The Courier was up in the Lucky Thirty-Eight penthouse workshop doing maintenance on his guns when team RWBY-V approached him with Blondie leading the pack, swaggering in with that confidence that made him suspect that she started a fire somewhere. Still, he suppressed the alarm bells blaring in his head in favor of hearing them out, leaning back from the workbench with that inquisitive brow raised.
One tongue-and-cheek pitch later, his jaw was left hanging slightly agape. Hold on. Did I hear that right? "Say that again?"
Yang folded her arms to show she was serious. "I said we're going to get jobs at the casinos."
Six blinked several times. Then he looked over her shoulder to see the other kids backing her up. Hyper mimicked her sister's pose, trying so hard to look more mature than her age. Snowball and Kit both nodded agreement while Cottontail shrugged neutrally in the back. The kids are serious. Wow.
He gestured a finger at them all. "You five?"
"Everyone. Team JNPR-S is already going through all the application forms they could find."
"Only the ones on the Strip," added the heiress. "We understand you do not want us straying anywhere outside those walls so we have limited our ventures to within your peripheries...if it can be helped, that is."
Sounds reasonable, I guess. But still... "I've been havin' a run of bad luck whenever I leave any one of you to your devices."
"We're not going to screw up this time," Blondie declared. "We promise!"
He raised a brow at that. The other girls behind her were taken aback by what she said. "You 'promise?'"
"Yeah!" She turned around. "Back me up here, girls. We promise!"
"I knew I should've done this pitch instead of you," Weiss hissed before stepping forward to take control of the conversation. "Six, we give you our fullest assurances that we will be at our best behavior and at peak performance in our lines of work...whatever they may be."
"Uh-huh." Whatever the job is, huh. "You kids do know this is Vegas. This ain't California where the worst you could get is shoveling brahmin shit and fixing barns twenty-four-seven."
"We'll just be here at the Strip," Yang interjected. "It's not like we're going to be, y'know, working as hitmen or something."
The air in the penthouse suite fell eerily silent as all eyes slowly centered on her.
"... What?"
Hyper sagger her shoulders. "And I thought I had to worry about Jaune jinxing stuff."
"Hey, now! I'm not jinxing anything here."
Six waved his hand to get their attention. "Okay, okay. Y'all want to cover your own costs. That's good, that's good." A really, really good development with how things have been going so far. Still have to deal with their NCR contracts but... Shit. I guess, this'll keep them busy in the meantime.
The heiress preened the most out of them. "As Yang said, we will be considering only ethically sound job applications."
'Ethically sound,' huh. "Alright then. I'll leave you to it."
They stood there, staring at him as though he had grown a third head.
Why're you all still standing there? "... What now?"
The kids eyed each other before Ruby spoke up. "Um, just like that?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Just like that."
"You're not going to, um, yell at us or...call us stupid or dumb or irresponsible or anything?"
The Courier frowned."Unless you give me a reason to. I mean, the last time I cut y'all some slack, shit happened."
They shrunk in withering embarrassment.
"Look, kids. I don't think this is a bad thing. In fact..." Jesus Christ, am I really going to say this? "... I, ah, I'm really..." Come on, say it. Say it, you pansy! "... I'm glad that you're doing this. Y'know, finding jobs on your own to help cover costs and pay for your own stuff instead of fucking things up with your antics an' all that. But that's just the way it is. Shit happens but you all pull through it better than most anyone I've ever known."
They all beamed with pride.
God, that was hard to say. "Now don't you all have some job applications to sort through or is there anything else you need?"
"Nope," Blondie chirped. "Thanks, Six! We'll be raking in the big bucks before the end of the month, don't you worry."
Snowball rolled her eyes at her teammate. "An exaggerated figure but we will not disappoint."
I doubt it but at least I'm prepared in case of any more bullshit that'll come flying my way because of you, kids. "Right. Is that all or...?"
"That's it," Velvet intoned.
"A'ight. Go on then. Make yourselves some money." They nodded excitably and were about to depart when he harked at them with that icy chill in his voice. "Legitimately. I don't want to hear any crap about breaking into the casino vaults or screwing with people you don't like 'cause they pushed your buttons or even pulling this whole 'daddy card' on 'em to give you a cushy position. And I swear to God, if you piss off the Three Families again, I'm going to—"
"We know, we know," Yang droned. "We're better than that."
"Are you now?"
"Six," Blake said with a certain fire in her eyes, "trust us. We're not going to screw this up. We've learned our lessons and we'll do our best to hone in our altruism. Doing the right thing isn't always the best option for everything but we'll do our best to be legal and if there's anything that we think needs to be settled but gets in the way of the law, we'll bring it up to you first."
Silence. Awestruck heads turned to the cat faunus, her fists balled and her lip taut with righteous determination.
And that's why I like the quiet ones. "Well said, Kit," the Courier echoed, almost clapping. "I can see that you're serious with that and that's a very good thing. Vegas wasn't called 'Sin City' for nothing. This place is a hedonist's paradise where mankind's sinfulness is his way upwards. Good that that finally got through to your stubborn heads."
"It's a bitter pill to swallow."
"Nothing's ever sweet, Kit." Six then resumed cleaning the barrel of his decorated forty-four magnum revolver. "Now, I've got a busy week ahead of me which means I wouldn't be around here to keep an eye on y'all. You know the drill and I trust that you stay inside the Strip for the time being. If anyone tries to draw any of you out, notify me and stay in. Resist it. Especially if it's NCR."
