Arcade's heart might've stopped.

Vulpes Inculta - this was the last person he expected to see, standing on the platform of the Lucky 38 as casual as ever, holding Sandra's Pip-Boy in his hand. Arcade's knuckles cracked when he balled his hands into fists, his breath slowing, his mind racing. An evil threat to New Vegas, right in front of him, holding his friend's Pip-Boy and looking like he had no idea that he was standing on the doorstep of his enemies...

"What..." Arcade started, unable to find the right words.

"Move aside," Vulpes said, pushing the door open and letting himself in. Raul closed the door behind him.

Arcade didn't know if he was furious, worried, confused, or some overwhelming combination of the three. He gawked at Vulpes as if ogling an alien species.

"Close your mouth, doctor," Vulpes said calmly. "You'll catch flies."

"Oh... right. Excuse me for being surprised. I guess I should've been expecting the Legion's top spy to drop by for tea," Arcade snarked in response. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was feeling considerate," Vulpes said, tossing the Pip-Boy to Arcade. "Thought you might want this back."

"Why do you have this?" Arcade asked, holding up the Pip-Boy. "Where's Sandra?"

"Ah... yes. The obvious question. I gave you the Pip-Boy for free, but if you want information, then I'll want something in return," Vulpes replied.

"Right. Sure. I don't know what you want and I don't care," Arcade shot back. "We don't help Legionaries. Period."

"Really... then I'll be sure to let your courier know her friends couldn't rescue her. I'll have to tell her that her friends left her out to dry... because their minds were clouded by pride," Vulpes sneered.

Arcade's teeth ground together.

Raul reclaimed his seat on the platform's side, watching both of them silently.

"If you agree to do me this favor, then you'll be helping yourselves as well," Vulpes added. "I was going to propose that you assist the Legion in liberating some captured slaves from a town of slavers. That's where your courier is right now. I would think that you'd run off to rescue her with or without me in the equation... however, if I give you coordinates to this place, I'd like some assurance that my Legionaries won't get caught in your crossfire."

"That can't be the only reason you came here," Arcade said at once. "If you wanted manpower, you'd just run back to your camp and drag more Legionaries off to fight this battle."

"I've been losing Legionaries to pointless and avoidable situations," Vulpes replied. "Lord Caesar was the only person who knew how to use his Auto-Doc, and now, we have no way of healing our sick. We've lost people to disease, infection, war, and now, this band of slavers. I'm not willing to throw more of my people into the line of fire. Not when our numbers are dwindling already."

"So it's better to waste our lives, is that it?" Arcade growled. "Throw us under the bus so you can preserve your precious Legion?"

"Yes," Vulpes snarled. "Besides... I wouldn't think that you'd find it a waste of time, doctor. Your friend's life hangs in the balance. Is that really a waste of your time and effort? Saving your poor courier?"

"You're a filthy scoundrel..." Arcade fumed.

"You're a filthy profligate," Vulpes retorted. "Yet, here we are, discussing business like proper gentlemen. You want your Mojave purged of slavers, do you not?"

"You're a slaver," Arcade snapped. "You and your whole Legion are slavers."

Vulpes crossed his arms and glared at Arcade. "I give purpose to people who have none. That is not slavery. That is liberation."

"You're unbelievable!" Arcade exclaimed. "Slave collars, raping and pillaging towns, killing everything in your path - and you still insist that you have the moral high ground? You're a monster."

"I didn't come here to fight you, doctor, but if you insist... I could lash your body to the top of this eyesore of a tower. Give the tourists a real attraction to see."

"Yeah? Try me."

They both reached for their weapons, Arcade grabbing the handle of his plasma defender and Vulpes coiling his fingers around the handle of his ripper. Raul leaped up and stood between both of them.

"You're both being stupid," Raul said.

"Excuse me?" Arcade scoffed. "How am I being stupid?"

"Because... you both have a common goal here," Raul replied. "You both want the Mojave to have less raiders and slavers. And we need to get Sandra out of there. Thing is... whether you like the Legion or not... right now, right this second, you have the same goal as them. We might need to take advantage of that."

"And, it might interest you to actually think clearly about this situation before casting aside my proposal," Vulpes said. "You don't have to throw your own lives into this battle. You have a unique set of manpower that no other faction in the Mojave possesses. You have soldiers that can fight in battles and never die. Even when your soldiers get destroyed... no one dies. You have manpower without the added burden of losing your soldiers to the bloodshed of war."

