The road to the Mojave outpost was going up a steep slope, and its right side was crowded with a bunch of derelict cars of all shapes and sizes. Don't ask why they hadn't rusted to nothingness over the past 200 years.

Akira stopped for a moment, behind a truck at the very top of that slope, then turned to the courier and Whitmeyer. "Before we enter the outpost – I'm thinking about buying some basic foodstuffs and maybe tools to cook on the road, but I don't want to look like a fish out of water, even more than I already do. Do you guys know what miso paste is?"

"Nope," Whitmeyer replied. "Sounds more like a detergent than a food product to me."

"Uh, right." Akira was slightly dejected. "And what about mirin? Americans had it in their supermarkets in my time."

"Also nope," the courier replied. "What's that, a soft drink?"

There was immense disappointment, with just a hint of desperation, in Akira's eyes. "...rice?"

"That's a maybe. Sometimes Shi traders come from San Francisco with their locally grown foodstuff."

Makoto raised an eyebrow. "Shi?"

"Yeah, Shi. Descendants of the crewmen of some old Chinese submarine that got beached near San Francisco. Kinda insular, kept their independence from the NCR. Big on research and development."

Makoto thought about how lucky she was to name that as her city of origin. "And why do they call themselves Shi?"

"From the name of that beached submarine, Shih-huang-ti." (sic)

"That doesn't mean anything bad, does it?" Whitmeyer asked.

Makoto remembered that from getting sidetracked on an online encyclopedia once. "That's the regnal name of the first emperor of Imperial China, I think? It's pronounced a bit differently in Japanese sources. He ruled in the third century BCE and ended up consolidating the Seven Warring States into a single large polity."

"Military vessels were sometimes named after historical figures," Akira added. "Honestly, I'm glad that's the root of the name, because 'shi' can mean a lot of things and some of them-"

His cell phone buzzed again.

"Excuse me, I have to pick it up." He marched a bit down the slope and Makoto followed, the other two giving them their space. He then picked up the call, and put it on loudspeaker. "[Hello?]"

"[Akira!]" Haru's relieved voice came out of the speaker.

"[Yep, that's me]" he said, trying to sound just a bit peppy. "[Did you speak with Futaba already?]"

"[No, the line was busy. I thought I would call you first then. Are you alright? Do you need help?]"

"[I'll manage]" Akira replied. "[I've bumped into Makoto, and I'm currently heading towards a military and trade outpost to resupply and gather info.]"

"[What about you?]" Makoto asked. "[Reportedly you're safe in an aid camp somewhere, is that true?]"

"[And did anything… bad happen, that we should know about?]" Akira added.

Haru thought about her introduction to the Mojave. The mutilated corpses hanging from hooks. The pushy drug addicts that did not take no for an answer. The fire axe, yanked away from some poor bastard that stood close enough. The sounds of bullets, lasers and who-knows-what-else whooshing past her ears. The few bandits standing in her way who did not get a warning. The blood splatter on her pristine clothes.

Informing Akira and Makoto about that wouldn't make her feel any better, and would probably worry them sick.

"[Not really. I wandered through some ruins for a while, then bumped into some drug dealers]" she said. "[Lovely people. One of them had a friend in an organization calling themselves Followers of the Apocalypse. Don't be scared by the name, they gave me a place to stay and seem reasonable so far.]"

"[If I had a nickel for every faction I've heard of today with a disturbing-sounding name that turned out to be neutral-to-benevolent, I'd have two nickels]" Akira replied.

"[It's weird that it happened twice, right?]" Makoto commented. "[Sorry, Haru, continue.]"

"[Not much to continue, to be fair]" Haru said. "[I am now in a settlement called Freeside, safe, but with not much to do. What's the plan, Akira?]"

Akira glanced at Nipton in the distance for a second or two. "[Right, I… I need to give you some important context first.]" He paused. "[We're over two hundred and seventy years in the future, in a lawless frontier between two countries at war. One of which apparently just slaughtered a town close to where I am nearby.]"

"[Oh my]" Haru gasped. "[I-I've heard it's 2281 but I didn't ask for details on politics.]"

"[For now, the plan is to get us all in one place and proceed from there]" Akira continued. "[I got a PDA with some maps of the local area, and I'm traveling with a friendly local, a courier. I will spend a moment in that outpost to figure out a good rallying point. And speaking of…]" He glanced at the courier. "Sir, should my friend in Freeside be worried about Legion attacks?"

