Chapter 22
Coming Full-Circle
As Sandra slept through the day, she awoke late in the afternoon after another frightful dream, which she failed to remember upon awakening.
Just as she'd been doing for the past day or so, Sandra brushed her hair and quickly headed into the adjacent room, the one containing her desk, her shelf of sentimental items, and all the beds that belonged to her companions. The one nearest the desk belonged to Arcade—and he was sitting upright in bed, covered in two thick blankets and mindlessly flipping through Vegas's limited cable channels on TV. He raised his brows when he spotted Sandra entering the room.
"Oh, hey—have you seen this?" Arcade smirked, munching on a bag of crisps and motioning to the television. "I don't usually care for the more mind-numbing programs, but this Silver Shroud show is surprisingly captivating."
Sandra gulped, unsure of why she felt so worried and alarmed. Arcade seemed perfectly fine; perhaps the feeling of urgency was leftover from whatever dangers had haunted her dream. She sighed and hesitated before responding.
"Ahm… you okay?" Sandra sputtered at a loss.
Arcade blinked. "Yeah, last I checked. Why?"
Sandra shrugged and shifted in her stance. "I don't know…"
"Arcade!" Melody shouted, sprinting into the room with two fresh ice-cold nukacolas. She handed one to him, popped the other open, and hurriedly crawled into bed next to him, grinning eagerly at the TV.
"Did I miss anything?!" she gasped.
"No, no—it just started," Arcade laughed and patted her head. "Picking up from last week, when the Shroud left Grognak to deal with the rogue barbarian gang."
"Yesss!" Melody rejoiced, punching the air with delight. "Sandra! Come watch with us! This is my new favorite show!"
"Um… I'll catch it next time, Melody," Sandra replied, offering her a smile. "I was gonna head out tonight. Gotta start getting ready."
"What?" Arcade and Melody both said in unison, their smiles vanishing.
Sandra shook her head. "No—I'm not gonna disappear for another two months. Don't worry. I'm just hittin' the town."
"Sandra," Arcade said seriously. "You remember what we heard about the Omertas, right?"
"Yeah," Sandra nodded. "That's why I'm heading out. I wanna check out the Omertas… they're the last family on the strip that we haven't personally dealt with yet. They're the only ones keeping us here."
"What, you… no," Arcade uttered, shaking his head and tossing his blankets aside. "No, you're not going to Gomorrah alone. It's bad enough when the bouncers call me to drag a drunken enraged Niner out of there… but with you… the Omertas might actually be after you."
"Have you been outside for the past day?" Sandra smirked. "No, of course you haven't… you've been recovering. People are buzzing about us right now. Everyone knows who we are since we fixed the problem at the UltraLuxe. We're like heroes out there. So, with that in mind… this is the best time to investigate a family on the strip. Nobody's gonna want to act against us right now."
Arcade opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated, making a sideways nod. "Well, okay, fair point… but it's still pretty risky. The info we heard suggested that they wanna pull a heist on the 38 remove you from power. That's not something to be taken lightly."
Melody gaped at them both, her expression stricken with fear.
"Oh, hey—Melody, nobody's gonna get inside here," Sandra quickly assured. "Don't worry."
Arcade sighed, patting Melody on the head again before climbing out of bed. He and Sandra stepped out of the room, resuming their conversation in the hallway, where Scar the baby deathclaw was sulking around behind ED-E, gazing up at the round robot with captivation.
"You really wanna go to Gomorrah tonight?" Arcade asked intently. "I'll defer to your judgment, naturally… I just want you to think it through. The UltraLuxe turned out more dangerous than we thought, and Gomorrah is far worse than that place. It's a nest for mob bosses and crime families."
"Yeah… but that's exactly why we need to scope 'em out and figure out how to deal with 'em," Sandra explained. "Yes Man says we have to deal with every single faction in the Mojave, and he gave me the idea of bounty hunting to get that done. That's what I plan to do… but we can't leave the strip until we deal with the last big family in Vegas."
"Then you'll need backup," Arcade determined. "Did you plan on inviting me, or will I have to forcibly invite myself?"
Sandra scoffed out a laugh. Before she could answer, Niner appeared in the doorway opposite them—wearing his snazzy Nine of Spades outfit, his crooked feathered fedora, and a large pair of sunglasses, a large cigar protruding out of the corner of his mouth.
