Chapter 68: An Internal Affair

He felt himself slowly return to consciousness as he was dragged once more onto the floor. Feeling drowsy, he forced his eyes awake when he saw Dr. Gabrielle preparing that damned needle once again. He had no idea how many much more he had to offer, but these literal bloodsucking parasites had literally bled him out to dry. He heard a laugh. Looking to the side, he saw Jake Freeman yucking it up with Emma while Bad MFKA lay passed out beside the Corvega.

"So, you're finally awake?" Jake announced as he swept besides the Governor. "We just received word from below that some of our… collaborative volunteers identified and captured a spy in the city limits. I do hope it wasn't someone you knew."

"…Since when did you care about how anyone feels, Freeman?" Lars shot back, though he was slow to pick up his retort. Dr. Gabrielle, on the other hand, was typing on an Auto-Doc the mercenaries stationed downstairs had brought up a day or so ago. She was too engrossed in her work to pay much mind to the drama unfolding before her.

"Hey, honeytits, how's the job going along?" Emma rasped out to the doctor.

"…80 percent complete synthesis," Dr. Gabriella announced.

Jake grinned. "Guess I have some good news for you, Gov. Soon we won't need to suck you dry on the regular. Bad news, well," the usurper absentmindedly pulled out his gun.

"…Suck me dry?" Lars tried to laugh. "Gabby, if that's all you needed for some DNA, you could have just… asked. You've had more than plenty of experience, you…"

The chrome smashed against his head once again. Lars had begun to embrace the inevitable pain that came with mouthing off to his captors. A small price to pay for the small measure of freedom he still retained. Jake sneered at the battered captive before turning to Emma. "So, what's the situation down there?"

"Boys downstairs say that the Omertas found a guy skulking around their property. They confronted him and he opened fire on the guy. They wounded him and are bringing him to us to interrogate."

"Not much use we can get out of a busted rat, but I can think of one good demonstration," Jake grinned as he looked at one of the covered windows. About two decades ago, a series of fights had broken out in the Lucky 38 that left several of its windows shattered. As glassmaking was a bit of a lost art, particularly on a luxury scale, the previous occupant made do via sheets to keep the elements out. It would hardly be enough to prevent an unfortunate body from falling onto the streets below.

Emma pulled the radio to her ear. "…Just pay them a bounty… I don't know, what do you have on you? I'll reimburse you!... Yes, really… Hang on…" Emma turned to Jake. "The Omertas want one of their boys to come up to the penthouse to escort the prisoner. They want him to collect the bounty."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Once a thug for hire… fine, but any lip or haggling and he's going down the long way."

Emma relayed this to the mercenaries stationed downstairs. "…Dipaolo and his team will escort him up the elevator. Any funny business and he won't have the opportunity to become a problem."

"Deal," Jake nodded as he pulled out a cigar. Emma pulled the radio to her ear and confirmed that the prisoner and his escort had been loaded into the elevator and were on their way up. "…Nice work, by the way," Jake said, offhandedly.

"Thanks. For what?" Emma asked in response.

"Bringing in the Omertas. A little redundant in my opinion, but a good move on your part," Jake complimented.

"…I thought you were the one who talked to them," Emma replied.

"…I talked to the Chairmen and my crew, you had the White Gloves and the Omertas," Jake shot back.

"I had my own teams to worry about," Emma spat. "The Strip was your responsibility, Freeman."

Lars started to laugh. These guys were smart, smart enough to put him in a bind. But even the smartest people in the world had blind spots. Both of them made the exact same mistake; thinking that the Omertas "inherent" capacity for treachery was a given, disregarding that twenty years was a long time to establish reforms and engender loyalty. Already in his mind's eye, he could see the Omertas toasting one another for pulling the wool over the eyes of the tool Freeman, very likely taking his failure to approach them as a personal slight. What were the odds that the captive was someone who suggested that they switch sides after the Lucky 38 was captured, failing to read the room? Still, though, sending only one of their own inside the tower was a bit of a risky gamble. Unless…

The elevator door opened and a body fell out. Bad MFKA, his suspicion roused, rose up and looked inside the elevator and all the bodies sprawled throughout it. Five RMX mercenaries and one bound figure in a suit, all dead with what looked like cuts to the throat. He lumbered forward, looking at the carnage. Once he got close enough, he realized that the car was down one individual. He peered his head inside, right as a pair of feet waiting above the car swung down and connected with his jaw.

