Author's Note: I hope that everyone is doing well. As promised at the end of the previous chapter, will be a bit of a surprise in this chapter. It's my own twist on an in-game easter egg. It's at the end of this chapter. Enjoy, and reviews are welcomed and appreciated.
(Same time, Lucky 38)
Amata had to remind herself that she loved Mark. Otherwise, she would have to strangle him for leaving her to explain to a seven-year-old what sex was. She had asked Abby why Mark had told her to ask her about it. Abby had explained that she had asked Mark earlier, but he had said to ask her instead. Amata calmed a little bit when she realized that Abby was just curious because of her pregnancy, and not Mark just telling her to ask Amata about sex with no provocation from Abby. She was still angry with him, but not as much as she first was.
That being said, trying to explain what sex was to a seven-year-old was not a fun experience for Amata. She kept starting and stopping, trying to decide on the fly what was appropriate for a child's ears. It also didn't help that Cass kept making crude jokes. Amata had to keep shushing her, and eventually had to throw a pillow at Cass before she got her to keep quiet. What Amata eventually told Abby was that a baby was made when a mommy and daddy gave each other a "special hug."
Abby wanted more information, but Amata decided that that was all she needed to know until she was older. Abby turned to Cass to explain more, but Amata glared at Cass, and that was sufficient enough for Cass to refuse to divulge any more information. Abby pouted, but she was appeased somewhat, so she stopped asking. Amata noticed that Abby seemed a bit tired, so she put the young girl down for a nap.
While Abby napped, Amata and Cass were going down to the clothing stores. ED-E would alert Amata if Abby needed anything. Amata wanted to pick out some nice clothes for Mark to wear on their date, and she wanted to take another look through the dresses that they had. She had the black dress she was originally going to wear when they were supposed to go a week ago in her room, but she wanted to see if there was something that she had maybe missed. She had picked out an outfit for Mark as well, but she thought another look-through couldn't hurt. She and Cass were waiting for the elevator when they heard a door open and close behind them. They both turned around and saw that Veronica had come out of the room that she now shared with Christine.
"Hey guys, where you headed?" "Well," Amata said, "Mark and I decided to go on a date tonight, so Cass and I are going to look at some clothes. Want to join us? There are a lot of nice dresses downstairs." "Wait, there are more dresses in here? Why was I not informed of this?" The elevator door opened. Amata shrugged. "Never came up, I guess. You wanna come or not?" Veronica brushed past them and went into the elevator. "I think you already know that I do, and not just because of the dresses. I also want to spend as much quality time as possible with my sisters." Both Cass and Amata smiled at that statement, and joined Veronica in the elevator.
As the elevator began its descent, Amata asked Veronica how Christine was doing. "Oh, she's fine. It's not the first time she's gotten hurt. She's a tough woman. She's actually giving a tune-up to her LAER right now, and she gets really into stuff like that, so she won't even really notice that I'm gone." Once they arrived on the correct floor, Veronica ran over to the women's store, and when she saw all of the clothes, including the dresses, she let out a joyful squeal and then exclaimed, "Yes! Everything's coming up Veronica!" She then ran in. Amata chuckled and shook her head. 'Like a kid in a candy store,' she thought, remembering that old-world expression from somewhere. Cass patted Amata on the back. "Go an' pick out somethin' fer yer boy toy. I'll go make sure she doesn't go off tha deep end." "Thanks, Cass."
After going through everything in the men's store, Amata had picked out an outfit that she believed Mark would look quite handsome in. It was a blood-red button-down shirt made of a mix of polyester and cotton, a pair of black dress pants, a black belt, and a pair of black dress shoes and black dress socks. She was sure that she had remembered his shoe size correctly from when they lived in the vault, but there were more shoes in the store in case she got the wrong size. "People before the war certainly had style," she said to herself as she gathered up everything and headed over to the women's store.
She put everything on the counter and searched out Veronica and Cass, finding them near the dressing rooms, Veronica wearing a green dress. She was badgering Cass to try on a blue dress, but Cass was having none of it. "Never wearin' a dress again, Veronica. Did it that one night so Mark and 'Mata could kill that asshole. Don't like how they feel." "Oh, come on, Cass, you looked so good in that dress. It turned me on a little bit, in all honesty. Besides, blue is definitely your color."
Veronica saw Amata come over. "Amata, be honest. Wouldn't Cass look cute in this dress?" Amata looked between Cass and the dress. "Yeah, I suppose she would." "Ha! I told you, Cass." "But," Amata continued, "she doesn't have to wear it if she doesn't want to." Cass smirked, as Veronica frowned. "Thank ya, 'Mata." "Party pooper," Veronica said. She then perked back up. "Well, Amata, I picked out some dresses for you." She grabbed some dresses off a nearby rack and handed them to Amata. She then shooed Amata into a nearby dressing room.
Amata spent nearly forty minutes trying on seemingly every dress that they had in her size. Both Cass and Veronica offered their opinions, although Cass started to complain after Amata couldn't decide on one. "C'mon, 'Mata, ya look good in all of 'em. Ya know Mark's gonna love whatever ya wear. Jus' pick one." Amata came back out of the dressing room in the clothes that she had come down in. "I know Cass, I just… I want to wear something that will make his jaw drop, like I did when we first got to Vegas. I don't feel like that any of these will do that," she said, indicating the pile of dresses that were now on the floor. Cass groaned.
