[b][u]Five days ago NCR Mojave Outpost[/u][/b] The road to New Vegas was, in the words of one Sergeant Kilborn, 'not safe.' Raiders were actually the [i]least[/i] of your worries, on a good day. Most of the major caravan routes through the area moseyed along giant fire-breathing ant nests, giant super-wrestler geckos (also fire breathing) regularly went hunting and made nests around old-world traffic jams, Cazadores made nests at most local water sources, giant radscorpions were more common than bloatflies, and if you saw any kind of old quarry you had a two in three chance it was filled with Deathclaws. Each vicious mutated creature was more horrible and apparently bulletproof than the last, and the only real safe road to Vegas ran from the Mojave Outpost, through Nipton, Novac and the 188 trading post. Deviation from the well-trodden path was ill advised - even with their numbers freed up now that Caesar's Legion had been pushed back, the NCR still had problems securing the roads from trouble. "So until the road clears up, I cannot guarantee your safety sir." Sgt. Kilborn said to the latest prospector from the South in a well-practiced segue. "We have storage units available for anything you're carrying, and you're welcome to stay at the bar until we give you the all clear. I really wouldn't recommend chancing it. The roads just aren't safe." The man he was speaking to was perhaps of Asian descent and bore gaunt face, with skin pulled tight over jutting bones. He had a pointed and long, slicked back mane of dark hair and had a small, pointed beard jutting down from his chin. He was dressed like any other wasteland mercenary cruiser, with a pair of thick goggles with opaque lens masking his eyes as he gave the NCR Sergeant a rictus grin. "Safe isn't where I aim to be, little mote." [center][s]888888888888[/s][/center] [b][u]Three Days Ago Novac[/u][/b] No-bark Noonan's curious existence in Novac had not changed much since the Courier had passed through. If anything, the REPcon incident, the nasty business with Jeane, and the reactivation of Helios One had fueled his paranoid mind with even more imagined truths, becoming ever more suspicious of outsiders ("Spies for the Illuminati army! They may look just like you and me, but they're actually machines that steal skins and souls from the destitute!") and more intrusive into the lives of his neighbor. In essence, he had graduated from minor nuisance to mild irritant. One day, when he had been pawing at the wall of the Dino Deelite motel looking for the secret combination of bricks to tap in order to open the passageway to Veritac Alley when he happened to spy a stranger, purchasing sundry goods from Ada Straus...and he spied the butcher of a doctor supplying the black haired man with sugar bombs. "Now you hold on just a darn minute there! Don't let that quack pull the wool over your eyes!" No-bark boomed as he rushed over to them. "You damned fool, don't you know the government puts mind-controlling chemicals like fluoride and alum in cereals? They're always prayin' on children what with their pheromone-coated toys and demons inside cameras to tell them what to do! I know 'cause of the devil who came through here way back, driving iron chariots with one!" Ada sighed in an exasperated fashion as the stranger's head inexorably turned to leer at No-bark with a rictus grin and opaque goggles, the dark lens showing only Noolan's reflection. After a brief pause, he asked a strange question. "Did the devil wave spotted flags or pictures around?" "Yes! Yes he did!" No-bark gasped with amazement. "You must have seen him too! It 'twas a mite confusing since I may have been having spasms at the time, but he had a bunch of planks what with glowing moon rocks on them that he used to drive the demons on!" "We're a bit far West for that. Devils like that usually stick up to the Northeast." The stranger said conversationally as he handed Ada a few caps, the amused smile not leaving his face. The wasteland doctor was now looking at both of them like they had Pitt Plague. "Don't worry about the cereal though, little ember. It's all part of [i]the movement[/i]. Keep it on the down low." No-bark's eyes widened in comprehension, and he simply tapped the side of his nose knowingly in response. [center][s]888888888888[/s][/center] [b][u]Two Days Ago 188 Trading Post[/u][/b] "I'm only selling to big fish, dirtlicker. NCR and caravans only, and while you're about as fucking ugly as a pack brahmin, you aren't a caravan." Alexander was not at all impressed by the stranger. Mercenary trash like him was always coming and going, and they never had enough caps. He leaned against the wall, arms folded adamantly and his voice utterly deadpan - a demeanor he had spent years perfecting to offset and intimidate most of the garbage that blew through the underpass of the 188. If he was surprised when the stranger, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat in a casual manner, started giving him a rictus grin smile, he didn't let it show. "So. You must be Alexander then. The Van Graffs talk an awful lot about you." THAT got Alexander's attention. He narrowed his eyes and began to reach for his rifle. It wasn't the first time somebody had come after him - probably a hit from the Van Graffs, from what the asshead had said. He wasn't going to put up with that though, and although the mercenary had what looked to be a grenade launcher, it was slung securely across his travel pack. Alexander could level his rifle and blow a hole clean through the little shit before he even drew it halfway. It WAS surprising when the mercenary took his right hand out of his coat pocket and pressed what appeared to be a tin grenade against Alexander's throat, thumb pressed against what had to be the arming button for the sensor module strapped to the side. Alexander froze. "Not just the Van Graffs either. Not a whole lot of the people here like you much either. How would you care to bet that nobody would bat an eye if you came down with a congestion of explosive powder? Feel like gambling with your life?" To his credit, Alexander recovered quickly