So, you know the part where I said this wouldn't be out for a while?
I lied.
Chapter 14: The Home Stretch
The sun was nearly at its zenith in the sky when the party of three passed through Camp McCarran's gates once more.
It had been a relatively short morning; the way there had been a much more roundabout trip. They'd travelled a little ways out into the open desert before retiring for the night, finding a secluded spot half walled-off by a rocky cliff. Alex had snuck back to the Cook-Cook's hideout in the middle of the night in hopes of finding someone to eat, once he was certain that his allies were soundly asleep. But it was still deserted; the only life he'd seen was the little group of two-headed cow things, munching mindlessly away in their pen, and he wasn't going to invite trouble by trying to consume those. A brief prowl in the surrounding desert had unveiled only rocks, dust, and an alarmingly large scorpion (now an alarmingly flat scorpion). He'd crept back into camp slightly before dawn, disappointed and aching.
He could have gotten away with searching longer, because it was a few hours still before Cain woke up. Breakfast had been a quietly frustrated affair, with Cain and Arcade finishing a pouch of trail mix and Alex wishing that it was something edible.
Then it had been two hours' walking, broken only by a brief tussle with a coyote that was desperate enough to attack them. She'd then stopped to skin and carve it up, much to Arcade's surprise and Alex's interest. "No use wasting good food," she'd told them. Alex unhappily agreed.
And now they were back at the base. The viral abomination eyed the soldiers around them as they made their way through the camp – seasoned men with hard eyes fiddling with their rifles, smoking, and playing hands of cards. A mirror to the off-duty Marines he'd seen once. It was strange, walking through military undisguised – he half-expected them to turn on him at any second, with guns blazing and cries of 'Fuck, ZEUS has been spotted!' But he received nothing more than guarded stares.
That didn't make it any more comfortable, though, and he quickened his pace, hoping that the others would match it. The sooner they could get out of here, the better. It tempted too many memories – exhilarating leaps from helicopter to helicopter, wrenching a tank's turret from its post, the heady rush of power. A regiment of men in uniform, all firing at him. Choking, tasting blood. Screams. Cold blue eyes or grey, featureless faces that loomed over him as tendrils plunged into his body and consumed him from the inside out, a thousand times over–
Alex stared. For a second, he thought that his many memories were lingering a bit too strongly in his mind, but a few blinks and a shake of the head confirmed what he was seeing. Some distance ahead of him, over by one of the trucks, was a Walker. He snarled, arms writhing.
"Hey, Alex, what the-?" That was Cain. "The hell are you doing?"
He jerked his head forward. Rotted skin, hair loss, deformities – the person was definitely infected. "Stand back," he warned. "I'll take care of this."
How the hell had Redlight survived? He'd personally seen to wiping it out! Every trace, every monster, every gob of Infected flesh hiding in the dark damp of the subways and sewer systems; he'd consumed it all. Had Blackwatch kept samples? Of course they had, the bastards, but why here, why now?
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Small hands pushed ineffectually at his shoulders; he gave Cain a brief glare, which she returned in full. "Alex, what the hell is this? Do you know this woman or something? Can't we talk it over? If you start a fight here, the NCR is going to come for our asses before you can even–"
What was she going on about? Couldn't she see what he was looking at? Maybe she'd never seen an Infected before, but surely she could look at the Walker and see that something was wrong, that it wasn't human anymore? "Cain, that's an Infected," he growled, fingers curling. Which tool would he use – the whipfist, the blade? He had to kill it before it could reach his companions behind him; there was nothing he could do for them if they contracted the virus. For fuck's sake, everyone was walking right past the diseased woman like there was nothing wrong with her. Were they blind?
"An Inf- what? What are you talking about, this is just – Alex, she's a ghoul. We talked about them. Alex, think, if–" She paused to catch her breath, expression equal parts panic and anger. "If your disease was wiped out two hundred years ago, why would it show up now? On the other side of the country? Do you think nobody else would notice if this was something out of the ordinary? They're soldiers, not idiots, they'd act if there was some sort of zombie shambling around, they wouldn't just stand around taking bets." She was still pushing at him, and he wasn't in the mood, a hair's breadth from violence as he was. He jerked away, and she lost her balance and stumbled. The sight might have amused him if he wasn't so agitated.
"Cain, I was hunting down the virus most of my life," he spat. "I know what it looks like." She opened her mouth to argue back; he gestured harshly at her, losing patience, and she stepped back in alarm. This was getting nowhere. His eyes flickered orange as he tapped into the now-silent Hivemind, the world around him drowning in tones of muted red. The soldiers before him trudged around as dull outlines… and so did the Infected woman. He looked back at Cain and Arcade – the latter of whom did a double take in surprise. Like the rest of them, they faded into the background. Did this no longer work? He glanced down at his own arm. Bright white, as it had always been. But the Walker refused to glow, no matter how hard he stared.
His sight slipped back into the world's usual colors. He continued to stare at the woman, although now it was more suspicious confusion and less aggression.
