Six did not know whether to be anxious or amused with what he found outside the very doors of the Lucky 38. Down on the steps was a crowd of tourists, troops on furlough, and MPs huddled around Shaolin and Pancake. Or more specifically, their little devil Syrup. Pancake's wrist was cuffed to a chain that ended on a bright red shock-collar locked around the infant deathclaw's neck.
"Step right up, folks! Pet the deathclaw! A once in a lifetime experience!" pitched Nora as Ren stood across from her with a flipped Stetson hat already filling up with bottle caps and NCR bills.
"That...thing isn't going to bite, right?" asked a nervous onlooker.
"Only if you have meat on your hands," Pancake winked.
"How'd you tame it?" another wondered.
"It's a secret," teased the bubbly teen.
"Probably fake. Got to be a robot with some good latex and silicone," an MP muttered.
The Courier, still comprehending what he was seeing, descended onto the street. "What in the goddamn...?"
Nora nearly gave him a hug. "Oh, hey, Six!"
The sudden influx of gazes coupled with the disruptive silence was uncomfortable enough—he often loathed the attention his reputation heaped upon him. Everyone except for a few MPs wisely took several steps back. At least they were smart enough to recognize the real power-players in the Mojave.
Pancake exaggerated her faux disappointment. "Six, how could you!? You're scaring my customers!"
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Earning our keep," replied Ren, showing him the money in the hat. He leaned in slightly to quietly add, "So you won't have to pay for bribes anymore."
"Shut up, Shaolin."
"Excuse me. Mind if we take a photo?" asked a woman in a bright orange summer dress. Her partner in the wooly cardigan carefully meandered over with a camera ready.
"Sure!" burst Nora.
Six let himself be shooed to the side while the bubbly ginger teen positioned Syrup between the two Californian tourists. The flash from the camera almost made him reach for his sidearm; deathclaws were known to react to sudden stimuli and flashing lights were one of them. To his surprise, however, Syrup was as docile as the Sphinx...assuming that the Egyptian wonder was still standing for the past two hundred years. A few scenic shots later and Pancake was three hundred NCR dollars richer. Three hundred NCR dollars...
"Um, sir... You're not going to stop this?" whispered an MP.
"I don't care anymore," the Courier grumbled.
Trust the kids. Trust the kids. Trust the kids not to burn down the goddamn tower. The Courier took a deep breath before bellowing, "I'm heading out, kids!" Damn it, I sound too damn old.
Hyper was in his face the instant the last word left his lips. Jittery excitement screamed out of those wide silver pupils that it was hard not to fold to her demands. Good thing he drank just enough to be immune to her charm. He pushed her head away from his nose with his finger.
"But, Si~ix!"
"No, Hyper. You and everyone else are staying here." He tapped the frame of the Securitron next to him as the brats slowly gathered before the elevator doors. "Victor'll keep a close eye on you and he will drag your asses back here the moment you step out of line!"
"You won't have to worry about us," Blondie chirped.
"Yeah. We got everything under control," assured Knight-boy.
Shaoling headed to the kitchen. "I'll go make pancakes."
Huh. Why do I have a feeling that somehow something's going to go horribly wrong the moment I get into the elevator? Six shook the apprehension out of his head even his though his gut was screaming like a banshee. Nah. Just the sauce talking. Better go before—
BOOM!
Snowball shrieked from the showers. Everyone else had to help Nora restrain Syrup from tearing through the walls to get to the 'emergency' while they all muscled to the lavatory in a panic. Victor turned to the Courier with that stupid fucking cowboy avatar grinning at him on its screen.
Don't you say a single word, Vic—
"You want a go back up for a drink?" chirped the Securitron AI.
Goddamn it. "Shut up, Victor."
"Are you kidding me, Ice Queen!?"
"Do I look like I'm humoring anyone!?" screamed a drenched, flustered, and obviously underdressed Weiss who was wrapped in a ripped shower curtain. The showers themselves were encased in a thin chamber of jagged ice. Several of the brats' clothes could be seen floating in and around the flood of water rising out of the severed drainage pipes angled out of the broken shower floors.
