Chapter 14: Homefront
Lars stood by the windows of his penthouse, looking below at the oasis of neon light that greeted him every night. Over the past two decades, Arcade had proven himself to be a capable administrator, expanding the city into new communities and neighborhoods, further stabilizing the wasteland and returning genuine civilization to the world. As subjective as progress was, doing more for more was Lars' utmost priority. With Vegas bringing in caps hand over fist, it would only be a matter of time until civilization found itself right back to where it had been before the bombs dropped, he imagined. So why did that possibility fill him with dread?
The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor. As expected, an eager and beautiful woman exited the car, having waited all day to make his acquaintance once again. Of course, there were some complications. For starters, she was dating someone else. Secondly, they'd known each other for years. Thirdly, they were lacking in a certain blonde. Finally, she liked women as much as he did.
"Took you long enough," Lars teased. "Thought you'd be playing a few more rounds in Gomorrah."
Ziyi smiled. "I've been planning this vacation for months. I intend to enjoy every second."
"So, who do you have in mind?" Lars grinned. "We gonna "pass the blonde" for old times sake?"
Ziyi folded her arms. "Lars, you haven't heard the news?"
"What news?" Lars asked.
"Sarah was elected to First Citizen of Vault City."
"Get out!" Lars laughed. "We should call her up and celebrate!"
"It was three years ago," Ziyi tapped her foot. "And she got married ten years ago, as well. Two kids."
Lars' posture began to falter. "…I mean, I knew we kind of had a falling out, but I'd have thought she'd have sent an invitation…"
"…If it makes you feel any better, I didn't get one, either," Ziyi sighed. "Guess she just wanted to put her playmate of the rich and powerful days behind her."
Lars and Ziyi were… carnally incompatible. Sarah Weintraub, on the other hand, was the opposite story for both. During Ziyi's first vacation, Lars' former mistress had returned to Vegas as a member of the newly appointed senator's staff. To make a long story short, Sarah's two paramours opted to share, and all three had joined the Vegas mile-high club, as Lars liked to call his penthouse rendezvous.
"Well, good for her," Lars relented, trying not to sound too disheartened. "So, you sticking around for the fight?"
"Actually, I wanted to see you this evening," Ziyi approached Lars.
"Careful, Ziyi, or people will start to talk," Lars grinned.
"I want an update," Ziyi said, flatly.
Lars pursed his lips before beckoning her to a nearby table. "You familiar with the phrase "no news is good news?" he asked, rhetorically.
"You will forgive me for not believing that applies to this particular situation," Ziyi said as she took a seat. "Your asset hasn't returned, I believe? Are you still in contact?"
Lars strolled to a nearby filing cabinet and pulled out the most recent file that his asset had transmitted. The address on the front of the folder was marked "Commonwealth Alliance" and was imprinted by what looked like an eagle holding a lantern, behind its body crossed with a lightning bolt and what looked like a baseball bat. "Our contact has been updating us every few months or so," Lars explained as he handed the folder to Ziyi, who sifted through its contents, most of which were familiar to her.
Over a decade ago, a mysterious vertibird arrived near the Sierra Madre and launched an attack on the prison. The team they had sent was small but exceedingly capable. Coordinating together, they had breached the innermost sanctum of the vault, and escaped with a prize; the former Madame Zhang Xiao.
The retaliatory attacks, led by former Commissioner Floyd Wilson, had failed to disrupt the extraction, though they were able to capture one of the agents before the vertibird made its escape. Said agent, going by the moniker X6-88, had managed to endure all interrogation attempts. As such, the Judicial Marshal Founders reluctantly agreed to a risky plan. Hours later, a power outage released X6 from his cell, and he predictably made his escape, where Benjamin "Gaunt" Montgomery proceeded to pick up his trail and had been following him ever since.
In the years that followed, particularly during the fall of 2287, Gaunt had reported on a brewing three-front war on the east coast, between the Institute, the group who had been responsible for Madame Zhang's abduction, the Commonwealth Alliance, some unified groups and factions who opposed the Institute and their allies, and the Nuka-Raiders, a coalition of gangs who were now being led by none other than a recently escaped Madame Zhang.
