Chapter XXII:

Freeside Blues


Unknown


"So like this?"

"Yeah, just hold it like—yeah that's good. Man oh man, just what I need. A giant to reach places."

I chuckled a little at that:

"Well I wouldn't exactly call myself a giant."

"Ya kiddin' kid? Look at me. I'm old an' frickin' short!"

"Ah, c'mon you're not that short."

"'ppreciate the effort, kid. But I'm too old for that kinda optimism. That's what yer here for."

Couldn't help but smile down at him. His name was Chester, owned a barber shop in town. Though the rumor was he also ran underground boxing rings. He was very old, and very craggy. A little, crooked back guy with a ragged rough face that looked like it could kill like Medusa, and just only the barest amount of white hair atopping his head. Still, didn't mind helpin' him out, I find him a bit funny.

Plus, it also gave a decent cover. Sure 'nough, they came out the front. And taggin' long with them was a cyber-hound. I haven't seen one of those since I worked for the Shi Emperor back in San Fran. I kept my ears popped out as I hanged the last of this boxin' skeleton up.

"Okay, just say it."

"Say what?"

"Oh, c'mon. I know ya got a little heated back there."

"Cass, I knew there had to be something between you two else we wouldn't be talking. And if there was something, I don't care."

"Bullshit. I know the look."

"What do you want me to say? Yes, I might've gotten a little miffed, but I'm not gonna start a fight over that."

I looked around and I noticed she grinned at him:

"Ah, so yer tellin' me ya wouldn't fight fer me, then?"

I expected him to take the bait, but instead he just grinned back:

"Not when the other guy owns a gang that's this armed to the teeth. I mebbe many things, but suicidality stupid isn't one of them."

"Didn't say that back in Nipton."

"Oh that was just suicidality crazy. I admit that fully. But stupid? No not really. At least with them, I'm already on their shitlist."

"Yeah, I guess we both are. 'Course, don't mind that one bit."

"I do. At this rate, I'm gonna be bankrupt from buying so many bullets!"

I had to chuckle at that. Guy was a straight up comedian. Dry wit an' all. Reminded me of Three Dog a little.

"Bow-wow, your voice in the darkness," I mused softly to myself, "or at least, the radiation!"

"Whachya say, kid?"

"Hmm, nothin'. Nothin' at all."

They started talking again:

"So 'bout last night…"

"Yeah?"

"I mean, twas all good fun an' all…"

"Good fun, eh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh shut up you!"

She slugged him in the shoulder:

"Ow! Damnit, woman!"

"I find yer lack of faith disturbin'."

"I find your oversized fists and their insistent need to slug me disturbing!"

"What can I say? Yer very punchable."

"Thanks, that means a lot to me."

"Yer welcome. But about last night— "

"Cass, if you're going to ask me how I feel about it and us, I honestly can't tell you."

"I guess I'm the same way."

"It's not like I'm going to put a ring on it."

"The fuck you just say?"

"Oh, you know, stuff. Honestly though, you could use a bath."

She grinned slyly at him:

"So could you. Next chance, I'm grabbin' a shower an' yer joinin' me."

"That sounds like a plan. Granted I pity who ever has to pay for the water."

"Fuck 'em. I used ta carry water all over the place, an' I got shot at for it. They don't get ta complain."

I placed the last of the ornaments up, and nodded to Chester.

"That looks like the last of it. Ya need anything else, old man?"

"Aw go screw yourself, ya magnificent giant. Nah, I'm good Wade. Go off and find yourself a good woman."

"That's a little complicated, Chester."

"Nothin' complicated 'bout it. Find the lass ya like, take her to bed."

"She's an Apache."

"All the better. I've had me one before, and do I wish I knew me her name. She made me feel on fire."

"I've been burned by something a lot worse, thank you very much. So, no fire for me."

"Aw, get outta here, ya hopeless scrap!"


Raul


"Hiya! I'm Ralph. And the guy with the soul patch is my brother Mick. So what can I get y'all today?"

"Clothes," laExtraña smiled at this particularly over-charming y demasiado femenino hombre-niño, though I do say his mullet does leave me slightly celos, "lots of clothes. Clothes upon clothes if you can manage."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly.

"Clothes upon clothes, you say? Well that sounds like a challenge."

He was obviously… lo que lo llaman? Disarmed? Si, disarmed. As I said, he was obviously disarmed by her diabólicos, pretty-may fare looks. Who wouldn't?

Claro, he didn't know she could probably kill him with tres o cuatro moves to the neck or some other extravagante position on the body. I stepped in, taking a good look at this descargo. Yup just as I thought, this place was a Goodwill. Well, perhaps hace dos siglos, pero still a Goodwill. It has that certain style; you know?

Kind of a jumble, with loads of everything personas don't want. It is not trash. Trash has no use. The shelves and shopping carts y tables y other such was full of junk. Junk I can use to build.

Junk has quality to it. And this is basura de calidad. Toasters, home appliances, even selling a couple ovens, eh?

"Well let's just say I'm a girl who needs the finer wares. Oh by the way, you wouldn't happen to have a dress?"

"A dress? Sorry, none of that."

"Granted," Machismo replied, "a place like this probably wouldn't sell a lot like that."

"A place like this? She maybe many things, but Mick and Ralphs is the finest establishment— "

"Ralph, stop tryna bullshit them! This place is a dump and I'm proud of it!"

Out from the back came another hombre-niño. Except this one had a block-head and of course un jodido ridículo soul-patch! Men do not have soul-patches! Men have beards! O un bigote del diablo-puede-cuidado like myself!

Only pensamientos y beatniks have solo soul-patches! Dios, I want to que hacer como Clint Eastwood did to Ramón Rojo en Un Puñado de Dólares! I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Si, deep breaths. No need for that just yet.

"If y'all need guns and the like, come talk to me in the back. If you need somethin' else, go talk to Mr. Mullet over here."

"Mr. Mullet!?" laExtrañalaughed atrozmente, "Well then, Mr. Mullet. Care to show us your wares?"

"Right this way."

He then disappeared around a corner. Veronica followed in his wake, pulling Machismo como una damisela implorante en peligro! His face was so red podría matar a un tomate from the shame of being out-rojo! He looked at me pleading as he disappeared around the corner! I just shook my head and chuckled:

"You are truly azotado, mi hijo! Azotado completely!"

"Whipped you say?" Soul-Patch smirked, "With a fine piece of— "

"You utter one more palabra," I grinned at him, mi mano on the blanket, "And I will make you," I said these next words muy cuidadosamente, taking on the exact acento Abe Vigoda used in that escena clásica, "sleep with the fishes."

"It's a long way to Lake Mead," hombre-niño replied with a grin, "man yer age— "

"Oh I can manage. Can you?"

"Probably not."

"Bueno respuesta."

"So what can I get you?"

"Well," I lopped the blanket onto the counter, desentrañar Las Manos de Dios. His face was predictable, though the whistle fue un buen toque, "I need something to hide these under, si entiendes lo que digo."

