In the Shadow of the Valley: Main Series

by Desert Ranger Caracal

The main series, here at last. For those who have wanted to see what the main series of my work involves, and how things change accordingly over time, then this is where it all begins, and by extension will end when the last chapter is finished, the main story has a pinned in place ending and there is nothing left to fix. Do enjoy, I intend to flesh this series out a good bit.

11. Chapter eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN: FORGING ALLIANCES. BY DESERT RANGER CARACAL.

LOCATION: NEW VEGAS STRIP.

DATE: MARCH 20TH 2282.

TIME: 2:43 PM.

TEMPERATURE: 90°F OR 32°C.

The days after the daring assault on Cottonwood Cove and Fortification Hill proved to be surprisingly calm. The Legion had managed to recapture the Fort after discovering the minefield that had been provided as one last middle finger before the FMF left. What really had to piss them off was that Caesar's corpse hung upside down from a rope above a plasma mine with a short fuse, completely melting his remains and maiming the praetorian guards who tried to remove it.

Of course, the militia couldn't see any of this happening as they focused on capturing and cleaning up Nelson, finding no resistance from the NCR as they watched from the Mojave outpost. The tire fires set months ago were finally extinguished as the militia set up shop, being sure to document what had happened with NCR manufactured cameras. The gruesome scene had petered out to an extent, though the horrors still remained intact enough for the history books.

While the negatives were being brought back to the Vault so they could be sent to a film lab, Joseph and Six had begun a several stage plan to recruit, aly with, or outright defuse the other independent factions of the Mojave. To start, they headed to The Strip to deal with the casinos and those who ran them. Six immediately chose to head over to The Gommorah and handle the Omerta's, leaving Joseph to deal with the White Glove Society.

The afternoon proved to be the best time to head through the place. The streets were rather barren compared to what was common in the night. A few people were wandering about, mostly NCR personnel going from the monorail station to the Embassy. Which was rather close to the shining white jewel known as the Ultra Luxe. It wasn't shining its lights, but the seemingly pristine exterior and flowing fountain were quite the eye catcher.

More subtle than the Gomorrah's blatant blazing exterior and racy dancing, and The Top's flashy lights and cool exterior, complete with a billboard for acts. Walking up the steps, the feline had a little chuckle about what the usual clientele and staff would think of him, standing before the door as he adjusted himself. Putting on a poker face, he opened the door and walked right inside to see what was going on.

The casino lobby was decently full, a few guests were gambling at the tables with dealers occupying their time, people were at a circular bar, and so on. Something that caught Joseph's immediate attention was that two men at the bar were more, rugged looking than the others there. Plus, one of them was standing up and holding a shotgun. Before Joseph could approach and ask questions, a voice came from his side.

"Excuse me sir, but would you be so kind as to hand over your weapons?"

One of the White Gloves approached the ranger, dressed in a pre war black suit with a bow tie, with an unusual white mask on his face. Turning to him, Joseph looked down at him and peered right into his eyes.

"You better take good care of them."

"But of course sir, all weapons are stored in our vault and given the finest treatment. You'll get what you came with, I can promise that."

Nodding, Joseph stood still and let another White Glove pat him down for weapons. His Blackhawk was taken away, but his combat knife remained untouched. Joseph had stashed it in his armor as insurance, he never liked being fully unarmed, no ranger did, Desert Ranger or NCR, present or former.

"I'm terribly sorry for this minor inconvenience, as said before you will get your weapon returned, I promise. But we simply cannot have people brandishing and flashing their weaponry in the hotel. It's not what we want in our hotel. Please, do enjoy your stay."

"Goodbye."

"It was a pleasure to serve."

The ranger watched the White Glove turn back to the doors, before he approached the bar. Going down the steps, it wasn't long before he was able to see the pair up close. The one who was standing up was a black man standing guard for the other one. He had a simple Caravan Shotgun, not much but when most others couldn't bring in anything, it did the trick.

The man sitting at the bar was a bit odd to him. Black hat much like his, a brown jacket, greying hair, it caught the feline's attention. Stepping to his side, Joseph nearly reached for his gun as he saw who it was.

"Heck Gunderson, I didn't expect to see you here."

The man shot his head to the side and looked right up.

"What's a Ranger doing here? Wait, you're one of those mutants who attacked my men back when I was grabbing empty land."

"Empty land my ass, you wiped out whole Mojave Towns before the NCR reined you in."

Joseph retorted with a light snarl, staring him in the eyes.

"You say that like a foolish whippersnapper, be glad you're not in the republic or I'll-"

"I'm not here for violence. I'm here to talk to the leaders of the White Gloves. I just happened to see you here, that's all."

The caracal said, beginning to step away as Heck quickly shouted.

"WAIT! I could really use your help. I know we've got animosity with each other, but you're good at finding people, right?"

Joseph stopped, turning around and facing the Brahmin Baron.

"Good enough, why do you ask?"

"Well you see, it's about my boy. You been in the hotel long enough to see a young man with dark brown hair, and a white hat on?"

"I came in about a minute ago, no."

The man sighed gently, looking away at the direction of the hotel as he spoke.

"Ain't nobody got information on where my boy is? Not a single word of how he's doing? Ain't got a head of cattle unaccounted for across my dozen ranches, and yet it took an hour in here for my son to just disappear."

The ranger nodded lightly, keeping his eyes on the rancher.

"Alright, I'll help. Tell me what you know and I'll get to it."

"Really? Well I'll accept your offer. Hell, I'll take the offer of just about anyone with a pair of legs and at least one good eye. There's a good bit of money in it for you if you can bring him back to me nice and safe. And if he ain't, you bet I'll happily pay well for the names of the sonsabitches responsible."

Turning back to the bar, Heck signaled the bartender, getting a shot of whiskey seconds later. Taking it, he turned back to Joseph and slammed it back, sighing before he resumed speaking.

"My boy, Ted, he was right here at the bar. I barely left him for a minute. Told him to hold nice and tight while I talked a few things over with them White Glove folk. That boy can't stay tied down to a spot, gets that from his mother. Got most of my staff scouring the hotel for him. I'd be out there with them, but I keep hoping he'll just come back here. Course if he does that, his skinny hide will be whupped into premium leather for putting me through all that. I'd still be grateful of course, how couldn't I be?"

"Just before I go, how come your guard gets to carry a shotgun out and in the open?"

"Special arrangement with the White Gloves, they wanna buy my brahmin, they better play by my rules. Lotta people out there resent my success, might wanna take me out. This makes them think twice. If I had known, I'd have had him watching my son instead. This wouldn't have happened."

The ranger rolled his eyes gently, before walking off.

"I'll try and find your son. No promises, for all we know he ran off with some New Vegas girl to escape your name."

Heck tried to retort, but it was too late, Joseph was already leaving and heading right through the corridor that held the cashier. Passing him, the ranger saw a somewhat shifty looking man at the reception desk. Taking a left, he made his way to the Gormand. The rather fancy, exclusive restaurant made the ranger cringe slightly, before he approached the woman at the reception desk. Before he could open his mouth, she offered him a welcome.

"Welcome to the Ultra-Luxe, I sincerely hope it exceeds your wildest expectations. My name is Marjorie, the head of the prestigious White Glove Society."

