The team seated themselves in the briefing room, large strategic map of the Mojave region projected on the wall, with Commander Boone standing behind a podium. The large room felt even bigger than usual, as their five-man team was the only presence apart from their commanding officer. Boone looked up from the podium to address them.

"You are being sent to the southeastern border region, beyond the border outpost." He indicated the location of what the NCR had called the Mojave Outpost, their gateway to the region. With the rise of the Mojave Confederation, the outpost still served as a gateway, albeit now reversed, the way out to the world from the Mojave rather than in. "With the warming relations between the Mojave and NCR, trade caravans have begun running between the two nations. However we've received reports from the caravans that they are coming under raider attack along the Long 15, your unit is being deployed to deal with the situation as best you can. Scout the highway, do what you can to investigate the attacks and see if this is just abnormal raider activity, or if this is more organized than just a bunch of gangs all deciding to attack at the same time."

Tony raised a hand. "Is there any other intelligence regarding the attacks? It's not much to go on."

Boone shook his head. "Unfortunately not. There are some indications that this could be more organized activity than normal, strategic trends that indicate the possibility of higher planning. However it is equally likely that these are simply opportunistic raids targeting the new traffic through the area, which had died off after the war."

This time Five Card raised a hand. "Not to sound dismissive of people getting hurt out there, but isn't this an internal security problem for the caravans to worry about? Besides aren't Securitrons better suited to securing the road, they move faster, don't get tired, and so on."

"You're not there to provide security, you're there to investigate." Boone pointed out. "Robots are useful but not for much more than shooting things or seeing he obvious. I need you to investigate the root cause of these attacks, not just put down any raider that you see from the road. But yes we are planning a peacekeeping deployment to the area. As for the why, establishing good trade with the NCR is vital to the Mojave's economy. Without tourism and the trade of goods across the border, the economic situation will deteriorate, and good relations may break down. Keeping that road clear is critical to national defense and the livelihood of the people. The order for this mission comes from the very top, I'm trusting you with it because of your previous successes. Do not disappoint me."

Chase nodded. "We'll see what there is to see. Will there be any other support on this mission? And what is the NCR doing, if anything?"

"Some other investigators are being sent, but right now M-SOC is strung out in too many operations to offer further support. You don't need to crush this entire movement singlehanded, just find us enough information to find a weak spot to exploit. If there is nothing else, dismissed."

The team stood and saluted, filing out of the briefing room and down to the armory to grab their gear and prepare for the mission ahead. Despite the increasing uniformity of equipment with the guns pouring from Vault 34 in respectable quantities, M-SOC retained its diversity of equipment and firearms. Their gear was meant to be difficult to identify, armor hidden or obscured under clothing, different firearms, they weren't intended to be easily recognizable. And in spite of any reasonable argument, Chase would never willingly part with his Kalashnikov after everything it had been through with him. The weapon was an extension of his own body and he felt far more comfortable with it than any other weapon. Mechanics and ballistics couldn't replace a familiarity like that.

Soon enough they were out on the road, marching south. Five Card grumbling as he lugged his light machinegun. "Why do we have to walk? You'd think the military could spring for a truck to carry us to the outpost at least."

Tony chuckled. "Not enough stamina big man? Besides, way I hear it the logistics are thin enough with importing gear from Big MT and I've heard rumor that command is planning on some big expedition soon. I'm sure they have other things to worry about rather than carting your big ass across the Mojave so you don't have to walk."

"I'm only concerned with the speed of our arrival!" Five Card protested. "I can understand your concerns though, this weapon is far too large and impressive for someone like you, I doubt you could handle it."

Chase smirked, he had to admit though that the gunner was the largest out of them all, one huge slab of muscle and carried the large firearm like it weighed a fraction of its true weight. "I admit, it's size is impressive." Chase added with his usual flatly sincere voice. "But raw power isn't worth much if you end up passing out and collapsing before you're able to do get the job done."

"I can carry this weapon for… oh very funny." Five Card said with a glower. "Aren't you just so clever, little man."

Chase smirked again before his face fell back to its usual unemotional mask. "I know you well enough Five, you've got this."

"As for the mission at hand." The doctor began. "Any thoughts on what we might see out there? No raiders for an extended period and then suddenly caravans are getting hit all over the place? It could be random but at the same time…"

"Hiring raiders as thugs would hardly be an original tactic." Tony pointed out. "Legion loved to operate like that, hire some idiots with guns to throw themselves at a problem, soften things up. NCR could also be behind it, either group could stand to gain from disrupting trade, in different ways. Or it could be a new minor player, somebody bringing the raider gangs together to coordinate bigger scores, no way to tell until we get out there and get some actual info. Maybe interrogate someone or find evidence on a body. No way to tell what's going on until we get into the middle of it." Tony sighed, looking off into the distance, like he was trying to see across the horizon.

