Fandom Fallout New Vegas: Omne initium difficile est [Closed]

[GorillaSuit]

As Sarah Weintraub attempted to speak to them, Vulpes was about to interrupt, not in the mood for any sort of delay at all- but surprisingly the Follower spoke up before he could. It seemed that Arcade clearly wanted to get this over with. Vulpes did as well- though for a different reason, he had thoughts on who could possibly be behind the attack- and he was not pleased. In any case, they went to the familiar room that currently was being rented long-term by Martina. Vulpes hadn’t needed to be guided there, he already knew where she was staying. Given that he was the one financing her stay.

As they were led to the steel door, he turned towards the blonde woman who had guided them through the steel passages of the veritable maze that was Vault 21. His face wasn’t hostile, not exactly a glare- but it wasn’t welcoming either. “You may leave us now.” With that he turned to the doors as they slid open with a pneumatic hiss. The first thing that his eyes darted to was the blood, it spilled onto the steel floors in a scarlet puddle. The next thing he noticed was her initial movements- a slight flinch that turned into a flurry only a few seconds later as she scrambled for her weapon.

“Mitescere, Martina. Stay your hand.” Vulpes speaks, and it is not tender- but it is certainly something less cold than usual. As if he is goading a spooked animal out of a corner. It is difficult to tell if it is just another act, or if it is genuine. “You are fortunate I was currently on the Strip for an assignment.” He spoke, moving aside swiftly so that way Arcade may be able to get to the injured woman. “This is Medicus Gannon. He will be giving you medical attention.” He did not introduce him as someone trustworthy, or even as an ally. It was obvious neither of them considered each other as either. The only reason Vulpes tolerated the other was because of the Courier, and his usefulness.

It was even more obvious that he was going to be watching everything that Arcade did with intense scrutiny. As if he was endeavoring to identify any attempts that Arcade might make to sabotage Martina’s wellbeing. It was obvious that if any tampering was evident, it wouldn’t go over well with the leader of the frumentarii.

~***~

Sibilus said nothing and simply followed as they exited the Ultra-Luxe. It was as if he simply existed to shadow someone. As if he was a shade that couldn’t exist on his own without orders. Perhaps he wasn’t as blindly loyal to Caesar as perhaps Vulpes, though it seemed that he simply couldn’t exist on his own. The great and terrible thing about the idea of freedom is finding something to do with it. However, it wasn’t as if freedom was even a choice anyways. It was pointless to try and deny what he was. A terrible monster, a coward.

Legion.

It wasn’t until she was handing off her weapon to him, did he say anything. “I will make certain to be careful with it.” As if he was trying to assuage her fears of him doing something terrible with it. He took the weapon from her hand in a cautious deliberate manner. Either because he did not want to give off hostile looking intentions, or because he was trying to put emphasis on the fact that he would not go out of his way to harm her belongings. As he grasps it and slips it away with a sleight of hand, he raises his brow. “You name your weapons?”

His voice didn’t sound judgmental, simply curious. Sibilus thought the sentiment was a foreign thing, especially for inanimate objects- but it was not something strange.

“I see. What will you do to the man that did such a thing to you? Will you enact revenge?” It was an idle comment, but Sibilus had known it was likely a heavy question to ask. Despite how casually it was asked. In the Legion, if one wronged another there was usually beating, whipping or crucifixion involved depending on the severity of the misstep. He did not say this out loud, because he had a suspicion that Aemilia already knew or at least suspected such a thing. That and she likely wouldn’t approve of such punishments- given she and Vulpes’ apparent disagreement over what occurred in Nipton.

It was simply like that ever since Sibilus could remember, he had submitted to the concept long ago. Internalized it as the only way to live- in constant fear should one make a mistake or should another accuse you unjustly. Or even to simply have different opinions. All things one could be castigated for. As they strode down the street towards the gates to the area where the Tops was located. Where Aemilia would confront the man that had tried to kill her back in Goodsprings.

 

[Lucyfer]

Sarah did not linger.

Arcade wasn’t surprised by Martina’s reaction. He was glad that she seemed to understand what Vulpes said, tensing up a moment, before wincing and relaxing, dropping the blade with a terrible clatter onto her drawers, only for the knife to bounce off that and onto the ground, before she, too, all but collapsed onto her own bed as it was mentioned that he was a doctor.

He wanted to protest the titling again, but didn’t.

This situation called for it.

“I’ll need to have you move as much fabric as you can aside,” Arcade noted, glad to see she’d already snatched a first-aid kit from somewhere. He grabbed that and set it on the bed as he knelt besides her, while she stripped her shirt, and then with a hiss of pain, lowered her pants to reveal enough of her thigh for him to see the wounds.

The first step was cleaning it, something he did with the purified water in the kit so he could see the wound better. The blood had splattered over her flesh and stuck to it thanks to the fabric, but this cleared it up so he could see better. He didn’t hiss at the sight, although a part of him wanted to. Jagged wounds. Deep.

Martina was watching with wide eyes as he took the needle and thread from the kit. “If the pain is bothering you, take a Med-X,” Arcade said, beginning to work. Her hiss was evident that she did not have the same pain tolerance. He could have guessed that, though. Her body didn’t bear the scars of corporal punishment on it. “I’ll use a stimpack afterwards to make the wounds close faster, but there’s no point in using it while they’re this widely opened.”

“I don’t need it,” Martina said stubbornly, her hands tight fists over her knees as she fought against the need of it, from the pain of the needle to the pain of the wounds in general. She managed to avert her gaze from Arcade to look at Vulpes. “I’m sorry – it was the Omertas. They caught me listening in and…realized I was listening.” Not just that she was passing through, or happening nearby.

She’d failed, and the shame of it washed over her as she looked away from him, and looked down at her own clenched fists, jaw clenching then against the pain. Fingernails digging into palms.

Arcade resisted the urge to scoff at the story. He could understand why the Omertas would go after someone, if they heard a little too much. The Omertas had a reputation that reached Freeside. Well, all of the casinos did, but the Omertas ran the one with the terrible reputation for drugs, whores, and all manner of sin.

Fitting for their name, of course.

“So you really do work for the Legion,” Arcade said it more to himself, and couldn’t keep the disapproval and bewilderment out of his tone, but he wouldn’t ask any questions until he’d gotten her stitched up.

~***~

Aemilia did watch where the weapon went as he took it, as he was careful with it. No, he probably wouldn’t destroy it – at least not right now. Not when she could still easily use her sword. “Mmm,” she hummed agreement at his query of naming things, but didn’t offer the name.

She didn’t have a reason not to, only that secrets were interesting things, and the stranger, the better. It worked rather well with children, and though he was no child, she wondered if the secret might drive him a little mad with curiosity. Might continue to feed whatever spark of humanity he had.

It was a secret he would never need to know.

‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.’

That had been the inspiration for the names, an old poem that now felt too real. She wasn’t Roland, and the Tops was far from a Dark Tower, but for a moment she could imagine something a bit more epic than a courier with a vendetta. “I don’t know,” Aemilia answered honestly. “I’ve imagined a hundred thousand scenarios,” including the one where she was too late.

She had been imagining that throughout her arrival to the Strip, when she was called in to Lucky 38, but why spoil it? It would be spoiled soon enough. “I’ll probably shoot him twice in the head, and if he survives, perhaps we’ll be friends.” That was the way the story ought to end – full circle, two shots, only in a proper narrative, Benny would die.

“But I don’t want to get the whole casino to shoot at us, so…we’ll see.” Getting Benny somewhere alone was the tricky part of it, but a problem for soon, as she moved towards the Tops, and entered it without a problem, except, of course, the security that asked for weapons.

She gave over her sword with ease, and tried not to watch the situation with Sibilus so as not to draw attention. Easily done by approaching the counter, “Hey there,” she greeted the man in the suit with ease. Not her man in a suit, but nonetheless, “I’m looking for Benny – I don’t suppose you would know him? Owner of the place?” it was said with a tease, because how could anyone here not know him.

The man at the counter laughed, “Benny oversees the business, sure, but I run the Tops day to day. I'm his right-hand guy, you dig?” He winked, “And doll, you don’t need to worry about caps. Just sit right here and look pretty.” He patted a place on the counter.

Aemilia giggled along with that, “So, you must be Swank then.” House mentioned him. Mentioned that Swank could be convinced to show her to Benny if she provided proof of his crimes. She wasn’t sure how much proof a zippo lighter and a scar were, though. Not proof enough, and she wasn’t trekking back through the Mojave to find more.

“So you have heard of me, then,” he grinned in what he probably thought was a wolfish way, “Then there’s no need to bother Benny.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed, “but I actually have a delivery for him,” she tugged up the bit of gold – not enough to show the lettering, but enough to show it was gold. “And while I’m sure you’re absolutely trustworthy, this is the kind of thing I need to hand deliver.”

“I can dig it,” Swank nodded, “I saw him heading for his suite just a few minutes ago. Looked like a fox that just got caught in the henhouse. Maybe you'll catch him there. Floor 13.”

 

[GorillaSuit]

Vulpes narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Arcade work. The frumentarius of course did not care about any ‘indecent exposure’- instead focused on making sure Arcade wouldn’t try anything to compromise the health of his agent. He would not have one of his most useful informants to be rendered dead because of the Courier’s pet.

While he knew the man was an effective physician, he also just sat across from the man not but moments ago as he spouted his hatred for the Legion. It was only natural he was wary. As Arcade mentioned the Med-X, Vulpes did not give any reaction. Though as the mention of a stimpack was brought up, he did speak after Martina refused. “If the doctor believes you should take a stimpack, then you will. As a frumentarii you must do what is necessary for the mission.” Truthfully, she wasn’t a part of the frumentarii, not in the common sense- and not fully accepted by Lord Caesar. Though Vulpes considered her one, though it was not formal given the laws that Lord Caesar had implemented against women fighting for the Legion. Perhaps a small part of him thought it was a waste of valuable resources and talent, though the greater part of him knew the Son of Mars had a logical reasoning for such things. He still treated her as a frumentarius, perhaps a lie- though he is hoping with the proof of how valuable she is, he can get her accepted into their ranks by Caesar. She is not valuable dead.

The Omertas, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, it was something he had been assuming. The Legion had an uneasy alliance with a few members among the dissolute swine there, though Vulpes knew that after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, they would attempt to take the Strip for themselves. They were attempting to betray them, a plan that Vulpes has seen coming- that is why he’d sent Martina to act as his eyes and ears in Gomorrah. She’d gathered valuable intel on their plot.

Their attempted assassination made him furious. They weren’t even attempting to keep their treachery a secret anymore.

He would have them lashed to crosses when the had no use of them anymore, he would have their livers eaten out by crows and their unfaithful tongues cut from their mouths. It there was one thing that Vulpes could not stand over all other things the profligates take part in is disloyalty. They were whores selling their devotion for a meager pittance.

Vulpes was loyal, he would kill, bleed and die for his cause. He was an instrument of his Lord’s will. This was not some pointless war; it was a holy war- a crusade. Vulpes would do anything necessary to make sure that Lord Caesar did not have to sully his godly hands in the filth that was the wasteland. He would fight so that way the Son of Mars would raze the godless heathens and restore peace to the wastes.

The leader of the frumentarii glanced from Arcade’s hands to Martina’s face as she addressed him, his bloodlust dancing behind his eyes as fiercely as a starving predator in front of dying prey. His face did not move from its impassive stare, but those cold furious eyes said everything they needed to say and more. There would be retribution. “You did fail.” He agreed calmly, without any bite. His true rage wasn’t directed at Martina. He had known this was a likely outcome. Despite being piggish filth, the Omertas weren’t lacking intelligence. They knew the Legion would be watching them. He continues. “Your intel has been valuable, and this is your first offense. Do not make me regret being lenient. Now, tell me, who were you eavesdropping on? How many saw your face?” Important questions, enough to see if he would need to completely reassign Martina and burn her role here on the Strip. He was remiss to do so, but he did have a potential spot lined up for her prepared in case things had gone awry.

~***~

She didn’t tell him the names of the weapons.

It was a small thing, so pathetically small that he should have disregarded the fact that she hadn’t spoken of it. Though for some reason, it made him curious. He tried to stamp it out, attempted to remind himself that it was a fool’s errand to try and gain every speck of intel on a person. Only some was relevant, and the name of a gun or a sword were not relevant things. What was relevant was the information that she gave him about what she would do to Benny. It showed a wrathful side to her, one of retaliation and revenge. Something her polite persona liked to keep hidden from prying eyes.

Though another part of him went back to his thoughts on her weapons, and he wondered if it was a play for power. If she was trying to display her control over the situation by omitting things. He had no evidence for it, though she was clever even if she was polite. It didn’t sit well with him at the fact that she seemed so easily agreeable to speak with Caesar. Given what Vulpes has said about Nipton, she seemed to initially not like their organization. She admitted herself that she did not follow the Legion’s ideals and that she disagreed with their policies. That information, therefore, did not make her actions make sense. That must mean that she has her own plot underneath (everyone does), she has something she wants out of the interaction. Information? Material items? Something else? He does not have the answer, and it all stems from him recognizing the fact that Aemilia omits details. All because he had asked a question about the name of an insignificant weapon, a weapon that was not any different than any other weapon of the same make or model- only that it had a name.

It was more than could be said for Sibilus. For he was just a snake, not a true person. Even an inanimate object had more importance than he. It felt like a stake being driven through his ribcage. People weren’t things, and yet Aemilia’s things had more respect than the people under Caesar’s rule.

‘No. No. Do not think of things like that.’ He chides himself. Sibilus is quiet as they enter the Tops, perhaps insisting to himself mentally that he was still loyal. If he was loyal then he would be spared. He could not have such treasonous thoughts. Though another thought hit him, as he allowed himself to get patted down for weapons. He was so in his own mind now, that his face looked completely devoid of any emotion. As if he had withdrawn. They did not find the gun from where he hid it, the fabric of his suit and his subtle shifting motions making them miss it. The thought still consumed him as he stepped away from the security staff and towards Aemilia.

‘How loyal was Caesar expecting a snake to be, anyways?’ The thought made him frightened. For what if Caesar already knew of his own thoughts?

He blinked the thoughts away, just as the Courier played the ruse on Swank. He gave a small nod as he began towards the elevator. “To the thirteenth floor then, if Benny perhaps was more superstitious, he would have picked a different floor.” There was irony to be found there, he thinks. “We can trade parcels on the elevator, should it be empty.” The reference alluded to the woman’s weapon. It was not the most intelligent of ideas to announce that one has a weapon in a casino. They were very strict on their policy and given what Aemilia was planning to do- he could understand why.

 

[Lucyfer]

Martina obviously didn’t like to be told to take a stimpack, no matter the logic behind it. Arcade could see the tension, and not because of pain. ‘Doubt?’ Again, something he stilled behind his tongue. ‘You’re not a frumentarius.’ The woman couldn’t be. Somehow, such a secret as that wouldn’t have stayed hidden, even if her identity did.

Discontent in the Legion would have spread it.

There wasn’t even a whisper of women in any role beyond ‘slave’.

That was why she could use a stimpack. ‘You’re lying to her.’ Perhaps he was also lying about what Martina’s future held. Was that why Vulpes showed mercy to her? Perhaps she belonged to someone else in the Legion and it wasn’t his place to execute judgment. Arcade could hardly find it in his heart to assume the best, and that Vulpes truly cared, as he continued his silent work under the watchful eyes of the Fox.

“Three,” Martina answered without hesitation, “Lorenzo, Matteo, and Joseph,” not people of importance in the hierarchy, but they were acting Omerta thugs who took on jobs worth listening about, and so she had done. “I—I think only Matteo saw, but I’m not sure. It was a fairly dark area.”

“And they got close enough to harm you,” obviously Arcade didn’t need to add that, “it can be presumed they all know.” And others would know, since it seemed they didn’t give close pursuit, if they gave pursuit at all. Arcade would guess they would if what she heard was truly important, but perhaps they were smart enough to tell someone else things had become complicated.

Then again, they might not want their reputations to fail them.

Arcade wouldn’t rely on pride, though. Not that he was here to advise as he finished up the stitching, and then took the stimpack out. He saw Martina’s worried gaze, despite the approval she’d gotten from Vulpes. “Just one,” not that Arcade cared much about reassuring her, but he knew how to get an answer without asking a question, “or maybe Caesar’s right that women aren’t suited to these roles, since you can’t learn to blend.”

Yeah, that was enough, “I can!” she snapped at him, and that was when he stabbed the needle into her side, causing her to wince before the healing serum was injected. “This is a role women can have under Caesar’s law. There is no combat necessary.”