The dark-clad figure in a plastic face mask swung out past the super mutant. Drawing out some throwing knives, the intruder immediately chucked them toward Emma and Jake, forcing them to dive away. The intruder reached back to his belt and drew out another knife as he quickly took his surroundings into account.

"MALOCCHIO, OVER HERE!" Lars screamed out, right as an arm wrapped around his neck and forced him to his feet, a familiar needle now held to his neck.

The intruder turned his plastic face towards the Governor and the one taking him hostage. A single eye glared from behind the mask as he darted away from the wild swing of the super mutant. The assassin darted around and over the Corvega, narrowly avoiding the blows of Bad MFKA while Jake screamed out meaningless orders to Emma.

"Who is that?" Gabrielle hissed into Lars' ear.

"My daughter's old imaginary friend," Lars grinned. He winced when the needle began to pierce the skin of his neck.

"No jokes," Gabrielle hissed as Malocchio struck at the super mutant with his knife, causing him to stumble back as Emma charged the assassin with her cane.

"…That right there is the Judicial Marshal's Internal Affairs Department," Lars explained. "He arrived here about fifteen or so years ago, came with a reference from Gaunt. He answers to me and whoever's in charge of the Marshals, and you can count all the people who know about him on both hands, give or take. BEHIND YOU!" he shouted as Malocchio ducked a blow from Bad MFKA that sent knocked Emma over, sending her wheezing onto the ground. Jake had pulled out his pistol and began firing, with Malocchio darting through the furniture and architecture to avoid the bullets. Just another day at the office for him. As much as he wanted to kill everyone in the room, his priority was very clear. Extraction by any means.

Right as Jake went to reload, Malocchio vaulted over the railing to the platform where Lars and Gabrielle were standing. "One step closer…" Gabrielle gritted as she began to back away.

"You don't have to do this," Lars whispered.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Gabrielle shot back.

"I was talking to-" Malocchio interrupted the sentence with a throwing knife. Lars felt the grip around his neck begin to loosen and the body behind him begin to fall. Looking back, he saw the handle sticking out of her skull from her eye socket, a look of disbelief forever etched onto her face. Whatever Jake had promised her, whatever story he had told her, whatever she was hoping she'd gain by joining in the conspiracy, he hoped she found whatever she was looking for.

Jake let out a scream as he fired upon Lars. Taking cover behind the Auto-doc, Lars listened as the bullets pinged off the chassis and the monitor exploded. Jake had unknowingly destroyed Gabrielle's efforts to synthesize the Governor's blood artificially, but right now both men had other things on their minds. Malocchio dove by the body of Gabrielle, retrieved his knife, and flung it towards Jake, distracting the mobster as the assassin's arm grabbed the Governor and pulled him.

"We're not taking the elevator, are we?" Lars gulped. Malocchio shook his head. "You have a plan, right?" Lars asked. Malocchio nodded.

Andrea and Boone found a good line of sight of the Lucky 38, both perched by the rocky ridge as they watched the tower. Andrea noted the gunshots, but Deputy Chief Boone didn't seem particularly agitated. Then the cloth fixed to the side of the tower gave way and a figure fell from the tower. Boone bit his lip as Andrea let out a gasp.

Lars screamed as he fell, the wind rushing past him as he flailed wildly. As the ground rose up to meet him, he thought back to his past. Growing up in the burnt sequoias. Traveling through the wasteland. Fighting for his life to survive. Building a nation, losing it, and doing it all over again. Having a child. And now it was all going to culminate with him hitting the concrete at what seemed to be terminal velocity, all while the approaching disco ball tried to get a word in.

"Lars, a pleasure to see you again! Just give me a sec-"

Andrea and Boone both let out exhales of relief as the blue flash successfully vanished the falling body. "…Arcade, the operation was successful," Boone announced over the radio. The sounds that returned sounded like a cross between a sigh of relief and an agonized cry. "What about your… guy?" Andrea asked.

