Chapter 19: Kindling
The images swirled in her mind, revealing and obscuring themselves like a dust storm. The visions stacked upon one another, vanishing the moment she comprehended them. A burning township. A pack of giant dogs. A silver-haired gunslinger. A black-hide monster. A many-headed serpent. The final vision involved a battle, with muddled sides and a flying hulk that rained down fire, igniting the battlefield and all those who fought on it. Her eyes shot open just in time for Barabbas' mount to come to a stop, her body finally coming to a rest.
"So, you're finally awake?" Barabbas asked as he looked back, tossing some bedding on the ground.
"Ow," Kyra whimpered, both from her sore abdominals and her still aching head. As her vision slowly came to, she looked around and saw the outskirts of a different city.
"We're outside Laredo," Barabbas explained as he flattened out his bedroll. "I'd normally stop by and pay my respects to the leadership, but that will take time I don't want to spend. A quick rest, then we ride out before daybreak."
"…Do you have any idea where we are going?" Kyra finally brought herself to ask.
"I'm going to the westernmost outposts. After that, I find friendly settlements, then I talk to the neutral ones. If that fails, then I force some of the local Frumentarii to talk. Should I get truly desperate, I enlist the Legatum," he stated, dryly, as if this should have been obvious.
Kyra finally pulled her body from the beast, dropping to the ground. Aching and sore all over, she pulled herself to her knees as Belua sat, obediently and panting. As Kyra rolled on her back, Barabbas dropped a sack on her chest. "That should be enough to keep you occupied in the meantime."
Kyra could smell some of the salted meat and spices already coming from the bag. She turned to look at Barabbas, who had pulled out a parchment and began reading it. She looked to him and the bag, and slowly a sense of indignation rose within her. "You want me to cook?" she asked.
"Yes," was the blunt reply.
Kyra threw the bag off of her body, pulling herself to her feet as she approached Barabbas. "And why is it my job to cook the food?"
"What's the obvious reason?" Barabbas asked.
"Because I'm a woman," Kyra scoffed.
Barabbas glimpsed up at her, giving her a look devoid of humor or warmth. "Because you're my slave."
The realization hit her like a rainstorm. She had finally gotten her wish and escaped that horrible prison, but it did not change her predicament in the slightest. She was still bound to a monster, her life nothing more than his property. Her desire to escape from Scorpio had made her forget that fact.
However, she realized as she looked around her, now she had an opportunity. She wasn't physically restrained by a slave collar or chains. They were in the middle of nowhere, miles from what she could tell from the nearest Legion outpost. All she had to do was avoid Laredo and she could have a fighting chance in any direction she chose. Immediately she turned south and began to bolt.
Barabbas, having expected this, watched with some bemusement as Kyra stumbled her way upright as she headed further into the desert. She had no water on her, and no means of making a shelter or defending herself from the wildlife. It was like watching someone commit suicide. Plenty of drive, no sense.
He allowed her to get a minute away from him, his eyes returning to the map when he clicked his tongue. Belua sat upright, ears pinned back as she observed her quarry. "Wait for it…" Barabbas muttered. "…GO!"
The giant hound stormed after the fleeing slave, covering the distance far faster than Kyra had been able to make. A blood-curdling shriek pierced the air as Barabbas began marking points on the map. A short time later, Belua returned to the camp, dropping off Kyra alive and unharmed, albeit covered in drool from her leg up.
"I prefer my beef medium rare," Barabbas stated, hardly acknowledging her return, instead allowing a free hand to scratch Belua's snout as she panted.
"I hate you," Kyra seethed.
"Irrelevant, but understood," Barabbas stated, flatly.
"I hope this journey kills both of you," Kyra said as she finally surrendered, grabbing a pan as she dug inside the bag for kindling.
"In that event, you'll be following us quickly," Barabbas completed, dryly.
"…So, this is my new life?" Kyra complained to herself. "Waiting hand and foot on my master? The Legion hasn't changed at all. Chauvinists and enslavers, all of you."
"Those are big words for a tribal," Barabbas muttered as he peered from his maps.
"And now he mocks me," Kyra complained as she pulled out some of the salted beef. "He knows nothing of me, who I am or what I've endured. Not that he'll ever care," she sniffed.
"Fine, continue with your welching," Barabbas snorted as he leaned back on his bedroll. "Little else you are good for."
Kyra threw down her pot and stormed up to her master. "THEN FREE ME AND BE RID OF ME!"
