Andronicus23

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah Front Entrance, Head of Security “Sonny” Santino - Dealing with the Disturbance

“Bunch’a fuggin’ nutcases,” Sonny couldn’t help but mumble under his breath as he heard the back and forth between caravaners. He even heard a chuckle emanate from behind him from his soldiers as he heard one of the group want to ‘make an example of an Omerta Thug.’ It was all like a bad dream to him, why the hell did he have to have a shift this morning? Why couldn’t Lucky be the one down here right now dealing with these lunatics?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a few deep calming breaths just like that quack Follower therapist said to do, and he breathed in and out a couple times before counting to ten in his head. Back in his Slitherkin days, these yokels would’ve been marked for death the moment they started flapping their yaps and he would have taken his sweet time finishing them off. These days, he couldn’t just go around slaughtering people no matter how much they annoyed him. For all the trouble they were causing, they were clearly harmless, albeit a giant pain in the ass.

“Alright I’ve heard enough. First off: that’s Don Dominic to youse. Only members of the family call him that, of which you clearly aint, ” He said finally after a few tense moments of silence, “ Secondly…look around, what do you see? Does this look like a friggin’ art gallery to you? This is Gomorrah. We deal in only one thing here and that's sin. People come here to gamble, get piss drunk, get laid, get high, or any combination of those together. Understand? So unless you’re looking to take part in any of the above, or your pretty lady-friends there are looking for job applications, then youse got no business here? Capish?”

“I don’t know no Benjamin Watts neither…” Sonny added, “Now….you wanna do business with Don Dominic? Well that’s another matter. BUT you want to talk to the Don? You make an appointment like everyone else. You don’t come barging in the front door unannounced causing a ruckus and scaring my gal over there half to death.” He said, motioning to the Head Receptionist.

“Now since youse are being cordial,” He continued, looking to Daniel, “I’ll let you off with a warning and won’t make you pay out your ass for the crime of ruining my morning. But if any of you pull a stunt like that again I’ll make sure that none of you ever set foot in Vegas again,” he snarled, saying the word “Vegas” with emphasis as if to make a point that the Omerta’s controlled much more than just their Casino, if that wasn’t already plainly obvious, “Now either head back to the embassy or wait at the Vault 21 hotel or something. But you ain’t gettin’ in here unless you do things the proper way.”

---

Gomorrah Exchange Desk, Abraham “Honest Abe” Rockford, Omerta Family Enforcer - Honor Among Thieves

“So let's go over this: you were outside sitting by the Strip on a smoke break. You saw it all go down, but you didn’t get a clear look at him?”

“No Mr. Rockford, but I heard him give his name as ‘John Luciano’ and said he was there on behalf of the family. Then the young lady gave him her caps and the three gentlemen just ran out the north gate like bats outta hell,” The Cashier woman explained with a scowl, “ They looked the part, but I knew something was wrong. We don’t take cheaters' money and leave them be, for starters..”

“No we don’t, they end up as molerat food…” Rockford agreed. The middle-aged enforcer looked the part of a grizzled pre-war detective, with a long black trench coat and matching silver-gray fedora. He thoughtfully pulled at his pencil mustache and then jotted down a few notes in a small red notepad.

“Don’t know what the big fuss is,” A nearby Omerta soldier scoffed as he stood listening to the pair's conversation, “I saw her playing here. Looked to me like the bitch was a cheater anyway. She was too friggin’ lucky at the tables for a first-timer. Why bother?”

Rockford sneered at the man and then walked up to him, getting right into the soldier’s face and making the man shrink back in fear at the imposing enforcer’s stern gaze, “Why bother? WHY BOTHER? Are you fucking kidding me? Someone waltzes onto the Strip, impersonates members of OUR family, steals a customer's money, and then brazenly walks away and YOU don’t think that’s a problem? You wanna go tell that to Fat Dom himself asshole? Maybe see how he feels about that opinion of yours? Or should I just shoot you myself right now and save you the time? “

“No…I mean…” The soldier lowered his gaze, unable to respond.

“That’s what I thought,” Rockford growled, “Keep your thoughts to yourself next time idiot. Now Cindy, anything else you can tell me about these impersonators?”

“No sir Mr. Rockford that’s all. The NCR soldiers seemed pretty shook up, I will say that.”

“Well I’ll pay them a visit at the embassy, see if we can’t sort things out,” Rockford replied with a sigh, stuffing the notepad in his coat, “And we’ll find this asshole and his friends. I’ll send word to every thug in Freeside on our payroll to be on the lookout for anyone spending an unusual amount of caps. They can’t hide forever…if they’re in Vegas…they’re dead men walking.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rockford stepped into the NCR embassy a short time later, tipping his hat to the secretary as he did so, “Good morning Marisol. I’m assuming the Ambassador’s escorts have already returned to Camp Golf? I feared as much....would you please add this to any outgoing mail being sent to the Camp? It’s for Corporal Yazan Mohammad, courtesy of the Omertas. It's not sealed or private, you may inspect it yourself before sending it along if you like.”

Rockford handed an envelope to her and with another tip of his hat, he left the building.

Contents of the Letter:
Corporal Muhammad,

The Omerta Family was made aware of an incident that occurred on the Strip involving yourself and members of your squad. We were told a member of your squad was forced to hand over a substantial sum of caps won at the tables after being approached by a so-called Omerta affiliate. We want to assure you the individuals you encountered were not members of the Omerta Family and did not represent us in any capacity.

You have our deepest apologies for this unfortunate event. Rest assured, the individuals in question will be found and punished.

Should you or your squad choose to patronize Gomorrah again you will all be given rooms for a night, free of charge, and your squad member will be fully compensated for her loss.

Abraham Rockford - Internal Affairs
The Omerta Family

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah Front Entrance - Reacting to a Disturbance

“Sonny you better get down here, there’s something…weird going on at the entrance doors. A bunch of yokels trying to get some kind of package through the doors….I don’t like it.”

The frantic voice of Clarice, the head Gomorrah receptionist, caught the security chief off guard. He leaned into the wired phone receiver and whispered his next words a bit more cautiously,

“What you think it's a bomb or somethin’ Clarice, I mean what’re we talkin’ about here?”

“No but its just…odd they’re asking to see the Ambassador and they’re scaring off some customers. I don’t like it one bit. Just get down here as quick as you can, please?”

“Yeah alright I’m on it, be down there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail babe.”

