Chapter 33: Res-by-the-Res Part 3

Falco fastened his boots, his cloak billowing behind him as his disguise shed any indication of his alignment. His gladius was fastened behind him while his revolver was moved to the front and center of his belt, peaking out just under the cloak. As much as it pained him to sacrifice his armor, camouflage was protection in and of itself, often enough. And, at the very least, he would stand out less than his companion.

Barabbas had unlatched the last of his armor, stripping himself bare as he set it alongside Belua, rummaging through the rucksack as he stood stark naked in the middle of the camp. Falco gave him some privacy, turning his head as the legate fished out a pair of trousers that had to have belonged to a super-mutant once upon a time, along with a large and tattered shirt. Barabbas realized that he would have a harder time blending in amongst the town, but it stood as reasonable enough for him that he'd stand out less without his usual garb.

Falco could not contain himself any longer. "…Looks like a full moon, tonight," he uttered.

Barabbas looked up at the waxing crescent above him. "What are you…" he began until he caught Falco's joke. He tossed a boot at the senior centurion, who caught it with a laugh. "A little joviality now and then goes a long way, my friend."

"I'll save the joviality until after we find them," Barabbas muttered as he hiked up his pants.

"Them?" Falco caught.

Barabbas cursed himself under his breath. Pariah was the first priority, unquestionably, but some small part of him hated himself for not pushing back more against the demands of the Amazon. Ever since that night, Kyra's presence, or more aptly now the lack thereof, was slowly proving to be rather detrimental to his focus. No, what he needed to do was get down there himself, account for all three of them, and then he could decide what and who went where from there.

"Sir," Drago announced as he approached Barabbas, fist over his heart. "The hounds have been mostly accounted for, but Belua…"

"Pay her no mind," Barabbas stated dismissively as he tied a belt around his waist. "She's spent so long in the kennel that she won't pass up an opportunity to stretch her legs."

"Sir? Is that wise so close to civilization, considering her…" Drago paused as Barabbas eyed him. "…reputation?" he finished.

"…I have significantly more faith in Belua than half of you," Barabbas replied as he threw the shirt over his back. "I didn't rank her as third in command for nothing."

Falco let out a cross between a snort and a laugh, covering his mouth with his wrist as Barabbas dug his sword into the ground. "Keep everyone together and the campfire small. Use the dogs if you get cold," and with that, Barabbas and Falco headed down to the Res by the Res. A hungry pair of eyes followed the two as they left the camp. The smaller one seemed old and stringy for his taste, but the larger one looked nice and supple. Sawney licked the drool from his mouth as the two got too close to the town. It was too risky, even for him, but Sawney was nothing if not opportunistic.

Natalie approached the makeshift office, flanked by the gunners Matt and Nick. Above the doorway, she saw the sign listing "RMX Liquidation Services." Paying it little heed, she burst through the swinging doors, the mercenaries waiting inside all reaching for their weapons until Matt and Nick entered behind and ordered them all to stow everything. Natalie wasn't in the mood for explanations or patience. "Where is she?" she announced, loudly and firmly.

A face peered from the back office. "…Natty!" Ariel grinned. "I'm so glad you came! If I had some extra warning, I would have…"

"We need to talk," Natalie interrupted, not returning the smile.

"Is now really the best time, though? I'm in the middle of an important…" Ariel tried to begin.

"Time?" Natalie once again interrupted. "You're going to talk to me about time?"

Ariel's smile began to recede. "…Everyone, take a hike. Go get booze or whatever, this is a private meeting."

One by one, the mercenaries slowly filed out of the building. Matt and Nick brought up the rear, once again, after further coaxing by Ariel that this would be a private discussion. They negotiated that they would stand outside the doorway, which Ariel relented, seeing Natalie losing patience with every wasted moment. Once they were alone, Ariel began to pace while Natalie never broke her line of sight with her.

"…Why?" Natalie snapped.

"Why what?" Ariel asked, confused.

"You had twenty years to get in contact, to visit, to write a damn letter. After all this time, why now?" Natalie growled.