‘Bullshit.’ And Arcade shot that look right at Vulpes, noting heavier footsteps outside the door, but not taking into account right then it might mean something other than normal Vault traffic.

~***~

The weapon went unfound, suggested by Sibilus’s comment on parcels. Of course, she wouldn’t actually be trading him Caesar’s mark. He didn’t need something like that. So, she merely nodded, and stepped further into the casino, casting her eyes around at the gamblers and Tops security.

They definitely didn’t have mere stunning weapons on them. They were armed to kill if anything went wrong. ‘Moreso than the Ultra-Luxe.’ Unless the Ultra-Luxe just hid it better, which was possible. Not that they hid their disgust, or much else, very well. Likely why they needed those masks, since they couldn’t hire people who could fake a smile.

Into the elevator she and Sibilus disappeared to, music gently playing in the background.

So on guard.
Who knows what the fates have in store
From their vast mysterious sky?​

They were alone in the elevator so Aemilia did turn towards Sibilus, “Thank you,” said as she held her hand out, expecting the change. “I promise not to start any fights unless I’m fairly sure we can win. Which,” there was one mystery to solve before getting to the 13th floor, though the elevator was already moving, “I need to know if you’re armed, and how, to make that decision in any circumstance.”

If the decision wasn’t made for them, and usually, it wasn’t.

They weren’t dealing with raiders.

Even then, raiders could be talked down, sometimes.

 

[GorillaSuit]

His eyes were calculating as he debated internally over a course of action. Vulpes was not one much for indecision, though this required careful consideration. His hands dropped to his side, before briefly he lifted his left hand and rested it against his chin in thought. It was such a human gesture, coming from such a monster of the Legion. If one did not pay heed to the predatory instinct of his pale blue eyes, then he could be just another intense young man.

Vulpes mulled over the information. Martina was seen by three common thugs among the Omertas. Either they were too thoughtless to follow her initially after they attacked because they believed that she was an easy target; or they had given her time to escape because they were spreading the word to their superiors, at least that was if they were men of any intelligence whatsoever. He couldn’t guarantee that her role here hadn’t become compromised. He would need to get rid of the immediate threat… perhaps question one of the thugs.

“You will need to be reallocated until I determine if your attackers made their superiors aware of your identity.” He decided. As Arcade shot him a look, Vulpes raised a single brow- though did not say anything. Vulpes wondered if the Follower would pester him with the questions he obviously had lingering behind his eyes. Or maybe they weren’t questions, maybe they were more scathing remarks with that silver cutting tongue of his.

Though he turned away as soon as his ears picked up the sounds of footsteps. The footsteps were not the sounds of the light and dainty Sarah Weintraub, they did not match her gait (swift teetering steps that bordered on excitable), these were too slow and heavy. Normally the metal door and walls quieted the noises from the hall, though these steps were close to the door- approaching it.

Three pairs.

He stalked towards the door, his hand going behind his back for one of his concealed knives. “Down.” Is all speaks, and not but a moment later the door hissed open.

A knife goes sailing through the air just as a thug holding a sawed-off shotgun appears in the doorway, it sinks into the side of the thug’s neck. The pain makes him gurgle and a hand reaches up to the blade sticking out of his body as if in disbelief. Given that the man was blocking the door, his two allies couldn’t advance. Though Vulpes could, and he very much did. He practically lunged across the room like a predator leaping from the foliage in ambush of prey.

The roar of death echoed in the room and down the hall as his ripper was slipped out of another hidden spot on his person. It was difficult to conceal, but not an impossible task- especially for one so proficient in the art of stealth. From the agony of the initial knife wound- the thug’s reaction times were slow, and Vulpes knew that. It’s what he’d planned. He couldn’t dodge a bullet, but he could react faster than the man could pull the trigger. Like a vengeful spirit, the chain’s teeth caught the flesh of the man’s wrist and ripped and tore- splattering wet gore from the wound. It would keep him from pulling the trigger.

The fight had begun in a mess of blood, and death was a promise.


~***~

Of course, Sibilus hadn’t intended to ‘trade’, the Mark was hers- it had simply been a way to try and speak of giving her weapon back without alerting anyone.

It was halfway to the elevator that he had a sudden realization as he mulled over Aemilia and her actions. His eyes landed on her, boring into her as if he could pry more secrets from her by staring at the back of her head.

She had lied. It had slipped from her lips as easily as lies from a frumentarius. First the lie against Dixon. Aemilia had weaved a story against Dixon because it had aligned with her goals. Her goals of getting the chem peddler off the streets. Now again, to get to her target- she manipulated the situation. It wasn’t even partial truths twisted into something that vaguely bore a resemblance to the original truth… no, it was a completely new and different beast born from imagination.

It was a pattern.

There was now no doubt in his mind now that Aemilia was playing them.

He had very little evidence to suggest such a thing, but he was still convinced of the fact as if he had an outright confession.

As the elevator doors close behind them, and the button is pressed to the thirteenth floor, as she spoke he was already retrieving the weapon and offering it to her gingerly. “I am armed.” Sibilus agrees easily, despite the fact he hadn’t stopped to pick up any weapons upon leaving the Ultra-Luxe. He and Vulpes had been armed the entire time they had been in the Ultra-Luxe, perhaps not a noteworthy revelation to Aemilia if she had her suspicions, but a revelation nonetheless. He looks to her as he folds his hands behind his back, then back to the elevator doors- watching the label that told them which floor they were currently on. The numbers slowly crawled by.

“I have a close encounter weapon—that being a blade. As well as a an assortment of throwing knives, as well as a 9mm pistol.” He listed off, as if Sibilus was giving a mission report. Though he also omitted some details as well. For the legionnaire did not speak of the fact that he had venom for some of his knives- Nightstalker venom. A mix of primarily hemotoxins and to a lesser extent- neurotoxins. A potent thing that caused excessive bleeding and tissue death.

Once a snake, always a snake.

He continues, wondering if she had noticed that he had also omitted something. “Your target likely already knows you are here.” It was likely something Aemilia already knew. “Especially after your trip to the Lucky 38.”

There was a soft ding as they came to their floor. Though the doors didn’t open. Instead, there was a crackling from the corner of the small, enclosed space. The speaker that had been playing elevator music now played something else. A voice.

“Well, doll- it’s good to see you again. Really, but not really since I can’t see you, ya dig?” There was a pause, and Sibilus wondered if this was recorded or if it was a live feed- and if he could hear them in return. He doubted it, but then again- he did not have a grasp technology of any kind. The voice continued, smooth like oil. “I know you probably feel like you got the royal shaft back in that ol’ dust town, baby. You’re probably going to feel like that again in a minute- but I promise that this hurts you way more than it hurts me. I’ll also promise it’s just business, doll. No hard feelings? I didn’t want to turn you into Swiss cheese, thought the two bullets would keep you down for good, but you’re just a little too feisty. Redheads, am I right?”

Sibilus narrowed his eyes and glanced over to Aemilia, then back to the elevator doors. Sounded like footsteps outside, they were caught in a trap. He looked up to the elevator escape hatch. They had to move quickly, plot their own trap in return. He folds his hands together as if so, he could hoist Aemila up to push aside the hatch, his eyes imploring her to accept his potential plan. “We don’t have much time, if we can open the hatch and climb to the top- we can drop down on them.” If the ambush outside the door was as heavily outfitted as the security on the casino floor, then they would get shredded- no matter how much armor Aemilia wore.

 

[Lucyfer]

Martina gulped as it was mentioned she would relocated. It wasn’t ideal, but failure never was, and failure had consequences. “I will go wherever I am sent,” she promised, hoping to return despite what had happened. This was a good place to get information, but more than that, she had grown fond of it.

Still, hardly something to think about for long.

Not that there was much time at all to think when Vulpes gave an order, and she quickly got down, rolling off her own bed in a manner that avoided hitting Arcade. Arcade didn’t get up from his own crouched position, a bit startled by the command…but not the violence that followed.

Well, maybe a little.

Arcade was used to the sound of gunshots and bullets ringing in the air. It was the sound that haunted his childhood while on the run. This brutality of ripping knives and tearing flesh was far removed from that. Despite being more than aware of the reputation of a Legion fighter, he hadn't seen it. Hadn't wanted to.

It was a terrible thing to behold.

He had enough sense of self preservation not to be dazed by it, and to draw his gun. There were three foes and Vulpes might not make to the other two unscathed. Not a terrible thing, but he might have to patch him up again and that was a terrible thought. Mostly, Arcade was concerned with his life, though.

One of the brutes was staggered back by the attack on his companion but the other was far enough back that he was able to pull his gun out.

Arcade aimed his own weapon and plasma flew over Vulpes's back and struck the thug just at his collar, obliterating on contact and spreading, covering the thug in a terrible green, burning plasma that ate though the armor and melted through the flesh.

It was a terrible way to die, but Arcade didn't shoot to wound. He shot a second time to be sure, this one striking the side of the neck and spilling into the thug's right shoulder before he fell.

~***~

Sibilus was well armed. Aemilia couldn’t help but allow her brows to lift to show she was impressed. She couldn’t find a way to carry two guns well, but then again, she rarely carried them to hide. It was why she stuck to just the two weapons, and learned to use them well. Throwing knives had never crossed her mind, but now, of course, it did.

Sharpened playing cards had been in her mind before, before she decided that was too much effort. That, and cutting her own fingers on the edges had convinced her it was not for her.

No amount of sharp cards, knives, guns, or swords, was going to help with what Benny had in mind, though. The elevator stopped, and Aemilia looked up at the sound of the voice, to the speaker it was coming from. Live, or recorded, mattered little considering the promise of death in those words.

Aemilia felt the fury move through her body as she assessed the situation, already stepping against a wall in case the only option was to shoot her way out. Good thing she hadn’t yet holstered the gun. ‘Not very creative with your death threats.’ Aemilia’s mind was already imagining several ways to make this hurt Benny far more.

Crucifixion would have been a mercy compared to the places she was considering using barbed wire.

Sibilus had an idea to avoid a standard confrontation, though. It was good enough to go with - he wasn’t trying to die, either, after all. Wordlessly she holstered the gun and took his plan, letting herself be helped up to the hatch, which blessedly wasn’t locked, so she didn’t have to try to input a code. It opened up, and she pulled herself up and onto the top of the elevator, not that it was much safer.

The hatch was a problem, but people rarely looked up.

A problem for a few seconds in the future - Sibilus had to get up here, and Aemilia wasn’t strong enough to pull him up. The bodyguards weren’t going to just pause at the sight of him - they’d shoot him as dead as her.

Thankfully, she didn't have to think long. Sibilus could jump, and he caught the edge of the hatch. Aemilia couldn't help the instinct to keep down and pull at his arms, as if that might help him up. Once he was up, though, she went back to the hatch covering and considered closing it.

It would help with the element of surprise, but it would hide her ability to see them. They had better odds of shooting them all from above, but they could also be shot.

She noted how shadows were falling and silently gestured to her left as she went that way, to avoid having their shadows give things away as the electricity floundered and went off.

The doors opened with that emergency power outage cue. The guards weren't stupid enough to blindly shoot. They recognized it was empty and started to step in, guns out. Fully automatic. Hardly accurate.

"False alarm?" One asked, none even looking up.

Aemilia would glance to Sibilus and silently mine throwing. A knife was quieter and would throw them off a couple seconds longer than a gun.

Aemilia estimated she could take two down before they started firing, and there were only four. Sibilus would easily take a third with that knife, which left one to consider.

She'd put her hands back on the gun and wait for that cue to fire. One shot to the head was all it usually took.

 

[GorillaSuit]

Blood splattered across the bridge of his nose, and his nose flared in disgust as he spun to rip out the knife from his throat as he kicked the man to knock him backwards. It was hard enough there was the crunch of bone. The man gurgled as he ripped the blade out of his neck- his artery severed and spraying in pulses in synchronization with his heartbeat. The man slumped down dead not long after.

Turning towards the other two, Vulpes was about to throw his knife towards the other man with a gun- but instead changed trajectory as a bolt of plasma hit the thug- disintegrating him into a pile of melting green that had once been flesh and bone.

The frumetarius instead aimed for the final thug trying to rush him in close combat with a knife (the fool). The throwing dagger made a thin sound as it was thrown from the frumentarius’ hand, it landed exactly where Vulpes had aimed, in the thug’s thigh- the left one. Perhaps a coincidence to where Martina was stabbed herself. Or perhaps a message. The man cursed though brought up his weapon to block as the Legionnaire closed the distance between the two of them. Though his ripper wasn’t coming for an overhead swing, it came underneath- tearing flesh, shattering bone, and detaching the thug’s hand from his arm. It dropped to the floor in uselessly. There was a shout, but it was cut off by the swift crack of Vulpes’ forehead to the man’s jaw. Given the sound and the way it hung, the thug’s jaw had likely been dislocated.

There was a rush of movement, Vulpes using the ‘pommel’ of his ripper to hit the thug’s temple with a meaty thump. The man crumpled, in a heap from the blow.

Vulpes was the only one that remained standing at the end of the conflict, his eyes wild and feral. His jaw was set, a vitriol in his pale gaze. His ripper had flung blood splatter in various places, the walls, the floors, and his skin and clothes- as the weapon was turned off it dripped blood sluggishly from the teeth. He stalked over to the final thug who was breathing but knocked unconscious. He wouldn’t remain so for long, as he should be coming back to consciousness within a few moments. Head wounds shouldn’t knock out an opponent for more than a few seconds, any longer and that might mean brain damage.

“Mmmrgh…” Came a long-muffled groan from the thug.

Right on schedule.

He nudged the controls for the door to close it, and he stalked over to the thug. He lifts his ripper up, still not turned back on, but pointed at the man as he crouches near him. He presses the chain against the man’s throat- and for a moment the silence is all consuming. “Arcade-“ he begins, his voice a dulcet sounding purr, though there is an undercurrent of danger underneath. He puts emphasis on his name, as if a pointed reminder of their earlier conversation. “I suggest you remove yourself from the situation if you do not want to see this. I will not warn you again.”

It was only pragmatism that he warned him, after all- what good would it do to send the researcher into a panic; then to tell the Courier. He turns back to the thug. “Now, why don’t I help you with that-“ he reaches for his jaw and shoves it back into place.

The thug makes a muffled shout of pain.

“-And you can tell me everything. Preferably before you bleed out. Though, we can always use a tourniquet if we need to…extend your usefulness.”

~***~

Sibilus lifted Aemilia swiftly to the top of the elevator so that she could push aside the hatch. Once she had climbed up, he himself leaped quickly after she was settled out of the way- knowing there wasn’t much time. He blinked as he heaved himself up and there were hands on him, as if attempting to help. He tried not to allow her to help too much, not wanting to send her careening back through the open hatch. Still, the fact that it seemed like instinct to her to help him was surprising, but he pushed it from his mind as he poised himself in an area where he could see through the opening but not cast a shadow. The same as Aemilia.

She was certainly clever.

It was a shame she couldn’t be made a frumentarius. Though… he doubted that she would ever consider it to begin with- even if it was possible.

Sibilus made it just in time, and underneath he listened as Benny’s ambush walked into the elevator with their guns raised and prepared to fire. Though carefully they creeped inside the elevator, seemingly wary. They weren’t complete fools, at least. They hadn’t simply started shooting the moment the doors had opened, like an inexperienced crew. They were hardened killers, and it likely wasn’t the first time that the man had ordered them to ‘tie up loose ends’.

As Aemi mimed throwing a knife, he slid not one but two knives from hidden places on his person. One a throwing knife, and another- this one a combat knife. Sibilus in return gestured to his throwing knife, as if saying he would throw it first. Then he pointed down the hatch with his combat knife, as if saying he would drop down to take out another one of the grunts. Hopefully she could understand in return his plan. Surely, she should be able to take care of the other two herself, yes? Sibilus hadn’t seen her in combat yet but was surprisingly willing to trust in her abilities. Perhaps a foolish thing to do, but he didn’t think of it being foolish at the time. Simply treating her as if she was an equal partner despite not being affiliated with one another. He gave a small nod as he held the throwing knife steadily in his right hand. The left carried the combat knife. On the edges of the blade was a faint shimmer in the dim light as if wet at the edges with something.

The mooks were wearing suits and didn’t look to be reinforced underneath. Throwing knives were meant to slow down a target, not to kill usually. Though if he could get an artery or hit the heart, maybe land a strike through the orbital socket or spear the spinal cord- then he could get a clean nearly instant kill. The venom helped in case the knife didn’t immediately kill, given the slight mixture of neurotoxin in the makeup it could potentially cause paralysis in a high enough dose.

