Chapter 99: Afterparty

Several months later

It was a packed house at Gomorrah. The whole casino had been rented out for a bachelor party. While normally Jimmy would prefer to use his own facilities, the guest list had gotten a bit out of hand and he needed a larger space to accommodate everyone. Still, as the dutiful host, he stood by the door to greet each and every newcomer. It was late in the evening when the two guests that he wasn't sure would arrive indeed did so.

The man leaned on his wife as the approached the doorway. Jimmy extended his hand and helped them inside. "Mr. and Mrs. Young. So kind of the two of you to join us!"

Melody rolled her eyes as Joseph took a moment to get his bearings. Just the walk to the Strip had been near total agony for him, but he would take each and every chance he could to walk and not use that wheelchair. Still, once Jimmy saw all the sweat on his brow, he helped Mrs. Young and took Joseph to a seat near the doorway. "…Thank you, James," Joseph sighed.

"I told you we should have just stayed home," Melody softly hissed into her husband's ear. Joseph just gave a weak smile. "…I just wanted to get a good understanding on why Gomorrah is so popular." He looked over the platforms with the scantily clad dancers entertaining the customers. "…I just don't see the appeal." Both Melody and Jimmy groaned as a near-topless waitress approached the couple. "Can I take your… oh, two waters, right?"

"That would suffice, yes," Melody replied as she rubbed her swollen stomach.

"Hey, Joe. Long time, no see," the waitress then told Mel's husband.

"It's been a very long time for me, Brandy," Joseph smiled. The waitress snorted back a laugh. "Oh, man, you're like the only guy who comes here with any charm. You're a real lucky gal, ma'am," Brandy laughed as she left them.

"…Spending a lot of time at the strip club, Joe?" Jimmy goaded the parson.

"I don't choose the ministry, the ministry chooses me," Joseph replied. "Like officiating a wedding, my friend."

Jimmy rested a hand on Joseph's shoulder. "…I really can't thank you enough, Joe. I really didn't want to have to take her to the Kings."

"Yeah, and I can only imagine how thrilled she is about how you're spending your last night as a single man," Melody scoffed.

"…Hm. Hadn't thought of that. Let's ask her, why don't we?" Jimmy replied. "…YO, TAYLOR! YOU GOOD?"

Taylor Hutsgy turned away from watching the three male dancers on the stage to give her fiancé the thumbs up before returning to the show, arms resting on the lip of the platform with her face in her hands.

"…It's a dangerous game you are playing, so close to so many temptations," Joseph gently admonished the young mob boss.

"And we've been playing it rather well. We've had precisely zero hookups since we got engaged. You religious types aren't the only ones who can do the whole "no sex before marriage" deal," Jimmy said as he slapped Joseph on the shoulder, who could only ignore the look his wife was giving him.

"…We'll be fine, Jimmy. You can tend to your other guests," Joseph smiled. As the mobster left, Joseph could feel Melody trying to hold back her laughter. "…Don't you start," Joseph muttered.

"I wanted to know if you were going to tell him or if I was," Melody giggled.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Joseph growled.

"Like you forgetting to finalize the right paperwork before we got married," Melody broke out laughing. Joseph's ears burned as he remembered that they had their long and extensive honeymoon before realizing his error. Surely, he was going to make sure Melody was with him when Jimmy and Taylor finalized everything.

A pair of cowboy boots traipsed out onto the stage as the crowd let out some cheers and whistles. The dancer, wearing a strategically shredded Vault 21 suit with the zipper pulled just past her navel and nothing else, swayed her body low as she stretched her limbs out in leaps and bounds. Caps rained around her as she collected NCR dollars from her audience. This was the last time she'd get to collect money for her trip, so in many ways this was a farewell tour for her.

"…HEY, SWEETCHEEKS, GIVE ME A LITTLE MORE SKIN, BABY!" a particularly drunk mobster called out from the audience.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Rosa screamed. "YO, I GOT TWO HUNDRED NCR DOLLARS IF YOU'LL GIVE MY FRIEND A LAP DANCE!"

"ROSA!" Carla shrieked, but it was too late. The dancer honed in on her and was immediately on Carla's lap. "…Hey, Carla," the dancer purred.

"…Hey, Kyra," Carla blushed.

Kyra had been the first "member" of the expedition to return to Vegas outside of the Air Marshals. Her arrival had been particularly notable, due to having arrived atop a large hound. First, she had gone to the Mojave Express in Primm to deposit all the mail she had been gifted. Then, after some further asking, she arrived at the Strip, looking for Senator Ziyi. She found the now ex-Senator lounging beside the pool at Gomorrah. Kyra then proceeded to toss Ziyi all of Frost's footage, explaining that it was everything he had been able to save and that she was told that she would know what to do with it. Kyra then proceeded to dismount the dog, strip naked, and dive into the pool believing that it was a type of public bath. Ziyi had been sponsoring Kyra's stay in Vegas ever since.

Tobey and Larain watched from afar as their drinks arrived at the table. "…Well, good for her," Larain muttered to himself, hiding his jealousy.

"Kyra or my sister?" Tobey asked.

"Bite me, Marshal," Larain snapped.

"Your call, Sheriff," Tobey grinned.

Once a ghost town, the city of Phoenix had been resettled by the wounded AEG and Liberty Clans. With the Clans finally united under a Sovereign, Larain's last act with that position was to re-establish the Free City of Phoenix, an act cosigned with the Mojave Nation, New California Republic, Imperial Dallas, and the Rio Grande Federacion all recognizing the new settlement. While technically a client nation to the Mojave, Phoenix promised to at long last bring civilization to the Unclaimed Wastes, doing what the NCR, Vegas, and Legion could not.

"…How's militia training coming along?" Tobey asked.

"…Had to get some outside help," Larain admitted. "One of your guys, Floyd Wilson, has signed on to get things off the ground, along with Joe's older sister."

Tobey smiled. "…Floyd was the first JM commissioner before my mom took over, and Hannah has a habit of beating the asses of most trainee squads during war games. You're in good hands."

