Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The lights of New Vegas were out.

For centuries, it was a bastion for all to come and spend their fortunes; the gleaming bright neon signs coalescing into one great beacon, like a lighthouse signaling boats to their safe haven. Only now, it has gone dark- it, and all the surrounding settlements nearby seemed abandoned.

Hank MacLean, former overseer of Vault 33, trudged along in his stolen Power Armor. With each step he took to New Vegas, the more his adrenaline began to wear off, and he could slowly start to feel the pain in his cheek. It wasn’t just the pain there that he felt; sure, there was him walking in a device he barely knew how to use, the wind blowing sharply against his face, the hot sun that was mercifully going down. There was also the feeling of betrayal, seeing his own daughter turn against him just like his wife did all those years ago.

Should he call himself a widower? Technically , Rose was still alive, but Hank refused to admit that thing sitting in that chair was her. As far as he was concerned, she was long gone. She was gone the moment she left the vault.

It wasn’t his fault. Taking care of what was formerly known as Shady Sands was only natural. He had to send a message, didn’t he? That life was better in the vaults than whatever savage imitation of living the people up top thought they had. They needed a lesson; she needed a lesson. And now Lucy was showing those same signs Rose had, of this useless idea of independence- like mother, like daughter, he supposed.

The closer Hank got to the city, the more he could see how it both changed and remained the same. He remembered going to Las Vegas, back before the bombs fell. Truly, it was a sight to behold. It surprised him to see the towering spire of the Lucky 38 still standing, even after all these years. The city seemed to have expanded, massive walls of scrap metal erected all around the perimeter, pipes going to and from the city traveled miles away to god knows where.

He passes by one of the smaller settlements, seeing doors and windows boarded shut. A hint of a young face is seen by an unboarded part of a window, before it's seemingly snatched away. Near the edge of one building, a large wooden sign is set up with big bold lettering:

NEW VEGAS CITY LIMITS

NO BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL

NO ENCLAVE

ALL REFUGEES WELCOME

How very generous. Did his coworkers have a change of heart? Perhaps Robert House was up to something. That sly bastard always did have an ace up his sleeve.

No sooner had Hank stepped past the sign did he hear the blast far too late. It zipped past his armored foot, landing behind the sign. He immediately held up his hands in the air. “I’m unarmed! No weapons or anything, I just need to get to the city,” he proclaims.

His assailant remained unseen, but a voice could be heard close by, deep yet feminine, 

“ No Brotherhood of Steel members are allowed in New Vegas. Please head back to where you came. ”

Hank keeps his hands in the air. “I’m not one of them. Please, I’m just a vault dweller.” He had to make up a lie, and make it fast. “I…I was out with several others and we were attacked by the Brotherhood. We took out one of them and I was able to get into the suit before my group was slaughtered. The sign says refugees are allowed in, right? I have need of medical attention.”

There’s a slight wiggle in the air before he finally sees what had attacked him earlier. An Assaultron, with the word “S4M” etched into its chest, stands before him. A bright light begins to emit from its eye, and Hank closes his eyes at the pain of the light. His eyelids can see nothing but pink for a solid moment, before the light stops.

“ X-Ray scan indicates a vault suit, Pip-Boy, and cheek laceration. Medical assistance will be needed. ” The Assaultron turns around, and heads towards the city. “ Please follow me. ”

Hank sighs in relief. He follows the robot, his footsteps trailing behind it. 

The walls of New Vegas loom over the both of them, its shadow growing with the sinking of the sun. The gate has two people guarding it on each side, with one under a large sign reading “ FREESIDE ”. Hank notices that both are wearing red berets- has House managed to sway some of the NCR into working for him?

Both people hear their footsteps and aim their rifles right at Hank’s head. The one on the left, his lower face covered, speaks first. “H-hold it, Sam. The sign spe-spe-specifically said no Brotherhood m-members are allowed- why’s this one the-the-the exception?”

“ Sensors have revealed this to be a vault dweller in need of medical assistance. Please take him to Dr. Farkas. ”

“You be-better take this one, Bet-Betsy.”

The one on the right, a rather large woman, gives her partner a wry smirk. “You know me so well, Ace.” She pulls out a rather blocky communicator and presses it to her ear. “Yeah, boss? We’ve got a vault dweller in Power Armor that’s got a pretty gnarly face wound. Should we send him to the Followers?”

A moment of silence follows.

“Copy that. I’ll bring him to Julie ASAP. Over and out.”

The woman (Betsy, Hank notes) puts away the device and looks dead into him. “Lucky you. You get top of the line care and get to meet the boss.” She turns towards her partner (Ace?). “Keep watch. I gotta deliver this lucky bastard to the Outpost.”

Betsy goes to the large gate and gives it a few hearty smacks. “Open up, assholes! We got us a new guest! No shootin’, ok?!”

A muffled voice answers back. “Why the fuck would we care?!”

“Just open the fucking gate!”

The gate starts to move, and Hank can only cringe at the rusty noise of resistance it makes in response to activating. Dust kicks up, trailing around Betsy’s feet. From what Hank can see so far in the opening of the gate, is numerous buildings with barely-there lights. People are beginning to head into each one, and the shadows have increased en masse. 

Two people are standing in front of the opening, wearing patchwork armor and carrying rifles like their NCR counterparts. Their eyes widen as soon as they spot Hank, and both begin to aim at his head. “Fuck Betsy, I thought Sam was doing her fucking job!”

“She is doing her job, dumbass. This is just a vaultie.”

“Could’ve fooled me. How do we know he ain’t lying?”

Hank coughs, trying to catch everyone’s attention. “If I may, I mean no harm. If we can all just take a deep breath and calm down, we can relieve the situation. This woman here was going to bring me to a, who was it now , a Dr. Farkas?”

The men only stare at him. “Fuck me, that is a vaultie. No one else is stupid enough t’ talk like that.”

Betsy snorts. “Y’mean, aside from the boss? Don’t forget, they’ve got eyes and ears everywhere .”

“Shit, don’t remind me. Those damn Securitrons still creep me out. Just, just hurry up and bring him to the Outpost before people start t’ notice him.”

Betsy smacks Hank on the arm. “C’mon vaultie, let’s get you patched up. Follow me.”

He follows after her, ignoring the stares of the men. Betsy can only smile. As the gate closes, she looks towards him.

“Oh, and welcome to Freeside.”

Chapter Text

This Freeside almost seemed the same as any other town in the Wastes. Almost. It was clean, and there were visible signs of repair on every building. Lights were strung up from each lamp post, unlit but in relatively good condition. Hank could see numbered plates next to every door, but in the darkness he couldn’t read them.

“Nice place, right? Things have gotten a whole lot better since the Battle of Hoover Dam. Less violence in the streets, better food. Hell, we even got solar power!”

There was certainly a facade of decency here. It wasn’t the same as it was centuries ago, yet if what she said was true, House certainly improved things.

“I’m confused about one thing: why aren’t there any lights on? I heard the lights here were famous.”

Betsy gripped her rifle tighter, her expression going grim. “Fuckin’ Brotherhood. We saw the Vertibirds earlier today, so the boss told us lights out to make sure we didn’t present as a target. It’ll probably take a few days t’ turn the lights back on.”

“Are you truly that afraid of them?”

“Never hurts t’ be safe. Sure, they helped out at Hoover Dam, but ‘enemy of my enemy’ and all that bullshit. The boss has a bit of a tenuous relationship with them, especially after coming back from D.C. a while back.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Man, the Brotherhood is just a bunch of assholes stealing anything in the name of ‘helping us poor Wastelanders’. Everytime the boss comes back with new shit t’ help us out, the PoS-I mean, BoS can smell it a mile away. Thank fuck we know how t’ send ‘em running back home.”

“Well, it certainly is a…defendable place.”

Her demeanor lifts a bit. “You’re goddamn right it is.”

She leads him to what looks like an old military outpost. The walls are high, but Hank can see the tower looming overhead. A handmade plaque sticks to the wall:

FOLLOWERS OF THE APOCALYPSE

“They’ve set up a hospital in one of the old buildings a while back, but with the new refugees we had to set up the old tents here like they used to. Julie tends t’ alternate between here an’ there, but she should be still be here for now.”

Two large rings hang on the gates of the outpost. They’re freshly polished, but show signs of heavy rust damage. Betsy places her hand on one of the gates, but instead of pulling, the gate is pushed open. The wood slides against the sand smoothly, and soon Hank can see a variety of tents, holding all sorts of Wastelanders. Some were sleeping on stretchers, while a few were up and about, talking amongst each other.

Everyone, regardless of what they were doing, immediately turned to look at Hank. The expressions ranged from fear, anger, and even amazement from the younger patients. Many of them began to reach for their weapons- those without any grabbed anything they could reach for.

“Who the fuck let him in?!”

“I thought y’all said no Brotherhood bastards weren’t allowed in here!”

“Is this a fucking joke?!”

Well, this was a fine situation. Hank could already picture his epitaph: “Death by Angry Mob.” He began to back away from the outpost, but Betsy held him firm. “Will y’all just relax? He’s only a vaultie!”

