Hi. Some of you might remember the first half of this story - 'It's a Sin to Tell a Lie' - from the first time around, all the way back in 2011. Reading back over its reviews, new and old, really reminded me why I started writing in the first place and I've needed for a long time to just have fun with my writing. This was fun. Its second half - 'Of Outlaws and Empires' - was also left hanging when, presumably, life got in the way and I never completed it. My goal was to rewrite some of 'It's a Sin' and patch up some of the more glaringly obvious holes, and infuse some of the 8 years or so more life experience I have into the rewrite, too. Following on from that, 'Outlaws' has actually come together as well, in a way I never would have thought it could back in 2012.

And you know what? I've loved doing this. So I hope you enjoy; this always was a story that went to some dark places, so there will be sensitive and mature content ahead. 2020 is a different place in writing, and rightly so, but that's a bridge we'll cross when the time comes. For the time being, though, on with the show:

The Mojave Chapters: Part One
It's a Sin to Tell a Lie

1

Something's Gotta Give

How many caps had she gambled away here already? How many had she spent on vodka that came in polished shot glasses and could be knocked back in seconds? By now, it was probably a damn sight more than she had spent on ammunition and weapon repairs put together, and while this was a recent development, it was still a development.

It was something that Lola could not ignore any longer – that her stockpile of caps was dwindling. She guessed she was down to no more than a hundred by now, and she had to admit, Lady Luck had played a large part in that.

The woman sighed as she slumped over the roulette table. She had since taken to waving her hand over the numbers at random, thinking that it could not be any worse than if she had intentionally picked one, and besides, she had her ways of ensuring the house didn't let her down. Privately, she had resolved only to gamble at The Tops: bat her eyelashes and she could get a few chips for nothing. Blow the right Chairman and she could get even more, and a few drinks to boot if she put on a private show.

This was the way she did things, whenever and wherever she could. It didn't always work; there had been times when her advances had been met with steely resolve, forcing her to try different and altogether more deadly tactics. The Mojave was as harsh a mistress as ever, so she had learned to get along with some submachine guns, her trusty brush gun and even some heavier artillery; even so, ammo was expensive and sex was cheap, for her at least. She knew well that her stockpile of caps had only become a stockpile because she had amassed several hundred bullets by screwing instead of shooting.

Even that had started to get stale, though. So, there she remained, gambling in The Tops and listening to the rumors that floated in and out of the casino, night after night. Sure, some of them were true, but she didn't like to linger on those ones for too long. Work was work, anything she could do to get others on her side and gather up a few caps here and there; she couldn't help making a name for herself.

"Can I get you anything, doll?" but of course, the Chairmen of all people knew exactly who she was. How could they not know? Sure enough, one of them with his polished shoes and slicked back hair winked at her. Lola playfully rolled her eyes.

"How about you get me summore of those chips, hm? Lady Luck ain't favoring me tonight, if you get what I mean," sure enough, a grin flickered across his face and he leaned in a little closer.

"Let's see if we can't do somethin' about that then, huh honey baby? Of course, nothing's free," she knew this line, 'nothing's free,' then again, she wondered if he'd ever known anything about scavenging in the wastes. Even if he had done at some point, his crisp white shirt and button-down blazer suggested he had long since forgotten it. He was right in one sense, though: nothing on The Strip was free.

"So, you know what the usual rates are?"

"Doll, every cat in this place knows your rates,"

"Can't say I'm surprised," she muttered, losing another ten chips to the dealer as she did so. "But you're forgetting I ain't the one who asked first this time," a smirk crossed her face as she witnessed the look of shock that flashed across his face, lightning quick; he shook it off, but he was disappointed, there was no doubt about it. He had come across far too eager and Lola found she could only work her charms well on particularly stubborn targets.

"Well, you know, all you gotta do is ask, baby," he mumbled dejectedly, not quite able to meet her gaze. He wandered away, plastering the Chairman grin that she knew only too well back on his face. He might circulate back to her table later, hoping she'd changed her mind. Perhaps she would have to: she was running seriously low on chips, now, and had not yet turned her attention toward the blackjack table.

She knew her current state of drinking, gambling, screwing and repeating was down to little more than boredom, and perhaps even disconnection from the outside world. She had only been on The Strip for a few weeks, a month at most, but it felt like a lifetime and she could not yet bring herself to leave. She had work to do, and she couldn't do it alone; she had been waiting it out, letting the weeks limp by, anticipating any news of his whereabouts.

How ironic that she was intending to conspire with the man who had attempted to kill her, bullet to the skull and all.

Lola shrugged it off. Chairman charisma, a smile shot her way, but there was far more to it than that – Yes Man was helpful, but not helpful enough. She didn't trust herself to go through the motions, let it all play out smoothly, so the only thing left to do was track Benny down for herself.

This had not proven to be a mean feat by any stretch of the imagination. Isolating herself in The Tops meant that the same rumors that drifted in from outside only seemed to relate to 'someone being allowed inside the Lucky 38' and the 'Great Khans leaving the Mojave.' None of it was news to her, but it had at first proven entertaining to listen to them and marvel at how twisted things could become when passed from one individual to another. She supposed there was some code of conduct in place that discouraged outsiders from speaking about known Chairman business. It was the only explanation for why she hadn't yet heard anything.

"Where you going, doll?" the dealers always asked this question when they saw her leaving, and they only got a response if she was on a winning streak, which wasn't often. Tonight, like so many others, was no such night. She waved a hand listlessly in the dealer's general direction before dragging herself towards the elevator, always managing to forget where she was going and which room belonged to her.

