Author's Note: In case anyone did not get the reference to NCIS that I noted at the end of the previous chapter, it was when Mark told Julie he never goes anywhere without a knife, which is Gibbs Rule #9. Enjoy the chapter, and reviews are always welcome.
"Whaddya mean, I was targeted? Gimme that damn note." She ripped the note out of Mark's hands and read it:
Jason,
Per our agreement with the Crimson Caravan Company and AM, the following caravans are to be eliminated:
-Cassidy Caravans
-Durable Dunn's Caravans
-Griffin Wares Caravans
I assume that you will be able to handle this matter with the utmost discretion, as usual
Gloria
As Cass read the note, her face went from a look of abject despondency to one of pure, unfiltered rage. "Of fuckin' course. I thought I recognized that damn symbol on that armor. This was the work of the fuckin' Van Graffs." Mark didn't recognize the name. "Who are the Van Graffs?" he asked. "Crime family out of Redding in the NCR," Boone said, "and they sell energy weapons out of the Silver Rush in Freeside." "No," Cass said, still fuming, "I'll tell ya what they are. They're a bunch a fuckin' scumbags, and they're tha next people that I'm gonna kill."
She looked back at the paper. "AM- I shoulda fuckin' known it. Alice Mc-fuckin-Lafferty. Now it's all makin' sense. Who tha fuck would wanna buy a destroyed caravan?" She crumpled up the paper and threw it on the ground. Mark picked it up, un-crumpled it, folded it, and put it in his pocket. They may need it as evidence. "That's it," Cass said, "I'm gonna get some extra ammo, some whiskey, and show them how a Cassidy settles accounts. Ya guys with me?" Mark and Boone looked at each other, but didn't say anything. "Guys?" "Look, Cass," Mark said, "I know that you're upset, but-" "Upset? I am fuckin' livid. This was ma caravan. Ma livelihood. Tha people that died, they're ma responsibility. What tha hell happened ta having ma back, or was that jus' a load a shit?"
"No, Cass," Mark said, "we have your back, but you're not thinking clearly right now. Like you said, I've got a wife that's expecting me to come back, and I think that she'd prefer it if I came back under my own power, and not one of you guys having to carry my dead body. And in case you've forgotten, she's carrying my kid, so I can't afford to be going off half-cocked." Cass threw her arms up in the air. "So that's how it is, huh? I help ya get yer revenge on that asshole who shot ya, but when I need yer help, yer gonna bail on me? I wore a fuckin' dress fer ya. I have NEVER worn a fuckin dress." "Cass," Mark said, "we're not bailing on you, but we've gotta be smart about this."
He pulled out the note. "This note, it could've been written by the Van Graffs just to frame the Crimson Caravan, and them buying your caravan could've just been a coincidence. We need hard evidence from the Crimson Caravan that matches up with this. If we find it, then I will be more than happy to take action against them, but not until then. You think I don't know what it's like to lose people you care about? That Boone doesn't? I saw my dad die right in front of my eyes, and there was nothing that I could do to save him. I know what it's like to want justice, to want retribution, but we're going up against a probably well-trained and well- equipped crime family. How are you gonna get justice for those you lost if you're dead? If we do this, we do this right. I have too much to lose otherwise. Besides, right now, we have the advantage because they don't know that we know about this, and we don't want to waste it."
Cass pursed her lips. "Fine," she finally said, "but how do ya propose we get this information?" Mark smiled. "I may know someone who works for the Crimson Caravan who owes me a huge favor." "Well then," Cass said, "what tha fuck are we waitin' fer? Let's go." "No," Boone said flatly. Mark and Cass looked at him. "You're too emotional right now. If we go there, and you see McLafferty, are you one hundred percent certain that you won't start shooting?" "Yeah," Mark said, "Boone's got a good point. You need to let the two of us handle this part." "And where tha fuck am I supposed ta wait fer ya?" "Wait at the King's headquarters in Freeside. Tell him the Courier sent you." Cass got a resigned look on her face. "Alright. Let's go." They began to walk. "Hey Cass?" Mark asked. "What?" "An old friend once told me that in all things, a calm heart must prevail. There are other ways to hurt people besides shooting them." "Yer friend sounds like a wuss." Mark chuckled. "Trust me. If you saw him, a wuss would be the last thing that you would call him."
