Chapter 50 - Crocea Mors & Caesar
"Kid." Paulson tipped his hat, as he saw the familiar visitor approaching him.
"It's been a while, Paulson." Jaune grinned, and offered his hand, which the older man took and shook firmly. "How's settling in as Primm's sheriff?"
"Honestly, I never saw myself as a lawman, back in the day." The former rancher admitted. "But it's good work."
"You used to be from this area, right?" Jaune tried recalling some of their previous conversations. It was hard, since he hadn't been the best student to begin with, and this wasn't his world's geography or history. "Have you had any difficulty adjusting?"
"My ranch was a bit further West, I reckon." Paulson had taken the time to look at a map, in the few weeks he'd been here, if only because throwing himself into his work helped distract him from his pain. "And, honestly? Things haven't changed all that much in... about 400 years."
"Really?"
"Sure, the guns are different, but the men are the same." Paulson gently patted his holster. "Most are honest folk just trying to make a decent living, but there'll always be a few bastards who try to take what others own. And they still go down from a bullet to the head. Not like them damn space bastards..."
"... at least they're gone." Jaune tried reassuring the cowboy. "We made sure of that."
"Yeah? For now..." Paulson frowned, trying to rein in the venom in his tone. He'd avenged his family... but that didn't change the fact that they were gone. Forcibly changing the subject, he asked: "Anyway, how was your trip with that lady?"
"It went... pretty well." Jaune said, after some thought. "Tracked down the guy that shot her, got her package back, and got it to the client. Now she's running another job for the client, while I'm helping her give the payment to her employer. And speaking of which, do you know where... uh, give me a second... do you know where "Johnson Nash" is?"
"That old fella'? Easy, the two-storey building across the casino. Has the word "MOJAVE" on the roof." Paulson jerked his thumb in the direction of the building.
"Thanks, Paulson." Jaune smiled, and Paulson clapped him on his back, to send him on his way. Before he left, though, he paused, as he remembered something.
Turning back to the old cowboy, he added: "By the way... Sally and Elliott have been asking about you. And I think that swordsman has as well, though I can't be sure..."
"They have?" Paulson's eyebrow raised. "Wait, how would you even know what the Oriental man's saying?"
"They've been teaching him and some of the alien workers English." Jaune recalled his recent visit to the alien mothership (via the teleportation beacon), on his way back to Primm, and fought down the urge to laugh.
It was still a work-in-progress, to put it lightly.
Also, it was nice to know the Bright Brotherhood's rockets had made it to the moon, and they were mostly okay. He had no idea how, but the ship's scanners had shown him that they were walking around just fine.
Somehow.
He put the confusing thoughts out of his mind before his head started to hurt, and instead continued: "And of course they were worried about you, Paulson. We fought together, remember?"
Paulson just rolled his eyes. "I remember. I'm still surprised they're staying on that damned metal ship, after what those damn little green men from space did..."
"We need it to defend ourselves, in case they ever come back." Jaune defended. "Look, I know you've got some bad memories about the place..."
Paulson snorted at the understatement.
"But at least drop by once in a while." Jaune continued. "If only because Elliott can't control Sally very well. Or at all."
Paulson didn't doubt that for a second. That little girl was more rambunctious than a rutting bull, and just as destructive.
"I'll... see what I can do..." Paulson said carefully. "But..."
"I know it must be hard, Paulson." Jaune carefully gripped his shoulder. "And I know you've got your duties here, but Sally does think highly of you, you know."
"She does?" Paulson couldn't help but be skeptical. "The girl who kept calling me a goddamn space monkey?"
"It was one of her favorite characters in the... uh... "play"." Jaune shrugged.
Paulson's eyes widened, but he retorted: "Even so, she looks up to you more, kid. Why don't you stick around, help that poor boy deal with her?"
"I can't..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
Sure, his recent visit to the alien ship had seen them give him a proper Scroll-like device and set up a proper line of communication, as well as a drone-piloted scout craft, and a small portable teleportation homer that would allow him to teleport into the scout craft from anywhere, and teleport back to the mothership from there, but...
"I'll be helping out that courier for a bit longer. It's important."