The Commonwealth Alliance eventually defeated the Nuka-Raiders while the powerful East Coast Brotherhood of Steel destroyed the Institute, but Gaunt and his new associates were unable to verify Zhang herself. The most recent evidence he had been able to ascertain was that a submarine that had formerly been stranded near the oceanfront was discovered missing following the capitulation of the Nuka-Raiders. The implications were pretty clear from that.
"Ziyi, if Xiao somehow manages to survive a dilapidated submarine trip halfway across the world, she's still on the outs with her family," Lars tried to placate the woman.
"That isn't what I'm worried about," Ziyi shook her head. "Going home is the last thing Zhang has on her mind. The only two things Xiao would ever think about are ALEXANDRIA or…"
"Us," Lars completed. "We don't know if she's coming back. Ziyi, the closest thing Xiao has ever had to a friend is in this room. She has nothing and no one with which to threaten us."
"And nothing left to lose," Ziyi countered. "If Zhang is still alive, she will be desperate, and if ALEXANDRIA remains out of her reach, the only thing she will have left is her hatred and spite. If Xiao thinks she can hurt us, she will," she concluded, grimly.
"All the more reason, then, to see this cold war through and hope this Legion thing pans out," Lars sighed as he sat down on his couch. "We've got enough problems locally to be fretting about ones that left with their tails between their legs. Course, for all I know it's literal in Xiao's case."
"If Xiao returns home, we'd likely know," Ziyi concurred. "Though I'm worried about what will happen to whatever gets in her way beforehand."
"I'm not," Lars scoffed. "A little humility would go a long way for her."
"Look who's talking," Ziyi snorted.
"Well, if that's all the business we've got, how about pleasure?" Lars asked as he looked to his companion with a grin.
Ziyi sat beside him. "I should warn you, I'm well satiated back home. The most Vegas has to offer me these days is a reprieve from work. I'm too old for benders."
"…Yeah," Lars sighed. "Same. Haven't had a serious relationship since Florence went back to California. I've been fooling around less and less, too. Guess I finally grew up," he shrugged.
"At the tender age of 56," Ziyi grinned.
"45," Lars shot back.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm going to be 26 forever," Ziyi replied, laughing.
"So you will," Lars yawned. "Well, want me to break out the scotch for a nightcap?"
"I think I should be returning to my room. I'm going to be entertaining a celebrity shortly, it seems."
"Who?" Lars asked, curiosity piqued.
"Andrea Heilong, you heard of her?" Ziyi asked as she glanced over Lars' collection of whiskey.
"She's that actress who dated Hemlock, right?" Lars mused.
"You know who Hemlock is?" Ziyi rose her eyebrow.
"We've hung out. Good customer, popular with the ladies," Lars explained.
"I'll bet," Ziyi rolled her eyes. "Anyway, she just returned from an expedition to the Unclaimed Wastes, and if it would all the same to you, I'd like to play hostess for her during her stay."
Lars eyed her wearily. "…What?" Ziyi asked.
"How soon will the tabloids be writing up their bylines about the good senator and aspiring young starlet engaging in a nocturnal frolic?" he asked, his voice mimicking Mr. New Vegas.
"Lars, please," Ziyi scoffed. "Do you really think so little of me? I don't chase skirts like you, Perez." A smirk slowly emerged on her lips. "That being said, if she wants a favor or a guaranteed good time, well, I am her host."
"Never change, Ziyi," Lars strolled up and took a glass from the counter. Ziyi responded in kind. "To growing old, but never growing up," Ziyi proposed. Lars was about to toast, but the overwhelming urge to plead to Ziyi to ask Heilong about Rosa's whereabouts washed over him. He shook his head and clinked his bottle against Ziyi's, as they had done twenty years ago while a thoroughly exhausted Weintraub panted on top of the bar counter. The matter was out of his hands, Lars thought to himself. In the end, despite all those around her and everything she could face, Rosa was on her own.
The crowd let out a roar when the fighter hit the ground. The super mutant let out a roar and prepared to slam a boot down onto his adversary. The fighter rolled away, kicking himself to his feet as he landed a roundhouse kick into the green monstrosity's midsection. The crack caused the mutant to stagger and wince, backing up while the fighter landed an uppercut under his jaw.