"I don't think so," the courier replied. "It's fortified enough, far away enough from the Colorado river, there's a major NCR military base in the way, and it's close enough to the Strip that House would sic his robots on them if they tried anything. Hello, Haru, by the way," he added, a bit louder. "I'm heading the same way as your friends for the time being, so we're traveling together for now."

"Pleased to meet you, I suppose," Haru replied in English.

"[There are some more concerning news, unfortunately]" Makoto added. "[Morgana obviously doesn't have a phone, and for one reason or another Ryuji's phone wasn't picked up by Futaba's hardware. Do you know anything about the whereabouts of either of them?]"

"[No, I…]" It was Haru's turn to imagine the absolute worst case scenario – and because of her aforementioned fire axe self-defense, her visions were particularly graphic. "[I don't know anything. Bloody hell… Watch out for yourselves, please. And if anything, anything happens, do not hesitate to fight back.]" A brief pause. "[Decisively, if need be.]"

"[Let me reassure you]" Makoto said, in a not-particularly-reassuring tone, "[we both got our hands on firearms and we already used them on some local wildlife. Big dumb irradiated scorpions.]"

"[And I shot some big bipedal lizards before]" Akira added. "[We can take care of ourselves.]"

"[This world sounds more and more concerning by the minute]" Haru muttered.

"[Tell me about it]" Akira said. "[We'll call you later today with an update, that's for sure. In the meantime… I want to say 'stay out of trouble', but it's two-and-a-half-centuries too late for that, I suppose.]"

"[It's… reassuring, y'know?]" Haru replied. "[How you hit the ground running and work hard to get us all reunited as soon as possible. Thank you, Akira.]"

"I just walked around for a few hours and without Futaba's skills I wouldn't have achieved shit so why the fuck do you thank me," is what Akira didn't say, because he understood the importance of keeping up morale. "[Don't mention it. I'm the leader, it's my responsibility. Stay safe and talk to you later.]"

"[Bye!]" Makoto bid farewell as well.

"[Bye, hear from you soon.]"

Haru ended the call and Akira put his phone away. He then marched back up and glanced at the courier and Whitmeyer. "Sorry, guys. One of my friends called to report she got her phone back."

"And she's in Freeside," the courier said. "It's a bit rough, but there are worse places to end up in the upper Mojave."

The group moved on, finding themselves at the feet of the monument of two Rangers, towering over the outpost. There was a uniformed NCR soldier leaning against one of the legs, on the older side, with a well trimmed beard. Makoto approached him. "Excuse me, sir, I have an important document to whoever's in charge of this place."

"Are you going to scream at him like the other Renoite?"

Akira remembered how his own accent was described as such. "Uh, what other Renoite?" His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he decided to let the caller wait for a moment. "What did he look like?"

"About your age. Light brown hair. Dress shirt, necktie, fancy gloves. Stuck out like a sore thumb."

There was a bit of silence for a moment, before Akira said, in a forced neutral voice: "Uh, is he still around?"

"Nope, he went towards Nipton not too long ago."

"I see. Thank you for the information, I have to step away for a moment."

Akira trotted away, back behind the truck, closely followed by Makoto. Whitmeyer and the courier went after them. "Uh, what's going on?" the ex-con asked.

"The dead rise from their watery graves," Makoto muttered ominously.

Akira pulled out his phone. It was Futaba. He knew exactly what she was going to say. He picked up the call and both went in unison: "[Akechi's rezzed and spawned nearby.]"

After a beat, Futaba remarked: "[...you know, he mentioned you're gonna learn of his survival on your own. You're in that outpost he was in earlier today?]"

"Will someone explain what's going on?" Whitmeyer repeated. "I am out of the loop."

"I've picked up the name Akechi," the courier remarked. "Long story short, he's a traumatized kid from their Vault with a bunch of kills to his name and possibly a massive chip on his shoulder. Akira and Makoto expected him to be dead, or at the very least somewhere very very far away."

"That is a remarkably charitable interpretation of him," Makoto commented. "He's responsible for multiple political assassinations, including two family members of our group, his actions got Akira arrested, tortured by the police, and almost murdered, and he tried to kill us on top of all that."

"Geez, what Vault were y'all raised in?" Whitmeyer winced in sympathy.

"[Okay, one of the guy is that courier you mentioned, and who's the other?]" Futaba asked. "[And how much do they know?]"