Joseph nodded gently before replying.

"Thank you, but I'm on the look for a recently missing person. I was hoping you'd be willing to help."

She sighed gently in disappointment before she began to speak in a slightly worn torn of voice.

"This again? I thought that this was a closed case. I answered every single of that investigator's questions in a satisfying manner and helped him as much as I could. I know our reputation has been spotty, but that's from before House's offer, may he rest well. I can't get how some don't just move on from it. May this be the final time, the White Glove society has not, and will never dine on human flesh for any reason. It's the first rule in the charter."

Marjorie explained, as the ranger nodded along, listening as best as he could.

"Well who have you talked to about this disappearance?"

"There was an investigator who came through here last week. A young man had hired him to find his bride to be because she vanished during their stay here. I think you can understand what happened already. She could have just gotten cold feet, and ran off without even leaving a note. The poor groom didn't even have a clue that could have been the case, poor dear."

The ranger blinked slowly as he continued watching Marjorie, his ears flicking about softly like they had a dedicated brain each.

"That might be the case but, that I'm looking for a young man who vanished a few hours ago."

Giving the ranger a light gasp, she shook her head lightly in disbelief as the veil began to peel back gently. Still intact, she addressed the new information calmly.

"Just a few hours ago? Oh dear, two missing people in my hotel. What will people say? I'm going to have a word with my staff about security on the premises. Whether these people turn up or not, my guests must feel safe in their rooms."

Nodding along, Joseph pressed himself in.

"Yes, and because of that, I think that you should tell me if I can find the investigator here or not."

"If he hasn't checked out, you can see him right away. Our maitre d', Mortimer knows where he's staying. I had him offer the Investigator a complimentary room till he's satisfied. You see? The White Glove Society remains the very definition of courtesy, even with such impolite accusations being so brashly thrown about. We hide nothing here."

Taking a step back, the ranger pushed in his final question.

"Before I ask Mortimer about the investigator, I have to ask this. Did the White Gloves really eat Human Flesh at one point?"

Sighing in light disappointment, Marjorie shook her head before clarifying.

"I did tell you that we don't do that here. Cannibalism is strictly forbidden here, under expulsion at least. Though that wasn't always the case, we weren't always the White Glove Society. Before House gave us the chance to be the prestigious people that we truly are, we went by a different name, in dark times. But that's changed! We've truly... pushed those base impulses into the refuse of our past since we settled in here. I've seen to it that we really have changed for the better."

Smiling a bit, Joseph gave a quick quip.

"Good, that means you're on the same moral level of just about any Mojave town now."

Before Marjorie could retort, Joseph left the restaurant and headed to the reception desk with a quick step. Standing at the desk, Joseph easily looked down at Mortimer with little effort. Clearing his throat, the maitre d' spoke right away.

"How may I serve your needs, sir?"

"I'm looking to speak to an private investigator, Marjorie said you lent a room to him."

The ranger stated, looking down at the man and scanning him over carefully with his sharp yellow eyes.

"Private Investigator... Oh yes, now I remember that gentleman. He came because of the missing bride. Such a terrible thing, I do hope he finds out where she is. If you don't mind me prying, have you got something that will help with his investigation?"

The man said clearly, and without any hesitation. This gave Joseph a tinge of distrust, as it seemed like he was being just a bit too open about what had happened. The ranger decided to twist things a bit, just enough for it to be believable.

"That's the case, I've got some information he needs to see right away."

"Thank goodness. I hope that young man finally gets some closure after what he's endured. Ordinarily we never give guest information, given the circumstances however, he will more than likely want to speak with you. Let's see, according to this he hasn't checked out yet. If you make your way to the hotel rooms, his room is the very first room on the right on the second floor. I hope this matter can be put to rest nice and quietly."

Mortimer calmly said, passing the ranger the key to the room. All while seemingly licking his lips for whatever reason. Nodding along, Joseph pocketed the key before he spoke.

"We'll see how that goes."

The caracal began walking away right after he said that, making his way to the hotel rooms on the left. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see Mortimer making a call while looking right at him. Must not be that important, the cat was an oddity here after all. The hotel rooms were easy enough to find, heading up the steps was trivial and Joseph was just about to open the door when a scent caught his nose.

Opening his mouth, it didn't take long before the caracal's Jacobson's organ told him about the recently murdered man in the room. Taking the key with his left hand, he opened the door slowly while reaching into his armor for that trusty knife. The whole room had been completely ransacked, drawers thrown wide open, a suitcase having seemingly exploded, furniture in disarray, and with the detective's dead body right in the middle of the room it was clear what had happened.

Joseph approached the body steadily as he pulled the blade out of his armor, his eyes pinned on the corpse intently as he tried figuring out what happened. The PI looked like a pre-war caricature, tan trench-coat, matching hat, short hair, a five o clock shadow and light skin. The wide bloodstain underneath his body made it clear that it wasn't a heart attack or other mere medical problem, stab wounds in his chest made it clear what happened. Joseph looked down to one of the coat's pockets and saw a matchbook. Starving for any information he could find, he grabbed it and looked at the back.

"STEAM ROOM. 4PM."

Vague, but good enough for a lead into things. The caracal's ears twitched at the sounds of footsteps approaching from behind, making him grip on his knife more aggressively. Throwing the matchbook into his pocket, he turned around and faced a pair of White Glove thugs wielding dress canes. The pair charged at him, before being quickly killed by the ranger in mere seconds. A stab through the heart did the first one in, with the second thug getting a kick to the throat, choking desperately as his windpipe was flattened by the impact.

Hitting the floor, he watched the ranger nonchalantly pull the knife out of his comrade's heart, clean it off, and put it back in his armor before perishing. The ranger didn't take a single breath before he left the hotel room in a light panic. Walking out of the room, he saw nobody around and sighed gently in relief. Walking to the end of the hallway, he opened the door and got a good look at the bathhouse. It was full of people, not a surprise considering the restaurant was full of reservations and that the tables were best occupied after a meal.

Stepping in, his boots made contact with the ceramic tiles as the caracal realized how risky the walk might be. Looking right at the steam room, the ranger began to walk nice and slowly, just taking his time to prevent any slipping. About a minute later, he was in the steam room, closing the door behind him as he checked the environment. Several benches and a few wine bottles on one of them were what he saw, alongside another door.

Approaching it and opening the door, he saw nobody, just a pair of benches, a bottle of wine and a shot glass. Sitting on the second of the two benches, Joseph leaned back and began to relax while waiting for this mysterious person. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his Siddur and began to pass the time by reading the contents. Better than counting the tiles till this mysterious person came in. Partway through reading the Kiddush prayers, the first door of the steam room opened right up.

The caracal looked right at the door before him, putting the siddur away and slowly preparing himself to pounce on who was coming in. The second door opened up seconds later, as a black man wearing the usual White Glove outfit sans mask began to walk inside. He stopped, and began to back away as he saw the massive ranger.

"WHAT THE-"

"I ain't here to kill you, I'm investigating a disappearance."

Joseph butted in, calming the alarmed man right away, and giving him some slight confusion.

"How the hell did you know to come in here then?"

He asked, beginning to back away some more before Joseph chilled his blood with a simple statement.