Around the pit, hundreds of spectators screamed and cheered as the two long-standing rivals finally drew their blood feud to a close. The fighter was named Lionel Johnston, a handsome yet supremely gifted combat artist who had defeated nearly every challenger he had faced from the Pacific Ocean to Denver. The mutant went by the moniker Bad MFKA, and had been eyeing Johnston's championship crown for months. After some eventful press tours and some narrowly averted brawls that sent six officials to the local medical facility, the fight had promised to be the largest even the Thorn had hosted in years.
Jake Freeman sat in his box seat, watching intently as the Thorn's owner Danny Blanco screamed at Lionel to quit showboating. Jake smiled, enjoying watching Blanco fret over his newest meal ticket as Johnston swung behind MFKA and attempted to suplex him again. Truth be told, the young mobster was rather enjoying his new position as consigliere to the Bishop Family, and was very much looking forward to running things during Jimmy's absence.
Jake was a bright young delinquent, a New Reno native who had gotten his start as a fencer. Eventually, as often happened, his luck ran out and he had to flee California, else the resurgent Mordino crime family collect some debts that they considered outstanding. He arrived in New Vegas, hoping to lay low and bide his time until he could reach Mexico. However, when he saw how effective the Bishop Family ran the Strip, he knew he had to get involved.
The Bishop Family had a unique function in New Vegas. While the Vegas City Council and the Judicial Marshals were responsible for law and order outside of the city, within the city itself, and particularly around the Strip, Vegas had its own rules. The casinos, in addition to the Thorn, were self-governing, semi-autonomous entities within Vegas, who answered only to the Governor and his direct lieutenant, Gavino Bishop. It was the Bishop Family that oversaw the earnings and security within Vegas itself. And Jake Freeman saw plenty of opportunities.
He began by conning naïve tourists into running afoul of the seedier elements of the city, only to come to the rescue with Bishop soldiers. That little racket brought him to the attention of the underboss, Jimmy Bishop, Gavino's son. Taking the younger man under his wing, Jake excelled in weeding out rival conmen (after all, to catch a thief…) and had eliminated lost revenue by twenty percent (more like twenty-five, but Jake felt his hard work earned him a little bonus).
As MFKA was dropped on his head, a bell rung out and the crowd erupted, cheers and curses in equal measure. A few people figured these bouts were staged to bilk the gamblers of their money. While the promotion of the fight had veered towards the dramatics, the enmity that Lionel and MFKA possessed for one another was genuine, so much so that the mere suggestion of fixing the outcome of the fight would have ended with the messenger in critical condition. No, Bad MFKA was just that damn stubborn, and Lionel was just that damn good.
A part of Jake wanted to see about hiring Lionel as an enforcer, a move that promised equal parts prestige and credibility. That being said, as he watched as Lionel got in the face of the referee who stopped the match, he recognized that trying to control the hothead wasn't quite worth the effort. Still, the thought was little more than a flight of fancy. Really it was little more than him pondering just how much did he have to offer someone like Lionel to take the plunge and cave in Gavino Bishop's skull.
His partner in the booth barked out a husky laugh as two of the ring girls went down to calm Lionel down before he beat another official into a light coma. Whereas Jake Freeman frequently dressed in the cleanest suits he could get his hands on and took care of his hygiene as best as possible, his current business partner made no such attempts. Not that he could particularly blame her, seeing as she was a ghoul and all.
She wore a filthy coat that Jake had suspected had come from a Yao Guai, and a pink novelty top hat with a flower under the band, beneath which a few patchy strands of straw hair managed to escape from under. She carried a walking stick that had once come from a stop sign, and its poor condition hiding that mixed in with the rust was quite a bit of blood. This was clearly a woman who had spent far too much time out in the wasteland, even by the standards of those who considered themselves wastelanders. Of course, her outward eccentricities belayed her true nature and purpose.
"Emma, if we could get back to business," Jake asked as she continued her heckling of Bad MFKA. She turned to shoot him a look before relenting and joining him by his seat. "That fucking idiot could have made a lot of folk a lot of money. Course, I guess it's good for me he fucked it up," she giggled as she rubbed her hands.