Arcade went silent. It was true; they had some influence over Mr. House and his securitrons. If they used the securitrons, they'd be able to wipe out a town of slavers without possibly getting themselves killed in the process.

"You use your bots to win this battle... and neither of us will suffer any losses," Vulpes said. "That's my proposal."

"Well, that sounds downright agreeable," Arcade responded. "Which makes me think that you have some ulterior motive here."

"I don't," Vulpes told him. "Your bots, with their new operating system? Functioning at full capacity? Of course I want them fighting on my side. Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, but you're notorious for striking deals with settlements and betraying everyone you..." Arcade began. He paused, narrowing his eyes at Vulpes. "Hang on. How do you know about the MKII Operating System?"

"Because I'm the greatest of my Legion's frumentarii," Vulpes replied. "I'm a seeker of knowledge."

"No... you couldn't have gotten that information just from spy work. Nobody else knew about it. Nobody except for Sandra," Arcade said. "She wouldn't have told you..."

"You don't know her as well as you think, then," Vulpes told him. "And it hardly matters, in any case. Now... tell me, are you going to use your bots to exterminate the slavers? Do you want to know where she is, or not?"

Arcade and Raul met eyes. They stared at each other for several tense seconds.

"Yeah..." Arcade reluctantly said. "You've got a deal-"

Shhhk.

Arcade and Raul turned when they heard the sound of the elevator open. Boone and Niner were standing in its doorway. Niner was counting out the bottle caps in his hands, not seeming to care what was going on, but Boone's eyes shot a piercing look across the room, his glare burning into Vulpes. Immediately, Boone flipped the rifle off his back and took aim.

"Don't!"

Arcade stood in front of Vulpes like a human shield.

Boone gave the doctor a befuddled, furious look. "Move it or lose it, Arcade. I dunno who let the Legion dog in, but he's going the way of Old Yeller."

"You can't," Arcade said breathlessly. "I... I don't like it any more than you do, but... you can't kill him. Not now."

"Why the fuck not?!" Boone demanded. "What the fuck is he doing in here, anyway?!"

"Sandra was kidnapped by slavers," Arcade quickly explained. "Vulpes knows where she is. We can't kill him."

"I don't think you could kill me even if you tried," Vulpes mumbled. "Silly sniper."

Arcade looked over his shoulder, giving Vulpes a severe expression. "You. Hush."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." Boone swore. "You, Arcade? Of all people? You'd really protect that piece of shit?"

"Like I said... he knows where Sandra is," Arcade stated. "We can't kill him."

Arcade and Boone shared a long, intense standoff. Boone had his rifle aimed directly at Arcade's chest.

"You're forgetting that he tried to kill us," Boone snarled.

"I haven't forgotten anything," Arcade replied. "Priorities are what they are. Revenge isn't a priority."

"Okay... fine," Boone spat, lowering his rifle and stepping into the elevator. "You wanna go frolicking with the Legion, you can do it without me. I'm out. Good riddance."

The sniper enclosed himself in the elevator and rode up to the suite by himself, leaving Niner standing alone and confused, looking up from his bottle caps and trying to figure out what was going on.

Arcade released a cloud of breath. He turned to face Vulpes.

"North of Nellis," Vulpes said. "The slavers are called the Garrison Gang, and they reside in a place called Rubble Town. My Legion will attack from the east at dawn. Take your bots to the west, and we'll close them in. Take a route around Nellis to avoid their artillery, then follow the road from Kingsport. You'll recognize the town when you see it. It'll be the one smoldering in embers, smelling of freshly burnt flesh."

Arcade gave him a disgusted scowl.

Vulpes smirked.

"At the crack of dawn, doctor, and not a moment later," the fox said, marching towards the exit. "Don't be tardy to the party. Or else... amicum tuum et morieris."

Sandra's day in Rubble Town was absolute hell.

Throughout the course of the day - before Vulpes had reached the strip, when the frumentarius was making his way back to Vegas - Sandra was tasked with clearing out massive hunks of debris from the hallways and basements of a crumbling building. Fortunately, Dante and Ziggy were there to help her. Without them, she doubted she would have lasted long. The wound in her arm was burning with every movement, and her face still ached like hell. She, Ziggy, and Dante were hauling the chunks of concrete to a dumpster for hours. After a while, Sandra became so tired, she dropped one of them on her foot, and she didn't even bother trying to get it off, even though it felt to be crushing her toes.

