Another long one. These next two chapters are really going to be focused on pulling all the pieces together for the battle. I actually finished this chapter a couple days ago - but I've been working pretty much nonstop since then, so I haven't really had time to post it. Still haven't really had time to proofread it either...but, I'll get around to that eventually (most of the time I say that, then I never do...such is the life of a habituated procrastinator).
For those of you interested in my school affairs - the semester has, thus far, gone really smoothly.
Did anyone else play the Titanfall beta Cause in a word...it was awesome. I mean, sure it could use some tweaking, but - overall - I really enjoyed it. Particularly after I unlocked some of the better weapons. it plays sort of like CoD and Mirror's Edge, I guess. With the parkour type stuff - wall-running and what not. With mechs. Now...I don't like the mechs, mind you. Which isn't going to change...it's the staple of the game. but even in Halo 4 I hated those damn things. Still, the game itself is quite fun.
I'll be picking up Thief this Tuesday. Maybe Wednesday. Just whenever I can get the time to go do it. So I'll probably be chatting about it come next. Anyway. Enjoy.
Graham could feel his blood soaked bandages sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He took a breath – straining his eyes in the dimly lit room. A trail of crimson liquid trickled from his forehead, down his face, and across his right eye – further blurring his vision.
The woman before him paced back and forth. She was growing irritated – and, despite her calm demeanor, he could see she was running out of ideas.
She stepped out of the room. Graham could see her silhouette conversing with someone on the other side of the glass. Likely General Oliver himself.
After a beat, the door opened and she reentered.
"We're going to try this again…and this time, I'm not going to play nice."
Graham laughed at the notion – this irritated her further.
"What can you possibly do that hasn't already been done?" Graham balked. "I've been burned alive. You think you're going to get anywhere by beating me? Cutting me? Pulling nails?"
She smiled to herself. "No…we've been through all that." Reaching into her vest, she withdrew a pair of sheers. "I figure we skip the nails and go straight to the fingers."
Graham grimaced. "There are half a dozen people standing guard out front. I will warn you once, child. If you make any further move to harm me, no amount of soldiers, bullets…nor God himself will keep me from ripping the heart from your chest."
Though her stomach sank – she knew better than to show him fear. She had learned a great deal in her time. And she had heard a great deal about the Malpais Legate. About his prowess. His brutality. An immortal beast trapped in this mortal coil.
He was a man to be feared. And make no mistake, she was afraid of him. But that didn't mean she had to let him see that fear.
So she reached up, removing her shades. She looked at him, a smile across her face. The red of her eyes seemed to shine in the dim light.
"Then tell me what I need to know."
Graham choked out another laugh. "I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me…someone like a son of man…The hair on his head was white like wool, and his eyes were like blazing fire…When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said, 'Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last.'"
"What are you talking about?"
"Perhaps I have spoken out of turn…perhaps our Lord has saved you already."
Ghost felt her knees tremble. She fought the shiver that coursed up her spine.
"You wish to know what Six plans?" Graham let a smile slip across his face. "He and the Khans are staging a coup. Before the Sun rises in the morning, Caesar will fall."
On the other side of the glass, it was Oliver's turn to smile. There were two possible outcomes to this scenario: either Six would march into the Fort and eliminate Caesar…and in turn, be eliminated by the scores of Legion men that lined the coast east of the Colorado.
Or he would fail, and fall still. The Khans with him. And the Fort would be weakened.
Then, the NCR would sweep across the dam and take the Legion by storm. And, with House already out of the picture – New Vegas…without leadership…would follow.
And, the only ones that knew of House's demise were in this room…or walking into Caesar's hands. The NCR would come out on top no matter what. Of course…Oliver would receive all the credit.
He was always out on that balcony. Staring out over the lake. The clear water reflected the blue sky. Waves lapped at the shore, steadily carrying away the desert shore. Come rain or shine. It was his refuge. It was where he found peace.
It was here he could let go of the thoughts that plagued him day in and day out. He just watched out over those waves, listening to the water as it cascaded along.
In the distance, he could see the dam. Towering above the surface of Lake Mead – a monument to humankind's glory. A skeleton of an age that the world had long ago left behind.
An epitaph for the dead.