"[Long story]" Akira told her. "[Play along with my cover and don't say too much.]" He put the phone on loudspeaker. "Right, from the top. This is Futaba Sakura, my friend from the vault who got our portable computers connected. Say hi, Futaba."

"Hi, Futaba," she replied. "In my world I would've already known everything about you, but now I don't have the tools. What are your names?"

"Dunno," the courier chortled. "Got shot in the brain, forgot who I am, and people now call me the courier."

"Uh, I'm Whitmeyer." He glanced nervously at the ranger monument towering over him, as if it were to reveal him to the soldiers. "I'm a local trying to get the hell out of dodge."

"Understandable," Futaba replied, dejected. "Anyway, like we said, Akechi's here. I've picked up the bastard earlier on, but didn't want to say anything because I didn't know much besides 'he's here, somehow'."

"[He was probably sent after us by that mad god to finish the job]" Makoto muttered.

"[That's what he said, but something's off here, I fee-]"

"I'm sorry to butt in," Whitmeyer said, "but the way you're describing him makes him sound dangerous to others. Is that right?"

"Most likely," Makoto replied.

"Yesterday I would've confirmed, but now…" Futaba paused instead of finishing the sentence. "He mentioned the town of Nipton. Can you see it from where you're standing?"

Everyone glanced into the distance. "All too well. Including the smokestacks and some red banners."

"Yeah, so, apparently it was slaughtered and killed by-"

"-Caesar's Legion," the courier finished. "I have already told your friends who they are."

"We also heard they are at war with the New California Republic," Makoto added.

"One's underwhelming and one's neo-proto-fascist," Akira quoted a comment from a few hours prior.

"Cool, I don't have to describe what they did to that town then." She took a breath. "Anyway, apparently the Legion left a bunch of people… what's the English word for when you tie someone to a pole and make them T-pose?"

"Uh, crucifixion?" the courier guessed.

"Yeah, the Legion did that to a bunch of people," Futaba continued. "Akechi apparently got them all down from their poles and got them medical help. He also claimed that he was forced to kill some more aggressive psychos in self-defense. Honestly, he sounded bothered by the killing, and that's incredibly OOC for the bastard."

"Perhaps," Makoto said, mulling it over. "Still, if he actually helped people, I don't feel like begrudging him for growing a conscience."

"And how did you get all that info?" Akira asked.

"The bastard called me," Futaba replied. "No taunts, no threats, just telling me to warn people about what, quote, 'the larpers' are capable of."

"What's a larper?" Whitmeyer asked.

"LARP is, like, a bunch of people coming up in one spot to play pretend," Akira explained. "And people that do that are called larpers."

"Caesar's Legion is loosely based on the armies of Ancient Rome," the courier commented. "So, calling them larpers is calling them pretenders, yeah?"

"With the implication that they aren't even good pretenders." Akira mulled it all over. He was glad that Goro somehow survived all the bullshit up to that point, but he wasn't stupid. "Courier, considering Akechi's here-"

"Yes, going through Nipton is still the safest option," the courier didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. "The other routes involve man-sized poisonous wasps and even bigger mutant reptiles with tough skin and sharp claws. That kid's far from the most dangerous thing in the wasteland."

"I'll take your word for it." Akira replied. "Excuse me, guys, I gotta switch to my language, 'cause this is personal." He took a breath to brace himself. "[Futaba… how do you feel about Akechi's survival?]"

"[Can't cast those feelings to a boolean]" she replied. "[If he starts something, I'll terminate him, but else… let him be. Shit, let him walk away if he wanna. Maybe he'll find another quest, maybe he'll find an early grave. And we don't have to upset Haru by updating her about his presence.]"

"[I think she has the right to know]" Makoto replied. "[It's a personal matter to her as well.]"

"[I'm with Futaba for the time being]" Akira said. "[In a best case scenario, she spends the next few hours or days worrying herself sick, and in a worst case scenario she'll leave her safe spot and do something rash.]" He glanced at the courier. "How far away from Nipton is Freeside?"

"It's a two-day trip by foot if you keep a good pace."

"By foot?" Futaba commented. "Do you guys not have trains? Or buses? Or bicycles?"

"Nope to all three."

"Why?!"

"In brief," the courier said, "the trains require infrastructure and the one faction that wants it is shit at building and rebuilding it, the bicycles are too slow and unarmored for the omnipresent raiders, and the locals made do with walking for the past two hundred years or so and don't feel like mucking about with motor vehicles. There's some NCR army trucks going to and fro, but they're too few and far between for you to catch a ride."

