Chapter XXI:
King's Favor
From over the long rolling hills overlooking the ten-mile-long dry bed that once had been a lake and a then a time later a race track; now a dry wasteland full of bones and monsters: stood one single figure. The wind tugged at his pants, the flannels of his long trenchcoat blowing with it like the cape of some comic adventurer. Sand and dust blew across the figures ragged and chiseled face, his arctic blue eyes looking out across the world. Every fifteen or so seconds he would move his hand over his bedraggled, graying black hair and onto the crown of his faded gray fedora; centering it before he would place his hand back in his coat pocket. He watched through the remains of an old highway choked with wrecked cars and tumbling buildings a single 1963 Land Rover speeding past the ruins of a long dead civilization.
They soon exited out of the interpass and were now on a fourway road heading north. Running his eyes along the many canyons and hills: he found himself staring at a city he hadn't stepped in corporeal flesh for almost two centuries. He grimaced at the blaring reflected light from the many tall buildings that had been in an age of fashion where steel refinement had been an absolute norm. During the day, it was as ugly as any other unwelcome spec of stone and mortar in a land of sand and dust. It wasn't until the darkness fell and lights came on that its truer, vice ridden and narcotic drenched atmospheric air came to be.
Of course, it had always been like this. Even when it was called Las Vegas. When he'd been made of flesh and blood, and not… whatever the hell he was made of now. He shook his head, and produced from his pocket a smoke to which he took a slow delight with. As his ice cool blue eyes where highlighted by the burning fire: they gazed out at the greater world far ahead and all around him.
"Nothing ever changes," he mused softly. Then he heard a sudden whimper in the air behind him and soon after that a subtle, almost indistinguishable impact on the hard wind whipped stone plateau. The grace of those steps as they slowly ascended the hill were all but obvious to him. Without turning, he addressed his handler:'
"Advena."
"Arcanum."
Her voice was soft and sweet, like the chorus of a joyous Boston symphony; light and quick as the wind that blew past them both. Slowly, surely, she joined him on the overpass. As he took a slow puff, the burning smoke billowing out into the breeze: his eyes darted to her. The gale tugged at her long scarlet silk flannels: the breeze at the peacock feathers perched upon her silver tiara. He grimaced slightly.
She still wore the same attire of her previous profession: with the long black pantyhose's over her milky white legs followed by dancer's heels, the scarlet sleeves on her arms and hands, the form fitting leather corset. But it wasn't her attires, as striking as they were and meant to be, that always aroused him around her. No, it was that flowing vail like hair that flowed with the wind, the velvet of her cunning eyes, and when she lowered her silk mask: the cherry-like full lips still lain with lipstick. She looked like something out of a fairytale, he told himself as he told himself a thousand times before. As he had the first time he'd lain eyes upon her, two hundred lifetimes worth a country away.
Yet looking at her, and seeing her in these clothes, always made him ache somewhat. It reminded him of that night… the night that had sent him on this road: the road of miserable vengeance until at last it led him to the grave, and somewhere miraculously down the line: here. He took a puff of his cigarette before he asked:
"Here to lecture me again, Advena?"
"You know the rules. We aid when we are needed, but never do we share premonitions of the many futures."
"It wasn't that much of a spoiler," he smirked, "just giving him a little hint of the nightmare we're going to drop him in. Afterall, didn't you do the same not four days ago?"
She frowned at him:
"That was different."
"Was it? Was it really? Way I see it: you gave him a warning. I did the same."
"In more words than was needed. You know what happens when mere humans witness the perils of the future."
"Don't remind me."
"I feel I do. In trying to prevent or succeed that future, they will inevitably fulfill it by merely intervening in it."
"As I said: don't remind me."
"Nick…"
"Don't call me that," he snarled, whirling on her on the spot, "I haven't been human for over two hundred years, so don't ever remind me of that."
"And yet you still act as brash, as impulsive, as your detective days."
He snorted:
"I thought you found that attractive."
"As you said: we're not human anymore," she gripped his hand tightly, "If you continue to disregard the rules, to be so… so… damned carefree about your—"
"My what, Advena?" he scowled, "What exactly is this? A job? A curse?"
"A gift, Arcanum," she pleaded softly, "we were given wings for a reason."
"Yeah? Well I don't see that reason anymore," he stared again out at the dead and dying world, "Y'know what I see when I look at this place? I see a graveyard, full of the walking dead. Miserable and broken. And it's been that way for two hundred Goddamned years! And don't you dare say 'don't take his name in vain'! In fact, why don't he smite me right now!? Get this over with—"
She smacked him across the face and sent him staggering. With writhing anger born from desperation, she shouted at him:
"I have had it with your self-fucking-pity! With your self-destructive antics! I defended you! You hear me!? I defied Him for you! I begged and pleaded for Him to give you another chance! And this is how you repay me!?"
"I didn't ask to be saved!"
"Well too-fucking-bad! I will not lose you again!"
"You lost me the night I found you dead in that alley."
"Is that what this is about? Or because you know in the end, I'm right?"
He shook his head:
"I looked into his future, Advena. I saw what that bastard was going to do. What he's still going to do."
"There was good too. He could've formed a nation built on honor and brotherhood—"
"You don't get it. You just don't get it. I looked into his soul, and what I saw was pure and utter evil."
"He was still in your charge. It is not our job to tell the world how to spin. That makes us no different than the Fallen."
"Maybe they had the right idea. I tried to change him. I tried to shift him on the right path."
"But by showing him that future you were so desperately trying to avoid, you simply put him on that path. The path he is on now… and then you tried to kill him."
"Had I been a few seconds faster, thousands wouldn't be dead or in chains."
"And there would've been nothing left to recover you from."
"Why do you care so much about me?"
"Because I still love you, you stupid bastard."
"It's been two hundred years."
"A mere moments passing."
"Even after…" he froze midsentence, staring first at her and then turning slightly down into the valley, at the wrecked remains of a Sunset Sarsaparilla sign and the burning camp fire still smoldering there. His eyes locked with the figure sitting there, strumming a guitar along. She walked alongside him, pressing against him.
"Even then," she whispered softly. They both noticed the Rover coming into view, and Advena waved her hand just slightly. The vehicle deviated, taking another road around. He looked at her strangely. She shrugged:
"It's not their time to meet yet."
"Then when?"
"Soon," he replied, turning away from as she started to walk down the hill. She stopped in midstride and addressed him again:
"You've been given another chance, Arcanum. Don't ruin it for yourself… or for me."
And with the rising breeze she was gone. He shook his head and sighed. He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette. As the smoky fire iminated from his mouth like a dragon, he shook his head as he watched the Rover approach the city:
"It's going to be a bumpy night, Gideon. I hope you're ready."
Veronica
" I left my home Norfolk, Virginia, California on my mind! I straddled that Greyhound and rode into Raleigh and on across Carolina! "
Y'know, I find it really convenient, and awesome, that we're going to meet a man who styles himself as Elvis Presley reborn and now we're hearing one of his song! One of my favorite songs I might add! I found myself jingling in my seat, snapping my fingers as we went driving along. Boone looked across at me strangely and I just smiled at him.
" We had motor trouble that turn into a struggle, halfway across Alabama, and that hound broke down and left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham! "
I turned in my seat when I heard a totally different tune to the music and I saw Raul doing a little jiggle in the back seat, singing along with the rest of the song. He smiled that toothy smile at me and I went along with the number!
" Right away I brought me a through train ticket, ridin' across Mississippi clean. I was on that midnight flyer out of Birmingham, smoking into New Orleans! Somebody help me get out of Louisiana! "
I then heard Cass and Gideon beating along with the tune, Cass a bottle jittering on the window and Gideon tapping on the steering wheel. And when the next verses came, they leaned over and started singing to each other:
" Cut your engines and cool your wings and let me make it to the telephone. Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia tidewater four ten o nine! "
I elbowed Boone and he looked at me blankly. I smiled at him:
"C'mon, sourface! Get in the groove!"
