Chapter 56: Unintended Allies
Scorpio toured through his new quarters. In a past life, it had been a luxury box overlooking athletic competitions of a bygone era. Then it became a fortress for the various raider trash that would "rule" Texas in the aftermath of the apocalypse. Once the Legion tamed and civilized these lands, the arena returned to its original purpose, only now able to indulge in the true honesty of competition. Here, the desperate became warriors, and warriors became champions.
Scorpio remembered his own brush with greatness. A tournament had been held scarcely a year ago. He had competed in his block, and lo and behold who would compete in the other but Legate Barabbas himself. As the finest duelists of the modern Legion, it was inevitable that they would meet in the grand finals. Scorpio, using his finesse and technique, had kept pace with the brawler that Barabbas represented. To this day, Scorpio could not understand how a man that large could move that fast. It was almost a miracle that Scorpio was able to pierce his armor and draw his blood. And it was unfortunate that it hadn't been the neck as he intended. A freak accident, one he would be punished for rather leniently, of course. And then the freak used that blasted Command on him, forcing him to heel as Barabbas stormed off fuming, with Scorpio declared the winner by default. His greatest achievement by personal martial skill, soiled by technicalities.
Scorpio looked around what had been Barabbas's room, over the dummy where his armor had been set, over the windows where he would dismissively look out over the games, over the bed where he broke in his harem and the other mattress where the Oracle's other spawn rested. And now it was his for the foreseeable future.
Sitting on the bed, Scorpio kicked off his boots as the eye-bot decloaked in his quarters. Paying the visitor little heed, Scorpio rested his pikestaff at the headrest of the bed, its point still covered in poison and the blood of the previous Caesar. One down, two to go.
"…She fled," Scorpio finally said to the machine. "Took the bulk of her force and commandeered Laredo. They're probably digging in right now and waiting for my legion to siege them."
"My calculations estimate that you outnumber them by a considerable margin. Your hesitation appears illogical," Abacus reported.
Scorpio scoffed. "You haven't dealt with her long enough. The Oracle can complicate things very quickly and easily. I've done everything I can to move her allies to the south or east. It will take her an enormous amount of personal energy to contact and relay her situation to them. And time for her designs to be put into effect. Time I will not give her," Scorpio assessed as he straightened out his crown.
"Will you lead the attack personally?" Abacus asked.
Scorpio ran his own mental calculations as he assessed the risks. Using the bulk of the 4th Legion would put it at risk, and a siege could prove to be a lengthy and costly endeavor, the kind that could leave him vulnerable to other ambitious and politically minded legionaries, regardless of whether they were Lanius loyalists or otherwise. No, it was risky enough to have personally disposed of the previous Caesar, better to keep his hands as clean as possible going forward.
"…Might you have any… assets I could call upon? Infiltrators and the like?" Scorpio asked.
"I'm afraid my securities group is currently occupied with another project," Abacus announced, apologetically. "Besides, the assaultrons I parted with were specifically designed to neutralize the Oracle on your behalf. Speaking of you owe me for the destroyed one."
Bristling, Scorpio snarled as he picked up his pikestaff, stopping himself from striking the floating contraption. True, the thought of personally slaughtering the Oracle was something he had fantasized about, and the thought of subjugating her pets the Amazons to his men elated him further, but he never lost sight of his pragmatism. The last thing he wanted to do was martyr the mutant and galvanize whoever supported her, be it some of the old-time members of the Legion like his uncle or any potential sympathizers in the Senate.
"…Actually," Abacus finally stated. "I may have a third party available who could assist with your issue."
"Third-party?" Scorpio sounded out, intrigued.
"…What are your ambitions regarding further northern conquest?" Abacus asked.
The Midwestern Confederacy was long a thorn in the side of the Legion, a bulwark against northern expansion. Though far from an army of power-armored soldiers, the alliance of disparate groups was enough to keep even Imperial Dallas in check. Though skirmishes were common, an outright battle was forbidden from both sides, a tenuous stalemate keeping things stable between the rivals.
"…You have the Confederacy in your pocket?" Scorpio asked, disbelieving.
"No, but I do have an ally within it. Jefferson, he's something of a tech-baron further up north with quite a bit of influence and a significant degree of autonomy. I think we can get an arrangement worked out."
"Time is of the essence," Scorpio stressed.