"You had one job, Weiss!"
"Now what are we supposed to wear!?"
"Well, it could be worse..."
How the fuck... Six gawked. He was too dumbstruck to notice Pyrrha worriedly nudging him about the involuntary twitching in his eye. "Snowball. Were you doing laundry...in the shower...while showering...with your Dust...and Semblance?"
"I was being pragmatic!"
His eye twitched even more. It's pragmatic if you don't blow up all ten cubicles on this suite! How the fuck did you fuck up your own laundry anyway!? How does that lead to this!? How the fuck do you rip out the drainage while washing clothes and yourself? Just how!? Why the hell did you have to use your goddamn ice tricks anyway!? Was that even necessary!?
"Uh-oh." Jaune nervously chuckled. "You know, Six, we couldn't find any, um, good places to do laundry. So..."
"I guess this just proves that Weiss doesn't do her own chores—"
"Excuse me, Ren!" Snowball angrily screamed, the curtain crumpling in her grip. "I'll have you know that—"
"You have butlers that do everything for you," completed a smirking Blake.
"Especially her 'cake butler,'" mused Ruby.
"Yeah. 'Cause she's an heiress with like a hundred servants," added Yang.
"On the bright side, we could always go dry cleaning," suggested Pyrrha.
Ren balked. "Pyrrha, you do know that most of our clothes are not tailored for dry cleaning, right?"
"Dry cleaning is still cleaning, Renny. Besides, we could always go to Freeside where it's cheaper." Nora bent down to rub at Syrup's chin. "And buy you some treats along the way! Isn't that right, Syrup? Yes, it is. Yes, it is. And maybe get you a bath too!"
"You can always fix it," hooted Victor from the corridor.
I'm surrounded by idiots. The Courier slumped onto a chair to massage his temples. It amazed him how the brats were able to break something that was the least likeliest to be broken, let alone something he never thought could be broken in the first place. That and he was equally frustrated that he would have to deal with this mess because Lord knows these brats wouldn't. Why? Because they couldn't!
"Hyper, get me my tool kit. And Snowball...put some goddamn clothes on."
"I don't think she has anything clean to wear," Blondie snickered.
"I don't think any of us have anything clean to use right now," mulled Shaolin.
"I wonder why," echoed Cat-girl, a taunting smile creeping on the edge of her cheek while Weiss merely flushed with fury.
Ruby burst back into the room in a flurry of rose petals, dropping Six's toolbox next to him, and raised her hand. "I call a vote! Anyone in favor of banning Weiss from laundry duty, say 'aye.'"
Everyone else (including Snowball) raised their palms.
"Anyone in favor of teaching Weiss how to do laundry, say 'aye.'"
"Hey!" Alas, everyone (except Snowball) raised their palms.
"So who's going to teach her?"
Jaune squeaked. Then stumbled in front of Weiss, very nearly ripping the shower curtain off her hands. Behind him, Yang whistled a merry tune.
"Eep! I refuse to be taught by—"
"Too late," Blondie snickered. Then her eyes suddenly lit up as a thought crossed her mind, a flashy grin morphing on the edges of her cheeks. "Now that we don't have anything remotely clean... Does that mean we're going to have to go shopping? We don't have much of a wardrobe, after all."
Hyper and Pancake suddenly flanked Six, prodding him on his shoulders and arms with hungry grins while Syrup breathed eagerly against his leg. Great. Five hundred caps on laundry, a thousand on new clothes, and six hours to fix the goddamn plumbing and everything else in the shower rooms. The Courier had barely set foot outside the Lucky 38 and he was already feeling exhausted. Goddamn it, kids.
"I'm bo~ored..." Ruby drawled.
In the back of the recreation room, Yang leaped from her chair with a fist pumped in victory. "Hah! I win, four to one!"
