Chapter 20: Old Monsters and New

Senator Ziyi Feng was one of the most beloved public figures in California. She was a rare politician that had been able to avoid serious scandal while also being an effective administrator, having been a mainstay in the NCR Senate for two decades now. Her most recent legislative success was finalizing the city of Oakland into the Shi-Friscan municipality, effectively creating the second-largest city in California. Thanks to her partnership with the Van Graff Security LLC, Shi-Frisco was the model of stability and security on the west coast. As such, her current stay in Vegas was every bit a reward as it was an opportunity to unwind.

Ziyi had finished her shower, being careful to not agitate her back as she always tried. Last night had been quite grueling by her normal standards, having spent her afternoon at the Tops capped off by an evening at Gomorrah, having taken two of the girls back with her to her room at the Ultra-Luxe. They'd left before morning, her security detail having provided them with payment before doing so, as they always did, Ziyi thought as she reached for her bathrobe. And the hangover would subside by the early afternoon, she believed.

Still, she thought as she reentered her suite, there wasn't much stopping this day from being even better for her. She saw the platter on the table just before the aroma hit her. Room service understood her preferences and her security would tip generously. Still, she pondered whether or not it would be better to wait until her scheduled guest arrived. Normally, her visitors were for work, various government officials and fellow administrators discussing California business. However, with the Wild Khan raids occupying the forefront of Shady Sands concerns, they saw little room or reason to entertain the domestic boards Ziyi chaired, leaving her to her own devices while the military ruled the docket.

Ziyi took a seat and peeked under the lid, her mouth watering at the delicately cooked breakfast she always ordered on principle. Leaning back in her chair, she figured she could spare a few minutes for her new guest to arrive. Perhaps her time in this city had corrupted her, but she was interested in seeing just how far any potential relationship with Miss Heilong could go.

"Ma'am," her bodyguard outside peeked his head in. "Radio just got a call from your guy in Arizona."

"Oh, Frost!" Ziyi exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "Please, bring in the equipment!"

It was a surprisingly tall order, seeing the mass of cables and electronics transferred into the room, drawing its power source from a generator placed inside a maintenance closet. But it was done quickly and professionally, her staff well trained to handle the occasional eccentric or oddball request. Upon completing it, Ziyi nodded her head in thanks as her bodyguards resumed their posts outside. Then she picked up the receiver and held it down. "Tim! Are you there? Do you read?"

"Uh… yes, Senator," Frost began to speak, hesitantly.

Ziyi smiled. "Frost, we've been over this."

"I'm OK, Ziyi," Frost corrected.

"It's been a while, Frost, but I didn't expect to see you back so soon," Ziyi laughed.

"I… felt obligated to report back because of an… incident," Frost braced himself. "I figured you'd be the first to know."

"I'm flattered, but I don't know why you would come to me before Gorobets or Boone?" Ziyi replied, confused.

"It's… something I don't feel confident reporting to them. I figured my sponsor would know more about discretion," Frost confessed, lamely.

"You realize that all security matters should be relayed to the COs, regardless of my opinion," Ziyi continued, her warm demeanor abating. "I don't want to get caught holding any bag that could put people at risk any more than you."

"I know, it's just that if I report it, I'm afraid it could seriously jeopardize my credibility with the mission. I only just got around to getting the trust of most of the enlisted, and I'm making progress with the officers…"

"Fantastic," Ziyi beamed.

"But this sounds so ridiculous, it could undermine everything I've been working for if it got out, and I couldn't secure any proof, so no good will come from that angle, and I should have protected that damn recorder better, but…"

"Tim, Tim, please," Ziyi coaxed, "Slow down. What happened?"

Frost took a deep breath. "…I had just secured an interview with Capt. Wallace and things had been going great, but we had an incident. Combat erupted, they charged off, and I was left secure behind the front lines. Or so I thought."

"I got jumped! Put in a sack of all things! The bastard carried me away and would have done who knows what with me until…"

"I understand," Ziyi interrupted. "Getting caught by raiders can be an… ordeal," she finally settled on, pushing her memories back to the dark corner they belonged to as she collected herself.

"…That's the thing," Frost hesitated. "I wasn't jumped by raiders. It was… I… Deathclaw," he finally spat out.

"…I'm sorry?" Ziyi quietly whispered in disbelief.

"A deathclaw! I should have been rent piece from piece but this one just used a sack and carried me off like I was some kind of fish! Probably would have if the others hadn't interrupted it! I got away in the melee while they argued, and I managed to hide under a car while they…"

"Did you say… argue?" Ziyi asked, stunned numb.

