"Livin' La Vida Loca" belongs to Ricky Martin, his estate, and anyone who happens to also own the rights to the audio.

Ultra-Luxe

The White Glove Society, as it turned out, were substantially creepier than anything they'd encountered so far. Oh, sure, the Fiends were drugged-out raiders without the survival instinct evolution gave a gecko, the Khans apparently had some kind of mental block that kept them from realizing that the odds were not in their favor, Vault 22 was the kind of thing Meda would probably go back to Camp McCarran to stab someone over, Black Mountain was just goddamn weird, and Camp Searchlight was overrun with ghouls, but the White Glove Society…it was special. In a bad way.

Being perfectly honest, none of them had ever been inside the Ultra-Luxe before. Actually, before Meda showed up with her penchant for picking locks and finding caps, none of them had been on the Strip before, either. It was a side effect of being broke most of the time.

Meda apparently considered this a reason to investigate everything, and all she needed was an excuse to snoop around.

Upon finding Gunderson sitting at the bar and drinking his way through half the casino's stock of hard liquor, she found that excuse.

So, while Boone and Cass alternated who was losing whiskey money at the blackjack tables, and Arcade stood nearby to mock them both, Meda took Veronica, ED-E, and Rex on her hunt for information.

Eventually, it led them to a nice, quiet room on the second floor of the Ultra-Luxe that had unfortunately been the site of a fight. Tables and chairs were overturned, blood covered the walls, carpet, and sheets, and there was a poor dead detective lying in the middle of the floor. And just when Veronica was about to suggest that they tell Marjorie that yet another guest had been murdered, two White Gloves showed up with canes and tried to kill them.

"You know," Veronica said, after cracking every knuckle and her wrists loudly enough to make Rex yelp, "somehow I thought we'd be getting a vacation."

Meda looked up from the bodies of the two White Gloves and shrugged. "You're with me. I don't think I can go anywhere without someone wanting something from me." She held up one of the canes. "Want one?"

"Hah! No, I think I'm better off just punching." This, of course, coming from the woman who'd given the first White Glove a haymaker to the face within seconds of realizing there was a fight at all. Meda had only had the time to stab the second in the arm before ED-E and Rex flash-fried/bit the hell out of him.

Meda shook her head and made her way back over to the dead detective. "Okay, let's see what he's got on him…"

A minute later, "A-hah!"

"What now?" Veronica asked, having been occupied hiding the other two bodies in the bathroom. The maid was going to get a shock in the morning.

"He's got a notebook." Meda said, flipping through the pages. "Yes!"

Veronica peeked over the courier's shoulder. "How many informants do you think he's got?"

"Probably just one," she said, stowing the notebook away in one of her many jacket pockets. "Couldn't keep a secret otherwise. So, are you coming along?"

"Why not?" Veronica said, combining a shrug and a bright grin. "Let's go cause trouble, since at least then we know we're doing it on purpose."

"…Point taken. Let's go." The courier led the way.

Why the hell the informant wanted to meet in the bathhouse, though, neither woman knew until they got there. It was pretty hard to hear anything distinct in the entire building, since the water alternately amplified and dulled sound. Just for science's sake, Meda and Veronica tried shouting at each other from opposite ends of the room, and, besides spooking guests, it made their voices sound oddly distorted.

"Well, we apparently have to be here until four." Meda muttered, scratching her head. "We got stopped by the doorman at what, three-ish?"

"A little later, I think." Veronica replied. "And anyway, why are you asking me? You're the one with the Pip-Boy."

"Just making sure." Meda said mildly. Then her entire demeanor shifted without warning. "Wait, I think that's him."

As though on cue, a man in a suit—a White Glove, but without the mask—approached the corner of the bathhouse and entered the steam room. Meda and Veronica, as well as ED-E and Rex, followed him in.

The man, as it turned out, was named Chauncey. And he knew that Mortimer was kidnapping people. He as a nice enough guy, though younger than Meda or Veronica, and he didn't like the way the White Glove Society was heading, what with the kidnapping and cannibalism. He also gave them a few options on how to screw over Mortimer's plans entirely and possibly expose him.

