Andronicus23

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Somewhere in Outer Vegas

The Chairmen were antsy.

Lucy watched with bated breath from her hidden position on the hillside as the two groups below exchanged niceties. On one side was a heavily armed group of Chairmen goons, wearing their usual tan suits. On the other was the caravan group they were making a deal with. Several large crates full of weapons and body armor were stacked neatly behind the caravaner's brahmin: they were arms dealers looking to make a quick load of caps in Vegas by profiting off the recent conflicts.

Despite their always-present smug self-assurance, it was clear the Chairmen were out of their element. The leader of this little war-party kept fidgeting with his suit jacket and playing with a decorative lighter in his hand, flipping it back and forth like some kind of stress relief toy. The rest of the Chairmen shifted uneasily side-to-side, and kept a white-knuckle grip on their 9mm submachine guns.

It wasn't hard to see why. The boys from The Tops rarely left the strip anymore, and when they did it was almost always because they were forced to. The Omerta-White Gloves alliance was starting to choke them out, business was suffering, and they were woefully outgunned. They had to find some way of turning the tables, and seeking out third party arms dealers was about the only option they had at this point to compete with the Omerta’s substantial armory. Conflict was coming, it was inevitable, and they knew that they couldn’t fight to win as things were now.

Lucy intended to make sure it stayed that way.

A deal seemed to be reached, the Chairmen leader shook the hand of the caravan master and some of the Chairmen moved to pick up the crates. They were laughing, joking with each other and with members of the caravan. They were starting to relax: starting to drop their guards as they came to believe that, now, there was no reason to fear.

The caravan master, still laughing, moved off to the side of the road, yelling something loudly about ‘needing to take a leak’. The rest of his group backed up or subtly slipped themselves behind cover. The Chairmen didn’t seem to notice, they were too busy opening the crates and inspecting all the new shiny toys they’d just purchased.

The caravan master suddenly dove into the ditch. That was the signal. Lucy stood up from her hiding spot, as did the small army of Omerta made-men she had with her.

“This is for my mother you bastards!” She shouted, and immediately began unloading the full clip of her 12mm submachine gun. The rest of the Omertas followed suit, unleashing a hail of lead on the Chairmen below. The poor saps barely had time to register what was happening. Some tried to run, others tried to fire back, but most found themselves turned into well-dressed swiss cheese.

In less than a minute it was over, and once the smoke cleared Lucy casually strode down the hill towards the highway. She gave one of the dead Chairmen a firm kick with her high-heeled boot and then spit on the ground.

“Shit you guys don’t mess around,” The Caravan master said as he slunk up next to Lucy after crawling out of the ditch he’d been taking cover in.

“Double the pay as agreed,” Lucy replied as she turned to him with one hand on her hip, and the other holding up her gun, “But we were never here. These Chairmen were hit by raiders, understand? You mention the word Omerta to anyone, and we’ll make sure you wind up with a few extra holes yourself. Got it?”

“You won’t have anything to worry about from us,” The Caravaner replied as he held up his hands, “We’re out of here…heading back to Cali.”

Lucy nodded in approval, then turned to her men, “Let’s go boys. Take the guns, leave the bodies..”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah Mezzanine

"We do indeed. God bless our partnership. We'll provoke Fate as one."

"Excellent," Dominic smile broadened, "Then we'll be in contact further regarding the details of our arrangement. Please - don't hesitate to contact me directly if you need further assistance in your endeavor as well...military or otherwise. As for the rest, let me know who best to contact and I will send some basic details regarding what sorts of systems we may be dealing with. Their discretion would also appreciated in this matter."

"If I may, I seek to marry my girlfriend in short order. I've arranged the proposal, the wedding lists, the catering, et cetera." He presented a minuscule box and flashed a piece of an aged brass fitting. "Everything except the location. Having recently married yourself, you've likely perused several. Amber admires proper traditional styles, so I figured you'd have advice. Is there any candidate you rejected for its quaintness? That sort of venue ought to sate our tastes."

