I'm glad everyone is enjoying this, its probably the only New Vegas story I've realm enjoyed working on.


"Squirm."


Well, I can tell you that Beagle has the greatest reaction to ant guts. Like, ever.

"Pussy," Cass muttered, staring down at Beagle - who had fainted. "Just asked him where I coul' get somethin' to wrap ma gun in."

"Cass, ya shoved the butt of the gun in his face. Look, he has some goo on his nose."

We both leaned in, me reaching down to flick away the yellowy chunk of what could have been brain matter, or just guts. Cass really obliterated that damn ant.

She snorted and straightened her back, looking over at the trickle of people gathering in front of the Bison Steve. They were piling the dead convicts in a big bonfire in the center of town. I looked over at Cass and saw her covering her nose with her gloved hand. Yeah, the smell was extremely unpleasant, but I had smelt worse in two hundred years; I still remember the rotting stench of my face melting away at the beginning of the apocalypse. I shook away the memories and waved at Nash, who was staring at us from the front of his store.

He tugged down his bandana from his nose and mouth, handing off his shovel to his wife at his side. She slung it over her shoulder and pat his shoulder before moseying off to help the others.

"What can I do ya for, Alex?"

"Well, Nash, we had a mean run in with some ants up the road and need somethin' to wrap Cass' gun in and my knife," I sure as hell wasn't gonna clean the increasing fowl smelling goop from my blade.

Nash rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, alls we got are some t shirts. Convicts stole what was left and hauled it to the prison."

"Guess they don' need clothes at the prison," Nash chuckled and I smiled. "Just need one."

Nash bobbed his head. "Can do, why don't cha come over to the Express and have a drink while I get ya set up?"

I shrugged. "Hey, a drink always sounds great to me."

"Damn straight," Cass grinned and followed dutifully beside me. "I like this guy."

Nash chuckled and opened the door to the Mojave Express, ushering us inside the stale smell of empty ass - trays (yeah, that's how I say ashtrays, funnier that way) and those de - licious radcakes Mrs. Nash makes; I tell ya, that woman has a calling with food. I see my blade on the counter and Cass kept a hold of her shotgun, her nose twitching like a hounds when she heard Nash clinking together glasses in the back of the store.

"Gotta say, Alex," Nash reappeared with three glasses and one glass of scotch. "Was a blessing you showed up when ya did. Got those convicts outta here when the NCR wouldn't."

I chuckled and leaned on the counter, watching the clear alcohol swirl in the glasses. "Well, hate ta disappoint ya then, lad," I grabbed one of the glasses and stretched back to hand Cass her glass. She was leaning back on the wall by the door, looking as tired as I felt. "But I brought up papers to the Outpost for the NCR to start an occupation of Primm."

Nash quirked his lips in the corner and lifted his own glass up. "Well, guess its better than those convicts sweepin' in again," Hs grumbled.

"Ah, don't sound so happy, chief," I glanced over at the big metal ball on the counter. "Hey, that an Enclave Eyebot?"

Nash looked over at it and shrugged, taking a thick swallow of his drink before he walked over to it and rocked the chassis. "Don' know about Enclave, but yeah this little Eyebot got shot down by Fiends. Has a scavenger bring 'im in but I don't know how to fix him."

I licked the alcohol from my lips and set down my glass, ignoring the small droplets still rolling in the bottom. "Mind if I take a look?"

Nash waved a hand and refilled my glass then his before throwing away the empty bottle. "You fix you can keep it," he disappeared around the back, presumably to get another bottle.

I ran a hand over the metal body, poking around the holes where a .308 caliber pinged off. "These bots are some tough little bastards," I muttered.

Cass chose then to speak up. "You called in an Enclave Eyebot. How'd you know?"

I shrugged. "I spent the better half of six years in D.C. and they're pretty common over there," maybe not so now. "I recognize the model too, and the faded Enclave symbol on the bottom here, see?"

I rolled the ball of metal over and pointed at the insignia that was hardly visible, but I could see that 'E' and stars a mile away after the battle in D.C. It was really war, the Enclave are nasty little buggers even now, what's left of them anyway; some of the things I saw in Raven Rock were inhumane, as far as that moral code goes these days. Experimentations, abductions and trying to control Deathclaws? It was a mad house over there, but this little guy was definitely Pre - War judging on the amount of wear and tear, not to mention the way its built. It had far more prongs sticking out the back than I remember seeing on the newer models back in Raven Rock.

