"I'm with the Brotherhood."
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.
.
Those words hung like stagnant smoke in the already poorly-cycled air of Elder McNamara's panic room. Angel let him stew on it, cycling it over in his head a few times; waiting patiently again when he opened his mouth to speak but didn't. It would be pretty weird, she imagined. A kind of culture shock he probably wasn't prepared for.
After awhile, he finally spoke.
"I don't understand. You're 'with' the Brotherhood? But we are the Brotherhood of Steel, how can you be with us if no one has recruited you? You have no doubt helped us, but you are not us."
Angel was choosing her words carefully. "Is it okay if I smoke in here?"
"Of course."
She unsheathed a lucky strike and lit it as he flipped a switch and a rusty fan started churning above them.
"Okay, well, you guys of course are the Brotherhood, but you're not the only chapter out there. There are dozens if not hundreds of other outposts, operating autonomously, some of them completely isolated just as you are right now. I come from one of them. A big one."
Another silence scraped by. Pirouettes of smoke danced around like ghosts haunting someone's dreams before disappearing through the vents.
McNamara worked his mouth for a second. "I- I'm not sure I believe it without proof… but I suppose it is possible. If there really are other chapters of the Brotherhood, which one do you come from?"
Angel reached into her side pocket, and felt the edge of the old photo-paper. Gingerly unfolding it, she handed her only photograph of home to the Elder.
"That's where I'm from," she said, voice tinted with pride.
He studied the picture in gaping disbelief; the huge, arcing glass dome covering the breadth of a city that looked as if war had never touched it, the sub-domes shimmering with the lingering impression of the sun that had just poked through the clouds as she took the shot. It was a perfect picture. A simple picture. Just a frontal shot of her city in midday, on the fringe of the ravaged expanse of emptiness known as the Illinois Wastes. Angel was thirteen when she took it, her head filled with hopes of becoming a professional photographer. She smiled despite herself.
Do not forget this place.
It was everything she'd ever been, everything she left behind. Everything she dreamed about, now that she'd left and actually chased her dreams- what she thought they were. She'd learned that dreams were just disillusioned hopes of what the future could be. But sometimes, every so often but not often enough, they came true.
"This- this place.. this civilization. It is real? It truly exists, right this very moment?"
"Yes." Angel found it bemusing to see him like this; one of the wisest men she knew stooped to a level of pure awe, an almost childlike sense of wonder. "It is the city of Chicago. Our ancestors found it nearly sixty years ago, after being sent out of California by the Brotherhood majority who didn't want to share tech or resources with outsiders. They were to destroy the super mutant army remnants, but the airships crashed, the leaders were killed, and the survivors were forced to fend for themselves."
The Elder spared Angel a glance as he continued studying the picture. "What happened then?"
She dragged on her smoke, recalling the story her mother had told her countless times as a kid. "They settled around the ruins of Chicago, mostly just trying to eke out an existence and re-establish contact with the main Brotherhood. But it was impossible without long-range comm gear, so they had no choice but to start over from nothing. Over time they eschewed the old Brotherhood altogether and adopted the inclusiveness they'd been fighting for since day one. They made contact with dozens of tribal groups and formed a vast network of alliances and mutually beneficial relationships. They became the Midwest Brotherhood.
"Openly recruiting from their ranks, they rose to prominence and were able to drive out the beastlords and a powerful robot army originating from Vault Zero, where a partially sentient artificial intelligence known as the Calculator was plotting the demise of all life. I know, it's pretty melodramatic sounding, isn't it? Anyway, battle after battle, the Brotherhood came out on top and usurped the Calculator, rewiring it to be of benefit to mankind. A new robot army was created to rebuild Chicago, and everything fell together into a new, tolerant society where everyone was elevated to the same status. Mutants and tribals alike were welcomed. My parents have been running it since."
Another silence, this time longer. "This… this is impressive. I thought Chicago was a myth created by raiders to lure people in, but…"
"Oh, it's real," Angel flashed a cheeky smile for effect. "I'm living proof. There was a man known as 'The Warrior' who ultimately sacrificed himself to save the New Brotherhood and someday help elevate humanity above all of this conflict and strife. His real name was Caleb. I'm a direct descendent of his." Seeing nowhere to throw away her spent cig butt, she put it out with her thumb and index finger and dropped it in a coat pocket.