Kyra was now laying on her back on the stage while Rosa stood over her, pouring bourbon onto her stomach. Carla was shaking her head while the crowd around her goaded her on. After a few moments of hesitation, Carla's mouth locked itself onto Kyra's navel and downed the whole body shot as the crowd cheered.

"…And why is my sister going with you?" Tobey asked.

"…Advisory role," Larain answered.

Tobey folded his arms. "Strictly professional?"

"…Mostly professional," Larain admitted.

Tobey rolled his eyes. "Why is she giving you another shot?" he muttered.

"I don't know," Larain admitted. "Maybe because Rosa didn't work out for either of us?"

By now a thoroughly hammered and topless Rosa was grinding up against Kyra, slapping the other woman's ass as she mentioned something about "getting all up in Caesar's slam piece" which prompted Kyra to elbow the drunk off the platform and on top of Francis the bouncer, who gently dropped off the drunk as she stumbled away to nowhere in particular.

"…Can't imagine why," Tobey commiserated.

"…Why is Kyra dancing, anyway?" Tobey asked. "I thought she'd have been out of here after she dropped everything off?"

"Not to mention she's loaded," Jimmy added as he approached the two. Shortly after her arrival, Kyra had spent most of her time clad in a towel and eating meat off a platter in the Gomorrah courtyard. Some members of the NCR Broadcasting Service who had arrived to talk to Ziyi about domestic productions back home had their attention captured by this strange and exotic woman. Buying her dinner, which she proceeded to eat directly off the platter once more, Kyra then explained how her journey had been undertaken, while the executives listened with rapt attention and a personal assistant took notes. Upon the completion of her story, she was compensated for her time to the tune of twenty thousand caps, which surprised Kyra because she thought she was talking for free.

"…So, she isn't hurting for money?" Tobey asked.

"Nope," Jimmy replied.

"Then why is she stripping?" Larain asked.

"…Some women are just down like that. And because that dog she brought over is really expensive to feed," Jimmy explained. Belua was currently wandering beneath the corridors of the Ultra-Luxe, helping herself to whatever meat she could get her jaws on. She could do this unmolested after a curious and enterprising chef pondered what a giant dog would taste like. The resulting dismemberment and devouring ensured that Barabbas's prized hound would be given a wide berth.

"…So, uh, does she know?" Larain whispered to Tobey and Jimmy.

Jimmy and Tobey looked at each other. "…I'm not telling her," Tobey shook his head.

"…I think I need to go talk to my sister and brother-in-law," Jimmy suddenly said as he headed for the door. Larain ran a hand down his face. The AEG's Triumph of Dallas had been a whirlwind of events that culminated in something none of those who had arrived in the city had intended. At the very least, Larain resolved to tell Kyra once her "farewell tour" had concluded.

As Joseph and Melody sat and enjoyed their meal in silence, Melody suddenly remembered something. "Oh, Isaiah told me that he had something for you."

Joseph "looked" up to his wife. "He's finally giving me back my watering can?"

"No, he said that he received a letter from your dad," Melody explained.

Joseph dropped his fork at the news. "…I'm surprised Hannah didn't tell me this," he stated, quietly.

"Well, considering how busy she has been," Melody shrugged. "…I haven't seen him since our wedding. I hope he's doing well," Melody smiled.

"…Me too," Joseph said quietly to himself, still remembering the argument.

"…I think I almost forgot to mention it because Marcy hasn't been acting herself, lately," Melody mused to herself. Before heading to Vegas, Kyra had dropped off Marcy with the Youngs while they were at Phoenix. After making the trek home, Marcy had been taken to stay with the Albright family, where the large and friendly amount of siblings seemed to appeal to the girl like nothing else. Until lately, however, as now Marcy seemed to be feeling especially downcast, sobbing out of nowhere and muttering the words "Din-e-oh, Din-e-oh" over and over again. Isaiah, Judy and their family were both doing everything they could to console her.

"…We really should get around to telling him about grandchild number 2, one of these days," Melody mused aloud.

"…We should," Joseph nodded. "…You wouldn't mind taking a dictation, would you?"

"Not at all," Melody smiled.

"…And could you read me the letter when we swing by Isaiah's place?" Joseph asked.

"Don't you want to hear your dad's voice coming from a man?" Melody asked.

"I like listening to yours," Joseph replied as he put his hand on his wife's.

"AND NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW, INTRA-DUZZIN… FISTO!" Rosa cried out as the unholy protectron shuffled to the center stage. The reactions from the onlookers ranged from joy to disgust, with fear in more than a few. This was about as much as Tobey and Larain were willing to handle, and both accosted Rosa from the stage and dragged her away as she kicked and slurred, leaving FISTO to ask if anyone else wanted to assume the position. Francis, once again, was the only volunteer.

"Rosa, I think you need to be topped off," Tobey admonished the girl.

"You both can tops me off," Rosa hazily attempted to flirt.

Larain and Tobey looked at each other and then at Rosa as she made several crude gestures indicating what she wanted.

"…You thinking what I'm thinking?" Larain grinned.

"I think I get your thinking," Tobey nodded as they both took Rosa up to the hotel rooms.

A woman arrived at Gomorrah, having stood outside looking up at the décor in disgust. Entering the party, she looked at the debauchery surrounding her as she fought the urge to vomit. Fortunately for her, it didn't take forever for her to find her target. She approached the stage as Kyra readied her finale, the bucket of water suspended just above her as she peeled down her Vault suit, her bare chest covered by tape as she prepared to be doused one last time.

As the water dumped onto her, Kyra saw a familiar scarred face out of the corner of her eye. "HYPATIA?!" she cried out as she stumbled off the stage.

"…Yeah, this is about what I expected from you," Hypatia muttered. "Using your body to earn your keep."

"I am not…" Kyra replied as she brushed herself off and zipped up her Vault Suit. "…I dance occasionally and I haven't been sleeping with any of these people, if you must know."