“Oh, bullshit .” 

“He’s gotta be lyin’!”

“Get him outta the armor, then! See what a big man he is!”

The clamor of the crowd was getting to be very loud. If this went any further, more people could be alerted and bring their own brand of Wasteland justice with them. As much as Betsy assured Hank this was a rather “civilized” place, he had seen firsthand the savagery of these natives, and it wouldn’t be a peaceful death.

Betsy seemed a little defeated, but she looked to quickly be weighing her choice of what to say. “Look guy, I don’t like it, either- but I think it’s safer if you got out of the suit.”

“I don’t think I-”

“It’s either that or be torn apart by an angry mob. Now, which one do you want?”

This woman had a point. What was the word she referred to him as? “Vaultie?” It seemed to carry a sense of naivety and innocence, something that could help him out in the long run. Play the idiot, and see just how things here were run. Use everything here to his advantage; House would have a casino pun just for this occasion, but until they had a proper reunion it was best to lay low. 

“I-I’ll need a place to take this off. I can’t just take this off in the open.” 

“Right, follow me.” Betsy grabbed his arm and led him to an empty tent. “Can someone wake up Julie? We got us a new patient here.”

One of those “ghouls” nodded at her and went to the tower at the corner of the outpost. Whoever this Julie (or Dr. Farkas?) was, she seemed to hold some good amount of power here. 

The tent was at the edge of the wall, and held no other people aside from Hank and Betsy. All the people around them continued to stare. There were two stretchers that lay empty and she led him to in between them. “This should be a good place for this. Need any help?”

“That would be beneficial, yes.”

“Right, let’s see how we can do this.” She turned to behind him, looking for a way to open up the armor. “Ok, I know the wheel is involved. Lessee, righty-tighty, lefty-loosey-” And with a hiss, the Power Armor opens up. Even in the confines of the tent, Hank could feel the wind at his back, and thankfully not on his face, though that would change very soon. He took care to make sure his cheek didn’t touch anything as he got out, but it hit some internal components along the way, making him hiss.

The other patients remained quiet, but he heard at least a few of their commentary:

“Huh, he is a vaultie.”

“Wonder what his story is.”

“Nice ass, though.” “Hush, you!”

A firm and loud voice soon pierced the air. “Alright everyone, back to your tents. I have a new patient to attend to.”

The person the voice belonged to was not what he expected. She was a middle-aged woman, hair tied up in a ponytail, with the sides shaved down. Her coat was starch white, and held several writing utensils in the breast pocket. In her hands she held a clipboard, which she soon placed in her left to hold her right hand out. 

“You’re the one they were talking about, right? Sorry about that. I’m Dr. Julie Farkas, chief doctor for the Followers of the Apocalypse.” She leans in to get a better look at his face, and winces at the sight of his cheek. “Shit, that’s gotta hurt. Can you still talk with it?”

Hank grasps her hand with a firm handshake. “It does hurt, but I’ll power through it. I’m Hank, Hank MacLean.”

“Well Hank MacLean, if I had a cap for every time I heard that…You can head out now, Betsy, I’ve got this.”

“Right. The boss wants t’ see him, too, so he might need a guide towards the Strip.”

“I have a feeling I know who’s gonna be sent out for that, but for now let’s work on fixing that cheek.”

Betsy lightly nudges his arm with a grin. “Good luck, vaultie. Try not t’ get on the boss’ bad side, ok?”

“I…I’ll try not to.”

She doesn’t say another word. The woman simply salutes, and walks to the exit of the outpost.

Hank can feel Dr. Farkas guide him to a stretcher. “Now then, just sit here and we can get started. How did you get hurt in the first place?”

“Attacked by a group of Brotherhood members. I managed to climb into the suit, but not without being shot for my trouble.”

“Hmm, the Brotherhood has been a lot more active as of late. The boss says there was an increase in activity a couple years after Hoover Dam, but that was mostly around the Boston Commonwealth.” She goes to a box labeled “Painkillers”, and takes out a syringe and a small bottle with “Med-X” printed on it. Next, she takes out a cotton wipe, a large brown bottle, and an injectable that Hank recognizes as a Stimpak. “It’s going to be hard to talk for the next hour or so after I inject these, but if you want to answer some of my questions, tap once on the stretcher for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’, ok?” 

Hank nods. “Ok, good. Now lie down and hold still.” 

Dr. Farkas takes a lamp from one of the stocked shelves and turns it on, placing it on the stretcher next to his head. The sudden light makes him wince, and he closes his eyes. “Sorry about that. I’m going to need you to lie on your side for this.” He does so, and the light softens a bit as he closes his eyes afterwards.

She douses the cotton with liquid from the brown bottle. “This is a cleaner and an antiseptic. You were out in the Mojave Wastes for god knows how long, and we can’t risk this wound getting infected. Again, sorry about this.” The cold liquid stings, and the adrenaline is long gone from his system to prevent blocking out the pain. Dr. Farkas wipes away any sand and other debris from the wound, the coolness of it almost matching the night wind.

He can feel the wipe stop its cleaning, and the heat of the woman walking away- presumably to dispose of it. “Ok, next I’m going to inject the Med-X near the wound. It’s going to pinch, but the pain should disappear rather quickly.” Hank taps the metal of the stretcher in acknowledgement.

A sound of metal clanking leads him to deduce that she’s drawing out the medicine from the bottle. Her hand cradles his cheek gently, the warmth of it quickly dousing out the coolness of the antiseptic. “This will hurt for a moment, but just relax.” His eyes remain closed, but he clenches as he braces for the pain. A sharp stab into his cheek signals the injection of the medicine, and he wishes for it to hurry up and do it’s magic. The needle slides out of his muscle and skin, and he signals his displeasure with a hiss. “Sorry. The pain should stop in about three, two, one…”

And right as she counts down, any sensation in his cheek quickly vanishes. The man lets out a sigh of relief. “Right? This is the good stuff right here. Let me just sterilize this Stimpak, and then we can start the process of stitching your face up!”

Whatever she said sounded good; but then again, anything sounded good right about now. He felt like he was on Cloud Nine. Her hand lowered to hold his face again, and she aimed the Stimpak underneath where she injected the painkiller. Julie sunk the needle in, and activated the medicine. Already it began to work its magic- the deepest of the wound started to knit itself together, but that was the most it could do. Hank already spent what was probably hours with this on his face, so now the only tissue it could heal was the deep layer of flesh. At least she could stitch him up with relatively little problem now.

“You feeling ok, Hank?” Another tap of the stretcher. Hell, everything was probably ok to him at the moment; he could get cold-cocked by a Supermutant and it wouldn’t faze him. “Ok, now I’m gonna start stitching you up. Should take some time, but it’ll be over before you know it.”

What happened next was a blur to the man. His cheek kept getting squeezed at several increments, followed by a painless jabbing sensation over and over again. The sound of scissors chopping, something soft being taped onto his face, and objects being put down. He’d’ve fallen asleep if it wasn’t for Julie tapping his shoulder over and over. “C’mon sweetheart, I need you awake to meet the boss soon. You’re just about done.”

Done? It was over already? Just how much time had passed??

“Is this the one? Wow, I haven’t seen a vault suit with that number in years!”

A new voice. There’s a new voice talking to him, but the haze is starting to clear up, and he can discern it properly. Dr. Farkas holds his arm tight to help him up. “Alright, there you go.” She turns to the hazy figure. “Just gotta run a few things first, and then you can have him.” She sticks out her index finger. “I need you to follow my finger with your eyes only, ok?” Hank nods.

The afterimage effect slowly starts to fade away, and soon he can see the finger with a good enough clarity. It’s what’s behind the finger that catches his attention afterwards.

A Securitron model robot, in pristine condition is standing (well, metaphorically, given that it was on a wheel) right in front of him. The screen shows a smiling face, and it gives a salute. 

“Well, hi there! I’m Yes Man, and I’m supposed to take you to my boss! Gee, it looks like you were caught up in something nasty out there! Good think Dr. Farkas was here to patch you up!”

“Good thing, indeed. Last thing we need is infected injuries,” Dr. Farkas responds. She’s currently putting away any remaining supplies and disposing of used-up materials. “You can take him now, Yes Man.”

“Perfect! Boss should still be awake at this hour, so we can have a proper meeting! Can you stand, buddy?”

He gets off of the stretcher, and while his feet wobble around at first, Hank manages to get settled quick. Yes Man holds out a hand (claw?). “Need a hand? Well, as best of an approximation of a hand I can offer!” A step taken, then another. He refuses the offer, and Yes Man wheels himself backwards. “Oh well, the offer still stands, should the need arise! Now, I’m supposed to take you to the Lucky 38, deep in The Strip. As a guest of the boss, you have special permission- meaning you don’t need a permit or a set cap amount to get in. Unfortunately, you’ll also have to leave that lovely armor of yours behind! But don’t worry, I’m sure Julie will take good care of it!”

“I’ll mostly be making sure no one trashes it.”

“See? It’s in good hands! Are you ready?!”

Hank slowly nods. “Y-yes.”

“Perfect! We’re off to The Strip!”

