During the drive to Vegas, after Sandra told Niner and Vulpes everything that happened, Arcade straightened up in the passenger seat—and he informed all of them of his real connection to the Enclave.

"I wasn't a soldier… and I wasn't really part of the Enclave," he explained. "I was just born into it. I was just… there. My father and the friends of my family were all soldiers, but I was just… a kid who happened to be born on base. I barely had anything to do with what they were doing… and honestly, I didn't know what they were doing most of the time. I didn't think to ask, either. I was just a child…"

Niner and Vulpes hovered in the wide space between the two front seats, listening quietly and saying nothing. They all fell silent as Sandra slowly brought the bus to a stop just beside the strip's main gates, powering off the engine and inhaling a deep breath.

"You guys stay here," she instructed. "Especially you, Arcade. Stay here and lock the doors. Don't step outside while I'm gone. Don't even look out the windows—just stay here and stay out of sight. All right?"

Arcade nodded somberly, giving her a hesitant look. "Are you sure you wanna do this? If they decide that you're harboring a fugitive, then… they'll be after you, too."

"Yeah, well… I couldn't care less," Sandra replied gravely, popping her door open. "I've taken down entire governments before… and if they fuck with me, I'll take them down, too."

Arcade stared at her worriedly, but nevertheless, he managed a nod.

Vulpes remained silent, his pensive blue eyes shifting intently between Sandra and Arcade.

Niner glared at Sandra doubtfully, sighing and shaking his head.

"Lemme go with you, Six," he requested. "If they try and lock you up… I can help you fight your way out and make a run for it."

"Niner… I'll be fine," Sandra assured, motioning toward Arcade. "I need you here to protect him… just in case more NCR fuckers come around. Apparently, they recognize the bus, so… I need you guys to stay here and be bodyguards until I get back. Okay?"

Niner let out another stressed breath, leaning back and folding his arms. "Ugh… fine. You never let me do anything…"

Sandra gave all of them a final reassuring smile, then climbed out of the bus and slammed the door shut. They all watched out the windshield as she wandered around the bus, marching off and approaching the strip's main gates.

There was a long silence lingering over the three of them after Sandra departed, the only noise being Scar nibbling on his iguana bits near the beds, chomping softly as he buried his scaly face into his dog bowl.

Vulpes sat firmly between the two front seats, arms crossed and eyes locked onto Arcade.

Arcade noticed his lingering glare a few minutes after Sandra was gone. He turned in the passenger seat, giving Vulpes a strange look.

"Take a picture," Arcade snarked. "It'll last longer."

Vulpes scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Doctor."

Arcade narrowed his eyes at him. "Any reason you're dog-eyeing me right now…?"

Vuleps hesitated, sighing grimly. Niner sat crookedly in the driver seat, glimpsing between Arcade and Vulpes as a sense of tension seemed to spread over the atmosphere.

Vulpes was feeling an odd sense of perturbation, remembering the moment when Sandra and Arcade returned to them earlier in the morning—both of them strolling toward the bus, smiling, Sandra holding his hand…

"I see you're getting awfully close to her," Vulpes grumbled.

Arcade stared at him, glancing at Niner briefly, then releasing a laugh.

"Are you jealous?" Arcade snickered in disbelief.

Niner let out a laugh, then quickly fell silent when Vuleps shot him a searing look.

"Listen, Mr. Fox—you and Sandra aren't even together," Arcade stated. "Whatever happened in the past—that's not happening now. Besides, you do know that I prefer men when it comes to lovers, don't you?"

"I'm well aware of your reprobate tastes," Vulpes grumped. "But tastes can change—especially when you're clinging onto someone the way you are with her."

"Okay. First of all—you're way off base," Arcade responded. "Even if I did feel that way about her—believe me, I would never act on it. I'd never destroy what she and I have now. Besides, she told me I remind her of her father—which would make any romantic feelings toward her really creepy. And beyond all that—why do you even care?"

Vulpes glared at him for a moment, then stood and marched away, strolling toward the back of the bus without another word.

Arcade and Niner shared a brief stare after he wandered off, both of them deciding to drop the topic for now.