"Argh! You just got lucky," Nora drawled, the cards flopping from her hands while Syrup lapped at her legs.
"You were just throwing out cards," Ren corrected. "You do remember the rules, right?"
"You guys still playing Caravan?" the reaper asked, dragging her legs towards one of their table.
Yang beamed. "Yep. Too bad no one was betting."
"We are not going to gamble away our earnings, Yang," reiterated Ren.
"Aww, come on. Take some risks! Makes everything worth it. Besides, with my luck and your income, we could've been rich enough to buy us all tickets to the Aces Theater! Legitimately this time."
"Do they have any other better acts?" huffed Weiss from across the room, her body framed over the recliner with a book on the recent history of the United States resting in her grip. "That 'comedian' has horrible humor."
"Dark humor is still humor, Ice Queen."
"Of course. Leave it to Yang to find death funny," the heiress muttered.
"How long did Six say he was going to be gone for again?"
"Three days," Blake replied, herself engrossed with a weathered tome.
"Say, anybody know where Jaune went?" Ruby asked as she took her place across from Ren with a full hand of cards.
It was hard not to notice the naughty glint in Yang's eyes, much less the mischief dripping from her tone. "He's having some alone time with Cereal Girl down on the Strip."
"She muscled Swank into locking them alone in a room together at the Tops," corrected Ren.
The reaper scrunched her brow. "I thought we weren't supposed to leave the Lucky 38."
"Actually, we weren't supposed to leave the Lucky 38 without proper supervision," said Nora as her lips curled into a smile. "And Victor is an AI so he can basically jump to any Securitron on the Strip so~o..."
Her partner sighed. "No, Nora. We're not going out for another walk."
"But Renny~!"
Ruby tapped the hammer-wielder as she pressed the infant deathclaw against her chest. "Don't worry, Nora. After this round of Caravan, we can all go down to the Strip with Syrup!"
"And visit the Kings."
"Yeah, the Kings are so cool!"
"Wait. Aren't the Kings in Freeside?"
"Eh, there's a bunch of Securitrons in Freeside so Victor can watch us there."
"You're turn, Ruby."
"So, Weiss," Yang began, sidling next to the heiress on the recliner. "How're you dealing with being jelly?"
Weiss dropped her book, revealing a distasteful scowl. "For the record, I am not envious in any way. Also, as a friend, I am supportive of their relationship. Especially now that the buffoon won't be pestering me anymore."
"Aww, it's okay, Ice Queen. Denial is the first stage of grief, after all."
The heiress scowled even more. "I am not in denial."
"Admit it. Jaune's pretty good at getting rid of those stains on your combat skirt. He was really hands on, eh?"
Weiss groaned. "You're insufferable."
All the while, in the corner settee, behind the pages of a pre-war textbook, Blake kept trying to mentally convince herself that some of the rumors about the Courier were untrue. It would not be surprising that some of his enemies would claim that he was hiding an army of Atlas-like robots somewhere, waiting for the right time to strike at the NCR and seize New Vegas for himself. Six did not come off as the type of person who would actually go for that.
At least, that was what she believed.
"Did you honestly expect me to believe that?"
"No. Nor do I care. The mine's gone, anyway."
Colonel James Hsu was as calm as ever but the fire behind his nonchalance burned clear. "You're treading on a minefield. Boyd and Crocker can't be bought out forever."
"And what about you, colonel?" jabbed Six. "I'm just returning the money your government keeps sinking into this place." After all, it's a big cycle of cash flow that 'helps' everyone, don't you think? Besides, half the grunts on the frontier haven't got their paychecks yet. Not like they'll be able to spend them.
"Moore is breathing down my neck. That's all you need to know."
The Courier smirked. "It might interest her to know that the Legion's marching south down Arizona."
The NCR colonel raised a brow at that. "Can you prove that?"
"Get First Recon to track the body trail. Won't be hard to miss." He turned to leave the office. "Who knows? They might find something big." Like those mass graves you can't do shit about.