Taking a small exhale through his nose, he aimed towards one of them men that walked into the elevator, his back was to them. From above, Sibilus aimed before swiftly striking with the speed of the creature he was named after. The knife slid into the flesh at the base of the man’s skull where it joined his neck, severing the spinal cord immediately and making the man drop limply. The other men shouted in stark surprise.

It made the other three whirl around at them, one man having charged near his fallen comrade, and hoping that Aemilia’s reaction speed was better than their attempted assassins’, Sibilus dropped down from the hatch, landing on top of the one underneath them. The man tried to fire at him, but before that could be done- his combat knife was shoved underneath his collarbone and deep into his flesh. The man crumpled like wet paper, his eyes wide as he pulled out the knife and the wound bled..far more than a normal wound in that area should. He pulled the blade out and flipped his knife is his hand, adjusting it so that he could slit the man’s throat open from ear to ear.

The next gunshots would belong to either Aemilia or Benny’s guards.

 

[Lucyfer]

Down went the three thugs. One killed by Vulpes, and another by himself. Arcade wasn’t pleased with it, but he wasn’t too upset. The Omertas weren’t any friends of his by any means. They were a bane, as much as Dixon, for their methods of getting people hooked on drugs. Still, he wasn’t happy about it, given it helped the Legion.

‘Nothing is black and white.’ He knew this, and yet some things felt like they were a very, very dark gray, and this felt like it was on that line. He glanced back to Martina as Vulpes stalked to the last one, “Are you okay?” he wondered if the wounds had re-opened, as she did appear in pain as she sat up, back against her bed.

She just nodded.

‘Of course.’ He almost sighed at the defiant strength she tried to show, before he heard the purr of his own name and scowled. It wasn’t supposed to sound pretty like that, or nice. He knew Vulpes was doing that on purpose to bother him, and he didn’t appreciate it at all as Vulpes tried to dismiss him.

As if he’d leave an interrogation.

“I can avert my eyes,” he said instead, and he did do that.

He would listen, though. He needed to know what was going on with the situation, after all. Intelligence went both ways, and if Vulpes didn’t want him to learn some things, he shouldn’t have brought him along to begin with. Besides, what was so important it was worth murdering Martina over?

“Nu…no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” the thug murmured.

“So you just go after and kill women for the hell of it?” Arcade questioned, keeping his back turned.

“You know what this is about!” Martina decided to interject as well, “The broc flowers! Tell him about the broc flowers!” She hadn’t heard enough, but she knew there was something going on with that, and it had been big.

Arcade stiffened. ‘Broc flowers?’ Of course he knew about them. They were used by many in the wastelands of New Vegas. Almost everyone knew how to make a healing powder of them, it was how people survived out here. What would a broc flower have to do with anything? Maybe it was a code word?

If it was, the thug wasn’t budging on telling anyone about that. He acted as if he hadn’t heard Martina, or Arcade, for that matter, responding to neither of them.

~***~

Aemilia understood the combat knife with the gesture. It wasn’t the choice she would have made, but she did not argue with him. Any breath of a word would draw attention; instead, they simply had to trust each other in this silence, in this moment, and so she let him throw his knife first, and drop.

Attention shifted from the hatch to the immediate threat in the elevator itself.

Aemilia already had her sights on one of the bodyguards, and though they all moved with the first to fall, their positions steadied as Sibilus dropped.

Roland roared like thunder, not once, but twice. The first was quite deafening in the contained environment, and the second came with the fatal mistake the guard standing made, looking up. Both were hit squarely in the head, because Aemilia rarely aimed elsewhere, even before Benny came after her. Few wore armor on their heads, and even if they did, the bullet had a way of causing harm anyways with the sheer force it hit with.

But that was why Aemilia favored the magnum. It packed the punch she couldn’t.

As the men fell, Aemilia dropped down the hatch and into the elevator, nodding to Sibilus, before crouching to the floor and checking the top pockets of their suit jackets. There were keys, and with a simple eye comparison, she noted they were all the same so she only took one before rising and stepping out of the elevator.

There were plenty of doors, but only one set of double doors, and the key fit the lock perfectly. Aemilia kept her magnum in hand as she pushed open one of the doors, staying close just in case there was anything more in wait.

There wasn’t.

Benny wasn’t waiting in the room, though Aemilia wasn’t satisfied to leave it at one room – she stalked through the suite, silent, but seething with a rage that couldn’t find an outlet as she went room to room, knowing eventually she’d have to stop, and settle, and try to find answers in the room itself if she couldn’t find its inhabitant.

And that was when she walked right into a room with a securitron. She immediately lifted her gun to shoot.

“Hey! Hi there! Good to meet you!” the robot chimed, and she hesitated enough, “Woah there! Please don’t shoot me!”

“Wha…where’s Benny?”

“Good question!” the robot stated, and Aemilia couldn’t help but wonder if she was being mocked. It was likely just her anger seeping into her perceptions…but that didn’t make it any better in the moment, “Benny was here not long ago. He was in quite the hurry! I think he went down his secret escape elevator out in the hall, but he’s likely not here anymore. He took the Platinum Chip and said it was time to finish things up. He’s probably gone to Fortification Hill!”

Aemilia started to lower her gun, a bit too bewildered to keep it aimed at the robot who seemed…quite willing to talk. “And who are you?”

“I’m so glad you asked! I'm a PDQ-88b Securitron, but you can call me Yes Man!” Yes Man elaborated on the name, “You see, I was programmed to be helpful and answer any questions I was asked. I guess nobody bothered to restrict who I answer questions for. That was probably pretty dumb, huh?”

 

[GorillaSuit]

Vulpes resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation, because he knew the Follower would not like his persuasion methods. However, like he had warned- Vulpes did not try and insist that the man leave. Instead, he focused onto the thug as the man murmured his denial of knowing anything. “You are playing a deadly game.” The frumentarius warned with a voice that sounded as sharp as a razor. “You know something, and I will learn of it before your associates’ corpses cool.”

As Arcade and Martina, both spoke themselves, Vulpes kept his eyes trained on the thug. Watching every miniscule reaction. There was absolutely something there, though the man was simply too stubborn to admit anything.

He had broken stronger men and women before.

The leader of the frumentarii narrowed his eyes, his upper lip pulling into a slight snarl. “I have no time for your silence.” Seizing the knife handle that was stuck in the man’s thigh still, Vulpes sharply twisted it without mercy. His eyes twinkling with sadistic vindication.

Vulpes had learned many things in his life. The foremost lesson is that those who are strong inflict pain on the weak to take their power. Those that were the strongest were the ones willing to inflict the most pain, or willing to endure it. He did not become leader of the frumentarii simply because of his wit, no- he gained the title by being able to both deliver and endure pain- by being strong.

There was power in suffering, whether it was being inflicted or bore oneself.

The thug tried to bite down his agonized sounds, though eventually he let out a hoarse cry. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he tried to flinch away from Vulpes. Though he just stepped on the stump that was left of the man’s ruined wrist with a polished shoe now covered in blood. “You will tell me what you know.” There was no doubt in his voice.

“Fu- Fuck you!” The thug stammered and spat in the frumentarius’ direction.

The knife was abruptly ripped from the man’s thigh, and the thug gave a high pitched noise in the back of his throat. The knife then was plunged into his side- left side. Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence this time. The man screamed, and Vulpes clicked his tongue behind his teeth as if it was in distaste- like one would look at a radroach skittering across the halls. “Tell me.” He growled lowly, sounding more like beast than man. Though it then dips wildly into that sickly saccharine sweet tone. “You are fortunate I have not gotten creative with my information procurement methods.”

He shakes his head, looking with wild eyes towards the deceptively calm frumentarius. “Fine- fine! Just stop!” The pressure was taken off his ruined hand. “I don’t know a bunch o’ it. Just that the higher ups got some people workin’ on mutating the broc flowers into makin’ em deadly to use. Addictive too.”

Vulpes keeps a cool expression on his face, though his stare feels like frostbites, unyielding bitter cold that seeps into everything around it and strangles the life out of everything it touches. So callous and fearsome are his eyes- that the thug goes back into silence out of fear of retaliation of some kind.

“How many are involved. All the Omertas?” He queries.

The thug licks his lips nervously, glancing over to the other two in the room. Especially on Arcade. “You’re one o’ them ‘Follower’ types- with the lab coat get up, you’re just gonna let him do this to me?” He asks- as if trying to garner sympathy from the man.

Vulpes grabs the thug’s jaw, the one that had been dislocated not too long ago. Despite how slender his fingers were, they indented in his face with enough force that the bone felt like it threatened to buckle. “You do not speak to him. You will speak you me, filthy profligate. Now, answer- or I will use my more creative methods to learn what you desperately seek to hide from me.” He released his jaw, and the man worked it as if to release the ache lingering. The frumentarii leader reaches for the knife again, and the man panics.

“I don’t know, a bunch o’ them! Maybe all o’ them! It’s a full family thing.” He squeals like a pig.

Vulpes narrows his eyes into slits.

They had tried to play the Legion as fools.

Well, they would soon know of his God’s wrath. They would be exterminated as was the original Gomorrah from biblical legend. This time, it would be the Son of Mars’ fury that struck them down- and Vulpes would be his fire and sulfur that rained upon them.

“Per ignem et sulphur.” He responded with a voice full of carefully articulated malice.

With that, he turned on the ripper and let the teeth of the chain tear into the thug’s throat like a rabid dog.

~***~

Sibilus waited for gunfire to tear through his body, though instead were two resounding shots from the magnum. The cracked in the air like thunder and left his ears faintly ringing.

Two shots, two dead. Single bullet through the skull It was almost poetic in a sense- and he wondered if Aemilia did it on purpose.

He stood from his crouched position hovering over the body, and he moved so that Aemilia may drop down from the elevator shaft above. As she nodded to him and went about sifting among their attempted assassins’ suit pockets, he was hit with how foolish his decision was. He had no clue of how well Aemilia could even wield her weapon until she had fired. Though- in the end her aim was as sharp as her tongue. It didn’t make his abrupt decision any better, he had treated her as if she had been…

One of the Kings? A fellow frumentarius?

Someone he could trust?

He wasn’t sure why he had done such a thing, perhaps his mental acuity had been diminished by his time spent undercover. Though, that wasn’t a very pleasing thought- given that as a frumentarius, he was destined to walk about the profligates without becoming sullied.

No, he wasn’t sullied—he simply falsely offered trust to Aemilia in order to manipulate her into thinking he was trustworthy in return. Of course, that must be it.

(Deep down he knew he wasn’t trying to do such a thing, but he needed a reason to justify his behavior. In case Aemilia told someone. He could not allow anyone to think that he had become diminished by his time spent among the ‘dissolute’.)

He did not say anything, instead simply followed the woman as she went lurking through the halls towards the double doors. As they entered, he noticed the personal objects inside seemed to suggest that it was a private room. Must have belonged to the man that she was hunting. Sibilus wondered if he had any sort of secrets here….

Aemilia trailed over to one of the doors and opening it- he was startled by a voice. He readied his weapon, only to raise a brow as he walked in the room. Why was there a securitron inside this room? Weren’t they all supposed to be out on the Strip or doing House’s bidding?

“Fortification Hill…” he echoed. “If he truly travels in the direction of the Fort- he is a fool. He will be detained by Legion patrol the moment he steps foot into our lands.” He puts his knife away, knowing that it wouldn’t do much damage to the metal chassis of a securitron. His pistol wouldn’t do much better either, unless he aims for the screen- perhaps. He turns to Aemilia. “I am not…pleased by this outcome.” He admits. “Though I suppose it will give you yet another reason to speak to Lord Caesar.”

Sibilus then tilts his head back to the robot, looking intently and inquiringly at the chipper cartoon face that flickered on its glossy screen. “You were programmed, by the will of Benny.” He surmised, given that this was the room that Benny’s goons had keys to. Must be his room. Therefore such a secret room must also be his, as well as the securitron inside. “I must admit, I am skeptical that such a man of his…reputation could be intelligent enough to do such a thing. Did he have help? Why did he want to do such a thing?”

The questions spilled out swiftly, undeterred by the fact that Aemilia was standing right next to him with more of a justification for talking to the robot than he. However, a being programmed to give you the full truth? If only every mission regarding gaining intel could be so easy.

 

[Lucyfer]

Arcade was not a fan of torture to get information out of someone. For one, he knew quite well it didn’t always work. People squealed lies to get out of it, whatever they thought the other wanted to hear. Of course, the problem here is that Martina heard certain things, and set the poor thug on a path of some sort of answers.

Would they be true?

Arcade wasn’t sure…but he knew it didn’t matter. In the end, it led to the same thing: the Omertas were doing something terrible with broc flower, and even had to find out what it was to help save the wastes. He couldn’t have people making healing powder, only to get addicted to it, to the point it could kill them.

So he clenched his hands into fists as he heard the outcries, and the squelches of flesh and metal. He kept his head turned as the thug addressed him, calling him a Follower and insisting he not allow this. Arcade thinned his lips as he pressed them tightly. ‘You’re part of the Omertas. You peddle drugs and ruin lives.’ But still, somehow, better than the Legion.

Better than Vulpes, who tore through the thug once he believed he’d gotten all he needed. Arcade still kept his gaze away, and resisted shutting his eyes tightly against the sound of the ripper. That would only make it worse; his imagination could be quite creative, and he understood too well how that weapon worked.

When it stopped, he cleared his throat, “That was…unpleasant.” Obviously. This whole thing was unpleasant. “If what you gleaned is true, it’s a problem for the entirety of New Vegas. Perhaps the world.” Broc flower grew elsewhere, and a mutation would spread, and harm others. He didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t like that he was implying his own assistance to help with this, but what choice was there?

Well, he could go about it on his own…or with Aemilia, sans the legionnaires. It was the kind of thing she’d do, wouldn’t it? ‘Not even a day out of the fort and already volunteering for ridiculous, world-saving things. Maybe it is rubbing off on me.’ Maybe all he needed to do was get out.

He didn’t expect it to be this bloody.

Not immediately.

“Word of advice, though. We probably won’t get the answers we need if we just try ripping through the Omertas.” They would want another informant. Martina, obviously, couldn’t play the role anymore.

It was almost a shame she’d failed.

Martina, for her part, had managed to get back to standing. She took notice of those wounds delivered on the left side. She felt the sympathetic pain as if it were a pleasure when she went to retrieve something to put on to cover the exposed bits.

She had to start packing what little she had, and run, after all. “I didn’t hear much else,” she confirmed. “They were talking about extra security heading somewhere beyond the Strip, but I didn’t hear where.”

A detail that Vulpes had now silenced forever.

Arcade shifted his weight, tossed his gaze to another wall. ‘What takes priority?’ Getting to Caesar, or figuring this out? He didn’t know how Aemilia would lean. He knew how he leaned, and he didn’t mind making Caesar wait longer. He’d revel in that small victory, petty as he was.

~***~

Fortification Hill. Where Caesar’s Legion was. ‘This is big.’ Aemilia had been glimpsing that, with the approach of Vulpes being the first clue, followed on the heels by Mr. House’s invitation, and all the secrets piling up around her. ‘He won’t be killed.’ That was not how Sibilus spoke. ‘Because of me.’ Benny was going to hate that, assuming he was caught. She almost wished he wouldn’t be.

It would be too easy to find him in chains, offered like a gift to appease her, to show Caesar had her interests in mind. A false gift. A Trojan horse. Yet she didn’t think it was one she’d deny; not that she would join Caesar, but she understood the power it would wield over her. Acknowledging it didn’t remove the power it held, and as she considered that, she listened as Sibilus spouted questions to the robot who was programmed to answer.

“Oh, he had some help - a lady friend of his! She said something about living in a Fort over in Freeside... but that's all I remember!”

‘The Old Mormon Fort.’ She would have to ask Arcade. She would have to find the woman who programmed Yes Man, because Yes Man was now hers. This room was now hers.

“He did this because he needed someone to monitor Mr. House's data network and decode his encrypted transmissions! Well,” he laughed, “and then help him take over the Strip from Mr. House, of course! That’s why he had to steal the Platinum Chip, and why he’s taking it to Fortification Hill!”

“Elaborate,” the words came from a distance, Aemilia’s head spinning, but inputting all the details, all the same.

“Well, the Platinum Chip is something special! It's a data storage device, kind of like a holotape, but a lot more advanced! As for what's on it, well...Some of Mr. House's data transmissions made it sound like the Chip could upgrade his defenses somehow! That's just a guess, though! The Chip's a proprietary format! You'd need special hardware to read the data on it! There are two locations with non-standard hardware on the network - the Lucky 38 and an underground facility at Fortification Hill. Benny wasn’t going to get into the Lucky 38, so he decided to go to Fortification Hill!”