Weiss spoke up. "We'll avoid any work affiliated with them."
"You're all still technically under their contract. Whether or not the terms expire after you report in to Hsu isn't for me to say. But I'll be making sure it does."
"Um, we still have to report to him, right? General Hsu?" Ruby raised.
"And you're not going to. Not yet."
Velvet tilted her head. "Not yet?"
"I want you out of their jurisdiction as legally as possible." That way, if they try anything shady, they'll just hurt their reputation hard. Goodness knows they need a PR boost after all the bullshit they pulled over the past decade. "I'll be back as soon as I'm done, anyway."
The heiress nervously adjusted her sleeves. "You...won't be long?"
To which he paused to regard her. "... I'll do my best not to dally. Like I said, I'll be back." I ain't leaving you all alone. Never leaving anyone alone again.
Yang whistled. "So...that's that then. Right? Are we good?"
Six nodded. "Yeah. We're good. Go on now."
They all departed, Hyper giving him a big wave going along with her big smile while she followed her sister practically prancing out of his sight. When the elevator doors closed at the end of the hall, Six leaned back against the wall with his gaze drifting up to the ceiling fan. They're growing up faster than I took them for. That's a good thing, ain't it? That's...yeah. That's a good thing...
No matter how much he tried, he could not stop the proud smile etching across his lips.
It was a long elevator ride down to the casino floor and that was more than enough time for Yang rib her partner.
"That was a nice speech you gave there, Blakey. Never pegged you for a motivational speaker but I gotta admit I thought I wasn't getting to him until you made your pitch."
"It wasn't a pitch," the cat faunus answered dryly.
"Whoa. Serious about it, huh."
"Of course, I'm serious."
To which the other three girls regarded her with a hint of caution. To Ruby and Weiss, Blake was sounding more who she was when they were addressing their...colorful opinions...about the White Fang back in their first freshman-year semester at Beacon. Was this going to be another nasty argument? What was Blake's issue this time?
Yang, sensing where this was going, backpedaled with a hastily-plastered grin. "I get it, I get it. We've been really reckless and done some really stupid things. But we've learned from them, right? We're better now. I mean, it's not going to be easy helping people because of, y'know, the 'law' and the Wasteland being all Wasteland-y but hey, we're—"
With terrifying speed, the cat faunus gripped the blonde's arms tight and glared at her with an almost manic expression on her face. In fact, in the saturated lighting of the elevator, it looked as though even her eyes were dilated like that of a...cat.
"I need. Those. Books. Yang," she hissed.
"Wh-wh-what b-books!?"
She let go, immediately recomposing herself as though she did not entirely freak out her teammates. "I just need some extra spending money, that's all. Seemed like appealing to Six's personal creeds felt like the best option to get his approval. Much better than going behind his back and scavenging for scrap to sell at exorbitantly high prices. Not that I've thought of that but just saying."
Velvet blinked. "All that for spending money?"
"... Um, spending money for what?" Ruby stammered.
"Personal expenses. Not like any of you have any," Blake deflected.
"Oh, we have," Weiss replied, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Knowing you, however, half of your expenses are on various literature. Of the suspicious nature. The kind that you keep hidden in various hiding spots in our dorm room back at Beacon?"
"What hidden books? I don't hide books. I keep them on display for easy access. You must be deluded, Weiss."
With a rapid fire response like that, the others could not help but stare at the normally reserved member of the team, their apprehension now morphing into resigned annoyance.
Except for her partner who perked up. "Oh. You mean those books, huh. So what kind of steamy stuff did you find on the market, kitty cat?"
"Ugh, filth," groused the reaper.
"I agree," grunted the heiress.
"They're not that bad," muttered the rabbit faunus.
To which a surprised Ruby, Weiss, and Yang took a moment to digest what they had heard from Velvet.
"... I know, right?" Blake quietly reciprocated.
Weiss felt her jaw drop. "Are you serious?"
Yang snickered, holding up the flyer fished out of the pile of papers heaped onto the table in one of the lounges at the casino floor. "'Ethically sound,' was it?"
"This is perfect for you, bestie!" Ruby cheered. "All that humming in the shower is going to pay off."
"Take it," Blake insisted. "Seriously. Take it."
"Why are you so adamant—oh, right. Of course." The heiress grabbed the flyer, reading it again and again before settling in defeat against the lounge chair. "I guess... I guess I could try this out."
"I could see it now," the blonde brawler started, wrapping Weiss with one arm while waving the other at the air as though reveling at some unseen masterpiece. "Ice Queen's name on the Tops marquee. Highest-paid act. Solo concert or maybe even a duet with Bruce Isaac or the Mysterious Stranger! That's a massive payday right there!"
The heiress frowned. "I don't think I possess the artistic fame to attract a wealthy audience."
"Oh, hush you. This is going to be your big break. You'll be a break-out star again."
"So does that mean you'll be auditioning at the Aces?" the reaper queried.
Weiss sighed resolutely. It was not a bad gig—much better than performing at the Ultra-Luxe or, gods forbid, Gomorrah—and she has had worse given the amount of affluent sycophants her father tried to woo into the inescapable clutches of the family business. "Yes. Yes, I will. It has been awhile, after all. A nice change of pace for once."
"Yep," Yang butted in. "Belting out classics at a luxury theater with all the casino perks is way better than sweating it out in the desert, skinning geckoes, and dodging rads, amirite?"
Ruby shuddered. "Way better."
