Andronicus23

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Freeside, The Atomic Wrangler - Now Youse Can’t Leave

“Another round for me and my boys James, keep the drinks coming.”

James Garrett eyed his three regulars suspiciously. They consisted of Tommy ‘Quickfinger’ Morales and his two cronies, Jack and Paul. The three of them had been at it practically all night, gambling big at the tables, drinking it up, and rotating between various hookers. They must have blown close to 4,000 caps by now. Tommy was notoriously lazy, so it was hard to believe they’d made those caps doing anything resembling honest labor. Not that it really mattered either way.

“You still good for it?” James asked as he placed three empty glasses on the counter.

“Eyyy who are you talking to here?” Tommy replied with mocking derision as he slammed a small pile of caps on the bar, “.....I’m always good for it.”

“Not always,” James muttered and poured the three their choice drinks, “Just where did you get all those caps anyhow? Didn’t steal it, did you?”

“Steal it? Fuck no. I won this fair and square on the Strip,” Tommy protested, he then gave a sly grin, “A lucky smoother-talker…that’s all I am.”

“Yeah whatever Tommy,” James sighed, “As long as you keep paying…I don’t care.”

Tommy shrugged as James walked away to serve other customers, and he then turned back to his cronies, “Drink up boys we earned it.”

Suddenly Tommy's attention was directed towards the front entrance of the Atomic wrangler where a pair of women entered the casino. Tommy was immediately intrigued, they didn’t look like tourists, in fact, they looked more like wasteland raiders with their punk hair and numerous tattoos. All that only made them stand out more to him though. Of course, the skimpy clothing they wore certainly added to their appeal.

Tommy’s eyes followed them across the Wrangler’s floor until they seemed to turn to look at him. He took a short sip on his whiskey as the pair appeared to chat between themselves, then they sauntered up to the bar and pulled up a couple chairs directly across from him. By this point, Jack and Paul were both looking at the two women as well, and immediately had their full attention. As always though, Tommy took to the lead.

“Ladies,” He said, trying to sound as smooth as he could through slurred speech, “Care for a drink.”

The pair let out a giggle, and nodded eagerly,

“James!” Tommy yelled out, “Two Atomic cocktails for these fine young ladies here.”

“Quit shouting Tommy,” James growled as he returned to fix the drinks. Once he sat the made cocktails on the bar and collected the caps, he was gone again.

“Plenty more where that came from,” Tommy grinned as he scooted close to the two women, “Now what are your names?”

---

Tommy, Paul, and Jack spent the better part of two hours chatting up the girls, each one trying to one-up the other in the tales of their exploits. Before long, Tommy had his arm around one of them, who he’d learned was named Lacy, and was acting like she was already his girl. That just left Jake and Paul to fight over the other girl, who’s name was Marissa.

Their good times were interrupted suddenly when a pair of men with the same sort of raider-look approached the group.

“Stealing our girls? Get the fuck away from them!” One of the men demanded angrily as he strode up to Tommy.

“WHOA WHOA back off asshole,” Tommy snapped back as he shoved the man aside.

Pretty soon Jack and Paul were also on their feet, ready to fight, and certainly it looked like one was about to break out between the five men.

“OUT! ALL OF YOU!” The shrill voice of Francine Garret rang out over the wrangler, “I’ve had enough. Get out or I’ll have you all thrown out.” The Garret twins hired goons immediately began making their way over, eager to do just that..

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Lacy suggested as she pulled at Tommy’s suit-coat.

“Yeah….no problem toots,” Tommy replied, “Jack…Paul…let’s blow this joint. We’ll just take out caps elsewhere.”

“Good riddance!” Francine called out after them as they left the Wrangler.

They stepped out onto the streets of Freeside, and the trio began following where the two women led. The men who’d confronted them appeared to just disappear into the crowd, and didn’t seem to be after them. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief, he talked a big talk, but when it came to actually fighting he was a complete coward.

“Where are we going?” Tommy finally asked Lacy, who was still hanging on his arm.

“This great place down the road, called The Rad Rat. Ever been there?”

“Huh, can’t say that I have,” Tommy said with a surprised look. He knew practically every place in town, so he was shocked he actually hadn’t. “Is it new?”