"Good for you," Hypatia replied, dryly. "…I've been sent to recover you and Pariah. The situation back at Dallas has stabilized enough to allow both of you a safe return. Provided, of course, you wouldn't prefer to remain in such… company?" Hypatia taunted, lightly. As three new dancers took Kyra's spot, Kyra herself took her coat that was being held by another bouncer.

"…How is Barabbas doing?" Kyra asked.

"…Haven't you heard?" Hypatia asked, a slow smile creeping onto her wounded face.

"I know I missed out on the battle and a bunch of awards ceremonies, and I heard that Barabbas got hurt pretty badly during the fight. Oh, and I heard he got married."

"YOU HEARD?!" Hypatia called out, her smile vanishing as Kyra revealed that she had known all along about the biggest change in Imperial Dallas.

"Some lady named Ligia Del Sol, from what I heard," Kyra stated as she stared straight ahead, bottling her emotions. "…I hope the two of them are happy together. The two of you can take Pariah and Belua, I guess I'll go a bit north and look for my folks. He won't miss me," Kyra told herself.

"…Barabbas begged me to find you," Hypatia admitted. "The marriage was political, first and foremost. I don't think he resents Ligia, but he has certain… needs that can only be accommodated by one such as yourself."

"…But… I don't know how I feel about being some kind of homewrecker," Kyra admitted, the situation making her uncomfortable the more thought she put into it.

"As part of the prenup, Barabbas is allowed to continue using his harem, provided that any offspring resulting from the harem are not legitimized ahead of any from Ligia. And he basically fired his harem when he returned to Fort Wrath, so really it's just a clause that will allow him to pursue a relationship with anyone he wants. Lucky you."

"…I don't know," Kyra continued, unconvinced.

"…There is also the matter of the position of Oracle," Hypatia sighed. "Pariah is too young to assume the responsibilities and a regent may be necessary to govern things going forward. As Oracle, your first priority will be… overseeing Caesar's "spiritual" needs," Hypatia rolled her eyes. "…Kyra, I really hope you appreciate all the backdoors Barabbas has made for you. Now, I know you're a free woman, and nothing will keep you from leaving, but it is just sad watching that man try to cope with a woman who only uses him for politics and sex. He is not built for that," Hypatia confessed.

"…What a baby," Kyra snorted, hiding a smile. "…Alright, if that's what he needs," she pretended to relent.

Hypatia could not hide her sigh of relief. "Great, now I just need to gather my partner and we can be on our way…"

"Um, Hyp, can we wait a day or so? I'm planning on attending a wedding tomorrow, and afterward we can leave," Kyra asked.

Hypatia spared one last glance around her at the revelry and booze-rich environment surrounding her. "…People get married here?"

"Oh, lighten up, Hyp," Kyra grinned. "Here, let me buy you a drink. First round is on me!"

Hypatia looked up and down Kyra's body and could smell the bourbon on her. "…Quite a few, from what it seems."

"Oh, and you said you came with a partner? Who?" Kyra asked.

"…He's having a bit of a conference with the new Governor," Hypatia stated, neutrally.

Upon the news that the Governor of New Vegas had vacated his position, Councilor Gannon had to take it upon himself, yet again, to see that this city continued to be run stably through its institutions. And so the call came up for a general election. The candidates were voted for, Arcade oversaw the results and promptly told the voters that he was only interested in serious candidates. So, a recount was issued, and Arcade wondered what the big joke was after seeing the results once more.

While the title of Governor was largely symbolic and ceremonial, it did maintain some integral responsibilities regarding the security of Vegas. Arcade thought he had explained that they needed a "strong leader" quite articulately to the voting base. However, it had been interpreted as "vote for the strongest guy."

Governor Lionel Johnston oversaw what lay before him on the table. A large array of plastic soldiery against a seemingly endless tide of raiders. This was the moment that would decide how the engagement would go and would decide if everything would end in victory or annihilation. He rolled the dice.

"…Ok, I think that's three wounds. You want to roll a save?"

Dan drew his last card. "…Dammit, it's one of those fifty/fifty situations. Let me get the coin." The two watched intently as Dan flipped the aurei onto the board, coming up on an image of the Coliseum of Fort Wrath. Tails.

"Shit," Dan exhaled.

"Sorry, looks like you are down one raider chieftain," Lionel stated as he flicked the figure over. "Roll to see if your guys start killing each other."

As Dan collected his dice, the elevator in the center of the Lucky 38 opened, and Andrea stepped just to the lip of the doorway. "…I'm going to bed now, Lionel," Andrea purred as she had her leg stroke the side of the elevator doorway.

"Ok," Lionel replied without even looking at her as Dan finished his roll. Apparently, one of the raiders had picked up the chieftain's skull crown, making him the new chief and negating all penalties as Dan began to cackle and Lionel groaned. Andrea watched them continue their game of Troopers and Raiders for a few seconds before losing patience and shutting the door.

"…Was your ladyfriend there naked?" Dan asked as he began setting up another firing line.

"Probably," Lionel replied as he set up another medivac.

Andrea rode the elevator all the way up to the presidential suite, banging her head on the wall as the frustration mounted. You know, Agent Florence said in her mind's ear, when we told you to get in bed with the Governor of the Mojave Nation, we didn't intend for it to mean literally.

"DON'T TELL ME HOW TO DO MY JOB!" Andrea snapped at nobody in particular as she stepped out into the main chamber. Having been assigned to keep close surveillance over the new Mojave Governor, going for the "femme fatale" approach proved to have mixed results. Lionel was thick, but every so often she would manage to get him focused enough to spend some time on her. The only downside was that he would treat every encounter like a workout, being so intense that Andrea would often find herself a drooling and exhausted mess while Lionel would then focus on weight training or something else.

Not to mention his… direct nature made mind games a hopeless and cruel joke. Trying to manipulate Lionel was like trying to do slight of hand in front of a deathcl- no, no, NO, Andrea shook her head. You spent too much time in therapy to have a relapse! No "D" words!