Chase looked up, seeing the Mojave Outpost looming ahead of them. "First off we talk to the caravaners at the outpost." He instructed, the team climbing the hill towards the big statues. "After that we head out, see if we can't capture one of these raiders. If not we search the corpses to try to find something. Failing that, we find more raiders. Sound like a plan?"

XXXXX

Alaric was smiling. This was, thankfully, not one of the smiles that preceded the fall of empires, rather this was just the honest, happy smile of someone who had finally seen something go right. Much celebration had sounded across the Mojave when it was announced that Hoover dam was fully operational once again, lights across the Confederation were burning bright and one of the cornerstones of the national economy had been restored. He had been smiling as he talked with McKinley again, who had assured him that the brahmin drive was on the way to the border right now, under military escort. Alaric had then shown how gracious he was, or at least wanted to be seen as, by immediately offering very friendly prices for Hoover's power. Certainly the Mojave stood to profit much, but he didn't resort to gouging the NCR like he could have.

That done, and with profit already rolling in, he had begun to turn his attention to other matters in the region. Hoover was indeed operational, however it could be further improved. One problem with it was that they were currently dependent on Knights and Scribes of the Brotherhood keeping it running. Training a team of civilians to operate the facility would take time, time that the Brotherhood could be using to do something else, so he had decided to kill two birds with one stone, as it were.

The Divide. Thinking of that place conjured up difficult memories for Alaric. It had been a harrowing experience, undertaken just before the battle at Hoover Dam. He had walked into that hellish place seeking answers, and when he walked out again he wasn't sure he'd found any, or to what questions. He had not found the peace of mind he had hoped for, but he did gain certainty, clarity of purpose, and put some old ghosts to rest.

He'd done a lot of damage as he walked through that blighted hellscape, though it was still a very dangerous place to venture. But the technology there was more than worth the risk. Not only could a strong presence in The Divide give him another strongpoint to defend against a possible NCR incursion, but the Eyebot production facilities there would be invaluable. The applications for the utilitarian robots were incredible and varied, medicine, repair, direct combat, long range scouting. The utility variants could massively reduce the manpower needed to keep Hoover operating, and an army of hovering robots patrolling the borders could secure the long stretches of desert better than any organic, and faster than any other robots they had.

Of course they would need a powerful strike force to even establish a foothold in that hellish domain. There were still some Marked Men in the area he presumed, and the Tunnelers and Deathclaws would inflict horrors on regular soldiers. Thankfully he had the ear of the lady in command of just one such strike force. He gave her a call.

"So, you're finally going through with it?" Veronica asked after he outlined his basic plan.

"We've talked about it since before the schism, now we're in a position to make it happen. The Divide, we secure that, and we're sitting pretty for a nice long time."

She sighed. "It won't be easy, if what you said is any indication. Still, the ability to build those robots en masse would be amazing, not to mention just the sheer amount of useful supplies laying around in armories and bunkers could do wonders for quickly arming both our groups. I assume that we're getting a nice cut of the spoils?"

Alaric chuckled. "Are you a lady knight or a pirate queen?" He asked playfully. "Yes, you'll get plenty of shiny toys for your people to enjoy. Not to mention having even a few nukes would be all the deterrent we need to keep anybody with two brain cells to rub together at arm's reach."

"True." She admitted. "Though don't be too eager to use them. It's not like we could replace the damn things, and I don't want to have any part in burning the world again. I'll start getting a strike group together."

"Good, good. Your people will have to be the tip of the spear. The ground there is too broken up for Securitrons, so I'll be sending regular Army and the scorpions, as many as can be spared from defensive positions. You need to get the door open, we'll move in and secure the flanks. I'll be heading out myself, I'm the only person who's walked that road and lived, that we know of at least, but I won't presume to command your troops. You'll have to put one of your own in charge, somebody who's not afraid of charging headlong into hell on earth."

"You know, I think I know just the man." Veronica said thoughtfully.

XXXXX

The productive, respectful silence of Vault 3 was broken as a door hissed open, a large man marching purposefully out of a door, paper documentation of his orders clutched in one hand. "SQUIRE!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs, a teenaged member of the Brotherhood running to catch up with him. "SQUIRE! Oh, there you are. Squire, fetch me my armor and weapons!" the big man bellowed in a voice that belied a fierce and terrible joy.

"Yes, at once Knight Kruse!" The lad panted, half out of breath. "What is going on?"