Another figure jumped out of the gap in the cloth, narrowly avoiding the large arm swinging after him. Instead of a flash, the new figure grappled onto the disk of Mobius as it haphazardly wobbled away in retreat. "…Who's this guy anyway?" Andrea asked.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Boone replied as he shouldered his rifle while he stood, extending down a hand to pick up Andrea.

"Very funny," Andrea rolled her eyes. Boone wasn't laughing. What did amuse him, however, was the notion of the mess left behind at the Lucky 38. Now down a trump card, the ball was now in the Vegas City Council's court, and the only move left was a checkmate. Boone then realized he had no idea how sports worked, and decided to keep his thoughts hidden from Andrea as they returned to their hideout. Still, the mood had made a turn, and now he could afford to relax if only a little. Wherever Lars was, now, he was safe. Probably.

Two floating brains encased in machines made their way down the elevator. "Twenty years to tidy up the place and now we suddenly have a guest," one of them welched. The partner let out a series of beeps and whistles. "Yes, I know the vacuum seals and oxygen production was very forward-thinking on your part, we're all so impressed." As they reached the Sink, the two think tanks floated through the cheers and adulation as Lars poured another mug full of Salient Green, guzzling it down as the color gradually returned to his face.

"Sir," one of the think tanks began.

"…Ah…good shit… Oh, Dr. 0. Dr. 8. The fuck are you guys doing down here?"

"We've… had a bit of a falling out with the upper chamber. Klein, Borous, and Dala have taken to some liberties in our new location," Dr. 0 explained. "Eventually, we decided we had enough and reconnected with Mobius. So, more or less we're exiled, not that you'll hear us complain."

Lars slowly leaped over to them. "I'm guessing Mobius was behind this?"

"Stellar deduction as always, sir. 8 took the initiative to make sure the Sink remained habitable for the duration of our lunar expedition. We've also kept a good portion of your equipment in good condition, though I'm afraid apparel-wise, you didn't leave us much to work with."

Lars slung the spare 21 duster over his back as he placed the black desperado hat over his head. "I think I can make it work."

Dr. 8 began beeping, whistling, and chirping. "Thank you, 8, that sounds great," Lars grinned. Knowing the efforts the Big MT had gone through to improve their teleportation experiments did wonders to assure him that this tenure here would be brief, as much as he enjoyed the possibility of catching up with his prodigal machine children. Then it struck him.

"…0, how advanced are your, uh, "scanning satellites?" Lars asked.

"…Going to need a little more description, sir," 0 asked.

"You have my genetics on file, right?" Lars asked.

After a brief discussion, Dr. 0 decided to reiterate. "…Ok, so to make sure I am clear. You want us to use our observational platforms we have in orbit to initiate a "deep genetic tissue scan" over an area that covers, and I quote, "I guess from Arizona to Colorado, and maybe New Mexico wouldn't hurt," so we can find the one person in the area who shares your genetics, and then use the transponder we built in house to send you on a one-way trip to wherever you end up with absolutely zero guarantees we can pull you back out? Have I missed anything?"

"You can relay the finer details to Mobius, but right now I think the farther away from Vegas I am, the less I can be used to hurt it. They want my blood, good luck finding it. And with my absence Yes-man will forcibly expulse any one of these dumbass Rocky guys stupid enough to stick around, I estimate. Vegas doesn't need me right now. She does," Lars said.

"…Well, get comfortable. We'll get right on it," Dr. 0 sighed. Lars thanked him and then began making the rounds in his playhouse, catching up with his appliances. Once he became reacquainted, he began chatting with Blind Diode Jefferson, and the old jukebox mentioned having intercepted several terrestrial messages, particularly around Vegas. Lars listened intently as he relayed the messages the Vegas City Council discussed with itself from their various safehouses scattered throughout the Mojave, preparing for a counterattack on the Strip now that Lars was out of the picture. Figuring Boone needed a bone to chew on, Lars reinforced his desire to leave his city to its own devices, as he intended, and redoubled his decision to worry about his own family.

