The Courier still saw the world in a blurry filter even after a late breakfast and two full glasses of water. Getting plastered and hungover at the Atomic Wranger for the second time in a long time was another warning sign that he was losing his touch. At least this time, there was no half-naked half-chick or something-something mole-rat-looking broad sleeping next to him.

Mole-rat faunus in lingerie... Son of a limp horse dick, get that out of your head!

He leaned back on the couch in his own little private cubicle in the far corner across from the mess of a parlor. Apparently, he had gone off the deep end last night. He swore it was someone else but the Garrets irately singled him out as the chief troublemaker. Hence the bullet holes, the re-shattered windows, the broken furniture, and the handful of bouncers sleeping away their broken bones upstairs.

How the fuck did I end up chasing a bird last night? Six shook his head. Something about a tourist trying to pin the massive tab they both accrued on him and trying to get away when he tried to nail him to the floor. Bastard thought he'd pull an Irish goodbye on my ass.

Strange how things just sort of went downhill from there. Tripping over chairs, missed shots, and the Courier jumping around the parlor trying to catch that nimble asshole. Maybe it was all a weird dream. I swore he turned into a fucking bird... Eh, must be the sauce.

After all that had happened the previous night, he was surprised the whole building didn't come down on top of them. Hell, he was more surprised he wasn't even mugged with how messed up he had been. Probably because Raul was right there sitting across from him reading Ninjas Of Love. And commenting on every explicit scene.

"Boss, I didn't know you were into this kind of stuff."

"I'm not," Six groaned, wishing for an icepack for his migraine.

"And here I thought I had seen it all. Candle wax, rope, bananas and cucumbers... But eggplants, squash, and watermelon—"

"You don't have to deconstruct everything—wait, watermelon?"

The ghoul played deaf, still casually flipping through the pages. "Say, isn't it dangerous to be using swords like that? I mean, other than for cutting and stabbing but, you know, like that. Maybe the pommel all the way up to the hilt but the blade itself? Dios mio."

"Oh for the love of—"

"Wooden clothes pins? And there of all places. Aren't there veins there? Important veins?" He shook his head. "Some kinks...they never fail to amaze me. You know, Boss, there's no shame in still being in the game."

The Courier glowered at him. "Would you stop? I'm too old for that shit."

"Boss, you're not that old."

"I'm in my forties."

The vaquero shrugged. "Eh, can't you say you're not virile."

"I'm widowed."

"And I'm sterile."

"Are you done?" growled Six.

Raul dangled the novel high above the table to allow a familiar centerfold to cascade down. "Caramba! Now that is a katana."

"Hey, don't swing that around like that."

The ghoul appeared to smirk for a fraction of a second. "But I thought you weren't interested in all this—"

"There are folks out there who'd pay a lot of money for a sex book," the Courier argued. Come to think of it, where the hell was Beatrix? Was she still working here at the Wrangler? Did he even see her around lately? She sure as hell stuck out for her lack of skin or whatever was left of her body that her black laced leather straps didn't cover up.

This novel was right up her freaky alley. Sure, ghouls were infertile—mostly, I think—courtesy of a lifetime dosage of radiation but that did not stop them from trying to have some fun. Ugh. He should probably stop thinking about that; once again, his messed up mind was coming up with unwanted mental images of peeled rubbery skin in skimpy black leather.

Raul raised a brow. "You sold sex books before?"

"Don't ask. I just know how much they go for on the market these days, okay?"

"Where exactly did you find the sex books to sell at a profit?"

"I just know. Don't ask." Not a story worth telling. Besides, most of them were about some lusty lizard maid polishing some guy's staff. Christ, the fantasies of some people.

"Alright, alright," he hummed. "Comics get old fast anyway. Why try to sell this though?"

"I need pocket money."

The ghoul flashed him a deadpan stare that carried a month's worth of dripping sarcasm. "The man who owns the wealth of the Three Families needs pocket money. Gee, boss, I wonder why."