"... Like a gateway to Remnant? That place sounds like a paradise compared to the Mojave, don't you think?"
Six paused in his stride, his fingers stopping short of knob on the door. You son of a bitch. "Good thing Oliver ain't here to drool over it."
"Six, I'm asking you to reconsider your options. We're neither blind nor stupid." Hsu was already standing up from his chair and by the looks of it, one of his fists was clenched. "I trust you to be sane enough to think things through. Don't think that those teens you're sheltering are none of our concern."
The Courier stepped away from the door to face the officer. He couldn't feel the deep scowl he was giving but was he was aware of the sudden hostility in the atmosphere. "They have nothing to worry about. And neither do you." Back off.
Hsu was unfazed. That or he had a strong pokerface. "Moore and I know about Remnant."
Oh? Humor me then. "Sounds like some fortified scavenger camp."
"It's not that hard to piece together. Eight teenagers who can defy the laws of physics? Strutting around in colorful clothes, utilizing unusual weaponry that can outdo most conventional field kits? We can't ignore that."
Six bared his teeth in an uneven grin, his head nodding slightly. So be it. "Congratulations, colonel. I'll be sure to commend your intelligence division for their efforts. I'll also send Moore my regards. Have a nice day."
"Six—"
The Courier turned on his heels and left his office. As usual, the NCR colonel did nothing to stop him.
Three days later, Hsu received the dispatch relaying his sudden promotion to the rank of major general in light of Moore's sudden recall to California to tackle certain long-standing 'issues' that had only recently surfaced. First Lieutenant Carrie Boyd was the first to raise the dubious context behind it.
"We're all guilty of war crimes but money laundering? Really?" she huffed. "And slandering the head of state? Not even the president would believe that. I know you know that Six is up to something. And you and I know what that something is."
"Can we prove that he's involved?"
Boyd clicked her tongue. "If you squint hard enough, you'll see he left a couple hints. They all say the same thing: 'back off.'"
"... Any leverage?"
"We got nothing solid. The bastard's good at covering his tracks. Even Contreras is in the dark and he's his go-to guy. Those kids he's been taking care of though..."
Hsu's face radiated caution and apprehension. "Lieutenant."
Boyd raised her hands. "I'm not that desperate. And you know we have laws against that. Besides, I have kids myself. But if push comes to shove..."
"We will not pursue that option, lieutenant."
"Acknowledged, general."
For the first time in a long time, the normally nonchalant officer let his emotions slip through his facade. It was going to take some time to acclimate to his new rank and title, long after he had given up trying to pursue it.
Freeside was the same as always. The only difference though was the massive blaze eating up one of the decrepit apartments, illuminating the whole street. The squatters had long since dispersed with the Kings responding to the scene and forming lines to effectively pass along buckets of water to kill the blaze while the Followers took in the wounded. When asked about what had happened, they shrugged and told him it was an accident—gas leak or something along those lines.
The Courier easily saw through the lie. He cornered the nearest Kings gang member with a glare that demanded answers. "What did they do?"
The townie ruffled the back of his head, sweat drenching his shirt and his pompadour slightly bending from the stress of the past few hours. "Wh-who?"
Six clapped his hand on his shoulder. Hard. And he pressed down. Hard. "What. Did they. Do."
The kid gulped. "Y-you can't blame 'em, really. They meant well!"
He let go of him. "Come on, man. What exactly did they do?"
"You won't get mad at 'em?"
A bit. "No."
"They were helping a bunch of hookers weasel out of Gomorrah. Apparently, the Omertas followed them and...they kind of went overboard."
God-fucking-damn it. Omertas'll be shooting for answers now. "What happened to the escorts?"
"They're fine. A little shook up though. They're at the Old Mormon Fort."
"And the Omertas?"
"Also at the Old Mormon Fort."
Of course. There's only one functioning hospital in this whole ghetto. "How many dead?"
The kid smiled. "No one, actually. It's pretty amazing! No one died tonight."