"You were supposed to meet an investigator, right? He was murdered in his hotel room and I found his body in the room he was staying in. It was ransacked, nothing of value was there beyond a matchbook with a time and location on it. After I got it, a pair of White Gloves tried to kill me. You better come in and close that door behind you."

Confusion turned to terror as the man walked right into the room and shut the door, sitting beside Joseph on the other bench as he began panicking.

"Oh god, they know now, don't they? They know that he had an inside contact, they're gonna be watching everyone with a magnifying glass, I knew this was a mistake!"

He began sputtering out, as the caracal looked over to him and began to try soothing his nerves.

"Cool it, take as many deep breaths as you need to calm down. Get your senses back, and tell me what you can about what's going on."

The man began to calm down gradually, taking a minute to get back to his senses, even if his hands continued to shake while he stared at the door.

"Okay, okay. First off, I ain't saying anything till you tell me your name."

"Joseph Chaim."

The ranger's immediate namedrop surprised the White Glove, making him turn his head and look at the ranger with slight confusion.

"Wait, THE Joseph Chaim?" "Yes. I came here to make some negotiations with the White Gloves, now I'm finding myself plunging into a cannibal conspiracy."

Shaking the bewilderment off and accepting the situation, the man extended his hand to the caracal and spoke.

"Chauncey. I ain't asking about what you wanted to talk about with Marjorie, we'll just discuss what's more important."

Joseph nodded, extending his own hand, taking Chauncey's and shaking it firmly.

"First off, who's behind the disappearances?"

Joseph asked, releasing the shake just after asking as he stared right at the door intently. Chauncey gulped gently, before he began to explain everything.

"Mortimer's behind it. The White Glove society strictly forbids eating human flesh, but we weren't always the White Gloves. Mortimer and some other members have regressed to those old ways. They've been taking a good few people from the past few months, but always from Freeside or other secluded locations to keep things quiet. That hasn't been enough, lately they've been snatching people off The Strip, and even from the Hotel! The hazards of a cannibal becoming a gourmet, it's always hard to please a refined palette."

Nodding along, Joseph gave a question.

"Now what were you and the Investigator gonna discuss?"

"The girl who disappeared about a week ago, I know precisely what happened to her."

The ranger peered right into the White Glove's eyes, piercing into his soul as he provided another question.

"Just how do you know what happened to her?"

Chauncey backed off somewhat, surprised and intimidated by the sudden interrogation. But with a sigh of disappointment deep within, he reluctantly gave Joseph his answer.

"I distracted her fiancee while they took her away for dinner. I know, I'm a worm for doing so, but it was out of my control, they could tell I was having second thoughts! Some White Gloves began meeting privately nearly two months before the disappearances started, talking about how our identity had been lost. I thought it was about our politics, so I started attending the meetings. Then they began to discuss how to return to the old ways, and I knew I couldn't leave. They would serve me on a silver platter for revealing what I heard them say."

Nodding more intensely, Joseph reached to the wine bottle between them, grabbing its neck as he spoke.

"I bet, they're keen to silence any of this just to be at the pinnacle of New Vegas cuisine. After I take care of this, I'd suggest becoming a farmer, maybe even a Vegetarian."

Chauncey couldn't help but laugh a bit as he shook his head.

"Thanks for the suggestion, I might even follow on it, but I also think it's better if I stay here and keep tabs on further attempts."

"Maybe that would be for the best. Before then I need to know about Ted Gunderson, the missing person I'm seeking."

The ranger's statement pulled the White Glove out of his thinking of the future, planting him right back in the present as he began laying information out.

"I'm pretty damn sure he's alive, they're keeping him fresh for Mortimer's plans. The White Glove Society holds banquets every night at 7 on the dot, in the Private section. Mortimer wants to use tonight's banquet as an opportunity to reintroduce humans into our cuisine. It's punishable by death, so he aims to do it secretly, and reveal it after dinner is done. In Mortimer's mind, there's no way everyone can be punished, so their minds will be open to the possibility of eating humans as a delicacy."

Tilting his head to the side in light confusion, Joseph couldn't help but wonder out loud.

"But wouldn't they just kill him for deceiving them about the meat and try to investigate how deep the problem really is?"

"To him, the old ways are worth the risk of execution. That, and the White Glove Society values being on the cutting edge of New Vegas cuisine above all else. Mortimer might be able to appeal to that desire by looking to the past, with the flesh of man. If he can normalize it, he'll get what he wants."

Joseph sat up straight, looking over to the door as he pushed things ahead.

"Enough about Mortimer, do you know where Ted is?"

"I don't know, they didn't let me in on it. I think they've begun losing trust in me. But there's no way he isn't close to the other ingredients. Philippe, our chef, is obsessed with the freshest ingredients possible, and he keeps all of them right in the Gormand. Getting in could be risky, however I can sponsor you as an honorary member. You're the leader of a well known militia, you've got a reputation across the whole Mojave, and you're pretty well known in The Strip too! It shouldn't be too hard to get you inside."

The ranger nodded gently as he began standing up, still holding onto the wine bottle.

"Then let's move, we can't waste time with cannibals."

Chauncey began to stand up, getting up on his two feet just as the door opened up. A quick burst of suppressed .22LR hit him in the heart and throat, causing him to collapse immediately to the ground. The assassin tried turning the barrel to Joseph, but got a nasty surprise as the ranger stomped the SMG right into the opened door, disarming the assassin.

Joseph didn't waste time as he swung the bottle of wine from the side, hitting the killer right in the head with it. The impact caused the bottle to shatter into several pieces from the sheer force of Joseph's hit. The assassin collapsed much like his victim, falling straight to the ground as he gave himself another concussion. Dropping the broken remains of the bottle, the ranger panted gently as he stepped out of the room he was in.

Making his way out of the steam room, Joseph saw a few curious onlookers who didn't pay the caracal much mind, and resumed whatever discussions they were having beforehand.

The trip back to the Gormand was stressful, with Joseph's eyes constantly darting around the hallways as he tried to figure out who, and who wasn't in on Mortimer's plans for eating human flesh. The back of his mind tried to tell him that he ought to kill every single White Glove, reminding him of an old Desert Ranger saying.

"A Raider can be returned to decency. A Cannibal cannot."

Shaking it out, along with a memory the Yetzer Hara tried to bring in, Joseph stepped back into the Gormand after looking over his shoulder, seeing that nobody had trailed him there soothed his senses. Stepping back over to the desk that Marjorie worked at, the ranger stopped as she looked right at him.

"I do hope you're here to apologize for that quip you gave me a few hours ago. We are the brightest light in the Mojave, without us you wouldn't be able to eat anything decent in those towns, even if we did have a less than desirable past."

Nodding gently, Joseph choked back his true feelings for Marjorie and the other White Gloves before he offered her what she desired.

"I'm sorry about that off hand comment I made. It was completely unnecessary and did nothing but ruin the mood you wish to uphold here."

Marjorie smiled lightly at Joseph's apology, looking him right in the eyes while remarking on it.

"Now I knew you had it in you to apologize for your actions. Perhaps all of your kind can be civilized like you are."

Flattening the immediate desire to assault her, Joseph moved on with his mission.