and didn't balk. "You devious bastard...You do realize there's no way I'm letting you walk out of this alive, right? The second your arm pulls back I'm going to shoot your sorry ass. You can't set that thing off at this range without blowing off your arm." The stranger 's rictus grin grew even wider. "Was that a challenge, little mote? Because that sounded an awful lot like a challenge to me." The Forecaster, who had been watching the scene unfold anxiously from his nest in the underpassage, did not need psychic powers to tell what was coming next and immediately ducked behind the nearest car wreck. The improvised flashbang grenade went off as the mercenary released the arming switch, blinding and deafening both Alexander, his bodyguard, and everybody else in the underpassage...except for the man himself, with his goggles and their opaque, polarized lens. Once everybody had recovered, the mercenary was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Alexander - although there was a suspicious scattering of smoldering ash piled against the wall he had been leaning against. When the Forecaster looked at the ashes, he shivered - even through the dampening effects of the psychic blocker he wore on his head, visions of fire and laughter lived in the darkness behind his eyes for a scant moment when he blinked. [b][u]Now Freeside[/b][/u] Evan yelped as the stranger caught his sneaking hand trying to snatch something out of one of his coat pockets. "You really shouldn't stick your fingers in dangerous places." The man said with nasty smile. "You're liable to lose fingers that way." "L...look, I'm real sorry mister, it's just I'm starving and thirsty and I don't have any caps and I don't know what else to do..." Evan started blubbering. It wasn't the first time he'd been caught pickpocketing, and on occasion he managed to escape unscathed by turning on the waterworks. Mostly he was beaten anyway, but either way it didn't hurt to try. It looked like it had worked too, since the man's smile faded and turned into an appraising line. His eyes were hidden by the goggles he wore, but he was clearly thinking. After a moment of silence, he let Evan go and set his travel pack on the ground. "Little boys like you should always be able to have something to cure what ails them. I'll give you a little something, and you'll never pick pockets again, alright?" "I promise mister." Evan said dutifully as the man retrieved a cereal box of sugar bombs from his pack. "No need to promise, little mote. I know." The man gave Evan another wicked grin as he handed over the box. Evan took it and immediately sprinted away with the prize and ducking into a nearby alley, barely able to believe his luck. Hopping into the safe confines of a dumpster to eat in peace, he pried open the top of the cereal box and squinted inside at the frag mine filling the space where there should have been chocolate frosted wheat. The man whistled an eerie tune as a dull boom rocked through the alley Evan had run into a block away. The vagrant thugs who had been watching him from the sides of the street found immediate excuses to be elsewhere as he made the long walk across the stretch of street leading up to the strip gate. Approaching the barricade and the securitrons there, he slowed and his smile vanished as he stopped whistling and assumed a thoughtful expression, listening the the strange, garbled system messages the robots sent between each other. The Securitron Greeter rolled up to him and delivered its ultimatum. "Submit to a credit check or present your passport before proceeding to the gate. Trespassers will be shot." "In a minute." The man said as he gave the looming Securitron a quick look-over. "I have a few questions first. Can you answer a few?" "Proceed." "I don't believe I've ever seen a robot like you before. What model are you?" "I am a PDQ-88b Securitron, RobCo security model 2060-B. I was manufactured by RobCo in the year 2076." "So you're a RobCo 'bot...I suppose that means you use termlink code then, and that garbled junk your friends are spewing is encrypted audio formatting?" "The design specifications of Securitron models is classified to the general public." "And that little spinning deal, I suppose that's a wireless comm. sensor?" The man asked, pointing the the rotating ring-shaped antenna on top of the greeter. "The design specifications of Securitron models is classified to the general public." The greeter repeated flatly. The man gave the securitron a final lookover before finally responding. "53l FD3 57R UC7." The greeter Securitron promptly short circuited in a shower of sparks and fell to the ground, inactive. "And that's why audio termlink input is classified as a design flaw." The man announced cheerily as one of the Securitrons by the gate rolled forward aggressively. The man simply looked at it with a waiting smile as its screen flickered from showing a gruff, cigar-chomping soldier to that of a cowboy. "Son, Mr. House is not going to like that little wild west show stunt of yours at all if I reckon right. How about you run along to the ranch and stop making trouble with the local flavor? They're expecting you up in the lounge." "About time. What does a guy need to do to get a little respect around here?" The man complained coyly as he sidled past Victor. "Don't let the brackets hit your asterisk on the way out, little mote." [center][s]888888888888[/s][/center] Dallas was notified of the new arrival in the penthouse by the whirring noise of the elevator ascending and the doors grinding open...and the obnoxious singing. "I doooon't want to set the woooorld on fiiiiirerrrrr..." The man stepped out of the elevator with a spring in his step, spotted Dallas, and stopped. After a pause, he delivered an unsettling grin to the fair-haired man and leered straight into Dallas' eyes, opaque goggles giving nothing away. "Hey there little pebble. Are you ready to shake, rattle and roll? Because let me tell you, your bones don't look like they've been dusted on the ground appropriately. I'm almost afraid you'll break like fine china once I push you over this balcony."