"Hand cannons like those? I think I've got a couple options. Follow me, I'll take you to my office."

I strapped on the cinturón de armas. No point in hiding them away now, eh? We headed across the length of the store, y escuché a los amantes doing their shopping. Pues, I say shopping, pero lo que quiero decir es la Extraña using Boone as a throwing mount, tossing clothes into his arms as he stood there estupefacto. I couldn't help but laugh maníaco at the pair:

"Espero you will actually be able to pay for todo ese tontería! That's a bit poco!"

"Much?" Veronica replied descaradamente, smiling from end to end, "Oh trust me, this isn't much! I haven't had a chance to do shop for clothes in…" she topped and put her finger on his lip, pensando, "years."

Machismo groaned visibly:

"This is going to take a while."

She smirked up at him, slapping him en su brazo guerrillero:

"Oh c'mon sourpuss, cheer up! This'll be fun!"

"Fun for you maybe."

"Hey, Old Man Ghoul."

I turned to see hombre-niño remiendo del alma standing at a wall. I grinned at him:

"Como? A secret door?"

He cocked his head:

"You go exploring dark-dainty castles in yer youth or somethin'?"

"No," I chuckled, shaking mi cabeza, "I've simply seen demasiadas películas."

"Eh?"

"Movies."

"Oh? Oh! Yeah, makes sense. Well as they say: Open the Sesame!"

He pulled down a lever and the wall ascended revealing un largo arsenal. It was a long hallway, con maniquíes adorned with muchos, muchos outfits. At the end, aunque, was a big prison cell full of tantas armas! There were rifles, pistolas, escopetas, ametralladoras y más. Pero, I had to shake my cabeza at his masacre del turn of phrase:

"It's just Open Sesame."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Disculpa aceptada, Miguel."

"Huh?'

"No importa."


The King


"Presley, I'm tellin' you. Ya gotta call off this stunt. It ain't safe."

"Safe? Pacer, my man, when has Freeside ever been 'safe'?"

"This is different. What happened to Wayne an' his boys… that was the NCR. It had to be."

I shook my head at my oldest friend.

"We don't know that."

"Locals know not to touch 'em. They know what they mean to us. An' those poorer-than-slime squatters ain't got the cajones for somethin' like that. It had to be soldier-boys."

"An' why would that be, Pacer?"

He didn't answer an' that gave me chills. I'd known Pacer long before I'd ever taken the mantle of King, sought to show people the way. He'd been by my side ever since. While he'd taken up my ways, he didn't right way believe 'em fully. He followed me, not my ideals.

An' while man can appreciate that kinda loyalty, it can also make 'em unpredictable. Pacer's been known for a harsh hand. I'm often the one who pulls it back 'fore it strikes too hard. I hoped to hope that what he's sayin' ain't true. I may not like those Soldier-boys, those GI-Blues, an' if I could I'd give 'em the shake; I know I can't. What Cass an' Mr. Maddox told me 'bout those Hun-boys has given me pause.

Once, I assumed that these boys were toothless coyotes. Snarl and yarl, an' all that. But never bite. Well, I think now that I'm wrong to the cold degree. But Pacer doesn't, his blood was boiled an' now I've gotta rein him in.

"Pace, I've sent Cass and her man to sort this mess out."

"Those two!?" he snorted, "Pres, lemme take my boys out— "

"No."

"But— "

"No. You know what they said."

"You trust her word over mine?"

"In this case, yes," I sighed, "Pace, times are a'changin'. An' that means we gotta change with 'em."

"How? By parlaying with the 'Devils in disguise'? Those were your words afterall."

"That they were, and they still are. But for the sake of Freeside we need to deal these people a hand— "

"Then let me take my men. Let me sort this out."

"No, Pace," I looked him squarely in eyes, "I can't afford more blood on these streets."

"That's what we need," Pace leaned in close, his hands over the table, "these folks are gonna drive us out, Pres. You know it, I know it an' they know it, too. They want this place."

"They'll never get it. Not less we give 'em cause."

He threw his arms out wide:

"Then let's give 'em cause! Let's hit 'em now! Drive 'em outta that street, outta our homes!"

"An' then what? You know how it'll end."

"It won't come to that."

"Yes, Pace. It will. An' we'll lose."

I leaned in close, grabbin' him by the neck for a little face-to-face. I need to make this point, and I need it made well.

"Right now, I need you to listen to me. I need you to believe me."

"I do, Pres. But— "

"Hush. We are in a flux, a point of no return, you understand? What we do now, an' what we do next will shape our destinies. An' our fates."

"What are you talkin' about, Pres?"

I let him go, movin' up from the table to the painting that hung over my bed. It was an old thing, a little faded, but still the wonder as it was. It was of the Colorado, a time before all this. Clean, an' free an' flowin'. Inspiring, right? But that image, that beauty, well, it's all gonna change real soon.

"There's a war comin', Pace. Not just 'tween the usual suspects, but for all. A war that's gonna decide the fates of every breathin' man, woman and child who happens to live on these sands. It'll shape our lives, shape our world. An' we need to be ready for it. We need to keep ourselves alive, and keep Freeside alive. An' if that means I have to make a deal with devils? Then so be it. That's why I've sent Cass an' her merry band to deal with this. An age is comin' to a close, Pace. It's time we embraced the new one. Before it decides to snuff us out, too."

He nodded slowly, donning his head as he did:

"I understand, Presley."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rehearsal to attend."


Gideon


"So turn here?"

"Mmm hmm."

Across the street from the giant Bomb-riding Cowboy, we headed down another side street full of vagrants and a lot of loose shopping carts. Up ahead, we spotted a giant neon sign made from a dozen different style letters, and a few letters, that read in reds, blues, and yellows:

Mick&Ralph5 C0nven1enc3 & P8wn1ng.

"Huh. Interesting spelling choice."

"Ya try getting' yer hands on a complete set of matchin' neon's."

I smirked at her:

"When I do, I'll let you know."

She rolled her eyes at me:

"Sure. C'mon."

I suddenly froze and turned around. Behind me was just an open street but I swear I thought I heard something. My eye scanned the area, noting the people milling about ahead. There was a shuffle to my right and I turned to see Rex standing there, watching the road, too. He sniffed at the air, and his ears perked up.

Then he looked up me:

"Aroo?"

I sighed to myself and nodded:

"Yeah. Feel it too, huh?"

He nodded slowly. I'm still marveling at this little guy's smarts. Well, guess when your brain is in a jar you kinda have to be, I suppose. I rubbed his head a little as I turned:

"C'mon, let's get a move on."


Pacer


He just doesn't get it. An' that's the problem with ol' Pres. He sees glamor an' hope when there ain't none. Oh sure, he can stand at the masses an' play Christ, an' probably get a run on it. But he ain't got it in him to do the nasty stuff, the bloody things needed to keep us a float.

