A little over an hour later, Cass, Amata, and ED-E entered the Kings School of Impersonation. The Kings that were standing in the front room stopped what they were doing and looked at who had entered. When they saw Amata, they froze, remembering what had happened to their compatriots a few days ago. Amata couldn't help but smirk as she and Cass strode through the room confidently. The man guarding the door didn't even try to stop them, opening and holding the door for them. They came into the back room, where the King and a few other Kings were watching someone just finish singing on stage.
Amata made her way over to the King and tapped him on the shoulder. "I asked not to be distu-" He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Amata. He quickly stood up. "Ah, Mrs. Franklin, it's a pleasure to see you. How are you feeling? Better, I hope?" Amata smiled. "Yes, King, thank you, I am feeling much better. And please, just call me Amata." "Of course," the King said, "my apologies." The King looked around, expecting to see Mark. "Is your husband here? Not that I'm not pleased to see you back on your feet, but there were some things that I wanted to discuss with him."
Amata looked nervously at Cass, and then back at the King. "Um, unfortunately, Mark is feeling a bit under the weather, and he sends his regards and his regrets. This sounded important, so I decided to come in his stead. I hope that it isn't a problem." The King pursed his lips. "Well," he said finally, "I was hoping he could do something for me, and it could be a bit dangerous, and I couldn't possibly ask someone in your condition to do it." "You don't have to ask, King. Besides, just walking out of the front door is dangerous these days, yet we both still do it. Trust me, whatever it is, I can handle it. And it's not like I don't have backup with me just in case," Amata said motioning to Cass and ED-E.
The King looked at Cass, like he had noticed her for the first time. "Ah, yes, miss, I remember you from the other night. Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten your name." "Cass," she said as the King shook her hand, "just Cass." "It's a pleasure," the King said. He then looked back at Amata. "And your husband's okay with this?" "Actually, King, he was the one who suggested it. He's a big boy, and he has others who can look in on him. Now, why don't you tell me it is what you need me to do." "Alright," the King said as he looked around the room. "Alright, everyone clear out. These ladies and I have some business to discuss."
The others slowly left the room, and the King motioned for Amata and Cass to sit. Amata sat down across from the King, and noticed that there was a dog lying on the ground, facing the stage. Amata reached down and scratched him behind his ears. The dog gave no recognition. He looked like a German Shepard, but on his head was a brain encased in a dome with some bluish fluid. Three of his legs and half of his body looked like it had been replaced with robotic parts. "Aww, King, who's this little guy?" Amata asked. The King grinned. "Oh, yeah, that's Rex. He's a cyberdog, part of the Denver Police Department before the war. Survived over two hundred years, and we found him just wandering in the wastes I don't even know how long ago. He's one of my best friends." Cass looked over at the dog. "Doesn't seem very lively," she said.
"Ah, time has taken its toll on him. He has his good days and his bad days. Anyway, down to business. Have either of you noticed the bodyguards at the north gate?" Both Cass and Amata shook their heads. The King continued. "Well, its good money if you can stay alive long enough. Freeside's not as safe as it used to be, so the money's well-earned. Well, usually well-earned, that is. Recently, my men tell me that one of the bodyguards, fella named Orris, is making a bit too much money. He's making a killing in repeat business. Once someone hires him, they never want anyone else." Amata was a bit perturbed at where the King was going with this. "King, if he's good at what he does, they why shouldn't he get paid? He's got the right to earn a living. If you're asking me to knock off the competition, then I'm walking out of here right now. I don't do that, and neither does Mark."
The King's face reddened. "No, no, that's not what I'm asking at all. I'm just saying that some of those guards are Kings, and I just want a level playing field. I'm just looking out for my guys. I'm not trying to get some unfair advantage." Amata's face softened a bit. She believed him. "Ok, King, so what do you want me to do?" "I want you to hire him. Play the innocent tourist. I would have one of my guys do it, but he can spot a King a mile away. See if there's anything suspicious going on. If nothing happens, so be it. I just have a hunch that things won't go so smoothly." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of caps. "There's two hundred caps in there. My guys tell that that's what it costs to hire him." The King paused for a moment.
