Let Nothing Fall to Chance

by Chronicler of Unseen Stars

Years have passed since the liberation of New Vegas, and the Courier's itching for a new adventure. Duty has bound him to Big MT and the Mojave, unwilling to let either out of his sight. When a certain satellite goes missing, Six leaps at the chance to break free from his prison. But he gets more than he bargains for and trades one wasteland for another. Crossposted on AO3.

14. Courting the Phantom Death

Chapter 14: Courting the Phantom Death

Date: October 8th, 1099

Location: Biovin Manor, Southern Ursus Border

Time: 6 AM

Six groaned groggily as he regained consciousness. The first of his senses to reawaken was touch. He could feel a damp atmosphere and cold stone around him. The second to return to him was smell, assailed by the stench of rust and feces. When his ears started working again, they picked up muffled crackles of fire and water dropping from the ceiling.

The last senses to come back were sight and taste. The latter one wasn't registering anything, but his eyes did. Everything was a brown blur at first, but eventually, his brain got a clear image of his surroundings. He appeared to be in a dimly lit cell, maybe even a dungeon. He craned his head with a groan as he scanned for his companions.

Neither of them was in sight. He glanced down at himself and noticed that his gear was missing too. His attire, weapons, chems, lockpicks. All gone. All he had on him were his Pipboy and some dirty old rags. Six brought the device up to confirm all of this. It turned out there was an additional item in his inventory. Some type of co-

He felt something rub against his neck. Or rather, around it. He pressed a hand against his neck to feel a piece of plastic strapped onto him. His eyes widened in horror.

No… he silently prayed. Nononono NOT AGAIN! NO!

Instinct told him just to tear the damn thing off, but he shot that idea down. If this is what he thought it was, it'd detonate. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Panicking will get him nowhere. He was a thinker, not a tenderfoot. He needed intel, a plan.

He still had his Pip-Boy at least. The biometric locks might've failed to keep his abductors out of its inventory, but they at least ensured they couldn't steal the actual device itself. He can still use VATS to analyze and lock onto targets. He still had a motion tracker and internal radio. Speaking of which…

He toggled the radio tab and selected ED-E's beacon. All he got was static. Six cursed under his breath. Either this place was blocking out his signal, or he was out of range. Neither scenario was good. He had no way of knowing if the eyebot was even functional or not. He prayed to the powers that be that he was.

He decided to examine the area around him further. Apart from a yellowed mattress and a bucket, there weren't many items in the cell for him to use. He could try to forge makeshift lockpicks out of the former's springs, but he had nothing to turn the lock with. A few pats on the bed revealed that there weren't any springs anyway.

[Strength 8/10] The bars were somewhat rusted. Six gave them several tugs, but he eventually gave up. He'd probably need to be one of Croissant's people to be able to beak them.

He heard footsteps echoing down the hall. He craned his head to the left to see a stairway at the end. Waltzing down with a crimson candle was an armored figure. It didn't look like one of Ingra's buddies, though. No, this man had glowing wings and a halo on him. This was one of Exusiai's people. A Sankta. The holstered SMGs on each leg further confirmed this.

"Well well well," said the armored Sankta. "Look who's finally awake."

Six glared at the theocrat. "Who are you and where the hell am I?" he snarled.

"Right to the chase, eh? No time for small talk? Pity. And here I thought this shift couldn't be any more boring."

The knight sighed before continuing. "My associates call me Larsson. As for where you are, why you're in a dungeon of course. Or at least the basement. The actual dungeon is still being dug up last I checked."

"What about my companions?" Six asked. "Where are they?"

The knight tilted his head. "Companions?" he asked back. "The only other person with you was some Infected scum, last I heard. She's been enlisted into the local labor force while you were out."

"I had a robot with me. What happened to him?"

"'Him'? Ah… there was chatter about some drone packing serious firepower among the manor's fandom. But from what I hear, it got scrapped by Geiszler's pet."

Six hands couldn't decide if they wanted to ball up into fists or unfurl as claws. As much as he wanted to tear through his bars and captor, he was lucid enough to realize how unrealistic that scenario was. The man's words struck more than a cord, though. A couple of recent memories flickered through his mind. An image of a wanted poster and Ingra's last words.

"[Perception 6] Gieszler?" Six asked. "You mean the Caster from Leithanien?"

The false angel let a tiny 'hmm' slither through his helmet. "I suppose that old warbeast's reputation precedes him," he replied. "Yes, that Gieszler. And I'm sure you're familiar with that pet project of his. Tall, lumbering, made of stone."

Six's eyes narrowed. He made that golem? He faintly recalled some villager in Kazdel mentioning golems, but seeing one up close? It was almost hard to believe that such a thing existed.

"Say, aren't you the man that took down Reese?"

Six crossed his arms. "Maybe?" he coyly replied. "Was he a friend of yours?"

The knight snorted. "As if!" he retorted. "The only good Sarkaz is a dead one. Nah, you did the world a favor getting rid of him. The old goat, though, wasn't so happy. He was hoping to glean some information from him regarding…"

The false angel shuddered and shook his head. "Nevermind. Our men found quite the armament on you," he recounted. "Hell, I'm practically jealous. But they made some… unsettling observations regarding your little brawl with them."

"You call an ambush by drugged lunatics a 'brawl'?" Six snarked.

"They're expendable," Larsson replied. "But that is beside the point."

Sankta marched closer to Six's cell and leaned forward, grabbing the bars and glaring at him. The Courier could sense him baring his fangs behind that helm as he glared at him.

"Witnesses claim that you have a remarkable aptitude toward firearms. More so than many of my fellow Sankta. Yet some of them do not resemble our gunsmiths' handicrafts. Tell me, where did you find those models?"

Six furrowed his brows as he devised a lie to deflect him. Croissant said that Sarkaz and Sankta had a bitter rivalry if he recalled correctly. Some of the former collected the latter's firearms as trophies. He also recalled her saying that the False Angels licensed some of their weapons out to certain companies.

Six feigned a casual shrug. "[Speech 50] I've done some scrounging in the wastelands," he claimed. "Stumbled across some old battlefields where your people and the Sarkaz fought. Salvaged whatever weapons and gear I could. Of course, I couldn't find any actual info on the producers of those weapons. My best guess is that some of them were jury-rigged from various models."

"And where precisely did you learn such trades?" the Sankta replied. "Who taught you how to wield and maintain my people's holy instruments?"

Six resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the other man's zealotry. "[Speech 60] From Blacksteel," he lied. "Duh! Last I checked, your country signed leases out to certain mercenary guilds. I was part of that one before I went my own way."

The fake angel's face warped and contorted before he pulled away from the cell. The man was grumbling something in Latin, but he couldn't make out all of it. What could make out was his irritation. A word also stuck out to the Courier; sacrilegium. He had three guesses as to what that meant.

Larsson shook his head and turned back to the Courier. "What about the energy weapons?" he inquired further. "Where did they come from?"

"[Speech 70] I dunno. Raythean?" Six lied with a shrug. "Blacksteel was signing contracts left and right before I left. It was hard for us grunts to keep track of our CEO's drinking buddies."

The Sankta's eyes narrowed. "And why, praytell, did you leave them?"

"To be honest, I got tired of being cooped up in my workspace. I wanted to see the world, but I've also gotten attached to those rayguns."

"So you stole them from your superiors?"

"I prefer the term 'liberated'," Six replied. "Though finding bullets and compatible batteries in the wilderness is a real pain in the ass. I had to dig up old battlegrounds to maintain a steady supply."

The man snorted. "And that's it?" he retorted. "You just relied on graverobbing to replenish your ammunition? How do I know you didn't steal from any of the living? Or kill them for their gear?"

"You don't," Six admitted. "But what evidence suggests that I put any Sankta down?"

The man fished something out of his pocket. It was the hog's tooth he bought earlier.

"Bought it from a trader," Six countered. "Figured I could use a little more luck by my side."

The Sankta growled before pocketing his prize.

"You said something about a labor force," Six recalled. "What did you mean by that?"

Larsson snorted. "What else but indentured servitude?"

"You mean slav-"

Six yelped as tamed lightning coursed through his body. He almost fell to his knees from the pain, steadying himself against the bars.

"Ah ah ah," the knight taunted. "We don't use that kind of language around these parts. Milady prefers the term 'servant'."

Six snarled as he glared back at the Sankta. "'Milady'?" he asked.

"That's right, Lady Karine. She's the mistress of these grounds. And she doesn't take kindly to intruders waltzing about or butchering our adoring fans and staff. Normally she'd just throw in with the other servants, but you've caught her eye. She's willing to overlook your transgressions and wants to…. Enroll you instead."

"'Enroll' me?"

"You've already proven yourself to be tenacious with those firearms, but she wants to see how you fare without them. She and Gieszler are setting up some trials for you as we speak. If you pass, we'll remove that collar of yours."

Six's hand briefly drifted back up to the slave collar. "And if I flop too many?" he asked.

"Then at the very least, that thing stays on."

The guard unlocked the cell door and drew a couple of items out of his bag. A lime-green apple and a bottle of water to be precise. Larsson tossed them at Six, catching each one in each hand. The Courier scanned the gifts with his Pip-boy for any potential tampering. It detected no poison or chems, so he decided to chow down.

"That's a nifty wristband you got there," Larsson snorted as the Courier ate his breakfast. "Where'd you find it?"

"It was a gift from a good doctor," Six replied. "He figured that I'd need it more than him after a… bushwhack."