"Oh, how could I forget, despite my best efforts," Frost wailed. "They talked, Ziyi! They had names! I picked up two, Sonny and Petey, but this changes everything we know about the species. They aren't just sentient, but sapient! Do you know what this could mean?" Frost exclaimed.

"…Frost, could you excuse me for a moment?" Ziyi asked, politely.

"The implications are immense, this could usher in a whole new era of-" the receiver snapped off, interrupting Frost's diatribe as Ziyi strolled over to her bed. She grabbed a pillow and held it to her face, screaming into it as she beat her fist onto the mattress. Not content, she threw her body on top of the bedspread, kicking her feet in a tantrum, the likes of which she hadn't thrown since Weintraub showed her the engagement ring her fiancée had bought her.

"TA MA DE! SCHEISSE! FUCK!" she screamed over and over into the pillow, muffled as it was. She finally pulled the pillow from her face, three wet spots remaining behind. Collecting herself, she strolled back over to the receiver, picking it back up.

"-and I tried to tell her I was sorry, but I had just gotten out of a nervous breakdown and her state of dress at the time was just- "

"Thank you for telling me," she finally replied, her voice somewhat hoarse. "And I think you are right to come to me."

"I am?" Frost asked, interrupting his sequence.

"…I believe you," Ziyi admitted. "I wish I didn't, but I do."

"Oh," Frost exclaimed, betraying a sigh of relief that he would not return home to a padded cell over this.

"…Some years ago, I encountered a deathclaw named Johnny Guitar. He could talk and think, like the ones you met," Ziyi continued.

"That is amazing!" Frost beamed over the air.

"And he was a complete tool!" Ziyi screamed. "He was the absolute worst being I've ever had the complete non-privilege of encountering! All he did was bully and taunt and scream and piss on the campfire and harass and goad and…" she calmed herself down. "…And I think you found his children," she gulped as she accepted her realization.

"Incredible," Frost breathed.

"Frost, I want you to understand something," Ziyi lowered her voice. "Johnny Guitar is, at best, a myth. A folktale for the superstitious. The few people who know better have all agreed to keep the knowledge to the contrary secret. For the record, those people consist of me and Councilor Gannon. And now you count as part of our number."

"Ziyi, I… I don't know what to say," Frost exclaimed.

"Keep it that way," Ziyi suggested. "I'm still holding out hope that they'll all be wiped out. For now, stay with the AEG, they won't try anything against an army that sizable. Count yourself lucky," she sniffed.

"But what should I do with this information?" Frost asked.

"Keep it to yourself. For now, at least. I'd argue that revealing their existence would compromise the mission, distracting them from more critical matters. Just keep the sentries on alert and that should mitigate the problem," Ziyi said.

"…Understood," Frost hesitated.

"Frost," Ziyi began to breathe. "I know I'm asking you to go against your instincts but allow me to insist that this is for the best." She took a moment. "…You're concerned you'll be targeted again?"

"…That thought has crossed my mind," Frost admitted.

Ziyi pinched the bridge of her nose. "…If these new ones are anything like their father, then they can be cowed under the right circumstances. You just need to find someone who won't buckle under pressure and stick with them for the duration of your time in the Wastes. Got any ideas?"

Frost thought for a moment. "…I think I might. Thank you, Ziyi, I'm glad we talked!"

"…Me too," Ziyi nodded. "Best of luck and stay safe, Frost," she said as she cut the receiver.

For a few moments, Ziyi sat still in front of her omelet. She stared at it, imagining that its main ingredient took control of it, gaining sapience as it stood up and began talking to her. "Hey, Weepy! You suck and cry all the time! What's it like being completely useless? You're so useless you couldn't even make babies! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

As Andrea Heilong arrived on the floor and was cleared by security, she stopped outside the doorway as she collected herself. Meeting with her city's senator would be nerve-wracking on the best of days, even if it was just an offer to be entertained for a time. But of course, right before she left her hotel, she had received a mission from CIB. And here she had thought her honeypot days were behind her. Taking a deep breath, she was about to knock on the door when she heard a crashing sound.

"Miss Senator! Are you alri-"Andrea began to call out as she swung open the door. She was greeted by the sight of the Senator in her bathrobe perched on her chair like a bird, tearing into an omelet gripped in her fingers like a feral dog. "HOW'S THIS FOR A CRYBABY, YOU SCALY PIECE OF SHIT?" Ziyi snarled, spittle and pieces of egg flying from her mouth as she tore into the omelet.