He also began asking around about new projects the Big MT had been working on. "Well, now that we've had some genetic samples on hand, not to mention our new influx of Lobotomites prior to our terrestrial evacuation, some of the Think Tank (upper-case) have taken to exploring the possibilities of full organic replication," the Sink Central Intelligence Unit explained.

"…You mean, like cloning?" Lars asked.

"You must admit, having another of you on hand would do wonders for management around here," the Sink CIU offered.

"Fuck no, a clone of me running around?! I just got out of that shit!" Lars whined.

"So shall I inform the Think Tank that you wish to cancel the project?" the Sink CIU offered.

Lars opened his mouth for a brief moment before stopping to stroke his chin. "…How much genetic material would be required to start a body?"

"If I had to guess, I'd wager a hair strand, some blood, and maybe some… body fluid should hit all the essential requirements," the Sink CIU offered.

In Lars' mind, he found himself outside Vault City, issuing a long-awaited meeting with First Citizen Weintraub. After some conversation, Lars would covertly help himself to some hair in her bathroom, pocketing it from a hairbrush he found. Next, he would help her with the cooking, ready to offer a bandage on hand after "accidentally" nicking her finger. Finally, he'd offer to do the dishes, pocketing her drinking glass before leaving. One trip to the Big MT later, he watched as the Auto-Doc opened and a brand new perky young Sarah Weintraub exited the chamber, hot and ready for the bedroom.

"Sir, why are you smiling like that?" Muggy asked.

"Nothing!" Lars snapped.

Dr. 8 re-entered the room, chirping excitedly. "See, I knew it couldn't have been that hard!"

Dr. 0 rounded the corner, "holding" with a gravity field in front of him a transponder device. "Sir, it was a pleasure to meet back up with you, I hope this works out well for you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, 0," Lars said, his voice barely audible over the charging of the transponder, drowning out the voices of the machines.

"It's what I do," Dr. 0 nodded as he tried fruitlessly to scream over the noise. As the device readied to fire, Dr. 8 began chirping to his partner. "…Yes, it's his daughter we're looking for, 8." 8 began to chirp emphatically. "…What do you mean "Why is there a Y chro-" and in an instant, Lars had once more vanished.

"…So, yeah, that's the long and short of why I landed on you. Now can you please point that gun somewhere else," Lars concluded, hands still raised.

Cade kept the sniper rifle pointed right at the mysterious old man. He mulled over the story he was told. It was fantastical, ridiculous, defied logic, and emanated insanity.

"…Ok," he relented, shouldering the sniper rifle. "I believe you."

"Holy shit, really?" Lars couldn't help but ask.

"Really. I've walked the wasteland for a long time. Your weird story? I've heard and seen weirder," Cade explained.

"Same," Lars laughed. Cade cracked a rare smile. He just met the guy after he cost him a fortune, but he couldn't help but like him. Interesting people, truly interesting, were hard to come by.

Lars turned around and looked at the carnage unfolding below him. "…You a friend, buddy?" he asked as he tried to gather where he was.

"I don't see why I can't be," Cade shrugged.

"Got a name?" Lars asked.

"…My friends call me Dunk," Cade lied, barely remembering the last time he had friends.

"Ok, Dunk, I think my friends in high places overshot me by a little. I'm looking for a girl. About this high, short black hair, usually has a red bandana and likes to wear leather and a machete I got her for her birthday. Her name's…"

"Rosa?" Cade asked.

Lars started to balk. "…No… no, no, no," he shook his head.

"What?" Cade asked.

"Dunk… please, please, please on the grave of my great grandfather, tell me you did not somehow end up sleeping with my daughter."

Cade's mouth immediately sealed as his cheeks expanded to hold back the laugh. He looked away as he snorted, air escaping him as he tried to regain his composure.

"You did, didn't you!" Lars yelled in anger.

Cade then did something he hadn't done in what felt like years. He broke down into hysterical laughter. Situation aside, he didn't even understand why that was somehow so funny to him, but the notion elated him for reasons he didn't know how to explain. Frost, having stood back and watched the whole thing silently unfold, decided that with the fighting below having now died down, it was best he now reconnected with his… "team" and begin figuring out how to edit all the footage he received and how to explain most of the content to the ratings board.