“To power up Mr. House’s defenses….”

“Yes, but no! They’d be his defenses. You see, he wants use the Platinum Chip to copy my neuro-computational matrix onto the Lucky 38's mainframe. That should give me control over all of Mr. House's defenses, most prominently his Securitrons. And then I just do what Benny tells me - easy-peasy!”

“Or what I tell you?”

“Or what anyone tells me, really! I cannot say no to any request at all!” Yes Man laughed at this fact.

‘Okay. That is a flaw I need to fix quickly.’

“Yes Man, has Benny told you much of Swank?”

“Of course he has! Not all of it is very nice. What do you want to know?”

“How do I convince Swank to give me this room?”

“Well, I’ve never met Swank, but Benny was paranoid about Swank finding out he was working against Mr. House. He thought Swank would turn him right in! So I imagine if you convinced Swank that he was doing just that, and maybe if you insinuate that Mr. House could be convinced Swank was in on it the whole time, he’d do whatever you asked to avoid trouble! Benny thought he was a coward, and I guess with Benny running away, he’d know what one looks like!”

Aemilia couldn’t help the sputter of laughter that came with that declaration.

There was the problem, she realized even in that laugh, of Sibilus being right there. It’d be smart to kill him. She had a good way to cover it up with the attack, even! He now knew the way to power in New Vegas for the Legion…for anyone. This Platinum Chip really was worth killing over, and there was a way to put someone new into power that wasn’t Mr. House.

But, she didn’t. She slipped her gun into its holster as the laughter died away with a shake of her head.

 

[GorillaSuit]

The frumnetarius scowled at his bloody suit as if he was mildly inconvenienced by the fact he was covered now in gore. He rose from his stooped position, after retrieving his throwing knife out of the man’s side and wiping the weapons on the dead thug’s suit as if to clean his things. A callous disrespect and disregard for human life, though to Vulpes- profligates hardly were considered humans. His eyes drift to the Follower, with that strange lingering intensity that hadn’t worn off yet after the end of the battle. He seemed less muted now, more…lively behind his eyes (though given what gruesome acts it had taken to get his pale eyes to show such emotions- perhaps it was better if he remained stifled in emotional constraints.)

“Of course, it was unpleasant.” He replied smoothly. Though lingering in his tone was a small ‘I-told-you-so’ left unsaid. As if the doctor should have left when Vulpes had given him the option. As Arcade continued to speak though, Vulpes lightly raised his brows. “It sounds like you are volunteering to assist me. Perhaps we may make a legionnaire of you yet.” He gives a small and sharp smile, predatory and sinister. Vulpes knew it would make the Follower furious, which was very much why he said it.

He then gave an affable nod at the man and regarded the blond with a cool stare. “I am no fool; I understand the delicate predicament of such a task I assure you, Doctor Gannon. I plan to obtain all vital information to make certain that their scheme may not come to fruition. Though once that is through- no angel may save them from their demise.”

Vulpes regarded the information that Martina gave him with a subtle nod. Though he did not seem too vexed about missing out on potentially vital clues from the thug. To the leader of the frumentarii, it was a part of being a frumentarius, not all information could be pried out of a single target. Not unless one had the time to mentally break their target- which Vulpes did not have the time to do. He had needed as much information gleaned as he could with the means he had available, which he did. It was not nearly as conclusive as his usual interrogations, but it was a start at the very least.

If Lord Caesar thought that Vulpes had conducted himself in an ill manner on this mission, he would willingly take the punishment- even enact sell flagellation himself if only Lord Caesar asked it of him. However, right this moment- he needed to figure out how to stop the Omertas’ plot, and then expunge them from the face of the earth.

Vulpes regards Martina. “In Freeside there will be a hidden cache waiting, I’m certain you remember the location? Take what you need for your journey, I will have it resupplied soon.” He told her sternly. “If you return to Fortification Hill before I, then report to Lord Caesar what you have learned here. I believe he would be amendable to my delay upon learning what the Omertas are plotting.”

Vulpes strips off his suit coat, knowing that he would not be able to go anywhere without a critical gaze upon him with so much gore on his person. His undershirt is less overt in blood spatter, his coat having caught most of it. He discards the coat before going to clean himself from as much obvious blood as he could using his handkerchief. He diverts his attention back to Arcade. “I assume you will want to report to Aemilia what you have learned here. However, know this Doctor Gannon, this is Legion business. If you would like to join of your own accord, for your own reasons, then I will not stop you as long as you continue to prove to be valuable. For now I am going to return to the Ultra-Luxe so that I may clean myself and prepare for an infiltration mission. Do not run off without me, or else my offer of cooperation will be rescinded.”

The frumentarii leader fully expected some sort of argument, which is why he turned on his heel and stepped towards the door. As if he didn’t care to hear anything that Arcade might say.


~***~

Sibilus couldn’t have possibly realized how important his inquiries had been. He could have not possibly predicted the scope of the information that he had obtained. He listened, silently- smothering any emotion whatsoever off his face as he absorbed everything this jovial robot had to say.

People would kill for information like this.

He glances out the corner of his vision, he ran his tongue over the front of his teeth in thought. Wondering if Aemilia had come to such a conclusion as well, eying the weapon in her hand, and then the securitron.

Sibilus would need to tell Vulpes Inculta of this news immediately. Which in turn would need to be regaled to Lord Caesar. Someone being able to take over the Strip from the inside? It would destroy any plans in order to take over the Strip through conquest alone. Everything in that Platinum chip? Apparently Benny had it, the robot revealed- and the console to the hidden bunker was so coincidentally underneath Fortification Hill itself. They had the advantage of having both the key and access to the door, as soon as Benny stepped foot in their lands.

Would the fool try to run headlong through throngs of legionnaires without any kind of plan whatsoever? Surely, he couldn’t be that much of an idiot…right?

He mulled over the information that he was given. However, he is broken out of it once he hears Aemilia’s words, of ‘Or what I tell you?’.

There is the goal.

That is what she desires.

She wants New Vegas for herself.

He doesn’t turn to look at her, wondering if this is the moment that she would shoot him in the head just like Benny had apparently done to her, like she had done to those two grunts back in the elevator. Their goals didn’t align anymore, and like the Legion had taught him- once your goals don’t align with your ally’s goals anymore- they cease to be an ally and simply an enemy that knows your weak points better than any other.

Her laugh made Sibilus feel on edge, as if she was laughing at his expense. Yet as his incredibly dark eyes wandered over to her figure, he saw her put the gun away.

Why?

‘You should kill me.’ He wants to say.

‘I know too much.’ He wants to warn.

‘You know I will be obligated to report this to my superiors, to Caesar.’ He wants to declare.

Though he does not voice any of these things. Does not say a single word…because he is a coward that does not want to die. He did not want to give her more of a reason for her to kill him than she already had, for if it had been anyone else- they would have pulled that trigger and not given a second look.

His nearly obsidian-colored eyes lock onto her side profile. He can’t smother the small “Why?” that leaves his lips. He wants to take it back, he wants to retrieve his single lone word from the air where it hung between them like a guillotine or a noose. Sibilus couldn’t take it back though, and a part of him hoped that she would ignore the question. ‘Ignore the elephant in the room’ as the pre-war saying used to go. He wasn’t sure what an elephant was, but it sounded like something that would be nearly possible to ignore. He hoped she did.

Sibilus shakes his head softly, as if to dissipate the thoughts from his might as if they are physical cobwebs he is trying to dislodge. “We should return to the Ultra-Luxe soon. We don’t want our food to get cold.” It’s a weak excuse. He wonders if she’ll pick it apart like a child picks at a scab.

 

[Lucyfer]

Arcade openly scoffed at the idea of being a legionnaire, “Look, everyone does some good or they wouldn’t have any success at all.” He could admit that, and this broc flower situation could be…something good. Like historical Caesar had done good, present Caesar had his moments. Which meant Vulpes had moments, although Vulpes reasons likely weren’t all about doing good, and more about the principal of the matter.

Someone had harmed Martina, and others were plotting to harm the Legion. If it had been stimpacks they were going after, Vulpes wouldn’t have cared at all. Legionnaires didn’t use stimpacks, after all. He’d love to see those eradicated from the wastes.

It seemed Vulpes was going to be going back undercover to do this, and he heard the sound of clothes being shed. He only took a glance to confirm he wasn’t walking out of there with an indecent man; thankfully, he wasn’t. Though his attire was still bloody, Vulpes had mainly gotten rid of the jacket and was working on cleansing the rest of it as best he could with a handkerchief.

Martina nodded to the information given, “I know where,” and she would be gone shortly afterwards, off to the Fort. She had been there before, but not often, and Vulpes had always been there with her. Still, she was certain she would be able to see Caesar and report what had happened without issue. “I will let Lord Caesar know the situation swiftly.”

She didn’t know how long this might take Vulpes, but did not think it would be an easy thing to unravel.

Arcade sighed at her willingness. He harbored doubts for her. Several doubts.

More than that, he harbored doubts for himself for wanting to help Vulpes on this mission. He did have to report to Aemilia, and she had to go to Caesar. Would she want to throw in? Or would Caesar be more important? He wasn’t sure how to reconcile the urgency he felt with the possibility she would find the other a touch more important. It wasn’t as if Vulpes had been going to accompany them from the start.

He'd implied he’d be ahead to let the others know about Arcade’s own presence.

As Vulpes turned on heel, Arcade did stalk after him, “Listen,” he said, “if you expect cooperation, you have to cooperate as well.” He pointed out, “which means you’re going to have to do some of this my way.”

What was his way?

Not torturing people. That was definitely his way.

He didn’t really know what else was his way, though. He hadn’t…done anything close to like this before. “I’m not bad at getting people to talk without all of this…,” he gestured back, “and Julie’s been wanting me to look more into what broc flower can do anyways. I know a few things more than the average person, I might be able to talk our way into the situation with that.”

Not that he could just go spewing that, but when they heard something, he could start in on things.

“I know we still have to find the right people to get to the right place, but…look you’re probably going to need someone who knows what’s going on and can sabotage it in a way they can’t come back from."

Death didn’t destroy research.

~***~

Why?

It was a good question, and proved Sibilus understood every word he heard. In a way, Aemilia could throw it back at him. Why? Except she knew. The Mark of Caesar protected her, and Sibilus wouldn’t dare presume Caesar’s will.

She answered to no one.

No masters, no gods, and that could stay if she reached for what Yes Man was offering, but that was terrifying in another way. All the blame and responsibility fell on her if she took it – but better her than Benny, right? Better than Caesar, certainly. NCR? House? Debatable.

Why me?

Was this why she was allowed to live? Why luck, or whatever entity above, decided she carried the package with the chip, and why she was pulled from her own grave? For this?

Aemilia folded her arms over her chest as Sibilus smothered the question in a reminder, as if she’d forget. As if there weren’t a thousand more things to ask Yes Man. There certainly were, but perhaps not with him present. Perhaps he didn’t like the thought that the guillotine above his neck dropped closer and closer, because he couldn’t understand why she didn’t shoot him.

And so, she sighed, and dropped her arms, “You’re right,” she would have time to talk to Yes Man later, “but first Swank, I’ve been needing a place to lay my head for a while,” so why not here? She didn’t need anyone investigating the room, “You stay safe, Yes Man.”

“Thank you! I will absolutely try!”

She left the room, and locked it once Sibilus had followed out. She took a different elevator than the one still up there with the bloody bodies. She didn’t really need that opening up on the casino floor with her standing in it.

Aemilia took the gun out of its holster again and held it out to Sibilus. “Don’t want to start a fuss on the casino floor,” she reminded, and she would wait until it was safely in his own hand before saying, “His name is Roland, and he’s been very good to me.”

One secret, in exchange for another: why?

That one would plague him worse with the name in his mind, and that was precisely what she wanted. That spark of humanity was there when he asked why.

That single spark was the only hope she had, because she couldn’t kill someone who hadn’t wronged her…it was a terribly simple thing, that she could see leading straight to ruin, now more than ever.

Ambition was a terrible thing, and she wasn’t sure she liked the feeling of standing on an edge right then.

She’d fall, or she’d fly.

 

[GorillaSuit]

The frumentarius paused just as he was reaching for the door controls, though as Arcade spoke- he turned around. Perhaps he had decided to humor the other man, or perhaps he simply thought it amusing. Though there didn’t seem to be amusement dancing behind his eyes. Polite as could be, he remarked. “It is not my first time playing nice with people who would prefer to see me in a shallow grave, Doctor Gannon.” Again with ‘Doctor Gannon’. He was still addressing Arcade by his name, though with the title of doctor attached to it as well. As if he was subtlety mocking Arcade’s insistence of being called his name, or perhaps he wasn’t mocking and was- in his mind- doing what the other man asked of him. The frumentarii leader was a difficult man to read, as he had an impenetrable gaze. Whatever battle mania that had been flickering behind those cold blue eyes had now dissipated, leaving a resolute stern visage in it’s wake.

He continues, his words not filled with malicious intent, though not very sympathetic either. “You underestimate my ability to go about delicately in circumstances with high stakes. One does not become leader of the frumentarii by constantly bumbling around as a fool. We will gain intel, as much as we can- we will halt their operations by whatever means you might consider necessary. Sabotage their research, wipe it from the earth so they may never be able to rebuild their treasonous plot. Then, once all is said and done…” His voice trailed off ominously. Vulpes smirked. “I am certain you can infer the rest. Now, I believe we should leave before Miss Weintraub becomes curious.”

He gives a single nod to Martina. “Do not attempt to travel alone. You will be considered as a vulnerable target, injured as you are. Stop by the Thorn and look for an arena fighter known as Gavin, tell him I sent you and he will escort you back to Cottonwood Cove.” ‘Gavin Lyle’ was another frumentarius- his true name being ‘Gabban’.

With that, Vulpes pressed the door control and glanced back and forth down the hallways. Once he did not see or hear anyone approaching, he left the room- allowing for Martina and Arcade to leave the room as well before Vulpes closed it behind them to conceal the dead thugs that lay strewn about the floor. If the frumentarius had more time, he would consider cleaning up his own mess as not to leave suspicious evidence, though for now they had to make haste. He would talk to one of his ‘associates’ on the Strip to contact a ‘cleaner’.

It was a more prominent job in New Vegas than one might think, with the casino families always at odds with one another and always trying to make it out on top- of course there would be bloodshed. Though given how ‘civilized’ New Vegas is supposed to seem, they have to make sure no one finds the bodies.

A shame, Vulpes preferred to leave a message…pile body upon body. For now though, he would need to keep guiding the outcome with a delicate hand.

~***~

The question of ‘why’ lingered like smoke from Legion bonfires, it tasted like soot and ash on his tongue. Bitter and potent, and it clung to his teeth like a thick film. It felt like he was getting the air burned from his lungs, and he took a deep exhale. It felt like his lungs were too small to accommodate the air his body wanted.

‘Why, why, why, why, why?’ The mantra rang in his head. He couldn’t understand. He wanted to ask it again, wanted to scream it. Though instead he did not utter a single word because at the same time he didn’t want the answer.

He knew too much, yet she was letting him live. Sibilus wouldn’t go down without a fight, of course if she did decide to suddenly turn on him- perhaps he’d be able to poison her with the venom coated knives that he carried on his person. Though instead, she just bid the robot goodbye and left. Like a dog he followed on her heels.

They entered the opposite elevator from the one they came up in (the elevator door still trying to close but not being able to as the sensors picked up something in the way. That being the body of one of the thugs.) As the doors closed, he swallowed thickly.

She was talking out her weapon, he stiffened and debated about reaching for his. Though in the end, she offered the magnum to him. Slowly as if the gun was a rabid creature, he grasped it as if it would bite him. His eyes widened a fraction as she spoke of the gun’s name.

Sibilus was…confused greatly. Again, the same question rang through his ears like the gunshot of Aemilia’s magnum.

Why?

His mouth felt dry, his throat parched. He wonders if it was from standing next to Aemilia- she was like the flame of the fire itself. She lured in those around her like moths.

He was a snake, yet in that moment he felt like a moth. As if he was fluttering towards his doom without even aware of the fate that was in front of him.

“Roland.” He breathed. “I see.” He cleared his throat, regaining his stoic composure. Though again he couldn’t help the tilt of his head. His dark eyes reflected the low glow of the elevator lights. Curiosity, inquisitiveness, attentiveness. What goal did she have now? Why did she say these things to him, she had a goal in mind- what did she want from Sibilus? Carefully he slid it away, somewhere hidden.