"Look, Amata, if you want to back out, believe me when I say that I won't hold it against you. I can wait until your husband gets better." "King, I'm doing this," Amata said matter-of-factly. "I will make a much better 'innocent tourist,' than my husband ever could." She took the caps and put them in her satchel bag. The King thought it over for a moment. "You may have a point there. Maybe it is better that you do this. "Damn straight," Amata said as she and Cass stood up. She put her hunting rifle on the table. "I'm gonna leave this here. I want to look as 'innocent' as possible. I'll be back in a while with my report." They headed to the door, when Amata turned back around and looked at him. "Oh, and King? I heard those quotes you gave on the radio. We're gonna need to talk about that, because I know that you're a better person than that." As soon as Cass and Amata left, the King ran a hand through his hair. "Damn," he said to himself, "Mark is one lucky bastard."
(15 minutes later)
Amata and Cass stared at the guards from a distance. There were four of them sitting under a tattered olive-green canopy. "Yer sure ya wanna do this?" Cass asked. "Yes, Cass, I'm sure that I want to do this. I need to focus on something other than Mark." "Alright, I'll stay hidden, but I've got ma eyes on ya. ED-E'll watch ya from above." "Thanks, Cass." Cass slapped her on the back. "Eh, what are friends for?" Cass walked away, and hid in a hollowed-out building. ED-E went high up in the air, making sure to appear as small as possible. Amata walked down a nearby side-street, and doubled back to make it look like she hadn't come from the Strip or the King's HQ.
The guards were all of varying ages, and the armor and weapons they carried also differed. Amata approached them slowly, looking around Freeside nervously in an attempt to sell the 'innocent tourist' routine. When the men saw her, they all scrambled to get up, knocking each other backwards in an attempt to get to Amata first. Amata suppressed a smirk. 'Men,' she thought, 'this is gonna be too easy.' "Ex-excuse me, but I-I'm looking for, um, someone named Orris." One of the men, who looked to be about Mark's height, wearing metal armor and sporting a black goatee and messy black hair, said, "Sorry fellas, looks like someone has heard of how awesome I am." Amata wanted to roll her eyes. The other men sat back down, sulking. "I am Orris," the man said. "How may I help you, miss?" "Well, I-I need to get to the Strip. My friend wrote to me and- and he told me you were the best bodyguard here."
"Whoever your friend is, they're right. I am the best bodyguard in Freeside. You will be safest with me. Not with one of these other losers." The other guards stared daggers at him, but he seemed not to notice. "You're hired," Amata said. "It'll be nice to have a big, strong, man protecting me. Not to mention devilishly handsome." She reached into her bag and pulled out the caps the King had given her. "My friend told me that you charge two hundred caps," she said as she handed the bag to Orris. "Normally, yes," Orris said, "but for a sweet thing like you, I'll knock it down to one hundred caps." Amata smiled and batted her eyelashes. "Ooh, big, strong, handsome, and generous. Looks like I hit the jackpot," she said flirtatiously. Orris turned red, and Amata was sure it had nothing to do with the sun beating down on them.
Amata counted out one hundred caps and gave them to Orris. "Ok," he said, "to keep you safe, I need you to follow my instructions to the letter. We'll be heading down the main street the whole way. No detours. You go off sightseeing, and I go off to find another customer. I'll keep a brisk pace, so try not to fall behind." "Of course, Orris. Whatever you say." "Good. Actually, miss, before we leave, I believe I should at least know your name. "Uh…Mack. My name is Susie Mack." "Well, alright Miss Mack, let's be on our way."
(20 minutes earlier, Sierra Madre Villa)
Whoever this third collar was, Mark reasoned, seemed like they didn't really want to be found. There were traps littered all over this part of the villa. He nearly learned that the hard way when he nearly stepped in a bear trap. The only reason that he didn't was he had caught a glint of metal on the ground that was illuminated from one of the lights on the side of a building. There were also a couple of heavily concentrated pockets of the Cloud that blocked the most direct route to the third collar, forcing him to take a more circuitous route. Taking the more indirect route also forced him to encounter more traps, like grenade bouquets and a trip-wire rigged shotgun. Using his knife, he was able to disarm the traps, keeping the grenades, but ditched the shotgun because it was in terrible condition, and only had one shell. The good thing about the traps was that some of the creatures had gotten killed by them. He had found one of the creatures with its leg cut off after it had gotten caught in a bear trap.
Eventually, after encountering one of the creatures that had avoided the traps and killing it, he found himself staring at the side of a building with a large hole that had been blown out of it. Unusually as well, there appeared to be a set of yellow string lights hanging over the hole, and Mark could hear music playing. He had been so intrigued by the lights and music that he barely noticed that one of the creatures with a bear trap on its arm had come up behind him. He turned around and saw a bear trap fist come flying straight for him. He tried to defend himself but was too slow. The bear trap clamped down on the bulletproof vest, ripping a chunk out of it, and the residual force sent Mark sprawling on the cobblestone street, with the holorifle clattered about twenty feet away from him. The creature went for another swing, but Mark rolled out of the way, and the creature got nothing but cobblestone.
