Chapter 148: Who's Next

Chapter 148: Who's Next

It had been a very long week since my fight in Cerulean Robotics.

On the one hand, Los Zorroz had been pretty effectively broken after I killed Vulpes. Losing all of their leadership and so many men in their failed attack on The King had definitely taken a toll, and they weren't nearly as effective at causing chaos as they had been before.

But on the other hand, they were still trying. Just like I'd predicted, scattered pockets of Los Zorroz were still all over Freeside. Actually fighting them wasn't really difficult, to be honest. Thanks to the daily combat training I'd been receiving from Veronica, any idiot dumb enough to go went toe-to-toe with me ended up with a perfectly flat surface where their face used to be. The problem was that it was like playing whack-a-mole: every time I found another group and shut it down, two more would pop up.

Of course, it wasn't just the fighting keeping me busy, either. Apart from cleaning up Freeside (which, as an added bonus, allowed me plenty of time to hang out with Raul), I was doing whatever I could to help out the Followers. Every day, I'd help them set up a new "vaporator" in another part of Freeside. I wish I could say I came up with the name, but it was actually Julie's idea, once she figured out how they made drinkable water.

Jeeves had also made a lot more of those floating sensor balls for the personality constructs in The Sink, which was useful. Jocelyn, Barry, and even the Doc had all visited the Mormon Fort multiple times over the last week to try and help the Followers with all their various projects. And after talking with them, I was informed of another problem: it was starting to get very crowded in the Mormon Fort. The Followers needed to find a new headquarters with more space. If nothing else, they needed to expand to other places in Freeside like franchises, but actually useful. So, I put that one on the 'list of shit to do' as well.

I was also doing my best to keep up with the bigger picture, getting daily updates from Yes Man whenever I had the chance. Legion troops were still pouring in to the Fort from Arizona... but the NCR were also getting serious, too. Yes Man showed me satellite images of heavy troop movement and truck convoys coming into the Mojave by way of the outpost on the Long 15, and he'd intercepted reports of elite squads of Veteran Rangers all clad in Black Armor arriving (or on their way) from Baja.

And if that wasn't enough, Yes Man also told me that the NCR was planning on having President Kimball come to the Dam in the next week or so, as a sort of public relations publicity stunt. He couldn't tell me exactly when it was going to happen, but he made it very clear that it was very important Kimball didn't die during his visit. He didn't go into any more detail than that, which just seemed ominous. Maybe I wasn't asking the right questions?

In short, I was keeping very busy... but I wasn't in any kind of mortal danger. And that felt weird. It kind of gave me an appreciation for Cass' earlier sentiment about dropping shoes. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. At least, it didn't drop during that week.

When the shoe finally did drop, it came from a place absolutely nobody expected.

I certainly didn't.

The change, it had to come

We knew it all along

We were liberated from the fold, that's all

And the world looks just the same

And history ain't changed

'Cause the banners, they are flown in the last war...

It was around noon-ish, and for once, I actually had a bit of downtime. My original plan was to do some calibrations to the Jury-Rigger. Mostly routine maintenance kind of stuff, like zeroing the sights, checking all the connections to make sure all the heavy combat hadn't knocked anything loose, that sort of thing. But that plan fell out the window when Roxie bounded into the room and started demanding attention.

Because really, when an adorable, hundred-pound, cybernetically enhanced German Shepard leaps onto your lap and starts licking your face like you're made out of doggie chow... you're kind of forced to drop what you're doing and pay it attention.

And that's how I found myself sitting on the couch, listening to The Who, absentmindedly petting Roxie while the giant cyberdog lay sprawled across my lap, fast asleep. Part of me wanted to move her; she was mostly metal and starting to weigh down on my legs like a ton of bricks. I was really starting to lose a little feeling down there. Then again, it was nice having an actual excuse to not move for once. And it's not like I had any room to complain about all the "metal parts," anyway. I was probably at least 50% metal by now myself.

"Fuck me, man," I heard Cass say from somewhere behind me. "Y'look dead."

"Not dead," I said, rolling my head back against the couch. "Just tired." Cass chuckled as she walked behind me, and that caused Roxie to perk her head up.

"Yeah, so's every'ne else over thirty," Cass said, vaulting over the back of the sofa, flopping down on the opposite end. Roxie's head followed Cass, she panted hot air in my face, and then got up jabbing a paw in my crotch for maximum discomfort so she could get some attention from Cass. "Hey girl! How're you doin?"

And then:

WHAP! "Sonuva-" WHAP! "Gah! Eh-" WHAP! "Phut!" WHAP! "Augh!" WHAP!

"Damnit, Rox!" I yelled, finally grabbing hold of the cyberdog's rear end and shoving it away from me. "Enough with the tail already, damn! Augh! Pah! Ah, fuck, dog hair! Bleaugh!" Cass didn't say anything at first. She was too busy laughing her ass off, scratching Rox behind the braincase.

"Good girl!" Cass laughed again. Roxie barked once before nuzzling into Cass, and settling down in her lap. "Alright, so what've got planned fer today? Smashin' some more bad guys, I hope?" I let out a single laugh.