"…I get that we didn't part on the best terms," Ariel admitted. "And I've always been sorry about that," she lied. "Things… just got so complicated," she offered.

"You almost started a fucking war," Natalie hissed. "That's not quite an "oopsie." I thought we both understood that when we kicked you out of the Mojave."

"A few dead Cali troopers and suddenly there's some kind of crisis?" Ariel scoffed. "I figured that was nothing more than business as usual."

Natalie seethed as she drew closer to Ariel. "Oh, right, I forgot," Ariel stated as she realized she was talking to a former Cali bootlicker. "Sensitive subject."

"…How did you find out about Rosa?" Natalie asked.

"Idle gossip and rumor mills," Ariel replied, locking eyes with Natalie. The two had never been close, and major philosophical differences kiboshed any attempts at friendship. Even so, Natalie had felt that Ariel's time and tenure as the Governor's lover skewed her already warped perspective of right and wrong. Ariel, on the other hand, wondered if Natalie's temperament and demeanor couldn't have been improved with a few extra dickings.

"…If you have a message to tell your daughter, I will gladly relay it on your behalf," Natalie finally said, extending an olive branch.

"I don't have a message," Ariel shook her head. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" Natalie asked. "About how you haven't been there for the last twenty years of her life? About how you ended the relationship with her father on your terms? Or how about how…"

"I get it!" Ariel snapped. "I wasn't mother of the year material! Cry me a river, bitch! I just want to see my kid, for once! What are you, a custody officer or a glorified desk jockey?"

Natalie's lip curled. "I don't know what you've been doing these past few years, but whatever it is, I doubt that this has anything to do with some kind of sudden bout of maternal love. If you ever really cared for your kid that much, you wouldn't have to be going through me to see her. Ask Lars if you want to visit over the weekends, you have a lot of catching up to do," Natalie said as she turned to the doorway.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Hale," Ariel growled in contempt.

Natalie paused a moment to look over her shoulder. "She's fine, by the way. Your kid. I know you didn't ask, but I figured you should know." And with that, Natalie burst through the doors, ignoring the curses and derision the Nutso Young Guns screamed at her as she left.

Ariel watched as the Commissioner left her office. A small part of her wanted to pull out a gun and see who would walk away. Natalie had basically almost been a virgin in multiple ways when they had first met. But Ariel was reasonably good at reading people, and she could tell that she had spent the last few years getting hardened. She was not someone she could risk underestimating.

Fuming, Ariel returned to the office, her guest having waited patiently. "…I take it that meeting did not go as expected?"

"Shut the hell up," Ariel groused as she returned to her seat. "I figured talking to you was all it would take to ruin my day, and then that had to happen. I politely ask that you disregard what you heard out there."

"Disregard? On the contrary, I want to help you," her guest leaned in. "I think we have a mutual interest, here."

"She's no good to me dead," Ariel glowered. "Partnership or not, you renege on that part, and I will send you back where you came from in pieces."

Vulpes Inculta grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it. Rather, I had another idea."

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" the crowd around the women chanted as two pairs of arms lifted Rosa off her seat, nozzle affixed firmly in her mouth as her feet rose above her. Having fallen behind Silverhair by pure volume, Rosa had, in her hazy state of mind, offered to finish the keg.

Tobey watched the spectacle unfold with a mixture of awe, bemusement, and horror. His companions had found the situation hilarious and had made no secret of their perspective to Tobey.

"Quite the woman you got there, homes," Javier laughed as he ordered another beer from a passing server.

"She's not usually like this," Tobey tried to explain.

"So, this hasn't happened before?" Toni asked.

Tobey pursed his lips together, much to the delight and laughter of the Mexicans surrounding him. Even Tobey allowed a smile to escape, as he felt surprisingly at ease around these guys. He figured they were a bunch of cholo wannabe Zapatas, but they were surprisingly understanding and supportive of this new stranger sitting with them. Almost felt like they had some kind of connection.

"So," Gael asked as he took a sip from his beer. "You Mojave and Cali guys got a lot on your hands, going east, yeah?"