Defeated, Andrea just headed to the bedroom and prepared to get some shuteye. She didn't really even understand why she was still doing this job. The NCR needed someone on the inside of Vegas, sure, but honestly, it wasn't like she was hurting for money. Her parent's home had been recently paid off by a generous donation from a mysterious benefactor, and when she asked who did it, the only thing her dad told her was that "they apparently really wanted to make something up to you." If nothing else, Andrea figured that it was time she, at the very least, stopped being mad at ex-Senator Ziyi, who was now somewhere in Phoenix with Councilor Gannon to help establish the city with a working government. And rebuild her harem, Andrea thought with a snicker.

Turning around, she fell onto the bed with her head over the pillow. She landed with a crack, something behind the pillow apparently impeding her landing. Pulling it back, she saw a small brown parcel. Opening it, she saw that it was a case of Wasteland Trail-Mix. As she looked at it in confusion, she remembered mentioning how her dad always fixed her up some meals like this when she would be away from home for a while to Lionel during one of his tangents about heading over to Dallas to "even the score." As Andrea took the package, she saw a note on the side of it. "Luv U, L." …Ok, Andrea smiled to herself as she picked at the snack. Maybe that idiot has some redeeming qualities…

Another bucket of water splashed into Rosa's face as she gasped herself sober. "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I'M HERE!"

Larain and Tobey set aside their buckets as they looked at the girl they had tied down to a bed.

"Great, now she's thinking clearly," Tobey smiled.

"As much as ever," Larain replied.

"Oh, fuck you too, Rain," Rosa sneered.

"I believe that's what you were going for," Larain replied.

"Listen, we had to do something drastic before you ended up hurting yourself or someone else," Tobey explained.

"Oh, I was just trying to *hic* have some fun," Rosa whined.

"Look, to each their own, but I'm not down with double-teaming a barely conscious girl," Larain stated.

"And I really don't need to see another guy's face during sex," Tobey muttered under his breath.

"…What happened?" Larain finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Rosa asked.

"Did you get depressed again? Someone broke your heart? Are you mad that you lost Jimmy to another woman?" Larain guessed.

"No, no, and grow up, it was never that kind of relationship. I just *hic* just wanted to have a little fun before tomorrow," Rosa admitted.

"Why's that?" Tobey asked.

"…I'm going to join a caravan going east. And after that… I don't know," Rosa admitted.

"…You're leaving?" Larain asked. "Why?"

"I don't know. Wanderlust?" Rosa shrugged. "…I didn't want to steal Jimmy's thunder and I didn't want it to be this big production like the AEG thing was, so I figured I'd just slip out under the cover of darkness and make my own adventure. And I didn't know who I wanted to say goodbye to more so… the best thing my drunken brain would come up with was… well…"

Lars and Cass's whereabouts were currently unknown. The last anyone heard was that they were raising hell in somewhere in Colorado. With what little was known about the RMX, reports did indicate that the Wild Khans, once locked in a mortal struggle with the NCR military, had completely uprooted their war camps upon the successful release of Urangal Khan's family, previously thought to have been killed by NCR prospectors. Added that with an apparent change in management within the RMX, it would appear to any outside observers that something within the system was seeing elements of the organization that refused to harmonize with the new leadership… liquidated. At the very least, the slaver's wing of the organization had been left out to dry, as to absorb the wrath of any who felt slighted against the prior ownership.

"…Where are you going to go?" Tobey asked. "Phoenix? Dallas?"

"…I guess I want to see the Atlantic Ocean," Rosa shrugged. "…No reason, I just want to go while I'm still young and got nothing but time."

"…How long will you be gone?" Larain asked, concerned.

"…Long enough," Rosa replied, honestly. "I guess I just want to… drift around for a little bit," she explained as Larain rolled his eyes.

"What was that for?" Tobey asked.

"Sorry, something about the word "drift" just annoys me," Larain explained.

"Something to do with your daddy?" Rosa asked.

"Don't even start," Larain snipped. "It's not like he's my problem anymore."

The Drifter listened to the radio as he heard more news about New Phoenix establishing itself. Its people had elected their protector, Sheriff Larain, to safeguard them as they embarked together on a new era. A tear streaked down his cheek.

"…You did it, kid."

Dalton scoffed. "Undermined all our hard work, more like."

"I prefer "succeeding where we failed," personally," the Drifter shot back as he flipped his glass onto the counter. "…I'm heading out." Falco and Dalton both turned to look at him. "Sir?" they asked, simultaneously. "…It rose again," the Drifter smiled. "And by my son's hand, no less. There's no reason I need to stick around this place anymore. It's just for sad sacks with nowhere else to go. No offense," he said as he looked around the diner. Amy was resting her face in her arms at a booth, Kekos continued cleaning his glassware as he kept his eyes on the clock, and Rathmore sat enraptured by his reflection.

"…Where are you going, anyway?" Dalton asked as the Drifter headed to the door.

"…Judgment," the Drifter stated, stopping just before he passed the doorway. "…And to face down everyone I've ever wronged." With that, the Drifter stepped through the threshold, vanishing into the miasmic fog.

"…That's what happens when we leave?" Dalton asked Falco. "…It sounds like the case," Falco relayed, unsure. "…Fuck," Dalton muttered as he looked into his drink. After a moment's hesitation, he downed the glass and bolted for the door. "RIGHT BEHIND YOU, SIR!"

Falco swiveled his head between the bar, the booth, the doorway, and the radio, confused at what he was supposed to do now that his peers had left the diner. "…Wait up!" he called out as he also ran to the doorway.

Mr. Kekos smiled as he looked to Rathmore, who remained transfixed at his reflection. "…I don't see the appeal, Donald. You aren't that handsome," the bartender taunted as he turned to look at the reflection. The image staring back wasn't Captain Donald Rathmore, human or ghoul. It was of a young woman, with tanned skin and dark hair, who sat with an evidently tall statue that was accentuated by her lean musculature.

"…Oh…" Mr. Kekos admitted. "…You weren't supposed to see that."

"…Kyra?" Donald muttered.

Mr. Kekos pulled out a booklet. "…Apparently that's your mom's name…"

"What?!" Donald barked, confused.