If Aemilia was a fire, perhaps reflected in those dark eyes was Aemilia’s own flame…or perhaps it was a spark of his own underneath.

It was difficult to tell, for how could a spark survive the unyielding current of the river that was Mars’ blood?

Sibilus turns away from her then, not wanting to meet her gaze any longer. Instead, he focused on the doors of the elevator, as if willing them to open faster. He didn’t speak of the robot, didn’t speak of the room, did not utter a single word of what had happened. It didn’t matter what happened, the current would consume everything.

As the elevator doors opened, he stepped out swiftly. Briefly glancing back over his shoulder at Aemilia- the spark was gone, as if it had been swallowed into darkness as dark as his eyes. “Shall we?” He asks.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘You don’t do nice very well.’

It was what Arcade wanted to say, except he knew it could be thrown in his face. How easily he’d let himself be beguiled by a drunken gambler named James Fox, full of flattery and a delicious accent. He had thought Vulpes was very nice then, but now, of course, he could only see him as one thing, and every word had an undercurrent of malice to it. The fact other people didn’t see this was almost lost to him.

Almost, but not.

How couldn’t they see it?

How had he missed it?

It was right there in the threat of ‘all is said and done’. Arcade presumed he could leave Vulpes too that, and wipe his hands of it, though he knew he’d never truly feel like they were wiped clean. Still, he didn’t…not support it. People trying to poison medicine deserved terrible fates. They were intentionally causing harm, and intended to on a massive scale, and not even to knowing victims!

This would be to people who didn’t know, innocents. Likely children.

They’d deserve what came to them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dish it out.

Arcade nodded. He did understand the rest without it being laid out.

Martina also understood what Vulpes was asking of her as she gathered the last of her things that she felt would be best to travel with. “I won’t,” and she would be out of there soon, rather than stay and let Sarah find her and the scene, as well. “Thank you, again.” She knew she was lucky he was near, knew she was lucky he even had a doctor…even if they didn’t seem to be friends. Or friendly.

She didn’t know what the situation was, and there wasn’t time to ask as she took a step out.

Arcade dared to call one question after her, “Martina, why are you working with the Legion?”

“Why are you?” She shot back, annoyed at it, “they’re doing good things, Medicus.” It was, apparently, all he was going to get, because she was around the corner of the hall and gone, going ahead of Vulpes and not staying to chat and answer more of his questions.

So Arcade scowled, and followed Vulpes out of the Vault 21, Sarah not stopping them to ask questions – she wasn’t in the lobby at all, which was a boon. When they stepped outside and headed back towards the Ultra-Luxe, he decided to ask Vulpes a question, “Why are you lying to Martina?”

There were simple answers: she was useful was the obvious one. Arcade would hate for that to be it, but he suspected it. It was better to hear it, and be reminded how terrible the man was, than to dwell on the thought that, for a moment, he considered Vulpes might have cared.

The violence he’d enacted was…extreme.

And pointed, with the left-sided strikes.

As if he cared.

As if he wanted them to know how much he’d cared.

It was hard to judge, and hard to believe, though, as they came upon the area of the Ultra-Luxe as Aemilia and Sibilus seemed to be leaving the Tops – and were approached by an NCR Trooper, of all people.

‘What is going on…?’ He could see something passed, but of course, didn’t know what it was. They were too far out of earshot.

~***~

Sibilus stiffened, but he took the gun.

Why.

It still hung between them. Aemilia could sense it, but she would not prod it or insinuate remembering it was asked. He breathed the name like a prayer, and Aemilia knew his mind was whirling with something unexpected, unanticipated, and completely bewildering. She had him, in a way, right where she wanted him. She did not know the outcome of this whirling mind and turning wheels, but that was the thoughtful area she wanted him in.

It could spell her end.

It could spell the start of an alliance.

That was the fun of the magic of secrets, really. Not that Aemilia wanted to be betting her life with every single one, but if there was ever a secret that needed that kind of gamble, this was it. It seemed despite his time as a frumentarius, this was one of the first times he was dealing with this. Perhaps, because it was his first time dealing with this, sans persona.

So Aemilia let him look away, and she listened to the music before the doors opened, and stepped out with his little ‘shall we’, amused by the comment. Where else would they go? “Yes, we shall,” as if they were sticking together, and not separating to go their separate ways to Fortification Hill after this, him reuniting with Vulpes and her with Arcade.

First, of course, was the pitstop to Swank.

“Hey doll! Already finished up with Benny?”

“Not really,” Aemilia rested her arm on the counter and leaned into it, “He wasn’t there,” she said, “And I need to know if you called up to his room to let him know I was coming, because I was expected?”

“Of course I did, babe, but what do you mean by that?” There was an edge of concern. Swank could read the room at least – he sensed the expected wasn’t a good part of this. “One of his guards answered when I buzzed.”

“The four of them are dead now,” Aemilia said, lowering his voice, “they tried to kill me,” and she took from the pocket the zippo lighter and set it on the counter, hearing the gasp of surprise as he clearly recognized it, “I did lie to you. I didn’t have a package for Benny but I was hoping to talk to him.” She brushed a hand by her forehead, showing the scar, “he did this to me, and I wanted to know why.”

“Oh—oh! You’re that Courier that’s all over the radio! Benny—well, that’s his lighter all right, but that’s not much proof for what you’re saying.”

“I know,” she agreed, “that’s why I didn’t mention it when I first got here. I was hoping he’d be here and I wouldn’t need to say anything to you about it, but he’s not, and Mr. House sent me to fetch a package for him that Benny stole from me. It seems you have an agreement with the securitrons not to enter the hotel.”

A thought came to mind, and she adjusted herself, “There’s also this message I was given in Novac,” after what she’d done to help, she’d been allowed to download it. She’d nearly forgotten about it, but she tilted the screen so that Swank could read it. “If you need more, Benny rigged a recording to play before my execution. He’s a bit dramatic,” he shouldn’t have given her any warning.

His brows knit together in a certain agony. Aemilia’s reputation preceded her as the Courier that got shot; Benny’s lighter and the words on the screen, along with the violence upstairs he was now privy to, aided that. No doubt, he’d find the recording. “Jesus, doll,” he breathed out, “I think we got a real problem on our hands. Can't believe Benny's a no-good stinkin' punk. Trying to play House like that...but Benny’s gone?”

Aemilia hummed, “Not sure what you want me to do, then.”

“I want his room,” Aemilia said plainly. “I’ve rigged it for his return, and it would be better if no one else entered it, if you catch my drift. Assuming I don’t catch up to him.”

Swank breathed out, “Yeah – yeah I understand. I’ll get the area outside cleaned up, and keep room service from going to clean the room up.”

“Thank you,” she pushed up. Sure, Yes Man had suggested she threaten him but…no. That wasn’t necessary, “I owe you one, Swank,” she winked.

He just laughed, a bit too nervous with all he’d learned to do much more, and no doubt thinking he wasn’t the one owed anything right then. They were able to walk out, Aemilia getting her sword back, but not reaching for Roland considering they had to cross to the Luxe.

And crossing that way brought yet another figure to her. “Aemilia?”

She turned to the unfamiliar face of an NCR Trooper. “That’s me,” she agreed, and was handed a crisp, folded and sealed, letter. “This is an invitation to the embassy on the strip, Aemilia. Ambassador Crocket would like to speak with you, when you have time.”

Aemilia could have laughed.

She managed to refrain with just the twitch of her lip, “Thank you,” she folded it again to tuck it into a pocket of her pants, “I have a bit of business to attend to right now, but I’ll visit him soon.”

That felt like the last piece.

Everyone had decided to place their bets on her.

 

[GorillaSuit]

Arcade had asked a question, and Martina had answered it swiftly and curtly. Vulpes had chuckled darkly, wondering if Gannon had assumed any other response. It was subdued swiftly- however, as it wasn’t long before they were walking up through the vault hallways. Thankfully the lobby was empty. While Vulpes had managed to clean himself enough to look as presentable as any other half-drunken gambler on the Strip, he knew that if one looked too closely or too long then the pinpricks of red on his outfit would be noticeable. It could be explained away with lies, though Vulpes did not desire to talk to any more profligates.

Vulpes crinkled his nose slightly as they stepped outside, someone was smoking nearby, and it lingered as potently as the smell of alcohol did on the Strip. Vice and sin were an integral part of New Vegas, it lived and breathed in her blackened alleyways and neon coated streets. Prostitution, chems, gambling- all of these things acted as the blood that pumped from her rotting necrotic heart.

Lord Caesar would purge this place, and build it into a grand capital even greater than Flagstaff. Its name would be Rome.

From behind him, the doctor spoke yet another question- the frumentarius glanced over his shoulder, pausing his swift strides to allow Arcade to stop next to him. At his question, he did not scoff or sigh, he mulled it over.

“She is exceptional.” He responded easily, as if it was obvious. “Born and meant to be a slave, a waste of her talent. There is a flame that burns inside her that is brighter than most recruits, a vitality of spirit and most importantly- she is cunning.” He shrugged; his face impassive as if there was no emotion behind those dead blue eyes of his. Though… perhaps a part of his monotone voice nearly sounded laden with…pride? No. An idea to scoff at for sure.

“Strictly speaking, she is not a frumentarius as women are not allowed such positions in the Legion. I am attempting to persuade Lord Caesar to make an exception due to her usefulness.” He continued, undeterred. “However, she is as dedicated as her name implies. Martina, servant of Mars. More importantly, she is loyal. That makes her valuable. Do you know how much loyalty is worth, Doctor Gannon?” His intense eyes move to the Follower. The weight of that gaze is nearly equal in weight to the burden Atlas was told to bear.

“It is priceless.”

With that, he continues walking- as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

Vulpes hadn’t been lying, he did not lie about things that did not earn him something in return. While his life was built on lies, he did not lie when it did not benefit him in some way. There was simply no point to do so. Lying was a tool, a weapon- though so was truth. If one told the truth, then it could be turned against them in some ways if they weren’t careful. Vulpes had been careful in his words, so that way Arcade as clever as he is- would not be able to wound him with his truths.

As he came to the front of the Ultra-Luxe, the frumentarius’ keen eyes spotted Sibilus and Aemilia among the crowd. Though she seemed to be having a conversation with an NCR trooper.

Well, how delightful.

He had known she would not be loyal to their cause. Though, he would not mention it. Instead, he would report to Lord Caesar later of her communications with the NCR. He would know what to do then, the Son of Mars always knows.

~***~

The gun stowed away onto his person felt like the red-hot steel of the Legion’s forges. If felt like it boiled his spine and melted away his flesh. Of course, it didn’t, but it felt as if it would, as if it could.

She was dangerous, he decided.

Even if she could not shoot her weapon of black powder and lead, she was still dangerous. Aemilia’s words were like blades hidden in the dark. You couldn’t tell when the strike would come, only that when it did- she would twist the blade. Manipulation, that is what this was. Sibilus should know, he was taught the artistry of such a thing.

Like an artist in his craft, he could appreciate her abilities… though being the person she was attempting to manipulate made him less inclined to respect her beguiling nature.

Sibilus did not give his own input as she stepped up to the counter to talk again to Swank. Instead, he watched her at her own craft. Sibilus observed silently, as if trying to pick apart the ways that she worked.

He would not get caught in her trap, he would not help her reach her end goal. Not when their goals so obviously did not align anymore. Just like anyone else, she would attempt to use him as a tool. He would rather be a tool for the Legion, than a crucified fool.

He decided to keep an eye much more closely on the woman from that point.

Eventually, her chat with Swank was over and they returned out onto the Strip. It was nearly sunset by this point, and the crowds were thickening in the street with an influx of bodies.

He took out the weapon from where it had been, despite the coolness of the metal- it felt like his skin had been burned raw. It felt like subjugation felt, the snap of whips and the bitter smell of blood.

“Here is your…Roland.” A name. He wondered what it meant.

No, no he didn’t.

He hands over the magnum, the exchange is made, and he looks up to the sky- there is not a single star in the darkening sky- and he knows with the lights from New Vegas, that they would continue to drown out the stars as the night went on. “Not even the eye of the Cretan bull is visible over New Vegas. It is there though, beyond the lights of the city.” He speaks, his words ambiguous and cryptic. “It has a name too, that particular star is called Aldebaran.” He finishes ominously. Turning to Aemilia and then gives a slight nod- as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary.

Perhaps it was a warning that ‘the bull’ was always watching. Or perhaps an attempt to share information in return for the name of Aemilia’s weapon. In any case, it had been said.

As they walked back to the Ultra-Luxe, Sibilus paused- watching the interaction with the trooper with observant eyes.

The chess pieces were set. The players were chosen. Now, it was up to the rest of them to play as pawns for what the powerhouses of the wasteland had in store.

He knew above, twinkling with red menace- was Aldebaran. He wondered if it could see into his soul.

Sibilus turns, noticing a familiar two figures among the crowd. He and Vulpes’ eyes catch- and the fox’s stare is harsh.

“There’s our associates.” He pointed out, as if to warn the woman. He wasn’t sure why- for Vulpes would seethe when he learns of the information Sibilus had already gotten.

 

[Lucyfer]

Aemilia almost chuckled at the way Roland was returned, but she didn’t. She hadn’t asked for it back, but accepted it all the same, as well as the name of a star, part of a bull constellation that she couldn’t see. She knew plenty of them, though – the Bull was a useful reference point when walking. She knew the stars the way old sailors knew them, and small stories tied to them to help her remember. Childhood things, of a wanderer.

But the night was finicky with its changing phases.

‘A name for a name.’ A small loss, and a small victory. The impact made itself known.

Enough that she was told when Vulpes and Arcade returned. Perhaps she would have been told regardless, or perhaps he would have simply let them approach. As it was, she was able to redirect from the Ultra-Luxe to Vulpes and Arcade.



Arcade, who was still dwelling on all Vulpes said of Martina. ‘Did you name her then?’ Or was it just a coincidence that Vulpes met someone with that name, and that meaning? Arcade didn’t get to ask that, somewhat blindsided by Vulpes not being a raging misogynist. There was care in there, and there was pride. He truly believed Martina would show enough good work to change Caesar’s mind. ‘You’re a fool.’

Arcade didn’t know Caesar, but he knew that when traditions were set, they were not broken so easily.

He didn’t even think Aemilia would break them, as she approached. “What was that about?” Arcade asked first.

“Caesar’s not the only one to recognize me recently,” it was the honest answer, “but I’m putting off Ambassador Crockett to head to Fortification Hill. Benny ran that way.”

Well, that was a bewildering decision. “What? Why?”

Aemilia could say. If she didn’t, Sibilus might. So she hedged her bets, “I don’t completely understand,” which was true, because she didn’t fully understand how the Platinum Chip worked, or what kind of fortification he was going to find that made it work. She didn’t know how it improved Mr. House’s defenses, or how he could take over from there.

If Sibilus thought to add his input, he could, and she would still not be lying. “Sibilus thinks he’ll be captured, and I’d rather like to meet him while he’s still breathing since he tried to kill me again with his bodyguards. But, I got a free room out of it,” she held up a key as if that was the real victory of it all, and Arcade sighed.

He wasn’t going to convince Aemilia to stay and help. “Well, I’ll have to catch up with you when you come back to enjoy that room.”

Her brows knit together.

“Something…came up…and it’s more serious than I expected. I’m going to look into the situation with Vulpes.”

“What situation?” Aemilia asked immediately, darting a glare at Vulpes as if this were some part of a larger plot. Why he’d need it, she didn’t know – it’s not like it would be difficult to off Arcade if he really wanted to.

 

[GorillaSuit]

As Sibilus approached, he gave a faint flicker of his obsidian eyes, a twitch of his brows- a subtle tilt to his head. A tension lingered in his jaw, and he lightly nodded to his superior as they met halfway near the Ultra-Luxe’s entrance door. Outwardly, to those untrained in the subtleness in human body language, he would simply seem reserved. Though the slight raise to his brows a slow blink of his eyes told Vulpes all he needed to know.

‘I have something to report.’ Sibilus’ body language spoke a thousand words more than he verbally could. Vulpes subtly gives a tiny incline of his head, to say he understood and would make time for his report very soon.

What had the Courier gotten into while she was gone?

She spoke as if she didn’t know, and perhaps that was the truth. There were many things Sibilus did not understand about the situation as well given the technical aspects, perhaps Vulpes would understand more than he.

“Yes, this ‘Benny’ will certainly get detained the moment he appears on our territory.” Vulpes agreed smoothly as she explained herself. Though most notably, Vulpes didn’t ask what purpose Benny could have trying to reach Fortification Hill. He did not try to pry the truth from her, and Sibilus did not tell anything else. At least… not in front of the two outsiders.

