Chapter 77: Unholy Reunions

The scattered fires dotted the landscape. Around each, the acolytes and priests loaded their weapons and checked their inventory. Nemesio made his patrol throughout the camp, offering words of encouragement and praise for his cadres of sanctified killers. Satisfied, he made his return to the center of the camp, where the Revelation sat hunched over a radscorpion, the Fox rested as he surveyed his accomplices, and the newcomer inspected his carbine.

"And a blessed evening to you all," Nemesio announced genially as he took his seat between the Revelation and Cade. "So, my new disciple, how do you enjoy our company?"

"I don't," Cade replied, not looking up as he counted out a magazine.

"Leave him to his brooding," Vulpes dismissed the sniper. "He's a pragmatist a heart."

"Dafaque iza pwaggmattis?" Sawney asked as the ambulatory side of his face was willed with giant arachnid meat.

"It means I don't deepthroat a plasma grenade because I'm stupid enough to eat it," Cade explained as he pulled out his trench spike to inspect some knicks and dents on his gun barrel.

"…Ewe izzna pwaggmattis. Ewezn azzoal," Sawney grumbled as he kept picking away at his meal.

"So I've heard," Cade concurred.

"Just so you know," Nemesio continued in his friendly manner of speaking, "in our services, bringing the final rest upon others is just another form of prayer. In this regard, I know you are one of particular devotion."

"Spare me," Cade sniffed. "I tried the whole cult thing when I was younger. They had better food."

Nemesio laughed mirthlessly. "Your attempts to see yourself as above us betray you. You are among kindred spirits here."

"You have a habit of bringing together crews of deranged murderers, don't you, Bishop?" Vulpes shot out.

"My dear lost lamb, where does this hostility come from?" Nemesio turned his attention to Vulpes.

"Last we met, we didn't part on the best of terms, did we not?" Vulpes asked.

"…Indeed, I suppose there is truth in that," Nemesio confessed.

Rounds shot up dirt around the young acolyte as they advanced under fire. The militia had spotted their approach from the south and had radioed that city to intercept them. Even now, the local forces and mercenaries that made up the elite of New Vegas rallied against them with their pitiful and meaningless defense.

Leading up a chant with his brothers, Nemesio and his team awaited Jorge's orders to fire another volley at the entrenched defenders. Ariel and her two bodyguards darted from line to line, trading fire with the acolytes as they reconnected with a figure in a black cowboy hat, who seemed to be the leader of this motley band of disbelievers.

A rocket shot through the air and into one of the mounds sheltering the defenders. Two of the mercenaries and one of the rookie marshals were killed instantly, followed by another staggering over the top only to be cut down by Jorge's squad.

"FIGHT, MY BROTHERS!" Padre Hex screamed as he cast aside his missile launcher, opting instead for his war clubs. Despite their antiquated design, they had been modeled after the Aztec Macuahuitl, in reverence for the sacred commitment to death that the Padre shared with his ancestors. He charged forward, prompting the defenders' commanders to scatter.

One of them, wearing a ubiquitous red cap, turned to fire his anti-material rifle toward the Padre. He got off one shot that sent one of the war clubs flying from the Padre's hands. He did not get a second chance, as the Padre had closed too much distance between them that the sharpshooter was forced to relocate. Unfortunately for him, the Padre was faster.

Above the din of gunfire and commands, somehow everyone heard the snap. The sharpshooter screamed out in pain as his leg buckled backward upon the Padre connecting his knee with his mentee's shin. Three other commanders, consisting of Ariel, a dark-skinned and dreadlocked warrior, and a woman who dove towards the downed sharpshooter with particular and distinct fervor, all crowded around him as they fired upon the Padre, driving the stunted super mutant back. Another figure, however, beset itself upon the high priest.

The Governor, machete in hand and fury in his eyes, struck out against Padre Hex with an intensity that caught even the battle-tested and savage Priest of Death off guard. Scarcely deflecting the blows, he motioned for his immediate bodyguards to assist him in bringing this unruly nonbeliever to heel. The mercenary guards of Ariel Ximenez, however, shot down any who immediately tried to join the fray.

"Nemesio, send for the Fox," Jorge ordered as he tried to rally his acolytes. Nemesio made his retreat as the Governor struck into the arm of the Padre, staggering the bigger fighter as the defenders began to counterattack. Upon arriving back at the rally point, all he could find was the body of Brother Diego, his throat cut, and his acolyte the Fox nowhere to be seen. Soon enough the bulk of the machine defenders joined the battle, their missile volleys shattering the Iglesia and scattering its members as Padre Hex was brought down by the Governor. The survivors who escaped would splinter and fight over one another for control of what remained of the gang, with the Padre-loyalist Minesterio winning out overall. The one thought that bound them all together was that judgment would strike down the one who betrayed them all.