Sandra and Arcade stared at him.
"What?" Niner barked, smirking and holding out his cigar. "Hittin' the town tonight. Gotta look good for the floozies."
"Well, there ya' go," Sandra nodded. "Got my backup now."
"Yes—both of us," Arcade said flatly, jabbing a finger at her. "Let me get dressed, and we'll head out."
As Sandra and Arcade vanished into the bathrooms to change, Niner sat with Melody, sipping on a nuka and watching the Silver Shroud Adventures with her until it was time to leave. After Sandra was dressed in her Six of Diamonds and her lopsided bonnet again, Arcade adjusted his suit and hat, and the three adults said their goodbyes to Melody, ED-E, and Scar before marching out of the suites once more.
The moment they walked outside, the brilliance of Vegas was in perfect glow—as sunset was fading to twilight, and every neon light was dancing brighter than ever possible during the day. The long, unobstructed strip was bustling with the rush of nightlife, and Sandra smiled, seeing numerous heads snap around to ogle her and her companions. Feeling high on cloud nine, she sauntered forward alongside Niner and Arcade, her 45 tucked beneath her breasts again, and the frantic whispers and chatters of gossip ventured across the crowd in waves as the courier and her friends sauntered by.
Just as the three of them approached Gomorrah—Mr. Burke slowly lowered his binoculars.
He stood in his Tops suite, gazing over Vegas with his binoculars with Boone standing closely behind him, both of them wearing serious visages.
"Son of a bitch," Mr. Burke hissed. "She's going to Gomorrah before they even bothered inviting her."
"That's her, huh," Boone remarked, eyeing the enormous window and seeing the head of crimson hair in the distance. "The girl from the capital…"
"And the game-changer of the Mojave," Mr. Burke sighed, now frustrated. "Damn. Sarah and Bryan aren't here yet, and I haven't told any of my coworkers here about the Omerta conspiracy. I don't know if they'll make a move on her tonight or not…"
"Well… I can't speak for them, or even for her," Boone remarked. "But, what I do know is… if the Omertas end up in control of the Lucky 38, that's gonna paint disaster for everyone in the Mojave. We can't have a crime family running this entire region."
"Indeed, we can't," Mr. Burke muttered. "But my allies aren't here, and my coworkers aren't involved. Just between you and I, I'm not sure what we can do."
Boone squinted thoughtfully at him. "Well, Burke… speaking as a sniper… I say we just follow. Keep an eye on her and her friends, make sure nothing happens."
Mr. Burke nodded mildly, though his expression seemed even more conflicted now. "The Omertas believe I'm in on their plan. If they see me tailing her… and if they suspect I'm protecting her…"
"Then you'll be on their shit list, yeah," Boone nodded, thinking of the disguised Legionaries he'd encountered at Freeside's gate. "But they're the bad guys, here. So I say it's work the risk."
Mr. Burke stroked his chin thoughtfully, his mind working up a storm. Then, a perfect conclusion came to him—and he revealed a slow, coy smile.
"You're right… and I think I've got it figured out," Mr. Burke uttered. "If I tell them I'm simply enjoying a night of drinks and exotic dancing… and if I tell them that you're my hired bodyguard… then we'll both be able to hang around in Gomorrah without rousing suspicion. Not to mention, you'll be allowed to carry your gun inside. Business partners with the strip families are usually allowed to have their armed guards accompany them into the casinos."
"Good. Do that, then," Boone said conclusively. "What's your game plan if they actually do act against your little courier friend?"
Mr. Burke grimaced deeply at the window, its glass reflecting all the strip's dancing lights, just as his dark sunglasses were.
"Then I suppose I'll have to blow my cover for her," he resolved, releasing a faint, breathless laugh. "Not in my character, but… I suspect she would for me."
Boone stared at him intensely again. "Everything you told me… she sounds like a goddamn lunatic. Not the bad kind, but still. She sounds kinda reckless for someone who supposedly holds the Mojave's future in her hands."
"Fair… but her companions have a habit of balancing her out," Mr. Burke replied. "She knows that's needed, so… she's found a new family of people to keep her in check. That's how it was before… and how it's become now."
Boone glanced at the city. "I guess we'll see."