He crossed his arms and continued to look at me blankly:
"You do realize Elvis is dead, right?"
Boone, you musical illiterate! I was going to say something to this partypooper, but Raul beat me to it. He leaned over and shouted in his ear:
"No, Elvis is not dead! He went home!"
He deadpanned him, deadpanned me, deadpanned everybody in this beat-up car and just shook his head. He started tapping his foot along with the beat but I just shook my head at him, grinning all the while:
"C'mon, get in the groove!"
I started rolling my arms and doing all the other moves I'd learn watching all those funky dance flicks. But he just shook his head and just kept his arms crossed.
" Tell the folks back home this is the promised land calling and the poor boy is on the line! "
"V," Gideon leaned over his chair and just grinned at me, "You'd have more luck getting a Rad Scorp to dance than—"
"Whoa watch out!" Cass screamed from the front. Right in front of us was a wrecked Herse! Yes, I know its paint faded and it's been wrecked beyond any kind of recognition, but do you know any other vehicle with a back that long? I didn't think so. Gideon whirled around and just barely scraped past the wreck. Cass then proceeded to slug him in the shoulder.
"Ow!"
"Watch the fuckin' road, dumbass!"
"Do not make me pull over, woman! Oh wait, never mind we do need to pull over."
"Wait what," I leaned forward in my seat, "Why?"
"Chica, the last thing we need is to drive down Fremont Ave. full of los oprimidos desesperada del mundo. This thing would be gone in exactly treinta segundos."
"What, this hunk of junk? I doubt you could get it for five caps."
Gideon leaned over his seat and gave me the cold eye. Oh boy.
"Don't insult this hunk of junk. This hunk of junk has gotten us through thick and thin, and will continue to do so long as we take good care of her."
"Her?"
"Yes, her. I haven't come up with a name for her yet, but when I do I will let you know."
Cass cackled at this:
"You are so full of shit!"
He smirked back at her:
"And proud."
We then pulled in under the shadow of a crumpling overpass. Guess it should be out of sight from all the usual crazy suspects, but I still have my worries.
Gideon
I put the Rover into park and everybody piled out, all except for Raul. He scurried over the seats until he was in the driver seat.
"What are you up to?"
He wiggled his mustache at me and produced a chain, a piece of rebar and a padlock:
"A little trick I picked up back in Houston. Don't need burros robar nuestro paseo, if you catch my drift."
"Oh I catch. Good thinking."
"What I'm here for. Y para molestar a la mierda de ustedes."
"And to give me advice on my love life, eh Raul?"
He gave me a toothy grin:
"You know me all too well, jefe."
I chuckled and headed to the front with everybody else. Cass came from the back with yet another duffle bag. Veronica somehow read my mind:
"Do you have an infinite number of duffle bags, or perhaps some duffle bag producing superpowers?"
"Girlie, if I had that sort of mojo, I wouldn't be wastin' it on makin' bags."
"Sí que estaría haciendo tequila y conseguir mierda enfrentado durante semanas."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
She just shook her head and threw the bag onto the hood.
"Okay, all your guns in here."
"Why?" Boone asked, but I quickly explained:
"Simple Boone. As of now we are all a bunch of walking armories. And that's probably going to make some people nervous. Am I right, Cass?"
She nodded.
"Plus it's Hollow's Eve tonight. There'll be kid's 'round an' last thing we need are angry parents chasin' us 'round with rolling pins."
I laughed at that.
"Why that happen to you?"
"Well… no."
Veronica jumped right in on the proverbial embarrassment by promptly escalating it:
"Oh really? I'm picturing it right now! Thirty some odd old people chasing you around with walkers and beer bottles, with you making off with a bag full of your misbegotten stolen candies! Oh, the weeping children."
"Listen smartypants," she snipped back with an accusing finger, "First, I mebbe many things, but stealin' candy from kids just fer the hell of it ain't one 'em. Second, Freeside's been good ta me and the King's a friend so I ain't 'bout to piss either off. And third… I'm half tempted ta stuff you in this bag and bury you out in the middle of desert."
Unrelenting, with a wide sly smile on her face, V was ready with an immediate reply:
"And I'll just dig myself up and keep coming back to haunt you!"
"Whatever. Sidearms only and only if ya got a coat to hide 'em in. Rest go in here."
I nodded and tossed Lowlight in, followed by Cass with her shotguns. Reluctantly, Boone followed suit and tossed his rifle in. We all turned to Raul, who was busy wrapping his handcannons up in a blanket.
"What? Out of sight, out of mind."
Pacer
I hate comin' here. This place, these people, they ain't the kind I'd normally be dealin' with. Maybe dealin' 'em a bad hand, but makin' deals with 'em? Not my usual pace, pun fully intended. But way things are, and those Republican boys poundin' on Presley's door… I don't got much choice. I took the back alley, milling through the crowds of millier folk buyin' last minute things for the festival tonight.
I don't need to be seen with these jack-boot thugs, much as I need 'em.
"Much as Presley needs 'em," I whispered to myself. Ain't doin' this just for myself, I'm doin' this for the man I grew up with. The man I called brother. I am my brother's keeper, and that means I gotta do the worst if it comes to it. Worst, but necessary. I looped around the back and came across the back entrance. Sure enough Jean-Baptiste, Gloria's big gorilla brother, was waitin' for me.
"Took your fucking time, Pacer."
"Still tryna talk tough, Chief? I don't mind throwin' down right here, right now."
That fuckin' butchers smile came over his big, smug black face. I just held my eyes on him as I moved up to him. He sneered:
"Just 'cause you got in bed with my sister don't mean I can't bust your face."
"Yeah? Well I disagree."
He gave this smirk that kinda scared me. But I didn't show it. Then two more 'employees' came out and started to frisk me. Of course they found my piece, and my silver, and my comb. I ain't here to go shootin', much as I would like to.
"We done with these formalities? I'd like to get on with business."
He snorted and walked me inside. Place was still dark and had that weird smell of ozone. Then again, ain't surprising considerin' the heat they got packing here. Walked through some halls till we finally got to the main lobby. It was a room with multiple cage fences installed for grubby customers. And there sitting on the table full of beautiful instruments ash and goo was the woman here.
"Hiya Gloria," I smiled as I crossed the room and kissed her softly on the cheek, "miss me already?"
She was a fine woman, a few shades lighter than Ape-Baptiste with short cropped hair and icy blue eyes that could pierce your soul of all lies and faults. She was mighty fine creative in bed, if a bit dominative. Though it wasn't anything you could put a ring on.
"Hey Pacer," she smiled, "glad you could join us."
"Y'know me. Deal maker, right?"
"Quite. Especially with your 'escalations' with the NCR, and undercutting business… I see you obviously need to come to me."
"Hey business is business. I look the other way on your dealin' and we make a few of our own," I grinned, running my hand up her thigh, "I wouldn't mind makin' a few more tonight after our 'other' things are made and done."
She gave me a cold look, and I withdrew my hand. She sighed and shook her head:
"Pacer, my love, you play games when we're to begin war."
"I'm as committed to this as you are, Gloria."
"Are you, Pacer? Are you?"
She gave this cold fuckin' stare like a killer after his fresh victim. I couldn't bear the intensity of it, so I looked away. She scoffed at me.
"Perhaps you need a reminder of what happens to people who fail me… or cross me."
She wiggled her finger and two men… Oh shit, Jacob. They had him tied up and gagged, and he looked like he went nine rounds with a bull and came out crawlin'.
"Oh God, Jacob," I turned to Gloria, who had a face of stone, "What is this?"
"I told you, Pacer."
They threw him into a chair, two men holding him by the shoulders.
"Look if this is some kind of lesson—"
"Like you, Jacob and I were close. You've seen firsthand of our commitment. You even participated in some of our many moments. But as I warned you, I am a very jealous woman. And like you, he told me he understood."
"Oh God," I held my hand up to my mouth, "Jacob, what did you do?"
He looked at me with desperate, dog beaten eyes.
"I chanced across him at Gomorra with a two-cap whore. And as you can understand, I was not very pleased."