"And what about you, Miss Xiao-Long?" the heiress challenged. "What has piqued your interest?"
The blonde smiled wide. "Blake and I will be the extra the muscle."
Blake blinked. "What?"
Yang held up another flyer. "Bouncers. Qualifications fit...barring Aura and Semblances but the point stands. We got the muscle and the skills. This is perfect for us. And it's the Tops. Swank'll give us top digs."
The others eyed her flatly. "Is he really?"
"Of course, he is." The blonde proceeded to proudly squish together her bosom while batting a few winks. "He definitely is."
The cat faunus shook her head. "I'll leave you to it then."
The reaper winced. "Yang...you're seriously not going to, um, y'know...with Mister Swank?"
To which her sister recoiled. "Wha— Ruby, seriously!? Fuck, no! You know me better than that, sis!"
"That's a relief," Weiss grunted. "You tend to encourage such behavior with your antics and given the types of people who live here, they think you're old enough for, ugh, adult activities."
Yang opened her mouth then closed it then held up her finger before curling it in thought. "That's...kinda disturbing now that you put it that way."
"What about me? I'm old enough!" Ruby raised, ignoring the mortified looks she was getting. "I can do adult jobs."
Her sister quickly shoved a flyer into her face. "Here's an adult job."
"Housekeeping at the Tops, huh." The reaper narrowed her eyes at the blonde. "How come you always give me the cleaning jobs?"
"Hey, you and Velvet are really good at keeping this place clean," reasoned Yang.
"That's because Weiss was going to put me in a glyph cage if I didn't—"
Wave, wave. "Either that or you're going somewhere else. And we can't have that. Best that we're all working at the Top instead of being spread out across the Strip. Team RWBY-V in one place! Who knows? We might be sharing the same break room and maybe"—cue wagging brows—"even the same work perks, eh? Eh?"
Weiss shook her head before pouring herself a new cup of orange juice. "That wouldn't be so bad, I guess."
"And it's the Tops, too, so being on staff means unrestricted access to the pools during off-hours."
"Really!?" hooted the reaper. "Sweet! So we can just take a dip after work?"
"Every night after a long day, if we have to," beamed the blonde.
"That sounds lovely," Velvet added, her notes filled with possible answers to possible interview questions. "Of course, that's assuming that the management is that lenient."
Yang blew raspberries. "It's Swank. I know him. He knows us. Just let me handle the talking and we'll be all set."
"Given your track record in transactions, I highly doubt it."
The blonde feigned offense. "Come on, Weiss-cream, give me some confidence here. I got this."
"Fine. But I'm taking charge if things start going off the rails."
"Sure, sure." Yang snickered, ribbing her partner. "Don't you worry, kitty cat. We're going to work our asses off until you get enough money to buy your porn!"
"Ugh, shut up, Yang," groaned Blake.
"Ah, really appreciate the effort here but I'm not sure I can give you any of that, Blondie."
"What the hell?" Yang barked. "What do you mean? It says it right there on the job description!"
Swank gave her flat look, unfazed by her stupefied glare as he sat on his swivel chair in his office at the top floor of the Tops. "Yeah. That was before we saw your sister freeze a bunch of drunks on the Strip with her sword-magic or whatever you call it. Sorry, babe, but I can't take that risk and all."
The blonde threw her hands in the air. "Come on, Swanky! What about our history?"
"What history?"
"You know! The, uh...when we were, um... Uh, we had some fun times, right?"
"Wasn't really that fun for me, honestly. What with you still owing several 'favors' for all the stuff you made me do...after you nearly crushed my hand with every handshake. I mean, I hate to lay this on the table, Blondie, but your old man will back me up on this one. Just saying."
She shrunk at the glares that she felt from her teammates behind her. "Y-yeah, well...I'm...I'm paying you back for them. But we're friends, right?"
He sighed. "Babe, this is Vegas. This ain't California. You can't just do that to me, doll. And I gotta say that even if you call up Papa Sixer, he's going to take my side. Believe me, I know. The big guy did so much for the Chairmen that we still owe him."
Yang bit her lower lip. "Well, okay. Uh, but, um, it's not like we're asking for much...or all of the perks. Like, ah, could you give us the pool at least?"
The chairman of the Chairmen paused, mulling the idea, then pointed to Weiss standing right behind her. "Unless your sister doesn't freeze it—"
"She's not!" Yang desperately eyed her teammate. "Right, Weiss? You better not."
The heiress rolled her eyes. "I won't."
Swank mulled it over. "... Um, okay then. But you're still starting out on the low and I can't grant you these privileges right off the bat. Gotta earn 'em, dig?"
"Are you fucking serious?"
Shrug. "Hey, it'll be unfair for the boys if I just went and tossed you the keys to the presidential on your first day. They'll take me for a fink."
"But it says on the flyer—"
The chairman simpered. "Marketing, doll. Marketing. That's just how it is."
Yang stuttered, her face contorting in a mix of emotions ranging from confusion to anger to the five stages of grief. "What the...but...how did...this is... aaah! Ffffuck!"
At this point, the blonde buckled back with her hands clutching her mane in an attempt to rein herself in and keep her from smashing the man's desk to splinters.
Weiss stepped forward with the poise of a businessman's daughter. "How about I handle negotiations, Miss Assets-Are-Everything?"
Swank snickered. "Alright, Snow Angel—"
"Please, don't call me that."
"Alright, Miss Schnee. How're you going to sell me the same pitch?"