"Well considering I am a civilized sort, may I join the White Glove Society? I've heard it's possible, but that I would need sponsorship."

"Well yes, it is possible. The White Glove Society is by far the most exclusive club in all of New Vegas, potentially the world too! It's only natural you'd need a sponsor who's already in the club, someone that can vouch for you being a good fit."

The White Glove droned on for a good bit, as Joseph couldn't help but just let his mind plan out the basic strategy of how to stop this cannibal problem. If he couldn't become a member, he'd sneak in and do what he had to do, even if it meant slaughtering every White Glove he saw. The less complex, and overall easier plan hinged on him becoming an honorary White Glove, something that he'd be willing to do as a necessity and nothing more. Whatever the case, midway through his planning he heard something that brought him back to the present immediately.

"And because of your deeds on the Strip and the Mojave as a whole, I am pleased to say you would make a fantastic candidate for an honorary member. You have my support, and are invited to join tonight's banquet in our member's only section of the Gourmand. I hope you will be joining us there."

Joseph looked Marjorie right in the eyes before he declared something to her that she might not have expected.

"I humbly accept, and I will say this. I'll be sure to make tonight's dinner more memorable than most others."

Joseph was soon handed a set of undersized formal clothes, and more importantly the key to the member's only section.

"I will see you tonight."

"Ta-ta."

Joseph walked away from the desk, silently making a note to hand the formal clothing over to someone else when he got the chance. Approaching the member's only section didn't take that long, a few minutes after attaining the key, Joseph used it on the doors barred by soft, cushioned barriers. Walking inside, the ranger saw the expansive, lavish dining hall meant to suit the needs of the exclusive and wealthy White Glove Society.

Holding back his disgust, the caracal saw the entrance to the kitchen a good few meters away and approached it. Entering it was easy enough. Now he just had to find Ted Gunderson before he became the substance of tonight's dinner.

LOCATION: THE GOMORRAH.

DATE: MARCH 20TH 2282.

TIME: 5:02 PM.

TEMPERATURE: 84°F OR 29°C.

The Gomorrah was the seediest location in The Strip, whether it was better or worse than New Reno was up for some debate but it didn't matter much. Six's experiences in Reno resonated well enough in the Gomorrah for her to feel nauseous by being in there. Still, she had to complete her mission.

Having snooped around the place for long enough, and having gotten some dirt on Cachino, one of the head honcho's of the casino, she'd gotten a backdoor to cleaning the place up. Having headed upstairs first, she handled the sleazy and unsurprisingly vile Clanden. The tapes she found in his safe inspired her to shoot him dead with his own gun after beating him near dead with a lamp. After that, she went down to the basement to meet with Troike.

Troike proved to be easier to deal with, all Six had to do was open up a safe to find proof he was innocent of a murder the family had been using to keep him in line. Afterwards, she was given some thermite, and basic instructions on how to use it to prevent a massacre orchestrated by the Omertas.

Go to a specific door nearby, go down the steps and find the storage room full of guns, sprinkle the thermite around, leave, close the door and set it ablaze with the lightswitch. Easy enough for her to understand. Having approached the door, she made sure that nobody was watching her, carefully looking around before opening it and darting right in.

Closing the door behind her, she walked down the steps and made her way to the door at the end of the bendy corridor. Noting the light switch right beside it, she opened it up and saw precisely what she expected. It was a full on storage room packed well with crates upon crates of armaments. She began thinking of just how much the FMF would love to get their hands on these guns, but threw the thought out, too many logistical issues involved.

Still, no harm in making a choice pick before turning the others into slag, right? Putting the bag of thermite she was handed, Six quickly opened up the nearest gun crate to see what was available. It wasn't that full, but it did have a decent amount of Assault Carbines. A quick inspection later, and she had just what she wanted. So, she separated the Carbine into its upper and lower halves before putting them into her backpack, taking the magazines from the other carbines and loading them with the spare 5MM rounds she had in her backpack.

Two full mags, and one partial mag were what she got out of it, enough for her needs. After putting all that into her backpack, she got the thermite out and got to work. Pouring the whole bag strategically proved to be quite stimulating to her mind, the result of which becoming obvious after a few minutes of work. Every crate of weaponry had enough thermite on it to prove destructive, which made her happy to head to the door and open it up.

Pleased to see nobody there, she quickly walked through the door and closed it up. Taking a slow, deep breath, Six proceeded to look right at the switch. It only took five seconds before she pressed it, but it felt like an hour passed before it happened. When she pressed it, a vicious hissing sound began to resonate from the room behind her as the thermite got to work.

She darted up the steps and rushed into the nearby elevator, closing the doors and catching her breath before she made her next choice. Pressing the button for the ground floor, the elevator began to move as she steeled herself to meet with Cachino once again. Elevator doors opened to reveal the gaudy interior of the Gomorrah's casino, which urged her to gamble in between dances.

Six ignored it, and moved her way to the bar at a rapid pace. At the table furthest away from any customers, Cachino sat impatiently, waiting for her to come back from foiling the boss's plans. His balding head betrayed just how old he really was, his pale, flabby appearance making it clear he spent most, if not all his time indoors or in the pale moonlight, with a nervous look on him that anyone could clock as suspicious. Six didn't waste time, walking over to his side before filling him in.

"I've taken care of Clanden, sick bastard got what was coming to him. Troike proved to be easy to convince, the guns he brought in are a pile of smoldering slag now."

The prompt and unapologetic message was just what Cachino needed to hear, bringing some more color to his face and a sense of relief.

"Fuckin fantastic. Now, you ready to deal with the bosses?"

He asked, picking up the small glass of whiskey he had ordered, only a half ounce lingered at the bottom now. Nodding, Six was quick to speak up.

"Yes, but you're gonna help me with this."

"Of course, I'll get you in and you'll be able to do what you need from there."

"I need you to shoot Big Sal and Nero while they're focused on me."

Cachino's face turned to a scowl as he began stiffening in place.

"No fucking way, I ain't gonna shoot them, that's your job!"

He sputtered out, trying to not scream at his accomplice.

"They won't expect you to betray them, if anything it's smarter if you pull the trigger. They'll expect me to try and blast em."

Six calmly explained, before Cachino nodded slowly, his expression relaxing as his body loosened up.

"Alright, you're not a dumbass. Still, you better be ready to shoot when it's time."

"Of course, just lead me to your bosses."

Cachino stood up slowly, nodding at Six as he began to walk upstairs. Six followed closely behind him, taking her time to reach behind her and get the carbine ready. Entering the staircase, Cachino walked right up to a guard in the center, getting right in his face and beginning to talk to him about whatever he wanted.

While this was going on, Six took the chance to put the carbine halves together, and slap a magazine in. Shoving it back into her backpack, Six was ready to roll besides an empty chamber, but she'd live with it.

Once Cachino had backed off from the hallway guard, Six was right behind him as he lead her back to the bosses. The final five steps before they reached the door of Big Sal's office felt like a year apiece, as the two of them prepared themselves for what was coming.

"I'm coming in with the bitch who's been giving us trouble."

Cachino said right outside of the door, opening it up mere seconds later as he lead Six in the room. Inside, Big Sal and Nero stood sternly while wielding their weapons of choice. Big Sal wielded a sawn-off he must have made years ago and Nero wielded an Assault Carbine that looked barely used.