Really now. "So you're saying that that fire burned a few hairs but didn't kill anyone. And even the Omertas didn't get too badly hurt? No one tried to off 'em?"
"They were burned real bad and a lot of us really wanted to stomp their faces in but...then we'd be pissing off the Omertas and that'll start a gang war."
Cachino won't start a gang war over a few missing girls and a few dead grunts. He knows the consequences. "You could've just left 'em in the building to burn. Say the fire killed them before you could respond fast enough."
"We could've but...we couldn't. Ruby talked us out of it. And she...sort of...was right. We shouldn't be killing each other like this. We should be working together. I don't think those mobsters liked the idea all that much but even they said she had a point."
Hyper? That pipsqueak convinced a group of cold-blooded, murdering thugs to stand down and let a few prostitutes go? "Did she now."
"I mean, this whole place is a mess but look what's been going on lately." The townie gestured to a fellow Kings gang member help a Followers nurse clean soot off the face of one of the people affected by the smoke. "Sure, they crashed the sign but they're making up for it in droves, man. We got more people falling in line, less fights, less brawlers, and even troublemakers turning up at the Fort wanting to sober up."
"Ruby's preaching solidarity?"
"And preaching it loud and right. Killing shouldn't be the only solution to the problem."
The kids can carve up mutants in the blink of an eye but can't bring themselves to do the same to humans. Oh, the irony in that. "Sounds fair." Six folded his arms with the frown still tacked onto his face. "Doesn't mean they ain't getting away from this scot free."
The amiable gangster then tried to placate whatever wrath he thought the veteran wastelander was spewing. "They were doing good, actually. Freeing those poor girls. I mean, it wasn't their first choice...working at Gomorrah. But they did good! Even offered to pay for the detoxing. Pretty awesome for them to do."
"Uh-huh."
"And, if you ask me, that's a win in my books. Can fight, willing to help, and really cute to boot."
Six eyed him.
The townie stiffened. "Uh, forget I said that..."
Going to have to get used to these punks hitting on the kids. "Yeah, sure."
The Courier waved him off, making a complete turn on his heels in the direction of the Old Mormon Fort. Now, for a little chat with those goons.
Suffice to say, the Omerta hit men, their pockets lined with more cash than their average payout, returned to Cachino in his office suite up in Gomorrah with a neatly-crafted, well-rehearsed, and very convincing lie while the liberated hostesses were loaded up in a military truck occupied by a squadron of NCR rangers headed for California.
The situation at the Strip was not as bad. Almost everything seemed normal. Up until an MP sergeant jogged towards him looking a little concerned. And exhausted. With a strangely opportunistic glint in his eye.
"Sir!"
Six stifled a groan. "Yes?"
There was the sly grin he was expecting. It lasted barely three seconds but it was enough to set the tone of their conversation. "That'll be eight hundred dollars in damages."
The Courier angled his head behind him to take a good long look at the group of sobered-up shivering drunks while Securitrons and MPs used blowtorches and flamethrowers to melt the solid ice that cemented their lower bodies to the concrete. He growled as he handed the enforcer eight NCR bills.
"Oh, and throw in another six hundred for our...sudden amnesia."
I get it. Don't wink at me, you greedy son of a bitch. "Any other 'incidences,' officer?"
"Yeah. But they covered for themselves," the MP replied as he slickly pocketed the cash.
What? "Come again?"
"Yeah, that weird Asian guy and his crazy girlfriend with the pet deathclaw. They went to the embassy, had a little chat with the governor, and now we get a cut of their earnings to cover up the...unsanctioned stuff...they do on the Strip. Win-win situation, am I right?" The MP's cheshire grin lasted five seconds before shifting back into that professional police scowl as he went back to yelling at his subordinates.
Corruption goes both ways. As much as the Courier relished in fostering this culture among the NCR's "incorruptible" military police force, he was beginning to regret going overboard with the frequent bribes and cloak-and-dagger business. Need to keep a closer eye on some of these bastards. At least the Securitrons did not demand compensation for having their data banks constantly overwritten.