“Just opened,” Lacy replied with a suggestive look, “You’ll love it.”

---

The girls led them down several winding, twisting streets and back alley-ways until they came to a part of Freeside that Tommy had never been before. The place they stopped at was an unmarked pre-war joint, that looked like an old hole-in-the-wall bar.

“Classy,” Tommy quipped as they strode inside. There was no-one else in the bar, save for an odd looking bartender with a pencil-thin mustache, who was diligently cleaning a few glasses.

“Welcome,” the bar-keep said as they entered, “What can I get you?”

“Whatever drink is the most expensive,” Tommy said as he sat at the bar, “One for each of the boys, and two for the ladies,” he said with a smirk.

“Hmmm coming right-up."

“So baby,” Tommy cooed as he turned away from the bartender and pulled Lacy in closer, “What are your plans for tonight. Wanna shack-up at my place?”

“You’re Tommy Quickfinger ain’t ya?” The bartender suddenly asked, interrupting him as he continued making the drinks.

Tommy gave the nosy-bar keep the side-eye and growed, “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“I hear you got a really good hustle going on the strip.”

Tommy looked back and forth between Jack and Paul, and then turned back to the bartender, “Who told you that old man?”

“Oh…just a friend of mine,” the bar-keep shrugged, “But you have been conning customers at Gomorrah, am I right?”

“Shut up and serve the drinks,” Tommy snapped back, “The fuck you think you are asking me questions like that?” He then turned back to Lacy with a smile, “And what if I did? Not like those assholes don’t deserve it. I gotta better things to spend that money on…like this fine dame here.”

“You ain’t afraid of the Omertas?” Lacy asked, batting her eye-lids, “How brave...”

“Eh, I ain’t afraid of them. But why would they care? Not like I’m robbing them of anything,” Tommy boasted. In his half-drunken stupor, he couldn’t help but keep talking, “Just robbing NCR goons anyway.”

There it was. Big Mistake.

Lacy and Marissa immediately stood up and walked over to a side door. Tommy held out his hands incredulously, “Ohhh hey, where are you girls goin’?”

Lacy just gave him a playful wave in response. The bartender sat down the half-made drink he was working on, and rounded the corner of the bar. Then made his way over to the entrance of the building.

“The fuck you doin?” Tommy demanded angrily.

The bartender pulled out a key, and……locked the door.

Tommy’s heart dropped down right into his stomach. In that moment, he knew he’d fucked up.

Rockwood turned back to the three conmen, a look of pure hatred etched across his face. “Don’t bother trying to bluff your way out,’ The Enforcer said plainly, “We know you aren’t armed.”

Tommy could only look on in horror as Omerta thugs began rushing out the side door, bats and knives in hand.

—-----------------------------

Hours later, three badly maimed bodies had been piled up next to the Strip’s wall in Freeside. A hastily scrawled message had been spray-painted behind them,

DON’T FUCK WITH THE FAMILY

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah Zoara Club, Dominic Omerta

Benny scoffed, “Rebellion? Not at all. While I haven’t met the Colonel personally I can attest he is a loyal son of the Republic. Very few members of the NCR military have been afforded the autonomy and power he was given with his governorship of the Mojave. The fact he hasn’t abused that power is, I believe, a clear indicator of his allegiance to the state. However,” Benny stated uneasily “As I am sure you are well aware through your own experience, when you give a man power and independence. He can sometimes be reluctant to see it lessen.”

“Ah that’s very true. Especially when that man has the complete loyalty, love, and full backing of a own personal army that he has shepherded through trials and tribulations on the frontier,” Dominic leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag on his cigarette, and giving Benny a wry smile as he exhaled the smoke, “The loyalty of such a man, of course, is beyond dispute.”

Benny then talked about how the CSF would have far more discretion in application of force, a fact that didn’t surprise Dominic in the slightest. But a more salient point that Benny almost certainly would never admit to directly was that it also gave the NCR plausible deniability when such force was actually applied in….unofficial ways.