"…OK, well, no point in arguing now. Good news, Don, you get another go-around," Mr. Kekos dryly cheered. "…Donald, meet Donna, the first of many children "conceived immaculately" by the Divine Oracle Kyra!"

The mirror then showcased a battlefield where Donna expertly twirled her spear, slicing raiders through their necks as she let out a war cry. Her martial prowess and ferocity did, admittedly, appeal to Rathmore, even if she was serving what he understood had been a hostile power. Plus, he had to admit that she was easy on the eyes. Probably had her mother to thank for that.

"…I'm coming back as a woman?" Rathmore asked.

"When you go back, you won't even remember your previous life," Mr. Kekos admitted. "That's what the Stranger told me. You'll retain some of your closest-to-the-heart qualities as you grow older, but she is her, and you will be you."

"…I have no idea what you're talking about," Rathmore admitted.

"…You'll understand in a few months. Oh, by the way, you're going to develop a Mirelurk allergy, so keep that in mind when you… ah, you won't remember, so nevermind," Mr. Kekos gave up. "…If you want to prepare yourself, you can go freshen up in the restroom," the bartender said as he handed Donald a key. Captain Rathmore would take up his offer and head to the lavatory and never reemerged. Amy followed suit not long afterward, Mr. Kekos explaining that this was not her first go-around either and that he hoped she had gotten a good impression of Joseph and Melody Young for… reasons. Soon afterward, it was just the bartender remaining in the diner, with nothing to do but watch the clock.

Carla came into the hotel room while Rosa was talking to Larain and Tobey. Immediately, she saw a half-naked Rosa strapped down on the bed while two previous hook-ups talked to each other about what they were going to do next. The rookie marshal looked at the sight before her for a few seconds before pinching her arm. "Oh, hey, Carla!" Rosa exclaimed in a chipper tone. "Your brother and boytoy are about to run a train on me!"

"ROSA!" both men snapped incredulously at the woman.

"…I think I had a dream about this, once," Carla admitted.

"…You what?" Tobey asked, fear evident in his voice.

"…Well, she wasn't tied on the bed, but Rosa and I were both getting hit from behind by you two," she continued.

"CARLA!" Tobey shrieked.

"Relax, you were with Rosa and I was with Larain. Anyways, as we were both getting raw-dogged, Rosa and I would make eye contact and-" A bucket of water splashed against her face before she could continue.

"KEEP ME OUT OF YOUR SEX DREAMS, CARLA!" Tobey screamed. Carla, still buzzed from the party, hence her openly liberated confessions, shoved her brother as Larain got between the two of them. "…Sleep it off, Carla, you're drunk," Larain tried to placate her.

"C'mon, Rain, it's a party. Why do you think I was looking for you?" Carla asked.

"…Did you come here looking to hook up?" Larain asked, not hiding his interest right before Tobey leaped onto his back to physically demonstrate his objection. Carla leaped in to fend off her brother, and during the melee Rosa had slipped out of her restraints and joined in on the attack, not concerned with whoever she targeted.

What would eventually follow was that Rosa and Larain would crash down from a balcony on top of a blackjack table, with the twins following afterwards by landing on top of them. The loud shouts of their argument and curses would continue as they took the fight outside, whereby morning they would all be found passed out around the fountain. The four would eventually then proceed to clean up themselves as best they could and immediately would head over to the wedding venue, seeing as Rosa was serving as the maid of honor and Tobey as the best man, bruises and all.

During the melee as it played out, Frost sat at the bar, motionless as he stewed in his rage. Kim strolled up beside him, sitting next to him as she leaned her back against the counter. "…Still struggling to get a distributor?" she asked.

"…No, I got one," Frost grimaced. "…I got one and we're playing it at select academic academies. Mostly the Followers and Boneyard University."

"Oh, congratulations," Kim smiled.

"And that's it," Frost snapped. "Months of my life, risking everything and hardly anyone on the coast even bothers! Everyone is so burnt out on the Khan invasion that I've been busting my ass just trying to get my foot in the damn door anywhere! What do I have to do, rent out a theater in the Shi-Frisco red-light district?"

"…Ok, so you aren't exactly rolling in money," Kim conceded. "But what about critical acclaim?"

Frost barked out an ugly laugh. "Critical acclaim?! Let me tell you, Kim, I screened my feature for about four dozen or so critics. Only about five of them bothered to reply! Everyone else was apparently too braindead to give any indication, positive or negative, that they had even bothered watching the film! Kim, these people claim that they have followed dozens, even hundreds of other similar projects, but I will bet you anything that they cannot recall even a single detail about any of them! It's like waiting for a vegetable to give an answer to a yes or no question. Actually, that's not fair to vegetables! And the producers don't even care, no, they just greenlit Kyra's verbal memoirs for a screen treatment. Andrea will be getting that call any day now, and I shudder to think of what kind of abomination the finest minds of the NCRBS will cook up! Only the finest slop for the viewing public, not that they'll actually say anything about it! Most of the critics I screened my film for will absolutely be too stupid for all the intricacies of whatever that fucking porno is going to be! Then again, they probably do spend the better part of their day yanking it, but I don't want to make any assumptions of what their brains are capable of and give them too much credit, now, do I?!"

Kim slipped Frost a folded piece of paper. Frost took it and opened it, revealing Kim's room number. "…Well, I'm proud of what you accomplished. Feel free to swing by my place so we can have our own little… afterparty," Kim winked as she strolled away.

Frost looked at the room number and back to Kim. Crumpling it up, he put it in his pocket as he followed after her. Sometimes, no matter how hard you worked, all it takes is one really good fan to make every effort worthwhile. And somewhere out there, he could believe that his project could make some kind of splash for someone, or even just anyone. As he knocked on Kim's door, a strong arm came out and yanked him inside, Frost was certain that someone out there had to appreciate art.