Chapter Text

Hank’s walking increased in stability the longer he followed Yes Man. The Securition was a curious bastard, asking all sorts of questions about the man he was guiding. If he didn’t know any better, he was certain that the robot was interrogating him. To keep from losing his mind, Hank kept looking around Freeside as they walked towards the entrance to The Strip. Signs for stores, food banks, a bar, and…oh hell. 

Even after all these centuries, the King himself was still in people’s memories. They walked past the King’s headquarters, his larger than life figure a massive silhouette on a sign. Back when Lucy and Norman were young, he showed them a holotape of Blue Hawaii. Lucy loved it, while Norman was indifferent. He can only wonder if people out here have copies of that, as well.

“Well, we’re at the entrance! You ready?”

The “entrance” was a massive security gate guarded by a handful of Securitrons, as well as a pair of Assaultrons labeled “4L3X” and “CL0V3R” watching Hank very closely. One of the Securitrons wheeled up to Yes Man. “Hold it, soldier. Afraid this man’s gonna need either a permit or caps to get in.”

“This man is a special guest of the Lucky 38, with permission straight from the boss!”

“Izzat so?” It wheels to Hank, looking down at him. “He telling the truth here, vaultie?”

“Considering that many people have been telling me your boss wants to meet me, I assume that’s correct.”

“Hmm…” It wheels back into its previous position. “Alright, but know this: I’ve got my eye on you . He’s clear to go.” 

“Perfect!” Yes Man looks to Hank. “Well, c’mon! Let’s not keep the boss waiting any longer!” His speed is a bit faster than what the man can catch up to, but eventually the make it past the entrance.

The Strip. Hank can still recall first seeing it long ago, but what he sees now is still a sight to see. Both Securitrons and NCR are guarding the entrances to every building, as blacked out as they are. Nobody but a few drunken stragglers heading to sleep off their hangovers are walking through the streets.

Soon they come to the entrance of the Lucky 38. Even now, its massive height is impressive. Hank has to keep himself from looking up too fast and risk falling over. He almost misses Yes Man waving to another Securitron.

This one has a cowboy’s face on it, though thankfully it doesn’t resemble that damn ghoul from before the bombs. “Well howdy there! Is this who I think it is?”

“You guessed right, Victor! I’ve had the honor of giving our guest here the grand tour!”

“Lucky you! And even more lucky, the boss is still awake and in the casino at this very moment.” Victor(?) turns to Hank. “You ready for this, partner? Not many people are allowed inside here.”

And he knows why. Robert House was always a secretive man. It only made sense to give this privilege to a select few. His feet made a few tentative steps up the stairs, before he steeled himself and went the rest of the way to the heavy doors. He looked behind, to where Yes Man and Victor were. They both moved their arms in a pushing gesture, beckoning him towards the doors. 

“Good luck from both of us! Just keep calm and carry on!”

It felt strange to be spurred on by a couple of robots , of all things, but it did give him the courage to finally open the door. The cool air of the inside hit him right in the face, making him shiver, but he powered through it as he walked into the casino.

The first thing he heard was music, loud and clear blasting from a radio. Some wordless big band song, but still a catchy number nonetheless. Hank smiled.

“Goddamn Robert, it is so good to be back here. You have no idea what I’ve been thro-wait. You’re not Robert .”

In the corner of the casino was a figure, mindlessly playing a game of solitaire. Indeed, this was not Robert House. It was a woman, wearing a set of armor unlike what he had seen others around dress up in. A Pip-Boy was strapped to her arm, and glowed a golden yellow hue from the screen, unlike the green of his. On her head was the familiar beret of the NCR, and on her face was a pair of sunglasses. Most curious of all, was the double diamond set of scars on her forehead.

“[ No, I’m not Mr. House. Sorry for the deception, but when Betsy said you were a vault dweller, I had to set up a meeting. No bad feelings? ]”

The voice didn’t come from her throat, but rather seemed to flow through her Pip-Boy. Hank was a little suspicious of this, and kept a hand at the door. “Where’s Robert?”

“[ Mr. House is currently indisposed. Currently, I’m in charge. Well, technically, it’s a committee that’s in charge, but I help with most of the activities, so I guess that means that I am the head honcho around here. ]”

“So Vegas is currently owned by the New California Republic?”

“[ No. New Vegas is independent, and we make sure it stays that way. ]” She flips a card from the deck. “[ Is it the beret? It’s a gift from a friend, and it’s been my good luck charm for many years now. ]”

He lifts his hand from the door and walks closer. As he does, he can spot another scar on her face, this one on her left cheek, and it looks to be very old. “Why are there New C-NCR soldiers around the city, then?”

“[ A gift from when New Vegas helped the NCR fight against the Legion at the Battle of Hoover Dam. They give us soldiers, we give them supplies. They need it now more than ever, especially after the bomb happened. ]” 

She lifts her head up from her card game, and looks right at him. Her eyes are covered, but he can feel her staring right into him, almost as if she’s looking deep into his soul. The woman holds out her right hand. “[ Alexei. And you are? ]”

It would be impolite to refuse a handshake, and he takes it. The moment he grabs her hand, he has to fight the urge to immediately shove the hand away. Alexei’s hand is cold, not like the air blowing around the room, but rather the same temperature as that of a corpse . She shakes his hand without hesitation, smiling all the while. At least that is warm. “Hank. Hank MacLean.”

“[ Hank…a pleasure. ]”

She gestures for him to take a seat, and he sits down opposite her. Hank tries not to stare at this strange woman. “So, why did you want to meet me so much?”

“[ Because I wanted to meet a fellow vault dweller. ]”

This makes him straighten up. A vault dweller? In “charge” of Vegas? It’s certainly better than the idea of those red beret idiots running the show. “Really? It’s nice to see a good influence around these parts. What vault are you from?”

“[ Vault 101. ]”

“101? 101…I don’t think I know that one. Is it close by?”

“[ Hardly. It’s located in D.C., all the way on the East Coast. ]”

“That’s quite a distance,” he snorts with a smile. She returns it back. “Why did you decide to come here, of all places?”

“[ Too many bad memories. I was forced to leave my vault at a very young age, and it wasn’t pleasant. You see, my father left the vault, and I ended up having to track him all across the D.C. Wastes. ]”

A father leaving his vault…that hit too close to home for him.

“And what happened? Did you find him?”

“[ I did. And I ended up watching him die before my own eyes. You can see why I chose to leave. ]”

He was hesitant to touch her again, but he felt that familiar need to hold on. Whenever Lucy was down, he held her by the shoulders and kept her close. Perhaps it was due to being cut from the same cloth, or perhaps it was knowing this woman experienced a similar situation his own daughter had. “I’m sorry. No one deserves that.”

“[ Thank you. Well, after that, and many other ‘adventures’ I had, I decided that D.C. held too much for me to bear anymore, so I headed west. Ended up getting a job as a courier, and well, here I am now. ]”

“It’s certainly an improvement from being a mailman.”

“[ I still do the same amount of walking, unfortunately, so I can’t escape that . But enough about me- how did you end up here? ]”

C’mon Hank, it’s the same story you told the others. “Well, me and a group of other vault dwellers were attacked by some members of the Brotherhood of Steel. We ended up taking out one, and I was able to get into the suit before the rest were either killed or captured. I ran, but as you can see,” he gestures to the bandage on his face, “I didn’t escape unharmed.”

She looked at him with a sympathetic gaze. He felt warmer just from the look alone. Alexei begins to pick up the cards from the table.

“[ Do you think they’re the same Brotherhood members that were out earlier? ]”

“I don’t know. Possibly. My group was a separate ways away.”

“[ I see. ]” The woman begins shuffling the cards. “[ Just a few more questions, and I’ll let you be. ]”

Hank was feeling a lot calmer in her presence. A vault dweller who didn’t judge him and took his words as truth? His day was getting a lot better. “Sure, go ahead!”

“[ Hank MacLean, why are you lying to me? ]”

The good feeling was gone . 

“Wh-what?”

“[ I said, why are you lying to me? ]”

“What? I would never! Just what are you accusing me of lying about?”

The bold woman in front of him continues to shuffle her cards. “[ Are you not Hank MacLean, overseer of Vault 33? ]”

That stare was back again. He felt a chill run up his spine. “I-I-I mean, I am, but-”

“[ The same Vault 33 that NCR soldier Lee Moldaver planned a raiding party for? ]”

“ How do you know about that? ”

She ignores him in favor of more staring. This…this thing was not human. Just how the hell did she know about all this? He wants to get up, but Hank finds himself unable to move under her gaze.

“[ Answer these next questions honestly, and I’ll let you get up. Are you not Hank MacLean, the man who bombed Shady Sands? ]”

“I-” “[ Answer honestly . ]”

His hands, once taut and gripped tight, fell slack against the chair. “You don’t understand, that town was-” “[ Hank, this will only hurt you. Please do the right thing, ]” What comes out next isn’t from her Pip-Boy, but from deep within her throat, almost as if it was uncaged and finally free from its imprisonment. “ And tell me the t̸͓̬̼̾̂̋͛ŗ̶̹̹͍̦̼̲͔̳͕̰̞͎̉̍̍͐̆̉́̆̾̉̉̐͑͑͆̕ų̴̢͈̳̱̯͕͔̙̟̱̱̔͒͒̈́͂̄́͂̃͘͘͜͠ṫ̵͖͈̗͖̈́͂̍̔̈̅̆̉̔̇h̴̠̟̥̯͓̹͈̯͓̐̑́̄͛̉͋͒̈́̎.”

