July 3rd, 2280

18:30

Camp Forlorn Hope

The rapid fire staccato of sustained machine gun fire struck a rapid beat through the hazy air of the Mojave Desert. The bursts of fire illuminated the night sky from beyond the foothills. Knox, Boone, and Raul stood amidst a cluster of NCR soldiers all watching the horizon. From this distance it was impossible to tell which way the tide of battle was turning.

Looking around at the drawn faces around them, Knox could only bitterly chuckle at how fitting the name Camp Forlorn Hope was. Everyone here certainly seemed plenty forlorn. They'd departed the dam in a hurry, stopping only to regather their weapons, not even pausing to fill up their canteens. As soon as they'd crossed off NCR concrete and back into Mojave dirt, Knox began to explain.

"Legion spies in the NCR are basically a given at this point. We've rooted and assassinated our fair share, but there will always be more," he'd said as they'd doubled timed it off the road and straight into the foothills. "I suppose that's what happens when you don't torture your recruits as part of basic training." His face darkened and he spit in the dust. "If Shady Sands is stupid enough to think they can have a surprise visit from President Kimball and not have a Legion bullet waiting for him, they're dumber than I thought. Which is pretty fucking dumb!"

Neither Boone nor Raul were willing to say anything to that. Knox had always been against both of the invading forces in the Mojave, but he'd always conceded that the NCR was better than the Legion. However, due to shear incompetence the Republic had just taken a dive in his books.

With the President coming to Hoover Dam, the spark of war was so much closer. Without getting back to Cottonwood Cove to see just how much the Legion knew, he could only operate under the assumption that they were fully aware of the situation. How far along they were on sabotaging the visit and successfully assassinating Kimball remained to be seen. So to Cottonwood Cove they ran.

Or at least that was the plan.

They'd been stopped on the road by a hastily setup NCR blockade. Not even Knox's NCR passports could get them through. "Orders from high command," they'd been told. With a little persuasion from Knox one of the soldiers spilled a little more. With his face white, the man explained, "They've taken Nelson. They… they've fucking taken it." There was no need for him to explain further who 'they' was.

So they'd diverted to Camp Forlorn Hope. Knox was praying that the NCR would dispatch a Ranger team to retake the town, but instead the ranking officer at the camp decided to march his men in force. Which was exactly what the Legion had been waiting for.

They'd walked right into a trap, stuck like fish in a barrel. Now, the remaining troops in camp and Knox's crew could only listen as the battle waged.

"They're going to turn this into a stalemate," Knox said under his breath. Boone looked at him quizzically and Knox nodded his head to the side, leading his followers away from the general assembly of soldiers. "The Legion, they're going to drag this out for as long as possible," he whispered.

"For what reason?" Boone asked. "Nelson would be a strategic victory."

"It would," Knox agreed. "But the longer they keep the NCR embroiled there, the better for them. Keep this firefight going, maybe take some hostages, and they can create a mean ceasefire. Time is on their side and they're going to use it. More time the NCR is dicking around there with a few Legionaries and the rest of the horde can continue its actions in the rest of the Mojave."

A particularly loud explosion could be heard, punctuating his point nicely. A plume of smoke began to spiral up from the hills, presumably from Nelson. It rose up and up before disappearing into the darkening sky.

The scrape of a match and a sharp inhale announced Raul's latest cigarette. Knox looked away from the direction of Nelson to see the ghoul calmly taking a puff. "What does this mean for us, boss?" he asked, pulling Knox back on track.

Knox took a deep breath and scratched his chin. He glanced around making sure there were no NCR eavesdroppers and said, "It means we won't be going to the Cove tonight. Not with that shit show between us. I like the two sides I've infiltrated to be nice and far apart from each other."

"So…" Raul repeated, the cigarette hanging from his lipless mouth. Knox snatched it away and took a long drag before returning it.

He slowly let the smoke out through his nose as he thought. He looked north away from the flashing lights of gunfire above Nelson and towards the ever-present glow of New Vegas. "You know those really taste terrible," he said, scraping his tongue on his teeth in distaste.