"We surely will," Mr. Burke nodded in conclusion, adjusting his hat and spinning on his heel. His dark suit jacket was left unbuttoned as he straightened his tie, and he led Boone out of his suits, the two of them riding the elevator to the bottom floor and heading out the double-doors.
Just when they stepped outside, Mr. Burke gazed into the strip patrons nearest him—and his eyes landed on a familiar figure, making his mouth drift open and his feet slow to a stop.
A woman and a teenager approached him, both of them smiling.
Mr. Burke stared at them in surprise, releasing an astonished laugh and feeling a great rush of relief at the sight of them.
Sarah and Bryan were both wearing ordinary clothes now, no hint of Brotherhood on their attire—Sarah wearing a tight green dress, dark emerald and sparkling, her blonde hair flowing and cascading down her shoulders, contrary to its usual tied-up style. Bryan wore a casual outfit and a leather jacket over it, and behind them stood the Brotherhood girl, Veronica—beaming away, combing her brunet hairs back, and wearing a stylish black dress with velvety red decorated on its seams.
Mr. Burke fell speechless for several seconds, laughing breathlessly again and shaking his head. He felt stunned, almost flabbergasted at the sight of Sarah Lyons—not only having arrived by surprise, but looking breathtaking while doing so.
"God, you…" Mr. Burke breathed, taking a brisk step toward her. "I'm so glad you're here…"
Sarah traded smirks with Veronica and Bryan.
"Took us forever to figure out your whole ploy, here," Sarah commented, patting Mr. Burke on the shoulder. "But, knowing you… of course you came to the strip and made yourself wealthy and needed. That's you all over."
"I can't… how did… how did you get here so fast?" Mr. Burke uttered in fantastic confusion.
"Your letter got to the 188 the same time we were there having lunch," Sarah shrugged. "Lucky coincidence. And speaking of coincidences—holy shit, how the hell is Sandra here?!"
"So you read the whole letter, then," Mr. Burke smirked. "It was quite a shock for me, too. I've been keeping an eye on her from a distance for the past couple days, but…"
"Why haven't you talked to her?" Sarah gasped incredibly, inching closer to him. "Do you know how crazy it is that we found her again? Don't waste that!"
Mr. Burke slowly nodded, Boone giving him a pondering glimpse, Veronica and Bryan pausing to observe all the stands on the side of the strip.
When Mr. Burke couldn't produce an answer, Boone stepped forward and spoke.
"I met someone who knew Sandra," Boone informed. "And he told me… the courier has some heavy memory loss."
Sarah, Bryan, and Mr. Burke all exchanged grave visages.
"She won't remember us," Bryan murmured.
"That's why you haven't talked to her," Sarah sighed.
"No, that… that's not entirely it," Mr. Burke uttered, shaking his head. "That's part of it, but… quite honestly…"
He paused and fidgeted with his sleeve.
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. "What? Spit it out."
"Well, she… she's started a whole new life here," Mr. Burke said softly. "If she sees us again, she'll just… she'll be forced to remember all the things she left the capital to forget. I suppose I… I don't want to force her to remember if she doesn't want to remember."
Sarah and Bryan stared at him in astonishment.
"Are you thinking about someone other than yourself?" Sarah laughed. "Not only that, but someone's feelings? Who are you?!"
Mr. Burke let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sinking and his expression seeming to deflate.
"We can help from a distance," he surmised. "We may talk to her, we may not… but the main prerogative right now is protecting her from the Omertas. And, unfortunately, I just saw her walk into Gomorrah moments ago."
"And, if something happens to her—then the Omertas are gonna move in on the Lucky 38," Boone added. "So protecting the courier will also be protecting the rest of the Mojave from falling under the rule of a crime family. It's a top priority right now."
"Well, ho-ly-shit. What're we even waiting for?" Veronica said with a coy smile, cocking her head and waving fancily toward Gomorrah. "Let's go, fam squad. We got a random redhead to protect."
"Damn straight," Boone nodded with a half-smile.
"Fuck yeah," Bryan grinned confidently.
"You remember the deal, now," Sarah smiled at Veronica as they all headed toward Gomorrah. "I'll be your wingwoman, and you buy the drinks."
"You hook me up with someone half as hot as you, and I'll buy you a goddamn liquor store," Veronica giggled.