The credits, minuscule as they were, rolled after it all ended. The audience sat in silence as they processed what they had seen. One of the men in the front row stood up and turned around to face the hundreds in attendance. "…THAT WAS FUCKING AMAZING!" Drago screamed out. The soldiers, servants, nobles, senators, and the rest of the rabble who crammed into the Coliseum to view the moving picture show let out a cheer as they threw whatever flowers they had scrounged up towards the large, erected screen.

Thanks to the efforts of one of the agents of the Legios Amazonia, the California Film Society had been infiltrated and a copy of the film and its contents were taken to the east. Thanks to some strategic trysts by Sophia, she had learned the finer details of how to implement a project on a level worthy of Imperial Dallas. While the documentary was the first motion picture many in the Legion had ever seen, they appreciated the effort and blunt earnestness that this Tim Frost had brought to his project.

The Triumvirate sat in their box seats as two of their members applauded while the third remained seated. "Oh, lighten up, Aleron, don't tell me you didn't enjoy it!" Janus heckled.

"…This AEG proved to be a most commendable fighting force. Had we gone up against them during the First Caesar's reign, it would have assuredly been a legendary fight," Aleron mused as he thought back to the footage of the Battle of Fort Abandon. Indeed, he was surprised by how much he had come to respect its leaders, a first for him regarding any from California. The tactical brilliance of Ethan Wallace, the ferocity of War Chief Tandi, the ruthlessness of Donald Rathmore, and the iron discipline of Zachary Milligan. All of them were warriors equal to the finest who ever marched under the Legion's banner.

"Can't say I was expecting the film to start switching perspectives," Evander said aloud.

"Were you surprised? Drago only mentioned it a few thousand times," Janus laughed.

If there was one thing Aleron could appreciate about the film, it was that it gave him a recording of his friend and compatriot, Falco. He was pleased to see his sworn brother once more, even if his most notable scene involved him saying… slanderous comments towards the First Caesar. Aleron found himself secretly grateful that both Montano and Falco were dead, as if the former ever learned about the comments the latter made, their friendship would have been ruined and they likely would have killed one another then and there.

"And these Liberty Clans might become a power worth respecting," Evander continued to speak with his partners. The battle against the Pelt-Brute tribe showcased the Clans as wily and adaptable combatants, and Aleron couldn't say he shed as much as a tear at seeing the traitorous Pelt-Brutes brought low. That lunatic with the machete fought like a seasoned legionary without any regard for her self-preservation. Aleron thought some more about the previous statement. Correction. That lunatic with the machete fought like a legionary.

At some point during the film, however, when it appeared that there was a moment of disagreement between the machete lunatic and Caesar, the film began to fray and burn. As amateur as the projection technicians were, they were able to recover the film and continue with the movie. During the recovery, Barabbas sat in his chamber as he breathed a sigh of relief.

"What was that about?" Ligia asked beside her husband.

"Nothing," Barabbas replied as he had discreetly removed the footage from the reel upon its arrival in Dallas. Not a day after the battered AEG and their allies made their triumph, Barabbas found himself married to a woman he'd never heard of, let alone met. As his advisors saw fit to explain to him, by marrying the daughter of the RGF's Generalissimo, the resulting political alliance would end up stabilizing their southern borders without any more need for military conquests, securing their forces and freeing them up to check the Midwestern Confederacy. While all that was true, Barabbas would be lying if he said Ligia's personality was her most positive feature.

"…Is this Rosa girl the one you'd been fucking during the journey?" Ligia asked.

"MARS, NO!" Barabbas bellowed. "That woman was the fucking worst!"

"Why? She had too many opinions?" Ligia asked. "Drank too much? Reminded you too much of her father?"

Barabbas turned over and glowered at the woman he shared his bed with. "There's no prize if you get a right answer."

"…Did she almost beat you in a-" Ligia stopped as Barabbas grabbed her by the back of her head and rammed his tongue down her throat. "…Please shut up," he growled as he pulled away. Ligia was tempted to argue but figured that the best time to antagonize him would be after the film. It was dirty work, but that baby was going to get made somehow.

The film resolved with the destruction of the 4th Legion, and following that, the Triumph of the Allied Expeditionary Group. As the citizens of Dallas dutifully reveled, despite their confusion, Aleron was then featured in the film, honoring members of the AEG and Liberty Clans with tributes and awards as he evidently struggled to hold back his bile over the actions he was ordered to take. The reason for his obedience was revealed later, however, when Caesar Barabbas then ordered Aleron to execute the selected traitors. The execution was not shown on film, but Frost did record an audio file and gift it to Aleron, which he used to help him fall asleep ever since.

"…Well, what say you and I gather our guest of honor?" Janus asked his partners. The Triumvirate left their box seats and left into the hall of the Coliseum. As they walked down the corridor, they pretended not to see Caesar's wife walking out of his chamber. She glanced at the three and regained what regal demeanor she possessed. "…I am heading back home to attend some business," she stated as her two bodyguards flocked to her. "Javier, Antonio, have the carriage ready."

"Leaving so soon?" Aleron asked.

Ligia looked over the three old warriors with a sense of smug disdain. "I need to head home to finalize some peace treaties on my side of the border. Not that you Legion folk would understand the nuances of such thinking."

Aleron stepped forward as the two bodyguards motioned for their guns. "…You forget yourself, girl. Betrothal or not, you are a guest in our lands," Aleron quietly warned her.

"And I am departing from your custody," Ligia replied. "…For a few months, at least. I'm done with him for now, so I'm leaving. I'm sure my husband can find some measure of distraction to occupy his time. Like that tribal girl with the big tits that he's apparently so enamored with." With that, she turned and left, taking every effort to hide the limp in her walk as Barabbas ceased his quiet celebration behind the door. Throwing his royal regalia on by wrapping it around his loins and torso, Barabbas left his chamber as he was greeted by this Triumvirate.

"…My wife is such a charming woman, isn't she?" Barabbas shared a laugh with his senior advisors as they went to collect their last member. Nepotism hire as he may have been, Barabbas had to admit that even he owed Markus Dinero a debt of gratitude for his service to his sister. Perhaps he had erred in hastily dissolving the harem, he quietly thought to himself as Janus knocked on the door in his customary manner.