One of the slavers spotted her. "Slacking, huh?" the slaver said, lifting her bat. "This is what we do to lazy bitches like you."

"Hang on," Dante intervened. "The concrete slab fell on her foot. She's not slacking. She's injured."

Dante lifted the concrete slab off of Sandra and carried it off.

"Thanks," Sandra said weakly.

"Don't thank me," Dante replied. "Get yourself together."

Sandra bent to examine her foot. When she did, she was knocked to the ground by a hard, blunt force nailing her in the back of the neck. The slaver woman hit her a second time with the bat, laughing and kicking Sandra in the stomach.

"I don't give a fuck if your foot hurts," the slaver said. "Get your worthless ass up and get back to wo-"

Just then, someone tackled the woman to the ground with the force of a cannonball.

Ziggy smashed the slaver woman onto the ground, clawing at her skin and tearing at her with his bare teeth. "NeVeEEER! StOp YoU!" he growled and hissed terribly as he continued to tear into the woman.

Pete darted up to the ghoul and activated his collar, making a burst of electricity explode around Ziggy's body. Sandra gasped, and Ziggy went limp.

Pete and his fellow slavers were getting ready to beat the ghoul to a pulp, but Sandra grabbed Ziggy and dragged him away. Apparently, the slavers didn't care enough about beating Ziggy to follow after them (many of them were too busy laughing at the slaver woman who had been attacked). Sandra gently laid Ziggy behind one of the broken buildings, placing a discarded pair of pants under his head as a pillow. She left him there, knowing she had to get back to work before the slavers would discipline her more. She'd go back to check on Ziggy later.

One day, Sandra thought. Vulpes gave them one day, and then, he said he'd come back with his invasion force. I can't believe I'm relying on the Legion... but they're the only chance I have of getting out of here. Hurry up and attack this place already, Vulpes. Even if you kill me in the process... it's better than this...

"Don't start thinking like that," Charon told her. "It's only been one day. You've got this. Keep moving. Keep moving, Sandra."

Sandra took in a deep breath and forced herself to continue on.

Once the rubble was cleared, Sandra expected the slavers to give them a break, but they didn't. Apparently, they were expected to work all day with no breaks, no food, and no water. Just when Sandra was about to sneak away to check on Ziggy, a slaver pulled her to the side and began dragging her towards the whorehouse. Sandra's stomach sank; the back-breaking labor was awful, but she much preferred it over being turned into a prostitute.

"Fuckin' perverts..." Charon grumbled in the back of her head. "If anyone tries anything, just play along. Then, when they let their guard down, bite their fuckin' dick off."

"Okay..." Sandra snickered.

Tired, disoriented, aching all over, and slowly losing a grip on her sense of reality, Sandra laughed and giggled softly under her breath as the slaver dragged her along, mumbling madly to herself and chuckling at Charon's ill-mannered jokes. The slaver gave her a strange look, then shoved her into the lobby of the whorehouse.

"Go find Sally," the slaver barked. "Stupid little brat is having a breakdown. Billy said that she might listen to you. Go calm her down. That's your job right now."

"Aye, I'll be on me way, then," Sandra said in a random Irish accent, giving the slaver a salute and a wink. "Whatchu' be wanting from me next? Ya' want me to cook you a supper of Shepherd's Pie? Serve ya' a pint o' Guinness? Wouldn't mind a drink myself."

"Just get your crazy ass in there and calm the little bitch down," the slaver snarled. "Don't get fresh with me, bitch. I'll beat your ass into oblivion."

"Oh, baby, ya' know what I like," Sandra cackled. "Kinky is as kinky does..."

The slaver's face twisted into a look of irritated bewilderment. After a moment of staring, the slaver shook his head and marched off, muttering under his breath as he did. "Fucking psycho bitch..."

Sandra wandered aimlessly through the whorehouse, smiling at the pink fluorescent lighting that seemed to be everywhere, as well as the sexy posters along the walls and the heart-shaped designs drawn over the wallpaper with magic marker. Disgusting as this place was, it actually felt far more welcoming than anywhere else in Rubble Town.