"Gloria, you don't need to kill him."
"I want you to understand that even someone as close as him should never attempt to cross me."
"Gloria, I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
She smiled at me, and my heart sank into my tummy.
"Never cross a Van Graff. You will know this. Jean."
He stepped forward with a Laser Rifle in hand and aimed it at his head.
"Jacob, I'm sorry."
And in a literally flash, he was gone. Gone into an ash pile. She then caressed my cheek and brought me round.
"I expect full payment tonight. Jean will handle the transaction. Oh, and," she leaned over and sucked me fully. I was too fuckin' petrified to move, and even more so when broke off me and smiled again, "I think I'll take your offer tonight. Afterall, the bed will be a great deal more spacious just with the two of us."
Gideon
It was about two miles before we hit Outer Vegas. And trust me, you only needed to get one to tell where you were going. From what I understand, the entire length of Freemont and Freeside Avenues had a giant wall of steel and scrap metals built around them just shortly before the NCR showed up in the Mojave. I'm not kidding. Through the ruins of dozens buildings was a literal metal wall that in certain places caught the sun and hurt like a son of a bitch looking at it.
Cass smirked at me when she saw me looking away:
"Now you know why folks call it the Glare Wall."
"Yeah. How the hell they build it in the first place?"
"House," Boone replied from behind us, "my CO said he put them up for us."
"He has an army of robots and he needs a wall?" Veronica laughed, "What is he? Overcompensating?"
"Not the weirdest I've heard about him."
"Explain, Raul."
"Well, as you piel suaves know, I was around a good while before el mundo se prendió fuego and in my day, there was a Mr. Robert House."
"You don't mean the CEO of RobCo Industries?" Veronica asked. He grunted before continuing:
"Si, the same. Guy was a superstar, a genius. Started his own company at 22, dated starlets and movie stars, some even said he had the ear of the Presidents."
"Presidents?"
"Of el Estados Unidos de America. You know, this great land we happened to be walking in?"
"I know what the Presidents were, jackass," I called back, "You said Presidents. As in more than one?"
"Oh yeah. Guy had money, and had a lot of connections. Some said he was even in bed with the Gooks."
"Gooks?" Cass asked. Veronica provided the answer:
"The Chinese."
"Wow," she replied, "So where's the weird shit?"
"Well the tabloids back then were all into some kind of scandal he had. Took dames and models and had them dress up in all sorts of mercancías sexuales, and apparently scanned their brains."
"Their brains?" I asked, "Why?"
"Nobody knows. Some people actually thought he stole their brains."
"If that'd be the case," Boone countered, "Why were they alive to talk about it afterwards?"
"Dunno, but they all died about a year later."
"All of them?"
"All of them. Nobody knew why, but it was so close to the end nobody was alive to care."
A sudden realization came to me.
"Wait, you're not saying this Mr. House and that Mr. House are one and the same?"
"Boss, let me ask you something. What do you notice about this place, and I don't mean just this pedazo de tierra, but the whole Mojave?"
"Beside it being hot in the summer, cold in the winter and all around arid as hell?"
"Si."
"I dunno. What?"
"Oh come on, you need to guess."
"It's full of people fer one," Cass suggested, "Things can actually grow here fer another. Been to places like Dayglow where nothin' can stay put fer more than a minute 'fore getting cooked."
"Si. Why is that?"
"Because it wasn't nuked," Boone answered.
"What are you getting at, Raul?" V asked him.
"On the night the bombs fell, even in Mexico City, I could see missiles and lasers being fired from right here in Las Vegas, and not New Vegas, blowing up the nukes before they could even hit the ground."
"So yer sayin'…"
"If House could do something like that, is it that much of a tramo de la imaginación that he could find a way to survive?"
"Like what?" V inquired, "A brain in a jar?"
"If you like B-Movies. Perhaps he uploaded his brain into a computer and lives to this day as a," he paused for dramatic affect and sounded like some announcer at a theater, "soulless, Godless, Machine-God!"
V snickered:
"When did you get Dues Ex Machina on the mind?"
"Always. I got a lot of Capitán Cosmos y Flash Gordon growing up."
"Meh," I called back, "I'm more a Johnny Quest/Space Ghost fan myself."
"Buenos espectáculos, tambien. So, how's that for a theory?"
"Y'know, could always be some smartypants Raider Chief who read a book."
"Si, pero it wouldn't be as interesting."
"Interesting or not, it makes me a tad bit concerned."
"Oh?"
"Raider Chief or Machine God, this guy had Victor save my life. Hell, he's kind of the whole reason I got shot in the first place. And I'm getting the feeling we're gonna run into him sooner rather than later."
"Yeah," Boone replied, "but as you say: a problem for tomorrow."
"I guess so."
About twenty minutes later we reached a really large gate covered in… pumpkins, hobgoblins, and skulls? Not kidding. On either sides of the gate were loads of candle light pumpkins, floating ghost things and a goofy looking open skull over the gate with what looked like jewels or something shiny other looking at me like I owe him something.
"The Hell?"
"Hollow's Eve," Cass said at my elbow, "Be prepared for some truly wacky shit."
"Right."
We got closer and the doors opened.
"Welcome to Freeside."
Welcome indeed. Imagine a hundred… okay maybe not a hundred but close enough, folk just milling through one really long road around some kind of bazar you'd see in in a movie about the Middle East or something or other full of literally every kind of ware you could think of, just all turn and stare at us as we walked in. And of course, V decided to break the awkwardness by making it even more awkward:
"Hi!" she called out cheerfully complete with a wave, "How you doing?"
They just stared at us for a few more seconds, and then went around their business.
"What'd I say 'bout not tryna freak folk out?"
"What?" she smirked, "I could go for a good run."
"Do that later," I turned to Cass, "so where's the big cheese?"
"Big Cheese?" she laughed. I just gave her my um, yeah? face. She just shook her head, and took point.
Veronica
What can I say? I see an awkward situation, I've got to break that proverbial ice!
"Wow," I breathed as started walking down the road. This place is totally something else… I mean, where to start? Okay, let me start with the smell. Why? I don't know, just work with me.
There's this fragrance. It's not incense, but it's kind of this strangely sweet, but kinda tart… oh it's pumpkin! Wait, not just pumpkin. I'm picking up chili, and… wait is that just sugar? I don't know, it's just like somebody just dropped all this stuff in a pot and was burning it in this weird combination.
Either way, I feel like I'm in a giant pie! Oh man, now I want some pie. Okay so what's next? Well this place been totally decorated for this special occasion. I mean imagine every single wall being lobbed with what looked like spider webs, or hanging ghosts both green and white.
Pumpkins, sugar skulls, marigolds, scarecrows with pumpkin heads, scarecrows with painted skull faces… oh wow, is that a giant spider? Yikes, how long did it take them to hang that from there? People were carting loads of candles and a bunch of other illuminations from one place to another. Speaking of lights, everything was being lit up with neon lights. Yellows, greens and orange that gave everything this strange hue.
I mean, you can't see it that well, but once it gets to tonight… this is going to be fun. Now for the people. People were moving back and forth from one place to another, holding cartons of, what else? Candy and other such necessities. I spotted this big shop selling nothing but that. Preserved hard knockers, explosive gum choppers, fire cracker liquorish… I stopped a step, but then Boone grabbed me by my hand and pulled me along.
"Hey!"
"Save it for tonight," he replied all chiseled face, "we're on business."
I just shook my head and kept walking along. Then we came across another street and Cass point towards it:
"That's what I call the Painted Row. Open exactly three nights and days per year, and this is one of them."
I immediately saw what she meant. There were dozens of people in all these little shops, getting their faces painted. They all had different designs, but they were all more or less the same. These kinda sorta cartoony skull faces. All of 'em had 'em. And as we kept walking along, you could see dozens more, mostly kids, with the same paintings.
"Cass, do you know what this is about?"
"Dunno. Just somethin' they do. Along with a whole lot of other such shit."
"It's Dias de Muertos," Raul replied, and continued with a smirk, "or at least a shameless bastardization of it."