"…How have you survived, dear Vulpes? That is something I've always wondered," Nemesio steepled his fingers as Cade began sharpening his hatchet.

"Is that a question you wish to ask me, truly?" Vulpes replied.

"I believe we both know the answer to that question," Nemesio seemed to smile behind his mask as he took another hit of whatever was wired to his face. "I ask not of the fate of Vulpes, but of you, my friend."

Vulpes stared into the fire as the embers floated toward the stars. Cade was using his spike as a flint to sharpen the blade of his hatchet, seemingly ignoring the conversation. Nemesio never broke eye contact. Sawney's head darted between the two of them. "…Wazafaque izzy taulkun baout?"

The coursers all stood lined against the hull, energy rifles at the ready. Their drop-off point was about five minutes out, disregarding variations of ingress, and they each had a task assigned. The door to the cockpit opened, and the co-pilot and team leader of the raid strolled out. The scarred man looked over his team.

"…I know I'm being a little redundant on the briefing, but I just want to remind all of you on the job," Kellogg began. "What we are looking for is a woman named Madame Zhang, she is being held in the central facility right in the middle of the villa, presumably under the most security. You've all been briefed on the nature of the machines that consist of the bulk of the defenses, and I must once again urge you all to take any volunteer security absolutely seriously. These people just drove off two empires, so we don't have a chance in a straight fight. Keep moving and don't stop. Fall behind and you will be left behind. That applies to everyone, even me. X6, you have the charges?"

"Affirmative," X6-88 nodded.

"Sixty seconds out," the pilot announced over the intercom.

"Well, machines, looks like our stop is coming up. Best of luck, everyone," Kellogg announced as he pulled out his pistol as the back of the hatch opened up. Soon enough, the modified vertibird offloaded its cargo onto the rooftops of the villa. Upon the hastily installed catwalks above the fog below, securitrons fired bullets, lasers, and rockets at the infiltrators.

"DO NOT LET THEM PIN YOU DOWN!" Kellogg screamed as he threw a pulse grenade at a machine as it closed on them. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the coursers and their cyborg ally closed in on the Sierra Madre as alarms rang out. Atop the hotel, on the roof of the tower, a bald woman with a sniper rifle lined up her sights on the advancing infiltrators. As one paused to exchange fire with a securitron, she took her shot. The courser fell from the rooftop into the mists. Kellogg swore as he rallied the rest of the coursers, ordering them to engage in stealth as made to breach the gate. In the mists below, V7-04 struggled to get back to his feet, his mind clouded as figures advanced on him from the fog. Before blacking out, he could hear the sound of a knife sinking into flesh as one of the figures was brought down by another.

V7-04 was awoken by the feeling of a sharp and painful blow against his face. As his senses returned, he realized that he was bound. From his immediate surroundings, it appeared that he was inside one of the villas. And standing above him was one of the figures that had been given the title by local sources as a "Ghost Person" albeit not in complete uniform. Holding his mask by his side, the figure paced around his new hostage.

"…Name and purpose, dissolute," the interrogator began.

"…V7-04," the synth replied, plainly.

The interrogator scratched his chin. "…Too short for a serial number. Is that supposed to be your name?"

"…V7-04," the synth repeated as a dull explosion could be heard in the distance. Aboard the vertibird, Kellogg oversaw the loading of a woman with enough tranquilizers inside her to cripple a whale as she was dragged into the aircraft while a rocket volley discouraged any attempts to remain in the area. So the team fled, with X6-88 having been captured by Mojave authorities and V7-04 being reported as missing and presumed dead.

The interrogator watched as the aircraft vanished over the horizon. "…Leaving behind their fallen to save themselves? Admirable," he muttered to himself. Turning back to his hostage, he knelt down and got a better look at him. Considering the shape of his jawline, the features of his nose, and with a little dye for his hair, he could almost pass for…

"Listen you, your allies may have given up on you, but I see some potential within you," Vulpes Inculta explained.

"…V7-04," the synth replied.

"Not anymore. Now you go by Vulpes," Vulpes grinned. "The Second. The world thinks I'm dead and no one would ever look for me around a prison, but if that ever gets compromised, that's when your new purpose will kick in. Tell me, apart from catching bullets, how familiar are you with the art of combat?"

