Chapter 48: Dire Deception
She figured she was conscious again. Her mind was enveloped in a haze that suffocated her senses, the best respite Jet could give her. It was the only gift Griss gave her when he wasn't screaming at her about his food or grunting on top of her. She wondered if her family actually used the money to pay off their debt for good, because if they had only sunk even deeper, then what was the point of all of this.
She could make out voices outside. Normally Griss had a partner, one she never really knew the name of. She called him Gropy on account of it being his favorite thing to do to her. Never to his face, though. She wouldn't ever make that mistake again.
Griss and Gropy were screaming. The lab was probably the reason. Their "workshop" was an old, rusted trailer perched atop a basement that stank of fumes and shit. Here she was usually handcuffed to the stove, which had just enough reach for her to make it to the toilet or the cot. As awful as it was, after the first three months one would learn to get used to it.
She could make out the screaming more audibly. Griss and Gropy weren't screaming at each other. They were screaming at someone else. Something something bonds something something debt something something get the fuck out of here before we kill you something something pop pop pop POP!
She almost passed out when the boots climbed up the stairs. He was dragging Gropy by his neck via a cable he had wrapped around it. The man dropped Gropy on the floor as he gasped for air. "Where is it?"
"*hack* the bathroom, by the toilet," Gropy wheezed. The man who was wearing a black hat stepped around the slumped-over girl as he went to check on Griss's safe. "…What's the combination?" Mr. Black Hat asked.
"Hell if I know!" Gropy screamed hoarsely. "If it was so damn important you shouldn't have ventilated the owner!" His welching came to a stop when Black Hat drew his magnum. "…You there, girl," he said to her. "Combination?"
"…I…I don't… uh…" she mumbled as her headache picked up. She needed to ask Griss for another hit. Either that or let Gropy have his way when Griss was asleep. Her ears began ringing as Black Hat snarled at her. "Well, guess I need to pick the lock," Black Hat growled as he pulled out a crowbar.
"Ok, so we wasted Griss and you got your money," Gropy said as he gingerly removed the cable from his neck.
"Wrong on both counts," Black Hat sniffed as he searched for an angle. "I killed him and I don't have my money. You are not off the hook."
"It's just paper money, Cade. Worse than useless."
"Not money, bonds. Griss took on a loan and couldn't pay, so I'm taking back what Levi lent," Cade patiently explained as he shoved in the flat and began to pry.
"That don't make no sense," Gropy spat as he looked at her. "…You don't need me for nothing, do you?"
"If you aren't going to help, no," Cade grunted.
"So you don't mind if I take this here sweet young'un and be on my way, then?" Gropy asked as he ran his hand down her face.
"…I remember," she suddenly blurted out. "I know the combination!"
Cade ejected the crowbar. "Well, out with it!"
"Only on the condition that I don't have to go with him!" she continued. Gropy backhanded her. "Shut your mouth you sloppy cu-" The bullet tore into his head, the splatter covering her face as her heart threatened to erupt.
"Combination. Now," Cade repeated.
"…I lied, I don't know it," she confessed as Cade cycled another bullet into the chamber. "And neither did he. He kept the key under the bathmat."
Cade ripped the mat from the metal floor, taking the key and opening the safe. Unceremoniously, he began taking the bonds and placing them in a duffel bag without as much as a thank you.
"…May I please have the crowbar, Daddy," she asked.
Cade bristled. "Don't call me that," he snapped. She was confused. Griss had always made her call him daddy and other such titles. It was the only way she knew how to ask for things like an extra blanket or to delay a beating. She racked her brains for an alternative way to ask.
"…My name is Cade," Cade said. "Say "Cade, may I please borrow your crowbar."
"…Cade, may I please borrow your crowbar?" she asked.
Cade wordlessly gave the device to her and was unsurprised when the first thing she did was pry away the pipe she had been handcuffed to. What did catch him off guard was when she began beating into the hollow skull of Diedrich, screaming and cursing her voice hoarse. Cade let her continue as he cleaned out the safe, zipping the bag as he strolled past her, snatching the crowbar out of her weakened grasp.
"What now?" she asked.