(30 minutes later, Lucky 38)
It was close to 1 PM, and they had just eaten lunch. Arcade had whipped up some mac and cheese for the three of them, and now he was doing a check-up on Amata in the game room. "Any dizziness? Headaches? Nausea?" Arcade asked. "I'm not feeling dizzy, maybe a little headache, and I've been nauseous since I got pregnant, so you're gonna have to be a bit more specific on that one," Amata responded. Arcade smiled. "Fair enough. Any more nausea than usual?" "No." "Ok, well let's just see how your memory's doing." Arcade pulled out a paper. Mark had written down a list of questions that she should know the answers to, along with the answers. "Full name?" "Amata Franklin." "Good. Maiden name?" "Almodovar." "Husband's full name?" "Mark Franklin." "Ok. Your birthdate?" "August 12th, 2258." "Husband's birthdate?" "May 16, 2258." "Ok. Name of your-" Arcade raised an eyebrow, "-insane father?" "Did Mark seriously write that?" Amata asked. "Apparently, he did. Did he not like your father, or-" "Yeah, you could say that. Anyway, the answer is Alphonse Almodovar."
Veronica, who had been listening to them, decided to sneak back into Mark and Amata's room to look at that briefcase again. She quietly opened and closed the door, and got the briefcase out from under their bed. It seemed to be sturdy, and in a lot better shape than a lot of things you could find in the wastes. It required a three-digit code to open. She tried Amata's birthday (8-1-2), and Mark's birthday (5-1-6), but it didn't open. She put it down on the bed, and looked around the room for inspiration. She saw something hanging on the wall. It looked like some kind of framed quote:
I am Alpha and Omega
The Beginning and the End
I will give unto him
That is athirst of
The fountain of the
Water of life
Freely
Revelations 21:6
'Well,' she thought, 'whatever this is, it must mean something to them. Maybe that's the code.' She went back over to the briefcase. She flipped the dials to 2-1-6, but that still didn't work. She decided that she'd spent enough time in here. She put the briefcase back under the bed, and left the room quietly. As she shut the door and turned around, she jumped a little. ED-E was floating there, staring at her. She pointed a finger at him. "Don't judge me." ED-E just beeped.
(Same time, Gun Runners)
After grabbing a quick lunch of some questionable-tasting meat from a roadside vendor, the three of them found themselves at the same Gun Runners kiosk that Mark had visited before they went to Fortification Hill. Mark was particularly fond of the green combat armor that had been gifted to him by Reilly after saving the Rangers from the roof of the Statesman Hotel, but with the increasingly dangerous stuff that House wanted him to do, he decided that a change of armor was warranted. He needed something more heavy-duty, and this new armor fit the bill perfectly.
It was armor that was based on pre-war riot gear. It was a green camouflaged color, with full leg and arm guards (although he had to adjust the left arm guard a bit so that he could still use his pip-boy), a chest plate, and bulky shoulder pads with a five-pointed star on each. It also came with a brown, sleeveless duster, one that reminded Mark of the one that Sheriff Simms wore. The helmet that came with it had a gas mask and protective eye shields, and had a night vision and infrared vision modes. No one would see his face unless he wanted them to. "Damn," Cass said as Mark stepped out of a makeshift dressing room, "ya look pretty bad-ass." Mark unclasped the helmet and took it off. "Yeah, well, for what I'm paying for it, it better do more than look bad-ass." "Isn't Amata gonna be mad that yer spendin' all this money?" "I doubt it. Between what we have from back east, and with what House is paying, we'll be fine. Besides, it's technically my money, since I've earned it all." Mark paused. "Don't tell her I said that, though." Boone looked him over. "You could probably pass as a veteran ranger in that armor," he said.
When they arrived at Freeside's east gate, Cass reluctantly broke off and headed towards the Kings HQ. The Crimson Caravan branch was a couple of miles away. Mark realized that, with the new armor, it was a lot easier to carry his duffel bag and weapons, but it restricted his field of vision somewhat. He and Boone walked in silence for a few minutes, and Mark was debating whether he should bring up a particular subject with Boone. 'You know what,' he thought, 'screw it.' "Hey Boone?" "Yeah?" "I, uh, I think it's time that you told me what happened with your wife." Boone stopped in his tracks and stared at him. "Any particular reason you're bringing this up now?" Boone inquired.