"Don't give me that look. I just need something to spend. Feel like spending a bit."

"Have you been gambling again?"

"No," Six hissed. "How long have you been here anyway?"

The mechanic shrugged. "Three hours."

The Courier blinked disbelievingly. "I was out of it for that long?" Holy shit. That ain't good. His hand wormed up his head until they were rubbing circles over his temples. "Damn. Getting reckless... Can't risk losing it. Not at a time like this."

"Eh, you're too big in this town. Anyone who can put two and two together would leave you alone." Raul sipped his orange juice and waited until the silence settled before hammering down. "Especially with Samson and Delilah on the loose."

Six froze. "What?" How the hell do you know that!?

The vaquero planted the book under his elbow and cemented a steely scrutinizing gaze at the man who he considered a trustworthy friend despite the many, glaring flaws. "Boss, it's about time we discussed this. Like men. Between you and me, no more lies, no more secrecy, no half-truths too. A man-to-man talk."

Goddamnit, Raul. "Wrong place for that kind of talk." Vickers scanned their surroundings. It had been a slow day for the Wrangler so not that many people were around. A lot of vacant tables and most of the guards were either too high or too drunk to pay attention to anything.

"Where else then? Either you were out cold or you've gotten cataracts that you can't see the NCR mobilizing again. Troop presence at the embassy doubled overnight. Army specialists are moving up and down the interstate highways. Supply convoys are becoming more frequent. I won't be surprised if we walk out that door and they already locked down the Strip."

"They can't risk that," the Courier snapped.

"With enough men and material, they might," Raul countered. "I assume the little diablos are wrapped up in this, no?"

A long tired sigh. And a clenched fist that nearly slammed hard on the table. "Ain't the right place and the right time, amigo."

Raul leaned over the table with that gleam in his eye that the ghoul normally reserved for those who far from his graces. "¿Soy realmente tu amigo? I'm the only one you got left, boss. You going to risk me, too?"

For the first time in a long time, Vickers glared at his old associate. "Don't push it."

"You have a minute before I walk out that door."

And the Courier would be left all alone to suffer. Again.

Fifty seconds of tense silence passed between them before Six begrudgingly grabbed a spare shot glass from the nearest table and poured the ghoul a shot.

Ruby was starting to have regrets about everything. Maybe she really was just a child. Acting on baseless assumptions, falling for fabricated 'facts,' seeing the here-and-now instead of the big picture. Perhaps she was not as mature as she thought she was. The long morose walk from Primm to Goodsprings gave her much time to mull over everything she did since winding up here. The more she thought about the harsh realities of the wasteland—and all the 'good things' she had done since getting here—the more her optimism suffocated.

Her worries were further compounded by the NCR convoy that bounded up the highway. The group of nine stepped to the side of the road while a row of covered military trucks rumbled past, each filled with mostly youthful faces, some of whom stared wide-eyed back at them. It disturbed her how most of them seemed more confused than confident.

"Rather young to be in uniform," Pyrrha remarked.

"They look...really unsure," Yang added, watching the vehicles disappear further up the interstate. "You're right, P-money. They're kinda...sorta...younger than us."

"Compulsory service age is sixteen," Blake tacked on glumly.

The blonde nearly stumbled in shock. "What!? Th-they were just sixteen? I thought they were like eighteen or twenty!"

"That would be the vets unwinding at the Strip," the cat faunus corrected. "Most of them, at least. Besides, you're technically underage and you keep showing up at all those clubs back in Vale even before Beacon."

"Oh yeah," Velvet chimed abashedly. "Mister Nash told us to fill you in on those bits about the NCR. And the Legion. And the Three Families. And, um, pretty everything else about the wasteland. Our bad."

"Do they even know what they're getting themselves into?" Weiss wondered emptily. "On Atlas, service is voluntary and the compulsory age is eighteen! In our case, we have been made to consider and reconsider our decisions for being Huntresses before continuing after the basics. To ensure firm commitment to a lifetime duty!"

