Part X:

Hitting the Road

Gideon

"Legion this far west!?" Ghost cried; panic riding the express train of her voice, "Surely you can't be serious?"

"I am serious," I then dropped the bloodied war helmet onto the table, "and don't call me Shirley."

"Is that-?"

"What remains of a Frumentarii."

"You killed him?"

I did not answer, instead I just stared deadpan into the Rangers eyes. There was a mixture of fear, envy and disbelief in them, but I could not really blame her. I was tired, every part of my body ached from fatigue and injury, made worse by the drive back to the outpost. My mind reflected back over the past several hours. The moments after the Wolf had escaped.

My Mystery Sniper had left; disappearing into the hills away, but not before he left me a final clue to his identity. I had watched him through the scope, though I could not make out the actual details of his face I still had quite a bit to go on. The first was his weapon. The way it was used and the caliber meant it had to be some Remington Bolt Action; more than likely a military issue. Second: the man was actual military, or atleast former.

More than just his obvious skill: he knew operative sign language. Unsurprisingly; not many people in the Wasteland outside of the NCR or other paramilitary organizations know the speech. Yet the final clue was his cover. I could see the red straight off, more than likely being a beret. I then put the pieces together: a sniper, more-than-likely ex-NCR operative and the red beret.

There was only one outfit in the NCR military that wore red berets and trained snipers: that being the First Reconnaissance Battalion. I knew, however, judging from the obvious lack of bulk-of-equipment; he could only have been on the move for a day, maybe two. That eliminated any NCR military firebases: the most obvious being Camp Forlorn Hope or Camp Gulf by Lake Meade. I also knew that 1st Recon was stationed at Camp McCarran: the old airport in the Vegas ruins. That further illustrated my point of the man being a retiree.

While he approached from the north, I knew Searchlight had been destroyed over a month ago by the Legion. That left only one town and one possibility: Novac. Ironic that I was now heading there: for Checkered Suit and the Khans were not in the body pile at Nipton. We searched through them, and then ED-E cremated the bodies. We then searched the entire town; finding every sort of odds and ends in there.

Cass describes it better:

"Robots? Giant Goddamn Radscorps? What's next: a queen Bloatfly? This town is just weirdo central."

Our true struck of luck came when we broke into the mayor's office. There I found a still functioning pre-war computer: a MicroWorks ABM terminal. Hacking into the personal files was somewhat tricky, but eventually the information I wanted rolled off the black screen in green letters. The mayor was a scumball from California: taking an already unfortunate town and turning into a gaudy house; using whores and other incentives to play cupid for every faction out there including the NCR, Powder Gangers and Legion. He made mention of a group of strangers (of which he suspected were Khans) that had left town in a hurry, about two days ago.

Then I found the contents of a deal he had struck with the Powder Gangers. They planned to capture the NCR soldiers in town and ransom them off, but keep the gear. The mayor would have gotten a 30% cut. Then the mayor made another deal: this time with the Legion. Same idea; just it would be both the Troopers and the Gangers caught in the trap.

Then we interrogated the surviving Powder Ganger. From what he told us: one minute they had the Troopers ensnared and then the whole town was caught in the very same trap. The Legion used tear gas and other methods to herd the town all together; then began the lottery. Most were either burned on the tires or were crucified; except for the last fifteen. Some were given the opportunity to fight for their freedom, while most were enslaved depending on what place in the race they came in. The Ganger in question came in second: he was allowed to live but they destroyed his legs with hammers, while the idiot we ran into at the entrance of town was allowed to live completely untouched.

Then began the final verdict. This Ganger and his friends were the ones who had firebombed the farmhouse. I had wanted to kill him. Cass wanted to take a hammer and start working on the rest of his limbs. Yet, I decided against it.

The man was a junkie: the shakes of withdrawal was there; so I decided to give him the appropriate death. I took psycho and added it to an overshot of morphine. He died in pain; drowning in his own filth in a little over a minute. Then ED-E incinerated him as well. We took the heap of smoldered remains and buried it, easier done with ash than with bodies.

As it turns out, the Legion had burned most of the goods in town as well, but we were able to scavenge a few things. I was able to replace my pants with a near identical pair, as well as my jacket. Aside from the bullet hole(s), it had taken multiple rips and tears in the fight. I replaced it with a well made, if faded leather jacket. Cass however had stuck stubbornly to her suede jacket, even with a bullet hole through the left shoulder.