It was a sound tactic, and one he was very familiar with. The mercenaries he hired for Vegas were always a very convenient option when he needed to keep Omerta involvement to a minimum. Sometimes you just needed someone else’s fingerprints on the guns.

“I came here today to do more than just establish a dialogue between the Van-Graff administration and the families of the Strip. I believe, and I hope you’ll agree, that the future stability and profitability of the Mojave relies on a strong central authority here in Vegas. Through your actions you have clearly made strides in securing swathes of this city under the control of the Omerta family. I hope that as things change and we move closer to annexation the Van-Graff administration can rely upon their friends at the Gomorrah to step in when certain misguided individuals show objection to the obvious betterment of the city and territory at large.”

“Oh I completely agree,” Dominic laughed warmly and gave Benny an approving nod, “And of course, of course, you and the NCR can always rely on my family when called upon. I said it before and I’ll say it again, anything you need, you just let ol’ Dom know, eh?”

Dominic took a few more drags on his cigarette, then smashed the remained of it into a nearby ashtray,

“Well that was a fine conversation Benny,” Dominic said with a grin as he stood up from his seat, “Hell I wouldn’t mind sitting and chatting all day, but I’m afraid I’ve got other things to attend to this morning and I’m sure you do as well. Shit I’m sure we could both sit here all day smoking like chimneys and eatin’ some of that fine cake of yours and play hooky on our responsibilities....oh well, maybe another time eh?”

Benny smiled and nodded.

“Indeed Mr. Dominic, I find your company, familiar, to say the least. Please don’t hesitate to contact me again if you find yourself needing some assistance from the Van-Graff administration. We are always happy to assist our friends in New Vegas. Simply send any requests through Miss Gutierrez” Benny paused for a moment as he stubbed out his cigarette. “On that note I would like to ask for a minor favor before I depart. Miss Gutierrez seems to be one of the only competent employees left in the embassy. The majority of them are no doubt holdovers from previous administrations and representative of their failures. If you know of any competent trustworthy individuals looking for employment please do not hesitate to send them our way. I do realize it's quite a big task. After all, finding someone trustworthy in this city is no doubt like finding water in the desert. And yet,” he smiled large and white “Here we are.”

“Now,” Dominic continued, giving Benny a friendly pat on the back, “I hope you know I’m not about to kick you out of my Casino though. Please, stay as long as you like, take whatever food or drink you’d like, and hook up with any working girl, or two, or three, that catches your eye. And of course….you’ve got a complimentary penthouse suit in Gomorrah that you’re free to use whenever, and however you like. Not a bad gig Mr. Ambassador,” Dominic said with a wink, “But if Gomorrah isn’t your speed and you’d prefer the Ultra Luxe…well no harm no foul…hell you’d be making my fiance’ a very happy woman, so just let someone over there know and they’ll set you up right quick. Tell em’ Dom sent ya.”

“Well I am partial to the splendors of life. However, it would be best for myself and my office if I kept my nose clean, at least for now.” Benny gave teh old gangster a wink. “I’m sure once I get settled and sorted within the month I can find the time to fully enjoy the liberties offered at your fine establishments.”

“Pleased to have met you Benny, my door is always open if you need anything. You know your way out?"

“The pleasure is all mine sir.” Benny shook his hand “I’m sure I can trust one of your associates to help me find my way out.” Benny tipped his head toward the Don. “Till next we meet.”

"Goodbye and arrivederci my friend.” Dominic showed Benny to the door of the club and once the Ambassador had left, he turned back to
the red-headed waitress.

“Sally, fill up my plate,” He growled, as he sat back down at the table, “I need to think, and I don’t plan on doing that on an empty stomach.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Freeside - Santelli’s Deli, Abraham “Honest Abe” Rockford - Sniffing out a Con

Rockford took a long drag on his cigarette as he walked down the broken sidewalk of some nameless filth-covered street in Freeside. He kept his free hand stuffed in his pocket fingering the handle of a loaded snub nose .44, a necessary precaution venturing anywhere in the ghetto. Even an Omerta enforcer had to keep his wits about him, because while the Omertas had plenty of friends in Freeside, that was no guarantee that some foolhardy idiot wasn’t going to try his luck anyway.