Bryan made a strange face, glancing between the two women as they walked. "What? Veronica, are you… what…?"
"Oh… now, see what you've done?" Mr. Burke uttered, motioning to Bryan. "Now we've gotta explain the whole thing to him."
"Hey—Bryan's almost fifteen," Veronica chided. "He should know about the glorious land of Lebsonia by now."
"Les-boner-what?" Bryan exhaled.
"Oh, see… now you've confused him even more," Mr. Burke chuckled, shaking his head.
Boone swallowed a laugh as they all headed toward the red-glowing casino before them.
Vulpes's eyes fluttered open just when Julie Farkus was withdrawing her arm, still holding the stimpack she'd just injected into him.
Pained and exhausted, his eyes glazed, he glared tiredly up at her, his gaze fixating on the needle and his heart giving a nervous palpitation. Instantly, he tried to sit upright in the hospital bed, inhaling sharply and grasping his stinging side. He scooted away from her, shaking his head and giving her a warning sort of look.
Julie stared at him. "Wow… didn't expect you to wake up so soon. You're a tough one."
Vulpes said nothing, his expression hardened and defensive as he shot another wary glance at the needle in her hands.
Julie glimpsed between him and the empty stimpack, breathing out a laugh. "What, have you… have you never seen a stim before? Got something against chems?"
"Who are you," Vulpes rasped in a weak, hoarse exhalation. "What is…?"
"This is a stimpack, Mr. Patient," Julie explained, tossing the empty syringe aside. "It speeds up the healing process dramatically. No need to get squeamish now. That's the second one I've given you… and you're healing well, all things considered. Almost like your body's completely foreign to the components of a stimpack. The chems wouldn't work so well on you if you were a regular user. I'm guessing you've never had one before…?"
Vulpes gulped roughly, slowly shaking his head.
"Or if you have, you haven't had many," Julie determined, turning and glimpsing outside of the medical tent. "Listen, I've got another patient to check on, so just stay here and rest. I used an adhesive antibiotic instead of stitches, but you should still take it easy."
"No… I… hold on," Vulpes uttered painfully. "How long have I been here? Where is the sniper? With the beret…"
"Oh… your buddy said he's going to Vegas," Julie said with a smile, giving him a nod and marching out of the tent.
Vulpes sat alone on the bed, glaring after her as his mind began to race.
"Damn fool," he swore.
He stopped to think, pondering on his original plan of searching the strip for the courier. At first, he and Boone planned to scope out all the public casinos—but now, Vulpes was thinking more and more of the Lucky 38. He knew nobody was allowed inside the building aside from the courier and her friends—but if Vulpes was considered a friend, then he might be permitted entry.
Inhaling deeply and bracing himself, Vulpes slid out of bed, wincing and swallowing a groan. He examined his bandaged and gauze-wrapped torso, then surveyed his wrapped-up arm. It seemed he was wounded in numerous places now, though the pain seemed to be lessening by the minute. Perhaps the stimpacks did their job…
He slid into the nearest shirt he could find, a white button-up that was—unlike his own—untainted with bloodstains. He then slipped into his dark suit jacket, placed his hat atop his head, and slowly stepped out of the tent, glancing around the Mormon Fort before strolling into Freeside on his own.
Vulpes marched through Freeside as night began to fall, thinking faster than ever. He no longer had any weapons on him—but this certainly wasn't his first visit to Freemont and Vegas. He had preparations stored all over the wasteland, and if he was lucky, his stash in Freeside was still untouched now.
So, he marched off toward the empty train station, where few Freesiders ever hung out, even the NCR soldiers who frequented this territory. He walked alone to the back of the building, clasping his burning side periodically, and he approached the hidden dumpster behind the farthest pile of debris.
Vulpes flipped the lid upward and reached inside, moving a few pieces of garbage before he pulled out a large red duffle bag. He pulled out his stashed belongings—a switchblade, a small silenced pistol, a bottle of water, and two boxes of ammunition for the tiny stowaway weapon. It was a perfect stash for a visit to the strip, complete with his Vegas passport and just enough ammo to utilize his holdout weapon.
After stuffing his belongings away in various parts of his suit, Vulpes stashed the bag again and marched off, occasionally walking with a limp as the blackened bruise on his leg throbbed terribly. But despite all the aches and pains, he crossed Freeside by himself, a long walk before he finally reached the gates of the strip.