His earlier assessment comes true in his thoughts. What he thought was a human woman was simply a Wasteland abomination masquerading as a human. Was she a Vault-Tec experiment? Or something far older ? One thing was very certain: he could die this night if he so much as says a single wrong word. With much hesitation, he resigns himself to his fate, and answers:

“Yes, I was the one who bombed Shady Sands.”

The monster’s face smiles. Another one that feels very genuine. It scares Hank to see that aberrations like her were capable of such expressions.

She goes back to talking through her Pip-Boy. “[ I figured as much. Just one more question. ]”

“And what’s that?”

“[ Are you not the same Hank MacLean that works for Vault-Tec? ]”

“I-You-What?!”

“[ You work for Vault-Tec, don’t you? Or rather, you did before the bombs fell. ]”

“How the hell do you know all this?!” Play her games, let her be the detective for a little while longer. Just until she stops whatever Medusa hold she has on him.

“[ A few things, really. At first, Moldaver wanted me to be the courier to deliver the Doctor to her. I was hesitant, barely understanding just what he was necessary for; cold fusion was never my area of expertise. Well, after the bombing of Shady Sands, I and the rest of New Vegas offered our support, and I got to interacting with her more often. She told me she knew how it happened, and who did it. I didn’t believe her, naturally. Clearly she was looking for a scapegoat, right? ]”

“What made you believe her?”

“[ She knew I was running the show in New Vegas now. Told me that if I didn’t believe her, to look up Mr. House’s little black book, so to speak. ]”

Hank knew that House kept tabs on everyone he worked with. But surely this didn’t mean he…

“[ Once Mr. House became…’indisposed’, I was granted access to all his files. Sure, they were encrypted, but he didn’t expect me to be quite the prodigy with computers. Even after all these years, I’m still daddy’s little girl, I guess. ]”

“And just what was in his ‘little black book’?”

“[ A list of every member of every corporation he’s ever worked with. The man was more paranoid than a Nightkin. And wouldn’t you know it, guess whose name was on it? Go on, guess. ]”

‘ Damn that House. ’ “Me?”

She nods. “[ You. You’ve done terrible things, Mr. MacLean, and not many people will be willing to forgive you. ]”

He could feel his final judgment approaching. Would she leave him to the mercy of the robots, or send him back to the Brotherhood? 

“[ However… ]”

Wait.

“[ I’ve done just as much, if not worse things in the Mojave. But at least I’ve learned my lesson, Mr. MacLean, though it was quite painful. You, however, are obviously still a selfish man, and I doubt you have the humility to learn your own lesson yet. So, I’m willing to offer you a deal. ]”

Wait.

“A-And that is?”

“[ Several days worth of supplies, and you can keep the armor you ‘found’. ]”

“What’s the catch?”

She leans forward, her glare intense. If he looked hard enough, Hank could almost swear that there was something wrong with her eyes.

“[ I never want to see you in Freeside or New Vegas ever again. If you’re caught, I will personally escort you to Quarry Junction myself. ]”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“[ You’ll know all about it when you get to it. I hope you know how to run in that Power Armor. ]”

She gets up from her chair, and starts to head to the exit of the casino. Alexei opens the door, holding it. “[ You have two hours to gather everything with the help of Dr. Farkas and head out of Freeside, starting now. ]”

Hank sits there, unable to process what he had just heard. What the hell has his life come to? This-This monster of a woman gives him a demand, and all he can do is just accept it under fear of death.

“[ Well? What are you waiting for? ] Run.”

He doesn’t spend a moment sooner in the chair. As soon as her hold on him was gone, Hank bolted up and outwards through the door, past the entrance to The Strip and into Freeside.

Victor stares at what has just happened. He turns towards the Courier. “Now whattya suppose lit a fire under his britches?”

She can only look towards where Hank left. “[ Don’t know. Vault dwellers are truly a strange breed, aren’t they? ] ”

Chapter Text

It took Hank an hour and a half to gather supplies.

It took him 10 minutes to get out of Freeside.

2 hours later and he could still feel something watching him as he walked through the sandy wastes of the Mojave. Either Alexei followed him all the way out here, or he was being stalked by god knows what. He had heard whispers of people in the Follower’s outpost, talking about creatures called “Deathclaws.” Back before the war, Hank had heard rumors of such creatures being made as soldier stock, but now they run amok all across America. The supplies he was able to get included a rifle and some ammo, but he doubted that could take on a creature capable of tearing a human in half with little effort.

Now then, just where was he supposed to go? House was gone; “indisposed”, his replacement said. Any mention of the Tops around New Vegas and Freeside had made mention of people that he didn’t even recognize. Big MT was also a bust- Hank recognized the medical tech around the outpost as coming from The Think Tank, so they were most likely in cahoots with that damn courier.

The only place he could remember being around here were several vaults. There just had to be one could- of course. The one vault that held her . If there was anyone that would know what to do, it was her . And her vault was only a few days away, if his memory was correct. And so, Hank kept on walking, to the one person that he knew he could trust above all else.

_____

Alexei watched Hank walk away from the city through the windows of the Lucky 38. In the glow of the moon, everything took on a silvery blue hue, but even then she could see everything with perfect clarity. Her eyes were never the same after the Battle of Point Lookout, but at least there were some benefits from that.

She could hear the whirring of a Securitron’s wheels coming up behind her, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn around.

“It’s a shame he couldn’t stay a bit longer!” Yes Man said.

“[ He was looking for something that’s no longer here. I made him a deal instead, and he accepted that. What he’ll do with it next, that’s all on him. ]”

The Courier finally turns to look at Yes Man. “[ Did you put the tracker in his armor? ]”

He gives a salute. “Yes, Ma’am! Are you giving him a head start before you follow him?”

“[ I was thinking of getting Ulysses to follow him. It feels mean having him only watch the city. ]” 

Static comes from the radio next to Alexei. Betsy’s rough voice chimes in with a “ Hey boss? ”

Alexei takes out a small cord from her Pip-Boy, and plugs it into the radio. Sure, it helped her to talk, but doing so to talk through over other communicative devices led to a rather annoying feedback loop. The cord helped to bypass that.

“[ Yes? ]”

“ I’ve got a young vault dweller here that says she’s looking for her dad. His name is Hank MacLean. ”

Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting.

“ And another thing: she’s got someone else with her. Boss, it’s him . ”

Curiouser and curiouser. Him . Of all the people to show up at this time, it had to be him . Well, he did still owe her a favor- perhaps this could work out perfectly for all of them?

“[ Have them sent straight to the Lucky 38. He knows how to get here. ]”

“ Gotcha. Over and out. ”

She unplugs the cord and tucks it back into her Pip-Boy. Looking down through the windows, it’s not easy to see over the gates of Freeside when people get close enough to them. All she can do now is head down to the casino and wait.

“Need some assistance with this one, boss?”

“[ No. I can handle them. You’ve stayed up long enough- you can rest now. ]”

“Gotcha! See you in the morning!” With that, he rolls off and around the room to his little rest station.

The woman gives a final look into the Mojave before she heads to the elevator. With luck, perhaps things can get a little better.

_____

50 minutes ago…

Lucy was tired.

Not just in mind, but also body and spirit. She had found out her own father had nuked an entire city, was one of the people who decided to bomb the whole country centuries ago, and she mercy killed her ghoulified mother, all in one day. How was she supposed to live with that? 

Well, she supposed she could handle things like her current travel companion does. Just smush things down deep inside and let no one see just how broken she was becoming. That seemed to be how most people out here dealt with personal issues- rough it out, and be tough; the exact opposite of how she was taught back in Vault 33. There were a lot of things there that she had to let go of if she wanted to survive here.

If there was any balm to her pain, it was that the night was beautiful. Her head tilted up to the moon, large and blue, painting everything in its light.

“Y’know, if you keep your head up like that while walkin’, you’re gonna trip.”

Lucy turned to the Ghoul (really, she had to get his name at some point. If he ever gives it up, that is.). He was looking at her like he said the funniest thing in the world.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “But looking up at that moon, it’s nothing like what I’ve seen back in the vault.”

“Hmm. I reckon nothing here is like bein’ in a vault. Better be out here than in one of them, wearin’ that damn suit all day.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad to wear!”

He gives her a look. “I’m willin’ to bet that thing itches to high hell.”

“...Not all the time.”

The Ghoul lets out a small wheeze of a laugh. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, Little Killer. As for me, I’ll stick to- aw, hell.”

He stops in his tracks. No more witty retort, no laughing at her, just him staring ahead. Lucy turns to what his line of sight leads to, and her mouth drops open.

