"We've got urgent Business with your boss." I lied "Let us through."

The next job Steve had us running back out past Novac, to Clark Field. I'd been through the area a couple of times before. It was an irradiated cesspit that's slowly sprung up from the ruins of whatever industrial business had happened before the war. Which, naturally, had turned it into a breeding ground for anything that had grown a thick enough skin to tolerate it. Like, say, packs of Golden Geckos.

So, naturally, it made a fine home for the likes of Tony Idaho.

In contrast to other bounties, Tony was apparently a newcomer to the Mojave's laundry list of criminals. Specifically the drug trade, with its abundance of Khans and Fiends. In the time he'd been around though, he'd become known for sticking to his word, and sticking it to anyone who'd try to 'break his balls'. He was also pumping more drugs into the Mojave than anyone else, including the Khans. Naturally, you do something like that, you're going to paint a pretty big target on you in the process.

So, simple enough, bring him in or collect his finger and call it a day. Either way I'd be doing the Mojave a service. Even if it was just letting a little air into the ensuing power vacuum.

The tip off to his location apparently came from a former associate of his by the name of Alex. Tony'd apparently tried to fuck him over in some way. Given his status as a known criminal though, Alex would probably get fingered before too long regardless. His little tip-off probably just bought him some time.

In the meanwhile though, Raul and me were going to try and take care of Tony.

Raul and me had climbed down the hatch leading to Tony's bunker, right before his apparent bodyguard stopped us at gun point. The guard looked at us for a moment, a blank look on his face. The kind that made you wonder how much they really had going on upstairs sometimes.

"… What?" The guard asked, vacuous.

I suppressed a groan. "We've got to talk to your boss, it's urgent."

"… why?"

"It's extremely urgent, what part of that aren't you getting!?" I snapped.

"Duh… um- ok. If you say so."

The guard lowered his shotgun and ambled aimlessly to a corner of the entryway. I suppressed a snicker, if barely.

'Fucking moron.'

Raul and me descended a stairwell leading deeper into the bunker. The guard was probably going to try and stop us on the way back out, but that was an issue for five minutes from now.

"So, what's the plan?" Raul intoned, as close as he could come to it.

"Same as before" I said, reaching over my shoulder for a nine iron I'd brought with me "Try and talk it out. Barring that, we club him over the head and drag his ass back."

"If it doesn't work, boss?"

"We shoot him. But, just once, I'd like to take one of these bastards alive."

"Hmm." Raul nodded "… How're we going to get him past sesos back there?

"No clue, I'm making this up as I go."

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and found ourselves looking down a long corridor. The two of us crept down it with a greater degree of caution than was probably necessary. I'd had enough close calls with grenade bouquets recently to not chance it though. The corridor split not too far down though, continuing on to the far end appeared to be some form of lab, more than likely a drug lab. To our immediate right was a shorter corridor that, from a quick glance, likely lead to Tony's chambers/office. Probably not the brightest decision, putting his sleeping quarters right next to the entryway, but I wasn't one to judge.

Faintly, I could hear the sound of footsteps and the clinking of glass. If I had to surmise, possibly some 'scientist' or jet-head Tony had hired to keep up his stream of chems. They had to come from somewhere after all. If they were smart, they'd stay down there if things took a turn for the worse.

I gave the corridor leading to Tony a quick glance for traps, then another to Raul, followed by a quick motion to wait. If the fighting started, I expected him to have the drop on Tony. Raul returned a nod, and double checked the cylinder of his old .44 magnum. He was a top-notch repairman, and I saw him regularly tinkering with it, but the gun had clearly seen better days.

I shook my head, focusing, and left my crouch as I walked down the corridor to Tony's room.

The room was fairly sized, with all the accoutrements a wastelander could ask for. A clearly stocked bar in one corner, large bed in the other, kitchen, bath, broken tv, and a massive desk overflowing with chems. The simple things.

Tony was seated at the desk, perched just around the corner of the corridor into the room. The man was wearing a surprisingly pristine suit, the kind you might buy rather than loot from someone. In contrast to it, there was a battle-worn carbine strapped across his back. One that Steve had warned me about beforehand, an apparently supped up little number that Tony always carried, even to the point of sleeping with it. He was hunched over his desk, Canisters of jet and psycho littering the floor around him. His head was buried in a pile of white powder. Given the surrounding detritus, I'd have assumed it was some sort of chem I wasn't familiar with.

Then I noticed the opened box of Abraxo cleaner on the desk.

This guy needed serious help.