"I believe you now," McNamara said, still somewhat aghast. He handed her the picture back. "I suppose my real question is; what are you doing here then?"
Staring at the black and white image, Angel felt her eyes start to well up. She eased them closed.
"I still don't know, not really. Every fiber of my being just screamed for me to leave. So one day, I did. I wanted to help people and we weren't doing that anymore- at least not in our full capacity, thanks to the Elders shaping us back to our more reclusive days. I couldn't take it anymore."
"Why not get involved in politics, then, if that was the issue?" He asked.
Angel opened her eyes again. "I was too young, too naive and brash to wait. By the time any of it mattered it would be too late. I got in my jet and never looked back. Experienced the real world for the first time, and I realized that above anything else in the world there was suffering. All I wanted was to put an end to it and help any way I could, like my ancestors, like those who brought us to Chicago to begin with. In the end, all I did was add to it."
The Elder searched her eyes meaningfully, a warmth to his Angel rarely saw. "I highly doubt that, Angel. I can see the things you've done for people simply in the way you carry yourself. Anyone can- if they look hard enough. The story is in your eyes, and your heart. You wear it well."
"Thanks, I think."
"You are welcome. Well, then. It seems pretty clear to me why you've such a vested interest in us. I am aware you wish us to raise the lockdown, but to what end? I see now you are a woman of vision and change. What change will you bring to the mojave?"
She cleared her throat, nervously clenching and unclenching her fists. It was time to open up.
"About a year ago I signed up as a courier for the Mojave Express; a delivery service that specialized in the rapid exchange of packages and information. I was tasked with running a parcel from Primm to the New Vegas Strip, but I had no idea what I was getting into, or what the chip was that I had in my possession. Turns out it was the key to New Vegas."
"Our scout's intel suggests a man called 'Mr. House' rules New Vegas. Was it him who sent you?" The Elder interjected.
"Yes, but I didn't realize it until later. He sent seven of us to deliver these strange packages- only mine was the chip, the rest were dummies. It wasn't long until competing interests found out. I started being tracked. Late at night, as I was passing through Goodsprings, I was ambushed by a man in a suit and what looked like raiders. They took the chip. He shot me in the head and buried me alive, but I survived. I woke up in a doctor's house, my memory was jumbled, but I recovered, and I swore to avenge myself and reclaim the chip. The rest, as they say, is history. I have it now, and I'm going to overthrow Mr. House, establish an independent New Vegas, and lead her denizens against the Legion and drive both them and the NCR out of the mojave. But to do that, I need your help."
"Quite the ambitious plan, to say the least," he said, stroking his chin. "Say we raised the lockdown, then what?"
"Help us fight the Legion when the time comes. We need your technology and wisdom or we'll never win. You help us, I'll connect you with the Midwestern Brotherhood. You could learn a lot from each other."
McNamara appeared deep in thought for awhile, eyes on the floor.
"You've plead your case exceptionally, Angel. I've seen what's out there, and what we will become if we do not change… you've opened my eyes to that just as Veronica has, I was only too stubborn to admit it."
When he looked back up at Angel there was a spark of willfulness she hadn't seen before.
"We will help you."
Relief flooded through her, washed through her core and her limbs like cool water. It was that same relief she felt after a pitched battle when she saw Boone still standing in the carnage; knowing any of her friends were still alive. The feeling that everything was going to be okay.
"Thank you, Elder. You will not regret this." One more group, and she could take on the Legion. She was so close.
"I'd better not," he said, chuckling lightly. "Though I know some in the Brotherhood will resent that an 'outsider' brought so much change upon us. This will not be an easy transition for us, but I now realize it is necessary for our long-term survival."
"I'm glad you've made the realization, Elder. Do you think there will be dissention in the ranks?"
"Perhaps. But I will deal with it as it comes," he stood up from his chair and gestured to the elevator. "I suppose we shouldn't keep Veronica waiting. Shall we?"
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Back in the Elder's chamber, Veronica was beaming like a child.
"You're flipping kidding me Angel. You lifted the lockdown?!"
Angel grinned impishly. "Maybe. Well- actually McNamara did, but I like to think I helped."
Veronica squealed and threw her arms around her. "You're the fucking best."
