A/n: Sorry for the delay in this chapter. It feels like I'm apologizing every single chapter!
We figured out the health problem and now I'll be learning what it feels like to be normal. But, in the meantime, I adopted a greyhound, so my time has been taken up with reading up on how to get him happy. He's starting to settle in though so I'll be able to do my thing like usual soon :)
"Hello! Good morning!"
Yes Man flicked on all the lights in the Presidential suite, and Six groaned.
"We've got a situation!" the bot chirped, "and there's a certain set of folks who I know can handle it!"
Vulpes rolled over onto his back and stretched.
"Who do I have to kill?" he asked.
"Powder Gangers!"
Vulpes sighed and shook his head. He was hoping for something more interesting, but the Mojave had relatively the same problems it had when things first got started.
"So, I can give you the coordinates," the bot said, "or I can put them on the Pip-boy."
Six grumbled, her face buried into her pillow.
"Didn't catch that!" Yes Man chirped.
"Givvit to Crassius."
"Awww, you're not going to go?" the bot asked.
The Courier's response was a groan. She was ill, but from what, Vulpes couldn't say. He wondered if it was the alcohol. Was the threesome really that disappointing?
Vulpes remembered Lanius coming up, then not much else after that. And, to him, asking Six to recall the eight or so hours that he forgot before waking up with a splitting headache seemed like a bad idea. She didn't seem to be in the mood to discuss anything, and after their respective hangovers wore off, they took to having sex until they couldn't find any more food in the penthouse to sustain then. There, they made their way back down to the presidential suite, ate more food, drank, fucked, and repeated until Yes Man woke them up.
Vulpes shook his head. At least, he had something to do. He was living like an animal.
Giving Six a pat on the back, he slid out of bed. He'd take care of this; she wouldn't have to worry about a thing. He stood and stretched, eying a suspicious new decoration to the left. Undoubtedly, it was another camera.
Vulpes fought the childish urge to put his genitals in direct view of the camera and made his way out of the room. In the hallway, the lights were on, and with them, accompanying guests.
"Um," Marcus mumbled, "we got a wakeup so–"
So they decided to walk into someone's house unannounced?
"Powder Gangers?" Crassius asked.
"Yes."
Lanius grunted behind him and entered the elevator.
"We will wait outside," Crassius nodded.
As they left, Marcus gave him a once-over – it was getting old, to be honest – and followed behind. Shaking his head, Vulpes peered back into the bedroom.
Six hadn't moved, and the lights were still on.
"Will you join me in the shower?" he asked.
She groaned in reply. Taking pity on her, he made his way back to the bed and crawled in next to her. His hand snaked its way down her back.
"I know something that will make you feel great," he purred.
Six groaned in the negative, and Vulpes removed his hand. He stood, made his way back to the door, and gave her one last glance before turning off the lights. She was gaining weight; she really needed to stop drinking and get moving.
If he detoured to Primm and got the eyebot, perhaps, Six would have something to get her off of feeling sorry for herself.
Vulpes stepped into the bathroom, and turned the shower on to warm it up.
"Hey," Yes Man called, his voice low through the speakers.
"Yes?"
He stepped into the shower, deciding to get on with his day while he was a captive audience.
"She's not doing well," the bot said.
"She is doing rather poorly," Vulpes admitted.
"Do you think the eyebot will help?" Yes Man asked.
"You're asking me?" Vulpes chuckled, "I thought you had all the answers."
He ducked under the shower and rinsed, waiting for the bot's reply.
"Yes."
Vulpes snorted.
"Well, not quite," the bot admitted.
"Hell if I know," Vulpes shrugged.
"You're not worried?"
"Nope."
Yep.
Vulpes stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and headed back to the bedroom. Flipping on the light – much to Six's dismay – he grabbed his armor and weapons and began to dress out in the hall.
Yes Man's face flickered to the screen in front of the elevator.
"You're all wearing your Legion stuff today," it noted, "must mean you're serious."
Vulpes readjusted his goggles underneath the coyote mantle, pressed the button on the elevator, and smirked.
"I'm always serious about executing scum."
These people ought to be afraid, yet they walked among them with only some wariness. Children stopped in the streets to stare at them with open-mouthed wonder, rather than hiding. Men gave them respectful nods, women glanced up shyly from their work. Technically, he was an eligible bachelor.
Lanius didn't like being common.
Before, not a single person would get so much as a glimpse of his face. And, did these women even know how old he was? If they did, they didn't seem to care. Some of them were barely able to be considered adults.
One of the Kings jogged up to them, a smile on his face.
"Where're ya going?" he asked.
"Slaughtering degenerates," Lanius ground out.
There was a time when he would have killed this man for getting in his way.
"What kind?"
"Powder Ganger kind," Vulpes replied.