It's not that he's all-highly-and-mighty or he ain't got the stones. Trust me, he does. I've seen him kneecap dealers an' personally string up Raider schmucks who thought it smart to pillage on our side of town. An' that's the problem. His hearts got too much light, an' not 'nough dark.

He'll play the good-guy, getting' the girl an' blast the baddies. But what happens when he needs to play the bad-guy? Especially when our 'fates', as he calls it, are hangin' in the balance? He ain't wrong, we're about to enter a war. But it's the wrong war he's thinkin' about an' it's coming to our doorstep.

Every day, every week and every month, more of those Cali's show up. More an' more, and no-ones doin' anything to stop 'em. Eventually, there's gonna be more of 'em than us. When that day comes we ain't gonna be able to stop them. That's why I have to do what I have to do.

I've gotta send the message that the Kings, and Freeside, are not to be fucked with. I reached the backdoor, an' I knew from the ciggy smoke who was waitin' for me.

"Ya call fer me boss?"

I turned to find Lenny Canalla starin' me down with that reeking rollup of his. He looked like some kinda mail man, or runner boy ya find in New Reno or someplace. Complete with that patchwork Tweed Cap of his, and his rat lookin' face. Still, he an' his musty boys were my eyes when I needed 'em.

"Got me a real problem, Lenny. King's sendin' some folks down to go check on Wayne an' his boys. I need you an' your crew to keep your noses on 'em. Watch what they do. Oh, an' tell Orris he might be expecting company."

"Got it boss, I'll pace the word. But uh, what 'bout Fixer an' his brew? Got word that Ghoul Broad's got a fixin' to pay him a visit. An' not the customer kind, if ya catch my drift. Big Sal might not like his flow gettin' disrupted it ya know what I mean."

"I'll handle Sal. It was a mistake lettin' his shit on our streets. I thought I could mean some dough off him, but that stupid fuck doesn't know restraint. Nah, let her grease him. I mean, they can't trace 'em back to us, right?"

He shook his head.

"Nah, boss. Whole point. What's the word, anonymity? Yeah, that's it."

"Still make sure you cover our tracks. I want your sniffers on him to make sure nobody gonna be fishy."

He tipped his Tweed.

"Gotchya covered there, boss."


Raul


"That one."

"This one? I mean there are— "

"No me escuchaste? When I said that one, I mean that one."

"'kay, just looks… y'know, kinda ridiculous."

"If you knew it's historia, you would not question it in la menor. All I need now is a hat, pero no uno de estos. Now, how much for it?"


Veronica


Hmm, this one? Well, it doesn't fit too well with this color. Nah. Maybe this one? Oh no, go away you!

I plucked another lob of clothing from the rack I'd picked out.

"Maybe this one? Or maybe this one?"

Suddenly Boone called through the door:

"Do you always take this long to pick your clothes?"

"It hasn't been that long!"

"It's been thirty minutes."

I smiled slightly at that.

"It's a long process, Boone. I have to find something that looks nice, yet form fits, yet is practically and is— "

"I get it. You have to look nice. Just make up your mind already."

I just shook my head at him, and sighed:

"You were married, Boone. Didn't your wife— "

I stopped in my tracks, my hands going up to my mouth. Oh God, why did I have to bring her up? You stupid, stupid, dunderhead.

"Boone, I'm sorry."


Boone


No. Don't think about her. Bury it. Bury it, damn you. She's dead.

Nothing I can do about it. I clenched my hand into a fist. I felt the urge to punch something. I took a breath, slowed down. But doing that just made me remember.

Remember her. Remember how we met. Remember her voice. Her sparkling dress. Remember the look she gave me; how talkative she was.

How I could just walk along, listening to her talk. Didn't need to speak, just listen. It suited me fine. Didn't often have anything to say. Just like now.

"Boone, I'm sorry. I didn't mean— "

She stopped mid-sentence. Know why. I just shook my head. I clenched my fist tighter. Felt a fire in my throat, felt a need to unleash it.

No. Not with her. Never with her. She pulled you back. Kept you from going over the edge.

Let go, damn you. Let go.

"She did."


Veronica


"What?"

"What you were going to ask. She did. Would spend hours and hours in places like this. Never buy, just look. Just try them in the mirror. Just— "

I felt that silence, the silence I'm all too familiar with. The one that always haunts me when I think of… when I think of Christine. I felt something on my face, and I moved to wipe it away. Oh God, I'm crying. Damn it girl, just suck it up already you—

I stopped myself, and I just sighed, closing my eyes as I did.

"Christine was like that too."

"Christine?"

"She was— "I froze there, thinking about what we were. Lovers would be one way of saying it. We did—I did love her, but we weren't like him. Married. I just shook my head and continued, "we were... close, I guess you could say. Anytime we were out on recon patrols, or req. duties, or just someplace topside… would always drag her to places like this. We never had a lot of caps on hand, the Brotherhood provides everything for you, so a lot we'd get by doing some off-hand scavenging. Selling some junk here and there. So, we'd never get a chance to buy fancy things, or… really anything for that matter."

I felt the urge to sit down. I guess I did a bit more than that. I slumped against the door, bowing my head between my knees.

"I just liked to come to these places. See what could've been. What I wanted us to be. Never happen I know, but…"

I closed my eyes, wiping away more of my tears. I wanted to keep talking, but I felt my voice dry up in my throat.

"It was nice to think about."

I craned my head at his direction. I could hear him moving. Feel the weight on the door moving down until I knew he was right across from me. I could hear him sigh as he continued:

"She was the same way. Dreamed of us being places. Being somewhere else. Always dreaming… always wishing. She… she never liked Novac. The look of it… Manny thought she was just…"

"Just what?"

"He… didn't like her. Because of me. I know it. I accepted it. But he didn't see her eyes. What she saw when she looked at Novac."

He stopped and I felt the same sorrow in him as I did with me. I wanted to reach through the door, maybe cradle his big rough, all-too-bottled-up-seriousness. So I asked the painfully obvious:

"What did she see?"

"Horror," he replied after a while, "and pain. Like me after…"

He stopped again. I felt the urge to ask what, to see this horror, these demons plaguing him. But I know from personal experience what happens when you push too far. They either push back… or they go further into the darkness. I know because I've seen that darkness, after Helios.

I thought I lost everything. Well, I did. But I still had things… people, to keep me here. Now, I have even more. And I won't push them away.

"She never told me why. And I never asked. I just—I just wanted her to be happy. She was someone I could…"

"Someone you could give your heart to, no questions asked?"

"Yes."

I sighed.

"Me too."

I shook my head and laughed a little:

"Reality stinks."

I swear a heard a muffled chuckle through the door:

"Yeah. But I'm used to it."

"You and me both," I sighed, rising to my feet and picking out my choice, "I'll be out in five minutes."

"Take your time."

I grinned at that:

"Ooh, don't tempt me. I just might."


Raul


As I strapped on El Manos de Dios, y slipped them under el lana poncho, I heard a buzzing behind me. I smiled as I turned to face el máquino:

"Hey Pequeño! Couldn't get enough of Tío Raul, eh? Well, I'm not surprised. Eh? What are you looking at?"