Sandra pushed the gigantic gates open and marched onto the strip with a confident stride, sliding her sunglasses on and strolling under the brilliant flashing lights of Las Vegas. A few people turned their heads, noticing the courier's return—but the rest carried on with their routines, hookers dancing, civilians wandering around in groups and gossiping loudly, and NCR soldiers meandering about and leaning on walls, some trying to recover from their drunken states.

Sandra glanced up at the towering Lucky 38, thinking of Melody and hoping she was faring well, living safely inside her new ivory tower. She then marched on, past the many casinos and toward the NCR embassy that sat far down the strip.

When the courier strolled past the fence of the embassy, a few of the nearby soldiers spared her interested looks, though none of them disturbed her. Sandra pushed the double-doors open to the building, speaking to the woman behind the counter—the woman told her where to go in order to speak to the man in charge, and Sandra thanked her before marching off, wandering down many halls and passing the cafeteria before she finally found the main office.

The office of Dennis Crocker was larger and far more impressive than any other room in the building, spacious with a lush rug across the floor, leading to the mahogany desk across the room. Ambassador Crocker sat behind the desk, a large and elegant painting behind him; he wore a tan suit, his skin a dark complexion and his face hardened with focus as he typed away on his terminal.

Crocker perked up when he noticed the new arrival in his office.

Sandra strolled toward him with a powerful walk, sliding her sunglasses off and giving him a serious stare.

"Can I help you?" Crocker asked.

"I think you can," Sandra replied, pocketing her hands. "What do I have to do to get someone a pardon for their crimes?"

Crocker's eyes narrowed. "We don't tend to hand out pardons here. With the Legion breathing down our necks, we don't have time to…"

"Look—it's important," Sandra insisted, leaning on his desk. "You don't want the Legion taking the dam, do you?"

Crocker's pensive expression seemed to intensify.

"I fail to see how pardoning a criminal has anything to do with Hoover Dam," he said.

"Then you clearly don't know who I am," Sandra told him firmly. "I'm Courier Six—the heir to Mr. House and the new owner of the Lucky 38—and I'm working my ass off to make sure the Mojave isn't overrun by raiders and Legionaries. I'm on your side, here—I have the same goal as you—and I can't accomplish that goal with NCR bounty hunters hunting me and my friends."

Crocker leaned back, slowly intertwining his fingers. "Your friend is a criminal, huh. You do know that harboring a fugitive of the NCR is punishable by law, right? We're talking five to twenty-five years in a correctional facility."

"And you do know I have control over Vegas now, right?" Sandra snarked in response. "If you try to lock me up, there's gonna be hell to pay for the NCR. But I don't want that, and neither do you—especially since I'm the best ally you could ever have against the Legion."

"Really," Crocker murmured interestingly. "How so…?"

"Uh, hello? Securitrons? With the MKII upgrade?" Sandra griped. "I have a literal army at my disposal. And I planned to use that army to help the NCR hold the dam. We need to maintain stability in this region, and I'm well aware of that. Like I said—I have the same goal as you."

Crocker was silent for a moment, gently stroking his chin with thought.

"So," he muttered. "If I pardon your friend… you'll assist the NCR in holding the dam? Is that the proposal, here?"

"Yes," Sandra nodded definitively. "I'm a bounty hunter—I'm trying to cut down all the criminal elements in the Mojave before we take care of the Legion. That way, there won't be anybody left to rise up against Vegas, and things will finally be relatively safe around here. But I need my team intact in order to do that. I have a doctor in my team—a really good doctor—and he hasn't done anything to warrant legal action against him. He deserves a pardon."

"Tell me," Crocker requested. "Tell me who he is… and tell me what his crimes are. That will be the main determining factor of whether or not he actually deserves a pardon."

"His name is Arcade Israel Gannon," Sandra informed. "His father was an Enclave soldier in Navarro—but he himself was never a soldier of the Enclave. Someone put a bounty on his head because his father was Enclave—but he's never actually been a part of the Enclave. He was just born into it. That's all."

Crocker fell silent again, nodding thoughtfully to himself. Then, he leaned forward and began typing on his terminal again. Moments later, he found the file he was looking for on his computer—a page popped up on his screen, displaying a portrait of Arcade as well as a long list of the information used against him, delivered to the NCR by a man named Judge Richter.

