The master bedroom's low light was a pleasant sight for Artyom as he lay comfortably beside Cass. Their dinner at the Ultra-Lux became an interesting evening with the duo fighting cannibals trying to get back into their tribal habit, rescuing a man's son from becoming a meal, and earning the loyalty of the Ultra-Lux leader for not revealing this information to the rest of the strip in the process. He barely had any ambitions to rule New Vegas and somehow he was gaining control by complete accident. If fate had a sense of humor for him, this would be the summarization.
The Rose of Sharon Cassidy had started moving as she looked over her shoulder to find him holding onto her. "You have managed to hold your drink. I'm proud."
The young man couldn't help, but let out a chuckle. "Only for you."
"How sweet." She replied as she pulled his arm over her. "Artyom, my life as a caravaneer is always moving - going from one place to another for profit. With the Van Graffs out of the way, I can properly make money and begin again."
"Are you going somewhere with this?" He wondered.
"Once the things in the Mojave is over, I'm going to be leaving. It's just that… you've given me the reason to for me to stay."
Artyom kissed her by the cheek. "Even if you do go, I'll be here to welcome you back."
"I'm kinda in the mood for some tea, could you make me some?"
"Of course, my Whiskey Rose."
Outside of their room, the duo heard the elevator doors open as footsteps approached their door. "Someone is here. I wonder who it could be."
"Veronica and Christine must be back or your pa wants to have a word with you," Cass suggested. "Let's get changed, we can't look embarrassing to friends and family."
The lovers were quick to get out of bed and change into casual attire. As she changed into a yellow dress, Artyom found the selection of clothing far more appealing than the sweatshirts and jackets of the Metro. When they finally finished, three knocks came onto their door. "Who is it?" He asked.
"It's Christine." The woman answered.
He opened the door and let her in. "You're lucky that Cass and I finished changing. I don't know what you would find."
The Brotherhood assassin expression appeared to be full of horror. "Now is not the time for jokes, the Legion had just launched a full-scale offensive on the town of Novac and the coalition is retreating from the settlement."
"Wait, what?!" Cass was flabbergasted. "What the hell happened?!"
"They got the news of what happened at the Fort and they are not pleased," She replied. "Rumor has it that Legate Lanius has assumed command of the Legion and they appear to be approaching the city outskirts. Veronica is on her way to convince the Mojave Brotherhood to join the defense, but it looks like we have to dig in."
Artyom considered his options and thought about the army of securitrons he had access to. "What if I got my securitrons to fight the Legion itself, could it work?"
"If the Legion was on the other side of the Hoover Dam, we could have funneled them into a meat grinder, but that's no longer a luxury. I'm not belittling their firepower; however, it's not enough to stop the Legion."
"Chyort, I'm not sure what to do. I have no expertise in something like strategy. Maybe I should go to the NCR embassy or find Colonel Miller? They might have something that could help us."
Christine was quick to reply. "I'm not sure the NCR embassy is a good idea."
"Why not?" Cass asked as she took her seat on the bed. "What's going on with them?"
"They're making preparations to leave the Strip via train and through Camp McCarran. So asking them is out of the question."
The young man reached out for a chair behind a desk on the far side of the room to think. "Looks like the Colonel it is. Honestly, if we can't hold the Legion with the combined might of the coalition I don't know what to do. I'm already getting comfortable in my new home as it is, but I'm not going to let them have it."
He noticed a flash of brilliance in Cass's eyes. "Artyom, I'll go talk with Colonel Miller, but why don't you talk with the Chairmen and the Omertas? Earn their loyalty and maybe they'll pitch in to help us out. Just like what the White Gloves did for us last night." She suggested.
His eyes trailed off to Christine. "What are you going to do?"
"There are a group of people northeast of New Vegas." She answered. "They are called the Boomers, people who are artillery specialists. However, they won't let any outsider inside."
"What if you somehow try?"
"Me? Are you crazy? Any outsider who tries to enter their homeland will eat high explosive ordnance if they tried. Thankfully, I'm an assassin and there are a few perks in my line of work that could help avoid being erased from existence."
"Are you that sure about yourself?"
"This is coming from a Russian who had to obey a psychopathic old man who sent you to fight and die for his treasure in the middle of a city full of dead people. Somehow you're worried about me dealing with explosive experts?"
"The ghost people didn't run around with artillery guns." He countered.
"He has a point," Cass commented. "Don't we some special tech where you can turn invisible or something?"
"Stealthboys?" Christine wondered. "There might be something around here somewhere, but I don't have the time to look around."
Then Artyom remembered a concept from an old friend when he first stepped out of Riga. Stalkers had this secret language that dated back before the pre-war times. "Perhaps you don't have to cross open ground and get yourself killed."
"What do mean?"
"Back in Moscow, stalkers don't always have radios so they used their flashlights to communicate with each other. Maybe they could talk to you if you had a flashlight like mine?"
The assassin snapped her fingers. "Yes, Morse code. People say the Boomers were former Vault Dwellers so they might understand it."
"Looks like we all have a plan." He stated. "Let's get to it."