"What was that?" Arcade demanded. "Your eyes–"
"I can see the virus," he said shortly, in a voice that invited no further questioning. "Whatever stage it's in. She's not showing up."
Cain sighed. There was obvious relief in the way her shoulders fell, but her voice was thick with frustration. "That's because she's not infected. I keep telling you. You're talking about whatever happened back in your time, but that was your time. And I'm sorry, but that ended a long time ago. Look, I don't really know what you're talking about – I mean, I know you were talking about the outbreak and the virus and everything – but listen, that's all done with now. It's been done for two hundred years. She's a ghoul. I know she's not exactly pretty to look at, but if she's hanging around here, then she's harmless. The NCR might be the most ineffectual governing body I've ever seen, but they do have standards. Ghouls are – they're just people, okay? I mean, a lot of people don't like them, but they're pretty much the same, except the feral ones. And you'll know those when you see them." She gave him another shake, until he tore his eyes away from the not-Walker and looked at her. "Alex. Calm down. I don't know what you're afraid of, but this isn't it."
"I'm not afraid," he bit out. "I just didn't want to see the two of you devolve into mindless animals."
"That's noble, but trust me - the only thing threatening about most ghouls is their body odor. Alex, listen to me carefully. I know you want to help, and I do appreciate it, but your war was a long time ago. The rules of survival have changed. You're fast enough to afford a second guess when you see something new, okay? You have to trust me and Arcade; we know this place, we know a threat when we see one. If you keep jumping to conclusions like this, people are going to get hurt over nothing, and as psycho as you act sometimes – like right now – I don't think you want that. Do you?"
"No," he said gruffly, bristling at the chastisement. This whole thing made him feel rather foolish. It was not a feeling he liked. "Can we move on?"
She held his gaze for a solid fifteen seconds before shaking her head in frustration. "Come on." She exhaled sharply. "Let's go find Dhatri. And for fuck's sake, Alex, quit doing the thing with the arms. You're going to cause a scene."
Alex glanced down. Sure enough, his arms were wriggling red and black with agitation. He sighed and let them fall, drawing slow and deep breaths until the tentacles faded. All right. He was going to trust Cain on this one. Or he was going to trust his eyes. Redlight was still dead. This just… had a really similar effect. Visually. Not functionally.
As they approached the woman, he could see where he'd been wrong. Her skin definitely looked rotted, but it wasn't the same; pale and grey where Redlight had always looked like raw flesh. And there were no tumors, no obvious misshapes. Well, besides the lack of a nose. And her eyes were still clear, still alert. In fact, she was looking right at them. He stared back, even when Cain elbowed him in the side with a shake of the head.
It was unnecessary – when they were close enough, she stepped away from her truck. Alex tensed, but her weapons remained holstered.
"Hey. You there. Smoothskins. Are you the ones Hildern sent into Vault 22?" Her voice was a low, hollow rasp. Alex's fingers curled in discomfort. That part was too familiar.
"Yeah." Cain peered at her. "Hey, were you the one leaving those log entries?"
The ghoul rolled her eyes. "Figured that out, did you?"
Cain shrugged. "Not a lot of ghoul mercs out there. No offense."
"I'm not a merc, I'm a researcher," she huffed. "Just not afraid to do some hands-on research. Unlike some other assholes I know. The name's Keely, by the way."
Cain shook her hand. "I'm Cain. So you're the one Angela was talking about? Glad to see you're, um, not dead."
Keely snorted. "I've been doing this since before you were born, kid. A damn rescue would have been nice, but I guess you did good enough work on your own."
"Tell that to Doctor Hildern," Arcade commented. "He didn't particularly seem to think so."
"Hildern's a prick," the ghoul scoffed. "I saw what you did to the database. He's been bitching about it ever since I got back. Taking it out on poor Angela, too. Don't know how it's her fault, but assholes will be assholes."
"Sorry about that?" Cain ventured.
Keely waved her away. "Don't be. What was going on down there was very wrong, and I know that Hildern wouldn't have cared. The man just wants results; everything else is just a footnote. It's for the best he never got his hands on that data. I was going to erase it myself, but I guess you took care of that. Not the most delicate touch I've seen, but eh, it works."
"Yeah." Cain shot Alex a glance. "Not to be a dick, but how did you, um…"
Keely rolled her eyes. "Out with it. I'm a big girl."
Cain gestured helplessly. "Well, we kind of did set the place on fire. Don't get me wrong, but how come you're not dead?"
"What, second thoughts?" The ghoul rasped out a laugh. "I saw that. Good thinking. That had been my eventual plan, you know, before I ended up trapped. I'd rigged the ventilation system to put out a flammable gas – I'm not sure how much was left by the time you showed up, but it worked well enough. I couldn't get past that one collapsed stairwell, but there was an emergency tunnel on the third floor that I managed to hack open."
"So there was another way down," Cain mused. "We were just looking on the wrong floor."