"I see," Crocked muttered. "I see what's going on here."

Sandra squinted at him. "What do you mean…?"

"You said you were a bounty hunter," Crocker said. "Who do you work for?"

"Um… Randall & Associates," Sandra mumbled in confusion. "Why… does it matter?"

"I think it does," Crocker nodded. "Because the evidence against Mr. Gannon was delivered to us by a certain Judge Richter—the owner and operator of Richter & Associates. He runs another bounty business, and it almost seems like he's using an underhanded method to try and chip away at his competition. It seems like he delivered this information to us so the NCR would target your team. Very clever… and very manipulative…"

Sandra felt a slow festering anger begin to grow in the pit of her stomach. She remembered Randall mentioning Judge Richter—an alleged pedophile who ran a competing bounty business. It seemed this Judge Richter was even more sinister than she originally thought.

"That fucking bastard," Sandra grumbled.

"Well…" Crocker straightened up in his seat. "You're saying Mr. Gannon has never acted on the interests of the Enclave?"

"He hasn't," Sandra confirmed. "He's never been a part of the Enclave. Hell—he spends all his time trying to help everyone, and he always looks after me, too. I need him on my team. He's smarter than the rest of us combined, and he's the only doctor we have. He's an important part of… of the courier army."

Crocker perked his brow. "Courier army…?"

Sandra gulped, then slowly nodded. "Yeah, that's… that's what I'm gonna call it. The bounty hunting team… the Courier Army."

Crocker let out a dry laugh.

There was a pause. Then, Crocker gave her another nod.

"Are you telling me that your… Courier Army… will work for the interests of the NCR regarding the conflict over Hoover Dam?" he asked.

Sandra swallowed, slowly nodding in response. In reality, she planned to make Vegas independent someday—but Crocker didn't need to know such a thing. In fact, Sandra thought that the NCR could be a valuable ally during the future to come—a faction she could negotiate with, perhaps sharing the Mojave with the republic once she finally accomplished her goal—but that was a problem for another day. For now, she simply needed to present herself as a full ally to the NCR. It was the only way to ensure that Arcade would be safe from now on.

"We already are," Sandra told him flatly. "But we're not gonna keep doing that if the NCR is targeting us. You guys are gonna lose a huge ally if the NCR keeps coming after Arcade. All I'm asking for is some kind of mutual understanding—I'll help you guys keep the criminals and the Legion in check, and in exchange, you stop sending bounty hunters after us. And I think that's a pretty reasonable deal, too."

This time, Crocker fell silent for nearly a full minute, placing his intertwined hands against his mouth and surveying his terminal intently.

"In fact," Sandra continued, sparking an impulsive idea. "I would appreciate it if you kept all of us off-limits. Everyone in my team."

Crocker studied her. "Meaning…?"

"Vincent Fox—Niner—Arcade—and me," Sandra said. "All four of us need immunity from the NCR and its rules."

Crocker released a breathless snicker. "That's a tall order, young lady. And why do you need immunity? Are you breaking the law in some way?"

"No," Sandra replied honestly. "But I have to do a lot in order to bring down the criminals in the Mojave—and if any of us end up breaking a law by accident, I need to know we're gonna be safe. We need to do this job, Mr. Crocker. And I'm not asking for immunity for any selfish reason—I just need to know that we can do the job. It's not for us. It's for the Mojave."

Crocker pondered on this, leaning forward again and sighing heavily.

"That's a very complicated matter, Courier," he told her. "I would be inclined to sign you on as a legal member of the NCR, just to prove your alleged loyalty, here… but if you were part of the NCR, then you certainly wouldn't be allowed any sort of immunity. No special treatment exists for anyone enlisted. So… you'd have to remain a free agent… which means I'd have to place a huge amount of trust in you. You do understand why I'm hesitant to do such a thing, yes?"

"I get it," Sandra assured. "But like I said—I don't want the Mojave to be overrun with crooks and Legion any more than you do. You can at least trust that, can't you?"

Crocker slowly nodded. "Yes… that would certainly put a damper on your Vegas safety net. I can believe that you're telling the truth… simply because the criminals and the Legion would ruin your new lifestyle if they managed to obtain any power here."

"There you go," Sandra nodded firmly. "So you know I'm on the same page as you. Do we have an understanding now?"