Somewhere on the other side of this lake, surrounded by his Legionnaires, was Caesar himself; sitting, twiddling his thumbs while the Legion raped, maimed, pillaged, and killed in his name.
That dam will be the death of us, he thought.
The NCR was over stretching, expecting to be able to patrol and maintain hundreds of miles of the Colorado. All with the Legion breathing down their neck.
And if it wasn't the Legion, it'd be someone else. There's always someone else.
To be entirely honest, that was the least of their concerns. New Vegas was bleeding the NCR dry. Relying on the protection of its soldiers all the while draining their pockets of every fucking penny they had.
He reached up, running his fingers through the grey of his grizzled beard. Bits of bread crumbled and fell off – peppering his lap. With his free hand, he brushed it away.
Four decades of service, and this is what I get? A front row seat to impending disaster.
His gaze was hard – experienced. But it echoed pain and fatigue. He was so damn tired of the Mojave. His joints were sore, his body ached.
Still, he was king of all he surveyed. A wasteland of cacti, sand, and weary soldiers that would die at his command.
The radio at his side hissed with static.
"…of Khans headed across the river…proceed?" the first voice said.
"Say again?" This voice was clearer. And he recognized it – Cassandra Moore.
"Reports of a large group…across the river, near the…promontory. How should we proceed?"
"We have intel that the Khans are not, I repeat, they are not in union with the Legion," Moore answered.
This caught the old man's attention. He lifted the radio transceiver. "What sort of intel?"
"Who is this?" Moore barked.
"Who the hell do you think it is, Moore?"
She didn't need to answer him. She knew. Chief Hanlon had been the reason the NCR had held the dam those years ago. Driving the Legion back over the Colorado. In his old age, he had been relegated to desk duty. Something he didn't exactly appreciate. It wasn't the first time he'd intercepted and interjected in classified radio transmission.
"Oliver has captured one of House's men. In the interrogation, he revealed a that House is moving against Caesar under the ruse of a negotiation."
He could hear the irritation in her voice.
"You're telling me that some kid House has running around Vegas doing his dirty work and the Khans are attacking the Fort?"
"That's the way it seems."
A wave of resentment and irritation crashed over him. This was likely the work of Oliver himself. After Kimball's untimely demise, Oliver had stepped up…taking matters in his own hands. Making decisions he had no right making; no doubt, trying to pave his way to a political campaign. Oliver would drain every resource he could. If that meant sending every man the NCR had to their death…so be it. A victory over the Legion and securing the Mojave…shit. The republic would beg him to take the reins.
The problem was…securing the Mojave would mean the republics death. No one seemed to understand that. No one but him.
"You want to explain to me why we're letting a group of tribals and a courier take it to the Legion for us?"
"If they can rile up the Legion from the inside, or – Lord willing – put an end to Caesar himself, they'll be making our jobs a hell of a lot easier."
"They'll never make it out of that Fort alive."
"Not our concern."
"Are you shitting me?" Hanlon sat up, his face turning red. He could feel that vein in his forehead bulging like it did from time to time when he lost his temper. "Haven't the Khans suffered enough at our hands? We need to do more than sit on our asses. This is going to mean chaos – chaos that's going to severely weaken the Legion. We need to move. Now!"
"Oliver says we wait."
"Yeah? No shit. You can tell Oliver to kiss my ass. Me and mine are going in."
The crackle of gunfire had changed. The bolt action rifles the Khans made extensive use of was still there…but there was something else. Semiautomatic…and, even more, the boom of high end rifles.
Boone recognized it. The NCR had sent the Rangers in.
Melissa's body was limp. It was like he was carrying Dhatri's boy all over again.
But he'd be damned if this story had the same ending. Around him, the battle raged on. He marched on with a resolve unmatched. He was getting her out of here.
"Boone?"
He turned in the direction of the voice. A woman…bruised, battered, hiding in a tent with dark skinned woman. "Stella? You were at Charlie…"
"In here."
Boone ducked into the tent. "How'd you get here?"
"Apparently I was just too pretty to go to waste. Legion slapped a collar on me. The things they've done to me…I can't even begin…" She took a breath. "But I've done my fair share, too. They'd fight me in the arena from time to time."
Boone laughed. The fact that she was still standing meant she had indeed done her fair share. Her hands were wet with blood. So was the Legion machete she carried.