"…Senator Feng?" Andrea whispered, confused. Ziyi promptly came back to her senses, turning to look at the actress as the yolk dripped silently from her mouth, blushing. So far, today wasn't looking quite as optimistic as it had been.

The snout perched up, inhaling the faint scents as he glanced over the horizon. With the slightest trepidation, the lizard navigated his way down the slope. The red sky above him worried him slightly, seeing as it was nearly noon. That massive building on the horizon gave even him the most ominous of feelings. He didn't care for this place, and the sooner he left the better.

The lizard took another whiff of the rotten air, gleaning out the slightest disturbance. Sure enough, he had found it before too long. This was yet another haunt of his wayward son. Narrowing down the scent, he zeroed in on a patch of sand and dust just under the cliff. Content, he began to dig.

Sonny had been an unusual hatchling. Strong, fast, and clever if not quite what he'd consider intelligent. Of course, this was offset by his inability to work as a part of a pack, preferring to act as a scavenger rather than a predator. He had taken it upon himself multiple times to… correct his child's shortcomings. All that effort would go to waste upon the ambushing of his fellow hatchlings, luring them into a trap where he dispatched all but three of them.

Deathclaws aren't known for their paternalism. Even so, he had felt a rage inside him he hadn't felt since the war with the giant gecko. He attacked his son, savaging him to within an inch of his life, going so far as to put Sonny's very neck in his jaws. Upon receiving his son's total and complete submission, he would be exiled from what remained of his pack. But Sonny proved more resilient than even the father would have expected, and his continued behavior would threaten the lives they all currently enjoyed.

He found the sack after a minute of digging. Dragging it out, he tore it open to see Sonny's bounties and keepsakes. Damaged rifles. Bones. Metal coins. Stuffed animals and toys. A collection of twisted souvenirs. The lizard felt his rage return. Only humans acted as such. A deathclaw's only concern with humanity was their meat, everything else a distraction. Humans were only fit to be prey, not some kind of game. Sonny would one day press his luck too far, and upon his failing would pass whatever debt he incurred unto the remainder of his family. And even the patriarch doubted he could survive a fully aware and capable humanity.

First things first, he had to destroy the stash. He made a habit of collecting tumbleweed for just such an event. Surrounding the stash with the dead vegetation, the patriarch then proceeded to prick the end of his wrist with one of his claws. As he poured several drops of his blood around the weeds, he could make out the faint burns left behind on the vegetation. A testament to his greatest power, a side effect to an ability he had gained years ago, he thought as he watched his wound close. Unfastening his cloak, he proceeded to fan the pitiful smolders into something that could be considered proper flames, the fires slowly merging and consuming the contents of the sack.

The patriarch admired his handiwork. Though he had lost Sonny's trail, by finding and destroying his collections of keepsakes, he could destroy evidence of his existence to the humans and give his son a chilling reminder that no matter what he did or where he fled, Poppa would find him. Sonny thought he was some kind of apex predator? Compared to Poppa, he was little more than a mongrel pup showcasing his might against a Massasauga. Johnny was the greatest predator the wasteland had ever seen. No, the greatest predator in the world!

Some machines popped up over the other hillside. These ones had four of those wheels instead of the single ones he usually saw in the area. Johnny paid them no mind. The metal creatures were poor sport and despite his best efforts even poorer meals. Generally, he found that so long as he avoided them, they would return the favor, gladly. He slung his cloak over his shoulder and was about to leave when he felt something sink deep under his scales. It felt like getting hit by a bloatfly, but somehow the sensation felt not so much painful but numb. He looked down and saw a dart embedded into his leg, with others soon after following across his body.

Johnny immediately threw up his cloak, attempting to blind the robots as he tried to make his escape. Darts landed around him, some making contact while others hit the dirt. Johnny felt the numbness begin to recede as he forced his body forward. Whatever chemical concoction was in them, so long as he remained quick and mobile, he would not be brought down.

He heard another noise, this one sounding different than the faint whiffs of the darts. A cable with two weights on either end wrapped around his legs, tying them together thoroughly as the lizard was brought to the ground. Immediately, Johnny tried to force his claw down to cut through, but the robots had caught up with him and peppered him with darts. Johnny felt his eyes grow heavy. It wasn't long until consciousness became impossible.