"'Bushwhack'?" said the Sankta. "Ah, an ambush. Is that how you got those little scars on your forehead?"

"Perhaps."

The man walked over and brushed his hair aside while he took some more bites. The Courier glared at him as he examined the scars.

"These look like bullet wounds," Larsson noted. "9mm to be exact. Did one of my kin leave these marks?"

"Can't remember," Six lied. "Lost my memories to brain damage."

"Brain damage? Do you take me for a fool?"

"You don't strike me as a jester if that's what you're suggesting," Six snarked back. "Last I checked, certain races had greater Endurance than others."

"And which one are you, if you don't mind me asking."

"Hell if I know," Six lied as he feigned a shrug."I'm just made of sturdy stuff, I guess."

The man raised a finger to argue but he lowered back down a second layer. He just growled as the Courier finished his meal and tossed the trash into the waste bin.

"So… when do we start?"

"Right now," Larsson replied. "Your first trial is a test of wits. Navigate your way through a little maze and you might get a prize."

"Which is…?"

"For you to discover."

Larsson pulled another item out of his pocket. It was a thin piece of rope. Six raised an eyebrow.

"Rope?" the Earthling asked. "Really?"

"Yes really. Milady is many things, but 'stupid' isn't one of them. Now are you gonna offer your hands, or am I gonna have to pin you against the wall?"

Six grumbled as Larsson bound his hands with rope and gave a good couple of tugs. Then he barked for Six to start marching and gave a more forceful tug. Six grunted as he complied.

The grimy basement gave way to dark corridors of brown, red, black, and ash-gray. The architecture here was something ancient textbooks described as 'gothic', if he recalled correctly. The furniture was a bit worn but otherwise free of dust. People in maid dresses and tuxedos were tending to the manor, carrying out all sorts of tasks. Some of them had collars on, tucked into their attire.

The first things to greet them were the cool morning wind and rising sun. Without the fog obstructing everything, he had a better view of his surroundings. The area resembled a plantation farm from the 1800s, with smaller buildings dotting the area. One appeared to be a greenhouse, another was a barn. He could make out a garden further away, though he couldn't ascertain its actual produce.

Birds chirping around them while pickaxes chipped away at stone. Guards hollered and whips cracked in the air, slapping raw flesh. He heard the cries and whimpers beneath the chorus of backbreaking labor. Some were beaten by their armored hands, some kicked by their shiny boots. Six kept his eyes and ears open for a certain red-head.

Eventually, they reached their destination; A hedge maze. All that stood between them was a simple gate. Larsson paralyzed Six again and untied his hands. He swiftly dragged him through the gate and locked it back up, then freed Six from the stasis field. The Courier spun around to face him.

"This gate is a oneway entry," he said. "If you want to escape from there, you'll have to go through the exit on the opposite end. You have one hour to accomplish this before I send in drones to check on you."

"What happens if time runs out?" Six asked.

"That depends on whether or not you survive," replied the Sankta. "Bene vale, iuvenis."

Six turned back to him and smirked. "[Intellgence 8] Non credo fortuna," he boasted.

Larsson did a double-take before grumbling and walking off. Six turned back to face the pathway before him. His first instinct was to grab at the shrubbery and test out its durability. Thorns cut and scraped into his hand as he attempted to manipulate the branches. He'd need a tool or a torch to get through 'em. Grunting in disappointment, he carefully pulled his hand back out and started his journey through the labyrinth.

His Pip-Boy was writing up a map of the maze as he explored it, located under the Local tab. He'd activate VATS on occasion to check for any landmines or grenade traps, but he encountered none so far. What he has encountered were pressure plates, tripwires, and the occasional pitfall. One trap tried to spray him with some type of gas, another tried to skewer him.

Eventually, he reached the end of the maze. Unsurprisingly it was locked. Triple-locked, to be precise. One was gold, another silver, the last bronze. Something told him that he needed to find the right keys for each one. Groaning, Six proceeded to map out the rest of the maze.

His first discovery brought him to the heart of the labyrinth. Before him was a courtyard, with its own fountain, gazebo, garden, seats, and even a pond. Six scoured the area until he spotted something on a table; A rusting twelve-inch pipe wrench. The Courier walked over and examined it. According to his Pip-Boy, a Strength level of 5 was the minimum requirement to effectively wield it. He gave it a few swings before coupling it to his belt. It was hardly the best weapon, but it was his only one for the time being.

Something colorful caught his eye. He ventured over to the gazebo and spied a piñata dangling from its ceiling. It was modeled after a pre-war animal, some distant relative of today's Bighorners. 'Sheep', if his history books were correct. Yet its fur was pink instead of the typically snow-white. And there was something painted on its forehead. A keyhole?

Six toggled VATS to scan for potential traps. Thankfully nothing cropped up. He drew out the pipe wrench and gave the piñata a good wack. It exploded into cotton balls and confetti, dropping several goodies. Among those was a bronze key. Six snatched it up and left the area.

After another minute of searching, he stumbled across another curiosity. There were several white Xs on the ground, with a shovel lying nearby. He snorted as memories of pre-war storybooks crossed his mind. He gave VATS another run, quickly discovering a landmine hidden under one of the Xs. He grabbed the shove and kept his distance from that spot.

He decided to kneel and wipe his hand across another one. Just because his Pip-Boy's targeting system didn't pick up anything in the others didn't mean they were safe. He was proven right when he unearthed a pressure plate. He moved on to the next X and repeated the process. No plate or mine under this one. He rose back up and dug in with his shovel.

There was a snowglobe - no, a music box- at the bottom, with a silver key already inserted into it. Six retrieved the box and tried yanking its key out, but it refused to part ways with it. He didn't want to exert too much force on it, least it'd snap in half. So he gave the key a few twists to see if the box would relinquish it. It eventually did, playing some music and spinning the Feline ballerina inside. A soft melody filled the air around him, soothing him. He shook it off and added it to his Pip-Boy's subspace inventory. He could probably sell this after he makes his great escape.

His search for the third key was riddled with more traps, but they weren't anything to write about. He eventually found himself in a small clearing, dotted by a dozen vintage tables and matching chairs orbiting them. Judging from the blemishes, they've all seen better days. But what stuck out the most to him was the outdoor stage at the far back.

Some of the tables had a mask, each one resembling the face of some type of animal. Birds, bears, foxes, rabbits, etc. He left those be for the time being and went up to the stage for the time being. There were four busts propped up, yet they were all blank slates. Slates with slots in them. There was a speaker and a button attached to each one. Wires were slithering out of their backs and toward a safe.

Six pressed one. The roar of a Yao Gui erupted from it. He pressed another and was greeted with the chirping of birds. He quickly put two and two together and ran to gather up the masks. The Yao Gui and bird masks went on first. A push on the third bust's button produced a series of barks. A dog mask was inserted into that one. The last one mooed at him, prompting him to strap the Brahmin mask on it.

Something clicked behind them. Six peered past them to see the safe opening up. He walked over and bent down, spying the final key inside. He yoinked it and then jaunted back to the entrance. One by one the locks were unfastened and discarded onto the earth. Six opened the gate up-

And froze up as he heard something else click. A grenade rolled out from a hedge and at his feet. He leaped to the side and ducked, covering his head as it detonated. To his surprise, the only thing it produced was paint. Six just stared at the resulting mess before shaking his head and creeping onward. No more traps lay in wait between him and Larsson. Six couldn't read his face with that helmet on, but his posture hardly seemed to indicate surprise on his part. The older man took out a pocket watch from his bag and glanced back at the Courier.

"Twenty minutes," he noted. "And no paint on you either. You seem to be as meticulous as you are swift."

He pasted another glance toward his Pip-Boy. "But then again, navigating the maze must've been the easy part," he drily added.

"It did streamline things a bit," Six admitted. "But all those traps also served as convenient markers too. What's next on the menu?"

"You prize," the knight replied.

The knight handed Six a clipboard. The Courier narrowed his eyes as he read the contents of the papers attached to it. Dishwashing, mopping, farming, cooking, laundry, maintenance.

This was a list of chores. Six's shoulders slumped as he growled.

"Chop to it, lad," said the knight.

---

Six spent the next few hours slaving away in and around the manor. For the outdoors, he tended to the crops, harvested some along with samples from a botanical garden, cleaned out a farm filled with fauna that resembled Pre-war ancestors to the Wasteland's own critters, and fed some hounds.

[Medicine 50] Some of the flora samples he collected resembled those from Earth. Including toxic species such as nightshade. Those came in handy as 'extra seasoning' for the hounds. He wasn't certain if it'd be as effective against them as dogs back on Earth, but he wagered he'd find out soon enough.

After that Larsson left him under the wing of some Feline butler. He apparently had more important business to tend to, so he left the elderly man in charge of overseeing the next set of 'trails'. He had him scrubbed down and groomed before he got him a fresh pair of threads. They looked like a relic of the Victorian Era if his understanding of history was correct. Top hat, cutaway coat, heavy twill vest, white shirt, black trousers, and a tuck tie. It was a snug fit, to his surprise. His captors must've measured him while he was out cold.

Then the Feline put him to work. Scrubbing the walls, changing lightbulbs, mopping the floor, patching up a plethora of torn clothes (some of which appeared to be his gang's handiwork), making beds, table etiquette… and a fair amount of cooking.