"It doesn't work that way for everyone," Pyrrha reminded the heiress. "This is a different world. This could probably be their first deployment, maybe their first time ever going into a real life-threatening situation." Her expression was downcast. "If I'm not wrong, most of them are draftees. Some of them probably want to be anywhere but here."

"How much training do they even get?" Jaune asked.

Again, Blake had the answer. "Four weeks at most, two at worst. Pretty much covers the whole course. Then they're either put in reserve for the duration of their service or shipped off to...wherever."

"How do you know all these?" Yang mumbled to her partner.

The cat faunus was impassive. "I read. I hear things, too."

"... Right."

"Sad state of affairs," Ren opined. "Military service seems to be the better option for many."

Ruby was unable to argue against that. For the people who were raised away from the safety of the protected cities, the option of being supplied with a gun, a uniform, and a band of similarly equipped people ensured the least likeliest chance to be mugged, raped, or killed out here in the untamed wastes. However, the thought that maybe those soldiers were being sent to fight against whoever was out there because of what they did in the Divide...

The young reaper bit down on her lip while she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. The world turned so fast it was getting hard to catch up.

Ruby was not as inattentive as others would take her to be; on the contrary, she was quite observant. There was not that much cover out here in the rocky barren desert and her sixth sense of sorts, honed from being raised to hunt Grimm, was constantly nudging at her. So in turn, she nudged Weiss and muttered, "We're being followed."

"What? Are you sure?"

Keeping her head facing north, she mumbled back, "Four guys on the side of the mountain to our left."

To her credit, the heiress nodded and pretended as though her leader's report did not alarm her She knew Weiss to be smarter than that. Quietly, the heiress passed it on to Blake and then to Ren who both agreed that they were indeed being tracked. Ruby could only shrink deeper into her hooded cloak from the feeling of being watched and the guilt she was piling on herself.

Surprisingly, Trudy and Sunny seemed to know what was going on. This confirmed another suspicion that Ruby shared with her friends: Six had a wider network than he let on. Trudy gave them additional provisions 'on the house' while Sunny had them follow her out the back door to a 'safe place.'

Now from inside the abandoned barricaded gas station on the northernmost part of Goodsprings, Ruby peered through the cracks between the boarded windows to see four men squeezing into the saloon. Of particular note were the guns slung over their shoulders. Uncommon, high caliber firepower. Guns that looked too clean compared to the weathered, duct-taped shooters hefted around by everyone else. That could mean...

"They could be NCR," Jaune whispered as he peeked beside her. "What do you think, Rubes?"

"I don't know," Ruby admitted.

"Just because they're not in uniform doesn't mean they're not," Blake said. "NCR or no, they're armed and looking for us."

The little reaper bit her lip. They were becoming a magnet for trouble. As much as she wanted to speed down the road to the confront these goons, she bitterly held onto the wiser decision to trust Trudy and Sunny and let them handle it. Even then, she had a hard time slumbering through the night, the constant worry of harm for their sakes weighing heavy on her conscience. She dreaded waking up to gunfire or the town burning so much to the point that she nearly cried herself to sleep.

Come dawn the following day and much to Ruby and everyone else's relief, Sunny showed up saying that the 'rangers went the other way.'

"I'm really sorry for putting you through this," the reaper apologized underneath her hood.

Sunny smiled as she patted her on the shoulder. "It's nothin', missy. It ain't unusual gettin' visits like these every now and again. You may want to hunker down here a bit 'fore y'all head back up to Vegas."

"How'd you know we're going there?" asked Yang. None of them ever mentioned where they were headed.

The freckled survivalist raised a brow. "Y'all headin' back home from your sightseein', aren't you? Besides. NCR come a knockin' lookin' for you. If you ask me, either they got a bone to pick with Old Green Eyes or somethin' big's goin' on and they need the 'Vegas Wonder Kids' on their side."