"I'll let you know when we find more. We've been hammering them so hard this last week, I'm pretty sure most of them have gone to ground. They'll turn up again, soon enough... but for now, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet."

"Shame," Cass shook her head. "I was really lookin' forward to pullin' another 'psychological warfare' gag." It took me a few seconds to realize what she was talking about.

"We could always just play some AC/DC, you know," I said, finally remembering the action two nights ago. "We don't need it blaring at full volume from speakers mounted on top of a securitron if you want to listen that badly."Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m

"Well, duh," Cass shrugged. "But, y'have to admit: bustin' in through th' roof, guns blazin' while 'Shoot To Thrill' is blastin' so loud it's shakin' th' goddamn walls? That shit's fun!" I opened my mouth to object, but paused, thinking it over. I shut my mouth and nodded.

"Okay, yeah. I'll give you that." I let out a huge sigh, leaned my head back, sank even deeper into the couch, and listened to the crazy guitar and mental drums as "Won't Get Fooled Again" drew to a close. I suppose this is the problem with coming to a stop after you've been going for so long: it's really hard to get going again.

And this was a really comfy couch.

"Soooo..." Cass broke the silence. "How's Dala doin'?" I perked my head up and looked in her direction. She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I half expected her to vanish in a minute, leaving only her hat and smile floating in midair.

"She's good," I said with a smile. To be honest, I was just glad Cass had stopped calling Dala my 'side bitch.' That joke got old real quick. "She was actually asking about you the other day."

"Oh yeah?" She said with undisguised interest. I knew that would get her attention. Cass tried to shift in her seat, but was hampered by the enormous dog in her lap. "What'd she say?"

"Well, I told her about that idea of yours, and she's..." I paused, remembering Dala's response. Her rather... enthusiastic response. I smiled to myself and started chuckling.

"C'mon man, don't leave me hangin' like this!" Cass reached over and prodded me in the side of the head. "Gimmie the details! Spill!"

"Well, I think her exact words were, and I quote: 'another test subject would be extremely beneficial to my research,' unquote." I looked at Cass, who furrowed her brow in confusion. "That's Dala-speak for 'she's interested,' trust me. Everything has to be justified with science for her. Even sex." I paused, and amended: "Especially sex." Cass shook her head.

"Hey, ev'rybody's got their kinks," she shrugged. The two of us started laughing again. Before we got a chance to continue, however, my Pip Boy started beeping at me.

"Hi there!" Yes Man's voice buzzed at me right before I hit the transmit button. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have news!"

"What's up?" I asked, cycling through to the radio.

"You remember how told me to let you know if I discovered anything related to that mysterious Enclave assassin lady?" He asked rhetorically. "Well, guess what!"

"Oh hey! You have your own pup too? That's fantastic!" The grayish-black mutt jumped out of the hovercraft, and the two dogs started barking and sniffing and circling each other. You know, basically saying 'hello' to each other in that peculiar way dogs tend to do. "Well, that's a good sign!" he said, leaning against his hovercraft; the vehicle didn't even wobble. "Usually, if I'm supposed to be shooting at people, Dogmeat starts mauling them immediately!"

"Is that so?" I said with a chuckle, stepping out from behind the door. "Well, truth be told, Roxie tends to go for the nuts more often than is probably healthy. But, on the other hand, she does bring in my slippers every morning." The Vault dweller let out a raucous belly laugh and clapped his hands together.

"Ha! Oh, I like you!" While he laughed, I unclipped my helmet and set it on the hood of my Corvega. Cass cautiously stepped out of the car as well. I walked up to him, and I have to say... I'm not short, but this guy made me feel like a midget. He was huge!

"So... where were we? Oh!" The Vault dweller snapped his fingers. "Right, the introduction bit!" He held out a hand that looked about the size of a baseball glove. "My name's Christopher. Back east, people call me the Lone Wanderer."

"Sheason," I said, shaking his hand. I couldn't be sure, but it almost seemed like his fleshy hand was just as strong as my metal one. "People around here call me the Courier." At that, both his eyebrows raised up over his shades.

"OH! So you're the FAWKES! Stop snoozin' and get your ass up!" He spun around and banged on the side of his hovercraft several times. "This is the guy! It's like I told you turning right at Albuquerque was a good idea after all!" A heavy, grunting growl echoed out of the darkness, just as Cass walked up.

"So, what th' fuck's goin' on?" Cass asked. For a few seconds, I was at a loss for words.

"Honestly? Not really sure. But it seems to be more interesting than anything else that's happened today. Cass? Christopher. Christopher? Cass." I said, gesturing back and forth. Chris started looking Cass up and down, and didn't even try to hide it.

"Hey there," he said, grinning broadly and leaning against his hovercraft like he was leaning against a bar. "How's your day going?" Cass just raised an eyebrow.

"What, s'that it?" Cass asked. "That's the best line you can come up with?" I couldn't tell if this was supposed to be playful banter or if she was genuinely insulted. Chris just shrugged, but didn't stop smiling.

"Well, you have to start with hello."

