Chapter 43: Finding goD

Chapter 43: Finding goD

This was turning into a distinctly bad situation.

Alright Sheason, stay calm. You may be stuck in Mexico without your armor, weapons, gear, friends, or any choice in the matter due to the bomb collar, but there are two things going for you. First thing: you still have your Pip Boy, something you didn't have on your trip to Caesar's fort. And the second thing: at least you're armed with... whatever the fuck this weapon is supposed to be.

I turned the rifle around in my hands, just to figure out what it was. I could tell that it was originally a 40mm pump-action grenade launcher (probably) but there were so many different things bolted to the outside of the gun that it most definitely wasn't a 40mm grenade launcher anymore. Tubes and wires lined the side of the barrel, and a box-like scope similar to the kind of scope mounted on a laser rifle was locked in place on the top. The grenade launcher's iron sights were completely gone, and the barrel had an extension to it, which ended in a completely flat, round emitter. Was this some kind of energy weapon?

I took a chance, and pumped the fore-end under the barrel, to see if anything was expelled out of the gun. Sure enough, a port on the side of the gun ejected something onto the ground: a large cylinder. I knelt down and picked up... a microfusion cell? Alright, definitely some kind of energy weapon then. A few more pumps later, the gun was empty and I was left with a grand total of four microfusion cells. Which was both good and bad. Good, because now I knew how many rounds fit in the rifle (probably), and bad because that meant I only had four cells in total.

I didn't know what to think of that if I'm honest... A laser rifle will get close to 24 shots out of a single microfusion cell. A plasma rifle will get 11 - maybe 12. If this was one cell per shot, that meant whatever the fuck this was, it was potentially very powerful, but I would have to make every single shot count. And who knows if I'd be able to find more mf cells here?

When I started to reload the rifle, I heard a crackle in the air like radio static.

"I suggest you start moving," Elijah's voice rasped from my Pip Boy's speaker, rather than from the fountain. He coughed twice and continued. "Stay in place for too long, and you're an easy target for the inhabitants of the Villa. And if they don't kill you... then exposure to the Cloud surely will. So hurry. Use the markers on your Pip Boy's map, and find the other collars. I suggest you find Collar 8 first - the FEV reject. You should be able to find him in the Villa police station - that's where I lost contact with him. Some kind of interference... He's docile, predictable and - provided he's not starving - easy to command. Now go."

I stared down at the screen and sighed. Maybe my Pip Boy is going to be more of a liability than an asset after all.

"Don't worry, I'm moving," I hefted up the rifle, picked a random direction, and started walking down the narrow streets. I quickly discovered that whoever built this place designed it for foot traffic. Despite being outside, the buildings were so close together and the streets were so narrow and twisty that it was making me extremely claustrophobic. "So, I guess you've hacked into my Pip Boy if you're talking to me through it, then?"

"Of course," Elijah said with a touch of annoyance - like I was stating the obvious. "Numbers, equations, circuits... all can be controlled, provided there's a connection and the knowledge to use it. This Villa, the casino... a treasure trove of such devices. One must simply know where to look. No machine is foolproof. They are designed to obey us. The Pip Boy's operating system has vulnerabilities... advantages to those who've studied its construction, even superficially. It's just a machine, though. Its real vulnerability is who wears it. And that's how you were caught."

"Fair enough, I guess," I grumbled under my breath, carefully making my way through the streets. "So, since I seem to have your attention, and you haven't blown me up yet, maybe you can answer a few more questions I have about this place."

"Hmph..." Elijah grunted, and I heard a series of clicks over the speakers, followed by a steady intake of breath and a soft sound of something smoldering. Sounds like Elijah's a smoker. "I am short on patience. And you are short on time."

"So... was that a yes, or..."

"Ask," he practically shouted into the speaker.

"Alright, first off - what did you do with all my gear?"

"I did nothing with your gear," Elijah said simply. He continued before I got a chance to protest. "Your arrival here, weaponless, was not my intention. The Sierra Madre has many... defenses. Means of screening guests for illicit or dangerous items. Mechanisms that were set in motion before the bombs dropped."