"What, how'd you get down?" When the three of them shared a silent look, she shook her head. "Eh, I guess it doesn't matter if you were drilling holes through the floor or something. I don't care. The place is just a tomb." A shrug. "So I cleared a way to the hatch. Could have prepared better, but when I saw an escape tunnel, I wasn't expecting it to be filled with the spore plants."
"That's a shaky assumption," Cain pointed out. "Everything below the second floor was pretty much infested."
She huffed. "I know it wasn't the brightest move in retrospect, but I thought it had been sealed off. Anyway, it didn't lead down to the fifth floor, not directly. There was a large natural cavern with a high concentration of spore plants. You saw those, right? The flytraps?" Cain nodded. "I tried to get through, but one of them got my leg. I found a safe spot away from the bastards, but I couldn't climb back up the tunnels – it was all rock formations – and I wasn't in any shape to fight my way through the mess on the base floor, so I didn't want to go forward."
"So, what, you just waited around for something to happen?" Alex asked incredulously. He had been starting to feel the slightest bit impressed with this ghoul woman, despite himself, but that was right back to square one. "For a few days?"
Keely scowled at him. "What else was there to do? I took a few potshots at the plants, any mantises that got too close. I had my supplies with me, at least. Splints are no good for acid burns, but I wasn't going to starve for a while. And with Hildern throwing every piece of dumb muscle he could find at the place, somebody was bound to come sooner or later."
"Hey, I like to think of myself as intelligent muscle," Cain protested. "At least well-informed muscle."
Keely eyed her. "I'm not sure about the muscle part." Cain started to retort, but she waved her off. "But I guess you're better than the average merc. Doing the right thing over coin. You don't see that much these days, even here." She sighed – a raspy, desiccated sound. "And you cleared out the spores. I was pretty surprised when I heard that boom. That's how I lived – no ventilation there, so I missed the fireball. Figured that if I had any shot at leaving, the time was then; if anyone had lit the ventilation system, they'd probably cleared a path through the vault. The going was a little slower than I liked, but I made it out. No idea how you got the vault door back in place, but that was a good call."
"Yeah, well." Another awkward glance at Alex. "It kinda looked like it needed containing."
"You almost trapped me in there," Keely said irately. "Lucky that it was attached, however the hell you pulled that off, otherwise I couldn't have gotten out. And then I come back to find Angela having a fit because she thinks that I got myself killed. No, don't apologize," she sighed irritably when Cain tried to speak. "Not your fault, and you were doing what I was going to do anyway. But really, would it have killed you to be more thorough?"
"At the time, I thought we were being about as thorough as we could get," said Cain. "I mean, I'm sorry that I accidentally almost killed you twice, but I thought you were already dead."
"Hah. Comforting." The ghoul rolled her shoulders. "No hard feelings. Just try not to do it again. I won't keep you – I'm just staying out of the office for now. Hildern's in top form. I don't know if you're coming to see him again, but take it from me, that's a bad idea."
"That bastard can take his commissions and shove them up his ass," Cain said with feeling. Keely chuckled as the redhead turned to leave, then paused looking back of her shoulder. "By the way, do you know where Dhatri is?"
"The Major?" Keely gave her an appraising look. "Over by the command tent, I think. Good luck – all that man thinks of is Fiends these days."
"Oh, I've got just the thing for that," Cain grinned, and with a little flourish of her scorched hat, she turned around again. "Thanks!" she called back as she left.
"Huh," she mentioned, once they were out of earshot. "Wasn't expecting that."
"Wasn't expecting what? A ghoul researcher?" Arcade frowned. "One of our part-time guards at the Fort is a ghoul. It's not that uncommon. They're people too."
Cain waved him away. "No, not that. Just, that there was somebody else down there in the vault. And we almost set her on fire. And then we almost trapped her inside. I mean, it wasn't on purpose, but I kind of feel like a dick now."
"Ah, yes." Arcade coughed. "I suppose we could have done better on that front, yes."
"Why?" Alex's brow furrowed. "She got out in the end. What's the problem?"
"Well, what if she hadn't?" Cain challenged. "What if she hadn't been resourceful enough, or if she'd been trapped somewhere else and the explosion got her, or if the door hadn't worked? What then?"
"Then she dies." He shrugged. "And we never hear about it. That's how it works."
Arcade stopped midstride, mouth slightly ajar. "Is – is that how everyone in the Old World thought?" he said between breaths as he caught up with the rest of the group. "Because then the Great War makes that much more sense."
"I think it's just him," Cain said dryly. And then, to Alex; "Pretty big on the law of the Wastes, are you? Somehow, that really doesn't surprise me. You seem like a 'survival of the fittest' kind of guy. But god, man, have a little sympathy."
Alex just shrugged again. "Don't have much of that to spare. I'm not going to waste it on everyone I meet."
"I noticed," she said. "But you could at least pretend you care."
"Well, I don't."
"And that's one of the many, many reasons why you're a dick. Come on, I think I see the command tent."