At this point, the grunting from inside the hovercraft got louder, and a large hand fumbled around at the edge of the opening, trying to grab hold of something. And for as big as this Lone Wanderer dude was, this hand belonged to something bigger... and it was... yellow? The figure that emerged out of the darkness, clutching at his head like he was hungover, swiftly revealed himself to be a super mutant... but he didn't look like any super mutant I'd ever seen before.

I've seen green ones and blue ones... but never a yellow one before. How many colors of super mutants are there? Are there red and purple ones wandering around somewhere out there in the wasteland?

"Ughhh..." he grunted. "And I was having such a nice dream, too. There were twins... and they were reading Jules Verne."

"Guys, this is Fawkes," Chris patted the super mutant on the shoulder; that was when I noticed he was wearing some heavy duty armor (built from scrap) on top of what looked like a tattered Vault suit. "He's one of my closest and most loyal friends."

"Yeah, well... Someone has to get us out of all the trouble you cause," Fawkes rubbed his eyes one last time, and blearily looked around. "So, where are we this time? El Paso? The Fiji Islands? The Moon?"

"Well, if this guy is the Courier, then we've made it to the Mojave Wasteland! And that means..." He looked down at his Pip Boy. "Yep! Right on schedule!" He reached into his hovercraft, and pulled out an old Chinese assault rifle.

"WHOA!" I yelled, my hand immediately went for Roscoe, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Cass bring up her shotgun. But Chris didn't point the rifle at us, and he didn't stop smiling. Instead, reached in and pulled out another rifle: a plasma rifle, this time.

"Oh good!" he said, hefting up both guns. "You've brought some guns! You're gonna need them in a minute."

"What?" I asked, utterly confused. And then I realized something else: both the dogs had stopped talking to one another, and were looking around, growling and snarling at something off in the distance.

"Do you... hear..." Cass began, before her eyes went wide. "FUCK!" And when I heard the sound, I knew why she looked worried. It was faint at first, but it was growing steadily louder:

Buzzing wings. Lots of really big buzzing wings.

"Cazadores!" I yelled back, grabbing my helmet and reaching into the car for the Jury-Rigger. I snapped my helmet back in place just as the first of the giant insects materialized off in the distance. I was suddenly reminded of that day when Veronica and I were ambushed by these fuckers.

Only this time, I had an energy rifle of my very own.

"Alright you flyin' fucks!" I yelled, readying my rifle and leaping onto the roof of my car to get a better vantage point. "You're not getting my car this time!"

"Hey, Fawkes!" Chris said from somewhere on the other side of his hovercraft. "Turn the radio up! We need some music for this fight!"

I didn't hear if there was any response, because the cazadores had finally started to close the gap. The buzzing all around us was completely all consuming. I didn't even hear the sound of the LAER blast from the Jury-Rigger as it effortlessly turned three of the bugs into ash.

But I did hear - and feel - a massive THUD from behind me. The ground shook so much, I thought I was going to be thrown from the car.

As quick as I could, I glanced over my shoulder: Fawkes had leapt out of the hovercraft, and was carrying the absolute biggest gatling laser I had ever seen. Because it wasn't a single one: this crazy mofo had lashed four gatling lasers together into a gun that looked like it would be more at home on the side of a tank. Or maybe the deck of a battleship. And he was swinging it around like it was made out of paper!

I couldn't focus on that right now. The air was still thick with bugs. Blue laser after blue laser cut through the air, accompanied by a fusillade of red lasers from Fawkes' gatling laser, round after round of buckshot from Cass' AA-12, tracers and green plasma from Chris' going all guns akimbo with his rifles...

But it wasn't enough. There must have been hundreds of these damn things all coming at us! It was insane! And it didn't take long before the Jury-Rigger was dry and needed to recharge. Which was especially bad, as a really big one was coming straight for me, and wasn't slowing down.

"FUCK YOU!" I shouted, tossing aside the rifle and leaping off the top of my car. My fist slammed into its head, and it split apart in a shower of cracking exoskeleton and gore.

"STAY!" I landed on the ground, picking up half of the exploded bug, and tossing it at another.

"AWAY!" I pulled out the sawed-off, and blasted apart two of the bugs trying to flank me. One barrel for each seemed to do the trick, especially when you go for the face.

"FROM!" I tossed aside the shotgun and pulled out the grapnel. The hook fired out so hard and so fast that it passed through the bodies of three cazadores before coming to a stop in the fourth.

"MY!" I yanked on the grapnel, and leapt up; the jets in my rocket boots kicked in, and the bugs got burnt to cinders. The jets propelled me straight into another cazador.

"CAR!" I grabbed hold of the massive bug, and the two of us started tumbling through the air. I got my bearings long enough to register the stinger coming straight for my face... so I grabbed hold of it with my cybernetic hand, pulled the massive spike out of its abdomen, twirled it around in my hand, and jammed it sharp-end first into the mutant bugs face. The two of us crashed into the ground.

"Fuck off!" I growled, getting up. I gave the twitching insect one final kick for good measure.

After that things finally started to calm down. Everywhere you looked, there were dead bugs everywhere. And now that there were no longer any buzzing insect wings, I could finally hear what Chris and Fawkes had been listening to on the radio:

He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'!

He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'!

He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'!

He just hacks, wacks, choppin' that meat!