Kruse threw his head back and laughed, waving the crumpled deployment papers in his hand like the hilt of a sword. "The time has come!" He declared triumphantly. "I sally forth at last at the head of a column of noble knights! Swords flashing, breastplates gleaming!"

"Sir?" the squire asked nervously.

"We are going on an adventure!" Kruse said dramatically, marching off towards the armory, his squire jogging to keep up with his energetic stride, everyone else in the hall watching in silent, vaguely terrified awe.

XXXXX

As the Mojave outpost shrank into the distance behind them, Chase thought over what little they had learned from the caravan drivers there. They hadn't known much about the raiding, whoever was behind it didn't seem to leave survivors, caravans just vanished into the desert and weren't seen again. Some made it through without a hint of trouble, others were simply gone and only sometimes found as a picked over wreck, and the caravaners who discovered those sites didn't stick around to search for any useful clues. Still, at least they had a basic idea of what they were dealing with, conventional small arms rather than heavy weapons or energy based attacks, which was comforting at least. It increased the likelihood that whoever was behind this was just another band of raiders or cutthroats rather than someone with access to more advanced weapons. Though a lot of raider gangs weren't organized enough to hit so many caravans with such overwhelming force that there were never survivors. That would require numbers, and either scouts along the caravan routes or knowledge of where the caravans were going to be.

"Don't like it." Tony said, breaking the silence of the windswept road.

Chase looked over to him. "Hmm?"

"Too many unknowns." The man said, shaking his head. "And a whole lotta sand to try to find answers in. Are we supposed to just keep combing the desert until we happen across some skeevy looking bastards with goat skulls on their hats or something?"

Chase smirked. "We may not know where these bandits are, but we know what they're looking for." He pointed out, pulling up a map on his Pipboy. "Caravans to sack. So we figure where a likely target is, and then intervene. We've got the caravan routes, so we look for a place where someone might stage an ambush on one of them."

"And then we stage one of our own." Tony finished. "Smart. When were you planning on telling us this plan?"

Chase shrugged. "When it became relevant for you to know it." He admitted simply, he hadn't really thought about explaining the plan beyond what immediately needed doing. "Sorry, did I do wrong again?"

Tony shrugged. "I just don't like unknowns. Unknown variables get people killed, if you don't have proper recon, or know what you're going into, or your superiors don't have their heads on straight then people get killed."

Royce piped up. "More personal experience?"

Tony grunted. "My old leaders were a bunch of jerks who deserved what they got, they ran rough over their followers and didn't care if they got hurt or died."

Chase shot him a reproaching look. "I would care if you got hurt." He said quietly.

The hacker hung his head a bit. "Sorry, I didn't meant to imply that you wouldn't. I guess it's just being out here, walking the long roads like, looking for a soft target to shank, kinda takes me back to the bad old days."

The mutant nodded. "I'll try to be more forthcoming with my thoughts from now on, it was wrong of me to keep quiet about my plan." He looked out over the endless cracked earth and sand, broken by the odd bit of scrub. "This is all very alien for me, I'm not used to such wide open spaces. I'm used to tight places, broken glass underfoot, rubble above my head waiting to fall. But being on the hunt feels the same whether I'm here or there. It takes me back too." He pulled his collar up, wrapping a long cloth around his nose and mouth and tucking it into his dust coat. "Just remember, these bandits may think they're hunters out here, picking off stragglers in the desert, but we're the real predators here."

As he spoke, Chase looked up to the foothills in the distance, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, making him shift uncomfortably.

XXXXX

They walked on along the desert road, the Long 15 heading southeast, Chase looking on his Pipboy to check their location as they went. They had decided on a location, a low-lying series of hills and rocky cliffs which lay to the north of the roadway. It offered concealment and a height advantage, anyone trying to keep a lookout for caravans along the trade route would likely want to have control of it as it offered the best position from which to stage their raids, or at the very least scout them. Knowing that they could well be advancing into hostile territory, they moved cautiously in the evening sunlight, scanning the distant rocky crags with scopes and binoculars.

"Still nothing." Royce said after they had stopped for a fourth time to let him scan the horizon. "If there is anyone up there, they're laying low."

Chase grimaced. "So many possible routes, makes me miss the tunnels to be honest. The caravans meander all over the place trying to keep raiders from knowing where they're going. Unfortunately that means there are about a thousand places in this desert that these bandits could be hiding in wait. Still, have to start somewhere."

Royce nodded, scanning with his scope again, sweeping slowly and steadily over the terrain. "Yeah, big wide open patch of nothing. Talk about a needle in a… got something."

Chase instantly snapped around and brought his binoculars up, scanning.