Just as instructed, they found Major Dhatri at his post, a cigar in hand. The man gave them a genuinely surprised look as they approached.
"Welcome back." He straightened up. "That didn't take long. You got one of those fuckers for me, I hope?"
"I can do better than that." Grinning, Cain reached into her largest pack, pulling down the edges enough to show him the three lumpen bundles crammed inside.
"Well, I'll be." He gave Cain an appraising look. "Gotta admit, I wasn't expecting that. If these are really the guys I asked for, you're something else."
"I had help," she said modestly. Dhatri cast a critical eye at the lanky doctor fidgeting a ways behind her, and then a harder look at the hooded man that stared back with challenging eyes.
"So you did," he allowed. "You wouldn't be the first team I've sent after those psychopaths, though. Might just be the last. Let's take a look at these fuckers."
"You won't be disappointed." Cain lifted one of the wrapped heads from her pack. "This one's… well, it's one of those assholes, unless somebody was slipping more of these into my bags when I wasn't looking." She fiddled with the linens and they slipped away, revealing a head that was dark-skinned and female. "Violet," she clarified, somewhat unnecessarily.
Dhatri held out both hands for it, and Cain relinquished it eagerly; Alex caught her surreptitiously wiping her hands on her jeans. The Major, meanwhile, turned the head over in his hands, inspecting it carefully.
"That's her, all right," he eventually said, when he was satisfied. "The general's going to be damn pleased about this. I hope her hounds weren't too much trouble?" he added, beginning to wrap the head back up. "We've got a few men here who'd tangled with them. Took a few down, but they've got the scars to show for it."
Both Cain and Arcade looked at Alex, who shrugged.
Dhatri eyed the group with something halfway between appraisal and suspicion. "Come to think of it, none of you look that beat up. Those three have killed lots of good men, broken others."
A faint smirk tugged at Alex's lips. "I'm good at what I do."
"Hey, don't take all the credit." Cain rolled her eyes. "Mostly, he just runs in like an idiot and we do the picking off from afar. Well. He does too, but with him, it's less like picking guys off and more like watching a pissed-off Deathclaw in action. It works. Somehow."
Dhatri gave a half-shrug and lifted his hands. "If you've got the results, ma'am, I don't care how in the seven hells you pulled them off. It just leaves a man wondering. So, who's next?"
She gingerly pulled out another. "Nephi," she clarified, once the cloth was off. "He didn't even get close."
"I could guess." The Major took the head from her, inspecting the man's squashed features. "You've still got your necks, after all. I've heard talk of that man taking off heads like driving a ball. Guess he won't be doing it again." He scowled at the severed head and jabbed a finger at its forehead. "What's that, Nephi? Nothing to say about my swing? Guess you finally got your due, you son of a bitch." He looked up. "And that last one better be who I think it is."
Cain held out the last as he put down what was left of Nephi. "If you're thinking of homicidal, cannibalistic pyromaniacs, then yeah, it is."
Dhatri took a long drag on his cigar and looked hard at the half-wrapped head. "At long last, we meet, you bastard," he said slowly. "Look at you now. Bet you felt so strong when you did it? I hope you died scared and pathetic. Corporal Betsy's gonna live on, and nobody else is gonna suffer like she did. Only thing I regret is not bringing you down myself."
It took him a second – and Cain jiggling the head in front of him – for him to remember that he was supposed to take it from her. He gave it a cursory examination, then set it down with the other two.
"Well." Dhatri paused again. He took the cigar and stubbed it out, then tossed it on the ground. "It's hard to believe, but you got me the heads, and they're in good enough shape to prove you're not trying to pull some shit. For that, you've got my thanks. Got the thanks of the Tenth Squad, too. A lot of old blood's just been paid. But I'm guessing you want your reward. The pay is two-fifty a head and five hundred for the whole set. So that's twelve-fifty caps I owe you for a job well done. Hold on."
The Major vanished inside his tent. Amidst the rummaging, Alex could hear a combination lock and the creak of a safe. When he came out, he was carrying several brown paper rolls. The ridged indentations were clear even at a distance.
Cain took them from him with something approaching rapture. She peeled one open to inspect a cap inside, holding it up to her face for inspection – how a bottlecap could be a fake, Alex had no idea, but she seemed satisfied with what she saw. "Thank you."
"The thanks is mine." He gave them a long look, nodding slowly. "Been sending men to their deaths for months on this, and you take out all three in a night. You three are something else."
"I've been told," Cain said modestly. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. Put in a good word for me up there?"
"Of course. The NCR owes you its thanks. You just settled a lot of old scores." The Major looked across the rows of tents. "Maybe some of them can move on now." He was silent for a few moments before he seemed to remember where he was. "Good work, soldier," he added.
With that, he gathered up the three heads and made for the terminal on the other side of the camp. Cain looked at him, then to her companions, and then to the rolls of money tucked under her arms.