"…Untie me and I will demonstrate," V7-04 replied.

Vulpes grinned. Good, he didn't want to waste any time on teaching his body double how to fight. This freed him up to focus on more important matters. Like education. Or, judging from his manner of dress and gear, re-educating this new figure to be a pliable mind and a reliable resource. Vulpes approached the generator and activated it, then attached the jumper cables. It would take some time, but that was something he had plenty of these days.

Vulpes and Nemesio continued their staredown with one another, even as Sawney got off the ground and began to stretch himself out, his bones cracking like plywood. Upon completing his stretches, he belched out some of the venomous gas he nearly ingested earlier. He then looked at the two as they continued to stare at one another.

"…Wazziz?" he asked himself.

"Leave them be, people have their own way of communicating with one another," Cade replied.

"Wazzn acksin yuz," Sawney snapped.

"Then stop asking stupid questions if you don't want answers," Cade offered.

Sawney shorted from his damaged nasal cavity as he began to growl. Cade picked himself off the ground, sticking his hatchet in the leather notch beside his belt and slinging his carbine on his shoulder. They began to circle one another, Sawney opening his jaw so his drool could puddle in front of him while Cade brought his rifle before him. "…So, I hear these people call you the Revelation. What, are you some kind of God to these people?"

Sawney smiled. These people worshiped him and in exchange they let him do whatever he wanted to do and kill whatever he wanted. So much better than Pappa, so much more reasonable. They probably would have let him eat all of them, but even Sawney recognized how useful they would be at keeping his brothers and sister from attacking him again. Here, with these people, he was protected, and safer than he ever was outside on his own. It was the best deal he ever had, as he cheerfully and gleefully explained to Cade, who mostly understood what was said in a rather generous sense.

"…Is that right?" Cade replied. "These people think you're a god?" Sawney nodded enthusiastically. "…Bullshit. I've met God. You're nothing compared to Him," Cade retorted. Sawney's lip began to curl.

"Let me explain what God is to you, seeing as your followers won't," Cade began. "God… doesn't give a damn about what goes on down here. After making us, we were left to our own devices. We exist to fend for ourselves. The strongest thrive, and it is the responsibility of the weak to adapt or face destruction," Cade explained. "Piety and worship are hollow concepts. Real prayer is the will to do what is necessary to survive. I have seen His chosen people brutalized and abandoned time and time again, and the ones he actually cares for are the ones who never depend on the mercy and charity of others. If God wants you to live, you have to take matters into your own hands. Because those who don't, without fail…"

Cade drifted off into his thoughts of his past life. All his years guarding that damn town, thrown out the window because they waited too long to wipe out those damn White Legs. He made several returns to New Canaan in the years since, ignoring the superstitious reputation the town had gathered from nearby tribals as cursed so he could scavenge the area at his leisure. Haunted, no. Abandoned by God, well, one only needed to take a look around to see if they could find Him.

The sniper then turned to Vulpes and Nemesio. Vulpes seemed to be amused by Nemesio's appraisal of him, and Nemesio, though his face was obstructed by a mask, his posture seemed to indicate that he couldn't be more relaxed in the presence of the man across from him. The Bishop then turned towards Cade. "A mighty fine sermon you have bestowed upon us, our new brother. I take it you were educated in matters of faith in your previous life?"

"The real lessons come through labor," Cade replied.

"I could not agree more," Nemesio laughed. "Faith takes many forms and is not confined to a church or scripture. Take Joshua Graham, a lifetime in the seminary, but his devotion was never more apparent than when he was guided by Caesar himself."

Cade scoffed at the priest. "He would not agree with your assessment any more than he would tolerate your existence."

"You seem so sure of his motives? Fascinating," Nemesio mused. "Personally, I believe that if our paths ever crossed, we'd find common cause in how we appraise the wasteland and how to solve its problems."

"Like that will ever happen," Cade mocked as he picked up his repair kit and took his leave of the fire.

"Anything is possible, my friend. Might I ask the nature of your certainty?" Nemesio asked.

Because I'm the one who killed Joshua Graham. You're just a sad imitation, Cade thought to himself. "…You ain't worth his time, or mine," he simply replied.

The Ministerio filtered throughout the city as they fired down the alleys and up at the catwalks. The villa guards rallied towards the casino as Deputy Chief Natalie Boone screamed orders over the intercom while taking shots the top of the hotel. Soon enough, most teams had been successfully pinned down, either by fire support from above or by the figures that walked within the mist. The Mojave had years since the raid on the Sierra Madre to make adjustments to the security force for its prison and had done so with gusto. And for the Ministerio, without as much as air support, they were slowly but surely being driven back.