It was close to three in the morning when the Courier arrived back at the presidential suite. Most of the kids were already asleep. Most. And it just had to be her. Why am I not surprised.
He sighed. "Yes, Blake?"
Cat-girl emerged from the kitchen in a black silken nightgown, a glass of water in one hand while a fresh book was tucked under the other. "Major General Cassandra Moore is facing charges of corruption and treason. Colonel James Hsu has been promoted in her stead and is set to replace her as the commander of all NCR forces in the entire Mojave. So says Mister New Vegas."
"So I've heard."
Blake blocked the way to the master bedroom. The light from his Pip-boy revealed her teammates haphazardly sprawled over his bed, messing up the blankets as they always did, snoozing peacefully. "Six, what did you do?"
Exposed a war criminal. "Went to the frontier."
"And?"
Had a nice chat with the NCR doves over the wire. "Scouted."
"And what did you see?"
Moore getting arrested by her own MPs. "I'm not taking you there, anyway," he said, brushing her off as he turned on his heels for the kitchen. She followed him.
"What's stopping us from going there on our own?"
Six let out a long sigh as he poured himself a full cup of Jake Juice. "You want to go die out there? Be my guest."
"Did you bribe Hsu to go along with your plan?"
Kitty's a damn good lie detector, I'll give her that. Probably a faunus thing. "Nice nightie. Must've been a bargain purchase at Mick and Ralph's, huh."
"Six."
Enough, Blake. I'm tired. "Go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch."
Cat-girl folded her arms. Her piercing gold irises flashed with a fiery intensity. "Ren and Nora struck a deal with Governor Crocker. You and I both know that what they did was wrong."
So? "They're earning their keep."
"Through bribery? Deceit? They didn't want to but they had to."
Your point? "I can't cover for you forever. About time you kids helped pay the damn 'bills.'"
Disappointment. Then anger. And finally contempt. "I guess some of the rumors are true. We really shouldn't be like you," she hissed.
"Exactly. Now go back to sleep," he growled.
She stood there, glaring for a while, before she finally relented and shut the door to the master bedroom.
"Goddamn it, Blake." You don't know what you're asking. Earth is not for you.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: February 20, 2018
LAST EDITED: January 29, 2020
INITIALLY UPLOADED: February 24, 2018
NOTE (Feb. 24, 2018): Well, money makes for some nice elbow grease to keep the gears turning, no?
A public works contractor tried to bribe my dad once. His workers chipped into the property and the bastard had the gall to offer my dad a 'little' cash incentive. My old man didn't take it but he didn't talk about it either.
Selected review responses (Feb. 24, 2018):
Self-governance: With regards to the Legion's social hierarchy, I had never thought of that (it has been awhile since I did play the game). Even the soldiers are themselves slaves. That's interesting. As for the NCR, I can see what you mean. The NCR ending makes you think if it was really worth it for the Republic. Thanks for that. I had never really considered going that deep with the endings (I didn't even know that they conscripted as early as sixteen). Though, when I last played the game, I was more concerned about the Mojave's future, not the NCR. But now that you brought that up, it makes the other endings (House and independence) more appealing.
Review dude: Yes. Six is indeed stacking the cards in his favour but not exactly for those reasons. And the setting for this fic takes place after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, when things had calmed down a bit. Also, with regards to the independent Vegas ending, I recently noticed how dangerously fickle that would leave the Mojave. Come to think of it, the independence ending means the Courier lets go of the reins and lets nature take its course (like letting the world burn for all he cares as long as no one is lording over the other) in contrast to the more popular assumption that the Courier ends up on top as the new leader/overlord of New Vegas. If I were to forgo the NCR option, I'd settle for House. While he may be a deluded, despotic genius, he's still a power figure that can keep order in the Mojave on the same scale as the NCR and the Legion. And I personally prefer order over anarchy. Again, that's just me. :)
That Qrow scenario though... That might work. :D