"Well, I wouldn't call myself a soldier," she said slowly. "Oh, forget it. I think it was a compliment. Holy fuck, that's a lot of caps." Cain yanked open her money pouch and began stuffing the caps inside. "I mean… fuck. One thousand, two hundred and fifty caps. Might be the best job I've ever taken. And just one night's work, too."
"I don't know, I'd say it was earned." Arcade rubbed his eyes. "That might have been a lot more of a mess if not for… well, you know. And we did take down three of the biggest drug lords in the Mojave."
"Yeah. That's not something a lot of people can say, you know? Good bar stories, even for Vegas. You two did good work back there."
"Any time," Alex said. "Just tell me when we can do it again."
"It was a joint effort," the doctor conceded. "It's nice to actually, well, make a difference for the team. I've been missing that for a while now." He looked down. "Even if I didn't expect to be making a difference with guns."
"Where did you learn how to use those, anyway?" Cain asked. "You're actually a pretty good shot. A little shaky, and you hesitate a lot before firing, but you've got better aim than I expected."
"Oh? I, um. When I was young, I – younger. Not really young, but maybe ten years ago or so." He toyed with his fingers. "Training at the Fort. Self-protection. For, you know, Freeside."
Cain looked at him curiously. "I see."
"It's not that surprising," he protested. "You can't live in Freeside without knowing how to defend yourself. The Followers may be known for their intense idealism, but they're not stupid."
"Do they give all their trainees plasma weapons?" she asked.
"What? Of course not," Arcade snapped. "I bought it."
"From the Van Graffs?" He nodded quickly. "It just seems strange that they'd train you with those, too," she pointed out. "Not a lot of energy weapons in the Mojave. They're pretty trade-restricted – I'm not saying you couldn't get one, but not a lot of doctors would get such a high-end weapon. It's not a profession where you use them much. I mean, if you had the money, okay, but I'm surprised that they included it at all."
The blonde shifted. "It was a thorough education."
"I see," she repeated.
"I don't know if you're looking for some sort of exciting answer, but my life really isn't all that interesting." Arcade sounded irritated. "Yes, I have a plasma pistol, and yes, I know how to use it without putting my eye out. I can assure you, I'm not some kind of nighttime vigilante or ex-gang member." He jerked his head in Alex's direction, who looked back with narrowed eyes. "If you want an interesting story, I'm sure he has plenty of them."
"Hey, hey, I'm just asking," Cain said casually. "Didn't mean to offend."
"It's fine, just – I don't know what you're expecting to find, but I'm not that person," Arcade repeated.
"I know, I get it." The courier looked cheerfully unaffected by his tense replies. "Anyway, I am so glad to have those things out of my bags." She stretched, rolling her shoulders. They cracked audibly. "Probably going to need to wipe down everything in there," she mused. "Does my bag smell like severed head to you?"
Alex blinked at the satchel that was suddenly thrust into his face and complied out of pure confusion. "Yes," he decided, pushing it away.
She grimaced. "Damn. And washing's a waste of good water. I'll do it next time I find a sink, maybe, so at least I'm not the one paying for it. Maybe we can find one here."
"I'm not sure money is much of a problem right now." Arcade frowned. "You could keep the Fort running for a week with what you just got paid."
"Hey, it's for a good cause. Nobody with Benny's fashion sense should be allowed to live." For the life of him, Alex could not tell if she was being sarcastic. "Not going to argue with the giant payment, though. Hell, I'm only about fifty caps short now. The Strip's so close I can taste it."
"Be careful," Arcade warned. "I've seen so many people walk into those gates and come out hollow-eyed wrecks. Vegas – all of it's a trick. Flashing lights and promises. Don't get drawn in."
"Oh, don't fret over me, I'm only going there to shoot a guy." Cain frowned. "I just want all of this to be over. Although I wouldn't say no to one of those fancy drinks and a hand of Blackjack while I'm there."
The doctor shrugged. "Just look out for yourself."
"No worries. I'm very good at looking out for Number One." There was an awkward pause. "…Also numbers two and three," she added. "Maybe a fourth, but any more than that and things start falling apart. I'm not a babysitter."
They walked in silence for a ways after that. Maybe even comfortable silence. He definitely felt more relaxed once they left McCarran for the open road. Shooting at him or not, Alex doubted that he'd ever soften up around military.
Cain, as usual, was the one who finally spoke up. "So if I can get a good deal on the weapons I picked up, I'll have enough to get into Vegas." She glanced backwards at her pack, and the two barrels sticking out of it. "Well, actually, I could get away with just selling one. Hell, I could probably sell these for scrap at this rate and still get enough. As long as I don't have to carry them any longer." She sagged theatrically. "I'm not built for this sort of thing."
She paused. "Actually, Alex, I should see about getting you a bag."
"No," came the automatic reply.
"Come on, mister I-Can-Pick-Up-A-Vault-Door, you wouldn't even feel it."
Alex glared. "It's not about the weight," he muttered. "I don't do well with carrying things. I don't care how well they're built, most stuff won't hold up to the kind of force I can put it through. And when it comes to your bags and stuff, I can carry them for a little while, but they'll be shredded if I try to change shape with them on. And they get in the way in a fight."