"How can you tell?" queried Ren.

Sunny shrugged. "It's happened before. One of the reasons why I didn't take up bein' a merc. Some say that it ain't no different from bein' an escort. You bleed and die and end up feelin' like used meat at the end o' the day...accordin' to some mercs I know."

"So we got mercenaries and NCR agents tailing us?" Jaune asked.

The trapper waggled her hand at that. "Eh, can't really say who's who. If it ain't the NCR, you still got someone's attention. For now, they think you're movin' up to Sloan on your way to Vegas." Sunny gestured them to follow her. "Come on. Settle down here for awhile 'fore you head back out."

"Yeah, the gas station needs more beds," Yang remarked lightly.

Sunny simpered. "Who said you're sleeping in here again?"

"You okay, sis?"

Ruby looked up from the carpet which she had been rubbing her feet on for the past half hour. Her voice came out dry and hesitant. "... No."

Yang sat beside her on the couch and took her in a big hug. "Hey, now. What's got you down?"

"I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"The future."

She scrunched her brow as she let go. "Huh?"

The reaper sighed. She looked around Doctor Mitchell's quaint living room. Blake and Weiss were reading through some of the books he had on the shelves while Ren and Nora were cooking in the kitchen with Syrup. In the other room, she could hear Jaune making rounds on that weird 'vigor-testing' machine while Velvet and Pyrrha were being treated by the aging physician.

"I've been thinking about the news and all the stuff Mister Nash said," Ruby muttered.

"And?"

"When we broke Samson, I think we sort of, um, I don't know, um—"

"Jeopardized the fragile balance of peace and power in the region?" Weiss injected.

"Really helpful, Ice Queen," Yang grunted.

"Yeah, that's it," Ruby agreed forlornly. "Those soldiers we saw yesterday. There could be more of them spreading out across the Mojave. Plucked from their homes, given a gun, and dumped all the way out here because Samson...isn't a problem anymore."

"Ruby, they don't know about what happened yet," Blake said, sitting beside her.

"I highly doubt it's coincidental though," the heiress countered.

The brawler huffed. "Maybe it's just a coincidence! I mean, maybe something's going on somewhere and they needed more troops. I mean, yeah, they still don't know what happened in the Divide so this can't be like a reaction to that or something."

"Not yet," the cat faunus added softly.

"Not helping, kitty."

Ruby continued. "And the news about refugees up in Fort Meat—"

"Fort Mead," Weiss corrected.

"—I think we're going to get dragged into this stuff whether we like it or not."

"Why so? It's not like there are more of us from Remnant that somehow ended up here," dismissed the heiress.

"I don't know how to feel about that," Blake admitted. "But Mister Nash was right. We should start paying attention to current affairs. We went into the Divide with the wrong motivations and the wrong contexts. And that's why...things ended up the way they are right now."

Ruby shrank at that. All that was true. She jumped to conclusions, believed the claims so easily, dragged her friends into harm's way, and nearly destroyed the world. Again.

"And it is for that reason that from now on we should temper our judgments and be more receptive to the news," Weiss declared. "I'm not saying this is anyone's fault—"

"It's my fault," the little reaper interjected.

"Ruby—"

"No. I got us all to take up the NCR's offer. It's my fault. I should take responsibility. We even dragged team JNPR into it, too."

"Don't blame yourself, sis—"

Ruby was having none of it. "If it's not me then whose fault is it? I got us into this mess! We were used, girls! They knew the right words to say. They knew what buttons to push. I wanted to make mature decisions. This one was a mistake."

"We all make mistakes, young lady," Doctor Mitchell echoed, limping back into the living room with his cane. "It's part of growing up. You have your regrets but don't let them hold you down."

The little reaper sank deeper into the couch while he slunk down onto the cushioned chair opposite them.