The heiress rested a hand on her hip and smirked, her voice taking on the corporate Schnee tone. "Mister Swank, as you know from our discussions with Mister Torini, I will begin hosting performances at the Aces Theater as an official member of the cast. And I expect to be accommodated accordingly..."
Team RWBY-V were enjoying a nice dinner at the Tops restaurant when they were later joined by team JNPR-S with Syrup muzzled, mittened up, and collared (with a solid chain) close to Nora's wrist.
A minute of small talk later, Yang pointed her fork at their sister team. "I can feel the gloom off of you, guys. What happened?"
Jaune sighed. "We tried applying at Gomorrah."
All of team RWBY-V paused mid-meal to gawk at him.
"Yeah, Gomorrah," Nora droned, coming off more annoyed than ever. "Not the best place for ladies, right? But Fearless Leader here wanted to give the Omertas a chance and hear what they had to offer. Maybe they wouldn't be so bad, he said."
"Nora," her partner groaned.
The ginger threw up her hands. "Sorry. Can't help the fact that Pyrrha and I almost ended up as eye-candy."
"I'm sorry, girls, I really am," apologized the blond for what sounded like the hundredth time.
"Holy shit," the other blonde gasped. "You fucking serious, Vomit Boy? You let your teammates be turned into...into..."
"No! Gods, no," Pyrrha pleaded. "It was just that...other than janitorial staff, accounting, and reception...which we hoped would be available to us...there were no other openings for, uh, our age range."
"In essence, you either have to be a member of the Omertas to be considered eligible for the more professional lines of work," Ren elaborated. "It's the rule of thumb for employment on the Strip. Floor persons, cashiers, table dealers, cocktail servers. They're all mostly reserved for members of the Three Families. There are a few non-members who work there but that is because they were either well-connected or really good at their craft."
"You mean you were too young to be put on display like polished gemstones," Weiss growled.
"Hey, we said 'no,' and we made sure they got the message," Nora said.
"We did not need to get physical," intruded her partner. "Six made sure they understood our points and we were let go without any incident."
"Six went into Gomorrah with you?" asked Yang.
The hammer-wielder shook her head. "More like he dragged us out and gave Jaune a dressing down."
"I've had worse," mumbled Jaune. "Pride is...pride is just temporary."
His partner cleared her throat while patting him on the shoulder. "After that, Six forbade us from entering Gomorrah. Uh, the same goes for you as well. Then he had a discussion with the Omerta's senior executive."
"I'm telling you, that Cachino guy needs to get his legs broken," Nora hissed.
"Yeah, I hear you," Yang agreed. "Sucks that Six keeps him around but damn...isn't there a better replacement for running the Omertas?"
Blake shuddered. "Have to be a ruthless psychopath to run that crew."
"What about the Ultra-Luxe?" Ruby raised.
Now the utensils met the table with the others eying her very flatly, their appetites withering up.
"... Uh, point taken. Forget I mentioned them."
"You could try Vault Twenty-One," suggested Velvet. "Miss Weintraub is always looking for more staff. And there's her brother who runs the art workshop next to it. I think he was looking for more assistants."
Team JNPR-S exchanged glances before Jaune shrugged, his chin sitting on the dining table. "After our luck, we can't be too choosy, I guess."
"If we can't find anything with the Weintraubs, then it's the, ah, Ultra-Luxe," Pyrrha concluded with a mild shudder at the end.
"Don't worry, guys," the reaper chirped. "I'm sure you can find an opening at Vault Twenty-One. If not, you can jump in with us here at the Tops."
"Assuming Swank is willing to onboard them," Weiss reminded. "You know how hesitant he was with us."
"Hey, now, he was just cautious," Yang butted in.
"No thanks to you, Miss Blondie."
"We still got hired," Blake echoed.
"You did? That's great!" Nora cheered. "What did you get?"
"... Housekeeping," groused all of team RWBY-V save for Miss Scarlatina who saw nothing wrong with housekeeping and Miss Schnee who smugly dabbed her lips with a napkin.
"And Weiss?"
"Yours truly is slated to perform at the Aces Theater," the heiress proudly declared. "There is not that much in the way of musical talent so Mister Torini was eager for my services."
"That's great," Jaune commended, finally lifting his head up as Pyrrha pored through the Tops restaurant menu. "I mean, you've got a really nice voice. Really. It'll be a waste if you don't get to sing with it very often."
Yang cooed with a wry grin. "Aww, ain't that sweet, Lover Boy?"
"Yes...sweet," Pyrrha drawled.
The blonde brawler snickered. Then, after her teammates refilled their drinks and their sister team got their cocktails, she raised her half-empty glass of grapefruit mimosa. "So, guys and gals, seems like we had a pretty eventful start to our week. Mondays, amirite? Well, tomorrow's our first day here at the Tops. Wish us luck?"
The others toasted back. The rest of the night went as smoothly and as responsibly as teams RWBY-V and JNPR-S could make it. Granted, most of them could barely remember what happened the morning after but apparently, according to Victor, they had behaved themselves so well that no one got into any trouble...except for Yang who puked during the elevator ride up the Lucky Thirty-Eight and was forced into cleaning up her mess by everyone else.
Six almost did a double-take in the middle of the sidewalk. He rubbed his eyes and peered back up at the Tops marquee which was being reworked by technicians to include a new name onto the list of acts on the roster of the Aces Theater. And while that normally went ignored by most everyone on the Strip, this in particular attracted some attention.