Some of it was simple, like porridge, fruit juice, baked beans, or salad. There was at least one pasta dish he was ordered to make. Something with a sweet brown sauce. Six was certain that it was a pre-war treat back home, but he doubted anybody was making it these days.

"Yo, gunslinger!" called out a voice.

Six turned away from the kitchen counter to see another Sankta. This one was unarmored, and his 'wings' had a different pattern than Larsson's. His choice of weapon was also rather strange. Rather than something modern like an SMG, it was a blunderbuss with a bayonet. Even stranger was that the blade resembled an ax head more than an actual bayonet.

"You the hotshot I've been hearing about?" said the false angel.

"Maybe," Six replied. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"Micael. I'm what you might call a Nuncio. Are you survivalists always this rude?"

"Cultists aren't exactly popular back home," Six said as he narrowed his eyes. "[Intellgence 8] And based on your title, I presume that you're an ambassador for your so-called 'church'."

The Sankta rolled his eyes at the insult. "An educated wastelander," he said replied sarcastically. "Though you're a little off-course. I don't officially represent the Pope these days. I and some like-minded fellows have a slightly different worldview than his and Larsson's generation."

"Different how?"

"Let's just say that my old buddies and I prefer a more proactive approach to things. But we aren't all that interested in waging war with the Sarkaz either. Frankly, I don't even know how it all started or why we continue fighting them."

"'Old buddies'? You're not with your gang anymore?"

"Nope. Our messiah had a… vision of sorts a few months ago. He saw something that shook him to his core. And it drove a wedge into our circle so to speak. I left and ran into Larsson out here. He introduced me to this flock shortly afterward."

"And what exactly do you do around here?"

The man drew out his blunderbuss. "Gaurd duty, mostly," he said before giving his longarm a flashy spin. "But I also dish out justice where I can."

Six snorted. "You call running a 'servant' camp justice?" he retorted.

The Sankta sneered at him. "...some people just need purpose," he replied. "And The Law provides that and more."

Micael shook his masked head. "We're getting sidetracked," he continued. "Gieszler's supposed to be overseeing this trail, but he wants me to determine if you're worth his time or not. He's a busy man."

Micael procured something from his bag and handed it to the Courier. Six narrowed his eyes.

"A harmonica?" Six asked incredulously. "Really?"

"Of course," Micael replied. "The Mistress and Mr. Gieszler are both prolific Casters. And their homelands hold the belief that musical aptitude can hone one's dexterity in Arts."

Six still had a skeptical look on his face. "Has that actually been proven?" he asked.

"It's worked out for the Leithanians," Micael said with a shrug. "So I would assume so."

Six took and scanned the harmonica from Micael's hands. His Pip-Boy detected no explosives or toxins on it, so it seemed safe to use. A phantom memory- or rather, instinct- came back to him as he brought it to his face and played some notes. A couple of minutes passed before something disrupted his rhythm. He opened his eyes to see the kitchen staff clapping their hands.

"Well, you seem to have good lungs," the young Sankta commented. "Decent sense of rhythm too. I think you've earned an audience with Gieszler."

A beat passed before the Sankta spoke up again. "What? Got cold feet?"

"You're not gonna restrain me?" Six asked.

"Wha- Oh, right! You started the day off with the old relic. Of course not, silly! Larsson might be wary of you, but I ain't."

"Why?"

The other youngster smirked and pressed a button on his sleeve. Six's body locked up yet again.

"That's why," he said as he released Six from paralysis. "Come on now, time's of the essence. Chop chop!"

Six followed the local back out into the halls. The trip to their next stop was a rather short one, and a bit of a shocker. Whereas the halls were weathered and dark, this room was spotless and much more vibrant. It was practically crammed when they arrived. Most of its occupants were musicians of various races, tuning with as many types of instruments. An Ursus sat at a piano, some Lupos were playing violins. A couple of maestros were busy tutoring an accordionist with Bighorner horns.

The instructors stood out the most to the Courier. Though both of them bore jet-black cloaks and bone-white masks, there were some differences between them. One of them possessed goat horns and had yellow highlights. The other had radstag antlers and a hint of crimson on his robes. Both of them turned their heads toward the new arrivals as they walked in.

"Ah, ze gunslinger finally makes his debut," The Battleworn Spire Caster greeted in a German accent.

"Mr. Geiszler, I presume?" Six replied.

"Ze one and only. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Mr.…?"

"'Grant' will suffice."

"An alias, then?"

"I cannot confirm or deny."

"An understandable sentiment. Tell me, have you had any experience vith instruments?"

Six put a hand on his chin. He faintly recalled some guitar lessons from the Lonesome Drifter. Some days practicing the harmonica with the Kings also came to mind.

"A little," Six said. "Mostly with a harmonica and guitar. Haven't really had the chance to try out the latter much."

Gieszler put a hand on his chin and let out a short 'hmm'. "Vhat model of guitar, if you don't mind me asking," he said. "Acoustic? Lute? Gittern?"

Six shrugged. "Most people in the wasteland are more concerned with survival than musical talent," he said. "And even those with such interests are hard-pressed to seek out uh… erudition regarding the instruments themselves. I only know of a couple musicians back home, and they were self-taught."

"I see."

Gieszler motioned for Six to follow and led him to a guitar rack.

"Do any of vhese resemble a model you've stumbled across?" he asked.

Six examined each one. Some of these looked like something from a history book. 'Lutes', right? Others appeared to be electronic, a King's favorite. But then his eyes fell upon a particular one. Six grabbed it.

"Ah, a Dreadnought," the Leithanian replied. "Zat is vhat ve call un 'acoustic guitar'. Zhose are rather popular with ze Pioneers out vest."

Gieszler tossed something small at the Courier. He caught the mystery object and brought it to his face. It was a guitar pick.

"How long has it been since you used one of vhese?" the stagman -Elafia?- asked.

"Years," Six replied. "I've been rather busy."

"No rest for ze wicked, as vhey say."

Gieszler handed Six some papers from his pocket. He unfolded them to find musical notes printed on them.

"Can you read music sheets?" Gieszler asked.

Six shook his head.

"I vhought not. Take a seat over zhere," Gieszler said as he pointed at a pearl-white stool. "And just… experiment a bit. If you've played a song before, try to recall it."

Six did as told and closed his eyes. The Drifter only taught him how to play one song, so he didn't have to scrap through the archives for long. Replaying it was another story, though. He was well-versed in many sciences, but musicology wasn't his area of expertise. Dr. 8 had tried to tutor him in the field, but Six just couldn't wrap his head around it.

It took half an hour for him to get accustomed to the instrument again. And it took another half for him to get a decent rhythm. One more passed before he got managed to get a rough approximation of 'Home on the Wastes'. By then he was humming the song as his fingers danced across the strings.

He found himself back in the Mojave, watching geckos and coyotes play. Radscorpions and fire ants roamed across the sands, waging war against one another. He imagined Jacobstown developing into the spiritual successor to Broken Hills. Super Mutants, Ghouls, and humans working together, thriving together.

Once again a pair of clapping hands interrupted his performance. He opened his eyes to catch Geiszler in the act.

"Bravo, Mr. Grant," he congratulated.

"Did I pass?" Six asked.

"Only ze first half. Ze second part of vhis test revolves around your singing voice."

Six blinked. "My what-now?"

"Zhat song, does it have lyrics?"

Six nodded.

"Zhen sing it for me."

[Charisma ⅗] Reluctantly, he did. He could feel the men cringe as he sang, heard glass creaking. When the song reached its end, a glass vase exploded into transparent shards. Gieszler scowled.

"Vell, you obviously could use some fine-tuning," he admitted. "but you certainly have potential. Hmm, how often did you practice initially?"

Six shrugged. "Not much, to be honest," Six relented. "I have a photographic memory, but I doubt the same could be said of my ears. The only times I even picked up a guitar were for relieving stress or indulging in my curiosity. As for karaoke? Well…"

"Hmm… and vhat song vas zat, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Home on the Wastes."

"Un local melody from home?"

"You could say that."

"Hmmm… well, you did put your heart into all of vhis. I zhink you deserve un little reward for your performance. Micael, please take our amateur guitarist to ze guest rooms."

The younger man nodded and led Six out of the music room. Six's ears picked up something chiming in the background, beneath the waves of strings and horns. Something familiar. He stopped and closed his eyes, straining his ears to pinpoint the source. It sounded like-

Something metallic threw him stumbling back against a ladder. A maid cursed in Ursus as she fell off of it.

[Strength 8] Luckily Six was able to catch her before she crashed into the floor or him. Blood-red locks of hair brushed against him as she shook her head and-

A familiar set of hazel eyes locked onto his. Both of them blinked.

"Tania?" Six asked.

Lyudmila stared back at him. "Si-"

Six quickly shushed her. "Not here," he whispered. "Call me 'Grant' for now, okay."

The wolf-girl narrowed her eyes at him before nodding back. Six couldn't help but chuckle at her attire.

"You know, present circumstances aside, you don't look too shabby in that, Cinderella," Six teased.

Lyudmila huffed as she crossed her arms and looked away. "Shut it," she grumbled.

Six chuckled again as he stood her upright again. The knight from earlier walked over to them. In one hand was a mace, the other a shield. A helmet obscured their face while a golden tail flowed behind them.

"Are you two alright?" they asked in a feminine tone.

"We are," Six replied.

"Oi, watch where you're walking Nunes!" Micael reprimed. "You could've trampled on our guest of honor. And competent servants aren't exactly easy to come by either."

