Chapter XXIII:
King's Gambit
Benny
Guess I shoulda guessed she'd throw such a hissy-fit. Then again, wouldn't be my dazzling rough-round edges firecracker if she didn't. Granted, I didn't expect her to kick me out the door! Guess I have that way with most finer-of-the-two-sexes, eh? I got up from the ground, and dusted off my clothes.
I'm filthier than a swine. Well, ain't the best… what do they call those? Metaphors? Analogies? Ah, analogies.
See, I do not eat swine. Sure, bacon and ham and chop and all that? But they eat and sleep in their own shit, dig? I do not eat something that ain't got the decency or class or style to pick a corner to do its business instead of the dinner table. Filthy animals.
Still, I expected Jue to be a hard crack to nut… did I say that wrong? Anyways, hard case, dig? But, I can be patient. House may know I have the Chip, but he knows what I'll do if I even see his goons tramp round my High Roller Suite. Maybe the reason he hasn't sicked that psycho Cortez on me.
If he knew I was out here though… brrr, don't need to think about that. Back to what I was saying. I have time. She'll come round. Just need to be patient.
"So, what in the blazes y'all doin' with this old Mexican, eh?"
"Son mis súbditos, Beatrix!"
"No, we're not, Raul. Last I recall, it was us who got you out of that cell, remember?"
"Si, boss. But tu forget that without yo, you would never have gotten off that mountain!"
"That's not how I recalled it."
"Machismo, you did not show hasta el final."
" Still saved your sorrryyy hide, pardner! "
"Como? I was in perfect control! Planeé para escapar de todo y matarlos—"
"Raul, for the love of Sam Houston, would ya quit your damn talltaling!? Jeez Louise, I think ya've gotten worser since you were last with me!"
"Yes, dear."
"Thank you. Now, one-eye— ah, what the hell are y'all's names?"
"Well, this is Boone, ED-E. I'm Gideon. Gideon Maddox."
I froze like lead. No, that can't—how the hell…
"Pleasure. So, how'd y'all come to meet our mutual ass-kisser?"
"Only of the finest, Cariña."
"Which you will be doin' a lot tonight, Raul. You and me got some serious catching up to do."
"Just don't bring the whips."
"Wait, whips?"
"I'm a dom, honey. Well, when I'm in the mood. Which nowadays ain't all that often. And don't gimme that look, Raul. Alright, fine. Wasn't even gonna go that swinging way anyways. So, how'd you meet?"
I turned round slowly. When I did… man, even a scaredy-cat pacing through wilddog turf ain't as scared as me. Jesus, am I seeing a frickin' ghost or something? Come back to haunt me? I didn't think I'd pissed off the big man upstairs that bad.
"Well, in a sentence. Crazy Super Mutants and a lot of bullets."
"Raul, you fightin' crazy green bastards without me? The hell's gotten into you?"
"Not my choice, Cariña. They made me fix toasters."
Beatrix, that freaky ass Ghoul, slapped her cheeks together like she was doing some kinda mock horror.
"Oh, the horror! Toasters!? Raul, what would you do without me?"
"Yes, Raul. What would you do without her?"
"Respectfully, boss? Cierra tu maldita boca."
"Raul, mis amigo, you have given me so much shit over the past week. I'm just returning the favor."
How the rolling dices is this cat still breathing? I mean, I put two in this guy! In the face! How does some schmuck get up from that? See, clearly he did seeing as half his ugly mug is covered in bandages, and goin' off how scruffy his whiskers are he must've gotten up a couple weeks ago!
How the hell—I mean just how in all the lucky rolls and good hands could this cat be alive?
"So what y'all doin' here then?"
"Well, the seriously short version is that I've been hunting a Chairmen named Benny—"
Oh shit. Guy knows my name. Oh shit, oh shit, oh frickin' goddamned shit!
"Left me in a grave. Raul, and company have been helping me track him down. But now we need to get onto the Strip, so we're doing favors for the King—"
"In exchange for fakes? Yeah, I see why. So, assumin' y'all here to see Wayne and his boys?"
"Yeah. What can you tell us about them?"
"Not much. Came in here three days back, beat to shit and all. Barely woke a couple hours back. But their doc oughta know more."
"Right, well let's go see him then. Oh, and where can we drop off Rex?"
"I can take him over to Julie if y'all don't mind. Wayne's over in that tent over yonder."
Wait a second. Wait a flippin', goddamned second. House, ah House you sly son of a bitch. Course, why didn't I see somethin' like this coming? Well, probably couldn't but still!
You do like your surprises. Always were good at poker, too. Always played that wild card hand, see? Always got that Joker somewhere in midst. Thought you cancel out this ace, eh?
Well, probably woulda work, too. My hand felt for Maria, but I held it back. Gideon's got some serious boys at his back. Probably take me down after him. Nah, I gotta play this right.
But still, gotta think why House'd play his hand all on this cat? Why's he so special? And how'd he survive all the wasteland, and get these hardboils to come and get me? And working with the Kings? That oughta mean he knows people.
Who is Gideon Maddox? Well, that's something I need to find out, maybe play to my advantage. I quickly swept out the back with a buncha desperate cases and made my way back to the gate. Quickly showed my fake, and was back in the Strip another beggar in the midst. We'll see each other again soon, Gideon.
Soon.
Miam
I do admit, I missed Wade. Sabelotodo, always has ways of making me laugh. Don't get me wrong though, he truly knows how to drive me crazy. Sabe cómo meterse bajo mi piel. Lord knows, the number of loco de amor chicas that I've had to save him from… ah, a quién estoy engañando?
I do love the little trouble maker. But, I'm not here to discuss mi pupilo. I adjusted my shades, the sun meeting that annoying hour when toma una venganza en tus ojos. It's pure hell for us marksmen. Makes a distortion, hurts your depth perception, plays with the shadows…
Oh Dios, forgive me for taking your name in vain, I'm rambling. I just shook my head, grabbing mi boina and stuffing it in my coat. Yes, I know we made the pact to never take them off. To wear them always. But, it is something that makes me stand out, y no necesito destacarme.
A good thing though that Boone or Bitter-Root aren't here. Oh, la mierda que me dieron… Hmm, is that chili I smell? Hmm, that's so good… no, don't get distracted. Stay on mission. I weaved through the marketplace, bumbling through countless shops and los niños lindos… aw, that's so cute!
Little niña dressed like a little princess… still has the cráneo for a face, but still!
"Boop," she giggled as she popped a little wand on my leg, "you've been dusted!"
"Dusted, eh niñita? What happens now?"
She giggled at me:
"You fly now, silly!"
"And fly away I shall!" I laughed, flapping my arms as I walked about. She just kept giggling at me:
"You're weird!"
I smiled down at her:
"You were weird first, niñita! Mucho gracias for the magic dust, though."
"Happy Eve!"
And she was off. Children can be a wonder. Una verdadera maravilla. Yes, I know they can also be a real dolor en mi culo, tambien. I've done my fair share of turning chicos into hombres, y chicas into mujer over the years.
But there is an innocence to them. An innocence that gives me hope that someday, there won't be a need for asesinos de piedra fría like me. Ah, I'm rambling again. Back to point. I managed to catch up with two of this Courier's party as they headed out to go see Orris.
I immediately recognized one of them. Señora Cassidy. I'd seen her around enough times in Freeside, and knew of her reputation. It does make me wonder, though. Why is she following this Courier?
Maybe he offered su venganza? I suppose I'll find that out soon. The other one, the younger one… ella es nueva. Never seen her before. Again, how does un cartero attract so many people to his cause?
I shook my head. Cortez is right. I do think too much
"So," the younger of the two began, grinning as she did, "how was it?"
Cassidy grinned at her playfully:
"How was what?"
"Oh, don't be coy, Cass. You and Gideon have certainly been getting friendlier."
"Could say the same fer you and Boone."
She blushed so deeply I thought she might turn into un tomate.
"No. No, nothing happened—"
"Really?" Cassidy grinned slyly, "When a man gets your bra size right…"
"Boone's sweet," she quickly cut her off, "but nothing happened."
"Uh huh. Sure. He's isn't a bad lookin' man. A little rough fer my taste. But mebbe you just like yer choices ta be interstin', eh?"
"Cass, please stop embarrassing me," she laughed embarrassingly, shaking a little as she walked, "you're making me feel so dizzy."
"Not the first time someone's told me that," she grinned, "so, if you and Mr. Shades didn't…" she paused, looking around at all the children around, shaking her head, "have that kinda fun-"
"Well, do you notice I'm not wearing my suit?"
"Wait, are you sayin'-"
"Yeah. I had Boone help me take it off… and I kinda forgot I wasn't wearing anything else."
"Well, that's a first."
"First what?"
"Well when a guy catches a gal in that sorta situation-"
She smiled over at her:
"As I said, Boone's sweet once you get past all his Gruffy-McGruffiness."
She laughed at that:
"I might start usin' that, actually."
Ah girls. I just shook my head at them. Always so much chismoso when it comes to our hombres. Though, from the way el lindo kept checking out Cassidy's assets every ten seconds or so… she is right. She does like to keep her choices interesting.
"So," she grinned again, "now I think the bottles spun to you.
"Uh? What the…" she looked around, "heck, are you talkin' 'bout?"
"You're so cute when you're trying not to cuss."
That she is.
"Hey, may curse like a Sailor, but these kiddies got 'nough issues as it is without me givin' 'em a bad influence."