"You hurt?"
"No. Used this to liberate myself…took it off a Legionnaire. The one that had the key to my collar. Who's this?"
"Khan girl…"
"Who gives a shit about the Khans?"
"I do," He replied flatly.
She could hear a ping of remorse and a fistful of scorn in his voice. "She alright?"
"I don't know."
"Well…" Stella nodded to the woman cowering in the tent with her. "This here is Siri. She had some medical training before the Legion caught her. Siri?…Siri!"
The woman looked up. She was quiet, her hands clasped around her knees.
"Please…" Boone laid Melissa out across a nearby picnic table. "Help her."
Siri studied Boone for a long moment, then let her eyes fall to the woman on the table. She swallowed and held her breath.
"Please…" Boone said again. His voice had changed. It was sorrowful, broken.
Siri felt her heart beat steady. Years of abuse, oppression, and fear melted away as – somewhere deep inside of her – that spark of compassion that guided her to help others awakened.
She was on her feet and by the woman's side in an instant. She checked her pulse, then her breathing. "Do you have a light? Flashlight? Lighter?"
Boone fumbled through his pockets – withdrawing a weathered zippo. The woman swiped it from his hands and turned back to Melissa. She flipped the lighter open and lit it with one hand, while holding Melissa's eyes open with the other. She moved the flame back and forth inches from her face.
"She's not responsive…" She scanned her patient, a fresh wound along the right side of her head. "What happened?"
"I had to guess? Ballistic fist."
The woman frowned. "This is bad. Really bad."
"Don't tell me you can't help her…"
"No…I mean. I can stabilize her. But she needs serious medical attention…and she needs it soon."
Movement behind them. Boone wheeled around, his pistol drawn.
"Whoa, soldier…" The man reached out, his hand on his own sidearm. "I'm a friend."
"Hanlon?"
Hanlon's weathered face studied the man in Khan attire – and it clicked. "I know you…First Recon, right?"
"Craig Boone."
Hanlon smiled. "I should have guessed as much. What do we have here?"
"She's hurt…"
Hanlon chewed his lower lip. "Well, we've got the hill secure. My people are holding the lines…Khans with us. Legion has retreated further east. Let's get her out of here."
I know who I am.
Six looked down at the lifeless body of Vulpes Inculta.
"Well, what about that?! There's nothing quite like self discovery, is there?!"
"What?"
"You likely killed the only man in five hundred square miles that new anything about who you really are!"
Six shook his head, casting a sidelong glance at the frozen grin plastering the terminal's screen. "Plenty of people know who I am. Who I used to be…that doesn't matter."
"I wonder if your friends would agree?"
Six frowned. "How do we start the facility?"
"Well, now that I have access to the mainframe, we can begin immediately. But I do still need to platinum chip."
"You want me to insert it into this console?"
"What?! Goodness no. This terminal hasn't been active in ages. I'm afraid of what critters have made home within it. Bring the chip back to the Lucky 38. I'll wirelessly broadcast the signal to the weather station! That way, if anything happens, the chip will be safe!"
Six nodded. "I knew I kept you around for a reason."
"You know it, chief! You want me to begin initializing the boot sequence on the securitrons?"
"How long will it take?"
"It shouldn't take too long. But it really depends on the strength of the signal and the condition of the circuitry in the bunker. I'd estimate four hours for initial sequencing, and a further twelve for diagnostics, updating, and programming."
"Start it. I'll be there soon," Six took one last look at Vulpes as he left the bunker. If only to avoid tripping over his lifeless heap. He could hear gunfire in the distance, but the Fort was quiet. NCR Veteran Rangers patrolled its confines.
"You Six?"
Six raised a brow at the woman approaching him. "Nice scar…Boone said I'd recognize you."
"Where is he?"
"He's gone. Taking that girl of his to the medics at Hoover Dam. Name's Stella," the woman extended her hand.
Six ignored her. "Melissa's hurt?"
She held her hand out for a minute, until it was clear Six wasn't interested – then she let it fall to her side. "Yeah. Pretty bad too."
"When'd he leave?"
"Half hour ago?"
Six shot her a half nod and brushed by her. He had some catching up to do.