"About a kilometer west-northwest, along that smaller side road, by the dead tree. You see it?"

Chase shifted his view carefully. "Yes, I think, reflection off of something. Let's check it out, advance quick and low."

They moved with the speed and precision drilled into them in the ruins surrounding New Vegas, advancing two-by-two with Royce sweeping the horizon with his scope for signs of movement, each two man team stopping to provide overwatch as the next moved up, then advancing as the new forward group covered them. It was tense and not terribly fast, cover to cover across hundreds of meters of exposed terrain, but no strobes of gunfire lit the evening as they advanced, until eventually they reached the source of the flashing light they had seen before. They clustered around, looking at the dead man on the ground, the lens of a scuffed wristwatch catching the light as it filtered between breaks in the clouds, making it reflect and flash across the sand.

"Five dead raiders by the look of it." Five Card pointed out. They seemed to fit the general parameters, heavily worn leather clothing with makeshift bits of armor, charms and fetishes of bone and feather and other odd trinkets hanging from their persons.

Sawbones looked the bodies over with a clinical eye. "Gunshot wounds, all of them. These three in the chest." He nodded to three that lay in a close group. "Those in the back." He gestured to two further away. "Casualties from attacking a caravan?"

Chase shook his head, reaching down to pick up a fallen pistol. "No, the winners would have looted the bodies. And there aren't any bodies of caravan drivers or guards, no dead brahmin, the casualties were one sided. It's possible they were just unlucky but five or more raiders could take down at least one caravan guard."

Five Card shrugged. "Could have been picked clean then, or somebody came back for them, how long they been dead anyway?"

Sawbones set his backpack down, rummaging through his supplies. "Just a moment, I'll have to run a few tests."

Chase sighed, squatting down on his haunches next to one of the bodies, picking up the limp arm. Before anyone could object he sunk his teeth into the warm flesh, tearing off a chunk as he heard various cries of alarm and disgust. He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments before swallowing. "Three days, give or take a couple hours." He stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

Royce's face was screwed into a squeamish knot. "Was that… entirely necessary?"

Chase shrugged. "Got the answer faster, and I wanted a snack, win-win."

Sawbones was putting his unused tools back into his bag. "Well, three days then. Does seem a long time to be left here, and you're right about the guns being abandoned to rust. Doesn't sound like raiders, or caravaners."

Tony was rifling through the dead men's pockets. "No Legion coin." He noted. "Caps and NCR Dollars, but that doesn't prove anything, if Legion hired them they'd be stupid to pay them their own coins, plenty of caps to go around. Plenty of NCR currency but that's just as likely taken from dead victims, we're on their border." He started looking over the weapons. "Guns, standard fare, prewar civilian firearms, and postwar junk." He picked up a rifle that looked to be made of pipe fittings and bicycle parts. "Functional but low end, scrap built or pulled out of old ruins."

"And what does that tell you?" Chase asked curiously.

"That these guys were likely independent. If the Legion or the NCR hired them as part of some master plan you'd think they'd toss in a few guns to help them get the job done. Instead they've got zip guns, pipe rifles, two century old police sidearms and beat up hunting rifles. Still kill you just fine but they certainly weren't supplied by anybody to do this job."

Five Card grunted. "Legion would probably have given them some better guns. Old lever actions or SMGs at least, these pieces of crap look like they're about to fall apart."

Chase gave him a look. "That's an astute observation." He noted.

The big man shrugged. "I know my guns, Tony's right these are all old civilian pistols and hunting rifles, or bottom of the barrel garage guns, if the Legion hired these guys they obviously didn't care about whether they'd actually succeed. I can see NCR hiring people like that but if the Legion hired these guys, they've really lowered their standards for hired mooks.

"So." Chase said, looking around. "Either opportunistic bandits or hired by a third party altogether." He tapped his fingers on the butt of his rifle. "Then who killed them if it wasn't self-defense? Rival raider group maybe, looking to edge out competition?"

Tony walked through the middle of the scene, arms outstretched as if trying to feel something in the air. "These three died quickly." He waved his hand over the cluster of corpses. "Their weapons are still slung on their slings, or in their holsters. They didn't have a chance to fight back." He walked slowly over to the two dead out in the open, picking up a revolver from one of them. "These fought." He stated, opening the cylinder to let empty cases fall out. "Emptied their guns then turned to run, gunned down from behind." He gestured between the dead, tracing vectors in the air. "All these shots came from the same direction, there." He pointed to the rocky foothill nearby.