Tobey took a sip from his. "Political shit. Got to talk to Dallas and all."

"Not aiming to take over?" Javier interjected. "Bust some slugs, burn some camps?"

"Nah," Tobey shook his head. "Just looking to make sure we don't have a three-front war."

"You're making friends with the Legion, though, homes," Javier pressed. "Ain't that kinda shit?"

"Do you see the smile on my face?" Tobey pointed to his deadpan expression. "I'm not looking forward to it, but orders are orders and they don't pay me enough to think through policy. Not my fault my bosses are more scared of the Confederacy than Imperial Dallas."

Gael just shook his head in disappointment. "Man, I expected you guys were onto something cooler than that. Thought you'd want to kick the toro in the escroto for the third time."

"You guys aren't fans of the Legion, are you?" Tobey chuckled as he looked over at his tablemates.

Toni looked away. Javier's eyes darkened as he stared into his bottle. Gael downed the rest of his beer. "…No," Gael shook his head. "No matter what, we always keep eyes out on notable Bullheads. We have friends who pay handsomely for the right names to the right bodies."

"I had a feeling you guys were bounty hunters," Tobey said as he cracked his back.

"Sure, let's go with that," Toni said as he put down some caps on the table. "I'm gonna head back to the room, awhile. Don't wait up."

The Mexican stood from the table and maneuvered his way through the crowd to escape the pavilion. As he made it to the perimeter, he took out a cigarillo and lit it. It was nice, he had to admit, to talk to one of his northern counterparts. After the San Antonio debacle, it was nice to see that civilization could return on a somewhat recognizable path. Down with the raider, death to the sicario, and fuck the Legion, politics be damned.

San Antonio had fallen sooner than expected, though his bosses knew it couldn't last for long on its own. Toni had figured that with the right rhetoric applied to the right people, in this case a senator and his subordinate military commanders, the Legion's grip on the south would be loosened with a strong enough buffer between them. Alas, his team among others had underestimated the capability of their opponent's commanders, particularly that one asshole who never took off the bull helmet.

As he took a moment to enjoy the relative peace, two more unfamiliar tourists entered his line of sight. An older guy and a younger, much bigger man, clearly something of a heavy. The older man whispered something to the bigger guy as they soon parted, the big guy's expression suggested agitation and lots of it. The older guy saw him off, took a moment to collect himself, and began walking the other way.

As Toni watched, his eyes lit in recognition. That bastard was the cavalry commander who broke the siege and killed three of his friends. And here he was, disguised like some kind of bum for who knew what, Toni thought as he bit through his cigarillo. The RGF was going to pay him big money for this.

He snaked his way back into the pavilion. Gael was the first to notice him returning. "Need me to hold your hand?" he asked with a grin.

"Prime beef," was all Toni said. There was a brief moment of silence and stillness between the three, followed by an explosive flurry of movement as they all leapt up and abandoned their table.

"Guys! What hap- Guys!" Tobey called out as he watched them push and shove through the crowd. He looked down at the several beers still remaining on the table, groaned as he fished into his pouch to throw down a bunch of caps he didn't want to spend, and moved to chase after them. Before he did, he looked back at Rosa one last time. "…Please, don't do anything stupid," he said to no one in particular, though if one asked him who he was talking about, he wouldn't have been able to decide. He then turned to follow the Mexicans.

Back at the bar, Rosa had returned back to solid ground, though felt no more steady for it. "And dats why I's *hic* know everything dere's to know bout drinkin," Rosa slurred triumphantly.

Silverhair paid her little mind, instead looking to the device on her wrist. "…Where did you get that?" Silverhair asked.

"Gift frum ma… muh… muh…" Rosa stopped, the word getting caught in her throat as she tried to force it through. It was a word that she had been struggling with for years, the context and her state of mind combining to try and choke it in her own mind. A loud belch destroyed the blockage. "Muh old man," she continued as she wiped her mouth.