Dominic laughed a hearty chuckle, "Well as you might imagine, my Marjorie was quite thrilled at the prospect of making her wedding the most expensive, luxurious affair possible. So therefore it was held at her very own Ultra Luxe and there never really was a second choice. But...."

He thought for a moment, giving Daniel's query some genuine thought. He didn't want to appear flippant with a response,

"Naturally either the Gomorrah or Ultra Luxe is at your disposal should you desire either venues...free of charge of course. I would not suggest going to The Tops. Swank, the proprietor, and I have a bit of a...disagreement going on currently and he's quite likely to charge your exorbitantly knowing that we are associates now."

An idea came to his mind, and Dominic perked up, "There is Vault 21...right across from the Ultra Luxe here on the strip. Sarah Weintraub is a good friend to the Omerta Family, and she has an exquisite venue. The Vault hosts a pre-war styled ballroom which may be exactly what you are looking for in terms of aesthetic. I'd encourage you to check it out, and please if you do, mention that Dominic sent you."

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Years Ago in the Mojave

A host of brahmin-skin yurts encircled a great fire deep within a desert valley. Night had fallen on the Mojave, and strange figures danced around the amber glow of the flame, casting menacing shadows which twisted in the flickering light. Each of the dancers were dressed in various animal costumes and horned headdresses, representing individual spirits or demons equal parts worshiped and feared by the tribe.

One figure stood out above the rest, a great headdress surmounted by the effigy of a snake twisted around it. He held out a gnarled staff and raised his arms high to the sky.

“Great Serpent, hear our pleas! Blessed be your servants here gathered. The Slither Kin! We praise you and beseech you to drive out the enemies of your people.”

A young girl, auburn haired, looked on at the proceedings with fear. Her bright green eyes wide with fright while her arms hugged tightly at a well-worn homemade doll. Someone wrapped a comforting hand around her. The girl looked up and smiled, seeing the reassuring matching green eyes of her mother.

“Be still Little Viper,” She cooed, “It will all be over soon. You must be brave.”

“Old windbag,” A gruff voice added and a fat figure sat down next to her, “Great Serpent this, Great Serpent that. Oooooo...spooky. Ha!” The man grinned and looked down on her with a glowing smile, “But you ain’t scared of that old pruny shaman are you?”

The girl giggled at her father’s joke, “No! But Penelope is!” She continued sadly, holding up her doll.

“Ah well I can help with that!” He said, grabbing the doll and hugging it tightly.

The girl laughed at her father’s antics, but her mother shot him a glaring look.

“You shouldn’t make fun during the ceremony…”

“Beh he does it everytime we go on hunt. He just likes hearing the sound of his voice.”

“Great Serpent, protect your brave warriors!” The shaman screeched, and with a resounding thug he cracked his staff against the ground. The costumed figures around the fire immediately stopped their dancing, and fell down in heaps on the ground as if struck dead by some magic.

The girl looked up at her father, who mouthed a “Finally….” And she couldn’t help but giggle again.

Just as the Shaman had finished his ritual someone stepped into the glow of the circle, another member of their tribe,

“They’re here,” He announced solemnly. The girl looked up at her father, and his expression turned dour. Which immediately set her on edge.

“Little Viper run to your tent and go to bed,” her mother urged, “Do as I say, now…”

Without waiting for explanation, the girl leapt up and ran to their yurt. Rather than hiding under her covers, she peeked out the cloth door, watching intently as her father and several other men of the tribe rose to meet whoever was coming.

She held her breath as their guests stepped out of the shadows, and she had to hold a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. A host of nightmarish warriors entered the campire circle, pale skinned and covered head to toe in cloth stitched with innumerable bones. They wore masks carved from human skulls which covered the top halves of their faces, giving them an inhuman visage. Much to her terror, she saw that some seemed to be dragging sacks which oozed blood like a gaping wound.

To the young girl shivering in fear, they were nothing less than living monsters.