"Where'd you learn to speak with an Irish accent?" Charon asked.

"Moriarty... remember...?" Sandra mumbled in response. "Moriarty was Irish. I liked his accent... before I fucking killed him... haaahaha..."

"Oh, right. I remember," Charon replied. "You pushed him off that balcony in Megaton."

"Down goes the Irishman, falls to his death, way, hay, roll and go..." Sandra began to sing to herself. "The Irishman fell to his death on that bomb... timme rolickin' randy, dandy, oh... we're outward bound for the Mo-ja-ve, way, hay, roll and go... for soon we'll be fightin' our way out of here, timme rolickin randy, dandy, oh..."

"That's a good way to stay sane, I guess..." Charon sighed. "When I was a slave, I kept sane by constantly plotting how I'd kill each and every slaver around me when I had the chance.. but I guess screwing up the lyrics of Irish sea shanties works, too. Different strokes..."

"Charon was crazy and now I am too, way, hay, roll and go... killing the bad guys and still pulling through, timme rolickin' randy, dandy, oh..."

Sandra soon approached a spacious room, and when she did, she went silent. The room contained a makeup desk, a beautiful rug, and a heart shaped bed. Two hookers were sitting on the edge of the bed with Sally, trying to comfort her and failing. Sally sat in between them, sobbing into her hands and sniffling into her sleeves.

"What happened...?" Sandra asked.

"We were trying to put makeup on her, and she kept crying," one of the hookers replied. "The makeup won't stay on. She won't tell us what's wrong."

"Probably might have something to do with the fact that she's being forced to pleasure dirty men against her will," Charon grunted. "That might be what's wrong with her. Ever think of that? Tch. Stupid hussies."

"Um..." Sandra slowly approached them. One of the hookers moved, allowing Sandra to sit beside Sally.

"I d-don't... w-want... t-to..." Sally sputtered, clinging onto Sandra and burying her face in her chest. "I'm scared... I d-don't want to..."

"We all have to do it, hon," one of the hookers said. "You get used to it. It's really not that bad, sweetheart."

"Hey, sweety... if you want, we can go talk to Sport," the other hooker suggested.

"Wh-who's Sport?" Sally asked.

"Sport is the guy who keeps the business together in this place," the hooker informed. "He's our... manager. And he's our supplier."

"S-supplier?"

"Yeah. He helps us take the edge off. He can help you, too."

"No," Sandra said flatly. "You're not getting her hooked on chems. She doesn't need chems."

"Heh..." Charon chuckled in her subconscious. "Pot, meet kettle."

"Wh-what am I s'posed to do?" Sally asked fearfully, tears filling her eyes again. "I c-can't... I c-c-can't..."

"Sweety, nobody's even asking you to 'work' with them yet," the first hooker said. "They just want you to dance with us. That's all."

"D-dance?" Sally squeaked. "I d... don't..."

"Dancing isn't that bad," Sandra said. "You can make it fun."

"Fun...?"

"Yeah. Come on, stand up. Let's try it."

Sandra pulled Sally to her feet.

"Do a dance, you guys," Sandra said to the hookers. "Don't do a really provocative dance, though. Do a fun one. Do one that's... flashy. Fast, flashy, and stylish."

The hookers smiled at each other. They both took the same stance, and they began to twist, twirl, and kick almost in sync with each other. Sally giggled.

"Now... you just need music. But not sexy music. Something fun," Sandra said. "Okay, hang on, let me think of something..."

Sally stood between the two hookers, waiting expectantly.

Sandra thought for a moment, cleared her throat, and began to sing.

"What will we do with a drunken slaver, what will we do with a drunken slaver, what will we do with a drunken slaver early in the mor~ling. Way, hay, and up she rises, way, hay, and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the mor~ning."

"Oh lord..." Charon sniggered. "You're making hookers dance to sea shanties. Only you could manage that."

Sally observed the hookers, slowly trying to imitate their movements.

"Kick him in the nuts and break his no~ose, kick him in the nuts and break his no~ose, kick him in the nuts and break his no~ose early in the mor~ning," Sandra chanted, clapping with the rhythm. Sally and the hookers all laughed. "Throw him in the Quarry and wait for deathclaws, throw him in the Quarry and wait for deathclaws, throw him in the Quarry and wait for deathclaws early in the mor~ning! Way, hay, and up she rises, way, hay, and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the mor~ning! Slit his throat and toss him in the dumpster, slit his throat and toss him in the dumpster, slit his throat and toss him in the dumpster early in the mor~ning!"