With a frustrated growl Sonny slammed the phone down on the receiver and then quickly picked it back up again, spinning the rotary to dial a new number,

“Mikey? Yeah listen up its Sonny we got a situation at the front desk. Some backwater outfit is causing a ruckus. Clarice is all worked up and it's got some of the customers on edge. I don’t want any trouble with the Ambassador down in Zoara with Fat Dom this morning, so we gotta shut this down fast fast fast, capish? I’m gonna head down there with a few of my boys, but I need you to get off your tail and tell some of those Iron Forester mercs to meet me down in the lobby in 2 minutes. Got it? Good.”

Once more Sonny slammed the phone down and then quickly threw on his body armor mumbling expletives to himself,

“Goddamn it…and I was on break too….”

—------------------------------------------------------

When the sharply dressed head of security arrived with a group of Omerta soldiers and heavily armed mercs in tow, Sonny quickly assessed the situation and began grinding his teeth when he recognized the caravaners clogging up the lobby. The silver lining was that it, probably, wasn’t an assassination plot.

“Ah, I've seen these jokers outside the embassy. They’re with that Pinochle expedition,” Sonny growled as he walked up to the caravaneers, “Oh I’m going to give them a piece of my goddamn mind…” He fumed.

“Hey buddy, just what the fuck do you think you’re doing uh? Whatsamatter cat got your tongue?” Sonny shouted at the Caravan leader as he strode right up to them, “Or are youse all blind and deaf on top of being dumb? What the FUCK do you think you’re doing here blocking traffic with that….what the hell is that thing anyhow?” He said looking up at the tall covered package.

“This your idea of a bad joke? Cause I ain’t laughing. I swear to brahmin shit I’m THIS close to tossing you all out into the nearest deathclaw den with a buncha bbq sauce slathered on your backsides. Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn’t have my boys here toss your sorry ass out of my security perimeter HUH?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah - The Den of Sin

Lucy was waiting at the reception area of Gomorrah to greet the Ambassador when he entered the Casino; every so often she checked her gold-plated pocket watch for the time. Once Ambassador Watts arrived, everything beyond that point would be a well-planned bit of theater: not fake, but certainly a “curated” experience. Gomorrah had been suitably cleared of the most debauched of its offenders: the chem and sex addicts had been tossed out onto the streets of Freeside alongside the anyone else who’d succumbed body and soul to Gomorrah’s many available excesses. The funny thing was that sort of treatment wouldn’t even deter those types either, they’d always be back for more. What was left then were just the usual drunks, gambling fiends, and rich sex tourists; the typical barons of sin in other words. Couldn’t have too rosy a picture after all: this was still Gomorrah and they had a reputation to uphold.

Lucy looked around briefly at the morning crowd and smiled contentedly at the money being raked in all around her. For most Casinos, business was light in the morning hours, but at Gomorrah things went hard practically 24/7: the party never really stopped . Nobody who worked for a living got up and decided that they wanted a 400 cap steak for breakfast at The Gourmand, but more than a few could go for a cheap drink and an even cheaper lapdance at Brimstone.

When Ambassador Watts finally walked through the doors, Lucy was surprised to see that he had traveled here alone without a security detail of any kind. That was actually somewhat impressive since he was either supremely confident that he wasn’t in any danger on the Strip and was trying to send that same message of confidence to his staff, soldiers, and NCR citizenry....or he was remarkably naive. Lucy decided to settle on the fact that in all probability it could be a little of column A and B.

“Welcome Ambassador,” Lucy said with a warm smile as she greeted him, “Ah I see you’ve brought a dessert - excellent choice. The Don is always appreciative of guests who come bearing food,” she chuckled and gave him a sly wink, “I trust your stay in Vegas has been satisfactory so far? If there’s anything I can do to make it more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to reach out. The Omertas are always happy to accommodate our NCR friends. Please….follow me.”

Lucy led Benny through a winding circus of luxury and debauchery that was Gomorrah. She took him past rows of slots and casino games packed with gamblers shelling out their money while dancers in various stages of undress swayed and sauntered from table to table, every so often picking someone out from a group and leading them away. Among the crowd they passed watchful Omerta soldiers in pressed suits who tipped their hats to the Ambassador and greeted him with subtle nods of approval. One of the dancing girls even approached Benny and rubbed his shoulder with a seductive smile,

“Don’t be a stranger Mr. Ambassador...it’s all on the house...” the girl whispered, before sashaying off leaving the scent of her perfume trailing in her wake.

Lucy continued on and led Benny down towards the depths of Gomorrah where The Brimstone Bar and Strip Club was located. Here was a large open area packed with patrons and swarming with dancers some of whom were performing onstage to the whoops and cheers of various appreciative patrons. Lucy took Benny around the Brimstone and ushered him down a secluded hallway where more Omerta men stood guard. At the end of the hallway was a door protected by a hulking Omerta soldier who stepped aside once the Ambassador arrived. On the other side of the door, boisterous laughter could be heard alongside the deep voice of a particularly loud man. Next to the door, emblazoned on a black and gold plaque, were the words “Zoara Club - VIPs ONLY."

“Dominic is inside,” Lucy said with another wink, “He’s the loud mouth you can hear from a mile away,” She joked with a small giggle, “I hope you enjoy your time here in Gomorrah…” With that the beautiful Omerta Consigliere turned and walked back down the hallway, leaving Benny to step inside to the club.

Once he was inside he was greeted with the sight of Fat Dom lounging about with a few of his ‘inner circle’ at a large table in the center of the Zoara club room.

“...and so then I told him, I told him ‘Johnny...now you know that ain’t chocolate....that’s molerat shit! HA!”

The Capos around him burst into a peel of laughter and Domonic continued, “Ahh sometimes I miss the old neighborhood. Good times, oh now look what the cat just dragged in! Heyo its the new NCR Ambassador himself!” Dominic said, turning to Benny as he stepped forward. Dominic immediately rose to his feet and walked over to him, extending his hand and greeting Benny warmly with a jovial grin, “Welcome Mr. Watts welcome. Please…sit down and take a load off. Oh, what’s that?” He looked down at the dessert Benny was holding, “Black Forest Cake? Ah you sir are a gentleman. Hey fellas look at this guy bringing cake to a meeting. Now why the hell don’t youse guys ever bring me anything? Huh?” He laughed followed by more boisterous guffaws from the seated Captains.

“Now I hope you’re planning on helping me out with eating that,” Fat Dom chuckled as he pointed to the cake, “What, you didn’t think I could eat that all by myself did you?” He patted his large stomach for a moment and then laughed again, “Or maybe you did. HA!”

“Alright, alright g’ahead and sit down. Boys,” he turned to his captains, “Why don’t youse make like a tree and leave eh? I wanna have some quality one-on-one time with the Ambassador here. Plus he don’t wanna hear you loudmouths talking.”

