New Vegas: Sheason's Story

The women of New Vegas ask me a lot if there's a Mrs. New Vegas. Of course there is. You're her – and you're still just as perfect as the day we met. Tensions are brewing in Freeside between the ruling gang known as the Kings and the large number of NCR squatters seeking refuge there. The leader of the Kings, who would only identify himself as The King, voiced his displeasure, calling NCR citizens, quote, 'the devil in disguise.' He added that he didn't want to see any NCR in the ghetto, and called for a mass, quote, 'return to sender.' In other news, citizens of Outer Vegas are flocking to the Strip in droves amid a wave of terror caused by a band of raiders known as the Fiends. Those who can afford passports say that the added security is well worth the price of admission. That news was brought to you by The Tops Casino: You'll dig us, baby, we're The Tops. Gonna play that song for you right now, and it's about that special someone you only find once in a Blue Moon.

Welcome to Fabulous New Vegas.

That's what the rusted diamond sign announced as we approached it in my Corvega. The sign looked like it had seen better days; the "E" on "Welcome" was on its side, and looked about ready to fall off. The "New" was made from a mishmash of illuminated neon lettering from three different signs (and looking at it closely, I could see that the E was actually just a number 3 turned upside-down) that had been tied onto the sign, covering the original "Las" in "Las Vegas." Right above the sign was a broken eight-point star, only partly illuminated.

The city beyond the sign was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. There must have been dozens of skyscrapers jutting above the massive concrete wall surrounding the perimeter. I'd seen taller buildings in places like the Boneyard, sure, but all those old world skyscrapers were nothing more than rusted, blasted metal frames. These buildings were still intact, and lit up with hundreds of brightly colored neon lights, creating a cascade of color that assaulted my eyes. Spotlights from the city streets shone into the sky, dancing on the clouds above. The whole city just looked… alive.

Towering above everything else (and somehow managing to be the most prominent thing in view, no matter what direction you looked at the city) was a single massive skyscraper. It rose like a spike from the center of the city towards the heavens. It seemed fitting that the tallest, most recognizable object in a city devoted to gambling looked like the center of a giant roulette wheel.

Of course, as magnificent and awe-inspiring as the view was, a single overriding thought pushed towards the front of my mind as I stared at the very high, and very featureless, concrete wall just beyond the welcome sign:

"Where the fuck is the entrance?"

As it turned out, there were two parts to the walled city of New Vegas: The Strip, and Freeside. The bright shining jewel of the old world that made up the skyline was The Strip, but that was actually a relatively small part of the city itself. In order to get there, we would have to pass through Freeside, the slum within the main wall that had been built up around the intersection of Fremont Street and Las Vegas Boulevard over the centuries. Freeside acted as a sort of 'buffer' between the heavily fortified Strip and the rest of the world.

The Strip contained dozens of casinos, like Vault 21, the Triple Seven, Bazooko's Circus, and so on. However, there were only four that were of any real importance, and only one that was important to me: the casinos run by the so-called "Three Families," and the casino that was the home of their employer. There was Gomorrah, run by the Omertas, there was the Ultra-Luxe, run by the White Glove Society, and then there was our destination, The Tops, run by The Chairmen. The fourth, the Lucky 38, was the massive tower shaped like a roulette wheel that dominated the skyline. While it may have been a casino before the bombs fell, now it was the fortress of Mr. House, the man who ran Vegas and controlled the three families. Apparently, no one had ever stepped foot inside the Lucky 38, or ever seen Mr. House in person.

"Call me curious," I asked Boone as he finished telling us details about The Strip. "but how do you even know all this?"

"Carla," he said simply. "She lived on The Strip, before I met her. Talked about it a lot."

Driving through Freeside reminded me a lot of New Reno. Lining every street were squat one and two-story buildings that were lit with garish neon lights, to distract from the fact that none of the buildings had been properly cared for or maintained for close to 200 years. There must have been a burning trash can on every street corner. The streets were full of people as we drove along – a few of them tried to get close to my car (I couldn't do more than 10 miles an hour without hitting someone or something), but ED-E had been able to drive them away with a few laser blasts. I'm still not sure if he actually killed anybody or just fired warning shots, but to be perfectly honest… I wasn't really paying attention, thanks to Veronica.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Veronica said, tugging on the back of my seat. "What's the plan when we get to The Tops?"

Damn it all. I suddenly realized that I had no plan. I'd concerned myself solely with finding the man who shot me… and I hadn't really given much thought to what I was going to do once I found him: apart from shoot him in the face, obviously. Unfortunately, that was as much of a plan as I'd come up with so far, but no matter how you looked at it, that plan was a suicide mission. I'd already died once this year, thank you, and that was enough for me. I suppose part of me hadn't really believed that I could've found him this quickly, and I thought I would have had more time to come up with an actual plan. But that was just an excuse.

"I'm open to suggestions," I said, keeping my voice level.

"Well, funny you should mention, because I actually have an idea," Veronica said, turning to Boone. "You've been inside The Tops before, right?"

"Yeah."

"These Chairmen guys – what kind of firepower are they packing?"

"Mostly knives. A few nine millimeter pistols, sawed-off shotguns, and silenced .22's. Of course, that was a few years ago, but I doubt they've changed their arsenal."

"And do they wear armor or anything?" I thought that was a bit of an odd question, coming from the girl who wore a robe that looked like a monk's habit.