We found several transport bags to which we stored the loot, as meager as it was. The true prize had come from the Legionaries themselves. We were able to scavenge most of their weapons and gear. Some of it was old, some of it new, but I knew they would fetch a good prize. Unfortunately, the Legion's Kevlar and other more useful gear were ruined in the gunfight.

"Shame," Cass commented, "would've caught a decent bundle of caps."

Here I was, back into the present, back at the outpost delivering the worst possible news one could hear. Ghost just stared back at what used to be the town of Nipton and just sighed, letting out her frustrations and fears all on the table.

"That's not outside the border, they're moving in. I've faced them before, never have I saw-"

Her voice broke in mid sentence, and I knew why. The Legion were boogiemen, the soldiers sent to face them were sentenced to worst time of their lives. Before now, I hadn't even heard of any true Legion incursions over the Colorado River, with the notable exception of their base at Cottonwood Cove but they had been there for years.

"Did… did you know anyone in Nipton?"

"No… Nipton was shithole, but… they didn't deserve that. No one truly deserves the Legion."

Part of me wanted to disagree, that some do truly deserve that sort of punishment. Yet, my mind went back to the dozen who had been strung up to die the worst possible way. As my eye closed, the image of a little boy, maybe 11, strung up with the rest of them. No: no one truly deserves that kind of death. No one, save for one: the Legion.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Push what happened to my superiors, maybe get us off our collective asses and go hunting."

"Maybe this will help."

I then reached into my pocket and pulled out a clumped fist. I slackened my hold, loosening one of them: dogtags. She took them, pain and anger drawn in the stretches of her face. My mind flashed back to the final of the crucifixes: the boys from California who had been sent a world away and now were never going home.

"They should listen. But I can't guarantee it. I can guarantee this."

She then took my still outstretched hand and dropped a bag into it, the clinking of metal confirming my payment…

"What's the word?"

"As you expected," I replied as I climbed into the driver's seat, "shit promises and pay."

I tossed the bag over, watching as Cass emptied its contents over the dashboard and meticulously counted the amount.

"It's a hundred and fifty, Cass."

She turned her head all so slightly, and shot me not one more word out of you look. She then went back into her count.

"Three hundred caps," She replied with a sigh, removing her hat and placing it over her knee, "not worth dyin' over, Gid."

"Heh, well we're still here aren't we?"

"I'm being serious here. What the fuck happened back there?"

"They got what was coming, Cass. Would you have had any different?"

"Maybe, just maybe I wouldn't have taken my time killin' the goddamn Wolf's Head. You saw what those fucks did back there."

The anger was back. The blood curdling anger that had erupted a gunfight that I had nearly taken my fool head off. I could even see the slight, red fragments growing on the borders of my vision. I wanted to escalate. I wanted to do something that I knew I could never take back.

That is when the fire died. I regained my control; the anger slowly dissipating like demented spirits into the darkness. I closed my one, good eye and sighed; letting all my frustrations and rage vent out of my tired body. The aches and pains of an hour past returned all the stronger, but in a way I was glad of it. It reminded me I was still human.

"I know," I replied finally, "I was an idiot back there and I almost got us killed because of it. But I don't regret what happen because of it."

She stared at me for a while. I knew from the pools of her blue eyes that she was going through the same thing I was not thirty seconds ago. She relaxed, and drew her head over her knees.

"This ain't over, you know that right? He won't forget what happened."

"I know. But that's something for tomorrow, not today. Now let's go find a drive off so we can get some sleep…"

Cass

We enter the canyon trail, old memories of the dead flowin' through me like the goddamn Colorado. More than anythin'… I wanted ta be strong, ta shrug off everything else an' move on, like everythin' else. But every time I close my eyes, I could only see all those folks slowly dying in the worst fuckin' possible fuckin' imaginable. But that ain't just what scares me, though. It was Vulpes: Mr. Fucking Ice Cube with a fucking cherry on top. Even when Gideon had the silver to his throat: he'd just kept on smiling like none of it fuckin' mattered!

I kept going back to the crosses. I couldn't get it out of my head. I couldn't understand the cruelty: the pure fuckin' evil it took ta do what those fuckers they did. I just couldn't understand it. It was like a billowin' storm had made its nest over my head and it wouldn't stop fuckin' raining.