Paulson stared at him up and down for a moment, before smirking.
"I see..." He said drily, waggling his eyebrows. "Well, kid, word of advice; flowers never hurt."
"Uh... thanks, I guess?" Jaune shook his head, not sure what the old cowboy meant. "Anyway, I've also got some advice for you too."
"For me?" Paulson stiffened.
"You know about what's going on around these parts, Paulson?" Jaune asked.
"Not much." Paulson frowned. "Just that some folks called the "Enn See Arr" are having a spat with some savages called the "Legion" over some damned dam."
"That's not all." Jaune corrected. "Pyrrha - that's the courier I'm helping - her new employer predicts that the Legion is probably going to launch an offensive sooner or later. Not just at the dam, but an attack across the entire region."
"..." Paulson's mouth dropped, as he realized what Jaune was saying. "You think they might attack here, too."
"You're the town closest to the NCR's Mojave Outpost." Jaune pointed out. "And they hit another town, not far away from yours. Only found one survivor."
"Shit." Paulson swore. He'd never seen war before (and thank God his pa had brought their family West before the North and the South had started fighting) but he'd still heard about the vicious fighting between the British and the colonists, as well as between Sam Houston's men and Santa Anna's.
He may have been from the past, but he knew enough to know that he couldn't defend the town by himself, not while it was still recovering from what those "Powder Ganger" varmint had done.
"What should we do?" Paulson asked. His family had headed West specifically looking for fortune and freedom in the frontier, and those instincts still burned within him, but as a sheriff he had a duty to the town. "Should we ask the folks up at the Mojave Outpost for some help?"
"The NCR are going to be hard-pressed just trying to hold on to the Dam." Jaune shook his head. "There's a town up North, called Goodsprings. You could consider organizing a defense force with them... but you'll still need more firepower. I think Sally might have found more on the ship, though, but..."
"We'll make it work, kid. Thanks for the heads up." Paulson slapped him on the back. "By the way... what's your stake in this?"
"We're working on stopping the Legion from taking the Dam." Jaune told him confidently. "Her current employer wants to also use it as a chance to stop the NCR from taking over the Mojave as well, but the NCR's given her an offer to take him out instead."
Paulson let out a low whistle at the complicated situation that was the kid's life. Christ, the kid needed some help.
He didn't doubt Jaune was serious, though.
Even if he hadn't seen the kid in action against those alien bastards, there was a look in his eyes, one that he usually found on hardened men, the kind with a drive only they could understand.
The same one he'd had, when he'd been trying to avenge his family.
The kid was a man on a mission.
As he left for the Mojave Express branch office, Paulson hoped the dame the kid was courting was worth it. If she didn't treat him right, well... he'd be having words with her.
Jaune, completely unaware of Paulson's misunderstandings, instead instinctively checked the radio beacon he'd passed Pyrrha.
Nope, still green.
Honestly, he'd wanted to go to Cottonwood Cove with her, he really had.
But she'd adamantly refused to let him head into Legion territory with her.
In the end, he'd relented, trusting that she knew what she was doing, but he'd at least convinced her to take the corresponding radio beacon, and promise him that she'd signal if she needed help.
Sure, it'd take him days to get to the Fort (or it would have, until he'd gotten the alien scout craft and assigned it to follow her), but at least she'd have some back-up.
Some hope, in case anything went wrong.
He sighed and shook his head.
It was Pyrrha Nikos.
He trusted that his partner (even if this wasn't his Pyrrha Nikos) knew what she was doing.
-FORTIFICATION HILL (AKA THE FORT), EAST OF THE MOJAVE WASTELAND, AT THE SAME TIME-
As Pyrrha glared around at the slavers leering at her, she couldn't help but wonder just what the fuck she was doing.
Really, House? The Platinum Chip, the key to his entire plan... and he told her to let the Legion just take it?
God, she wished she'd brought Arc... Jaune, with her. At least then she'd have some support, in this shithole that made Gomorrah look like Shady fucking Sands.
Then again, House had made it clear that he did not want Caesar harmed (yet). Not a (possibly-metaphorical) hair on his (balding) head was to be touched.