Silverhair gazed over the gaudy gold plating, tinted and dimmed by what had to have been years of exposure to the natural world. Pip-boys weren't a common sight in the wasteland, but they were far from unheard of or unseen. And in all her years of walking the wastes, she had met only one person with the "taste" to do that to theirs.

"…Tell me about him," Silverhair asked, propping her head on her hand as her elbow rested on the counter.

"Ah, he's pizza," Rosa slurred.

"I beg pardon?" Silverhair blinked.

"Real pizza shit!" Rosa laughed as she struck the counter with her palm. She paused as she lifted an empty shot glass from the table. "Viva le Guv *hic* nor," she announced as she tried to down the absent contents. Silverhair's eyes widened in shock. She turned away from her bar-buddy as she stared at the counter. "…Oh my god, he's a parent…" she muttered to herself.

"WHOA!" Rosa called out as she stumbled off the barstool. "Git a load a dat ham-hawk!"

Rosa stumbled her way through the crowd under the pavilion with a deceptively graceful poise and strut. Silverhair, already worried about the kid's safety, followed after her. As Rosa got to the brim of the shelter, the massive guy had stopped to look over the area. This "city" was nothing more than a collection of scheming degenerates and listless drunks. The notion that Pariah was at the mercy of these people horrified him and emboldened him to further scour this place until every unturned stone was accounted for. In truth, what he wanted was a full cohort or three and enough soap to cleanse this place for the next three generations, but he had to use what he had on hand.

"Hey, ba-*hic*-by," one of the wastrels called out from the rim of the drunk tent. "You be lookin like Grognak, and I want alllllll the issues," she continued to call out as she propped herself against a pole.

Barabbas did not even glance at her as he tried to walk past. The little drunk, however, was brazen enough to try and accost him, standing in his way. "You've gots a monster attitude and a shiddy prick, or-" she paused as she tried to rearrange her previous sentence. "…You wanna smash?" she tried to come on.

Barabbas tried to brush the woman aside, but instead she cut back in front of him and lifted her shirt up to her chin. "Don't tell me you don't luv it," she grinned with the hem of her shirt hanging from her teeth. Barabbas struck out his hand, encased the entirety of her face in his palm, and shoved her back into the tent where she collided with a familiar-looking grey cowgirl.

"Aw, you dick," the grey-haired cowgirl snarled. "What's the big idea, anyway?"

Barabbas paused to look at Silverhair. There wasn't the faintest hint of recognition in her face. Barabbas began to stroke his chin as he pondered this, only to realize it once his hand made contact with his face. He turned away, smiling as Silverhair continued to castigate him while the tart mocked him for "missing out." He still had some questions to ask once he found the right people.

The saloon was, by comparison if nothing else, a much quieter affair than that of the multiple outdoor bars. Amy had called in a favor to the bartender to supply them with a private booth to get away from what little noise there was. The shifty-looking bastard closed the curtain behind them as they sat at the corner booth, Lt. Baxter's eyes never leaving the man for a second. Amy, however, was continuing her conversation with Frost. "Told you this was the best seat in town," she said.

"Still, Poisoned Roach doesn't exactly whet the appetite," Frost muttered. "But I admit it's a much fancier establishment then the name suggests."

"It's not cheap, but the food is good, and the booze is clean," Amy grinned. "So, you two are Cali tourists?"

"We're not tourists," Kim interjected.

"You know what I mean," Amy smiled as she held up her hands defensively. "So, how long you two known each other?"

"Is this relevant?" Kim looked to Frost. "Oh, what's the worst that can happen?" Frost argued. "About two months, but we only started working together about two or so weeks ago."

"Working romantic relationship?" Amy asked as she rested her chin on her palm.

"It's not romantic," Tim and Kim said, simultaneously.

Amy let out a giggle as Cade began drumming his fingers on the table, impatiently.

"What about the two of you?" Tim asked. "How long have you two been together?"

"Four years," Amy stated before Cade could cut her off. "My friend here saved me from a rough situation."

"Would you care to explain?" Tim asked.

"No," Amy replied, still smiling.

"Well, you two must be close," Tim continued.

"Must I remain here?" Cade suddenly interjected.

