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Veronica's whistled lowly as the Courier exited the arena, leaving the two deathclaws lying in the sand behind him. Leaning back from the screen, the former scribe hit the pause button on the remote by her bed and the recording froze. Veronica squinted at the ceiling as she ran through the events she had just witnessed before taking a long draw from a bendy straw stuck into a plastic cup. She grimaced at the foul liquid that was, supposedly, good for her.
"What flavor even is this?" She asked indignantly.
"I haven't gotten around to adding flavor to it," Denn replied, taking the cup from her hand and popping open its lid to sniff at its contents. "Any suggestions?"
"Seeing as drinking it straight is probably about as enjoyable as gargling sewage... I'd say there's little you could add to make it worse."
"Is that a challenge?"
"As long as you drink it first, sure. Any-who... how'd you know the deathclaw wouldn't attack you? After you took the spark-spark-stick out of its mate's mouth, I mean."
"Call it a hunch... or call it a educated guess based off the observation of the four major deathclaw packs that reside in the Mojave and the hierarchy based on strength each pack is built upon. "
"Of course! Though I'm guessing the main thing that you should have learned from that observation was 'don't go into a pit with two deathclaws."
"Hey, it worked out alright."
"Ya-huh... What happened next?"
The Courier picked up the remote and began to fast-forward through the recording. "The crowd does as crowds do, I go to my ready room and start to pull the claws out of my shoulder with Boone's help, Red Lucy comes and tells me I have been challenged, I come back into the arena and-"
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The crowd above was relatively quite, but the excited whispers that could be heard betrayed the latent excitement. Denn moved to the center of the arena and put his arms behind his back, standing at ease in front of the man who had, apparently, issued the challenge that had brought him from his ready room.
Intricate tattoos traced the challenger's frame served to accentuate his well practiced muscles and as he stretched, the black lines shifted and curved in the half-light of the arena. His eyes were locked on the Courier, and the hunger Denn saw in the gaze reminded him of Red Lucy during their engagement at the top of the Lucky 38.
"Are you ready, Courier?" the challenger asked, his words reverberating from his throat like slabs of granite grinding against one another
"Red Lucy tells me you would see my strength," Denn responded. "Was my fight with the deathclaw's not enough?"
"For most, yes. I would see more."
"If you would see my strength would you not see me healed? Set yourself against me when I am at my most capable?"
"The wasteland doesn't test us when we are at our strongest. It doesn't wait for our wounds to heal, for our body to become whole. I would see your strength, Courier, when you are at your weakest."
Denn grinned beneath his rebreather, and after a moments thought, pulled the apparatus from his head. "What is your name?" he asked his challenger.
"Quinn," the man replied.
"As you will, Quinn," the Courier said, letting his practiced intonation fail as his ravaged vocal chords forced the words from his throat.
"Test me."
The words were a muted roar as Denn charged towards his opponent.
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"Quinn is a stupid name," Veronica quipped, grimacing once again as she swallowed another mouthful of the vile, healing liquid.
"I'm sure he would say the same about Veronica," the Courier replied, smiling.
"Most people do. So why'd you pause it?"
"What happens next isn't exactly... pleasant. While I wasn't 'at my weakest,' I wasn't doing too hot after the deathclaws, and since I was faced by someone of unknown ability..."
"This doesn't end well for him, does it?"
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Quinn screamed in pain as his shoulder ripped free of its socket. A blow to back of his head sent him sprawling to the ground where the Courier drove a heel into the fallen man's thigh with inhuman strength.
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"Eww," Veronica exclaimed as Quinn's femur snapped.
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The Courier pulled the syringe from Quinn's neck and stepped back, wincing in sympathy at the man. His concoction would keep the man unconscious until he could get him to the Lucky 38 to keep the injuries from becoming permanently debilitating, but in the meantime...
"Some of you may have heard rumors of what I plan for the Mojave," Denn began, raising his voice. "That I plan to rule as House ruled. That I plan to force my will on those I view as beneath me. That I will treat this land and its people as my personal playthings."
The Courier paused and turned towards Red Lucy, "That is not the case. This world, this wasteland, was created by humanity hundreds of years ago. Through the choices of our past the hell we are forced to live in was brought into existence. Since then we have struggled to survive. Since then we have been at the mercy of an uncaring, and unforgiving entity.