Mark took off his helmet. "Boone, I'm not an idiot." "Never said that you were." "Boone, look, the night that we met in Novac, you told me you knew that your wife was dead. I didn't ask how you knew because I barely knew you. Then you asked to come with us until we found Benny, who's been dead for four days. You knew about the sniper's nest, and when we got there it looked like it hadn't been used in a while." Mark paused. Boone said nothing, so Mark continued. "I've seen the way you look at Amata. You know she's pregnant, and you know that I know that Carla was pregnant, so-" "You think that I'm still here because fate has given me a second chance to protect a pregnant woman?" "The thought has crossed my mind more than once, Boone." "I don't see any point in talking about it," Boone said. "She's dead. Talking about it isn't going to bring her back."
"No," Mark said, "it won't, but it might not hurt to talk about it. Look, when my dad was killed, I was devastated. For various reasons that I won't go into right now, Amata wasn't with me at the time, so I had no one to talk to about it. All I wanted was vengeance, and that fire consumed me. Sure, I killed the asshole responsible, and it helped a bit, but that fire still burned. Eventually, I talked to Amata about it, and the fire went away. You might think talking about it won't help, but believe me, it will." Boone sighed, and leaned back against a wall of a dilapidated house that they were passing. Mark stood next to him. Boone stared straight ahead as he talked. "She…I tracked her down. Southeast to Cottonwood Cove. They were selling her. Saw it through my scope. Whole place was swarming with Legion. Hundreds of them. Bidding for things no man has a right to. I just had my rifle with me. Just me against all of them, so…I took the shot."
Mark just stood there and listened. In a way, Boone reminded him of Elder Lyons. World-weary, a man who had seen too much far too often. "That's, um, that's horrible Boone. Although I guess it's better than being a Legion slave." Mark wasn't sure if he would be able to take that shot if it was Amata on the other end. "Yeah…what they do to women, it's worse than death. It was like being forced to watch something that you can't stop." He paused. "I don't know why I'm still here. Maybe you're right, that the universe has given me a second chance to protect Amata like I couldn't protect Carla. Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment, you and Amata the reincarnation of me and Carla, what she and I had, the universe torturing me for all the bad things that I've done. If I were you, I'd keep my distance. Her, too. I've got bad things coming to me, and if you're not careful, she's gonna end up dead, too."
"That's not gonna happen, Boone. I won't let it," Mark said. "Yeah," Boone said, scoffing at him, "just like I thought I wasn't gonna let anything happen to Carla. You can't protect them all the time. It's impossible." Mark patted Boone on the shoulder. "The thing is, Boone," Mark said as he put the helmet back on, "doing the impossible is kinda my forte. Besides, I'm not the only one protecting her. Come on, let's go." Boone looked at him. "How old are you?" Boone asked. "Nineteen, why?" Mark responded. "Hmm…no reason," Boone said.
They finally reached the Crimson Caravan branch. It was a compound with an open gate entrance with a guard next to it. The concrete walls surrounding the area were about ten feet high. The guard gave both of them a cursory glance as they entered, but made no move to stop them. Inside there was an enclosed brahmin pen, an area for farming, a vendor, and three wooden buildings. There were employees milling about, and Mark noticed that there was a woman with a pair of binoculars looking off to the northeast, and Mark wondered why she was looking at a concrete wall. Mark looked around for Ringo, and found him leaning on the brahmin pen. He was wearing a set of leather armor and was carrying a brown messenger bag over his shoulder.
Mark and Boone walked up to him. "Ringo," Mark said, his voice distorted through the helmet. "Yeah?" Ringo said, looking at the two of them. He started to freak out a bit. Mark couldn't blame him. A man in full combat armor, carrying an assault rifle in his right hand and an NCR sniper walking up to you would've freaked most people out. "Who-who are you guys?" People started to look at them. "Ringo," Mark said, "calm down. I'm a friend." "I don't know either of you guys." "No, you don't know him," Mark said, pointing to Boone, "but you know me. I saved your ass in Goodsprings." Ringo looked confused for a couple of moments, and then it dawned on him. "Ma-" Mark clamped his left hand over Ringo's mouth. "Don't say my name. It's for your own protection. Ok?" Ringo nodded, and Mark removed his hand. "What-what are you doing here? Who's he?" "Ringo, we need to talk. Let's take a walk." Mark put his hand on Ringo's back and guided him towards the front gate.