Barabbas looked at her. "…I thought we had an agreement," he softly blinked. "You find Pariah, you earn your freedom."
"And how am I supposed to do that when I'm cooking your food and waiting hand over foot on you?" Kyra pleaded.
"…You know what?" Barabbas stated as he got off the bedroll. "That might actually be a good point. So tell you what? If you can make yourself tolerable during this little expedition and don't make me regret saving you from Scorpio, and we succeed in finding Pariah, I'll consider the conditions met and your freedom earned. How are those for generous terms?" he asked.
Kyra bit her lip. She still wanted to run and hope for the death of her master and his mount, but suddenly her freedom had become slightly more feasible than before. Going west, into territory her peoples had never explored, there had to be as many opportunities as there were risks. Swallowing her pride, she clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head. "…I accept my master's offer, and hope to serve dutifully," she recited as she closed her eyes, her fingers tightening around each other.
"…I liked your first act better," Barabbas scoffed as he went to lay back on the bedroll.
Kyra, defeatedly, returned to the pot, straightening it out as she realized something. "…Where's my bedroll?"
"You don't have one," Barabbas explained. "I didn't anticipate you coming along, remember?"
"…So where do I sleep?" Kyra reluctantly asked.
Barabbas looked over to her. "…Guess we'll be sharing a bed after all."
Kyra gulped as Barabbas laughed at her expression. "If you still find the matter so repulsive, I have found that Belua makes an adequate emergency mattress, provided one doesn't mind fleas."
"You must be joking," Kyra mumbled as Belua rolled on her back, tongue lobbed out of her mouth as she scratched herself.
"The decision is yours," Barabbas yawned, laying back as he put his arms behind his head. "Spit in my food and I'll beat you," he stated, casually.
"Funny," Kyra said, disgusted though not entirely unsupportive on the notion.
As the evening sun began to set, a number of riders arrived at Laredo. Seven in all, they spoke to few and requested an audience with the local consul by order from Caesar himself. The consul admitted that he had not seen the legate, causing the riders to depart as suddenly as they appeared. They travelled east, to the frontier of Dallas on their mission known only to Caesar and themselves. They had to find Legate Barabbas.
Brodie and his team had finally reached Aspen. The armored truck came to a halt, and the team outside relished the opportunity to stretch their legs and breath fresh air. The cold mountain wind stung their skin as Brodie told them he'd see them at the tavern later tonight. Right now he had to chat with management.
The resort town had been abandoned, unsurprisingly, in the years following the nuclear hellstorm and had been left in a state of dilapidation. Then a century later a band of merchants discovered the town, fortified it, and used it as a base of operations under the directions of one called Abacus. Since then, Aspen was a centralized market hub of operations for the Rocky Mountain Exchange. As Brodie entered the hotel, he was immediately bombarded by the smell of cigarettes and the noise of screaming brokers, chalk on blackboards, and keys being typed.
The main hall had been converted into a temple of numbers, with various brokers screaming about the valuation of their companies and enterprises as information was constantly uttered forth by the monitor above. Last Brodie checked, the constant struggles between the affiliated caravan houses and the co-op of the ag-guild had been the biggest news of the Numbers Hall. Now, from what he could glance out of the monitor, it would appear that the slaver union was making some bigger plays in the east, and their value was expected to skyrocket.
A cycloptic bipedal robot approached Brodie. "Good evening, ma'am," it began. Brodie closed his eyes and inhaled, not wanting to get into another screaming match with this godforsaken machine. "Levi sent you?" he asked.
"Affirmative," the robot recited. "He has been expecting you."
Brodie was escorted to the elevator, and from there he ascended from the bowels of the rank-and-file brokers and dealers to the vaunted, divine halls of Middle Management. As soon as the door opened, Brodie was confronted by the hairy, gnome-like features of Aspen's most feared labor broker. "Fucking took you long enough," Levi snarled.
"I got held up, and I'm back, anyway," Brodie shot back. "Quit bitching, for once!"
"I'll quit bitching when I have a reason to quit!" Levi snapped. "You have a report to file, and since I can't spare the paperwork, you'll have to do it personally!"
Brodie groaned. Dealing with Middle Management was aggravating on the best days. As much as manual work annoyed him, dealing with the office politics and tumultuous realities of RMX's day-to-day business was its own level of Hell, from his perspective. All Brodie wanted was a gun, a crew, and a finger pointing at where he was supposed to go. That and the nice little nest egg for his family.