"Fine, party-pooper," Amy pouted. "Do whatever you want, I'd rather talk to my new friends."

Cade left the booth unceremoniously, Kim's eyes not leaving him until he drew the curtain back as he left. "…What's his fucking deal?" Kim muttered under her breath.

"Even if it was my story to tell, it would probably take hours to sum it all up," Amy grinned. "Now, where were we?"

Amy had proved to be a knowledgeable source regarding the history of the town and the broader Arizona wasteland at large. Her familiarity with the general area and history extended as far back as the Fall of Phoenix, an event that wasn't as well documented by the NCR as much as Frost would have hoped. Still, his primary focus was on this particular town specifically, and Amy was more than happy to indulge.

The Res by the Res was founded in the waning years of the Legion's occupation of Arizona. Though typically friendly with merchants and traders, a necessity when one's culture had effectively outsourced one's entire economy, the reservoir, however, had been deemed a military asset, and had been utilized as such, much to the consternation of enterprising water merchants across the Four Corners.

Upon the Legion's abandonment of Arizona, a collection of merchant barons from the Rockies were quick to set up shop around the area. Many rival traders and raiders alike took issue with this action, and a brief but bloody war erupted over control of the lake. However, thanks to alliances with a select few wasteland survivalist gangs, who would later go on to become the Liberty Clans of the current day, the residencies around the lake had become a free trade zone that welcomed all comers and currencies.

For better or worse, the Res by the Res was a monument to wasteland capitalism in its rawest, least regulated form. The town had its own rules, both posted and unwritten, and had largely been able to keep bloodshed to a minimum within its walls. As a general rule, one kept their gun in their holster no matter what, as a discharged firearm would start a gunfight no one would be able to win. Of course, that just meant knives and fists were fair game, Amy added with a smile.

Amy and Tim chatted for what seemed like the better part of an hour. Kim, herself growing bored, placed her head in her folded arms before her so she could rest her eyes. As she began to snore, Amy looked over to her. "…Y'know, I do freelance out of an establishment by the lake," Amy offered. "If the two of you needed a place to stay the night, I could accept a modest little loaner fee…"

"We aren't that close," Frost hastily amended.

Amy looked over the well-muscled woman. "…Not your type?"

"Not that kind of relationship," Frost tried to correct.

Amy smiled. "If you say so," she said as she reached over the table to embrace the documentarian.

"What are-" Tim tried to begin.

"I really loved chatting, but a girl has to make a living," she said as she hugged him tightly. "I got to head out early in the morning, so this might be the last time we ever see each other again."

"…O…K," Tim replied, slowly and with some measure of fluster. He'd known her for three hours, at the very most, and suddenly she wanted to add some extra drama to what should have been a professional parting. As she broke the hug, Amy opened the curtain and left the booth. "…Best of luck going forward in the future," Amy parted with as she left the two to their devices.

"…I thought she'd never leave," Kim murmured as she stretched herself awake.

"I thought the encounter was rather pleasant," Tim countered.

"Well, sounds like you got everything you wanted. Want to head back to camp before sunup?"

"Actually, considering this might be the single most successful interview I've had since embarking on this journey, what say we enjoy and indulge ourselves for an hour or two?" Tim asked as he threw back the curtain. "Drinks on me?"

Kim looked away. "…I'm not much of a drinker," she admitted.

"Me neither. Don't worry, though, I had some friends back in Shi-Frisco who taught me how to order ginger ale at the bar on the down-low, so I can't make fun of you that much," he grinned as he held out his hand next to him.

Reluctantly, Kim took it. "…One drink, and then we leave." Tim felt accomplished, for some reason, and when he left the booth had felt just a little lighter. Outside the Poisoned Roach Saloon, Amy eyed her prize in her hands, a near-pristine photographic camera in good condition. And so she began her search for the most ambitious, least scrupulous pawnbroker she knew in this city. Competition promised to be fierce.