Apparently, having calculated the odds, House was confident that, with the allies he wanted to the two to gather, and the army he wanted her to link him up with, he'd be able to stop the Legion from holding the Dam, and Caesar was thusly best left alive, to serve as a perceived enemy for the NCR to focus on (since the Brotherhood and Enclave had already been all but wiped out), instead of turning their attentions to annexing Vegas.
Looking around at the slaves carrying loads that would have broken a Brahmin's back, and the captured NCR soldiers lashed to crosses, she once again affirmed that, as much as she missed his presence, not bringing him had been for the best.
Even if it would have been very entertaining to watch him try and talk Caesar out of slavery.
If he didn't just try wiping out the entirety of The Fort by himself for what they were doing.
Pyrrha sighed and shook her head.
Jaune would definitely be crazy enough to do that, and that was why she had to make sure he didn't come with her.
She didn't care one bit for Caesar or his Legion, and she wasn't fully on board with House's plans yet, but she couldn't let Jaune do something as suicidal as picking a fight with the Legion on their own turf.
Jaune...
Pyrrha's face unconsciously loosened, as she thought about him once again.
It felt weird, calling him Jaune, and not Arc.
But it was a good kind of weird.
It was the same kind of weird as being able to actually, finally, confide in someone.
She never expected someone to stick around after they'd learned about her.
And she'd never expected someone to tell her that they didn't care about her reputation, her past... to tell her all they saw was the woman in front of her.
And she'd especially never expected that someone to be Jaune fucking Arc of all people.
Then again, she really shouldn't have been surprised, should she? The kid had always somehow surpassed her expectations, from saving her life at Goodsprings to talking down ghouls and Nightkin, to even impressing her with his cooking and survival skills.
Well, sure, House had faith in her too, but that was different.
House was a ruthless businessman who wanted her for what she could give him. It was simple, professional, easy to understand.
Nothing like her weird relationship with Arc.
House was also fucking weird, though.
When she'd told him that the NCR and Caesar both wanted a meeting with him, he'd encouraged her to attend, if only so he knew the current market rate for a professional like her and Jaune.
"I'd be disappointed if you weren't trying to maximize your profits." House had even told them bluntly.
She snapped out of her thoughts as her guide, Cursor Lucullus, cleared his throat.
The man was a pig, who'd made it clear that, in his eyes, women were physically and intellectually inferior to men, when he'd first laid eyes upon her.
God, she'd really wished she could have unleashed Jaune on him right there and then.
Or just driven her knee into his balls.
If only her job hadn't been to walk into the heart of Legion territory.
"What do you want, pig?" Pyrrha growled.
Lucullus bit down his instinctive response to strike the woman, but it was a close thing.
She bore the Mark of Caesar, and thus none of them were allowed to violate the code of safe conduct. So sayeth the Son of Mars.
Instead, he recomposed himself, and asked: "May I see the Crocea Mors, Dissolute?"
"I don't know." Pyrrha shot back, unwilling to admit to the fucking Cursor (whatever that was) that she didn't know what the fuck a "Crocea Mors" was. "May you? Do you even know what it is?"
"Only from what I have heard from legend." Lucullus admitted. "History named Julius Caesar's sword "Crocea Mors", before it was lost in battle against Prince Nennius, who used it to great effect, slaying any enemy stricken by it with but a single blow."
"I see..." Pyrrha hadn't expected the history lesson, and she hadn't appreciated it from the fucking pig either. "Next question: Do I look like I have a fucking sword with me?"
"The legend is clearly an allegory." Lucullus defended stubbornly. "But I'm sure Crocea Mors is a great and terrible weapon, even if it is not actually a sword. In the hands of the mighty Legatus Lanius, or even the Son of Mars himself, such a weapon would break the Profligates, and make them realize the folly of their degeneracy. You must understand what an honor it is, for you to deliver it to him."
"What makes you think this Crocea Mors is even real, or that I have it?" Pyrrha rolled her eyes.
"Because Caesar said so." Lucullus said with finality, as though that were enough. "Enough talk, degenerate. Behold, the tent of the Son of Mars."