But like the sun, lookin' way over at Gideon seemed ta chase 'em all away. He was brooding 'bout something an' it drew me even closer to him. He'd swept me offa my feet, and here I was ridin' in somethin' I never thought I'd be in again. But at the same time, I knew next to nothing about him. But ta be honest, his past, as interestin' as it would be ta hear, ain't what made him what he is:

"Your mistakes don't make you what you are. It's what you make of yourself."

His words kept getting' knocked back and forth in my fucked-to-shit little mind. When he was ready; when he had the cards ta play: he would reveal his past. Until then… suddenly he hit the brakes and I knew somethin' was up.

Gideon

Ahead, we found the bodies near a bend in the trail. There were two, face down with no heads to speak of next to a long rusted wreck of a trailer rig. They were rags, their sexes could be seen right through them and they looked completely harmless. Harmless, until we found the straight blades in their sleeves.

"Odd." I commented. I looked over at Cass; who was looking around at the land then she shook her head.

"Not so much. See those rocks over yonder? Follow me."

She trotted over to a cluster of boulders across the road. When I got there, I saw what she meant. There were three bodies there: all of them well armed and wearing leather garments.

"And up there too." Cass gestured up to cliff face past a hill with her shotgun. I looked up and sure enough I saw it too. There were another three bodies up there.

"Ambush?" I asked and she nodded.

"Those scamps over there? Fuckin' decoys. The real action's here."

"How'd you know?"

"When you've been runnin' a caravan fer a while, you become all too aware of the worms that come with it. Every road, no matter where you are, you find the jackals waitin'."

"There's something else," I began, kneeling next to one of the dead, "see this?"

I was pointing at the enormous, and bloody, head wound that he had. Half of the face was gone and the top of the skull had been punched through.

"They all have them. Headshots." Cass answered as she observed the rest of the cadavers.

".308's: no question about it. And from the looks of it from a pretty long distance."

"You thinkin' our mysterious sniper?"

"How many snipers do we know that have come this way?"

"Touché. The blood is still pretty fresh."

"That means he can't be too far away…"

"You have got to be kidding me!" I cursed to myself, a little louder than I'd wanted.

"Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! It's good to see you again, pardner!"

"Who the fuck is this?" Cass half asked and half screamed.

"I see ye brought friends along! She certainly is a rare find and—"

"Victor, stop talking!"

"I'm just tryin' to make small talk here—"

"Would someone just tell what is going—"

"Beeti-beep!"

With that, we all turned to face the floating robot who I had for a second forgotten he was there. He zoomed ahead of me and actually seemed to be talking with the other robot on wheels.

"Zzbbeet-ti-beep?"

"Why I'm sorry and all, little feller!"

"Wait you can understand him?"

"Well of course. He's speakin' BASIC computer speech, I'm programmed to over 600—"

"Again will someone tell me what the fuck is going on!?"

I sighed, my face in my hand as I stared at the robot with the cowboy screen.

"This Victor, the Securitron. He's the one who dug me up."

"I thought he was in Goodsprings." Cass replied, stating the obvious.

"I was. I just got the notion, a little after Gideon here left, to head to Vegas."

"Can I ask why?" I asked. If Victor had a head, I'm sure he would have shrugged.

"Don't rightly know myself; guess I will find that out when I get there."

"Bullshit." Cass snapped, funny enough at the same time that ED-E beeped something obscene. Victor's normally cheerful cowpoke face was suddenly replaced by a snarling, evil eyed man with the face of death.

"I'd suggest you watch yer tone with me, ma'am."

"Yer changin' face don't scare me, tin man." Cass retorted with ice cold smoothness, a malicious smile upon her lips and her shotgun in hand. I reached across the stick and grabbed her weapon, to which she stared at me with a sense of impotence.

"We just survived one gunfight, Cass. I'd rather not have to go through with another one."

"Mighty fine of you to keep yer woman in line—"

"Don't be a kissass, Victor." I growled at him, "And she ain't my woman. Why did you lie to me?"

"What' ye mean?" He asked, putting back on his face of innocence.

"That job I took with the rest of the couriers? The one I was shot over? You're the one who hired us, behind the scenes!"

"Now that's just the biggest crock of—"

Suddenly he just stopped in mid-sentence, and his face was replaced by the 'Please Stand By' screen. He was like that for maybe a minute, and then he was back.

