip, though it was predicted that there would be a bit of a revenue dip following the battle due to lingering resentment from Phillip's intimidation tactics. Phillip thought to appease the NCR by still sending the majority of power and water to NCR states, but there was significant controversy in the NCR Senate over the amendments to the treaty that was only intended to be temporary anyway.

Regardless, the NCR had little choice but to ratify the revised treaty; there were certainly few other viable options, military ones included. Yes Man calculated the NCR's chances of success in all out conflict against the Securitrons, even with Rangers present, at 31.5 percent.

Phillip wasn't exactly content with the odds, but it would certainly be enough to deter the NCR's avarice driven campaign. Economic options were also limited; a full trade embargo placed on the Mojave as a repercussion would end up harming the NCR just as much given its insatiable need for water, power, freshly grown food, and of course pleasure.

Regardless, Phillip was aware that his most valuable card at the moment was the Securitrons; if the NCR somehow managed to neutralize the robotic portion of his military, his hand would be almost useless.

So, he made sure to never let anyone know of Yes Man's existence or the Securitron Vault, not even those closest to him; after all, even some of his most seemingly loyal friends had prior NCR ties. The Dam, naturally, was also kept rigorously patrolled since there was a slight possibility of a Legion counterattack, or even NCR saboteurs disguised as traders.

One particular area Phillip excelled at as a politician was bringing jobs to the Mojave; with the NCR army's withdrawal came the withdrawal of the workers at Quarry Junction, the Sharecropper Farms, and the Dam, creating a large number of job openings for the Mojave's indigenous people.

Phillip also required plenty of scouts to scour the wastes looking for more viable farming land and limestone quarries to exploit, since he would soon have a human army to feed and was already planning several large urban renewal projects. Thus, one job sector created jobs for another.

A human portion of New Vegas' newly inaugurated military was also called for due to the possibility of NCR sabotage, it was named "The New Vegas Defense Force". There was never a shortage of people willing to serve to feed their families. After all, would it be better to starve as a beggar in Freeside, or to serve in a military that kept its soldiers fed in a time of relative peace?

Phillip would never admit it directly, but he never truly felt like he belonged as New Vegas' ruler. Regardless of the prosperity he'd brought to the region, he could tell that the majority of the community and faction leaders only attended Council meetings perfunctorily, and they paid taxes because they had to, not because they felt Phillip deserved them.

After all, Mr. House had been the ruler of Vegas since 2274, and certain factions (particularly the families) prospered greatly in that time; there was bound to be some lingering resentment over his assassination. The fact that the families' taxes were increased by 5% and their profit decreased by 8% as per the predicted revenue dip post-Hoover Dam didn't exactly help matters, either.

Nonetheless, the economy of the entire Mojave was kept going at an efficient rate thanks to the large amount of trade occurring now that the roads were being properly patrolled. Of course, Phillip had to tax that protection as well; funding an army was hardly an inexpensive process.

Even more NCR caps flowed into the region now that they had to pay for their water and energy, and there would always be a few traders who'd want to stop by the Strip to drop a couple of thousand caps off after picking up water bound for NCR states.

The NCR was faced with tough economic times following their withdrawal from the region; they had a massive war debt to contend with, their citizens and soldiers were still gambling away everything they had in New Vegas, and they had finally given up their hopes of collecting taxes from New Vegas and the other communities.

In response, even more exorbitant taxes were imposed on NCR citizens and traders, and civil unrest ensued. In fact, some of NCR's citizens who were rich enough elected to simply move to the Mojave (the Strip in particular) where NCR taxes were inapplicable.

Phillip almost felt guilty for the economic depression occurring in the NCR as a result of his actions. Of course, these were also people who had to pass through Freeside to get to the Strip; if they were such shining beacons of morality in the greyness of post-apocalyptia, they would have at least donated some caps to the Followers to help with their urban renewal projects, which Julie Farkas confirmed was something that didn't happen 99 percent of the time.

Besides, Yes Man calculated only an 11.3 percent chance of total economic meltdown for the NCR since there was still a large amount of trade happening with the Mojave, so there was hardly anything worth worrying about.

So things ran smoothly in the Mojave, more or less, during Phillip's brief tenure as President. It had been two years since NCR's withdrawal, and Phillip was about to face his first real threat; far worse than raiders, NCR, or the Legion. Phillip called out from his seat in the seemingly empty Penthouse, as if he were talking to shadows.

"Yes Man."

A face popped up on the massive computer screen just a few feet away from Phillip's seat. The face was no longer that of a eupeptic and malleable A.I.; it was the face of a respectful yet no longer sycophantic servant, yet one that still desired to serve its master.

Phillip was frightened when he heard Yes Man say that he planned to reprogram his personality to become more assertive two years ago. Thankfully, his definition of assertive only meant "I choose to serve you" as opposed to "I choose to serve anyone who talks to me."

"Yes sir?"

"Prepare me a Securitron escort; I…need to see for myself."

"Of course, sir."

With two hulking Securitrons in tow, Phillip stepped out from the elevator and proceeded through the bustling casino of the Lucky 38, which had previously been reopened for tourism due to its size, luxury, and Phillip's need for caps to fund his projects. Of course, the Penthouse was strictly off limits, and Phillip had the only key. He tried to look unbothered for his guests; in actuality, however, nothing could be further from the truth.

The trip to Primm felt as if it took only a few minutes; there was no harassment along the way, and Phillip was seriously dreading what he would see when he got there. A young looking NVDF officer greeted the President at the entrance to Primm, obviously trying to still be respectful and patriotic despite the stressful situation.

"Mr. President." The soldier said as he saluted Phillip.

"Are you in charge here, Captain?"

"I…am sir."

"You've done fine son, just… take me to the casino."

"Y-Yes sir."

The town was empty save for a large number of NVDF troops, most of them nervously patrolling every spot that they perceived as a possible threat. The soldier servilely held the door to the Vikki and Vance Casino open for Phillip and the Securitrons; Phillip actually wished that the soldier would have gone in first, now this meant that he'd have to be the first one to see what happened.

Everyone in Primm was dead; torn apart, blood and guts hanging about the casino, scratch marks all over the corpses and walls. Even the Securitrons Phillip assigned to protect the town were destroyed, or at least inoperable for the time being.

Primm Slim was the only one who survived the attack; he claimed that Sheriff Meyers shut him down temporarily during the attack since he knew that he'd want to fight (and likely be destroyed). Instead, his job was to inform others of what exactly happened in the town, to tell a story that wouldn't otherwise be told.

Of course, the story ended up being self-explanatory; the grisly casino left a message and told a story that would likely not soon be forgotten by anyone, in fact. One particularly fear inducing factor within the casino were the perpetrators of the heinous deed. There were, of course, more than the few dead ones present, but they were likely long gone by now. Regardless, Phillip didn't hesitate to send an entire company to police the city once news of the attack reached him.

Phillip moved to look upon one of the corpses, passing the massive hole in the floor on the way. It was a disgusting looking creature; seemingly reptilian and humanoid at the same time, scaly skin, bright eyes, rows of sharp teeth within its mouth, several large spikes protruding from its head and shoulders. There were no words to describe how horrifying the creatures were even as they laid dead; no words were truly capable of doing so. Only one thing could truly be said of the creatures, which Phillip uttered with as much composure as he was capable of mustering.

"Tunnelers."