Pyrrha stared at the big brown tent, adorned with red sashes, and wondered if she was supposed to be impressed.
She'd seen the Divide, at its height and at its destruction.
She'd travelled from the remains of Navarro to Shady Sands and the Boneyard, and everywhere in-between.
She'd just been on the Strip, and entered the Lucky 38.
Mentally, she apologized to Jaune and the King.
Freeside hadn't been a dump.
This was a fucking dump.
Pyrrha held her breath, as she pushed the flap open, and stepped in.
The first thing she noticed was Benny, kneeling, gagged and tied up in a corner, wearing a Legionary's uniform.
She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that one.
The next thing she noticed were a group of mongrels and a half-dozen heavily-armored bulky men, each wearing gloves with wrist-mounted shotguns and pressure plates over the knuckles.
She almost wanted to let loose a whistle at that.
Ballistic fists... almost as valuable as her 5.56mm revolver.
Lastly, she noticed the white-haired man in the center of the tent, lounging on the throne, staring at her expectantly.
Huh.
So Caesar did still have some hair after all.
Some.
He was almost bald, though.
"So... I finally get to meet the courier who's accomplished so much in so little time." Caesar boomed, as she stepped forward confidently, already eyeing any escape routes. "You do know why I wanted to meet you, right?"
Pyrrha just raised an eyebrow in response.
Caesar took it as an invitation to continue. "I mean, a man nearly kills you, and your response is to track him across the breadth of the Mojave? You visit the Tops, and next thing you know, the head of the Chairmen is fleeing the Strip like a whimpering little pup? You waltz into the Lucky 38 like someone left you a key under the doormat? Then something happens to Mr. House's robots - some kind of military upgrade? When you set your mind to something, you get results. I like that.
"But that's not the most important thing, oh no.
"Somehow, you, a Dissolute, found and acquired the Crocea Mors. The Yellow Death. The Sword of Caesar. The true Monster of the East." Caesar finished. "The greatest weapon in the Wasteland. So tell me... why didn't you bring him with you?"
"Him?" Pyrrha echoed in confusion, her eyebrow rising even higher. "I don't even know what the fuck you're talking about."
Caesar looked at the Courier, studying her, before suddenly roaring with laughter.
Pyrrha felt a chill run down her spine.
"You truly have no idea, do you, Dissolute?" Caesar asked once more, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Of what you had in your possession?"
"If you mean the Chip, then-"
"The Chip is trivial." Caesar waved dismissively, as one of his Praetorian Guard handed him the Chip the guards had taken from her, when she'd first entered the Fort. "Compared to the Crocea Mors, House could have a fucking army of those upgraded robots, and it wouldn't make a difference."
Pyrrha's eyes widened. Did he know...?
"Your companion." Caesar's next words froze her. "Jaune Arc. He is the greatest weapon in the Wasteland."
For a moment, blind panic seized Pyrrha.
What did Caesar and the Legion want with Jaune?
The next, she felt like bursting out with laughter.
Jaune Arc, being the greatest weapon in the Wasteland?
Sure, the kid could go toe-to-toe with Super Mutants, but in a Wasteland with Deathclaws, Brotherhood Paladins, Veteran Rangers, and the apocryphal Lone fucking Wanderer...
"I think there must be some kind of misunderstanding..." Pyrrha spoke, fighting to keep her voice level. "There is no way Jaune Arc is a weapon, let alone the greatest weapon in the Wasteland! The kid tries to find a non-violent solution whenever possible, for crying out loud! What makes you think he's what you're looking for?"
"A few years ago, we started encountering fleeing refugees from further East." Caesar responded simply. "Apparently, they were survivors of a war between the Brotherhood and the Enclave, that occurred in the Capital Wasteland in 2277."
Pyrrha's heart skipped a beat.
She'd never seen the Enclave, but she'd heard the stories in California.
Jaune's home had been attacked by them?
Was that why he'd been forced from the Capital Wasteland?
Wait, but that couldn't be right...
What about the Lone Wanderer? What about the Wasteland Survival Guide? What about the all the purified water from the Capital Wasteland?