Bishop Jorge and his deacon Nemesio both took refuge in a penthouse as shots and screams rang out around them. A stream of fire from above cut into the rust-colored mist, depriving the acolytes of cover and allowing the Deputy Chief to coordinate the mortars accompanying her atop the casino roof. Jorge turned to his deacon and asked for his advice.

"…The men all came here prepared to die, but to do so without liberating the Padre would be wasteful," Nemesio stated.

Jorge reluctantly nodded. "I'm afraid I must agree. To die is nothing to fear, but failing the Padre is a sin. Some things aren't worth dying for. Pride and someone who cannot be liberated are two such things."

An acolyte made his way to the entryway of the villa. Right as Jorge and Nemesio were about to greet him, a laser suddenly struck the acolyte in the back. Jorge and Nemesio took cover as the deacon immediately noted the particular emission and yield of the blast. It did not resemble an energy weapon in the sense they were familiar with, either from the damnable security machines of the Mojave nor the energy weapons fielded by the occasional raider or mercenary. Jorge and Nemesio looked to one another. The rescue was a suicide mission and a poor place for them to die, but revenge…

Vulpes the Second made his return to Vulpes Prime as the older gentleman helped himself to some rations he had lifted from an acolyte who would no longer need them. "Report?" he asked.

"The security forces are winning, with or without any intervention on our part," Vulpes 2 stated.

"Were you detected?" Vulpes 1 asked.

"No, sir," Vulpes 2 shook his head.

Vulpes 1 promptly threw down his meal as he rose, pulling out his knife. "Then let me see your weapon."

Vulpes Prime had spent months, years even, educating and re-educating and re-conditioning the mental state of his "apprentice" but every so often they would make a decision that Vulpes Prime did not sign off on or approve. While normally Prime would let things slide, with so many of his previous associates in such close proximity, any failure on his second's behalf would not be tolerated.

Soon enough, a battle rifle shot off a burst that forced the Vulpes' to flee, right as a priest with a flaming sword burst through the doorway to their hideout. "TO ME, NEMESIO!" Jorge screamed as they took off after the assailants.

Before too long, at the base of the villa, right between the town and a breach in the wall that overlooked the rest of the mesa, the Vulpes found themselves cornered by their pursuers. Jorge readied his flaming sword as Nemesio prepared his battle rifle, while on the opposite end the second Vulpes primed his energy rifle while the first drew out a baton and a pistol.

"…Vulpes," Jorge smiled as the recognition dawned on him. "It has been too long."

"I was hoping you would all die fighting against the damnable Mojave, but as usual fortune is fickle," Vulpes Prime growled. The second looked to his master as the rogue acolytes branched out as if to flank the foxes.

"…Forgiveness is far from unachievable, my prodigal brother," Jorge smiled.

"You just don't get it, do you? I used you and your little club," Vulpes Prime sneered. "Got my use out of it and fled. I've been free ever since I saw the last of you."

"…Finding freedom in a prison?" Jorge mused aloud, prompting a burst of laughter from Nemesio. Even Vulpes the Second couldn't help but betray a smile at the oxymoron. Vulpes prime just stared intensely. "The contradictions of life are one of the many things that give living value. Almost as much as the notion of it ending so suddenly. So violently," Jorge grinned as he readied his flaming sword. The stand-off continued, each side facing down the other, daring them to make the first move. Vulpes the Second went over how he could disarm the leading priest while avoiding the battle rifle of the other. Nemesio pondered whether his bishop wanted to take their lost lamb alive, and whatever to do with the second. Vulpes Prime began formulating a plan that involved killing his body double after this skirmish was over, grousing over having to start over once more somewhere else. Bishop Jorge wanted to ask Vulpes for his aid in breaching the casino, seeing as his experience with the area could be a boon to his mission and was ready to offer amnesty for all prior betrayals.

"OH, JUST FIGHT ALREADY!"

The four looked up to see a lizard, clad in a burlap cloak with a single undamaged horn peeking from under the hood, witnessing them from atop a nearby bungalow.

"I DON'T CARE WHO WINS, I JUST WANT TO EAT THE LOSERS!" Johnny screamed. Immediately after saying this, Johnny realized he had made two mistakes. The first was revealing his presence as a talking deathclaw to his soon-to-be afternoon meal. The second was that he had unwittingly brokered a truce between the competing factions, uniting them against a common threat.