Tony shone his flashlight up at the rocks as they came, pointing to the discolored scrapes and craters where bullets had chipped the rock. "Ambushed, from in cover and with a height advantage." He stated, shining the light's beam across the ground until he saw a yellowish twinkle, the group stopping to stand around a small field of glittering, spent brass casings. Tony crouched down, looking at the dispersion. "Automatic weapon, one shooter, lots of spent brass. Probably a light machinegun or an assault rifle with a drum magazine. Fight that short there wouldn't have been time to reload. He stood up, holding up his own rifle and aiming down at the field below, nodding to himself.

"Sneak down from the foothills, bunch of raiders standing in the open, bun three down with one burst, take cover from the return shots and then pick off the stragglers as they try to run. Have to be a pretty good shot at this distance."

Chase raised a brow. "Very impressive." He said simply, and honestly. "Unfortunately we still don't know who did this." He started to take a step, Tony slapping a hand on his chest to stop him. "What?" He asked quickly.

Tony reached down, gently guiding Chase's foot away from a boot print pressed into some stiff earth. "Our shooter left a mark." He said simply, examining it and gently tracing the footprint with his finger. "Hard soled, textured grip, NCR military boots have smooth leather soles. This looks like prewar gear, combat armor, shooter was a bit on the heavy side with the depth here."

Royce whistled. "Nicely done Sherlock." He said with a grin. "So one guy with really nice gear kills five raiders in the desert. And that one guy is not using NCR gear." He summed up as he examined a handful of spent shell casings. "And the raiders might have been paid off with NCR cash to take the job, and the Legion would have actually hired someone competent to do the job if they were behind this." He nodded to himself. "So then if the NCR's the most likely suspect, why is all this brass stamped as NCR military issue?"

Chase took a casing, examining it with a nod, seeing the lettering proudly declaring that it had been produced in the NCR's official national armory in California. "Maybe… we're dealing with someone else entirely here, could be some kind of internal issue with the NCR, not government sanctioned. You'd think that the government would send Rangers to deal with a problem like this, not hire someone else. And they could have just denied trade visas if they wanted to cut caravans off. I don't think we're dealing with the government at all in this equation. Still, there's enough evidence here I think to lean on that ambassador, maybe he'll cough up some interesting."

They poked around the site for another hour, Chase eventually dragging one of the bodies a respectful distance away to feed while the others ate cold ration tins before they set out. The sun was setting and nobody wanted to be out on the wasteland at night with heavy raider activity, so they were going to a nearby town called Halloran Springs to lay over. Besides, they might be able to get some more information while they were in town.

Chase felt strangely off as he walked towards town, the lights already visible across the flat desert plains. He should be feeling good, they had made serious progress in their investigation, and he'd been able to eat his fill. Still, the hairs on his neck were raising again, and he sometimes felt the urge to look over his shoulder. It was probably just nerves, superstition after finding another five person group killed from ambush, they were out of the danger zone, any attack would have happened hours ago, or while they ate. Still, he couldn't help but feel that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder again, back towards the darkened hills.

A mile away, a figure lay flush with the rocky foothills, obscured by shrubs and long shadows. A large rifle was aimed southward, the scope atop the weapon tuned up to its highest magnification. The figure hadn't dared use it earlier during the day, the flash of reflected light could have instantly given the shooter's position away. The weapon's crosshairs traced over the group walking away towards town, lingering for a long moment on each in turn. As Chase looked over his shoulder, squinting futilely into the darkness, the crosshair centered on his face, a gloved finger thoughtfully caressing the trigger guard before falling away.

XXXXX

Halloran Springs was another tiny town in the same mold as Palm Gardens had been, little more than an overnight rest stop for caravan drives heading up the road. Though this one was considerably more lively and busy looking, considering that the Long 15 was a much more prosperous trading route. Chase momentarily found himself thinking of Lila, he hoped that with the trade route between the Mojave and Big MT, as well as Bullhead, her family business was doing better now. In any case this place was more or less the same, brahmin pens, a tent city of caravaners who chose to sleep under the stars, a hotel, saloon, general store. The squad had, perhaps inevitably, found their way to the saloon and were engaging in some modest drinking as they ate. Chase, having stuffed himself earlier that night, was quietly sipping on a light beer as he listened to the others bantering.

"Oh come on," Tony was saying to Five Card. "You don't like wine? What kind of uncultured barbarian are you?"

"If it don't burn, it don't count." Five Card insisted. "If I wanted to drink fruit juice I'd do that, if I'm getting alcohol I want something that'll hit me, not sit around discussing how the flavor drifts up my nose or some crap like that."

Tony shook his head with a heavy sigh. "You really have no appreciation for the finer things in life do you? Variety is good, sometimes you want something smooth and refined, sometimes you need a brick to the gut, you need to have varied tastes my friend."