"That's bullshit," Cain said. "I've watched you do the arm thing a dozen times and your jacket still looks… well, like you pulled it out of a scrap heap, but I don't see any holes in it."
Alex blinked. "My clothes are a part of me," he said flatly. The whole thing was obvious if anyone just looked at him when he transformed. Maybe they hadn't been paying enough attention. He let the tendrils run across his entire body, all color swirling into grey and red and black. There was that blinking moment of darkness when his eyes vanished before he built them again, reforming into an Alex Mercer with a plain green sweater and tan slacks. He fidgeted as his companions watched wide-eyed, rubbing at his exposed hair uncomfortably. It had always felt wrong to him – maybe it was stupid, but the hood made him look like him; without it, it was too easy to look into a mirror and see Doctor Alexander James Mercer looking back.
Well, they'd gotten a good enough view anyway, so he twisted his body back into its regular shape and drew the familiar weight back over his head.
"So…" Cain broke the silence.
"Yeah?" Alex asked warily. He wasn't particularly fond of the looks they were giving him. Too shrewd.
"So, what you're saying is, you've actually been walking around naked this whole time."
Arcade clapped a palm to his forehead. "Really? He shows you this… this inbuilt ability to convert matter from one form to another, and all you get out of this is that he's naked?"
"Well, he is, isn't he? He's not actually wearing anything." Cain prodded Alex's sleeve experimentally; he glared down at her, acutely aware of the invasion of his personal space. Physical contact was so much worse when he was hungry. But Cain was oblivious. "Feels like leather," she commented. When she moved down to his wrist, he pried her fingers off and yanked his hand away. "And that feels like skin. But it's all you. Huh."
"And you're made out of the same… substance?" Arcade's brow furrowed at Alex's curt nod. "I wasn't aware viral capabilities included the replication of cloth. But then I wasn't aware viral capabilities included anything I've seen you do, so I think I should just give up on logical expectations where you're concerned and save myself the stress."
"The scientists of my time spent a lot of time pulling their hair out over the same thing. Hell, I don't think even Doctor Mercer knew exactly what he was doing when he designed Blacklight." Alex shrugged. "I never found out all of it. And anyone who could have told you is dead now. So that's probably a good idea."
Arcade let out a wry chuckle. "And if the Pre-War scientists didn't know what they were doing, then you know it's a convoluted mess."
"I don't think Pre-War scientists put a lot of thought into what they were really doing. The scope of it, I mean," Cain said. "If any of them had taken a second to just think about all the weapons they were building. If they realized what the hell they were doing, would it have all come down to this?" She gestured at the cracked road, the skeletal buildings, the ruined signs.
Knowing what he did of scientists…? "Yeah."
"Ever the optimist," Arcade said dryly.
"He's probably right," Cain said. "They were all insane. I don't get it, though." She scratched absentmindedly beneath her tattered hat. "If you can change your clothes at will, why the hell do you wear the same outfit every day? Hell, you can blend in in seconds, make yourself look like everyone else around here. You were trying to hide, weren't you? I just don't get why you'd let yourself stand out so much. I mean, is it hard to do? Does it only last so long?"
"No." Alex scowled. "I just like this look. It's me."
"If the look you were going for was 'unwashed thug with incredible heat tolerance and only one pair of clothes', then yeah, I guess you pass. What?" She tilted her head at the glare Alex was giving her. "I'm just telling it like it is. Why not try something else? I don't think green was really your color, and you really need to ditch the heavy clothing, but it was a start. Maybe a nice muted brown? Or something blue. Blue would bring out your eyes."
"No thanks."
"At least lose a layer. Maybe that getup worked up north, but this is the Mojave. What about a nice t-shirt?"
Alex exhaled through his teeth. Unexpectedly, Arcade came to his rescue. Or maybe he was just trying to prevent a scene. "Cain, I don't think fashion ranks very highly among Alex Mercer's concerns."
"It should," she groused. "But you're right. I don't want to break him. We'll have to ease him into this gently."
"Leave me out of it," the doctor muttered.
Cain looked him over again. Alex shifted uncomfortably – he had no idea what was going on in her head, but she looked thoughtful, and where he was concerned, that could be dangerous. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he doubted she was quite as blithe about the topic as she acted. For all he knew, she was wondering where he got the materials that enabled his transformations, even as she asked stupid questions about his lack of a wardrobe.
Or maybe she was wondering what he looked like in plaid. It was tough, with Cain.
When she spoke, though, he almost sighed in relief. "All right. Well, Alex's self-image issues and perpetual nudity notwithstanding, here's the plan. Once I've sold this haul, we can go to the gates. Generally, you stay away if you don't want a laser through your head. Security in New Vegas is practically Pre-War. They're big on keeping the undesirables out." She frowned. "But they'll let you in if you have enough money to keep them funded. The Securitrons will see us as a party, too, so you can all get in on my caps."