Sally was dancing along with the hookers, giggling and wiping her tears away at the same time. Sandra continued to clap and sing her improvised lyrics.

"Way, hay, and up she rises, way, hay, and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the mor~ning! Cover him in pitch and light him on fire, cover him in pitch and light him on fire, cover him in pitch and light him on fire early in the mor~ning! Well that's what we do with a drunken slaver, that's what we do with a drunken slaver, that's what we do with a drunken slaver early in the mor~ning!"

The hookers were barely able to keep up with their own dance moves now, as both of them were in hysterics. Sally laughed along with them.

"See? It can be fun," Sandra said. "Now... whenever you're on stage, just think of that song. Play that song in your head and dance to it. Okay?"

"O-okay," Sally agreed.

"I have to go," Sandra told her, remembering that Ziggy was still lying unconscious behind a dumpster. "If you need me, just ask for me again, okay?"

Sandra wrapped Sally in a hug. Sally snapped her arms around her so tightly, Sandra thought her body might break in the little girl's embrace. They stayed this way for a few minutes. It felt like Sally simply didn't want to let go.

"Hey," Sandra whispered into Sally's ear. "You won't have to put up with this for much longer. M'kay?"

"What do you mean?" Sally asked.

Sandra smiled, placed her finger to her lips, and winked. She turned and left the room, leaving Sally feeling a thousand times better. Sally was almost eager to sit at the makeup desk, and she happily allowed the hookers to decorate her face in makeup.

On the way out of the whorehouse, Sandra grinned at the sunset. She didn't mind that her body was still screaming in pain, that her stomach was aching and growling hungrily, or even that the slave collar was beginning to dig into her collar bone. She hummed her made-up sea shanties as she walked towards the dumpster where she'd left Ziggy. Along the way, she passed by Dante, who was leading a group of slaves to their next task. Sandra's hand shot out, and she grabbed Dante by the arm, halting him in his step.

Dante shot her a questioning look.

"You said you were waiting for the right time," Sandra murmured. "Well... I think that time might come around sometime tomorrow. Be ready."

Dante gave her a subtle nod, and he walked off.

I hope Vulpes wasn't bluffing, Sandra thought. If I know the Legion, then... this town is pretty much screwed. Even if the Garrisons return Vulpes' captured Legionaries, there's no way Vulpes would just let them go free. No. The Legion is gonna burn them as soon as they have what they want. That's how they operate.

Ziggy was snoozing behind the dumpster. He was covered in scrapes and bruises, but his raspy snore was a clear sign that he was alive and kicking.

"Hey," Sandra said softly, kneeling and giving him a gentle shake. "Ziggy. Ziggy, wake up."

Ziggy's eyes drifted open. Sandra expected him to jump up in an angry panic again, but he didn't. He simply laid there, growling out his hoarse exhalations and appearing positively exhausted.

"Ziggy, come on... it's okay," Sandra said, reading his troubled thoughts off his face. "Don't give up now. This isn't over yet."

Ziggy scowled, looking away and not moving.

"There you are," said a loud, familiar voice.

Sandra looked up. Pete was standing over them.

"Got a new job for you, butch," Pete said to Sandra. "And the zombie... I'm taking the zombie to feed the dogs."

"What?" Sandra replied. "You're gonna make Ziggy feed the dogs?"

"Oh, yeah, his corpse will feed the dogs for at least a week," Pete sneered nastily. "We got no use for a feral psycho here. If he's gonna be attacking us all the time, we might as well nip him in the bud right now. And you, butch... I actually have a job you might enjoy."

"You can't!" Sandra shot to her feet. "You can't kill Ziggy! It's only been one day! Give him a fucking chance-"

WHAM.

Pete's fist connected with Sandra's skull, making her spin and fall to the ground. She sat at Ziggy's feet, her vision completely screwed up, her head feeling like it might crumble apart.

Ziggy sat upright, glaring up at Pete and growling threateningly at him.