"Ah, you're so thoughtful. But seriously, you've never played Spin the Bottle before?"
"I have. But the version I played has ya kiss whomever ya spin on."
She blushed again:
"Mine was more like Truth or Dare… though if that's your preference—"
"Buy me dinner first," she grinned, "and I might consider it."
"Whoo, tempting. But back to my point, I Dare you to Truth."
"Well, if ya put it that way… I dunno."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I dunno."
"Well, I mean… was it… he or, I mean… was it fun at least?"
"Now why you so interested in our mutual friend, eh? Ya think of addin' him to yer list of charmin' conquests?"
"Well," she chuckled, "he certainly is quite the character. I mean, he's no Superman—"
"That honor goes to ED-E."
"Ha! Yeah. But still—"
"Yeah, I get yer point. To answer yer question… well… ah, the heck with it. He's been the best I've had fer a very long time."
"Oooh, tell me more!"
"Not here. Mebbe later. Let's just say he's quite experienced when it comes to the finer points, if ya catch my meanin'."
"I think I do. But why are you still so confused about it?"
"Well, that's the thing. See, most of the time it's one and done. Walk away happy and all. Mebbe run 'round him again, do him again. Always the same feelin'."
"No complications?"
"Mmm hmm. But Gid… I dunno how I feel. I just feel… different."
She grinned so wide at her I thought it might fall off like Colón debería haber caído de la Tierra.
"Cass, you've been Moonstuck."
"Moonstruck?"
"Comes from an old movie. A lady's gotta marry one man, but ends up stumbling for his brother."
"Sounds familiar. How'd that happen?"
"Well in no uncertain terms," she then took on this weird acento Italiano, like all those 'respect and family' totting mafioso's up in Little Italy up Northern San Fran, "'Everythin' seems like nothin' to me now. I want you in my bed. I don't care if I burn in Hell. I don't care if you burn in Hell. The past an' the future is a joke to me now. I see they're nothin'. I see they ain't here. All that is, is you and me.'"
"Ya know," Cassidy laughed, "had me a guy who said that ta me once."
"Really?"
"Word fer frickin' word. Wanna know what I did?"
"You… accepted?"
"No. I kneed him in the… well, you know where."
"Did you do that to Gideon?"
"Well, no."
"Then my reasoning still stands. You, Cass, are in love."
"Bullsh— ahem, girlie, yer crazy."
No, she's not. I just shook my head them, and at the rest of this mundo estúpido loco! This is problem with most of us. You spend your entire life trying to find someone to settle down with. But when you do, you don't realize it, and when you do realize it, you run away!
Estúpido. Sólo pura estupidez. I sometimes question how the hell we got this far.
"So, where are we heading?"
"To pay a swindler a visit. And if things go the way I think they will, pay 'em a bad hand."
"Well, that sounds exciting!"
Wade
"So, you got caught?"
"No."
"Really?" Illie half-smiled, half scowled at me, "Then please explain why you're changin' clothes then, brat?"
"Just taking precautions."
"The boys are gonna be upset with you. You losing your cred and all."
I whirled around, jutting a finger at the Apache:
"Don't you dare."
"Don't worry," she scowl-grinned me, "you'll have all night to convince me."
I grinned right back:
"Is that a challenge?"
"Bet your ass it is."
I just shook my head at her:
"Ndé-nii dibéhé, ndé 'isdzán."
She scowl-grinned right back:
"Zhii-má."
I took a chance and started to lean in a little closer. She just grinned at me as I loop my arm over her against the wall.
"Really?"
"There are more than one ways to convince you, after all."
I knew it was coming, but I didn't bother stoppin' it. The blow hit me hard in the gut and I dropped to a knee. But I'd prepared for it, so it wasn't as bad. She loomed over me as she laughed:
"Tough luck, lover."
"Yeah, yeah," I groaned as she pulled me back up to my feet.
"So, next question. Why me?"
"Whachya mean?"
"You sent Miam off by her lonesome to go shadow the ladies. And here I am stuck with you. Why?"
"Because of him."
I pointed to the group up ahead. Specifically, Boone. She looked and nodded:
"Recon. Think he knows her?"
"Dunno. Don't like taking chances."
"I agree. So, what now?"
"Now, we wait. Sooner or later, they're gonna go doin' whatever it is the King is having them do. When that happens, we'll keep a close tie on their tail."
Gideon
The King wasn't kidding when he said this place was in bad shape. Everywhere I look, I see broken and disheartened people filling up medical tents or the ground outside of them. So many sick… and so many dying. Even worse, the cold and distant look in all of these labcoat wearing folks milling from one place to another. This place would sink me into a depression faster than you can say jazz blues.
I don't know how these folks manage it. Another mystery of the universe, I suppose. But I'm not here to solve this issue. I'm here to solve someone else's issues before this place explodes.
"Hey, Machismo," I heard Raul rasp from behind me, "you okay?"
I turned around to see why. Boone had this look in his eye. A morbid one. Don't get me wrong, most of the time he looks morbid. But now?
It looks like the face of the dead.
"Yeah," he replied, "just reminded me of someplace else."
"Do you need a minute?"
He shook his head:
"Let's get this over with."
I nodded, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Then I whirled about:
"Hey, you guys seen ED-E?"
"Que demonios!?" Raul suddenly spun around, looking around the courtyard, "He was just right here!"
"Boone?"
"I didn't see him go with Rex. Maybe he slipped out before then."
I pressed my fingers into the corners of my eyes, grumbling:
"Damnit, buddy. You're going to be the death of me."
"Relax, jefe. He's una máquina indestructible de la muerte. I'm sure he'll be fine."
I just shook my head and sighed:
"Yeah, I hope so. So, where did Beatrix say we needed to go?"
Boone pointed over my shoulder. We came up to the tent in question, waiting outside as a lot of folk wrapped in bandages came limping out: some supporting each other, others supported by more labcoats. As we were about to head in, Boone grabbed my shoulder:
"What's up?"
"I don't think I should go in there."
I raised an eyebrow:
"Why?"
"If NCR roughed these guys up, I doubt them seeing me would be a good idea."
"Boone," I shook my head wearily, smiling slightly as I did, "it'll be find, man. Besides, if it is the NCR, I'll need you there to confirm the details."
"Machismo, just stay a bit back and let us handle la tortura. I'll go get un soplete."
"No, you're not," I chuckled softly, "We're not torturing anybody, Raul. Just going to ask them some questions and then we'll go."
He shit-grinned me, shaking his head as he did:
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Honestly? I doubt you'd be able to find any fun in a place like this."
"Touché."
Once the last of the wretched masses made their way out, we went in. The tent was stifling hot, even with the fast-descending sun dropping the temperature rapidly. My guess was the burlap. It had a habit of trapping heat. Worse still, the air felt strangely stale with a taste vinegar.
All in all, I resisted the urge to gag. If for nothing else to prevent giving Raul ammunition to torment me behind my back.
"Well, hello," someone said to my right, "if you're here to visit, I must ask you to leave. These gentlemen still need to rest."
The three of us turned to see another labcoat with his back turned to us, his hands dipped into something on a long table. I looked at Boone, and he just shrugged.
"Sorry about barging in. We're here to speak to Roy and Wayne."
"Are you deaf?"
I raised an eyebrow:
"No."
"Then perhaps you're fairly hard-headed. I suggest standing on it for a few hours everyday. Clear away whatever cobwebs are preventing you from hearing me the first time."
"Oh," Raul grinned, his hands moving under his poncho, "un hombre sabio, eh?"
"No. Not particularly wise," he replied immediately, "aunque apestas como un cerdito de cerdo," Raul was taken aback, as was I at this guy's linguistic ease, "In fact, all three of you do."
"Three?" Boone inquired, "You have your back turned. How-?"
"Because all three of you have very distinctive smells. Oh, don't get me wrong, you each smell equally repulsive, but your repulsiveness is individually unique."
This guy… was hard to place. He was educated, had a sort of sophistication to his monotone. And inevitably, an arrogance to boot. This guy was like Veronica if you sucked out all the cheerfulness and replaced it with sarcasm; wit and intelligence somehow staying put. I narrowed my eyes as I growled:
"Yeah, well I'm surprised you can smell anything in a place like this."
"Oh, you mean the vinegar? Well, we're a little short on anti-biotics so I had to improvise. You get used to it after a while."
"Well thanks for the medical lesson, smartass," I replied with an edge to my voice, my hand moving down to rest over my holster, "but we do need to speak with the guys in question."
"Take that hand away from your firearm or I'll be forced to replied in kind."
I grinned at him:
"Wanna try your luck, pal? I've had a long week and I don't mind blowing off a little steam."
He laughed:
"I've had a long week, too. Would you like to discuss in detail how your week is any worse than mine?"
"Not particularly."
Again, the man chuckled.
"Well, you're clearly not a King."
"Really?" Raul chortled, moving up to my left flank while Boone looped around my right, "What gave that away? No sonamos como hipsters?"
I looked right and saw that Boone had his hand on his sidearm as he started to close the distance with this guy.
"No, actually. You have a sense of humor."
Before I could reply, he moved suddenly in a flash of white fabric. His hand produced a weapon, pointed directly at Boone. A second later, all three of us had our handguns drawn on him. Raul chuckled softly:
"Go ahead, sabelotodo! Te llenaremos con tantos agujeros que serás un Santo!"