"Then don't smoke them," Boone cut in. "What do we do?"

Closing his eyes and pinching his brow between his thumb and forefinger Knox hissed, "Shit. Fuck." The harsh swearing hung into the stale evening air. With several more grumbled curses, Knox turned on his heal and started back the way they'd come from.

"I've got a contact back in New Vegas. Hopefully, he'll be in Freeside."

Boone adjusted his rifle's sling as he followed and looked at Knox with reservation. "A contact? From the Legion?" Knox nodded and Boone's brow furrowed. "That close to New Vegas? Since when?"

"So many questions," Knox mumbled before shaking his head in irritation. "Yes, I have a contact from the Legion stationed there. He's one of the frumentarii. With any luck he'll have something to tell me."

Raul snorted as he and Boone exchanged a dubious look. "Right, boss. With any luck. Especially after the day we've had." The red embers of his cigarette ignited brightly as he inhaled, lighting up the withered remains of his face as the sun fell deeper below the horizon. "Lucky, lucky, lucky."


The King's School of Impersonation was closing up shop for the evening. Any of the night owls had departed from the club to find entertainment elsewhere and the rest of the members had drifted off to their sleeping quarters. All that was left was the night guard in their black jackets leaning against the door frame.

For most passerby, all they had was a menacing glare or a suggestive fingering of the pistols strapped to their sides, but for the figure in the cream jacket walking towards them with a scantily clad woman under either arm, they were all smiles.

With a wink and a salute they pulled the door into the lobby open for the man and his company. Too busy chuckling, neither of the guards noticed a slight wavering of the air duck into the building behind the man.

"Now, ladies," the man drawled, "If you follow me on upstairs we can get down to business… any way you want me."

The women giggled to each other and looked adoringly up at the man, "Is that true?"

"Almost always true," he replied with a dazzling grin, leaning down to run his nose along the woman's neck.

The trio broke out into laughter and stumbled their way over to the stairs up to the higher floors of the building. If any had been a tad more sober they might have noticed the brush of air as something passed them on the way up. But they weren't, so they didn't. Instead they continued their weaving way down the hall to the last room on the floor. The door was open and waiting for them, soft pink light spilling out into the hallway and a jukebox crooning love ballads.

"And here we are, my dears," the man said with a smirk, leading the way in to show off the room. The spacious room was dominated by several sets of extravagant furniture. A large pool table, a series of vending machines, a full bar, a huge heart-shaped bed, and seated on the edge of the bed…

A frightening young woman with a prominent, scarlet Mohawk.

"Ahhhh," pouted one of the women. "You promised that we would be your favorites tonight." She looked up at the man adoringly. Once more if she'd had less to drink she might have noticed that the drunken sheen to the man's eyes cleared up almost instantaneously as he fixed the intruder with a sharp look. But then the warmth was back again just as quickly.

He looked down at her with another shining grin. "I certainly did promise that didn't I?" He unhooked his arms from them and ushered them out into the hall. "Ladies, take five. I need to talk to my friend here, but I'll be along, by and by?" Both women gave him hurt expressions, but did as he bid, disappearing down the hall as he closed the door.

It shut with a soft click as he turned around to face the woman who'd managed to invite herself in.

"Well, they certainly looked like fun," Ava said with a chipper grin, crossing her legs and leaning back with her palms splayed on the soft red sheets of the mattress.

The man snorted lightly as he crossed his way to the bar. "I'd certainly think so. They were getting me all shook up for sure." He stopped at the bar, grabbing a glass and a decanter. Popping the cork out, he filled his glass.

Ava waited patiently while the man lingered, but after a moment she asked, "Looking for this?" She held up a pistol on one finger.

The man turned, so he could lean on the bar and observe her with his stashed weapon held aloft. "You got me," he admitted before taking a sip of his drink.

It was Ava's turn to snort at his bravado. She tossed the gun to him and he managed to catch it one handed, surprise etched on his face.

"I'm not here to kill you," Ava said with a slight grin. "I'm a diplomat actually."

"And the usual channels weren't up to your standards?"