Generally if you kept to the Boulevard and the area of Fremont Street itself, then you were relatively safe. Plenty of mercenaries and Omerta-hired goons patrolled those two streets escorting tourists to and from the strip. Once you started venturing off from that well-trodden path though? Well that’s where things got interesting.

As he continued down the street, Rockford stepped over the body of some poor schmuck lying face down in a puddle of his own making. Seemed obvious that the guy had OD’d at some point recently, given the empty syringes littering the ground around him. Rockford stooped down and observed the detritus, giving a rueful smile as he realized it was all Omerta-made. That wasn’t surprising though, most if not all the chems flowing into Freeside and Outer Vegas were somehow connected to his family. He felt a twinge of guilt at seeing how young the guy looked, but swiftly pushed it aside. Someone in his position couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for these addicts, otherwise he’d be spilling his heart out all over Vegas.

As he walked away, he looked behind him and saw some opportunistic guttersnipe run over to the corpse and start rummaging through the dead man’s pockets, then the kid kicked the body and ran off having apparently found nothing of value.

Just another day in Freeside, Rockford thought bitterly.

He tossed his spent cigarette to the side just as he arrived at his destination. It was a small red-bricked building that was squashed between two dilapidated apartment buildings. A large red and white sign above it read “Satriale's Pork Store” but that had been crossed out several times by crude streaks of black paint and underneath it, in bright bold red letters, was spelled out the place's new name “Santelli’s Deli”. Outside of the place, a few rough-looking men and women in tattered leather jackets and t-shirts wielding baseball bats were loitering around. They all sported tattoos and a wide variety of garish hairstyles that would not be out of place among raiders. As Rockford approached, one particular thug who looked like the leader of this misfit gang gave him a friendly nod, then opened the door for him.

Wanna-be gangsters, Rockford thought as he stepped inside, Probably somewhere on the Omerta payroll.

“Oh, hey Abe,” A rough voice greeted him as Rockford entered the worn-out interior of the deli. A ghoul in a blood-stained appron stepped around the counter, “Guess you got my message?”

“I did,” Abe nodded as he pulled out his red notepad, “So..what’d you got for me Tony?”

“Well I might have overhead somethin’ a couple nights ago,” The old ghoul said as he scratched at his necrotic chin, “Had a guy in here - well dressed. I figured he was a tourist at first, which was odd because tourists don’t come out this way - I only ever get locals. Anyways…I strike up a conversation with him and ask if he’s new around here: he says that used to live in Westside. I asked him, well then what do you do because you’ve got some fine fancy digs. Then I asked, ‘You workin’ for a casino?’”

“What did he say to that?”

“Eh he kinda chuckled weirdly at that then said, kinda, and that he’s got gig that he runs up on the strip. I asked him what kind of gig: he says ‘the kind that makes me a butt-load of money without having to lift a finger.’ I says to him, well that sounds like a good deal for you then. And he says ‘yeah it is, but not for the suckers.’”

“Suckers?” Rockford asked, eyebrow raised.

“I figured he meant tourists,” Tony replied with a shrug, “You know, gamblers and what-not. So anyway, he pays for his meat and leaves and I don’t think much of it, until I heard your little APB this morning..Got to thinking maybe it was connected.”

“Certainly sounds like it could be,” Rockford nodded thoughtfully as he jotted down a few notes, “Get a good look at him?”

“Yeah I did, scrawny little fuck with blue eyes. Maybe 25 years old, with a scar on his left hand.”

“Was there anyone with him?”

Tony shook his head, “Nah just his lonesome.”

“Alright well that’s something to go off,” Rockford said, giving the ghoulish butcher an appreciative nod, “Thanks Tony, I’ll check into it. Give my best to the Mrs. eh?”

“I’ll do that thank yeh,” Tony said with a grin, “And please, tell Mr. Dominic that business has been good lately. Gotten plenty of customers for that new party chem your Family is cookin’ up. Could use another shipment soon actually.”

“I’ll make sure one gets sent,” Rockford said, tipping his hat, “See ya around Tony.”