"That is a terrible joke," he replied, swinging round to face me. On que, Boone inched a little closer, his Browning edging on the man's head. He swung round again, causing Boone to back up. But as soon as he did, Raul moved in on his flank. That was when I realized something.
The man was holding some kind of energy pistol: big, bulky and having the appearance of a brick with a handle. I immediately recognized the symbol on the foreguard: a stylized G with faded out words, but I knew it stood for Glock. I was familiar with their Austrian handgun lines, but I never knew they moved into energy weapons, too. Ah, the things you learn, but that's not the point. The point was when the weapon in question had a live battery pack inserted, there was usually a red LED indicator (in this case, green) on the side of the weapon.
This one was lightless; dull and grey. I smiled, and shook my head:
"You must be really stupid to bring an unloaded gun to a firefight."
He shot me a toothy grin:
"I always was fond of playing chicken. Had you three fooled for a minute or two."
"Yeah, sure," I holstered the Colt, and signaled the others to do the same. Begrudgingly, they followed suit. Raul chuckled softly:
"You've got cojones, Señor Jugando Pollo."
"I've been told that a lot, actually."
He set the pistol back onto the table, and turned back to face us. The first that hit me was the man's height, being taller than me by at least a good three inches with a slim build which in perspective of everybody else in the room made him a practical giant. This added further credit to his straight out Aryan appearance: strong, smooth jaw with prominent cheek bones and a heavy-set nose with a pair Helvetica style eyeglasses (the name was on the side). Plus of course the man's golden hair, setback in a mullet. All in all, the guy reminded me of that German wheelchair mad scientist (his name escapes me, though I think it was a weird name) in that one movie about riding nukes, or atleast if he was a good twenty years younger.
"Well, I'm sorry for all the commotion," he replied with a grin, "I've been cooped up in here for a while now, and I was starting to go a little estranged in the head. Normally I'm not on wetnurse duty, but we've recently received more patients than we have doctors, so all hands-on-deck I suppose. What can I do you for?"
"As I said, we're here to speak with the guys who got the hell kicked out 'em… about three days' past?"
"They would be in the next room. I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your names."
"You first," Boone replied with a deadpan. The labcoat shrugged his shoulders.
"Alright, my turn first, I suppose. I'm Arcade Gannon. Most people call me Arcade."
Raul smirked:
"That's quite a name, Rubia. I think I'm going to call you Doc."
Arcade grinned at wryly:
"Many people do. And you are…"
I quickly handled the introductions. At this point, I feel that's become part of my job description:
"This is Raul, Boone and I'm Gideon. Gideon Maddox."
"And they say I have an interesting name. I am assuming the King sent you to talk to the gentlemen in the other room."
"That he did."
"You three clearly aren't the usual kind he'd send. Obviously one of you is Recon—I patched a lot of you up at Hoover. And going off your two attires I'd say you're gunslingers."
"Si, y el ocasional reparador."
"Courier actually."
"Makes sense. You look like you've walked a lot of roads."
"Sorry to interrupt," Boone quickly cut in, "but we're getting off the point. What can you tell us about what happened?"
"Honestly? Not much. We brought them in late. They each suffered injuries consistent with a beating. All three of them suffered stage two concussions, fractured bones. But the youngest got it the worst. His liver and lungs were bruised."
"Bruised?"
"My guess is he was kicked repeatedly in that area. He's lucky they didn't aim higher or they could've broken off his xiphoid and sent that into his heart. He's been in a coma."
I looked at Boone, and he looked at me, his eyes set again in that morbid certainty. He nodded simply before asking:
"Where exactly were they found?"
"East side of town."
"Déjame adivinar," Raul looked crossways at Boone, "that's were Los pobres desgraciados are hanging out?"
"Mmm hmm."
"One thing at a time, Boone. Let's get their story and go from there. They are up for talking, right?"
Arcade shrugged:
"I guess that depends on them. I'd make it quick though."
"Right. Boone stay out of sight but in ear range. Raul—"
"I'll go get the sierra!"
"I have one right here!" Arcade laughed, producing a hacksaw from some conveniently hid drawer. I groaned aloud as I face palmed. Yes, this called for a face palm.
"No. No. Just no. Stop encouraging him, damnit!"
"What?" he shrugged again, "Is it wrong that I'm simply encouraging progress in someone that shows promise?"
"You mean the promise of being a pain in my ass?" I jutted a finger at him, "You sir are about to hit that list, too."
"Oh, I'm flattered."
He gave me this weird look that took me back a second. He raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly as he cocked his head. All I could say was:
"Oh."
"I mean if you're interested—"
"Nope," I spun around and went into the otherside of the tent, "Raul, get your ass in here."
"Ah," he chuckled, "look at you, Rubia. All your charm and you scared him off!"
"Well, I wasn't really trying. He's not exactly my type."
"Ah, ya veo—"
"Now!"
"Si, jefe!"
Boone
Huh. That was just weird.
"I thought sawbones were supposed to have a good bedside manner."
He raised a finger up in the air, replying smartly:
"I'm a researcher, not sawbones. Bedside manners are really not my specialty."
I could understand that.
"You and me both."
"So, what's your story?"
"Mine?"
"You're NCR, a sniper at that, travelling with a man who looks like he stepped out of the set of a Spaghetti Western and a mailman—"
"You haven't seen our full team, yet."
"I look forward to that. As I was saying, all of you now are doing a job for the King. Call me curious is all."
Why is he digging? I gave him a look. Didn't budge. Clearly more than just a researcher. Researcher of what?
"Gideon did a favor for me. Cashing in the debt. Nothing more."
"Just curious is all."
He's still digging. Didn't say, but the look tells me. Something there, though. Something out of sight. Something hidden.
Shouldn't care. Got my own skeletons. Why's it matter what he has? Still. Can't shake the feeling, though.
"Are you retired by chance?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You've just got the look."
"Look?"
"Well, you're too unkempt to be active, but you still wear your colors and still have that intensity in your eyes. But you're what? 24?"
"26."
"26. You've got the look of someone who enlisted. Would've made Sergeant, at least. A little soon to muster out."
"Stop."
"Stop?"
"Stop digging. I'm not your patient."
"No. But I've seen it before."
He had a tell. Noticed it. Put his hand up to his chin. Rubbed it. Like he was thinking… or remembering.
"Seen what exactly?"
"Well, people sign up to get out. See the world. In your case, though… I say you did because you were good at it. I mean, even out of uniform you scream soldier right down to the bone."
"The discipline suited me."
"That's the thing, then. Something changed. Something made you leave. Do I need to guess what?"
You…
"You ever been to war, Doc?"
"I was at Hoover."
"During or after?"
"A little after. During the mopup."
"Then don't talk about it."
"I have seen some fights. Seen what it does to people."
"Sure you have. I'm not talking about trading hands or bullets with Raiders."
"I know."
"No. You don't."
Enough. Back to orders. I walked over to the flap. Leaned in, took a peek. Yeah, these guys went through a grinder.
Covered in bandages. Bloody. Messy. Malformed and misshaped. Wonder if they'll even remember anything.
Older man, maybe 60, spoke first:
"It happened around 11. We were investing some caps we got off of selling some caps we found. Left the Wrangler, took a wrong turn, ended up in squatter turf."
"That's when they attacked?"
The other, 20's, spoke up:
"Nope. They stopped us first. Started barking questions at us. Wanted to know if we were locals or not. Kid started shouting back, and that's when things got ugly."
"Did you get a look at them?"
"Well, they were big. Better dressed than what I've usually seen. Roy, think of anything else?"
"Well, they were young, too. Hell, looked younger than you, Wayne."
"Yeah. Oh, wait. Yeah, that's right. One of them called another guy by name. Something like 'Hey Lou, we gotta go.'"
"Lou? Eso es útil."
"Wait, it was Lou something. Something starting with a T! Ah, it's so hard to remember."
I shook my head. I pulled off the beret, and set it on the table. Walked in.
"Was it Tenant?" I asked Wayne, "Like Lou Tenant?"
"Yeah, that's what it was! Lou Tenant!"
The older man scoffed:
"He probably said Lieutenant, Wayne. I swear sometimes you're as dumb as a mutie."
Gideon
"So, we're dealing with NCR, huh?"
"Looks like it."
"You wouldn't happen to—"
"Maybe," Boone mused, "I do know of an operation over on that side of town. Major Kieran. Runs supplies."
"Well, I guess we have a starting point then. You know her?"
He nodded:
"Used to be part of 3rd Infantry. Ran a few ops with her unit. Transferred out after Hoover. I can talk to her."
"Alright. We'll need to talk to Farkas first before we head out. But—"
"Mister Maddox?" I heard Arcade call from behind me, "Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?"
"Um, yeah. Sure. Can you guys—"
"No problemo, jefe. C'mon, Machismo. Tell a few yarns—"
"Pass. I'm not into stories."
"Ah, no eres divertido!"
When they were gone, I turned around.
"And it's just Gideon. Unless this is formal business."
"It's not. But it is about your friend."
"Boone, you mean?"
He nodded, and again that same morbid look I saw on Boone reflect on him, too.
"What's this about?"
"Your friend's not in a good place."
"He… lost his wife not too long ago."
He nodded, understanding:
"That favor you did him?"
I nodded, but I cocked my head at him, pondering:
"What else do you know?"
"What do you know about Bitter Springs?"
"Nothing much. I'm not from around here… I don't think."
He gave me a confused look, and I tapped my bandages. He nodded:
"I was wondering. What happened?"