“Hey say no more boss,” One of the Capos said with a laugh as they all got up and left the Zoara room.

Dominic then sat down next to Benny and leaned back in his chair, “What can I get you eh? Got a breakfast buffet over there,” He pointed to a long skinny table at the other end of the room where a huge spread of breakfast food had been placed in warmers along with coffee and a variety of other beverages. No need to get up, Sally will get you anything you want. Yo, Sally!”

A topless redheaded waitress approached the table with her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Get Mr. Watts here whatever he wants. Or just a helping of everything if he can’t decide HA! Grab him whatever drink he wants too. OH, and slice me off a piece of that cake, will ya?” Dominic said with a snap of his fingers and the waitress bowed before quickly leaving to fulfill their requests.

Dominic turned back to Benny, “So Mr. Watts, mind if I call you Benny? You're welcome to call me Dom if you like. I get tired of stuffy formalities sometimes. First things first, is Vegas everything you hoped it would be? Anything not meeting your expectations? Hey if Sin City ain’t up to snuff, you let ol’ Dom know and I’ll make sure you get the full experience.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Lucrezia "Lucy" - Ultra Luxe Penthouse Suite

“So what are your impressions of the man?” Fat Dom asked as he wolfed down a late evening snack consisting of a slice of mutfruit pie and a glass of cold brahmin milk. He was still within Marjorie’s penthouse suite and in his bathrobe, but Marjorie had stepped out to head to the Ultra Luxe sauna. That was probably for the best, since Lucy had arrived to give her report and Marjorie wasn’t particularly fond of her. The two women often butted heads for various, often rather petty, reasons.

“We might be able to work with him, you should have seen his eyes when he came onto the Strip: big as saucer platters. I think he’s a man who certainly enjoys his creature comforts…but beyond that I’ll leave it to you to judge. He’s at the embassy right now, ” Lucy replied with a casual shrug.

“What about his escort?”

Lucy smiled wolfishly, “I offered them the voucher and they couldn’t drop their weapons fast enough to hit the casino. Of course, like always, we’ll see if any of them have loose lips.”

“They always do,” Dominic grinned, “Soldiers love to brag to whatever guy or gal they’ve shacked up with for the night: missions they’re on, enemies they’ve killed, plots they’re a part of. I’m sure we’ll get some sort of info.”

“We already have. Two of the soldiers appear to be a couple,” Lucy said with a chuckle, “We’ve already recorded an….interesting conversation between the two. I think they believed that we’d be prudish enough to turn off any recording equipment in their room while they were….indisposed..”

“They do know what city they just walked into right?” Dominic laughed, “What did they say?”

“Well, either they are flat-faced lying to throw us off or they’re plotting to kill Colonel Abernathy,” Lucy said flatly.

Dominic sat down his fork, and looked at his Consigliere with an aghast expression, “What?”

“Like I said…could very well be a flat faced lie. Or perhaps even a plant by Abernathy to see what we would do with that information. I’d be surprised if the NCR would be that….blatant…but I also wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Regardless…could be valuable to us at some point. Not much to work with right now, but we can certainly file it away for later,” Dominic said with a sly look that told Lucy he’d already begun plotting something, “A bit of blackmail is certainly on the table….but we could use it to ingratiate ourselves with the new Ambassador….show good faith and all.”

“And then if it is a plant….we’ll have tip-toed around that little landmine,” Lucy said, finishing Dominic’s thought.

Dominic finished the last bit of pie with a satisfied sigh, and let the fork fall to the plate with a resounding ‘clink’, “Exactly ... .though depending on if the Ambassador is in on it, that could end up hurting us too. Either way, there’s no real benefit to us making a move now, so we’ll just sit and wait for an opportunity to present itself.”

“Shrewd, “ Lucy nodded.

“Anything else?”

“Well…there is the matter of what Maurice and Paulie THINK they saw in The Green,” Lucy said hesitantly, she wasn’t sure she really even wanted to bring this up to Dominic at all, but felt she had to.

Dominic lowered his gaze, and turned around in his chair, his full attention now devoted to her next words, “What did they see?”

“They think they saw a creature….a huge claw or some other nonsense. They were babbling like idiots.”

“Hmmm,” Dominic mumbled and turned back to the table. He stared off into space for a bit, following an unknown train of thought.

“What? You think they’re right?” Lucy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve heard similar rumors from people who’ve come back from there, “ Dominic uttered with a hint of nervousness, “One of these days I have a feeling we’re going to have to deal with The Green…and it's going to get real ugly, real fast.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah - Zoara Club Mezzanine

“So it's like this Captain, we tied Tony to the tree and then we posted up like ten feet away from him, we knew the Boss wanted to see what would get him…”

“Yeah that’s right we weren't about to leave without doing everything Don Dominic wanted us to do to the letter. So we found a good spot and got real sneaky and quiet-like.”

“Right, then we were watching Tony and then all of a sudden the tree grabs him or something and pulls him up into the freaking top!”

“Paulie you idiot it wasn’t the tree…it was this huge black claw or somethin’..... Anyway, so then we pulled out our pistols and shouted up at the tree that whatever it was better stay up there or we’d come back and fill it with lead. Then we walked away and came right here.”

“No Maurice I’m telling you, it was the freaking tree!”

“How could a tree grab someone moron?”

“How could a giant claw come down from a tree idiot??”

Maurice and Paulie bickered over their recounting of the events to their very unamused Capo, Johnny, who looked at them with something approaching disgust.

“Alright quiet youse idiots,” Johnny said as he raised a hand to silence them, no longer wanting to entertain their bullshit, “I’ve heard enough. Whatever happened, at least you took care of Tony. Now get down to the Casino floor and do your rounds, then have a drink on me at the bar after you’re done, you earned that much at least going into the Green and coming back.”

The pair of bumbling Omerta Thugs nodded gratefully and then bowed themselves out of the room. Once they were gone, Johnny rubbed his forehead in frustration and sat up from the poker table he’d been seated at, then walked over towards an office door situated on the far wall of the Mezzanine. The office had at one time been Nero’s, the former Omerta underboss.

“Consigliere?” He asked after knocking softly on the door twice.

“Come in.”

Johnny took a deep breath to ready himself then opened the door. The Omerta Consiglere’s office was nearly as lavish as Fat Dom's, with a large oak desk, a bookcase, and various paintings and decorative pieces. The office chair behind the desk was turned around facing a window on the far wall that looked out over the Mojave landscape. Johnny therefore couldn’t see the Consigliere, but instinctively could tell that they weren’t in a great mood.