"I know this already," she laughed. "But really, you played a big role in it. He wouldn't have seen the dysfunction of the Brotherhood without you- all I really did was hammer it home."
"Bull."
"She's right, Veronica," Elder McNamara said. "You've showed me that we need to change or face a slow demise, I was just too blinded by ideology to see it."
"You're really going through with this, aren't you?"
"I am," he replied. "I'll make the necessary preparations and call a meeting tonight. There will be those who oppose it, but I think this has been weighing on the hearts and minds of all of us. It is time. But what about you?"
"Me?" Veronica asked, confused. "What about me, Elder?"
McNamara walked up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I had the sense that you no longer wanted to remain with us, although I understand it. And even though we are changing I would not expect you to want to stay if it is not something that resonates with you any longer."
"I…" she looked to the floor, then to Angel, standing off to the side. "What do you think?"
"Who, me? This is your path, Ver, not mine. Follow your heart."
"Always with the cliches," Veronica said, sighing with dramatic jest. Uncertainty chewed at her for a long moment. Her eyes matched up to his. "As much as we've quarelled over the years, and as rebellious as I may be, I think my place is here. As long as I get to keep travelling with Angel. And keep my job, of course."
The Elder smiled broadly. "Of course, Veronica. The Brotherhood needs you, even when you think we don't."
She sprung on her tiptoes for a second, bright with excitement. "I guess that settles it then. Ride or die, Angel. Our work here is done."
McNamara nodded. "Indeed. I will handle things on the homefront until the time is right. There is much work to be done. You two are free to go- continue your adventures, just be careful, Veronica."
"Always."
The pair looked at each other, smirking, and left the Hidden Valley bunker.
.
.
.
The hair on the back of Angel's neck stood up as they came out, walking up the stairs of the narrow interstice leading outside. Wind grazed her cheeks with foreboding. Another nameless danger- but what? Above, the clouds lay a torpid grey over the sky.
"Something's wrong," she said sharply. Her submachine gun appeared in her hand.
"What?" Ver asked. "Is it the wind?"
"Yeah, but I'm not sure what."
"Well that's not surpris-"
They topped the rise of broken stairs, and there it was.
Five Paladins in full power armor were standing outside- three facing Angel and Veronica while the other two had their weapons raised at Boone and Cass, who seemed far from backing down, their own guns drawn and reciprocated.
"Lower your weapons, Paladins," Angel called out. Veronica seemed to be slinking with fight-or-flight behind her, trying to make herself invisible. Angel elbowed her in the ribs. "What's going on here?"
The lead Paladin walked up to her, his gauss cannon out but lowered.
"We heard Veronica talking with the elder. We won't stand for this," he said in a fierce, uncompromising tone.
Angel altered her body language to appear less threatening, letting herself look more relaxed than she was. "The lockdown has been lifted. Nolan will remain Elder, but the premise of what Paladin Hardin wanted has been done- you can thank me if you want. Or not."
Veronica shot her a hard stare. "You're gonna get us killed, idiot," she mumbled.
The Paladin looked past Angel at her. "You have done this?"
"No," Angel said, redirecting his attention back to her. "It was me. Veronica just wants what's best for the Brotherhood, but I am the one who changed the Elder's mind."
"An outsider," he spat with venom, "Causing this kind of change. It's unacceptable. Nolan is a feeble old man, and we will not stand for this treachery."
"Well that's too bad now, isn't it." Angel could feel her temper start to flare… for the first time in a long time. There was no backing down. Not now. Not ever.
The lead Paladin grunted, muffled by the helmet's vocoder. "Under the authority of the Brotherhood of Steel, I hereby sentence Veronica and her accomplice to death."
Ver moaned. Angel shifted- her 5mm poking out of the flap of her coat. In that moment all weapons came up, all pointed at each other in a mess of confusion. But no one fired.
"Stand down, outsider. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
The wind blew, stronger now; wrapped around Angel and filled her lungs with the nameless force of nature. She felt it in her circulatory system, in her blood, stretch out to every part of her body. Her eyes lit up, almost glowed in the overcast.
And when she spoke, it filled the air.