A securitron rolled up to him, and Vulpes flashed his passport before flicking his collar and sauntering inside, the gates rolling shut behind him.
As the music dominated Vegas and the dancing neon lights shone from all around, Vulpes made his way past all the drunken Vegas patrons, gazing up at the majesty of the 38 and taking a deep, bracing breath. Preparing for all possibilities, he did something he'd never done in his old spy days—he approached the Lucky 38 directly and unabashedly, not caring who might've been watching him.
He marched with a powerful stride up the illuminated walkway of the 38, forcing himself to walk with a sense of authority, showing no signs of injury. Just as he approached the doors, the securitron guarding them rolled around to face him—and the screen changed, flickering and making a few static noises.
Vulpes narrowed his eyes strangely at the machine.
Seconds later, the militaristic face on the screen vanished, replaced by a cartoony smiling face.
"Hi there!" Yes Man exclaimed. "I presume you're here to see Courier Six?"
Vulpes stared at the machine. "Ah… yes… I am. Was I expected?"
"I'm sorry, but my upgraded programming dictates that I cannot answer any questions unless asked by Sandra or her companions!"
"I am one of her companions," Vulpes stated firmly.
"Really?" Yes Man said enthusiastically. "Well, that changes everything! Yes, you were expected! She inquired about the arrival of a man perfectly fitting your description, and she instructed me to let you inside if you arrived here!"
Vulpes glared into the robot, partially with disbelief. "It's that easy…?"
"Yes! Oh, but you're only permitted entry to the casino and the suites," Yes Man informed. "Sandra strictly stated not to let anyone into the penthouse without her!"
"Er… very well," Vulpes said, slowly inching past the robot. "I'll just… be going inside now."
"You take care!" Yes Man said with a wave.
Vulpes spared the bot a final odd look before pushing the doors open and marching inside.
Inhaling deeply, he paused on the threshold of Vegas's ivory tower, absorbing every untouched inch of the interior and feeling incredibly out of place. Of all the times he'd visited the strip, never did he imagine that he'd be invited into the secretive ivory tower like a guest…
Vulpes gulped and grasped his side for a moment, then adjusted his tie and headed for the elevators. He rode up to the suites, and the express button took him directly to the presidential suites up top. When the elevator doors slid open, he peeked his head out cautiously, glancing around and looking for any hint of movement.
The first thing he noticed was the round floating robot off to the right. ED-E was hovering around and beeping happily, twitching its antennas and twittering at something below.
Scar the deathclaw was repeatedly reaching upward, trying to swipe ED-E out of the air, and ED-E seemed to be having fun teasing the small creature.
Vulpes's eyes narrowed at the baby deathclaw, his mouth drifting agape in bewilderment. "You're kidding me… she kept the…?"
Scar turned, his soft white eyes locking onto Vulpes. Instantly, Scar let out a squeak and scurried quickly across the floor, approaching Vulpes at an alarming speed.
Vulpes inhaled sharply and tensed up—but the small creature had no intention of attacking. Scar leaped up on his back legs, squeaking lovingly and reaching up toward Vulpes like a toddler who wanted to be held.
Vulpes released a relieved cloud of breath, grimacing and glaring down at the creature. "I see you remember me, then. Where is your master?"
Scar squeaked and squawked at him, patting his front with his short little claws.
"I'm not picking you up," Vulpes stated.
Scar howled in protest, and Vulpes shook his head, taking a step back, but the creature continued scuttling toward him and leaping upward.
"No—stop it, stop it," Vulpes scolded. "I'm not your father, you stupid little—"
Instantly, Vulpes stopped dead, spotting a figure in the doorway down the hallway.
Melody leaned halfway out of the room, gazing down the hall as her eyes widened in horror.
There as a long, horrible tension as the two of them stared into one another.
Then Vulpes took a step toward her, shooing the deathclaw away and eyeing the girl more closely. He inched closer, and Melody whimpered, doubling back and sprinting back into the room in fright.
"Hey—get back here," Vulpes demanded, chasing after her.
He flew into the room and whipped around the corner, seeing that Melody was hunching down behind the farthest bed, trembling and watching him across the room as tears began to form in her eyes.
Vulpes held up a hand, slowly drawing nearer.