"My apologies, sir," replied the knight. "I'm running a little late to my next shift."

"Well, just be mindful of your surroundings."

"Yes sir."

The knight vanished around a corner. Something about their tail seemed familiar to Six, but Micael dragged him along by his sleeve before he could put his thinking cap on. He barely had enough time to wave back at Lyudmila before they disappeared behind the other one. The guest rooms rested at the end of the hall.

Before him were a bunch of bland doors, each bearing a number. Micael led him into #6. It was smaller than the room at the Black Death and certainly had less furniture. But the biggest takeaway for Six was the lack of a window. No view of the outside world, and certainly no escape either. Micael set some items on the table while Six was examining the room. A pencil, pen, sharpener, and sketchbook.

"This another warmup?" Six asked.

"More or less," Micael confirmed. "The Mistress asks that you make at least one sketch before your next trial."

"And when is that?"

"When her schedule opens up."

Larson paralyzed Six before he could inquire further. Once again he waltzed out the door and locked it. Six's motor functions returned to him and he fiddled at the knob. It wouldn't budge. Six huffed and stared down at the blank book.

At least I won't die of boredom in here. He thought to himself as he took a seat at the table.

Six grabbed the pencil and began tapping it on his chin. So many ideas came to mind for his first draft. So many memories to choose from.

---

By the time Six bothered to check the clock, it was already afternoon. Several pages have been filled up, though many of these had their sketches X'd out or thrown into the trashbin. Some of the contents were from the Wasteland, others from his recent adventures. Of course, art wasn't the only thing on his mind.

First, they threw him into a maze, then they had him play music and sing. Now they want him to draw some doodles. Why? Was it to test his aptitude for Arts? If what Micael said is true, that would be a plausible explanation. Were they looking to recruit and train more Casters, though? Or were more interested in how he wielded so many firearms? Are they studying them right now?

Six glanced back at his artwork . One page had some sketches of bots back on Earth, including ED-E and an Assualtron. Another was of the t-rex at Novac. On another page were Ingra, Leonhardt, Fiammetta, and Joshua Graham. Behind it were Benny's corpse and parodies of Mostima and Exusiai. Exusiai was a… 'biblically' accurate angel to put it politely. Mostima, on the other hand, was far more demonic, bearing the horns and talons of a Deathclaw. A two-headed Croissant rested at a bottom corner.

On the next two were a Yao Gui, a Super Mutant, Rotface (with his fancy hat), an anthropomorphic Lupo, and a Metal Crab. Yet two more had guns and other weapons from both worlds, including Exusiai's SMG and a plasma defender. One more showcased three suits of Power Armor; Patriot's, the Ganon family's Tesla suit, and that blond Kuranta in a Brotherhood Knight's T-51b. The helm of Lanius was crammed into the bottom right corner.

Six tried to bring up ED-E's beacon on his Pip-boy's radio multiple times in between breaks. And each time it was nothing but static. This time, something did pop up on the device. Something he hadn't expected.

Level Up!

Six blinked. This thing's still recording my adventures? Six thought to himself.

He brought up a series of windows on the Pip-Boy. The first one was the Skills tab. Everything had already been maxed out years ago, so he skipped that. The next one was the Perks tab, a selection of data packages for him to unlock after reaching certain criteria. Several were already being presented to him. Explorer, Here and Now, Quick Draw, Retention, Junk Rounds, Paralyzing Palm, Solar Powered, Plasma Spaz, Cowboy, Super Slam!

One caught his eye; Stonewall. He originally ignored that Perk because most people relied more on guns than brute force back home. Terra, however, is a different sort of animal. The locals have already bodied or flung him around like a ragdoll several times by now. It was time that he changed that.

He opened the Perk up, revealing several images, short animations, and a text file. He smiled as he examined its contents and reviewed previous Perks. He spent a few minutes practicing its stances, remembering all the times he got knocked down by some thug or merc here. Lyudmila's recent refresher seeps back into his mind, reinforcing his posture. Then he shifted his focus onto counterattacks, imagining himself brawling against some Legionary or Fiend.

He didn't know how long he practiced for. Time seemed to fly before someone knocked on the door. He turned to see a masked woman in a feathered dress entering the room. Yet another Sankta, but her wings seemed to be… crumbling. Her halo appeared to be fragmented, too. She also lacked any sort of firearm, too, now that he thought about it.

A smile curled onto her domino-masked face as she curtsied before the Courier. "Ah, bon après-midi, chérie," said the Scarlet Singer. "I am Paulina, your next guide through our slice of heaven."

"[Perception 8] You don't carry the same accent as your predecessors," Six noted.

The Sankta girl tilted her head. "Oh?" she asked coyly.

"They had a sort of… I dunno how to describe it."

"Lateran slant?"

"Something like that. Yours is more like Fre- erm, Gaulian."

"Ah. You're an astute one. Zhey only left ze Holy Land recently compared to me. I was… compelled to do so at a younger age."

"'Compelled'?"

"It is a long story. One I would rather not tell today. And from what I hear, you feel ze same, non?"

Six nodded.

"Zhen I'll get straight to ze point. Firstly, please hand over your papers."

Six did as instructed. A small 'hmm' slithered from behind her mask.

"Interesting designs," Paulina noted. "Are some of zhese based on your personal experiences?"

"Some. I've seen plenty of zany sh-"

Six yelped as the shock collar went off. He let a short growl before finishing.

"Crazy stuff out in the wasteland."

"I see. I hear zhat Columbia conducts all sorts of experiments in ze wild. Are zhese some of zhem?"

Experiments? Like the Vaults? Six thought to himself. "You could say that," he lied.

"What's zat thing?" she asked, pointing at a sketch.

"An Assaultron. A robot that fires a concentrated Arts beam from a head-mounted cannon."

"You mean ze massive eye?"

"Yep. Its actual ones are right under it, as far as I can tell."

"How many have you encountered?"

"Just one. And I pray there aren't more out there."

She glanced down at another one. "And zhis is your robot, oui?" she asked.

Six somberly nodded. "Yeah," he said. "ED-E. My first companion on this hellhole of a planet," His face morphed into a scowl as he continued. "And your buddies trashed him."

"My apologies," Paulina said. "We can find a suitable replacement-"

"Replacement? ED-E's one of a kind!" Six shouted back, bolting up onto his feet and slamming a fist on the table. "There's no way in hell anybody can replace him! He was the last of his production line and your damned abomination of science scrapped him! Where the fuck am I gonna find a replacement, let alone the parts to repair him!?"

Six stood there huffing and puffing for a minute, trying to cool down. The Sankta girl held her breath during that time and was happy to let it out when he calmed down. She glanced down at the drawings of the creatures and turned the sketchbook.

"Are these creatures from ze wasteland?" she asked.

"The Deathclaw?" Six asked. "Yep. They're the apex predator where I'm from."

"Mon Dieu! And I thought Higashi had terrifying beasts. And zhese two?"

"Super Mutants and Ghouls? They're… part of a personal side project I've been writing up."

"Really? Like a play?"

"[Speech 45] More like a post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel. Something I call 'Project Exodus'.

"Interesting. And are some of zhese characters and items for said project?"

"More or less. Though the former were inspired by real individuals I encountered."

"I see. And judging from ze halos and wings, two of zhem were Sankta?"

Six nodded. "They haven't left a positive impression on me."

"What did zhey do to warrant your animosity?"

"They tried to steal my gear."

"For what reason?"

"They weren't happy about my gun collection."

Paulina put a hand to her mouth. "You… you can wield firearms?" she asked with…consternation? She didn't sound as offended as Larsson, for some reason.

Six tilted his head. "Uh, yeah?" he confirmed. "Your theocratic buddies didn't fill you in?"

There was a brief flicker of something behind her eyes. Something on the negative side of the emotional spectrum. Something caustic. Her brows furrowed for a nano-second but she quickly regained her composure.

"I never had ze opportunity to earn my patron firearm," she relented.

"Patron firearm?"

"Your very first gun. Many Sankta consider zhem to be an extension of zheir soul."

Six snorted. "Fucking technophiles," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Guns are technology, tools. From my understanding, they're just fancy staves that require intense focus to properly wield. There's nothing holy about any of it."

That little whirlpool culminated into a tsunami. The young woman slammed her own fist against the wall beside her, leaving a sizeable mark. The fury in her eyes almost matched that of Joshua Graham's.

"You don't know what it's like to be denied your birthright!" she snarled. "To be robbed of your freedom!"

"Oh, I do," Six retorted, pointing at his collar. "And you're working with snake oil salesmen that're robbing at least dozens of theirs."

"At least my cohorts and I offer zhem salvation."

"What, 'obey thy master' and your deity will offer them a seat in heaven?"

"Exactly! Ze strife of the living world is evanescent, trivial. What Zhey need is faith."

Six glared at her. "You call gaslighting 'faith'?" he snarled back.

"As if a non-croyant like you would know ze meaning of such a word. What do you coquins believe in anyways?"

"Empathy. Basic decency. Freedom for all sapient beings. That sort of thing."

"If it's freedom you what, you'll have to earn it like the rest of us."

"And I'm supposed to take the word of my wardens?"

Paulina didn't respond to his retort. Instead, she merely opened the door and beckoned him. After a moment's hesitation, he obliged. Just like Micael, she didn't bother to blindfold him. Hell, she didn't bother to flash her remote at him. Probably didn't want to risk Six snatching it out of her hands. Seeing as that she wasn't as hearty as her predecessors, he couldn't blame her.

