A/N: Hey all, just a quick slightly edited repost of my last chapter before I updating again! I have a few more installments that will be released every thursday until I run out again. IDM is slated for completion sometime around this fall, and as of now, is nearly over half way done :) Cheers
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The welded statues of the Mojave Outpost stood out against the dusk like pale steel phantoms, appearing first as dots on the horizon and taking form as they got closer.
There hadn't been any trouble since Primm, but regardless the pair had taken precautions to protect themselves on the last leg of their journey; covering their tracks and scent, staying off the main roads until the caravans became more and more common. The wind still blew, still carried with it an ill omen that remained nameless, but for now they were safe.
They entered through the main gate- regarding the Outpost as if surprised at what they saw. Angel whistled through her teeth.
"Lot of people here," Boone commented. "Still afraid of the I-15 I'm guessing, but too lazy to take the long way around."
Angel watched the throngs of traders and soldiers mingle; buying, selling, and trading in a robust whirlwind of activity. A merchant slept in a brahmin stall with his hat tipped over his eyes and his boots crossed one over the other. Others had already taken up refuge in the barracks. "And yet we just strolled down it like child's play. I guess that means more for us."
"How many caps do you have?"
"A few hundred... you?"
"About a thousand. You might want to think about selling that gauss rifle."
She shoots a hard glare. "And why would I do that?"
"It's dead weight."
"No it isn't. Major Knight can fix it if I can't find another coil."
Boone scoffed. "You know how expensive that's going to be?"
They stop in the middle of the Outpost. Angel smirks at him.
"One thing, Boone- never underestimate a girl's ability to get what she wants. Clearly you've never seen me haggle before."
"Sure I have."
"Oh, but not like this." She scans the crowd, feeling the small bag of caps underneath the leather of her coat. "I'll get food and fill out our medical supplies, you cover the rest." With that, the pair splits up and disappears into the tangle of people.
An hour later and Angel was standing in the same spot, a large sack hoisted over her shoulder and another one resting at her feet. Boone found her a few minutes later.
"What's in the bag?" He asked.
She nudged it with her boot and it toppled over, spilling with bottle caps, rare parts, and other valuable looking objects. "A little under ten thousand, and enough food to get us to Mexico… not bad, right?"
The ex-Ranger's jaw dropped, weighing the bags without touching them. "How- how did you do that?"
"What, you've never seen a woman with money before?" She winks. "It was pretty easy actually. Most of these traders are from different parts of the mojave, some share the same niche markets but have different price points. All I had to do was exploit the overlap." Behind Boone's unreadable expression Angel thought she saw a hint of approval.
"Not bad," he said, taking the heavier of the sacks.
They entered the barracks and found that it was just as busy as it was outside, the bar packed elbow-to-elbow with noisy merchants and off-duty troopers drinking away the night. Heartaches by the Number played in the background. Angel slipped through the crowd, made it to the back, and stuck her head in Major Knight's office.
"Hey."
Knight set down his paperwork and looked up.
"Angel! This is a pleasant surprise… what brings you back to the Outpost?"
After a few minutes of small talk he took her gauss cannon and gave her a key to the last guest room, all for a whopping total of twenty-five hundred caps. She unloaded some of her supplies in the small retrofitted officer quarters, undressed herself, and sprawled out on the bed.
Of all places in the mojave I should feel safe here, and I couldn't feel any farther from it.
She looks up at the mosaic of cracks on the ceiling. I'm not safe anywhere now. Maybe I never was...
Being somewhat on the side of the NCR did give her a degree of insulation, as well as the other groups that were loyal to her cause, but she couldn't rely on it to keep herself hidden. Not if he was with the Legion now. He would find her one way or the other, and if she wasn't ready... well.
She would have to be.
"You find a room?" Boone asked her at the doorway leading to the bar. Angel could tell he was keeping a close eye on everyone, even the soldiers.
"Yeah, single bedroom though. Its gonna be tight."
"That's fine. I was going to sleep in one of the bunks anyway... it's been awhile."
"Reliving the glory days?"
"Something like that," he replied.
There was something about his brief moments of nostalgia that made her curious... as if she could see the other side of him. A microscopic window into his past that she could never experience otherwise; a past he would never tell in its entirety. In truth, she wantedto know.
In front of her a few spots open up at the bar, "Sounds nice. I think I might have a drink, feel like joining me?"
She knew the answer by the look on his face. "It's too crowded in here... I'll be outside if you need me."
