Chapter 12: Bonfire Chat

Larain dragged his duster up over his shoulders, its familiar weight comforting him as Melody let out a sigh. "I'm no seamstress, but I think I got most of the damage. Besides, show me something without a patch and I'll show you something that never had its mettle tested," she joked.

"Thank you," Larain nodded. "Both of you," he continued as he looked at Joseph as he read.

Joseph didn't look up, not that he ever needed to. "Melody, do you have the time?"

"It's about a quarter to seven. I don't know about you, but I could go for a meal."

Joseph set down his book and turned to Larain. "You are welcome to join us."

Larain thought about declining, figuring that mealtime would be the best time to take his stock of his situation and figure out what and where to go from here. Then again, he was hungry, the slices of cornbread only managing to stall his hunger. It didn't make sense to turn down a free meal. Even if it was army rations, it was better than being the ration.

"Thank you," Larain nodded. "I guess it would do me some good to get some air.

"Agreed," Joseph exclaimed as he marked his page. "Although we could always eat here. I just need some ingredients for some Mojave Jumbalaya. Ever tried it?"

"Never even heard of it," Larain admitted. "But I could eat anything right now."

"I believe I can make do with some of the local ingredients, whatever they might be," Joseph smiled, confidently.

"You're going to go out by yourself again?" Melody asked, exasperated.

"Of course not," Joseph said. "But you two aren't in trouble with the Commissioner."

"No, sorry, not leaving the camp," Melody shook her head. "I'm fine with rations."

Larain looked out into the dark horizon, his mind's eye trying to figure out where a pair of orange eyes could hide amongst the setting. "… I'd rather stay here, if it is all the same to you two," he stated, quickly.

Joseph reached for his cane. "Your loss. Perhaps later. Shall we join the others?" Joseph asked as he reached out his hand.

Melody grasped his arm. "Going out to eat, then? How very romantic," she giggled.

"Uh…" Larain felt even more like an intruder than he did before. "Should I give you guys some privacy?"

"Please, we'll be eating with friends," Joseph smiled. "Come with us, we'll keep you safe," he chuckled.

"YOU SLUT!" A scream rang out, followed by the crack of a slap. The onlookers looked on in awe as the documentarian fell on his rear, cheek stinging as he looked up at his attacker. Her shoulders heaved up and down as tears streaked to her chin. "I…TRUSTED YOU!" Andrea shrieked.

She put her pinkie knuckle in her mouth as she paced, trying to hold herself together as the crowd gathered around the whole sordid affair. Tim looked around, trying to find the words buried beneath his confusion. "I don't understand…" he began.

"Why… is she still there?" Andrea asked through gritted teeth. "You told me she was gone since Shi-Frisco! You told me that before… before…" she choked up, burying her face in her hands.

"WHAT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T?!" she pleaded. "WHY?! After everything we've been through, you just took my heart and… KILLED IT! I thought that night in Fairmont meant something to us?! It meant everything to me! And all this time you were…"

As Tim tried to crawl away, Andrea began to loom over him, preparing to do who knew what to Tim for incidences that never happened. Before anything could transpire further, an arm snaked its way under Andrea's shoulder as the young starlet was lifted off the ground. Another woman had finally intervened in the fracas and, despite not seeming significantly larger than the actress, had easily restrained the other woman as she struggled and swore. An arm wrapped itself around her neck, and eventually Andrea accepted the inevitable and quit struggling.

"I think you need to separate, Miss Heilong," Lt. Baxter said as she pulled away the other woman, who nonetheless continued to glare daggers at her "heartbreaker" as soldiers began surrounding the documentarian. "…What the hell did you do to her?" one 32nd soldier asked.

Tim looked up to his unwanted audience. "…I can explain."

"You just got my company's favorite pinup girl to want you dead," a 1st Recon exclaimed.

"You see, the thing is…" Tim tried to get out.

"Hot damn!" another laughed. "You had ass that fine and you still had another girl lined up? What's she like?"

"What?" Tim balked.

"I mean, how can we blame you?" another soldier began to continue. "These holostar types look so high maintenance I can't really hold you against it. I mean behind every pretty face in Shi-Frisco is a guy tired of her shit, am I right?"

Tim was about to defend Andrea's honor when suddenly the realization hit him. About the realities of phase two and what Andrea had given him. These soldiers now realized that Tim Frost, perpetual bachelor once one disregarded his first marriage, had a starlet wrapped around his finger which evidently wasn't enough to satiate his appetites. Scamp that he evidently was, Andrea had just revealed a little bit of Tim Frost's reputation back west that all those present, Mr. Frost included, had not been aware of.