Veronica had a thoughtful look on her face. "Hmm…I think I know what you want, Amata. You want something that says, "I'm sexy as hell", but also says, "don't fuck with me." Am I in the ballpark?" Amata pointed towards Veronica. "Yes, Veronica, that is exactly what I'm looking for. These ones are good, but they don't say that." Veronica grinned. "Well, you're in luck, because I have something upstairs in just your size that says exactly that." After they cleaned up the mess that they had made and gathered the clothes that Amata had picked out for Mark, they made their way to the elevator and back to the Presidential Suite.
(35 minutes earlier, Gomorrah)
Mark decided to start with Clanden, so he made his way to the elevators and pressed the button for the Suites Level. As the elevator ascended, he thought about his date with Amata later in the evening. He had it all planned. They would get all dressed up, head over to Vault 21, rent a room for the evening, have some dinner, do some dancing, then maybe take a tour of the vault. Then, in all likelihood, they would end the evening make sweet, tender love to one another.
He wasn't lying when he had told Amata that he had fantasized about making love to her in a vault. He had just always assumed that it would be Vault 101, and that they would have to wait until Alphonse was old and senile, or until Amata would have taken over as Overseer and called off her guard before he would leave the two of them to their own devices. He assumed that Alphonse blamed him for "enticing" Amata to abandon the vault or some nonsense like that. 'Even after all you did to keep us apart, Alphonse, we still fell in love. I win, old man. I win.'
He also briefly wondered what experiment Vault-Tec had attached to Vault 21. It was still functioning, so it couldn't have been that bad. It was on the Strip, so maybe it was something to do with gambling. This was only the third still-functioning vault that he was aware of, Vaults 101 and 112 being the others, although he wouldn't call Vault 112 "fully-functioning," seeing as their residents were trapped in a virtual hell for two hundred years before Mark freed them by killing them. He had felt guilty about ending their lives, but he realized that being trapped in a simulation forever by Dr. Braun was no way to live. Mark still had nightmares occasionally about that horrid "Tranquility Lane" simulation.
He shook himself out of his stupor as the elevator approached the Suites Level. He pulled the VIP card out of his pocket, since he assumed that there would be guards on this floor. The elevator doors opened, and Mark stepped out. The floor was carpeted, keeping with the same color scheme as the casino. He noted two guards patrolling the floor, carrying submachine guns. When they noticed Mark, they both raised their guns. "Who are you?" the guard closest to him asked. Mark raised the VIP card so the guard could see it. "Friend of the Family," Mark said.
The guard closest to him took the card and examined it. He nodded and then handed it back to Mark. He motioned for the other guard to lower his weapon. "What's your business up here?" "I'm here to speak with Clanden," Mark replied. The guard pointed to Mark's right. "End of the hall." Mark nodded. "Thank you, gentlemen."
He walked down the door at the end of the hall and knocked. A few moments later, the door opened. Clanden appeared to be a man who was close to Mark's height, with messy brown hair, a goatee, and blue eyes. He was wearing a blue long-sleeved shirt with an olive-green sweater vest over it, and dark brown khaki pants. "Yes?" He answered. "Clanden, I presume?" Mark asked. He nodded. "Yes. How can I help you?" Mark held up the VIP card. "Name's Mark. Big Sal and Nero hired me. They sent me up here, said you could use help with your part of the plan."
Clanden looked at him suspiciously. "How come I wasn't informed of this?" "I don't fucking know. They pay me and tell me where to go. I don't ask too many questions. Plausible deniability and all that. Now, are you gonna invite me in, or are we just gonna stand here twiddling our thumbs?" Clanden was silent for a few moments, studying Mark. "Alright, come on in." Mark looked over his shoulder at the guards, who were doing a bad job of pretending that they weren't listening.
Mark examined the room. It was a multi-level room, and with it being a suite, it was very nicely furnished. There was a bar over to the right side of the room, so Mark went behind it and grabbed a beer. "So," Clanden said, standing in the middle of the room, "what exactly do you do for a living?" "Oh, this and that. Blow places up, make people disappear, steal high-value items, et cetera, et cetera. All for the right price, of course." Mark believed Clanden to be some type of mercenary, so he pretended to be a brother-in-arms of sorts. Plus, it wasn't exactly a lie. He had done all of those things, just not for money.
"How come I've never heard of you, then? You must have gotten the boss' attention somehow." "I don't exactly advertise my services. It's more word of mouth. Someone tells their friend, who tells another friend, and on and on it goes. Word must've reached the bosses, they sent someone to find me, and here I am." Clanden nodded. "So, what did the bosses tell you of the plan?" Mark leaned back against the bar and took a sip of his beer. "Not much. They said that it has been brewing for a while, and it's something that the people around here won't soon forget."
Clanden chuckled. "You got that right, brother." They stood in silence for a couple of moments. "So, are you going to tell me the plan at some point?" "Yeah, yeah, cool your fucking jets." He sat down on a couch. "What do you know about chlorine gas?" Mark raised an eyebrow, but internally alarm bells were going off. There was only one use for chlorine gas: killing. The Germans used it during World War I, extremely effectively, until the opposition had figured out how to counter it, or dampen its effects at most. "That's some brutal shit," Mark responded. "Destroys the respiratory system, leaves the victim unable to breathe. A slow and painful way to die."
"Damn straight. You sure know your stuff." Mark shrugged. "Never used the stuff myself, but it came up in some research I did in the Boneyard. So, what does chlorine gas have to do with this whole plan?" Clanden grinned. "The bosses have this plan. They got blueprints for every building on the Strip. We place the chlorine bombs in the vents, blow 'em all at once. When the people run out to get air, the Omertas gun 'em down. The bosses plan to hand the Strip over to the Legion, and the Omertas, especially the bosses, have been promised a place of honor among Caesar's ranks."