"I take the bonds where they belong and get paid and shut Kenzie up about not contributing," Cade muttered.
"I meant me," she looked to him pitifully.
Cade shrugged and kept walking. "WAIT!" she called out as she grabbed his legs. "I can't stay here. I'll do anything if you'll take me," she purred as she rubbed his leg. Cade grabbed her by the wrist and forced her off. "Like you have anything I want," Cade scoffed. "Or anything anyone would."
"You can have me," she begged. "You can have… all of me. My body, my time, even my life, anything I can offer you I will happily give."
Cade thought long and hard. Perhaps if she behaved herself, remained loyal and dedicated, and learned a few things, she could be a valuable asset. An investment, but a promising one.
"Ground rules," Cade stated. "Number one, you get clean. Number two, when I'm not here you take care of yourself. And number three, never ever betray me. Are we clear, Ms…"?
She told him. For the first and possibly only time in her life, he laughed. "Seriously? That's a metaphor if I ever did hear one. How about we just call you Amy for short?"
Amy sat and shivered as Dr. Young examined her body. She didn't give away anything, but the look in her eyes told Amy enough. Conditions like hers weren't something she was too used to. Plasma burns usually killed the victim, and she had to try to figure out how to treat someone with marks going up and down her body, streaking scars along her once flawless skin.
"…So, on a scale of one to ten, one being least and ten being most, how would you rate your pain right now?" Dr. Young asked.
"Six," she gritted as she reached for the medicine bag.
"I'm sorry, but if we can't afford to not ration these things," Dr. Young looked at her apologetically.
"For what it's worth," the blind man brought up, "once you overcome the mental part of pain, the physical can get easier. Personal experience, you understand."
"Honey, I appreciate that you want to help, but please let all physical matters up to me, please," Melody replied sweetly as she shoed away her husband.
Joseph held up his hand as he retreated, passing by the concerned looking Jimmy as he kept respectfully looking away from Amy's condition. "…She gonna be ok?" the mobster asked as Joseph turned to him.
"That depends on how you define it," the preacher replied.
"Can you quit being a smart ass for once?" Jimmy snipped at him.
"It's the most honest answer I can give," Joseph replied, sternly. "Her physical condition is the least of her concerns. I can see her anguish has gone back years. It's a sensitive subject that demands a delicate hand, James."
"Care to elaborate?" Jimmy asked.
"Why not ask her yourself?" Joseph countered.
"Can't you tell me?" Jimmy retorted.
"If I talked about you behind your back without your consent, would you approve?" Joseph retaliated.
Jimmy glared at the blind preacher. "…Fine, you win."
"I wasn't aware that this was a competition," Joseph replied. "Just treat her the same way you'd treat any girl who came sobbing to your doorstep in the middle of the night. Make her feel safe, make her feel warm, listened to and valued. Out of all of us, I like your chances the best."
"Because I excel at talking to damaged girls," Jimmy sneered.
"Yes," Joseph replied without an ounce of sarcasm. "It's a fantastic quality that you are blessed to have. I'm rather envious of you in that regard."
"That's a sin, isn't it?" Jimmy grinned.
"Now's your turn to quit being a smart aleck," Joseph sighed as he walked away. As he did he passed by Tobey as he was listening intently on his helmet radio. The static was severe and he could not make out the transmission, but the frequency was unmistakable. There were only two Marshals who used it. Joseph could feel the worry overtaking him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding in understanding. Relieved, Tobey decided to take a walk on the boundary of the camp to fish for better reception.
Then he came upon Cass and the Federales. Like Jimmy, their concern was for the new woman, but not in as warm a sense. "She knows him," Cass growled. The Federales all nodded in agreement. "They're connected. I saw him when I was with her in the Res," Gael explained. "Said he was her pimp."
"And the good news keeps coming," Cass spat next to her. "So, she's the last person we know whose seen Rosa?"
"Guess it's a good thing those hombres got started on her," Javier snickered joylessly. "Maybe if we withhold our med-x she'll cooperate enough?"
"Or we beat it out of her," Toni muttered. "Rancid bitch."
Joseph cracked his cane against Toni's head. "Uncalled for," he reprimanded, sternly.