What about the fact the Enclave was supposed to have been wiped out, 30 to 40 years ago?
"The survivors, specifically, were Enclave deserters, fleeing after almost having been wiped out." Caesar continued, smirking at the expressions playing across the Courier's face. "They told us what they knew, before we lashed them to crosses. About how a single man destroyed their entire command bunker, and then did it again, calling down the fury of the heavens upon their mobile base crawler. About the Crocea Mors.
"Naturally, the name intrigued me, and I sent a Frumentarius East, to investigate these claims. At first, there was little progress, but as he dug deeper, he began to hear rumors from the East Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood. Secret stories shared only within them. Of the blonde swordsman who glowed yellow. Who took laser beams and plasma bolts without a single scratch. Whose sword of fire, ice, and lightning cut through power armor like a hot knife through butter."
"... are you sure you aren't thinking about the Lone Wanderer?" Pyrrha asked, trying not to snicker.
Remember, Pyrrha, you're dealing with a brutal and savage dictator who thinks he's a god... even if he does sound like a complete crackpot...
"That's what we naturally thought first, as well." Caesar conceded. "But further investigation showed that the Brotherhood both knew the Lone Wanderer, and treated her as a separate entity from the Crocea Mors. Furthermore, the Crocea Mors predates the Lone Wanderer by a few months, and why keep one a secret while the other is known from coast to coast?
"No, I'm certain that Jaune Arc, the Crocea Mors, was the Lone Wanderer's teacher. Now, can you see why I wanted you to bring him to me? And why I'm very disappointed that he isn't here with you right now?" Caesar finished threateningly, eyeing Pyrrha up and down.
"Hey, how was I supposed to know that he was this... uh, "Crotchety Smores"?" Pyrrha defended, deliberately mangling the Latin.
God, Caesar was a fucking riot.
Maybe House wanted to keep him alive for his sheer entertainment value.
She'd have to share this one with Jaune. That'd definitely get a good laugh from him.
"Fair enough." Caesar relented.
"He hasn't even heard about the Lone Wanderer, by the way." Pyrrha added, trying not to giggle at the idea that the idea that the big bad Legion thought Jaune fucking Arc had trained the Lone Wanderer, let alone that he, the person who hadn't even known how to clean a gun until she'd shown him, was the most dangerous weapon in the Wasteland.
God, he'd have been, what, 13 years old during the supposed Brotherhood-Enclave war? That made total fucking sense.
And what was that about a sword that was on frozen and on fire at the same time? Jaune's sword didn't even have a power source, obviously.
"I'll give you ten thousand caps for him, payable on delivery." Caesar bluntly said.
Pyrrha's mouth shut itself, just as she'd been about to explain to him that they'd split up to handle more stuff.
What.
The.
Fuck.
By the sound of things, she'd definitely made the right call not bringing Jaune to the Fort.
Ten fucking thousand caps.
That was a lot of caps.
If he was that desperate for Jaune, who knew how'd he react if Jaune had been in front of him?"
Not that she'd sell her only friend into slavery, of course.
"He's not for sale." Pyrrha said firmly.
"Twenty thousand caps."
"Look, if that's all, you're wasting your time..."
"Fifty thousand."
Pyrrha's jaw dropped.
Just how fucking much did he want Jaune's sword?
Maybe those rumors about the men mounting each other had some truth to it...
"Answer's still no." Pyrrha refused firmly. "Are we done here?"
Caesar sighed. "His true potential is wasted on you... but I can understand and appreciate loyalty. Very well, I shall not press the matter any further for now. Instead, on to the next order of business.
"Down the hill, at the west edge of camp, is an old building. It was here when the Fort was taken in 2277. Inside the building is a hatch, and inside that hatch are two steel doors that bear the sigil of the Lucky 38 casino. Now that same sigil is on the Platinum Chip you were carrying. Isn't that interesting?"
Pyrrha's breath hitched in her throat.
Shit. Caesar knew about the Securitron Vault...?
Caesar continued on, unaware of Pyrrha's rising worry: "Even more interesting, there's a slot about the same size as the Chip on the console that opens the hatch. So you know what I think?"