"A what?"
"It means Day of the Dead," Gideon called from the front, to which Raul nodded.
"Today, tomorrow and the day after los espíritus de los difuntos return from the dead to come visit their families. These days were meant to honor them."
"So goofy skull faces and…"
"No, not exactly. As I said, a shameless bastardization. But then again the last time there was a libro de reglas para estas cosas there were a lot less espectros de radiación roaming this jodido mundo."
"Still, that's awesome!"
"Extraño, you were born in the wrong century."
"I've been told that before."
"What the hell is that?"
I turned and there right ahead of us in the middle of a crossway was… well, a giant scary looking marionette man. He was big and white with green and yellow eyes, a giant drooping mustache and arms so ridiculously large I thought they were going to fall off. Cass laughed a little before she explained:
"That is Mr. Gloom."
"Mr. Gloom?"
"Y'know, kind of a devil of sorts. All your worries and problems, put 'em all one guy. And then set his ass on fire."
"Wait what?'
"Not kiddin'. Around midnight, they set him on fire."
"So…" I mused, "they spent all that time building him and they're just going to set him on fire?"
"Yup," she grinned, "and usually that's when the King himself comes out to do a handful of songs while he's burnin' and suckin'."
"Wow," Boone replied. Yup, sometimes the simplest answer is always the best. Soon, we passed by a couple of tenant looking neighborhoods, and again even more pumpkins, skulls and even some torches! Okay, they weren't lit yet, but still. Someone even set up a mock graveyard right in the front. Then out of nowhere this giant rat came running out and scurrying across the road right in front of us!
"Look out for the ROUSes!" I shouted, to which Raul laughed his head off while the others were utterly confused.
"Seriously? You guys haven't seen—"
"Don't let 'em escape, Marly!"
"You don't let 'em escape, Bobby!"
These two kids (I think they might be twins) ran out and were chasing the rat with rusty knifes. They made their way down the alleyway, always a step behind their prey. Boone stopped and stared down at them. Then a second later he drew his handgun and perched himself on his knee. He took a few seconds, breathed and fired once. The Rat's head exploded!
"Headshot! Excellent shooting."
A ghost of a smirk passed by his lips.
"Now bring me a real challenge."
"Oh don't tempt me," I grinned sly at him, "I just might."
The kids down the alleyway waved at us, hoisting the oversized dead rat in their hands:
"Thanks mister!"
To this he actually smiled and waved back.
Gideon
"Why is there a Fort in the middle of all of this?"
Cass shrugged.
"Dunno. I'm not a tour guide. Been here since I got here. The Do-gooder Followers live here."
I nodded. After walking through old world tenements and shops and apartments, it was a little strange to see this adobe fort just sitting there like a sour thumb. This thing looked old. And I mean even older than the rest of this place. There was a sign in the front that read Old Las Vegas Mormon State Historic Park in faded yellow letters over a crumpling state seal. The wood itself looked older than half of this entire place. I looked up and on a flag pole waved a white flag with a cross within a circle.
"Followers of the Apocalypse, huh?"
I'd heard of them before. Hell, I might've worked for them once… I think. I dunno. Basically, they're sawbones and men in lab coats to the needy; idealistic anarchists to the powerful. Yeah, that old story you've heard a thousand times over.
"Ah, the Atomic Fuckin' Wrangler. Don't drink the water… or the beer. It takes like piss."
I turned around saw what she was talking about. At first glance, you knew it was casino… among other things. It was a three story, tacky as hell looking building with more neon lights and signs then pretty much the rest of the town combined. Perched on the rafters of the shingles were black widow spiders hanging from webs, their mouths looking like they were going to scoop down and eat the passing pedestrians.
"Huh."
Not the weirdest though. Above those was a colossal neon animatronic cowboy, hat waving in their air, riding a nuke. Well I guess that's where that name came from. Looking down the street, I noticed the crowds of folk wondering in and out. The ones who went in were chipper and cocky in more ways than one.
The ones who came out were either drunk as hell or looked like they'd gone bankrupt. The rest circled a bunch of… well, I don't know whether to call them ladies or girls, because I can't tell the difference. Either way, they were arousing the crowds with erotic dances in even more erotic outfits. One was dressed like a mummy, the bandages just barely covering over her more sensitive parts. Another looked like a vampire: black and velvet cloak on with pantyhoses and the like; her mouth adorned with oversized fangs and running blood.
Raul stopped in midstep and stared in awe at them. Cass grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along:
"Come on, ya old rottin' pervert."
"Y orgulloso," he smirked, "I might visit them later."
"And what?" Boone asked, "Ghoulify them, too?"
He just shit grinned him:
"Si," then he put on this Dracula-isk voice, complete with draping his arm around like he was hiding behind the proverbial cape, "so that they may join me as my brides! Live with me, Príncipe sexy de noche, forever y ever!"
Yeah, you could imagine our reactions. Just laughing our asses off at this gato viejo loco! What? I'm bilingual… okay, not really. But you get my point.
So we kept on walking for a while more, coming across more and more of horrorized neighborhood. I checked the chrome on my Pip-Boy. Darkness would probably fall in about three or so hours. If we wrapped this business with this King in a few hours or so, might actually get to this craziness go down.
"You know," Boone called from the back, "ED-E hasn't said anything yet."
"Huh?"
"He always has something to say."
We all stopped in our tracks and turned to him. Boone had a point. He'd been silent this entire walk. And honestly? He looked like a floating scaredy-cat.
"You okay, buddy?"
He looked left, looked right, spun around and then turned back to me:
" Sorry folks, but all these ghouls and hobgoblins, pumpkinheads and monster housssesss… are all givin' me the fright! Like a black cat I shriek into the moonlight with a skeleton fallin' flat. Oh mammmaaa! I'ma so scared! "
"Wait seriously?"
He nodded.
"'Bot, yer frickin' discoball of death who ash-ivize folk by the dozens and yer scared of these little kids?"
He nodded again. I turned to Raul:
"Any chance you could tear him open and find out what's wrong with him?"
" Wait whatcchya sayin!? "
Raul smirked sadistically:
"Si, let me go get my hacksaw!"
"Gahhh."
Oh shit, ED-E just fainted. No, I'm not kidding, he just collapsed to the floor. Veronica gasped in shock. Boone grimaced. Cass laughed her ass off.
I just shook my head:
"Did I go too far?"
"Si, I think you did."
Then ED-E shot from the ground:
" Just kidding! "
And some more laughing our asses off moments.
"Ah nice one, ED-E. Very good."
Unknown
I have to admit that was pretty funny. Watchin' these guys for the past couple of hours, that has to be my highlight. They laughed amongst themselves, joking along with antics for a couple of minutes.
"They act like family," I whispered to myself.
"Hey, you gonna pay or what?"
I turned back to this vaguely Franciscian China Town guy, and just grunted.
"Well you been sittin' here fer twenty minutes now an' you ain't touched yer food-!"
I dropped fifteen caps at his stand before he could finish his gnarling, took my bowl of noodles, got up and walked across the road. I spotted a café ahead, open but a little crowded. I took my seat, makin' sure I was within direct line of sight, but had a few bodies between me and any chance of gawkers.
"Alright, ya drama queen—"
" Me? I ain't no highschool tramp nor ain't I some-! "
"ED-E, we get the point," the One-Eyed man cut him off, "Cass where we heading next?"
"Up ahead, y'all know when it when ya see it."
"Any place where I can get a change of clothes, and don't give me that look, Boone."
"Mick and Ralph's up ahead. Take a far left. You goin' alone?"
"Nope," the girl beamed with a wide smile, "he's coming with."
She then grabbed Red Beret… Boone, by the hand and started dragging him along. I had to resist the urge to laugh at his pleadin' face. He looked as though he'd take gettin' dropped in a den of Deathclaws then this run-along with the opposite sex. Hell, he might even prefer a walk through the Dunwich… I felt a sudden chill from the memories of that place, but I put them away 'fore they could get worse.