"No," Boone said simply. "They're all suits."

"Veronica," Cass turned in her seat. "What're ye gettin' at?"

"Well, I had an idea. The Tops is where the Chairmen operate. The last thing they'll expect is for four heavily armed interlopers and a robot with military-grade weapons tech bursting through the front door, demanding to see the boss at gunpoint. So that's exactly what we should do." The interior of the car was silent for a moment, the only noise coming from the engine. If I hadn't been keeping my eyes on the road to make sure I didn't hit anyone, I'm sure I would've been staring at her, just like Cass and Boone. She continued.

"It's the old element of surprise gambit. They'll be caught completely with their pants down," I could see her smiling in the rear view mirror.

"That's… insane," I said, but the gears were already in motion in my head. As dangerous as it sounded, she did have a point; they'd never suspect that anyone would be crazy enough or have the balls to challenge them on their own turf. Plus, the part of my brain howling for blood wanted to do exactly that anyway. Even so, I asked: "What makes you think we'll be able to get out in one piece?"

"Because, this plan is just crazy enough to work," she said as she unwrapped her power fist. It let out a burst of pressurized gas, and she smiled at me.

"I've always wanted to say that."

A vague sense of unease washed over me as I pulled up my Corvega to the Strip's north gate; this was the first part of Freeside that hadn't been full of people. Of course, looking at the gate, I could see why. Even though the sign above the gate read "Welcome to The Strip" in big, inviting, brightly lit neon letters, the gate itself was much more… ominous is probably the best word.

Dozens of spotlights shone down on the street leading to the entrance, illuminating everything and leaving no shadows or hint of cover. There were at least four guard towers – two on each side of the gate – built into the wall, with a Securitron robot (the same model as Victor) inside, looking down. A row of Securitrons stood vigil and unmoving at the edge of the wall, and a few elevated parapets next to the gate and near the edges of the road held even more.

I inched the car towards the gate, and one of the Securitrons left its post, held up a claw to indicate that I should stop, and rolled up to my window. ED-E was hovering very, very close to the trunk; so close, in fact, that I could hear him beep warily as the Securitron approached. This Securitron had a much different face than Victor – this one looked like a cartoon policeman, like something from an old world newspaper comic, complete with a badge on its cartoon cap.

"Submit to a credit check, or present your passport before proceeding to the gate," the robot said to me in a bold, authoritative, mechanical voice. "Trespassers will be shot."

"Wait, what? A credit check? What for?"

"Admission to the Strip requires an official passport or proof that you are carrying the required minimum balance of two thousand bottle caps," The robot explained. "These policies prevent less-reputable persons from entering and ensure a good time will be had by all who enter the Strip."

I sighed, and rubbed the scar on my temple. I easily had more than enough to cover a 2000 cap entry fee in the emergency funds in that secret compartment in my trunk, but it seemed like a waste. Before I could get out of the car to get at it, I heard a commotion from behind me. Veronica was trying to climb over and around Boone to get to the window on the left side of the car.

"Don't worry, everybody," she said, leaning out of the window. "I got this." She whistled, and the Securitron swiveled to look at her. "PDQ-88b: input RobCo security override master code: 1C 3C R34 M"

Immediately, the robot locked up, the light under the face-monitor blinked from green to red, and the screen started flickering madly. I could hear a very loud, rhythmic mechanical noise from inside the robot, half-whirring and half-buzzing. I almost expected smoke to start pouring out of the cracks in its chassis. However, the light blinked back to green with a ping, and the face-monitor came back into focus.

"Thank you. You may proceed. Enjoy your stay in Vegas!" And with that, the robot rolled back into position, and the large metal gates began to swing open. From behind me, I heard Boone shove Veronica off him and back onto her seat.

"Damnit, girl! Ever hear of personal space?" he asked with a growl.

"Nope!" was Veronica's only reply.

"How the hell did you do that?" I asked, casting a glance at her over my shoulder as I drove us cautiously through the gate.

"Like I said before, I'm good with robots!" I didn't buy a word of it. There was clearly a lot she wasn't telling me, but before I could voice my concerns, Cass spoke up.

"How good're you with cowboys?" she said, pointing at the Securitron that had just rolled to a stop right in front of my car. The screen on the robot had an all too familiar smiling face with a cowboy hat on his digital head.

Victor.

I cut the engine and got out of my car. I decided I was going to have a chat with this damn robot, and actually get some answers – one way or another. The others followed suit, and Victor waved to me as I approached.

"Well howdy pardner!" Victor said, amiably, ignoring my companions. "You've come a far piece, haven't you? Welcome to New Vegas!"

"Seems like you've been popping up everywhere I go, haven't you Victor?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "How are you always one step ahead of me? I've never seen you move faster than walking pace." The robot just laughed.

"Aw shucks, pardner. I suppose it can't hurt to let you in on my little secret. Ol' Victor wouldn't be much use stuck inside just one Securitron! No sir, I can move from one to another with the snap of a finger!" He clicked two prongs on one of his claw arms together with a metal clank. "Pretty nice trick, ain't it? Just don't ask me how I do it, because I don't know!"

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly. His screen flickered.

"Consider me your personal welcome wagon! Now hear this: the head honcho of New Vegas, Mr. House, is itchin' to make your acquaintance."

"And why is a robot giving me this invitation?"