'Wednesday Night Special: Bruce Isaac and the Lonesome Drifter with special guest Weiss Schnee, 8:00pm'
"Holy shit," he breathed. What a way to announce to the whole fucking NCR that the kids are back in the heart of Vegas.
"Your daughter can sing, sir?" asked that smarmy NCR MP lieutenant with the steep prices. At least the bastard could keep his mouth shut.
So that's what I've been hearing in the shower every now and then. "... She better." The Courier took a long sip from his mug of black coffee, courtesy of Jas Wilkins who was among the many street-side vendors lining the vacant lots between the casinos.
"Pretty high standards, huh."
Ain't my standards. "Her performance is tomorrow tonight," he growled. What perfect timing, Christ on a stick.
"Um, not my place to say but, ah, you're not going to stick around to, y'know, watch?"
I wish I could, honestly. But Hsu's gonna be waiting for me at the Old Mormon Fort and that ain't something I'm going to delay. Damn it. "Got work to do."
"Oh." For a moment, it seemed the greedy prick flashed him a consternated look before shrugging it off. "That's understandable. Duty calls, right?"
Shut the fuck up. "I'll be back with your special bonus, don't worry," he grunted under his breath.
"Don't know what you're talking about, sir," whistled the corrupt military police officer as he turned on his heel and marched back onto the sidewalk to resume his patrol, pretending that he never had a conversation about hush money with the most powerful man on the Strip.
A few minutes later, Six returned to Miss Wilkins's stall to order a refill with more caffeine. He politely shot down her nervous 'because-we're-good-acquaintances-and-I-taught-you-that-deathclaw-recipe' request for free tickets to watch Weiss's performance live. Instead, he paid her double her prices (and bought a chunk of her coyote tobacco stock) so she could buy those expensive-ass tickets herself. Funny how I'm giving this lady business who's later going to give Snowball some business... Shit, the kids are getting jobs but the money still comes from me.
Fuck this shit, Neo was out. No thank you. Nobody mind her while she pilfers some supplies and leaves in her disguise.
More than a day in and she figured out where this was going. Screw processing! They knew who she was...or what she was. Somehow, they pieced it together. Damn it! She should have known they were aware of what she was since First Recon were basically eying her from their scopes as she was taking hits from deathclaws. Of course, her Aura would flare up. Of course, she would leap around. Of course, she would show she was not normal.
Gorobets and his lackeys were good at hiding it but when she saw the tent city and all those people in it... Like hell was she getting collared and shacked up with the likes of Winter Schnee and Glynda Goodwitch (thankfully, neither of them recognized her) and a bunch of other Remnant survivors (some of whom might actually recognize her). This had the makings of a Legion slave camp except without those misogynistic legionaries and the backbreaking slavery. Sure, they apparently wanted to 'process' her given that she was a Legion refugee but the side glances from First Recon were a dead giveaway of what exactly they wanted to do with her.
So she did her thing: slipped out of their grasp and slithered like a chameleon into the ranks of the NCR. That, unfortunately, had the annoying consequence of throwing the entire fort on high-alert with a strict lockdown implemented and the garrison all riled up to gut the place until they found her.
Well, no one was going to suspect a pretty little private joining in the search, right?
"Private, where do you think you're going?"
Oh, shit. Neo stiffened and played to her new illusion, hoping that the bookkeeping here was bad enough that no one would realize that there was an unaccounted trooper roaming their base. She stood ramrod straight and turned on her heel prepared to give a salute to whoever was calling her out...who happened to be the commanding officer of Fort Mead (Polatli, his name was?) if the lapels on his collar were to be of any indication.
"That is not your patrol route," he growled. "Have you been slacking off?"
Neo shook her head. This guy was intimidating (she could still take him on and two dozen more but she was not going to risk that).
To her surprise, instead of grilling her on the spot, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, toning his voice down. "I'm guessing you're following the new routes again."
She had no idea what he was talking about but she nodded nonetheless.
"Damn it. This always happens," he continued, now grumbling to himself. "Reshuffle the patrols, troopers get shifted around and they can't adapt in time then holes open up in the perimeter."
Neo tilted her head.
He hardened his glare back at her. "Stick to your new routes, soldier. And tell the rest to do the same. I want every inch of this entire hill covered, understood?"
She nodded hastily.
"Fucking hell, you're too tired to even talk, aren't you?"
She mimicked being exhausted.
"Fine. Go grab something to eat or drink at the mess hall but I want you back doing your rounds as you have been assigned. Dismissed."
She saluted him as he turned around and stomped away. Man, she must have caused a big stir if these officers were marching around with sticks so far up their asses.
Then again, this was nothing new to her. She had snuck in and out of several heavily-guarded places before and pulled heists with Roman on the Atlesian military and a few highly-valued SDC targets. But those weren't easy and she had to pull out all the stops to make it as clean as possible (unless things went to hell and she could go all-out). Even then, Roman was giving her instructions and guiding her along.
Out here, she was on her own.
Completely alone.
Lost in a sea of strangers looking for the only person who ever genuinely cared for her.
Neo shook her head. Focus, girl! Right now, she had wandered into a large, round tent with walls made of reinforced sheet metal. And right in the middle were something she never expected to show up out here in the new world: a quintuplet of Atlesian paladins—similar models to the ones she and Roman 'requisitioned' for the White Fang. Except, these models were sporting colors. On top of the dull Atlesian grey paint were the spray-painted brands of California: a two-headed bear, a red star over a white box, or the flag of the NCR.