"What th' hell is there to do over there anyway," Cass ser her empty glass on the bar. "Place is literally a Wasteland."

I nodded and popped open the back panel, seeing some wires that had rattled loose. "That's exactly why I liked it," I muttered, digging around in a bucket full of scrap electronics. "No taxes, no legal limits. Everyone was a damn raider but there were good people. The Vaults over there are nothing compared to the creepy ones here and I unfortunately spent a lot of time in those Vaults, thanks to a debt owed."

"What kind of debt calls for tromping around in those things," Cass snorted.

I chuckled a little and replaced a swirled yellow wire, having to splice it on one end. "Kid I knew, she made a better life for a town I called home and I figured the least I could do was help her out around the Wasteland. She was from a control Vault over there and didn't know squat except for drinking and killing. Didn't know how to think straight and she needed the muscle."

Cass leaned back on the bar beside me, cheeks lightly flushed. "Ya jus' been all over the place, huh?"

I shrugged and closed the panel, making sure it was secure before rolling the eye of over again; now to pry the slugs from its grill. "Spose so," I mumbled. "Maybe I'll tell ya all about the places I've been to some time. It's actually quite the tale, mostly involving D.C."

"Mojave has plenty o' adventure, I'm sure," she mumbled.

"Oh I'm sure," I jolted when I heard the speaker on the eyebot crackle. "Well I'll be damned, it worked."

"Ya mean you had no idea what you were doing?"

I grinned at her. "Exactly."

The little - okay, it was far from little - eyebot shuddered and began to rise, dropping a foot before it climbed to and bumped into the ceiling. It shuddered again be for it shook and tilted it's grill down to me. It let out a series of beep/chirps and mechanical male voice belched out:

"Companion Protocol::Begin"

Cass and I blinked, looking to each other before she snorted and held out her glass to an approaching Nash. "Great, got ourselves a floating trash can."

"Aw, that's mean," I scolded her and looked up at the eye of. "Got a name, boy?"

He shuddered again and belched out "Subject E: DURAFRAME experimental Eye Bot; ED - E"

Cass, Nash and I shared a concerned glance before Nash shrugged sloppily and lifted his glass to his lips. "License plate nailed on 'im says 2ED-E59, just call it ED-E."

I nodded and looked back to the bot. "How about that? ED-E?"

He chirped/beeped and bounced in the air for a moment, then he shuddered and began hovering around the room. I sighed and grabbed my refilled glass from the counter, downing the whole thing in one swallow.

"Gonna keep 'im, Nash? Seems pretty durable."

"Said ya fix it you can keep it, I don't need one."

"Could be a surrogate Courier," Cass shrugged. "Look' like it got a luggage compartment on the top of it. Better than a person carryin' packages."

"Can't get shot in the head," I mumbled. "Speakin' of that, we gotta go," I slapped the counter and pushed off.

"Aw, why ya leavin' so soon," Nash asked. "I was gonna open brandy."

I stumbled, wanting to share in the whine Cass gave. She looked at me with this pleading expression and held out her hands helplessly.

"Brandy, Alex."

I waved a hand. "Yeah, I know what brandy is and as tempting as the offer is, 'm gonna have ta pass, lad. Gotta get back to my meds at the Outpost. Got that shirt we needed?"

Nash nodded and slid one over the counter. "Shame ya gotta go, stop by again any time."

"Will do," I grunted, ripping off one of the sleeves and wrapping my blade up tightly while Cass wrapped her shotgun. "Ready?"

"No," she grumbled. "But I guess I got no choice. We taken the trash can?"

"His name is ED-E," I corrected her. "And no, Nash ya gonna keep 'im?"

The old man shrugged and looked up at ED-E, who was 'staring' at me. "S'pose so," he nodded. "Yet right, maybe I can use him to make runs. Would be a little easier."

Cass looked at me smugly as she bumped open the door with her ass. "He used my idea."

"Want a cookie?"

She huffed and jumped back while I pressed myself against the door, both of us startled by Beagle who had limped up. He was rubbing his head where it had hit the concrete and was king of slumped over, looking between the two of us with a scrunched up face, like he were staring at the sun.