"Take a seat you goddamn whore. We oughta talk."

Spouted Big Sal, who barely held back the simmering hatred he had within him. Nero on the other hand held his emotions back as he stared at Six, as if he was trying to scrape through her eyes to ruin her soul. Whatever the case, Six sat down on the couch slowly, sitting in the middle of the couch as she kept her carbine out of sight.

Sal continued to stare at her with an undying, vicious scowl that tried to make Six shiver in her seat. Six remained still, waiting for the ideal window to attack as she keenly listened to what Big Sal had to say.

"I doubt you're stupid enough to know why we called you here."

Six couldn't help but grin back with a little arrogance in her expression, if only to piss Cachino off.

"I hear you lost one of your contractors, and a pile of pretty, shiny guns."

"Yeah we lost both of those bitch, but that's not gonna be enough to stop us. You're a roadblock bimbo at best. You're dying a failure tonight."

Keeping her act intact, Six put a hand behind her head and calmly asked Sal a question, acting like she just wanted to scratch her head.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to tell me about your plan as a last request."

Sal's scowl softened to disbelief as he heard what Six asked, Nero couldn't help but feel a little puzzled as well.

"How the fuck, you didn't even know the shitting plan? Alright, I'll tell you as a final courtesy. Caesar wanted us to distract the NCR from Hoover Dam. So when his officers give us the word, we're gonna clean the Strip out. First we're gonna blast the Embassy, then we'll use soldiers to kill every single motherfucker in the Strip. Then we'll run the Strip with a iron dick. Just the lesson that the FMF what can happen while they're not paying attention to their precious little strip."

Six didn't waste a second, right after Big Sal was done blabbering, she turned her head to Cachino and shouted.

"Take em out Cachino!"

Nero and Big Sal both turned to Cachino with a confused look as the mobster drew his revolver.

"What the f-"

Big Sal was silenced with a bullet to the stomach, causing him to collapse on the spot before Nero emptied a magazine into Cachino. Not wasting any time, Six rapidly drew her carbine and stood up on the couch. As Nero turned to her while reloading, she emptied a full magazine into his chest and killed him on the spot. His body twitched and spasmed in his final moments, before dying a second after hitting the ground.

Blood dribbled out of their mouths, as the three mobsters who had gathered in the room were dead as can be. Reloading rapidly, Six began thinking of how to get the hell out, and just how to change the Gomorrah to a better place overall.

LOCATION: THE LUCKY 38 PRESIDENTIAL SUITE.

DATE: MARCH 20TH 2282.

TIME: 7:41 PM.

TEMPERATURE: 77°F OR 25°C.

Six leaned her back against the wall, staring at the elevator door intently. She'd escaped the Gomorrah easily enough and returned to the intended meeting point. The suite was safe, guarded by securitrons on the side of the elevator as expected. Though that didn't bother Six, what bothered her was that Joseph hadn't come yet. It had been nearly two hours since she'd finished in the Gomorrah and she hadn't caught a glimpse of the ranger.

Sighing gently, she began to turn to the bedroom door when she heard the elevator begin to move down. Someone was here. Six quickly got her AK-112 at low ready, listening to the elevator ascend slowly before stopping. Holding still, she watched the doors open and briefly went to raise the rifle before lowering it back down. Joseph stood in the elevator and looked at Six with a slight grin, chuckling a bit as he exited the elevator.

"So you're the one behind the chaos at the Gomorrah, nice job."

"Joseph, getting out of there nearly wore my vocal chords ragged. Leaving there with everything I had and without a firefight was a miracle."

Six couldn't help but chuckle a little as she slung her rifle and watched Joseph lean on the now closed elevator doors.

"Could you tell me more about what happened at the Gomorrah? I wanna know just what they were up to."

"Simple. They were working for the Legion so they could wipe out the Strip and take control of it, I took care of the bosses, but the man who was helping me out in the first place got caught in the crossfire. Have you attempted to try and explain that you were preventing a massacre to a bunch of trigger happy button-men? It reminded me of my year in New Reno working for the Bishops."

Nodding along as he listened to what she had to say, the ranger soon reached behind him and into his backpack.

"Well you had to deal with more transparent scum, I had to deal with those who obscured it better."

Pulling out the set of formal wear, the caracal threw it aside on the ground before he continued.

"The White Gloves turned out to have a group working within them to return to their Pre-House days."

"And what exactly makes that so bad?"

"Cannibalism. It proved to be easy enough to deal with though. Just cook from a convincing fake human meat recipe made by the chef, send it out, take the kid who was gonna be cooked and hide behind the bar of the dining room. After the cannibal leader's speech, I made myself known and announced what I'd done to destroy his plans."

Six couldn't help but smile gently as she looked down at the tuxedo.

"I can't help but imagine seeing you in that before the war's end. You'd be miserable."

"How couldn't I be? It probably fits horribly on me."

Letting out a little laugh, the ranger shook his head a bit at the picture in his head. What a miserable man he'd be if he had to wear it!

"Back to the main point, how did the cannibal react to his plans being blown?"

"He tried attacking me with a dress cane, and ended up with a combat knife in the stomach. Put simply, the Ultra Luxe was eager to pull me aside and listen to my terms of negotiation. They'll support us."

Joseph couldn't help but sigh a bit in relief before beginning to get off of the wall.

"We still haven't gotten much support from the Omerta's. They're likely to try and abandon ship if we try to really change things in the Gomorrah."

"You killed the heads of the family, they're not going to be too eager to ally with you or the faction you work for most of the time that happens. Besides, we've got the Kings and the Followers to get in our good graces. Let's get to planning that out."

Nodding in agreement, Six walked with Joseph to the rec room. Clearing off the circular table, they left only the radio. The rest of the night was spent over a map of Freeside, as Joseph and Six formulated the best approach they could muster.

LOCATION: KINGS SCHOOL OF IMPERSONATION.

DATE: MARCH 21ST 2282.

TIME: 7:21 AM.

TEMPERATURE: 79°F OR 26°C.

Stepping into the school, Six walked in first with her rifle on her back, but openly in view. Joseph followed suite not long afterwards, looking around the entrance to see who and what was inside. The interior looked like it hadn't seen kindness since 2076 at the latest, with peeling wallpaper, dust and an overall dingy feel making it seem like the Kings weren't too good at keeping their home clean.

Five total kings were in sight, two at the probably broken coffee machine having a chat, one behind the bar, one sitting in front of him on a bar-stool, and one leaning against the wall, just beside a dull brown door. Looking over to it, the pair began to approach the door slowly when the man standing beside the door spoke up.

"Now what's going on here? A pair of petitioners for the King, this early in the day? Y'all must have some important business."

He was dressed in a leather jacket, a striped button up shirt and black pants. Slicked black hair sat on his head, and a fairly blank look was on his face. Nodding in response, Six took initiative.

"Yes we are, we need to talk to The King as soon as possible."

"Is that so? Well how much is it worth to you?"

"We're here to try and establish a proper alliance with Freeside and the Free Mojave Forces. In order to make it work, we need to make your boss happy."

From a blank look came a subtle smile of pleasure, as the man began to reach for the door.