Okay, she could get some pieces of hardware from Remnant popping up here in the Wasteland. But five Atlesian paladins? Their armaments looked different than she remembered. Did these guys retrofit the damn things with their own firepower? Because Dust was out of the equation. The fact that they looked operational meant that these Californians found some kind of alternative fuel source. And those bullet belts were definitely just lead, gunpowder, and brass and nothing special.
"Whoa, trooper," harked a technician in orange overalls. "What are you doing here?"
Neo shrugged.
"Damn it. You're one of the newbies? Let me guess: you got lost, huh."
She nodded.
"Figures," he grumbled. "And they said they'd be replacing the greenhorns here with vets. Now we got more greenhorns. Look, trooper. Just don't touch anything here, okay? With this whole lockdown thing 'cause of some refugee that escaped—I don't fucking know, don't ask me—you're probably here to keep an eye on this."
Sure, she would go with that.
"Sorry to burst your bubble but there ain't enough room in here to the accommodate a whole squad. You'd best stay outside with your buddies. It's hot, I know. But there's a lot of shade on the base anyway so don't rope me into some bullshit about getting heat stroke 'cause the civies ask you to stand outside in the sun."
With that, Neo let herself be shoved out by the technician. Before he shut the doors on her, however, she made sure to sneak away a key off one of his many pockets.
Once more, she bounced from squad to squad (there were a lot of them running around) until she ended up in front of the only known Old World facility in the middle of the whole Fort. On the outside, it looked about as old as Hoover Dam. Inside, however, it was a dump.
Various containers of shapes and sizes were piled up to the walls while trash was literally heaped to the corners. In the center was a large round table made from scrap surrounded by seven stools. From the score-boards on the walls, this was where some of these NCR jokers played poker.
Well, at least she could get to rest her legs a bit and dragged one of the seats to the side. She could even feel how rickety this stool was compared to—
Crash!
Neo tumbled in the dark for a few seconds before righting herself and recovering from her uncomfortable roll down a flight of cold, steel stairs. By the time she got to her feet, she found herself in a far more Atlesian-type corridor with the (slightly) polished walls, grated floors, and fluorescent lights. Looking up, she assessed that she had somehow fallen through a decaying hatch that somehow remained concealed underneath all the crap upstairs.
A part of her wanted to head back up and conceal this before anyone came in response to the noise. The rest of her, however, took over her natural curiosity and directed her legs down the corridor towards a small, brightly-lit room with a series of monitors flanking one large terminal screen.
And on that screen flashed a big, creepy smiley face on a white background.
A cartoon face that was just...smiling at her with that oversized mouth...staring at her with those big stupid eyes...flickering and fizzling and...still staring at her...
...then it talked.
"Hi, there!"
Neo jumped.
Six was still out on the Strip when he felt the micro-vibrations on his Pip-Boy. He was getting alerts again. This time from Yes Man informing him of a breach at the old weather monitoring station at Fort Mead...which he thought he had sealed shut three years ago. What the hell?
He hastened his pace towards the Lucky Thirty-Eight where he quickly took the elevator down to level X-4. With all the kids officially at work, there was no one else in the entire tower that he would have to worry about while he dealt with this new development. How the fucking hell did an NCR trooper stumble into the...
You were sloppy, echoed Old Green Eyes. That's what you get for bein' goddamn sloppy.
Shut up, me.
Come on, now, Theo. First, you lose Samson an' now you're gon' lose Delilah. All 'cause you were damn sloppy. What a fuckin' embarrassment you are. I mean, really? A half-assed weldin' job on them doors to the underground an' relyin' on the NCR's ignorance?
Six gripped his fist to keep from smashing it against the wall. Get it together, man! I'll figure it out the breach later. Right now, I need to...I need to secure Delilah.
Delilah's gon' get a rude awakening.
The Courier stomped across the massive underground cavern towards the main console where Yes Man's ever smiling face flickered endlessly on the oversized screen.
"Wow, you move fast!" the AI greeted.
"Cut to the chase. What's this about an intruder at Fort Mead?"
"Oh. I'm talking to her right now."
Her? "Are you telling me that some grunt happened to discover—"
"She crashed through the doors and rolled down the steps. She recovered quickly though and is now looking at me. Judging by her attire, I assess that she's a private. I'm getting some errors though. Her signature isn't matching up with some of my sensors."
Errors 'cause of this rickety, two-hundred-year-old software that needs regular maintenance and a massive system overhaul. "And? Is she still around? Are you still talking to her?"
"Yep. She isn't saying anything, though. Not a single word. I've already activated the security system as per protocol and I am informing her of the option to retreat and forget that she ever saw—"
"No!" Hell fucking no. It's just a nameless grunt. Hsu's got an entire department devoted to writing condolence letters. This'll be another addition to their attrition list. "She's a witness. I want her gone."
"Gone as in terminated or gone as in—"
He nearly slammed his hands onto the console. "Terminated. Killed. Erased."
"Are you sure about that?"
Goddamn it. "Command override. Terminate intruder." Six even recited out loud the full line of code to the further ensure Yes Man's complete compliance to his order.
"Understood," the AI enthusiastically replied. "Carrying it out now."
"I don't recognize you," prattled this...machine...in that unnervingly cheerful, happy-go-lucky voice. "You're not one of Six's crew either. Hmm, that's not right."