“I’m assuming you heard those loudmouths Maurice and Paulie outside,” Johnny began sheepishly.

“Do you trust them?” The Consilegere asked.

“No….but I don’t think they’re lying,” Johnny replied honestly, “They’re idiots…but not too many of my guys would be willing to go into The Green in the first place. Those two don’t scare easily, believe it or not, and something had them spooked…”

“I’ll inform Dominic of the details. We don’t need this to spread around anymore than it already will, can Paulie and Maurice keep their mouths shut?”

“No,” Johnny chuckled, “But nobody will believe them regardless.”

“Good enough. We have bigger things to worry about in any case. I’m told that the NCR Ambassador is soon to arrive in Vegas. I’m going down to meet them. I’ll be taking a full crew along with a squad of the new mercs we hired to the gate.”

“Here’s hoping this Ambassador is as slimy as the last,” Johnny quipped with a grin.

“We’ll see…we’ll offer him the same deal as all the others, and see if he’s willing to play ball.”

---

Later - Strip Eastside Gate


The magnificence of the strip shone out in all its neon glory, marking a stark contrast to the slum that was Freeside. Atop the gangplanks and fortified walkways that led to the Strip’s main entrance were silhouetted shapes both familiar and new. As always, the stalwart MK I Securitrons rolled around on the endless unchanged vigil, but now they were joined by Iron Forester Mercenaries decked out in MK II Combat armor and sporting a variety of heavy weapons and energy rifles. Freeside locals and squatters were cleared away, sometimes forcefully, allowing for a direct path for the NCR personnel to approach the gate without being mobbed by the press of people trying to enter.

Once the gates were opened and the Ambassador and his entourage were allowed inside, they were immediately greeted by a substantial welcoming party. Ten Omerta made-men in full suits standing alongside five of their affiliate Iron Foresters mercs.

At the center of this welcoming group stood the Omerta Consigliere, a figure in the family of significant power and prestige second only to the Boss himself in overall power.

The NCR delegation might be forgiven for assuming that any one of the tall, muscular Omerta soldiers standing behind the Consigliere were indeed the individual in question, but they would be very wrong indeed.

The Consigliere walks forward to greet them with a confident stride, her high-heeled boots loudly clapping against the smooth asphalt with each step. She is smartly dressed, no less so than her male Omerta counterparts in form-fitting suit pants and a black pinstripe vest overlaid atop a white long-sleeved shirt the sleeves of which she has rolled up to her elbows. The silver chain of a pocket watch partially dangles from one of her pants pockets and she has a black and gold .357 revolver holstered at her side. Her striking, silver-blonde hair is done up in a ponytail and she wears a wide-brim fedora.

“Lucrezia,” She says simply, offering a wry smile to the Ambassador and his escorts, “Or Lucy for short.”. She stretches out her hand in greeting to the Ambassador, “Consilegere to the Omerta Family and a personal representative of Don Dominic Omerta. Welcome to the Strip. Our boss offers his sincere greetings, and hopes you will join him for a chat at the Zoara Club at Gomorrah at your earliest convenience.”

She then turned to the rest of the escorting soldiers and offered them a wink, “And for your brave escorts…Don Dominic offers each of you a complimentary guest voucher of 100 caps to be spent at either the Gomorrah or Ultra Luxe on whatever services or games you choose Please…enjoy.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

The Strip, Iron Foresters Mercenary Company (Omerta Family Affiliate)

“Shit……that’s alotta caps….”

The slack jawed face of First Sergeant Billy Crow of the Iron Foresters stared down in astonishment at the sack of caps that his Commander had just thrown down on the table in front of him. He’d never seen a simple guard job pay so well before, and it hardly seemed real to him. He had to reach out and touch the caps just to be sure - he needed to feel that metallic clink as they ran through his fingers.

As he reached out his hand was slapped away by his Captain, Ronald Bauer, who looked down at him sternly,

“Don’t touch what ain’t yours, this belongs to the whole company. So you don’t get to rub your dirty mitts all over it.”

“Sorry boss,” Crow replied sheepishly, “Just…caught me off guard is all. Is this really what we’re getting paid to stand guard on the Strip?”

“No….it isn’t….” The Captain replied with a smug grin, “It’s half...”

“Get out…be serious.”

“I am, I told you coming to Vegas was going to be worth it. These people are more loaded with caps than they know what to do with. With this kind of money, we’ll be set for a good long while..maybe even be able to settle ourselves down properly with a steady pay if we play our cards right.”

“There’s got to be some kind of catch though, right? Like they want us to clear out a den of Deathclaws or something holding up a trade road?” Crow asked only half-joking.

“No catch,” The Captain shook his head, “We guard the Strip, occasionally take care of the local yokels that wander too close, and otherwise just look tough in that shiny Mk2 combat armor of ours. Speaking of which...I tell ya, hitting that Brotherhood cache outside Springfield was the best decision we’ve ever made for drawing in business.”

“Riskiest you mean, nearly cost us all our heads. I still have nightmares about those Behemoth robots chasing me down, ” Crow retorted.

“We’re alive, ain’t we? Most of us anyway….and besides - that gear has hooked us up with a few great contracts. This one included. People see the armor and they go googly-eyed over it - doesn’t matter if it's actually ours or not.”

“Well I’ll be the first to admit it…when you’re right you’re right, “ Crow replied as he shook his head with surprise, “Was a hell of a gamble to come out here too….but this sure as hell beats dodging rad-twisters and Brotherhood Patrols for mesley caps back home.”

“Trust me,” Captain Bauer said with a grin, “You’ll thank me once you’re set up in a nice suite at Gomorrah for life. Besides, what’s the worst that a place like Vegas can offer, huh?”

---

Maurice and Paulie - Omerta Thugs - Taking Care of a Rat

Collab with @tundrafrog1124 who wrote description of the Green.

“Quite your squirming Tony or I swear to Christ I’ll thump you another one,” Paulie shouted as he struggled with their condemned prisoner.

“This shit was easier back in my day,” Maurice quipped as he looked to Paulie and the two stoic mercenary lackies that served as their escorts, “If a guy was a rat you’d whack him then and there and be done. None of this complicated execution bullshit. Hardest part was the cleanup, not the wackin’!.”

“Yeah well, you know Fat Dom’s style,” Paulie shrugged, “He’s gotta make his point, right? Let’s just make this fast and get back to the strip. So quit complaining’ will ya?”