"I like that you understand us. Too many people, whether they're from the NCR or from some other part of the wasteland don't understand who keeps the peace here. I'll let you two in, the King's the bored looking man in a white suit by the stage with a cyberdog. Can't fucking miss him."

After he'd finished talking, he opened the door, letting the two walk right inside the theatre. Empty as can be besides a dancer wearing the usual King outfit, and the King himself, with a cybernetically enhanced German Shepherd sitting beside him. The theatre itself was sparsely decorated, with tables and chairs scattered around the place for an audience of a man and his dog.

Walking over to the king, Joseph couldn't help but be completely bewildered by the dog he saw. Most of his body was pure cybernetics, with scarcely any flesh from his old body remaining. Shaking it off, the two walked over to the King, who greeted them right away.

"Look Rexie, there's some new people here to see us."

He sighed gently as he patted his dog's head gently, before continuing.

"Sorry, he hasn't been feeling so good for some time. Anyways, I'm the King, what brings you here?"

Clearing his throat a little, Joseph got to the important bit.

"The name's Joseph Chaim, I come from the Free Mojave Forces with a goal. I want Freeside's support in making a properly free Mojave, and I need your help if it's going to happen."

"You're Joseph? Well I'll be damned, I didn't expect to meet you in person after getting your letter. I'd love to support you, but I need help. See, Freeside's got a good few issues going on that can't be so easily resolved, and before I can offer my help I need some help of my own."

Nodding along, the ranger replied with one word.

"Shoot."

"Wait, you're serious? Hot damn, looks like Freeside's got someone who can help."

"Why not? If I were born in California I'd have likely become a Follower instead of a Desert Ranger. If we can't help each other, what's going to keep ourselves alive?"

The King couldn't help but nod in agreement, before he began laying something more minor out.

"Here's something easy that I doubt your lady friend would mind doing. You seen the men just outside the North Freeside gate? They're bodyguards for hire, I doubt you've considered their services. Good money's available if you're strong enough to fight off muggers, that's for sure. But some of my boys in the business are reporting one of the guards is making a bit more money than usual, and plenty of repeat customers too."

"What would I have to do?"

Six asked, volunteering for the job with a simple question.

"Hire him for a trip to the Vegas gate, I'll give you the money to pay him. Afterwards, keep your eyes open the whole time to see what gives him such a reputation. If he's legitimate, we'll leave him be. Otherwise, I'll be sure my boys take care of him. That sound good?"

"I'll take it."

"Give me a bit to get you two hundred caps."

True to the King's word, she got the money and was off within the hour. Joseph went to the Followers while she got busy, to help them with whatever troubles they had. The two of them had a full day, as they completely helped out Freeside with the troubles they had. Joseph helped the Followers with every issue they had, as Six helped unveil a malicious attack on the part of Pacer, the King's own right hand man.

It was late at night when the NCR and Kings came to an agreement on the relief agreement, with Joseph and Six being present to help back up the King. They hit the sack in the spare beds of the school of impersonation, and in the morning they were offered the King's favor for being such great help. Joseph cashed it in, asking only for their support after the inevitable Second Battle of Hoover Dam.

The King agreed to such simple terms, and a handshake sealed their alliance. The Followers got a similar treatment, except they were merely told to keep their ears open to the caracal's offer, whenever it came. Then they left Freeside, with Six heading right to Nellis, with Joseph beginning to make pace for Red Rock Canyon.

LOCATION: JUST OUTSIDE NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE.

DATE: MARCH 22ND 2282.

TIME: 9:36 AM.

TEMPERATURE: 92°F OR 32°C.

Heading to Nellis was easy, though when Six arrived it became clear that things weren't going to be so easy when it came to swaying the hands of the Boomers. According to a man near the road to Nellis, there was a way to dodge incoming attilery fire for a wager. Eager to try her luck and seeing no other options for entering the place, Six took him up on it and got right to it.

Now as she stood on the outskirts, it became clear that this would be more difficult than initially anticipated. The pitted, battered to hell and back ground ahead of her told of various other wagers that ended in blood pooling a hot crater. Regardless, she re-read the instructions provided, and put it in her immediate memory. All in the timing, which was mostly running underneath what little cover she could get.

Getting into a running position, she took a bit before she began to bolt. A good choice too considering that the moment she crossed the border, she could hear the subtle thuds of artillery fire, before shells began exploding behind her. Abandoning the building to building plan, she made a beeline straight to the gate and leapt on it. A shell blew damn near close to her and hit her with shrapnel, which only scraped her arms and legs because of the armor she had covering her body.

Slowly getting off of the fence, she realized the bombardment had stopped, and silently congratulated herself on not being blown to smithereens. Slowly approaching the entrance gate while trying not to breathe too hard, she began to think of just what to say to the people who were trying to turn her into meat confetti. Six's mind was a flurry of emotions and mixed up greetings when she finally got to the gate and was immediately intercepted by a boomer just behind the gate.

He wore the usual uniform, an old army helmet, a black jacket with patches and medals of wars long forgotten, an old vault suit, black boots, and wielded a missile launcher.

"Hold it! What in the sheer fuck made you survive that bombardment?"

Flicking her brain back to a talkative state, she blurted out the first thing she thought of.

"It's all in the reflexes and dodging your stupid shells!"

Six wanted to slap herself on the spot, but restrained herself while she silently cringed at herself.

"But I had you zeroed in the whole time, nobody's that fast! Not like it matters, make one wrong move and you're dead!"

"I'm here to make negotiations with your leaders, not kill you."

The boomer's face shifted from rage to primarily confusion with a tint of anger.

"Then stay where you are you stupid savage! Raquel'l be here any second now."

"I'll take it from here, return to your post."

Right behind the guard was a woman in old combat armor, with a grenade machine gun on her back that had seen plenty of use. The guard turned to her and saluted before walking off back to his post. Turning to Six, Raquel looked over at her and spoke.

"I'm the master of arms for the Nellis homeland, Raquel. Our eldest leader wishes to speak with you."

"That's just what I was hoping for."

"Then follow close, and don't try anything funny."

The gate opened slowly, screaming for oil while it let Six into the home of the boomers. She'd have a lot to do, good thing she had the time while Joseph handled the Great Khans and Vault 19 Powder Gangers.

LOCATION: RED ROCK CANYON.

DATE: MARCH 22ND 2282.

TIME: 12:02 PM.

TEMPERATURE: 93°F OR 34°C.

The Great Khans were scraping by just barely with the chem sales they had. The loss of the Fiends had been a massive blow to their finances, and former Fiends joining in just for the chems hadn't been too great for sales. Westside was kicking out any dealers they found and outright banishing them for it, Freeside sales had fallen too.

Papa Khan couldn't help but think about all of that while he looked down at his meal of roast brahmin, while also recounting the deal with the Legion in his head. To join a glorious cause that was fighting the NCR in full force, that was what Papa wanted.

Except, he'd noticed things. Like when the news of Caesar's assassination came, he had gone on a furious rant about "Savages from Colorado gangs" and more before he calmed down. He also hadn't gotten an official offer to join yet, even during some of Caesar's more desperate times. That, and Anders had just returned to Red Rock. What he'd told Papa about how they treated drug runners was enough to shake him up a good bit.