"…I mean," Frost began to say. "I didn't mean to hurt her, but… I just needed a little space. You guys know what I mean?" he shrugged.

A series of wolf whistles and backslaps broke out with Mr. Frost at the center. At first Frost was nervous about the soldiers asking him to elaborate on his relationship with Andrea Heilong, but much to his surprise (and secretly relief) the troops were eager to impress him with their own stories. All of a sudden, Tim Frost had found himself accepted by the men on the ground.

Some distance away, Lt. Baxter finally dropped Andrea Heilong near the outskirts of the camp. "Nearest retrieval squad should be arriving sometime tomorrow," Baxter explained as she watched Andrea dust herself off.

"Ah, good to know. I think a good chunk of the Followers have been talking about sending a detachment along with you. Not bad for gratuity, huh?" Andrea chuckled. "I'd love to come along, but… I really don't want to have to deal with the east."

Lt. Baxter snorted. "Pampered little starlet."

"That's me," Andrea beamed. "As a token of my appreciation for helping along with that little stunt, I'm down for an autograph. Where would you like me to siAAAH!" she yelped as a strong fist grabbed the hair atop her scalp and bent her neck backwards to stare Lt. Baxter in the eyes. Kim looked at her prisoner with a pitiless gaze as her lips upturned into what could generously be considered a smirk.

"You may have the rest of them fooled, but I can read enough between the lines. You weren't here of your own volition out of some self-righteous publicity stunt for the locals. You're CIB, aren't you?"

Andrea's eyes widened as her lips suddenly snapped shut, despite the pain. Seriously, how shit was her security as an intelligence asset? "What gave me away?"

"My little secret, I guess," Baxter whispered. "And I'm the one asking questions. Why are you here?"

Andrea glared back at her captor. "…On whose authority am I relinquishing that information?"

"Why don't we be generous and say Gorobets?" Baxter half-taunted. "Out with it! What is a pretty little spook like you doing so far east of California?"

"…I'm not here to interfere with your mission," Andrea stated, bluntly.

"That's a first," Baxter muttered.

"I am not here because of your little camping trip, Kim," Andrea sneered. "This operation has been years in the making! I am not the only asset in the Unclaimed Wastes, you have to realize that by now!"

"I'd be surprised if you were. Not to mention disappointed," Lt. Baxter replied. "Why, though?"

"You think they'd tell me the bigger picture?" Andrea mocked the taller woman.

"I think you're pretty enough to pull off the dumb act. Loosen the top few buttons of your shirt and laugh at a few unfunny jokes and you probably have your handler eating out of the palm of your hand," Lt. Baxter assessed.

"I am so grateful you didn't go where I thought you were going to," Andrea muttered. "…Before I tell you, can I ask if you've been chatting with your aunt recently?"

"I really don't see why that would be any of your concern," Baxter gritted. "If anything, you probably know more about her than me, spook. Care to share?"

"…Fine," Andrea relented. "The operation taking place is called Constrictor."

Baxter thought about it for a moment before letting a chuckle escape her. "For covert ops, that's a rather on the nose title."

"Killing with kindness," Andrea continued. "By sponsoring projects in the Unclaimed Wastes, it will find itself stabilized. By finding itself stabilized, these growing communities will see the NCR as a generous ally. That generosity will encourage cooperation with Californian interests…"

"Rendering said communities dependent on NCR support to retain their stability. Creating a bunch of desert colonies in all but name," Baxter translated for herself. "Philanthropy with strings attached."

"If you should be so cynical," Andrea scoffed. "It's a new century. Don't you think it's time we stop shooting one another over bottlecaps, give civilization another try?" she smirked.

"And how has New Vegas been assisting these operations?" Baxter asked.

Andrea's smile faltered. "…Well, aren't you just so fucking clever?"

"I figured as much. These communities will be beholden to California alone. After failing for years to take Vegas by force, you're going to treat it like a stubborn tenant and buy out all the property surrounding it. Hence the name Operation: Constrictor."

"Bravo," Andrea rolled her eyes. "Do you want a shiny gold star or a pat on the ass?"

"A little more honesty and a little less lip would go a long way with me, girl," Baxter growled. "What exactly is stopping me from reporting your little mission to my technical superior?"

"What are you doing?" Andrea gasped. "We're on the same side! You would sabotage your own government for your own benefit? You're a soldier, not a politician!"

