The grenade going off was satisfying. Weir had taken to the floor to avoid any shrapnel or debris that was flung in the direction of the building, but it hadn't been necessary. Much of the blast was focused in Adam's direction or into the brahmin, which he could hear dying. On the blood-soaked floor of the ranger station Weir imagined the seared, ruptured flesh of the brahmin intermingled with the Adam's twisted, mangled body. The creature was moaning, kicking its hooves against the sand while it hung on the precipice of death. He was smiling, giggling even. The thought of wandering out of the building and walking over to Adam's corpse to see most of his face missing forced his blood in another direction. He toted an erection in seconds.

Outside Angelita felt the chill of her childhood race up and down her spine. Her image of mars coming down to their realm to punish had been misguided once and yet she wanted so desperately to believe that it was happening now. Adam had one rule: "Do everything I say." He had explicitly told her that she should stay there while he climbed out of the car and went to handle whatever it was that he needed to handle. She stayed with the gear, quiet and out of sight. But now, with the explosion and the sound of the dying animal, her heart was muscling its way out of her chest and pushing up into her mouth. Debris landed against the car in such a chilling staccato that she couldn't make out what happened. The sounds alternated between soft plinks, bangs, gooey slaps and harrowing thumps. The inside of the car began to resemble a torture device with sharp pieces of debris perforating the side.

Adam was on the ground, face down, motionless. If he was breathing it couldn't be seen. If he was bleeding it couldn't be distinguished from the abundance of brahmin blood. His duster, the one he had painstakingly crafted by himself, was shredded down the back. The leather layer that led to the armored lining was almost completely destroyed; every rip, tear and whole had an accompanying piece of smoking shrapnel sticking out of it. The hood over his head appeared to be the worst of the entire picture; a long, thin piece of shrapnel stood up out of the back.

"My dear girl, where are you?" Weir opened the door and stuck his head out. The smell of burned meat filled his nostrils. "I see breakfast is ready. Aren't you hungry, love?"

He received no answer.

"Come on, don't you know he was going to hand you over himself?" He began to look around the immediate area until his eyes fell upon Adam. "I got rid of him for you."

Still nothing.

The steaming pile of man made him smile. "You know he needed the caps, don't you? He got himself in some serious trouble."

Weir stepped over towards the row of cars that made up the makeshift perimeter. Unknowingly, he was only two cars down from where Adam and Angelita slept. It was a quick search; either there was something there or there wasn't. He hummed now, some song he heard on the radio while he was in Freeside.

"He's been lying to you the whole time, love." He poked his head into another car. "Let me guess: he told you that he could protect you from the legion? From the fiends? From anyone?"

Not a word back.

Weir finally reached the correct car but only found the rifles and the sacks. The girl was nowhere to be found.

Angelita had crawled out of the other side of the car and crawled along the side. She was practically in reaching distance from Adam once the man went on yelling about her being lied to. None of it made any sense—these were things Adam had done without any input from her end. Her heart sank back into place and plummeted even further when she saw her 'Centurion' motionless. She couldn't risk yelling but every ounce of her body wanted to tell him to get up. But to order someone superior? Perish the thought. Everything she had learned and unlearned while traveling outside of the sanctity of Caesar's land gelled together and confused her. How was this situation supposed to be handled?

She mouthed the words as hard as she could; pleading and begging that he get up.

"You should come out now," Weir slammed his fist down on a rusty car. "I hate to think what I'd end up doing to you if I get angry."

He elicited a jump. Angelita accidentally fell backwards and bumped into something solid.

"There's my girl." With a smile Weir hurried over to find Angelita trying to rush to her feet. "Oh you're even prettier than they said. Under normal circumstances I would've kept you for myself. But,"

Angelita swallowed hard.

"I've got a lot of caps tied up with you."