Pushing it aside, he decided to talk to Regis and a few others about his doubts. Perhaps they'd help, perhaps they wouldn't, the Khans were a family and this was too much just for himself to think over. He looked to his left, where Karl was having some corn, then to his right where Regis was having the last of the bighorner they butchered a few days ago.

Cutting into the roasted meat, he took a bite and let the flavor wash over his tongue, filling his senses with the wonderful, juicy flavor that Brahmin always got. Just a little pink on the inside was how he liked it, today was no different there. However it was different in another way. He heard the door open up, and the sounds of other Khans eating quieted down, if not vanished altogether. He barely got another bite in before he decided to look up and see who, or what entered the longhouse.

Briefly he thought to grab his gun, but that subsided when he realized that the NCR hadn't sent an assassin to kill him. Joseph walked to Papa Khan slowly, standing before him as he cleared his throat gently.

"Greetings Papa, I hope that I didn't startle you."

"You've got a lot of nerve coming in here looking like that. You may not be NCR, but from a distance that armor can earn hot lead. Even if you were of help after the NCR's "mistake" at Bitter Springs."

Karl turned to the ranger and nearly leapt out of his seat, beginning to let out his own barrage of hate.

"YOU SACK OF UTTER FILTH, YOU DISGUSTING MUTANT FREAK! HOW DARE YOU WALK AFTER BUTCHERING CAESAR LIKE THE UNGRATEFUL SLAVEBEAST YOU ARE?"

"Karl, calm down. This isn't your fight."

The Frumentarius began to simmer down, still glaring viciously at the caracal who stared down at him in kind. Joseph slowly turned back to Papa, his glare softening as he resumed what he had to say.

"I hope that I haven't come at a bad time, but I am here with a purpose. I have an offer for you."

"Convenience is rare for us, just speak your mind and I'll listen to what you have to say."

The ranger slowly cleared his throat before laying out the offer.

"I want you to break your alliance with Caesar's Legion and stop dealing Chems. The Legion are stumbling, and your customers are getting clean. Whether you want it or not, the Khans need it."

Karl stood up suddenly, pointing right at Joseph's chest.

"WHAT DOES A BEAST WITH A SLAVE'S MENTALITY HAVE TO OFFER THE GREAT KHA-"

"KARL I HAVE TOLD YOU ONCE TO KEEP QUIET AND I MEANT IT."

Papa shouted back, quieting Karl immediately and making him sit down with a face full of still bubbling rage. The Khan's patriarch looked back at Joseph, slowly shaking his head before he began to speak.

"You aren't what the Khans need. I understand where you're coming from but that's not happening. Our alliance with Caesar remains, and I doubt that you'll be able to change that so suddenly. Now please, leave before you cause a fight you cannot win."

Papa's words dimmed the rage held within Karl, and he was eating his meal not a minute later. Deciding to leave it be, Joseph walked out of the longhouse, though it wasn't long before he felt a tap on his shoulder, and a voice behind him.

"Papa's not going to budge so easily on this. I know why you approached him directly but that isn't how it works with us."

Turning around and looking down, the caracal saw Papa's son, Regis.

"And just how does it work?"

"Papa holds the highest authority in the Khans and he is a stubborn man, but he's no tyrant. He listens to the tribe, particularly me and three others, all of whom can sway his stance on the Legion alliance."

Perking his ears up slowly, the ranger got curious.

"Just who are these other Khans?"

"Jack, Diane and Melissa. Though with Jack and Diane, I really doubt you'll need to push them that hard. What Anders told them has made them turn their back on the alliance outright, you just need to convince them to speak up. Melissa is more stubborn, she has dreams of becoming a Centurion, but I've never seen a woman in Legion armor."

"Well it helps that all of them are slaves, servants or wives. The Legion aren't too egalitarian, to put it lightly."

Regis cocked his head a bit, tapping his neck lightly before nodding.

"Seems like you know a good bit about how they operate. Speaking of which, I've heard rumors about the fates of tribes that enter the Legion, and how they're all horrific as hell. Enslavement, crucifixions, and so on, but I've never seen hard evidence for any of it. If you have some, I'll extend my support unconditionally."

Joseph didn't speak a word as he reached into his duster, pulling out the Legion Slave Ledger that had been taken as evidence, placing it into Regis's hands. Regis took it, and it only took him two pages for him to begin shivering in disgust, handing the book back to Joseph as he replied.

"Jesus fuck me, I don't want that for any tribe, much less the Khans!"

"Good. Now, there's one more matter to solve before I go and talk to the other Khans. The Legion advisor that's with Papa, he needs to be dealt with accordingly."

Nodding quickly, as if to shake the disgust dripping out of his pores out of his system, Regis was quick to reply.

"Karl, he's not just a Legion advisor but a man who became quick friends with Papa. However, I do have my doubts about his true opinions about the Khans, especially with the contents of this ledger. Put simply, you need to get him to lose his cool or to find something he wrote that expresses his true feelings on that front."

The caracal gave a quick nod of agreement, looking back to the door of the longhouse.

"Alright, I'll do what I can there."

Walking back into the longhouse, Joseph got to work. Convincing Karl to lose his cool was easier than expected, and he even prevented Karl's machete from hitting Papa, which helped his case further. Joseph was then able to get Jack and Diane to agree to speak against the alliance, and while the trip to Melissa was long it was also quite easy to get her to turn her back to the Legion. Of course, with the promise of her becoming a FMF soldier, which was something Joseph could actually offer her a chance at.

Papa Khan agreed to the alliance, and before long the Great Khans had turned their back on chems, with Jack and Diane beginning to make stimpacks and other more beneficial medicine for the wasteland. Joseph had turned another problem into a blessing, with the medicine being essential for the Followers, and the future conflicts that were going to drench the sands with blood. At least there was time to prepare.

LOCATION: VAULT 19 ENTRANCE.

DATE: MARCH 24TH 2282.

TIME: 9:38 AM.

TEMPERATURE: 84°F OR 29°C.

The Vault 19 Powder Gangers wouldn't be the first choice for an alliance, but hearing about Samuel Cooke and his anti-NCR talk was enough to interest Joseph, who took the path down to the vault to try and get them on his side. Having climbed down the ladder, the ranger eyed the massive vault door and took a slow, sharp breath to cool himself down.

Walking to the center console, the caracal paused briefly, considering whether or not to do it. He thought that it might be foolish to consider them, and besides, weren't all vault doors inoperable without a pip-boy? Except this one had been clearly modded by someone who wanted in, and didn't care about elegance. A button hanging off of the wires that connected to the entrance circuit was clearly the only way in, so the caracal pressed it, and walked to the center of the vault entrance.

The show that happened proved to be quite the experience, as the creaking, hulking mass of pre-war steel was grabbed onto, yanked back, and pulled to the side by a mechanism reliable enough to last over 200 years. It was such a show that the ranger briefly forgot about how he might be perceived, and quickly realized the problem when a few shotguns came pointed at him.

"I AIN'T NCR, HOLD IT!"

They didn't fire, though the men holding them didn't think of lowering them. Desperate, wearing old prison clothes and holding battered weaponry with little ammo, it wasn't a surprise that they were a half second away from filling the caracal with lead. Behind the shotgun wielding men, the man Joseph had come to see finally appeared, casting an initially confused look at the ranger.