"Don't interrupt me, bitch," Pete ordered. "You have a new job. One of our guys... a well-paying customer... he's been getting rough with the merchandise lately. He's been beating up the girls in the whorehouse. He actually broke one of their legs. We can't have people abusing the merchandise. He needs to get knocked down a notch or two. I figured it might be funny to sick a crazy bitch on him... have a woman stomp his nuts in. Might give him a lesson in humility. You can kill him, or you can just beat him into a bloody pulp. We planned to drag him off the streets, take all his shit, give you a tire iron and let you go at it. Sound fun?"

"But Zig..." Sandra blubbered. "I mean..."

She paused for a moment. A thought occurred to her.

"You don't have anyone guarding the merchandise, do you?" Sandra asked.

Pete pondered on this. "No," he said. "I guess we don't. That might be a good job for you."

"No... not for me. For Ziggy," Sandra told him. "Ziggy's stronger than me. And... people are scared of him. If he's guarding the girls, nobody will fuck with them."

Pete stroked his chin with his fingers, seeming to think very hard about this.

"Come on... he's strong, he's crazy, he's protective... he's the perfect bodyguard," Sandra said.

"Yeah, and he's been trying to kill us ever since he got here," Pete replied. "He's gonna have to get his shit together if he doesn't wanna end up being dog food."

"He can do it," Sandra said confidently, patting Ziggy on the shoulder. "You wanna protect the girls from the bad guys, don't you, Zig?"

Ziggy stared at her. After a moment of thought, he gave her a thumbs-up.

"Alright... he can keep an eye on the girls," Pete decided. "But you're gonna have to keep an eye on him. If he slips up, I'm shocking the shit out of both of you. He's your responsibility."

Sandra nodded.

"Come on, zombie," Pete said. "Let's go. I'll show you what to do. No slip-ups. No crazy bullshit. You too, butch. You're both gonna guard the merchandise from now on. I have a feeling the zombie won't take direct orders from anyone but you. You're gonna have to keep the same job as him so you can keep him in line."

Sandra and Ziggy followed Pete back to the whorehouse.

"Got promoted on your first day," Charon said. "Good for you. Now you're a slave bouncer. Oh, man, this is all starting to look way too familiar..."

Sandra waited in the main room of the whorehouse while Pete took Ziggy outside to show him the ropes. For a while, Sandra had nothing to do except watch the hookers dance on the stage for the slavers. She was surprised to see that Sally was in the center of the stage, and she seemed to be the main attraction. Sally was twirling around the pole, marching down the catwalk, and performing the flashy dance that she had practiced earlier. She looked completely different than before; her hair was flowing brushed and beautiful over her shoulders, her body was fitted with a sparkling red skirt and a crop top of the same design, and she had a furry red scarf draped around her neck. It didn't look at all like a sexy show; it looked like a child performing in a talent show, and having a blast doing it. When Pete returned with Ziggy, Ziggy was covered in blood, carrying a tire iron and wearing a wicked smile of deep satisfaction.

When Pete returned with Ziggy, Ziggy was covered in blood, carrying a tire iron and wearing a wicked smile of deep satisfaction.

"You know what to do," Pete said, placing a handful of caps in Sandra's hand. "Keep an eye on the girls. If any of the guys take them to the back rooms, go to the back hallway and listen for any trouble. Until then, just... chill out here, and make sure your zombie doesn't kill anyone else. The place closes up around midnight. You'll come back here around ten in the morning. It closes late and opens late. When the place closes up, you can go back to your holding cell and sleep."

"What're the caps for?" Sandra asked.

Pete pointed to the bar. The bartender was serving drinks and hot meals. Sandra beamed.

"Thanks," she said to Pete.

"Shut the fuck up," Pete snapped, shoving Sandra towards the bar and marching off.

Sandra dragged Ziggy over to the bar. They sat at the counter, and Sandra quickly became mesmerized by their selection of stews and liquors.

"Evening, my name's Sport, I'll be your unwitting supplier of indulgences tonight," the man behind the counter said. "What'll it be?"

"Two bowls of molerat stew, two nukacolas, and please, for the love of God, give me a hit of med-x," Sandra replied, slamming her caps on the counter. "I know you've got the good stuff back there. Hook me up."

"Uh... you don't have enough here for all that," Sport replied. "I can get you the food and the sodas. My special supply of chems cost a little more."