True to form Weir loomed over Angelita and took interest in her nose. Given the position he pushed his little obsession one step further and wrapped one rough hand around her jaw. She went with his lead and stood up. Face-to-face, a few inches separating the two, he inspected the bridge of her nose, the curve of both nostrils and how far the tip was from her face. She had an adorable button nose. He was disgusted.

"Are you making fun of me, love?" He canted his head to the side, a half-smile on his face. "I just have to get you back alive, they never specified in what condition."

Angelita felt the burning sensation erupt in her eyes.

"Don't worry. You'll know exactly how I feel." The smile grew to psychotic proportions.

Face down on the ground consciousness seemed so fragile. Wafting in and out of lucidness, Adam finally managed to curl his fingers around the present and vault himself out of unconsciousness. The ground was harder than he remembered—moister, as well. His fingertips dragged small lines into the loose dirt until he formed a fist with either hand and made his first attempt at standing up. It didn't work too well for him.

Initially, he had only seconds to get away from the brunt of the blast and cover up, the pin and sound giving away what the trap had actually been. He knew it was a frag, but judging from the broken ribs he had sustained it had been repackaged with something more potent.

Adam went with a roll instead. With his weight shifted to the side, he shrugged his shoulders out of the shrapnel soaked duster and immediately realized what was happening.

Weir was overjoyed. He'd found the perfect nose, the antithesis to his own. "They used to tease when I was younger. Do you know what I did to them?"

He reached into the long, blood-drenched lab coat and pulled out his scalpel. The blade hadn't been replaced since the encounter with the merchant and his mercenaries. "I made them feel how I felt. Empathy isn't so bad, is it?"

With a throbbing headache to match broken ribs Adam went for the weapon that was easiest to use: the knife at the small of his back. It slid free with one good yank and he began to crawl forward—quickly. There was little time to delve into stealth.

Angelita's didn't sob with the tears nor did she try to choke them back. She practiced an eerie balance between acceptance and rebellion, both mired in the values she had learned from the priestess. She would not give him the satisfaction of being a pathetic victim.

The tip of the blade caught the lab coat and pierced it without issue. The denim, the next layer, suffered the same fate. Satisfaction came when the blade struck flesh; splitting the skin and ripping into muscle. It went deep.

Weir howled. Angelita saw his face twist and contort before he threw her to the ground. The pain was unimaginable. He looked down first, eyeing the blade stuck in his leg, to the man who had jammed it there. He slashed at Adam wildly with his bloody scalpel.

Adam pushed his head back to avoid the first swing and lay down completely to avoid the second. The third came with a roll—putting him in arms length of his pistol. Must've been knocked off in the blast. He grabbed the 10mm pistol, turned, and fired. He didn't have both hands on the weapon and it was from his hip, messy at best.

The doctor had taken off, hopping on one leg while the bullets punched holes through cars that he had been standing in front of split seconds before. The firing stopped—the pistol must've jammed. Another howl, he pulled the blade out of his leg and attempted an escape.

"My rifle!" Adam kept his eyes on the doctor while he ran. "Get me my rifle!"

Angelita was hadn't moved since she struck the ground, paralyzed by the situation. Adam sounded as if he were a mile away. She sat with her knees held against her breasts, waiting for it all to end.

"Get the rifle." His eyes found her and repeated himself. The tone was different. Firm, but not yelling. It was spoken with the expectation that she was going to listen merely because he was the one that said it. No allegiance or rank involved, this is how things were.

She responded to this. The one that had he had saved her life with days before was picked up and rushed over to him. The doctor was hobbled but he was moving; hopping on one leg and dragging himself back up to his feet whenever the pain became too much or he lost his balance. As she set the rifle down Adam set up.

"He's scared." Adam mentioned to Angelita while he peered through the scope. The stock was pulled in tight against his shoulder while he went down onto his stomach. The simple act of lying back down was painful enough that he cringed the entire time. "He's running east, there's no cover there."