"I'm just a girl who believes sincerity is vital to a relationship. Doesn't matter if it's the partner you're screwing for the evening or a neighboring nation you're supposed to be allied with. I think the Commissioner will be very interested in knowing what the NCR is up to. Or perhaps I should report directly to the Governor?" At this point, Andrea could have sworn she could feel Kim's heartbeat start to speed up.

"What you're doing," Andrea gritted. "If this gets out, it could lead to a disaster back home. It could break the alliance! Is that what you want?"

"…Maybe not," Kim answered, coyly. "…Tell you what, I will shut up, but in exchange, I want you to do me a favor…"

Captain Wallace watched with amusement as the crowd of the enlisted began congregating around the so-called documentarian. It had been an amusing demonstration, but the soldiers didn't quite realize that the wool had been pulled over their eyes. That little demonstration was staged, and Ethan Wallace was enough of a social butterfly to put the pieces together.

Still, he had to give the little punk credit, he was persistent. Milligan was enough of a team player to go along with humoring the guy, and Tandi was as hospitable as expected, he thought with a grin. He usually had some free evenings, and considering he was on the ass-end of the wasteland, didn't think of anything better he could be doing. His staff could arrange an appointment for him later, he had other things to worry about at the moment. Like making the acquaintance of a fellow socialite in Rosa Perez. He didn't know much about her and hadn't had the opportunity to remedy that, so he was looking forward to amending that whenever possible.

A noxious odor wafted into his nostrils. He winced at the smell, fighting off the urge to cover his nose. "Hey, jackass, either keep to yourself or put out the shitstick," he complained.

Captain Rathmore responded by taking a longer drag. "Now, Captain, I'm entitled to my celebration."

Wallace looked over the ghoul with scantly-hidden contempt. "Shouldn't you be antagonizing your own unit, Captain?"

Rathmore barked out a chuckle. "My boys acquitted themselves quite well yesterday. A pity the same can't be said of everyone else," he stated as his eyes narrowed towards Wallace.

Wallace scoffed at the insinuation. "The operation was already stacked with personnel. I'm not tripping over everyone else to participate in a mission that was already locked down."

"Oh no," Rathmore shook his head. "I'm not wondering why yours didn't volunteer to actually contribute for once. I really don't expect much at all from a glorified parade unit."

Wallace ripped the cigar from Rathmore's rotted lips and crushed it in his hand, his glove protecting him from the embers. "Well, as the saying goes "age before beauty," wouldn't you say? Wouldn't want to deprive your unit of a mission that didn't consist of skewering children or burning civilians alive."

Rathmore's lip began to curl. "The only thing I resent is the fact that I have to share rank with a spoiled punk kid like you."

"Well, then, why don't you apply for a promotion?" Wallace asked, rhetorically. "Oh, that's right, however could I forget?" he taunted. "Wouldn't want a corpse to install policy, would we?"

Captain Rathmore let out a cackle. "Nice one, butterbars, I didn't think you had a good one in you. Hey, how about this one?" With that, Rathmore careened his skull into Wallace's forehead. Wallace, half expecting another fight anyway, landed a fist under Rathmore's jaw. The jovial meeting by the campfire was interrupted by the sight of two of the commanding officers, once again, duking it out like rabid dogs.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" the troops called out as officers arrived to either break up the melee or drive off the crowd. Tim Frost, thankful for the reprieve from the stories, took the opportunity to take out his camera and document the scuffle. It promised to be an enlightening conversation for later, in any event.

The fight came to a draw as shots rang out in the air. The two combatants were pulled apart as Colonel Gorobets arrived on the scene, smoking rifle hanging by his side. For the first time to many of the enlisted, the famously cool and collected CO was screaming, publicly dressing down both of his immediate subordinates as they picked themselves up and stood at attention. Normally, military policy would encourage a private discussion with both officers with summery disciplinary actions taking place afterward. However, with the constant tensions between the units continuously strained, and with the two officers doing nothing but stoking them, Gorobets was forced to intervene directly.

"Captain Rathmore!" Gorobets spat, "For the immediate future, you are on perimeter duty! Captain Wallace! Scavenging! Keep ten yards apart at all times!"

What most in attendance had realized was what exactly Gorobets had done. If he couldn't deescalate the situation between the two personally, he was going to humble both his subordinates equally. Captain Wallace despised wilderness exercises, and Rathmore had frequently made his opinions of the "in-the-rear echelon" duties very known.