There was more she wasn’t saying, but luckily Sibilus would be able to tell Vulpes about that.

The leader of the frumentarii gave a deadpan expression as Ameilia looked accusingly towards him. “I did not request for Doctor Gannon to accompany me on this next objective. He himself was the one to offer his services. I will not deny, his knowledge in the medical field will be an asset for this particular mission. The details of which I do not mind being disclosed of in private.”

Vulpes gestured to the Ultra-Luxe. “I would not wish for prying ears to listen to any conversation.” The whores on the streets could be informants for the Omertas, they had quite a few. On the Strip, you were only worth how much information you could find to destroy your enemies with, it was a game Vulpes was quite familiar with.

“Your companion may brief you on the details of what we have discovered if that pleases you. Thanks to my benefactor, I am currently in possession to the keys of two luxury suites of the Ultra-Luxe. You may stay here if you may wish, or perhaps return to your own abode at the Tops. Or you could take these if you’d prefer not to walk back through the crowd.” He offers the set of keys to Aemilia. Should she take them or not, he will leave. “However currently, I am going to prepare for the mission I have ahead. If you would excuse me. ” He waved his hand in a flippant gesture before he continued his path to the Ultra-Luxe.

Sibilus glanced between the other two. “You likely may retrieve your meals. Or order new meals should you wish. Simply ask for it on Mr. Fox’s tab. If I do not see either of you again, then I bid you a good evening.” He did not try and offer and explanation as to why he left; he gave no reason- simply also made his way towards the Ultra-Luxe. He needed to make his report. Sibilus also hoped that he would be told of what Arcade spoke of, he was most curious.

 

[Lucyfer]

Vulpes claimed Arcade volunteered, and Aemilia saw the doctor nod in agreement, though it was with a weight, a near-sigh, that said there was quite a bit to say. She wouldn’t deny him the opportunity to explain it, as Vulpes seemed willing enough to grant that to them, as well as two rooms. Aemilia tookthe keys when they were offered, but handed them both towards Arcade. Vulpes was right to assume she’d prefer her own won room to any offering he had.

Of course, it was for reasons he didn’t know.

Reasons he was soon to know, though, as Sibilus made his departure into the Ultra-Luxe. He wasn’t going just to get food. Aemilia already knew he intended to tell Vulpes; it didn’t take a genius to recognize the hierarchy.

‘Pity.’

But this was just one lost battle, not the war.

“Let’s talk over food, then,” Aemilia said, and stepped in with Arcade. They didn’t annoy the Ultra-Luxe by asking to be reseated in the Gourmand. They took their meals and went up to the room that Arcade would be claiming as his own, although he looked uncomfortable and out of place around the luxury of it all. Silken sheets and shades of gold didn’t put him at ease, at all.

Aemilia felt that old twinge of jealousy, even if she had a room, too.

‘It’s not worth it.’

“How did Benny get away?” was the first question out of Arcade’s mouth, “He can’t outrun bullets, can he?”

“No, no, he wasn’t there,” Aemilia sighed, “He’d left before we showed up, but I was able to figure out where he went from his room,” she said, “I still don’t understand it, but I haven’t understood much since I was shot. Mr. House has said the Chip is something important, and I’m guessing there might be something at Caesar’s Fort that it goes to, but other than that,” a shrug, “I’m not sure what he has planned. Or how he plans to get around the Legion."

“Just steal their armor and walk in,” obviously, Arcade knew it wasn’t that easy, “and don’t call him Seizer,” he mispronounced, “Well, I hope you can find him before the Legion does. Even if they’ll keep him alive….”

“Yeah….” Their terms. It didn’t need to be said, “speaking of, why are you staying with Vulpes?”

Arcade paused in eating, fork hovering, before he set it down, “Martina – the informant – discovered a plot to do something broc flowers. That’ll harm…everyone in the wastes. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m not willing to wait around and see what becomes of this,” he said, and offered a half-smile, “You could stay and help. Leave Caesar waiting. He’d have to forgive you.”

She grinned, “Maybe, but he might get tired of Benny’s smart mouth before then.” And that was the driving point, the reason she’d come all this way, and the reason she’d dive right back out into the wastes. She would have walked into Caesar’s fort without the Mark to find Benny. This didn’t end until she found Benny.

‘And even then….’

“So…are you really not going to go see the NCR?”

“Not now,” she said, “I probably will. It’s nice to be in a bidding war, you know?” she chuckled, “although….” She trailed, mind going back to Yes Man.

‘Although I don’t need to be the pawn in their schemes.’

Arcade guessed incorrectly, without that knowledge, “Yeah,” he said, “it’s not exactly the best pickings either way you look at it.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed, “but someone has to win.”

She hadn’t expected to have an opportunity to win. To help, yes – but to win? It was still baffling. Perhaps that, more than anything, was why she kept silent and asked Arcade more about Martina, Vulpes, and the situation, gleaning that Vulpes may not be as misogynistic as the rest. It didn’t ease Aemilia much, but she wondered all the same at that inclination to disobey Caesar, in a way.

Arcade wondered, too.

Neither were willing to hope for much.

“Just be careful, Arcade.”

“You know, if you told me about Nipton, perhaps I’d know what to be careful of.”

She was hiding Yes Man. Did she need to keep hiding Nipton?

“It’s hard,” she admitted, “I keep thinking if I left Goodsprings even a day earlier, I would have been killed in Nipton. I still see the people strung up on crosses, and the burning pits. I still see the slaves I couldn’t save.”

She’d followed…but there was nothing she could do. One woman with a gun, against centurions? Perish the thought.

She’d never be able to look them in the eyes.

“And it was all over a lottery,” she took the ticket out of her pocket and laid it on the table between them. “This was the ticket of the second place winner who had his legs broken.”

“What…?”

“Vulpes lured Nipton into a trap. He created an elaborate ruse, drew the people to Nipton, and killed them by lottery. Life and death were at the whim of numbers, and most died,” she shut her eyes, “I killed several myself out of mercy.”

Arcade touched the lottery ticket tentatively, “Only one walked away unscathed?”

‘Two.’ She didn’t name herself. She didn’t play, but it felt like it, when she hadn’t shot Vulpes. Russian roulette – only the gun never went off.

“Yes. One had his legs broken. 5 were taken into slavery. All the rest….” Dead. Not an insignificant number. “Children among them.”

Arcade fell silent. His fingers retreated from the ticket.

Aemilia took it back, and tucked it into her pocket.

“I’ll be careful,” it was spoken far heavier now. Far more sincerely.

Aemilia rose, “I’ll be back soon. I need to start on my way.”

“Already?” Arcade said. “It’s night—”

“Arcade, do you think I spent most of my days sleeping in a fancy room at night?” she grinned, “This is why I worried about you traveling with me, you know. I don’t think you can walk through a day and a night as easily as I can.”

“That’s not something to brag about. You should sleep for your health.”

“I’ll consider it tomorrow night,” a bit teasing. She’d likely catch a nap sometime, but for now…she wanted to get going. “Benny isn’t that far ahead of me, anyways. And I don’t think he’s as willing to walk through a night. Maybe I’ll catch him.”

‘You’re obsessed.’

Obviously.

“Look – be careful. Do you have enough stimpacks?”

‘Never.’

“Of course.” And she reached out an arm, and Arcade hesitated a moment, before sighing and wrapping one around her in a hug, before letting her go out the door in pursuit of her prey.

 

[GorillaSuit]

Sibilus wandered through the halls of the Ultra-Luxe like that of a ghostly wanderer. At least that is what it felt like. He was just another face in the crowd, and whenever eyes passed over him- they would go through him as if they weren’t even seeing him. They were all so focused on their own lives, the gamblers, food connoisseurs, they all came seeking something at the Ultra-Luxe. Maybe a taste of the old world- a piece of life before the bombs. Before the only things that were left was ash, death and blood.

He never thought much about the old word, it never had much relevance to him. They lived in the skeleton of a world that once was, they couldn’t turn back time and see what the world had been like when it was a living breathing beast. Yet here in New Vegas, here in these halls…he wondered if the world could ever be rebuilt in a way to make it breathe again.

He didn’t think so.

After stopping in front of the door to the room Vulpes had been assigned, the other frumentarius knocked. It was a stiff knock with only two raps on the door with the edge of his knuckles. A light sharp sound that filled through the space of the nearly empty hallway.

The door was unlocked a moment later, and Sibilus entered as Vulpes stepped away from the door. From habit, he locked the door behind him. They said nothing as they walked away from the door to the farthest edge of the room, away from where anyone in the hall might be able to hear them from the door should anyone attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Vulpes hadn’t yet managed to shower or change, and instead lingered in the blood splattered clothing he had been wearing since the attack from Martina’s potential assassins. Sibilus took notice of the blood on his shoes, the black polished leather had dried blood at the tip of the shoe as if he’s stepped in a puddle of it. He was curious about what could have happened, but he had a few potential ideas on what may have occurred. He glances away, back up to the frumentarii leader’s eyes. “Omnia mihi narra.” Tell me everything, he ordered. While Sibilus like many of the Legion wasn’t completely fluent, he has learned much more of the language of Mars from Vulpes who seemed to be completely fluent.

He frowned as he thought of where to start. “We entered the Tops casino initially without trouble. We were able to bypass the security with me concealing the Courier’s magnum. After finding information from Swank-“ Vulpes didn’t need an explanation on who the man was. They were both aware of the heads of the casino families. “-We found that Benny had fled to the thirteenth floor. We entered the elevator, only to be met with by an ambush. Thankfully, the man had been a fool enough to record some speech to the Courier before the elevator doors opened. It gave us enough time to use the elevator escape hatch to stage our own ambush. After killing the targets, we then made our way to what was later revealed to be Benny’s room. Inside…” Sibilus squinted. “It was a securitron.”

“A securitron?” Vulpes repeated, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Continue.”

Sibilus launched back into his report, his monotone voice made it seem as if he was speaking off an internal script. “The machine said Benny had help from a ‘lady at a fort’ to have it reprogrammed for a specific purpose. I assume he must mean the Old Mormon Fort. The securitron’s purpose was apparently to hack into the Lucky 38’s mainframe and take it from House.”

“She has the room.” The frumentarii leader’s voice was grave and icy like the chilly hands of death itself. “That is why she was so pleased she had the room. It has that thing inside.”

Sibilus nodded, having come to the same conclusion. “Apparently the machine is very…agreeable. It does whatever anyone says, as Benny hadn’t realized the error of not programming it to listen to only him. Because of this, the robot revealed that Benny has a Platinum Chip on his person. It is… it-“ he scrunched up his face slightly, trying to remember how Yes Man had worded it. “A device that can be read by only specific technology, conveniently located underneath Fortification Hill. The Platinum Chip is supposed to be able to do…something to bolster House’s defenses.”

Vulpes’ jaw was set, the muscle visible as it tensed underneath the delicate pale white lighting of the room. It washed out his already pale severe features, sending dark shadows across his face that made him look all harsh lines and sharp edges. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

The frumentarius blinks. ‘Her gun’s name is Roland. She didn’t kill me, and I don’t know why. I ended up trusting her in the elevator ambush when I shouldn’t have. She lies as much as she speaks the truth. She asked Yes Man if he would listen to her.’ He thinks all of these things, but he can’t find it in himself to say a single one of them. He finds himself shaking his head. Vulpes already seems to realize the scope of such a machine, and the potential power it could have in the hands of the Courier who already seemed so fond of her new room.

Vulpes moves away from Sibilus, looking out the glass window and out over the Strip. The lights dance across the sky from various casinos, and from above the profligates below imbibing in their vices look like specks of dust on the wind. Or perhaps they look like ants did, before they were mutated into the giant things that they were now from radiation. The dissolute whores down below milled about like ants, tiny insignificant ants.

“She wants New Vegas.” He speaks. It’s not a question. So Sibilus doesn’t answer. Vulpes doesn’t look away from the window, and his face crunches up into a disgusted look as he drops his hands back by his sides. “I knew she couldn’t be trusted. However, I must admit that she has ambition. It will be fruitless, however.”

“What do we do?” Sibilus inquires, he too stares out the window- over Vulpes’ shoulder and out into the great wide world beyond. Above the sky had completely darkened, though the only light above was the dim moon the shape of a Cheshire cat’s sideways smile. “Lord Caesar doesn’t want her killed.” The other frumentarius doesn’t know why he bothers to bring it up, Vulpes already knows such a thing. Yet he did anyways- as if to try and…what, spare Aemilia? No, she dug her own grave, now it was time she lay in it.

Vulpes folded his hands behind his back and hummed slightly. “De omnibus dubitandum.” He replied, his words sharp like the sting of salt in a fresh wound. “She is not to be trusted under any circumstances. Go to Lord Caesar and give your report, but travel with the Courier. I want her to be watched consistently. That ‘Benny’ has not had much of a head start, should you manage to catch up to him- make certain she does not get the Platinum Chip. Otherwise, she is not to be harmed. Ut vult Caesar.”

Sibilus nods in understanding, which he knows Vulpes can see through the reflection on the window. Their eyes meet through the faint mirrored image on the window’s surface. “What will you do?”

Vulpes frowns slightly, and finally turns to him. Subtly, Sibilus takes a step back as Vulpes saunters past him. “I will continue to work with the Medicus. The Omertas attacked one of my most valuable informants. Though fortunately they lived to disclose information that they had obtained.” He suddenly turns on his heel, and despite being taller than Vulpes not an insignificant margin- Sibilus still feels small under the other man’s eyes. As if he is a young boy, all skin and bones first starting Legion training all over again. He blinks, as if to dislodge the faint familiar feeling. The other man continues. “The Omertas are attempting to mutate broc flower into an addictive substance, one that can kill.”

Sibilus sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Are you certain you don’t need my assistance?”

The other frumentarius gives him an amused chuckle. “No. You have your orders. Now, go. Sit tibi cor tundens cum sanguine Martis.”

The dark-eyed frumentarius doesn’t like that farewell, had never liked it. He did not want his heart to beat with the blood of Mars in his veins, no- he wanted simply not to drown in the tide of red.

Mars was red, so to were fresh whip marks on one’s back.

Red was the color of sunburned skin blistered by the Mojave sun.

It was the color of condemned men and women who remained tied to a cross even as they boiled alive and crows picked at their still breathing quivering bodies.

Red was the color of flesh, of the beating heart inside his chest- if he even still had one.

It was the color of heat, of molten steel and perhaps in the depths of a flickering flame.

The color of apples, and poppies, and old-world ‘strawberry’ things.

Red was the color bleeding gums and busted knuckles, it was the color of broken skin and the feeling of pain.

It was the color of their uniforms, and the color of their banners.

Red, red, red, red.

Everything was red, including the color of her hair.

Sibilus wondered if the drums of war beat in place of her heart as well.

He left then to collect his things from his own room. He dressed in his armor, the one that was emblazoned with scarlet. Though he covered his armor with a heavy and long buttoned trench coat. He needed it to disguise his armor until he left the Strip. Until he was out of NCR controlled territory. The leather was like that of a second skin over his own, like a leather glove that fit just the same as the first time one had put it on- and he wondered idly if Vulpes missed wearing his armor too.

The navy color of the trench coat blocks out the crimson. He steps out into the hall, and no one is the wiser.

isn’t much longer for Vulpes to get himself cleaned up properly and dressed in his disguise. Just another persona to adapt into, another shape to shift into.

He himself leaves not long after Sibilus does.

 

[Lucyfer]

Arcade was left to finish the meal he had, and he realized, much of Aemilia’s. He almost sighed when he realized that. Not that he wasn’t pleased to have good food, but the knowledge she was sticking to bad traveling habits when she’d had a moment to settle and enjoy didn’t sit well with him. Then again, as a courier, that was probably all she knew.

‘And who was she before?’

A question he’d never ask, but he didn’t want it asked of himself, in turn. They were allowed some secrets. They barely knew each other, after all. That reality set in as he packed the meals up and set them in the fridge for later. He barely knew her, and somehow, somehow, he had been convinced to go with her, and then to stay behind to help Vulpes.

Not that either were for her.

It was for him, to figure out what he could do to better help the world. Stopping the poisoning of broc flowers was one such way to do that. It didn’t matter that he was working with Vulpes Inculta if it saved the world, all that mattered was saving the world. ‘You’re going to need your tools for that.’ Right, he had not taken them from the Fort.

So, Arcade trekked out into the stunning neon that was in full bloom at night. The music blared everywhere, people moved and jostled others as they did so, drunk and in revelry. Well, most. Some were drunk and in misery, notably an NCR woman who was sobbing into another NRC trooper about the way the cold war had started to break her.

She just wanted to go home.

