"M'kay… is everyone ready? We got an interview to go to."

Sandra sat across from Niner, Arcade, and Vulpes, the four of them seated crookedly around a campfire on the outskirts of Primm, safe and sound in a small NCR encampment. Ever since the escaped cons were banished from Primm, the soldiers and citizens alike were free to move about the town openly again, leaving this once over-filled encampment empty now. And, after spending the night in one of their old tents, cooking a rationed supply of iguana for lunch, and trading some goods in the Vikki & Vance, the four of them were now preparing to head up the hill to Randall & Associates—the bounty hunting firm that would hopefully take them all on as bounty hunters today.

Sandra cradled her combat shotgun, her fingers grazing over the Charon inscription as her eyes ventured between her friends—Niner, leaning lazily back and picking his teeth, his short black hairs even messier than usual with his red bandana tied around his head—Arcade, adjusting his plasma defender with a tool Sandra couldn't identify—and directly across from her, the suited Vulpes Inculta, merely sitting upright with folded arms, the rim of his hat tenting over his pensive blue eyes, quietly nodding in response to her question.

For a moment, no one spoke, and Sandra sighed deeply; ever since departing the city, her group had become considerably less talkative, and they all knew why. They'd recently taken on a banished Legion frumentarius, and it seemed Niner and Arcade had no clue how to communicate with Vulpes—in fact, Sandra suspected that Arcade had no interest in speaking to him whatsoever. The doctor was wary of Vulpes—understandably, as Arcade didn't have the unique history with the frumentarius that Sandra herself had—and there were no signs of this tense awkwardness changing as of yet.

Still, during their days of travel, Sandra grew impatient of this irritating sensation.

"You guys… can we talk to each other?" she griped. "We're gonna have to work as a team, because that's what we're gonna be. A bounty team."

Niner raised his brows, slowly looking up and eyeing Arcade from across the fire.

Arcade released a cloud of breath, staring down at his plasma defender before facing Sandra.

"Not sure what to say," the doctor mumbled.

"Well… what would you usually say?" Sandra asked, resisting the urge to add 'if Vulpes wasn't here right now.'

Arcade gave Vulpes a brief glimpse before leaning back and shrugging. "Oh, I suppose… I'd suggest a general game plan. But we can't really tackle that until we have our first bounty and we get some information on our target. For now, we just have to go up there and talk. That's easy enough."

"You'd think," Sandra murmured to herself.

"Ahm…" Niner raised his hand and cleared his throat, wearing an oddly hesitant expression as he glimpsed between Vulpes and Sandra. "What're we gonna do if this Randall guy asks for, ah… for our backgrounds? 'Cause Foxxy here ain't gonna be able to tell him the truth."

"I thought of that. He's my bodyguard," Sandra replied simply. "I'm gonna give Randall my full background, and I'm gonna say I hired a bodyguard after the incident with Benny, 'cause I didn't wanna risk traveling alone anymore. It all fits."

"What about his… his name?" Niner asked, gesturing subtly to Vulpes. "His name alone is kind of a dead giveaway."

"Vincent," Vulpes uttered lowly. "Vincent Fox."

The others stared at him.

Vulpes glanced between the three. "What? That's my alias. My profligate name."

"You really need to keep that in check," Arcade groused, cocking his head at Vulpes.

Vulpes turned his head very slowly, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Excuse me?"

"That profligate talk," Arcade said coldly. "That's not how us decent human beings speak to each other out here."

"Anyway," Sandra yelled quickly, just before Vulpes could unleash a slew of retorts. "We're good—we got our names and backgrounds. I think we're good to go. Let's hit the road."

As the four stood to leave, Scar the baby deathclaw quickly perked up, scuttling over to Sandra as he often did. Sandra patted his scaly head before marching onward, leading her friends down the broken road leading out of Primm. She was far ahead of the others, but Niner sped his pace to catch up with her, slowing by her side and muttering to her under his breath.