She led him down to the ground floor of the manor and through the lobby. Eventually, they walked into… a ballroom? No, not just a ballroom. A stage and Opera pit rested at the end of the chamber, while two balconies flanked each side of the room. A choir stood on the stage, singing in French. Some speakers around the ceiling provided additional ambiance with their music. This place must double as a theater too. The stage certainly looks big enough to hold a play.

Seeing this place brought back memories of The Gourmand and Tampico. The people dancing between the choir and pair certainly wouldn't look out of place of the former. And just like the Ultra Lux, it was putting up a facade of Old World opulence. He could see cracks in the walls, worn-out wallpaper, and faded areas in the crimson carpet and walls. He held his breath as his eyes processed the speakers, ears awaiting the dreaded beeping to follow suit. He was relieved to hear nothing of the sort.

So far.

Wait. Those blemishes looked more like stains. Was something splattered here? Pauline tugged him through the masquerade before he could analyze it any further, catching a glance from its participants. He didn't sense anything behind their masks as they crossed the room. Whatever interest they held quickly faded and they turned their attention back to the party.

The conductor directing the ensemble was a middle-aged woman in a similar outfit to Paulina's. While the Sankta's dress and mask showed signs of age, the other woman's was rather pristine. Judging from the fox ears and tail, she was a Vulpo.

The thing that struck Six, though, was her gauntlet. Though it had an elegant sheen and design, he could make out wires and pistons underneath the plating. A shard of Originium rested on the back of her armored claw, giving off a subtle hellish glow. A smile slithered across her face as she turned to face the newcomers.

"Oh, Mon petit ange," she said, ruffling the girl's hair. "How are you on zhis fine day?"

"Merveilleuse, madame," Paulina replied with a cursy. "Comment était la vôtre?"

"Ma journée a été productive, ma chère," the Vulpo said as she pulled at the false-angel's cheek.

Then she noticed the younger dancer's company. "Ah, ze Mysterious Stranger finally graces zhis hallowed place," she said. "Bienvenue, monsieur Grant. I am Madame Karine, zhe mistress of zhis fine manor. It is an honor to meet you finally. You caused quite a commotion last night."

"You didn't exactly roll out the red carpet," Six retorted.

"And you weren't invited," Karine quipped back. "But it is fortunate that someone with as much backbone as you happened across us. We have a bit of a staff shortage and are in dire need of some able bodies. Follow me."

The women led them backstage and into a dressing room with a plaque that read 'Lucian'. They more or less resembled the ones at the Serria Madre, possessing makeup stations, a sofa, and a personal closet. Both women took a seat on the couch.

"Gieszler informed me of your singing voice," she said. "It sounded like you gave him an aneurysm. How about a dance? Do you know how to… how do you say it? 'Boogie'?"

[Agility 5] Six initially tilted his head in disbelief before shaking it. He nodded and took some steps back away from them. Lessons from Tommy Torini swam back to him and he found his body falling back into memory lane. Both women were impressed by his soft-shoe act. He stopped dancing as soon as he heard them clapping.

"Now zhat's more like it!" Kirane said. "But about a tango? Or a waltz?"

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm a bit of a lone wolf," Six said. "I only know solo dances."

"Ma petite chou-fleur can show you how to waltz. Shouldn't take too long. Once you've got ze rhythm and proper dress, you shall join ze Masquerade."

Kirane walked over to a nightstand and turned on something resembling Earth's cathedral radios. Six's hairs raised on their ends as the device roared to life, expecting his collar to start beeping. Instead, all his ears picked up was classical music. Karine had this look of nostalgia on her masked face as she let the ambiance sink in, murmuring something in French. Six on the other hand had a less pleasant memory running through his skull. He barely took note of the mistress swinging to the music as she departed.

Paulina had to snap her fingers to bring him back to reality. He shook his head and glanced back at the Sankta.

"Are you alright, monsieur?" she asked.

"Just had a bit of a flashback is all."

"Flashback?"

"That radio can't set off my collar, right?"

"Set off-?" was all could mutter before bursting into a giggling fit. "Oh you must've seen one of zhose bulkier collars, haven't you?"

"You could say that."

"Oh do not worry about it, monsieur. Our collars are heavily encrypted. No foreign signal can interfere with zhier systems."

Six exhaled in relief as the apprentice motioned towards a wardrobe. Six walked over and opened it up to find a costume inside. Old posters of Zorro flashed through his mind as he grabbed its hanger. Yet it was far more elegant than most portrayals he knew of. Black vest, gloves, and trousers, the latter of which had some gold accents. White shirt and blood-red cape. Black hat with a crimson feather. A pearl-white cat-themed domino mask. And all sorts of holsters and pouches.

Six glanced back at Paulina. "Don't suppose you're gonna give me some privacy. Or at least a different type of mask?"

She shook her head. Six scowled and switched outfits as quickly as he could. Paulina let out a small 'roar' and swatted her hands like a cat as she gazed upon his scarred body. Six grumbled and cursed her under his breath as he changed. As soon as the last piece slipped on, she put a playful hand on her chin.

"Hmm, perfect fit," she noted. "Almost ze same physique as its previous wearer. You fill his shoes quite well. But can you still dance in zhem?"

[Agility 6] Six re-enacted the Rad Pack's hustle yet again. The change in footwear and the addition of the cape made things a bit more complicated, but he was still just as light on his feet as before. The Sankta's hands clapped as he finished.

"Parfait!" she said. "Now ze real challenge begins. Come on over to me. Don't be shy now."

Six just glared at her for a minute before he gave in to her request. She guided one hand just under her arm and had it grip the pit. The other one was stretched to the side, locking with hers.

"Ever heard of ze Box Step?" Paulina asked.

Six shook his head.

"I zhought not. It is rather simple. Ze couple dances in a box-like pattern. Just follow my guidance and you should have it nailed down."

Six nodded. They spent the first ten minutes getting him into a rhythm. Left foot forward, glide to the right, close legs, right foot back, glide to the left, close legs again. Partners are offset, right leg allows out. Count to six. Rinse and repeat.

They moved on to the Progressive from there. Instead of going in a square, they shuffled forward. Left forward, shuffle right, right foot forward, shuffle back. The next step- Hesitation- was just shuffling back and forth. Quarter turns for well, Turning Boxes. The under-arm turn wasn't as easy as those pre-war movies make it out as. The promenade position, twinkle, open rolls, back-to-back, shadow position boxes, and the chasse certainly weren't either.

They spent the next hour practicing before they heard a knock on the door. Pauline broke off from the Courier to greet their guest. A masked Sankta with a familiar halo and 'wing' patterns.

"Is the man of the hour ready?" Micael asked.

"Oui," Paulina confirmed. "And his partner?"

"Already cleaned up. And nicely too, might I add."

"Partner?" Six asked.

"Oui," Paulina replied. "Ze main objective of zhis exercise is to find and dance with your partner."

"And they are…?"

"Someone you're already familiar with. Zhat is all I'm at liberty to say. Oh, and before you go, take zhese…"

She handed a sword and a sheath to him. Both of these looked like they were plucked from the Revolutionary War. He glanced back at the girl for an answer, but all he got was a sheepish wave. Six turned to Micael, who signaled for him to follow. The Courier complied and was guided back into the ballroom-slash-theater. The Madame was nowhere to be found.

"You've never been to a ball before, have you?"

Six shook his head.

"Figured as much. Never had any love for these events myself, but Paulina taught me a few things: one, keep your mask on until a bell or some other alarm rings. Two, maintain your anonymity and respect everyone else's. You can inquire about and gauge someone's identity but don't expect any straight answers. Three, basic manners. I'm sure you don't need me to explain that."

Six shook his head.

"Well, now that everything's said and done, it's time for you to find your dance partner. As for me, I've got a couple of chores on my to-do list. Choro fruere."

Micael broke off from Six and vanished through the crowd. The Courier waded through the waves towards one of the walls. One-half of it was covered with tables, bearing bowls of some crimson liquid. It had a slightly fruity scent to it, but he couldn't identify it. A quick scan with his Pipboy revealed that there was something in the drink, but it couldn't make heads or tails as to what, though. He opted to leave the bowl be for now.

His eyes focused on the other half of the wall. Several chairs lined up against it, each occupied by some lonely soul. He analyzed each of them, trying to figure out which one was his partner. That theocrat claimed that it was someone he knew, so he figured- he prayed- that it was Lyudmila.

None of the women were Lupos. Some of them reached out to him, asking for his hand in this dance. He declined and was about to resume his search when he heard someone arguing. Some inquired about his background, bringing up topics like the recent deaths of certain mercs. He played coy and dodged their questions before moving on.

He stopped occasionally to eavesdrop, trying to pick up clues on his partner's condition and location. In one particular instance, he spied on two men arguing in French. He had no idea what they were saying, but it seemed pretty heated. One of them grabbed the other's mask-

-and their collars went off. Instead of exploding, they unleashed a torrent of tamed lightning throughout their bodies. They collapsed in sizzling heaps, smoke slithering out of their charred orifices. A couple of servants appeared and carried the fresh corpses over their shoulders. Nobody else seemed to notice any of this.

Six blinked before shaking his head and continued his search. He slinked across the edges of the ballroom, weaving past couples frolicking towards or limping from the dance floor. The latter group seemed to have a dark red fluid dripping from their shoes. He hoped that wasn't what he thought it was. Fortune finally smiled upon him when he spied her sitting by the exit.