A woman, seemingly their leader, stepped forward. She had on a particularly gruesome skull mask with goat-horns sewn ontop, and wore a bloodied cloak made from human skin draped around her shoulders. She was hauntingly beautiful yet utterly terrifying, the image of a demoness right out of the tribe's mythos.

Her father stepped forward, unafraid of the demon woman’s presence,

“Welcome, would you care to share our fire?”

The demon woman shook her head, but did not reply.

“We’d offer to share a meal, but it looks like you’ve already brought some to go,” Her father said, pointing at the sacks. That elicited a few, nervous, chuckles from his fellow Slither Kin, but then the strange woman hissed back a threat,

“Perhaps, you wish to become our breakfast?”

Slither Kin warriors reached for their weapons, as did the cannibals, but no-one made a move. Her father motioned for them all to be calm.

“Where is your Chieftain?” The woman snarled.

“Out on a hunt,” Her father replied quickly, “But I can speak for our tribe here. We all know what needs to be done…”
“The Boot-Riders are becoming a problem,” Her father continued, “They need to be dealt with. Harshly.”

“You propose an alliance,” The woman hissed, “We don’t ally with prey.”

“Nor do we,” He snapped back, “Watch yourself, those little underground burrows of yours are not so-secret to us, and it wouldn’t take much to smoke you out. We’ve done it before, or have you forgotten the taste of our poison?”

Several of the cannibals snarled, baring sharpened teeth like cornered wolves, but the woman ignored her fellow tribesman's anger. She raised a hand revealing a bladed gauntlet streaked with still-fresh blood, and ran a finger along the crimson ichor before bringing it to her lips and sampling it with a devilish grin.

“Never.....very well Slither Kin, what is it you plan to do?”

Her father returned the expression with a grin of his own,

“Wage war.”

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

Lucy awoke suddenly with a start, her brow was streaked with sweat and she was panting hard. Memories she’d never truly forgotten had come flooding back to her, and she stared up at the ceiling of her Penthouse suite in Gomorrah. Images from her dream morphed into her vision, and for a brief moment, she thought the plastered ceiling was the animal-skin roof of a yurt.

She sat up and got out of bed, walking over to a nearby chest. She flipped open the lid and rummaged around inside. Her hands gripped a small object, and she pulled it out.

It was a doll, well-worn and covered in the dirt of the road and faded from the burning sun. She held it tightly against her.

“Some things never really change,” She whispered to it softly.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah Mezzanine

Dominic watched with a sly grin plastered on his face as Daniel “Nines” wrestled with the notion of seizing control. He went back and forth with himself, trying to come up with reasons why it would be impossible, but each point was counterbalanced with a separate reason in favor. Finally, he seemed to quell his mind, and settled on a course of action.

"Sir, I'm not excessively fond of indebtedness. I'd like to earn what favors you bestow. I'll allocate space in my schedule to ensure it. My price is a week's usage of a couple dozen experienced soldiers, and two hundred gallons of freshwater. You'd score a valuable ally in exchange, and your pick of the finer elements of our coffers, even after the square trade of labor."

“Done,” Dominic said with barely a moment’s hesitation. The price for having a worthy ally on his side was paltry, frankly, and he’d gladly pay it several times over if it meant having a man in power within the Vaulters that he could rely on. He was glad that his judgment hadn’t failed him here...Daniel certainly hadn’t disappointed.

"Wait, why do I crave authority now? I didn't desire this prior. I've no grand machinations!" Daniel focused his attention to a nit on a nearby wall. "But it's possible..."

“Because you know that your people need you,” Dominic offered as he sat back in his chair, “Because without a firm hand to quell differences, they’ll fall back on infighting. But you also know how to prevent that, and only you know exactly what’s needed to see them flourish.”

“It's not about craving anything Nines,” Dominic continued as he folded his hands on the table in front of him, “It's simply a matter of duty...but if you can also enjoy the fruits of power, well, then so be it...” he smiled.