"I'm telling you, doll…he's who we need!"
"Never heard of him!"
"He's only the swingin'est cat in Vegas, baby! Well…outside of yours truly, of course!"
Cass followed Benny up the stairs to the Aces theatre. The Tops was particularly packed with drunken NCR soldiers, celebrating for some reason or other. Cass didn't particularly care why, though. They needed to shout over the drunken hoots and hollers of the crowd.
A flush of anger sweep through her as, for the third time since they'd arrived, some bumbling moron groped her backside.
Benny flung the door to the Aces theatre open; never giving any thought to the possibility that someone could be standing on the other side.
On the stage, a group of dancers swung their legs to and fro, encircling a man in a dark full-dress tailcoat, tears decorating its fabric sporadically – complete with bowtie, sloppily tied and set askew.
"Everybody loves somebody…"
"This guy?" Cass eyed the ghoul – dark shades over his eyes. His voice was smooth, not like most other ghouls she'd met. It had retained some of its human element…like Raul.
"Everybody falls in love, somehow…"
The women in the audience seemed to swoon over him. She couldn't see why, but if she closed her eyes…she could certainly understand. His thick accent was unique. Strange and alluring.
"This guy's got swag, baby doll," Benny lit up a cigarette and took a draw. "And if anyone can run a fine establishment, it's gonna be him."
"So you want to set up a ghoul casino?"
"Not just ghouls baby…all comers."
"Super mutants?"
Benny shrugged. "So long as they have the caps, why not? See, the way I see it…we're missing a whole lot of market. A world of profit being disregarded because they look a little different? Hell, we may as well start picking and choosing based on hair color. Baldies need not apply."
Cass chewed her lower lip. "Well, ultimately it's going to be up to House…"
He hasn't told her yet? Benny chuckled. "Well, let's just say that a little birdie told me that everything is going to work out fine."
"I don't know how welcome mutants are going to feel, though. Even in a casino run by a ghoul."
Benny grunted, rubbing the silky smooth skin of his chin. "You got a point, Red. Muties might want a representative too…but where are we going to find a co-pilot to fly a plane with Dean Domino?"
Cass raised a brow – she thought back to the super mutant settlement in Jacobstown. "I think I might know someone."
"Nice to see you again. How's your leg?"
Six kicked his leg back and forth a bit. "Gets stiff sometimes…but, overall, it's good."
"That's good to hear," Julie Farkas smiled. "What can the Followers do for you today?"
"I've actually come on Boone's behalf," Six explained. "There's been an incident."
A look of concern swept over Julie's face. "The First Recon soldier?"
"Yeah."
"I hope he's alright."
"Oh, he's fine…he's fine. It's his…ah…" Six removed his beret and ran his hand through his hair. He could feel the rough contours of his scar. Remnants of Benny's poor aim and Doc Mitchell's patchwork. "His…the woman in his life."
"What's wrong with her?"
"I'm sure you've heard the Fort has fallen, by now?"
"We have…" It was Arcade. "That was your handiwork?"
"I had a bit of help…but yeah."
A wide grin enveloped Arcade's face. "I know I shouldn't place value on life…but in Caesar's case I'll make an exception. You've done the world a real justice."
"And paid the price for it…" Six sighed. "Look," he said, turning back to Julie. "The Followers do a lot. I know that. But I need your help. Caesar's dead…sure. But Lanius is making his way west as we speak. The Legion's in retreat now, but in a week's time…they'll be back. And they'll have reinforcements. I need my sniper on his A-game. And with the condition that this girl's in…" He shook his head.
"Where is she now?"
"She's being treated by NCR doctors at Hoover Dam."
"What's her condition?"
Six rubbed his brow. "Unconscious? Vegetative? I don't know…she took a serious blow to the head."
"Have them move her to the New Vegas Medical Clinic. Dr. Usanagi and I will see what we can do."
Six nodded. "I don't think I can thank you enough."
"You've rid the Mojave of Caesar…you've thanked us plenty," Arcade placed a firm hand on Six's shoulder. "We'll do everything we can."
Six took a breath and turned to towards the gate.
"One other thing…" Arcade called out. "If you have a moment…I'd like to talk to you."
"About?"
"The pending battle…I think I might know some people that can help."