"Well now, it was Mr. House who built all the Securitrons like me. Seems the least I could do is pass on his message," Victor said, and suddenly a lot of things made sense. At least, more sense than a minute ago.

"You know, I'm kinda busy at the moment." My gaze fell to The Tops – still seemingly a long ways down Vegas Boulevard. So close, and yet still so far…

"Sorry, rambler. I know you're fixing to serve up some vengeance, but I'm gonna have to point you to the Lucky 38 first. Mr. House'll help you serve that cold dish of yours extra-chilly." The robot's words made me think of that old world saying "revenge is a dish best served cold" and immediately discarded it for the load of brahmin shit it is.

"I'm not interested in it getting any colder. So you can tell Mr. House that I might stop by. When I'm finished."

"Don't you dawdle, little doggie. Mr. House isn't someone you want to go about snubbing."

"I'm not snubbing House," I said, narrowing my eyes and pointing a finger at the robot. "It's you I don't trust."

"I'll let that slide, seein' as how you got a mind full of vengeance for that no-good polecat, and all," Victor said. "But I understand. And I'll tell you what – if you don't want to see Mr. House right away, that's fine. I think it's a mistake, but I'm just a simple cowpoke, what do I know? You go do what you need to do, and to prove I'm an honest buckaroo and not a desperado, I'll make sure my brothers on the Strip keep watch on your Corvega. Make sure nothin' and nobody scratches the paint job. Hell, if you'll let me, I'll even get the valet bots to move it to the Lucky 38's secure garage."

"… valet?" I asked. The word felt foreign and alien on my tongue.

"Well sure. It's not like you're the first wanderer to mosey on into town with a set of wheels, pardner. And we take good care of ramblers like you and your friends here in Vegas. Just make sure to come and see Mr. House when you're ready."

And with that, Victor's screen flickered out of focus, and was replaced with the same policeman face of every other Securitron on the Strip.

"He seems nice," Veronica said, breaking the silence. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

When I finally got close enough to get a good look at The Tops, it wasn't really what I was expecting. I suppose since my only experience with the casino was Benny and his awful, tacky suit, I expected his casino to be just as tacky, garish and loud as his suit. And to be honest… it wasn't. In fact, it was one of the more understated casino's I'd seen so far.

The Tops looked like two skyscrapers built into one another, with one slightly shorter than the other; the top few floors of the taller side didn't look usable, since it appeared that half the ceiling had caved in. Green, yellow, and blue lights ringed the top of, well, The Tops, and the entrance was a large wavy awning, with bright yellow and red neon lights chasing themselves. Music filled the air from speakers I couldn't see; it was playing one of the familiar songs I'd heard whenever I'd turned into Radio New Vegas on my Pip Boy.

I pulled the Corvega to a stop in front of the door. As you might expect, I'd declined Victor's offer. I made sure Roscoe was loaded, and turned to my companions.

"Well… this is it. If anyone wants to back out, now's the time to do it," I said, grabbing That Gun out of the glovebox and loading it. "This is something I need to do. I won't force any of you to come with me." Cass was the first to speak up.

"Y'think I'm gonna pass up th' chance to teach that sonuvabitch some caravan justice?" She loaded her shotgun for emphasis. "Keep dreamin'. We'll give that fucker what-for."

"I still owe you," was all Boone said. He didn't need to load his rifle; it had been loaded and at the ready since we'd left the 188.

"Hey, it was my idea, so there's no way I'll let you go in alone. It'll be fun!" Veronica said in a tone that seemed way too cheerful. A burst of steam erupted from her gauntlet as she opened the door. As soon as I stepped out of the car, ED-E floated directly in front of me, and let out a blast of that triumphant marching music that almost seemed to say "Victory!" Suddenly, I was feeling a whole lot better about the situation. Maybe this wouldn't be a suicide mission after all.

The five of us made our way through the crowd of people walking along the sidewalk in front of the casino hotel, and entered The Tops. Behind the front desk were two men with greasy, slicked back hair, wearing dark grey suits. Behind them was a large painted sign of the casino's logo. Standing in front of the doors that led further into the casino were guards in similar grey suits, but these two wore matching fedora hats and sunglasses.

"Hey there, pal! I'm Swank. Welcome to The Tops Hotel and Casino," said one of the Chairmen behind the front desk. "I'm going to have to ask you to hand over any weapons you and your friends might be carrying."

"Alright," I replied, slowly drawing Roscoe out of its holster. Boone was moving towards the guard on the left, Veronica was moving to the guard on the right, and Cass was heading towards the other Chairman behind the counter. ED-E floated up towards the ceiling.

Calmly and carefully, I placed Roscoe on the front desk. As soon as Swank reached out to grab it, I moved as fast as I could. With a single fluid motion I grabbed Swank by the hair with my left hand, slamming his face into the counter with all my strength, and pulled out That Gun with my right, pressing it against his forehead. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my companions taking action with me. Even faster than me, Boone had his rifle leveled directly at the face of one of the guards who was reaching into his jacket. Cass smashed one of the Chairmen across the face with the stock of her shotgun, and pointed it at him as he lay sprawled against the back wall. The guard Veronica confronted had enough time to pull out a .22 submachine gun, but there was a ferocious sound of metal twisting before he had a chance to fire – she'd grabbed the gun by the barrel with her power fist, and bent it almost completely backwards. The sound of ED-E's marching music echoed and I could hear the laser charging up.