“Now as for my price…” He said, thinking carefully, “I don’t require much. You see Nines, I have my own, admittedly selfish, reasons for ensuring your success and also why I was eager to meet with you. For one, I need a firm independent ally outside the influence of the NCR, that is paramount above all else, but I also need some...assistance with another matter.”

He leaned in, “I need someone, or a group of someone's, with some considerable expertise in pre-war technology...RobCo security and network systems, to be precise. As I understand it, RobCo was the primary contractor Vault-Tec used to construct much of their computing network: pip-boys, networked computers, Vault security systems... Naturally, I’d hope your people might have some expertise in that field, and that you might be willing to work with me on my own little project.”

Dominic smiled, “It would be a potentially very lucrative partnership, I assure you, and one that could certainly result in some boons for your people. What do you say? Do we have a deal?” He held out his hand to Daniel.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Don Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah Mezzanine

Dominic took the gracious gift offered by Daniel or “Nines” as he called himself. The potholders were a quaint gift, but none-the-less welcome. The symbolism of the gift was more far important than the practicality of it, and Dominic had certainly gotten stranger gifts from various peoples. He once received a mummified mole rat paw from a friendly Zion tribal shaman who claimed it was “good medicine” and would “bring him luck.”

“Thank you my friend, sincerely,” Dominic said as he handed them to Marjorie.

“Oh aren’t these just darling….” Marjorie crooned as she looked them over, “How very whimsical!”

Dominic then listened intently as Daniel explained his current predicament. Apparently he was having some internal misgivings about how to deal with a couple of heir-apparents within his organization. Two women, both very capable, vying for power. One with the backing of the former leadership, the other with powerful friends: neither willing to give up their ultimate ambition. It was a tale as old as time. Even before they were Omertas, Dominic had seen this scenario time and time again within the old Slitherkin tribe.

He noticed Daniel looking nervously around at the other people seated on the Mezzanine, most were lost in their own reverlies, but he assumed this matter must be a delicate one indeed for his guest and he wasn’t comfortable have an audience: even an inatentive one.

Dominic first turned to Marjorie with a look, and Marjorie nodded in agreement. Business was business, she understood.

“Well I must be off,” She announced suddenly, “ Mortimer is throwing another one of his little soirees later. He’s introducing one of his new dishes….quite the affair you understand. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Floyd. Please stop by the Ultra Luxe anytime you wish, we’d love to have you for dinner.”

With appropriate flourish, Marjorie then left the Mezzanine.

Once she was gone, Dominic raised a hand and snapped a finger. The other guests at the remaining tables immediately stopped their conversations, stood up, carefully pushed their chairs in, and then quietly filed out of the mezzanine without a word. The Omerta thug doorman was the last to leave, and closed the door on his way out.

Now Daniel and Dominic were alone, and the real conversation could begin.

“I have a suggestion for you Nines,” Dominic said after a few moments of silence between the pair, “But I’m afraid you probably aren’t going to like it. That being said, you did come all the way to the King of Sin for advice, so I’m going to assume you’re looking for an answer that one of your fellow compatriots never would think to offer up: or dare to.”

Dominic leaned back in his chair and gave a shrug, “You just explained to me in sufficient detail the strengths and weaknesses of both these women, and what your people might gain from the leadership of each. I may be just an old crook, but it seems to me that the answer to your question is ‘neither’. Neither will ever be happy under the rule of the other, and will no doubt cement distrust and rebellion that could cause fractures within your group. What you need is someone who can take the strengths of both, and blend them appropriately for the betterment of your people. You need a supreme leader at the top, not a pair of bickering sisters unwilling, or unable, to seek compromise.”

“Allow me to lend a sword to your little Gordian Knot…” Dominic gave a devilish grin,

“Have you considered your own claim to power, Nines?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Don Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah

Daniel swallowed, doffing his hat again. "Advice, for certain discreet matters of state."

Clarice narrowed her eyes at the caravaner. She still didn't like him, not after the chaos he caused in her well-organized lobby, but…it ultimately wasn't up to her. She'd just have to grin and bear it.