Mark groaned internally at how stupid Big Sal and Nero were. Based on the information he had gathered on the Legion since he and Amata had been out here, he learned that the Legion was made up wholly of conquered tribes. Caesar had most likely promised the same thing to the other tribes, who would then be stupid enough to accept. Then their tribal identity would be wiped from existence, and they would then be brainwashed to accept the Legion's teachings. Mark had zero reason to expect that the Omertas would be any different.
Mark chuckled and took a sip of beer. "That's a pretty ambitious plan. You can build a chlorine bomb?" "Damn straight. I could build a nuke if I wanted to." "So, when does this all get set up?" "Well," Clanden said, "parts should be here in a day or so, so most likely by the end of the week. They'll be detonated the next time the Legion swarms Hoover Dam." "What about the Lucky 38? Won't do much against robots," Mark stated. "The bosses got plans for the Securitrons. Besides, didn't you hear? Some fucker they call the Courier is living there now with a few other people. My intel says that there's three guys, four broads, and some little brat."
Mark felt a fiery rage build up in him at the way Clanden talked about Abby, but he suppressed it for the moment. Clanden continued. "The way I have it planned, I seduce one of the women, build up some trust, get 'em to let me in, and that's when I plant the bombs. I hear that there's this smokin' hot brunette bitch with a nice rack. Think I might go for her. Sounds like an easy lay."
The rage inside Mark increased exponentially, and it took all of his willpower to not run over there and start beating Clanden's face in. Instead, he forced a smile. "Women, only good for one thing, am I right, or am I right?" Clanden laughed. "You are right, brother." "So, you got the blueprints and schematics around here somewhere?" Clanden stood up. "Yeah, got 'em in a safe in my room. Give me a couple minutes." Clanden went up the stairs to the second level and disappeared through a doorway.
As soon as he did, Mark put down the beer, clenched his hands into fists, and took a couple of calming breaths. Talking to Clanden was making him physically sick, and he had to force down the bile that was building in his throat. He reopened his eyes just as Clanden came back out, carrying a few sheets of paper. He came back down and laid them out on a table. Sure enough, there were the blueprints of every building on the Strip, along with the schematics for a chlorine bomb. Mark looked them over. There were markings on where the bombs were to be placed.
"Impressive," Mark said. "I know, right? The fuckers won't even see it coming." Mark leaned over slightly, examining the one for the NCR Embassy. "Hmm. I think this would be more effective if you placed a bomb here," Mark said, pointing to a random vent junction. "What are you talking about?" Clanden asked, looking to where Mark was pointing. "Take a closer look," Mark said, moving out of the way so Clanden could check it out. Mark stood behind him as he leaned over. Clanden shook his head and straightened up. "No, I think-" Mark never found out what exactly Clanden thought, because he had grabbed Clanden and snapped his neck, killing him instantly. His lifeless body dropped to the floor unceremoniously. Mark sighed. "Clanden, you were a sexist pig, a horrible human being, and just an overall waste of functioning organs. Rot in hell you bastard."
Mark dragged Clanden's body to a closet, tossed it in there, and covered it with some sheets and clothing. Once that was done, Mark went into the kitchen and looked through the drawers, finding a matchbook. He put the plans into the sink, lit a match, and dropped that into the sink as well, igniting the papers, ensuring they would never be used again. He turned the tap, and let the water extinguish the flames. The water was irradiated, but it didn't matter.
He then went into Clanden's room, and found the safe that Clanden had mentioned. He didn't even bother to lock it. There was a holotape, a silenced 10 mm pistol, some caps, NCR bills, and some Legion coins. Mark put the pistol in the back of his armor, which was covered by the duster. He then loaded the holotape onto his pip-boy and listened to it. It sounded like Clanden was having violent sex with women, and then Mark heard the women screaming and begging for their lives. Mark immediately switched it off and threw up on the floor.
"Fuck," he said once he was done, "I did the world a favor by killing that bastard." Mark had seen and heard some disgusting shit in the wasteland and was able to stomach it, but hearing someone torturing a woman like that, it affected him. It was times like this when the part of him that was raised in the vault shone through. Clanden was lucky that he was dead. Mark shook his head and stood up. He checked the rest of the suite, but found nothing else of note, so he left the room and headed towards the elevators, ignoring the guards. It was time to deal with Troike.
Mark made his way to Lower Brimstone, that is, after getting lost a couple of times and having to ask one of the Omertas for directions. He opened the door and looked around. It was a large, wide-open room with four beds in the center, one in each of the four corners, and pillows and rugs scattered indiscriminately. All of the pillows seemed to be heart-shaped. There were only two people in the room, both on the same bed, both seemingly asleep. Mark walked over to them. The man, who he assumed was Troike, was a black gentleman with brown hair and a goatee. He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt and no pants, although he did have his underpants on, thankfully.
The woman, who was cuddled up next to him, appeared to be naked. Mark shook the man by the shoulder. He moved slightly, but did not awaken. He shook the man harder, but he still did not wake up. Mark shook his head, and then hit Troike on the right arm with his pip-boy. That did the trick. He shot up and let out a yell, clutching his arm. That sudden movement made the woman fall off the bed. 'What the fuck, man?" Mark's face remained impassive. "Troike, I presume?" "Yeah, I'm Troike. Who the hell are you, and why did you hit my arm?" The woman who had rolled off the bed stood up and placed her hands on her hips, leaving her body uncovered.