"Oh… I suppose so," Crocker sighed, typing on his terminal once more. "Give me a moment… ah… here we go. Now, this might take a little time to reach all the other soldiers and rangers… but every member of the NCR will be informed of your immunity and the pardoning of Arcade Gannon."

"Yes…!" Sandra exhaled, tossing her head back and smiling with relief. "Yes… thank you."

"This is an urgent message for every member of the NCR. I hereby pardon Arcade Israel Gannon of any and all crimes perpetrated against the New California Republic," Crocker stated, recording his voice using the terminal. "All bounties placed on Arcade Israel Gannon are hereby revoked. And—all members of the bounty team led by Courier Six under the employ of Randall & Associates are hereby immune to the regular laws and restrictions of the New California Republic. Vincent Fox—Niner—Arcade—and Sandra the courier are now immune to the laws of the NCR from this moment on, until further notice. This is an urgent course of action that is absolutely imperative to the maintaining and management of Hoover Dam against Caesar's Legion and any other warring factions that stand against the New California Republic. Please send this message accordingly. Signing off—Ambassador Dennis Crocker."

After voicing his formal change of law, Crocker stopped the recording and tinkered with the terminal, sending the recording out to every NCR outpost in the Mojave. Then, he sighed again and looked up to Sandra.

"Satisfied?" he said.

"Very," Sandra smirked. "Thank you very much."

"Not so fast," Crocker uttered seriously. "I have one more question for you."

"Shoot."

"Why are you only showing up now?"

"Um… what do you mean?"

"I mean… I sent a message to the 38, requesting your presence so we could discuss many of these matters," Crocker informed her. "But I never received a response."

"Oh… I'm sorry. I haven't been in town lately," Sandra shrugged. "I never got your message."

"Well… someone did," Crocker replied. "My messenger told me that he delivered the letter to an ally of yours at the 38. The chairman of the Tops, if I remember correctly."

Sandra paused, now totally bewildered. As far as she knew, Swank was the new chairman of the Tops, and he had been ever since Benny's death—but Swank had never been to the Lucky 38, nor did he ever pledge any sort of alliance with Sandra and her friends.

"That doesn't…" she murmured. "That can't be right…"

Crocker typed on his terminal, examining the screen for a moment before meeting her eyes.

"I was right—it is the chairman of the Tops, one Mr. Burke," he revealed. "A man who is apparently co-managing the Tops and the Lucky 38 now."

Sandra was still completely lost—though she felt a sharp pain in her skull at the mention of the chairman, Mr. Burke.

"He's your manager," Crocker said, eyeing her curiously. "But you don't even seem to know who he is."

"I…" Sandra bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I… I suffer from some memory loss. I might just be zoning out right now. My bad…"

"Oh… I see," Crocker understood. "I see why you need your doctor around, then."

"Yeah…" Sandra sighed and nodded, thinking of Arcade again and knowing for certain that Crocker was right. "He does help me a lot with that stupid problem…"

"Well… I believe we have everything resolved now," Crocker disclosed. "Though, I do recommend that you express better communication with your managers at the Lucky 38. If we're truly allied to each other, then we need to be able to communicate. We all need to be performing at our absolute best, since we're working toward the same enormous goal."

"Yeah," Sandra agreed, turning to make her leave. "Well… thank you very much, Mr. Crocker. I'll see you on the flip side."

"Have a good day, Courier."

Sandra marched out of the office, wandering the halls and strolling out of the building. As she meandered down the extravagant Vegas strip, her eyes ventured up to the fantastic Lucky 38, her thoughts beginning to weigh heavily on her.

She felt overwhelmingly relieved that Arcade would be safe now, and that she and her friends were permitted the very same safety—but Crocker's words still troubled her.

Other managers of the Lucky 38?

Sandra never gave anyone permission to manage the 38 in her absence—she left Melody and ED-E in the tower, safe and sound, but she'd never left any managers or businessmen inside her secretive home.

She glanced between the tower and the gates in the distance, feeling conflicted.

Then, she took a deep breath and marched up the impressive walkway of the 38, one that flashed in long white lights up and down the narrow slope. Sandra waved at Victor in passing, then pushed the doors open, walking across the empty and spotless casino before stepping into the elevator.