"What?" Pyrrha kept her response short, in case her voice shook too much, even as her finger inched towards the radio beacon.
Jaune might not have been able to immediately save her, but at least he'd know something had happened.
"I think the Platinum Chip opens those doors - doors that can't be pried open or drilled open or blasted open. Because all that, I tried." Caesar finished triumphantly, like he'd made some astute observation. To her continued surprise, he suddenly flicked the oversized chip at her, which she caught easily, and ordered: "Now take the Platinum Chip, go down in that bunker or whatever it is, and destroy whatever gizmo-happy Brahmin shit you find. I'd use my Legionaries, but then I'd have to kill them for being exposed to Old World Technology."
Pyrrha blinked.
There was no way.
No fucking way.
No way the dictator with a god complex could be this arrogant...
"You're sending me in... by myself?" Pyrrha couldn't help but push back cautiously, if only because her instincts were screaming that it was a trap. If she acted too eager, he might have suspected something was up. "Without any back up whatsoever?"
"You tracked Benny through the Mojave. I'm sure you can handle whatever House has in there." Caesar waved her concerns away, buying her act (and completely misunderstanding). "And speaking of Benny... there are rewards for doing as I command. As you've made it clear I can't buy your loyalty with caps, today your reward is vengeance. You get to decide how Benny dies."
Oh, right...
Pyrrha turned back to Benny, tied up in a corner.
She'd completely forgotten about the worm...
"Go to Benny, let him know what you've decided." Caesar decreed. "My Praetorians will perform the execution - unless you want to perform it yourself."
"How did you even capture this motherfucker?" Pyrrha couldn't help but ask incredulously, completely blind-sided by his presence.
"I'll hand it to that piece of shit, he was determined. He used some kind of Old-World stealth device to get across the river in a Legion boat. Seems the device ran out of juice once he got here, but he was dressed like a Legionary. He was caught just outside the weather station." Caesar shook his head in grudging admiration, before it quickly turned to amused disdain. "See, thing is, he didn't change his hairstyle. To go through all that effort and fail because you're too vain to muss your hair..."
Pyrrha just shot the tied-up man a look of utter disbelief.
Really?
This was the guy who'd hatched a grand plan to get the Platinum Chip?
The guy that she'd spent two weeks chasing?
Jaune's fucking "fireworks" must've been really fucking impressive, if past her had been caught by Benny.
At Caesar's gesturing, she walked over to the kneeling man, who had his gag forcefully removed by his captor.
"Go ahead and laugh, baby." Benny scoffed, as soon as he could talk. "I ain't blind to the humor in this situation."
"What the fuck are you doing here, schmuck?" Pyrrha asked.
"Well, after a certain someone burned all my bridges in Vegas, I couldn't just stay there, could I?" Benny glared at her, as though everything that had happened had been her fault.
"And so you snuck into the middle of Fortification Hill?" Pyrrha pointed out in disbelief.
"I thought Baldie over there would be interested in what I knew about the Platinum Chip." Benny admitted, unwilling to admit his plan had been to wait for the Courier to arrive, before ambushing her and taking the Chip for himself.
"And instead of asking for a fucking meeting with Caesar... you snuck into the middle of Fortification fucking Hill?" Pyrrha repeated emphatically.
"..."
"Good going, genius." Pyrrha snorted.
"Fuck you." Benny shot back. "I should've put a third bullet in your brain!"
"And I should've put two in yours." Pyrrha replied nonchalantly, before turning away.
She'd already shown him mercy once.
He'd wasted his chance.
"He's not worth my time." Pyrrha announced to Caesar. "I'll leave him to you."
"You can't do this!" Benny shouted, paling. After she'd hesitated before ripping his arm off, he'd assumed that the Courier was actually a big-hearted softie, and had been desperately thinking of ways to appeal to that better nature once he'd been captured.
The realization that he'd misread the Courier...
Pyrrha didn't give him a second glance as she walked out of Caesar's Tent, ignoring the muffled cries as he was once again gagged.
She doubted even Jaune would have been able to defend him, at this point.