Mark blocked her from his vision using his hand. "You, whoever you are, beat it," he said, addressing the woman. The woman scoffed. "And who's gonna make me? You?" Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of caps. "50 caps. Now beat it." The woman smiled and gathered her clothes. "Whatever you say, hon." She then left the room, much to the displeasure of Troike. "Aww, come on man, I was having a good time. Why did you have to ruin it?" "We need to talk, Troike. But first, please put some damn pants on." "Man, I ain't fucking talking to you." Mark sighed and pulled out another bag of caps.
"How about now?" He nodded. While Troike looked for his pants, Mark looked for a private place to talk. He found a broom closet that would suffice. "Get in here, Troike. We need to talk in private." "Why in private?" Mark shoved him in the closet, shut the door and turned on the light. "Alright, Troike, let's get down to business. My name's Mark. I know that you've been smuggling weapons onto the Strip." "Who told- I mean, I have no idea what you're talking about." "Cut the shit, Troike. Cachino told me, so there's no point in lying." Troike looked fearful for a second. "Cachino did what? Man, he must be trying to get me killed."
"Yeah, well," Mark said, "if what the bosses are planning comes to fruition, you're gonna be dead either way." "Man, what are you talking about?" Mark explained what the bosses were planning to him. "No shit?" Troike said, raising an eyebrow. "No shit, Troike. So tell me, how are you getting these weapons onto the Strip in the first place?" Troike looked proud of himself. "It's a stroke of genius, if I can be so modest. This whole arrangement starts with an old buddy of mine in the Republic. He's responsible for packing and shipping supplies to the NCR on the Strip. He marks them as food or medical, and then packs them with guns and some other shit. From there it just takes a couple of greased palms to get someone to let me cherry pick a container or two out of every shipment. Easy as pie."
"Ok, so do you know where the Omertas are keeping said guns?" Troike nodded. "Yeah, they keep them in a utility closet in the basement. The thing is, though, the bosses have the goods on me. If I go behind their backs, they'll kill me." Mark chuckled. "Troike, if the Legion takes over, you're dead anyway. Either that or a slave. I hear that they don't look too kindly on chem users." Troike sighed. "Well then I'm screwed." Mark shook his head. "No, you're not, well not as badly. Once we figure out how to get rid of the guns, you're going to go down to the NCR Embassy and turn yourself in for smuggling."
"Why the fuck would I do that?" "Because you'll still be alive. I don't know what NCR prisons are like, but it's better than the alternatives. I'm also on good terms with an NCR Colonel at McCarran. I'll put in a good word for you, maybe get you a reduced sentence." Troike contemplated it for a few moments. "How do I know that you're not lying to me?" "You don't," Mark replied, "but you're just going to have to take my word for it." "Alright, you've got a deal. So, I have been working on a bit of a pet project in case the Family betrays me. It's called thermite. Burns as hot as the devil's asshole and can melt just about anything. Got some in my bag over near the bed. I rigged the light switch outside the utility closet to emit a spark big enough to ignite the thermite and turn the guns into molten slag."
Mark nodded, opened the door, and shoved Troike out. "Wonderful. Now grab the bag and lead the way." Troike looked confused. "Wait, why can't you just do it?" "A, because you know the way, idiot, and I don't. B, you know more about the thermite than I do. So grab your damn bag, and let's get going."
They made their way down to the utility closet, only being stopped once. The guards knew Troike, but Mark had to show them his card. Then went down a short staircase, opened the door and went in. There were four large cases in the room. Mark opened one and looked inside. There were some pistols, pulse grenades, and other weapons meant to cause a lot of damage in a short amount of time. Even without the chlorine bombs, they could do a significant amount of damage.
Troike worked on spreading the thermite over the cases. Once he was done, he looked at Mark. "Alright, like I said, the light switch will set off a spark that will detonate the thermite. Can I go now?" Mark waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, go ahead. Remember, go to the NCR Embassy and turn yourself in. On your way out, just act like everything is normal. If someone stops you, just say that you're going to meet with your supplier, ok?" Troike nodded and left the room. Mark took one last look around. It was a shame to get rid of these weapons, but it needed to be done to prevent a massacre.
He stepped outside the room and closed the metal door. He saw a guard passing by at the top of the stairs. He then flipped the light switch, and started to walk away. He hoped to get away from the room before the thermite exploded. He got to the landing before there was a large booming noise from behind him, shaking loose some plaster from the ceiling. Mark saw the guard point his submachine gun at Mark from about fifteen feet away, but Mark was quicker on the draw, and put three in the man's chest, the submachine gun firing wildly as the guard felt to the ground. Mark waited for any other guards to respond, but none came, so he dragged the man's body and tossed it down the stairwell. Time to report back to Cachino.
Mark found Cachino exactly as he left him. Mark sat down. "So?" Cachino asked, not diverting his eyes away from the stage. "Clanden's dead. He was planning on making chlorine bombs, putting them in the vents of all the buildings on the Strip, and then detonate them the next time the Legion swarms Hoover Dam. While that happened, they would gun down everyone with the weapons that Troike got, and use pulse grenades to take out the Securitrons. Speaking of Troike, he's heading to the NCR Embassy to turn himself in. The guns he got were destroyed. You may have heard a large booming noise a few minutes ago. Oh, and your bosses were planning on handing the Strip over to the Legion in exchange for a place of honor in the Legion's ranks, which would never happen, because Caesar doesn't share power."
Cachino ran a hand over his balding head. "Fuck. The bosses have done some bad shit over the years, but this would've taken the cake. Believe me, I've heard of what the Legion is capable of. So, here's what needs to happen now. We need to cut off the heads of the serpent: Big Sal and Nero. As long as they're alive, they can always restart their plans. All that you've done so far is stall them. I can guarantee they'll have contingencies. Luckily, they have tasked me to figure out what's going on."