I moved across el cuarto over to where Pequeño was hovering. There was a glass case there.

"Hey, que pasa?"

He turned to me and played a tune:

" This is my dreeeaammm! This is hooopppeee! "

"Your hope? Qué absurdo son— "

Y when I saw it, I almost feel to my knees! Fue demasiado gracioso! I laughed y laughed until there were tears in my eyes! Wait, I still have tears? Dios mío, me he puesto suave!

" Whachya find sooo humorous, pardner? "

It took me a minute para obtener mis rodamientos!


Gideon


The bell rang as I pushed the door in. Up ahead, I heard the rough laughter that I knew could only belong to one person. And that was confirmed a second later. I mean, c'mon. How many folk this place actually freely speak Spanish?

"Tu? A Superman costume! No lo creo! Ha ha ha ha!"

A Superman costume? What the hell?

" Better believe it! It is my dreeammm ta be a maaannn! "

"Él no es un hombre! He's an alien!"

" What matter difference has that gotta maaakkkee!? "

"All the difference, tu gober!"

I rounded the corner, Cass close on my six as she bellowed:

"The fuck are you guys shoutin' 'bout— "

She froze in mid-sentence and started laughing hysterically, pointing at the pair. When I came about, I immediately saw why:

"Raul, what the fuck are you wearing?"

He shrugged his shoulders at me:

"Como, jefe? I needed to cover El Manos de Dios, after all!"

Barely able to control herself, or even make a coherent sentence, Cass just cackled:

"Nice blanket!"

His face shot up with hot indignation, throwing his hands into the air as he shouted:

"It is not a blanket! Es un poncho!"

It was actually a poncho. Faded green wool, a little ragged, with white checkered designs on the collar forming a v with one straight across the chest. I think I've seen this poncho before… meh, I still need to give him shit!

"Yeah well you can still use it as a blanket, so technically speaking it's still a blanket!"

Cass was thrown into even more hysterical laughter, falling over onto her back. Raul looked like he was going to explode:

"Oh por el amor de la mierda!"

I'm sorry, I just can't pass this opportunity up!

"Raul, no offense man, that just looks fucking ridiculous!"

He jabbed a finger at me, his mustache twirling so much I thought they were gonna fall off:

"You… I thought more highly of you!"

I gave him my own shit-eating grin:

"Oh really?"

"Si! I thought you were a un hombre de historia! I thought you would appreciate historia cuando la ves!"

Oh! I know where that's from!

"Raul, you are not the Man with No Name, no matter how badly you want to be!"

"Would you like to put that to the test!?"

He threw back the Poncho, revealing his strung across holsters, his hands hovering over their contents. I threw out my hands:

"Oh no! I've been shot enough for today! Take that back, a whole month!"

Still cackling, Cass smirked at me:

"Pussy!"

I turned down to her, shit-grinning her as I did:

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did you happen to get shot in the face and come back from it? No? Then don't talk shit, woman!"

She glared at me, leaping from the floor:

"You call me woman one more time-!"

"Woman."

And she was going to explode, too! I just smirked and crossed my arms at her. Raul just shook his head:

"You two have issues."

"You have more."

"Si, lo hago."

"Hey!" Veronica called from another room, "What's going on in there?"

She and Boone crossed over into the room, and when they did, she just smiled at Raul and craned her head like she was observing the microbes in his poncho:

"Well, I think that suits you!"

Boone nodded in agreeance:

"Yeah… it does. You've gone full western."

Raul smiled from ear to ear, clapping his hands together:

"Gracias, tus pichones! Finally, someone who appreciates buena moda when they see it!"

Veronica just chuckled at him:

"Still need a hat!"

"Si, I will get one soon! So, neo look?"

Oh yeah, you could say that. I remembered she still had a pretty sizable hole in her armor, and I doubt she'd want to keep wearing that burlap robe without it. She was wearing green work pants, complete with lots of pockets and what I knew from sight to be black combat boots with steel toe caps. Above that, she had a knitted black top cut at the shoulders. On her arms were black sleeves that showed her impressive figure, stopping short and leaving her shoulders exposed (she must've been in that suit for months, her skin could really use a tan).

She had some pretty worn brown leather gloves, the knuckles black from some kind of hard polymer… yup, so those are SAP Gloves. I haven't seen those since… New Reno? I've been to New Reno? Huh. Anyway, she had a burlap scarf around her neck, along with the cap Boone had given her.

Other items of notice, her belt had a couple of pouches around her hips and back. Was going to say something, but Cass kinda beat me to the punch:

"Gotta say Girlie, ya look nice."

"Ah, thank you!"

"Yeah," I chuckled, "does kinda fit— "

And then I felt my arm getting slugged. Fuck! I should've saw that coming!

"For fuck's sake, Cass!" I exclaimed as I messaged my arm. She just cackled some more at me:

"Told ya not ta call me woman!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Suddenly V pointed behind me, shrieking like a fat kid in a candy shop:

"Ah! You got a dog!"

We all turned to see Rex step into the shop, looking up at all of us with his tongue hanging out.

"Folks," Cass gestured, "this is Rex. Rexie, say hi ta— "

There was a sudden, electronic shrill and ED-E zoomed right over to Rex, almost knocking me over. He bore down on the canine, growling incoherent babble. Rex in turn snarled, going on all fours and bearing his fangs. The two literally started circling one and another, like… well, two dogs about to rip each other's throats out.

"Hey, guys cut it— "

When I reach my hand out, they both spun and growled at me. When I backed off, they continued to circle, snarling and scowling as they did. Suddenly ED-E snorted, his voice having an almost metallic but strangely human twang to it:

"Your move, creep!"

Suddenly, Rex pounced ED-E; digging his fangs into his armored helm and almost toppling him over. ED-E whirled and bobbed, trying to knock the dog off him. But Rex just kept holding on, and before we knew it he came crashing right through us. We dodged and rolled to the side, except for V who was broadsided and knocked to the floor.

"Ow," she groaned. ED-E now was going crazy with his shaking, smacking into walls and knocking over stuff on every counter and bookshelf in sight. Then he started throwing the canine against any kind of hard surface he could manage, but Rex just refused to budge.

" Get offa my back! " ED-E suddenly shouted with his rock n' roll playing, " And into my game! "

Suddenly there was a massive discharge of electricity, a shower of smoke and one shrieking dog.

" Get outta my way! And outta my brain! "

Then ED-E bucked the canine off of him, throwing him against a table. The dog, however, did not stay down. Shaking his fur, he rose right back to his legs and leapt off the table. ED-E whipped to the side, missing the canine by inches. Rex whipped around and snarled at him:

"ROOF!"

" Get outta my face! Or give it your best shot! "

Rex smiled at him. Yeah, I shit you not, I saw him open his jowls and smile at him. That was when I realized his fangs weren't… well, normal. They were metal, gleaming in the lamp light. And when I looked at ED-E, you could see the bite radius along the rim of his helm.

