The hot water sprayed forth from the faucet in a hard downpour, rinsing away the dirt of the trip from New Reno as John sat under it. The quiet of the Vault was in some ways eerie, in other ways welcome. Four months had gone by. Almost hard to believe, he thought, attempting to force his body to relax as the water ran over his neck and down his back. This had always been one of his preferred ways to relax, growing up in the Vault; particularly after any sort of physical activity. The shower in Vault 21, though, was bringing back different memories; not of the happy times he had experienced in 101 growing up but of the last time he had ever set foot in his home, in December of 2277…
"You look exhausted, John," Amata said, cupping his cheek with her hand. Her father had just come to her and resigned as Overseer, leaving her in charge of the Vault and its future. At that moment, though, amidst the raucous celebration being thrown by Amata's rebel faction, her eyes showed only concern for her lost lover. He had been gone nearly 4 months, and the changes the Capital Wasteland had wrought on him had been obvious the moment he had walked through the Vault door again. The most obvious to her, though, was an air of exhaustion; of a fatigue that went beyond mere physical exhaustion and permeated his entire being; as if his spirit was as worn as his body was by whatever he had seen on the outside.
"You have no idea," he replied wanly, leaning his head into the palm of her hand and closing his eyes; the first time he had looked even remotely at peace since he had reentered the Vault. In that moment he looked like the person Amata had remembered, the man she had grown to love through their 19 years together; not the weary, dirty traveler who had come to answer her call.
"Why don't we get you cleaned up and then into bed?" she asked, smiling cautiously at him. He nodded almost imperceptibly; her hand dropping to his to lead him away from the crowd of rebels and into the privacy of the showers. The halls of the Vault were quiet now; no sounds of violence echoing through the Vault, none of the tension that had seemed almost palpable still evident to her. In that moment Amata dared to hope that every dream she had could come true: leading the Vault into the future, with her man back at her side; out of isolation and into reengagement with the world. They wound quietly through the now empty halls of the Vault, neither feeling the need to speak before reaching the seclusion of the showers. The door hissed open as they reached it, revealing the men's showers, the fluorescent lights flickering to life as the doors opened. John walked through, head still down, navigating almost purely on memory instead of actually observing his surroundings. The door hissed shut behind them as they entered, with Amata locking it a moment later. The sound of the lock being thrown seemed to shake John from his stupor, surprise showing on his face as he turned to look at her.
"What're you doing?" he asked; a look of confusion overcoming the exhaustion on his face.
"Making sure you remember how to shower. It doesn't look like you've taken one since you left," Amata joked, smiling lightly at him as she walked forward. The humor was lost on the Wanderer.
"No way to shower up there. Not enough clean water," he replied, his voice flat and lacking in any emotion. Amata grimaced at the response, the first time John had spoken of the world outside the Vault.
"Is it bad?" she whispered, helping John unbuckle the black armor that covered his torso. He slipped out of it and allowed it to drop to the ground, before stretching his back and shoulders out, welcoming the removal of the weight of the armor. He took a moment to look at Amata before responding.
"Like you can't imagine," he responded, his voice dropping into a whisper. Amata took a moment to take her old lover's figure in. With the armor covering his torso removed, he wore only a black t-shirt, one that looked to have not been cleaned in a while and which had a circular hole on the right side; the hole encircled by a dark stain. It took her a moment before the sickening realization hit her-the hole and stain were in all likelihood from a gunshot.
"Where did you get this get-up you're wearing?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. What had once been bright green now seemed subdued, almost a grey tone.
"I took it from a mercenary that had been contracted out to kill me," he replied, before pulling off the t-shirt that he wore. Amata's hand covered her mouth, still processing what he had said. The shock of his body only added to her horror. In the same area as the hole on his shirt was a circular, pink scar; small and puckered. A massive bruise was visible on the opposite side of his torso, and elsewhere were cuts and abrasions; ones that would have horrified her and seen her drag John to their medic if they weren't so thoroughly overshadowed by the gunshot wound and bruises on his body. Besides the injuries, though, was another realization: his body had changed. He had always been athletic growing up, but his musculature had been that of someone who lifted weights; not that of someone who had become strong through their daily life. Now, though…the man standing in front of her had almost no body fat. He was leaned out, and every inch of his body screamed an ability to do incredible violence. For the first time in Amata's life, she felt fear of the man standing in front of her; fear of the person that she realized, in that moment, was no longer the JJ she had grown up with, but instead something else altogether.