"What happens once they're dead?" Mark inquired. "Don't you worry. I'm next in line to run this place. I'll keep a real tight rein on things around here. I ain't stupid enough to get in bed with the Legion." Mark nodded. "Alright, so obviously they both need to be killed at the same time. Any ideas?" "It just so happens that they're together in Big Sal's office, waiting for my report. There won't be a better opportunity to get them in the same room together." Mark nodded and stood up. "Alright. Lead the way, Cachino." Cachino stood up, pulled out a 10mm pistol and handed it to Mark. "I suggest that you kill them while they're talking. They'll most likely kill you once they're done." Mark took the pistol and put it in the back of his pants with the other pistol.
As they made their way up to the second level, an idea formed in Mark's head. "Cachino, how big is the office?" "Eh, not that big." "And where is Big Sal's desk?" "Other side of the room from where the door is. Why?" "I've got an idea. Just make sure they're both in the room." Cachino looked confused, but then he shrugged his shoulders. "Alright." They came up to the door where Big Sal's office was. It was closed, so Cachino knocked. "Big Sal? Nero? You guys in there?" "Yeah," a voice from inside the office came, "you figure out what's going on?" Cachino looked at Mark. Mark motioned for Cachino to move and took out both pistols.
Cachino's eyes widened as he realized what Mark was about to do. "Cachino?" the same voice called out from in the office. Cachino ran around the corner as Mark kicked the door open. As Mark quickly examined the room, time seemed to slow down. Mark was aware that the drug referred to as "Jet" had a similar effect, although this was not due to any drug. It was due to his combat experience and ability to analyze a situation quickly and adjust if needed. He couldn't control when it happened, but when it did happen, it turned out to be extremely useful. Mark saw two men behind the desk, both holding submachine guns, and they were holding them across their chests, not in the ready position. Mark aimed for the heart, and shot and killed both men before they could react.
Mark went in to verify that they were dead. Cachino peeked in the doorway, and followed Mark in once he was sure it was safe. "Damn, kid, that was impressive. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that they weren't expecting that." They heard a commotion as three guards burst in the room. They saw Mark holding the pistols, so they aimed for him and were about to shoot when Cachino intervened, scowling at them. "Lower you damn weapons!" The guards looked at each other, and then at the bodies of their ex-bosses. "But Cachino-" "I said lower your damn weapons now!" They reluctantly did. "Good. Now wait outside. There's been a change in management. He is not to be harmed on his way out, understood?" Cachino said, referring to Mark. The guards nodded and left the room.
Mark took out the journal and handed it to Cachino. "Here you go, per our agreement. Just so we're clear, Cachino, if I catch wind of anything like this happening under your watch, you will share their fate. Understood?" "Don't worry, kid. I think I learned not to fuck with you. I'll keep things clean…well clean-ish. Nothing to the extent of what they were doing. That was just insane." Mark nodded. "You'll find Clanden's body in the closet in his suite, and there's a dead guard down near the utility closet in the basement."
Mark paused for a second. "Well, it's been fun, Cachino, but I gotta be heading out now." "Alright, kid. If you ever want to come back here and gamble, come find me. I'll give you some chips on the house. It's the least I can do." Mark nodded and left the room. While he was walking toward the stairs, he heard Cachino order the guards to get rid of Big Sal's and Nero's bodies. He went back down to the lobby, got his weapons back, and made his way back to the 38 to report his success to House.
Mark went back into the 38 and straight up to the Penthouse. "House!" Mark called out as he went into House's office. House's face appeared on the screen. "Mr. Franklin, were you successful?" "Yeah," Mark said, a bit curtly. He was still kind of pissed at House for threatening to hurt Amata and Abby. "The Omertas were planning on placing chlorine bombs in the vents of the buildings on the Strip, and detonate them the next time the Legion tries to take the Dam. They would then gun down everyone who didn't die of asphyxiation, and use pulse grenades to take down the Securitrons."
"They were planning to hand the Strip over to the Legion in exchange for a place of honor in Caesar's ranks. The bombmaker is dead, and the guns they had acquired have been destroyed. The man who acquired them went to the NCR Embassy to turn himself in for smuggling. Big Sal and Nero are dead as well. Cachino is now running Gomorrah." "Well done, Mr. Franklin. I would have detected the bomb in the 38 and neutralized it, but nonetheless, the job is done. Here is your payment." A Securitron rolled over to Mark and handed him a sack of caps.
"Alright House, so what's next on the agenda?" Mark asked. "Your next assignment is to destroy the local contingent of the Brotherhood of Steel." Mark was stunned. 'Did he just say what I think he said?' While he was thinking that, all he could say was, "What?" "You heard me, Mr. Franklin. The Brotherhood of Steel are a bunch of bulging-eyed fanatics who believe that all pre-war technology belongs to them. They'll never accept my using an army of robots to defend New Vegas. While it is a fight I can win, I'd rather sidestep it altogether."
Mark took a couple of calming breaths before he spoke again. "House, I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but Christine and Veronica are, or were in Veronica's case, members of the Brotherhood. I don't think that they would be particularly happy with me if I did that, even though their association with the Brotherhood is tenuous." There was silence for a couple of moments. "So simply kill the two of them." Mark could not believe what House had just said. Kill Veronica and Christine? "You- you want me to kill them? Why?"
"It should be fairly obvious, Mr. Franklin. With them out of the picture, there will be nothing connecting you to the Brotherhood. You are already on thin ice as it is. If you wish to continue living here, I suggest that you get it done. Are we clear?" Mark stared at House, a hardened look in his eyes. "Yeah, we're clear. So, where should I start looking for them?" "Don't play stupid with me, Mr. Franklin. I believe that you already know exactly where they are."