As they entered Levi's office, the broker threw himself on his office chair and rubbed his eyes. "…You let the girl go…" he began.
Brodie mentally cursed out Abacus. "She was supplemental income!" he argued.
"She was a blown opportunity that will never come back!" Levi snarled. "How hard is it to keep track of Shi-Frisco's most thoroughly eligible bachelorette?"
"We got jumped!" Brodie shot back.
"By who?" Levi demanded to know.
"…A crew," Brodie answered, hesitantly.
"What? Crew?" Levi enunciated.
"I don't know!" Brodie confessed, exasperated.
"Well, I should fucking probably get Abacus to find out so we can buy them out!" Levi Glasser threw up his hands. "Because Market-forbid we have access to a decent wet-works team!"
"That's uncalled for!" Brodie complained. "We accomplished our mission, didn't we?"
Levi re-steepled his fingers. "Gidjit has been inserted?"
"He should be at the Sierra Madre by now. At the very least, they'll have given up on interrogating him," Brodie assessed, confidently.
Levi felt a migraine begin to recede. "Well, I guess I can't write off your group just yet," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Brodie glared accusingly.
"I SAID I CAN'T BLOW OUT THE BACK OF YOUR SKULL, YET!" Levi screamed.
Brodie got up from his seat. "Well, you've been informed, so if nothing else, get out of my face," he snarled.
"Where the fuck are you going?!" Levi demanded to know.
"Some of us have families, Levi, and I would like to get back to mine!" Brodie shot over his shoulder.
Levi slammed his palms on the desk. "Mr. Adams! It would be rather lucrative if you would stay and hear what my employers have requested I tell you."
Reluctantly, Brodie returned to his seat. "What?" he spat.
"…Emma has signaled the go-ahead for the Blackout Project. The guys upstairs are pulling in every liquidation squad we can spare. You have a week, then I want you and your team to head out and join up with our boys down south."
"…Are you fucking kidding me?" Brodie asked. "I spend six months in the Unclaimed Wastes, I finally get to come home to my wife and kids, and I ONLY GET A FUCKING WEEK!"
"We have too much riding on this, Brodie, we need everything we can to assure this windfall. Fuck caps and water, this is REAL. ESTATE. MONEY," Levi emphasized. "We already have buyers, and I've already run the numbers and your cut…"
"Fuck this, I'm…" Brodie was about to get up and storm out when Levi passed him a slip of paper with an amount on it. Brodie took it up and stared at it. "…Are you fucking with me?"
"This is me being conservative," Levi pressed. "That's the minimum for you, alone."
The number Brodie was looking at was enough for him to comfortably retire for three lifetimes, with change to spare. "…I swear, Levi, if you are fucking with me…"
"I don't. Lie. About. Numbers." Levi hissed, the very thought offending him. "I will lie about ethics, I will lie about damages, but Market claim my soul, I will never EVER lie about the numbers. Don't you put that liability on me, Brodie!"
Brodie stared long and hard at the number in front of him. "…Let me talk to the Missus before I sign or do anything," he grumbled.
"Please," Levi scoffed. "Like she can argue with a breadwinner?"
"I gave you six months, you can give me a week!" Brodie snapped.
Levi was about to retaliate, saw no point, and relented. "…Just get out of my office," Levi growled.
"Fuck off and die," Brodie parted as he left.
"Feeling's mutual!" Levi shot back as he did. As the door slammed, Levi slumped into his seat, chuckling to himself as he fished out a stogie from his drawer. Employees and assets were tools, and they were his to see their usage as he saw fit. For example, agents like Brodie were loud, obnoxious, and not at all subtle, which made them vital towards direct confrontations. Having him lead squads down south would cause no end of grief for the Judicial Marshals, and occupy them long enough to allow the Blackout Project to commence. He and Emma had spent decades formalizing and finalizing the finishing touches of the plan, once thought abandoned after the death of House. It was their baby, and one he needed to oversee in all manners bombastic and subtle. Speaking of subtle…
The hodgepodge machine in front of him was part computer terminal and part payphone, an experiment from Gidjit that Levi found useful enough to personalize for his own needs. It was directly connected to all manner of RMX on-site robotic assistants, remnants of the eyebots various Enclave refugees had sold to them decades ago. He opened his monitor and scrolled through the directory of which machine had been assigned to which squad. Locating it, he began to dial, checking his watch as he finished.