The hunters caught up with their robots a half-hour later, the machines having secured their quarry. "Hot damn," one of them cheered. "Caught us a biggun, ehehe!"

His friend wasn't quite so jubilant. "Big bastard only got one horn? Shit, Cletus, I thought we was taggin a trophy buck?"

"Aw, come off it, Festus! Blanco's paying big money for a big deathclaw, and what do we got? A big deathclaw! Now help me tie up the rest of him, I'll git the muzzle on. Bots! Git the skiff!"

The attack was as fast as it had been relentless. Without warning, plasma fire had rained down on the guard barracks, setting it alight as the scattered and confused defenders were cut up and destroyed. Without anyone keeping order, the slaves on hand made a break for the caves, trampling a few more of the guards and further spreading confusion. Dinero had only just returned from his visit with Marcy just above the saloon when Kekos entered, sweating profusely and clearly in a panic.

"Markus, where's Marcy?" Kekos demanded.

"What the hell is happening?" Dinero screamed as he looked through the window, watching as a guard was struck by a green blast and was molecularly deconstructed.

"It's Dalton's crew!" Kekos hissed.

"Dal- What the hell is he doing here?!" Markus screamed out.

"I don't know, but I think it's better we don't find out! Grab Marcy, I'm going to try and gather up whatever's left of the guard!"

Dinero bolted up the stairway, the shock and fear making him forget his age. He practically kicked open the door to her room, looking at the sight of the girl looking nervously out her window, clutching her head.

"Marcy, let's get away from that now, please," Dinero tried to placate as he pulled her away. "You and I are going to take a… a trip!" he tried to smile. Marcy, still feeling nauseous, rubbed her forehead and grumbled. "Now, before you go, we got to get you ready," he explained as he tied a bandana around her head. He stepped back, pondered what next to do, and finally realized what was bothering him. If they catch wind of her eyes, they'll kill her, he thought. Marcy gulped and looked like she was going to cry.

"Shh-shh-shh!" Dinero tried to quiet her. "Please don't! I… uh… I know!" He pulled his sunglasses from his own eyes and placed them onto hers. "Now look at you!" he grinned. "Now you look like a boss!" he exclaimed as the storage shed next door erupted in flames that immediately began to spread to the saloon. "Let's go!" he called out as he grabbed her and sprinted down the stairway.

As he left the saloon, Dinero saw the rag-tag remains of the city guard rallying around Kekos. He ran over to the scant remnants behind the workers' barracks. "So, what are we looking at?" Dinero tried to start casually, trying to downplay how bad the situation was in a vain attempt to bolster their morale.

"I counted some thirty or so hostiles, all with plasma weapons," Kekos relayed.

Dinero wanted to curse. The Legatum Saeva had been a feared and opportunistic rogue band of killers, but they had never acted so brazenly against a true Legion-affiliated town. Their numbers were just too few, and he remembered how shrewd their leader could be. Dinero prepared himself for what he knew he had to do, he had to go out and confront the leader himself. Perhaps their shared history would be enough to stay his hand and allow him to keep the town. He set down Marcy and braced himself.

"Men," he announced. "I am going to parlay with Dalton. If I do not return or succeed, I want you to take Kekos and Marcy away from this town. Guard them with your life, men! This is the last order I may very well give you!"

"Damn right, it is," one of the guards growled as he leveled his rifle at Dinero, the handful of others following suit as Dinero, Kekos, and Marcy found themselves at the mercy of what had been considered the help.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Dinero demanded to know, though the pit in his stomach was already being filled with dread.

"This town is lost. We don't need you anymore," the guard growled. "The only path for us is to surrender to the newcomers and give them a peace offering. I think the former leadership and their mutie pet will do well, don't you think?"

Dinero completely understood their reasoning and assessment. How could he not, it was exactly what he would have done in their position. "THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?!" he tried to protest. "AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU!" Not that it would stop him from trying to save his own hide, of course.

By now the rifles were all cocked and loaded. Kekos glanced at Dinero, then at Marcy, and then finally at the recently hostile staff leveling their weapons at him. "…You guys got room for one more?" he finally asked.

"Tom!" Dinero cried out as Kekos lowered his rifle. The guards, weapons still trained on them, had a brief conference, and for a brief instance all eyes were off of them. That time gave Kekos a moment to shoot Dinero a wink. Dinero gulped, picked up Marcy, and watched as the guards turned back to their newfound traitor. "Hand over the gun," the newly appointed spokesman for the group ordered.

"I understand," Kekos nodded as he surrendered his weapon.