The dejected officers were let go. As much as most of his superiors would have threatened demotion, Gorobets didn't believe he was in such a privileged position. His chosen officers were specifically selected for their experience and capabilities. Going forward, he could only hope they'd pull their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that and act like an army that attempted to be functional.

Larain kept behind the couple as Melody escorted her husband to the perimeter of the camp. Try as he might, Larain's mind was a paranoid wreck. His eyes kept scanning the evening horizons, looking for the faintest hint of two horns or a pair of glowing orange eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was head out on his own from this place.

Which brought him to the other half of his current dilemma; this place. The plan had been for Larain to keep an eye on the force as it moved out, reconnecting with his subsection of the gang while continuing to shadow the invaders as it trespassed onto McGrath Clan turf. Thanks to that literal monster, he now found himself in the middle of the camp of those very same invaders. His instincts told him to keep natural, form up a story that would allow him to keep with the group while waiting for an attempt to bail and save himself. He pondered just telling them about the talking deathclaw, and then he pondered whether or not the place where those other prisoners were being sent also had padded cells.

"Ah, Commissioner Boone, how are you this evening?" Joseph called out before Melody could say a word.

"Where are you going, now?" the greying-haired brown woman asked as the three came to a stop in front of her. Larain looked her over. The Commissioner of the Judicial Marshals was probably the second least popular Nevadan amongst the McGrath Clan, behind only the Governor himself. She, or more accurately the position she represented, was antithetical to their lives' philosophy. An enforcer of rules never agreed to, subjugating those who wanted to be free to laws passed without consent of the governed. That being said, he can't say that he expected the arbiter of tyranny to have had such a fine ass.

"I hope you aren't planning on going far, you two," Natalie began to say. She peered behind the couple to their guest. "…Three?"

"Oh, how thoughtless of me, I can't believe I've overlooked this. Commissioner, this is Larain…"

"The guy you found along with Ms. Heilong. Two extra mouths to feed," Natalie stated, bluntly. "At least one of them will have the courtesy of leaving in the morning. So, Larain, what brings you to us, apart from having saved your ass, and how long before you go?"

Larain had been going over this story all throughout his stay with the Young family. "…I'm a prospector, or rather, was. My guys got attacked by bandits, killed them and I managed to survive."

"Sorry to hear that," Natalie said, her face neutral.

She doesn't believe a word I'm saying, Larain thought to himself.

Nope, Joseph concurred to himself.

Natalie continued to stare down the newcomer. "…I take it the quartermaster was feeling particularly generous, today," she said as she eyed the two pistols that hung cavalry-style around Larain's waist. "Not sure how I feel about arming someone I don't know."

"Surplus weaponry," Larain said. "Joseph asked for my preference and covered the cost for me."

"Did he, now?" Natalie turned to, futilely, stare down Joseph.

"Now don't be like that!" Melody interrupted. "Going outside unarmed is a death sentence! And that's coming from someone like me! We gave him the means to protect himself, and we're vouching for his character, so we will take full responsibility for the newcomer."

Natalie turned, once again, to Larain. "…Consider yourself lucky. You got the two most popular civvies watching your back. I suggest you take it to heart and not blow it." Natalie paused. "…You wouldn't happen to be a local, would you?"

"And what if I am?" Larain replied.

"With your group currently disposed of, I'm guessing it isn't a stretch to say you are currently out of a job?" Natalie continued.

Larain picked up where she was going. "You want to hire me?"

"We have enough guns, but a guide would do wonders for our mission time. Most of my marshals haven't been this far east on the regular, so having a local navigating the desert should, in theory, save us so much time and energy."

Larain thought for a moment. "…How long can I think it over?"

"If it isn't to your liking, we can just part ways now and leave you to-" Natalie began.

"I'm in!" Larain announced, suddenly and abruptly. "I'm… uh… I accept," he nodded, parting through the couple and extending his hand.

Natalie looked down at his offer, turned his palm to face upward, and dropped three bottle caps into his now waiting palm. "What…" Larain attempted to start.

"Your initial payment for the week," Natalie explained.

"…Three caps a week?" Larain balked in astonishment. "That's practically slave labor!"

"I consider the weapons the Youngs purchased you to be your initial payment for the month. I haven't quite decided if you are worth keeping around, so I'll save a final decision for you until then," Natalie stated.

"So what do I have to do to get paid a living wage, then?" Larain scoffed.

"Try being honest with me, then we'll go from there," Natalie said, locking eyes with Larain. "I won't pry into your personal life, but I will not tolerate any action that jeopardizes this mission. If you don't like aluminum, we could always pay you in lead."