"And then what happens?" Arcade asked.
"Then I give Benny his bullets back." She touched the side of her head and smiled coldly. "Come on, boys. We're off to see Sin City."
0o0o0
They weren't off to see Sin City. Not yet, at least – Cain had her errand to run. So Alex found himself trudging through Freeside's battered streets again in the evening's waning light, guardedly watching the natives. Most of them kept their heads down, but a few stood out. There was a kid chasing after what had to be the biggest rat he'd ever seen. A group of lowlifes was watching them from the mouth of an alley, but a sharp glare kept them back. Probably looking for better targets – a group of three wasn't particularly vulnerable, even if Arcade looked harmless and Cain had been keeping her 9mm concealed since they'd entered the city gates.
If only he could make an excuse to split off from the group. It would only take a minute. All he would have to do was hang his head and stumble a little – perhaps shed his clothes for more ragged attire, or maybe that of a foolish gambler on their way to Vegas. He would look weak and they would come, and he could sate the ache that had steadily been building in him since he had last left Freeside.
But then they were stopping in front of a building, and he was following Cain inside. He sent his would-be-prey one last forlorn glance before the door swung shut behind Arcade.
He took a wary look around. The shop was L-shaped; in the part of the room he could see, he could make out a 'shelf' made of a tipped vending machine and two counters. One of them was empty; the other sat in front of a display of menial goods, and was occupied by a dark-haired man who straightened up at their approach.
"Hey there, ma'am, and welcome to Mick and Ralph's. I'm Ralph; Mick's over in the workshop. How can we serve you today? Looking to buy or sell?"
"Sell, mostly." Cain set her two largest, most poorly-sealed bags down on the counter and began to unpack – a few pistols, two rifles, a couple of sheathed knives, and a metal helmet. "But I am looking for a couple of things, if you've got 'em."
Ralph whistled. "Been off clearing raiders? Found a cache? Or… I won't ask. Just hold on a sec, lady, Mick does weapons. Mick! Customer!"
"You don't say." A second shopkeeper poked his head out from the side room. "Welcome to Mick and Ralph's. Good to see you again – Cain, was it? These for sale?" He gestured to the array of goods on the table before him.
Cain nodded. "Take your pick."
"Ooh, that's a trail carbine," Mick commented, reaching out for a rifle to get a better look at it. "Very nice, although I'd say this one's definitely seen better days. How does two hundred caps sound to you?"
Cain pursed her lips. "It might look scuffed, but that's nothing some polish won't fix. I don't think it's been fired much, either; the barrel's still in perfect shape. Six hundred."
Mick scoffed. "Ma'am, these bolts are nearly rusted in place. And the handle's about to fall off. Two-thirty."
"Okay, maybe it needs new bolts, but you only need to tighten the charger up and it'll be good as new. Five fifty."
"If I buy this, I'm gonna replace that part, and parts aren't free. Two seventy-five."
Alex was as much a gun enthusiast as any (he'd certainly eaten enough of them), but he had always been more interested in how much damage a firearm could do in a given period of time than he was with how to maintain them. Usually, when a gun stopped working – or ran out of ammunition – he just found another mook with the same model and pried it from their corpse. And listening to Cain wheedle away was beginning to bore him.
Still, if this was a weapon store, maybe there was something worthwhile around. Leaving Cain and her haggling behind – "I could swap out that part in my sleep!" – he crossed to the back of the store, where the gun shopkeeper had been working.
There, he found a blown-out computer, a washing machine, and a workbench with a half-disassembled magnum strewn across it. There was something wrong about the side wall, but he couldn't place it no matter how hard he looked. There was, however, an array of weapons lined out on a vending machine, and he gave up on the wall to check them out.
He frowned at the row of knives – pocket knives, straight razors, switchblades, military grade. He'd been stabbed by all of them at some point, whether it was from screaming gang members or soldiers that cursed his name. Possibly one of the most ineffectual attacks he knew of, but it was a popular one when he had his prey by the throat.
The blunt instruments confused him. Money had never been his strong suit, but he couldn't understand why anyone would buy a lead pipe from a merchant when there were dozens of them lying about in the city's rubble for the taking. There was some kind of complicated-looking metal glove that he couldn't make much sense of. And there was another golf club. What was with the golf clubs?
He moved on to the guns with anticipation, but it was all pistols and rifles and SMGs. A shotgun with a severed barrel – a decent enough weapon at short range, and it was great for blowing up heads, but it was much too slow to be of any real use. A few silencers – he could laugh. Nothing was more silent than sneaking up behind a person and stepping into their skin. There was nothing heavy enough for his tastes. He couldn't even find an assault rifle amongst the junk.
Disappointed, he headed back to the shop front, where Cain was still haggling away, now over the purchase of a wide-brim brown hat and some canned food. Mick gave him a sharp eye, but relaxed when it was clear Alex wasn't carrying anything. As if any of their scrap was worth stealing. He lounged against the wall by the door, wondering if those thugs were still outside. Even Arcade looked bored; a glance to the left showed he was examining Ralph's inventory with very little interest.