Maurice and Paulie were escorted to the remains of Westside There, at the edge of the Green they left the mercenaries and headed in, dragging Tony with them. He was gagged and bagged to stop his whimpering and pleading. They looked ahead at the vast hazy darkness under the canopy of overgrown streetlights and ruined walls. Together the Omerta thugs waded into the thick vegetation, stepping over creeping vines and plodding through grass and weeds that reached chest height. Maurice held Tony at gunpoint while Paulie cut the way forward with wide sweeping arcs of his machete. They had only walked a few meters but the Green pushed against them slowing their progress and fell in behind them as if they had never been there. Before long the three men were lost in the mist and thick growth. The humid night air was punctuated with the hum of insects and croaking calls of creatures unseen.

“Shit this place gives me the heebie-jeebies,” Paulie said as he looked around at the almost entirely alien landscape that stretched out before them, “What the hell is all this? I knew this place was bad, but I didn’t know it was like this….”

“I don’t want to think about it too hard Paulie,” Maurice replied through gritted teeth, “I ain’t no botanist, and I don’t get paid enough to ask questions about mysterious vegetation that grows faster than my Old Man’s nose hairs, capeesh?”

“What the fuck are we looking for again?” Paulie asked as he kept slicing forward with wild machete swipes.

“A tree numbnuts,” Maurice retorted, “But honestly anyplace we can tie this sack of crap to is good in my books.”

“Well….what about right there?”

Maurice looked to where Paulie pointed: a tree growing out the wall of a ruined shop. The rubble around it was covered with a soft bed of moss and stippled with fungi. Gnarled and twisted with spotted gray bark the tree appeared far more ancient than should be possible. Deciding this was as good a place as any, the two Omertas tied their prisoner to the trunk. So wide across was the tree that they could have bound five men to it and still had room for more. They pulled the bag from Tony’s face and the man blubbered some kind of pleading through the gag in his mouth.

“Was that? Sorry I couldn't hear you,” Paulie joked.

“See ya Tony, ya goddamn rat,” Maurice said as he spat at the ground beneath the condemned man’s feet, “Have fun being lunch.”

“What else did Boss want us to do….didn’t he say something about seeing what gets him?”

“Fuck that. Let’s get the hell out of here. We’ll just make something up,” Maurice said, throwing his hands in the air, “I ain’t staying in here any longer.”

Maurice and Paulie walked away, trying to find the path they had made. In desperation they hacked wildly at the Green in order to cut a way out. In between sweeps of their machetes they heard a rustling of the vegetation as if a great wind blew through the understory.

At once a terrible quiet descended upon them. The men froze and though every molecule of their being screamed at them to run, they turned slowly back to where they had tied Tony. The man was staring at something in the canopy. The Omertas followed his gaze but saw nothing. They looked back at Tony and he looked at them and then in a shuddering of leaves and branches he was gone. With preternatural speed a creature larger than what should be possible grabbed the man and lifted him into the dark canopy with the ease that one might pick a small piece of fruit.

“HOLY MOTHER OF……WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT?!” Paulie shouted in pure fear.

“MOVE YOU IDIOT!” Maurice yelled back, “RUN FOR IT!”

The gangsters ran wildly, tripping and crawling and sprinting out of the Green. They ran past the mercenaries waiting for them and didn’t stop until they felt the glow of the Strip lights upon them.

Together they looked back and though they saw nothing, they still thought they could feel themselves being watched.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Dominic Omerta - Ultra Luxe Casino, Marjorie’s Penthouse Suite

With extremely labored breath, Dominic's heavy bulk rolled off of the naked prone form of Marjorie and onto the purple silken sheets of her bed. He was covered head to toe in sweat, and seemed ready to pass out from his all-too-enthusiastic exertions. He grabbed a tuft of the bedspread and used it to wipe his face, then turned over to look at his lover. Marjorie gave a contented sigh, then snuggled herself deeper into the embrace of the soft mattress. Dominic grinned,

“Still got it,” He mumbled smugly to himself. He turned to the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor as he massaged his balding head with one hand. He then looked up and stared out from where the bed sat on the penthouse mezzanine at the unmatched opulence that unfolded before him.

Marjorie’s suite was at the very top floor of the Ultra Luxe Casino and it certainly fit the character of the White Glove’s leader. It was huge, gaudy, and richly adorned with black, silver, and deep purples framing the theme of the curtains, walls, and various furniture. Silver and Gold decorative pieces sat upon the dining table and upon pedestals that stood nestled within recessed alcoves. Fine paintings and unusual sculptures were hung on the walls and placed throughout the space, not for the love of art mind you, but simply to serve as expensive talking pieces. All of these things had been procured with the White Gloves considerable wealth, either by purchasing it second-hand or hiring scavengers to pilfer it from a number of abandoned pre-war museums and galleries throughout the West Coast.

Far from being impressed, Dominic grimaced at the sight, he never liked the White Glove’s holier-than-thou attitude or their aggressive attempts to make themselves seem superior to everyone else. They were ultimately no different than his Omerta’s despite their grand facade, and one could argue at their core: very much worse. At least his people hadn’t once eaten the travelers they killed like fucking animals.

Dominic turned once more and looked over at Marjorie, and took a brief moment to admire her slender naked form. Her body would be considered envious for any woman her age, and Dominic sometimes wondered to himself if maybe, just maybe, the White Gloves “unusual” diet had anything to do with that. While "Love” would probably be a strong word to use for the feelings Dominic had towards Marjorie, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy these "rendezvous" sessions as she so eloquently termed them, and her being easy on the eyes certainly made things much easier. Still, their relationship was mostly one-sided, but Dominic certainly loved one thing about his soon-to-be wife: her Family's money. All he had to do was keep Marjorie happy and the White Gloves, and their coffers, were practically his.

Luckily, he knew exactly how to do just that.

Dominic leaned over and gave Marjorie a playful slap to her rear, and then stood up from the bed.

“Oh my….Dom, stop it!” Marjorie giggled as she rolled over and looked up at him.

“Come on sweet cheeks, outta bed,” He said with a wide mischievous grin, “Why don’t I make us a couple of nightcaps and we go sit downstairs to chat?”

“Sounds wonderful!” Marjorie replied as she stretched herself out, “Just give me a few minutes to clean and freshen up.”

“Of course my love, take your time….”

---

By the time Marjorie made her way down the mezzanine stairs in a pink bathrobe, Dominic had made them both a couple of White Russians after covering himself with his own black bathrobe. He’d also lit himself a cigarette and was puffing on it steadily.

“I need a little help my love, wondering if you could spot me a small loan,” Dominic said off-hand, sending their conversation straight to business.