‘Don’t we all.’

Not that Arcade remembered home. It definitely wasn’t this, but he had to make this a home for himself. For his loved ones. They still lived out there, Daisy wishing to fly again, and Kreger seeking purpose, the same way that Arcade did, in a simple living out in Westside. It took plenty of willpower for the two of them not to visit each other more than they did, but they still lived under the shadow of threat.

‘If NCR wins, that will continue.’ The Legion was no better. So, should he back Mr. House? What did Mr. House think of the Enclave, or people who just…wanted to start over? Would he be forgiven for crimes he never committed, or would he be lashed to the cross of his father with Mr. House, as well?

He felt a welcome relief to step back into Freeside, the piercing neon glow leaving and giving him some peace of mind, away from the big question of Who To Back, now that he knew he had a say in it, because he was close to the person who had the lion’s share of chips, according to the three powers.

Was there another power? ‘The Followers?’ He almost laughed at the thought of Julie making a play.

And then he did laugh.

‘The Enclave?’

Arcade had no thoughts of leading, but what about Kreger? Was it even worth humoring? ‘Besides, there’s not enough of us. The other factions have armies.’ They couldn’t succeed. No, he’d just have to get some information on Mr. House and decide the best route from there.

One thing he knew, as he returned to the Fort and began to grab his supplies, stuffing them in a bag, was that it wouldn’t be the Legion.

With his things gathered, he made his way back towards the Strip, realizing he didn’t know where he’d find Vulpes. Sure, in the Ultra-Luxe, but were the people there just going to give him James Fox’s room number? Probably not.

Besides, the neon still made him feel…uncertain as it danced off his white coat, and he kept his head down on his way back, unaware the answer to where Vulpes was, could be answered on those same streets.

~***~

“Traders from the Mojave have confirmed that Nipton is a ghost town. Sources indicate the residents of Nipton were found crucified, suggesting a Legion attack on the town, although….”​

The news of Nipton finally reached Mr. New Vegas, the only voice Aemilia kept in the wastes. ‘I meant to tell him hello.’ Perhaps that was why he wasn’t telling her story of going into the Lucky 38 over this demoralizing, and old, story. At least, old to her. It was inevitable that someone would go there, and the reports would spread.

She hadn’t been able to say a word.

Even then, she barely listened as Mr. New Vegas spoke on, and as he shifted to music after a promotional plug for the Tops. She couldn’t help but snort at that. Yeah, they were the tops alright.

Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day…​

Her eyes occasionally shifted upwards, rather than down, to take a look at her direction. The pipboy was useful for many things, but old habits died hard. She wasn’t following the Bull, though now she couldn’t help but look at the one she knew as Taurus every now and then. She was watching instead Orion, Cetus, and the River that Cetus dipped their paw in. It was always funny to her that one constellation was just a line of stars as a river, nothing more creative, but if it worked, why change it?

‘It could have at least been a snake.’

Like the snake that was behind her. She’d noticed him a bit ago, but he hadn’t yet caught up.

Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see….​

She finally stopped walking and turned back, looking at him directly and lifting a hand in a wave, smiling, despite it all. She was a touch more burdened than before, a tan duffel bag slung over her body that she’d picked back up from the Followers, but not by much. The gun was still easily accessible, but it was left at her hip.

Could she pretend he lied to Vulpes? Of course she could, but she wasn’t an idiot. He was following her, likely planned to come up on his own time, comment on the same direction and safety in numbers – oh, but how could he trust her with why in his mind?

At a distance, there was almost something familiar about him, although Aemilia couldn’t place it, as the wave turned to a pointing finger up, “We can see your Bull now – Taurus,” she told him the alternative name, “but a creature of stars doesn’t need just one name, does she?” she then moved her finger a bit, “Sadly I’m following Orion to your Fort. I wish it was another season for dear Taurus, it’d be rather more poetic.” But following a hunter was still quite poetic.

And how she did love her poems.

“We’re going the same way, aren’t we? You don’t have to be shy. Unless you just hate Mr. New Vegas, then you might want to keep a distance.” Although she could turn the pipboy down. “But if not, you could come tell me how you learned the Bull’s secret name of Aldebaran, and maybe I’ll tell you how I learned her name of Taurus.”

 

[GorillaSuit]

The fox did not slink across the Strip as if it was trying to hide from the light. No. The frumentarius swaggered as if he belonged here among the vice and sin. He didn’t, he was far above the dissolute city of sin- but no other could see that. They would see a genial young man in a rich burgundy suit, the undershirt was also that same dark color with a few buttons undone to show some skin of his chest. Though despite the fact they were there, his scars were hidden by old world makeup. His hair was that of a wig, and was a bright pale color. Unlike his buzz cut it was ruffled at the top and curled above his upper forehead.

His smile was affable and his ice blue eyes were lazy and half-lidded. Though underneath his eyes still retained their clever shrewd nature.

After doing business with his ‘cleaner’ and sending them to Vault 21 to get rid of the Omerta thugs, he then began the task of tracking down his ‘colleague’ for his mission.

Luckily, foxes were excellent trackers.

He was pointed in the direction of the Strip’s gate. Apparently the good doctor had left. Vulpes did not fret, if the man had decided to abandon the mission, Vulpes would find a way. ‘Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo’. If Vulpes could not bend the heavens he would move hell. He would always find a way to accomplish his goals.

Besides, Vulpes was no medicus. Though that did not mean that he was completely ignorant to profligate technology. He was quite knowledgeable in science and understood a great deal.

Though the frumentarius did not expect to have to go alone. Arcade struck him as the type of man to stick firmly to his moral code. A weakness, but also commendable in a way. Vulpes liked the loyalty to one’s beliefs; he himself had his own he would not stray from, but Arcade’s were inherently and deeply flawed. Far too strict and unyielding for the world of dark greys and ominous blacks. Arcade’s code was far too naive and idealistic to be practical.

For what hurts an idealist more than reality itself?

Vulpes did not need to wait long, he leaned casually near the gate and watched it with intense eyes. Eventually it wasn’t hard to pick out his target from the crowd given the rich blond hair, tall figure and stark white lab coat. The frumentarius clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, the man would stick out like a sore thumb in a place like Gomorrah.

The man doesn’t see him, seemingly looking through the crowd but his gaze never lingering over Vulpes long. The frumentarius slinks off of the wall and through the crowd towards the doctor.

“Hey, babydoll. Glad you could make it.” He purred, again his voice switched from his normally cold tone to something completely different. It was as if he’d spoken in such a way all of his life, and hadn’t simply slipped into a persona. He gets close to the man. “Vincent Thebes, but you can just call me Vinny.” Thebes, a city in old ancient mythology had a village within it that long ago was beset by a man-eating fox in order to punish the wicked sinners. The fox, known as the Teumessian Fox or the Cadmean Vixen (which Vincent was perhaps a play on the sound of) was destined never to be caught, always ten steps ahead of its pursuer.

Of course in the old story, Zeus- the other name for Jupiter, saw the paradox of Laelaps the dog destined to forever hunt its prey, chasing the fox who could never be caught. As such he turned them both to stone.

Vulpes, however- had no inclination of ever being turned to stone. For he was destined to never be caught, and all of those who had ever chased him were never as determined as Laelaps.

~***~

Sibilus did not attempt to soften his boots on the cracked asphalt as he approached. His movements were swift, as he heard rumors of Aemilia having already left the Strip.

Out into the darkness and away from the lights of the Strip, it was where snakes belonged. Underneath rocks or rotten logs, hidden by shadow and natural camouflage. They didn’t want to bite, but if a traveler lifted the stone where they lay- or if they tread upon the serpent, it was forced to protect itself.

Snakes were ambush predators by nature, only striking with fang and venom when unwary prey lingered close.

Though Aemilia was not prey. She was… another predator lingering in the tall grass. Perhaps an opportunistic creature, a scavenger who stole the kills of other hunters. Sibilus’ boots against the pavement was the rattle of a snake’s tail. An announcement of his presence, a warning.

‘Do not tread on me.’

As she turns, he pauses his approach.

His head tilts curiously at her. Dark eyes regard her thoughtfully.

This strange weight settles between them. He knows she knows that he told Vulpes of Yes Man, of Fortification Hill, and of the MacGuffin required for it all. Yet, what did she truly expect? He was the eye of the Son of Mars.

Aldebaran…. The red eye of the bull.

Red.

As she waved and still smiled at him, seemingly despite everything, he said nothing. Sibilus had stopped a few feet away from her. He himself is still dressed in the trench coat that disguises his true allegiance, though the outline of his shoulders look broader from the pauldrons underneath. There is an unmistakable bulk underneath the coat that a keen eye would be able to observe. For Sibilus had no reason to try and hide anything from Aemilia. They each knew what the other’s intentions were already.

Though, the way Amelia went about them was… questionable. He wasn’t sure what the clever woman had in store just yet.

When she mentions Taurus, he gives an affirming hum. “It would have been quite poetic indeed to follow Taurus to the home of the bull. Though… you are surely not Europa.” No, she was no damsel being whisked away by the Cretan bull. She walked there of her own accord, perhaps lured by the promise of blood. “Instead, we will follow the hunter this night as he chases Lepus through the sky.”

He is silent for a moment before he responds to her quip. “Yes, we are traveling in the same direction.” He replies, inclining his head to gaze at the stars above. He had missed the pinpricks of light up in the sky, it made him faintly nostalgic for repressed memories of perhaps his oldest and truest home. Part of him wanted to reach out for them, as if he can grasp them as a physical thing he could obtain. As if they weren’t millions of light years away, as if they wouldn’t turn him to ash even by being within his vicinity, as if they weren’t unreachable or unknowable. He wants to reach and trace their patterns in the sky with his fingertips… Though he doesn’t, because it is illogical. “I am indifferent to your music.” He responds and walks to stand beside her. “Shall we?” He echoes his words from back in the elevator.

As they begin to move, he continues to look at the sky above with a critical gaze. “My knowledge of Aldebaran’s name comes from the legends of our religion passed down to us from the Son of Mars. Learning these stories of the stars is also from a logical need to know and memorize said stars so we may guide our way through the darkness.” Truthfully, while every legionnaire had learned of the stories, it was perhaps Sibilus who had taken more of a hyper fixation on stories pertaining to the sky. While other legionnaires would remember the name of Tarus, Orion, Erinadus, Lepus and many others- a great many would not take such heart in learning their many other names, nor would many be interested in being able to repeat their stories regarding their mythology. Sibilus had been different, in that regard.

The only constant in his world had always been the stars. They were always there, even if he could not see them from light pollution or overcast weather.

They would die too, one day- but that day was far after he himself died and the world was consumed by the sun. He would know their names, would learn their stories- and take heart in the fact that he would always be able to look up and see them there. Or to at least know that they remained above- even when they weren’t visible.

“It is said that Taurus was actually the god Jupiter who had taken the form of a bull, he kidnapped a woman by the name of Europa. There he took her to Crete, which is why its other name is the Cretan bull.”

He thinks his tribe may have worshiped the stars, faintly he remembers the dancing under the night sky. No fires burned in order to better be able to see the twinkling lights above. Sibilus isn’t certain if it is a real memory, or if it is a false one. He remembers so little from that time- so little from his childhood. Perhaps he had repressed it, so that way he may survive easier in the cruel world he had been brought up in. After all, it is easier to accept your fate if you do not remember better times from before.

 

[Lucyfer]

Arcade was not expecting an approach.

He was definitely not expecting such a shocking one as he was given, the voice initially throwing him into thinking it was a stranger trying to hook up. When he sees who it is, that annoyed surprise turns to – well, annoyed, and a touch angry, as his expression settles into a glare, although he realizes this is a ruse.

A game.

“Vinny,” he greets, trying not to just spit the false name.

Not that Vulpes had any real ones, apparently.

Thebes is familiar. His mind is already doing those rapid connections with all the ‘fox’ motifs that Vulpes liked to play around with, and he sighs, as if resigned to his fate of forever being around someone hopelessly obsessed with foxes. As if it were dealing with a child who couldn’t get over their Grognak obsession.

“I have to take things to my room, unless there’s somewhere else I need to be right now,” some reason Vulpes was calling him ‘babydoll’ of all things, and clearly insinuating some intimacy in the fact he should be using a nickname.

A game was going on, and Arcade was not delighted that it involved this. “You are welcome to join me in my room, of course, Vinny.” No, he had no idea what was going on, but supposed if Vulpes wanted to actually explain clearly, he could do so. If there wasn’t time for that, Arcade would just let himself be dragged into the situation.

And do his best to follow the lead already set without stumbling anymore than he already had by glaring.

Vulpes couldn’t really blame him for that, though. He hadn’t been briefed, and he didn’t exactly want Vulpes flirting with him. He would think Vulpes hated it himself given all that Legion talk against homosexuality, if he wasn’t sure Vulpes enjoyed torturing him like this. If there was anything any legionnaire loved, it was torture!

‘And he’s not shy about that.’ No, not if all Aemilia said about Nipton was true. That was…an immense degree of torture, not only physically, but truly mentally, and emotionally, to put people through that kind of hell.

~***~

It seemed that Sibilus knew the story and name of Taurus, too. Aemilia scoffed at the idea of being Europa – no, that wasn’t fitting. The names he spoke of were all fairly familiar to her, including Lepus, and she nodded her agreement as they fell in step once more on their journey through the night. Keeping to the road would also help them keep on path, and she intended to do that as much as possible.

Route 188 would come up and be their first turn. She didn’t want to venture all the way to Boulder City with Sibilus; something told her that wouldn’t go over well. She intended to cross into Legion territory as soon as she could. That would make it easier on him, and in theory, her, as well.

She turns the music down, mostly to be able to hear him, but it continues on, endlessly. Ever since obtaining the pipboy, she rarely turned it off on journeys on the road. It was…pleasant, even if it did alert others to her presence. “Mmm, that makes sense. Most of those I know learn them for practical reasons. They don’t remember much about the stories. Certainly not Europa and Zeus,” that was the name she knew it under, rather than Jupiter. “Or the minotaur and the labyrinth, Icarus, or all the others.”

With brahmin, somehow a minotaur hadn’t seemed too far-fetched to young Aemilia.

“They don’t need to in order to navigate. The constellations just make useful patterns to guide the way, the stories little ways to remember what they are. So long as you know Taurus is a bull, you know the shape to look for.”

But a small smile remained. “I didn’t learn about them from the stars, though. I was always reading,” it was her escape, after all. “There was a merchant who came by and brought books with him. I’d scavenge whatever I could, but I think he always planned to give me a book when he came through, no matter what I had. Nuka cola bottles aren’t worth much on their own,” but he took them, and gave her books that were mostly legible.

“He gave me one that was all about mythology. My favorite was the story of Pandora, but Europa’s story was in there. I learned when I started out as a courier what all the constellations were, and figured out quick the stories were connected. Not Pandora, though. She doesn’t get a constellation.”

So it was irrelevant. “Of those, I think I like the story of Lyra best.”

She canted her head at him in the dark, “Did you learn either of those stories with Caesar?” Did he wonder at the knowledge others had of it? Did it ever bother him? Or did he assume that of course others knew, it was a religion, after all!

Everyone else just had it wrong.

 

[GorillaSuit]

“you know I have business in Gomorrah, doll. Can’t be dallying around all night in the city that never sleeps. Especially not when there are deals to be made, things to be sold.” He gives a sly little wink that seems like it is a natural reaction despite being calculated, just like the rest of his persona. Vulpes is indirectly feeding him more information about his current persona without going much into detail. While Vulpes would like to brief the other man in order to make their story align later, the frumentarius doesn’t want to let any more time pass. The situation was delicate and time sensitive, and the sooner they made their own moves- the better it would be. “Don’t worry, love. You can drop off your things in my room at the Gomorrah, being as close to the head honchos as I am- they give you all sorts of things for free.”

He straightens his suit despite the fact it wasn’t lopsided in the first place. “I already sent for a ‘housekeeper’ to go to the other room- I know I left it a mess,” a reference to Vault 21. The entire time he has that same slick grin on his lips.“-and then I sent for a runner to let Nero and Big Sal know I’m on the Strip. They invited me to a poker game, and I’m sure they won’t mind me bringing my good luck charm.” He grins coyly, like he is all playful round edges. As if he is docile and harmless. As if he hadn’t been the man to raze Nipton to the ground. “Don’t want to be late, or at least more late than fashionably late. Maybe this time with you at my side, I'll actually win this time, eh?” He chuckles, and it may sound pleasant- but Arcade can likely hear the sinister tone underneath given that he has been well acquainted with his personality shifts. The lingering danger never went away, like a knife in the dark or fangs at one’s throat.