The Old Man Ghoul looked bemused at the situation and just shook his head as he took off after the other two:
"I'll make sure el ninos don't get into any situaciones particularmente pegajosos!"
"Yeah sure!" Whiskey Rose called back to him, "but keep yer particular bits where they belong, ya hear?"
He waved back with a ragged smile:
"Si, mujer borracha!"
"Why you—"
One Eye grabbed her by her arm and held her firm. He just shook his head:
"C'mon, this is Raul we're talking about, remember?"
She just stamped her foot and nodded her head:
"Don't mean I don't need ta like it."
"I know. I swear we're like the parents of this group."
I can agree with that.
"In more ways than one, eh?"
Oh mama. She ran her along across his groin and he blushed slightly. He just laughed embarrassingly:
"There are children around, remember?"
She smiled slyly at him. Oh mama deuce, this is one hellova woman.
"I know. Hey wait where's ED-E?"
I shuffled in my seat. I hadn't noticed he'd gone either. Sneaky. Oh wait there he is.
"Looks like he's joining the others."
"Since when did that 'bot need a change of clothes."
"Apparently now. Well looks like it's just the two of us again."
"Right. C'mon, let's get a move on."
They started headin' down the road. I got up, headed outside and plucked up a stray box full of stuffs and things when nobody was watchin' and followed. I made sure I was good distance behind. Don't need to get spotted quite yet. And tarnish my reputation for being utterly undetectable.
Cass
It's really been a long fuckin' while since I've been here. Sights are all the same, as are the folk millin' 'bout. And truth be told I can't tell if anything's changed much. Still looks like shit, buildin's crumblin', roads crumblin', spirits crumblin', everything crumblin'. But ontop of that, neither has the spirit.
I've been to some truly shitty places over my long and drunken places. And there are a lot that pale in comparison ta this place that look a hellovalot better. 'cause despite as I mentioned how shitty this place looks, ya don't get that feelin'. This place has got a vibe, got a spirit to it, that not many others got. See, the folk despite the shittiness of their livin' make do and keep on walkin' that long mile with a fuckin' smile on their face.
A lot of the old timers and Ghouls livin' here have told me what it was like even thirty years ago. How it was a dog eat dog and occasionally cats and rats kinda world. Everyone out fer themselves, an' everybody hungry and sick and depressed all the time. Today? Still hungry, sick and depressed, but folk are helpin' each other get through it.
Everybody sharin' what they got ta keep people goin' and folk makin' returns on those investments. Mebbe its cause of those Follower Do-gooders, givin' everybody a chance. Honestly though? It's cause of House and his fuckin' antics. Presley once told me how his New Vegas and the Strip an' everything else came to be. How he kicked everybody out of their homes into this slum ta die 'cause they wouldn't go 'long with his great and grand plans.
He'd expected them ta die. But they didn't. Presley told me that gave everyone the spirit ta pull together, ta bring about a dream of bein' free. Of never bein' thrown from yer homes, not havin' some big and mighty baron or other tellin' ya how ta live your life. To truly be Freeside.
We then took a right an' there they were.
"Wow."
I nodded.
"Welcome to King's Street."
Gideon
Never thought I'd see this many Elvis impersonators all in one place. I mean imagine dozens of people (not including all the rest walking about) wearing the garb the guy wore in Jail House Rock. Black trousers, black overcoats, black-and-white stripped prison shirts or blue jeans with black leather jackets. Both versions had The Kings sewn in bright gold letters in variety of places: from on their sleeves in straight lines, on their backs and a few on their fronts across their chests. And on top of that, they all had the exact same Pompadour style haircut he had in pretty much everything I've seen him in.
That classic jet black, slid back jelled air of utter coolness. And when we got closer, I could quite see a few were either speaking in his style or were making efforts to actually sound like him. Some hit the mark pretty well, others not so much. Then my eye caught the heat they were packing. Almost every single one of them was sporting a holster of some sort.
They carried a hefty variety of handguns from Browning HP 9mm's, R99 10mm and .40 Gov't's, and Ruger .357 Long Colts. A few others had H&K 10mm SMG's strapped either to their chest under their coats (the bulge is pretty obvious) or to their thighs. The rest had what looked like Sawn-Off scatter pistols. Either way, they looked mean and ready to use their arsenal, and I have no doubt they'd put up a hell of a fight. Whether they could take on trained soldiers armed with remodeled M-16's is still up in the air, but hell of a fight either way.
When we finally came up on the street, they all turned to face us and somebody shouted out:
"Haven't seen you in a while, Cass!"
Some whistled at her, others smiled and waved, and a few even bowed to her. If it hadn't been for Cass spreading her arms out wide, circling round and round with a big grin on her face, I might've gotten the sudden urge to go for my own pieces.
"Hiya boys," she called out, "tell yer boss I'm home."
"Oh go ahead," somebody from the crowd called back, "he'll be happy to see ya.."
Unknown
Let me tell you: I wasn't expectin' that. Seein' the look these guys were giving me going up the street with my box of stolen goodies, I expected the same treatment for my charge. Instead, Cass got treated like royalty. Makes me wonder why. She close to the King of Freeside?
I made a mental note to include that in my report. Might be important. The two of them headed down the street and I followed as slow as slowness could manage. A minute later they came up to the King's School of Impersonation. It was a three-story building with an additional floor hidden high up that you could only see from a certain angle.
It lit up brighter with yellow neons than Rivet City at Christmas, which considerin' the rest of this place was quite the feat. On the sides of the buildings in neon yellow bordered by violet was the name of the actual building. Next to, above the door, were a pair of dancin' men highlighted in more violet. Seriously what is this guy's liking with violet? Not purple mind you, but violet.
Anyway, those two flanked a big giant white guitar, gold stars on the handle with the giant words THE KINGS right in the fuckin' middle. The two head inside and—oh shit!
Gideon
I heard a crash behind me and I spun, my hand going for the Colt on my hip. But I relaxed when I saw what happened.
"Watch where yer goin', buster."
"Sorry, wasn't lookin'."
"Well ain't that obvious. Here, lemme give ya a hand."
The Kingsman bent over to scoop a bunch of decorations and the like into a cardboard box. He then handed it back to the other guy and when he stood I got a good look at him. Well, I say guy, but he looked like a kid, maybe 18 or 19. He was about six foot, towering over the Kingsman he'd run into. He had long, scraggly brown hair mismatched and unclean pulled under a brown ballcap.
He had a long, but filling face slightly tanned and darkened with a rough beard that hadn't been shaved in probably a couple of days. All in all, not a bad looking kid. He wore a pair of torn jeans tucked into a pair of old black combat boots followed by a fading brown leather coat and underneath that a red cotton shirt.
"Hey man, thanks."
"Yeah, no big whoop. Just watch where yer steppin', ya hear?"
"Oh I will, thanks."
I was about to turn and keep on walking when the kid turned and I saw the rest of him. I got a sudden sense of unease from him, and my hand went back to the Colt. Our eyes locked. His pale green eyes looked at me curiously, wonderingly. But I just glared back, especially when I noticed the thin scar along his right cheek.
His eyes went wider as mine went narrower. He fumbled back and almost fell over a trash can.
"Hey, what I'd—"
"Sorry," he replied as he ran out of the way, clinging the box to his chest as he ran away like a startled cat.
"Hey, somethin' up?" I heard Cass ask at my help. I just shook my head.
"Just some dumb kid."
"Well, c'mon. We ain't got all day."
"Sure."
I withdrew my hand and followed her inside. Immediately, I was hit by the smell of something musty and sickly sweet. The air was filled with the subtle sounds of strumming guitars and far off vocals. I removed my shades, and looked about the room. It was a front lobby I'd been growing rather familiar with the past couple of weeks. Aside from the typical overabundance of neon lights and a couple of hollowed out pumpkins carved with scary faces, wasn't much special about it.
"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, huh?"