"Oy, Six—you sure this is gonna work out?" he asked quietly, making a brief nod to the two men marching silently far behind them. "You could cut the tension with a ruddy machete. Them two are gonna kill each other."

"Nah… they just have to get used to it," Sandra replied, hoping dearly she was right. "I need them both around, so… they're just gonna have to adapt. Arcade is the brains and Vulpes will get shit done. We need 'em both."

"Oh, why… because me and you would just drink all of Vegas to the bottom of a bottle if we went it alone?"

"You know we would."

"Eh… you're not wrong."

"They'll get over it eventually," Sandra determined, beginning the trek uphill.

Niner surveyed her. "What makes you so sure?"

Sandra let out a heavy sigh, thinking of only one common interest shared by Arcade Gannon and Vulpes Inculta.

"Because, whether they like it or not… they both give a damn about me," Sandra disclosed. "So… they're both gonna stick around. I know them both well enough to know that much, at least."

"Well, yeah, there's that," Niner shrugged and nodded. "And the doc's got that technical edge, plus Foxxy could probably kill a man with a spoon if he wanted to. They don't have to like each other to plan bounty hunting with each other. Hell, if the Vegas thing don't work out, we'd all have a career set out for us just doing this…"

"We already seized the 38," Sandra laughed. "Vegas is in the bag, Niner… as long as the dam doesn't fall."

Niner nodded again, this time silently. He thought back to the day they left Vegas—the day he said his private goodbyes to Mr. Burke, Sarah Lyons, and Bryan Wilks, the people he'd secretly entrusted to look after the Lucky 38. After meeting them and discovering that they were old friends of Sandra's, he was sure to involve them—but Sandra's amnesia hadn't yet cleared up, and thus, she still had no awareness of her friends from back east. So, just as he had been since they all left the city, he simply remained silent on the matter.

Sandra and her friends marched far up the hill overlooking Primm, veering off to a narrow street and strolling up a hillside of dirt. Atop this hill sat a lonely little shack, a metal sign beside the door, reading RANDALL & ASSOCIATES. Sandra paused at the door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open, leading her friends inside the bounty hunting firm.

The interior was as cozy and simple as she'd expected; to the left was a table, a fridge, and a few hooks hanging from the wall, two of them with old bounty hunter's dusters hanging on the wall. To the left were shelves of random items, and directly ahead was a single desk, a cabinet in the corner, a safe in the wall, and an elegant painting perched just behind the man in charge. Randall sat at the desk, silently typing away on his typewriter and barely acknowledging the new arrivals; he wore a duster, a cowboy hat, and oddly enough, a thick pair of dark goggles over his eyes and a black bandana covering his entire lower face.

Sandra exchanged thoughtful glimpses with her companions before marching forward. There was only one chair in front of the desk, so she took a seat and patiently waited for the man to stop typing.

After a minute or so, Randall seemed to find a good place to stop, leaning away from his typewriter and giving his writings a conclusive nod. Then, his goggles seemed to aim at Sandra and the people standing on either side of her.

"Hello… and welcome to Randall & Associates," he said politely, his voice smooth, carrying a faint southern accent. "I'm Randall, owner and operator. I'm assuming you're here for the position, right?"

"Yeah… if it's still open," Sandra affirmed.

"Hell yes, it's open," Randall nodded, rolling away from his typewriter and facing her more properly. He leaned on the corner of his desk, hunched forward, and seemed to stare rather fixedly into her from behind his mysterious goggle lenses. "I only have one question. Are you willin' to kill people for money? Yes or no?"

"Absolutely," Sandra agreed with a smirk, motioning to her friends. "And so are they. We wanted to work as a team, if that's okay with you."

"That's fine, but I gotta be up front with you," Randall said. "These people ain't gonna up their rewards just because there's a team workin' on catching their bounties—so, whatever bounties you claim as a team, you're gonna be splittin' the reward four ways. That sound all right to you?"