"Our only options are we leave her behind or take her with us as she digs into our supplies!" Toni protested. "I say we say our goodbyes and get done with it!"
"Cass is right, she's the last person who's seen Rosa," Joseph countered.
"And yet she has said nothing," Cass growled. "I don't know about you but I'm starting to side with the Mexicans. If she doesn't start talking, we may as well beat it out of her."
"You're competing with plasma wounds and a lifetime of trauma," Joseph stated. "Should you take that path, other than making the Shepherd sad, you'll have your work cut out for you."
"…Ok," Cass sat up. "So, why don't you go and be a good miracle man and get the information?"
"No, I will not pry into her brain," Joseph shook his head. "That's a violation I will not condone."
"And here I thought you cared about Rosa," Cass replied, sarcastically. "We're running short on time and patience. If you have a better plan, now's the time for it."
"…Understood," Joseph bowed his head as he retraced his steps. He passed by Jimmy. "This looks like the job for a united front," he stated.
"You're asking for my help?" Jimmy scoffed, playfully.
"I admit that when I offer counsel, I can occasionally lack something of a "human" element," Joseph confessed. He could already hear Jimmy snicker internally. "I've a feeling you can… speak her language a bit more than I. So, how do we go from there?"
"Good cop, bad cop?" Jimmy asked.
"I'd prefer two good Samaritans," Joseph countered.
As they returned to her, Amy glared up at the two with well-earned suspicion. Joseph was first to speak, offering bluntly that Cass and the Federales were planning on leaving her unless they could work something out now. He then tried to appeal to her spiritually and was, predictably, rebuffed. Then Jimmy began to play his role.
Amy had seen his type more than enough. Self-styled romantics who looked for women to "fix." They were good to fleece and little else. But this one was different, just enough. He didn't view himself with a sense of ill-bestowed virtue. He admitted that he dealt in gambling and prostitution, vice and violence. Whereas the preacher she couldn't even begin to understand, the mobster spoke to her like… he did. Without idealism about her future, just promises of comfort and security. So long as she did what she was told.
She told them about the attack, about having met the Legatum and the resulting ambush by the California commandos. She told them about having been jumped by the old guy, and how both he and Rosa both fled after the mortar attack. She told them where she had seen them go, as well as their pursuers consisting of Ariel as well as Sheol and two of his men, who joined up with the Ximenez Gang in a last-ditch effort to defeat the commandos should they decide to strike again. The rest of Sheol's men took Amy and had their fun with her, she recalled dispassionately. They knew the rest from there.
Satisfied with the general knowledge of where Rosa was heading, the two broke off their questioning and left her. She did not tell them about the deathclaw, as there was no way they would believe her. She did not tell them about how she urged the guards to kill Rosa, as she did not want to test the limits of their altruism. She did not tell them about Cade, because she knew that someday, he would forgive her and take her back.
All hands were on deck, so to speak. More like on the ramparts, behind the walls, manning the artillery as the next wave tried to breach against the gate. General Maria Cueto constantly called out orders, directing the firing lines as shells flew over her head. Still, things hadn't completely fallen apart, right?
"I KNOW THERE'S A SETTLEMENT UNDER ATTACK!" Preston Garvey screamed into the radio. "USE YOUR SENTRY GUNS AND THE MILITIA WE GAVE YOU, WE CAN'T MAKE IT!"
So, things had gotten a little out of hand. An army of raiders had been probing around Boston for weeks, looking for weaknesses. Goodneighbor, Diamond City, and Vault 81 were all assuredly being attacked now. These things tended to happen during a three-way war.
Gaunt loaded up another magazine as he plugged one of those Pack raiders as he just managed to climb over the barricade. This had been the seventh wave. Seventh. One through six were either dead or wishing they had been so lucky. For the better part of the afternoon, they had been rushing Fort Independence without respite, an unassailable wall of stone and firepower. The only thing pushing them forward, Gaunt thought as he narrowly avoided being strafed by automatic fire before ducking behind the sandbags, was that whatever was behind them scared them a lot more than what was in front of them.