Pavel was worried about the girl whom he trained to shoot better and hoped she wouldn't bite the bullet. Mags seemed like a nice person and her squadmates seemed to appreciate the attention they were received by a high-ranking officer. The guy with the glasses was a high-horse brat and the dark-skinned man with a mohawk was a complete asshole. How she put up with them was a question for another time, but the third member was a nice farm boy who had some decency to calm him down with a bottle of beer. Despite the two annoyances, Pavel could see a concern for their squad member no matter how much they hid it.
Out from her tent, a doctor walked out from the flaps with a clipboard in hand. "The trooper is okay. We're giving her med-x for the pain, but she'll be back on her feet if the Legion doesn't kill us first."
Being reminded of the defeat left a bitter taste in the mayor's mouth. "What's your name doctor?"
"Dr. Arcade Gannon, I'm with the Followers. You show a deep amount of concern for someone not in the NCR military."
"See the men behind me, I taught her squad how to properly shoot when the NCR didn't have the time to train them." He answered. "Seem to have worked out in my favor when she rescued me. What are your people going to do? Pack up and leave?"
The doctor shook his head. "The Followers of the Apocalypse are going to stay and try to help whoever needs us. The Legion is an antithesis to civilization so we're going to be there to fight them through our knowledge."
"An admirable duty I must say, but I shouldn't keep you from your other patients. Dasvidaniya."
The communist officer approached the tent and found the blonde lying down on a cot. She turned her head and looked at him. "Major Morozov, thanks for getting me to the Old Mormon Fort. I thought I wasn't going to make it."
He took a seat on her cot and pulled out a small bottle from his jacket and handed it to her. "Here, I think you deserve this after dealing with that shit."
"A bottle of vodka?" She wondered with bewilderment. "Where the hell did you get this?"
Pavel let out a chuckle. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I have all of the time in the world. C'mon, impress a girl with a story."
"The Lucky 38." Came his answer.
Her widened at the bottle's origins. "Bullshit. The guy who killed House wouldn't let you get away with this."
"Artyom? The kid is more of the tea type of person. He didn't really mind me taking it."
"What happened when I was out for a while? Did we win?" She asked. "No nobody is giving me an answer."
The communist shook his head. "The Legion won that battle. We had to retreat to New Vegas and hold our ground here - only the Brotherhood and the rest of us. Your commanders are retreating from the Mojave."
The trooper's face was filled with shock. "What? After all that time the republic spent in the Mojave, we're tucking tail and running. Damn Oliver and his 'Wait and See' strategy. If he wasn't in charge, this wouldn't have happened."
"I'm sorry to bring you the bad news."
Mags took a quick glance at the bottle in her hands. "I can see why you gave me a bit of alcohol. Something to wash away the bitterness. What your people going to do? None of you guys will stay here, will you?"
"My superiors don't see much of a choice," Pavel replied. "If we retreat back to the Metro, we'll have to deal with incursions from the Legion, but our supply situations in the tunnels will get low and lower as mutants take use of the chaos to kill the rest of us. We're going to stay and fight."
"Why don't you come with the Misfits and leave the Mojave? I can get you a job as a rancher. Hell, I could convince you to get in my squad."
A weak smile was all he could offer. "I appreciate the gesture, but in all of my time in the Metro has taught me - there is so much one can do if you run. What would my fellow communists think if I abandoned my people for the sake of one more day. That is… an alternative that I can't live with."
Her face had now changed to a sad smile. "Got to give where credit is due. You have a lot of guts to stand your ground and fight the Legion."
"Our people survived twenty years of the bombs. We are not going to let a bunch of barbarians end our streak of living."
"I can lift a toast to that… after my meds have worn off."
When Artyom walked into the Tops Casino, he recalled it's lively it was with people enjoying their time with the games and entertainment. Now that life was fading. He could see their faces express their somber outlook on the future. The Legion was coming and it was only a matter of time before they stormed the city and killed its defenders.
His arrival did not go unnoticed as several Chairmen walked into the lobby with compact machine guns underneath their arms. One of the men stepped forward with his arms crossed. "Look what the cat dragged in. Do you think we're going to be welcoming you after you drove Benny out of New Vegas?"
The young man glanced towards the man who addressed him. "Are you the one in charge here?"
"What does it mean to you? Are you going to drag your boys to attack us as well?" They were certainly bitter about kicking Benny out of the city.
He shook his head. "No, I don't have a problem with any of your people. The only reason I drove Benny out is that he shot me as a witness to kill a courier and he stole my Kalashnikov."
The Chairmen glanced at each other with confusion as their new leader stepped forward. "So that's where Benny got that rifle from. Now, what are you here for? Going to get rid of us just like you did with House?"
"I am actually here to make a deal with you. The Legion is coming here as we speak and we need every hand if we're going to survive this onslaught. If they break through, they're going to storm the streets and ransack everything your people built up," Artyom replied. "If you do help us, perhaps there is something I may do on your behalf when you might need it."
The leader of the Chairmen stepped forward. "You got a lot of balls coming here, knowing we will shoot you down on sight. You know that?"