"Right, back to the main topic." Akira turned back to Makoto and his phone. "Futaba, do you think we can just… call Akechi and speak to him?"

"Maybe? But now he's on the phone with Ann, warning her about the Legion," Futaba replied. "I'll text you when he's done."

"Got it. I've heard that he, uh, screamed at whoever is in charge of the outpost we're in. I'll try to speak to them and see what they know."

"Great idea. Work that maxed Speech skill."

"[And don't tell Haru anything about him just yet]" he added, in Japanese. "[I will call her when we have a more detailed plan and know more about where he's standing right now. We also told her about the Legion already, she's safe from them in Freeside.]"

"[Good. Keep me posted]" Futaba asked. "One last thing – and I'm gonna say it in English, just in case – Akechi asked that you don't shoot him on sight because the convicts he saved might get pissed and shoot back."

"I, uh, didn't plan to," Akira said.

"Same," the courier added.

"I-I'm not even going in that direction," Whitmeyer said.

"I'm insulted that he thinks so little of me," Makoto said. "I don't like him and he doesn't like me, but I'm not going to shoot him unprovoked, goddammit."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Futaba remarked.

Whitmeyer realized something. "Hold on a moment, the wounded convicts are still in Nipton?"

"I think so?" Futaba replied. "Akechi didn't say much and I didn't ask though. You'll get more intel from the outpost, I assume."

"Yeah, most likely," Akira remarked. "We'll update you when we have more info."

"200. Oracle, over and out."

She hung up and Akira pocketed his phone again. "Well…" He paused for a moment, unsure how to react to the reveals, before giving up and turning to Makoto: "Let's go deliver the accession papers. That part remains unchanged."

The four marched back up to the NCR soldier. He actually heard most of the conversation but decided it wasn't his problem. "Okay, so," Akira said, "we are not here to scream at your leader, we have brought some important documents for them from Primm. We also have some questions about the other Renoite that they might answer." He smiled faintly. "So, who's in charge?"

The soldier turned around, towards the two buildings now in front of him, and pointed at the one further away. "Go to HQ and ask for Ranger Jackson. The guy with sunglasses and a mustache."

The four marched through the outpost, past the bored soldiers, caravaneers of all stripes, two-headed cows used as pack animals, and the general atmosphere of ennui, before walking into the headquarters building. There was a front desk with a soldier sitting by it, who raised his head and glanced at the newcomers: "Caravan, citizen, pilgrim…" he muttered.

"Beg your pardon?" Makoto asked.

"Oh," he paid them a bit more attention, "it's just something for the logbook, so we know who comes in or out. Mostly in nowadays."

"We're just briefly stopping by with some papers for Ranger Jackson," Makoto said.

"He's in the back, in the breakroom," the soldier said, writing 'courier x4' in the log. "Down the corridor, second door to the right."

The group marched past some cubicles with clerks writing things in them into a narrow corridor, past a toilet without a door or even a curtain, and then walked into a break room with a few tables and couches, with a guy sitting on one of them. On top of the expected sunglasses and mustache, he was dressed differently than all the other uniformed soldiers – pants with a thigh holster, long-sleeved shirt with a bandoleer, a cowboy hat, and a lever action rifle on his back. He turned to the newcomers. "Yeah?"

Makoto stepped forward and straightened herself. "I, uh, I represent the people of Primm, who are requesting accession to the New California Republic, and assistance from the army to restore order in the town."

She handed over the clipboard and Jackson skimmed the document pinned to it. "Hm," he grunted. "And why do they need the Republic to step in?"

"A bunch of convicts someone brought in took over the town, killed the sheriff, and are now holding the deputy hostage," the courier explained.

"I understand." Jackson flipped the page to the other, clean side, and started writing something on it. He then handed the clipboard back to Makoto, letting the group read what he had just wrote:

I confirm this document is authentic and accept all legal consequences in the event it is not.

"I'm gonna need signatures from all four of you," Jackson explained. "Just a formality, so we can keep track of who brought this paper here."

The courier showed the scar on his forehead. "What if I got shot in the head and don't remember my name?"

"A fingerprint stamp is fine. Go to the front desk and ask Knight for an ink pad."