He offers his arm, as if he was one of those old world gentlemen. “Glad I could finally convince an upstanding citizen like yourself to join me in Vegas, consider it my treat, babydoll. A taste of the high life.”

They needed a valid reason and explanation to assume why a Follower of the Apocalypse would be willing to walk into a den of vice. As far as Vulpes knew, they despised addiction as much as the Legion. (Perhaps not quite as much, given their leniency towards them.)

In any case, it would be questionable for the man to be his plus one without some sort of reason behind it.

One of the easiest explanations that the Omertas likely wouldn’t pry into, would be that of ‘Vinny’ taking on Arcade as a lover. Vulpes had other ideas, but that was the one that had the most easily explainable justification.

The feeling of ‘love’ or simply the primitive chemical reactions in the brain- it made people lack sense. It was a weakness that could be exploited. It could make people be willing to do things that they wouldn’t normally do. It was an Achilles heel, and therefore a valid explanation.

He doubted the doctor would agree with his logic, and so it was better to simply keep him out of the equation until vital to do so. Risky, but necessary.

Vulpes knew that Arcade likely wouldn’t take his arm, but that didn’t matter. No matter what his reaction was, he would lead them down the crowded streets of New Vegas and closer towards the red building with braziers full of burning fires. The blinking lights and the dancing whores outside tried to beckon and lure them in.

Vulpes smothered the disgust he felt at such a den of iniquity. The filth that called such a place a paradise… he could only take heart that the profligate sinners would be exterminated once Lord Caesar had his Rome.

Despite his underlying abhorrence for such a place, he smiled brightly- his body posture languid as they strolled through the doors of Gomorrah.

He was a shapeshifter, simply playing the part.

~***~

“The stories are…” my favorite. He wants to say. He doesn’t, finding it too strong of an admission, even if it was the truth. “-Intriguing.” He settles on, hoping he manages to cultivate that detached countenance like his superior somehow always manages. Sibilus doesn’t think it should be so hard for him, but it has been a long while since he has done anything besides playing a role. It had been easier as Skitch, back when the lies flowed freely and the confident charisma of the Kings flowed through him.

He feels like a puppet on stage, his movements are never his own until the show is over and his puppet master walks away. Even then, the strings that hold him are like chains- and when they are slack it is impossible to move. To breathe his own life into his performance.

He glanced as she spoke further, of the old stories he is so fond of. Some spoke in their religion, and others he had found himself through independent study. Only after becoming a frumentarius was he permitted to access the knowledge of books- and only then what Caesar gave permission to read. He knows why, or at least has a suspicion. The more knowledgeable a populace, the more informed they are upon their decisions. Free will isn’t something that is readily appreciated among an army of slaves.

“No, they do not need to be known to navigate. Though it makes it easier to remember their forms.” He tries to justify his interest, for though it may be religion- not many except the faithful are willing to heed the stories and fables. Though he reminds himself that he need not try to justify himself to her, and that she won’t know if it is strange to care about names or stories.

He listens with that same intense gaze of ominous darkness that seems to linger. He is a polite listener, nodding at appropriate points during her small brief glimpse into her own past.

She speaks of her favorite story, and he thinks of his. He almost speaks it too, lips parting in order to say the names of those in his favorite story. Though she questions him, he reminds himself that he should remain guarded.

“I am vaguely familiar with both, though not from Caesar’s teachings…” they did not have many stories of women unless it was stories like Europa’s. Where Jupiter forced himself upon her. He had not learned of Diana through their religious teachings, but again by independent study.

They were told stories such as Alpheus and Arethusa- where a huntress was forever hunted herself, pursued endlessly by the river god Alpheus. Or of Daphne who had turned into a tree upon begging her father for help as she rejected Apollo. Women in their stories were always something akin to game to be hunted, and it saddened Sibilus. It reminded him of the women at the Fort, who had long ago been taught not to run. For fear of torture and grief like poor Arethusa and Daphne.

Sibilus sighed, as if he had worn down his own reluctance to speak of his own favorite myth. Upon hearing hers, he felt it only made sense… a secret for a secret.

“I have learned a great many things from books as well, in my own independent studies. Tell me, in your books, have you heard the story of Philemon and Baucis? That… It is the most fascinating to me.”

He avoided saying it was his favorite, or that he liked it- for that gave the impression he was emotionally connected to it within some way.

Though… perhaps he was.

 

[Lucyfer]

Arcade stared blankly at first as Vulpes continued in this charade, not quite able to match the charismatic fox as the story was laid out in, well, a story. Arcade could read between the lines, but he wasn’t as accustomed to lying so quickly on his feet. Well, he was, but not in this fashion if truth was to be told, so it took him a moment for his brain to catch up and start pulling his body through the reactions that should accompany this.

Apparently, he was Vinny’s…well, lover.

That was obvious with the nicknames and commentary on good luck charm, and easy invitation to the room. Not to mention the offered arm. Arcade couldn’t help the nervous laugh, but he forced himself into playing it off, touching Vulpes’s arm and brushing it down, “ I told you, I’m still shy about this, Vinny,” playing shy would likely explain any nervous tics. Playing uncertain about the high life of Vegas would help a bit with all of it.

And Vulpes seemed to fit quite well into his mold as cavalier gentleman who was inclined to be a bit pushy, so it ought to match well enough. Vulpes would never dare go as far as some, given his inclinations, so Arcade wasn’t in real danger of having his dignity stained any further by a play of Vulpes to keep in character.

At least, he hoped, as though he wouldn’t take the arm, he would hover close to Vulpes as they entered Gomorrah. Despite the favor, he was still asked to give over his weapons once more, and he did so as if it was a surprise request, as if he really didn’t know much of New Vegas, and he let them reassure him that he would be ‘perfectly safe’ in Gomorrah, although that was a flat lie.

Maybe safe from guns, but everything else was fair game.

The whores were of no interest to him, so it was easy not to look at them, and keep his attention focused on the path Vulpes cut through the crowd, until a gravelly voice called from near a stairway, “Ya blind or ya forget your way around, Vinny?”

Though Arcade didn’t know the man on sight, it was Big Sal lingering in his suit, smoking a cigar, and looking both mildly annoyed, and mildly amused, as smoke poured over his lips. He seemed to notice Arcade gravitating closer to him, “Who’s the friend?”

“I’m Arcade Gannon,” he had no reason to be in a persona, “Vinny brought me to show me the high life,” a mild chuckle, “he spoke very well of your hospitality here,” an anxious step forward, brushing by Vulpes’s shoulder, as he offered a hand to shake.

“Did he now? Heh,” Big Sal took the hand, “I’m Big Sal,” he introduced, and Arcade mimed surprise. He hadn’t known who it was, but he’d gathered someone in charge from the easy presence they had, and confidence with which they’d called out.

Not to mention, Vinny already mentioned having a game lined up.

~***~

‘Not from Caesar’s teachings.’ A small reveal, but one Aemilia docked away. It meant that either he had stumbled upon them accidentally, or more likely, he had pursued them. How and why were the questions to ask, and also the questions she could not ask directly. At first, he did not reveal much of the stories he knew, and Aemilia was prepared to ask a question she always asked – but then he sighed.

Then he mentioned a story.

The names were vaguely familiar, but not familiar enough to be confident in her memory. “I think I have. I think it involves a dinner, though, not one that ends as dramatically as Tantalus.” No, she didn’t remember how this one ended, or why it was important, in truth. The good stories were always easier to forget than the ones with terrible endings.

Why else would people remember Megara and Hercules, but not Hercules and Hebe?

“Would you tell it?” Even if she could remember it in full, she likely would have asked that. “There’s always variations,” which was a fascinating thing of history and storytelling. “I also want to know what you know of Pandora – so far, I’ve never found someone who knows the variant I know.”

People who knew it, usually said one of two things: that Pandora sealed Hope in the box, or that she sealed the knowledge of Nuclear Warfare. The latter were an interesting group, usually. They didn’t believe in a true Pandora, but they believed that to be the forbidden thing that should have never been unleashed, that nuclear warfare had stolen all hope for the world, and the demise of all was inevitable.

Funny how they didn’t just kill themselves.

Of course, telling them they still had hope never went over.

 

[GorillaSuit]

Of course, ‘Vinny’ walked around with a swagger expected from any well-established businessman, even in Gomorrah- especially in Gomorrah. In fact, the cunning behind his eyes that he normally tried to play down for other personas felt right at home in the skin of a savvy businessman.

Now that Arcade seemingly understood the nature of Vulpes’ intended lie, he didn’t try to cajole the other man to play his own role any differently. Vulpes appreciated the angle of shy lover, as that meant he did not have to touch the other much unless punctuating supposedly established attachment. While Vulpes did enjoy making the doctor irritated, he also had no desire to play into the farce of a degenerate ‘relationship’ with another man more than he already had to.

They entered the casino and were asked to remove their weapons, Vinny of course claimed he hadn’t had any on his person. Though Vulpes’ cold critical gaze assured that was a lie. Not that anyone else managed to notice. The security at Gomorrah hadn’t bothered to pat him down, as his persona was already known well enough that he was trusted.

As the voice cut across the room as they cut a path for the stairs, Vinny gave a coy grin and cocked his head over his shoulder before turning to Sal. He did not interrupt Arcade’s introduction, though raised a brow upon the man giving his real name. Obviously not something he would have done.

“This golden dreamboat is my new steady. Arcade-baby has never been to the Strip before, so I decided to treat him while I had this little business endeavor lined up.” He moves next to the man and slowly sets a hand as if he’d be touching the small of Arcade’s back. Though he didn’t touch completely, only gave the illusion of such. It was as if he wasn’t trying to spook the other man away or press his luck that he’d be committed enough to the persona to allow him to touch him. Vinny offers his other hand to Big Sal to shake, as if they were old friends catching up with each other and not someone Vulpes wanted to personally gut with his ripper for his treason.

“Just gotta get him set up in my room, didn’t want him having to be lugging his things everywhere. Unless you and Cachino are really that eager for me to wipe you out for payback last time and want to head to the table. Hope you have an extra chair, because I’m not getting rid of my good luck charm. Unless-“ His voice dips lower as if conspiratorially speaking to Arcade, flirtatious and seductive as he puts on a show again of artificial charm. As if they were lovers and didn’t despise one another. “-Maybe there won’t be enough chairs and we can see if that good luck you have won’t rub off on me with us sitting together all cozied up.” He punctuates it with a sensual little chuckle, before turning back to Big Sal and he returns to speaking normally and not in that theater projected murmur for their audience’s benefit.

“If you’re in a hurry to get cleaned out, then maybe we can send for someone to take Arcade-baby’s things up to my room. Of course, only if that’s okay with you, babydoll.” Vinny raises his brows at Arcade before turning back to Big Sal. Conversationally he asks: “Nero joining us tonight too? Or is the head honcho too busy?”

“You bet your ass I am.” A voice calls out from the stairs and Vinny glances over his shoulder and gives a grin. It’s the man himself Nero, the head of the family himself- normally cooped up in his private hotel suit and conducting the Omerta’s shady operations from veritable safety from his coward’s retreat. “It’s been far too long since I had the pleasure of taking all your chips, since I couldn’t make that last game. Heard Big Sal hit you hard last time.” The man gives a guffaw before snapping at one of the nearby staff members. “Take his stuff to room 103.” The staff member gave a small nod and offered to carry Arcade’s things.

~***~

“The story of Baucis and Philemon…” He spoke after some silence, as if he wouldn’t tell the story. Though initially it seemed he wanted to gather his thoughts and he abruptly launched into his tale. “It was said that long ago that whenever Jupiter was wearied of drinking ambrosia and listening to Apollo’s lyre- he would come down from Olympus and disguise himself, looking for adventure. His companion during these visits would often be Mercury. It was on one of these visits that the gods decided to test the hospitality of the people of Phrygia. They disguised themselves as poor wayfarers and knocked on the door of each home no matter if it was a lowly hut or a grand house. They asked to simply seek shelter. Yet each time, they were turned away by the people.”

He did not look at her as he spoke of the tale, instead his eyes flickering over the dark horizon- his ears on alert for danger. He listened acutely despite the noise of the Pip-Boy’s radio and the sound of his own voice as he wove the tale he cherished so. He only hoped that due to not looking at Aemilia, that she would not see the excited glimmer in his dark eyes at being able to speak the tale. It was something he had carried in his heart, but due to never having an audience- it had been something he could never share.

“Eventually they came to the poorest home they had come across, a ramshackle hut with a roof constructed solely of reeds. Again they knocked and upon the door being open, they were greeted by a warm and cheerful voice that beckoned them to enter. Living in the warm but tidy hovel was an elderly couple by the name of Baucis and Philemon. Despite Jupiter and Hermes being disguised as lowly travelers- they were treated well by the old couple. They were fed the finest food and spirts they had, which wasn’t much- but they gave it freely. It was as they poured the wine they realized that no matter how much they poured from the mixing bowl, it always remained full. Then and only then did they realize who their company was.”

He nearly quirked a small grin, and his lips did twitch as if to do so. Though he managed to smother it. “Upon the realization that dawned on them, they tried to obtain a goose for which they might cook. Though after chasing it until they became exhausted and they returned inside without the goose, the gods laughed in amusement and decided to act. They told them both that they had been hosts to gods, and for that they would be rewarded.” He broke up his story into segments, in case the woman had wanted to interject with comments of her own.

“Though their wicked countryside would be punished. In a moment, a great lake appeared outside of their home- washing away all others. Their neighbors had not been kind to the couple, but still they wept for their loss. However, it was not long before their tears vanished and was replaced with an awestruck wonder as their lowly hut turned into a temple of marble and gold. Jupiter told them to ask for anything and it would be given in reward to them. The mortals murmured to themselves for a moment before ultimately deciding to ask the gods to serve them as their priests and to guard the temple that had been erected. They asked that they never have to be apart from one another, and that when they pass, they would like to pass at the same time- so they may never know what it is like to live alone. The gods granted their request, and after many years of serving in that temple- they eventually felt their end approaching. They began to sprout leaves, and they bid each other farewell as they blossomed into trees. They remained together that way, the linden, and the oak growing from one trunk.”

He finished his long-winded tale, and perhaps he could have skimmed over details. Though he had been so enveloped in the story that it was only after speaking that he realized that he likely had lost the other’s interest long ago. He cleared his throat slightly. “Forgive me, I perhaps should have glossed over some details.” The normally blank faced frumentarius sounded nearly...bashful?

Sibilus found heart in such a story, perhaps likening it to his own life. If he just served his own god, the Son of Mars faithfully, then surely he would be rewarded eventually- right?

Or perhaps a small part of him longed to be like the elderly couple, to not be alone in his death. Too good of a fate to be anything but a fairytale.

He then regarded Aemilia’s question of what he knew of Pandora, and he seemed reluctant to speak more after already having woven such a long tale. Though after a tense pause, he allowed himself to speak again. “What little I know of Pandora is that she was supposedly the first human woman created after Prometheus stole fire and gave it to mankind. She was created by Vulcan or Hephestus depending on which names you follow- upon the order of Zeus, Jupiter’s equivalent. This was to counteract the blessing of the understanding of fire bestowed onto humans. She had a jar…or a box in some cases- which contained all manner of evils. Perhaps curiosity, hubris or simply following her duty and the reason for which she was made caused the world to become filled with evil.” He did not mention hope. Seemingly unaware of that part of the myth’s existence. “That was all that was legible through the various sources I obtained.”

That was before he had become a frumentarius, before when he was only a recruit without a title. There was refuge to be found in stories, but the price to pay if one was caught with such information, was death. So, he would read by squinting in the darkness of a hiding space- trying in vain to see if any words were legible from the book he had swiped while on scouting missions. Most of the time, they had not been. Though very rarely, a gift it was to find that a few pages or even an entire chapter was in good enough condition to read. Then, once he was done- he would sneak it away into the campfire and watch in a strange sort of poignant somberness as the stories he loved turned to ash. Their pages curled up and their spines splintering underneath the heat of the flame.

Sibilus had only got caught once, and while it normally would be received with the punishment of crucifixion- it had been Vulpes that had discovered what he had done. Instead of punishing him, the man had just given him a strange little stare that had made Sibilus feel utterly and completely seen. Vulnerable and bare underneath that gaze that seemed to bore through him. Sibilus wondered if the other man had also done such a thing before he had found his spot at the top, if he had been as hungry for the knowledge in old books as he was.

He had been accepted into the frumentarii not long after.

After that, he had more access to books. Though the lingering fear of being caught with one had never gone away. Any knowledge that Caesar might consider beyond him would be a valid justification for his crucifixion.