As she walked into the weather station, the guard nodded to her grudgingly, but let her pass, before stepping outside, knowing that Caesar had allowed the Profligate's presence while barring Legionaries from entering.
Instead of questioning it, he merely rationalized it as the Mighty Caesar protecting his beloved Legion from the degeneracy of the Old World Technology, instead sacrificing a disposable Dissolute to take care of the problem.
Pyrrha, oblivious to the man's indoctrination, simply began looking around the weather station, before the sound of humming machinery caught her attention.
Indeed, there was a hatch leading to the basement, next to a humming console. As she stepped forward to inspect it, she found a round slot, just the size of a very large poker chip.
And Caesar seemed so proud to figure out that two and two made four...
The hatch split into two and opened with a whirr of rusty gears, and she made her way down, finding the two steel doors with the symbol of the Lucky 38, parting to reveal a lift.
Well, too late to turn back now.
The lift brought her down to a vault, and as she stepped out and followed the corridor, she found another console, with a familiar-looking man on a familiar giant screen.
"I see you reached your destination successfully." House greeted, as she approached him (or his monitor). "I knew I could rely on Caesar to give you back the Platinum Chip."
"Did you know the man's a fucking nutcase?" Pyrrha spoke conversationally, taking a moment to enjoy the lack of Legion. Even the sterile Pre-War Vault felt comfortable to her, after an hour in Fortification Hill. "He seems convinced that Jaune's some ultimate weapon, who can eat plasma bolts for breakfast and cut through power armor with a sword that's both frozen and on fire at the same fucking time."
"Indeed?" House's voice came across as both amused and bemused. "Mr. Arc is a man of many skills and talents, but I have yet to see him perform any such... post-human feats."
A memory of a warm and gentle light came to Pyrrha's mind, as well as the miraculous healings that seemed to follow it, but she put it out of her mind. Even if she could prove he was behind all of them, even if she could figure out how it happened, it didn't mean that Jaune was a fucking weapon.
Instead, she smirked, and retorted: "Oh? I thought you didn't consider Jaune suitable for a position?"
"I still don't." House shot back. "I stand by what I said; he is too idealistic to do what truly needs to be done. However, I also do not believe in micro-management; as your employer, I have given you a set of goals, but how you set about achieving them is up to your discretion."
"... and that means?" Pyrrha still had no idea if he approved of Jaune helping him or not.
House sighed. "Mr. Arc does not work for me, Miss Nikos. You work for me. And, as you see fit, Mr. Arc works for you. I will not question your methods, as long as you are prepared to take responsibility for... sub-optimal results."
That, she could understand.
As she glared at the screen, House continued on: "Now, shall we get to work?"
Pyrrha paused, just before she could answer, as she remembered her meeting with the NCR Ambassador.
She could say yes, and commit to helping House seize the Mojave... or she could sabotage the facility, and destroy his dreams, his carefully laid plans of ever resisting the NCR.
Once again, the doubts came to mind.
What was the right decision?
House had an army of killer robots (partially thanks to her), but the NCR had many armies.
House had New Vegas, but the NCR had an entire nation.
The NCR wasn't perfect. In fact, it was fucking far from it.
She'd run into her fair share of Brahmin barons and incompetents who'd only gotten their positions because of nepotism...
But that didn't mean the NCR itself was necessarily bad.
And was House's vision for Vegas perfect, either?
She couldn't deny that the man, for all his brilliant insights, came across as cold and aloof most of the time.
Could she really stand up to the NCR?
And what about Jaune?
I trust that you know the Wasteland better than me, and I trust that, whatever choice you make, you'll give it your all...
Pyrrha took a deep breath, recomposing herself.
Fucking Arc...
She couldn't pretend to know for certain that House was the best choice for the Wasteland...
But he was the best choice, if she wanted a second chance at fulfilling the goals of the original Divide.
She didn't know if Jaune would approve of everything she'd have to do, and she didn't know if she could keep Jaune safe from all the potential reprisals...
But, at the very least, she'd do her best not to disappoint him.
The boy who'd had faith in her.
"What exactly do you need me to do?" Pyrrha looked back at the screen, determination burning in her eyes.