"And Jefferson can cover more ground than anything you or California can offer," Abacus countered. "And he's been looking for an excuse to demonstrate his prowess. The Onager will be more than capable of leveling a city."
"…I'll give this Jefferson a chance," Scorpio nodded. "What is this "Onager" you mentioned?"
"The lynchpin of Tech-baron Jefferson's personal army. An airship, a cross between a transporter and an artillery platform."
Scorpio thought this over for a moment. He imagined taking control of such a vessel at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, leveling everything west until they were given no choice but to submit. In his mind's eye, he could see it parked against the setting sun as he set up his own throne atop that accursed tower as he partook of a local delicacy by forcing himself upon some soft and squealing female from the nearby vault. Yes, he would very much like his own.
"I would love to see it in action," Scorpio purred.
"I'll see what I can set up," Abacus stated. Scorpio then realized that he didn't have to stop outsourcing here and now. Why not, as that wretched city loved to say, keep the ball rolling?
"And Barabbas. I would also like him to die," Scorpio announced casually as if adding something to the shopping list at the last minute. "You of all people must have assets in the Unclaimed Wastes?"
"I do, but killing the Imperial heir on top of a psyker, that's going to cost you," Abacus explained.
"I'll bleed it out of Mexico," Scorpio grinned.
"…Very well, I shall contact the Ximenez Gang's eyebot and report an exclusive bounty."
Cade crunched on an oatcake as the eyebot he carried sparked back to life. "I have a message for Ariel Ximenez," the machine announced.
"She's not here," Cade replied with his mouth full.
"Ms. Ximenez, the Securities Committee has issued a priority bounty directly to your team," the voice continued as Cade rolled his eyes at the automated message. "This new designated target is Legatus Barabbas. Height, approximately 6' 11" and weighing in an estimated three hundred and thirty pounds. Distinct features are black hair with brown eyes and-"
"STOP MOCKING ME!" Cade screamed as he bashed the machine with the stock of his rifle once again.
"Message sent," Abacus announced.
"Beautiful. My only regret is that I won't see the light leave Barabbas's eyes personally," Scorpio grinned as he heard something outside the door. It slammed open as one of his personal sentries stumbled in, the gladius in his fist dripping with the blood of his partner. He lunged at Scorpio and swung his blade, his balance off-kilter as Scorpio grabbed his pikestaff and parried it away, burying his own point into the gut of his sentry. Scorpio stared into the eyes of his betrayer and saw the haze that clouded them.
Scorpio grinned. "So, you've finally realized you can't control me, bitch? And you send my own men to do your dirty work? At least give me the privilege of confronting me personally, you withered old hag. When I find you, you will regret the day you ever opened your legs to us. Say hello to Lanius in Tartarus, you vile quim!"
And with that he withdrew his weapon from the enslaved sentry's stomach and decapitated him with the following motion. Scorpio felt the blood flow through his heart as he looked down at his adversary. The adrenaline coursed through his veins. He needed an outlet. Cheslie. She'd do.
Dan swung the door open. "Howdy, boss, I just chatted up some of the girls and we thought we shou-HOLY FRIJOLE, MA'AM! ARE YOU OK?!"
Sybil was bent over as she puked out another stream of bloody vomit. Peering up, she looked at the guard captain with bloody tears as she wiped her nose. "…May I have some water?"
The local proconsul of Laredo had been a Scorpio loyalist. Had been. As the Amazons had taken over the local governor's building, Sybil had demanded the darkest and quietest room in the former proconsul's estate so she could focus her efforts on subterfuge, which to Dan sounded like she wanted to build a boat that sailed underwater. Sybil gulped down her pitcher as Dan and some of her personal guards stood around and looked worried. As taxing as the experience had been, Sybil had heard enough through the ears of the sentry. This place wasn't safe. The most it could do was buy her time.
"Dan, is it? Are you an adequate rider?" Sybil asked as she wiped her face with another towel.
"Well, heck, ma'am, I did place fourth at the last tournament," Dan beamed. "Course, Mr. Falco got the bronze and I think one of yours, Hypatia, got silver, and of course, the gold went to-"
"So, you are adequate, good. I need to leave with you as soon as you are able. Ready your mount," Sybil said as she brushed past him. "Bea, you're in charge while I am gone. Have none of your sisters leave this town, understand? Hold this place at all costs."