Think, girl, think! Maybe she could fool this thing. It was an AI, after all. Like those retarded Atlesian systems. Yeah; it was only lines of code, just numbers on a screen that could barely tell much difference. So she struck a confident pose and gave the big smiley face a raised brow.
"Ah, you're not one of them. That's too bad. Now I have to dispose of you."
What?
"You're not Courier Six," it listed off. "You're also not one of the Vegas Nine. You're not even one of the Vegas Wonder Kids. So that means you're a threat. Sorry, miss, but you're not allowed in here. You're going to have to go."
Neo gawked back at the avatar on the screen. Was this an actual person speaking to her? Or were the robots in this world frighteningly smarter than anything Atlas (or the rest of Remnant) could ever come up with? Then she heard the whirring of something behind the walls. Followed by more noises coming from...almost everywhere.
"My programming dictates that I should warn you to leave from where you came but I have just received a command override."
She did not like the sound of that. As well as the sounds of some heavy things moving around in the depths of this place. Did the NCR know about this? Or did she walk into a trap? Maybe she could hamper the robotics here by pressing every button she could find and yanking on anything that looked like a lever.
"That's not going to work, miss," hummed the AI.
Neo flipped it the bird.
"Now, that's not nice."
She was about to gesture something more offensive before large steel doors suddenly rose up from the floor and blocked the stairs back up. She slammed her body against it, doing her best to open it. But the damn thing was not budging and she doubted her Semblance could get her out of this.
"Don't take it personally, miss. I'm just cleaning up the trash."
And that was the last of it as the smiley face flickered out of existence and all the monitors shut off. Along with the lights. She was now locked in here, forced to face down a horde of miniature robots armed to the teeth with weapons that looked like they would actually hurt. Her Aura could only hold up to so much pressure and, after witnessing the deadliness of the Legion's guns, she dreaded the firepower she was going to go up against given how technologically backwards the Imperium was compared to the NCR.
Steeling herself, Neo unslung the Californian carbine she picked up from the Fort's supply caches and aimed down the corridor ahead. Several red lasers flashed back at her. The silhouettes looked like dwarfed versions of those Atlesian paladins yet instead of bipeds, they rolled around on treads like tractors while flashing back at her with sinister visages. Then they talked...
"[Weapons free. Non-combatants are advised to stand clear.]"
...before opening fire.
And goddamn, did they hurt!
A few moments later, Yes Man let out what sounded like a whistle. "She's holding her own though. Really effective with her service rifle."
Six gawked. "Are you serious?"
"From what I'm detecting, yes. She is...standby...scanning...scanning...scanning..."
Six waited, the moment passing agonizingly slowly.
Eventually, the AI quipped a response. "Wow! She's really good. For a low-ranking trooper, she is actually holding her own."
What the hell? "What the fuck do you mean she's 'holding her own?'" The security system down there is topnotch! Upgraded to high-heaven and equipped with enough firepower to... Unless...
"Oh. I'm getting a lot of system errors. I am detecting contradictory inputs. Her movements are too fast to be considered average and she's switched to using her rifle as a club."
She ran out of ammo? And swinging her shooter like a lead pipe? "That can't be no grunt..."
"It appears so. She is exhibiting an above-average level of flexibility based on medical records of the human anatomy. Her agility is also above-average. I estimate that her movement speed is equivalent to yours, if not superior."
His eyes went wide. Are you shitting me?
"... Processing incoming data." Beep, beep. "Impressive. She managed to destroy half of the security models."
This time, the Courier slammed his hands on the console. "That's no grunt, that's a goddamn Ranger!" Shit! Did Hsu just blindside me!?
"Oh. Standby. Processing..." More beeps in uneven intervals. "... It seems I've lost track of the intruder. Can't find her anywhere."
Six held his breath.
"Standby... Doing a wide sweep... Nope. Still can't detect her."
Doesn't mean she's gone for sure. "Find me the body. Make sure it's got holes in 'em, through and through."
"Scanning... Oh! There she is."
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"She's giving me a very offensive gesture."
He snapped back up at the screen.
"... And she just destroyed our remaining security models...including some of my security cameras...and cut off the wires to some of my microphones and speakers. Wow, she's thorough. Vindictive but thorough."
No fucking way. "That ain't right." This isn't adding up. No lone Ranger could survive what I packed down there. Even I couldn't survive what I packed down if I just stumbled in like that with only a rudimentary kit and... The grimace on the his face morphed with chilling realization. Oh God no...
"I'm activating emergency measures," Yes Man reported. "Don't worry. I've already sealed all entry points to Delilah-One. She's not getting through to them."
"She's...a Huntress." Disguised as a regular trooper.
"She's disabled half of my sensors but I can still pick up readings from the maintenance network."
Old Green Eyes glanced at the smaller terminals on the sides, some broadcasting blurry images of what was going on underneath Fort Mead. The standard-issue helmet, cuirass, and fatigues were discernible as was the carbine that was now being swung around like a baseball bat. The figure bent over like plastic to evade several laser beams that would have cut through her torso. She even pulled off a fucking split before launching herself in the air and cutting down the stationary turrets with the finesse of...a...trained Huntress.
"Yes Man, is she still in the maintenance tunnels?" he asked.
"Keeping her there. She's not going to do much damage there."
"Good. Bring up the floor plan."
One of the larger terminals on the right flickered until it displayed a highlighted outline of a system of passageways. It was a small maze but he traced one vein that led to...