"AROO!"

" You think you can take me on? You must be crazy! There ain't a single thing you've done that's gonna phase me! "

The two started circling each other again, Rex drawing his fangs and ED-E bowing low like he was getting ready to pound him:

"ROWF!"

" Ooh, but if ya wanna have a gooooo! I just wanna let you knooowww! "

BANG!

Everybody dropped to the floor, going for our respective sidearms. I had my Colt drawn and I came up to one knee, but I lowered it when I saw who the shooter was.

"Hey, numbskulls!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, removing a pair of ear muffs, his other hand cradling his scattergun, "Nobody kills anybody in my frickin' store. If ya wanna kill each other, take it outside!"

He then pointed the scattergun right at the pair, and I swear I heard ED-E gulp:

"Well, he started it!"

Rex then nipped at him, ED-E bobbed away shouting:

"Hey!"

"I don't frickin' care who started it! Either make up right now, or take it outside, or I'll fill ya both fulla lead!"

"Mick, ya stupid fucker! What have I told you 'bout blowing holes in the ceiling!?"

He whirled around, shouting at someone out of sight:

"An' I'm the one who said we shouldn't let frickin' 'bots in here! They keep stirrin' shit up!"

"And I told you— "

I leaned over to Cass, and whispered softly:

"These guys gonna do this for a while, right?"

She nodded, and I gestured to everybody else to listen:

"Then let's slip out quiet-like before they notice."

Raul held up his hand, and pulled a bag of caps. He pointed to V, who looked at Boone, who shrugged his shoulders. V craned her head, looked over her clothes, and then signaled Three-Zero.


Unknown


That shotgun blast had me worried. My boss's employer has plans for him, and the last thing I need is to say Sorry, boss all you're gettin' is a corpse. I could imagine Cortez's face at that. I'd probably lose my job after that. But a minute later, literally all of them came out.

Cass just shook her head:

"Okay, that was just nuts."

Gideon smirked:

"You kidding? I've seen worse."

Almost at the exact same time, the dog and ED-E both barked at him. Then they looked at each other. Well, more like glared. Gideon then turned about and just threw his arms into the air:

"Would you two knock this shit off!? I don't need you two tearing up everything we go through!"

Raul just chuckled at that:

"No conozco jefe! I could make a business off these two!"

Cute One… what's her name? Whatever, she added to this, smilin' cutely as she bellowed like an announcer:

"The Ultimate Grudge match!" she spread her arms wide, "The crazy Eye-Bot versus the wacky Robo-dog! Coming to a ring near you!"

"I'd pay to see that," Boone nodded simply. The dog and ED-E just looked at them like you guys are crazy and then back at each other. They craned their heads, looking at each other strangely.

"Aroo?"

The dog then extended his paw up to the eye-bot, who looked at him, at his paw and then sighed.

" Ain't got time for fightin' anyway, pardner! "

Wow. The eye-bot actually shook the pooch's paw. Well, sort of. Had to bend an' all and shake with his head… body? Whatever, could really use some arms.

"So," the Cute One interrupted, "what's the word with the King?" she then giggled like a little girl, "Oh and any chance I could meet him? I've always wanted to meet Elvis Presley!"

Boone just shook his head:

"Elvis is dead."

She shot him an annoyed look:

"Fine. The closest to an Elvis Presley."

Chuckling, Cass grinned at the pair of them, addressing him:

"Don't worry yer head 'bout it. He has that effect with all the girls. And ta answer yer second, maybe."

She looked at her in horror:

"What do mean maybe?"

"I mean maybe."

"But— "

"Ahem," Gideon interrupted, "don't mean to spoil your fangirling— "

"Fangirling!?"

"Yes, fangirling. But we're here on business, remember?"

"Fine, fine. So, what is the word?"

"Three favors, well technically four if you count Rex, for 6 passports."

"Which are?"

Cass stepped in:

"One you and me are doin', girlie. Let's go, I'll fill you on the details."

"Wait, why me?"

"'Cause yer cute and innocent lookin' and all that. Gonna need that."

Shit, that's gonna complicate things.

"Aw," Cute One visibly blushed as the two walked out, "you flatter me, Cass!"

"Now donchya get any ideas, darlin'. Sure, get me 'nough booze and I might consider it."

"Oh?" she smiled sly, "Consider what?"

"Don't make me spell it out. Girl knows how 'nother swings. Though yer havin' swingin' choice issues."

"Aw, you know me so well."

Gideon swung round and waved at them:

"You two have fun!"

Boone came up to him:

"Where they going?"

Gideon came about and grinned disarmingly, put his hand on his shoulder:

"Don't worry, she'll take care of her. Or… maybe the other way around, I dunno."

"Thanks," he replied neutrally, lookin' him hard like Sarah Lyons on a bad day, "but I'd rather know."

He shrugged simply:

"Apparently, there's a guy named Orris who's cutting in on the King's protection business. They're just gonna go check him out, make sure he ain't dirty."

Orris. Okay, I'll need to get in touch with Cortez and get some people to shadow 'em… hmm, I think I know who, too.

"I see."

Again, he smiled at him:

"Boone, c'mon. Considering what we've fought this last week, I don't think some greaser's gonna be that much of an issue."

He nodded simply:

"So, where we going?"


Cortez


There is something about the engineering of a firearm that fascinates me. Is it the cold steel finish, the elegance of its refinement by designers who'd put even the Gun Runners to shame? Or is it the complexity of its working parts? So many small, unseen cogs all functioning together to something greater. That should one part fail: the rest would follow in its wake?

Or is it just mewling's of an old soldier about his trade of business? I have killed many men with this instrument. And many more like it. Yet, this one is something truly special. To me, at least.

One might find it surprising, considering my background. I suppose it is. I trained with all weapons, of course. Became quite good with all of them. But to me, and those who served me when we had a cause beyond just money and clients, our trade was with the harness of plasma.

Plasma is lethal. It is efficient. It leaves nothing of its target save for a grave reminder to those who oppose me. Oppose Nova America. It was our signature, our calling card.

But there is something… personal. Personal about a firearm. Personal about its feel, about its history. A feat of engineering that has stood the test of a millennium. Something beyond simple words… instinctual.

When you looked down the barrel of a firearm, see the darkness there waiting for you… provides a moment of clarity. A moment, just a moment. To see your life, see who you are… what you are… everything that led up to your moment of truth. Then that moment is gone. Replaced by a coldness.

Yet, with plasma… there is only a flash. Only fire. No clarity. No insight. Only death.

"A tasteless death."

There is message there. A message that can't be made with such inhumanity. A strange concept, I know. But death is meaningless without the personal fiber to elevate it. That is among the reasons the Enclave never would conquer its enemies.

You can vaporize all you wish. But without that message… without that moment of clarity, locked upon their faces… you lose an effectiveness. Perhaps because there is nothing to see, save for a pile of goo. No personal fiber for one to see, no horror to imagine. No real fear.