"Your will be done," Bea saluted. Sybil looked over the women she had commanded. When she started the Legios Amazonia, it had been a project designed specifically to spite her chauvinistic partner, Lanius. When it became bothersome, she confided such to the founding members. Out of their own sense of spite, the women went of their own volition to conquer Austin, for which Sybil was more than happy to take the credit, even if she found herself commanding a bunch of women who dared consider themselves equal to her. As if any of these bitches could understand. Still, so long as they held off Scorpio's advances, she had the freedom to move as she saw fit. That much they were good for.
Air Marshal Katherine Gordon watched as the last generator fired up. Henderson Field had finally reached one hundred percent operational capability, and not a moment too soon. With reports of hostile incursions to the north and a prison riot at the Sierra Madre, the Judicial Marshals were stretched to the breaking point. Add to all that the chaos in New Vegas itself, and the Mojave Nation was going to have to push itself to the limit to deal with everything. Still, she had her obligations and orders.
As the radio activated, Gordon snatched the receiver as she saw the incoming message. The AEG required fire support. Things must be getting pretty dire. "Commissioner Boone, come in. Commissioner, do you read?"
"Kat, I've been trying to contact you for an hour, what the hell happened?"
"Technical difficulties," Air Marshal Gordon replied, telling most of the truth. To be totally honest, with the power supply from the Dam and Helios One compromised, it was Henderson Field's self-sufficiency that saved it from the worst brownouts. Already she had seen Pearl taking off to head north, the old bomber-turned-gunship escorted by two refurbished jet fighters.
"We've engaged with hostile forces fighting in an entrenched position," Natalie continued. "The following coordinates are…"
Kat wrote down the following on her notepad. Pilots had gotten used to navigating on analog, as they were fond of saying. It may have left precision a little to be desired, but so far, the Mojave never lacked for an advantage from the sky. The air force was effective but small.
"We are requesting help from Pearl. Close air support. High impact ordinance is desired," Natalie continued.
Kat seethed as she remembered Pearl dipping into the horizon. The request to call back and resupply the aircraft would already eat into the operational table, and Henderson was already overclocking its capacity. All personnel were on standby, those not on duty were on combat patrol, either scouting around New Vegas or surveilling the Sierra Madre.
"…I'm afraid Pearl is on another mission right now," Kat replied.
"Ano- what's happening?" Natalie asked.
"Nothing that you need to worry about," Kat replied, quickly to not arouse suspicion. "However, my squadron is fueled up. We will be at your service, just give us the word."
Natalie was intensely suspicious. Kat was usually forthcoming about the situation back home. Keeping her in the dark wasn't normal. Then again, it wasn't like Natalie was in much of a position to amend any of it. She looked to the walls in the distance, watching as the barriers sparked with the muzzle flashes of the defenders while First Recon and the 66th's mortar mutants fired into the walls. Tandi and Wallace were both engaging with those vicious tribals that had been constantly harassing their positions since they set up their encampment just outside Circle Junction. Gorobets had taken command of the 5th Heavy Armor and were awaiting a breach to charge in. Things were stable right now, with no guarantee that they would stay that way.
"I'll need your squadron to have ground attack capabilities when they arrive. Something to breach some industrial walls," Natalie explained.
"We'll have three good passes," Kat explained. "These coordinates…" she looked at a map of the region by her desk. "This is an old railway juncture, right?"
"Good recon," Natalie almost smiled.
"We'll need high impact and penetration bombs," Kat said as she drew continued to write on her notepad. "Fortunately, we commissioned the Gun Runners for such ordinance three years ago. Looks like we finally get to break it out."
"God bless the military-industrial complex," Natalie sighed as Hutsgy passed another cache of mortar rounds to Large Sarge outside the HQ tent. "How long will it take your squad to reach us?"
"When I hang up, about two hours," Gordon stated.
"Good girl. Looking forward to seeing you angels," Natalie exhaled as she cut the receiver. A half-hour later, four fighter jets taxied to the runway. The lead craft, flown by the top Air Marshal herself, had some tail art of a rough-looking ghoul. The airframe, dubbed "Charon" by its owner, listed off the systems checks as the energy cells powering the jet burned its ancient fuel. The leather tires spun as the fighter picked up speed, sinking back into the craft as her wingmen joined her in the air, each craft loaded with bombs and an improvised rocket-firing system. With that, the airfield grew silent at the last of its serviceable craft left the field to extend to the farthest reach of the frontier their force had ever flown.