"Yeah, we agreed on that already."

"Good. Then listen—here's your basic rundown. You're gonna be pursuing high-risk bounties. Many of them folks are armed and dangerous. You're probably gonna make a name for yourselves if you keep on workin' here—you might run into folks lookin' for payback. But, if you stick to the program, you're gonna be seeing bigger jobs and bigger rewards later down the road. You with me so far?"

"Yeah."

"All right. You need to be prepared for the dangers and the consequences of this job before you sign on. We ain't sendin' out repo men or bill collectors, here. This is a life-or-death game."

"I know."

"Good. Now… gimme a general rundown of your experience," Randall requested, gesturing between the group. "All of you."

Sandra inhaled deeply, straightening up in her seat. "I'll go first. I used to be a courier for the Mojave Express, but after a close call with some guys who tried to kill me—"

"I don't need yours," Randall interrupted. "I heard your whole backstory on the radio ten times over. Seems like the only thing Mr. New Vegas is concerned about is that 'package courier' from Goodsprings… and he will not shut the fuck up about it, like the Mojave ain't got bigger news to deal with right now…"

Sandra laughed.

Arcade and Niner traded eyes briefly, wondering which of them ought to speak up now, but Randall beat them to it.

"You—I think I got you worked out, too," Randall determined, jabbing a finger at Arcade. "Followers doctor, am I right? That's good thinkin', having a medic on the team."

"Yeah," Arcade confirmed. "That's exactly my role, here… although I'm not opposed to vaporizing a couple bad guys here and there, too."

"Then you're in the right place," Randall stated, turning to Niner. "And you?"

"Erm… well, I grew up in California," Niner told him. "Raised by soldiers. I never enlisted, but I picked up a lotta skills from the folks who brought me up. Been workin' as a gun for hire ever since."

"You got any proof of that?" Randall inquired.

There was a brief pause, Niner making a face and gnawing his bottom lip.

Then, Sandra reached up to his chest, clasping the military dog tags Niner wore and holding them further outright, close enough for Randall to read.

"These were his brother's tags from the NCR," Sandra informed.

Randall surveyed the tags, then leaned back, nodding and intertwining his fingers. Then at last, his goggled gaze fell onto Vulpes, who soon stepped forward, straightening his tie and meeting Randall's gaze.

"Vincent Fox," Vulpes introduced in a smooth, formal matter, brandishing his old sly smile and offering his hand. "Pleasure, sir."

"Pleasure's mine," Randall replied, returning the handshake. "Your experience?"

"Well… I worked as a bouncer in Vegas before I moved up to the personal protection specialist career," Vulpes explained swiftly. "Protected a high-roller by the name of Garland Price, a chairman in the Tops. I was his bodyguard for nearly three years until Swank fired him. Hell of a risk-taker, he was. I told the old lunatic not to skim off the top of his co-workers' earnings, but he was just one of those 'I have to have it all' types. I'm sure you're familiar."

"Ah, hell… you've no idea," Randall chuckled, shaking his head. "Them city-boy dipshits can't find their damn belt loops in the morning, much less reach for a pistol when they piss somebody off. I imagine you hand your hands full with 'em."

"Indeed," Vulpes replied with a laugh. "Couldn't protect him from the repercussions of his actions, I'm afraid. But, luckily enough, I met the infamous Courier Six shortly thereafter, and I've been working for her ever since."

"I reckon that explains the duds," Randall surmised, scanning over Vulpes's navy blue suit and hat. "You still dress like you're workin' under city lights."

"Yes, well… old habits," Vulpes shrugged casually, seeming strangely friendly and approachable now.

Sandra and Niner shared an odd glimpse with one another, Arcade glaring into the back of Vulpes's head, all of them thinking along the same lines; contrary to Vulpes's usually detached and antisocial demeanor, he was acting like an entirely different person now, almost like a normal one. Perhaps his skills as a spy weren't all talk. Old habits, indeed.