"As charming as it is to discuss pocket change with you, I would like to share some more consideration of that proposal we talked about," Jake asked.
Emma scratched her chin. "I dunno. You're a little young for me."
"Very funny," Jake rolled his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about."
"I suppose I do," Emma relented, stroking the exposed bone under her chin. "My men have identified some extra Mordino safehouses. Guns and drugs, the usual. I suppose you don't want me to report these to the Marshals?" she asked.
"I'd rather "our" people oversaw their control," Jake said as he leaned back. "I still need to see who in the organization is "open-minded" enough for our goals."
"Getting Gavino's people to turn on him is too tall an order?" Emma asked.
"We only have one shot," Jake replied as he took a sip. "I'm not taking it until I have every guarantee possible it will be worth it. Technically, I could just kick you out of this private box and have my men assassinate you before you can even look to the east. Why is it worth risking my neck?"
Emma grinned. "You're a smart man, Jake. Risk is intertwined with potential, you know this as well as I. Tell me, where do you see yourself forty or sixty years down the line, if you are fortunate to retain this level of power? At best, exactly where you are, right under the heel of the Bishops and the Governor, whoever it may be, but not you, I can assure you."
Jake grimaced at the notion. The Bishops retained a lot of power within the city itself, but it was the Vegas City Council that actually ran the Mojave Nation proper. The only lateral move his ambitious mind could think of would be to run for a seat on the council, and even in the unlikely event he won his seat, he'd still be beholden to too many people. It was bad enough he slaved under that sentimental bleeding heart Jimmy for as long as he had, what was the point of amassing power if one couldn't hold onto it.
"…If I do this, you will promise me the RMX will have my back?" Jake asked.
"We're not looking for employees, Jake, we're looking for partners," Emma explained. "I've been with RMX for about a century, now, and I've only received orders from the head honcho maybe three times, and only for vital instances. For example, the last direct order I received was to clear out of Arizona sixty years ago, right around the time some guy named Ed changed his name," she chuckled. "Point is, we're here for the market, and if you promise to work with us, this will benefit both of us for many years to come. We have no interest in looking over your shoulder or telling you what and how to conduct your businesses. For a modest annual fee and your upcoming cooperation, the city will be yours and yours alone," Emma grinned.
"…So how soon do you want to start?" Jake asked as he took a sip from his drink.
"Don't be too eager, beaver," Emma chuckled as she rose from her seat and headed to the door. "We'll have to wait for the signal, and you'll know when it starts."
"Y'know, some people will think what I'm doing is treason," Jake scoffed. "Really, I'm just doing the humane thing. Can you imagine the shitshow that will happen when the Governor inevitably passes his position down to his little bitch of a brat?"
"Well, then, good thing we'll take care of that juncture when we get there," Emma snickered.
Jake blinked. "Wait, you guys are planning to assassinate-"
"What?" Emma balked. "No, no. We would never do anything that direct. No need to, after all. The wasteland is less forgiving than I. A thousand ways things can go wrong, with no one the wiser," she cackled as she opened the door and left Jake to ruminate on his decisions.
"I'M SICK OF MUTANTS," Lionel tossed the table in his locker room. Danny Blanco rubbed his hands down his face as his prima donna stallion welched to his entourage. Lionel was good-looking, talented, tough, determined, and above all else to Blanco, marketable. He was reliable enough to be trusted to win matches and explosive enough to keep the bouts exciting, regardless of his opponents. Really, a little ego was to be expected, even if it made dealing with him personally insufferable.
"HOW MANY MORE DO I HAVE TO DAMN NEAR CRIPPLE UNTIL THOSE DOUGH-ASSES IN THE STANDS GET THE POINT!" he snarled. "AIN'T NO MAN ALIVE CAN BEAT ME ONE-ON-ONE, AND THERE AIN'T NO MUTANT WHO'LL DO IT, EITHER!"
"So, what do you want me to do, Leo?" Danny asked, exasperated. "That was the last challenger we had! Now I'll have to find some other contender, and who knows how long that will take! Years, even!"
Lionel slammed his fist into the wall, the old plaster leaving yet another indent. "Everything worth fighting man-to-man, I've fought! Everything except…"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Danny put his foot down. "I'M NOT RISKING MY BEST DRAW ON YOUR DELUSIONAL DEATHWISH!"