Andrea once again spoke into her walkie-talkie. Yet again, no one on the other end seemed to pick up. Either the security team has too busy to pick up or the chaos in New Vegas itself had claimed them. Of course, the security staff had to be stuck back at Gomorrah, and she of all people had to watch over her horniest herself, Senator Ziyi.
To her, what Andrea could generously call "credit," she had been completely quiet ever since they escaped from the Thorn. She just sat by herself and avoided eye contact, even as it looked apparent that the hangover was punishing her. Serves her right, Andrea thought to herself.
Ziyi was ashamed. While she had been attracted to Andrea, flat out forcing herself was something she hadn't thought she had in her. Of all the things she could have done, why did it have to be that? She knew what it was like! Ziyi could already feel the contempt Andrea had for her and couldn't even bring herself to blame her. What was saying sorry supposed to do now?
The two had taken up residence at the Poseidon gas station just outside the city limits. With the city itself sealed off and no hope of getting through the gang war the emergency radio broadcast had announced, the two had little else to do but sit tight here until relief came in the form of… whatever.
"…Aren't you, like, twice my age?" Andrea finally said aloud, no longer able to endure the silence. Ziyi looked away, folding her hands as she tried not to heave. All the binge drinking she had done last night threatened to catch up with her. The last thing she needed was to vomit in front of someone who already had to hate her.
"You must be one of those "age is just a number" folk," Andrea scoffed. "I swear I had no idea what I was thinking when I looked up to you. You're pathetic."
Ziyi took a deep breath. As bad as she felt now, she was going to feel much worse. As things stood, Ziyi was the prime target, and the longer Andrea remained near her, whatever she felt her obligation was, she would be inevitably caught in the crossfire. She had to leave, now. "…You weren't complaining when I paid for your hotel room," she muttered.
"What was that?" Andrea snapped.
"…You knew what I'm about," Ziyi sniffed. "You of all people. Golden Street and CIB. I've probably slept with half of your friends. And the CIB stuck you with me for a reason and purpose. You wanted me to get you to Lars, right?" Ziyi turned to stare at Andrea. Andrea just glared at her.
"So, if Flo was your handler, that must have made you the honeypot, right? Get to Lars and make him talk. But wait, everyone knows that the Governor and the Senator from Shi-Frisco like to fool around with the same women. It's in all the tabloids. So, did I actually offend your honor or just jump the gun?" Ziyi asked.
Andrea felt herself start to heat up. Despite being a senator, Ziyi Feng was not a native-born Californian. As such, there were quite a few people in the California Intelligence Bureau who regarded the ex-pat with suspicion, even after leading Shi-Frisco into the NCR proper twenty years ago. The file on her was almost as big as the one on Lars Perez himself, and these two were allies. And somehow this woman had her IDed from the start.
"You like talking like you know me, huh?" Andrea growled. "Well, go on, what else can you tell about me? I think I have you figured out."
"You joined the CIB because you wanted to serve California like your father. A noble cause," Ziyi nodded. "And yet you found yourself regularly sent to flirt with people you find disgusting and put your body on the line. But not on the battlefield. California sees your value as a nice piece of ass and that burns you up, doesn't it?" Ziyi taunted.
Andrea wanted to slug the mouthy little bitch in the jaw. She didn't spend so much time burying her insecurities just for this thirsty and overprivileged horndog to judge her. If the Bureau didn't take her seriously, fine. If Golden Street just saw a pretty face on a smoking hot body, as long as the check was cashed, whatever. But she was not going to sit here and be analyzed by this wretched excuse of a woman.
"I'm here for your protection, Senator, and that is all," Andrea growled.
"Does it look like I need your protection?" Ziyi scoffed. "What are you going to do if we get attacked? Show some leg?"
It took every last shred of willpower for Andrea to not strangle the woman. Ziyi looked away, forcing herself to keep up the front, lest she burst into tears. She hated hurting Andrea in any capacity. But the longer she stuck with her, the more likely she would get hurt. The best thing she could do for her, the only way she could make up for what she had done, was to get Andrea away from her as soon as possible. To save herself from someone not worth saving.