Akira signed himself Amamiya. Makoto, ever so formal, wrote her full name in romaji. Whitmeyer's signature was barely legible, just a W and a squiggle. The courier stamped his left thumb near the bottom edge of the page.

"Now, to be clear," Jackson said, "I can't send out anyone currently here in the outpost. There is supposed to be a full standing force present at all times. Official orders. What I can do is radio the higher ups, and get some other troops redirected from other stations or from the reinforcements coming to the Mojave. Primm should get the rule of law back within a day or two."

Makoto wasn't quite content with the fact that the town would have to wait even longer for assistance, but beggars can't be choosers. "Thank you, sir," she bowed slightly.

"Is that everything, or are you waiting for a tip for a job well done?"

Akira stepped forward. "Well, we don't want money, but we have a few questions, if that's okay with you, sir."

Normally, Jackson wouldn't be interested in answering them, but running the Mojave outpost makes you wish for any kind of stimulation. "Yeah?"

"There was a guy here earlier today," the courier said, wiping his thumb against his leather armor. "Another Renoite."

"That's true. What of him?"

"We've heard he," Akira politely ahemed, "left an impression."

"The way he was described," the courier stepped in, "he looks just like the guy that my two companions here had a bit of a scuffle with, not that long ago. We just want some intel on the bastard."

"I don't know much," Jackson admitted. "The kid came over from Nipton. You probably saw the smokestacks in the distance. I debriefed him in private about the Legion attack. He demanded help for the wounded, I told him I can't give it to him, he raised his voice a bit, but I calmed him down and he left without causing trouble. He might've resupplied in the barracks before that."

"Wait," Makoto said, "why couldn't you help him?"

"Like I said, I have my orders about keeping a full standing force in the outpost at all times," Jackson explained. "And on top of that, Nipton, unlike Primm, is exposed to further Legion attacks. Even if I had men to spare, I would have to risk sending them into another skirmish, solely to defend a few empty houses with no strategic value. If you want to be really cynical, maybe Legion has set up another trap there and sent the kid as bait."

"At this point I feel he'd rather get himself killed than play the puppet again," Akira remarked. "And what do you mean by 'empty houses'? You said there are wounded in town."

"According to the intel I got, they are all, to a man, escaped convicts from the nearby correctional facility. All the people living in Nipton perished fighting the Legion. Dealing with the survivors by the book would involve putting them all in chains and making them march to the nearest prison, and I do not think a man freshly taken off a cross can go on a walk like this. The best I can do without defying orders is look elsewhere and leave them alone."

"...I won't lie, that is pretty disappointing," Makoto remarked.

"That's Republic for ya," the courier said.

"Is that all?" Jackson asked.

"I believe so," Akira said. "Thank you for the information."

"Eh, not like I told you much." Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out a banknote, then handed it to Akira. "Here's a tip for a job well done. If you need to split it four ways, ask the shopkeeper in the barracks."

Akira inspected the note. It was apparently worth 100 NCR dollars, and had a portrait of a raven-haired woman with a serious expression – 'President Tandi', apparently. "Thank you, sir," he nodded his head a bit. "We needed to resupply for the trip ahead, so the tip is appreciated."

"It's ten caps per person," the courier pointed out.

"Still better than zero," Akira said, turning around as the group left the room and then the building.

Then, without a word, Whitmeyer grabbed his wrist and dragged him away.

"Uh, what's going on?"

"We need to speak out of earshot of all the grunts," Whitmeyer quietly muttered back.

The two, followed by confused Makoto and the courier, ended up retreating behind the headquarters building, between a wooden cart and a crate taller than each of them. "Right," Whitmeyer whispered, "do I understand it right that you can call that Akechi kid later today?"

"Yeah, when the line's free," Akira replied.

"Back in that shack near Goodsprings…" Whitmeyer paused, unsure. "There were a few folks from the Westside militia, remember? I… I can't promise anything, but if someone asked them to help the people in Nipton, they might offer something, anything. More than NCR gave at the very least."

"Hm." Akira mulled it over for a moment. "I'll be honest, we should speak to Akechi before trying to approach them or anything. Hear what he thinks about the idea."

"He's a prideful one," Makoto elaborated. "We'll need to choose our words carefully, so he doesn't reject our help solely because it's Akira offering it."

Akira sighed, but didn't question that assessment.

"If we've gotta wait now, let's not just sit on our asses." The courier pointed at the door to the barracks. "We can resupply for the road ahead. Or maybe have a bite right now."