"Double tapped to the face."
"Who patched you up?"
"Doc Mitchell."
"Then you were definitely in good hands. Second best surgeon I've met."
"Who was the first?"
"Friend of his, friend of mine, too. Lives up in the mountains. So, Long Term Memory Loss, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah. I have a hard time remembering my past. I mean, it comes back in segments. Like seeing little snapshots."
"It'll come back, I promise you that. Just have to give it time."
I nodded, but I kept my eye trained on him.
"So, Bitter Springs? What happened there?"
"From what I gather, there was a massacre there. NCR and Khans got caught up in then confusion, a lot of people died. We've… treated quite a few people who came back from it. Nobody knows exactly who did what or why. But your friend was Recon, and I can tell it still haunts him."
"I… understand your point. We'll keep an eye on him."
I'm not sure how to take this information. Or what to do with it. I could talk to Boone about it. But I don't want to push him away either. Then again, it might be better if it came from someone else.
Someone who could, and has connected with him on a deeper level. As crazy as that is considering they tried to kill each other two nights ago, but what can you do? I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
"So, Doc. Call me curious, but you said this isn't normally your job. So what do you do exactly?"
"Oh, I'm a researcher. Well, not a particularly good one."
"What research, if I may ask?"
"Oh you know. Alternative treatments for common illnesses and injuries. Stimpacks out of barrel cacti and other fantastical improbabilities," I noted he said that last line with a hint of self-reflected sarcasm, and he quickly answered why, "as far as fruitless wastes of time go, it's quite noble in its aims."
"I'm guessing the Followers have run out of hospitals to loot?"
He smiled at me, putting his hand on his chin as his interest took a sudden peak:
"You're certainly sharper than I gave you credit for."
"Thanks… I guess."
"Well, you are correct. Or will be. When we do, we'll need to new ways to produce new medical supplies. Or old ways, if this research pans out. Which I doubt. To be honest, I'm just glad to be out of everybody's hair. I'm not much of a people person."
I grinned at that:
"Yeah, I've noticed."
"Heh, well. I mean don't get me wrong. I'm enthusiastic about helping people, but in the end? Nihil novi sub sole."
"Heh. Nothing new under the sun."
I hadn't even realized what I said until the words were already out of my mouth, and Arcade's interested curiosity turned into sudden suspicion. Mine just turned cold as my hand touched leather. Simply, his eyes watching my hand, he asked:
"I see you know Latin. May I ask how?"
"You first."
"But I asked first."
"Yeah," I smirked, drawing the Browning from its holster and holding it at my side, "but I'm the one with the gun. So, you first."
"Well, not from the Legion, I can tell you that much," his eyes tracked down to the Browning in my hand before coming back up to me, somehow maintaining a serene calm even though I was an inkling from putting a hole in him. I'm guessing he's done this before, huh?
"Caesar can cite Cato to serve his purpose. Many people have spoken Latin. Some of them were quite pleasant," he shook his head wearily, "it is unfortunate that the language is now associated with the gentlemen across the river."
"Yeah," I nodded sagely, "it is."
I holstered the Browning and the fear in his eyes went away. He relaxed a little, slumping his shoulders as he did.
"So, how did you learn the Lengua?"
"Oh, you know. Books, music sheets, old Gladiator movies. The Followers have an extensive library, so it's easy to learn if you put your mind to it. What about you?"
I just shook my head, sighing:
"I don't know. Or I don't remember. But if I had to guess? The Legion… ah, that's not what I meant."
"No, no. I understand. To be honest, you're too nice to be Legion."
"Nice?"
"Well, thoughtful might be the better term. You clearly care about people. I noticed the look you had when you walked in here. As I said, you've clearly walked some truly bad roads. I do know the look."
"Yeah, I suppose you do. Hey look, about earlier—"
"Ah, don't worry about it," he smiled and shrugged, "I'm a bit of a tease, so I end up doing it to everybody eventually."
"Yeah, you just caught me off-guard is all."
"As I said, don't worry about it… darling."
He gave me a sly grin, and I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head, smiling:
"Oh, well. I'm certainly flattered."
He then tucked his hand behind his hip, swaying the leg a bit as he grinned; his voice dropping into a feminine tone that I had to resist laughing at:
"Oh really?"
"Well…"
He gave me a slap on the bicep, chuckling:
"Ah, get your lovely ass out of here. Your companions are waiting."
Veronica
"So, Cass?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Oh, stop it, you!" I giggled, "So why are we back outside Freeside? I mean, isn't the whole point to go hire this Orris guy?"
"Yes," she replied, giving me that devil-may-care smirk, "but it'd be mighty fine suspicious of us ta come on over from inside Freeside since we need escortin' to the inside of Freeside. Here I was thinkin' you were smart, girlie."
"Alright, alright. I get you're point."
"Good. Now shut up, and look pretty."
"Oh?" I grinned, "You mean be like one of those damsel-in-destress, needing saving?"
"Yes, but don't do any screamin'. Drives me up the wall any time they do that."
"Oh, you mean like this?"
Her eyes went wide like a beagle looking all mopey as she shrieked:
"Don't you dare!"
I'm sorry, I can't resist. I've always wanted to play one of those starlet scream queens! So, I cupped my hands together and started screaming like that one blond in that movie about a giant ape:
"Oh dear! Help me! Help me! Save me from the incredulous and drunken woman! Oh, she just doesn't know any fun!"
Oh, what's this, Cass? Getting all blushy and red on me, are we?
"Oh fer sh— cryin' out loud!"
I was having too much fun, especially now that she had gotten herself trapped in the non-swearing corner. Oh, how limited her options are now! So, I did what I do with most of my victims… I kidd… or, am I? Anyhoo, I just kept on pressing:
"And, oh! She can't make up her mind, either! Oh my, is she becoming a housewife?"
"WOULD YOU STOP IT!?"
I could only smirk as she looked like she was about to explode like Yosemite Sam anytime he could catch that whascwy wabbit! Wait, I think I got that mixed up. Was it Yosemite who was chasing… no, it was that bald guy! Oh, darn it. Now I can't even remember his name!
Well so much for my impeccable memory. Wonder what's going next…
"Earth to Veronica," I suddenly felt Cass knocking on my forehead, giving me this goofy look like I was the subject of some ill-fated prank… which I am most of the time. Trust me, it'd take too long to go into… she knocked on me again, "Come in please!"
"Uh, Houston?" I giggled back, cupping my hand over my mouth like I was on a radio mike, "It would appear that we have encountered something strange. It's big, red and really nosey!"
"Har har har! Ya done bein' in la la land?"
"I call it the Mind Palace actually."
"Whatever. C'mon, we're here."
Once again, we were standing before another mismatch gate that looked like it'd been made out of whatever they could get their hands on. What do I mean by this? I mean an entire wall's outer coating was made from street signs! I'm serious, you could actually see a bunch of sentences made from these signs being bolted or joined together. My personal favorite was the following:
Stop… Watch… For (something blurred out)… Burger (blurred)… Joint Road Ahead… Obey (blurred)… (spray-painted Or)… (blurred out) will be Shot!
Well, well. Looks like I'm going to have to pay this joint a visit. I've been shot at enough as it is! Ah, well. Moving past this, we entered in a valley of so many lighted pumpkins I felt like I was on the set of some something spooky B-Movie. Now, I'm expecting ghosts and hobgoblins to pop out and… whoa, what the hell?
"I guess I spoke too soon!"
On either sides of the gate were some of the green little monsters perching. Their heads craned and started following us as we walked past them. I looked at Cass, and she grinned:
"Watch yer wallet. They're pickpockets."
"I see."
The gate opened and we walked in. Ah man, they've taken the decorations up to tenth degree! So many hanging spiders on the ledges, ghosts swing from the rafters, and… aw! All these kids look so cute in their costumes! I really should've gotten me something to scare these kids back at that shop!
Ah well. Next time. Then Cass stopped in her tracks.
"What's up?"
"We're here."
She pointed ahead. There were a bunch of guys standing there like extra's from some desperado movie. But the one in the middle…
"That our guy?"
"How'd you know?"
"Well, guy dresses up in that much metal armor and takes the time to make himself that scruffy… well, he's either trying to make an impression or he's overcompensating."
"Girlie, I take it back. You are a serious smarty-pants."
I chuckled at that:
"Well, when I put my mind to it."
"As we all do. You ready?"
"Innocent and sweet-looking coming up. Wait, what do we tell him?"
"Whachya mean?"
"Y'know. Are we a couple or sisters or…"
"We don't look a thing like each other!"
"Couple it is."
"No, I mean… ah, the hell with it."
"Woo, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Uh oh. I shouldn't have mentioned that. She gave me the look like she wanted to use my face for a surgical procedure. Oh dear.
"Girlie, since we're only gettin' ta know each other fer a couple days now, I'll let that slide. Don't talk about my mom like that again."
"Sorry. So, shall we?"
I hooked my arm out. She looked at me confused, and I grinned at her; giving her my Well? Face. She grumbled something under her breath, and took my arm.
"There you go, sweetie!"
I then took the opportunity to squeeze her arm a bit. Not too much, you see? Just enough to be tender and earn a blush from her. She gave me a scowl, and squeezed a little more.
"Don't milk this."
"Oh, I certainly am!"
"Whatever."
So we started walking down the street all casual like. I even think I started whistling a little when right on que, like the gullible bait-swindler he was, Orris called out to us:
"Ladies! Freeside's a dangerous place! You may not want to go out there… y'know, alone!"