Larain stared back at the Commissioner. Neither faltered their gaze. Natalie just wanted to beat whatever information Larain was holding back out of him, consequences be damned. Larain imagined the mess he'd get into taking a hostage, rejecting the Young's gratuity and leaving him vulnerable to the gun-totting mob in the camp and the psychotic reptile waiting outside. He was trapped, and they both knew it.

"…Looking forward to working with you," Larain said, in the most pointed neutral tone he could muster.

"Thank you!" Natalie suddenly beamed as she walked past the three. "From what I understand, Rosa will probably be delighted you decided to stick around. I'd be so grateful if you convinced her to behave yourself, I'd probably double your rate!"

"Six caps. Lovely," Larain muttered as he watched the woman walk away to chat with two of her subordinates. Despite being his adversary, Larain couldn't quite muster himself to hate the woman. He'd gotten so much less grief than he had initially expected, for the moment at least, and for someone in her middle years was surprisingly easy on the eyes.

"She's married," Joseph said aloud.

"I wasn't-" Larain turned around to see Joseph staring ahead while his wife betrayed only the slightest smirk.

"…Can we just get our meals and be done with it," Larain sighed.

As the three approached a bonfire on the outskirts of the camp, four figures sat around, working over their canned food as they passed around the opener.

"So, how long do we eat this shit until we all start looking appetizing to one another?" Tobey joked as he passed it to Carla. As his sister went to work, Rosa continued her conversation with Jimmy.

"It wasn't anything serious, just a dumb fling, nothing to worry about," Rosa said, dismissively.

"So, you're telling me this isn't another Duke situation," Jimmy muttered.

Rosa bristled. "I'm smarter, now. I'm not the dumb kid who came bawling into your arms in your club after hours. This isn't a big deal, I don't feel anything for the dumb son of a bitch."

"Huh? Last night excepted, of course," Jimmy said, derisively.

"Desert hypothermia is a thing," Rosa insisted. "Unless you wanted all our work to go to waste. I didn't see you scrounging up another blanket or anything."

"Oh, so it's my fault?" Jimmy asked.

"It isn't mine either. I am done with him, period. If I never see him again, it will be too soon."

"Excuse me, is there a spare seat for our guest?" Joseph interrupted. The twins looked up to acknowledge the three. Rosa focused on her beans, refusing to do so. Jimmy snarled at the newcomer. "Do we need to?"

As much as Larain didn't want to antagonize his hosts, he figured if this blonde asshole in the suit somehow caught a bullet in his throat, well, worse things happened to better people.

The female marshal scooted over, indicating a spot next to her. Graciously, Larain accepted as the couple took their spots, mercifully separating him from Jimmy Bishop.

"I'm Carla," the marshal introduced herself. "The ugly guy next to me is my brother, Tobey," she continued as she received a sharp elbow in her shoulder, to which she retaliated. Joseph began chatting with Melody about her day. Rosa didn't even look up, eating her mediocre supper with a ravenous focus. Jimmy continued to glare at Larain.

"You have a meal picked?" Carla asked. Larain pulled out a can. "Chicken noodle, whatever that was," Larain said. "No idea, I've never eaten an exotic bird, I hear it tastes like crow," Carla concurred as she placed it near the fire. "Give it a few minutes unless you don't mind eating it cold."

"Thanks," Larain said as he placed it near the fire. He took a look at the woman sitting next to him. "You look young for a marshal."

"Kind of had a leg up on other recruits," Carla admitted.

"Nepotism," Rosa muttered.

"Like you're one to talk!" Carla shot back.

Rosa shot her a dirty look. "Why don't you throw yourself on the fire so we can all find out what bacon tastes like?"

Carla was about to reply when Tobey immediately got between them. "You guys can piss and moan whenever you want. It's the first time I get to sit down and have a meal, so why don't we focus on that for the time being, please? For me?" he begged.

The meal proceeded without incident. As the fire continued to burn, two orange eyes gazed upon it from the outskirts of the camp. So many humies, and so many weapons that stung and hurt and bled. Still, it presented upon the watcher a certain… what was that humie term? Pozzel, that was it! A pozzel to solve! Content, Sawney satisfied himself by removing a souvenir from the remains of the sentry that had been caught unawares. A red cap was placed in the crude satchel that dangled off of Sawney's neck. Quietly, the black figure disappeared into the night, leaving the body behind to be discovered in the morning.