The big man shook his head. "Nah, that's just wasting your time! Fruity little things and that flavored soda water Chase's sippin'." He gestured with his head.

Chase frowned. "This is like what I'm used to in Bullhead, just enough alcohol to kill the bacteria in the water, our drinks are a lot stronger than what I'm used to. So unless you really want to see drunker than I've ever been in my life before a potentially dangerous mission, I'm sticking to what I know."

Tony nodded. "Thank you Chase, see? Cultural standards, variety, understanding one's limits, these are all good things you could stand to learn more about, my enormous friend."

Five Card shrugged his broad shoulders. "I guess I like my drinks like I like my women." He said with a grin.

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "Cheap, unrefined and leaving you raw and irritated?"

"No." the heavy gunner said with a glare. "Strong, honest and to the point. If I'm drinking I want something that'll come in heavy with the first shot, if I'm dancing I want my heart thumping on the first song, if I'm screwing I don't want a three week, fifteen step leadup."

Royce gave him a disapproving glance. "That's rather crude, Fives. A little patience can make all three of those things a lot better than just throwing yourself into the middle of it. Besides, if you're that… forward, how many partners do you think you've driven away by making them uncomfortable."

Five Card swept his hands out to the side impressively. "Please, I've slept with more women than I can count."

Tony again nodded sagely. "So more than five then?" He asked, ducking as Five Card tried to cuff him on the ear.

Royce shook his head sadly. "You know it's not all a numbers game, I've had three girlfriends, always too things really slow and easy, and they meant a lot more to me than any number of one night hookups."

"Yes well, you're a hopeless romantic." Five Card said with a wave of his hand. "Not that I'm opposed to romance as a concept, but I gotta keep moving, I've yet to be in a relationship that didn't get old eventually. Get together, have your fun, move on before it turns sour, worked for me so far."

Tony shrugged. "If you go into it from moment one with the prediction it will inevitably end, then it's no wonder why they always 'turn sour'. I've had whirlwind romances that lasted the span of a single evening. Enjoy the time you have with someone, without looking ahead at how it won't last forever. Or more than two hours, in your case."

Chase leaned over to Sawbones, who was sitting next to him. "This is fascinating." He whispered.

The doctor nodded, having been kicked back and watching with rapt attention the whole time. "I could write a documentary when this is all over, the mating habits of the untamed commando in its natural habitat."

"You feel like weighing in?" The mutant asked curiously.

Sawbones chuckled. "Oh no, I'm quite comfortable with myself, and feel absolutely no need to get in on their little competition."

Chase nodded, he didn't feel the need to prove anything either, but he had come to quite enjoy getting in on the banter with his squadmates, more than he'd expected. And given that this was a social setting he thought he could at least chime in. "Don't feel bad Fives, I've lost count as well, so long as you're satisfied then numbers really don't matter."

The big man crossed his arms. "Thirteen." He declared, getting quizzical looks. "Thirteen, that's when I lost count. I was at a party, drinks were had, and I got with someone, several someone's according to a friend, but I didn't really remember it, so I wasn't sure. So after that it didn't seem to matter anymore. Besides, like you said, it's not a competition so long as everybody's happy with what they've got. Just don't try to tell me I'm bad because I know what I like." He glared at Tony.

"I admire your certainty, if nothing else." The other man admitted.

"One hundred." Chase said calmly.

"We each have our own beliefs of… excuse me?" Fives asked, blinking as he registered what was said.

"One hundred," Chase repeated. "I stopped counting after one hundred times. Seemed a little pointless by then."

The squad looked at him for a long, silent moment. "Bullshit." Fives finally said.

He held up his hands defensively. "I worked in a brothel, hit triple digits inside the first year of working there, and I was there for about five years or so. Seemed pointless to count the days and the time eventually, it all kinds blurs together. But if we're discussing simple number of instances. Mind you none of that could be considered a relationship, even a short one."

"You slept with a hundred women… in one year." Five Card said in a slightly hollow voice, staring non-comprehendingly.

Chase shook his head. "No, a lot of my customers were men, I'm not sure the exact statistics. Again, didn't really care."

"Is that normal for your people?" Sawbones asked, as if making mental notes. "The men I mean, usually it's a small fraction of the population that are attracted like that."

Chase shrugged. "No, I think Stalkers and humans are about the same there. I'm equal opportunity I suppose, but most aren't. But pregnancy is very, very scary for us, not just bad breeding, but not enough space or food. Everyone has needs and the only way for a guy to be absolutely sure he isn't going to accidently impregnate a woman is to not sleep with one in the first place. So even if they're not strictly into that a lot were willing to accept me as the safe alternative. Besides I'm not a massive slab of manliness like Fives here, so as long as I kept my face out of sight and mouth shut they could squint their eyes and pretend."