"All right… I reckon that sums it up," Randall figured, leaning back in his rolling chair and folding his arms. "Now, I know y'all wanna work as a team, but I can only put one name on the files, here. Which one of you is it gonna be?"

The four of them traded eyes, all of their stares landing on Sandra.

"I guess mine," Sandra shrugged. "My name's Sandra, by the way."

Randall nodded and scooted over, jotting her name down before facing them again. "Then you're gonna need one of them dusters over yonder. If you want one, I mean."

"Oh… cool," Sandra smirked. "Yeah, I'll take one."

There was a small pause, Randall seeming to study her very closely.

"How many folks have you actually killed?" he asked her.

Sandra's smile faded. "I never counted."

Randall observed the icy glaze in her crystalline stare, then nodded and straightened up. "All right… I'd say you're ready. Your first target is gonna be Tom Quigly. Now, listen closely—this guy used to be a sniper with the NCR. But apparently, he contracted syphilis… and he steadily lost his fucking mind. Despite his abilities with a rifle, he was drummed out of the rangers. Now he takes pleasure in sniping Brahmin caravans from afar. I have a location for you, if you wanna mark it on your pip-boy, there."

Sandra leaned over the desk and allowed Randall to input the location on her device.

"Now, y'all be careful—and don't go at him straight-on, because he'll see you comin' a mile a way," Randall advised. "He might be crazy, but he's still damn lethal. Bring back his finger, and you'll get your reward."

"Thanks," Sandra said. "Now… is there a time limit on this, or…?"

"Nope—just get it done when you can get it done," Randall replied, swatting a hand. "Just don't expect to come back to it two months down the road. Another bounty hunter would've long nipped his ass in the bud by then."

"Gotcha," Sandra agreed, reaching her feet. "We just have one stop to make, and then we're going straight for this guy."

"All right," Randall said with a wave. "Y'all take care, now."

Sandra waved him off and grabbed one of the dusters from the wall, she and her friends marching out of the shack. Randall shot a peculiar glance at them from behind, only just noticing the little deathclaw scurrying along at Sandra's heels.

Once they were all outside, Sandra began leading them all north of Primm, the direct opposite direction of their destination.

"Er—Six, where're we going?" Niner asked her.

"Goodsprings," Sandra answered, grinning and sliding into her new duster. "It took us five days just to walk here from Vegas—but we're about to make this whole damn thing go a lot faster."

"How do you plan to manage that?" Vulpes asked from her other side, Arcade shooting her a similarly confused look.

Niner, however, already knew the answer—and he flashed a childlike grin as well.

"The bus!" he exclaimed.

Sandra snapped and pointed at him. "Yup—the bus. The first place me and you ever crashed. Chet's been working on it since the last time I saw him, and he said he'd have the fusion engine installed before this past weekend. It should be done and ready to drive now. We're gonna have to pay him pretty much every cent we've got—but we're about to make all that money back, too."

"Oooh… I see," Arcade smirked and nodded. "If we have transportation, we'll reach the targets before any other bounty hunter can. We'll reap all the reward."

Sandra squinted at him. "Um… yeah. Totally has nothing to do with the fact that I'm just tired of walking for literal days at a time…"

Arcade scoffed out a laugh, giving her a caustic stare. "Your sarcasm is wildly entertaining."

"Just like yours, fuckboy," Sandra snarked, making Niner choke on his freshly-lit cigarette, chuckling and spitting various smoke clouds into the air.

The three of them laughed—and Vulpes, marching just behind them, wore the faintest hint of a smirk as he listened to their dumb banter.

"Okay—now that we're all talking, I gotta ask," Niner said suddenly, whipping around and walking backwards as they ventured up the road north. "Where the hell did you learn to lie like that?!"

His question was directed at Vulpes, who simply sighed, strolling with pocketed hands and managing a shrug. "I think you know the answer."