"…I still say that for a ten-millimeter, that's one hell of a deal." Ralph muttered. Mick ignored him and handed Cain a small box.
"Here's your .308s. Is that all?" he asked. Alex perked up at the possibility of leaving.
"Hold on – I might need to sell something else. I'm up to two thousand caps now, right? I mean, I have to be, but it can't hurt." Cain took a moment to count the rolls of bottlecaps she'd just gotten with the ones she already had. "Yep. Twenty five hundred and some spare change. Finally stocked up enough to get into the Strip. Man, that was a one hell of a trip."
Ralph laughed. "All this trouble? Lady, you name it, we've got it. Including visas. Wish you'd come around earlier. All you need to do is ask and we can hook you up cheap. Five hundred caps. Not strictly above-board, if you catch my drift, but it's solid, I assure you."
Cain was struck speechless. "…Of course you can," she finally said, after a few seconds' worth of staring. "Of course I find this out five days after it would have been any use. Fuck. On the bright side, I guess the favor with the NCR might be worthwhile, maybe. If they don't lose the paperwork. Thanks anyway."
"No problem." Ralph looked bemused as Cain turned to leave. Alex and Arcade quickly followed. "Remember, lady – if you want it, Mick and Ralph have it stocked."
"Come back any time," Mick added. "Always interesting seeing what you bring in."
"I'll remember," she called back. "Maybe it'll actually do me some good next time," she groused, as the door swung shut behind her. Alex watched as she donned her new felt hat, looking as irritated as he'd ever seen her. "I just ran all over Freeside for the better half of a week, played guard duty for a bunch of assholes, got shot at way too many times, slogged through a bunch of plant zombies, and chased down some psychotic drug lords and carted around their severed heads to get into Vegas. And it was completely redundant."
"At least it was legal?" Arcade ventured.
"Legal can fuck a Deathclaw." Cain sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter. I'm here now, so it's not like it was for nothing. And I can use the clout with the NCR. They're big on favors." She perked up. "And I met you guys. That's been a good thing! Mostly."
"Glad to know I rate so highly on your list," the doctor said dryly. The Fort's dusty brick walls rose to their left, and he gave them a long look as they passed.
"No, really! I mean, things have been kind of insane. And one of you has an unfortunate tendency to act like a homicidal five-year-old. Not to point any fingers." Alex bristled. "But you've both helped a lot. Having a doctor around has been incredibly helpful, and Alex, I've never seen anyone quite so good at crowd control. I don't think I could have handled those Fiends alone. Hell, I walked out of it without a scratch. So really, thank you."
She sounded sincere, and he liked the compliment, so he let the five-year-old comment pass.
Arcade looked a little bemused. "I should thank you too. I mean, I've been running around with you for three days and I haven't been killed yet, so I figure we're all doing something right. And I've… seen things, like you promised." He adjusted his glasses. "It's just nice to be a part of something," he confessed. "To actually accomplish something. I feel that more here than I did back in my research, somehow."
"Well, who's ready to accomplish taking out Benny in the name of tolerable fashion sense?" Cain paused. "Also in the name of me. I think I've earned that by now."
"Even if I have no idea why I'm doing this," Arcade added.
Freeside had its usual obstacles – rubbish heaps and walled-off areas and makeshift tunnels through collapsed buses, but at least nobody came running at them with knives and lead pipes. On the other hand, it would have been a nice diversion.
A few Kings greeted Cain as she passed their School of Impersonation; she waved back, but didn't hang around to chat. Not with her destination straight ahead.
Alex had noticed the stupid-looking robots hanging around the gates before – Securitrons, according to Cain. They looked like something out of a sixties television show – blocky, balancing on a wheel like some sort of demented unicycle, screens for faces, the stereotypical robotic pincer arms. Whoever designed them clearly had no sense of aesthetics. He did have to admit that they were more functional than they looked, though, when he'd watched a man run towards the Strip's gates and subsequently get blasted to ashes. Things to be wary of, although if it ever came down to it, he was sure that he could rip them into so much scrap metal.
Those same robots barred their way now. The closest one paused in its patrolling at the group's approach, then wheeled up to them.
"Submit to a credit check or present your passport before proceeding to the gate," it stated. "Trespassers will be shot."
"Here you go." Cain unzipped her money pouch and held it in front of the Securitron. A line of red light scanned the bag. Something pinged. Alex tensed.
"Thank you, ma'am." Another, wider laser swept across all three of them, but the Securitron was speaking before Alex could do more than pull back in mistrust. "Facial recognition patterns downloaded to Strip Access database. Please enjoy your stay in New Vegas."
"Why, thank you." Cain grinned. "I think I will."
The gates swung open, and then they were into the dazzling and achingly familiar lights of the Strip.
[Achievement Unlocked! High Roller (15pts)–Congratulations on entering the Strip! Feel free to enjoy the lights, gambling, and onslaught of plot advancement.]