"Hey, new meat!" Maria Cueto slid up to Gaunt as she made her rounds along the defenses. "Any sightings?"
"Not yet," Gaunt snarled. "I was hoping she'd have stuck her head out by now."
"Should we be so fortunate that Malocchio found her," General Cueto shook her head.
"You think he can take her down?" Gaunt asked.
"Right now, after everything, the only ones I think who have a prayer at taking her out are him, Lady X, or that new Brotherhood Sentinel Nate or something," Maria replied.
"Speaking of, where are they?" Gaunt growled as he poured fire onto the bridge, a mortar shell driving back the assault for a little respite.
"Maxson says he's focusing on finding the Institute," General Cueto scoffed. "I swear if the Prydwyn ever gets in range I will blow it out of the sky."
"A four-way? Ain't that just kinky," Gaunt spat as he peeked over the sandbags to see the raiders retreating. A tired cheer arose from the walls of the Castle. The young General Cueto herself took a deep breath. Ever since she had arrived here from Europe, fleeing across the ocean in search of liberty and freedom, she had been ceaseless in her efforts to create something new and meaningful on this side of the ocean. She joined the Minutemen not long after arriving, rose through the ranks as she led desperately needed reforms she had learned from her time with the Marquis and the Gaelic Underground. Add in some good calls that prevented a massacre at the town of Quincey, and suddenly the long-foretold decline of the organization looked like an exaggerated prediction.
Gaunt wondered and worried about the Wright sisters in Diamond City, hoping that prick Valentine was looking after them. He hoped Hancock, MacCready, and Strong were holding the line elsewhere and hoped Danse and Cait had successfully avoided the Brotherhood patrol squads. That alliance with the Railroad had better have been good for something.
Screams came from the city. The same raiders who had ducked back inside had come crawling back out. Their master wasn't satisfied with their commitment to her cause. The creature darted amongst the fleeing raiders, shredding them with her talons, snapping limbs, and breaking bones. These had to be the last few raiders she had on hand in the area, though he did not doubt that the others were fighting just as hard on her behalf. For their own safety as much as anything.
The hunched-over creature stood up. Her eyes locked onto Fort Independence. She had gotten bigger. More sinewy and… feral. Her matted hair practically covered her back as her sharpened teeth snarled and hissed at her enemies like a rabid animal. At this point, she may as well have been.
"…SLAVE-RATS!" she called out. "SUBMIT TO THE WILL OF THE EMPRESS OR ENDURE MISERY BEYOND MEASURE! LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS AND TOGETHER WE SHALL BRING THE INSTITUTE TO ITS KNEES! ALEXANDRIA SHALL BE MINE!"
"All cannons, fire upon her position!" General Cueto ordered. The Empress bared her fangs as she darted away, likely to find her lieutenant and inform him to continue wantonly killing anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the open of this warzone. Gaunt almost pitied the raiders. Most of them probably started with the modest intention of making some kind of profit at the end of a gun at everyone else's expense. Not this psychotic crusade to raze a city to the ground, spilling blood for its own sake.
Another figure darted through the explosions to intercept the Empress as she retreated. There was only one person in Boston who was crazy and skilled enough to pursue the Empress even through an artillery bombardment. Lady X, the Railroad's best agent. "Looks like they finally decided to contribute after all," Gaunt sighed as he sank behind the sandbags. "…I wonder if anyone will tell the difference if I convince Miss X to come with me back to Vegas?"
"And deprive Pickman of his favorite muse?" General Cueto laughed. "Well, we held them off, for now, so I think you have your opening. Need any extra hands?"
"Nah," Gaunt shook his head as he vaulted over the barricade. "I work pretty well on my own. If you don't see me again, she got me."
"God be with you, Sergeant Montgomery," General Cueto saluted. "CURIE! CHECK ON THE WOUNDED AND GIVE ME A FULL REPORT!" she ordered as she turned from the bridge.
"Don't work too hard," Gaunt finger-pistoled her. With the Commonwealth Alliance's members all holed up as best they could, at most he would either run into the remnants of the Nuka-Raiders or the Institute's synths, their super mutant thralls, or their hired Gunners. It would be an eventful trek until he caught up with the two of them. With any luck, he'd have this mission finished by the end of the month and he'd be back in Vegas this time next year.