"Hey, Markus, get your prick out of that girl's mouth, you've got company," he laughed as he opened the door, not waiting for a reply. The laugh in his throat died as he saw the slumped-over body of Dinero, the wine bottle he had been drinking having smashed against the floor as it fell from his grip. Evander screamed for a healer while Barabbas and Aleron attended to the old man, but it was of no use. After a lifetime of heartless business, in the end, that was precisely what ended the life of Markus Dinero.

The journey had taken him through quite the trek. As he walked through the infinite sands, he came across what had to be the largest Legion army in history, standing across from a smaller horde of power-armor-wearing warriors. The two sides clashed, as they had before and would again, to eek out a meaningless victory over the other. In the middle of the melee, Legate Lanius struck out against the large, armored mutant. Both of them seemed to be having the time of their lives, unlike the Oracle and both Vulpes Incultas, who seemed to be the only ones involved to recognize the futility of what they were engaging in and were completely powerless to stop it.

As he left the battlefield, he came across three familiar faces surrounded by others as they wandered across the endless wastelands. They explained that they were going to face their judgment and that the men with them were their guides. The guards, clad in Old World police garb, were led by a man on literal fire that Dinero swore he could almost recognize. Eventually, they departed, and soon enough, the faint neon sign broke through the darkness.

A glowing pair of orange eyes stalked him as Dinero approached the café. Saliva pooled unto the animal's lips as the beast stalked its prey. When it got close enough, the beast charged, lunging at Dinero and sinking its teeth into his flesh.

"Ow," Dinero winced. He looked down and saw the tiny lizard gnawing on his leg. "…Get off!" Dinero snapped as he kicked the miniature deathclaw off his leg. The lizard hissed as it retreated back into the mist, awaiting the day when someone small enough would cross its path. Already disregarding the encounter, Dinero entered through the doorway.

Mr. Kekos looked up as Dinero strode through the doorway. "…TOM!" Dinero let out with a cry as he ran over and hugged his friend. Now a young man, Dinero filled Tom in with everything he had been doing these last few months. After many years of crawling up the ranks, he had finally become an Assistant to the Regional Territorial Directorate Executive, which Markus assured Tom was a real title and not one Caesar pulled out of his butt to placate him.

Soon enough, Dinero looked around and asked where they were.

"…The Café of Broken Dreams, Markus. I've been waiting for you. Now that you've arrived, we can-"

"How much for a drink?" Dinero asked.

"…It's an open bar," Kekos replied.

"…Well, what are we charged to stay here for? What's the tithe or rent?" Dinero asked.

"…Nothing. The owner doesn't accept payments. We can stay as long as we like," Kekos answered.

"…Then I guess we're staying until the beer runs out," Markus smiled. His eyes widened at the silent expression on Mr. Keko's face. "…Never?" Dinero asked.

"Never," Kekos replied.

"…I'M STAYING HERE FOREVER!" Dinero let out a cry as he immediately put his feet on the bar and demanded everything, and he meant everything, on the menu. Tom Kekos let out a sigh and decided that it was probably best to humor his boss until he got bored. Whenever that would be.

The old man sat in the chapel office as he looked down at what he had written. In the years that had transpired, he had time to reflect on how things had gone down between the two of them. At the very least, the old man could admit that he had crossed some lines in his anger. Of course, as usual, when his emotions got the better of him, he would choose to walk away and stew in his own feelings, regardless of whatever cost it brought upon his family. And so he looked back down on the letter of reconciliation as he decided on how best to finish it up. "…I miss you. I love you. I always did and always will. Looking forward to seeing you as soon as I am able. Tell Melody I said hi. Then again, she is probably reading this to you," he wrote the last line with a chuckle. "…Hi Melody," he added. "Thank you again for taking care of my son. And no, that argument wasn't your fault. Sometimes, however, Youngs are just too stubborn for their own good. I thank you for tolerating us. Sincerely, your father-in-law, and father, Paul Young."

He heard a crashing sound and a yell of surprise and pain just beyond the door. Paul bowed his head in a short prayer, pushed the letter aside, opened the drawer at the desk, pulled out his Colt .45, and placed it inside his vestment robe as he left the office to enter the nave.

A blond-haired, green-eyed youth had stumbled upon the stranger in the church after having arrived from his shopping trip. Having grown tired of having the sanctity of the church violated by trespassers and thieves, the young man drew his gun as he approached the stranger sitting in the pew. Before he could ask him his business, the stranger threw an elbow into the young man's throat, stunning him as he wrestled the gun out of the other man's hand and unloading it in one swift motion. The struggle continued until the old man left the chapel.

"What's the meaning of this?!" Paul demanded.

The stranger released the young man, who rubbed his arm as he looked at his grandfather.

"…This man was sneaking around our church!" the young man replied. "He's probably looking for something else to steal!"

"…Are you a thief, stranger?" Paul asked the newcomer.

"…You don't have anything I want, sir," the man in the black hat replied. "…I just came to ask if you could give two women I'm traveling with some shelter."

The young man shot a glance between the stranger and his grandfather. "…You don't actually believe this guy, Grandpa, do you?"

"…Where are your companions?" Paul asked.

"They're staying in a shack by the graveyard. The trip here was hard on them, and the hounds we came with got loose and are somewhere in the swamp," the stranger explained.

"…David, please go and collect these women and share what hospitality we can spare them," Paul told his grandson.

"…Yes, Grandpa," David muttered, accepting that the old man would not back him in an argument. He shot one last look of disgust at the stranger before departing.

"…I must thank you for treating my grandson with such restraint. You'll have to forgive him, he was telling the truth about our difficulties with some of the… local agitators," he politely explained.

"…I'm just surprised that you chose this city in particular to set yourself up," the stranger replied. "These people don't seem wholly receptive to what you believe in."

"…Most aren't," Paul confessed. "But enough are. Just because the fight can seem hopeless doesn't absolve you from trying your best to fight."