"Did you hear that, Rose?" I decided to play the easily startled starlet clinging to her man, or in this case, woman, for protection. So I sounded a might bit squeaky, but that's okay. It'll work:
"The big strong man says it's dangerous!"
She grumbled slightly as she swung us around:
"Really? Dangerous? Why's that?"
He gestured around the street:
"Just look around. Yeah, I know it's Eve and all, but these people are likely to stab you just as much to say hello!" He then gave a grin that rivalled Raul's antics, "That is, if I'm not at your sides."
"'kay, how much?"
"Two hundred caps."
"Two hundred caps!?" I squealed, "But that's twice as much as anybody else!"
"The extra hundred is for excellence, miss. These other losers would run out on you as soon as a crook showed his face. I on the other hand will take on anything short of a Deathclaw."
"'kay. Where will ya take us?"
"South Gate. If you're wanting to sight-see, that'll be an extra fifty."
"Well, Rose? Should we?"
"Hell no. We're here ta see Vegas, not this shi— craphole. No offense meant."
He shrugged:
"None taken. Not from here. But it is enough of a dump that I'll always get paid at the end. So you game?"
"Sure," she then handed over a bag, "lead the way."
"Right this way, then. Oh, I'll be keeping a brisk pace, so do your best to keep up."
He then trotted ahead, and we followed.
"Hey," I whispered softly, "that wasn't our money, was it?"
"Nope. King gave us the amount ta pay fer finances."
"Cool."
"Oh, and one other thing."
"What?"
She then grabbed my arm tight as she scowled like one prissy-grimalkin:
"Don't call me Rose."
"Sorry, Cass. I just didn't want to use your name—"
"He doesn't know me. Why do ya think none of the Kings have said a peep?"
"Again, I'm sorry. But why don't you—"
"Just…" she sighed, staring down at the road… like me… or Boone remembering someone. Someone we lost. So, who did you lose Cass?
"Just don't call me that."
Gideon
Even though we'd left the Old Mormon Fort a good ten minutes ago, it didn't feel like we'd left at all. After trotting through a slimier-than-hell ruin that looked like it was just barely day one after the bombs dropped, we eventually got into a part of town that apparently had been once a trainyard. However, you knew you were heading the right direction by four factors. The great waves of trash and human shit that took a sudden peak when we hit the neighborhood, the bedraggled and desperate looking folks that were clothed in whatever they could get their hands on, the general stench of the air, and finally the sheer number of linen white tents that stretched about for at least a good two blocks. I mean, there had to have been hundreds of these people, cramped in corners, staring at us longingly and desperately.
Some though, were either truly gratefully with an awe of respect when they looked at Boone or had an air of bitterness about it. All in all, this place made me a bit jumpy. How the hell, Boone could remain so impassive—
"I grew up in a place like this."
"How'd you—"
"Saw your face."
"Well, looks like I need to work on my poker face."
He… chuckled. Guess I have V to thank for that.
"You never did tell me where you were from."
"Boneyard. But I never stayed long. Always out, always hunting for something. There was always something."
"Certainly explains your choice of work."
"Yeah. When you're good at something…" he then shot me a worried glance, "You okay, though?"
"Honestly? I kinda wish we had Raul with us."
I thought back a good twenty minutes earlier. We'd entered into the main office, and found Julie Farkas waiting for us. I had to admit, she kinda caught me offguard. Then again, this place has had a habit of doing that, so I suppose it's not too much of a surprise. But still, she was one conflicting looking woman.
What I mean by that is she was far too fair to be a missionary in hell-hole like this. However, she also possessed a Mohawk. I mean the serious type. Spikes and all. The last time I'd seen people with that kind of taste, they were shooting at me.
However, the fire in her eyes… well, it's like me anytime I look in a mirror and I'm not hallucinating. She's seen a lot. And from the way she held herself, she'd been through a lot. And when she spoke, she sounded exactly as the air around felt: wearied and bone-stricken.
"So, Beatrix tells me the King has you doing some of his errands. It is about time. Ad before you ask, yes I've been bugging him about all of this for weeks now."
"Bien, aquí estamos ahora!" Raul chuckled, spreading his arms about as he grinned broadly, "Listo para sorprender!"
"Raul," Beatrix shook her head despairingly, "if you'd shown that much enthusiasm about our relationship—"
"Beatrix, mi corazon," he quickly took the steps over to her, grabbing her by the hands as he pleaded like a whipped dog, "I swear by las tumbas de mi familia… I shall make it up to you."
"I know," she smiled somberly, her hand caressing his cheek softly before promptly slapping it, "Damn you, you washed-up Mexican. I can't stay mad at you."
"I know. I am irresistible!"
She jutted a finger at him:
"Don't push it."
"Yes, dear."
Julie could only smile. The kind of smile a mother has for a child:
"Beatrix, where did you meet your better half?"
"My better half, Jue? You serious?"
"Oh come now, don't deny it. I've known you for three years now, and I've never seen you this happy."
Raul of course couldn't resist shooting her his classic shit-eating grin. She could only scoff:
"Oh please. You probably had loadsa women-folk lineup 'long the way."
This woman… truly surprised me. Not about who she was. But what she could do. For the week I'd known Raul, all I'd seen was sarcasm and sass. But this one woman could bring out something in him.
She could bring out his pain. I'd only seen it before once, back at Black Mountain. When he showed us the hand-cannons now strapped to his hips. This pain, this emotion… this genuine somberness as he gazed up at this woman, his hand running through her silver hair… Jesus, I think I might've cried a little.
"Never," he whispered softly, "not once," he then turned to Julie, shrugging, his face plain, "Beatrix found me…" he looked over at me, and grinned slightly, "don't laugh, boss, but… shot to pieces in a ditch."
Yeah, you could bet it took all the mental fiber I had not burst out laughing. Though that wasn't helped when Boone whispered in my ear:
"Looks like you called it."
Julie could only smile some more:
"Beatrix, you truly surprise me."
"Ahem, I'm sorry to interrupt, and Raul, I really am. But we've got some business to attend."
"Yes," Julie nodded slowly, "first things first, I suppose. Rex is… not well."
"What's wrong with him?"
"Rex is old. I know he was the latest K9 model, so that makes him a good two hundred years and some change."
"Is he… falling apart?"
"No, not exactly. His body is largely cybernetic, and the parts that aren't are surprisingly well kept. All except for his brain. From what I can tell, there's a tumor growing inside it."
I remember cursing softly. No man ever likes the idea of losing their best friend. I hadn't known Rex all that long, but… well, who wouldn't feel bad I suppose?
"Any chance—"
"No. The scans show its developed too far in. Maybe Doc Henry up in the Mountains could, but that's slim, though."
"How long's he got?"
"A few months. Probably the best we could do is try and make him feel comfortable."
I nodded. I suppose I'd tell the King when this was over.
"Now, Beatrix can fill you on our… problem, with Dixon?"
The Femme-Fatale snorted at this:
"Problem? Try fuckin' menace. That drug peddling sonovabitch been selling his junk on our streets fer a month now and… well, y'all seen the effect."
"Whoa, wait a second. Are you saying all the people here are because of him?"
"Not just him. But a good number."
"Beatrix, qué es el retén? You've helado plenty of scum like this Dixon. What's stopped you?"
Julie sighed as she answered:
"Dixon works for the Omerta's."
"Sorry," I shook my head, "I'm not from around here. Who are they exactly?"
"They're gangsters," Beatrix replied with hot fury burning hotter than a forge, "buncha cut-throats and vicers. Scum. Run abuncha casino's… if y'all can call them that, up on the Strip. My guess is Big Sal wants to expand his fuckin' reach out to Freeside, too."
"So what changed?" Boone asked, and Julie shook her head sadly:
"Dixon's brew has unknown chemicals that can cause arsenic poisoning. We've… started bringing in children with the same symptoms."
"Jesus."
"I'm in," Raul growled. Again, being around this woman has brought out probably some of the best I've seen out of him but this… he was beyond angry. He had the spirit of vengeance in his eyes. He took Beatrix by the shoulder, closing his fist as he roared on with a conviction as hardy as steel:
"Let's go. Right now, tú y yo. Like in the old days. Teach this pedazo de suciedad a lesson en el dolor."
Beatrix could only smile so sweetly and so kindly that it radiated like the sun rising over a stormy horizon.
"Raul… thank Christ."
"Para qué?"
"As much as you drive me nutty… you really haven't changed."
She then turned around and pulled out a duffle bag from stashed away locker. She reached inside and produced an honest-to-God sombrero. It was faded olive, a bit smaller than the more outlandish that I recall encountering, with a long pure white tail feather sticking out the side. Raul took it with both hands: feeling it, rubbing his fingers through its rough looking exterior. He crack a sly-old smile up at her, a sharp glean in his eyes:
"You kept it."
"Was a good hat."
With a chuckle, he pressed the hat onto his crown, straightening it and smoothing it out. He about-faced, his arms spread wide as he asked:
"Bueno? How do I look?"
The ghost of a smile passed by Boone's lips as he answered:
"Now you really have gone full western."
And with that, the pair took off. I remember feeling genuine pity for Dixon. He didn't have long to live. Then I heard a familiar buzzing in the air. In Julie's office, through an open window, was ED-E.
"There you are buddy! What are you doing here?"