"FUCK!" Johnny screamed as he immediately dove off the bungalow roof and onto his prey directly.

Of all the humans waiting for him, Jorge was the one to engage with the lizard directly, ducking and weaving through Johnny's wild swings as Nemesio and Vulpes the Second fired upon the beast. As the burlap cloak was pierced and scorched, Vulpes Prime kept back and immediately identified a potential escape route just over the wall overlooking the mesa. Grabbing Vulpes the Second, they peeled away as Nemesio's body was racked by the lizard's claws, with Jorge striking the lizard's flank as it howled in pain.

The foxes meanwhile began climbing the crumbling walls. While Vulpes the Second could scale the decaying architecture with ease, Vulpes prime lagged behind, his age catching up with him. Stumbling as a brick crumbled under his grip, Vulpes Prime dug his hand further into the broken mortar as Johnny began focusing down Bishop Jorge.

"Apprentice, assistance!" Vulpes Prime demanded as Vulpes the Second cleared the top of the wall. The synth looked back to see his captor and mentor hanging by a thread above the bloody melee below. The deathclaw had snatched up Bishop Jorge, knocking the sword from his grip as it opened its maw.

"…Of course, master," Vulpes the Second replied as he knelt down and reached out his hand.

"Thank you, my apprentice," Vulpes Prime grinned as he reached up to take the hand.

"Of course, master. Do you intend to kill me once I save you or merely after we escape?" Vulpes the Second asked.

Vulpes Prime looked shocked. "…Whatever do you mean?" he exclaimed as Johnny bit around Jorge's neck, ripping the head from its shoulders as he leaned back to swallow.

"I mean, that was my whole purpose, master. To protect you. And if that wasn't the case before, surely me having brought your enemies directly to your doorstep would earn me that fate," Vulpes the Second smiled.

"…That was no accident," Vulpes Prime growled.

"No. And neither is this, master," Vulpes Inculta grinned as he dropped the older man down the wall. The last thought that went through the mind of Vulpes Prime consisted of shock, rage, hurt… and pride. Johnny caught the body before it hit the ground, savaging the old man to death while Nemesio grabbed the sword of his fallen master and made his retreat into the mist. Throughout his agony, and despite the damage done to his face, Nemesio couldn't help but laugh.

"…Revelacion… Revelacion… que revelacion," he laughed and hacked as he was completely consumed by the mist. Vulpes Inculta, on the other hand, had completely vanished from the Sierra Madre, leaving Johnny Guitar to enjoy his spoils as the rest of the Ministerio made their retreat from the Sierra Madre and Arizona proper.

"…Glad to see you've done well for yourself," Nemesio bowed slightly before Vulpes.

"…And surprised to see you made it out alive," Vulpes acknowledged in kind.

A priest that had been guarding the perimeter made his way to the campfire of the leaders. "Father Nemesio, Divine Revelation, and Senor Inculta, our scouts have reported fire in the sky to our east!"

Nemesio seemed to light up from behind his mask. "Another portent of good fortune, brother! Revelation, do you know what this means?"

"Huh?" Sawney cocked his head to the side.

"It means war has returned to the world! Our opportunity to spread our message has returned!" Nemesio cheered as the rest of his acolytes took up the cry as well. Vulpes and Cade didn't share the festivities, only stared at one another.

"…Midwest Confederacy?" Cade asked.

"Midwest Confederacy," Vulpes nodded.

"Guess its about time those idiots on the Pacific coast fight something that outguns them," Cade scoffed.

"…And perhaps an opportunity to throw our swords in with the winning side," Vulpes grinned.

"Keep your causes," Cade replied. "They mean nothing to me. If they want to hire me, the money had better be good."

"Is that all this is about to you? Money?" Vulpes asked.

"You work for the RMX too, right?" Cade asked. "You want to tell me you don't care about your pay?"

"I care about the work," Vulpes smiled. "I just want to do something I'm good at, anything besides is just a bonus. What do I need money for when I can destabilize tribes and communities at my leisure? I'm just doing what I was made to do. Born, I mean," he hastily corrected.

"If you say so," Cade replied, unconvinced. Still, something about what Vulpes said resonated with the gunslinger. Right now, he was still fighting for his own sake, something that no amount of money could fill with meaning. Suddenly, he found himself asking himself a question that he probably hadn't in the longest time; what did he really want? Before long, the Minesterio made its move towards the east, towards the fire and iron, towards blood and ruination, and towards the culmination of the mission statement that had been written by Padre Hex so long ago.