"Keep close," Ghost ordered. "It won't be far now."
The man holding Graham's leash tugged it – it tightened around his neck. There were four others, all veterans. Marching in unison around him. Blindfolded, hooded, and bound, Graham counted their footsteps – every drop of their boots.
And Ghost makes five.
"Where are we taking him?" One of the Veterans asked. His voice housed a sound of distress that was music to Graham's ears.
"Yes," Graham derided. "Where are we going?"
Ghost knew better than to answer. She couldn't give him any details of his whereabouts. No indication, no clues.
Her silence told him that.
But Graham could feel the sun beating down on his left shoulder – although, the air was beginning to cool. This told him two things – it was getting late, and the sun was in the western skies. They were headed south.
Long ago, when he was still Legion, he had heard reports of a safehouse not far from McCarran – near an old rail station, north of the quarry.
"Just up around this bend," Ghost said quietly. A tug at his leash, and their course shifted. The sun was beating down on his back. They left the relatively flat, hard surface of broken pavement – replacing it with the rough, graveled texture of hardened sand and stone.
Somewhere in the distance, Graham could hear the rough grinding of stone and the moaning of steel.
The sound grew louder – but not because they were nearing it. The sound had the heavy undertone of reverberation. They'd entered a canyon.
Another fifteen minutes passed before they stopped. "Unlock it," Ghost ordered.
Graham listened to the sloppy steps of the veteran as he passed him – the crunch of desert flora, sand, and rock. Then he heard the metallic jingle of keys and the soft moan of metal as a door not often used was hauled open.
A shove on his back sent him marching again.
They were inside. The warmth of the sun no longer graced his being. Somewhere in the cave was the trickle of water. Another door. They were inside some sort of wooden structure.
The veterans marched him through the underground building.
"Spin him," Ghost told them.
Smart, she wanted him disoriented.
They did as she commanded – then marched him forward again. Three more times he would be spun.
Then he was being tied down.
Ghost was nearby. As per usual, he couldn't hear her. But he knew she was there.
He could feel her eyes on him. Burning like the stars themselves. Eyes of fire.
"Do you ever long for more?" Graham asked.
No answer.
He peered into darkness – the blindfold tight around his eyes, the sack sealing away any hope of ever seeing.
"You're obviously not happy. I can hear it in your voice. The question is why…too much responsibility? Not enough? The realization that you're working for a corrupt system that preys on the weak every bit as much as the Legion?"
"Not as much as the Legion."
"Ah…" Graham listened to her voice. She masked it well, but it shook. Wrapped in contempt…it cut through the air like razor wire. "Perhaps not. But nevertheless."
"The Legion destroys entire tribes. Devours them. Strips them of their identity."
"And the NCR taxes them into oblivion, stripping them of their resources and rights…all the while failing to protect the people it sets out to serve."
Ghost felt a grimace sneak across her face. She fell silent again.
"You're a good soldier," Graham praised. "You do as your leaders command…and you do not question those orders. I know of another that followed that path. Blindly following the orders of his superiors. Once a decent God-fearing man…he turned into a savage."
"I'm nothing like you."
Graham smiled. "The NCR forbids torture…does it not?"
He waited for her to answer. When she didn't, his smile widened.
"The NCR protects its prisoners of war…except, it seems, when they've outlived their purpose."
"Or if they've done enough to piss us off."
"One rule for one person and another rule for someone else."
"It fits."
"Does it? People will not stand for it. Eventually…the oppressed will rise."
"They didn't rise against Caesar."
"Caesar treats all his subjects equally. He may not treat them well, but the lowest is equal to the highest…I learned that the hard way."
He heard Ghost take a breath. "See to it that he's fed," she sighed. "We want to keep him alive."
The door opened. Four sets of footsteps, all disappearing into the hall.
He was alone with one of them.
The man approached him slowly, tugging at the sack around his head. Then he removed the blindfold. Graham's eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. He was in a well lit room, lined with shelves. Various tools, weapons, and instruments. The veteran stepped back; his eyes locked on Graham.
"I can't believe it's you…"
Graham raised a brow.
"You've murdered…countless souls. Soldiers. Civilians."
"A long time ago, yes."
Laughing, the Veteran removed his helmet.