They walked for a few minutes until they came to a nearly collapsed building. They went inside, and as soon as Mark made sure they couldn't be seen, Mark unclasped and took off the helmet. "How've you been, Ringo?" "Uh, good, I guess. You freaked me out a bit back there." "Sorry about that, but this needs to be kept on the down low." "Hey," Ringo said, "did you hear about that guy who got shot in Goodsprings? The guy who became the Courier? Small world, huh?" Mark turned his head so Ringo could see the scar. "Holy shit," Ringo said, shocked, "you're the courier?" "Yes," Mark said, "and keep your voice down." "So, what do you want with me? Wait, are you gonna kill me?" Mark chuckled. "Ringo, I have no reason to kill you. Besides, if I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead. I've come to collect on that debt."
"Ok, sure, uh, what do you need?" "All I need is information." "That's it? Just information?" "Yes," Mark said. "First question: which building is McLafferty's office in?" "Why do you need to know that?" Ringo asked nervously. "It's better if you didn't know why. Just answer the question." "It's in the building in the middle of the compound." "What's the layout?" "Uh, there are three offices right next to each other on the left as you enter. McLafferty's is the last one. The rest of the building is just an open waiting area." "Last question, Ringo. What's the security like? More specifically, what's it like at night?" "Well, from what I've seen, there's just the one guard out front. The caravan guards usually sleep at night, and they only lock the door to the office." "Thanks, Ringo. That's all I need to know."
"That's it? So we're good?" "Yeah, Ringo, we're good. Although, there is one more thing. Some things are gonna happen, and some things may end up going missing, so it'll be for the best if you're not there when it happens." "What are you talking about? You want me to leave?" "Yeah," Mark said, "a lot of people saw you leave with two heavily armed strangers, and if something goes missing, you're gonna be the first person they're gonna question." "Well, where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?" Mark bent down and unzipped his bag. He pulled out a key, a sack of caps, and a submachine gun with some ammo he got at Gun Runners. He handed them to Ringo.
"Go back to Goodsprings. You can have mine and Amata's house. A town guard position was recently vacated. Help Sunny protect the town. There's a war on the horizon, and the town needs to be defended." Mark noticed the unsure look on his face. "Ringo, I consider you to be a friend, and that's why I'm giving you this chance to get out before the shit hits the fan. I'm not gonna force you to go, but it would be in your best interest if you did." Ringo looked at the items Mark had just given him, and then sighed. "Alright. I guess it'll be nice to put roots down somewhere." He managed a smile. "Maybe I'll see you around?" Mark fastened the helmet back in place, picked up his bag, and readied his assault rifle. "Maybe. Goodbye, Ringo." Mark and Boone headed back towards Vegas, and Ringo started the long walk back to Goodsprings.
By the time the three of them got back to the Lucky 38, it was quarter past three. Cass got off the elevator and headed towards the game room. "I need a fuckin' drink," was all she said before she disappeared. Boone went into his room, and Mark took off his helmet and went into the kitchen to get some water. He found Arcade sitting at the table, going over some notes. "Oh, hey, Mark," Arcade said, "how was your day?" "Complicated," Mark said as he got a bottle of water out of the fridge and downed it, "how's Amata doing?" "Quite well, actually. I believe she should be back to normal in a day or two." "Good to hear. Listen, Arcade, I need a favor." "Sure, what's up?" "Apparently Cass has a heart condition, and needs a cardio booster shot in case her heart stops. Next time you go down to the lab, could you check the medical facilities to see if we have any?" "Uh, yeah, sure, no problem," Arcade said. "Thanks. I'm gonna go take a nap." He picked his helmet and bag off of the floor and went to his room.