As the elevator carried her upward, a rising tension began to overtake her. She slowly removed the shotgun from her back, bracing herself for whoever she might find inside her suite. If someone truly was trying to take over the casino in her absence, then she'd be sure to nip them in the bud right now.

Ding.

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open. Sandra peered outside warily, seeing nothing but the wide empty hallway of her suite, all the doors standing open, no sound stirring aside from the distant echo of the television in the far bedroom, the one that contained all her companions' beds. Gritting her teeth, Sandra cautiously peeked into every room—her own bedroom, the pool room, and the kitchen, all of them empty. Lastly, she inched closer to the other bedroom, following the sound of the TV and taking one great stride into the room—leaping inside and jutting her shotgun upright.

There was only one person in the room—Melody, sitting on the edge of Arcade's bed and watching her usual Silver Shroud program, ED-E hovering just beside her. She gasped shrilly and jumped, gaping at Sandra in shock.

Sandra let out a relieved cloud of breath, lowering her shotgun and shooting her a look.

"Sandra!" Melody yelled, now smiling—she leaped off the bed and sprinted forward, flinging her arms around the courier and embracing her tightly around the waist. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, kiddo," Sandra smirked, patting her on the head and glancing around the room vigilantly. "Is anyone else here?"

Melody stepped back, swiping her stringy black bangs aside and peering up at her oddly.

"Um… no," she muttered. "It's just me. You told me not to ever let anyone inside, so… it's just me and Eddie here…"

ED-E twittered happily, bobbing in the air and circling around Sandra with joy. Sandra patted the floating robot on its metal shell, then turned to Melody again.

"Are you sure?" Sandra asked uncertainly. "Are you sure there's nobody else trying to… get inside, or… anything?"

"I'm sure," Melody nodded, flashing a weak smile. "How are you guys? Is Foxxy all better?"

"Oh, yeah… he healed up ages ago," Sandra assured. "It takes a lot to keep him down."

"That's good!"

"Yeah…"

"How's Scar?"

"He's good, kiddo. He's getting bigger, too. He's almost the size of a pitbull now."

"Cool!"

They both paused, Melody gazing up at her curiously.

"What made you think somebody else was here?" she squeaked.

Sandra frowned, sighing deeply. "The NCR ambassador said… someone at the Lucky 38 took a message from him. But he said it was a guy… another manager of mine, or something."

Melody did her best to maintain her expression of cluelessness.

"I don't know… he must've been mistaken," Sandra decided with a shrug. "Maybe some random guy intercepted the message and took off with it, I don't know… doesn't really matter now."

"Are you guys doing okay with the bounty stuff?"

"Oh, yeah… we're doing good. None of us have been hurt or anything. We're actually pretty damn good at it."

"That's good…"

Sandra sighed, rustling Melody's hair and pulling her into another hug. "Well… I have to go now. Everyone else is waiting for me. I love you, kiddo. Be good, okay?"

"You be good," Melody snarked and laughed. "I love you, too…"

Sandra gave the girl her farewells, then waved her off and marched out of the bedroom. Melody watched her go, her expression deflating into one of saddened remorse. She didn't move until she heard the faint ding of the elevator, meaning that Sandra was no longer in the suite.

Once Sandra was gone, a few more figures began to emerge from behind Melody; the closet in the far corner popped open, and three people shuffled out, all of them rather cramped in the closet and shoving past one another. Mr. Burke was the first to climb out, straightening up his sparkly new suit and fixing his hat, Sarah Lyons and Bryan Wilks lumbering out behind him.

"That was close," Bryan breathed with relief.

"Indeed," Mr. Burke agreed, patting Melody on the head. "Good job, dear. You did very well."

Melody frowned down at her feet. "I don't like lying to her…"

"Yes… I understand," Mr. Burke assured. "But it's for her own good… and it's only temporary. Remember that."

"This is ridiculous," Sarah huffed, folding her arms and sitting on the edge of the nearest bed. "I don't see why we can't just tell her…"

"Sarah… please try to remember," Mr. Burke said. "Sandra is doing very, very well in her bounty business right now. I've been monitoring her progress with Randall & Associates very closely, and she's doing a damn fine job of cleaning up the Mojave. We need her to keep that up. The last thing we wanna do is mess with her head and throw her off her game now. We're all trying to save the Mojave, remember? It may seem manipulative, but this is for the best."