Standing at the door was another Kingsman. And I immediately disliked the son of a bitch. He was a smug, pompous, blockhead looking, stab-you-in-the-back-for-a-promotion prick who sneered out at Cass. I was tempted to go for the Browning in my coat, and had my hand on the handle when Cass placed her hand on my arm. She gave me that old sadistic smile of hers and I eased back my hand. She turned back to the sneering prick and cackled:
"Nice ta meet ya too, Pacer. Ya ol' shit face."
"Same to you, Rosy Red. Come clamerin' for favors, eh?"
"Not from you. Where's your boss?"
"Inside. Practicin'. Ain't nobody gonna disturb him."
"Well I ain't nobody."
She moved towards the door, but Pacer immediately stepped in front of it.
"Yeah, you are. And you an' your friend ain't getting in lest I say so."
"Well, who died and made you the fuckin' gatekeeper?"
"Me," he smirked, "an' I'm willin' to let y'all in… for a price. How about a hundred caps?"
The smile he gave her made my blood boil, and I once again had to resist the urge to escalate on this guy. But Cass just shook her head, and laughed:
"Ah, Pacer," she put her hand on his shoulder, "Ya always know just what ta say."
Then I heard a sickening smack and Pacer dropped to his knees, clutching his family jewels. His face puffed up like a balloon and before I knew it he spilled whatever lunch he had onto the floor.
"Uh uh uh, Ol' Pace," Cass waved a finger at him, "Gotta finish yer food."
She then pushed him over and he landed right into his own pile of puke. I laughed at that, and Cass joined me in.
"See ya later, gutless," she cackled, opening the door and beckoning me in. I smiled, and grabbed a musty old towel off the counter and dropped it right on his head:
"Here, clean yourself up."
That earned a hysterical chuckle from Cass and by the end of it my beat up lungs were burning from the effort. As we headed down a long and rather gloomy hallway with walls lined with red satin, I asked the obvious:
"Your friend's not gonna take offense to us beating up on his men, is he?"
"What, Pacer? Nah, guy's a prick, and he knows it. Only tolerates him 'cause he was a childhood friend. 'sides, it's all good fun in the end."
"Right."
We eventually came across an illuminated golden door, like you'd seen in those old theaters back in 'cisco in the old China Town district. Standing there was a well-dressed man wearing all black slacks, and slick back blond hair. He curtseyed towards Cass as she walked up:
"A pleasure to see you gain, Ms. Cassidy."
She smiled and nodded to him:
"Good ta see ya too, Jeffie. How's the kids?"
"As good as they can be."
"I oughta visit them sometime."
He smiled simply at her:
"No, you shouldn't."
"Yeah, yeah I know," she chuckled. He then looked at me, and I extended my hand:
"Gideon Maddox. We're here to see the King."
He took my hand with a grip that conflicted with his rather scrawny, almost scarecrow look.
"A pleasure. The King is current rehearsing for Eve tonight. I can seat you if you're willing to wait."
"All willin', Jeffie. Thanks."
He then opened the door and before us was a genuine performing stage, like you see in one of those high roller speakeasies in New Reno. It was a large room, filled with countless round tables, and of course a single large stage: yellow in color and backed by long red curtains. The room was largely vacant except for about maybe a half dozen people, and Jeff quickly sat us to the far left of the room. As we settled in, Cass nudged me:
"Take off yer hat."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
So I removed it and she did the same, placing them both on the table. I looked about the eerily quiet room and asked:
"So how long we gotta wait for this guy?"
Then suddenly I heard a drum roll and the curtains opened: revealing a crew of musicians with blue and white striped shirts and a man wearing a white suit and black slacks with his back turned. When the musicians started playing their tune, he about faced and my mouth about dropped too:
" Return to Sender! Return to Sender! "
My eye went wide as he stepped out onto the stage, his fingers snapping and his hips swaying, a winning smile on his lips:
" I gave a letter to the postman, he put it his sack! "
This guy… the way he moved, the way he bobbed and danced in a measured pace, the way he held himself and even down to the way the guy sang and hell, even the way he looked… was like as if Elvis Presley himself had walked out of his grave and somehow didn't look like a zombie from one of those B-Movie horror reels. He then spun around on his heels and carried on, snapping his fingers as he went:
" Bright an' early next morning, he brought my letter back! "
He then curled his hand into a fist and swung up to his chin, and the musicians in the back then answered:
" She wrote upon it! "
Then he was back to dancing, now adding the occasional tap to the number:
" Return to sender! Address unknown! No such number! No such zone! We had a quarrel! A lover's spat! "
I then heard clapping and I turned to see Cass beating to the rhythm, bobbing her head and grinning broadly as she did. She then turned to me and her grin grew even broader. I shook my head, smiled back and started clapping along with her:
" I'm sorry but my letter keeps coming back! So then I dropped it in the mailbox and sent it special D! "
He then whirled about in a circle and came back about face punctuated with a loud snap from his tap shoes, leering all the while:
" Bright and early next morning it came right- "
He suddenly froze, and stared right our table. His mouth widened, he shook his head; his eyes looking as though they'd just seen a ghost. Cass grinned wickedly back, and waved at him. He beamed from ear to ear, stretching his hands out like he was about to say Where you been all my life? Cass just shook her head at him and pointed to the stage.
He nodded slowly and I swear I thought I saw him mouth Oh right. He turned back to the band (who to their credit had been continuing to play a constant tune despite the interruption) and snapped his fingers three times then followed by a clap. They all nodded and transitioned back to the previous tune. He whirled back, continuing his number except this time I think he was doing it for Cass, as he danced in her general direction:
" Bright and early next morning it came right back to me! "
" She wrote upon it! "
" Return to sender, address unknown! No such person, no such zone! "
Then he pointed down at Cass and clapped awhile:
" This time I'm gonna take it myself and put it right in her hand! And if it comes back the very next day- "
He then drooped his head, and looked up at her morbidly:
" Then I'll understand! "
" The writing on it! "
The next couple of lines the background crew sang with him, slowly drowning him until by the last line he was silent:
" Return to sender, address unknown! No such number, no such zone! Return to sender, return to sender! Return to sender, return to sender! "
And when the last line fell out, he was off the stage running towards us.
"Cass!"
"Hiya Presley! Miss me?"
She rose from her seat and embraced him as he came over. He hugged her deeply. Too deeply… Huh.
"You have no idea, baby."
Cass
I felt him hold me tight. Too tight, and too long.
"Uh, Presley, ya can let me go."
He released me slowly, and he caressed his hand over my cheek. Took me a bit, but the look in his eyes… Jesus, he's relieved.
"I'm sorry… Cass, doll… I heard what happened to your Caravan. I thought… I mean there were rumors."
"I'm okay Presley. Really, I'm okay."
"Cass… whoever did this is gonna pay might fine an' dearly for it. Ya got my word on that."
"And I'm glad," I replied, tryna keep the fuckin' blues from my voice but fuck just him remindin' me off it all… damnit Cass, get a hold of yerself, "But that's not why I'm here."
"I kinda figured. Don't have the look of vengeance in your eyes yet," he then turned his head towards Gideon, "An' you're that Courier I presume?"
Gideon
I cocked my head at him.
"Courier?"
He nodded.
"Been hearin' stories about you. About a man who's cut a path through out a land of scum and all manner of villainy. A man who makes fireworks happen where ever he walks. A man some say came back from the dead."
Huh.
"I see I have a reputation."
"That you have, my friend. Heard a lot good about you."
"Right back at you."
He smiled across at Cass… and I felt a tad bit uncomfortable about. Look I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not the jealous type. And I sort of expected there to be something between these two or otherwise we wouldn't be talking. I've run into guys like this King, and they're not the usual type I end up chatting with any given Sunday.
But right now, I'm feeling a little hot under the bandages, and it's not from the Mojave sun. But I closed my one good sigh and took a long breath. I can be pissed all I want, but I need to be as diplomatic as possible. Cass may have got me through the door, but the rest is up to me and how well this first impression goes.
"I'ma 'ssuming you heard tall tales from our dear old friend here. An' I ain't all that surprised she'd be with a man like you."
I opened my eye and stared at him, doing my best to keep my cool.