"Alright," I said to Swank, speaking loud enough that everyone in the room could hear me. "Here's how this is going to go down, and listen up because I'll only ask nicely once. You tell me where I can find Benny, and I'll let you and your goons leave without shooting you in the face. Does that seem fair?" Swank spluttered and coughed a bit, struggling against my grip. He snorted and blood came out his nose, splattering on the counter.

"You shoot me, an' you'll be dead b'fore you find him," he said, his speech slightly muffled by a face shoved against a fake-stone countertop. I turned his head so he could get a better look at the goon who now carried a bent and useless submachine gun. I kept his head pressed firmly against the counter, shifting the barrel of That Gun to point right between his eyes.

"Maybe," I said, with a shrug. "Maybe your thugs will take me down if I shoot you. Maybe we won't be able to take on the whole damn casino just to find one man. But here's the thing – you'll still be dead," I paused, making sure it sank in, and then leaned in close. "Call me crazy… but I don't think you'll be able to live with that."

The lobby was quiet for a long while. The only sound came from the soft whine of ED-E floating about. Finally, Swank spoke up.

"Why?" I raised an eyebrow, and he continued. "Why do you want to kill the boss?"

"Because he tried to kill me. I was hired to deliver a Platinum Chip to someone important in Vegas, but he and a group of Great Khans ambushed me. He put two bullets in my skull, and put me in the ground. Tried to make it look like an accident – just some unlucky traveler killed and robbed in the Wasteland."

"I've known Benny for years," Swank said, with a surprising amount of calm in his voice. "Back when the Chairmen were still called the Boot Riders, wearing gecko skins, poking around the ruins with pointy sticks and scalping people for giggles. Why the fuck should I believe this, or you?" I pulled his face off the counter and shoved him away so he could properly look at me as I spoke; I kept That Gun pointed directly at his face. He didn't reach for a gun, but instead wiped the blood from his nose, and ran his fingers through his hair to try and fix it. I reached into my pants pocket and tossed Benny's lighter onto the counter.

"The Great Khans he hired to help ambush me stole that off him, right after he betrayed them. He refused to pay up, left them to get killed by NCR troops in Boulder… just like he left me for dead. No loose ends, I guess." He reached for the lighter, and picked it up, turning it over in his hand. Swank clenched his jaw as his eyes fell on the inscription on the side. He put the lighter in his pocket and fixed me with a stare.

"Past couple years, Benny would leave The Strip… go on 'constitutionals.' I'd run the place, keep his disappearing act on the down low. Usually he'd only be gone for a couple of days, maybe a week. But this last time he was gone for nearly a month. I was starting to worry that he wouldn't come back. Then he shows up a few days ago, all happy and full of himself, talking about how 'everything is going to change for the better.' The whole scene's been making me real suspicious, like something shady was going down, you dig?"

"And here I come right on his tail to end him," I said. "It's not a coincidence. And I'm not here for you. Tell me where he is, and I'll let you leave with your life." Swank paused, considering it. Finally, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie.

"Benny's watching over the main casino floor. He always does at this time of night. Says he likes to personally watch the caps roll in. Just enter the casino, take a right past the poster of Dean Domino. He'll be at the back, probably surrounded by his bodyguards." I continued to point That Gun at Swank for a few seconds. Finally, doing my best to suppress a smirk, I pointed That Gun up at the ceiling.

"Go. While I still let you," I said. Swank nodded, and helped up the Chairman who'd had his face smashed in, while Boone and Cass lowered their weapons. The four Chairmen left without saying anything else, but ED-E let off a burst of victorious music. I put away That Gun and grabbed Roscoe, turning to my companions.

"Alright, here's the plan. I'll go in first, make sure everyone's attention is on me. ED-E, if it looks like they're gonna shoot me, I'll need a distraction to get in cover. Veronica, Cass, I'll need you two to cover my ass, make sure nobody gets behind me. And Boone, I'll need you to find a good sp-" I stopped mid sentence as I turned to look at Boone, and ended up looking at an empty space. "Hang on, where'd he go?"

"I think he's already found a perch," Veronica said with a smirk.

Cautiously, I moved to one of the doors that led into the casino. When I stepped inside, I very nearly tripped over the dead Chairman lying on the ground. His neck was twisted at an odd angle, quite clearly broken.

"Wow," Cass said with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Boone works fast."

The main casino floor of The Tops was full of people, and full of ways they could lose their money. Slot machines lined every wall, there were blackjack tables, roulette tables, craps tables, and a few other games that I didn't recognize. Most of the games were in a sunken section, ringed by a railing. A balcony, and presumably a second level, ringed the upper walls of the casino floor, and large, stylized metal stars hung from the ceiling, acting as lamps.

And there, at the back, was Benny. He was leaning on the railing, flanked by two guards on either side, watching everyone and everything. He still had that tacky black and white checkered suit, and his hair still looked just as greasy as I remembered, even from this distance.

A part of me wanted to shoot him as soon as I saw him, but a louder part of my brain looked at all the people in the casino, completely oblivious to what was about to happen. I could shoot him, but some of these people might get caught in the crossfire when the Chairmen inevitably started shooting back. So while Veronica and Cass crouched down out of sight to get in position, I did the only thing I could think of: create a distraction.

"EVERYONE OUT!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. When nobody seemed to move, I fired a round into the ceiling, and pointed Roscoe at Benny immediately after. "NOW!"