"Ooo!" Bryan grinned, suddenly spotting the Silver Shroud on TV. He plopped down beside Melody across the room, both of them locking their attention onto the television.

As the kids busied themselves, Sarah and Mr. Burke remained on the other side of the room, Sarah frowning down at her lap. Mr. Burke sighed, slowly sitting beside her.

"I know," Mr. Burke said softly. "I don't like it any more than you do… but we're all doing a good thing, here. Just focus on that."

Sarah blew her blonde bangs from her eyes, shaking her head down at the floor.

"I'm sick of this," she murmured. "I wanna see her…"

"So do I," Mr. Burke replied. "I feel the same way you do."

"No… no, you don't," Sarah argued, shaking her head again. "You really don't…"

Mr. Burke observed her closely from behind his reflective sunglasses. "What do you mean?"

Sarah was silent for several seconds, releasing a slow, shaky breath.

"Do you know… do you know what's been on my mind ever since we saw her at Gomorrah?" she asked. "I can't stop thinking about it… it's driving me crazy…"

"What is it?" Mr. Burke wondered. "You can tell me."

Sarah gnawed on her bottom lip, turning and meeting his eyes sadly.

"I never… I never really realized it before… never really stopped to think about it," she breathed. "But, ever since we saw her… it clicked in my head… and I realized… it's my fault."

Mr. Burke frowned somberly. "What's your fault?"

Sarah wore a heavy grimace, one that hardly suited her.

"It's my fault… her head is all screwed up," she sighed grimly. "And it's my fault that Charon died, too…"

"Oh… Sarah," Mr. Burke murmured, shaking his head and gently stroking her on the back. "That is not your fault. Why would you think that?"

"I was there," Sarah exhaled. "I was standing right there… right at the doorway to Project Purity. I could've gone inside. I could've just bit the bullet and took one for the team… and I should have. But I was too scared. I knew I would die if I walked into that radiation pit… but then, Sandra came along, all battered and fucked up on chems… and she volunteered to do it in a heartbeat. And you know… for years… for years, I've felt like shit for letting her do that."

"But she didn't do that," Mr. Burke said. "In the end, she didn't have to…"

"Yeah—because Charon showed up at the last second, and he volunteered to do it for us," Sarah grumbled, her voice cracking. "The radiation didn't hurt him at all, since he was a ghoul. That's why… that's why we thought it would be fine. I didn't think the damn thing would blow up… and kill him…"

Mr. Burke wore an empathetic visage as he tenderly stroked along her back, Sarah clenching her teeth, glaring down at the floor angrily.

"If I would've just shut the damn thing off myself… like I was ordered to… like I was supposed to," she hissed. "Then Charon would still be alive… and Sandra wouldn't be all…"

"Sarah… believe me. You'll drive yourself mad if you're always dwelling on the roads not traveled," Mr. Burke told her flatly. "Besides… even if you did shut down the purifier yourself… then you wouldn't be here right now. And that would be a terrible loss, too."

Sarah gazed into him, flashing a weak smile. "Don't kiss my ass…"

"No… honestly," Mr. Burke said sincerely. "I'd be lost without you."

The two of them stared profoundly into one another, his eyes bleeding into hers as a spark of excitement arose between them both. They nearly leaned closer to one another—but just then, Melody tugged on Mr. Burke's suit.

"Yes, dear…?" Mr. Burke uttered, turning to the young girl.

"How…" Melody mumbled. "How long are we gonna have to lie to her…?"

Mr. Burke and Sarah traded glances, both of them sighing.

"Until her friend Niner reports back to us," Mr. Burke answered. "Niner is supposed to inform us of when she starts regaining her memory… and once she starts to remember all of us… then we can all come together as one."

Melody smiled and nodded, wandering back to the TV. Mr. Burke faced Sarah again, adjusting his collar and clearing his throat.

"Well, I… I have a meeting at the Tops today," he told her. "I'd better be going."

Sarah nodded and waved him farewell, watching as Mr. Burke marched out of the room. Strangely, she found herself staring after him even long after he was gone.