Melody cried out in terror, fumbling away as her back smashed into the wall.
"Look at me, girl—look at me," Vulpes insisted. "Do you know who I am?"
Melody cradled herself, shaking all over and swallowing various sobs.
Vulpes sighed. "I know you do. I can see the recognition all over your face."
Melody didn't answer, shaking even harder as Vulpes took another step toward her.
"Look—at—me," Vulpes hissed through gritted teeth, giving her a firm, profound stare. "Do I look like someone who's here to drag a single wayward slave back to the Legion? Do you think the greatest of Caesar's frumentarii would be sent to perform such a lowly task? Surely you know better than that. You've been there long enough to know how it works."
Melody sniffled and shook, embracing her legs viselike as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Vulpes moved steadily closer. "Look at me, girl. I know full well how Antony treated you—but have you ever known me to harm you?"
Melody whimpered softly—and finally, she managed a trembling shake of the head.
"That's right," Vulpes said flatly. "Because I don't beat slaves simply for bringing us water upon request. I never have. So listen to me."
At that, Vulpes slowly sank down to one knee, leveling his eyes with hers.
"I don't know how or why she took you from the Fort… and quite frankly, I couldn't care less," Vulpes told her straightly. "I'm not in league with Caesar's Legion anymore. As of now, I have only one thing to attend to. Where is Sandra? Where is Courier Six?"
Melody sniffed and wiped her face several times, remaining silent for nearly a full minute.
"Wh-why do you wanna know?" she squeaked faintly.
"Because I intend to be part of whatever she's planning," Vulpes answered. "I might be able to work with her, if her little friends don't have a heart attack over my arrival…"
Melody gave him a long, uncertain stare. "H-how do I know y-you're not trying to g-get revenge on her…?"
Vulpes squinted at her. "Revenge for what?"
"F-for killing Caesar," Melody murmured weakly. "Like when you came t-to Quarry Junction… and came af… after us…"
Vulpes let out a long, heavy sigh. "That was a long time ago."
"Y-you still did," Melody muttered shakily. "You s-still tried to…"
Vulpes stared into her, searching her expression for some hint of understanding. Then, as his thoughts began to assess themselves, he spoke on.
"Do you remember what your masters once told you?" he asked.
Melody gulped, wiping her eyes again and slowly nodding.
"They had you believing it was a great honor to work for them, didn't they?" Vulpes inquired.
Melody nodded again.
"Well… they did the same thing to us," Vulpes informed. "They all believe that they're doing the right thing in fighting for the honor of Mars… but once you get away… once you see everything from a clearer view… you can see how untrue that is. I bet you've seen enough now to know that the Legion was not the place for you. Have you not?"
Melody coughed and cleared her throat, nodding once more.
"As have I," Vulpes disclosed. "I believed Caesar's killers deserved vengeance, and I believed I would die if I ever lost the Legion… but, as it turned out… neither was true."
Melody gazed into him, scanning every inch of his visage for any sign of deception.
"Look at me, girl," Vulpes said solemnly. "Sandra and I kept one another alive during a time when there was no Legion around us… no republic, no Mojave, no one but she and I. I know things about her that even she doesn't know. I don't expect trust from you, but I need you to tell me where she is now."
"Y-you knew her?" Melody breathed.
Vulpes nodded.
"Wh-where'd she come from?" Melody asked. "Wh… what do you know about her…?"
Vulpes sank to both knees, leaning on the side of the bed and running a hand down his face.
"Well," he muttered. "When I first chanced upon her, she was traveling from the east… absentminded, delusional… rattled to insanity. I imagine she went through hell in her long travels. She once had a pip-boy, too… a different one than she has now. Her hair was… shorter… and she…"
Vulpes stared off to the side, his expression heavy with recollection.
"She spoke to someone I couldn't see," he murmured thoughtfully. "Someone called Charon."
Melody's brows raised, her eyes suddenly widening, this time with surprise rather than fear.
"That's what it says on her shotgun!" she exclaimed.
Vulpes nodded again. "Yes… she's had that shotgun during all her time and travels."
Melody cautiously leaned forward, her fright now dissipating as she gave Vulpes a surveying once-over. He was gazing off to the side rather intently, his stare profound and distant in a way she never remembered seeing him during his time in the Legion.
Then, something occurred to her, and she gave him a curious stare.
