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Mr. House watched from the security cameras in the Lucky 38 as Courier Six made his way through the building. Upon entering, he nonchalantly removed the helmet of his customised Riot Gear - now bearing the sigil of the ‘38 - and walked towards the elevator. He mimed the tipping of a hat to Victor as he entered the elevator. The Courier’s sense of humour would always confuse House, who never seemed to understand how a man who had suffered so much could be so cheery in the face of the nightmarish reality he lived in. It wasn’t long before Daniel had entered the Penthouse floor and was pulling up a chair to sit on. He plotted himself firmly down on the chair, posture horrible as always.
“Ey, ‘Ousey,” Daniel said in a comically bad mockery of House’s accent. “How’s that coffin of yours? Still as fresh as a jarred pickle from before the bombs?”
The speakers of House’s rig released an audible sigh of disappointment. “It is a delicate pre-war medical conservation pod, the highest quality from Big M.T., and most certainly not a -”
“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha, no need to ramble for a bloody decade, I’ve heard this one before. Just pulling ya leg, boss.” Daniel interjected; the accent now thankfully gone. He pulled a box of Pork ‘n’ Beans from his baggage, breaking the seal and digging in. “Y’know, we really gotta install some more faces on that screen of yours,” the Courier said in between mouthfuls. “As handsome as that eyebrow raising fella is, you need some more expressions than just being intrigued. Gotta find some way to express your happiness to see me, after all.”
The Courier was met with silence. “Oh, come on, don’t be such a downer, House. I was joking earlier but now you’re making me think we should install a smiling photo on that monitor - “
“Your friends in Freeside are causing trouble, Daniel.” House interrupted. “The construction bots I dedicated to cleaning up the streets – as per your request – are suffering repeat attacks from members of the Kings.”
The Courier finished another mouthful before continuing. “Yeah, makes sense, those guys never liked authority of any kind.”
“You promised me they would cooperate-”
“And they will. You’re viewing this the wrong way, Robert. The Kings are a gang focused on reputation and honour. I’ll head down to the School of Impersonation later, sort out a deal.” Daniel ate another spoonful, clearly pondering something. “In fact, perhaps it’s time we lay the groundwork for a much more permanent contract.” Daniel said.
“Oh?” House replied. Somehow, despite his eyebrow being permanently stuck in a raised position on the monitor, he managed to sound as if he were raising his eyebrow for the first time in a century.
“Think about it. Freeside is but the next stage in the expansion of the Strip. When the gates are opened and the walls pushed further out from the core of Vegas, Freeside will need authority. Security, if you will.”
“My Securitrons-” House tried to interrupt, but Daniel cut him off.
“Your Securitrons are useful, yes, but they are threatening, and mechanic. They have no sympathy, no true connection to the inhabitants of Freeside. They lack what the Kings have.”
“Your suggestion?” House inquired.
“As the strip grows, it will need more than just the Three Families. I propose that the Kings become the Fourth Family.”
The proposition hung in the air like a thick fog of radiation. Daniel could almost swear he could hear House making a hundred calculations a second. Running the numbers, evaluating the probabilities. After an uncomfortable silence, House spoke again.
“Very well, Courier. I trust you’ll see to it that a sufficient contract is negotiated with the Kings. Until later.” House’s robotic voice alleviated the tension in the room.
“Understood, Boss.” Daniel confirmed, standing up after finishing of the last of the Pork ‘n’ Beans. “I’ll get to it immediately then.” He gathered himself and began walking to the elevator. “Guess it’s time to reconnect with an old friend.”
* * *
The King knew that the Courier was headed to the School of Impersonation long before the man arrived. Informants from the gang were scattered everywhere, and the information made its way back to him as it always did.
That being said, the King was still surprised to hear that Daniel was on his way over. Ever since the Second Battle for Hoover Dam – hell, even since the Courier slaughtered the entirety of Fortification Hill a week prior – Daniel had grown increasingly distant from Freeside. Despite retaining his respect for him, the King had become almost disapproving of the Courier. As time passed it had become increasingly clear that Daniel was supporting a less than favourable side of history. While House was certainly better than the damn NCR or – god forbid – the Legion, it still meant oppression for Freeside, one way or another. Though he never directly ordered the attacks on the construction bots, the King had willingly turned a blind eye to the violence, seeing no issue with delaying House’s oh-so-precious ProgessTM. Now it seemed he would be receiving House’s twisted version of justice.
* * *
Daniel strode confidently into the School of Impersonation. After all, he had nothing to hide, no bad intentions against the Kings. Rather, good news was to be delivered, and deliveries were what he was good at – even if he had given up proper courier work long ago. Daniel walked into the theatre, where the King was sat watching one of his men perform, Rex lying obediently beside him.
“So, the legendary Courier returns to this humble abode.” The King spoke without turning to face the Courier. “What brings you back? Finally tired of gambling your life away in the Strip? Of losing yourself to vice and addiction?” The King’s cold tone halted Daniel in his tracks. He knew that the King would be unhappy, but he wasn’t expecting such a chilling start to the conversation.
“Nice to see you again too, King.” Daniel removed his helmet, setting it down on the table the King sat in front of. He pulled up a chair and sat down, sticking his hand out for Rex to inspect. “King, I’m not here for the reason you think.” The Courier continued in the face of the King’s silence.
“Is that so?” The King replied.
“I’ve come to you with a deal. A damn good one, if I don’t say so myself.” Daniel said. “It goes something like this. If the Kings stop assaulting the construction bots that are here to clean up and renovate Freeside, they get some special treatment for being such good employees.”
“Employees?” The King asked.
“Oh yes. You see, the Strip is expanding, and that means that the number of Families needs to expand as well. Mr. House is officially extending the offer to the Kings to become the Fourth Family, and for the School of Impersonation to be renovated and expanded. You will have to find a way to generate profit for the House, but I’ll leave that to your discretion.” Daniel leant back on the chair. The King finally turned to face him.
“And if the Kings refuse?” he asked, despite knowing the answer.
“King, the only reason this place isn’t a smouldering wreck with the Kings buried underneath the rubble is because I’ve prevented it. Your survival up until now has been entirely dependent on my good faith, and Mr. House’s trust of my word. The House has been growing increasingly impatient, and you’ve certainly not made things better for yourself by attacking his construction bots. When I talked to him earlier, he was one more broken robot away from sending in the Securitrons to turn this place to ash.”
The King sat in silence, processing the words from his old friend.
“I’d rather not let House unleash his wrath upon this place. You and the Kings have done plenty good for Freeside, and I’m trying to keep it that way. House isn’t here to dictate your every move or to tell you how to run Freeside. Accept this deal, and you’re still the law on the streets, just with a bit more of an official role.” Daniel let the words hang for a few seconds before continuing. “So, what will it be?” he asked.
“I suppose we accept. Pacer wouldn’t be happy, but ever since he overdosed…” the King replied. “Go tell Mr. House that the Kings shall become the Fourth Family. I imagine there will be a lot of logistics to sort out.”
The Courier stood up, picking up his helmet. “I knew you’d make the right decision.” He slid the helmet back on and patted the King on the back. “Until next time, King.”
“Until next time.” The King replied.