Rockford stepped back out of the Deli while reaching for another cigarette as he considered what to do with the information Tony had given him. It wasn’t much, and it was entirely possible it was completely unrelated, but he’d heard nothing else from any of his contacts so far. So it was truly his best lead, or rather, it was his only lead.

“Going somewhere Mister?” One of the female gangsters asked with a cock of her tattoo’d head, almost as soon as he stepped out the door, “You with The Family right?”

“Maybe, what's it to you?” Rockford replied. He reached for his lighter and lit up on his cigarette. He puffed steadily on it and narrowed his eyes at the unlikely quartet. All their eyes seemed to light up, and they eager looked to one another with excited expressions,

“Oh man I knew it,” One of the males said with a goofy grin.

“Hey’d we’d be…uh…honored to escort you around Freeside,” the female wanna-be continued, “And anything else we can do for you….just let us know.”

“I don’t need an escort,” Rockford replied, blowing smoke in their direction. Their expressions sunk for a brief moment as they no doubt thought perhaps they’d lost out on a chance to impress their criminal overlords, but then Rockford gave a grin, “But I might have some other uses for you. Interested in a little undercover work?”

The gangsters' smiles returned.

“Anything for the Omertas.”

Zoara Club VIP Lounge, Don Dominic - The Benny Situation

Dominic listened with a bored expression as Benny rattled off a long list of planned bureaucratic changes to the Mojave. He wanted to give Benny the immediate impression that nothing of what he said interested him, or that he simply had no interest in the politics of it all or the machinations of a national scale that far outclassed his own simple criminal ambitions.

The reality was nothing could be farther from the truth. He hung on Benny’s every word as the neurotic ambassador rambled off the so-called 'vision' for the future. Some parts of which were undoubtedly half-truths or even outright lies, but even under that consideration the plans Benny laid out infuriated him to no end. He’d expected Benny to lie, to give some indication of how the Strip and the Mojave wouldn’t *really* change, but the Ambassador had not seemed to bother with that. Or rather, the lie he told wasn’t even attempting to placate or assuage doubts about the continued autonomy of Vegas. If this was what Benny was attempting to spin to him, what was the NCR’s actual plan?

None of that will come to pass, Dominic wanted to growl out. He wanted to punch Benny’s face in and have his men haul him off to a fate worse than death. The Legion used to crucify their victims, leave them up on that cross of wood for days on end before they expired, that seemed a fitting punishment for the little weasel sitting before him. With a snap of his finger it could happen, Benny could disappear, and some excuse could be cooked up to the NCR brass about how their new Ambassador ran into an unfortunate bit of ‘trouble’ after he’d wandered into Freeside unadvisedly. Excuses would be made, apologies would be offered, palms would be greased, and retribution would be forgotten.

Yet, much to his chagrin, he couldn’t, not yet anyway: not now.

So instead he had to play along.

His ears perked up at the mention of CSF security taking over control of key NCR installations in lieu of Colonel Abernathy’s own men. It was a strange bit of information to add, and it immediately got him intrigued. Had Abernathy finally lost the support of the NCR brass back home? Or was something else afoot here?

“I hate to be trouble Mr. Dominic but do you have anything I could smoke?” Benny asked as he patted down his suit in search of a pack of cigarettes.

Dominic smiled and reached into his jacket pocket. He withdrew a long black slender object that looked not unlike the handle of a blade, then offered it up to Benny in one smooth motion which, had it been a knife, could have torn into the Ambassador’s chest. Instead, Dominic pressed a button on the case and a cigarette popped out like a switch. He offered it up to the Ambassador, then took one for himself.

He then stuffed the case back into his jacket and withdrew a gold-plated lighter and flipped it open. He lit Benny’s cigarette before igniting his own. Smoke wafted around them as the two sat in silence for a few brief moments while they both enjoyed the flavor of the pristine pre-war tobacco.