"Sorry about that pardner; must've dosed off. Well I've got to get a move on. See ya soon."

Just like that he just rolled off on the dirt trail and onto the flattop leading out of town: the town of Novac. I just stared at him as he rolled right on off. As the sun was beginning to set, we entered the outskirts of the town. I remembered coming here once, but back then it was a lot smaller. Cass explains it better:

"Took the old vein a'flowin' ta Primm and shoved it over here."

Novac was a series of old pre-war houses, prop-up tents and shanty shacks all built around an old road stop with a hotel right in the middle all along the old Highway 95. Just like Primm, it had that one special out of place thing that stuck out like sore. At Primm it was the giant roller coaster, but here it was a giant, standing green lizard I remembered some book called a Tee Rex holding a thermometer. I knew there was a shop built inside, the open mouth a platform and...

"I don't like him." Cass said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Hmm hmm."

"And I don't trust that whole cheerful cowboy look."

"Yeah you're not the only one."

"You too?"

"Yep. Victor didn't dig me up just out of the goodness of his heart. Somebody is pulling his strings and I've got the feeling that I'm not going to like who it is."

"Ain't that usually the case?" She asked with a smirk. I shrugged.

"Yeah. Most of the time."

I drove up onto the main road, every onlooker in sight gazing awe-like as we rode on past. Eventually, we ended up at the entrance of the motel main lobby and I parked the car.

"Go ahead and get restocked. There should be a well up ahead."

"You've been here before? Is your memory coming back?" Cass asked inquisitively. I nodded:

"I remember coming here. Once. I dunno, maybe coming to familiar places stirs it. What about you, ever come here?"

"Nah. I did most of my business Interstate 15, over by Primm, 'fore the Prison Outbreak."

"That can't be the only reason it was closed. What happened?"

"You don't know—God, I forgot you were under fer a while," Cass responded apologetically, her eyes conveying her embarrassment as she brushed away her hair, "no, the trouble started 'mebbe a couple of weeks ago when Deathclaws moved into the old the old stone quarry south of the old Vegas."

"Deathclaws?" I asked, barely able to believe the news. She just shrugged:

"Heard 'bout it from the caravaners up north. They've completely blocked that road like if it'd been irradiated. But it was the riot that sealed the deal."

My mind was still reeling and analyzing the worst news: Deathclaws. To some, they were just the monsters that mothers told their children would get them if they didn't do their chores. I knew, however, that they were no bogymen. They are horrible, towering devils in appearance with the strength of an army and the speed to carve up even a panicked Brahmin. Their ferocity and terror were matched only by the size of their claws.

They'd been hunted all to extinction in the East. It had taken a hundred years and well equipped hunting teams to do it. I could remember conversations with the few hunters still alive; one remarking that even when his team hefted the rare Anti-Material Rifle chambered to fire the even rarer .50 caliber round, it still took the expenditure of lives and rounds to finally bring them down. To think that the horned terrors were still somehow alive brought shivers to my spine. It was probably even worse for Cass.

"Ah stop worrin' 'bout terrors that ain't here," Cass laughed and slugging me lightly in the arm, interrupting my thoughts, "go and get us some rooms."

"Room." I replied, smiling slightly.

"Heh, should've figured. Well go on."

"Ah, silence woman!" I laughed and brushed her away as I stepped into the lobby, the neon sign behind me lighting the darkness with red. I peered behind me, spying the reason for the town's name. A long time ago, nine letters stood proud. Now all that remained were five: NO VAC. I shrugged it off and opened the door.

"Well hello there!" a voice, feminine, called out from inside the room, "You just come in?"

"Yeah. Just got off the road." I replied, stepping into the room. She was easily in her fifties, plump yet kind, round glasses orbiting eyes of brown that matched her hair.

"You come in with the red hair girl and the robot? Saw you two talking, so I wondered."

"She's…" I began, struggling to describe things properly, "…my passenger. We're heading up to Vegas."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be more than that, dearie," she replied, cracking an odd smile, "I see the way she looks at ye. Best be a good boy and treat her well, ye hear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh such a polite boy. Now what you'll have?"

"A room for two and some information."

"Oh?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a sniper with a vendetta? Wears a red beret?"

"Oh Boone, what've you gotten yourself into now…"

"Boone?"

"He's one of our town's protectors. Poor dear lost his wife."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know where he is?"