"Ya guys left me out on the road," he complained.

"Figured it best," I chirped.

He waved a hand at me. "Whatever," he paused. "Ya leavin' already?"

"Beagle," I started. "We were here almost a half hour. And I gotta get back to the Outpost."

He nodded. "Okay, okay," he watched ED-E bobbing around in the store. "Am I imaginin' things or is that a floatin' ball?"

"It's an eyebot, Beagle," Nash shook his head, leaning on the counter with a bottle of scotch in his head. "Kids head is full'a air," he griped.

I chuckles and saluted haphazardly. "See ya around," I waved before following Cass where she was already half way down the street. "Ya keep leavin' me," I dug around for my flask.

Cass watched me take a long draw from it and shook her head. "Ya sure like drinkin'," she noted.

I chuckled and screwed my flask shut, dropping it back into my pocket. "Yeah, well you're not too fond of sobriety yourself," she did a sloppy fist pump. " 'sides, 'm Irish. Booze runs in the blood."

She snapped her fingers. "I knew I heard that accent 'fore! Had an old man livin' next to us when I was a kid, said he was a refugee from Ireland. Thick ass accent."

I nodded slowly, thinking. "Wonder if Ireland is still intact," I mused.

Cass shrugged, her eyes lingering on the - surprisingly - fluorescent red Corvega billboard to our left. "Old man never talked much 'bout it, didn' really care to ask."

"Well, I didn' expect ya to know, lass," I hummed and skipped for a moment, noticing that thick pillar of smoke again. "Wonder what's going on over there."

Cass followed my eyes and shrugged. "Don' know, that's Nipton though. Recently took over by Powder Gangers so it could be a drunken bonfire," she spat in bitterness, literally. "Maybe the fire'll catch and burn em all."

I raised where I thought my eyebrow to be. "Well, that's mean."

She waved a hand. "Nah, they're all schemers, crooks and killers. Don't deserve shit."

I couldn't really disagree, I had killed two of their men maself and a handful of convicts of the same lineage. The first was for my bike and the second was to free my place of work. But a town of the men? No one had complained, that I heard of, so I don't think the whole place deserved to burn.

As we passed the Highway Patrol and neared the rise in the land, Cass was startled by two large crows flapping off of a bark scorpion carcass, the shell picked clean. I chuckled at her and her freckles disappeared in her blush.

"Stop laughin' at me," she barked, tugging down the rim of her hat and picking up the pace.

"Aw c'mon, its too easy," I jogged to catch up. "Never gotten that close to those birds, huh?"

She shook her head and slowed her pace, tucking her free hand into her pocket. "Nah, they usually fly off long before we get near 'em."

I opened my mouth to speak but had to pause, in both speech and step, Cass joining me as our faces twisted into a mix of confusion amusement.

"If he wouldn't sting us, I'd help," I mused.

"Ditto."

There was possibly the tinniest little scorpion trying to haul away one of the ant soldier carcasses we had left behind. Despite the God awful stench from baking in the desert heat for just a short amount of time, this was pretty adorable. The scorpion had his tiny claws clamped down on a leg and its legs were booking it trying to drag him backwards. We watched as the leg snapped off and the scorpion stumbled back. It rested the claw the leg was in for a moment, bobbing slowly with that traditional clicking/humming sound, and then raised the leg as if in triumph before turning around and scuttling away at top speed.

"That was adorable," Cass cooed and I started to pass her. "So, yer leavin' tomorrow, huh?"

I nodded, weaving around rubble and ant guts that littered the road. "Yeah, gotta pick my way up to Vegas."

She hummed and we fell silent again, only the sounds of gravel slipping under our boots and the howl of wind from the dry lake. I swallowed and looked up the steep hill, seeing those big ass statues getting closer and closer; whose freakin' idea was it to build a road on this hill?! I was panting halfway up, thigh muscles burning and wanting to take a hot shower, just to ease some tension. If they had managed some street lights like around the Strip and Freeside, I would have brought my bike, but I also don't know how Cass would have handled that. Bikes weren't commonly used because of the limited capacity for riders.

"Would ya mind some company?"

I blinked, forcing my eyes off of the spotlights waving us to the Outpost. Cass was trudging beside me, not even breaking a sweat and just as casual as you please. We didn't stop under the statues like my legs begged, we kept going.