"A man like me?"
"An interesting man. An' I do say you are interestin'," he smiled at me, showing his peculiar gleaming white teeth before taking a seat across from me, "looking at you, I can tell you've got plenty of good yarns and campfire spookiness to keep the kids up for years. Outta freight and wonder."
Huh. You know I feel like I want to like this guy… and I also feel like I want to slug him, too. Especially the gleam in his eye when he grinned over at Cass. What made it worse was the very same gleam in her when she grinned back. But she looked at me and it quickly disappeared.
Cass
Fuckin' hell. Didn't think Gideon would be the jealous type. I mean fer fucks sake it was only one night, fun and all but… I stopped myself right there. No, it wasn't. I kicked myself a little fer thinkin' that. Of course that ain't the fuckin' case.
I've been with a lot of men… and women if ya get me drunk enough, but none have been like this crazy son of a bitch. He breathes close calls and fuckin' danger. I dunno, guess I'm drawn to that. Certainly 'nough that I've been in more gunfights than I'd normally be in fer months an' did so against fuckin' Legion and Super Mutants. Fuck's sake.
Why'd this get so damn complicated?
Gideon
Now I feel guilty. Goddamnit. Okay, stow it Gideon. Now's not the time.
"Ya know, I never did catch your name, in spite of the legends 'bout you of course."
I extended my hand to him.
"Gideon Maddox. And yourself?"
He took it, and I felt a reserved strength in that grip. Guy knows the properties of a handshake; I'll give him that.
"Most call me the King. But Cass knows me as Presley King. An' now you do too."
"Good to meet you, Mr. King."
"Please," he smiled winningly at me, again showing those white teeth, "call me Presley. Anybody who's a friend of Cass has that right in spades."
I had to resist the urge to laugh. This guy breathes Elvis. I mean, Goddamn, this guy is like he stepped right out Blue Hawaii or Girls, Girls, Girls. And don't ask me how I've seen those movies, because I don't remember.
"Yer starin', Gideon."
"Oh, what?" I asked turning to her, but she just shook her head. I then felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and I turned back to my host. Again, all smiles and laughs.
"Don't worry your fine fiery head, Cass. I get the starin' all the time. An' I wager you're thinking 'bout now that I've stepped outta Viva Las Vegas."
"Not Viva," I replied with a slight smile, "But close enough."
"Ha! Well I'm glad to meet another truer fan. Too many folks have only heard the man's music. Ain't many that have seen the legend on silver screen."
"He should've done more Westerns. He was surprisingly good at that."
"You an' me both, my man. That happens to be one of my favorites."
"Y'know, I have to ask…"
"Why am I dressed up and actin' like the King himself. And don't gimme that look, ol' Cass. Man oughta know, an' I enjoy tellin' the yarn."
She smirked at him, and crossed her arms as she leaned into the chair:
"Oh I know, but that's kinda why. Ya start a story an' you don't stop."
"Point taken," he winked at her, "so I'll give you the Rockwell version. But first some context."
Rockwell version?
"Picture this place about ten years ago. A place of anarchy and craziness. Dog eat cat and chase the bones up a tree kinda time."
That earned a chuckled from me which earned a grin from him. He continued:
"People fightin' over space, beds an' food. Hell, anybody and everybody would fight just for the excuse of it. Then one day, a robot army lookin' like TV's on wheels come rollin' in."
"House?"
He nodded.
"The same. Demanded a meetin' of all the tribe heads. Wanted to put a stop to the violence, offered us food an' water an' all the riches men could dream of if we put aside our differences an' come work for him."
"So you built a wall?"
"More than that," he replied, "we rebuilt Vegas, gave power to the Strip. Things were lookin' good for the folk at the time."
I raised my eyebrow at him:
"You say folk as if you weren't involved."
He nodded:
"No, we weren't. I'd been running against the likes of House for years. Double face, double dealers. I didn't trust him once, an' it turns out I was right."
"What happened?"
"They kicked them out, Gid," Cass replied, "All but three of the biggest of the three tribes."
The King nodded, a dark shadow passing over his face:
"The polite version that is."
"What's the impolite?"
"See this was around the tail end of '74."
"The NCR."
"Yup. Moment the first Soldier-Boys showed, House and what would become the Three Families pointed the gun at anybody they didn't want and told them to shake a bush."
"What?"
"The boot."
"Oh. Let me guess, things got ugly?"
"That they did. Quite a few got attached to the new lifestyle. Streets ran red those days, my friend. Believe me. Then they built that wall you see around the Strip, an' here we are now. Dealin' the down an' dirty."
"So that was the context?"
He nodded again.
"This place? This religious institute, an' don't tell me it ain't, been here always. But folk always stayed away. Something 'bout it being taboo or some other nonsense. But me bein' me, I ain't too keen on listenin' to the advice of the all-powerful. So I took a peek an' I found this temple dedicated to the study of one man."
Cass laughed a little at that, and he looked at her funny. She just shook her head:
"Presley, Elvis ain't a god. He was the coolest of the cool, but nothin' much more."
"An' I disagree. People thought him God-like enough that they wanted to be like him. Talk, move, sing and act like him. If that ain't exactly like Jesus, then I don't know what is."
"So you learned how to be like him?"
"How to be him. Now I ain't got no illusions 'bout me not bein' him an' all that—"
"Though I do say you are pretty close."
"Thank you, thank you very much," he replied with a chuckle, "but I saw the greatness in this man, saw the weakness of my own, an' I wanted to be him. So every day, every year, I came here to learn. An' eventually people thought that was a good idea."
"And the worlds one and only gang of Elvis impersonaters came ta be."
"Impersonators we may be, but I like to think we keep the memory alive. An' besides, the folks needed us in those early days."
"I can imagine."
"Maybe you can, maybe you can't. But all those festivals and fun-ness outside that you see? That didn't exist all those years ago."
"Your idea?"
"More than that."
"Oh jeez, here ya go again."
He smirked at her:
"Don't mean it ain't right. See, Freeside's about an idea. That everyman is a King in his own way. That anybody and everybody should be free to choose their own destinies. That nobody: not House, Caesar an' not Kimball should tell us how to live. To truly be Free-Side."
There was a genuine passion in his eyes. It beamed bright like a hot forge and I had to admit: I found it kind of inspiring. Even if it was bullshit or a genuine article, this guy truly believed what he was saying. And honestly? There aren't many who do.
And that's kind of refreshing.
"See the key to it was community. As much as House was backstabbing in every way, man was a smart cookie. He gave people somethin' greater than they were to follow, to inspire them. Even if they don't agree, they can't help but look, right?"
"So you inspired people to become civilized?"
Cass smiled at me:
"He is the King of Freeside."
He looked hurt at this.
"No I ain't. Freeside don't need no King. I don't impose my will on folk. I just show them better ways, an' if they don't wanna follow that's perfectly fine. Just so long as people don't get hurt is all."
"Like the NCR?"
He looked at me grimly:
"I've done what I can to bring those folks into the fold. Make them one of us."
"Presley," Cass interrupted, her face masked in an eerie sense of foreboding, "I've told you, these folks aren't survivalists. Most of 'em come from soft livin'."
"And I've listened Cass. And I've tried to heed to that. I've given them a share of our crops, our water. I've even tried to show 'em how to be self-sufficient. I hoped they'd take those lessons an' be somethin' more. But those folks have done nothing but continue to push into places they don't belong, startin' up ruckus an' such. I've even had to stop shipments an' make 'em pay for them."
"And from what I've heard, there are more of them than there are of you."
"Not yet," he replied, a flash of vindictive anger crossing his face, "but there will be. An' they'll push us out if we don't do somethin'."
"Presley," Cass suddenly grabbed his hand, her eyes urgent, "whatever yer thinkin', don't do it. You push the Bear 'nough, it'll clobber you."
"She's not wrong," I added, "I've noticed the heat your men are packing, and the way they hold themselves. They mebbe eager, and while I have no doubt they'll put up a fight, they're no match for soldiers with armed with fully automatic M-16's. They will kill you and probably everybody who lives here without even batting an eye."