I then looked down to see Rex lying on a cot, sleeping soundly. That was when the weird part happened. He turned about and I noticed a pair of wrench-like robotic arms sticking out from either side of his grill like face, waving lightly in the air. He gestured downward, beeping softly as he orbited around the sleeping dog. Then his speakers played a recording:
"How long's he got?"
"A few months. Probably the best we could do is try and make him feel comfortable."
He then drooped over, like he was slumping his proverbial head. I walked in, placing a comforting hand on his mournful metal hide.
"You wanna stay with him, buddy?"
He nodded, somberly; slowly ascending to just above the dog as his hands ran through his fur.
"It does make me wonder," Boone mused at my side, breaking my trip down memory lane, "why haven't we seen his… well, arms before?"
I just shook my head:
"Cass said it best. He's like me. Secrets buried, needing to be recovered. Eventually, they are."
"Makes sense, I suppose."
We walked on for a good five minutes, milling past this godforsaken tent city until we hit the shadow of an overpass crumbling high overhead. Then we spotted a large broken up building with a large corral of Brahmin to the side.
"This the place?"
He nodded:
"Just follow my lead, and let me do the talking."
I saw why as we got closer. Though they were out of uniform, there were a half dozen soldiers ahead patrolling the area. How do I know they were soldiers? Bunch of reasons, but the biggest one was the fact all of them had Service Rifles drawn and slung. Pretty much everybody else who was packing sure as hell wasn't having them shown like these guys, which tells for a large disregard for subtlety or the lack of need for one.
One of them walked over to us as three of his body stayed back, their rifles drawn on us. He raised his hand up, ordering us to halt:
"This place is off limits. State your business."
"We're here see to Major Kieran," Boone quickly walked over, pulling out a loop of paper out from his backpocket and handing it over to the trooper, "it's urgent that we speak with her."
He took one look at the papers, before handing them back over.
"Apologies, Sergeant. A couple days back, someone broke into a local supply train and stole a case full of uniforms, so we just had to be sure."
Who the hell would want to steal BDU's and why?
"Understood, trooper."
"Oh, and your friend?"
"He's with me," he then gestured me over, and I handed the guard my courier papers. Again, he mulled over them before smiling:
"Wouldn't mind having a First Recon watching over me."
"Yeah," I chuckled, "does me wonders."
And after that, we made our way to the door. Before we went in, I held Boone up, confiding quietly:
"That can't be a coincidence."
"What, the stolen uniforms?"
"Think about it. All this crap's going on all at the same time: those guys getting beaten up, that guy cutting in on the King's business, the problems here?"
"Don't forget about one of the Three Families pushing drugs. Yeah I see your point. What do you want to do?"
"Dunno yet," I shrugged, "but my guts telling me something's going on."
"Look, let's talk to Kiernan and see what she has to say on the situation."
"Right. I'll follow your lead then."
We headed inside to find more out-of-uniformed soldiers milling about what probably used to be a storage facility. They were moving large crates of whatever from place to place while others opened them up and moved their contents into smaller containers. All in all, a typical supply job.
"Sergeant Boone!"
We turned to our left to see a woman approaching us. Early thirties, with tired and wearied eyes and brow hair tied back tightly in a bun supported by quick a few bobby pins, she had an air of military discipline surrounding here. But underneath that as she got closer was frustration. The dangerous kind.
"Major," Boone immediately saluted, but she raised her hand with a warm smile:
"At ease, Boone. Last I heard you were retired. How you been? How's Carla?"
You can imagine his reaction. He tensed up so bad he practically froze to the spot. The Major immediately shot him concern, and after a while he sighed, painfully:
"She... passed away… about a year ago."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I… hadn't heard. I mean, I… well, how are you holding up?"
"A day at a time. We're here on business."
"Ah, is that what the courier is here for? I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Gideon," I extended my hand and she took it firmly, "Gideon Maddox. We were sent by the King."
There was a sudden flash of anger in her eyes, but Boone immediately raised his hand in my defense:
"Just hear what he's got to say, Major."
She sighed, crossing her arms.
"Fine. What's this about?"
"Three Kings, locals, got the shit kicked out of them a couple days back. On this side of town. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"
"I gotta ask—"
"Me and my company are trying to get on the Strip. So we're doing the man a favor."
She raised an eyebrow, looking over at Boone before looking back at me.
"I see you've been asked that before."
"Yeah," I chuckled, "could say I've got the whole schpiel rehearsed now. Now—"
"To answer your question, yes. Yes I know who you're talking about."
"Major," Boone asked, "what is going on between you and the Kings? You're not one to pick a fight."
"I didn't,' she growled, "they did. The Kings don't want the NCR here and they've made that point very clear. They've harassed our people, imposed a water tax—"
"The King told me that was because your people kept pushing into his side of town and stirring up trouble."
"Yeah? And did he tell you that his people have been going onto our side and beating civilians at a whim?"
I raised an eyebrow, and that was enough for her:
"Mr. Maddox, you need to be careful whose side you choose."
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm not on anybody's side. At best, I'm just a messenger. All the King wants is for the violence to stop."
"Yeah? Maybe he should've had that thought in mind before he beat the living hell out of the envoy we sent him."
"Envoy?" I looked over at Boone. Him too, huh? Something fishy is going on.
"What envoy?"
"Let me guess: The King decided to skip out on those details?"
"Major," Boone stepped between us, his hand resting on her shoulder, "just tell us what happened."
"Look," she sighed, "about two weeks ago, we sent a man to work out a deal with the Kings. But then we found our man in a dumpster, beaten almost half to death."
"Who exactly did he meet with?"
"Pacer, his second from what we've been told."
"Ma'am, I can assure you the King had nothing to do with that."
"That remains to be seen. I want you to send a message back to the Kings, Mr. Maddox. If it's a war they want, we'll be more than happy to contribute our share of bullets."
King
Ah, finally. Night. Time to shine an' show the folks a mighty fine good time. I slipped into my wardrobe, lookin' and peerin' through all the mighty fine number I could choose from. But, ah you know me.
People love the classics. An' they certainly love the classic look for the man I've inspired to be. There was a knock at the door.
"Come."
Sure enough, ol' Jeffie came on through. Ah, Jeff. Always could count on him. He gave me that ol' too polite smile of his as he craned his head, lookin' wide:
"Ah, the Blue Hawaii, Mr. King?"
"Ah, yes. What you think? It's either this or Viva Las Vegas."
"To be honest, sir? Go with Blue Hawaii."
"Then that I will, Jeffie. Thank you."
"My pleasure, sir. Would you like to get on with your do-over?"
"That I will, but do you think it'll scare the kiddies? Last thing I wanna do after all."
"Sir, you should take a good hard look at what they're wearing tonight."
"Point taken."
I took a seat, right front of the silver lining mirror. Jeffie took out his kit and started his magic.
"So, how are the kids doin'?"
"They are good. Maria's decided to be a big plump pumpkin."
"Ah, shucks. Certainly fits her. And Bobbie?"
"A Deathclaw. He's gotten into the unfortunate habit of chasing her around in that costume he made."
"Aw, a lill' baby Deathclaw! I haven't seen him yet an' he's already scarin' the bejeebers outta me!"
"Perhaps I shouldn't bring them around. Last thing Freeside needs is for you die of freight in the midst of your performance."
"You kiddin'? Course I wanna see the little ones! So, please bring them around. Hell, might even invite them to the dnace."
"Maria's a bit stage fright."
"Don't ya worry, Jeffie. A little dnacin' outta give her a heart of courage. Got my word on it!"
"I will certainly hold you to it, Mr. King. How do you like your look thus far?"
I took a good look an' I couldn't resist grinnin' like a jailhouse fool and goon. Jeffie really is a magician with this makeup an' such. Gave me a solid look of silver white for a skull, with my eyes, nose and everythin' 'neath my cheeks solid black. Made my bones pop even further.
"I look ghostly, Jeffie! Whoo!"
"Then I've done my job right. I'll need to do the other side."
He moved me over a little as he gotta workin' on my leftie.
"So, will you be wearing the wig tonight?"
"Dunno. Think I should?"
"It'll complete the look."
"Then I shall. Now, to business. Any word from Cass an' her compatriots yet?"
"Not yet. I wouldn't be surprised though if we won't hear from them until later tonight. Maybe tomorrow."
"Well, here's to hopin'. Tonight needs to go off without a hitch. By an' by, where'd Pacer take off to?"
"He said he had a few last minute details he had to take care of. Should be back in a couple of hours."
"Shame. Hope he don't miss the Eve. Never the same without 'em."
Gideon
It wasn't until about six when darkness finally fell. When it did, the night became alight with candle and neon lights. It was like a second dawn of sorts. And of course, soon after, the hordes of kids started their rounds. There had to be hundreds milling about on our street alone, going from house to house, or some even going into them.
They were pretty much everything you could imagine. Soldiers, fairies, pirates, hell I even spotted a girl in giant pumpkin suit getting chased by what I could only describe as a baby Deathclaw! He looked so damn realistic I had the sudden urge to go for the Colt wrapped under my arm. But when I saw that his legs were straight, not hind, I just laughed a bit.
"Cool costume, kiddo!" I called out to him. He raised his mask, grinning from ear to ear as he waved a claw that was bigger than he was! That did bring a point though. Sure, everybody here was wearing something different. But at the same time everyone had their faces painted like a skeleton.
I really wish Raul was here, he'd probably understand what was going on.