The settlement was burning. He watched his men comb through the wreckage as the legionaries mounted what little defense they could. A centurion rallied what few men he could to push back against the attackers. Gaunt had a nice line of sight and a rifle with stopping power. A few seconds later the chain of command was broken, and the legionaries made an unorderly retreat that turned into a rout. The mercs let out a cheer.
This was the sixth such Louisiana outpost Gaunt's company had raided. So far, their total kills of Legion had to have exceeded six hundred or so. Not to mention the loot that they could haul back to Sunken Orleans, and this contract would soon prove to be quite lucrative. He could soon afford to buy that boat for him and his team.
The "army," such as it was, consisted of a motley assortment of those who ranged from, at best, skilled and desperate and, at worst, deranged but lethal. They were wasteland drifters, ex-Sons of Dixie, swamp pirates, tribals, Pre-war and Latter-day ghouls, a handful of super mutants, one surly old bastard who claimed he was ex-Legion, and a "souvenir" from his time in Boston.
Boston, he thought to himself. Everything went wrong in Boston. Well, not so much wrong. He lost track of Zhang, sure, but she had lost her followers. And thanks to Lady X, she lost her birthright, too. Embittered but too stubborn to admit defeat, Zhang fled south, forcing Gaunt and his accomplice to chase after her through DC and the greater part of Appalachia. He lost her somewhere around Atlanta but had gotten some reliable tips that she had taken up with some pirates and fled across the ocean to their base in Cuba. So now he needed a boat and a team to find and kill her after fifteen or so years. If he wasn't a ghoul, he'd be wondering how he was spending his time, but since that was really all he had, he decided to just roll with things.
His partner was talking to the client. Gaunt shouldered his rifle as he allowed his men to keep looting the local outpost. The man went by Santana, and he spoke with a very thick Mexican accent. The Rio Grande Federacion wanted Dallas on its toes? Fine. So long as they paid.
"I must say, you have performed most commendably," Santana nodded eagerly.
"Well, we aren't the types to seek out medals," Gaunt replied as his partner kept a close eye on their benefactor.
"Discretion is preferable to valor," Santana agreed as he tossed Gaunt's partner the coinage. "We acquired them from our sources within Dallas, you understand."
"Doesn't Mexico accept caps?" Gaunt replied as his partner fished out a gold coin.
"We do, but we don't want the Frumentarii to track our payments. We can't risk that, you understand," Santana nodded eagerly.
"And what of the reprisal force Dallas is sending now?" Gaunt's partner spoke up as she folded the coin in her fingers.
"Our sources indicate the 2nd Legion was dispatched to Lake Charles some time ago, under the leadership of three senior tribunes. Their names are Evander, Janus, and Al-"
"Don't bore us with the details," Gaunt waved him off. "Our contract is finished. I need to see my men get paid and out of the area before the hammer comes down on us."
"Right then," Santana nodded his head. "Your services are no longer needed. Best of luck to you, Mr… Gaunt, was it?"
"That'll do," Gaunt replied as he snaked his arm around his partner's shoulders and led her away, taking pleasure in the discomfort Santana tried to hide. "Think we got enough?" Gaunt asked as they got out of earshot.
"We have reached eighty-five percent of the optimal costs," Nora calculated aloud.
"Eighty-five?! That campaign took seven months!" Gaunt whined.
"Some costs haven't been accounted for. Fuel redundancies, hazard pay, morale," Nora stressed the last word in particular.
Gaunt groaned as one of his lieutenants, Tiv, ran up to him. He was a burly individual whose shirt was currently set atop his head and partially covering his left eye, a look that to Gaunt made him look like a cross between a Bedouin and a pirate. He snorted as he rested his rifle across his broad shoulders. "The boys say they got some of the local treasury in a couple of lockboxes in that garrison. I'm guessing you want a cut?"
"Let me guess, the "ex-Legion" claimed ownership?" Gaunt asked.
"He wanted to burn it," Tiv elaborated.