"Yeah, but Jesus Christ—that was impressive as hell," Niner said, slapping him on the arm. "You gotta teach me how to pull an entire backstory outta my ass."

"You've already done that, Niner," Sandra snickered, shaking her head and plucking his cigarette from his fingers. "You had the entire freaking UltraLuxe convinced you were some big-shot belt-buckle manufacturer from California."

"He what?" Arcade chuckled.

"Yeah—how do you think we got into their kitchen?" Sandra giggled, taking a puff from Niner's smoke. "Niner raised hell at the front counter—I think he threatened to sue at some point. I'unno. It was ridiculous."

"Yeah… and we were both high as shit, too," Niner laughed. "Think what we coulda done if we were sober…"

They continued chatting and joking as they approached the edge of Goodsprings—and just before entering the town, Sandra glimpsed to the back, where Vulpes was tailing along behind them, scoffing and shaking his head.

"Oh… are you laughing?" Sandra said softly, venturing to his side and surveying his expression more closely. "Showing some humanity for once? Hellfire, I'm gonna have to call the Mojave Times."

Vulpes scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "Idiocy is amusing. That's all."

"You're damn right it is," Sandra agreed, taking another drag coolly and finishing off the cigarette, which Niner seemed to have forgotten about. "And that's how we stay sane out here. Lesson one of normal life."

"Normal," Vulpes mumbled, eyeing Niner and Arcade from behind, who were both farther up the road. "I'd hardly call it normal."

Sandra gave him an interested look.

Vulpes glanced at her, then made a sideways nod and pocketed his hands again. "To speak so freely without fear of retribution… I'd hardly call that normal."

"It's normal now," Sandra assured him. "And it always has been for us. Feel free to jump in anytime. You'll feel better. Your blood pressure will go down, too. I swear to God, it will."

Vulpes spared her an odd look, then released a breathless noise that might've been a laugh.

"You're so strange," he uttered.

"No shit," Sandra smirked, patting him on the back before rushing to rejoin her other friends.

Vulpes narrowed his eyes as he stared after her, wearing a profound expression as he did.

The moment Goodsprings came fully into view—the bus did as well, sitting welcomingly beside the saloon where it always had been. Sandra and Niner's eyes lit up as they drew closer; all the tires had been replaced, and the exterior even had a paint job, shining silver with a great red banner on either side, both of them reading VEGAS MACHINE.

Sandra and Niner studied every inch of the massive vehicle, beaming with excitement while Arcade and Vulpes both surveyed it calmly. It wasn't long before Chet spotted them from the front porch of his shop, stepping onto the dirt and approaching them.

Sandra yanked Chet into a hug instantly, then stepped back and began digging out all the caps she had to spare. Niner and Arcade did much the same, Vulpes pushing the side door of the bus open and stepping inside to look around. To the right, two narrow benches were across from each other just behind the driver and passenger seats, and to the left was a far cozier area containing makeshift beds; two of the beds were simply mattresses on the floor, and the other two were suspended hammock-type contraptions that hung from the ceiling, each containing several blankets and pillows. Past the beds was a narrow doorway and a tattered curtain, leading into an enclosed bathroom area, and beside one of the benches were a mini-fridge and a tiny sink built into the wall, as well as a single hot plate that had been bolted down to the smallest countertop Vulpes had ever seen. The inside had been cleaned and furbished dramatically, designed perfectly how Sandra requested—and since Chet did such a fine job on the Vegas Machine, Sandra, Niner, and Arcade quickly went broke when they paid him for his efforts.

After saying goodbye to Chet, Sandra and Niner spent a little time marveling at the inside before Sandra finally sank into the driver seat, turning up the radio before clasping the dangling keys that hung from the ignition. Her companions leaned over her shoulder, music echoing throughout their new mobile home as Sandra shifted gears and slowly drove out of Goodsprings, prepared to embark on a grand new adventure.