I tested the nine iron in my hand, checking its weight against my grip, and approached Tony. If he'd noticed me up to that point, he hadn't made any indication, instead further burying his face as snorted the aforementioned cleaner. I reached the Iron out and gave Tony a tap on the head with it. He stopped snorting his mountains of detergent instantly, whipping around to me like he was spring loaded. He wore a mask over the majority of his face. One of the type I'd see doctors wear during surgery to keep from breathing or spitting on patients. I had to wonder how much that impeded his ability to get high. Beyond that, the only truly visible part of his face were his eyes, bloodshot and crimson. Whether from chems or being scoured with cleaner, again I couldn't say.

""W-who the-" Tony said, his voice deep and a touch hollow "How the fuck did you get past Rowdy-"

"Save it." I growled, lightly bouncing the head of the golf club off his head "Stand. Now."

Tony made a barely audible growl, slowly rising from his seat. I watched carefully, ready to brain him at a moment's notice. Assuming the containers on the floor were from recent use, having to fight somebody who was balls deep in psycho wouldn't be pleasant. Especially somebody like Tony. He left his seat, facing me openly and with his arms at his sides. He was moving like someone who recognized they were at an immediate disadvantage, but I could see his eyes clearly. He wasn't afraid, and there was a light to them. An angry, spiteful look that made it clear he was one wrong move from going for my throat.

He was definitely tripping on psycho.

"No sudden moves." I said, keeping a firm grip on my nine iron. "I'm willing to take you in alive, but you fuck with me and you won't have time to regret it."

"You're a bounty hunter, radroach?" Tony snarled "Think your balls are bigger than mine?"

"Take it easy." I warned, ready to swing.

He didn't.

"It was that two faced 'roach Alexander, wasn't it!?" Tony roared, the light in his eyes bursting into a furious, malevolent flame. "I'LL FUCKIN' KILL HIM!"

I swung my nine iron at Tony's head. I knew he was about to start taking shots at me, and wasn't going to wait for him to hit first this time. So I swung hard, angling the club so it would collide toe first. I hit home, the club cracking hard against the side of Tony's head. The kind of hit that would normally be debilitating on someone- anyone else.

Unfortunately, Tony was on psycho.

The club hit, and he rocked with it, I felt the bone crack on impact as Tony fell with it. He then caught himself, righted on a denarii, and came flying at me, roaring at the top of his lungs. "I'LL FUCKIN' BURY YOU!"

"FUCK!"

Tony swung at me, wild and fast. Most people who get into close range fights fall into one of two categories: Those who have a clue how to survive one, and those that get put down. Tony was sitting square in a rare third category though: the kind that was fueled solely by self-destructive rage. Where he would disregard everything hitting him, so he could focus solely on destroying whatever did it as quickly and brutally as possible. Normally not a problem for me, since that just meant I could beat them with technique and thought. Self-destructive methods like that only worked if the person they were being used on couldn't keep ahead of their attacker. But Psycho was made with that type of mentality in mind.

Tony completely ignored the blow to the head I gave him, and gave it back to me two-fold.

His fists hammered off my head. My helmet helped to cushion what would have been concussive hits down into something dull, but no less painful.

Tony continued swinging at me, and I put the nine iron up to guard myself, for all the good it did. Given the chance, I knew Tony would go for the carbine on his back. So I avoided stepping out of close range, just trying to roll with the hits he was sending my way.

He made another swipe at my head, and I side stepped it, swinging my nine iron at his chest. I felt it smack against and bounce off of his ribcage. If it hurt, Tony didn't show it. So I followed it with an upward swing, catching Tony on the jaw and drawing blood.

"Pendejo!"

Tony roared and charged, making a grab for my throat. I dipped out of the way from his grab, and spun, taking another swing at his head. I missed, and Tony rounded on me, bringing his fist back in a hammer strike. He got lucky. The strike went through the visor of my helmet and caught me on the bridge of my nose. I heard a crack and backpedaled as I felt warm liquid begin running over my mouth.

I made a wild swipe with my nine Iron and clipped Tony's shoulder, for all the good it did. I was quickly realizing how stupid of a choice I'd made in trying to use a fucking golf club. I'd have had better luck threatening him with a piece of lead piping.

Further compounding my mistake, Tony took my backpedaling as a chance to draw his carbine.

I cursed again, and tossed my useless weapon at Tony. I knew it wasn't going to hurt him, but it bought me a second to move before he could get a bead on me. I ran back at him, striking him with a Ranger's takedown. Tony lost his footing and immediately fell back, his carbine loosing a small burst of rounds. The shots rang like thunder in the enclosed space. Bullets ricocheted wildly off the steel lined walls, but miraculously missed us.

I kicked the carbine out of Tony's hands and stomped down hard on his chest. The breath escaped him in a snarling gasp, as I retracted my leg and kicked him in the head. Tony tried to roll with it, use the momentum to pick himself up. As he came to his knees though I gave him another kick in the head.

Tony took it like a champ and lunged at my legs, tackling me to the floor.