Even at this distance, she could tell this city was large. Massive metal walls surround it, with multiple buildings sticking up from its periphery. What caught her eye the most was the tallest building there, a spire pointing up at the sky with a round disk just below the point.

Finally, the Ghoul speaks up. “Somethin’s wrong.”

“Why?” Lucy asks. “Looks like a regular settlement to me.”

“You don’t understand, Little Killer,” He says. “The lights of New Vegas are never off. You could be able t’see them from miles around, and now out of the blue, they just decide to? No, somethin’ ain’t right.” 

He begins walking in the direction of the city. 

“I don’t think we can just walk up and ask that. Besides, we still have to follow-”

“You want to find your father?”

“Well, yes , but-”

“If we’re lucky, then someone I know there can help us out- she still owes me a favor.”

“Who?”

“The person who runs the whole damn city.”

“ What?! ”

_____

The both of them reach the outskirts of New Vegas, and the walls seem larger than ever to Lucy. Most of the pieces of it seem patchwork, but she can spy some recent welding on it that’s much better quality. The sign at the gate reads “ FREESIDE ”, and two people wearing military outfits and red berets guard both sides. One is a woman on the larger side, and the other is a man with the lower half of his face covered and wearing glasses.

The walls leave much to be desired in way of lighting- they block the moonlight, and Lucy goes to turn on her Pip-Boy light. Both of the guards hear this, and begin to aim their rifles at the noise.

“ Smart move, vaultie, ” the Ghoul hisses.

“Wh-who’s there?!” the man shouts.

“You know damn well who it is, Jack!”

The woman blinks a few times, and squints at the two of them. “Oh god, it’s you .”

Lucy’s necrotic companion gives a small wave. “Hello, Betsy. Jack.”

“It-It’s Ace, n-n-now.”

“Ace? Really? They promoted you that quickly? My, how time flies by.”

Betsy(?) lowers her rifle. “Alright, smartass, you wanna explain just what the hell you’re doing here? We don’t offer bounties this time of night.”

He shrugs. “What, I can’t say hello to an old friend?”

“You thought now, of all times, was a good moment to say hi to the boss? Are you high??” Betsy asks.

The Ghoul gives a wry grin. “Not at the moment, no.”

Lucy begins to step in between the two. “Look, we need help finding someone, and he said the person who runs this place could help. Is there any way that could be possible?”

She looks directly into Betsy’s eyes. “Please.”

The armed woman looks back, and for a moment Lucy thinks of the worst things Betsy could tell her. “Alright, lemme call the boss.”

The vault dweller gives her a smile. “Thank you.”

Ace(?)’s eyes wrinkle in delight. “Ne-Never could resist a pretty fa-fa-face, huh?”

“ Ace. ” 

“Sh-Shutting up now.”

Betsy reaches for her communicator, muttering under her breath. Lucy can barely catch her saying “ Twice in one day? Jesus fucking Christ. ” She looks to Lucy. “What’s your business here…”

“Oh! Um, Lucy. I’m looking for my dad. His name is Hank MacLean.”

“Hey boss?”

...

“I’ve got a young vault dweller here that says she’s looking for her dad. His name is Hank MacLean.”

…

“And another thing: she’s got someone else with her. Boss, it’s him . ”

…

“Gotcha. Over and out . ”

She places the communicator back on her belt.

“Ok, you’ve got clearance to head into The Strip. Boss wants to see you in the Lucky 38.” Betsy walks the gate and smacks it twice. “Open up, assholes! We got more guests!”

“ What, again?!”

“ Just open it up, ya fuckpipes! ” She looks behind, to Lucy. “Sorry ‘bout that, cutie. The people here ain’t exactly high society.”

“Oh, it’s alright. Guess they’re just trying to do their job right!”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Betsy snorts. 

The gate moves with a groan, sliding against the sand with little resistance.

“Now, your friend here’s been to The Strip before- he’ll know the way. Just try to make sure you don’t cause any trouble, ok? We’re on lockdown, and don’t need the extra noise.”

The Ghoul gives a snort. “Not so tough after all, huh?”

“Can it, asshole. New Vegas can handle itself just fine- at least we know when to lay low.”

He pushes past Betsy and Ace, beckoning Lucy to follow him. “You, laying low, Betsy? Must be tough not having your usual blackjack and hookers.”

Betsy slowly reaches for the safety of her rifle. Ace places his hand on hers, taking it off the gun.

“Leave hi-him be, Bet-Betsy. You know wha-what he’s like.”

She gives the Ghoul a “I’m watching you” gesture. He responds with his middle finger and laughs as he and Lucy walk into Freeside.

“Now,” he says, the gates closing behind them, “Let’s go see the Courier.”

Chapter Text

Navigating through Freeside was relatively easy. The Ghoul had been through it enough times, though he had noticed it had become cleaner and cleaner every time he passed by. Sure, the booze, drugs, and whores were still around, but now you couldn’t just walk up and ask anyone for them like you would the time of day. It was a sad day when the Courier delivered that little piece of news- damn that woman. He’d’ve complained louder if she also didn’t bring back a way to make Ultrajet the exact same day.

About the only problem he had walking to the Strip was keeping the damn dog from getting sidetracked sniffing everything in sight. It was common here for people to keep pets, and he’d bet his bottom dollar that Dogmeat was sniffing each and every trail left by them. He’d seen it all: dogs, rats, mole rats, even a miniature Sleipnir at one point.

Lucy was able to keep the dog back on track with them, gently herding the dog along with soft touches and reassurances. Hell, she’d probably feed her a treat if they had any. This was a young woman slowly losing any softness she had to the wastes, yet she still carried a gentle hand to a dog that had lost her master.

“So you said you know the person who runs this place?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’ve met up a few times. Crack shot with a laser pistol, which I found out the hard way.”

“What did you do?”

“Laughed at the name she gave her gun, and she shot a hole in my foot. She did patch me up with a Stimpak, but it took ages to find a new pair of boots.”

“Doesn’t exactly sound like the best person to run, well, all of this.” She gestures around with her arms.

“She’s got the temperament of a goddamn retriever on a good day. Always ready to give out caps, tech, food, so long as you got no reason t’ bother her.” He keeps himself facing near the entrance of The Strip, any emotion on his face gone.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

“The woman can barely speak a lick of legible English, an’ yet I’ve seen her get people to tell her things that they’ve kept locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Computer passwords, family secrets, drunken one night stands, ain’t nothing she won’t find out. A word of advice, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“By the time we leave here, she’s gonna know every single detail about you. Be ready to have her expose you like a tabloid newspaper.”

Here they were, about to meet the one person who could help find her father, and her companion was flat out telling her this woman was gonna read her like a book. Just what would she be able to deduce?

“Wait, if she could do that to me, does that mean she did it to you?”

“...Let’s just get into the goddamn Strip.” he starts walking faster, easily outpacing her.

“She did, didn’t she? What did you tell her?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Hey!”

_____

The Securitron at the gate had no problem with the Ghoul. Lucy, on the other hand…

“No caps, no permit, no entry.”

“But I was told I could get in here!”

“Sure, you and every schmuck who tries to get by. Nice try.”

The Ghoul was too busy digging around in his pockets to help. Was this really how this was going to go? Stuck at this gate until they turn back around and leave?

A necrotic hand holding a piece of paper is shoved in her face. “Here, should get you in nice an’ easy.”

She takes it. On it seems to be a secret code of some kind.

“1C 3C R34 M?”

A noise comes from the Securitron, its face beginning to glitch and sputter. Lucy stares at the robot, eyes wide.

“What did you do?!”

“Courier gave me that in case the ‘bots begin givin’ me trouble. Overrides their protocol in 3, 2, 1…”

“Enjoy your stay at The Strip, ma’am.”

“There we go.” He tips his hat to the Securitron and begins walking past it to the gate. The poor vault dweller can only stand there stunned.

“You coming or what?”

“Hey, hey wait up!”

_____

Lucy has to hold Dogmeat by the collar to keep her from escaping. The Ghoul has to hold Lucy by the arm to keep her from bumping into something. They’re lucky that no people are around, aside from those who guard the buildings. 

The very dark and lifeless buildings.

“Shouldn’t there be more people?”

He looks around. Normally there’d be a couple drunks running about in the fountain, or dancers moving along to music. But now, there’s nothing but the light of the moon illuminating everything.

“A lot more people. This place is locked up tighter than a nun at a whorehouse.”

“So where is this Lucky 38?”

He points to the large spire. Lucy lets go of Dogmeat in her surprise. The building was much, much taller than it had appeared to be in the distance. If she looked up, it could probably pierce the stars. 

“All…All the way up there?” She points to the round portion up near the needle.

The Ghoul shakes his head. “Casino is down at the bottom. Only people allowed up top are special exceptions, and the ‘boss’.”

“Have you been up there?”

“Ain’t been that lucky. An’ I don’t know if I want to be.”

“Why’s that?”

“Sweetheart, no one even knows what’s up there. About the only thing I’ve gathered is that people feel like they’re bein’ watched from it.”

Lucy looks up again. The windows are black, no light showing through- not even the moonlight pierces through it. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Then it means we’re awaited at the casino downstairs.”