"Suit yourself." Angel grinned as he started for the door, "Ooh and it's a clear night out, maybe you and Ghost could go stargazing..." Shaking his head, Boone parted the rickety metal door and walked out into the blackness.
She goes up to the bar and sits down. A few of the closer patrons stare at her for a moment, then look away; less gawking than she usually gets in a place like this. But then she notices the other women. Traders, ranchers, caravan runners. They look tough and austere compared to her, and yet they wore the weight of the mojave on their shoulders just like she did.
Her eyes fall on the woman next to her- fiery looking and dressed like a cowgirl straight out of an old western novel, red hair tied back in a bun under a double-fold hat. Angel quickly deduced that she was the most dangerous person here.
"Looking for trouble?" The woman meets her amused glance in a half-question, half-challenge.
Angel took the bait. "Maybe."
"Heh, cute, but I've seen bloatflies more intimidating than you," she swills down the whiskey left in her glass. "The Strip is a long ways away from here, sweetheart."
"I just came from there, actually." She knew what she meant though; wearing just a loose-fitting black t-shirt and leggings, Angel looked more like a tourist than the future ruler of New Vegas.
"Oh? And I bet you waltzed right down death's highway guns blazing, didn't you."
"I prefer 'strolled'," she replied sagaciously. "But yeah, I did. Broke my gauss rifle, used all my ammo on a pack of nightstalkers, and probably would've died getting here if it wasn't for my partner."
Something sparked in the gray depths of the woman's eyes while she listened, like she was seeing her clearly for the first time. "Bullshit. That was you?"
"Sure was. I'm tougher than I look," she leans back, stretching her arms over her head so that her belt-knife glinted in the light.
"The traders that came up late say your partner there did most of the heavy lifting, but hell, if you're not full of shit like everyone else here that's impressive in and of itself…"
Angel decided right then that she liked her.
"Yeah, and I don't smell nearly as bad. My name's Angel by the way."
"Cass."
"Nice to meet you, Cass. How about a drink?"
She snorted derisively. "'How about a drink?' How about a couple, is what you mean..."
"Drinking to forget, and it's only getting me mad instead. Whiskey always gets my temper up- now more than ever."
"What are you trying to forget?"
She sighed, reaching for her glass and realizing there was nothing in it. "Lost my caravan heading north, the driver burned to ash- they didn't even take the cargo, they just burned that, too."
"Why would they do that?" Angel asked. "Definitely doesn't sound like raiders."
"My guess is Legion; they're trying to cut the NCR's supply line… and the Mojave Outpost is proof. Got us locked up tighter than a New Vegas virgin. No caravans in, out, and just try arguing with Jackson about it. 'Roads aren't safe,' he says. No shit you washed out old fuckup, I didn't need a Brotherhood Scribe to tell me that."
She laughed out loud, almost spilling Olde Royale and cola on herself.
"I've met him, real nice impersonation."
"Yeah, he's been with NCR so long all he can see is the worst outcome of everything, so he doesn't do anything. Jackson won't let me head north, it's not safe… and even though my caravan's gone, my caravan papers are keeping me here."
Angel orders her another whiskey, neat. "I've already cleared the roads for Jackson."
"No shit?" For once she doesn't sound quite so despondent. "Drinks on me, then. Still, not like I'm going anywhere. Caravan's title's keeping me here, even though it's dead and gone."
That's when it hit her. The Crimson Caravan job. McLafferty's offer to buy out a rival company.
It's her.
Angel sips on her drink, mulling, the warm lull of liquor wrapping sleepily around her. "Was your outfit called Cassidy Caravans?"
"Yeah."
She looks right at her. "What if I told you the Crimson Caravan wants to buy you out?"
Cass shifted in her seat, chewed on her words for a second. "They want to buy Cassidy Caravans? Don't they know it's burned to ash?"
"They do."
"I- no…" she hesitated. "Even times being what they are, I'm not looking to sell, even for all the whiskey in Reno."
Angel understood. Her entrepreneurial spirit was crushed, and she wanted to hold onto the namesake. But at the same time she also understood what it was like to live in the past. To picture and fantasize over and over again what it would've been like if things were different.
The idea hit her like a brick wall.
"What if I bought the title?"
Cass was dumbfounded. "What? You? The hell would you wanna do that for?"
"Yep, me. And because I'd like to help you if I can."
"Jesus Christ…" she drains her glass and sets it on the counter. "How much are you offering?"
"Actually," Angel starts, finishing hers too and putting it next to Cass'-
"I was thinking we could drink for it."