I hit the ground hard, and Tony scrambled for position over me. I felt him ram a knee into the stomach of my re-enforced leather armor, pinning and knocking the wind out of me.

Then he started punching me.

He brought his fists down in big, powerful motions. The first two took me by surprise, hammering harder than they should would have if I was upright, the ground giving Tony a back board to hit me into.

I heard bells ringing with both hits, even through my helmet. If I hadn't pulled a guard up to block a third strike, I probably wouldn't have been able to recover at all. But I got it up, and kept it there. The hits made my arms scream in pain as Tony kept trying to hammer through me, but better my arms than my head.

I couldn't dodge, pinned as I was, but I could squirm a little. That plus my guard helped me stave off the worst of it, letting Tony swing until I could give myself an opening.

"Raul!" I shouted, having a fraction of a moment to think. Where the hell was he?

I got my answer in the form of gunfire. But it wasn't directed at Tony, it was distant, even with the echo of the bunker funneling it.

A jolt went through me, and I stopped letting Tony beat on me. He brought both of his fists back for an overhead hammer blow. I took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his suit.

Another gunshot.

I pulled him down to my level. His blow missed, and I rammed a head-butt into Tony's nose. He roared, but was taken off balance by the strike. I used it to push him off me, driving a knee into his crotch as hard as I could.

His roar became a thready and hollow yelp.

Tony fell off of me and I scrambled to my feet, giving him another kick in the balls on the way up. Followed by a kick to the head as I turned and darted back down the corridor out of Tony's room.

Raul was on the floor, leaning against the wall for support and facing the stairs.

I cleared the corridor, ready to bring down whoever'd knocked down the old ghoul. But Raul'd already beaten me to it. Lying in a tumbled heap at the bottom of the stairs was the guard we'd encountered on the way in, Rowdy, presumably. His pump shotgun laying on the ground ahead of him, and a chunk missing from his skull. I grimaced, then picked up the shotgun and racked a new shell into the chamber.

"Don't worry about the old man, boss." Raul grumbled "Worry about the guy who jumped him, very courteous of you."

I turned and checked on Raul. I'd wanted to make sure nobody was about to jump us before checking on him. Raul was a tough old ghoul, so I didn't outright assume he was dead.

Though, looking at him, I did take note of the massive wound on his shoulder, likely caused by Rowdy. There was something up with his hand too, but I didn't immediately pick up what.

I turned, pulling a stimpack from my inventory.

"Was about to come join." Raul grumbled, wincing at his wound "Then Sesos came down the stairs and got the drop on me."

"I'd say he fucked up." I said, sticking Raul's wound with the stimpack. "He won't be getting up any time soon."

"Hmm, Tony?"

"On the ground, swear these guys don't have a clue about self-preservation…"

I snapped the shotgun to my shoulder, turned down the hall, and fired.

Tony was at the far end of the corridor, carbine at his hip and ready to spray. A singular round escapes the barrel, spattering off a wall as a spray of crimson erupted from Tony and he hit the floor.

I pumped the shotgun, checking the shell count, and readied another blast in case that hadn't been enough to put him down.

"So much for taking him in alive."

"I'll get over it." I said, turning back to Raul "He lost breathing privileges the moment his friend decided to take a potshot at you."

"Should've seen it coming." Raul grunted "Used to be faster, shouldn't have let him."

"It happens to everyone." I said, double checking his wounds as the stimpack worked its magic. "You good to get up?"

"Of course boss, just drag the wounded old man to his feet, I'm sure he'll walk it off."

I stared at him for a moment, before he gave me a smirk and extended his uninjured arm. I helped him to his feet and took note of something else. "… looks like they got your shooting arm."

Raul looked down to his currently free hand. It wasn't too bad, especially given a ghoul's anatomy. The skin was torn and bleeding in a rather nasty fashion, but it was majorly intact. Had it been a straight shot, he very likely would've lost his hand and most of his forearm.

"Sesos missed his first shot." Raul grunted, coming to his feet "Spray came back from the wall and got me."

"You gonna be ok?"

"I'll manage…" Raul looked down to the floor for a moment "mierda."

I looked down to the floor and saw what he meant. His revolver was on the ground not too far from where he was sitting. It definitely hadn't been as lucky as Raul. The frame was mangled and the cylinder cracked. It might have been the angle it was laying at, but the barrel may have been deformed too.

With an effort, Raul bent over and picked up his piece.

"Shit." I growled.

"Mm."

"You think you can fix it?" I asked.

"I have before, but I don't know this time…" Raul shook his head "Go get what you need from Tony, Boss, I'm gonna need a minute."

"Right…" I looked down the remaining corridor we hadn't traveled yet. "Try down there, might find something of value."

"Right." Raul said, sarcastic "I'll just cover myself with this hunk of lead pipe."