"Cato…You've infiltrated the Rangers?"
"Caesar's orders. He wanted someone inside."
"That's certainly a risk to be taking...all the same, it's good to see you."
Cato half grinned. "You think I was going to let them take the Legion's greatest warrior without a fight?"
"I'm not part of the Legion anymore."
"Caesar's dead. Lanius is no leader. You're true heir to the throne."
Graham let out a soft chuckle. "So the Fort has fallen?"
"Yeah. You played a role in that, it seems."
"Caesar's days were limited. He's been sick for a very long time. Though, I must say, it's hard to believe – even after all he did to me…all he tried to do to find and erase me from this world – that he went first. I only hope that the tribes of Arizona do not suffer as the Legion falls apart around them."
"The Legion doesn't have to fall apart…not if you step up. We can retreat. Leave the Mojave. We have Arizona…we have Pheonix. To Hell with Vegas."
Graham grunted.
"Here…" Cato removed Graham's cuffs; then reached into his duster, retrieving his mentor's pistol. "We need to get you out of here. You need to get to the Legion…to take control. Before the monster of the east does. When Lanius arrives, he'll order a full onslaught of the Dam. Even if we beat the NCR here…he'll follow them into California. We will never see the end of war."
Graham stroked his wrists – sore from the cuffs. "Lanius will lead the Legion into battle. The last efforts of a man who does not yet realize he's walking dead. He will not give up the his leadership without a fight."
"Then fight him for it," Cato extended his hand – reaching the pistol to the former Legate.
Retrieving his pistol, Graham turned to the door. "Perhaps. But first, we need to make it out of here…alive."
"My father was part of a group known as the Enclave," Arcade removed his glasses, wiping them with a small cloth.
"The Enclave?" Six thought back to the deathclaw in the promontory.
Arcade seemed to grow nervous. He wiped his brow and removed his glasses. "Yeah…look, that was a long time…"
"I don't care about that. What can they do for New Vegas?"
"In short? Change the tide of the entire battle. Look, the Legion are a bunch of mongrels. No tech, poor training…they've got only numbers."
"And they have that whole fearlessness going on for them…"
"No. No, they don't. It's not fearlessness. It's brainwashing. When they're staring down the barrels of twin SW-9700 five barreled Gatling lasers, RG-13 high velocity auto launcher, M72 Gauss Cannons, and a goddamn VB-02 VTOL...it'll strike the fear of Mars into them."
Six grinned wide. They traversed through the weary streets of Freeside – towards the immense steel gates separating the rags from the riches. The bots patrolled the street slowly – stopping to scan their surroundings at almost random intervals.
"So, these people…" Six mused. "You think they'll be up for helping the NCR to defeat the Legion?"
"The NCR? No, they're not going to do that. But they will help me. And I'll help you…so long as you do what's necessary to secure the freedom of these people. The Mojave needs its own government. It doesn't need to be mandated or ruled by an external group that will only want to drain it of its resources."
"So you want me to give the dam over to House?"
"Heavens no!" Arcade shook his head vigorously. "House is…he's only concerned with the Strip. There's more to the Mojave than those casinos. We need a leader that can usher the Mojave into its own age."
"And you think that's me?"
"Well, what if it is?"
"I don't know anything about politics…"
"See, that's the beauty of it though. You don't have to. These people…" He motioned around the streets. "They know you. Whether you realize it or not. Word gets round…and these people know what you're capable of." The metallic gate groaned as they approached it – opening to let them pass. "And you've done a lot of good. Your reputation precedes you. You helped the NCR take back their prison…taking vagrants and homicidal thugs off the roads in the process. You cleared out the quarry…yeah, I heard about that. Which has since reopened…bringing new revenue and new jobs to this nation's citizens. You took back Cottonwood Cove. You took down the Fort. These people don't need a tyrant to rule them or a foreign bureaucracy to tax them into the ground while simultaneously draining their resources and depriving them of their basic rights. They need a leader. And you're a leader."
Six held the door to the Lucky 38 open, letting Arcade pass. "I'm no leader. I just do what I can, when I can…I don't have any interest in creating a nation. I do what I can to protect my city."
"And that's the paradox of it all. Your lack of interest in the power that running a nation will give you…it makes you the perfect candidate for the position. But first…you have to get out of House's shadow."