Mark scrambled to his feet and fired three shots in quick succession. It staggered back a few feet. Mark got an idea, and dived behind a raised garden plot. He took a grenade off of his belt, took the pin out with his teeth, then threw it at the creatures feet. He then fired another shot before the creature could react, the bullet detonating the grenade prematurely. He ducked back down, waiting for the dust to settle. Bits of the creature rained down, some on him, and he wiped it away in disgust. He waited for a moment, seeing if the noise would attract any other creatures, but none came. He checked his pip-boy. Whoever this collar was, they were where the music was coming from. He collected the holorifle and continued on his way.
He went up a couple of flights of stairs. The music was getting louder as he went up, and finally saw a figure sitting in a red chair, with another chair next to him. Mark looked out of the hole, and there was an excellent view of the Sierra Madre. From the way the figure looked, it appeared that it was a ghoul. He spoke, but not in a raspy voice like other ghouls. This voice was more suave. "Have a seat," he said without turning around, "and then we'll talk." "I'll stand," Mark stated. "Oh no, I insist." Mark warily approached the other chair, a bit uneasy at the way he said "insist." He could see that the ghoul was wearing a pair of sunglasses (although Mark had no idea how they stayed up without ears or a nose) and a pre-war tuxedo. Mark sat down, and regretted it instantly. "Don't make any sudden movements, no matter how uncomfortable that chair gets. The cushion's just for show." Mark saw a detonator in his left hand, his thumb over the trigger.
"That had better be a shape charge I'm sitting on, otherwise you'll kill us both." He sounded a bit impressed, albeit with a slight mocking undertone. "Oh ho, sounds like someone's done some blue collar work in their life. Your ma must be proud." 'I never knew my mother, but thanks.' He continued. "No, I'm not stupid. Just because I work in entertainment, people think I'm an idiot. Get up without my permission, and I'll blast your ass so far through your head, it'll turn the moon cherry-pie red." "That's an interesting turn of phrase," Mark said, "seeing as you can't even see the moon." "It was rhetorical, jackass. Anyway, I know why you're here. I heard my necktie beeping. I know what this means. I'm part of this somehow. I want out of this contract, and if you put me in it, I'm not going to be happy. So whatever's going on here, if you're part of all this, you're taking orders from me now."
"First of all," Mark said, "I didn't put that collar on you. A crazy old man named Elijah did. Secondly, if you kill me, you'll die too. Our collars are all linked, idiot. I die, you die, the others all die." He looked genuinely surprised. "Hmm. They never used to do that." "Look," Mark said, "I'm know I'm not the first person to come here, so let's cut to the chase. I need you to come with me to help the old man get into the casino and some vault." "Of course you do. Just like the others. I bet you want to go home, too. So did the others, until greed took over, and they started sizing each other up for funeral suits." "Look, I don't care about the treasure or whatever else is this supposed vault. I've survived explosions, supposedly lethal doses of radiation, beatings, an entire army's worth of bullets, two of which hit my brain and very nearly killed me. I don't know about the others that came here, but I've survived the worst that the wasteland's had to offer and then some. So why don't you put down that detonator, because we both know you're not going to press that button. I'm guessing you want whatever's in the vault as bad as Elijah does."
He chuckled. "You're a perceptive little shrew, aren't you?" He put the trigger guard in place and tossed the detonator away. Mark exhaled. "Alright," Mark said, "we need to get going. We're using the Villa's police station as a base." "We?" he asked. "Yeah, there's the woman I came here with, her name's Veronica. Then there are two others. One is a nightkin with two personalities, and the other is another woman, Christine, although he inexplicably ripped out her vocal cords, although I still can't figure out why. Then again, he's probably insane." The ghoul stood up. "Alright, let's get this show on the road then. Looks like marriage finally caught up to old Dean Domino." Mark smirked as he sat up. "Sorry to disappoint you, Dean, but I'm already taken. Name's Mark Franklin, by the way." Dean brushed past him. "I didn't ask," he said snidely. Mark inwardly groaned. This was going to be a long walk.