There is fear seeing inhumanity. But no pure, cerebral fear. The Greeks called it Phobus. A pure desolation of the soul… a burning of hope… a stoppage of opposition. Rather, you leave room for a unifying strength to come together.

And for this, for underestimating its even… weakest, opponents… for not getting that point across: The Enclave fell to its own hubris. I can only hope I do not fall to the same…

"Mistake."

This weapon, this Colt Model 933, is a relic from the past. Pax Americana. Much like my employer. It is elegant yet efficient, compact yet accurate. A paratrooper's weapon, much shown by its green camouflage, and of course its users symbol.

"All-American."

To most, a catchy phrase. A uniqueness to the weapon. Yet, they would not understand its history, nor the history of its owner. The 82nd Airborne were legendary daredevils: fearless and fully capable of matching any they faced.

However, that is not where they got their name from. The name came from its founding. It conscripted soldiers from all states of America. All men, all walks of life… All-American. A true symbol of American unity, a merging of differences into a formidable weapon.

I have based the founding of my Gunners in much the same way. All 100 members are not the same in any shape… or form. Unlike the Legion, the Republic or my former employers, I do not seek to stamp out these differences. Rather I have left them be. Let them flourish.

Some might see this as chaos. As a gaggle to fall to pieces. That uniformity is the standard for any standard army. This is the price of old thinking. Of paying tribute to older… antiquated, ideals.

I do not seek to resurrect the dead. This was death of the Enclave, and one day the Republic and the Legion. Instead, I seek something new. And yet… something old. I look to the past, but only for inspiration… not for manifest.

By leaving difference, the variation of cultures and people, I have allowed for a greater degree of loyalty than possible with any total uniformity. I have given them freedom. Freedom to be… without judgement. Now, I have given them purpose. Purpose… through me.

Raiders, mercenaries, tribals, soldiers, travelers, vigilantes… all different, yet all the same. In Feudal Japan, there was a phrase for us.

"Ronin."

Warriors without country. Without masters. That is what unifies us. Our past, our profession our… differences. These are our strengths and these will be our future.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come."

It was Breaker, my comm. officer. Ex-prospector, ex-Disk Jockey. Found him in a no-name town outside of Boise, Idaho. Master of his craft, though not when it comes to not getting himself mauled by Yao Gui. Also had a habit of chewing bubble gum… constantly.

"Gotta a message from Wade, boss. Hot off the press."

He handed me a print-out. With our operations, clandestine and covert… much to my employers wishes, and my own, the need for silent communication became paramount. Too many eyes in the city for simple runners, even with the Hive's many entrance points. Dead Drops are efficient, but are far too slow for our pace of transfers. Radio's would be logical; however, the Republic owns the air.

Even with encrypted data, it could be traced. Followed back to us. Not our employer's wishes, or designs. Not yet anyway. So, I taught my Gunners a method the Tesla Corps taught me.

Not exactly Morse Code. My own modifications. However, it is silent and untraceable to all who do not know our code. I read through the message, deciphering the many dots, lines and dashes into… comprehensible, messages:

Status [Stop] Require… Eyes [Stop] Package… Split… Pairs [stop] Request… Apache… Shooter [Stop]Alpha… Plaza [Stop] Confirm [Stop] Confirm [Message End]

I handed the print-out back to Breaker.

"Send a confirm message."

He nodded:

"Roger, boss."

I sighed deeply. A day ago, Victor spotted Gideon and his posse heading north… towards Vegas. House requested we keep eyes on them at all times. Watch what they do, where they go, and most importantly… at least to House personally, how they interact. It is no secret that Freeside is a tender and the match is close at hand, and House sees this as a way of… procuring data.

It is also no secret that I do not trust this one-eyed-cowboy, nor the colorful companions he's acquired. They're a… wildcard, so to speak. A rogue element. No way to know how they'll take our operations, or House's designs, until they see for themselves. But I am not House, and Robert holds our contract, so his orders are gold.

So, I've sent my best man for the task, though the term 'man' for him is something of a… dispute, among those who've been with me the longest. Wade Nilsson, regardless of his young age, is perhaps my most loyal soldier. Perhaps because I see something in him that I once saw in me? After all, we both came from a childhood stripped from the both of us, and yet persevered. I might dare even say that in the wastes… found our truer selves, and our… truer callings.

After all, not many can boast they'd crossed the ruined span of this continent. Travelling from Washington, this Capital Wasteland, to find himself in the crime ridden slums of Chinatown. All alone, and yet alive. And… stronger, for those reasons. And in the desolate palace of the Shi and their mechanical Emperor, I found him and gave him a place among my fellow warriors.

He has served by my side ever since. He is only 19, but he fights like any veteran… thinks, like any veteran. And he has never shown greed, or wrath in his duties. Only devotion. Only loyalty.

These are the reasons I've sent him forth… well that and the fact he was returning from a month-long assignment, so he was closer. And now he requires assistance. I will gladly grant him this.


Benny


"I told you once, Benny. And I'll tell you again. I'mnotinterested!"

"C'mon on Jue…"

"Don't. Don't call me that."

I smiled my platinum-apiece smile, and she grew a might bit redder in the cheeks:

"Didn't say that a month ago… under the covers I mean."

I saw that slap coming from a skyline away, but I didn't care much. I like her better when she's angry. Still got that ol' Raider in her, much as she cares to deny it. Once used to run with a gang outside the Boneyard. Vipers, can tell from her mohawk, worst of the worst till them California boys put them down like Vermin.

I still question how she survived all those bullets, but I've seen the scars. All of 'em, and trust me, they ain't pretty. Got nursed up by those do-gooders, and at the end, our Julie Farkas decided to join 'em too. Lucky bastards are what they are. She should be rolling high suites with the finest company, but they send her to this slimehole. But she don't complain, see?

Takes the mission with pride, head held high, dig? And that's why those do-gooders are lucky. And why I'm lucky to spend the odd night with her when I get the chance. I messaged my jaw, smiling, as she gave me that ol' Medusa stare:

"You're despicable, Benny."

"And that's why you love me, doll. 'Sides, you haven't heard what I have to offer."

"I don't need to. It's another plot to dethrone House."

"Right you are, but— "

"Benny, you've become obsessed over this. It's going to get you killed."

"Nah. If this place hasn't been able to kill me yet, it probably won't. Besides, I've got the keys to the castle right here."

I tossed over the chip onto the table. She looked at it, picking it up.

"What is this?"

"That, Jue, is something House's been trying to get his hands on for the past couple centuries. Something that'll change the game. Give this place a fighting chance."

She looked me annoyed:

"But what is it exactly?"

"It's a data-chip. According to Yes-Man, it has all sorts of secrets on it."

"Let me guess. You want help opening it?"

"Well, you already got Emily and her tech boys doing— "

"I've told them to stop."

"What? Why? You have no love for House, and for what he's been doing."

"No, I don't. But House is not an enemy I need right now."

"House is the enemy, Jue."