"So, we could drug the wine and drag Gunderson's kid out the front door, or we could expose Mortimer as a cannibal to the rest of the White Gloves and get him kicked out…" Meda's smirk was downright evil as she thought it over. Then her expression became much calmer and more genuinely happy. "Thanks, Chauncey. I'll do what I can."

Then another man—a White Glove assassin, as it turned out later—rushed into the steam room and shot Chauncey dead.

The assassin lasted about fifteen seconds after that, because Meda had slipped Veronica two sets of brass knuckles on the way to the bathhouse. And besides, ED-E was floating behind his right shoulder when the shot went off.

"…Well, fuck." Meda muttered, after checking Chauncey's neck for a pulse, just to be safe. Nothing. And as for the assassin, Veronica was tracking the man's ashes all over the place. ED-E could be worryingly thorough.

A while later, after they'd respectfully laid Chauncey to rest in the steam room (which was the best they could do without rousing suspicion), Veronica and the courier made their way back to the casino floor. Boone had apparently doubled his NCR pension and now Cass was out of whiskey money entirely, while Arcade had vanished somewhere.

"…If I somehow find out that Mortimer got Arcade," Meda said in a low tone as the other two came back from cashing their chips in, "I'm stabbing him to death with a screwdriver."

Boone wordlessly pointed over her shoulder, to where Arcade had been standing for the previous ten seconds.

Still, the Followers doctor looked a little mollified, as opposed to his usual endless stream of sarcasm. In the face of Meda's irritation, he just said, "Now, now, don't go planning horrible revenge for my death when I haven't stopped breathing yet. Though it is a touching thought, in a disturbingly Boone kind of way."

The sniper, of course, ignored him. "Do we have a plan?"

Meda rolled her eyes at Arcade's quip before returning to the topic at hand. "It's probably not going to involve as much shooting as Gomorrah did. Depending on what Marjorie says and how I time it, we might get away without having to shoot anyone at all. Except maybe Mortimer."

"I bet Boone's disappointed now." Cass remarked, amused. Well, at least she wasn't still sore about losing her whiskey money.

"Enough sniping at the sniper." Meda said, mouth twitching. "Anyway, I need to talk to Marjorie so I can get access to the members-only part of the casino. And if that fails, I'll need to scam Mortimer."

"We'll be waiting." Cass said. "Somehow, I don't think you'll be able to get all of us in, and I figure you're going to take Veronica if you can, right?"

"If I can't get anyone else in, yeah, I'm taking Veronica to hell with me," she replied. "She can punch people to death. And besides, I forgot that Raul still has Lucky and Maria."

"Aw, I didn't know you cared." Veronica quipped.

"Enough jokes. Hang on a bit and I'll see if I can get in the peaceful way." The courier walked away, off to Marjorie's desk.

Veronica frowned and said. "Does it seem like we get dragged into this kind of thing way too often? Not that I'm complaining, though."

Arcade shrugged. "Unfortunately, I think we passed the point of no return a very long time ago. Now it's a matter of keeping up."

"Someone needs to keep Li from running off and getting killed by Fiends. Might as well be us." Cass put in after a moment or two. "And besides, she's pretty fun to hassle."

They all turned to look at Boone.

"What?" he asked after a moment or two. "She's okay, the caps are good, and she hates the Legion."

…Okay, Veronica sort of figured she should have expected something like that out of him. Only…not quite. But Boone had never been one to talk about personal problems anyway.

Then Meda appeared again, carrying a package under her arm. "Well, I got in. Now I just need to get this 'attire' on so I can go fuck up Mortimer's life." She held up a paper-wrapped package and walked over to the women's restroom. "Excuse me."

After a couple of minutes, they heard a very loud, "Ah, fuck. Cass, could you get in here for a sec? The zipper's stuck!"

Cass went in, grumbling a bit because honestly, the courier could be thwarted by the weirdest things. Then, "You're too short for this thing."

"I know. Just help me with the holsters."

"…How the fuck did you manage to get one of these past security?"

"Practice."