"He should be on watch now…"

I had handed the keys over to Cass, who'd asked where I was heading:

"To go find our friend."

She'd understood. I made my way to the Tee-Rex, and up the stairs leading to the entrance. When I entered, the first thing I heard was snoring. I looked down and I could see an older black man sleeping with his head on the front desk. Funny enough, he was practically buried under a pile of tiny Tee-Rex toys and miniature rocket ships.

I stifled a laugh and I noticed a stairwell going up. I made my way up and approached the door. I placed my ear next to the door and listened, hearing absolutely nothing. I opened the door slowly, a crack at a time, and peered inside.

"Hello?" I called into the empty room and I stepped inside, seeing nothing in the open maw of the Tee-Rex maw. Suddenly, I felt boots in my face and I was sent into a wall. I whirled and instinctively went to a left hand block, to which I caught the incoming blow. I immediately followed with a downward punch, contacting with the man's face and bringing in a kick for the gut. Unexpectedly, my kick was expertly blocked and I felt hard knuckles rack across my cheek.

I kept up the fight by bringing in my own blow to the face and followed up with another. He was fast and he was skilled, whoever he was, because the shadow then ducked, weaved and pinned me against the wall. I acted out of reflex: throwing back an elbow into my attackers ribs and as he backed I followed with another to the face. As he fell back, I drew my knife and closed the distance, knocking my opponent against the wall and my blade against his throat.

"Go ahead. Been waiting for it." The man practically spat, his voice low, gravely and just plain tired.

"Just stop." I replied calmly as I activated the Pip-Boy light. A red beret came into view as did the man's face.

"You!" The man gasped, staring wild eyed into mine.

"Yes, me." I replied as I removed my blade from his throat and sheaved it, backing away. My 'mystery sniper' stood and stared back at me. He was little shorter than me, maybe five-ten and a hundred-ninety with a well built body. His face and jaw were heavy built and somewhat wide with his face clean shaven. Moving up a bit past his bleeding nose were his eyes. Besides his build and cover; it was those eyes that burned with a sense of instilled discipline which told me right off of this man's past.

"Who are you?" he final asked.

"Gideon Maddox. You?"

"Boone," he replied suspiciously, looking me up and down from head to toe, "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to find the man who saved my life and the lives of my friends back at Nipton."

"Yeah, ballsy of you."

"You saw?"

"Whole thing. You shooting Wolf's head, him escaping."

"And you are a remarkable good shot. That mongrel couldn't have been easy. You First Recon?"

With that, he reached up and touched the red beret that rest on his head. Right in the middle was a patch: a bear skull with crossed rifles and underneath that was the words 'the last thing you never see'.

"Obviously. And you're welcome."

All too quickly he turned his back on me and sat heavily in what was clearly a snipers perch. He seemed to stare out at the wasteland for what seemed like an eternity before I finally headed back to the door. I opened it, and then I stopped. Ah what the hell.

"You have a deathwish, Boone?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well you said you've been waiting for 'it'."

"Don't," he replied coldly, turning in his chair toward me, "You don't know me, and you don't owe me anything. Drop it."

"Boone, whatever it is you're running away from, you can't just hold it in. It'll burn you up. And I don't think your wife would want that."

"You know nothing!"

Suddenly he was on his feet, his face contorted in a mask of pure, uncontrollable rage as he slowly crossed the room towards me.

"You know nothing about me or about Carla! Don't you ever think that you do!"

Now or nothing. I chose to stand my ground.

"I know you lost your wife. I know the anger that burns in you, and it will burn you. It is a winding pit that will suck you in and whatever comes out of will not be you. You say I don't know you. Maybe that's true, but I know when a man is looking for revenge."

As if he was frozen solid into a stone statue, he stunned speechless. He stared at me, the anger within him slowly consuming itself until it undoubtedly left a cold, hollow shell in its place. Somehow, I knew this pain. I don't remember why.

"Funny," he replied at last, "you wear the same look."

"Every time I look in the mirror." I chuckled, crack my long smile. He just stared at me, trying to hide his emotions under a facade, but I knew it was there.

"Why did you ask? About me?"

"Anytime a man saves my life, I aim to repay him in the best ways I can."

"Well, you're a stranger. So that's a start."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and turned his back. I knew he was gazing over the town, pondering what to say next.