"Why was he contracted to kill you?" Amata asked, unzipping her jumpsuit and peeling out of it as she did. Dressed in only a t-shirt and underwear, she made her way to a shower head and turned on the water. As she did John stripped off the rest of his clothing, before making his way over to the stream of water and sitting underneath it.
"For disarming the atomic bomb in the center of Megaton," he replied wearily, head dropped down as the water poured over his body, rinsing away the dirt and grime in streaks.
"You disarmed an atomic bomb?" she asked as she sat next to him, water soaking through her t-shirt as she did. The only response she received was a nod and a faint sound of confirmation. "Why didn't your dad come back with you?" she continued, her curiosity about what had happened on the outside overcoming her restraint in the face of John's exhaustion. To her surprise, John's body shuddered slightly before he looked up; eyes red and watery.
"He's gone, Amata. He died a week and a half ago," came the reply. The response came as a shock to Amata, her heart sinking in that moment as she remembered James and how kind he had always been to her.
"Oh my God, JJ. I am so sorry," she said, reaching her arms around his neck and pulling him into her. He leaned forward without resisting, resting his face in the nape of her neck and closing his eyes, absorbing the feel of her skin, the scent that he had missed so desperately on the outside world.
"I just want to come home now, Amata," he whispered as he rested against her, eyes closed. No answer came from her, as she simply rocked side to side, cradling the head of the man she had loved. She couldn't bring herself to think about it, but already she realized that the person he had become could be dangerous inside the Vault, especially when peace had just been restored…
John snapped from his memories as the song playing on his Pip-Boy ended. He had taken the computer off to shower and set it off to the side, playing music as he cleaned up. Standing back up, he shut off the stream of water and grabbed his towel off of the rack; quickly drying off before redressing in a clean set of clothing; a plain white t-shirt and green cargo pants. Leaving the showers, he returned to his room, the door opening and revealing Gale sitting on her bed reading a book. She looked up to him as he entered, her bright blue eyes shining with excitement.
"You ready to go?" she asked, bouncing off the bed as she did. He couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm, despite how perturbed he was by the memory of his last time in Vault 101 resurfacing.
"Yeah," he replied, tossing his towel on his bed and grabbing a bag full of caps. "Let's get out of here."
Night had never been a safe time in the Capital Wasteland. During the worst of times, there were any number of things that went bump in the night-Super Mutants, raiders, and mutated wildlife. Even after the Wanderer and his companions had thoroughly purged the Wasteland, the more dangerous creatures-Mirelurks, Yao Guai, and packs of feral dogs were enough to keep most people inside. The raiders coming back out in larger numbers only made the nights more dangerous. Even raiders, as high on chems as they may have been, feared the night in the Capital Wasteland, though.
Clover was the thing that went bump in the night for them.
She looked inside her weapons locker, deep inside the most secure of the safe houses that she had been residing in, trying to decide on a weapon; the way she had heard girls before the war had chosen what to wear on dates. She had options to suit any mood-for stealth, she had her Perforator rifle. For long range, the Gauss rifle that the Wanderer had given her.
Tonight, though, she was feeling particularly vindictive. She wanted to make a bloody mess of everything tonight. Her eyes settled on a pair of 10mm submachine guns that rested on the wall of the locker, a smile playing across her face. Picking the weapons up, she performed a cursory functions check, ensuring the weapons were in serviceable condition before holstering them on her hips. From a box that rested on a workbench next to the locker she drew out multiple magazines of 10mm ammunition; the rounds hollow point instead of the standard full-metal jacket rounds that she typically used. The hollow points would do greater damage to unarmored enemies. She felt giddy just thinking about the damage her sword and the rounds would do to the raiders she was hunting tonight. Sheathing the sword on her back and putting the magazines into pouches that were attached to her belt, she turned and bounded out of the underground bunker; the stealth field on her clothing coming online as she pulled the hood over her head. Time to play!
The sounds of fighting returning to the Capital Wasteland echoed through the ruins, carried on the wind from every corner of the blasted city. Inside her stealth suit, Clover smiled. The raiders were out. The Talon Company was out. The Brotherhood would be out somewhere too, all three of the groups trying to kill each other.
And Clover was out to kill them all. There were SO many things to kill; she could hardly contain her glee.
She moved from shadow to shadow, blending into the darkest corners of the night, her cloaking field becoming somewhat superfluous. Her field craft alone would have kept her concealed, should she have chosen to deactivate the stealth field. She didn't, though; something about being invisible made her feel secure. Being alone had never bothered her, but the thought of being visible, of any wandering eye being able to see her, horrified her. In her calmer moments, during her travels after the Wanderer had released her, she had wondered why that was. The best guess she had was that it was some sort of psychological scarring from being used as a whore for so long; that after being taken advantage of any time a man laid eyes on her the ability to fade from everything's view offered some sense of security, a promise of never being used again.