"Hey," I heard Boone whisper at my hip, "here he comes."
"Right on que, too. I thought the bastard was never coming out."
Ahead, Pacer ran across the street. Quietly, blending into the darkness as we could, we tailed him. He bobbed down two sidestreets until finally he ended up in an alley. There were a half dozen other Kings, plus another shifty-looking guy with a tweed hat. The guy immediately stunk like a rat.
After a few minutes, the seven took off while the tweed headed down another street. Allowing for some distance, we moved in. My eyes shifted right, expecting to see some folks waiting for us. All that was though were just trash cans.
"Keep an eye out for Mr. Tweed Hat. I'm getting the feeling we're gonna have to deal with him soon."
"Copy that."
We rounded the corner, and sure enough they were across the street… under the shadow of Mr. Gloom. That big, goofy and devilish looking white linen man. Except this time around… well, the ground around him was ablaze with lights, and he was moving! Well, his torso was. And on top of that he was bellowing at the top of his lungs things like:
Flee! Flee for your lives, you little miscreants! I soon shall escape and claim your delicious souls! and My, my, children! You truly look ravishing! Ha ha ha! I shall gobble you up! all in this over-the-top booming voice like he was in an echochamber. Of course, anytime he'd speak he'd be met by a large contingent of boos and hisses.
"Tangoes moving," Boone interrupted my thoughts, pointing to the end of the street. I nodded, and we quickly followed. All in all, these guys were really easy to tail. Never once did they ever stop and look behind them, or do a quick check of the surrounding area. Then again, they were Kings in their own territory so I suppose they hadn't a reason to.
Still, a damn five-year-old could shadow these guys! For the next five minutes and at least half a dozen different alleyways, we finally came up to the backside of some tall building. We quickly took cover as they stopped in front. A guard wearing all black came out, chatted with them for about a minute and then all eight of them went inside. I took one look at this crumbling building and chuckled:
"Boone, if it turns out there's Legion in there, I propose we get kerosene and just burn the place down."
"Agreed. We don't have the ammo for a place like this."
Veronica
"Hold up. I don't like the looks of those guys. Let's take a different route."
I almost wanted to ask what men, but Cass gave me a look and I held my tongue. We then turned down an alleyway, and right away I got this creepypasta feeling in my bones like Widow Ghosts were suddenly going to pop out to say boo! I mean, this place looks like the kind you get your pretty place shanked and then left in a dumpster for passerby's to ogle at your filthy remains and wonder:
"How'd this fairly attractive, should've been an actress, girl get shenaniganed so bad?"
Aw, well. I digress. Still, I couldn't help but notice Cass had her hand on her holster the whole time as we trotted in this guy's suddenly ridiculous pace.
"Keep both eyes out," she whispered softly.
"Bet your fine ass I will."
He then held up a hand and looked around the corner. He then chuckled softly:
"Sorry, ladies. Thought there somethin' there. Just a cat. By the way, I didn't ask before, but are you two… well, sisters?"
I gave Cass my what'd you know, huh? Face and she just scowled:
"It's complicated."
"Complicated? Cassidy," I gasped, deciding to sell this delusionally nutty story by playing the teasing wife, "I'm hurt. I'm really hurt. I thought you made your feelings clear last night. And here I was thinking we had a world of fun."
"The fuck ya talkin' 'bout girlie!?" she smirked back, playing along so well I actually blushed a little, "Sure, we had us quick-a-whirl, but that don't mean I ain't puttin' no damned ring on it!"
"Ah, Cassie! You embarrass me! What's a girl gotta do to get your approval?"
"Make me pass out an' mebbe I'll consider goin' further!"
I looked sideways to see the big goofy jerk wearing a big goofy grin on his rough and tumbly stupid face. I felt the urge to roll my eyes, but again I must play to my role. I guess this is what being an actress feels like. I'm getting mixed feeling about that profession now.
"Well, this is all truly fascinatin', ladies," he chuckled, "I may even ask for details… maybe more if you're interested, later. But we gotta finish our tour."
"Well, lead the way."
More alleyways. Could this get any duller? I mean, seriously. Is something going to happen or—
Why is he running ahead?
"Orris? Where are you going!?"
He disappeared around a corner. I looked at Cass, and she looked at me.
"Well, guess we follow."
"This feels like a trap," I sighed, "what's our next move?"
Cass had a smile ready to cheer me up… somehow.
"Spring the trap."
Pacer
I may hate their guts. No, take that back. I do hate their guts. Even now when I'm gotta be makin' deals with these lousy-faced pricks. I hate 'em so bad that I'm tempted to take the guns were 'bout to get and turn 'em on their makers. Make 'em choke on their own fuckin' medicine.
But, gotta admit, these psychos really do have a nice club. I'm even jealous. Took a crappy lobby-lot and made it so goddamned glamorous the Garret Twins take notes. The velvet walls, the lights, the air… the fine lasses so damned fine that I'ma thinkin' no way in hell an' all they could be really real. But, they are an' lookin' at 'em now, walkin' and chatting 'long with their knockers hanging free and clean.
Jesus, this no-touching rule's a right 'bout killin' me! Still, hadn't reached the main attraction yet. Passed long more hallways, more innerworkin's. Cookin' food hit my nose and my stomach gave me issues, somethin' Creole or Cajun or somethin' other.
Dunno. Rumor was the family were from somewhere southeast, mebbe Orleans.
"Your men will have to wait outside."
I looked up to see more muscle bound schmucks standin' 'fore a door, givin' me the stink eye. I took a look at my boys an' nodded.
"You sure 'bout this, boss?"
"Don't worry. Gloria won't hurt a hair on me… I hope."
"Speaking of Ms. Van Graff, she has a treat for your men."
Pointed over and… oh mama. Remember those lasses I was talkin' 'bout earlier? Take them an' take 'em 'nother level up. An' without the pretense of clothes.
"Oh mama."
"Right this way. Gloria is expecting you."
Gideon
"Oh mama, indeed."
"Yeah," Boone breathed at my elbow, "know how to keep a man busy."
"Got that right."
Something weird I picked up from the… staff, was that they were speaking some language that I couldn't identify. I mean it sounded familiar, and sounded kinda-sorta like Spanish. But it was strangely more… eloquent. It was the only word that could come to mind. It just sounded classier, and a lot more deliberate in their vowels.
What the hell is this place and just who the hell is running it? I felt a tug on my coat, and I saw Boone move to my left; heading down the hall and towards another door. Right about now I wish I knew how to turn off the damn volume on the Sensorium. It would come in handy right about now. But we took the door as slow as we needed, pieing the room an angle at a time as we practically low-crawled our way in with our guns drawn.
"Oh," I chuckled as we went in, "I know what this place is."
It was a dressing room, with mirrors, seats, makeup everywhere and row upon row of costumes and velvet wares. Though what seemed to be in a higher quantity was women's undergarments. Fortunately for us, its occupants were outside attending their own business. We headed out through and ended up in some kind of lobby, adorned with crimson carpets, furnished leather furniture and hard wooden floors. You have no idea how much effort it takes to not make these goddamned tiles not to groan in protest.
We rounded a corner… curtains. I mean the kind you see on a stage. So, that's where we are.
"So, it's club. Groovy."
"Why here, though?" Boone whispered at my shoulder, "And why be so—"
"Sneaky?" I chuckled, "Because that's the point. This place is discreet, especially once you get about a hundred people in here. Pacer's meeting someone here."
"You mean like a business deal?"
"Mmm hmm."
He gave me the look. The look I'd started to get accustom to because it's the exact same look I give myself anytime I look in mirror. Well, when I'm not getting haunted by ghosts that is.
"I'm getting the feeling you've done this before."
"With me, man? I've probably dabbled in just about everything at this point. Dunno, I'll let you know when I find out."
We headed to the front, peeking around the curtains and getting a good look through the room… no, it's a Dance Floor. Huh. Whole place could probably fit about a hundred folks… hell, probably more than that. And in a way, it was like an extension of everything else we'd seen earlier: crimson walls, wooden floors, little mini-stages set off on either side with a dance pole (guess what those are for) with a number of table all about. I then looked up to see stages lights and… disco-balls?
Huh.
"Heads up," Boone whispered at my shoulder, pointing ahead. As Pacer and his escort walked in, a set of doors hidden by the drapes opened and another party made themselves known.
"Pacer, dear!" a black woman shouted from across the room, "You came. This pleases me."
"Did I have much of a choice?"
"No," a tall black man standing next to the woman scoffed, folding his arms as he smirked at him, "no one breaks faith with the Van Graffs and fuckin' lives to tell about it. But for you, I might make an exception."
Van Graff. I've heard that name before… but where?
"Now, now, Jean, my sweet," Gloria soothed, resting her hand on his shoulder, "there is no need for that. At least not yet. Now, Pacer. Sit. It is time to conclude our business."
"Did you get a look at what they're packing?" Boone whispered, and I nodded.
"Yeah, looks like Plasma. Most of 'em are carrying sidearms, though the big guy's got a rifle. Got any idea who these guys are?"
"Van Graffs," Boone replied, "they're a trade family based in New Reno. Republic's clashed with them before."
New Reno… I've been there before. The biggest little city in the world. Could remember that blazing, Jet-fueled sign a mile away… the feel. The feel set in. The kind like something dark and murky down in depths, reaching up to welcome you as one of its own.