"Ok, so here's the situation," Dinero tried to explain. "A few years ago, when I joined the Legion, I did something of a big favor to the Big C. A huge event that could have gotten a lot of people killed only got a couple dozen or so executed. So, really, I'm kind of a hero. But, anyway, that's not important. What's important is, I think you and I go way back. Not exactly directly, I mean, just… I think I knew your dad."

"I know, I know, you didn't really know him that well, considering all the… but I can say safely that I knew him! Better than pretty much anyone alive! Cause most of them are dead. Including him. And I guess… when you get down to it, I don't think anyone really understood him when you… anyway, the past is in the past! I just wanted to come up to you, look you dead in the eye, and congratulate you for not getting yourself killed!"

Marcy nibbled off another chunk of her snack cake, chewing it slowly as Dinero slumped his shoulders and sat down on the cot. "It's hopeless," Dinero admitted. "I don't know how or what I should tell the guy when I see him again, IF I should say anything, IF I ever see him again, and IF he is who I think he is." He collapsed on the couch. "Marc, if you learn nothing else from me, it's that growing up sucks and change is awful." Marcy, in response, nibbled off another corner as Dinero turned to look up at the ceiling.

"…You're right," he admitted. "It's all ancient history. Why bother bringing up old wounds?"

Marcy began to nibble on her snack cake as Dinero continued his welching. "Look, aside from… you, I guess, I don't have much left. I have… had a decent enough hand, I guess, but I'm not going to spend the last of my days folding laundry. I deserve better. WE deserve better, Marc. And if that son of a bitch is half the son of the man I think he is, that could be my ticket back to the top, Marc. You hear me! Back to the top!"

"…Braba…"

"Grab it by the horns, my thoughts exactly!" Dinero cheered. Suddenly, the realization hit him like a collapsing copper mine. "…What?!"

"Braba," Marcy repeated, looking to the doorway, dropping the remains of her snack cake. In an almost trancelike state, she began approaching the doorway.

"Marcy, since when could you talk? I thought you were a mute!" Dinero called after her as she walked out of the trailer. "Now, where do you think you're going! Don't…" he stopped to put his boots back on his feet. "Wait up!" he called after her as he bounded out of the trailer.

Sawney had spent the last hour stalking the small encampment of humans and pups. He salivated at the potential opportunity he faced himself with. Five humans and eight doggies. That should give him enough meat for the month. Now, he just had to figure out the best way to approach what he had in front of him.

All the humans looked well-armed, and these were the biggest doggies he had ever seen. He would have to work quickly, strike like lightning and punish like a disease. If they stood and fought, that would save him time, but if they scattered, then he could entertain himself indefinitely. Once again, he gazed upon the dimly lit campfire at the outlines of the five humans and seven doggies. Sawney blinked. Perhaps he miscounted. Then the mouth full of fangs tackled against his neck.

Sawney was brought to the ground, hissing as the mutt snarled and growled as she bit into his hide. As Sawney flailed and swiped, the mutt expertly forced her body out of his range, mounting the lizard's back as he all but screamed in pain and rage. Eventually, Sawney forced the dog off his back, the dog taking a jaw full of scale and hide in her jaws. As Sawney raged at the attack, the dog let out a low growl. Sawney didn't speak mutt, but her meaning was clear. Stay away or I will kill you.

"…FINE!" Sawney screamed. "I'Z JUS LEAVE! I HOPES YOUZ CHOKES ON IT!" the lizard screamed as he backed away, his eyes trained on the dog. Belua held her glare as she cranked her neck back to swallow Sawney's flesh, licking her chops as the lizard finally turned to sprint away. Content, she returned to the camp, trotting happily as several of the legionaries had arrived to investigate what had just transpired. As they looked around in confusion, Belua returned to her spot by the campfire.

Drago glanced at the returning hound as she settled back into her ball. "…I guess that's the difference between a watchdog and an attack dog," he quipped. "Sounds like you scared whoever that was off. A pity. We could have used the excitement." Belua snorted as she nestled her nose under her legs. Elsewhere, Sawney turned his attention towards the town. Hopefully, as common wisdom had demonstrated through years of hunting, the bigger the gathering, the more plentiful the stragglers.