When he opened the door, he found Veronica sitting on one of the couches, and Amata was sitting up against the headboard, reading a book. "Hey, Mark," Veronica said. "Hey, Veronica. Thanks for watching Amata for me. I'll take it from here." "Anytime," she said as she got up and left the room, closing the door behind her. "How're you feeling, babe?" Mark asked as he disarmed and took off his armor. "Good. That's some, um, heavy duty armor you've got there." "Yep," Mark responded. "So, how was your day?" Amata asked. "Oh, you know, the usual. Made a new enemy, found out Cass' caravan was targeted, met an old friend, and made plans to break into a compound. You know, the usual." Amata didn't look up from her book.
"Who's this new enemy that you've made?" "Eh, no one important, just the general of the NCR military," Mark said nonchalantly. "How exactly did you manage to piss off the general of the NCR military?" "I went for that meeting with the ambassador this morning, and the general just happened to be there, and he demanded that I do things for them, and you know how I get when asshole demand I do things." Mark finally finished taking off the armor, leaving him in just his underwear and a white t-shirt. He fell face first onto the bed. "Mark, one day that mouth of yours is gonna get you killed." "Babe," he said, his voice muffled by his pillow, "people have been trying to kill me since I've left the vault, and no one's succeeded yet, obviously." There was silence for a few moments, and then Mark turned his head to look at her.
"Amata, why do I keep doing this?" "Doing what?" "Helping out anyone who asks me to. Do I have some kind of messiah complex or something? You know, when I decided to come out here, I just wanted a quiet, peaceful life, where no one knew who I was or what I did. Then, you came along, and, I mean, I still wanted that quiet life, but then I began thinking, you know, we could live in a small town, have regular jobs. Maybe have two, three kids, who wouldn't know what happened in DC, who wouldn't have to deal with all of the crap that we had to deal with. Now I'm just doing what I did back east, helping people just because they ask, and now I've ended up in the middle of another fucking war." Amata closed the book and looked at him. "Well, we'll circle back to how many kids you think we're gonna have, but Mark, you help people because you're a good person. Your dad raised you right. It's as simple as that."
"Is it, though? Is it because I was raised in a vault, and not numbed to the violence the way that everyone who was raised in the wastes was? What if I was raised in the wastes? Would I still have felt the need to help, or would have I been one of those guys who only looked out for themselves?" Amata sighed. "Mark, I can't answer those questions. As much as you want me to, I can't. Maybe if your mother hadn't died, and you hadn't been raised in the vault, maybe all of that stuff you did wouldn't have happened. But you know what else wouldn't have happened?" "What?"
She put her hand on his back. "Us, Mark. Us. You said it yourself in that message that you left me. If your mother hadn't died, you probably wouldn't have been brought to the vault, we would have never met, and we wouldn't be here right now. In love, married, and expecting a child. God knows where you'd be, and I would've probably taken over for my dad by now, blissfully unaware of everything the wastes had to offer, good and bad. I don't know what our lives would have been like, or how you would've turned out, and honestly, I don't care one bit. You are the man I love, and I love you for who you are, not what you might have been, and I couldn't imagine my life without you. Now, I don't know where this self-doubt came from all of a sudden, but you need to knock it the hell off, because honestly, it's kind of annoying."
Mark chuckled. "Come on, babe, lay with me." She put the book down on her nightstand, and laid down, facing away from him. The nestled together, and Mark draped his arm over her. "Thank you, Amata, for putting up with everything. The vault, here, my general stupidity. You are my rock, and I couldn't imagine my life without you, either." "Hey, I'm not just a pretty face." "You got that right, babe." There was silence for a few minutes as they just laid there.
"You know," Amata said quietly, "I miss this. Just the two of us, like what we had in Goodsprings." "Me too," Mark said. "Tell you what. Once you're all better, we'll go on a date. We'll get all dressed up, go to that vault, have some dinner, rent a room, and see where the evening takes us. It's kinda been a fantasy of mine to make love to you in a vault." "I'm not gonna lie," she said, "It's kinda been a fantasy of mine, too. Now, uh, let's get back to how many kids you think I'm gonna pump out. You seriously want three kids?" Mark didn't say anything. "Mark?" Mark started snoring. Amata shook her head. "Alright, we can talk about it later. I know you're tired," she said quietly. Amata listened to him snore, feeling at peace.
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Anyone else excited for the creation kit? Unfortunately, I have to wait until June since I have a PS4, but I hope the wait is worth it. Until next time, and reviews are welcomed and appreciated.