"You two can argue about your unresolved sexual tension after we're done here!" Veronica said loudly.

There was a thump and the courier started cackling. Then both of them emerged from the bathroom and Veronica…well, later Arcade would describe it as the kind of ear-splitting cry of delight most women reserved for babies. And puppies. Boone would just complain of a headache instead.

"Are you sure?" Veronica squeaked.

"Completely." Meda replied, looking embarrassed. "As soon as this thing's over, I'll take the safety pins out and you can keep this dress."

"Yay!"

As it turned out, getting into the members-only section of the Ultra-Luxe was as simple as having Meda lie to the lone sentry—something about either plumbing or Mortimer sending her, it was hard to tell—and heading down the stairs. The courier led the way, stomping away since she still had her boots on (muttering something about how stilettos were evil incarnate), and they ended up in the hallway outside of the kitchens in about five minutes. Granted, Boone and Cass were hanging further back with Stealth Boys so they could be lookouts, but Veronica didn't mind being closer. Arcade was in one of the nearby rooms, on standby in case the Gunderson kid needed medical attention. Rex and ED-E waited back in the public sections of the casino.

And from there, they got to hear Meda walk in and confront Philippe. Veronica watched.

"Why are you standing still? Do you think the world waits for you while you stand there drooling? Get back out there and get back to work!" Philippe had a high, wheedling voice that Veronica found irritating, but Meda didn't seem to care about that.

"I think you may have me confused with someone else," she said coolly, hands on hips.

Philippe raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh really? So despite your dirty face and vacant expression and your complete lack of human dignity, you're telling me you're not a server?"

And that was when Meda pulled out the big guns—also known as her more ridiculous bullshitting skills. "Your predisposition towards anger suggests unresolved issues in your past."

"What kind of harebrained fucking psychobabble bullshit is that?" Philippe demanded. "I yell at people because I like yelling at people and because they fucking deserve it. Not because Mumsy and Daddy-kins didn't hug me enough."

Meda was completely unmoved. "You may be projecting. Tell me more about your parents."

"Oh, I see how it is." Philippe had a weird way of getting angry and getting louder without really doing anything. "You think that because my father walked out on us when I was five, now I have to yell at people."

Meda didn't say anything.

Philippe went on, "Or because my mother was a deranged chem fiend who regularly brought strange men home who told me to call them uncle."

Veronica was starting to feel sorry for the guy.

"Or because my sisters would lock me in a shipping crate when they didn't want me around… and my brother… God, I'd forgotten about that. How could they do that to me?" Philippe trailed off for a moment. "I…I can't stay here. I need to be alone."

"What about the banquet?" Meda asked mildly.

"Forget about the fucking banquet." Philippe snapped. When he spoke again, it was almost too fast to understand. "You know what? You can do it. You be the star chef. Take my recipes." His voice lowered a little. "It won't fill the hole, though. Just remember that. You'll always feel empty."

And then he walked out, right past Veronica.

Meda stood there in the middle of the kitchen for a long moment. Then, "Fuck, now I feel bad."

"We can help him out later." Veronica said. "So, the fake human flesh stuff—how do you make it?"

"I…hold on. Let me get the burner started," the courier muttered. And then they got to work.

It turned out that the human flesh substitute was brahmin, like damn near everything else when you got down to it, and Meda called the waiter to take it up to the hungry White Gloves while Veronica hid in the corner and tried to figure out the password for the freezer's lock system. After he was gone, they opened the door.

"My daddy's gonna kill all you bastards once he finds out what you done to me." That was the first thing out of Ted Gunderson's mouth.

"Calm down." Meda said sharply. "We're here to rescue you."

Ted brightened, just a bit. "My daddy sent you?" Then he was all hostility again. "Goddamn it, I almost died in here! What the hell took you so long? It's just one damn hotel!" And then the guy changed angles again. "Who did this to me, anyway? They hit me over the head before I got a look at 'em."

"There's no time to explain. We have to get out of here now." Meda said quickly.

"All right, fine. I'm right behind you two."

Turning away, Meda said, "All right, let's get the hell out of here."