The stranger looked away as Paul glanced at him. "…It's funny. I haven't seen anyone wearing a hat like that since I crossed to the east of the river. It reminds me of this young man I used to serve with many years ago. It just… something about it makes this old man feel sentimental."

"…Probably because you gave it to me, sir," the stranger replied.

Paul stared at the man and looked upon his face. It was incredible how a face could change so little over the years and yet be completely unrecognizable, and yet as he looked, he knew immediately that he was telling the truth. "…My Lord," Paul breathed as he approached the former guardsman. "…DUNCAN!"

He placed his hands on Duncan's shoulders as he fought back tears. "…I never thought I'd see you again," he choked out. "I… we thought you were dead."

"…I'm not surprised," Duncan admitted, quietly.

"How have you been? What brings you back here? Have you met any of the others? What have you been doing these past few years? Oh, this is fantastic!" Paul cried out in joy as he bombarded Duncan with questions.

"…You don't have to pretend to be happy to see me," Duncan replied.

"Pretend?" Paul asked. He then remembered the circumstances of Duncan leaving New Canaan. Or at least all that was left of it. Duncan had been angry that ruin had come to his home and blamed one man entirely for the result. When denied his attempt at retribution, Duncan turned his back on the other survivors, leaving them when they were at their most vulnerable, much to the resentment of the other members of the community.

"…Duncan, we forgave you a long time ago. We're just happy to know you're alive and safe. H-have you had any contact with any of our other community members?" Paul asked.

"…Graham," Duncan stated, flatly.

"Graham? Graham! You've seen Joshua?" Paul asked, barely hiding his excitement. "How has he been? We haven't heard from him in years. He said he went east to make sure the Legion was out of the area and since then we haven't heard anything! Is he alive? Is he well? What does he-" Paul's excited smile began to fade when he began to study Duncan's face, and slowly the realization began to hit him. He now knew why no one had heard anything about Joshua Graham in the years that had followed.

Paul's face began to twist as the anger bubbled inside him. His fists clenched as he looked upon the desperate and pathetic soul standing across from him. Before he could stop himself, he lashed out at Duncan, striking him on the side of his face with the back of his fist, knocking the hat off his head. Stoically, Duncan stood there as Paul grabbed him by the collar as the old man screamed in his face, "YOU STUPID, FOOLISH BOY!"

Paul lunged at Duncan. Duncan waited to be shoved onto the floor, but it never came. Instead, Paul's arms wrapped around Duncan's shoulders as the old man began to sob. Paul was devastated, not just over having lost his friend, but over the fact that a wayward, misguided boy had been responsible for it. He was sorry for both of them, Duncan realized as he returned the hug as Paul grieved what the world had done to two more people that he loved.

David returned some hours later with two young women in tow. The women had kept to themselves, only answering the rare question David asked them. From their brief conversations, David had concluded that these women had been brought up in a house of ill-repute and that the stranger in a hat waiting for them at the church was their new "pimp" as he believe the nomenclature called it. Still, they seemed kind and gentle and were especially grateful that they were being taken in. And, David had to admit, the blonde one was kind of cute.

When they arrived back at the church, David saw that the chapel office door was once again closed. While he waited, he fed Cheslie and May Lin what little food he could still offer, apologizing for their lack of supply as the local gangs had been "taxing" the church since its inception.

Before too long, the door opened and Paul and the stranger emerged from the office. "…David, this man will be staying with us indefinitely," Paul explained as he wiped his eyes.

"Grandpa, what-" David began.

"…His name is Duncan Schmitt, and he has agreed to offer his services in exchange for our accommodating his companions," Paul explained. He turned to the gunslinger. "…Oh, I forgot, by his choice, he will answer to the name "Esau" going forward.

David and the women both turned to look at the gunslinger. "…Duncan is a name that has caused nothing but trouble, and to spare you a long story, the name "Esau" resonates with me for personal reasons," the gunslinger explained as he played with the hat in his hands.

"…Welcome to the family, Esau," David reluctantly greeted the newest member of the congregation. As "Esau" went to help get the girls situated, David went to join with his grandfather as they discussed their new circumstances. "…So, we're taking in strays, now?" David asked.

"If our church can let in a charred warlord and welcome him back with open arms, then our friend there doesn't have a prayer of getting rejected," Paul admonished his grandson.

"…You knew him?" David asked.

"From a long time ago, and a lot has happened since then, but regardless, he is still a friend," Paul stated.

"…His name used to be Duncan, right?" David asked.

"What of it?" Paul replied.

"…Didn't Aunt Hannah have a crush on a guy named…" David began.

"Esau!" Paul called out. "David here just volunteered to show you the grounds! Get a move on, David, we don't have all evening!" Paul stated as he shoved David from the altar. The two were ejected from the church building. Looking to the south, the lights of Sunken Orleans shone like fireflies above the swamp water.

"…We have extra rooms in the church basement, but I'm afraid you might have to tough it out in the garden shack out back," David explained.

"…It's more than enough," Esau replied.

David breathed a sigh of relief. "…We're running short enough on supplies as it is. Just last week we had our donations raided by this local gang from the city, so it's nice to not hear any complaints and just gratitude about what we can…"

"Local gang?" Esau asked.

"…They call themselves the Bayou Boyz," David rolled his eyes. "I know they got a clubhouse somewhere near the French Eighth, but we've got enough trouble keeping a roof over our heads to even pretend we can get our stuff back…"

"I'll go and talk to them," Esau replied as placed his hat back onto his head and limped down the dirt road to the city.

"Du- Esau, you don't have to go into the city. It's dangerous!" David replied.

Esau turned and looked at David. "Really?" he asked, not dissuaded in the slightest.

"…No killing, please," David relented. "Grandpa would never let us hear the end of it if blood was spilled over a few caps and cans of soup."

"Of course," Esau nodded as he turned and kept down the path. "I'm just going to have a good discussion with our friends."

"About what?" David asked.

Esau turned around and smiled at David. "…About how, deep down, you and your grandfather are both good people!" As Esau turned away, his smile faded as he muttered to himself. "…And deep down, I'm not."