The medic nodded thoughtfully. "Standard Bullhead practice it sounds like, ruthless pragmatism married to incredibly low standards."

Chase chuckled. "About right, still I was glad for the business. But don't any of you envy me. I don't regret what I used to do, I actually quite liked it, but if I could have traded a few hundred enjoyable, but ultimately meaningless partners for just a few ones who meant something, I'd do it. I guess that considering my day job I always found the idea of pursuing a romantic relationship unappealing. Too much like work I suppose." His eyes flicked over to Royce. "I'm just saying, I'm not the one with the enviable love life."

Tony sighed. "Well I'm off to bed, before this conversation degrades further with more alcohol. Fives, nice chatting. Fives?"

The gunner jumped a little, having been staring glassily off into space. "What? I wasn't. Yes?"

The table erupted in laughter.

XXXXX

The next day began with an interesting development. The squad had been getting breakfast when an encrypted radio transmission had come in over Chase's Pipboy, the identification code attached identifying it as coming directly from command. He excused himself from the table, going to the room they had rented out and locking the door before answering.

"Chase here, receiving."

The voice over the radio was unmistakable as Commander Boone. "Chase, we have a new development. The report you sent last night, detailing the battle site you encountered has shaken something loose." Chase listened with rapt attention, an actual lead? "Alaric confronted Ambassador McKinley with it and the ambassador revealed the truth behind the incident."

"Just like that?" Chase asked, surprised that anyone could get information like that so quickly.

When Boone spoke again, there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Alaric… implied that without knowing the true cause, he would have to assume that some form of secret NCR military operation was being undertaken on the Mojave's border, and that such an action would warrant the intervention of a military peacekeeping force to ensure no further disruptions."

Chase smirked. A bluff, surely. The military was stretched thin, and sending a large force into the border territory would almost certainly escalate tensions, which was exactly the kind of thing an ambassador would want to avoid. "So to avoid an international incident he gave the real truth?" He asked.

"Precisely. The NCR is employing a private contractor to investigate the border situation, what you stumbled across was his handiwork."

Chase was surprised at that revelation. "A mercenary? Why not one of their own people? Surely the Rangers would be suited to an investigation like this."

"Unknown. However in the interests of restoring stable trade and fostering international relations, the ambassador has agreed to make this into a joint venture, if an unofficial one from his end. The mercenary has been contacted and will be rendezvousing with you in Halloran Springs, you will then cooperate in your investigation. It's in both our national interests to see this issue brought to a swift end, so hopefully there will not be any conflict of interest."

"Understood sir. Do we know anything about this contractor?" Chase asked.

"Very little, answers to the handle of 'Bishop', wears a distinctive masked helmet. Beyond that we have no records of the individual at all. The Ambassador only assured us that this Bishop is a professional with an excellent record and will cooperate fully with the mission. Technically this is a joint mission, but I want it understood that we are the ones in charge here, clear?"

"Perfectly, we will be ready to move out as soon as this Bishop arrives." After that he had told the team what they were looking forward to, the squad quickly finishing their food and gearing up for immediate deployment. Ten minutes later they were standing outside the saloon, looking down the road in both directions, waiting for a glimpse of this mysterious mercenary they were to contend with. Occasional groups passed them, sometimes individuals heading around town or down the road, but no hint of what could be called a 'distinctive mask', whatever that was supposed to mean.

They had gotten excited for a moment when someone with a facewrap and pot helmet had walked by, but he just gave them an annoyed glance on his way into the saloon after they tried to ask if he was Bishop or not.

It had been a few hours eventually and they were sitting on some wooden chairs out front of the saloon, Tony and Sawbones playing checkers while they waited.

"Distinctive helmets and codenames." Five Card grumbled. "All very cloak and dagger, just say hello like a regular person for crying out loud."

Tony shrugged. "People value their secrets, politicians doubly so. If there's something dirty going on inside the NCR it's probable that they want it handled quietly, without the obvious legal involvement of the Rangers."

Royce nodded, "That sounds about… hey, hey guys?" He tapped Chase's shoulder insistently, pointing out into the desert. "What do you make of that?"

They stood, looking out at the approaching figure. It walked out of a dust devil as it came, grey-black armor the color of ashes and charcoal from head to foot, the weapon in its hands large and intimidating even at this distance. As the figure came closer Chase started examining some details of the stranger. "Advanced combat armor mark two." He said under his breath to Tony. "Would that leave the kind of footprints you saw?"