"This town… nobody will look me in the eye no more," he began, his voice tired and I knew was on the verge of cracking, "nobody trust me anymore. Not sense Carla…she…"

"What happened to her?" I asked; rest my hand on his shoulder supportively. He brushed it aside and turned to face me, his eyes conveying a remorse that was painful just to see.

"She's dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her."

"You think he's in this town?" I asked, avoiding the obvious question. He was in mourning, deeply, and I knew better than to ask how he knew Carla was dead.

"The Legion took her. While I was on watch. They knew the route to take, when to take her and only her. Someone only inside would know all that."

"What do you want me to do when I find him?"

"Bring him out here. I'll give you my beret," he began, handing me his cover, "bring him out here and put it on if it's him. I want to see him off personally."

"I'll do what I can."

"We shouldn't speak until after this is over."

"Understood." I then spun on my heels and headed for the door. Then he spoke again:

"How did you know where I was?"

"At Nipton?" I asked, and he nodded, "To be honest, I don't know."

I began my investigation with the man downstairs. His name was Cliff Briscoe and apparently owned the shop, as well as seeming to know everyone in town:

"Carla? Yeah I did knew her. Did Boone put you up to this?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"Look, I did know her. But you have to understand that most people…"

"Go on."

"She… she'd come from a rough place. Probably the only struck of luck was meeting Boone. He's a good man and he wanted a family more than anything else. But there was something about this town she didn't like."

"Go on."

"Mebbe it remind her of her past, I dunno. But she also wanted to leave, go somewhere else. But Boone wanted to stay. And sometimes she made her displeasure vocal."

"Any idea who would want her gone? Seriously gone?"

"Too many to count. She was a good woman, but she didn't have many friends. Look if you're looking for someone who knows, I'd ask Andy. He was on watch that night."

Next up my list was a former NCR Ranger named Andy. He had been crippled in the line of duty and now operated to help watch the road as best as he could. As he spoke, his heavy mustache twirling a little, I watched every feature of his dark face for something suspicious:

"Boone always had this odd grin anytime she was around. He almost never grinned any other time. Certainly not now anyway."

"What did you think of her?"

"She was rough around the edges. To some, she might've put off people the wrong sort of way. But I got to know her, and she really was a sweet girl. She just wanted better for her husband."

"Did you see anything strange or…"

"No. And I think Boone is right. When it happened, I was dealing with some rowdy caravaners who always swing through here. Only somebody on the inside would have the proper timing to do it, because I was back in five minutes. Look there's a crackpot in town who claims to know something or other."

I knew the two before were telling the truth, but both would've been perfect candidates for the information that would have been required to kidnap Boone's wife. So I eventually found this crackpot, or more like he found me:

"It was them Molerat people! Came out of the ground and 'napped her! Saw with my own two eyes. Even saw two of 'em go into that lobby building."

The crackpot's name was No-bark, and I could straight off the reason behind his rambling state. On the left side of his head was this massive, deep scar that could only have come from one thing: a rad scorpion. He'd no doubt survived, but it had left him half past his drink. But what he said about the Lobby perked my interests. That left one last person on my suspect list.

"Well hello dearie! How is our fine town treating you?"

"Quite well. But I'm here to talk about Boone."

"Oh dearie me, is he alright?"

"He is. It's about his wife."

"Oh poor Carla. I know Boone thinks she was kidnapped, but I have the feeling she just ran off."

Bingo. The first person that had a different story. Every other person who I had talked to had all agreed the Carla had been indeed kidnapped and what Nobark said about the kidnappers go into the lobby… there is something not right about this whole thing.

"Well Boone asked to find out what I could. Maybe she was kidnapped, but I don't think so."

"Oh good. I just wished he wouldn't suffer over needless things."

"Well thank you, Mrs…"

"Jeannie May Crawford."

I left politely; then I hid in the shadows and watched. Sure enough just a few minutes after I left she was heading off down the hill in a hurry. She eventually entered a house down the road. Every instinct told me she was hiding something, and I needed to find out what it was. I crept to the lobby and entered, finding the door unlocked.

I looked around, for the first time noticing a sense of green in the place. The walls and just about everything else seemed to have a green color to it. Then I made my way to the main desk, and searched its contents. No dice. Then I accidently shifted the green rug I was standing on and I notice a hidden safe.