(35 minutes later, Freeside)
A brisk pace her ass. What Orris considered to be a brisk pace was little more than a light jog. Amata had to slow down a few times just to make sure that she didn't end up passing him. As they had made their way down the street, he also felt the need to provide commentary on every landmark that they passed. Like how the Old Mormon Fort was where the Followers of the Apocalypse provided medical attention, not that he ever needed to go there. He also commented that Amata hadn't lived until she had been to the Atomic Wrangler, or that as long as the Kings didn't outnumber her five-to-one, she would be fine. Amata saw the gate to the Strip in the distance, and she started to think that the King may have been wrong, that all of Orris' self-boasting about how tough he was was the only reason people continued to ask for him.
Then, out of nowhere, he suddenly stopped, and Amata nearly bowled him over. "What? Why did we stop?" Orris pointed a little ways down. "I don't like the looks of those men. Let's take another way around." The four men that he was pointing to were all staring at Orris and Amata, and they weren't exactly hiding the fact that they were doing so. Before Amata could question it, Orris broke into a dead sprint down a side street to their left, and then he took a right turn around a partially collapsed building. By the time Amata had followed him and taken that same right turn, Orris was a little ways down the street, and Amata heard three gunshots coming from that direction. By the time Amata caught up to him, he was looking very pleased with himself. "If you had hired one of those other losers, you'd be up to your pretty little ass in lowlife right now. I hope those bastards are enjoying hell right now."
Amata ignored the sexist comment and looked at the bodies. It only took a cursory glance to realize something didn't add up. Then Amata did the last thing that Orris expected her to do; she just burst out laughing. "What's so funny? I just saved your life. You should be thanking me." Amata spoke through the laughter. "You, uh, you really had me going there. You really think that I'm an idiot?" "What are you talking about?" Orris asked, not really liking where this was heading. "My father-in-law was a doctor, and I spent a lot of years in his clinic. I know wounds when I see them. There are no entry or exit wounds, no blood, their chests are still rising and falling, and the fact that you only fired three shots when four people are supposedly dead, makes me think that you staged these attacks to drum up repeat business. You're a fraud."
"Those are some interesting theories you've got, but you should probably keep them to yourself. Let's get going." "Oh, I am gonna get going. Right back to the King." Orris raised his .44 magnum. "I don't think so. I hate to have to have to kill you, but I have no other choice." Amata smirked. "Neither do I. Come on out, guys." ED-E swooped in from above, and Cass came out from the collapsed building, aiming her shotgun at Orris. "Put tha gun down, asshole." Orris looked at Amata. 'You never were an innocent tourist, were you? You were just a spy for the King. Is your name even Susie Mack?" "No," Amata said, "I am the happily married Mrs. Amata Franklin, and I am the furthest thing from an innocent tourist. Aside from my husband, that is. Now, put the gun down." Orris seemed hesitant. Cass quickly fired a shot from her shotgun in the pavement near the thugs, and then pointed it back at Orris. The thugs scrambled to their feet and ran away.
"Now," Cass said, "if ya wanna keep breathin', I suggest ya put tha gun down and kick it over to ma girl over there. Otherwise yer gonna be full a lead an' laser holes in about five, four, three, two,…" Orris raised his hand up in defeat. "Alright, alright, fine." He put the gun on the ground and kicked it to Amata. Amata opened the chamber and ejected the shells. They were all blanks. Amata put the gun in her satchel while Cass searched him for other weapons. She found a switchblade, which she tossed to Amata. "Alright," Orris said, "you caught me. Can I go now?" "I don't know, Cass," Amata said nonchalantly, "do you think we should let him go?" "Nah, it'd be easier ta just kill tha bastard. I haven't shot anyone in a day or so, an' ma trigger finger's gettin' itchy."
"You know what, Cass, I've got a better idea. Let's take him straight to the King. He's very interested in your quote, unquote, "work," Orris, and he's been meaning to make your acquaintance. Now, I was in a bit of an emotional state this morning, so I might not be in the best frame of mind to make decisions. So I'm gonna let you decide, Orris. You die, or you go to the King, and I'll tell him you cooperated with me." Orris contemplated it for a few moments, and then sighed. "Fine, whatever, I'll go to the King." Cass jammed her shotgun into his back. "Good choice. Now get moving, ass fer breath." Orris looked at Amata. "I guess asking you out for a drink is out of the question." Cass jammed the gun even harder into Orris' back. "Shut up an' get movin', 'fore my finger accidentally slips."
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. The title of this chapter is meant to reference the King in Freeside, and the fact that Dean Domino was known as "The King of Swing." Until next time, reviews are welcomed and appreciated.