"Benny, look around you! This place is falling apart at the seams, and we're barely holding it together! I do not need you bringing more trouble on my people!"

"Jue, House is gonna push you out and these folks out if we don't do something!"

"Don't play Samaritan with me, Benny. I know you. I know why you're doing this, and I do not care! So take your chip," she tossed it right back at me, "and get out of here!"

"Jue— "

"Go!"


Wade


Alpha Plaza was our nickname for the unused parking lot behind the equally unused Super-Duper-Mart. Every time I see this place, I keep thinkin' of those Raiders who camped out in a place just like this one back in the Capital Wasteland. Ran into 'em a few times, but never bothered to go in. Wasn't crazy enough to do so. But I didn't need to… I think.

Word was that guy from that Vault… 101, I think. Anyhow, most people called him the Lone Wanderer… well, I say most but I really mean Three-Dog.

"People of the Capital Wasteland! It is I, Three-Dog, your ruler! Hear me and obey! Hehe! Oh, I'm sorry children. I couldn't resist rubbing into ol' Eden's face," I remember chucklin' at that, all those years ago, "May he rot in peace! Anyhow, got some great word about that Kid from Vault 101. Y'know, the Lone Wanderer? Ah, you know who I'm talkin' 'bout."

Night after night, I'd always tune into GNR. Listenin' till I slept. Hearin' the stories of the Lone Wanderer an' his band of wasteland 'venturers and vigilantes. Goin' from place to place, righting wrongs and the like. Used to make me sleep better at night. Funny part was, though, that he may have saved my ass probably a hundred times in the past four years.

I pulled around my bag and pulled out my hard copy of The Wasteland Survival Guide. Thing was pretty ragged, all white with a half black skull on the cover. I opened the cover, found penned there:

Co-Author and Expert of Subject Matter – Benjamin 'Benjie' Joseph Kane

Co-Author and Editor-in-chief – Moira Brown

Noted Survival Specialists:

Sydney Corban Kane, Merc and owner of Moonbeam Armaments [next time some egg-head tells you finding a historical document is a good idea, do yourself a favor and shoot him in the face]

Charon, bodyguard [don't trust people who smile when they talk. They always have an angle]

Sergeant RL-3, robotic soldier [nothing quite like the smell of cooking Raiders, monsters, and Commies in the morning]

Nadine, Skipper of the Duchess Gambit [don't get on strange boats with stranger men, let me tell you]

Elliot Tercorien, travelling doctor [always assume someone, or something, is watching you. You look up at the stars, don't forget something else is looking right back]

A forward by Benjie:

Let me start with this: where ever you are: cold, hungry, lost and confused… I've been there too. I was born and raised in a Vault, and when the day came for me to eventually make myself new out in the wastes… well, I won't sugar coat it for y'all.

I got my ass kicked, cooked and handed to me more times than I can count. I got sick, bone-broken and shot at 'cause of my many, MANY, dumb rookie mistakes. Truth be told, I'm only alive 'cause of some seriously dumb luck… and of course having friends I could count on. But trust me… that was a long and damnably hard road for me to take on.

So, that's why this book was written. For YOU. I went through hell learning how to survive. I'm going to make that less painful for you. This book is full of everything I learned from a very long list of misadventures, plus the lessons of those who taught me how to survive. Trust me, I went through a lot of pain getting this thing written (thanks, Moira!)

(MB: Hey, what's a little Radiation poisoning among friends, eh?)

Let me tell you something you need to know, and something you need to carry with you till the day you hit the grave. Life ain't green grass and meadows. It is mean and ugly, and it'll beat you to a pulp if you let it. Only way you survive is you get back up and learn how to take the hits, and give 'em right back.

Hopefully, this book will give you the tools to build those talents. If not, well, you can sue me in Hell or Heaven or where ever you end up.

There was sudden rattlin' sound and I knew I was about to have company. Everything around the mart was shakin', trashcans falling over. Most would be pretty freaked out about it, thinkin' it was quake back in Frisco. But wait a few seconds and you see what it really is. Up ahead of me the road dropped down and then slid in under the rest of the mart.

That revealed a metal flattop, which broke apart with a loud hiss. That revealed a stairwell, and soon after, my backup.

"Ya'ateh, Wade!"

I smiled a little as I answered back:

"Da'anzho, Illie."

Illanipi, or Illie as I called her, once a time ago was my instructor when I joined Cortez's Gunners. Now, she was my closest friend. Well, one of them anyway. She'd been a Ndee Apache, livin' with her clan out east in Arizona at a place called Rez. Then the Legion came.

They were taken into slavery. Her mother died protectin' her till she was old enough to do herself. She spent five years in the court of Caesar, until the day Cortez raided the encampment she was at. Freed her, took her as one of his own. And in the end she ended up showin' me the ropes when it was my turn.

She's perhaps the best tracker I've ever met. But then again, that really ain't all that much of a surprise. She was a tad short, but well honed. Had smoke-like skin with heart shaped face, thick black hair life a buffalo's, matched with stunnin' emerald eyes that looked at you like a hunter at work. Could tell everythin' about you just from a glance.

Granted, she had the look of always being pissed. Like she was always snarlin' at somethin'. That ain't her fault, actually. Her face was broken in so many times she suffered nerve damage in the lower left part of her face, 'cluding her cheek, chin and parts of her lip. Funny part was, she figured it's what gave her charm and always keepin' the 'gropey hands out of my pants'.

She was wearin' black and blue cotton pants and shirt, long with a cut-off sleeve biker vest and red strips wrapped around her forearms. And course her long moccasins, and her red bandana looped around her forehead. She walked up to me, shakin' her head as she glared at me:

"You got uglier, Wade. Someone got tired of you stealin' their women? 'cide to put you in the mud?"

I smirked a little:

"Yeah. Could say that. Still got his girl in the end."

She just shook her head and half smiled, half scowled:

"Stupid."

She then embraced me tightly, holdin' me there like a damn Yao Gui.

"I missed you, ya stupid, reckless brat."

"Brat?" I chuckled as hugged her back, "You're only five years older than me!"

"Still a brat. Swear you're still makin' same rookie mistakes ya did when I first beat ya in."

"Ha ha, you didn't beat me in."

"Really?"

She gave me her classic killer-scowl, like one seriously pissed off Rattler. And when I gulped, like I always do, she again half grinned-half-snarled at me.

"Hey! You chiquillas gonna forget I'm here too?"

"Sorry Miam," I chuckled as I pushed Illie off me, "I missed you too."

"Likewise, you giant klutz. Come here."

"Yeah alright."

Teresa Miam was our teams Designated Marksman. Ex-First Recon, still wears their colors with pride. Used to be a game hunter back in the day, way back in Baja. Republic came in, offered her a place. Served years till somethin' bad happened, and she filed her discharge papers.

Left without another word. Won't talk about it, and I don't push it.

"So, got anything for me, chico?"

"Yeah."