"Velvet and Pyrrha are recovering quicker than I expected," he informed them. "There isn't much I could recommend other than avoiding any more strenuous activity that might exacerbate their muscles. That means no jumping around for the time being."

"Thanks for the help, Doc," Yang said.

"No need to thank me. Just doing my part." He held up his hand before Ruby could speak. "I know what you're going to say, Miss Rose. Trouble gravitates to anyone. This town has had its share of trouble. Times we've been lucky, times we haven't. But we always manage with what we have and will continue to do so."

"Do you think...that all this stuff that you're doing...is it all worth it?" Ruby asked.

"For one, it gives us purpose. It's in our nature to survive. So we do what we can and try to be civil about it. Whether or not all this trouble is worth the effort doesn't matter, if you ask me. I've been living my life on the principle that I give my best to make someone else's life better. Even if they aren't the best or the kindest, they still have a story that's worth telling...and a story that needs a better ending than what most others get out there."

"Do you have any regrets?"

Doctor Mitchell chuckled. "I have my fair share. But that don't stop me from doing what I do."

"Say, Doc," Yang started. "You operated on Six, right?"

"Yes, I have."

Ruby eyed her sister in the same manner that everyone else did. The brawler shrugged and continued, "It's like he's indestructible. Any professional guess to that?"

The physician rubbed his stubble. "I guess...the hard life he's had growing up toughened him up some. The Desert Rangers were a rough hewn society. You could say they're up there with the toughest tribes in the whole continent. Recruits start off as young as they can walk. Frankly, I believe they start training as early as they can shoot a gun."

"Wow," whistled Yang. "That dedicated, huh."

"Dedicated, yes. There are a lot of stories about them, though most are hearsay. But out of all the hubris, there is one more thing that I can say for certain about some of them. Or about Vickers in particular."

The teens leaned in close.

The physician leaned on his cane. "They had access to specialized Pre-war technology. Left-overs from the Commonwealth that they fine-tuned and innovated on over the years."

"Like the Brotherhood?" chirped Nora.

"In some ways. Unlike the Brotherhood, there was no esoteric hierarchy or any of that knighthood. They were pragmatists and whatever they found that could work, they made work. One of these technologies was...well..."

"What is it?" prodded Yang.

A sigh. "... It's a bionic system that is surgically integrated into a person's central nervous system. Classed under something auspicious as an 'assisted targeting system' but does more than that. And I believe that it may have given him the boost he needed to get to where he is today. Some would even claim it made him 'superhuman' in a sense. Though I doubt the veracity of that claim. Lots of people have had the same enhancements but are no better than I am on any given day."

There was a silent exchange of confused looks and weary glances until Ruby caught the realization building up on Blake.

Doctor Mitchell remained neutral and contemplative. "In my opinion, I have no doubts that he is as lethal as a man without it."

"I hope you don't mind all these questions," Ren said, spreading platters of pancakes to everyone in the living room. "Were you the one to install that system in him?"

"Oh, I only pulled out the bits of lead that wound up in his noggin a few years back. Other than that, he came by sometimes for check-ups on his radiation doses and his, well, addiction to anti-depressants."

"Six wasn't a druggie," Ruby protested. Hesitantly. "Was he?"

The physician shook his head. "No, no, Miss Rose. Alcohol is the most basic of anti-depressants, on the threshold below the cheapest manufactured substances. He has had a history of over-reliance on painkillers, though. But that was a long time ago, I'm sure."

"This bionic targeting system," Weiss interjected. "What else can you tell us about it?"

"It's monitored by his Pip-boy."

"You mean that oversized watch on his arm that almost never ever takes off?" Yang inquired.

"It's more than just a watch," chuckled Doctor Mitchell. "It monitors his vitals. And has more functions than you could fit on a terminal. Both the device and the system were manufactured by the same pre-war company: Vault-Tec. Can't say his particular model's the same as the recent models like the ones I grew up with. What I can say is that it's been through some modifications over the years...along with the rest of him."