There was also a time where nobody would have dared speak for Lanius.
"Good!" the man nodded, "Those no-good guys don't contribute to the moral fabric of society."
"Do you even know what that means?" Vulpes chuckled.
"Sure don't!" the man laughed. "But the King says it, and it sounds right to me. It's about keeping good folks safe."
Lanius grunted in agreement. It was oversimplified, yes, but the main message was correct. Time and again, the Powder Gangers defied the authority of the Mojave government.
It shouldn't have happened in the first place. They should have killed every last Powder Ganger and made an example of them for any others who would oppose the new order.
It would have been an example to the Brotherhood of Steel, if the fools would care to listen.
Shaking his head, Lanius followed his companions out of Freeside and into the desert. Crassius consulted the maps on the device on his arm, and Vulpes was visibly jealous. This was the device Lanius took from him; he still maintained that Vulpes ought to not have one, given his obsessions. Crassius was indifferent to the machine; he deserved it.
Truth be told, Vulpes had an extraordinary amount of ill temperance for a Legionary. He went out of his way to satisfy his own animal urges, despite having the proper training to ignore them.
Lanius didn't know what caused it. His tragic childhood seemed like a poor excuse.
They continued south as the sun slowly rose over the Mojave. The air held a slight chill; summer sputtered this time of year, and soon, the night would become cold. His hands would ache in the early morning, and Lanius would have to warm them by the fire. Aches were the way of a life using the sword.
But this winter, there would be no crackling fire of the Riordan mansion, no cold stone stairs and creaking, old floorboards. He would be surrounded instead by plush red carpet, faded striped wallpaper, and perfect, artificial heat. In the midst of such luxury, he could not be warmed. The house of the Legion breathed with the wind, creaked, and groaned with all of its secrets. The Lucky 38 did no such thing.
They lived inside a tomb, generating their own warmth and giving the tower the appearance of life.
Lanius looked forward to Vulpes and found himself eying the man – kid; he didn't know anymore. His mind took the dangerous turn of visualizing him wearing nothing, his long neck, lean shoulders, scarred back, the beautiful dimples above his ass. He remembered kisses so hot and practiced, the kind that made him wonder it was possible to suffocate from them.
Despite all the problems, the things he did, the way he rejected Vulpes, Lanius couldn't quit him.
He briefly wondered how such a meek woman captured such a wild person, and supposed that perhaps, her nurturing spirit included her husband.
The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Fox was supposed to be the Legion's finest and one of the cleverest, but under the surface, he crumbled. Was this the kind of man that the Legion raised? Were they all so broken?
Lanius was disappointed and disgusted, but at the same time, he supposed that Vulpes hiding his problems was a strength in its own right.
Crassius signaled that they were approaching the shack the Powder Gangers used as a hideout. It was within view, and the group hid behind a nearby rock to observe and make a plan. Vulpes kept an eye on the shack, frowned, and shook his head. He saw nothing.
Figuring they'd better make a go of it, Lanius crept forward with the praetorians, while Vulpes kept them covered with his pistol. They only had one gun, but Vulpes was deceptively fast with his revolver, despite its size. Lanius wanted to try the gun sometime. He wasn't sure if it would be allowed.
The Butcher crept along the side of the shack, prepared to round the corner, and stopped when something solid ran into his chest.
A startled Powder Ganger backed up, eyes wide. Lanius smirked.
The man shouted for help, and three others ran out of the building. As one went to draw his firearm, Vulpes shot him on the spot.
The remaining Powder Gangers held their hands up in surrender. Legionaries terrified them, as they should.
"Is this all of you?" Vulpes asked.
One of them nodded.
"Last of our kind," he replied, "and proud."
The one that ran into Lanius looked ready to run, and he wasn't going to let that happen. He went to haul the man up by his shirt, but the damned thing tore, sending the Powder Ganger falling on his ass. Vulpes snorted in disgust.
"That one?" he chuckled. "You're seriously undressing that one?"
Lanius narrowed his eyes. Now was not the time for jokes.
Shrugging, Vulpes held the men at gunpoint while the praetorians searched them, disarmed them, then tied their hands behind their backs. When they were done, he motioned toward the open road with his pistol.
"Walk."
One of the men frowned.
"If you're going to kill us, then just do it," he groused.
Vulpes had no time for it.
"Walk!"
The praetorians emphasized his command with a shove, and the captured Powder Gangers headed to the east. They pushed forward, not questioning Vulpes' decision to move the captured men.
For his part, Lanius was curious. What was his plan?
"You're quite stealthy for such a large person," Marcus chuckled, nodding in the Butcher's direction.
"Got to hunt some way if you don't have a gun," Lanius grumbled.
He hadn't done any spear hunting in years, but Lanius was positive he was still good. It wasn't something that he would just forget.