"Danny," Lionel turned to his promoter. "This isn't delusional. Ever since I was a little kid, I've had a dream. This isn't about the money, this isn't about the fame, it has always been about the dream. Danny, I want…"
"No," Danny shook his head.
"To be the first man…"
"No, no, no, I'm not hearing this."
"I want to be the first man to beat a deathclaw in hand-to-hand combat!"
"AAGH! DAMMIT!" Danny snarled. "Leo, I can look past a lot, I can forgive a lot, and I can tolerate so much bullshit I should have stayed in the brahmin industry, but this, Leo, for the love of all that is holy in this world…"
"Well, wasn't the Thorn all about man testing his mettle against beasts?" Lionel asked.
"That was before I took over from the last owner. Who, need I remind you, was likely killed by a DEATHCLAW!" Danny screamed.
"Danny, how many caps have I given you over the years?" Lionel asked. Danny growled. "Do you need to work ever again? Could you retire tomorrow and actually buy that ranch you talked about? That's me, Danny, that's what I've given you, with my blood and sweat and sacrifice. All I'm asking, Danny, is for one little favor. One little fight, with one little genetic weapon. Is that so much to ask?"
Danny rubbed his hands over his head. "…I know some people. No promises, but I could call in a few favors to arrange something. Might take a few years, but…"
"NO EGGS!" Lionel screamed, throwing a kick that splintered the bench. "I want something that will know how to fight. A wild, untamed, adult deathclaw!"
"…That's going to cost me a few MORE favors," Danny gritted. "After this, kid, we are square for life."
Bad MFKA stormed out of the arena after collecting his challenger's purse. It was enough to keep him fed for a year. The mutant stewed and fumed as he stormed towards the dark alley, the few vagrants who remained hostile to outsiders giving him a wide berth. He approached his partner as she planted a piece of paper behind a loose brick. "Did you have fun?" Emma asked as she grinned at the mutant's multiple new shiners.
"Lay off," MFKA groused. "I hate this city. I want to go back to Aspen."
"Now, now, BM, we're here on business," Emma gently chided as she strolled to the hotel.
"I told you not to call me that," Bad MFKA groused.
"I remember," Emma snickered.
"So, did he bite?" the mutant asked as they returned to their hovel.
"I think we're going to be in the middle of something exciting," Emma giggled. "This is the most ambitious project Abacus has ever devised. Course, as House has shown, no matter how smart you think you are, always have a backup plan or six. Then again, in all likelihood, he of all people would have been onboard with what we were doing," Emma prattled on.
"Uh-huh," Bad MFKA nodded, "But the guys running the show now won't?"
"Well," Emma shrugged. "Abacus assessed that pliable alternatives would be preferable to the current administration. So, we foster the opposition for a more malleable ally. That's the American way, after all."
"A lot of people are going to get hurt," Bad MFKA grumbled.
"And we stand to get rich," Emma countered. "After all, didn't you say you hated this city?"
"Guess I did," the mutant chuckled.
As soon as the two had left sight, a ghoul beggar who had drawn no attention to himself slowly sauntered over to the loose brick. Removing it, he fished his fist inside to draw out the sheet of paper. On it was some detailed outlines of the local power grid connecting Vegas to Hoover Dam and Helios One. Having received his homework assignment, the ghoul went to find his partners. The operation had just been approved, and a limited window through which to prepare for it. And thus, the Blackout Project commenced.
Excerpt from the Judicial Marshal Basic Training Guide and Manual
New Vegas: Now for one of the odder regulations this guide has; New Vegas is out of your jurisdiction. The city has its own laws outside of the purview of how you have been trained. It has its own security team, under the command of the Governor and the head of the Bishop family, who oversee that along with the revenue of the city. Now, one can expect to work alongside New Vegas security, as situations like the illegal manufacturing and trafficking of unregistered narcotic substances will necessitate it, but as a general rule, you will be confined to the area between the city limits and the borders of the Mojave Nation. You are permitted to enter on leave, but you will surrender any authority your title and position has during your stay unless explicitly told otherwise by the Marshal authority -Commissioner Floyd Wilson