Veronica went ahead and poked Arcade back to attention ("So my considerable medical talents weren't needed?" "Nope." "Well, there goes my fragile sense of adequacy. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll recover.") and, as a party of five plus one hanger-on, they snuck upstairs again. And if they'd found an unfortunate White Glove on the stairwell, he probably would have been introduced to the dangers of the lowly staircase.

Meda carefully crept to the area just behind the bar—for a gourmet restaurant or whatever The Gourmand was pretty lacking when it came to staff—and signaled for everyone to follow. And there, for a while, they waited until Mortimer finished his speech about how he'd tricked the White Glove society into eating human flesh again.

Then the courier vaulted over the bar, dashed up to Mortimer, and shouted, "Not so fast, Mortimer!"

Ted, for his part, took it as his cue to follow.

"What the—? Who is this intruder?" Mortimer was slightly slow on the uptake, in Veronica's opinion.

Meda's grin could best be described as "evil." And she talked pretty loud when she wanted to, "Bad news, Mortimer. No one's eating the boy you kidnapped tonight."

"What are you—? Why is he here? Who are we eating right now?" Mortimer was also completely off his game.

"Sorry, Mortimer! Secret recipe. It isn't human, though, I can tell you that much." Meda said brightly.

Mortimer looked horrified. "No! These are lies! I never kidnapped anyone. And even if I did, there's no harm done. He's alive, after all."

Meda replied, "Too late, Mortimer, you've said too much already."

And with that, Mortimer turned to the rest of the White Gloves, scowling. "You're all hypocrites! How can you claim to be connoisseurs yet deny yourself the greatest of all meats?" He shook his head. "I am ashamed to have ever called everyone here family. This isn't over, though."

Meda raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I'll begin anew." Mortimer declared, ignoring her. "The White Glove Society will never achieve the greatness of my new order. You'll all hear from me again."

He started to run—he did run—but he didn't get far. Boone had almost gotten to his feet, ready to bring the suit-wearing bastard down. Veronica was even closer. But Meda slipped a hand under the edge of her dress and her hand blurred.

Mortimer fell.

Then she walked up to the man with the six-inch knife in his back and stomped on the exposed handle. He stopped moving eventually.

Later, the White Gloves cleared his body away and Marjorie thanked them all for their help with caps and a promise that they'd be allowed to take weapons into the hotel anytime they wanted. They were on their way back to the Lucky 38 by ten o' clock.

Veronica had to ask, though. At least the others had gone on ahead, barring ED-E. "Hey, Meda?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you kill Mortimer like that?" Veronica asked curiously. And a little concerned—the woman's face had been completely blank.

"Oh. That." The courier looked away. "While I was getting my clothes, I stopped by to talk to Mortimer, see what he knew."

"And?"

"Turns out I had to say I was a cannibal before he'd tell me anything." Meda said, her voice oddly flat. "And when he said how much trouble that Gunderson kid being grabbed was, he gave me a couple of options to solve his little main course problem."

Veronica did not like where this was going.

Meda went on, "So, aside from kidnapping some guy called…Carlyle St. Clair, I think, or just framing someone else for Ted ending up dead, he said I could lock one of you guys in the freezer and call it good."

Veronica felt the blood drain from her face.

"He even had little comments for everyone," she said bleakly. "Like how they could skip the marinade for Cass's liver, or Boone would probably be gamey, and Arcade was kinda thin but it'd work…"

"I guess I was okay then?" Veronica joked weakly.

"Hah. I didn't stay to listen to that part." Meda muttered. She shook her head. "So, now you know. But you can still have the dress. I promised."

"Really?" Veronica asked, pushing the memory of Mortimer away. He was dead. It was over.

"Yep."

ED-E beeped. Then his radio clicked on.

"She'll make you take your clothes off

And go dancing in the rain

She'll make you live her crazy life

But she'll take away your pain

Like a bullet to your brain

Upside inside out

She's livin' la vida loca

She'll push and pull you down

Livin' la vida loca"

"ED-E, you have a weird sense of humor." Veronica said.

The eyebot beeped again and floated off.