He waves at her to follow him up the top of the stairs, when another Securitron wheels around, startling them both.

“Well, I’ll be! Ain’t seen you around in an age! What’s an ol’ cowpoke like you doin’ here so late?”

“Meeting with the boss.”

“Gosh, I keep tellin’ her t’ stop stayin’ up so late, but what can ya do?” He turns his monitor to look at Lucy.

“Well now, who’s this lil lady?”

“Someone I picked up on my travels,” The Ghoul says.

“Hi,” Lucy softly says with a small wave.

“Howdy, ma’am! Name’s Victor! Now, if y’ever need somethin’, jus’ holler out an’ I’ll come wheelin’, ok? Y’all take care now.”

And with that, Victor wheels back around the Lucky 38, disappearing into the shadows.

“Peppy little spitfuck, I can tell you that much.”

“He…seems nice.”

“He’s the main reason the Courier is still alive.”

“Really?”

The Ghoul steadies his hands, ready to open the doors to the casino. “He pulled her out of her own grave. Now, y’ready?”

She nods, keeping a sweaty hand on Dogmeat’s head. The dog doesn’t react, only following a scent into the casino.

“Gird your loins, Little Killer. Let’s not piss her off.”

He opens the doors, cool air blowing out into the night.

_____

The air inside is crisp, carrying a scent of old wood and cigarette smoke.

Both of them spot her at one of the tables near the elevator, reading a book.

Everything about her seems well-worn but polished, like a treasured possession. The armor and sunglasses were new, though.

She turns a page in her book, before dog-earing the page and setting it down. The Courier looks up at the Ghoul.

He, in turn, looks down at her.

“DD,” He says.

“DD?” Lucy asks.

He taps his forehead with a grin. “Double Diamond,” and gestures to the Courier. On her own forehead is a set of connecting scars, gleaming like a pair of shining diamonds.

“[ Mr. Howard. ]”

The grin is gone. The woman’s face has a light smile gracing it, with no visible malice. 

“[ Speechless, for once? ]”

“Mr. Howard?” Lucy asks. 

“[ Yes, that’s his name, though he’s often hesitant to tell others. As for me, ]” the woman holds out a hand. “[ I’m Alexei. And you are? ]”

Both hear the voice long enough to deduce that it’s coming from the Pip-Boy on the woman’s arm. Lucy takes several slow steps around the table and looks at Alexei. Clean. The woman looks scrubbed clean of any dirt and filth from the Wasteland, like a proper person. About the only thing she feels concerned about is the feeling of being watched by an animal about to corner its prey.

“I-I’m Lucy MacLean. And th-that’s a very neat feature on your Pip-Boy.” She takes the hand, and it feels like she’s touching a long-dead cadaver. She masks her discomfort with a smile.

“[ Thank you, it was added by a friend. I received something called aphasia when I was shot in the head, and the Pip-Boy helps me communicate. ]”

“Aphasia?” Lucy asks.

Alexei nods. “[ When I try to talk, my words come out all…funny. I’ve been getting help for it, but my sentences are limited at the moment. ]”

“You ain’t had that little feature on your Pip-Boy last time I was here,” the Ghoul remarks.

The Courier turns to him. “[ It was gifted to me when I left for D.C. a few years ago. ]”

He huffs. “Explains why The Strip was so quiet back then. Don’t explain why it’s so quiet now.”

“[ We all saw the Brotherhood flying into California earlier today, so I had everything shut down. I can’t afford to have them come over here, not when the people here are safe from them. ]”

“And here I thought you had some respect for them. Fought by your side at Hoover Dam, didn’t they?”

“[ Any respect I had for them died the moment I learned what they did in the Boston Commonwealth; and the only person among them I cared about is long gone, carrying all their pride and decency with her to the grave. ]”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy says, “he shouldn’t have said that.”

“[ He has a habit of doing that, doesn’t he? I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself; Betsy said you were looking for your father? ]”

“Oh! Uh, yes. He…he hurt a lot of people, and we really need to find him.”

“[ And you plan to bring him to justice? ]”

“If by ‘justice’, you mean a bullet ‘tween the eyes, then yes.” The Ghoul snorts.

“[ Then you’re in luck. He was here not too long ago. ]”

“He was?!” “Shit, DD! Why didn’t you tell us sooner?!”

“[ I invited him to come talk with me after he got his face patched up. For a mass murderer, he was very polite. ]”

“And the thought didn’t occur to you to keep him here?” The Ghoul asked.

“What if that was your own father? Wouldn’t you want him to be punished for that?!” Lucy shouted.

The woman stops smiling. While the air around them was cold at first, now it feels positively arctic. Both Lucy and the Ghoul could see their own breaths now. Dogmeat hid under the table away from her.  Alexei’s hand slowly begins to clench. She stands up, and walks until she is face to face with Lucy. 

“[ My father died to make sure that the Wasteland could be liveable again. He is the reason I’m in the Mojave making New Vegas and Freeside a safe haven. ]”

Lucy takes a few steps back, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“[ No, you didn’t. You’re fresh out of a vault; and what, 19? 20? This land is changing you, and you don’t know if it’s for better or worse. ]”

The vault dweller can only look shocked. “How-How did you know that?”

Alexei gives a small huff. “[ When I was 19, my own father left our vault to go save the D.C. Wastes. Naturally, I followed after him. I did terrible things to find him: lying, murder, extortion. It’s a miracle I’m still alive. ]”

“That’s how it is up here, Little Killer. This is a ‘dog eat dog’ world,” the Ghoul notes. There’s a slight shiver in his voice from the cold, and any humor he once had is now gone.

“But it was all worth it, right? To save the Waste?” Lucy asks.

“[ I moved all the way from the East Coast to escape my memories. But even being shot in the head twice and having my own brain removed didn’t stop them from coming back. Now, I’m going to warn you, Lucy MacClean. You’re going to do terrible things of your own to survive up here, and judging by that look in your eye, you probably already have. You’ll see things that will make you wish you were back in your own vault. ]”

The tears that formed were now falling from the vault dweller’s face.

“ How did you do it? How did you survive? ”

Alexei smiles. “[ By knowing that I could help make this world a better place. And if I could do it, then so can you. Now, do you want to find your father? ]”

Lucy hiccups a small “ Yes. ”

The Courier bows and gestures to the elevator. “[ Then follow me. All three of you are cordially invited into the Lucky 38 Penthouse. ]”

_____

The ride to the Penthouse is quick, and surprisingly spacy in the elevator. Lucy and the Ghoul can see there are very few buttons on the side panel, but those that are there begin to light up, showing they were near the end of their ride. 

“Any rules we should know before we exit?” Lucy asks.

“[ Yes. All drinks go on coasters. ]”

A small wheezing laugh comes out from the Ghoul.

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Alexei hops out first. 

“[ Welcome to the Penthouse. No lights, obviously, but that’s what our Pip-Boys are for. Well, yours is- I don’t need it to see in the dark. ]”

The room is circular, leading into a loop that is closed off in portions by curtains. Stairs lead downwards, with a door that heads to a balcony. What draws the eye, however, is a large computer that is tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling. Various devices are connected to it, and piles of computer pieces lie strewn on the floor next to the keyboard.

“[ This is where I keep track of everything in New Vegas: the casinos, the hotels, inventory, etcetera. ]

“Holey moley, that’s a large screen.” Lucy walks up to it, the light from her Pip-Boy bouncing off of the glass.

“[ It allows me to multitask several commands at once, and to communicate with multiple people. It’s like a digital forum, of sorts. ]”

The Courier begins to dig through a cabinet pulling out bits and bobs. A screwdriver here, a carbon filament light bulb there, before she finally nabs a blocky device and hands it to Lucy. 

“[ I had your father’s stolen Power Armor fitted with a tracking device. At first, I planned on having someone follow him, but since you came, it will be much easier to give you this. ]”

Lucy reads the label, “Pip-Boy 2000?”

The Ghoul gives a whistle. “Goddamn, I thought those things went extinct.”

“[ Some of the older vaults used them, but now they mostly collect dust in shops until the right people come along. ]”

She presses a button in the corner, and the screens come to life. Numbers and letters begin to fill up, before Alexei turns a nob, showing a map of the Mojave, with a small beeping dot slowly moving.

“[ I believe that would be your father, who is currently heading past Primm. ]”

“That’s really him?”

“[ Either that, or some lucky Fiend stole it from him, but they’re not usually smart enough to do that. ]”

“I…don’t know what else to say. Thank you .”

“[ I have a few more things I think you might need. One moment. ]”

The older woman goes past the large curtain, and the sound of clattering metal can be heard: bullets falling onto the floor, magazines being loaded, and leather sliding against leather. Soon, Alexei comes back out, holding a belt with a gun holster on it in one hand, and a 9mm in the other. She hands the belt to Lucy. 

“[ See if this fits, first. ]”

Lucy takes it. The leather is thick and brown, with a dull metal buckle. She wraps it around her waist, and slides the end of the belt into the buckle. It’s a little loose, but overall it fits.