"As it happens…" she sighed, "Don Dominic was expecting you to come calling. He said that whenever you showed up, I was to send you up. He's currently on the mezzanine…."

---

Clarice led Daniel through the main floor debauchery of Gomorrah before climbing a set of stairs and ascending to the mezzanine level. Here she knocked three times on a door, before an Omerta-made man opened it. The well-dressed thug looked cross for a moment as he eyed the pair.

“Mr. Floyd to see the Don,” She offered simply in explanation.

The thug’s face softened and he nodded in understanding, stepping aside and allowing the Daniel in.

Dominic was seated at a card table with another dapper-looking gangster seated across from him. An array of playing cards had been splayed out in front of them in two distinct neat ‘fans’. The pair of them were taking turns swapping cards and purposely laying them into their own respective groupings.

Behind Dominic, an immaculately dressed and of course white-gloved Marjorie looked down at her now-husband's card playing with a mixture of confusion and interest. A gold ring with a diamond the size of a sugar-cube sat squarely on her finger.

“Slow down Domy-dear, I can’t understand what’s happening when you two move so quick,” Marjorie pouted.

“Ah honey let us play the game eh? Don’t worry I’ll teach you all the rules later…” Dominic replied as he took a puff on a big cigar clasped between his fingers.

“He might need some help at the rate he’s losing….” Dominic’s rival player quipped.

“Quiet youse…” Dominic chuckled, “I still got a chance here.”

The Omerta thug that had let Daniel in cleared his throat audibly, drawing attention to himself and the newcomer.

“Apologies Don….Mr. Floyd to see you.”

“Ahhh Mr. Floyd, a pleasure my friend..” Dominic said as he, still seated, offered his hand, “Good to see you in person finally. Mikey why don’t you vamoose and let Mr. Floyd here take your seat. You won anyway…”

Dominic’s card-playing opponent tipped his hat with a grin, “Better luck next time Dom.”

“Ah get outta here you cheat,” Dominic fired back with a chuckle. He then ushered Daniel to sit in the open seat. Behind him Marjorie placed her hands on her husband's shoulders and gently began to rub them,

“Mr. Floyd,” Marjorie said with a glowing look, “Allow me to say that The White Gloves greatly appreciate the food stocks you sent. It was dreadful what happened with the recent flooding….those poor people. I felt so sorry for them…living in a slum to begin with and then having it all washed away….dreadful…simply dreadful. When my Dominic here suggested our families sent aid…I was all too willing to open our larders. It is the duty of the privileged to help the less fortunate, is it not? And the greater the privilege, the greater the responsibility of course.”

“Indeed” Dominic added, giving Daniel a wink and a sly grin that said, Just go along with it bud.

“So Mr. Floyd, or can I call you Daniel?” Dominic continued, leaning in, "What can ol’ Dom do for you?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

This is my stab at the Omerta timeline -

October 19th - Don Dominic calls a sit-down of the Three Families to be held at the Ultra Luxe. Dominic, with the support of Marjorie, accuses Swank of breaking key tenets of The Contract. Swank denies all accusations and abruptly leaves the meeting without further elaboration.

October 25th - The Omerta Family begins a buildup of weapons and illicitly purchased military hardware, increasing their production of small arms across their compounds in Outer Vegas. These weapons are secretly shipped to the Strip. Omerta-affiliated thugs across Vegas are noticeably better armed. Iron Forester Mercs begin actively patrolling Omerta controlled areas of Vegas.

October 30th - Don Dominic Omerta and Marjorie of the White Gloves are married in an overly-elaborate ceremony at the Ultra Luxe. Various underworld figures linked to the Don from across the Southwest attend in a notable gathering of the whos-who of post-war organized crime. The White Gloves and Omerta Families are formerly united by marriage ties. None of the Chairmen attend, nor are they invited.