Everything seemed to happen at once. All the gamblers screamed, ran for some kind of exit, or screamed and then ran for the exit. Every single one of the Chairmen in the casino – guards, dealers, basically everyone with a suit and greasy hair – pulled out some kind of gun and pointed it at me. It took less than a minute for the casino to empty itself of anyone not ready for violence. Benny continued to lean against the railing, looking at me with a face filled with astonishment, mixed with a little unbelieving fear. And then he did something I didn't expect.

Benny started laughing.

"I gotta hand it to ya kid, you got style. I'll give you that much. But before you get killed again, I say we all keep this on the groove, dig? Nice and smooth, like 200 year-old scotch."

"Seems you need to work on your marksmanship, Benny," I said with a sneer. "I dug myself out of that grave so I could put you in yours." He just laughed again.

"I hit what I was aiming for. Guess you had brains to spare. Or are you just that thick-skulled?" He straightened up, and put a hand in one of his pockets, nonchalant as you please.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't put a bullet in your brain right now?"

"How many do you need, daddy-o? There's all the Chairmen here, there's my four bodyguards, and I'm packin' Maria," Benny patted his chest, presumably referring to his nickel plated pistol. With an odd sense of amusement, I realized that he'd named his pistol just like I had. "But you didn't come here to kill me."

"No, I really did," I growled, my every word dripping menace. He shook his head and continued.

"No you didn't – you came here to get clued in. There are things going down in Vegas. Big things, that are already moving. But this isn't the place to talk. What say you and I cash out, go somewhere private-like? I'm sure you got questions, and I'm the cat with answers, dig?"

"I only have one question: Where's the Platinum Chip?"

"Can't do that," he said, shaking his head. "The Chip, it's… special. Giving it to you so you can complete that delivery… I know they've started calling you The Courier, but that'd be a waste of potential." Something in the back of my head wondered exactly who had started calling me that. "There's more to the Chip than you or anybody could've known. More than you could've ever expected or even dreamed was possible. But if you want it that badly, then we should work together."

At that moment, ED-E floated past me, and into the middle of the room, belching the sounds of loud marching music. All the Chairmen – even Benny – stopped to look at the floating metal ball floating about the room.

I had a shot.

I slipped into V.A.T.S. and aimed for his head. I only had a 50/50 chance of hitting him at this range. I pulled the trigger anyway at the same moment ED-E let off a burst from his laser. The entire room erupted in violence.

I cursed as I realized my bullet went low and to the right, only catching Benny in his left arm, right below his shoulder. I didn't have time to fire another round, so I dove over the railing, towards a blackjack table. ED-E had better luck; the Chairman he'd shot at glowed brightly for a second, and then disintegrated into a pile of hot ash. Dozens of bullets flew through the air at the robot, and he was high enough that I could see the slugs just bounce harmlessly off his chassis.

I took aim at the Chairman near me, but before I could squeeze off a round, he collapsed. Cass let out a whoop, and fired another blast from her shotgun. Slipping into V.A.T.S., I took aim again, trying to prioritize the closest targets. I couldn't see Benny anywhere. The Chairmen had started advancing, so it was a lot easier to target them. I targeted three, and two of them went down from Roscoe; the third died before I could get a chance to fire. The back of his head exploded, falling victim to Boone's incredible marksmanship.

A ricochet hit me in the side of my left arm, and pain lanced through me. I bit my tongue, sending a bullet towards the Chairman who'd shot me. I hit him in the throat, and he fell to the ground with a wet thud. I didn't realize it at the time, and wouldn't have known until later, but I'd been hit in almost the exact same spot on my arm as I'd hit Benny. ED-E continued to zoom around the room, trying to draw fire and returning it lethally with his laser, but most of the Chairmen had stopped paying attention to the Eyebot and were firing at me. I ducked.

The blackjack table I was using for cover was starting to splinter badly, so I made a mad dash for another table, firing off rounds blindly towards the Chairmen. I rounded a corner and was face to face with a Chairman not two feet away from me. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he leveled his submachine gun at me, and I leveled Roscoe at him. The Chairman fired, but a blur of brown stepped between us. Veronica had rushed in, raising her left arm right in front of the submachine guns barrel as he fired; the bullets seemed to impact, but sounded against her with the distinctive clang of metal against metal. With incredible speed and a burst of pressurized gas, Veronica punched him in the middle of his stomach with her power fist. There was a loud series of crunches, as his spine shattered from the impact of the hit, and he flew at least five feet back, collapsing lifelessly into a broken, bloody pile.

What happened next was my own fault; I'd let myself get distracted. A bullet tore through the air, lodging itself just below my right collarbone. I very nearly collapsed, grabbing hold of the railing to keep myself up. I looked up just in time to see Benny, with Maria drawn, run away from the fight and deeper into the casino. My mind filled with rage, and I saw red. I could bleed later, I told myself as I gave chase.

I ran after him, firing two shots in his general direction before Roscoe clicked empty. If I'd hit him, he didn't slow down. I hit the magazine release and let it hit the ground. I didn't even slow down as I pulled out a fresh clip and reloaded Roscoe. Benny turned a corner, firing another shot at me before he disappeared, and left through a door marked "stairs."