"Sunny, I've been dealin' with these Soldier-Boys for years. They don't have the stones for that."
"Then you haven't heard what happened to the Khans."
He raised an eyebrow:
"I know what Mr. New Vegas sayin', that they were killed carrying drugs."
"They weren't carrying drugs. They were transporting a person. A Chairmen named Benny."'
His eyes went wide:
"Benny? As in Reeves?"
"The same," Cass answered, "that fucker shot Gid here, and I've been helpin' him make his way north fer a little payback the past couple weeks."
"That sounds like you," he smirked before he turned back to me, "so lemme guess, you caught up with them Attila the Huns at Boulder City?"
I nodded:
"By the time we got there, Benny had double crossed them and let them to be surrounded by some very pissed off soldiers."
"So they shot 'em?"
I shook my head:
"They gave them terms and I convinced them to take them. They surrendered."
"So what happened?"
Cass grimaced:
"Just as they were 'bout ta high-tail 'em out, this Queen Bitch Colonel showed up with a couple tincans and had them executed."
"Queen Bitch?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as they did, "This would happen to be Cassie Moore, would it?"
I cocked my head at him:
"You know her too?"
"Oh yes," he replied a tired smile, "she can be very colorful with her threats. Last time we tangoed, she insisted on the notion of stuffing my head on a wall. Apparently, it'll go right next to Salad Tosser and the Monopoly Man."
You could imagine my face:
"Huh?"
Cass chuckled at this:
"His nicknames fer Caesar and House."
"See back in the day there was a dish called Caesar's Salad."
I laughed a little at that:
"Salad Tosser. Yeah, he'd crucify your ass for that."
He grinned at this:
"An' it would be quite the magnificent spectacle."
"And Monopoly Man? That's not some weird soup, is it?"
Cass just shook her head:
"No dummy, it's from Monopoly."
"You say that like I'm supposed to know what that is."
"Yer tellin' me ya know Looney Toons like the back of yer hand but ya don't know what Monopoly is? Wow, I've been tagging 'long with the wrong man."
I smirked back at her:
"So says the gal who doesn't know what a fish is."
"Why you little—"
"Boys, girls," King broke in with out-stretched hands, "while I may enjoy your tension, whether it is of the especially pleasant or of the erotic kind, I do presume to guess that you've come to me for help?"
She glared at me and mouthed this isn't over. I smirked back and gave her my come at me, sister expression.
"You two have issues," King chuckled, "so what can I do for you then?"
"Well straight to the point, we need to get into the Strip. And we can't do it legally. Cass tells me you have a way to do it. And I'm assuming we need to do you a favor for it."
"Ah, you know me so well," he winked at her, and I suppressed a sudden flush of heat in my guts, "you have the business model fairly clear. I have a… special relationship with Mick and Ralph down Fremont way. They produced the finest forgeries you can imagine, and at quarter the cost. However, I don't just hand those out to anybody. An' as you say, I need a favor first."
"That's why we're here, Presley," Cass replied, "what do you got fer us?"
"First things first. How many are in your posse?"
"What makes you think—"
"Cause two folk, regardless of their skill or coolness, cannot crisscross the Mojave like so without bein' easy pickin's for the ruffians of this world."
I nodded:
"Point taken. Six in total, counting me and Cass."
"Any other details I should know?"
"One's a 'bot."
"Then that'll equal you three jobs in total. Handing out a pair of fakes is a cap-a-dozen, but five flesh and bloods and one with oil in his veins is quite the investment, and those don't come cheap."
"I understand. What do you have for us?"
"Well one's pretty easy for you. Cass, you remember Oris?"
She looked at annoyed:
"Don't tell me. He's still stealin' business from you?"
"Quite so. I took him as a means to motivate my boys, but his repeat business with the clients… well once somebody who needs protection hires him, they want nobody else. Now I'm not against a well-earned competition, but my boys need a fair playing field if you know what I mean, and somehow I'm feelin' there's something more to his trade than just a few goods smiles."
"Alright, so what's next?"
"Well this next one is for a friend, Julie Farkas. You'll run into her anyways so I figured you could do somethin' she's been knockin' on me for a while now. See she runs the Old Mormon Fort, an' that means helpin' the downtrodden round here. However, those numbers have been increasin' in number recently, and I'm inclined to believe Julie on who's causin' it."
"Who?"
"A fella named Dixon. He's been sellin' some truly cheap meds that are makin' quite a few people sick. Julie will have more details on the matter."
"And the third job?"
"Now this one is gonna require some tact an' an inquisitive nose, if you know what I mean. As you know, things between us an' our new neighbors haven't exactly been all that much pleasant, an' while scuffles an' the like are somethin' of a common occurrence, this is the first it's happened to some of my own."
"Who?" Cass asked, with a note of concern in her voice.
"Roy an' Wayne, Cass. They got the blues kicked out of them an' I need to know who did the kickin'. An' considerin' what's going on tonight, I need this done with as much subtlety as you can manage."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"Oh yes, there's one more thing."
He then spun in his chair and whistled:
"Rex! Come here, boy!"
Then out of another door came running a dog—what the hell!?
"Heya, Rexie!" Cass called out to this… this thing, "was wonderin' where ya went!"
The dog-thing came running over to her, his tail wagging madly and its tongue hanging out as she scratched behind his ears.
"Aw, I missed you too— whop! Get of me ya big lug!"
The dog-thing jumped on her, licking her face as he did. I call it dog-thing because I don't know what else to call it. Where to start? How about the fact it's brain is encased in a glass cover ontop of its head? Or that three of its legs were robotic and that half of its body was made of metal?
King must've saw my face because he just smiled at me:
"He's a Cyber-Dog. An old police pooch from what I can tell. He's been my closest pal that I can think of for spin-on-tell years."
Rex then jumped off Cass and came over, cocking his head at me. I cocked my head at him and he then proceeded to sit down right in front of me, looking me over from head to toe. I eventually extended my hand to him, and he bent over to sniff it. He then followed up my arm until finally he moved up onto my lap. King laughed at this:
"He seems to taken a shine to you."
"Have you know now?" I asked the dog as he came up to my face. His nose then followed my cheek until it ended up over on the bandaged part of my face and eventually, my eye. He stayed there for a very long while, and when he returned, I swear I saw something strange in those big brown eyes of his. Pity, respect? I dunno, but I have to admit that out of all the dogs that have licked my face, this one is the first to not have terrible breath.
I moved hands over the dog, ruffling and patting him a bit. As I did, I heard Cass ask:
"So what's up with him?"
"Don't know. He's been waking up weary an' mopey in the mornings, an' sometimes he'll stay lyin' down for a good long while. Once, a full day."
"How long this been goin' on?"
"About two weeks. I thought it might be a bug he caught, but its been getting' worse."
"We'll take him over then," I answered, patting Rex on his organic side, "you're good dog, aren't you boy?"
He nodded. He just nodded?
"Did you do that?"
He nodded again, and I swear I thought I saw him smile. Cass grinned at me:
"He's a smart boy."
"I guess you are," I then got up from my chair and extended my hand to King who promptly shook it, "well, Mr. King, you have a deal."
"Likewise, my friend. I'm getting the feelin' we're going to have a great relationship."
"I hope so. Well Cass—"
I then grabbed my hat and the moment I put the hat on my crown Rex jumped back and started baring at me.
"What the hell?"
I put my hand towards him and he moved back. I looked to Cass and King and she just shook her head:
"He doesn't like people who wear hats 'cause it reminds 'em of rats."
"Huh?"
"He just doesn't like hats."
"Huh."
I took the hat off and he stopped barking. I put it back on my head and he barked. Took it off, and then slowly started putting it up to my head. He showed his fangs and growled a little. I smirked at him, and then started bring it up and down, with him going grrr for a few seconds then going silent then grrr again.
Though after a minute of doing this, he finally stopped, cocked his head at me and shot me the really? Face. I laughed at that:
"Well this is going to get interesting."