Adam breathed and placed his index finger over the trigger. The doctor had elected to take a straight path and was wounded. Given the speed he was moving it was no response that he wasn't very far away at all, it was a simple shot. Broken ribs and all, Adam did not hesitate.

From Angelita's perspective there was a sudden explosion off in the distance; chunks of red and pink sprayed into the air and the doctor fell forward, crumpled over in death. The sound was nowhere near as deafening and seeing it from so far away gave her a detached feeling. Everything was okay, but she still felt the same way as she had some moments ago.

They were not safe.

Adam rolled onto his side and breathed. It hurt. "What did he say to you?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'll live," He repeated. "What did he say to you?"

"Are you sure?"

Adam shot her a look that made her feel like a five year old.

"He said you were in serious trouble. That you needed a lot of caps." Angelita didn't question Adam about it.

He volunteered the information. "It's true. I got involved with some people I shouldn't have gotten involved with; shot someone I shouldn't have shot and caught hell over it. We made a deal, I get them a fairly large sum of caps by the end of the year and it all goes away."

"Who was that?"

"Hell if I know." Adam continued. "But if he was a little more thorough we'd both be a lot worse off."

With a painful sigh Adam moved over to the duster he had tossed off and inspected the damage. The leather was worthless now. A large piece of shrapnel had failed against the armored lining in the hood. He estimated it was no more than a centimeter from punching through and getting stuck inside of his brain. Small fragments dotted the rest of the duster, but all failed just as the other hand. This meant caps. Caps Adam couldn't spare at the moment. He'd need another pistol to repair his old one and there was the whole broken ribs thing to deal with.

"I need you to get a needle for me." Adam motioned over to the car where they slept. "It's long and thin with a blue cap on it.

Angelita nodded and made her way to the car where their things were. He hadn't specified which compartment the needle was in so she was forced to rummage through his things a bit. She found the needle eventually and something else as well. She made her way back and handed it to him while her other hand was extended to him, an aureus in the middle of her palm.

"Where did you get this?"

Adam pulled the cap off of the Med-X and lifted his shirt. "Off of one of your dead friends." The painkiller was injected and Adam breathed easy. For now.

Angelita contemplated turning and running.

"What is it? What else did he tell you?" He didn't try to take it from her; he was enjoying breathing with some measure of normalcy far too much.

"That…"

"Forget about it. We need to get out of here before the NCR come riding in and ask us why there are dead legionaries, troopers, a half blown up brahmin and a dead doctor here."

There were two ways to Primm in the direction they were headed. There was the long way that continued south to Nipton then turned west and eventually north into Primm. The other way was far shorter, cutting through the middle in order to head directly to the town. Adam had decided on the shorter way and once they had gathered all of the gear they began to walk again.

The Med-X was working wonders, but he could still feel that something was out of place. Heading back up north to Novac to see the doctor had crossed his mind, but there was no telling about whether or not the doctor had any accomplices. Checking his body yielded no additional information—they were back at square one, except Adam needed a bit of medical attention before he became addicted to Med-X. Addiction wasn't random chance at this point; he was going to need at least three more by his own estimation before they reached Primm. The odds of not acquiring an addiction were small.

"Look," Adam broke their usual walking silence once they reached the pass. "I was hoping to avoid going to Primm but we don't have much of a choice at this point."

Angelita nodded.

"There's a handful of people that, well," The number as actually higher than a handful. "That won't appreciate me being there."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're going to have to do most of the talking." The sight of the dead ghoul made him stop. A quick inspection revealed he had nothing but the clothes on his back. He continued to walk. "The sheriff is as likely to greet me as he is to shoot me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Honestly?" A shrug followed. "I don't know."

"Why don't they like you?"

"You really wanna know?" Adam felt a small sharp pain rock his side. The breaks might have been worse than he thought or there might be more broken.

Angelita hesitated. Did she? It wasn't her place to ask, but she did anyway. "Yes."

"Sheriff's wife got piss-drunk one night and wanted company." Another shrug. "I suppose he was out making sure she didn't have to sleep with one eye open, but oh well, I was her company."