"And they still work?" I asked incredulously. I kept walking through the narrow streets, unnerved by the silence that was only occasionally broken up by intermittent thunderclaps from the blood-red clouds above.

"Oh yes. Of course they still work. The casino, this Villa... it takes anything with even a trace of radioactivity, traces of unknown substances - or contraband from before the War - and it stores it in a secure location. The bunker..." he trailed off, mumbling to himself. He coughed and continued. "The process is fully automated, and the casino itself has other similar... 'services.' I was unable to find a reliable workaround, except to send others in as tools. Still... I have not left you completely defenseless." I looked down at the rifle in my hands as he spoke.

"So, what is this, anyway?"

"What is what?" Elijah snapped. "Only a handful of the Vila's closed-circuit cameras still function, and you're currently in a dark zone. You'll have to tell me what you're talking about," I looked around me, scanning the rooftops, the archways, and the overhangs. Alright, so that was a useful piece of information. He could talk to me through the Pip Boy, and was presumably using it to track my location as well, but he couldn't always see me. I had to work that to my advantage somehow. In the meantime...

"The rifle that was on the ground next to me when I woke up. What is it?"

"Ah," he grunted with recognition, and cleared his throat. "That is a holorifle, a weapon I designed and constructed upon first arriving here. I have since made superior models - and modifications. For now, that tool will have to do until you find other weapons. I suggest you do so quickly - the holorifle's ammunition is limited. Still, it should serve you well enough. I fashioned it from the holograms of the Villa and used it against the Villa's... 'living' inhabitants."

There was something odd and off-putting about the way he said living... I walked up a small set of stairs, and rounded a corner, which deposited me in a small courtyard. There was another set of stairs to my right leading up, and next to it was a small waterfall-fountain (with no water) mounted into a nearby wall. Directly below the fountain was a skeleton - with what looked like a spear sticking out of the ribcage. Directly above was some graffiti: "FIND GOD IN THE SIMPLEST OF BEASTS" I stared at the writing on the wall for a minute. For some reason, it looked odd... and then it hit me. About half of the letters were backwards, like I was looking at what someone had written through a mirror.

"So, there are actually people still living here? That's surprising." I pulled the spear out of the skeleton, and twirled it around in my hands to inspect it... and realized rather quickly that it wasn't... quite a spear. What it was, really, was just a broomstick handle with four kitchen knives duct taped onto one end. I looked closer at the knives - at first, I thought they were covered in rust, but the more I looked at it, the more I was convinced that it was the same kind of red crap in the air and covering the walls. I started to run a finger close to one of the blade edges - I mean, this thing had been out here for so long, there's no way it could still possibly be shar-

OW! Motherfucker! Alright, it's still sharp, as proven by my now bleeding finger. The weird thing was... all that red crap on the side of the blade, but the actual cutting edge of the blade was completely clean. Even the blood from my finger where the blade had cut me had simply slid off, and didn't even leave a mark. That was odd.

"Yes... the inhabitants..." Elijah coughed again. "People isn't quite the right word to describe them. Not anymore." I heard a noise above me, coming from beyond the top of the next set of stairs. I wasn't quite sure what it was. There was a strange Doppler effect to the sound, distorting it into something distinctly alien and unrecognizable. Very carefully, I crept up the stairs and tried to see what was making the noise.

About 60 or 70 yards distant, I saw movement - a body moving between buildings. I say body because I wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman... or was even human at all. It was a dark mass of vaguely human proportions, but the way it moved was... it was all wrong. The legs I thought were slow and sluggish at first, but I looked closer and realized the movements of putting one leg in front of the other was ordered and distinct. That doesn't seem odd on its own, but when you combined that with the rest of the body, it was incredibly unnerving. From the waist up, the torso was slumped over, swaying backward and forward as it moved; its arms and head hung limp, like there was no feeling there at all. All the while it moved, it made that same rasping noise, like heavy breathing through a filter, muffled and distorted by some kind of pulsing Doppler effect.