"I'm coming for you, Benny!" I shouted after him as I chased him up the staircase. "I'm comin' to murder you!" I ran up the stairs after him. My muscles screamed at me. I could feel the blood pouring out of my wounds. But that just made me more pissed. I kept going, firing shots towards him whenever I could. He took shots at me as well, but he was more concerned with going up, so neither of us ended up hitting each other. I lost count of how high we traveled, but I knew I'd gone through another magazine chasing him.

Finally, I saw him duck into a door. I climbed after him as fast as I could, and kicked open the door he'd gone through: Level 13. If I'd been thinking clearly, I would've waited and entered the floor cautiously, but as it was… I was too blinkered by rage and a desire for blood to think. I ran in, ready to shoot the first thing I saw, but Benny was expecting me.

I felt a shock rip through my entire left side as my kneecap shattered from the bullet. I let out a very loud involuntary curse, and felt myself fall down to my one good knee. I tried to force away the pain, and I could hear Benny laughing. I looked up to see Benny walking towards me. There was a bit of blood pooling on his left arm from where I'd clipped him.

"You know? I was wrong about you, kid. You got no style. No finesse. But you know what you have a lot of? Irony."

I suddenly realized that I was kneeling… and again, Benny was standing over me, ready to put even more bullets in my skull.

"When I said I was sorry you got twisted up in this scene before? I meant it. It was just business, you know? You were the one who made it personal."

"You shot me in the face," I spat through gritted teeth. He walked even closer.

"Yeah… and you went and ruined my favorite suit. I think I killed you too quick last time. This time? Oh, baby. I'm gonna make it slow. I'm gonna make it painful. And I'm gonna make sure you stay dead and buried, dig?"

He started slowly leveling his pistol at me, taking his time, thinking that I had no way to fight back. Not until he'd heard the gunshot and felt the bullet tear through his foot did he realize: even though I'd fallen to my hands and one knee, I'd never actually let go of Roscoe. Benny let out a shout, dropping Maria to the floor and staggering backward. I pushed off the ground with all my might; white hot pain shot through my left side, but I ignored it resolutely. I grabbed Benny and slammed my fist into his face. I tried to punch him again, but he managed to shove my fist away before it could impact a second time. My fist sailed through the air away from him, and I nearly lost my balance.

That was when I felt, rather than saw, his fist connect with my gut in a very painful uppercut. I saw stars when his other fist connected with the side of my head. I collapsed against the nearby wall, my eyes spinning and my vision blurry, both due to the hit and the pain in my leg. My sight cleared just in time for me to see him pull a fist back to hit me again. I moved as fast as my muscles would allow, bringing my left arm up to shield my face. His fist hit the metal casing of my Pip Boy with a hard clank and a wet crunch.

"Argh! Son of a bitch!" Benny yelled. It sounded like he'd broken his hand; I'd never get a better shot. As he cradled his hand, I smashed the side of my Pip Boy against his face as hard as I could. The metal ringing sound mixed in the air with the sound of his skull cracking. He staggered backward, and fell against the opposite wall with a heavy thud. I limped towards him, murder in my eyes. He looked up at me just in time to see me bring my fist down against face once again. Blood splattered out of his mouth and onto the wall and floor, and he fell face-first onto the carpet. I bent down, grabbed his bloody coat, flipped him over on his back, and buried my good knee into his chest. Blood was pouring out of his nose and mouth.

"Nuh.." His voice was wet with blood as he tried desperately to choke out words. "...st... stop... I... gi..."

He didn't get the chance to finish. I hit him with all my might, and felt a sickening wet crunch as I broke his nose. I hit him again, shoving away the hands he weakly held up in a vain attempt to stop me. I just kept punching him, beating on his face with both my fists over and over again for a good ten minutes. I think. It might have been more, it might have been less, but I wasn't really sure because I was just so blinded with hate. All I know is that when I eventually stopped hitting him, what had been Benny's face was no longer recognizable as a face; it was just a bloody, pulpy mass of meat and bone. I was breathing so heavily, the sound felt like drums in my ears. I looked around and my eyes fell on Maria, his pistol. With a painful effort, I pushed myself off Benny, grabbed his gun, and fired two shots point blank into the bloody mess where his brain used to be.

Surely, he was already dead. He'd probably been dead five minutes ago. I didn't care. I tossed Maria aside, and slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and coughing. I felt a bit of blood escape my mouth. I'd killed the man who'd shot me. And now that the anger was starting to subside I felt… numb. I thought killing him would make me happy. Or, at the very least, give me some kind of satisfaction. But it hadn't. I was emotionally and physically drained, and killing him had left me completely unsatisfied.

It was then I realized that my Pip Boy was flashing alerts at me, and had been for some time.

"Oh, right," I said out loud to myself, in-between labored breaths. "My kneecap is shattered. I should probably do something about that."

I reached to a pouch I kept on my belt behind me, removing it. It was a small leather bag, with a dark red cross stitched on it – the medical kit I'd gotten from Doc Mitchell a few days ago when the Powder Gangers attacked Goodsprings. I opened it, revealing a few medical supplies – not many, but enough. I grabbed two syringes, but my movements were slow and sluggish. My mind was swimming, probably from blood loss. The first was a vial of Med-X – which was basically a fancy name for painkillers. I bit the plastic cover with my teeth, and pulled out the needle, injecting the small amount into my arm just above my Pip Boy. I'd worry about proper medical procedures later. It only took a few seconds for the drug to start to work, and I let out a sigh of relief as the searing pain shooting through my whole body started to ebb away. It didn't leave completely, but enough for me to think.