Dust had well collected around it, so I knew it wasn't used often. Fortunately, it had a padlock, and I knew my way around picklocking. I looked around, and I found an old paperclip and a screwdriver. I placed the clip into the lock and dug around looking for one of its sweet spots. It took me a few minutes, but I eventually got it in place and I turned the lock with the screwdriver, opening it up.

I opened the safe, and I knew I had stepped into something very twisted. There was a letter inside, it's sealing stamp broken. I plucked it up and placed it in a pocket in my jacket, then I resealed the lock and got the hell out of there. Once I got far enough away, I took out the letter and began to read. When I was finished, my stomach dropped. It was a Legion sale document, proclaiming the sale of Carla Boon and her unborn daughter, to which all payment would go to—Ms. Jeannie May Crawford…

"Yes?" Crawford spoke through the door. I put on the best poker face I had, and spoke with a sense of urgency.

"Ma'am, there's someone that wants to talk to you. Up front of the Tee-Rex. Said it was urgent."

"Well alright, let's get going."

Quickly we began our way up the hill, and I made sure she was in front of me. Every fiber in my body tensed as the seconds ticked by, I knew that this wasn't over yet. When we reached the top of the hill and in front of the Tee-Rex, she looked about curiously.

"So who was wanting to see me?"

"Carla Boone."

She tensed, fright and panic crept all about her face, but it was too late. The beret had barely touched my head when the round echoed and the woman fell…

"How did you know?"

"This."

He took the document, and began to read over its contents. I had expected anything, outrage, sadness, perhaps confusion. Instead all I got was the same thing I had gotten all night: an emotionless shell. To some, this would have been foreboding, a true sign of a lack of care for the world about and within themselves.

"I should have known."

When he looked up, those who had taken such an assumption would have been wrong. I could see the pain in his face, and his eyes were orbs of wrath. Though he tried to hide it, he was as obvious to me as if he was screaming. I knew what he was doing: he was trying to hide from the pain by taking himself and hiding inside his shell. I also knew, by looking at him, that he was trying to tell himself that what happened didn't happen to him, but to another Craig Boone.

"I should have known." He repeated, this time the traditionally graveled and darkened voice was somber, his response barely anything more than a painful whisper. He crumpled the document and turned his back to me, seeming to stare at the sleepy town left in his charge. He was hunched over, leaning against the statues teeth, his hands seeming to grip the ends as though he was going to crush them. The walls that he had built in his mind were crumbling like the city of Jericho.

"Now that things are done, what will you do?"

"I won't be staying. Can't look at this town without seeing her here. I just can't…" His voice was on the verge of cracking, but he carried on anyway, "I just have to leave."

"What about the corpse? Will they—"

"No, they won't," he replied, for once his face lighten up as he peered over his shoulder at me, "People die, and most don't ask why. They just accept it. Besides, I was officially on break when it happened."

That last particular comment brought an arctic smile to his normally crabby face, and I then I knew he had truly thought this through. I knew now was the time for broke:

"Why don't you come with me? I could always use a First Recon covering my six."

That brought a sudden, if well concealed surprise to the man's face. He just shook his head:

"You don't want to do that. Got too many ghosts in my past to be shaken."

"My friend, you're not the only with a dark past. Everyone does, in some way or another. In truth, it's the ones who don't that end up causing the most amount of pain. Besides, snipers never operate alone; the only lone wolves are the dead."

"You speak from experience. On both accounts." He replied, a slight degree of suspicion written across his face. I just shrugged:

"If you're asking me if I know how, I don't."

"What do you mean? Someone hit you over the head?"

"Try being shot in the head. I lived, but my memories are missing. That's what I'm trying to find."

"And the man who shot you, I suppose."

I shrugged.

"Well the offers on the table until noon tomorrow."

"I'll think about it. And Gideon?"

"Yeah?" I replied as I headed for the door.

"The way you talked about it… It takes one to know one. And I know the look of another soldier. Keep that in mind."

I made my way up the stairs to the second floor walkway; remember the key number had been # I made my way to the door, I actually found it ajar. When I got closer, I found Cass waiting in the doorway:

"Find him? You've been gone a couple of hours."

"Yeah…" I replied. I was tired, my voice and my expression showed. She ushered me in and practically handed me a bottle of brandy. I took it down with little hesitation.

"I'm assuming it had somethin' ta do with the shot I heard ten minutes past?"

"Yeah. It's a long story…"