No matter now, though. Nothing can see me. I can see them, though…her eyes alighted upon a window through which orange light shone, 100 yards down the road she was on, at best guess. Sloppy. So very sloppy. She moved quickly down the road, the sound of voices coming from the room becoming clearer as she approached. Two of them, men. They're alone, they think they're safe. Let's play! Unsheathing her shocksword, she crept to the opening in the wall that led to where the two men were, standing around a barrel in which burned a fire. Neither had a weapon in his hands. Clover felt her spirits drop at that. She had been hoping to have fun with this group. Instead all they would do is die without a fight. So hard to find a decent fight in this town these days, she thought, as she leapt from the shadows onto the nearest man.
Both men were dead within 10 seconds. Clover looked down at the corpses, disgust on her face. Wiping the blood on the blade off on one of the dead men's pants, she sheathed it before moving back into the night.
Even in a town like New Vegas, a Super Mutant walking into the Aces Theater was enough to draw attention. Cass looked up from her whiskey as the hulking figure entered the room, accompanied by two men. Were it not for the presence of the Super Mutant, the larger of the two humans walking with him would have drawn Cass's attention. The man was dark haired and had the features of a tribal, vaguely reminding Cass of her mother; but there was something more about the man that seemed…familiar. Although she was sure she hadn't, she felt like she had somehow met the man before. As the newcomers approached the bar where Cass sat alongside Boone, the realization hit her. She knew this Super Mutant. It was Fawkes, the Super Mutant from the East Coast that had sold her the survival guide. As he and his companions arrived she greeted him.
"Long time no see, Fawkes," she began, raising her glass of whiskey in greeting. The mutant looked her way, recognition showing on his features.
"Miss Cassidy. You are well met," he growled, approaching her. She noticed a look of shock on the tribal's face as Fawkes returned her greeting. The look made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. Attempting to brush it aside, she focused her attention back to Fawkes, the sound of Boone quietly ordering another drink barely audible in the background.
"What brings you back to New Vegas? I thought you were heading back East after that caravan," she replied.
"I returned East, as I said. And then I talked to my friend I spoke of, the Wanderer, and he decided that he should come to the NCR for himself. I would have been a poor friend had I left him to do it alone. We traveled as caravan guards, along with my companions here, Bonzo and Smith," he responded, gesturing towards the two men with him. Bonzo was the first to extend his hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Cassidy," he began, all the charm he could muster on display. He had the look of a man who had lived his life on the road, she thought. Smiling, she turned to face the massive man standing next to Bonzo, this…Smith that Fawkes had mentioned. The look of shock on his face had passed to one that almost looked like satisfaction. Before she could say anything, he spoke.
"Little Rosie Cassidy. I can't believe it's actually you," he began, a faint smile on his face. She felt herself flush at his words.
"How the fuck do you know me enough to call me Rosie?!" she demanded, her teeth and fists clenching as she did. The light chuckle the man responded with only aggravated her further.
"You'd have been too young to remember the last time you saw me. Your father was one of my closest friends though; I introduced him to your mother," the man replied, the tribal accent lending credence to his claims. At once the realization of who he was hit Cass.
"Yudhajit? Uncle Yudhajit?" she whispered, disbelief in her voice. He smiled and nodded his head in response, extending his hand to her. She grasped it lightly, her disbelief still apparent. This was the man her mother had told her stories about, the legend her father had traveled with.
"You must have only been four or five the last time I saw you, all those years ago. Whatever came of your parents?" he asked. She grimaced before responding.
"Dad left when I was a kid. Just couldn't stay in one place I guess. All he left me was his shooting skills, his drinking skills, and his heart condition. Mom died about a decade ago, I guess," she responded.
"I'm sorry for both," Yudhajit began. "Your father was always a restless man. We had some…lively adventures together, as it were. I always looked back at my time in his company fondly. Your mother was a good woman, though. I'm sorry about her passing to the Allfather," he finished, before changing the subject. "What do you do with yourself now?" She snickered in response as, behind her, Boone let loose a faint sound of contempt into his glass.
"I had been a caravaneer, but my business got wiped out. I'd been stuck here sitting at the Mojave Outpost before I met him and his friend here," she began, shooting her thumb back over her shoulder to where Boone sat. "Now I've just been traveling across the Mojave with them, killing everything that got in our way in some crazy revenge fantasy." Yudhajit's eyes narrowed as the dots began to connect in his head. It can't be…
"Who's 'him'?" he asked slowly.