Though a wolf-shaped domino mask and neck gaiter obscured her face, he recognized the red hair, drooping wolf ears, and crimson eyes behind it. She was dressed in attire similar to his, laying bare the scars on her arm. Her cape thankfully wasn't as long and cumbersome as his, though the inside was a warm orange instead of Six's crimson. Her Lupo tail dangled from her back as before, twitching as her gaze fell upon his Pipboy.

Six plopped down beside her. "Enjoying the party, Mata Hari?" he asked, allowing a sliver of sarcasm to slip through.

The girl glanced up at him to meet his emerald eyes and blinked. "Izvrashchenets?" she asked.

Six nodded. "Are you ever gonna tell me the translation for that word?" he asked coyly.

She stared at him before shaking her head and reaching out for his mask. He gently grabbed her wrist before she could unmask him.

"Not yet," he warned. "These masks appear to be tied to our collars. If they're removed-" he acted out the final moments of the recently departed to get the idea across. "Not until some bell rings anyway.

Lyudmila's eyes narrowed in disappointment, but she relented with a grunt.

"So how's your day been so far?" Six asked.

"Hell. Yours'?"

"Same. This gala doing your spirit any favors?"

Lyudmila let out a small 'hmm' before she replied. "Can't say, honestly," she said with a shrug. "This is the first one I've ever attended."

"[Perception 5] 'Attended' as in 'with an invitation'?" Six noted.

Lyudmila paused before nodding. "Da. The Ursus don't typically invite the Infected to their grand parties, not even as servants. I snuck into one while searching for a… person of interest, but that's about it. You haven't been to one either, have you?"

Six shook his head. "Galas aren't exactly common back in the wastelands, let alone popular. You know how to dance?"

"I've just learned my first steps. I'm used to footwork, but not this."

Six offered her an assuring smile and his hand as he rose back up. "That makes two of us," he confessed. "But we've made for a dynamic duo thus far. I'm sure we can pull off a simple dance."

Lyudmila rolled her eyes. "Just be mindful of where your hands wander," she warned. "You wouldn't want to prick your fingers on my thorns."

Six chuckled. "As if a little papercut is gonna scare me," he boasted. "[Ladykiller] And I've always had a soft spot for wild roses anyway."

Lyudmila's face flushed underneath her mask as she took his hand. He pulled her up onto her feet and guided her into the party. Once they found a space, they locked together and began to waltz. It took a couple of minutes for them to get in sync, but they quickly found a decent rhythm. They bumped into other couples now and then, but they always brushed it off. Actually, they barely seemed to register each collision.

"And how about that thick skull of yours?" Six whispered in a teasing tone. "Got any additional bruises or bad ideas I need to patch up?"

Lyudmila glared at him. "It might've seen better days," she whispered back. "Got any more bullets in yours?"

"As if. Though I'll admit that I'm already missing-"

Six's response turned into a grunt as her heeled boot stomped on his toes. He glared daggers at her.

"Watch it," he hissed. "These boots don't have any plating in them."

He could sense her smug aura even if her mask and gaiter concealed her face.

"Le mie scuse, signore," she taunted in his ear. "I'm still learning the ins and outs of this art."

Six growled under his breath as they danced. "Among other things?" Six whispered back.

"Such as?"

"The Capital A."

Luydmila's eyes narrowed as she pieced together his query. "Not with this… necklace on," she hissed. "What about yours?"

"Nope. Otherwise, I would've turned those 'patron guns' on their masters. And judging from your choice of words, sounds like you've already discovered that thing's blacklist."

She nodded with a scowl. "What did they want with you?"

"The lady that owns this manor mentioned something about a 'staff shortage'. Sounded like recruitment, but she didn't specify for what occupation, though. You?"

"Labor at first. Put up as much resistance as I could, but…" she sighed.

"Did they hurt you?"

"Bruised me with their whips but nothing too serious. That pale devil saw to it."

Six blinked. "'Pale devil'?

"Da. With dark horns and blue eyes. Probably the best medic I've met thus far."

Six lowered his head for a brief moment. "Liz," he whispered.

"You know that woman?"

"I bumped into her while doing volunteer work at the medical center. Was she wearing a collar like us?"

"Da, but I can't see what these people want with her. Or us, for that matter."

"We're missing a lotta pieces of the puzzle here. What kind of tasks did they give you?"

"Clearing a nest of Originum slugs, hunting with their hound-master, feeding their hounds, cleaning, cooking something from a shoddy Sirausan recipe book, some farming. Then they cleaned me up and had me do some singing. And you?"

"Same for the most part, minus the huntin'. They threw in some weird tests too. Navigating a booby-trapped maze filled with puzzles, drawing, a guitar lesson, gauging my singing voice, dance lessons, and finding my 'partner'."

Lyudmila tilted her head. "You said you spoke with their leadership?"

"Yeah, the manor's mistress. A Vulpo woman with a funny accent. Sounded like Fren- ahem, 'Gaulish' to me. One of the local bounties- that Leithanian Caster- is here too. They have some Sankta colluding with them, but I don't know where those theocrats sit on the chain of command. Far as I can tell, most of them have a passion for art with a lowercase A."

"Hmm… sounds like they were testing your sense of culture," Lyudmila speculated. "Maybe your intelligence too. Not sure about the traps, though. Some twisted game, maybe? What was their reaction to each test?"

"They liked my sketches and didn't complain about my skills with a harmonica and guitar. That hulking Sankta seemed pissed that I survived their maze."

Mila tilted her head again. "Huh, never took you as a musician," she commented.

"Never had the time or desire to experiment in that field. I'm a scientist, not an art historian."

"And your vocals?"

"The less said, the better."

Lyudmila playfully cringed. "I guess not everyone appreciates your voice," she snickered.

Six's response was to step on her toes. She grunted and hissed back at him. He smirked.

"Sorry," he claimed. "Haven't had a proper dance with anyone in years."

"I thought you said you didn't go to a gala?" Lyudmila hissed back.

"I haven't. And certainly not the waltz. But I have learned a thing or two about the Tango."

"Tango? That's a bit old school."

"It kinda is," Six admitted. "Last I heard, Rock and Roll was the craze before-"

Six stopped himself.

"Before what? Before you were born?"

"Something like that."

Mila's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "Not sure if you wastelanders have heard, but techno's the new Rock and Roll these days."

"You mean electric guitars?"

"Not exactly. Look, if we get out of here alive, I'll help you broaden your musical horizons."

"An exchange of culture? Deal."

Silence fell between them as they ran out of topics. The only thing their ears registered was the music and echo of everyone's footsteps. It felt… repetitive. Robotic. Even their fellow dancers seemed soulless. The only thing in the room with any semblance of life (aside from the pair themselves) was the choir. Speaking of robots…

"Have you at least seen ED-E?" he whispered back.

"Not since last night," the girl admitted. "But I overheard one of the guards mention something about a workshop. If they found its remains by now, they'll probably be sent there for study. Or at least salvaging."

A small 'hmm' slipped through Six's lips. He could help himself to his next jailor's keys, but they probably wouldn't have much use beyond escaping from his initial prison. And from what he saw of the manor thus far, there weren't many hiding spots. Maybe he could unlock some if he were lucky, but the chances of there being company behind the other doors were fairly high.

Six hadn't noticed it until now but Lyudmila had a strange smell to her. Something sweet. Something his wastelander brain couldn't identify. Probably some shampoo or perfume her captors sprayed on her. He kinda liked it, to his surprise. And he had to admit, she looked nice in that outfit. Not all that revealing or formfitting in comparison to some of the other attendees, but certainly badass in its own right.

"You know, you look good in that," Six whispered as her back was to him. "Like something out of a movie poster." He then gave her a brief sniff. "Smell good too."

He could sense her temperature rising behind her headgear. "...I could say the same about you," she relented.

Six chuckled. His outfit was hardly as armored as he would've liked, but it was miles better than prison rags at least. He wouldn't mind keeping it after he got this damn collar off. Maybe even modify and add it to his collection back at the Lucky 38.

The music eventually drew to close. The clock's bell chimed and everyone else removed each other's masks. Seeing as none of their collars went off, Six and Lyudmila followed suit. The latter's gaiter dangled around her neck as her partner pulled it down, while both masks were dropped to the floor. Both of them allowed themselves to exhale in relief. Six normally would've preferred to keep his face covered, but that mask felt suffocating as hell to him for some reason. Felt wrong.

"Heh, there's the fiery wolfgirl I know," Six remarked.

Lyudmila didn't say anything immediately. Her eyes were scanning him up and down. Without warning her hands honed in on his scars and started feeling them over.

"Hey!" Six snapped. "What are you-?"

"Just double-checking your identity," Lyudmila replied.

Six scowled as her fingers brushed against his skull's dents and ran through his hair. "Is this really necessary?" he asked.

"No, but better safe than sorry. Hm…"

"What?"

"Well, you aren't hiding any horns or ears under that hair," she confirmed as she stepped back. "What exactly are you?"

"Hell if I know," Six said as he crossed his arms. "And you're the second person that asked me that today. Maybe the tenth in the last week alone. I'm honestly getting sick of hearing that question over and over again."

That annoyed scowl quickly morphed into a mischievous smile. "That being said, how do I know you are the real Lyudmila?"

She barely had the time to protest before he returned the favor. He felt faint scars on her cheeks and combed through her hair. He tugged at both pairs of ears and scratched around her wolf ones, earning a vexed growl from her. One of his hands trailed down her back to her tail, stroking it.