Finally, Dominic broke the silence, giving a slight shrug as he stared at Benny,

“Omerta,” He explained, “Means silence. You have my word, the Colonel won’t hear about it from me. Though I am curious why you’d trust me at all, I’m frankly flattered that you’d think little ol’ me important enough to hear details of what is obviously going to be a very sensitive operation before they even happen,” Dominic drew on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke calmly through the right side of his mouth, “But honestly, why should there would be any cause for concern at all? Colonel Abernathy is a loyal NCR man is he not? A patriot? Surely you aren’t suggesting he’d be capable of some sort of rebellion?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah, Zoara Club - Dominic "Fat Dom" Omerta

“Pleasures all mine Mr. Dominic. I truly appreciate you opening up the Gomorrah to me so early in the day. It was a spectacular experience I was greeted with upon my arrival this morning. Likewise,” he took a drag and exhaled to the side away from the Don. “I want to thank you sincerely for the greeting my escort and I were given upon our arrival to the Strip last night. As I’m sure you are aware we were not so kindly received on our entrance to Freeside.”

Dominic nodded as Sally swiftly returned carrying a tray filled with two large slices of cake which she deposited in front of the Don and Benny. She also set down a cup of coffee in front of the NCR Ambassador.

“Oh yes I heard about that,” Dominic sighed as he excitedly dug into the cake with his fork, “ I assume your man was given some reason to turn that mercenary into all of swiss cheese, but if not, I’m sure he won’t be missed. Luckily those particular guards were not Omerta,” The Don said casually, stuffing a slice of the cake into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, “Although, to be honest I’m not sure Freeside will be as forgiving about it...they tend to be a bit more…tribal…about these things. Well, in any case, I’m still glad we could right that little wrong and give you a proper welcome.”

“Especially your employee…the lady Lucrezia. She is quite the woman, you should be proud to have her in your staff. She represents your business and your interests well.”

“Why thank you, I’m happy to hear you say that. Hey, I’m told she has quite a high opinion of you as well…maybe a little toooo high… ” Dominic laughed heartily, then slapped the Ambassador lightly on the shoulder, “Ah I’m just bustin’ your balls. Actually I’m more proud than you can imagine my friend. Lucy is a firecracker, a fighter through and through. I’d like to say she gets it all from me, but the truth is her mother was quite the pistol….nearly shot me the day we met if you can believe it. HA! Needless to say, Lucy will make a fine leader for the Omertas when it’s time for her old man to retire and grow old and fat…or rather grow fatter and older. Eh?”

“I hope the cake is to your liking sir. The barista at the Ultra Luxe refused to let me pay for it when I informed him who it was for. I’m assuming you have a connection with that casino as well?”

“Oh you ain’t heard? Bah..I’m surprised, word gets around fast here but maybe not fast enough for the Embassy,,” Dominic replied with a sly wink, “The White Gloves and the Omertas are going to be one big-happy family soon. Marjorie, their leader, is soon to be my wife. Oh boy let me tell you…it’s going to be quite the event. That woman has done nothing but wedding plan since I gave her the ring. Don’t you worry, you’ll certainly get an invite.”

“In any case I hope we can be candid with each other and open up an easy line of dialogue. You’re the first family representative to invite me to a parlay upon my arrival. I’m sure you’re curious about annexation, taxation and what all the NCR has planned for New Vegas. I will answer these questions to the best of my knowledge and as far as my professional discretion allows. However,” Benny leaned in close. “I want to assure you that the president has no intention of dismantling the authority held by the families of the Strip. It is only with mutual respect between our organizations that we can make this annexation a painless process.”

Dominic suddenly sat down his fork and looked up at Benny, his steel-gray eyes boring into the Ambassador with an uncomfortable intensity, as if to subtly warn him about taking the veteran criminal leader for a fool. He did not appear angry, nor even disappointed, but instead just seemed oddly serene. Nobody in New Vegas, not even the Chairmen with all their blind trust in old Not-At-Home, would believe any part of the lie that the Ambassador had just told. The NCR never recognized any authority but its own.

There was probably some sort of wise cautionary tale to be remembered here: about how foolish it was be to try to beat the devil at his own game with a lie….and inside his own home.

All of a sudden though Dominic’s expression lightened and he gave him a smile that rapidly grew into a wide jovial grin, “Ahh, that’s good to hear. Very good to hear. I must admit that we’re all very concerned about what our NCR friends have in store for us. Tell me Benny, man to man, what does the NCR have in mind for New Vegas? What do you see for Sin City in our future?”

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.