Barking a short laugh, Ava shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. "Well, they would have been," she said as she wandered over to the pool table. "Except you have a very… overzealous doorman."

Returning her laugh, the man replied, "That's Pacer for you. He means well, but he doesn't like strangers. Here, to make amends." He grabbed another glass and filled it from the same decanter before walking over to Ava and holding the glass out to her.

"Now… what can the King do for you?"

Graciously accepting the glass and taking a small sip, Ava let the liquor scorch its way down her throat before replying. "I'm here on behalf of Mr. House and the Lucky 38."

The King's eyebrows rose slightly and he took a deep pull from his glass. "The Lucky 38, huh? That is something. I hope Pacer didn't give you too much trouble over it."

"Not too much," Ava lied. She could feel the marks in her palms from squeezing her nails into them. Pacer had been inches from having his neck broken, but common sense and the need for diplomacy had one out. So he lived for another day. But tomorrow was no guarantee.

Nodding and stirring the contents of his glass with a flick of his wrist, the King said, "Good, good, I'm glad. Pacer's never been a fan of the big, boss-man. But Mr. House usually stays out of our little slice of freedom here. What's changed?"

Ava set her glass down on the felt of the pool table and ran her fingers along the cue ball. The King was a bit shrewder than she'd been expecting. Behind the easily smiling façade was a calculating mind. She idly flicked the ball across the table, bumping it into several others.

"Mr. House has always been content to let Freeside exist as is. As long as it remains as is. He doesn't mind independent," she said, meeting the King's eyes. "What he's worried about is if certain public figures in Freeside cease to be independent."

The King stopped her with one finger raised from his glass. "Enough with the games, little lady, talk to me plainly."

Ava leaned her hip against the pool table and crossed her arms. "Plainly? It's my job to make sure you know where your loyalties should lie in the event that someone comes asking."

"Someone like?"

"Someone like the NCR. We know they want the Kings in their pocket."

The King snorted derisively and tossed back the remains of his drink. "You'll have to do better than that. The NCR wants the Kings gone and Freeside to themselves!" he said, his tone becoming heated. "Those soldier boys are starting brawls left and right. Riots, lynchings, it's getting out of control."

"And who do you think sweeps in to regain control?" Ava asked, cutting the King off before his temper could run away with him. "The NCR does." The King's brow furrowed and he leaned forward onto the pool table his shoulders hunched as he listened to Ava. "They'll come in and take it from you," she continued.

"Unless?" the King interjected, urging her to make her point.

"Unless, the Kings have some backup from the Strip."

With his eyes fixed on the table and the scattered array of pool balls, the King thought for moment. "That's a real rock and hard place there, Miss Diplomat."

Ava smirked and leaned further onto the table so she was cutting into the King's brooding stare. "Not at all. Either join the NCR and lose whatever freedom you have, or accept the Strip's protection and then get left the hell alone until we need you."

The King glanced at her. "Until you need us? What're you getting at?" Ava's smirk grew into a smile and she shrugged. The King drummed his fingers against the table. "In the long run with the NCR deciding to march down the boulevard I suppose having some robots to back us up would be nice." He fixed Ava with a piercing stare. "But in the short run… I don't see how I benefit. Unless of course, you'll be leading House's murder-bots around on an NCR squatter hunt. A real return to sender?"

"Not exactly," Ava replied. House would never permit all-out war in the streets. Not until it actually was all-out war. Until then everything had to be solved with a deft hand. "What would you need, King? In the short run."

"Well, I'd need two things," the King said, standing up from the table with a broad smile, "First, I'd need the attacks to stop. No more beaten Freesiders. And the second, I'll need a name to go with the pretty face I'm dealing with.

Ava grinned and picked her still mostly-full glass up from the table. "The name… is Ava. You've got a deal." She clinked the glass against the King's and tossed back the remainder of the alcohol before slamming the glass down on the table.