When I was up in Redding, came across a Vault-Tec HQ. Miam's always lookin' for more Vault-Boy bobble heads to add to her collection. And this one was one she'd been looking for years. Clover leaves and all.

"A Lucky Irish? Aw, thanks."

"Hey, no problem."

Miam was a little taller than me, thirties (I never asked her exact age), with smooth bark colored skin, short cropped black hair tucked into her red beret. She had a face like she belonged to some beauty mag or something, and complete with those aviators she always wore: made her look like one cool action star. 'side from that, still wore her plain tan BDU's she got from Recon, 'cept with the all-sage-green flight jacket and her cowboy boots.

"So," she shoved the bobble head into her coat as she grinned at me, "heard you needed some help?"


Gideon


"Okay so how does this work? We say a pass phrase, open sesame or something or other?"

"Jefe, you are the first to say that correctly."

"Oh good. But seriously, how do we open this door? Boone, you don't have any explosives on you, do you?"

"No, and I don't think blowing a hole in this thing is a good idea either."

"It'd be fun to see."

"Oh, sí sería."

"Ya know," I looked up to see a young man standing at the battlements of the fort, looking down at us, "you guys could just ask!"

"Where's the fun in that?" I called back, "But seriously, open the door!"

"What's your business here?"

"I didn't think we needed one!"

"Well you do! You guys don't look near dead or sick to the bone!"

"Pues… one of us is."

Raul patted Rex around the ears and he barked up at him. The guy was taken a back a second:

"What's Rex doing with you guys?"

"The King sent us! He says he wants Rex to get a look over! And that he wants us to talk to a guy named Wayne!"

"Oh," he nodded slowly, "alright, gimme a minute."

I looked over to Raul, and I noticed he had a pocket watch out.

"Are you seriously timing him?"

"Yes," he grinned, "want to see if the boy is up to his word."

"And if he's over?" Boone asked, to which Raul chuckled slightly, wiggling his mustache as he did:

"Then I get to shoot him!"

" Wait, what!? " ED-E exclaimed, " Pardner, yer nuts! "

"Como? You haven't figured that out yet?"

"Hey," I jabbed a finger at him, "no shooting. I got my fill back in Boulder."

"Yes," he grinned slyly, "yes you did. How was she?"

"Who?"

"Don't be coy. You are looking a might bit more alive, jefe. She te devuelve a la vida?"

I smiled at him as I shook my head, eying him with my one eye:

"Men do not talk about their women that way."

"Aw, she is your woman now? Ya veo!"

"Raul, shut up before I kneecap you and drop you into a lake."

"Somehow," Boone replied, a ghost of a smile passing his lips, "I don't think that'd work."

" How 'bout some disintegratiooonnnn? "

"I don't think you understand, pequeño. I am invincible!"

"Oh really!?" a sudden, rough, raspy and almost Texan voice bellowed through the door, "Not from my count, ya greasy, slimy, no-good fibber-mouth!"

For the first time since I met him, Raul was lost for words. Okay, I'm starting to get scared now.

"Beatrix?" Raul gasped, his eyes going wide and his mouth dropping, "Is that—is that really you?"

The door opened wide and there standing right in the middle was... a ghoul. A female ghoul. Oh.

"That's right," she growled slightly, "still don't believe in Karma, eh? Well, it's finally caught up with you, Raul Alfonso Tejada."

This Beatrix had about the same resemblance to pretty much every ghoul I've ever met. Rough tattered red and sickly pinkish skin like she'd been burned but somehow survived. What singled her out though was obvious her curves and body shape. I suspect she might've a been a fairly good looking woman before… well, her skin fell off. But something I've never seen before in anything resembling these strangely intelligent zombies was her mane of silver white hair that ran over her shoulders.

Stuff looked like quicksilver, and almost had the same shine to it. She was wearing a long faded green duster, complete with kakis tucked into knee high riding boots and a leather desperado hat. In all honesty, she looked like one mean as hell gunslinger. Wait a second, two ghoul gunslingers!? Oh man, I've got a bad feeling about this.

"Beatrix Josefine Russell," Raul said with a smile as he brushed past me, his arms held wide and disarmingly, "it is so good to see you again! What has it been? Five years?"

"Try fifteen," she snarled, "and you ain't talking your way out of this."

She then drew a pearl handled revolver, and my hand went for my own.

"Como?" he shrieked in shock, "What have I done to you to earn this misplaced scorn?"

"You dumped me, remember?"

"Beatrix, I didn't dump you. I got kidnapped."

"Bullshit."

"No en serio! One minute I'm getting las mejores bebidas imaginables, and the next there's a bag over my head!"

"Really?" she replied sarcastically, "And what'd they want with a washed up old Mexican like you?"

"Apparently, yo estaba caliente! I was put in the ring with desperados' y monstrous! I had to fight my way out!"

"Again, bullshit!"

"Ningún bullshit! It was run by a loca mujer roja named Lucy!"

Lucy? I know that name.

"The Thorn thanks you stranger," I mused softly.

"What?" Boone whispered. I just shook my head:

"Nothing."

"Then why didn't you come find me?"

"I did! Pero, I was over a cien millas de distancia! By the time I came to find you, you already gone!"

Her eyes went wide and then they closed with remorse. She holstered her piece, and shook her head.

"I went looking for you, Raul. I spent years shooting and stringing places up trying to find you."

"Y aquí estoy Beatrix," he replied, his voice muddled with regret as he flopped his arms to his side, "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner. I really am."

"Me too."

The two stared at each other for what was probably a minute but stretched into a feeling eternity. I leaned over to Boone and whispered to him:

"This… you ever seen something like this?"

"No. I'll add to this to my list of stranger things."

And of course, it was up to ED-E to break the silence:

" Just kiss 'er, already! This wearing siiilleeence is startin' ta wear on me! "

"Shut up, pequeño!" Raul, again for the first time since I've met him, snarled at him, "Can't you see we're having a moment here!?"

"Meep," and ED-E ducked behind me.

"I dunno," Beatrix chuckled, "bot seems kinda funny."

"Si, he is… at times."

"Yeah?"

"Mmmhmm."

As they talked the edged closer and closer until… Beatrix slapped him. Recoiling, his hand on his cheek, Raul shrieked:

"Que demonios!? What was that for!?"

"That was for fighting bandits and monsters without me!"

Then she grabbed him by the hand and yanked him over.

"But this… this is for coming back."

Ya know, I never thought I'd see two ghouls kissing each other. But you know what? It's strangely beautiful. Then again, I never expected Raul, the smartass venerable gunslinger and talltaler to actually have someone of the opposite sex in his life. So, I guess there is that.

They closed with each other, holding the other tightly up until Raul dipped her over like a Knight in some, actually happy ending fairytale with his woman. Finally, after a minute or so, they broke apart, Raul holding her softly by the neck as he whispered:

"I've missed you, Beatrix."

"You too, Raul. Forgot you're a fine good kisser."

He grinned at that:

"Well, I try."

"Ahem, I'm sorry to break this up. Truly, I am. But we need to talk to your boss."