Suddenly, Ziyi was back in the locomotive engine, tied to the console as the best friend she would ever have just sat there and took all the verbal abuse Ziyi could throw at her. Begging to be left alone. Begging to die. After she promised that she wouldn't give up. I'm sorry, Veronica.
"Fuck this," Andrea snapped as she threw down the walkie-talkie. "You're on your own."
"Good," Ziyi forced herself to say.
"Have a nice life, Senator," Andrea snapped as she opened the back door of the station. A waiting pair of jaws drew back, crashing against the door as Andrea barely managed to slam it to save herself. "FUCK!" Andrea screamed as she stumbled back, scooting into a pair of legs. She felt a pair of hands force her up and shove her against a shelf on the aisle, Ziyi now looking at her without the pitiful puppy dog eyes she had been carrying for the last few hours.
"Listen to me," Ziyi enunciated, seriously. "You can still save yourself. I need you to wait here and count to thirty. Once you are done, I need you to walk, not run, to the front entrance. From there, no matter what happens, do not run, do not scream, and don't try to fight. The more boring you are, the less he will bother with you. Do you understand?"
"Sen- Ziyi, what the hell are you talking about?" Andrea asked, concerned.
"Do you understand?" Ziyi repeated, sterner.
"Thirty. Don't run or scream," Andrea repeated.
"…Whatever happens, don't run or scream," Ziyi nodded as she embraced Andrea, holding her tightly. "…I'm sorry for all the stuff I said. I didn't mean any of it, I swear," she confessed. She let go. "Start counting."
Andrea mentally counted down as she saw Ziyi turn away. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw Ziyi approach the back door. As she opened her mouth to scream, Ziyi turned around and put her finger to her lips. Andrea could only shove her knuckles into her mouth as the senator opened the door and a pair of claws snatched her from the doorway.
Johnny slammed her against the wall with one arm as he extended the claws from the other. The yellow eyes bore down at her as a rumbling growl emanated from behind his teeth. Ziyi already resigned herself to whatever he had in store for her.
"…How do I get home?" Johnny asked.
Ziyi peeked up. She had seen Johnny rage and taunt and frenzy, but when he was calm, that really shook her to the core. As impossible as it could be to place human qualities on the lizard, he never looked like more of a predator than when he looked like he was just… thinking and processing. And after all that thinking and processing, Johnny had come to a conclusion. He had to ask for help.
"…To the east, across the Dam," Ziyi replied. Johnny stared at her. "…Towards the sunrise and across this… giant flat rock that blocks the river," she amended, translating from human to reptilian, she figured.
"Any humans I need to worry about?" Johnny asked.
Ziyi thought back to the reports that blared through Andrea's walkie-talkie before it had gone silent. "…Probably," she admitted. "You're… here at a bit of a bad time."
"My time has been awful since I got here. So long, Weepy. I won't miss you," Johnny snorted as he released the woman from his clutches. Ziyi watched as he turned away, strolling down the dusty road. She felt a hand grab her arm and drag her inside. Andrea slammed the door behind her as she pinned Ziyi to the wall. "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" she screamed at her, concern the foremost thing in her mind.
"What did I say about screaming?" Ziyi hissed as she clasped her hand over Andrea's mouth. Pulling her hand down, Ziyi took a breath as she tried to figure out how to explain Johnny Guitar to a member of the California Intelligence Bureau. "…His name is Johnny Guitar," she began.
"…That thing has a name?" Andrea whispered in disbelief.
"He was given it by Ver- an old friend of mine gave it to him," Ziyi swallowed, regaining her composure.
"…I heard reports that the Enclave used to experiment with deathclaws. He's one of them?" Andrea asked.
"…My friend said that he once mentioned something about "Hubology" and breaking out of a lab built in a garage," Ziyi continued.
Andrea pulled her hands up to her face and slowly pulled them down. If her old man heard of such a story, she'd never hear the end of it given how frequently he welched about signing up to the cult as a joke during his enlistment. This act in and of itself was probably enough to get the group branded a terrorist threat, and more than a few folk in California would be chomping at the bit for the opportunity.
"…You're talking like you personally know him," Andrea realized. "…You… know him…"
Ziyi nodded.
"And he's… friendly to you?" Andrea continued.