Tony nodded. "Certainly would, and the weight would account for the depth."

"Holy fuck." Five Card breathed in what sounded like genuine shock. "Do you see that weapon?"

Chase looked closer now that the armored figure was nearing. The big gun looked like someone had taken a light machinegun and fused it with a sniper rifle. A large muzzle break leading into a heavy frame with a high quality scope on top, fed by a big ammo can like what Fives himself used. "What is it?" He asked, not having seen anything like it before.

"That's a goddamn Bozar." Fives said in what sounded like almost religious awe. "Prewar engineering at its finest, accuracy of a high end sniper rifle and the rate of fire of a light machinegun. That thing is almost, almost as good as a minigun with a fraction of the weight, Bozars are incredibly rare I don't even want to speculate on how he got one."

As the armored warrior walked onto the dusty street before them, Chase finally got a full look at him. The Bozar was indeed spectacular but hardly the only weapon he carried, a boxy machine pistol was in a large leather holster on the right hip, the butt of another pistol emerging from a holster across the left flank in a position to be cross-drawn by the right hand. Below it on the left hip was the handle of a large knife unlike any he'd seen, with a curved blade by the shape of the scabbard. Finally, he saw what exactly the 'distinctive mask' was. The suit of prewar combat armor was in amazing condition, and obviously personalized to some degree. The most obvious was the helmet, instead of the visor over an otherwise open face, this helmet was fully enclosed. The front was sculpted and painted into a stylized skull, with the wearer's eyes hidden behind sunken matte black lenses that made it look like the skull's eye sockets were empty pools of blackness. It looked slightly odd just standing around, but in the heat of combat it might make an enemy freeze or panic for a crucial moment.

The figure finally drew to a halt before them, looking over each of them in turn.

"Bishop?" Chase asked. The figure's black, soulless eyes finally rested on him as he spoke, glaring in silent judgement for a few long moments.

"So, you're the ones I'm supposed to play nice with." The mercenary said, voice distorted and twisted through the helmet's speakers, which evidently included a voice-changer system, rendering the wearer's voice in an eerie, inhuman growl.

"Mojave Special Operations Commandoes." Chase confirmed with a nod. "We are to investigate"

"I know why you are here." Bishop interrupted. "I've been watching you for two days, waiting to see if you'd stir up any more raiders by marching around the place."

Chase frowned. "You treated us like bait." He said simply.

"I had no reason to interact with you. You might have stirred up something useful and if you had, I would have fought on your side even if you didn't know it. But the boss says to be nice so I'll play ball. If M-SOC is half as good as New Vegas Radio claims you are to make people feel good, then you should be alright. Just follow my lead and we'll get out of this with a minimum of bullet holes.

"This is a military operation, you're a civilian." Chase said in the utterly unemotional, even tones he used when negotiating with a picky employer. "You may act as a guide, but do not allow yourself to forget who is in command." He added a hint of sternness to the last statement.

The tension grew thick in the air as he stared down the mercenary, his face just as much an emotionless mask as the death's head Bishop wore. Finally the mercenary shrugged.

"Fine, I get paid regardless of how this turns out. If you must satisfy your pride by waving your authority in my face then go ahead, makes no difference to me. But as you pointed out, I'm civilian, not military, I don't owe you any respect or polite behavior like your grunts." The skull mask jerked towards the others.

"Good." Chase said seamlessly with a little nod. "I much prefer honesty to false politeness."

The helmet tilted slightly, almost as if amused. "Hmm, perhaps I was mistaken, you may not be completely without tact after all." The voice carried a hint of laughter, which sounded rather disturbing through the electronic snarl of the voice-masker. "I hope you continue to subvert my low expectations in the future."

The death's head mask leaned in slightly, locking eyes with him again. "But Chase…" Bishop said in a voice that danced just outside recognition, one black gloved hand reaching up to undo the seals and remove the helmet. Short, crimson locks fell to frame a grinning face, emerald eyes twinkling with mischief and malice. "You had better not walk out on me again."

Chase's emotionless mask shattered in an expression of shocked surprise, taking a small step backwards. "D-Diana!" He exclaimed as recognition clicked. The mercenary he had met in Gomorrah, weeks ago. His stomach tensed up on reflex.

Her smile carried a certain vicious satisfaction as she stood up straight and tall. "Diana Bishop." She introduced herself, resting the butt of the enormous Bozar on one slightly cocked hip. "At your service."

===Author's Note===

I've been looking forward to this reveal for many a chapter now. She wasn't just a meaningless one night stand! This is one of the more awkward ways to start a working relationship.

Reviews, as always, welcomed.