“Oh my, of course, how much do you need Dommy Dear?,” Marjorie replied as she sat down at the table then gently wrapped her delicate fingers around the drink in front of her.

“Eh not much…just forty-thousand caps or so. I’d like to hire some extra muscle to protect the Strip as we get closer to our wedding. I have my eye on a Midwestern merc outfit that blew into town recently - heavily armed and a lot of guns between them with plenty of combat experience. They aren’t cheap, as you can probably imagine.”

“Oh well of course, I would expect nothing less!” Marjorie said with an understanding nod, “Nothing but the best security, as expected. I’d be glad to front the payment.”

“Perfect, thank you my dear,” Dominic replied as he lifted her hand to give it a kiss, “I knew I could count on your help my love.”

“Do you expect there'll be much trouble? I would hate for us to have to postpone the wedding because of any unsightly unrest,” Marjorie asked as she took a dainty slip of her White Russian.

“No but one can never be too careful my love. There’s always trouble brewing in the Mojave and Freeside is well….Freeside, there will always be trouble in that cesspit. The North Gate could certainly use more security. House’s little toy soldiers are enough for the regular troublemakers, but since the Old Man is MIA, they haven’t exactly been reliable for much of anything else. Plus...” Dominic continued, taking a long drag on his cigarette, “Rumor has it that the new NCR ambassador will be arriving soon. I’d like to show him that the NCR may claim that they have fully annexed the Mojave - but WE still hold Vegas.”

“Well I leave all that business to you Dommy Dear…” Marjorie replied with a wave of her hand, “I don’t care much for politics. All I care about is keeping the ne-er do wells off the Strip and away from my wedding”

“And that I guarantee you,” Dominic said, raising his glass, “If only the same could be said about the Chairmen…”

“Swank or his cronies shant be of much concern. I can’t believe they’d try to pull anything. They may be tasteless, but they aren’t fools.”

“Oh I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dominic replied with a thoughtful swish of his glass, “He knows that our union puts his family on the backfoot. He might try anything to stop it.”

Marjorie gasped, putting her hand to her chest in an act of pearl clutching astonishment, “You can’t possibly mean…”

Dominic took a final puff on his cigarette, before smashing the still burning butt into a nearby ashtray, “Yes…I do…..the bastard might very well try to kill one of us.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah - Zoara Club VIP Lounge


The sounds of boisterous laughter along with the clinking of fine silverware against plates filled the VIP lounge of the Zoara Club. Seated along a long rectangular black table situated at the center of the room were several dozen men in pressed suits sporting a variety of colors. The men laughed and carried on with one another while they finished the remnants of an extravagant meal, all while being waited on by scantily clad women wearing one-piece corsets and high heels. As the server women whisked away scattered remnants of food on dirty plates, the men began to light up cigars or sip on continuously refilled glasses of red wine. Smoke from a half a dozen San Francisco sunlight cigars wafted up towards the high ceiling and covered the room in a light gray haze.

One of the men, a balding middle-aged gentleman in a dark blue suit and red striped tie, stood up and raised his recently filled glass. As he started talking, the rest of the room quieted down and all looked to him, with a carefully practiced smile he began his speech,

“Okay now listen up everyone, I know nobody here is ever impressed with my ortain’ skills, so I’ll make this fast...”

“Hey, that's the best thing about your speeches Johnny. They’re short!” Another man quipped from his seat, eliciting a round of guffaws from the diners.

“All right, all right shut up youse guys,” Johnny continued, “I just wanted everyone to grab their glass and raise a toast. I think this one is well-deserved...”

All present raised their glasses, and turned towards the far end of the table where a rotund giant of a man in a black pinstripe suit sat nursing a smoldering cigar. Next to him sat an elegant middle-aged woman with deep black hair, who wore an extravagant red sweetheart-style evening dress which eclipsed the fashion of anyone in the room. On her ring finger, sat an incredibly large diamond that glistened in the light.

“To our Boss, Dominic,” Johnny cheered, lifting his glass towards the couple, “And his blushing bride-to-be. May their future union be a happy and fruitful one. Salute.”

“Salute!” echoed the seated Capos.

With a wide smile, Fat Dom raised his own glass and softly clinked it against Marjorie’s. He then stood up, shaking the table as he scooted his chair back,

“Well Johnny, you were right….nobody was impressed with your speech! HA!”

Johnny gave a chuckle and raised his hands in a mock defensive gesture, then took his seat again.

“Thank you all for coming here to celebrate my engagement to the most ravishing beauty in all Vegas,” He gestured towards Marjorie.

“Oh Dom, you’re such a charmer,” Marjoie replied with a playful wave of her gloved hand.

Dominic grinned and raised his glass once more, “To Marjorie, my future wife, the Angel of the Mojave!”

The Capos let out another boisterous round of applause, along with a few cat-call whistles.

“And of course, let us not forget,” Dominic continued, “To our friends at the Ultra Luxe, The White Gloves, and to a bright future between our two great Families. Salute.”

The Capos raised their glasses, and directed their attention to a pair of White Glove attendants in their characteristic black tuxedos and obscuring masks, who were standing off to the side near Marjorie. The attendants, acknowledging the gesture, bowed deeply in response to Dom’s toast.

“Now my friends…stay to smoke and drink as much as you like. Everything is on the house tonight, as usual, so please enjoy. You all know I will...” Dominic smirked as he patted his stomach, earning another round of laughter from his men.

‘Fat Dom’ sat down once more, and turned to Marjorie,

“I hope you enjoyed everything my love and the food was to your liking. This isn’t the Gourmand, of course, but our chef is still quite skilled.”

“It was wonderful Dominic and the food was excellent,” Marjorie chuckled, “Though I must say, your friends are a bit…rough around the edges when it comes to dining etiquette.”

“Ah, you’ll have to forgive them, and me, my love,” Dominic said as he raised her gloved hand and gave it a gentle kiss, “We Omertas are not as sophisticated as your White Gloves, but we do our best.”

“Indeed, think nothing of it,” Marjorie said with a reassuring smile.

Right at that moment, a man in a charcoal gray suit and matching fedora slipped into the Zoara club and made his way over to Fat Dom. He leaned over and whispered something quickly into the Boss’s ear, and Dominic gave him a nod in return.

“I sincerely apologize my love,” Dominic said as he turned back to Marjorie, “But could I ask you to leave the room? I’m afraid my friend here has brought me some business I need to discuss with my men. I daresay it’s all rather boring Omerta politics, nothing of interest to you.”