"I mean to change that. We have survived this wasteland, but our strength has been tempered long enough. I am not content to merely survive - to have my life dictated to me by the wasteland. I will claim this world. I will choose how I live, how my children live, how my friends and allies live, and I will strike down those who would stand in my way. It is in my power to shape my place in the world, and if you stand with me, you will have that power as well.
"I plan to strengthen the Mojave. I plan to bring its people out of the cities and shelters where they hide and give them the power to take what was taken so long ago. I plan to grow in strength myself, to become unassailable by those who would see me fail.
"Join with me, and this wasteland will be ours."
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"I liked it," Veronica said, smiling as she opened the top of her cup and realized she was finished with the vile tonic it once contained.
"You're sure? It wasn't too... I don't know..."
"Oh, don't get me wrong. Super dramatic. But for Westside I think you have to be."
"Ah-huh."
"So how'd it do?"
"The speech? Well, I've promised to provide Securitrons for defense based on the number of volunteers each community provides, and Westside is receiving the lion's share of them so... I think it went well."
"That and they probably want to learn how to beat up Quinn."
"Might be." The Courier smiled. "How're you feeling?"
"Honestly? Kinda overwhelmed. You've got plans for me, don't you?"
"Only when you're ready. Honestly, you deserve something of a vacation. The Lucky 38 is at your disposal."
"Even the manufacturing level?"
"I suppose..."
"Good. I've wanted to tinker with that stuff since before I even knew it was there."
"Fair enough."
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"I don't like this," Cass stated.
"You think any of us do?" Boone asked quietly, looking through the one way mirror at the Courier and Veronica as the former Scribe began going over her plans for the creation of new technologies. "You saw what was happening to her and what it did to Gannon. Denn thinks he's taken care of it, but if they're made aware of what happened it could cause a relapse and..."
"I know what he said. I know what could happen. I just..."
"You don't like it."
"No. How do we know if she's going to be ok? Or if Gannon is even going to wake up?"
"We don't, but Veronica did, and she seems to be herself."
"How did he do it?"
"Personally? I don't care."
"Really?"
"As long as Veronica and Gannon are safe, no. They were dying, Cass. Denn saved them."
Cass sighed, her gaze locked on the smiling woman on the other side of the glass.
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"So when do you start recruiting?"
"Already started. We've taken the most skilled of the volunteers, as well as selected members from the Kings and other communities who were required to provide soldiers, and they'll be trained as officers."
"Trained by whom?"
"You remember Moreno?"
"Nope."
"Old guy, super gruff, runs around in power armor?"
"Oh! The Remnant?"
"That's the man."
"Those poor volunteers..."
"Right? He'll be leading the training exercises and be in charge for the most part. I have elements from the Boomers who will provide explosive's training, Red Lucy will be in charge of survival training, Raul will be teaching weapon maintenance and so on and so forth.
"Sounds like they'll be giving it the good old college try. Any standout 'applicants?"
"Well..."
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"Name?"
"Sunny Smiles."
"Home community?"
"Goodsprings."
"Experience?"
"Firearms, wasteland survival, a little bit of weapon maintenance."
"Age?"
"Nineteen."
"Any questions?"
"Can I bring a dog?"
"No."
"Shoot..."
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"Name?"
"Harland."
"Last name?"
"Just Harland."
"Home community?"
"Novac? I guess?"
"Experience?"
"Survival, Firearms, hand-to-hand, construction, I could go on."
"Age?"
"Not sure anymore. I stopped counting."
"Any questions?"
"Will the entirety of this training be done through robots?"
"No."
"Just this bit, then?"
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"Alright then..."
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"Name?"
"Uh, Phillip Lem."
"Home community?"
"The Strip."
"Experience?"
"Explosives and... well Cardio I guess?"
"Age?"
"Twenty-two."
"Any questions?"
"Are the names of volunteers public knowledge?"
"No."
"Good..."
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"Name?"
"Alice Hostetler."
"Home community?"
"The Strip."
"Experience?"
"Hand-to-hand."
"Age?"
"18."
"Any questions?"
"No."
.
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"Name?"
"Melissa Lewis."
"Personal Override: We look forward to working with you."
"Neat."
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"Name?"
"Simon."
"Individual Recognized. Associate of the Van Graff Family."
"Former associate of the Van Graff family."
"Additional screening Required."
"That's fine with me."
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"Name?"
"James Korvic."
"Home community?"
"The strip."
"Experience?"
"A little bit of everything."
"Age?"
"18."
"Any questions?"
"No."
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"Lovely band of missfits."
"Aren't they?"