The other needle I'd pulled out had a gauge on the top, and tubes leading into the vial – a stimpack. I rolled up my pant leg, wincing as the torn denim felt like hot coals rubbing against the open wound. My knee was a bloody mess, the hole clearly visible, despite all the blood gushing out of it. I pressed the stimpack close, and hit the button to activate the injector.

Even with the painkiller, the effects of the stimpack hurt like hell. But it did the job. I stopped bleeding – not just from my knee, but from the wound in my shoulder and from the bullet hole beneath my collarbone. The torn tissues that had been ripped apart by the bullets started to grow at an accelerated rate, and the wounds began to mend themselves. It probably wasn't a good idea, using a stimpack without taking out the bullets first, but I'd worry about that later.

As my wounds healed, I pulled myself over to Benny's corpse. I reached into his jacket, searching his pockets. I remembered when he'd shot me, he put the Platinum Chip into a pocket inside his jacket. I searched his jacket… but there was no Chip. I thought about punching him some more, but what would be the point? What I found, instead, was a key. Etched onto one side, it had the words "Benny's Suite," and on the other was a number: 1337.

I got up – a little wobbly, but able to walk – grabbed Roscoe, and made my way down the hall. With any luck, I'd find the Platinum Chip in Benny's Suite. It wasn't hard to find, since room 37 on the 13th floor was the only room with double doors. The doors slid open with a satisfying click as I unlocked the door.

The room was comfortable, sure, but surprisingly utilitarian. It'd expected something a bit more impressive for the home of the head of one of the Three Families. The main room had a bar (fully stocked), two couches, a table, and two wardrobes against the back wall. I tore the room apart as fast as my still mending knee would allow. All I found were bottles of alcohol, cartons of cigarettes, a few scattered magazines, and more tacky suits in the wardrobes.

When I felt I'd exhausted every possible hiding place, I moved onto the next room. Aside from the bed, it was more of the same – except for even more wardrobes, with twice as many tacky suits. I couldn't help but marvel at just how many checkered jackets he seemed to own. I even checked the bathroom. Didn't find anything there either.

"Alright," I said, moving to the last door in the suite. "Let's see what's behind door number four…" I tried to open it – and it wouldn't budge. So I tried the key, and it opened with a click, revealing… a hole in the wall? The room beyond looked dark and run down, and part of the wall had been torn away just to give access, like this part of the room wasn't actually supposed to be here.

I scrolled through functions on my Pip Boy, searching until I found the button I was looking for. With a click, the screen lit up and started to glow like a flashlight. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling were grey and unpainted, and when I stepped inside, I could see terminals lining the walls. Terminals, mainframes, a workbench to one side, a bench for making ammunition… and there at the back, inside a glass case that seemed to glow with a light all it's own was what I'd been searching for.

The Platinum Chip.

I tried to open the glass case, but the top wouldn't budge. So I did the next best thing, and shattered the side with one swift strike from Roscoe. I grabbed the chip, and for the first time, really got a look at it. It had been in a sealed envelope when I'd carried it; I only knew what it was from the delivery order. It was an oversized poker chip, and the edges of both sides had numbers and squares etched into it, designed to look like the shape of roulette wheel. With that in mind, it was no surprise the image emblazoned on one of the sides had the logo of the Lucky 38. The image on the other side was a bit of a surprise, though. It was an emblem or a seal of some kind, with a woman with arms outstretched standing over two planets and what looked like an old world power plant. Ringing the image was the words "CITY OF SUNNYVALE" and "CALIF." separated by two stars on either side.

Suddenly, the lights in the room clicked on with a thud and a mechanical whine. I turned as fast as my leg would allow, and scanned the room with a drawn Roscoe, settling on the Securitron on the other side of the room. It wasn't Victor, and it wasn't one of the police robots I'd seen on the strip either. This Securitron had a smiling cartoon face, with big round cartoon eyes.

"Hey!" It said in a jovial, friendly, mechanical voice. "Hi there! Good to meet you! What can I do for you today?" I didn't lower Roscoe, but I didn't shoot the robot either. My gut tightened, and I realized my life had taken yet another sharp turn towards the bizarre.

"Who are you?" I asked. Quite a number of questions were battling for supremacy in my head, and that was the first to slip out.

"Allow me to introduce myself! I'm a PDQ-88b Securiton, but you can call me Yes Man!"

"Yes Man?" I asked incredulously. "What kind of a stupid name is that?"

"It's what Benny always called me. Probably because I'm programmed to be so helpful!" Yes Man said, his screen flickering slightly.

"Wait, hang on. That means… Benny reprogrammed a Securitron? All by himself?"

"No, not all by himself, silly! He had some help – a lady friend of his! She said something about living in a Fort over in Freeside… but that's all I remember!"

"So, what is this place?" I asked, looking around. I suddenly realized that I'd lowered Roscoe.

"This is Benny's workshop," Yes Man replied. "When The Tops got renovated, he had this half of the floor blocked off for his own use." The robot seemed to look from side to side, then back at me. "I guess you could say it's my entire world! I don't think I've ever left this room! But that's okay – I'm not complaining!" The passive aggressive tone in its mechanical voice said otherwise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good question!" Yes Man said, its face-monitor flickering slightly. "My function is to monitor Mr. House's data network and decode his encrypted transmissions! Not only that, but I have a subroutine that locks off this entire floor from House's network – it's like one big blindspot! And the best part is that no other Securitron can come up here because that same subroutine is constantly transmitting a low-level radio pulse that forces any Securitrons still connected to House's network to leave or disable themselves! Pretty neat, huh?" My mind reeled as I tried to put the pieces together.