"Hey, can't be any worse than a golf club." I offered.

Raul shrugged his good shoulder, then pulled the aforementioned pipe from his belt. We split, and I began back down the corridor towards Tony.

I found the former drug runner lying in a pool of his own blood, riddled with buckshot. He'd gone limp and his eyes were glassing over, so I could safely assume his heart had stopped ticking. Normally I'd feel worse for that, at least a smidge. But I was getting numb to it. This kept happening. I didn't want to kill all these asshats for caps. I wanted to take them in. I didn't regret what had to be done, pretty much everyone I'd 'taken down' so far had earned their bounty. Tony was no exception to that, but this time I really only had myself to blame. The hell was I thinking, bringing a fucking golf club to a potential gunfight. Not to mention it'd gotten Raul hurt. Just like it had Cass.

I let out a frustrated growl, and got to sawing off Tony's finger. Then I got to looking over Tony's person for anything else of value. He didn't have much besides his bloody suit. A few bullets, some jet and psycho, a pair of sunglasses, and some… holotapes.

I stared in silent agitation at the pair of computer cartridges I found.

'Oh, what now!?'

There were two of them, one labeled 'Arrangements' and another labeled 'Thank you for your purchase'. Likely some form of receipt.

I took a deep breath and plugged 'Arrangements' into my pip-boy. I took a moment to read it, didn't need much more than that, it was short. But it almost made me want to smile.

Tony,

I'll keep supplying the materials as long as you supply the caps. And another thing- don't fuck me, Tony. Don't you ever try to fuck me.

-Alexander

That, that was damning evidence if I ever saw it.

Randall said Alex had fingered Tony to probably buy himself time. This little note was evidence of collusion at minimum. So unless 'Alexander' had pulled some law-based chicanery to buy himself time, this pretty much made sure he was next in line for the bounty board.

I slipped the holotape into my pocket and made a mental note to pass to Randall along with Tony's finger. I grabbed the other holotape and began loading it into my pip-boy.

"H-hey, Boss?" Raúl called, his voice distant.

"Yeah?" I called back, voice echoing through the corridors.

"You're uh… you should see this."

I stood silent for a moment, before beginning my walk down towards what was likely Tony's drug lab. As I moved down the hall from Tony's room, I let my eyes fall to the screen of my pip-boy.

Mr. Idaho,

I'd like to personally thank you for your recent purchase. We stand by our pledge to provide you reliable, economic tools to ensure the stability and control in your place of business.

I gave a dismissive grunt. I got the feeling they weren't talking about high quality beakers and burners.

A new feature of the SS-250 model is its nifty fail-deadly protocol; -

I stopped walking and stared at the screen, a sudden pit forming in my stomach.

-should any calamity befall you, all your property would justly perish as well. This is the latest and most effective measure against the violent impulses of human property

Please contact us if the product is defective or unsatisfactory in any way.

Sincerely,

E. Jones

President, Servitude Solutions, Inc.

It took a moment for my brain to process what I'd read. Then the pit in my stomach opened wide enough for my lunch to enter free-fall.

"Boss?" Raul called again.

I broke into a run, rounding the corner to the lab at a dead sprint. I reached the end of the corridor in a blink, finding myself in Tony's 'lab'. It was as up to date as you could get by wasteland standards. Mostly clean beakers and distillation units set over burners held together with duct tape and dreams. Dozens of notebooks and texts that were probably more mildew than paper. Plants from all around the Mojave, house in everything from planters, to boots, to tin cans.

The only exception was the body on the floor.

I found Raul on the opposite side of a lab table. He was kneeling over the body of a younger man. They wore simple, threadbare clothes. The kind of rags I'd seen worn by slaves of the Legion. I couldn't judge too well how old they were, probably early twenties at the oldest. From what I could see of them, that had to be about right. Couldn't tell for sure.

Their head was gone.

Looped around their neck was the remains of some type of collar. I'd heard about the Legion using slave collars to help keep people in line. I didn't know they were rigged to explode. I didn't know Tony had a slave either.

"…Boss?" Raul said again, looking up to me. I think that was the first time I'd ever seen the old ghoul shaken by anything. "Who… who is this?"

"I… I don't know." I said "Steve's note said Tony benefitted from slave labor, But I didn't know about..."

The words died in my mouth as I stared at the body lying in front of me. This person, whoever they were, was probably a bystander in all of this. Tony wouldn't have needed to stick a bomb collar on him if they were willing. One specifically designed to help protect Tony in the event his 'property' turned on him.

Except that wasn't what'd happened. I killed Tony. Meaning I tripped the failsafe.

Meaning this person's blood was on my hands.

A tightness began to pull in my chest as I stared down at the dead youth in front of me. A bitter feeling that made it hard to breathe.

"… Fuck."