"Did you love her…?" Melody mumbled.
Vulpes's eyes flickered over to her. He didn't reply.
"Oh, no way," Melody gasped, hunching closer and studying him almost invasively. "You—you and her—?!"
"We're getting off track," Vulpes stated, swatting a hand. "I need to know where she is. She and I have to talk."
"Um… she went to the Gomorrah casino," Melody told him.
Vulpes blinked at her. "For what purpose?"
"I think it's… I think it's something dangerous," Melody pondered. "Sandra and Arcade said that the Omertas were planning to take the Lucky 38 away from her, so…"
Vulpes slowly reared back, a sense of urgency rising up inside him like a growing fire.
"Oh… those damn fools," he hissed. "They went there alone… and they have no idea…"
"N-no idea about what?" Melody uttered.
"The nature of the Gomorrah cesspool," Vulpes stated angrily, coiling his fist tightly shut. "One of my most valued informants works in that establishment, and I know every nook and cranny of that place's wicked operations. The Omertas are the worst reprobates of the profligate world, and it doesn't even stop with them. Gomorrah also houses the syndicate, and they span much farther than the Omertas. By Mars, they have no idea what they're getting invo… ahh…"
Vulpes leaned downward, wincing and grasping his stomach as a shooting pain jolted up and down him.
Melody bit her lip, observing him somberly. "Are you hurt…?"
"No, I… it doesn't matter," Vulpes responded. "I need to find her and stop her from getting involved. Thank you for telling me what you could."
Vulpes took a deep breath and forced himself to his feet, grunting painfully and clasping his side again, his head spinning terribly.
Melody slowly stood upright as well. "You can't go there if you're hurt…"
"I don't have a choice," Vulpes said flatly, adjusting his suit and hat. "Pain is my retribution, child—but it's never once had the power to stop me."
Melody breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. "You kinda sound like her. All proud and reckless like that…"
"Yes, well… I need to be going now," Vulpes dismissed, turning toward the door and hesitating again, as his pain and lightheadedness refused to leave him be.
"Can't you… can't you at least take some chems, or something?" Melody asked him. "If you're hurting that bad…"
"Chems aren't my way of doing things," Vulpes replied as he marched out of the room. "Now stop following me. I'll be back with your courier soon enough."
"But—wait—wait a sec," Melody insisted, leaping in front of him and blocking his path.
Vulpes swallowed a groan and glared down at her. "Step aside, child."
"No, but… I have an idea," Melody told him, waving loosely between herself, Scar, and ED-E. "Why don't… why don't we all go with you?"
Vulpes's eyes narrowed. "A child, a robot, and a mutant? My skills reside in the areas of avoiding unneeded attention, girl. The last thing I need is to arouse suspicion the moment I walk through the doors."
"I'll be your daughter," Melody proposed, placing a hand on her chest and motioning to the bot and the creature. "Eddie will be my hand-me-down from my dead momma, and Scar will be a service animal for you."
Vulpes stared at her for several long seconds.
"That's very well thought out," he admitted. "You'd make a fine frumentarius."
Melody smirked.
Vulpes scoffed out a laugh, then shook his head. "But, no… taking a child into that cesspool would be dangerous for you and a hindrance for me. No offense to you, girl, but it simply wouldn't work."
"Stop calling me girl," Melody griped, seeming to have lost all her notions of fear now. "You know what my name is!"
Vulpes sighed heavily. "Fine. Melody—you're a liability. So stay here."
"You're a liability," Melody argued. "You're gonna deal with a whole crime family all by yourself when you're already hurt? Do you really think that's gonna work?"
Vulpes opened his mouth to unleash a slew of angry arguments—but then, he suddenly fell silent, recalling his fight outside the Freeside gates and remembering what Boone had said to him shortly beforehand. In that moment, the sniper had warned him not to act on pride, and Vulpes refused his advice. And, if Boone hadn't chosen to get involved, Vulpes likely would've died during that encounter.
A pride for battle was engrained into him—but just as well, it seemed the ways of the people beyond the Legion sometimes valued life over pride. Boone expressed such a value, and now, even the little Legion girl did as well.
In fact, it was a value Courier Six seemed to thrive on. Otherwise, she would've left him to die in Quarry Junction.