"You're very…" I paused, trying to think of a good word. "forthcoming with this information."

"I was programmed to be helpful and answer any questions I was asked! I guess nobody bothered to restrict who I answer questions for," Yes Man chuckled mechanically. "That was probably pretty dumb, huh?"

I took a look at the Platinum Chip in my hands. I still had a lot of questions, so I decided to take a gamble, and ask the obvious one. I held up the Chip so Yes Man could take a look at it.

"Do you know what this is?" I asked.

"Sure! Benny had me look at it a bunch of times! It's a data storage device, kind of like a holotape, but a lot more advanced! As for what's on it, well… Some of Mr. House's data transmissions made it sound like the Chip could upgrade his defenses somehow! That's just a guess, though! The Chip's a proprietary format! You'd need special hardware to read the data on it, and I don't have that kind of hardware with me! There are two locations with non-standard hardware on Mr. House's network – the Lucky 38 and an underground facility at Fortification Hill, on the Arizona side of Hoover Dam. I'd look there!"

I stared at the Chip in my hand, Benny's words from earlier echoing in my head: "There's more to the Chip than you or anybody could've known. More than you could've ever expected or even dreamed was possible."

"What was Benny planning to do with the Chip?"

"Oh!" Yes Man sounded like he'd just been reminded of something. "He wanted to kill Mr. House and use the Platinum Chip to copy my neuro-computational matrix onto the Lucky 38's mainframe! That would give me control over all of Mr. House's defenses, most prominently his Securitrons. And then I guess I just do as I'm told!"

I spoke to Yes Man for at least a half an hour before I made my way back to the ground floor. I decided not to mention Yes Man when I arrived back on the main casino floor; the conversation had been so surreal, as soon as I left I started wondering if it had actually happened.

The casino was a mess, with bullet holes and bodies everywhere. ED-E floated up to me as I hobbled out of the elevator. He burped out some triumphant sounding marching music. Off in the distance, I saw Cass sitting in a chair, her feet propped up on a blackjack table and drinking whiskey.

"There's Queen Whiskey," I said, coughing a little. I was still feeling a bit lightheaded, but at least I wasn't coughing up blood anymore.

"Hey, Sheason!" she yelled, setting down her bottle of hooch and walking towards me. As she got close, she grimaced. "Fuck me, man, you look like hell. You kill Benny?"

"Yeah," I said, limping forward trying to keep moving; I half expected to collapse if I stopped. "He's dead." She nodded, then looked down, her gaze falling on my knuckles. Both hands were still covered in blood.

"Th' fuck'd you do? Kill'im with yer bare hands'r somethin'?"

"Or something," I said, looking around. Ahead of me was Boone, still holding his rifle. He said nothing, but simply nodded as I passed. "Where's Veronica?"

"Hello!" She said, appearing from behind a row of slot machines. "What's up?"

I didn't say a word. Instead, I grabbed her left wrist. She let out a yelp of surprise, but didn't stop me as I grabbed the sleeve of her robe and pulled it up, revealing her arm. From the wrist up, her arm was completely encased in plates of metal and a Kevlar mesh underneath. On the forearm plate was an insignia: A sword bisecting a circle that held three cogwheel gears, and a pair of wings below the circle. There were two small, barely visible dents in the metal plates where the .22 bullets had been deflected.

"Uh-huh," I said, expecting as much. I looked up at her, and she just looked sheepish, trying to hide behind a grin. "Something you want to tell us?"

"Well, I suppose there's no use hiding it now," she shrugged, as I let go of her arm. "You remember how I asked you about the Brotherhood of Steel before? Well… the reason I asked is because I am… one. I didn't tell you, because I didn't know how you'd react to the news. I'm not stupid – I know the Brotherhood has made a lot of enemies, especially recently. I thought if I hid it and broke the news slowly, you'd be able to accept it easier."

"Well, it certainly explains how you were able to get us through the front gate," I said. If the Brotherhood was as good with technology as their reputation suggested, then an override code for a robot was practically child's play.

"You still ok with me tagging along?"

"Sure," I said, more out of exhaustion than anything else. "I mean, hell, you already saved my life once tonight."

"So, what's next?" Boone finally spoke up.

"Well, we're gonna have to find someplace to sleep, that much is certain," I said, coughing again. "I don't know about the rest of you, but this has been one hell of a long day and I'm fucking exhausted. But there's one thing I have to do first."

"What, keel over?" Cass said jokingly, putting a hand on my shoulder and handing me a bottle of whiskey. I thanked her, despite the pain in my shoulder as she touched me (I don't think she knew I'd been shot). I drank deeply from the bottle, letting the liquid burn down my throat in the best possible way.

"No, at least not yet," I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Platinum Chip. "I already died for this once. I figure, the least I can do is finish the delivery." Cass looked shocked.

"Y'can't be serious!"

"I am serious," I put the Chip back in my pocket. "I mean, hell, Benny said people are starting to call me The Courier, right? And I guess I'm still technically under contract. May as well live up to the title," I said with a smirk.