House's face then disappeared from the screen. Mark turned and headed towards the elevator, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do. The door opened to the Presidential Suite. There was no one in the hallway, so he headed towards his room. That was when Abby peeked out of the kitchen and saw Mark. Her face lit up when she saw him. "DADDY!" she yelled as she ran towards him. Mark put down the caps and the plasma rifle, and then scooped up Abby all in one motion. He smiled and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. Even after that unpleasant meeting with House, holding Abby and seeing her smile made him feel a lot better.
"Hey, sweetheart. Where is everyone?" "Well, Mr. Boone went out, Mr. Arcade is sleeping, ED-E's in the kitchen, and everyone else is in Auntie Ronnie's room." "Oh, and what are they doing in Auntie Ronnie's room?" Mark inquired. Abby shook her head. "I can't tell you. Mommy made me pinkie swear." Mark chuckled. "That's okay, Abby. There's nothing more sacred than a pinkie swear. Listen, Abby, I need to-" He was interrupted when the door to Veronica and Christine's room opened, and Amata and Cass came out.
Amata smiled, and then came over and gave a big kiss to both Mark and Abby. "Hey, honey. Did you do what you needed to do?" Mark nodded. "Yeah. It's taken care of." "So, what were they doin', Captain?" Cass asked. Mark thought about telling them, but quickly decided against it. "Trust me, you don't wanna know. Suffice to say, it was bad, but it has been taken care of." Amata had a concerned look on her face. "Was it really that bad?" she asked. "Yeah, but like I said, it is no longer an issue."
It was then that Christine and Veronica came out. Mark frowned, and then tried to look anywhere else but at them, knowing what he did. He put Abby down, grabbed the caps and the rifle, and went into his and Amata's room. "Is he okay?" Veronica asked after a few moments, directing the question to Amata. "I don't know, but I'm going to go find out." She went in the room, closing the door behind her. Mark had disarmed, and was in the process of removing his armor. She stood there for a couple of minutes, not saying anything, before breaking the silence. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, babe," Mark replied, although his expression and tone of voice belied that statement. "Mark, I'm calling bullshit. It's clear to see that something's bothering you. It's fairly obvious, and even if it wasn't, you know I can always tell." Mark finished removing his armor, leaving him in a white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and his combat boots. "I need to go down to the gym for a while." Mark made for the door, but Amata stood in front of it, arms crossed.
"Are you going to be this grumpy on our date tonight, or should we just cancel?" Mark shook his head, and gave Amata the barest of smiles. "No. I promised you that this would be the most romantic evening of your life, and I intend to make it so. I just need some time to myself right now to think." Her face softened. "Alright. You know that you can tell me anything, right?" He kissed her. "I know, babe. I know." She moved out of the way, letting him exit. He saw the others as he went to the elevator, but did not make eye contact with them.
(2 hours later)
It was 5:30 when Mark made his way back up to the Presidential Suite. He had lifted some weights, ran on the treadmill, and vented some of his anger by hitting the heavy bag. He had thought of various ways on how to deal with the conundrum he was facing with House and the Brotherhood. Before he decided on anything, however, he would need to run his ideas by Amata first. They affected everyone in the 38, but he trusted Amata above everyone else. The hallway was empty, so he made his way into his and Amata's room. He found some clothes laid out on the bed, with a note on top:
Mark
Getting ready in Veronica and Christine's room. I suggest you shower and get ready as well. You will not be bringing any guns. However, I will allow you to bring your knife. This is not up for discussion.
Love
Amata
Mark put the note aside and looked at the clothing. They were some very nice clothes. Amata certainly did have great taste. After a shower, he got dressed and examined himself in the mirror. He felt a bit weird going out without any armor or guns, but he couldn't deny that he looked damn good. He went out in the hall and knocked on the door to Christine and Veronica's room. "Who is it?" Veronica's voice called out. "It's Mark. Just wondering if Amata is ready." Mark could hear whispers. "She'll be out in a minute," Veronica eventually responded.
Mark turned around and walked down the hallway a bit when he saw Arcade come out of his room. "Hey, Arcade." "Hey, Mark. Those the clothes Amata picked out for you?" "Yup. What do you think?" Arcade examined him closely. "Not bad. Not bad at all." "I agree," came a feminine voice from behind them. Mark turned around, and when he saw Amata, his jaw dropped, and he was certain his heart had skipped a beat. She was wearing the dress that Veronica had taken from the Sierra Madre, and it looked absolutely perfect on her, even with the slight baby bump.
She had somehow curled her hair, the ringlets framing her face perfectly. She was also wearing the same red heels she had worn on their first night in Vegas. "So," Amata said, appreciating the awestruck look on his face, "what do you think?" Mark walked over to her, got down on one knee, grabbed her right hand, and gently kissed the back of it. He then looked straight into her eyes. "I think that I am in the presence of a goddess, whose stunning beauty is unworthy to be seen by mortal eyes." Amata blushed. "A goddess, huh? I think that I could get used to being called that."
Mark stood up. "Amata, in all seriousness, you look beautiful. How did you curl your hair? And is that…are you wearing lipstick? Where did you get that?" "Why don't you ask Veronica?" Mark had been so entranced by Amata's radiance that he hadn't noticed the others around them. He reluctantly looked at Veronica, steeling himself as he did. "Veronica?" "Ok," Veronica responded, "so I may have taken some other stuff from the Madre besides what I told you about, including some makeup and hair curlers. Not like anyone else was gonna use them."