"I suggest you avoid them, if you can," I heard Elijah whisper; perhaps he could see me, or saw the... whatever it was in front of me, and decided not to give away my position too much. "They are... difficult to kill. Whatever created them has made them resistant to bullets, explosions, energy... those things can make them inert for a time, but then they seem to crawl back up, restored - unless you chop them apart or dismember them. Removing their limbs keeps them dead. Perhaps their virtual immortality is due to some unknown properties of the Cloud... perhaps something to do with their physiology. I'm sure I'll have time to figure it out later..."

I slowly edged my way back down the stairs, clutching the spear in my hand. This was not encouraging. I thought of all the horrible things I'd had to fight over the years - feral ghouls, mutant insects, super mutants, deathclaws... all of them died if you shot them. Sometimes it would take a lot of ammunition, but when they eventually went down they never got back up. Something that didn't truly die unless you dismembered it... that's the sort of thing you'd only find in an old horror movie holotape - the kind with chainsaws, shotguns, lots of excessive gore, and guys with unfeasibly large chins.

I didn't realize I was still backing up until my back hit the wall of a small alcove next to the fountain. My free hand hit the wall, and it felt... slimy? I pulled my hand away from the wall - my palm was covered in a thin film of some strange red dust. I tried to wipe it off on my pant leg, but it wouldn't come off, no matter how hard I brushed. Calm down, Sheason. If you panic, you'll make crap decisions, and then you'll wind up dead. And dead is the last place you want to be. Especially here.

I looked around, and out of the corner of my eye saw something that glowed on one of the pillars. I set down the spear to investigate. It was a white hand print - why it was glowing, I have no idea. Below it, hidden in the shadow of the pillar and almost out of sight, was a suitcase. With any luck, it would be unlocked - or I could force it open - and I would put my scrounging skills to a proper test for the first time in years. While I was doing that, I decided to ask Elijah another question that had been bothering me.

"So, this Cloud you mentioned - this giant red mass of crap in the air - what the fuck is it? Is it the reason the walls are so filthy?" The suitcase opened with a snap, and joy of joys, it wasn't empty. It was full of many objects, but the very first thing I noticed: a revolver. It looked like a snub-nosed version of a Colt Service Revolver, chambered for .38 special rounds. There was even a box of ammo.

"The Cloud is what blankets the Sierra Madre, yes... copper and sulfur and other elements.. burns the lungs and seeps into the skin," Elijah coughed again, and I could barely hear him take another faint draw from a cigarette. "As for its origins... I am not certain. Pre-War industrial pollutants... something in the Sierra Madre structure... It is unique across the wasteland. And deadly. It has kept this place preserved since the Great War."

"Alright, when you say deadly," I started rifling through the suitcase, trying to see if there was anything else in a hidden pocket somewhere. "How deadly are we talking here? I'm not going to die just because I brushed my hand against a wall, am I?" Seriously, Sheason. Stop panicking. It's not going to do you any good.

"The air here is only truly lethal if you encounter concentrated pockets." There was something in Elijah's tone... it was like he felt that he was explaining common knowledge. "You'll know it when you see one. Too long inside, you'll die. So be careful where you step. I've seen some survive concentration of the cloud for short periods of time if healthy enough - others were too weak. Spend too long outside, and the buildup of Cloud on your skin will still kill you - concentrated pockets of Cloud or no. Rebreathers, chemical suits... there is no protection. It... it decays all it touches. Fighting it is an exercise in futility."

"Oh, that's just wonderful," I said pulling a stimpack out of the suitcase, and tapping the glass casing a few times to check and see if it was full or used. Thankfully, it was still full. I was probably going to need that soon. "Is there any safe place in this hellhole?"

"No." Elijah said simply. "But if you mean safe from exposure to the Cloud? Anywhere sheltered. Inside buildings, tunnels... any place not exposed to the outside air. Anything the Cloud has touched has preserved it in one way or another... but only the holograms of the Villa truly remain."