"Him. The Courier. The one that took two to the head and still crawled out of his grave to get revenge," she replied.
"He's here?" Yudhajit demanded, the intensity of his tone taking Cass aback.
"Yeah, he's here. Should be meeting with the NCR ambassador now, I think. We just finished off his business at the Tops today…" she trailed off, a smirk on her face.
"Can you introduce me to him?" Yudhajit asked.
"I suppose I could, yeah. Don't see what's all that special about him, though. The guy's kind of a psycho. Guess that's what getting shot in the head will do to you." Yudhajit's hopes briefly dropped at her response.
"Just a feeling. A theory I want to confirm, I suppose," he said, smiling faintly. "Have you eaten yet?"
Clover watched from the shadows as the band of raiders made their way into their den. This was a much larger group, nine of them at her count, and all were armed. Much more promising…she thought as she tailed the group, moving from shadow to shadow. Slowly, so slowly, she approached the den; her desire to slaughter every one of them at war with her survival instincts, the ones that reminded her that she couldn't afford to compromise her element of surprise by moving too fast. Approaching the blasted through wall that served as the entrance to the raider's den, she drew her dual 10mm SMGs, sliding slowly around the corner. Most of the raiders had discarded their weapons and were standing around a burn barrel, passing around Jet. Disgust filled Clover as she levelled her weapons at them and unloaded. In the time it took the raiders to realize they were being attacked three of them had already had gaping holes blown in them by the impact of multiple rounds; a stray 10mm round effectively destroying the head of one. The raiders began to respond, racing to pick up weapons. Giggling, Clover killed three more with her SMGs before the magazines were spent. Holstering each, she began to jump from shadow to shadow as the raiders shot at her; rounds impacting where she had been only a second early. Giggling furiously, she drew her shocksword, delivering a graceful thrust that impaled the nearest raider, a dirty looking man with a beard and Mohawk. Withdrawing the blade, she spun 180 degrees, cleaving the head off the next raider. Eight were dead, one remained. Looking at him, she saw fear. Fear and panic as he desperately tried to clear a jam in his weapon. Swinging her sword vertically, she sliced the weapon in half in the raider's hands. Horror crossed his face as he looked up to see a barely visible shadow step forward.
"Outside, now," she said, slowly gesturing with her sword toward the exit. Holding his hands up, the raider stumbled backwards, before turning and walking onto the street. A swift kick to the back of his knees dropped him to the ground.
"Who are you?" he asked, his fear making his voice quake. Whatever the shadow was, it had just disposed of all his friends in less than two minutes. The sound of a woman giggling from behind him caused his head to whip around. The figure itself materialized out of the shadows, becoming visible where it had not been a moment early. Slowly, she drew back the hood of the stealth suit, letting her hair spill out. The attractiveness of the woman confused the raider. Pretty girls didn't do things like what she had just done. It was hard girls, girls like the ones in the crew he had run with were the ones that killed. This girl…with her full, blonde hair and obvious curves, didn't look like a killer. She looked like what they preyed on. As if realizing what he was thinking, she spoke, a look of hate on her face.
"And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white horse: and she that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto her: and she went forth conquering, and to conquer," she whispered. Before the raider could speak again, she swung her sword, shrieking as she decapitated the kneeling man. Looking down at his body as the blood poured out, crimson against the grey of the ruins, she felt her body go limp. She had spent herself, the rage she felt exhausting her. Pulling the hood back on, she reactivated the stealth field and moved off in the night. The decision to become visible had been impulsive, she knew; but she was also sure that she was far too good to have been compromised.
Irving Gallows watched the woman disappear from his position, high in one of the ruined buildings. He had been attempting to pin down her location, using the trail of dead raiders and the pattern of attacks to attempt to pinpoint her general area of operations. Her decision to become visible when she executed the raider was inexplicable to him. He had known of her, this Clover, since she had first joined the Wanderer. He knew on some level that she was like him-ruthless, the necessary evil that each of their respective sides needed. Picking up the small radio he carried, he clicked the transmit button.
"Citadel, this is Gallows. Target acquired. Going off the grid. Out," he said, turning the radio off before an acknowledgement came back. The game was on. The only thing that made him feel alive. With a faint smile inside his helm he grabbed his rifle and moved out.
So...yeah. Hi again. That hiatus was brought to you courtesy of the US Army. Anyway, going to try to get back to a semi-regular routine of updating and stuff. Hope you all enjoy, and sorry if you have to go back and reread the last few chapters to remember where we are...I did too.