November 1st - A gunfight erupts between several armed groups in Freeside. The brief but violent skirmish results in 18 dead. Rampant fear and speculation regarding further escalation of the Families’ conflict spreads throughout the city. The Heads of the Three Families all publicly deny any involvement and claim this was an unrelated gang conflict.

November 4th - The Flooding prompts the Omertas to evacuate several of their safehouses in Outer Vegas. In an unexpected move, Dominic publicly announces that the Omertas and White Gloves will be assisting the people of Outer Vegas and Freeside with relief and recovery efforts. Thousands of caps are spent on hiring laborers and opening Omerta-run shelters and soup kitchens to provide aid. The White Gloves agree to open up their considerable food larders to provide adequate stocks to these locations. The Omertas supply a number of makeshift hospitals in the area with medical chems.

November 14th - Legion activity across the Colorado prompts an unusually unified response from the Three Families, who issue summons to the NCR ambassador for clarification on the situation.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah, Abraham “Honest Abe" Rockwood

Rockwood sat brooding within his office on the 4th floor of Gomorrah, the smoldering stub of a cigarette still clutched in his fingers. Since returning from Freeside, he’d been contemplating the information Tommy ‘Quickfinger’ had shared before his very sudden untimely passing. The arrogant conman had told quite the story before he’d died. Now the only question was what was going to be done about it.

His door opened, and Rockwood looked up to see Lucy striding in. The Omerta Family Heir apparent was looking as beautiful, and dangerous, as ever,

“You wanted to talk Abe?” She said as her high heel clapped against the floor leading to his desk. She took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, propping her feet up on a footstool, “I hear you had quite the little adventure in Freeside.”

“That I did Lucrezia.”

“And?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Well don’t keep me in suspense, what’s the bad news?”

He sighed, then took another drag on his cigarette stub, “That conman? Tommy? He was working for Swank.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Don’t be dramatic Abe.I know you hate the Chairmen with an admirable fucking passion, but this isn’t all that surprising. I’ll admit this is a new low but…”

“That ain’t the bad news,” Rockwood interrupted, shaking his head, “The bad news is it isn’t a one-off. The Chairmen are building a network of thieves, with the sole goal of driving away traffic from Gomorrah and stirring up shit with the NCR troopers to boot. He’s directly, blatantly, violating The Contract.”

“Ah, well that’s different then,” It was Lucy’s turn to sigh, “Tommy told you all this then? How can you be sure he wasn’t just making shit up to save his skin?”

“Let’s just say I corroborated his testimony,” Rockwood smirked, then took one last drag on his cigarette before smashing the tiny remnant into his ashtray, “I had a feeling something was off. A lowlife pickpocket like Tommy wouldn’t have had the balls to try something like this on his own. Someone had to be offering him something else.”

Lucy leaned back in her chair, “My father won’t like it.”

“No he won’t,” Rockwood rubbed at his forehead, “I’m not a psychic, but…I can guess what will happen next. The Don will ask for a sitdown of the Families to resolve this, as he well should to be seen as reasonable, and Swank will flatly deny everything. When negotiations fail, we’ll be left to resolve this on our own, which means taking down this little network of Swank’s cell by cell. Inevitably someone, somewhere, is going to do something stupid, and we’re going to end up fighting Chairmen associates if not Chairmen button-men themselves in the streets.”

“The makings of a war,” Lucy finished his thought.

“Mark my words…It’ll only escalate from here.” Rockwood nodded.

“About time,” Lucy smirked, “The Slitherkin and the Mojave Boot-riders have a score to settle, once and for all. This has been a long time coming.”

“You know your father has banned those names.”

“I prefer them…..it's important to remember where we come from, or do you disagree?”

Rockwood smiled, he had to admire Lucy’s tenacity and admirable fondness for the old ways. Even if he couldn’t publicly do so,

“I don’t disagree,” He said plainly.

Lucy gave a devilish grin, “Good, then when my father puts me in charge of fighting this war, and he will, we’ll be settling this the old way. The tribal way.”

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.”