The desert sand became softer as they continued east, and after a few minutes, Lanius grew suspicious. There was nothing out this way, except the lake.
He had enough of Powder Gangers. Perhaps this little excursion would be the gang's extinction. As the leader of the group grumbled about 'fags in skirts', Vulpes sighed. One could only hope.
The man continued to grumble with each step until he began to outright insult them.
"Cut it out, man," the half-naked one hissed.
They stopped in front of the shore of the nearby lake. The midday sun shimmered over the surface of the water, creating a bright reflection. He was glad for his goggles.
"He's married now," the leader snorted, "I hear the Courier keeps these so-called 'retired' Legionaries' balls in a jar by her bed. That's why these pussies still wear skirts."
Even outnumbered and with a gun pointed at them, the Powder Gangers laughed in their faces. Vulpes found it quite curious.
Suicidal folly.
"Wifey keeps her Vulpes on a chain," he continued, "if he kills us then her bleeding heart is going to put him out on the couch for months."
Vulpes, pronounced with a strong 'v'. He couldn't help but smile. If Six found out – doubtful, because he wouldn't leave any witnesses that would tell – then Yes Man would back him up.
The all-knowing, all-seeing robot agreed with him. He was right.
"What's your name?" Vulpes asked.
"Sean."
"Can you swim, Sean?" he asked.
The Powder Ganger looked around, as if the question was a joke.
"Yeah," the man lied.
Vulpes' smile grew.
"Can they swim?"
Two more nods, and his voice cracked as he let out a cackle. Nobody in the Mojave knew how to swim; it was a damned desert.
"Gentlemen," he announced, "you are free and absolved of all crimes on one condition: swim from here to Fortification Hill. On that shore, you will find your freedom."
Their look of elation and subsequent terror was heartwarming. If he had a boat, he would have marooned them on a sandbar in the middle of Lake Las Vegas. Let the lakelurks get to them if they couldn't swim away; eventually, they would drown while staring back at the intangible shore.
Vulpes laughed again. That was a brilliant idea. Perhaps, he would save it for another time. There were still many degenerates around that needed purging. NCR animals had more nobility than this primordial scum.
He stepped forward and motioned toward the lake with his pistol, indicating that he was serious.
"Move!" Lanius hissed.
The Powder Gangers skittered into the water until they were up to their waists. As soon as one of them turned to look back, Vulpes fired a round into the water.
They scrambled out into Lake Las Vegas until the water was up to their necks. A current carried them forward, sending them out further until they flapped their arms in an attempt to swim.
Marcus chuckled behind him.
"You're a brahmin's ass."
The Powder Gangers couldn't swim, and he watched as they thrashed in the water, trying to keep their heads above the water. Soon, one became desperate and clung to the man next to him, forcing his head under water as he found that he was sinking.
The drowning man grabbed the leader, causing each to pile on top of the other until the water churned and splashed, sending ripples back to the shore.
"You're almost there!" Vulpes called.
Marcus failed miserably at attempting to stifle his laughter.
"You are a sick shit," Lanius sighed. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a smile.
"I was a lonely child," Vulpes grinned.
The splashing died down as the Powder Gangers slowly lost their strength.
Crassius stared out at the water, his face betraying no emotion.
"Justice."
"Suicidal folly," Vulpes shrugged. Justice did seem to be a byproduct of it.
He gave them an escape, but they couldn't get out. They were weak and undeserving of the Mojave.
"It's going to get dark soon," Vulpes noted. "Let's go back to that shack and use it for the night."
From there, they could make a quick detour to Primm.
The group followed their tracks back through the desert, eventually coming across the main road. Without his gun trained on the backs of the prisoners, Vulpes was able to pay more attention to his surroundings.
Every so often, he came across a pile of rocks, a sign from a lone agent giving a call out to any others in the area.
How recent were these?
Frowning, Vulpes realized that he passed the same area after permanently moving to the Lucky 38. These were recent. What agents could possibly be out here, besides Picus, who retired to the Strip?
Nothing came to mind, until Vulpes remembered that Ulysses was around somewhere.
Could these be his?
As he walked, Vulpes read the signs. It was definitely a lone agent, and they definitely wanted attention.
He audibly sighed, and Lanius frowned at him.
Ulysses wanted his attention. My, how he must hate himself for reaching out. But, Ulysses hated everything. Perhaps, this was no different.
Vulpes stepped off the path and gathered a few small stones to make his message. His traveling companions stopped to wait for him, but he shooed them forward.
"Keep going," Vulpes said. "I'll catch up in a minute."
With that, he continued until he thought of his message. Vulpes piled rocks together and retrieved a stick, arranging them until his message was perfect:
"I am surrounded. No assistance required."