To her surprise an even louder thud sounded from the underside of the table. Ava was shocked at how familiar the noise was to her. It sounded exactly like when Dogmeat would drive his skull into something. Exactly… like it…


As one of the senior operating members of the Followers of the Apocalypse, Arcade rated one of the rooms located within the towers of the Old Mormon Fort. Not that he used it often. Most of the time he was on the road with Knox or making use of one of the suites in the Lucky 38. Proximity made it easier to put people back together when they inevitably got shot, stabbed, or blown up.

Thus his room at the Fort had largely been relegated to storage space. However, he did maintain a small bed and desk that awaited for him whenever he did end up sleeping there. On nights where he was forced to work into the late hours in order to keep pace with his research, it was just easier to collapse in bed a handful of meters from his lab and his patients than it was to make the slog across Freeside and through the sensory bombardment that was the Strip. Easier, safer, and all together quieter.

At least it was when someone wasn't hammering on his door in the middle of the night. With a few choice Latin invectives, Arcade pulled himself out of bed and snagged his bathrobe from where he'd tossed it over a crate of medical supplies. Pulling it on over one shoulder and clicking the room's lone lamp on with his other hand, he wove his way through stacks of crates and battered cardboard boxes over to the door.

He'd barely pulled his glasses into place and turned the handle when it banged open into him. Ava pushed her way into the room with a bright, "Hiya, Arcade!"

Flustered, Arcade pulled his robe closed around himself and tied it hastily. "What- what are you- it's the middle of the night!" he spluttered angrily. He contemplated reaching for her and throwing her back out into the darkness, but his rant was thrown off by the sound of metal clacking on the floor behind him.

Peering down, Arcade was startled to see, well, a dog standing very tall next to his elbow. But not just any dog, a very robotic dog. Both of what had once been the hulking German Shepard's hind legs along with one of his front had been replaced with cybernetics. Pneumatic struts along its jaw hooked up to a glass dome on his head where a brain could be seen floating in a vat of gel. Distinctive red lenses whirred and clicked as the cyberdog looked up at him clearly assessing the barely dressed doctor as a potential threat.

"That- That's the King's dog!"

"Of course it is," Ava replied flippantly, dropping to a seat on a stack of boxes. The sound of glass crushing against itself could be heard as she settled her body weight. "Come here, Rex," she cooed, patting her hands on her thighs. Rex dropped his baleful observation of Arcade and trotted over to Ava with his tongue lolling out. "I'm an animal person," Ava explained as Arcade watched the cyberdog act like a puppy next to her.

"I see," Arcade agreed as he shut the door. "But let's not get too far off track. THAT'S THE KING'S DOG!"

Rex's ears flattened against his brain casing and he let out a low menacing growl. Ava scratched the rolls of fur on his neck and shushed him softly. Slowly, the mammoth dog sunk down to the floor next to her, but his eerily glowing eyes never left Arcade.

Noting the behavior, Arcade cleared his throat, making a mental note to keep his voice lower around the dog. And Ava. While it seemed like she had control of the dog that control could 'slip' if she so desired it.

Not that he expected her to do that, but it was always good to be cautious. Especially around someone with a known history of mental illness.

Taking a seat on a crate across from Ava, Arcade pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked at Ava expectantly.

She casually ignored him and her eyes flicked around the room, taking in its very obvious storage characteristics as opposed to a bedroom. "Nice place, Arcade," she commented. "I love the… decoration. Very hoarder-chic."

"Yes because that's exactly what I want to talk about when you barge into my home in the middle of the night with a cyberdog," Arcade replied with a dry edge to his voice. He took a deep breath and braced one finger against his temple. "He's not dead is he?"

Cocking her head to the side in bafflement, Ava eyed Arcade in confusion. "Is who dead?"

"The KING!" Arcade barked, before catching himself and placing a clenched fist over his mouth. Rex had made no move other than to start sweeping his tail across the wooden floor at hearing his master's name. Very rapidly a clean patch appeared in the dust as his tail whipped back and forth.

Ava's absurd bubble of laughter snatched Arcade's attention back as she cackled at his outburst. "The King!?" she laughed, her Mohawk twitching as her body shook with mirth. "No, he's not dead! He's fine! I'm actually on business here for him," she managed to say as she calmed down.