"Yep, it's you alright," Six said as he pulled away from her.

Lyudmila flinched under his touch, grumbling as her face turned a faint pink. She didn't want to admit it, but his little experiment stirred something within her. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she was certain that it was a positive sensation. Something familiar. Where did she-?

All of a sudden her wolf ears jolted up and she narrowed her eyes. She had this serious look on her face. Six was about to ask her what was wrong when his motion tracker picked up movement. One of the orange rectangles just shifted into scarlet. And they were right behind him.

Six spun around and saw a Gaulish Liberi bringing his blade down. Lyudmila managed to pull her partner back in time to avoid it. Six shrugged her off of him and delivered a roundhouse kick, dazing his assailant. A stab through his back and slice up through his shoulder neutralized the enemy.

Most of the other IFF markers in Six's HUD took on the same scarlet tone by then. The dance quickly dissolved into a battle royal. Some attendees stuck with their partners while others fought each other or split off to find other prey. Some were Casters, others Snipers, some swordsmen. It was a sudden shock, but the carnage wasn't new to him.

What threw him was how jovial everyone was. They were still laughing and giggling, still drowning in revelry. They didn't see this as a fight for survival. They saw it as gaiety. Six couldn't tell if they were as juiced up as Fiends, or if they were truly this demented.

Lyudmila parried another woman's dagger as it made its own swipe at her. She managed to disarm the Caprine and spin behind her, slashing her throat. The woman croaked out a wet giggle as she stroked the bloodstains on her dress, then dropped dead. Lyudmila bumped against Six's back as they surveyed the chaos.

"What the fuck is wrong with these people!?" Lyudmila snapped.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Six shouted back through the mirth.

An arrow was the next thing to fly past him. He turned to face a man in a red dress cackling, aiming a wrist-mounted mini-cross bow at him. The man backpedaled to reload but he stumbled on his heels and fell onto the floor. Six pounced on him before he could reload, slicing his throat open. Six glanced down at the recently deceased's arm and unfastened his weapon's straps. He then gave it a brief inspection before adding it to his inventory. He'd love to study that later.

A woman in a tuxedo tried to run Lyudmila through with a rapier, but she vaulted over the bitch and jammed a knife into her spine. Another attendee in similar attire tried to gut her, but she strafed around him and grabbed his arm. She bent it backward, eliciting a cry of agonized ecstasy. She cringed before impaling him through his chest. Six meanwhile shuddered as he saw that grin curl up on his corpse.

Someone managed to swing their cane at him. It left a mild bruise on his cheek but didn't take much HP off of him. The man charged at Six, but a leg sweep tripped him over. The Courier finished him off with a thrust towards his heart. Another bolt flew by him, nicking his other cheek. He traced its trajectory back to the box seats. There was a crossbow sticking out up there.

"Tania, sniper in the boxes!" Six cried out.

Lyudmila shifted her focus towards Six's finger as she finished off another dancer. She gave him a brief nod and ran up towards a brute of an attendee. She bounced off his shoulders and grabbed onto the ledge of the box. She waited for the sniper to open fire again before she struck.

Six meanwhile took cover behind a toppled buffet table. A Caster was pelting it with Arts fire. Six glanced around for something-anything- to throw at him. A tomahawk was buried in the back of a guest's spine. Six reached over and grabbed it. He toggled VATS and allowed his Pipboy to take the steering wheel for a moment. He got shot square in the chest, but so did his target. The Courier shrugged off the pain and rushed over to the downed native. Six yanked the tomahawk out of his body and cleaved his opponent's face in half.

A table flew over Six's head and crashed into some other dancers. His head snapped towards the party responsible. It was a tuxedoed Cerato. He seemed just as muscular as Guntur, and had no issue throwing the other patrons around. He already had arrows and Arts burns on his body, yet he hardly seemed to notice. He didn't seem to be as cheerful as the rest of the party, though. Six didn't know if he should feel relieved or worried.

He settled on the latter when the brute shifted his gaze towards him. Six sidestepped the brute's tackle and blocked a backhanded punch with his sword. He hacked away at him for a bit before his opponent caught it between his palms. To Six's shock, he snapped the blade off and tried to stab him with it. The Courier was quick enough to evade his swings and thrusts, but he barely had a weapon left.

He sheathed the broken sword and settled on fisticuffs. Back on Earth, Six would just tank through his enemies' punches, but he didn't have that luxury here. He was bouncing around on his tiptoes, gracefully dancing around the Cerato. He even managed to parry him at one point and buried his ruined weapon into his gullet. He hardly flinched.

He did, however, react to Lyudmila pouncing on his shoulders and jamming daggers into his eyes. He let out a screech as he grabbed her, throwing her over and crashing into a buffet table. While he was blind, Six used the opportunity to scavenge another sword and crossbow from a couple of fallen attendees. He sliced off one of the rhino-man's legs with the former and swapped out for the latter before he hit the ground. He toggled VATS and locked onto his skull, letting his Pipboy take the steering wheel.

The bastard's skull exploded under the barrage of bolts. Six smirked as his enemy's vitals vanished from the HUD. He glanced around the room for hostiles, but he was relieved to find no more. The choir was nowhere to be found. They must've fled when the carnage started.

He turned his attention back towards where Lyudmila flew and spied her on the floor. He walked over and knelt beside her.

"You alright?" Six asked.

Lyudmila grunted as she rolled onto her bottom. "Just added another bruise to today's collection," she said, rubbing her arm. A faint trail of crimson seeped through her fingers. Six pulled her hand back revealing a cut on her arm. She scuffed at him.

"Had a piece of that punch bowl embedded in me earlier," she added. "I already got the shard out."

"You're still bleeding," Six noted. "And blood loss can lead to many complications. Not to mention that open wounds are an invitation for infections and the possibility of more shards hiding in there."

"It's just a small cut, dammit! And I'm already Infe-"

She stopped mid-sentence when Six unbuckled his cape and tore a portion of its bottom off. One piece was used to soak up the blood and cast aside. Another was used to bandage the wound.

"There," Six said. "That should hold until we find a healer or some supplies."

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Both combatants turned to see her, Paulina, Karine, and a few goons walking into the ballroom. Six would've thought the mistress to be upset, but it was quite the opposite. She clapped her hands at them all giddy-like. Everyone else, by comparison, had poker faces on (though Six sensed some distress behind Liz's eyes and a flash of… recognition?).

"Merveilleuse!" Karine cried. "Merveilleuse! I figured at least ze Lupo would survive, but both of you? And with all your limbs attached, no less? I'm impressed. Ms. Liz, tend to zhem, will you?"

Liz nodded and made her way to Lyudmila. The staff in her hands wasn't the same one Six saw at the tent. It was crudier, clunky, rusted to hell and back. Their captors seemed lenient towards medical Arts, but they felt the need to replace her instrument. Why? Did she have other powers at her disposal?

A faint cyan glow appeared over Lyudmila's wound. The fresh crimson stains vanished under her staff's rays, but he couldn't see if the same could be said for her actual injury. A scan with VATS showed that some of her limb's health had been restored, though. The blonde whispered something to the redhead, but it was too soft for his ears to pick up properly.

Liz broke off from the wolf-girl and moved to Six. Her hand hovered across his body, coating it in that same aura. Not only was the pain numbed, but his HUD also noticed an uptick in his HP (although that could just have been his Monocyte Breeder's handiwork. Or maybe it was reacting to her powers?). A small 'hmm' crept through her lips.

"Something wrong?" Six asked.

"It's nothing. Your outfit just reminded me of someone for a moment. What race are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Six's brow twitched and he sighed. "I'll tell you the same thing I've said to everyone else today, I don't fu-"

Six howled as the collar went off yet again, startling Liz. When the surge wore off, he glared back at the Sarkaz.

"I don't know, okay?" he snarled. "I've been a blank slate since I crawled out of my early grave."

"Do you at least have some suspicions?" Liz asked.

"No, and frankly I have more important things to worry about than my heritage. For example, you. What're you doing here?"

"I was... escorted here by the Mistress's agents."

"You mean kidnapped?"

Liz nodded.

"Why?"

Liz looked away for a moment. "For a bargain."

"With whom?"

"I'd rather not say. Not here at least."

Liz scanned the Courier some more before she spoke up again.

"Have you ever seen the ocean?" she asked.

Six raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. Why do you-"

The next thing Six knew he was in a metallic hallway. No, not a hallway, a deck. A deck with a shanty town built over it. He could make out the dark waters rippling against a rusting ship and decaying pier. A Chinatown gleamed in the distance like a beacon, beckoning wary travelers.

A middle-aged nanny was tending to his wounds, or at least trying to. He kept shaking her off, shoving her arm away. She mumbled something to herself, shaking her head.

"Mr. Theuses?"

He snapped back to reality and found Liz's hands on his arm. He shook his head.

"Sorry," he said. "Think I might've got pulled into a flashback."

"Flashback?"

"Or hallucination. Kinda hard to tell the difference between the two, in my experience."

"I… see. Did I trigger it?"

"Maybe? Maybe not. Last I checked, it's rare for a hallucination or flashback to be triggered by anything. They just tend to pop up."

"Hmm…"

Six allowed Liz to wrap up his treatment. The mistress approached them as they stood back up, carefully stepping over some fresh corpses.