He nodded his head from side to side. "After going through Caesar's camp, I can breathe easy knowing your guys are far more reasonable in comparison. Now, how about we help New Vegas so your people can still make a profit in the future?"
"What do you got planned for us?"
"I will tell you as soon as I get things in order. As of right now, we're still getting people from the outskirts."
"Alright then. My name is Swank, good to meet you."
Heads turned when the owners of the casino and the stalker heard gunfire followed by screams beyond the doors. Artyom reached for his holster and placed a grip on his sidearm as he exchanged a glance at Swank. He brushed past the Tops' doors to find a firefight in the open. Bodies of civilians and combatants were littered in the street as the Omertas were walking through the gates. The young man reached for his assault rifle and joined the Securitrons in containing the threat. He raised his weapon and flicked the safety off before he fired his dirty-rounds down the street. Yet, he was not alone. Members of the Chairmen and the White Glove Society had stepped out of their workplaces, armed with pistols and submachine guns, there was little the Omertas could do when they were exposed to this much firepower by so many people.
Artyom and the others were quick to follow their assailants back to their headquarters. Tables were brought out from Gomorrah and were overturned as cover, but the defense was shattered when a Securitron had fired a grenade at their direction. "What is going on?!" The Russian shouted from the top of his lungs.
Something grabbed his pants when he looked down to find a bystander bleeding on the ground. "The Omertas attacked everyone for no reason. Why don't you check it out? I need a doctor." Perhaps this stranger was right. Whatever these people did had confused him. Why would they suddenly attack for no reason?
He left the chaos of the attack behind him as he entered the casino doors. The entrance area was empty while squads of Omertas flooded into the area. "Shit, one of them got through!" The stalker took refuge at a nearby wall as bullets vibrated from the other side. "Push through, he can't get out!"
The young man looked into his backpack to find anything that could change his situation. As he dug deeper, his hands felt the familiar shape of some dynamite. There were five sticks - each with a similar length of fuses, but it was enough for him to fight back. Pulling out his bullet lighter, he lit a fuse and threw them into the room full of Omertas. There was an immediate surprise from his enemies before explosions followed through. The explosive force and the debris reverberated throughout the building as he zipped his backpack and proceeded to find their reasons for this random attack.
NCR bills, casino chips, and cards were in the air and out of place. With his assault rifle raised, Artyom waited for any survivors to rise up and attack him. One man struggled to get off the ground with a large submachine gun in hand and noticed him. Before the Omerta had the chance to bring his weapon to bear, the Russian put two rounds in his suit before he stumbled back and landed hard on the floor.
Reinforcements came in the form of the whining machinery of the Securitrons. Each unit stormed into the casino in force while Artyom explored the building. Prostitutes and civilians hid from the fighting and especially from him. He finished exploring the ground floor when he arrived at what appeared to be a theater for customers. The people here were the surviving Omertas who didn't join their fellows when their fortress was breached. He recognized a familiar face among their number as he approached him with the support of the Securitrons backing him up. "I'm going to begin by asking a question. Why did your people attack the Strip?"
Omertas exchanged glances before they tightened their grip on their weapons. "We ain't telling you shit!" One of the men replied.
The familiar man spoke up. "You're the Russian who killed Caesar."
"Yes, indeed" Artyom replied. "I've seen you before, mind telling me who you are."
"I'm Cachino… the one who tried to mess with your doll."
So that is where he had seen him before. "I'm a merciful man, Cachino, killing you and the rest of the Omertas would be a waste of time when I need people to defend New Vegas from the Legion. Now would you answer my question?"
Cachino's expression seemed to be in conflict with himself. On one hand, there was a chance that he was willing to talk, but there appeared to be a level of hesitation as well. Then one of the men voiced his opinion. "If you turn on the family, I won't forgive you for your crime. We will kill you."
"Nero, this is the guy who killed Caesar and House. Our family dies if he doesn't get his way." The man explained. "Boss, he has us at gunpoint."
The man who appeared to be his boss was displaying his irritation. "Look dumbass, I don't care who this shit head thinks he is, but we're going to give the Legion New Vegas on a platter." Then he glanced towards the other men. "Get the bombs out right now!" After his order had been given, the Omertas pulled out gas masks from their clothes and immediately slipped them over their faces.
Before Artyom could have a chance to respond, he heard concussive explosions erupt throughout the building and the screams of those who didn't have a chance. Whatever machinations this Nero hatched, it was too late to stop. Securitrons fired away, leaving little time for the Omertas to return fire. Where the stalker was concerned was the boss and his men fleeing the room. They were working with the Legion and he intended to make them pay. As Nero and Cachino fled to the other side of the room, the weapon shouted out and made its mark on its victims.
Author's Note: I'm finally half-way through this fic. Just kidding. Though, I am nearing the end of this fic, but the next chapter will focus on the Courier in Old World Blues.
Aren serathy: Caesar's Legion makes up for this by making women into broodmares for the state and declares this ethical. There is also the factor of him indoctrinating most of the male populace to join the Legion forces while having the political acumen to incorporate tribes into their ranks and cannibalizing their societies as a whole.