He waited, listening to the tone as he drummed his fingers on his desk. He took one last-minute look at the files in front of him, double-checking his information. The plan called for some flexibility on some manners, and no doubt word of the bounty placed had drawn the attention of some ambitious desperados. The odds of them succeeding were practically nil, but every delay would hinder the AEG, and buy the RMX vital time.
The line finally picked up. "Who's this and what now?"
"Am I speaking to Matt?"
"No, it's Nick, his brother."
"I don't give a shit, put your boss on the line."
The group had been intercepted at Tuba, and after a brief standoff, was allowed delegates south to meet with what was now becoming known as the Cabal. In total, they had sent four individuals. The first was Ariel Ximenez, legendary leader of the Ximenez Gang going on two decades. As ever, next to her were her faithful bodyguards Matt and Nick, who these days often went by the name Nutso Young Guns. But it was the fourth guest that caused the most severe stirring and was what caught the attention of all three leaders who arrived to parlay with the newcomers.
To respond in kind, the Cabal had sent four of its own representatives. Kenzie McGrath stood at the center, hands on his revolvers as he was flanked by his partner and advisor Daphne, the McGrath Clan's effective second-in-command for domestic issues. On the right was Braxus, the large hunched-over beast of a man who drummed his fingers impatiently on his ax, the Yao Guai skin on his back ruffled by the wind. On the left was Nemesio, the acting bishop of the Ministerio de Hex, arms folded behind his vestments as he glanced at the newcomers, noting that Ariel, in particular, refused to meet his gaze.
The blond man wearing combat armor stepped forward, arms raised in front of him as he glanced at the newcomers. "Gentleman… and lady, I have heard rumor that you all seek to do battle with California?"
Kenzie eyed the man with suspicion. Nemesio smiled behind his mask. Daphne just glanced nervously at Braxus, who in turn hocked out a massive glob of spit on the ground. "You are the legendary Vulpes Inculta?" he heckled, cutting directly to the chase.
"…Indeed, deserter," Vulpes smiled, mirthlessly.
Braxus' let out a cross between a snarl and a laugh. "And how have you avoided time's grasp on you, I wonder? You should be walking with a cane and yet you look no older than the one who failed twice at Hoover Dam."
Vulpes's clear blue eyes slowly blinked. "We all are entitled to our secrets."
"Well said," Nemesio chuckled.
"Right, then," Kenzie cleared his throat. "So now if introductions are complete, I would like to get this started; why are you here and what do you want?"
Vulpes stroked his chin as he paced in front of the delegates. "…This operation you are planning… who is in charge?"
"I called them together, so it would make sense that it is me," Kenzie spoke up, ignoring Daphne's attempts to dissuade him.
"HA!" Braxus let out a bark. "Should my warriors debase themselves so thoroughly. You are to command yours, and I mine," he growled.
Nemesio decided not to interject, merely tittering to himself as Ariel shot a glare of contempt at him.
Kenzie ignored his partner, marching up to Braxus and getting in his face. "I called the threat, I summoned you all here, I will lead the fight!"
"Not with my warriors, you will not!" Braxus countered, lip curling.
Kenzie reached for the handles of his revolvers as Braxus pulled his ax from the ground. Nemesio pulled Daphne out of the way while Vulpes tutted upon the sight. "…My prognosis for this enterprise leaned towards pessimistic, but even I failed to see just how dire this situation truly is."
Kenzie and Braxus both immediately forgot their quarrel, wheeling on the intruder both thought to have been a ghost. "And what exactly do you have that is so much better than what we're dealing with? From where I stand, you don't exactly have the best track record against California either," Kenzie accused Inculta.
"Don't I?" Vulpes rose his brow, bemused. "I was the architect of the greatest miseries the Bear experienced in Vegas. While fools like Graham and Lanius undermined the advantages I earned them, my men could pierce the bear's hide at will, inflict casualties with every operation, and inject fear the likes of which California had not seen since the Enclave. On the other hand, were you three to continue with your squabbling, California can do nothing but destroy this little alliance of yours piecemeal and with no difficulty."
"My people turned our backs on your Caesar after his divinity was proven false. What makes you so certain we shall willingly put ourselves under the Legion's yoke once more?" Braxus growled.
"And my folk don't exactly take well to tyrants," Kenzie interjected.
Vulpes scoffed. "If you all are so proud and independent than why band together in the first place? I do not come under Caesar's orders, but my own."
"As you often do," Nemesio interjected. "We've missed you, Vulpes."