“Say no more,” Marjorie said with a smile and wave of her hand as she stood up from her seat. One of her White Glove attendants quickly moved to help her push the chair back, “I would not wish to intrude on Omerta affairs of a delicate nature. I trust that you will still be able to make our rendezvous tonight at the Ultra Luxe?”

“Of course my love, I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” Dominic smiled, “I will see you promptly at 8 pm, and not a minute later.”

“Until then darling,” Marjorie replied, blowing him a kiss. She then gracefully sauntered out of the Zoara club room with her attendants in tow.

Once she was gone, and certain to be out of earshot, Dominic turned his head to the man. The Capos had all stopped drinking, and strained their ears to listen to their Boss’s next words,

“Bring the fuckin’ rat in,” He snarled.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Please Boss I ain’t told them nothin’, you hear? I’ve been feedin’ them bullshit…piccadilly shit. Swank hasn’t got anything I swear!”

The black table had been completely cleared off, and the server girls had been sent scurrying away. ‘Fat Dom’ was now holding court with his Captains, and the tone of the room had immediately shifted to that of icey tension. Kneeling down facing the long side of the table was a man stripped down to his boxers with his hands tied behind his back. Two black-suited Omerta soldiers stood behind him, with silenced .22 pistols raised and aimed at his head.

“You were like a brother to me Tony,” Dominic hissed as he glared down at the traitor, “How long have you been talking out of school to the Chairmen, huh?”

“Not long! Only a couple months I swear!”

“Cut that crap, give me a date!” Dominic roared.

The prisoner cowered, and replied in a stuttering tone, “Last December.”

Groans and murmurs of dissent rang out through the ranks of the Capos, until Dominic raised a hand to silence them,

“You piece of shit. You’re telling me you’ve been squealing to that bastard Swank for a FULL YEAR?” Dominic stood up from his seat and strode over to the kneeling man, giving him a full slap across his face before spitting on him, “You disgust me.”

“Please Dom, please, don’t do this. I ain’t done nothin. I had no choice! My wife…she’s got a gambling problem and a big debt at the Ultra Luxe. I ain’t got the money to pay it…so the Chairmen said they’d help me out. Full debt paid if just did a few favors for them. That’s all!”

Dominic slapped Tony again, nearly sending him to the floor, “Now why you gotta insult me personally like that, huh? Why!” He demanded, “You should have come to me, maybe we could've worked something out. What, you didn’t think that since your Boss is bangin' the leader of the White Gloves that maybe, just maybe, he could cut you a deal? ”

"Please Dom," Tony sobbed, "I didn't want to get youse involved. That's all. I wanted to handle this myself."

"WELL I'M INVOLVED NOW!" Dominic boomed, and he let loose of string of kicks and punches, which caused Tony to collapse in pain.

Finally Dominic stopped and with labored breath he sat back down at the table, "Don't give me that shit either. I know why you didn't come to me. You wanted out. I know the Chairmen promised you an all expense paid one-way trip to California when you were done. You broke your oath Tony. You fucked up big…you never leave this thing of ours."

Like a flock of excited hens, murmurs of agreement fluttered from the Capos at Dom's statement.

"Maurice..Paulie," Dominic looked to the two men standing behind the balled Tony, "Get this sack of shit out of here. Take him to The Green, tie him up at a tree and leave him as food for the freaks out there. Make sure you see what gets him."

"Sure thing boss," one of the men nodded.

"Oh and Tony?" Dominic gave a sinister smirk as he puffed on his cigar, "I want you to know that pretty wife of yours will be working here starting tonight at The Gomorrah. I'll make sure she pays every-goddamn cap of her debt to the White Gloves….after she pays off all the money you owe the Omertas for years of room and board that is. She's going be very popular...I guarantee it."

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Name: Dominic “Fat Dom” Omerta

Appearance: A veteran gangster in his mid-40s, with a strong affinity for fine food. Dominic stands at above average height, is heavily overweight, and sports a thinning hairline and thick black mustache. He’s rarely seen in anything other than a tailored pinstripe suit (found in the Big and Tall section of Fallon’s of course), and always wears a pair of immaculately shined black shoes.

He often gives off an immediate first impression of being jovial, charming, and extremely friendly, giving and taking jokes in stride and often laughing at himself or his weight. However, make no mistake, one does not rise to power in the Omertas without being as ruthless as they come. And if anyone knows Dominic, they know that friendly demeanor of his belies an even more sinister one.

Those Omertas that cross him or make jokes at his expense often go missing or wind up having terrible “accidents’: even if Dominic showed absolutely no sign of displeasure beforehand. This has led to a common (whispered) saying in the Omertas: “When Fat Dom laughs a little too hard…you know you fucked up.”

Affiliation: The Omertas Crime Family: Current Boss of the Family

Previous Affiliations: The Slither Kin Tribe (the Omertas former tribal name). Dominic was then known as ‘Black Viper’. He was widely known in the tribe for his prolific use of poisons, and would often capture slaves or murder travelers for their goods by inviting them to ‘share a meal around his fire’ where they would unknowingly ingest powerful drugs or sedatives.

Dominic often looks fondly on these times, but refuses to allow himself or his men to refer to the Slither Kin or his old name directly. Instead, he refers to the “Good old days” when the Omertas were “just the neighborhood gang” and other such phrases when talking about their origins as tribal raiders. While confusing at first, his inner circle and made-men have picked up on this doublespeak and are quite fluent in it now.

Gear/Equipment: A charcoal pinstripe suit w/ matching tie along with a hidden ballistic weave vest for added protection. When it comes to weapons, he favors a custom silenced 12.7mm pistol when he openly carries.

Background: Dominic was once a Caporegime (Captain) of the Omertas Crime Family, his former position within the Slither Kin tribe immediately elevating him above a soldier when the tribe accepted House’s offer to run the Gomorrah. He was a close associate of Big Sal and could often be found playing cards with the former Boss. One would be forgiven for the mistake of believing Big Sal and Dominic were friends: but nothing could be further from the truth. Dominic hated Big Sal with a burning passion, and waited for nothing less than a golden opportunity to overthrow him and his underboss Nero.

That came following the disastrous events surrounding the arrival of “The Green”. The Legion had withdrawn from Hoover Dam, leaving Big Sal’s overambitious plans of an Omerta/Legion alliance completely tattered in their wake. The NCR’s humiliating terms of annexing were then given to House and the Three Families, leading to even further disgruntled talk within the Omerta’s ranks. When the NCR began its chaotic withdrawn following the outbreaks, and the revenue dried up, that was the final straw for most.