"Tell him that there's more Legion on its way here and take the money while he's ranting," Gaunt rolled his eyes while Nora giggled.
"Sounds like fun," Tiv shrugged. "I'm guessing you two are heading back to the riverboat?"
"We have plans, Tiv. Anyone you think has especially acquitted themselves over these last few months, tell them there's a tropical island waiting for them in the gulf," Gaunt said as he escorted Nora to the river.
"…So, we go to Cuba, find Zhang, kill Zhang, and then what?" Nora once again asked.
"I take you to Vegas, show you the lights, and then we get hitched like we should have two hundred years ago," Gaunt grinned.
"Still?" Nora asked. "What if you find someone else?" she continued the ritual.
"For two hundred years, there was no one else," Gaunt recited.
"What if you die on me, what then?" Nora asked.
"My life without you was death," Gaunt replied.
"What if you fall out of love with a woman like me?" Nora asked.
"Then I become a man unworthy of your love in the first place," Gaunt replied.
"What if I am not what you would call human?" N0-24 asked.
"You're human enough for me," Benjamin Montgomery smiled.
It was a weird poem they had developed during their trek down south. Part prayer, part superstition, part lullaby, and part wedding vow, this mutual understanding had kept them together ever since Gaunt dragged her body out of the Institute before its destruction.
In a previous life, Nora had broken her engagement to him to marry Captain Nathan Isaac Davis, only for her to die after the Great War at the hands of a mercenary who ripped her child from her arms. That same child would, years later, return to the vault and extract some DNA from her corpse, creating a bodyguard who answered directly to him without authorization from the Directorate.
In a twist of fate that proved to be equal parts hilarious and horrifying, the Father would become undone by his own father, working under the Brotherhood of Steel to destroy the Institute at its roots. Gaunt had arrived earlier to help the Railroad evacuate some synths and allied scientists, and watched as Nate took away a small child that had been gifted to him by the one he never knew. N0-24 had been wounded by a paladin, rendering her unable to protect her "sons" as Gaunt took her from the oncoming detonation. A part of him wondered if he had overstepped his bounds by not introducing Nate to the synthetic replica of his dead wife. Then again, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him right?
Santana later arrived at the radio tower. Long thought dormant, it nonetheless proved to be a vital meeting place for those in the know. Those, of course, being members of the Frumentarii. Hoovus awaited him as he mentally dropped his accent, the barbarous tongue paining him every time he spoke it.
"I see your marauders have been successful," Hoovus praised Diogenes as the man theatrically bowed.
"Six backwater outposts destroyed and our biggest opponents have left Dallas," Diogenes grinned as Hoovus chuckled.
"And not a moment too soon. The shipment of equipment arrived right under the Oracle's nose. No one is the wiser, and by the time they are…"
"Caesar will be dead," Diogenes bowed his head, solemnly. "…Long live the true Caesar," he cackled as he dropped the pretension.
"No more Lanius, no more Oracle, no more wretched mutant ruling family," Hoovus spat. "May Scorpio bring us back to the old ways. Reconquer the lands we lost."
"Defeat Vegas once and for all," Diogenes added.
"…Why defeat when you can buy?" Hoovus whispered deviously. "That city has always been up for sale, and if what Scorpio tells me is true…"
Diogenes burst out laughing. "Then we can buy Nevada with coin, and California with blood."
CLASSIFIED CALIFORNIA INTELLIGENCE BUREAU REPORT ON MILITARY STRENGTH OF IMPERIAL DALLAS
Initial reports are still being corroborated, but as it stands it appears that the territorial borders of Imperial Dallas, after consolidating the entirety of the Texan state, have also divided up frontier territories within Colorado, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Louisiana, as well as several exploratory ventures into Mexico. As such, their empire has been split up into administrative zones each governed by an independent Legion. We've estimated that there are at least eight such Legions operating at any given time, each under the command of a Legate, A Consul or Proconsul, a senatorial tribune, with the 1st Legion commanded by Caesar himself. Politics being what they are, intra-service rivalries and personal ambitions are rife within the empire. The odds of civil war erupting at any given moment are probable and worth taking into consideration. Recommending further monitoring of the situation.