All eyes stared at the bishop before slowly turning to Vulpes. "I… see you haven't forgotten my brief tenure under Hex," Vulpes hesitated. Ariel briefly hid a grin upon seeing Vulpes rattled for quite possibly the first time. "You'll understand if I do not wish to divulge in my reasons for leaving, then?" Vulpes requested.
"Hex wanted you dead, my friend. I am not Hex," Nemesio smiled as he took another hit from his rebreather.
Vulpes betrayed a sigh of relief. "Good, I'm glad we've put that behind us. Now, back to the offer. I'm offering my strategic services to all three of you. I am not here to command, per se, but to advise and unify. I will serve all of your best interests and avoid unnecessary confrontation, and I will depart back to the north upon the completion of my mission, being the expulsion or eradication of the Allied Expeditionary Group from your territories."
"Coming from the north, eh?" Kenzie asked. "And what, pray tell is the RMX charging us for your services."
"Nothing. Consider me essentially a goodwill present from the RMX, an act of good faith for a common interest," Vulpes smiled. "They have little reason to see the AEG win, or the lot of you fail. You all make better customers than California or the Mojave Nation, not to mention…" he paused. He turned to look back at Ariel. "…We have other plans," he grinned.
"…Well, I suppose your offer is worth considering," Kenzie nervously glanced at his two allies. "Final thoughts, guys?"
"A worthy addition to our group," Nemesio bowed his head. They both turned to Braxus, who had fastened a deathclaw gauntlet to his wrist. "Really?" Vulpes rolled his eyes, "How very droll." Ariel ordered her men to stand down while Daphne tried in vain to get Kenzie or Nemesio to intervene.
Braxus struck immediately and with little warning, swiping at Vulpes as he snarled and gnashed his teeth. Vulpes dodged out of the way, moving with an alacrity that contrasted his earlier demeanor. The Pelt-Brute continued his assault, alternating between trying to slice his prey open and grabbing him to pummel into the dust. Braxus moved with reckless abandon and savagery, his rage building with every failed strike. Vulpes, never a man known for his personal martial prowess simply had to wait until his opponent made just the proper overextension, grabbing him by the wrist and driving his body to the ground. As Braxus' chin was dug into the dirt, he glared up at Vulpes. "…Since when were you worth a damn in a fight?" the abased warrior groaned.
"We all have our secrets," Vulpes answered cryptically as he released the Pelt-Brute, choosing not to snap his arm as he believed it would complicate matters more than absolutely necessary, he had already proven his point after all. "Now, if everyone is convinced, I would like to return to Flagstaff. It's been too long."
"Sorry," Kenzie shook his head. "Most of our folk packed up and headed east, towards the Res."
"Ah," Vulpes nodded. "Prudent. Ariel, your services have been appreciated."
"Ariel?" Nemesio interjected. "Ariel Ximenez?"
The three gunslingers all bore into the acting bishop, Ariel's lip barely holding back a quiver.
"…I know it's been years, but I just wanted to offer up my sincerest condolences for your brother," Nemesio took off his hat as he bowed.
Ariel spat on the ground as she turned away, her bodyguards trailing her as they departed. "So, I guess they weren't part of the deal?" Kenzie thought aloud.
"Considering present company, it would be a tall ask," Vulpes agreed.
"Bah, mountain folk are too soft," Braxus growled. "Only good for buying and selling."
Nemesio turned from Ariel, being the first to move to return to camp. Daphne followed, content that things had ended peacefully enough while Kenzie, Braxus, and their new associate chatted about future plans.
"That was too touch and go," Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't know how comfortable I feel taking orders from Legion-folk, but-"
"That's not Vulpes," Nemesio interrupted.
"…I'm sorry, what?" Daphne asked.
"Vulpes Inculta is dead. That's not Vulpes," Nemesio explained, casually.
"I'm… that…" Daphne tried to make sense of what she had heard. "…Then… who is…"
"Someone pretending to be him, obviously," Nemesio answered.
"OK," Daphne responded, trying not to get frustrated. "And how do you know he's dead?"
"The Revelation," Nemesio responded.
"…And the Revelation is?" Daphne tried to get out of him.
"Are you asking to become a member of my fellowship?" Nemesio turned to look at the black-clad matron of the camp whores and spies.
"…Nevermind," Daphne surrendered. "We should tell them, then."
"…Not necessarily," Nemesio replied. "Why turn down a capable ally for their chosen identity? We know better, but there could be some value in allowing this new Inculta to become a banner to rally around. Let us… see how things play out," Nemesio insisted as he took another hit.