Each and every time she began to think highly of him she found out something that brought it back down to earth. It was either this or he did something that twisted her view of him. There were times he was a simpleton, times he was kind and then times he spoke of when he was a immoral man with no sense of right or wrong. And yet, he insisted on taking care of her.

"I guess you really didn't." The recollection made him smile. "He was a good guy, forgave her and everything. They worked through it. He doesn't know about the second or third time, though."

She remained silent; he appeared to be in love with his voice.

"Or the fourth, fifth and sixth." He chuckled. "Anyway, a few residents took exception to my little escapade with their protector's woman. Didn't want me around anymore. A couple of them ended up picking fights—they lost. But I'm sure you could imagine the sheriff's face when he saw that it was me stirring up all the trouble."

By time they crossed the train tracks Adam was talking about the stars and what they meant. How each time he killed someone he was sure the following night would be just a tad bit darker. The lights were going out and he was the one helping darkness cover their little slice of the world. Wild ambition was shared as well. "You think if I kill 'Ky-Zar' the sun'll go down for good." There was a lack of balance to his stride, one that was usually confident and cautious at the same time.

He even shared his view on her and her body. How she was a "beautiful young woman" and that he'd "love to spend a night" with her that didn't involve worrying about the next day. Luckily, Angelita had started singing to herself at that time, blissfully ignoring the words that came out of his mouth. He spoke of Gloria and the Garrett sister, how much he wanted to piss off the King and a laundry list of other things.

Adam had injected himself with a dose of Med-X that had been mixed with something to make it more potent. The pain, sans the occasional sharpness, was tolerable.

He was as high as a kite and didn't realize it.

"You know what we're gonna do, Angelita?" This was the first time he actively sought her attention. He tapped her shoulder, not realizing she was in the middle of song. "We're gonna go say hello to the sheriff and his wife, okay?"

She sighed and nodded.

Then whipped her head around. "No."

"We're gonna have to see him eventually, I'll behave."

"No, we shouldn't."

Protesting was useless. All of the caution and discipline that had gotten them this far were on a lunch-break. Adam was acting on any little impulse and there was no way her words would be heeded. Angelita could do nothing but follow.

Adam was beginning to come down from his high when he reached the sheriff's door and began to knock. He was still smiling like a fool trying to anticipate what his reaction to be to see him strutting back into town after the last episode.

With no answer coming from the door Adam raked his knuckles against it again. And again. And again. Sure, it was early, but the sheriff was usually up by now and his wife would have been home. A casual shrug and he tried the door. It gave way without a fuss.

"Anybody home?" Adam poked his head around and his eyes fell upon the two bodies. They were set neatly on the bed beside one another, headless.

He stepped inside completely and brushed his palm across the top of his head while he moved towards the bed and stared down over the corpses. The heads were nowhere to be found but he didn't need them to recognize the two victims. His eyes stared to the point where Angelita began to worry. She had gotten one look and it proved to be enough for her, morbid curiosity would not be rearing its ugly head.

Eventually, Adam looked around the room and found the sheriff's duster; it wasn't the same make as his own but it'd be enough for him to repair his own. His inner scavenger took over and he began to look around the room for supplies that he'd be able to take with him. For once, it bothered him. Taking useful items off of the dead was a part of life for someone who wasn't attached to one particular community, but even still he didn't feel all too comfortable taking the items. In the end it was only a box of .308 rounds that he took with him.

"Angelita?" Adam turned to find that she was no longer in the sheriff's office. "Where you'd go?"

No response.

Taking off sent a jolt of pain through his body—he'd need to take another dose of med-x or see a doctor soon. Upon bursting through the door the rush of relief became intermingled with surprise. Angelita was standing there, almost exactly where she had been when he stepped inside first, but there was a man in front of her, hands on his hips sporting a prison uniform.

"What exactly are you two doing in my office?"