Mark looked at Amata, and then looked back at Veronica. "Veronica, I owe you big time." Veronica grinned. "I might just take you up on that." "Daddy, you look handsome," Abby said. Mark picked her up and kissed her. "Thank you, Abby. Did you help mommy get ready?" She nodded. "Yup. Did I do a good job?" "Yes, Abby you did a wonderful job." Cass spoke up. "Ya do clean up real nice, Captain." Mark looked over and saw Cass lick her lips. Mark chuckled. "Thank you very much, Cass."
Mark then put Abby down. "Abby, we're going to be gone for the night. Can I count on you to behave while we're gone?" "Yes, daddy. I'll be on my best behavior." Veronica stood behind Abby and put her hands on the young girl's shoulders. "Yeah, Mark, we'll all be on our best behavior." Mark saw a mischievous look in Veronica's eyes. "Uh huh," Mark said a bit skeptically. He looked back at Amata. "Are we bringing a change of clothes, or…" "Already taken care of. Abby, can you get my satchel bag, please?" Abby ran into Mark and Amata's room, and came back out with Amata's bag. She handed it to Amata. "Thank you, sweetheart," Amata said as she leaned down to kiss Abby.
"We'll be right down the street. Auntie Ronnie can call us if there's an emergency, ok?" Abby nodded. Amata looked at the adults. "Make sure she takes a bath and brushes her teeth. Bedtime is 8:30 pm, sharp. And absolutely no swearing. Looking at you, Cass." Cass put a hand over her heart. "Me? Swear? 'Mata, ya wound me." Amata smiled and rolled her eyes. "You ready, babe?" Mark asked. "As ready as I'm gonna be." Mark stuck out his right elbow, with Amata then holding onto it. "Well, then let us depart, milady." "As you wish, good sir." They headed towards the elevator, everyone saying goodbye as they went. "Wait," Veronica said as they stepped on the elevator, "who's in charge?" Amata and Mark looked at each other, and then back at the group. "Arcade," they said in unison, the door closing before any protest could be heard.
They walked out of the 38 and onto the Strip, Amata still hanging off Mark's arm. They received some looks as they made their way to Vault 21. Mark glared at the men who were staring at Amata, causing them to look away in a hurry. Amata enjoyed the looks of envy on the faces of the other women. It could have been envy due to the dress that he was wearing, but she believed it to be due to her handsome husband. 'Sorry, ladies, he's all mine,' Amata thought while grinning. She felt like one of those pre-war starlets that she had read about in those magazines that were in the 38. Veronica said that this dress did belong to a pre-war starlet, so maybe that was part of the reason.
They finally reached Vault 21, Mark holding the door open for her. They found Sarah Weintraub sitting behind the desk, reading a comic book. She didn't notice them, so Mark cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry," Sarah said as she put down the book. "Welcome to the Vault 21 Hotel and Gift Sho…" She trailed off as she looked at the two of them. She stood up. "Hey, I remember you two. You were in here a little while ago, right? With those friends of yours. Mark and…" She trailed off, trying to remember Amata's name. "Amata," Amata said, finishing the sentence for her. "Right, sorry." Sarah looked the two of them over. "Damn, you two look good! I definitely don't have any clothes that look like that here, especially that dress. So, what can I help you two with?"
"Thank you for the compliment, Sarah," Mark said. "My wife and I would actually like to rent a room for the night." "Oh, that's wonderful! If you'd like, I can give you a tour of the vault as well. It'll be fun! I promise!" Sarah looked at them expectantly. "Sure, Sarah, that would be wonderful," Amata answered. Sarah clasped her hands together. "Excellent! That'll be forty caps total, please." Amata pulled some caps out of her satchel bag and gave forty to Sarah. Sarah put them in a drawer in her desk.
"Ok, I can give you the tour now, if you'd like." "Actually, Sarah," Mark said, "we were-" Amata elbowed him in his side. "That'll be fine, Sarah," Amata said. "Excellent. Just give me one moment." She went over to the gift shop, whose door was open. "Hey Mikey," Sarah said, talking to someone in the room, "can you watch the front desk for a bit? Thanks." She walked back over to the two of them. "Well, follow me, and please watch your step." She talked as they descended the stairs.
"This bunker protects the entrance to the vault- solid stone outside, thick steel inside." They came into the atrium, where there were blackjack and roulette tables set up, although they were not being used. "Above us is the control center for the vault's life-support systems, electric grid, radioactive shields, and all that jazz. This is the main game hall. This is where we settled big disputes between the vault's levels. Chosen representatives gambled against each other here. The winner earned the right to settle the dispute as wished by the collective."
Mark chuckled. "Wish we had something like that, Amata. Would've definitely simplified things." "Yeah, it sure would've," Amata responded. Sarah looked at the two them curiously. "What are you two talking about?" Wait, are you guys from a vault?" Mark smiled. "Yeah, we are, Sarah. You are looking at two former residents of Vault 101 near Washington, DC." Sarah's eyes widened. "I've never met anyone from other vaults before! Tell me, what was it like?" Mark and Amata looked at each other. "Maybe later, Sarah," Mark said. "I believe we have a tour to get on with." She looked a bit disappointed, but immediately perked back up. "Ok, but I'm holding you to that."
She then led them through the atrium and over to the diner. There were a few other patrons eating at the tables. It was mostly the same décor and set-up as Vault 101, maybe a bit bigger. "Here is our diner. It's open from 8 am until 8pm, serving a wonderful selection of food." She paused for a moment, reminiscing. "Ah, we used to have some bitchin' parties in here. Pain in the ass to clean up later, but it was worth it."