"Uh. . .what," smooth Alex, real smooth.

She looked at me sideways and stepped around the sandbags and the NCR Trooper cradling her rifle behind them. "Ya heard me."

"Why would ya wanna come with me?"

She shrugged, pausing off to the side when the doors to the main office building swung open. Six Troopers filed out, rifles on their backs, packs slung over the opposing shoulder. They didn't even spare us a side glance through their goggles and that is a little unsettling.

"Ain' been here long but this place is losing its charm," she sighed against the cool air inside. "Ya seem like yet a man with a plan and I like a little revenge plan. Could use an extra gun too, am I right?"

She was right there, I would need an extra gun. I don't really know what I'll do if - when - I get to Benny and planning like this wouldn't hurt with an extra brain. Even if it was pickled in whiskey.

I grinned. "Sure, why not," she nodded firmly at me and I could see personal wheels turning in her head. "First, lemme talk to Jackson."

She nodded again, this time more loose and care free. "Imma take my shotgun to Lucy, want me ta take your knife?"

Oh yeah.

"Here ya go," I handed it off to her. "Two cots and order me a plate of mantis legs," I handed her a small coin purse I knew was counted out to forty caps; I have a system. "If there's enough left over, get herself somethin'."

"Yes, boss," she pushed open the door with her elbow.

I turned to my left, finding Jackson at the end of the hall, in the same spot I has found him earlier. He was half asleep and going over some files, a whole stack near his feet; a man out of his element. When he saw me, I felt like some sort of miracle thanks to the look in his eyes, like he had found his Messiah.

"Thought I wouldn't see ya til tomorrow," he stated, keeping his thumb in place but shutting the folder in his hand. "What can I do ya for?"

"Got talked into solvin' your bug problem early," Cass and booze were bad influence, I hurt in places I didn't even know I had anymore; I had forgotten the toll walking took on ya.

His lips curved and his body sagged in utter relief. "Appreciate the help. Wish I had more work for you to do," I sure as hell don't. "but nothin' else on the radar at the moment."

I sighed a little, wanting to just be done with him. "You mentioned a reward before?"

His brow furrowed. "No," dammit. "I mentioned you might accidently get supplied," no you didn't. "and I meant it. Not allowed to contract mercenaries at the Outpost."

I almost punched him. He snorted and rubbed his nose, tossing the file to the side and reaching between the couch and the wall to his right.

"But, a requisition form or two can get lost, and they're not gonna come check...so, here ya go. Just between us."

He held out a shiny, newly repaired service rifle to me. I took it with a smile and handed him my ammo bag from my hip as he produced two boxes of 5.55, armor piercing ammo. He also dropped two caravan lunches inside, a haphazard weapon repair kit and a small sack of caps. A soldier entered the room and turned on his heel immediately, filing out of the room. I gave Jackson a look and he waved a hand at the door, leaning back into the couch and snatching up his file.

"Don' worry about him. Just go on, have a rest and I suppose you'll be outta here by morning?"

I nodded. "That was the plan."

He nodded and his beady little eyes scanned over a sentence or two. "Well then, thank you for your help. You've done more than you know."

I didn't even say anything when I left. I was grateful for what he could give and that wasn't the point, he was just so rude in my eyes. I shrugged out of the office and into the bunk house, seeing Cass at the bar and Lucy - the dark skinned woman I saw playing Caravan when I came in earlier - working over Cass' gun, my knife off to the side and still wrapped up.

"Well then, what do we got," Cass watched me set the rifle on the counter, my bag by my feet. "A rifle? That it?"

I shook my head and almost drooled over the mantic legs in front of me. "Nah, got some caps, ammo, some lunches and a repair kit," I muttered before cracking open the bright red shell. "These things never get old."

Cass snorted, watching me eat like a Yao guai. "Got us a bunk in the back, one with a footlocker covered in stupid stickers," she tipped back her glass, an empty plate with crumbs around the edges in front of her.

"Thanks," I mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"How can you eat those things," she crinkled her nose.

I chuckled. "Honey, when ya get as old as me, you'll eat anything. Except for mirelurk cakes. Can't get me to eat those even if it meant my death."

She snorted. "Well, I know one way to torture you."

I rolled my eyes. "The horror!"