“[ That’s the belt I first wore after I got shot in the head. And this , is Maria. ]”

Maria is a very beautiful gun. Mother of pearl for the grip, intricate carvings all over, and a painting of a woman on both sides.

The younger woman holds the gun carefully with both hands. “You sure I can have this?”

Alexei nods. “[ I prefer weapons with a higher caliber. This might be a basic pistol, but aim it right, and you’ve got a dependable gun in your hands. I’ll get you some ammo pouches for it, hold on. ]”

She returns to the other side of the curtain, and more bullets can be heard.

Lucy holds up the gun- it looks valuable, and well-loved. Maria has a glossy sheen from being polished, and even reflects the light off of her Pip-Boy.

Soon Alexei comes back with 3 ammo pouches, and a large bag as well. 

“[ The ammo pouches are for you, Lucy. And this, ]” She throws the bag to the Ghoul. “[ Those bullets of yours are hard to find. You’re lucky I know how to make them. ]”

He scoffs. “You know this doesn’t count as the favor you owe me, right?”

“[ If I recall, it was you who owe me the favor. ]”

“On what grounds?!”

“[ If I hadn’t found you in the Divide, you’d be Tunneler food. ]”

“And if I hadn’t helped you in Cottonwood Cove, you wouldn’t have been able to kill Caesar!”

“[ If I recall correctly, Boone killed him, not me. ]”

“Oh, so now Little Miss Amnesia can remember things.”

“[ Ok, remind me then: who was it that shot a hole in your foot? And can do so again, at any time? ]”

Lucy ignored the both of them in favor of trying to attach the ammo pouches to her new belt. At least she felt better knowing that the Ghoul had a friend here.

Chapter Text

Both the Courier and the Ghoul were still arguing when Lucy began to explore the main portion of the Penthouse. It was mostly full of half-completed projects; a computer with its insides exposed, broken Holotape players, and lots of radios. Other items of Alexei’s draped the drawers and shelves, from weapons to old photographs. One in particular caught her eye.

The picture was in decent condition, in a sturdy metal frame. Three people were posed together, in front of the body of a very large creature next to a building. The man on the left looked to be the oldest, and he seemed to be rather relieved. On the right was a woman in Brotherhood armor, her tied-up hair beginning to come loose. Her face had numerous cuts and bruises, but overall she seemed happy. In the middle stood what appeared to be a teenager. Her hair was the same tint as the woman’s, but the teen had hers in numerous short curls- it looked more appropriate for a movie star than a Wastelander. Her vault suit was baggier than the one Lucy wore, and bore the number “101” on the neck. The teen’s left cheek was bandaged, and in her hands she held a rather cumbersome-looking weapon. Overall, the three of them made quite the image.

“[ That was three days after I left my vault. ]”

Lucy jumped. She didn’t even hear that the other two had stopped making noise until she heard the tinny “voice” of Alexei.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“[ If I wanted this hidden, it would be in my room. You’re free to look around. ]”

“So, is this your family?”

Alexei looks at the picture. “[ My friends. The one on the left is Three Dog, and the one on the right is…was Sarah Lyons. ]”

“I’m sorry. How did she die? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“[ I was told she died in battle after making Elder. She was everything I hoped the Brotherhood would be: kind, honorable, wanting to make the Wasteland a better place. ]”

“And were they?”

“The question is,” the Ghoul drawls out as he walks up behind them, “were they ever like that in the first place, or was it all in her newly rad-addled brain?” He takes a look at the photo as well. “I’m surprised that your weak vaultie arms could hold a Fat Man, much less use it.” 

“[ This ‘vaultie’ took out a Super Mutant Behemoth that day, so careful with your words there. ]”

“Right, I’m supposed t’ be afraid of the Marilyn wannabe. Speakin’ of which, what made you drop the decision to stop being a bottle blonde? You kept that shit up even when I first met you. Now I’m curious about,” He gestures to Alexei’s curls. “All that .”

“[ People who say blondes have more fun are filthy liars. I was miserable keeping it like that, and on the way back to D.C, I decided to let it go natural. ]”

Alexei takes the picture from Lucy’s grip. “[ Sarah said I shouldn’t have to hide who I was, but what kid is going to listen to an adult? ]”

“She’d probably be proud of who you became. The both of you wanted to protect people, and that’s what you’re doing now.” Lucy places her hand on Alexei’s arm. “You helped New Vegas, and now you’re helping us. If I was her, that’d earn my respect no matter what.”

“[ Lucy MacLean… ]”

“Hmm?”

The Courier places her own hand on Lucy’s.

“[ I’m going to tell you something Sarah told me a long time ago. ]”

“What did she tell you?”

“[ To pass along the torch to the next generation is a great honor, but also a great responsibility. The burden to save the Wastes is heavy, but in the end, absolutely worth it. So, from the Lyon’s Pride to the Lone Wanderer, from the Lone Wanderer to the Courier, and now, from the Courier to you . ]”

“Alexei, I-I don’t know what to say. This is a big thing to tell someone, a-and I’m not sure I can do tha-”

“Kid, just shut up and take the fucking complement so she’ll stop monologuing an’ let us go.”

“Right. I, um, thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“[ I know you won’t. ]”

The Ghoul adjusts the bag on his shoulder. “Take the dog an’ head downstairs. I need to have a grownup talk with the ‘boss.’”

“Uh, ok? Come on, Dogmeat.”

She leads the dog towards the elevator, pressing the button to open it and heads inside. A click indicates that they’re beginning to go down.

The Ghoul turns to look at Alexei. “Alright, why are you really helpin’ us?”

She shrugs. “[ I can’t do my good deed for the day? ]”

He gets close into her space. “‘Good deed’, my ass. Just what’re you up to?”

A small smile remains plastered on her face. “[ Her father tried to get help from Robert House. When that didn’t work, he left. Don’t you think he’d know where to get other help from? ]”

“... Son of a bitch .”

“[ He’s Vault-Tec. Any place he plans to go will also be Vault-Tec. So when you catch up to him… ]”

“You’ll know exactly where it is, won’t you? I’m willin’ t’ bet you’ve got that little Pip-Boy you gave her loaded with its own tracer.”

“[ You’re a smart man, Mr. Howard. Any place you come across in the future, could be loaded with Pre-War tech. Just imagine what Freeside could do with that! ]”

“Oh come off it, DD, you’ve picked apart the entire goddamn Mojave! Just what else is there for you to scavenge?”

“[ That man knows things even I don’t. Long buried basements, secret vaults; a friend of mine once discovered a vault hidden deep within a hotel! Who knows where he’ll go? And that’s why I have you and Lucy. ]”

“She ain’t gonna be happy you’re using her like this.”

“[ Last I recalled, you never really cared about what others thought. What brought this on? ]”

“...Just don’t get her hopes up.”

“[ I wasn’t lying about that. Unlike you, I actually have faith in the future. ]”

“Pfft. What future?” The Ghoul turns and heads to the elevator. He presses the button, and gives her one last look before he heads in and presses it closed.

The Courier had changed. First time he met her, she was a scrawny twig that relied on an ex First Recon sniper. Then she met him in the Divide, and for once she looked halfway competent. Now, after all these years, she’s got the whole of New Vegas under her thumb and on the way to proper civilization. Hell, if Shady Sands was still around, the Mojave might’ve even been called “prosperous.” 

“The future,” she said. The Ghoul can’t even admit to himself that she might be right. He’s been steered wrong before, and he’s not about to change his mind any time soon.

_____

“Alexei didn’t follow you?” Lucy was sitting on the steps of the Lucky 38. Victor was nowhere in sight (thank god), and Dogmeat was plopped on the ground like a ragdoll.

“She has her own shit to deal with at the moment. No need t’ worry about us. Check that doodad an’ see if he’s still at Primm.”

She plucks the Pip-Boy from where she tucked it into her belt. Sure enough, the little dot was still there, and didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon.

“Heh, probably Meyers. Man could stop a Super Mutant with just a glare. We should be able t’ catch up if we get goin’ ASAP.” 

Lucy stands up, brushing off her legs. “Right then. Off to Primm!”

All three start walking to the exit, back to Freeside.

_____

“So, when did you first meet her?”

“Hmm?”

Lucy points to the top of the Lucky 38. 

“Ah. Met her before all of,” gesturing to Freeside. “ This. ”

“What was she like before this ?”

“Well, come t’ think of it, she was like you, only a lot more stubborn- which is fucking impossible, considering you’re you .”

“Ok, not enjoying the insult here.”

“Hush. She kept me from getting a bounty for a former Powder Ganger. Can you believe she was actually helping the bastard? Had him resting in a cot in an old hospital all patched up.”

“Aw, that’s really nice of her! I don’t see what the problem is in helping out like that.”

They pass by a pair of women, the ladies holding each others’ hand in a drunken embrace.

“The problem was that he was worth 300 caps. I walk in, ready t’ take him in, an’ there she is just sitting there with a rifle in her lap, staring at me. When you first met her, didja get a weird feeling about her eyes?”

“Well, I couldn’t really see them.”

“But you felt it, didn’t you? The same fear a prey animal gets right before they’re pounced on.”

“I did. Why did that happen?”