"Yes Man, funnel her into the reservoir." The Courier coldly eyed that big, bright, smiling face. A fully trained Huntress could'a easily dispatched those robots like that. But that dun' mean she can hold her breath forever.
"Ah, I get where you're going with this," whooped the AI. "Locking her in."
Seconds passed with Old Green Eyes patiently tapping his fingers against the armrest of his swivel chair.
Neo was panting for breath. This was a nightmare!
She had already broken this rusty old rifle in two from using it to beat those robots to scrap metal. That left her with nothing else but a shoddy nine millimeter that had the stopping power of a pebble against these machines. And she had carved through the security system (she hoped that was all of it). There were still those other, bigger, bulkier, and scarier-looking robots all lined up like an army battalion in those caverns below. For some reason, they were dormant and unresponsive to the chaos happening up here (or it was just that these windows were as soundproof as they were bulletproof).
That was at least some consolation. On top of being exhausted, Aura-depleted, and still damn sick from this radiation. Still, she managed to keep up her disguise though, in retrospect, she should have packed an actual NCR cuirass instead of mimicking one. Okay, now that got her bearings, it was time to assess her new situation; she looked around.
Great. She was lost.
Maybe if she would follow where this tunnel led, she might find an opening and...
Rumble, rumble, rumble...
Neo froze in her step. The noise was coming from further behind her. Getting louder and louder with every second. That was when she belatedly realized that the ceiling and the walls were moist and water was trickling underneath the soles of her boots. She looked up at the coming flood, held her breath, and internally cussed up a storm.
"Floodgates opened. Pumping water."
The Courier waited, counting the seconds and rounding up the minutes.
Eventually, Yes Man hurrahed. "She is out of our system!"
And into Lake Mead. "Good."
"Wow. Flushing after a long struggle like that feels so satisfying."
"I did not need to know that. Now assess Delilah-One." A fraction of House's war machines almost ruined because of some wild card. Sure as hell ain't mine. Can't be NCR's either. Maybe Legion; they can turn anyone. Or maybe...someone like me.
As he waited for the status report, he pulled on one of the many drawers under the console, looking for the notebook that he used to account for the printouts from these fiascos. He grabbed the closest one and opened it up. A folded page nearly fell out.
It was the letter that Winter Schnee dictated over the wire.
Old Green Eyes picked it up and read through it. A few hours later, Major Theodore Vickers headed back upstairs to the penthouse suite and placed the note on Weiss's bed before he left for Freeside.
"I can't believe we just lost a goddamn Remnant refugee," growled Colonel Polatli, nearly slamming his fists into the planning table in the Fort Mead command tent.
Lieutenant Gorobets sighed into his palm. "It's my fault, sir. I was—"
"Cut the apologies, lieutenant. I get it. Right now, what matters is securing the Fort and making sure none of the others get the same ideas."
"And what of Miss Schnee and Miss Goodwitch?"
"Continue as planned. At least we have some good news to balance out the bad news."
"Yes, sir."
Rumble, rumble.
The First Recon lieutenant paused in his stride. "Wait... Do you hear that?"
"Hear wha... Huh?" Everyone in entire command tent went still as they felt the vibrations.
"Earthquake, sir?" guessed Technical Sergeant Reyes.
Polatli shook his head right as the vibrations stopped and the noises faded. "No. This is...this is something else. Did that...did that come from here?"
Reyes put on her headset and adjusted some of the dials on the ham radio. "Sir, it sounded like it came from...underneath us. Under the Fort."
"Should we investigate, sir?" Gorobets asked.
The colonel shook his head, tracing his finger over the map of Fort Mead. "I'm throwing all our assets to keeping this place secure. I can't spare you any more resources."
The lieutenant insisted. "I'll have Betsy and Ten-of-Spades look into it."
Polatli mulled it over. "... If it's just them... Approved."
Later that day, Colonel Joseph Polatli and his staff personally welcomed the arrival of Major General James Hsu. The commander-in-chief of all NCR forces in Nevada was quick with formalities and went straight to business. Winter Schnee and Glynda Goodwitch were ushered out of their tents with what little belongings they had and escorted into one of the armored jeeps that came with the general's convoy.
By the time Hsu had departed for McCarran with the two Remnant refugees, Polatli received a report from First Recon: Corporals Betsy and Ten-of-Spades discovered a breach in the old weather monitoring station on the eastern slope of the Fort. Specifically, underneath all the crap piled in there, was a set of rusted and long-damaged doors that had finally caved to the pressure...revealing a set of stairs that led to another set of sealed, hydraulic blast doors. Only these ones were sturdier and showed little signs of serious decay.
Polatli would have had that blown open and cleared but there was no telling what exactly lay behind it. Perhaps a mountain of rubble—maybe whatever was inside the hill had caved in after years of neglect—or simply a long-forgotten storage room filled with useless, decomposing equipment. Whatever the case, he had more pressing matters to deal with than to try to bust down a secret door that Caesar himself probably couldn't open when the Legion held this hill years ago.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: September 11, 2021
LAST EDITED: September 18, 2021
INITIALLY UPLOADED: September 18, 2021
NOTE: I wrote this chapter with half a brain cell. Not really satisfied with how this turned out but I am pleased with what I managed to spin in seven days. Been a rough couple weeks over here in my part of the world but that's life.
Anyway, the kids are going to help pay the mortgage now. That'll help Six sleep better at night. Neo, on the other hand...well, she may be small but she is a tough nut to crack and I'll leave it at that.