They stepped on to the elevator – an uncomfortable silence enveloping them as Six mulled the notion over in his mind.
"Well, I have some good news for you…" Six said, as the elevator rang – signaling the end of their journey. Six walked out of the elevator and in to the bi-level room. He turned left and made his way down to the massive terminal – Christine knelt beside it, mind lost in thought as she tinkered with its organs. She would occasionally reach out her hand, and spout out the name of a tool; Veronica would oblige her, rummaging through a small toolbox perched on the terminal's end. "Cause House is dead."
Arcade stopped dead in his tracks. "House is what?"
"He's dead. I've already been running Vegas. Well…he motioned towards the screen…which was blank. "Sort of. What's the issue?"
"Signal's been cutting in and out all day," Veronica told him, her eyes leaving Christine for the briefest of moments.
"I've got it mostly figured out," Christine spouted quickly. "Shouldn't be much…"
The screen flickered – the familiar, quirky, yet somehow creepy gaze of Yes Man filled it.
"Hey! Good to see you! Do you have the chip?"
"An AI has been running Vegas?" Arcade's eyes grew wide. "Astounding…"
"Well, he keeps the securitrons in check…" Christine clarified. "Keeps them on their routines, helps keep things civilized."
"Look, we need to talk about something…" Veronica's voice grew sorrowful. "It's about the girl you rescued from the Gomorrah…"
"Joana?"
"She's dead."
"What?"
"We found her. I think it was the Omertas…but Graham seems to think it was something else."
"Like what?"
Veronica shrugged.
"Where is he now?"
"We don't know," Christine chimed in. "We thought that it was Cass…"
"What? Where's Cass?" Six interrupted.
"She's waiting for you…she's fine."
"And the Omertas?"
"Gone. All of them…the securitrons are going to be clearing out the casino for a while."
Six nodded – then, his mind returned to the task at hand, he inserted the chip into the slot.
"So the Fort was sitting on top of some prewar bunker. Inside it is an army of securitrons. I'm going to have him activate them."
"What?" Arcade turned from the AI's frozen smile. "You can't be serious? There are dozens of them on the Strip as it is."
"And now there will be more. You want me to run the Mojave? This is going to help."
"No, it's going to be enslavement."
"It's going to save lives."
"But at what cost?"
Six pointed out the window. "Caesar's Legion is retreating for now. But you think we've won this fight? They'll be back. Scores of them. And we need to be ready."
"We will be. With the help of the Remnants, the NCR…"
"And what do you think the NCR is going to do when we take back the Dam? Just hand it over?"
"This isn't defense though…it's…" Arcade fumbled for the word to say.
"He's right," Veronica chimed in. "These machines…they don't know what its like to take a life. They don't know how it feels or…they work solely on statistics and probability…"
"This isn't a matter of probability, Vee. It's fact. Let's say the NCR withdraws. Then we have the Legion to the east and the NCR to the west. We're sitting right in the middle…we need to be able to defend ourselves."
"Are you trying to defend the Mojave or enslave it?"
"The people of the Mojave will be free."
"So long as they follow your rules…" Arcade sighed.
"Rules that will protect them!"
"I just don't think…"
"Quiet!" Six hushed.
Arcade furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"
"Shh…" Six cocked his head to the side. "Do you hear that?"
The group listened. Very faintly, they could hear whistling – then the whistle began to echo. A second whistling. Then a third. A fourth.
Six crinkled his nose. "What is that?"
Before anyone could respond, the Lucky 38 began to tremble. The immense boom of an explosion filled the air around them. Veronica stumbled back, falling into Christine. Losing his footing, Arcade followed suit – crashing into the floor. Six fumbled for his foot and staggered to the window. He looked out over the Strip. To the North, another explosion. The farmsteads, the houses…were all aflame.
They were under attack.
Alright. That's it for this chapter. One more chapter, and we'll be ready to tackle the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I think it turned out pretty well...but, of course, I'm biased.
The next chapter won't be as long as the last few have been, thought it should still be a bit longer than the chapters of Bullets and Broken Things. Or, I don't imagine it will be. It's going to serve mostly as a precursor - setting the stage for the battle and what comes after. Until next time.