Seeing his opportunity had come, Dominic gathered up support and led a coup against Big Sal and Nero. Normally this sort of Byzantine politicking was completely outlawed by House in his terms of contract, but with House withdrawn from the spotlight his Securitrons did nothing to keep the peace. Big Sal and Nero were both gunned down in the fighting and any lingering loyalties to the Boss and Underboss were wiped away. ‘Fat Dom’ was now the Boss and his first act was to hand out the spoils of war to his most loyal cronies.

Afterwards though, Dominic set about trying to repair the Omertas damaged influence on the strip and beyond. Seeing that continuing to plot an overt takeover would be completely suicidal, Fat Dom decided on a more subtle approach.

He’d been cultivating an ongoing on and off affair with Marjorie, Leader of the White Gloves, for many years now: even before she became head of that Family. Now Dominic used that ‘in’ to closely ally the Omertas with the White Gloves, forming an informal union between the two. With the White Gloves under his influence, if not his direct control, the Omertas were able to expand a growing power base centered on the Strip.

Dominic strengthened his Family’s control over the chem and weapons trade, ensuring a steady supply of caps was fed to their coffers from Freeside and Outer Vegas where this deadly trade was typically plied. With those additional caps, he was able to buy the continued loyalty of many local gangs and hired guns who readily flocked to the Omertas. Soon, it almost became impossible to strike a shady deal or peddle chems anywhere in Vegas without the Omerta’s involvement, and flaunting that authority more often than not would end in complete annihilation for the gangs that tried it.

That largely left two native groups still outside of the Omerta’s stranglehold: the Kings of Freeside and The Chairmen of The Tops. Domic was able to ‘placate’ The Kings with his usual charm by stroking the ego of their leader, The King, and providing a steady supply of eager “groupies” direct to the King’s School. Dominic also played his usual two-faced routine, by offering with one hand friendship and generosity: supplying medical pharmaceuticals produced by the Omertas and food from The Ultra Luxe to The Followers and the people of freeside. With the other hand though, he continues to send his thugs and affiliates to intimidate locals to pay debts, “recruit” local women for Gomorrah, and peddle chems to the addicted and vulnerable.

The Chairmen, however, remain as the sole source of consternation for Fat Dom’s almost hegemonic influence over the Strip. Swank is staunchly opposed to the Omertas, largely because he knows what Big Sal and Nero tried to pull. The Chairmen and Omertas in general too hate each other for a variety of reasons: with the Omertas calling the Chairmen “fakes” and “pussfied” and the Chairmen firing right back with “wannabe gangsters” and of course “finks”. This rivalry predates both the current groups however, as both the Slither Kin and The Mojave-Bootriders (the Chairmen’s tribal name) were long considered bitter enemies. While under House this animosity was mostly kept in check, it is quickly boiling over into outright violence.

Dominic is an ambitious man, coming from a long tradition of ambitious leaders within the Slither Kin tribe and he epitomizes the vices that Gomorrah offers its patrons in spades: Gluttony, Greed, Lust. However he also embodies another well known trait of his former tribe, ruthless cunning, and he might just have the skills necessary to ascend his Family into even greater power.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

The Omertas Crime Family

Faction Name: The Omertas Crime Family aka The Slitherkin Tribe

Faction Leader: Dominic “Fat Dom ” Omerta

Description: The Omertas are one of “Three Families” established by Mr. House who control the strip. Originally known as the Slitherkin, the Omertas were taken from their violent tribal roots and ‘civilized’ by House to serve as his employees. Now known as the Omertas, the family was given control of the seedy Gomorrah casino to run as their base of operations.

The Omertas rule Gomorrah as their own little fiefdom and are responsible for much of the unsavory business tainting the strip. Examples of this business include a steady export of narcotics to Vegas and beyond, arms dealing, and sex trafficking.

As of this point, the Omertas have a good relationship with the White Gloves of the Gourmand (largely due to Domics relationship with Marjorie) but on the other hand have a boiling rivalry with the Chairmen at the Tops. While not overtly hostile, encounters between Chairman and Omerta button men outside of the strip have led to gunfights in recent months and there is even talk on the strip of open war looming.

Territory: The Gomorrah Casino on the Strip, as well as a number of other minor establishments in Freeside and Outer Vegas. They also own several warehouse compounds in Outer Vegas, where most of their weapons and chem production takes place.

Sphere of influence: Primarily the Strip and Outer Vegas, but they also have a lesser influence over Freeside.

Force Composition: Approximately 350 direct Omerta “Made men” including Caporegime and their soldiers (approximately 10 soldiers per Capo). However when you include various associates, affiliated gangs, and hired mercenary goons the total force that the Omertas can bring to bear climbs to little over a thousand.

The Omertas themselves are considered to be decently well trained within their own organization: but they are not a military force by any means. They are better equipped than either of the other two families however, and include some real military hardware they’ve “acquired” (and are now starting to produce) stocked away in their armory. Most of the time their soldiers are equipped with 10mm submachine guns and pistols, and some hidden form of light bodyarmor underneath their business suits.

The rest of their associates and affiliates can have varying levels of quality and thus usefulness: ranging anywhere from hardened mercs in advanced combat armor wielding plasma weaponry to street level thugs armed with little more than switchblades that roam the dingy streets of Freeside.

History: Ever since the appearance of the “The Green” and the immediate aftermath of the chaos and confusion its arrival caused, the Omertas have been slowly but steadily regrowing their power base on the Strip. The botched alliance with Caesar’s legion and the huge dip in revenue experienced with the NCR’s withdrawal from the Mojave caused the Omertas to experience a shakeup in leadership. “Big Sal” and Nero were ousted from power and replaced by an ambitious Capo by the name of Dominic aka “Fat Dom”: a man whose appetite for wealth and power is only eclipsed by his love of food. Dom proved a shrewd boss for the crime family, and was able to quickly reverse their fortunes by growing their stakes in the chem and weapons trades, and forgoing any immediate attempts to take over the strip: although he’s never let go of that ambition completely. Dom also had a unique ‘in’ to the White Gloves, as his ongoing casual romantic relationship with Marjorie, their leader, allowed the two previous rival Families to work more closely together, much to the chagrin of the Chairmen.

With Mr. House becoming even more of a recluse than before, the Three Families have largely been left to their own devices, ruling the Strip and Vegas at large via a general agreement between them informally known as the “The Contract”. The Omertas, as key orchestrators of The Contract, ensured that their business interests were protected including those that were previously illegal even under House’s administration.

Now five years after ‘The Green’ the Omertas are poised to take over Vegas completely, but in order to do so they’ll need to eliminate their rivals and work to broker relations with outside powers, such as the NCR: or even The Legion, should they show themselves again.