"The...rest of him?" queried Pyrrha.

The physician sighed. "When he was brought into my clinic those years ago, the only pieces of metal in his body were shrapnel and bullet fragments. Months later, he showed up for a check-up and... Imagine my surprise when I found his brain, his spine, and his heart...held together by what I could describe best as military-grade technology."

"He's...a cyborg?" Yang guessed.

"I knew it," Nora snorted through bits of pancake in her mouth.

Ruby caught Blake glancing knowingly at Pyrrha who seemed to be deep in thought. Jaune, meanwhile, detached himself from the arcade machine in the parlor with a set of punch cards.

"Um, guys?" he called.

"Checking up on your results?" Doc Mitchell noted.

Jaune shook his head. "Not just mine. I hope you don't mind, doc, but I dug through the Vig-o-matic's logs and found these..."

Nora pranced over. "What is it?"

"Are these your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. results?" chirped Yang. "Five points on strength. Not bad. Pretty average. Can't say much for charisma though."

"Ha-ha, Yang. No, look at this one."

Blake snatched the card off his hands. "This is Six's."

Ruby quickly hovered over the card as the cat faunus read out the numbers.

"Talk about unlucky," Velvet remarked, leaning against her crutch. "And a single point on charisma? What kind of scoring is this?"

"I wouldn't call that old thing accurate," Doc Mitchell intoned. "But it is the most accurate you can get around these parts."

"It's an arcade game," Weiss snorted.

"It's a primer," Ren argued. "The only working frame of reference for one's performance outside of any advanced medical assessment technology."

Yang huffed. "Can't believe he actually has a higher score than me."

"He beat you at an arcade machine and in an actual fist fight," Nora said. "Ooh! I wonder what my score is? I wanna try!"

"Don't let that vigor-tester fool you," Doctor Mitchell said, shuffling over. "That rickety thing can't measure a man by his true worth. Can't measure kindness or heart. Much less common sense. Don't you think so, little missy?"

Ruby perked up from the couch. "I...guess. I never really tried it."

"Well, you don't need to. You still want to go back to New Vegas, right?"

The reaper nodded. "Um, yeah."

"We have to set things right," Weiss added. "We have to own up to...to our mistakes."

"We'll show the NCR that we aren't tools to be used up like that," Yang said with grit teeth.

"The people of New Vegas need our help too," Blake continued. "Even some in the NCR."

"We also have to be wary of Six, too," Jaune said. "Who knows what he could be up to. He's smart and strategic so he has to have more cards hidden in his sleeve. Samson can't be the only one he's hiding that as dangerous."

"Jaune's right," propped Nora. "Six couldn't have done all of this alone. He had to have had help. Setting up all this stuff, all the traps and machines takes effort. Lots of effort. Like some extra hands or even an extra head...or brain...brains?"

Ren hummed. "Point is, doctor, we will have to return to New Vegas. The NCR is expecting us and if we do not report in, they will start suspecting the worst and might act brashly."

Doctor Mitchell beamed. "Ain't that the finest thing I've heard from youths in a long while. Looks like your friends are all in, eh, little missy."

Ruby nodded. And her confident smile wavered when her stomach growled. As did everyone else's.

"So what were you guys cooking?"

That was when Ren remembered they were cooking a full course and together with Nora dashed back into the kitchen to catch Syrup slurping up the last of what could have been everyone's lunch. On the bright side, Doctor Mitchell had a garden full of produce in the backyard and some frozen brahmin steaks in the freezer.

"Here's an easy dish for you, kids," he told them later on as they set the ingredients down on his kitchen counter. "Something we like to call a desert salad. Safe and healthy, don't worry. Now this is how you do it..."

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: June 13, 2018

LAST EDITED: July 2, 2020

INITIALLY UPLOADED: March 20, 2020

NOTE: Sorry for the sudden hiatus. Hope y'all continue to enjoy reading.