"Sarah," Amata said, "um, if you don't mind me asking, why was this Vault turned into a hotel?" Sarah's face dropped slightly. "No, it's okay. Years ago, when Mr. House was renovating Vegas, he wanted to get rid of the vault, but the residents resisted. We insisted that we solve things the way our vault always had: by gambling. Well, um, unfortunately, we lost." Mark and Amata could tell that this was a bit of a painful memory for Sarah. "Mr. House wanted to fill the entire thing in with concrete, but my brother Sheldon and I convinced him to leave the topmost levels intact and turn it into a hotel. He stripped out the useful electronics and filled in the rest with concrete."
Amata put a comforting hand on Sarah's right arm. "I'm so sorry, Sarah." Sarah gave them a half-hearted smile. "Thanks. I mean, it'll never be what it once was, but at least it's still here. It's my home, and it's still serving a purpose similar to what is was supposed to do, to give people shelter, even if it is just for a night or two." Oddly enough, what Sarah just said reminded Mark of something that Moira Brown had told him when he asked her why she did her experiments:
"It's like…did you ever try to put a piece of broken glass back together? Even if the pieces fit, you can't make it whole again the way it was. But if you're clever, you can still use the pieces to make other useful things. Maybe even something wonderful, like a mosaic. Well, the world broke, just like glass. And everyone's trying to put it back together like it was, but it'll never come together the same way."
Mark had found those words oddly inspirational. Then again, Moira is an odd woman. Odd, but good. She tries to see the good in everything, even in a world full of horrors. Then here was Sarah, who had basically just said the same thing: things won't always be the same as they once were, but old things can be changed and adapted to make new things. He chuckled internally, wondering what would happen if the two of them were ever in the same room together.
"Mark?" He realized that Amata was trying to get his attention. "Sorry," Mark said, "I zoned out. What's going on?" "We're continuing with the tour." "Right, sorry. Lead on, Sarah." Sarah led them back through the atrium and down a hallway. She pressed a button next to the door. "This will be your room." Mark and Amata looked around. It was a standard vault room, with a bed, a desk, a computer, a bathroom, and a dresser. She then moved on to the room right next to it. "This is my room. Always has been." She opened the door. "Actually, if you two don't mind, I need to use the little girls room before we continue. Come on, you can wait in here." They walked into Sarah's room. It was the same room as theirs, except Sarah had a few pictures on her desk.
Sarah went into the restroom, leaving Mark and Amata in her room. Amata sat on the bed, while Mark looked at the pictures. There was one of Sarah and whom Mark guessed was probably her brother. The next one he looked at was a woman who looked like Sarah, but it wasn't her, exactly, and a black-haired man. The third one had the same woman, but a different man. Mark looked away, and then did a double-take. He picked up the picture and examined it more closely. It couldn't be. There was no way. "Amata," Mark said, his voice catching in his throat a bit, "could you, uh, could you come here for a minute?"
She stood up and walked over to him. "What's going on, Mark?" she asked, a bit concerned. "Look at this picture. Tell me what you see." Amata furrowed her brow as she examined it. "I see…a woman who kind of looks like Sarah, and-" Her eyes widened. "No. It can't be. That's impossible." "Well, it can't be impossible, because it's right in front of us." The picture showed a woman who was likely Sarah's mother, and a young man who looked extremely similar to Mark's father. "Mark, the odds of this are astronomical," Amata said.
The door to the bathroom opened before Mark could respond to that. "Hey, what's going on?" Sarah asked, a bit confused. Mark held the picture up to Sarah. "Sarah, who is this picture of?" he asked, still in a bit of shock. "That's my mother and my birth father. Why?" "Sarah, what was the man's name?" Sarah wasn't sure why they were asking about them. "Why are you asking?" "Sarah, please, just answer the question. It's important." Sarah looked at the faces of her two guests, both looking like they had seen a ghost. "Please, Sarah," Amata implored, "it actually really is important." "His name is, uh, James…uh, James Franklin, that's it."
Mark closed his eyes, trying to stifle tears, and then opened them again. "Sarah," Mark said, "don't, um, don't freak out or anything, but, um, this man, he's…he's my dad. My name is Mark Franklin. Sarah, this may be hard to believe, but I…I think that you're my sister." Sarah's eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, trying, but unable to find words. She began to think that they were joking around with her, but the looks on their faces seemed extremely genuine.
Amata stood back and examined the two of them. "You know, now that I see the two of you right next to each other, there are some similarities in your facial structures." Mark looked at Sarah's face closely. There was definitely a resemblance to what he saw in the mirror every morning. "That first night in Vegas," Mark said quietly. "What?" Sarah asked. "That night that we came in here. I thought that there was something familiar about you. Now I know what it is."
Sarah tried to recall that night. "You're right. I remember now. There was something about you that I just couldn't put my finger on, and it was driving me insane." She paused for a moment as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She then hugged Mark around the torso, laying her head on his shoulder. "Oh my god, you really are my brother! I thought I was lucky enough to have one brother, and now I have two!" Mark returned the hug. "And I have a sister."
Amata watched the two of them hug. She was tearing up, but smiling as well. She couldn't help it. "Family hug," she announced. Mark brought her into the hug with one of his arms. It was a weird and awkward three-way hug full of people crying, but Mark didn't care. He found someone else who was related to him by blood, and that was all that mattered.
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. There actually is a picture of the Lone Wanderer's parents in Sarah's room in-game as a shout-out to Fallout 3. Look it up if you don't believe me. I just twisted it a little. I have had this planned for a while, long before the group came to Vegas. I hope that you like it. The last sentence of the chapter sounds a little awkward, but I honestly couldn't find a better way to end it. Until next time.