Ziyi couldn't stop herself. She burst out laughing, the hysterics overwhelming her. Beyond sarcasm, the whole notion of Johnny being "friendly" to anything was even more absurd than that of a talking animal. Johnny picked up on the noise, wondered what had gotten into Weepy anyway, and was promptly and thoroughly distracted.
"GET SOME!"
The crazed wasteland martial artist immediately leaped onto the living bio-weapon, his arms snaking their way around the lizard's neck and putting Johnny in a chokehold. As the deathclaw sputtered and tried to buck off the unwanted passenger, Lionel was in a state of ecstasy. He wasn't just going to beat a deathclaw to death, or even a talking deathclaw to death. He was going to beat an unkillable and magical talking deathclaw to death. This was going to be better than sex.
As Lionel wrapped his legs around Johnny's left arm, bracing his body against the lizard and rendering himself unable to strike against the fighter without wounding itself, Johnny was forced to try and ram the human from his body. Turning back to the gas station, Johnny charged.
Now, as hardened as the structure was, years of neglect and dilapidation had weakened the walls. So it only took three impacts for Johnny to burst through the building, terrorizing the two female humans hiding within as they scrambled to get out of the way while Johnny smashed his way across the building and out the other end. Lionel, to his credit, was extremely tenacious by his way of holding onto the lizard's neck and arm for dear life.
Smashing his way outside, Johnny felt the pressure around his arm lessen as the body around his neck began to go limp. Johnny grabbed the human by his legs and pried him off of his body. Then he threw him as hard as he could above him, Lionel smashing against the canopy above Johnny before falling back to the ground, his drop intercepted by the deathclaw's tail smacking him against a thankfully inert gas pump. As Lionel staggered to get back to his feet, Johnny prepared to maul the fighter to within an inch of his life. Strike that, miles past it!
A bolt of plasma careened past Johnny's head, striking the canopy above him and blasting a hole through it. Looking out, he saw two humans. One was old and weathered, his white hair blowing in the breeze as he aimed a gun at him. The second was armored, electricity dancing across its frame as the plasma weapon in its hands smoldered, waiting to take another shot.
The old man looked cautiously at his partner as the armored human lowered the plasma caster, using his free hand to take off the helmet. Johnny didn't recognize him immediately as it had been years. But then the human fished out a pair of glasses, and suddenly he realized who he was.
"Not-Food," Johnny proclaimed.
"Johnny," Arcade replied, non-plussed. "Long time no see. Ulysses, get Lionel and make sure he'll be OK. And Johnny, as much as I think you are fascinating, if you kill anyone else without my permission the next plasma blast will hit your center mass. You're already in deep enough shit with that Thorn business."
The two women cautiously exited the destroyed wall. "Ziyi, you're OK," Arcade allowed himself to smile. "At least we have one less thing to worry about."
Ulysses dragged the battered and rambling Lionel away from the deathclaw, every now and then trying to take a swing at the reptile in a hazy stupor. Andrea, not taking her eyes off the lizard, motioned around the creature as she rushed to join the former Enclave member-turned-politician wearing Enclave armor, the much safer bet. Ziyi just strolled past Johnny, paying him little unnecessary heed.
"What's this all about, Not-Food," Johnny rumbled. "I just wanted to leave."
"Well, you can't," Arcade admitted. "We've lost control of the Mojave borders. The Sierra Madre has practically been taken over, so if you go east, you'll probably be killed."
"Let them try," Johnny hissed as he turned away.
"Not to mention that the only people in the Mojave who don't want you dead are right here," Arcade continued. "Anyone else who sees you is going to take a shot at you. Even if you live, odds are you'll wind up right back at the Thorn."
Johnny turned and growled at Arcade but didn't retort. "…Therefore," Arcade began as he took a gulp, "under the authority vested in me as a member of the Vegas City Council, I hereby offer one… Johnny Guitar," Arcade had to work through the taste of using that as Johnny's official name, "a deputized appointment within the Judicial Marshals under the Emergency Powers Act No. 3482, until the manner of the immediate crisis is resolved."
Ziyi, Andrea, and Ulysses all turned to Arcade and stared at him. Johnny took a claw and tried to dig something out of his teeth. "…What's that supposed to mean?"
Arcade was only just ready for this question. "…If you want to go home, Johnny, you have to help us save New Vegas."