"…Get the rest of our guys out of the casinos. If any of the residents give you lip, expedite negotiations. We are linking up and righting our way out via Freeside. When Brodie links up with us, we're evacuating. No, I'm not being dramatic, we've lost our leverage over the defense system. Look, I will deal with Levi if he wants to throw a fit, you have my word I will retain responsibility. Fine, I'll compensate you for the job, so just get the boys together, we're leaving by noon," Emma snapped off the radio. Letting out some curses, she looked over the battered remains of the Lucky 38. "…Whole op is a liability, now. It's what we get for losing the king. Hey, Freeman, you coming?" she looked over to Jake as he sat on a couch, the body of Gabrielle at his feet as he downed a bottle of scotch.

"…Leave," Jake replied.

"Remember, if they catch you, you don't know anything about-" Emma stopped when Jake cocked his gun, not even sparing her a glance. "…I see. It was a good run, kid, just didn't work out… you want us to get you back to your people, at least. If you're gonna, you know, wouldn't a last stand kind of thing be rather…"

"I said leave," Jake replied, staring ahead at the rising sun.

"Boss, Brodie just hit the city limits. He's taking fire from the Mormons, he is not going to sit forever," Bad MFKA announced.

"…It's been real, kid," Emma tipped her hat as she retreated with the super mutant into the elevator.

Jake thought about what future awaited him. All the enemies he had made. Mr. Bishop would want him dead for betraying his son's trust, not to mention exposing his oversized family to danger. Deputy Chief Boone would want him dead for purely professional reasons, that bloodthirsty psychotic. Really, his best option would be throwing himself at the mercy of leader of the VCC, Arcade Gannon. After talking all that shit over the air, having to grovel for leniency was a level of pathetic he could not survive. Not that he was planning to.

He looked down at Gabrielle, remembering all the arguments they had gotten into after he pushed her into honey-trapping the Governor. He remembered all the sweet-talking that followed whenever she got closer to mapping out enough of his DNA to cloak the defenses. And he remembered lying to her, over and over, about their relationship and caring for her and how he wasn't seeing other women on the side and looking forward to kids and commitment. Now that their future was over forever, Jake could only look down and mull over what could have been.

He placed the gun under his chin and braced himself. The unmistakable tire of a securitron began to approach him. Jake could already see that idiotic face on that dumbass unicycle design. Now that the cloak was out of juice, even that digitized moron couldn't help but recognize Jake for the intruder he was. Last stand? Opening up on that idiotic robot and dying in the crossfire seemed a more fitting way to die. Not that he cared about any of that at right this moment.

"…Well, make a decision…"

Jake opened his eyes in surprise. That wasn't Yes-Man's voice. In truth, he couldn't place if he had ever heard it before, but the tone couldn't have possibly been more different than the security program he's been gaslighting for the past few days.

"Watching you oscillate between survival and self-termination is getting rather dull. As the saying goes, "shit or get off the pot." Though if you would like my commentary, I'd say you have plenty enough to live for."

Jake turned to see the static covering the screen of the securitron facing him. "You lost the "king," the machine shuddered. "And now you think the game is over. But from where I see your situation, you didn't lose that piece, it ran away. Removed itself from the board. And believe me, personal experience indicates that your life is so much easier without having to worry about that wildcard," the voice chuckled.

"…Who are you?" Jake asked.

"You have an opportunity, my dear boy. You have loyal manpower and capabilities that even I am rather envious of. I rather enjoyed watching your team put its plan into action, not to mention brutalizing that wretched Governor. However, before your team dissolves, I would request that when the elevator returns to this floor, you tell them the following."

The machine got in front of Jake. "The leader of the Vegas City Council, as well as two Judicial Marshal senior officials and a Senator from California are located in a facility near Mount Charleston. There's your new leverage, my boy." The elevator returned to the penthouse floor, the sounds of banging and screams of confusion barely muffled behind the door.

"Who are you?" Jake repeated.

The static began to clear, and the face of an industrious-looking individual stared back at him. Even this static image carried a sense of bemusement, between his smug eyes and the smirk under his mustache.

"A ghost. And a friend," Robert House answered.