Sandra felt her stomach shrivel up. She was certain that part of the reason she felt so awful was because she was forced to quit her chem habits cold turkey. She needed a fix, and she definitely needed some relief from the burning slash wound in her arm, the black bruises all over her face, and the splitting migraine in her head.

"For God's sake." Sandra stood on her stool, leaned over the counter, grabbed Sport by the collar, and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on him.

She sat back down, smirking at the shocked expression on Sport's face.

"Is that enough for a hit?" Sandra asked. "It better be, because I'm not going any further than that."

"Are you sure? I could set you up for life if you gimme a little more," Sport said, cracking a smile. "Alright, babe... I'll give you a freebie. Just this once."

"I wouldn't call it a freebie," Sandra said, wiping her mouth. "You taste like cigarettes and fish."

"Yeah, you don't wanna know where that fishy taste came from," Sport laughed.

Sandra began scrubbing her mouth furiously. Sport roared with laughter.

When their food was served, Ziggy lifted the bowl and drank it all in a few large gulps. Sandra didn't. She was sure to savor her stew, and right now, she was sure that she'd never tasted anything more delicious in her life. Sport slipped a syringe of med-x to her, and she was quick to press the needle into her arm, letting out a long, relieved sigh. It was about damn time she caught a break in this place.

"Keep a close eye on her," Sandra told Ziggy, pointing to Sally on the stage. "We have to look after all the girls, but especially her. She's just a little kid. She really needs some protection in this place. Okay?"

Ziggy responded with a thumbs-up.

As the night carried on and as the drugs hit her system, Sandra smiled, singing under her breath as she watched Sally dance.

"What will you do with a drunken slaver, what will you do with a drunken slaver... what will you do with a drunken slaver, early in the mor~ning..."

After a while, the slavers began to leave the bar in groups. Sandra decided to help Sport collect their abandoned dishes and beer bottles from the tables - but only so she could finish off their drinks for them. Sandra collected beers and martini glasses, swiftly drinking each one of them until the room began to spin. Ziggy tried to drink one of the beers, but he hadn't expected it to taste as foul as it did; he spat it out, spewing beer out of his mouth and staining Sandra's pant leg. Sandra fell to the ground, almost suffocating under her own laughter.

When everyone was gone, Sally darted up to Sandra and encased her with another spine-snapping hug.

"I did it!" Sally exclaimed. "It wasn't bad at all! It was so much fun! I wanna dance forever!"

"Yeah, you're not gonna think it's fun when some pedophile comes in here and drags you off to one of those back rooms," Charon grumbled bitterly, but Sandra ignored him.

"The girls said that I'm allowed to sleep here from now on!" Sally rejoyced. "I get my own bed!"

"Yeah. Your own bed. You know what those beds are for, right?" Charon snarked. "Those hooker beds are there for you to do the sideways mambo."

"Shut up," Sandra told Charon.

Sally tilted her head. "Who are you talking to?"

Sandra trapped her in another hug.

"Find me when it happens," she whispered very softly, careful not to let Sport overhear.

Sally separated from her, giving her an odd look.

"Goodnight, kiddo," Sandra said, leading Ziggy out of the whorehouse.

Sandra and Ziggy returned to their holding cell, seeing that Dante was already there, sleeping soundly on his makeshift bed (his legs stretched over the edge of the mattress, as the bed wasn't big enough for his body). Sandra spotted a scarf, a bobby pin, and an empty nukacola bottle on the edge of the desk when she marched inside. When Billy stood up from the desk, Sandra slipped the bobby pin into her pocket. Billy unlocked the cell and allowed them to go inside, closing and relocking it behind them.

A fresh plate of strange meat had been left in the cell, and Ziggy began inhaling it at once. Sandra and Dante didn't have any interest in eating the nasty raw meat, but Ziggy seemed to love it. While Ziggy enjoyed his supper, Sandra slumped onto her bed, watching the ceiling move and wondering if she'd have the strength to wake up in the morning. The more tired she became, the more the ceiling seemed to spin and distort... it reminded her of the moment she awoke from her brief coma in Doc Mitchell's house, seeing the fan spinning above her head...

The deeper she fell into her disorientation, the less comprehensible her song became as the lyrics floated out of her mouth.

"Throw 'em to the Legion and watch 'em burn... throw 'em to the Legion and watch 'em burn... throw 'em to the Legion and watch 'em burn, early in the mor~ning..."