Vulpes released a stressed cloud of breath, staring into the girl for a long, silent moment.
True, it would be foolish to take on a dangerous task by himself, especially in his wounded state—but what help could he hope to obtain from a little girl?
"This is no task for a child," Vulpes uttered softly. "Especially a girl."
Melody shot him a challenging look. "Girls can fight. Sandra fights."
Vulpes made a sideways nod. "Yes, but…"
"And I know how to fight, too," Melody added. "I had to fight one of Antony's stinky dogs all by myself."
Vulpes stared at her. "He sicked a hound on you?"
"No—he gave my teddy to his dog," Melody replied. "I had to fight him to get Teddy back."
Then, Melody rolled up the sleeve of her jacket, revealing a deep, crooked scar in her arm, likely a bite mark from one of the Legion's many hounds.
Vulpes gazed into the scar for a moment, then met her eyes again. "A crime family is different from a single dog. It's a bigger fight to endure… and it has far more negative consequences."
"That's why we bring Eddie and Scar!" Melody proclaimed. "Eddie has his laser, and Scar is super protective! I just wanna go so I can keep an eye on you!"
Vulpes gave her an odd look.
Melody frowned, then gave him a saddened sort of smile. "If you're really gonna help us, then we have to help you, too. So, like… if you get hurt worse, or something… somebody has to be there to fix you."
"You're a child," Vulpes uttered breathlessly. "What do you know about…?"
"I learned how to make healing powder from Siri at the Fort, remember?" Melody responded. "And Arcade's been teaching me first-aid since I first met him. I know a lot. See, look—Eddie, come here!"
ED-E beeped at her, hovering toward her and lowering itself to her eye level. Melody reached out, popped open ED-E's side compartment, and pulled out a small first-aid kit.
Vulpes stared at them both strangely.
Melody held up the first-aid kit and smirked at him. "Sandra, and Niner, and Arcade—they taught me a whole lot, including how to be prepared."
Vulpes stared silently into her once again, thoroughly conflicted. He let out a moaning sigh, shaking his head at his feet. "I can't believe I'm even considering…"
Melody jumped with joy, squealing and hugging ED-E rather abruptly. "Yesss! I'm going to a casino! My first casino!"
"No—hush," Vulpes demanded, thrusting a finger at her. "It's not a playground—it's a cesspool of absolute debauchery. We're not going there to gamble and joyride. I am on a mission right now. This must be taken seriously."
"I know, I know," Melody nodded. "But you gotta let me patch you up if you get hurt more."
"Fine," Vulpes agreed. "But you stay by my side at all times, and you do as I say. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. And If I tell you to lock yourself in this tower and power on every security feature available in this facility, you will do just that. Do I make myself clear?"
Melody nodded and gave him a salute.
Vulpes scoffed at her. "Don't do that. Don't treat me like a soldier."
"No—you're supposed to be my father," Melody reminded him. "If the casino people ask, tell them my mommy died years ago and you can't find a babysitter for me. Okay?"
"I think I know how to lie," Vulpes grumped sarcastically, pressing the elevator button. "My entire job in the Legion rested upon that skill."
Melody giggled and stepped into the elevator alongside him. ED-E floated inside twittering joyfully, Scar crawling at Vulpes's feet and repeatedly pawing up at him for attention. Just as the elevator doors began to close, Vulpes sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Unbelievable…"
Once they reached the bottom floor, Vulpes winced, straightened up, and marched out, followed by three odd companions as he strolled out of the Lucky 38.
And as the courier's many companions finally encroached on the same destination—inside the Gomorrah casino, upstairs in the off-limits area, Nero marched into Cachino's office mere minutes after the courier's arrival.
Cachino looked up from his clipboard, stopping his writing and narrowing his eyes at Neo.
"The courier just arrived, sir," Nero informed. "Are we still biding our time, or… should we take our shot at her now?"
Cachino glared into him intensely, slowly lowering his pen.
He intertwined his meaty fingers, pressed them to his mouth, and let out a deep sigh.
"Inform Big Sal," Cachino ordered definitively. "And tell Clanden that his birthday dinner will have to be repurposed. That dinner is gonna be our phony welcome wagon for Courier Six instead."
Nero bit his lip and nodded. "Does that mean…?"
"Yeah." Cachino gave him a final decisive nod. "It all goes down tonight."