The Ghoul stops at the inner Freeside gate. He struggles to get it open, but manages to leave a gap big enough for the both of them to pass through.

“People who’ve been through hell, they get this look in their eyes- real hauntin’. The kind of look that can reflect hell at those stupid enough to stare back.”

The moon is less hidden near the Mormon Outpost, and they walk past a Securiton helping a man to walk to the outpost.

“So if you can remember all that, you know that implies you were-” Lucy is stopped by a finger in her face.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

“Alright, alright, geez! So, what happened next?”

“She pulls out the man’s poster an’ shows it t’ me, shaking her head ‘no.’ Felt like I was being disciplined by a disappointed grandmother. Like I was gonna listen to that bullshit.”

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Lucy leans in closer.

The Ghoul sighs. He can still remember how the whole thing went down:

“This ain’t the right man t’ be playing House with, kid.”

The young woman continues to stare at him. She never picks up the rifle in her lap, though by the time she did so, it’d most likely be too late.

“Look, just let me take him out of your hands, an’ I’ll be out your way.”

She shakes her head.

“What, you think you can take me?”

A shrug, followed by a familiar voice behind him. “She might not, but I definitely can.”

The barrel of a gun is felt against the skin of his head. Sniper rifle, most likely. A voice, stoic and unaffected, with a sniper rifle. Only one man he knew fit the bill.

“As I live an’ breathe, Craig Boone, is that you?”

“Don’t try anything funny. Turn around slow.” He removes the gun from the Ghoul’s head.

He turns to the sniper. The man looked a lot healthier than he last looked. The depression beard was gone, and he actually filled out his clothes. Losing Carla had really taken a lot out of him, hadn’t it? Poor bastard only went into that stupid dinosaur, switched shifts with Manny, and stayed the rest of the day in his room.

“So, Booney, finally heading out into the world? I call that progress.”

“Not another word.”

“Aw, nice t’ see you, too.”

“Alexei, what do you want me to do with him?”

Alexei? That the girl’s name?

The Ghoul can hear her get up from the chair and walk up to him. When he sees her, the bounty paper is held in both her hands. She’s not as tall as he thought, only coming up to his chest. Alexei(?) takes the paper, and tears it in half, before shoving both halves into his chest, making him step back from the force. For such a scrawny thing, she sure had quite the push.

He’s quick to grab the paper pieces before they fall to the ground. The face depicted on the bounty was torn perfectly in half, right across the nose.

“What, you gonna have your lackey shoot me?”

She shakes her head.

“An’ I supposed you just want me t’ leave.”

A nod.

“That’s cute, kid, but I need the caps.”

She points to the amount written on the bottom paper half. “300 CAPS”, it had said.

“If you get paid either way, you’ll leave?” Boone asked.

“My my, actually thinking for once? An’ here I thought you were just a jarhead.”

Boone ignores him. “Alexei.”

Like a flash she heads to a corner of the room with a pair of backpacks. They appear fully loaded, but with what he couldn’t tell. It’s the sound of caps that draws the Ghoul’s attention, though. She’s loading a bag full to the brim with caps. This little nobody was positively loaded with money. It would be difficult, but if he took out Boone first, then he could take her out with a headshot and claim their treasure for himself.

“Diihh-on’t”

The word coming from her mouth is rough, unused, and seeming to refuse to come out properly. She’s still placing caps into a bag, but her eye turns towards him. That damn haunted eye.

“Nothing funny. You’re going to take the caps and head out.”

“Whatever you say, Booney.”

Soon she’s finished, but she starts to grab something else from the pack. It’s a bottle of water- none of that dirty crap, either. It’s labeled “Purified”, a rarity to see. Sure, Lake Mead was a source of clean water, but the effort to pump it wasn’t worth the risk to him, what with all the hostile wildlife nearby. At least mirelurks made for good meat, though.

Alexei stands back up, holding both the bag and the bottle. After walking over to him, she holds both out to the Ghoul.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it.” Boone answers.

She nods in return.

“Y’all are really gonna bribe me t’ make sure I don’t kill a goddamn Powder Ganger? That’s a downgrade for you, Boone. What happened to the Legion killer I knew?”

“You really want to find out the answer to that?”

“Not when I’m clearly outnumbered,” the Ghoul drawled. 

Alexei remains still, keeping the caps and water out for him to grab. He’s hesitant at first, but soon he reaches for them and she offers them up freely.

“Quite the philanthropist, young lady. That’s gonna end up with you in a ditch somewhere.”

“We’ve been doing just fine so far.”

“Only a matter of time, Booney. Only a matter of time.”

The sniper steps back from the door frame, leaving space for the Ghoul to leave. “You got your caps. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Such a lovely bedside manner. You should be takin’ care of the Ganger and not Blondie here.”

“ Out .”

“Alrighty. I shall take my duly awaited leave. Take care, Booney.”

Boone began to raise his rifle at the Ghoul. “Ok, ok!” 

He heads out of the hospital, stowing the caps safely in his bag. The Ghoul gives one last look behind him. Alexei is standing next to Boone, and actually has the audacity to wave goodbye.

Strange kid. He opens the bottle and takes a swig of water. Strange, but good. Too good for this hellhole.

_____

“That was really nice of her to do that.” Lucy comments.

“Yeah, well ‘nice’ out here can get you killed. Which is why I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

They finally reach the gate to exit Freeside. The Ghoul waves to the guard, who clicks a switch, and soon the gate is opening. Betsy and Ace are still at their posts, and Betsy sees them coming out.

“Sooo, how’d it go?”

“I’m alive, ain’t I?”

“Well, if you wanna get technical…”

“Can it, Betsy. Me ‘n the vaultie are heading out.”

“Right. Good luck out there.”

The gate closes behind them, and soon they’re heading out into the Mojave Wastes. As they leave, Lucy notices Betsy waving at her.

“She ain’t your type, Betsy!”

“Her loss, then!”

They’ve walked at least half an hour away before Lucy gets curious.

“What did you mean by that earlier?” She asks.

“Hmm?”

“About not being her type.”

He just looks at her with a grin. “Anything goes in the Mojave, Little Killer. Anything goes.”

She stands there, her mind registering what he just said. He continues to walk, leaving her there. Dogmeat follows, happy that they’re all going back out again.

“What does that even mean? Hey, get back here! Tell me what that means!”

Chapter Text

Alexei had watched the duo walk away from the gates of Freeside for at least 10 minutes. She couldn’t read their lips from this distance, but their body postures and movement showed them to be having an argument of some sort. Probably due to Betsy; she had improved with therapy, but even after all this time, still couldn’t resist a pretty face.

Everything below her was quiet and still. A few stragglers remained out, but overall the atmosphere was silent as the grave. It unnerved her.

New Vegas was supposed to be the jewel of the Mojave, a haven to all who could afford it. Years of hard work had ensured that Alexei (and Big MT) was able to extend the list to allow help to those in need. Freeside was now a prosperous city- crime was non-existent, and chem addiction was at an all-time low. But one thing was missing.

Moldaver had told Alexei about her plan for cold fusion, and the thought had remained in the Courier’s head ever since. Sure, Helios One was a good source of power, especially after the modifications it had received over the years, but the chance to have not one, but two sources of infinite energy was too important. 

But the only problem that remained was the Brotherhood. Alexei had been in their good graces after helping out in the East Coast, but that was running thin now. She had adamantly refused to hand over the tech from Big MT, and her outburst during her reunion with Maxson had left both sides bitter. New Vegas was one of the few places not under Brotherhood control, and she was going to make damn sure it remained independent.

The Assaultrons had done an excellent job at disposing of Knights that thought they could power through the settlements and into Freeside; Alexei owed Rosie a great deal after they were gifted to the city. She also owed her after being informed of the weak spot in the welding of the T-60s, which made targeting a much easier affair. There was a great deal of scrap armor left over from previous invasion attempts, but the welders and mechanics never complained about free resources.

If they could draw away the Brotherhood from the NCR, they would have to deal with them before reinforcements could be called in. EMP blasts and pulse grenades could short out all their armor, and rockets could take out any Vertibirds. Add in a few snipers to take out stragglers, and Alexei could power through her way into the NCR Headquarters to get her status report on that free power.

Alexei walked to the massive computer. Mr. House was still in his little “exile”, but the computer was still connected to all of New Vegas, including every single member of the Committee. Everyone was asleep at this hour, but that didn’t mean Alexei couldn’t be prepared.

It was a simple matter to send out a group email- a scheduled meetup for tomorrow to discuss her plan. Allocate resources, procure weapons, call in a few connections. The lights of New Vegas were going to turn back on, one way or another, Brotherhood be damned.

Was this a war? It’s not really a war if the fighting is done in self-defense, now is it? No, this wasn’t war, when you really think about it; it’s pest control . The Lyon’s Pride was long gone- all that remained of the Brotherhood of Steel were thieves who bullied and stole, who were no better than the Enclave, in Alexei’s mind.

There was one thing she was sure of, as she turned the computer back off and headed to her room. With her years of knowledge and experience, she knew New Vegas would not fall.

After all, in the end, the house always wins.