"You and your partner certainly have strong stomachs," Karine noted. "Did you two happen to sample our cuisine before zhis little brawl started?"

Six would've quipped with the Survival Tag, but his stomach ruined the moment. He cursed it under his breath.

"Hmm, can't say I blame either of you. Zhis was hardly an appetizer by our kitchen's standards. I'd dare say zhat ze food here was just edible props for ze exercise. Why don't I treat you two to a proper meal?"

"What, you're gonna make us dinner?" Six asked with slight sarcasm.

"More like inviting you to one. Today already has a guest of honor in mind, but I can add you two to ze list."

"'Guest of honor'? Who?"

"You'll see soon enough. But supper's still a couple of hours away. Paulina, escort zhese lost souls to back to ze guest rooms and send some fresh clothes zhier way. We don't want zhem leaving bloody trails into ze dining room."

Paulina nodded and motioned for the pair to follow. They reluctantly complied. The mooks went to work on cleaning up the recent carnage. Some of the bodies appeared to be growing obsidian crystals on their surface.

Six had been sent back to his previous dorm, while Lyudmila went next door. A minute later a servant returned with yet another fresh set of clothes for him. It consisted of an ash-gray tailcoat, a military-green waistcoat, gray slacks, a light-gray shirt with a cravat, and long light-grey socks. It had this 1800's military vibe to it. Maybe it belonged to a veteran? Like every outfit before, it was a perfect fit.

They didn't bring him any reading material or anything to occupy himself with, though. He had to go over the room with a fine tooth comb for it instead. He dug up some old magazines and books, but they were all in French. And he didn't have his travel guide to translate any of it.

The former at least had some nice photos and artwork. He was rather surprised to see some saucy material among them. The medic and mad scientist within him couldn't help but wonder if any of the people in that one were anatomically correct. Probably not.

It didn't take long for him to get bored with the magazines, though. He found himself wondering about the mistress's 'guest of honor.' He hadn't been on the property for long, but he was certain that it was in the middle of nowhere. Bad place for hosting parties with the nobility, but perfect for hiding from prying eyes. Was Karine involved in the theft of the satellite? She and Geiszler were during business with Ingra, after all. Maybe one of his colleagues was invited over to discuss business. Or turn over Ingra's killers to them.

Speaking of killers, what was the point of that 'dance' back there? She said she counted on at least one of the pair surviving. Was she looking for survivalists, killers, both? Was she looking to recruit either traveler? If so, for what purpose? His mind wandered back to their trials. Lyudmila mentioned hunting with a hound master, purging a slug nest, cooking, slavery. They wanted to make sure she followed orders at the very least.

But what about him? Were they testing his intellect, just as Mila suggested? The maze and puzzles would support this theory, but what about the musical and artistic side of things? His aptitude for Arts perhaps? That would certainly explain why Gieszler wanted to see him in person.

Alright, so they want fighters, maybe killers, Six thought to himself. They wanted to test out my skills and Lyudmila's deference. But to what end? Do they want bodyguards? Slavers? Assassins? Soldiers? Who would be our enemies in any of those scenarios?

Six growled. The suspense was killing him. He had no idea what their goals or hand were and wasn't even too sure if he had enough cards himself. By the time a servant came to collect him and Lyudmila, his PIP-Boy read 7 PM. The sun's probably set by now.

Lyudmila's outfit had changed yet again. This time it consisted of a double-breasted tailless jacket, a jabot shirt, divided skirt, and leather riding boots. It looked like something worn by aristocratic hunters and horse riders from the Victorian era. What did those Pre-War history books call that kinda attire? A 'riding habit'?

At this rate, we might as well be fashion models, Six thought to himself. "Digging the new threads, Tania?"

"Can't say it's my cup of tea," Lyudmila admitted. "Especially under current circumstances."

"Agreed. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

The servant frowned slightly at their banter, but he supposed he couldn't blame them. "This way, please," he said as he motioned them to follow.

More of that gothic architecture awaited them in the dining hall. They trodded over the velvet carpet, taking note of the ebon furniture and their golden etches. Ash-gray walls and pillars surrounded them, while velvet linens added life to the dreary environment. A couple of cracked mirrors flanked each side of the table, the light from the fireplace and chandelier bouncing off them.

Above the fireplace were portraits of two men with feathers, probably Liberi. They both had this regal air surrounding them, yet Six couldn't help but feel that something was off about the artwork. It looked like both men were glaring daggers at each other. The only thing keeping them from ripping into each other- figuratively speaking- was yet another speakerbox. It was playing more of that French music.

But what caught his eye was all the food on the table. A menagerie of deserts, soups, roasts, wines, appetizers, salads, fruit, cheeses and crackers. It was enough to put even the Gourmet to shame. He recognized some of the dishes from the Mojave. Shepherd's Pie, steak fries, something smelling like Cook-Cook's stew, A Wellington, blood sausage. The rest were either generic enough for an idiot to guess or completely alien to the average wastelander.

Both travelers bent down and examined the treasure trove before them. As tempting as the aroma and visuals were, they kept their hands off the goods. There was no telling if the locals spiked any of it. They gave the food a brief sniff before a voice called out.

"Ah ah ah!" teased a French voice. "Wait for ze others first!"

Both of them turned to the far end of the table. There sat Karine, with Geiszler sitting to her right.

"Young lady, if you could take a seat zhere," Karine requested, gesturing towards a spot a couple of seats down from the Caster. Lyudmila reluctantly complied.

"Monsieur Grant, directly across from ton ami, if you will," Karine continued, pointing at the seat before the wolf.

Six did as told, sharing a glance with Lyudmila before turning back to the mistress. A minute later Paulina arrived with Liz, the former sitting between Lyudmila and Gieszler while the latter sat beside Six. He didn't like the way she was staring at him.

"Where's Larsson?" Karine asked.

"Running maintenance on his patron firearms," Paulina replied.

"At zhis hour?"

"Weapons are part of our religion, remember Madame?"

"I am well aware. Who else provides zhose men with ze funds for zhier bullets? Zhough I must confess, Micael isn't as solicitous as Larsson when it comes to guns."

"Perhaps he's reminiscing on his Gatling gun?"

Six's head perked up. Gattling gun? He thought to himself. The Sankta've already developed Gattling guns? Damn…

"Speaking of Micael, where is he?" Paulina continued.

"Waiting for ze guest of ze hour," Karine replied. "Ah! And here zhey come."

Everybody turned to see Micael guiding a woman adorned in tattered robes into the dining room. Six blinked as he noticed the pearl-white horns and the sword she was cradling in her arms. The woman's eyes scoured the room before they settled on Liz. Then she sent a piercing gaze towards Karine.

The death glare didn't phase the woman in the slightest. She hopped out of her chair and waltzed over to the Sarkaz, curtsying before her.

"Welcome, dame Shining," she said. "Welcome! We've heard so much about you and Ms. Liz over here. It is an honor to finally meet you, face to face."

---

A/N:

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm back! Apologies for the… long shore leave. A lot of things came up in life and I had a case of burnout. I dunno if it's from COVID-19, ADHD, my perfectionist tendencies, or some combination of them and potentially more. I've had three or four separate versions for this chapter, but I ultimately settled with this version.

I wanted to cram a lotta things into this chapter, but some of it went either to the next one or the cutting room floor. So no ghosts coming back to haunt our heroes (at least, for this chapter). I was worried that y'all might burn out reading between 20-to-30K words too. I was honestly surprised that the last one even reached 26K. ~Nervous chuckle~

Alright, with that outta the way, let's get into the details. First of all, I've pushed the timeline up on the Terran side of things. It's now set in 1099, so it's after Ideal City and Guiding Light, with Il Siracusano, and the Columbian stories closing in. I've brought Fiammetta out of Mostima's shadow and given her more time in the limelight… only to get flustered by Six, LOL. As for whether or not Six will find himself pulled into either of the latter events or those after, well… we'll see.

Now, some of you might be concerned if I'll shift the timeline again as content for Arknights enters the Global schedule. While I can't deny that being a possibility again, I'll try to refrain from doing so again. Especially if something happens to Crownslayer down the line. As much as I want to see Six interact with the Sui siblings (Dusk portaling him around for hitting on her and Nian hounding him for a spot in her B-movies. Maybe Ling chafing him with purple prose and some cultural exchange with Chongyue.), I don't want to do too much rewriting either.

And second, our heroes' wardrobe. Six's second outfit here is Phantom's Focus outfit. I was gonna initially go with Dream Within a Dreammare for the dance, or at least the gasmasked clone's outfit. I switched over to Focus because of the Trope's involvement and… Karine's plans for climbing up the ladder. Lyudmila's was modeled after a design from this fan animation ported from bilibili to YouTube. 'Party Night', I believe it was called. It at least used music from DAOKO. That outfit kinda gave me Zorro vibes the first time I paused the video and squinted my eyes. Their attire for dinner were inspired by outfits from Lies of P.

Next chapter involves some dirty laundry, interrogation, and plenty of righteous fury. Stay tuned for 'Skeletons in Our Closets'! I was almost done (or at least halfway, now dinner's been pushed back. Things can change.), so hopefully I'll be able to get it up before Valentine's Day. Will it involve some ship-teasing or flirtation, you might ask? Well, that'll depend on how things go down between two sinners. And whether or not I throw in another chick to stir up some chemistry in later chapters. Don't worry, I have no plans for this becoming a harem. And frankly, I doubt Six can maintain one with his lousy Charisma.

Tootles!