"And get behind us!" the spokesman commanded. Kekos obeyed. As he did, the spokesman let out a manic grin. "Looks like your own people have loyalty issues, Markus," he taunted. Kekos, meanwhile, began fixing his cuffs.

"You guys mind if I… have a ten-second head start?" Dinero begged.

"Three," the spokesman replied.

"Eight," Dinero responded.

"Three," the spokesman repeated.

"Five," Dinero countered.

"Fine," the spokesman relented. "All the good it'll do you. Men, start the count down!"

Dinero turned and fled, carrying the girl on his shoulder as she whimpered. "One! Two!" the spokesman called out before pulling up his rifle. Simultaneously, as the thought of taking his shot crossed his mind, so too did a bullet. The stunned guards at first panicked, all the while Kekos took the opportunity to start running, thankful he had maintained his sleeve gun while lamenting its single-shot usage. When the guards realized he was fleeing, they immediately turned and ran after him, screaming that he was a dead man as if it would be news to him.

Kekos was resilient, but time had not been his friend. It didn't take long for the younger guards to catch up with him. And no matter what his age, nothing could have prevented the bullet from tearing through his back. He stumbled forward, collapsing on his stomach. Trying futilely to get back to his feet, the traitor guards swarmed around him, putting their boots to his body, kicking him and beating him. A sensible group could have just saved themselves the trouble and finished him off with but just one more bullet, or perhaps just a more humane one. Either way, it was what the Legatum team stumbled upon as they marched through their purge of the town. Plasma weapons trained on the mob; the leader ordered them to abandon their prey.

"You all look like strapping and eager lads," the scarred leader of the coat-wearing shock troops announced. "Well, I've got some openings! Three, to be exact," he told the six guards. "We're here for the caves, but it appears that they're currently occupied. I want you lot to lead some of my boys in so we can exterminate any remaining pests. The lucky three to eliminate the most will be given a plasma gun and a better uniform. The last three, well, you should realize what will happen by now," he grinned. "NOW GO!" he barked, the guards stumbling over one another to head into the caves while the rest of the fireteam followed them. The leader looked down at the battered living corpse as he coughed up blood.

"Well," Sheol began, squatting down next to Kekos. "You aren't looking so good."

"I've… been better," Kekos hacked.

"You know, I happen to know a few folks down south. Phoenix, to be exact. After the Legion packed up and left, some freed slaves resettled the area. It's a shadow of what it used to be, but a few of them were former pre-Legion inhabitants. You and your partner were quite popular there, weren't you?" Sheol grinned.

"Ancient history," Kekos coughed.

"Not so for a few of them. There's a bounty on your head, and your partner's as well. While my boss isn't exactly popular down there, I believe in making the most of presented opportunities. So why don't you tell me where your boss is? After all, the two of you alive together is worth considerably more than your corpses."

Kekos clamped his mouth shut, his mouth filling with blood as he coughed.

"He abandoned you, didn't he? Saved himself. Is that really something worth dying for?" Sheol asked.

"It's what we do," Kekos tried to laugh, blood pouring from his mouth as pain wracked his chest.

"Ah," Sheol smiled. "Well, as fun as this little chat has been, I believe you've been overdue in Hell for quite some time. And I'd hate to have the Devil wait."

"See you soon," Kekos replied as Sheol drew out his plasma pistol.

Dinero collapsed, falling to his knees as he forced himself to catch his breath. Looking back, he could see in the merciful distance he had put between himself and his old town the fires continuing to erupt, burning his petty empire and decades of ambition and security.

"…Damn it…" he whimpered. "Damn it all…" as the sight brought back memories.

He felt something tug on his arm. Marcy was pulling him, her face worried as she looked around.

"…Yeah," Dinero nodded. "Good point. Not safe. You're a… smart little girl, aren't you?" he tried to laugh. "Yeah, let's get out of here." And so, Markus Dinero, socialite, mining foreman, traitor, and general ne'er-do-well, got back on his feet and headed into the wasteland, at the sprite young age of sixty-one. Accompanied by a twelve-year-old girl with the worst cataracts he had ever seen and no supplies whatsoever, he wasn't going to lie. His chances were looking bleak, to be generous. And if he returned to the Legion, he'd have to answer for losing his operation, and he knew that to those guys incompetence ranked just above treason for offenses. So, what more could he do than press his luck?

"Looks like we're going west, Marc," Dinero announced, taking her by the hand as they left the last sanctuary they had ever known.