Arcade waited patiently for Ava to stumble her way onto the silent conversation cue he was directing at her. He need more than that to qualify as an answer. It took several seconds of Ava fiddling with her fingers before she realized and her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, yeah! Right. I'm negotiating with the King for the Kings' support of New Vegas."

"And just who assigned you that duty?" Arcade inquired. "Because I know Knox wouldn't."

"I don't need him to assign me things," Ava replied far too casually for how sharply drawn her eyebrows were. "He's not my boss," she continued. "My actual boss, Mr. House, is having me set up the deal."

Taking a moment to process what Ava just said, Arcade leaned back on his crate. Things were never dull around Knox and Ava that was for sure, but somehow since the last time he'd been with the two of them, they'd managed to end up at each other's throats. Which was a very bad place to be in his opinion. Either one of them irritated was bad enough. Both? That was decidedly unfortunate. And if Mr. House was stepping in to separate them on different missions? Well, that in itself had larger implications than Arcade liked to ponder in the middle of the night.

"So how does that bring you here with the King's cyberdog?"

Ava popped her lips thoughtfully and rocked backwards on her box. More glass could be heard grinding as she shifted. "Well…" she said slowly. "The King needs a few things taken care of. No more NCR hostilities and I get Rex a new brain." She patted the dog's brain case. "This one is failing. In return, the King pledges his support to New Vegas… and I get to keep Rex."

Arcade cracked a small smile as Ava doted on the canine death machine. He steepled his fingers and looked at her over them. "I'm just going to posit an idea here," he said. Ava glanced up at him, but kept petting Rex. "The King wanted the NCR out of Freeside. You wanted the cyberdog."

Ava's shoulders stiffened and she looked guilty for a moment, but she quickly schooled her features and said, "I can neither confirm nor deny that."

With a laugh, Arcade pulled his glasses off and rubbed his tired eyes. "That is so like you. If anyone ever needs something done, and done well mind you, just put it between you and something you want. Like stability in Freeside between you and a cyberdog. You greedy, little monstrosity." Slipping his glasses back on, Arcade watched Ava go back to petting the dog. And people called Knox the manipulative one, he thought to himself.

"Well, that's one mystery solved," Arcade mumbled. He cleared his throat again loudly and snapped his fingers to regain Ava's attention as it drifted away again. "Now for the other one. Why are you here, Ava?"

"Some Freesiders were assaulted by a group of NCR thugs," she answered. "They're here for treatment. I'd like to go interrogate, I mean… question them."

Smiling wryly, Arcade stood up from his crate. "Ava… it's the middle of the night. I'm not waking my patients up for you."

Jumping to her feet, Ava followed along behind Arcade as he wove his way back across the room towards his bed. "What!? Oh come on! You're already awake!"

Arcade dropped onto his mattress and took his glasses off, setting them on the desk behind him. "But they're not. You can turn the light off on your way out." He closed his eyes and waited for the sound of Ava departing. Instead he heard the sound of boxes being shifted. He cracked open one eye and saw Ava removing boxes from a couch and plopping down on it. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked as she stretched out on it. Beneath her, Rex was curling up into a rather large ball of fur and metal.

"I'm sleeping here," Ava replied, her tone completely serious. "This way I can go see those people first thing in the morning," she finished with a yawn.

"Ava!"

"Oh come on," she snapped back at him. "I'm gay, you're gay. There's nothing awkward about this, so shut up and go to sleep!" And with that she rolled over, putting her back to him. Arcade could almost immediately hear the sound of snores. Whether real or fake he couldn't tell.

With a sigh, Arcade glanced at the light that was still on and right next to Ava, but before he could get up, one metal claw extended from the ball Rex had curled up in and neatly severed the power cord leading to the lamp. The room was plunged into darkness except for two bright red dots staring directly at Arcade before they too slid shut.


A/N: No, I'm not dead! Just really busy. Hopefully trying to be a bit more proactive with posting. But anyway. We're back. And with Rex too! I enjoy writing dogs as I hope you can see by the appearance of Rex and Chatterbox's dogs not one week apart from each other. Hope you enjoyed and see you next time.