Samuel Cooke stood slightly shorter than the rest of his men, but his presence was indomitable. With a sawn off on his right leg, he almost looked like a man the Vault Dweller would have called a companion, or friend outright. Blinking gently, he soon got to questioning.

"The hell is one of the NCR's allies doing here?"

"I only fight with the NCR because I despise the Legion. Other than that, I view their attempts to emulate Pre-war America to be degrading to human advancement."

The initial confusion softened immediately to admiration, as Cooke shouted out an order for his men to lower their guns. Taking a breath of relief, the caracal remained still as he continued.

"I take it you're not too keen on returning back to your cells, no?"

"Fuck no, we're not going back to being slaves for the prison system. It's bad enough dealing with an tyrannical government that wants to conquer all it sees without concern for the average person."

"Manifest destiny from California, it makes me wish they were wearing red coats instead of the desert brown."

A little chortle came from the powder ganger's leader, but otherwise silence.

"What brings you here anyways? I doubt you're just here to crack jokes and complain about the NCR."

"Your gang doesn't have to lead a life of crime to fight the NCR's tyranny. Come clean, join the Free Mojave Forces, and you will be treated with the respect you deserve."

Nodding slowly, Samuel began to step forward to the ranger, cracking his knuckles as he questioned his fellow man.

"And just why should I trust you?"

"My vision for the Mojave is one without Caesar's Legion or the NCR, a free land where people can live without fear of being squashed by greed, where communities can flourish and enjoy the land present. The Mojave can change for the better, but we have to work for it. Isn't that what you want, for you and your fellow man to not fear Caesar's bomb collars, or the Brahmin Barons forcing you out of your home town?"

Joseph's surprisingly in depth, all of a sudden explanation was not what Cooke expected, causing him to laugh a little more in front of the ranger. He stopped walking, standing a mere 200 millimeters away from the caracal as he spoke.

"I didn't know the Followers of the Apocalypse had a militia."

"If I were born in California, I'd have joined the Followers without hesitation. But enough of that, do you want to join?"

Extending his right hand slowly, Samuel nodded before giving his final request.

"I want in, but I want a fully negotiated list of terms before me and my men join."

"Deal."

Joseph took Samuel's hand quickly, giving him a firm handshake with a light smile. They went into the afternoon with negotiations, but by the end of it, Vault 19 was designated another base of the Free Mojave Forces. The willing former Powder Gangers were inducted like any other group of volunteers, with the exception of Samuel Cooke, was inducted into the militia by Joseph himself as a display of gratitude. Now it was time to deal with the last faction on the list. The Brotherhood of Steel.

LOCATION: HIDDEN VALLEY.

DATE: MARCH 28TH 2282.

TIME: 11:36 AM.

TEMPERATURE: 90°F OR 32°C.

The ranger was waiting for Six by the torn fence at the North of Hidden Valley. Standing next to a sign declaring no entry, with a broken down rusted fence behind him, Joseph patiently waited for Six to arrive like he had been for the past five hours. Two days ago he'd been celebrating a semi rushed, but enjoyable Purim celebration in Vault 3, yesterday he was was chatting with Six on the HAM radio about how she'd gotten the Boomers on their side by resurfacing a pre-war bomber.

Now he was here, in the desert, languishing in the fierce heat and he wasn't too happy about it. He'd had the last of his water not an hour ago, and his intuition was telling him that Six would be another hour at the least. Sighing and kvetching underneath his breath, the caracal began to turn to the fence so he could begin investigating on his own when he heard footsteps nearby. Turning to them and reaching into his holster, he relaxed immediately as he saw Six approaching on the path.

"I thought you were gonna be longer, it's good to see ya at last."

"Let's just say I had an hours long detour nearby. All you need to know is there's one less threat in the Mojave, and I'm ready to get to work."

Holding his tongue for the moment, the ranger stepped onto the fallen fence, eyes darting across the bunkers to see which one was where the Brotherhood were hidden. Mr House's data had enough clues to pin someone here, and the Brotherhood didn't have many potential hiding spots. Four bunkers were in Hidden Valley, which did make things at least a little easier.

Walking through the barren area, they started with the closest bunker, on the left. Joseph took point, and headed inside by himself. Nothing but rubble, storage containers and skeletons. A locked door might have hidden someone, but it wasn't a worthwhile gamble to the ranger. Walking outside, he shook his head at Six, and they were back to it. Walking up the hill in front of the bunker he'd exited, another bunker was soon in view. Before the ranger could approach the door, Six walked up to it quickly and opened it.

"I'll check this one, if I don't come back within an hour, come in after me and if you have to, come in shooting."

She stated in a surprisingly calm tone of voice, to which Joseph couldn't help but nod in understanding.

"If you wanna, just know it might kill you."

A nod from Six came, and she walked right into the bunker, closing the door behind her. Joseph walked behind the bunker, walking up to the roof and standing above it, to survey whoever exited and prevent them from getting the drop on him. Meanwhile, Six walked down the steps of the bunker and made her way to a closed door. Opening it, she entered a room that looked far more tidy via comparison to the bunker Joseph had been in.

Metal storage containers and crates were inside, but it looked more sorted. Somewhat chaotic, but it seemed like actual life had been inside, making it far more likely that she'd be able to get in contact with the Brotherhood. On the other side of the room was another door, with an intercom by its side. Approaching it slowly, Six took a slow, deep breath before pressing the button.

"To the Brotherhood of Steel, this is an ambassador from the Free Mojave Forces. They want to discuss the terms of an alliance, and will listen to you."

Releasing the button, she got silence for a good few seconds before it crackled to life.

"Stay where you are, s squad is coming to meet with you to ensure you're not a threat."

Six took three steps back and stood still, watching the door open up as three Brotherhood paladins wearing T-51 Power Armor entered the room, holding plasma rifles at low ready. A fourth one came through not long afterwards, wielding a missile launcher on his back, wearing the same armor and staring down at Six.

"How the hell did you find us?"

"That's not import-"

"It is. We can't risk the NCR finding us."

Sighing softly, she nodded a bit in agreement.

"Alright, we found you because of data that House's securitrons had sent to him before his death."

"So those securitrons we blasted to bits were spying on us all along. Shit. Do the NCR know about this?"

"We haven't told them anything, we just want to get an agreement on paper. Is that too much?"

The questioning Paladin looked over to his men, who quickly raised their rifles at Six before he issued her a command.

"Strip down, now. We can't risk anything when you meet with the elder."

Six had a truly bewildered look on her face as she realized what she'd gotten herself into. Sighing gently in defeat, she obeyed his order and was lead to the elder with guards on all sides. The next week was filled with Joseph and Six performing errands for the Brotherhood. Dipping through pre-war vaults for essentials, finding scouts and other things, before getting them to finally agree to not just an alliance, but also a truce with the NCR to finally end the war they'd been waging for much too long.

Exhausted and running on barely any sleep, the pair of them returned to the Strip and went to the Lucky 38's Penthouse Suite, each of them collapsing in a bed for a nap before they went to talk to Yes Man and continue their work in the Mojave.