"You touch Veronica, or any of my friends, and I will kill you with my bare hands. You think I need a weapon because I'm a woman? Oh, no. I'll gut you like a lame brahmin. I'll let you bleed out until the vultures find you, and they won't even wait for you to die. I'll find every last one of you who are causing this dissent and I will flay them alive like Legion slaves, but you'll die with far less dignity. No one will hear you scream; no one will care," her voice was filled with a hollow rage that defied words. She glared at all five of them, gaze intensifying. "So, what do you say?"
The head Paladin simply stood there, silent. No one spoke save for the wind.
"She's insane," he said finally, backing down. "Stand down, men. It's not worth it."
Slowly, with a reluctance borne of the Brotherhood willfulness she knew all too well, they lowered their weapons. Her companions followed suit.
Angel smiled sagaciously. "See, it's not too hard to be civilized now is it?"
Now passive, the Paladins forced their way past her and Veronica and down into the bunker, defeated. The leader turned his head before disappearing.
"This isn't over, outsider. You've made enemies today. And we will not forget."
When they were gone, Angel blew out a tired sigh and lit a cigarette.
"Got ninety nine enemies, but the Brotherhood ain't one."
Her companions gathered around her, still relatively stunned from the whole ordeal. "That was fucking amazing, Angel. I coulda sworn we were all dead as doornails," Veronica said as she smoothed out her poncho, nervously laughing.
"I told you I have my ways."
"The Brotherhood are fucking assholes," Cass said irritably. Standing next to her, Boone had been quiet the entire time, but anytime their eyes met there was that look again.
"Hey, we're not all that bad," said Veronica.
"Oh? And who's this?"
Angel introduced them. "Cass, this is Veronica, one of my best friends. Ver, this is Cass, our new companion!"
"Greetings."
"Well well," Cass said, giving her the up-and-down. "As long as she doesn't try anything with that metal fist of hers, we're good. Actually- I could think of some pretty interesting things…-"
Angel sighed. "Don't listen to her."
"Oh, I plan to, don't worry." Veronica turned towards the mouth of the Valley, eyes eager. "But I think we should get out of here… at this point I think all of us have overstayed our welcome."
"Couldn't agree more," she said, re-tying one of her black combat boots, victory cigarette dangling loosely from her mouth. "If everyone's ready, let's move out."
They headed north. The day was overcast, the mood subdued. But occasionally the wind would rise over the hilltops and craggy mesas and blow down on them- it told Angel they were safe for now. The Greyrunners wouldn't be after her for at least another day. And as far as he went, there was no sign that he'd caught her trail yet. Today, she could bask in her victory and be free...
"Wait, what's that smell?"
Angel sniffed the air. A familiar, poignant earthy smell wafted past her nose. Looking over she noticed it was coming from Cass.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Cassidy puffed on what looked like an oddly rolled cigarette to the untrained eye, it's skunky scent infused with the breeze. "Weed? Oh yeah… it helps with the hangover. Want some?"
She hadn't so much as seen pot since Rez used to get it from a trader who'd come into Chicago twice a year. They used to smoke all the time; after school, anytime either of them got into a fight with their parents, or had guy problems, or just for the usual esoteric philosophical discussion. Memories of home usually carried with them a kind of melancholic heaviness she had to drag around for as long as it lasted, but weed? It was nothing but good.
"Sure, I'd love to." Angel took the half-smoked joint and wrapped her lips around the end. It filled her lungs with nostalgia. The subtle burn, the tingle of the nose-hit. The buzz wrapped itself around her like a warm, fuzzy blanket; it opened her awareness and relaxed the knotted tension in her muscles at the same time. Breathing out, she sighed pleasantly. "God I love this shit. Where the heck did you get it?"
"Stole some off a caravan on my way here. I'm classy like that," Cass said as she took it back.
"Very classy. Pretty damn good, too," she laughed sedately. "Mojave weed. Heh."
Minutes passed as they traded the joint back and forth, offering it to Boone and Veronica even after they both turned it down. Dust trailed behind the group like clouds floating across the broken earth.
"So, where to, anyway?" Cass asked, eyes glossy.
Topping the rise ahead of her, Angel stopped to survey the land ahead of them. I-15 stretched out for miles, broken up by building-sized craters and dead cars. The skyline of Vegas lay behind it as if hoping to somehow prop up the dismal scene.
A smirk passed over her, and then an idea. The others joined her on the rise-
"Let's go find your caravan."