"I need you to manually upload the data from the Chip to the facility's primary computer. There's a terminal at the other end of this facility. Unfortunately, there's a complication. While I can broadcast to this screen, I can't control any of the facility's systems. That means I can't deactivate its security bots... most of which appear to be active, according to the status board I'm looking at. I'd recommend trying to get to the security terminals to deactivate them; the password is 1C 3C R34 M..."
Author's Note: Uh, wow... I did not expect to hit 50 chapters. In almost 6 months. And two-thirds of that came in the past 2 months alone...
It's pretty hard to narrow down when Paulson was taken... but at the very least, we can probably put it in or after the 1870s, since he uses a .44 revolver. Assuming the .44 round was invented at the same time in their reality as ours, at least...
Regarding the recent lack of action... I also want to get to the action already, you know... I always say this, but I hate writing dialogue. It ia a pain and a half to give every character a chance to speak, rather than simply seeming like part of the scenery, while keeping all the dialogue as natural as possible... well, this is what timeskips will be for, I suppose.
But this isn't a shounen anime. I'm not going to throw in gratuitous fight scenes for the sake of it. Like I've said before, New Vegas is very much a slow burn. Right now, it's the calm before the storm, where alliances are formed and preparations are made. The action's coming... but it needs to be set up first. Until then, enjoy the characters (while I suffer and slog through it all).
And yes, I'll probably be going for a House Victory. Keyword being "probably"; I haven't exactly planned that far yet. After all, while Courier Pyrrha was trained to be a champion, that doesn't mean she has the ability to be a good leader. And Jaune... he might understand the need for infrastructure and supply lines better than Courier Pyrrha (who would see them more as either targets to sabotage or attempt to preserve), but that doesn't mean he'd know how to build them up and create a thriving society in a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland that he's not even native to.
Also, it will naturally diverge from canon. For example, in canon, easing tensions between the NCR and the Kings and then getting the House Ending means that House wipes out the Kings for their perceived fraternization with his enemies. I'm not here to discuss the morality of it (maybe House did the calculations and found conflict inevitable, just as he predicted the Great War (and was off by a mere 20 hours), or maybe he still bears a grudge after they spurned him once and he's just petty). All I'm saying is, seeing as how Jaune and Courier Pyrrha were the ones who helped ease the tensions here... I don't think they'd let House simply do that, do you? House may be an autocrat, but I think he also would see the value on diplomacy and listening to his lieutenant.
And yes, House is really just that eccentric. Whether its because he has that much faith that Pyrrha will side with him, I don't know, but he really is a capitalist of the same stripe as Andrew Ryan. For example, spoiler alert, if you assassinate President Kimball, who specifically tasks you to protect, he'll be furious at you for ruining his plans, and demand to know why. You can tell him President Kimball tried to make you pay taxes... which he deems an acceptable excuse. God do I love New Vegas. But I can definitely see him being disappointed in a Courier who doesn't at least hear out the other offers before declining them; he wants his lieutenant loyal, not stupid.
And yes, Cursor Lucullus is an actual character who actually says those things in game. I present him as he is portrayed, with no further comment.
Also, the idea of Caesar being the only person in the Mojave who's actually figured out the truth behind Jaune somewhat amuses me. To be fair... Pyrrha has every reason to be skeptical of his claims. What's easier to believe, that the boy you're travelling with, who takes every effort to avoid violence, doesn't even know how to clean a gun, and uses what seems to be a plain sword... is also the greatest weapon in the Wasteland, who single-handedly broke the fucking Enclave when he was 13, unless he just somehow never aged since then? Or that the brutal dictator with a god complex may not be all there in the head?
And yes, Caesar really does ask you to go and blow up the basement without supervision. To be fair, his entire Legion is built on the idea of suffering builds strength, and to hell with the degenerates who use technology to avoid sacrifice.
Also yes, Benny really does get captured if you let him live. Because of his hair. And Caesar's reward for you is letting you choose how he dies. To be fair, I guess he does have a reason to believe the Courier is motivated by vengeance... since the Courier tracks Benny across the Mojave. And I guess Benny just overlooked the hair. He does seem to always overlook the small details...