As the three gunslingers returned to the rest of their group, Ariel dug out a pack of cigarettes and began going through it, going through the pack as she struggled to control her temper. "…Better be a good fucking payday," she muttered under her breath. "We got rid of Vulpes and I didn't put a hole in that sanctimonious monster," she continued as her men set up camp for the night.
"Boss, the mission is over, we're good, let's just get back to the mountains and booze up until the next mission." Matt insisted as he tried to rub his boss's shoulders.
"…You're right… you're right," Ariel exhaled as she began to relax. "Premium price for a cakewalk mission, there is nothing to get annoyed about."
"That's right, so why don't we just get back to Aspen and place bets on the winners?" Matt suggested.
"I think I'll pass," Ariel stated as she blew some smoke. "If I wanted to gamble I'd…" She stopped, crushing out her cigarette as she broke out of Matt's grasp. "It's nothing."
The eyebot assigned to them started ringing. "Nick, get the line," Matt announced as he went to chat up some of the perimeter guards. Nick, annoyed, grabbed the phone notched into the side of the floating machine. "Who's this and what now… No, it's Nick, his brother… Ariel! It's Levi!"
Ariel let out a groan as she stormed up and snatched the phone out of Nick's hand. "WHAT?!"
"Glad you're in a great mood, too," Levi responded. "I got some information that I think would interest you in particular."
"Not paying, not interested," Ariel said as she moved to cut the line.
"Free," Levi got out the moment before she could.
Ariel paused, that word was not something she believed had ever come out of Levi's mouth before. It sounded like a cross between profanity and a desperate cry for help in how it captured her attention. "This information is free," Levi reiterated.
"…Make it good," Ariel propped her arm up on the eyebot.
"My employers have placed a certain bounty on members travelling within the AEG. As it so happens, the most lucrative one is something I'd figured you'd take a personal interest in," Levi began to explain.
"Taking a hit out on an army, I think I'll pass," Ariel sniffed.
"Not necessarily a hit, more like… a removal," Levi countered.
"A snatch job? That's hardly better," Ariel replied as she checked her nails.
"I believe you're in a rather unique position in that regard, though," Levi stated. "This particular bounty just so happens to be the daughter of Governor Lars Perez."
Ariel stopped her inspection. "…And?"
Levi had to blink. "…The governor who you spent two years fooling around with? Ringing any bells? New Vegas? Nine months of weight gain? Sound familiar?"
Ariel drummed her fingers impatiently on the eyebot. "…Your point?"
"My poi- YOUR DAUGHTER!" Levi finally screamed. "YOUR DAUGHTER HAS A BOUNTY ON HER HEAD! DON'T YOU THINK YOUR MATERNAL SIDE WOULD WANT TO KEEP HER FROM GETTING KILLED BY THE COMPETITION?!"
"…That little shitspawn means nothing more to me than the nine months of my life I'll never get back and the twenty thousand caps Perez paid me to bring it to term," Ariel stated, flatly. "The kid is Lars' brat, not mine."
"…You know, I'm kind of glad you never had any other kids," Levi said, the cold-hearted broker being quietly horrified by his contractor's callousness.
"Me too. Now, if that's all you have to tell me…"
"Management will accept her death, but would prefer having her alive and under our direction and custody," Levi finally got out, deciding to speak a language Ariel actually understood. "They are willing to pay a lucrative offer if this condition can be met. And you are the only asset on the planet who could possibly fulfill these criteria," he emphasized.
Ariel paused. "…How lucrative?"
"Imagine the biggest payday you have ever seen in your life… and then double it," Levi stated with a smile.
Ariel could imagine quite a bit, and Levi never lied about numbers. "…Then I think it's time I finally paid my daughter a visit."
Excerpt from the Judicial Marshal Basic Training Guide and Manual
Mercenaries: Regarding the hiring, recruitment, and coordination with various private paramilitary enterprises, all such matters are to be handled by the Marshal headquarters and the Vegas City Council. I'm sure by now you have become familiar with a few of your mercenary instructors, and it is not uncommon to see hired gunners running exercises with JM elements. Vegas is a small but economically wealthy city-state, so the fact that such individuals have been attracted to the region should not be a surprise. However, mercenaries are loyal to the contract, not the nation. In the event that mercenaries are found coordinating with hostile powers or anti-Vegas insurrectionists or criminal elements outside of the Bishop organization, they shall be considered active targets to be eliminated at your discretion -Commissioner Floyd Wilson