Could feel it: like a gnawing at the bones, a sickness at the back of my head, swirling… twisting. Things started to come forward. Flashes of things: streets, people… a restaurant. There was a warmth in the air, like roman candles set ablaze; comforting… relaxing. Light jazz playing in the background, blues players; melancholy set in the back of the singers' voice.
Saxophones, guitars, some kind of bass drumming somewhere in there… I could smell something cooking. I could taste grounded Brahmin meat, but there was something else. Some kind of sauce. Something I couldn't identify but it tasted so… sweet.
"Hey," I felt my shoulder shake. Tried to respond to it but… I dunno, it hard to explain. Everything just felt so slow, so… unreal. Like I was in another world… or maybe another time. Felt the hand again, and this time I heard the voice loud and clear:
"Gideon. Are you okay?"
My eye shot open. Reality hit me like a wet towel.
"Yeah," I waved my hand him, trying to shake the cobwebs from fucked-up-beyond-measured brain, "yeah, yeah. I'm good."
Maybe Arcade was right. Maybe I should start standing on my head. I mean, what else could go wrong with it, right?
"We've cased the joint, got the uniforms. Got everythin' we need. 'cept your shipment is all. The serials are clean, right?"
"We're not amateurs, love. By principle we always wipe our weapons clean. But can you say the same on your end? Are you certain the Republic will not trace it back to you?"
"Already got that covered," Pacer replied with a cunning smile, "after all, ya ain't the only ones usin' them plasma."
"I'm intrigued," the woman sat forward, giving him the smile of… well, there's no other way of saying it, so I'll just say it. One stone cold bitch. She continued, touching the man's hand, "please tell me more."
"We got us a plant."
"A plant? And how have you managed to convince someone to be your plant?"
"The dead are all too willin', Gloria. You know that."
"Too true. So, who will be your plant?"
"Coupla Fiends we found dead. Next to abuncha also dead soldier-boys. See I figured since them Republicans already got us a setup for a couple lively corpses that only need to be puttin' somewhere convenient…"
"I do like it, Pacer. And I do not say that lightly, Jean."
The big guy frowned, but she shook her head:
"So what will your plan be?"
"Twenty minutes. Get in, shoot 'em up as many as we can get, dump the bodies, plant some shooters, be gone. Refugees thinkin' it'll be Fiends; soldier-boys will be too busy chasin' junkie-fueled ghosts to notice anything else. And with that, that oughta send a message."
"What message?" The big guy asked. Pacer crossed his arms, smirking as he replied:
"Same one House gave us. Only thing folks listen to is blood. And when people see it ain't safe for them freeloaders an' gamblers, not even in that 'Little Cali' they got set up there? Well, oughta think twice 'bout comin'. Place ain't so glamorous afterall."
"It won't be the end, though. The Republic always gets its due, lover."
"But it'll at least buy us some time. See, Presley's right. Somethin' nasties coming. And when it does, we need to be ready. This should give us the breathin' room we need."
"A valid reason."
"What's yours, Gloria?"
"Besides business?"
"Nothin's never just business with you. You're too… passionate."
"I suppose you're right," she sighed, cubbing her hands together like some desperate confessioner looking to make right with the guy upstairs.
"The truth is… I hate the Republic. I hate how at every turn, they stand in our way. Like the big, clumsy and greedy bear that it is, it seeks to carve everything under their path. Everything there's. In the old days, my family sought to parlay with them. To appease them. What more could be done? We were still fighting for control of New Reno. We didn't need another enemy. Then… predictably, our enemies conspired. I still remember the man… I was sixteen at the time. The one-eyed man."
The one-eyed man? Wait… is she… what's going…
"We've got a job for you, Gid."
I opened my eyes. The restaurant, the music, the food… all of it coming back to me. The world around being painted with this orange hue… sunlight at three o'clock. Late lunch. Something more was different, though. I felt… different.
Younger… colder. I looked left, and I saw my reflection in golden silverware. I was older than I was from a night ago, at least a good couple of years. I ran my hand through my hair, combed back, the sides shaved. It felt… slick, almost cultured… wait, am I wearing a suit?
Huh. Guess I've always like brown.
"What's the job?" I felt myself asking, turning to face the man across from me; hidden in shadow, the burning embers of his cigarette the only illumination on his side of the table. He pushed something towards me. A picture. Took it, felt the ink in my fingers, my one eye looking over the guy's details. All in all, like Bill Cosby in his dying days.
"The fat bastard's family's been movin' in on Wright's business. Now, you know Orville's a reasonable man, tried to make conversation. But these guys, these creole, Cajun inbred motherfuckers? Well, they don't want no conversation. But we're thinkin' maybe, just maybe he'll talk to you. You free Thursday?"
Remember taking a drink of something. Something hard, something sickly. Put it down, grinned at him:
"Always free Thursday. Dead or not?"
"Either. We need to send a message to this fucker… and his family. Tell 'em New Reno belongs to Wright's. Not them. Not anyone else. Do you understand?"
"I understand the man has children. A wife. I don't mind taking out the trash, but you know my rule."
"And so does Orville. Him and only him. Always your discretion."
"And you know I always deliver."
Something felt different, different from the world around, stranger. I looked left, and the room became illuminated with a sudden flash of lightning. Wait a second, lightning? It doesn't rain in New Reno… I was suddenly conscience of falling.
But not just me… everything. Tables, chairs, people… It was like someone had taken the gravity and flipped it. Everything and everyone fell, and my world became one ringing monotone that faded to black. I hit something hard, something soft… then I heard a voice. A woman's voice:
"Deliver what?"
My eye shot open, but the rest of my body wasn't nearly as quick to the sudden change in note. I craned around… I was on a floor. There were tables… crimson walls. Oh no.
"Tell me, one-eye. Tell me, now."
I looked up, and there at my nose was the silver finish of a blaster. And the eyes of long-overdue vengeance behind them that seemed to want to burn me up in their gaze.
"Boone?"
I looked left to see him on the floor, facedown, blood running from his forehead.
"Oh god, no. No."
"He breathes," the woman's cool voice swept over me like a veil of night, "only so long as I decide. Now tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"What you have done… I want you to confess before you die."
"Lady… I don't even know you."
A cold smile added itself to those dragon breath eyes.
"Is that so? We'll learn the truth soon enough. Jean, take them back."
"Wait—"
Lightning flashed in my brain before curtains fell into place.
Cass
The fuck is this fucker goin'? He's been leadin; us down so many goddamned alley's I'm startin' ta wonder if he even knows where the hell he's going! Though… the alleys are startin' ta get tight. Where the hell is he—
"What the— Ha, you bastards thought you could sneak up on us!?"
Then he drew a handcannon… Jesus, that's gotta be a .45-70 gov't!
"Well, I hope you've made peace with your maker 'cause you're gonna meet him."
We came round and there standin' were seven dumbasses just standin' there like deer-in-the-headlights. Then he opened fire and like frickin' dominoes they dropped. But somethin' hit me. Seven down… five shots. Oh, you sly, cleaver an' stupid son of a bitch. I looked at Veronica and she grinned.
"Nothing to worry about. If you'd hired any one of those other hacks, you'd be—"
Veronica suddenly shouted at the top of her lungs, swingin' round and round:
"I call bullshit! You hear that! Bullshit to every possible degree!"
"Um, ladies I don't know what you're talkin' about—"
"Listen genius," she smirked with that smarty-pants look in her eyes, "that oversized, overcompensating piece of metal you're carrying is a Magnum Research BFR."
"Big Fucking Revolver," I chuckled and she 'course smirked back 'fore continuing on with her shpiel:
"That means that weapon carries a five shot cylinder regardless of whatever ungodly caliber you've got it loaded with."
"And oh look. Ya got seven guys here, dumbass! Care ta explain that?"
"Um, well I keenly aimed for soft tissue and—"
"And what?" Veronica cut him off, "Managed to take out not just one, but two? Sorry, but you're no Lee Harvey Oswald."
"Um, who?"
"Oh, he was some Communist jerkwad who apparently, and somehow, managed to assassinate a president by curving a bullet and hitting him in the face."
"What, ya mean like a magic bullet?"
"Pretty much, yeah. Still think the guy in question was a patsy but still—"
"Look ladies, I know this seems a bit strange but—"
"Ya know what I think? I think you're so full of shit yer practically swimming in it!"
"Disturbing image, Cass."
"Meant ta be. Point is, yer one big fuckin' fraud. You drum up this bullshit so you get repeat business."
Then he gave me that look, like a man willin' ta kill and my hand traced down to the 10mm still restin' in my holster.
"That what you think, huh?"
"Bet yer ass. In fact, why don't we go an' have a talk with the King, eh Orris?"
"Well now. That's just unfortunate. Boys!"
The doors to our sides opened… the fuckers on the ground got back up… an' they all were armed. Pulled out my HK, Veronica went to my back, they started circlin'… fuck, we ain't getting outta this. One guy stood out though. One shifty lookin' fucker in a tweed hat… smirking and all. Son of a bitch.
We were played
"Take them. Pacer wants them alive."
Ralph
"Let's go, Mick! I've gotta get some sleep— what the fuck!?"
"What? What is it?"
"Someone… holy fuck, someone melted the lock on the door!"
"Well, what was taken?"
"I… don't know. I'll head back an' get the inventory—"
"Don't bother. I know what was taken."
"What?"
"Someone stole the Batman and Superman costumes I had on display."
"What the fuck? Who the hell would—"
"Dunno. Just glad they didn't actually steal anything valuable."