'Belonged' was a stretch, but it was where most of the Chairmen knew to find her; she paid the rent in much the same way as she paid for anything else. It provided an adequate place for her to shower and sleep – such things could have been done at the Lucky 38, she knew, but the place was frozen, a lifeless time capsule. Even with the likes of Rex and Lily taking up residence there, it didn't feel like a place anyone actually lived in. Besides, she figured she would soon be a lot less welcome around there …

"Thought you might wanna hear me out before you lay that pretty head of yours down, baby," Lola raised her eyebrows, already in the process of unbuttoning her shirt when she heard him.

"You got news, Swank?" It wasn't as though it mattered. 'Sit around and look pretty' he'd told her. Damn, she had done a lot more than sitting around and looking pretty and didn't he know it. She sank into the sofa, letting her shirt hang open; a tempting reminder of what he'd be missing out on if his news didn't satisfy her.

"I do. And I think you're gonna dig it,"

"Let's hear it, then," that smirk. Always the same smirk, and always the same on men when they wanted the same thing.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, pussycat," for a moment, Lola was frozen. It wasn't as though she had not heard the term used casually enough in conversation, but it still took her back to the note left on the bed the morning after. She bit her lip softly, knowing what was coming.

"Give me the information, Swank, and I'll give you what you want when you're done," he dug his hands into his pockets, one eyebrow raised: he wasn't convinced. Lola couldn't bring herself to stand up and act the part, push out her chest and lean all her weight on one hip; this was often all it took, just the suggestion of what was about to happen – and yet she didn't much feel up to it tonight.

"Doll, you know I can't let you do that. You might just run out on me," there it was. The reminder that while the Chairmen tolerated her presence, while they knew what they could get from her, they didn't trust her. It hadn't taken much for her to win the favor of the other Families that inhabited The Strip, but the Chairmen were a different matter entirely. No amount of odd jobs or sexual favors could truly win them over; she knew it would take time, enough for her to enact the plan she had become so set on.

"You think I'd do that to you?" Lola allowed the faintest smirk to flit across her face, knowing it was now or never. She could play the wounded ingenue well. She could make her eyes wide, bat her eyelashes and shrug off her shirt, letting it flutter to the ground. Keep your eyes on the prize. She repeated this mantra in her head as she advanced with the kind of swagger only New Vegas could teach.

"Now that's more like it," for the time being, at least. She paused, letting her fingers play delicately with the button on her jeans, taunting him. She always had to be the one in control.

"So?"

"Keep on going like that, baby, and you can ask me anything you want about this joint," a tempting offer, but it wasn't what she wanted. Lola continued to let her hand hover at her waistband, advancing towards Swank until she was close enough to hook her fingers around his leather belt, using it to pull herself closer.

"So, what was that about me running out on you?" she breathed these words into his ear, keeping her limbs purposefully loose and moving around him with ease, serpentine. Hers was a venom unlike any other, not poisonous, but addictive – most wanted more of it after the first taste, her first strike. Sometimes, she ran from them but there were others who forced her hand and made her want to stay just a little longer, until both of them had had their fill.

Swank's body tensed beside her; somehow, no matter how badly he wanted it, she always managed to take him by surprise.

"I-I didn't mean it, baby doll … just … can't be too safe, you know? This info, it's heavy," ah, how even Swank could not convince her he was capable of keeping his cool in a situation like this. She pressed herself up against him, letting his hands search her figure, finding the clasp of her bra. Her mind reeled as she tried to stay focused on her act: whatever he was about to say sounded significant, but she knew it could just as easily be a ruse. Lola bit her lip, exhaled another soft breath into his ear. Anything she could do to soften the blow she would deal just by guessing.

"You know something about Benny, don't you?" if he had been tense before, it was nothing compared to this. In an instant, Lola's face had split into a wide grin and she turned away from him, not bothering to dress herself. "Oops. Cat's out of the bag now, huh?"

As she turned slowly back towards him, she found his expression difficult to read. In a way, he looked dumbfounded, but there was something else; something bordering on disappointment. She didn't have to guess why. She had rumbled him, and he didn't like what this meant, considering the possibility of not getting what he wanted out of her tonight after all.

"Damn it, doll,"

"Aw, don't feel so bad about it," without missing a beat, she homed in on him again. She knew he knew about Benny, but she didn't know exactly what he knew yet.

"You really know how to let a guy down," the suggestion of what was to come flashed in her eyes as she dropped to her knees.

"Funny, I thought down was exactly where I needed to be," there it was again, Swank's muscles tensing as she unfastened his belt effortlessly. She looked up at him, running her tongue across her lips, noticing how powerless her hints made him; surrender was something she was used to, the look men gave when they were caught enthralled her spurring her on. It was amazing, really, just how quickly she had managed to render him vulnerable.

"Doll …" he trailed, but she shook her head.

"Where's Benny?" he did nothing to stop her as she moved in, so close that he could no doubt feel each breath she took. "Tell me, or you'll be waiting a long time for what I'm about to do next,"

"I heard," he paused, clearly not wanting to impart the information he had just yet. She watched as he hovered on the precipice of something, expecting her to take it all and leave him wanting, but she wasn't so cruel, at least not usually.

"I'm waiting," Lola breathed a soft sigh, resolving that she would need to do more to win him over, so she leaned in, finally making contact.

"Legion … C-Cottonwood Cove, something about a Fort," this was all he could manage but it was all she needed. He'd made it all worth her while, and she couldn't help but muse over her next step even as she went to work, hearing him gasp above her, feeling his muscles twitch and contract as she did what she knew so well to do.

Only the next few days would tell how well it would all work out for her, though. She'd have to get herself back into fighting shape again; The Strip had softened her up, there was no doubt about it, but she didn't have enough weapons to fill an armory stashed away for nothing.