Something I was starting to notice: Elijah certainly liked hearing himself talk. It was almost like I was back in the Lucky 38, and House was monologuing at me. I could only imagine what would happen if I were to get those two in a room together... there would be no survivors from the artillery barrage of exposition. Still, if I kept him talking, I might have time to think of a way out of this. Hell, he might slip up and actually say something useful that I could use against him...

"Holograms, huh? Like that blue woman above the fountain then?" I was continuing to rummage around in the suitcase as I talked, and I found something strange - about twenty three disks, fashioned into octagons. I took a close look at one of them, and saw the relief of a woman's face in profile, with a hand on her chin and a flower in her hair. Below her nose were the letters "SM." I had a sneaking suspicion that these were the chips for the casino... and decided to keep hold of them. Something in the back of my mind told me that they were important.

"Oh yes. Ghosts of the old world... they fill the Villa. There are more in the casino. Much more. They carry out the functions the dead once did in life. They cannot be harmed... they only perform the same rote tasks until their power dies. They are of no consequence..." Elijah started coughing badly, eventually taking his mouth away from whatever he was using as a mic, and the sound dulled slightly.

"That doesn't seem so bad." Of course, I spoke too soon. Once Elijah's coughing fit ended, he kept talking as if he hadn't stopped.

"...except for the Security holograms."

"Security?" I asked, loading each of the chambers in the revolver's cylinder except for the one lined up with the barrel, made sure the safety was on, and shoved it securely into the back of my belt. "How are they different?"

"The Security holograms - the ones with the silhouettes of the armored guards - only have one single function. They will kill anything they detect. They are completely unaffected by guns, weapons, EMPs... even energy weapons. Still, like all technology... they have limitations. Their design limits their field of view. At least, enough to avoid detection. Each hologram also has an emitter - destroy or disable it, and they cease to be a threat. That is, if you can find the emitter."

"I don't suppose you're able to shut them down remotely from... wherever you are?" I asked, finding a strap in the suitcase; I was able to attach it to the underside of the holorifle, and I slung it across my back.

"No." Elijah said simply.

"No, I thought not," I mumbled in annoyance. "That would make it too easy, wouldn't it?"

"Just be glad the holograms are working as intended," Elijah paused - presumably to smoke - and continued. "Other technology here is a much greater threat to you. The Villa radio's and speaker system, for instance..." Elijah's voice got softer, and he trailed off.

"Yeah, you're going to have to run that by me again. How are radios dangerous?" I clutched the spear in my hands, and very carefully made my way back to the stairs with my haul. Slowly, I peeked over the top of the stairs to the street beyond. The creature I'd seen before was now no longer in sight. With any luck, it had moved off to somewhere else, and wouldn't be back.

But let's be honest. I'm not that lucky at the best of times, and certainly not today.

"Music was intended to be broadcast all over the Villa... over time, however, the radio signal decayed and started emitting a... different frequency. Now, the speakers and radios interfere with the frequencies of the bomb collars. They can trigger the detonators... prematurely." I just stopped in the middle of the street; I felt my left eye twitch, and there was an intense throbbing in my temple, just below the bullet scar on my forehead. "It is an unfortunate side effect, one I did not anticipate," Elijah mused, almost academically. "I was unable to calibrate the collars to block the signals - so you'll just have to make do."

"You have to be fucking with me," I finally said when I found my voice. "So, along with everything else - the zombies that can't be killed unless you chop them up, the gas that's slowly killing me, and holograms that shoot first and ask questions never - this place is filled with a minefield of radios that can blow my fucking head off? Is there anything in this shithole not trying to kill me, or is that too much to ask?"

"You need to stop complaining." Elijah growled over my Pip Boy. "You seem resourceful enough - otherwise, why would you be carrying that spear, or have that pistol in your belt?" I looked around. If he knew what I was carrying, that must mean there was at least one camera around somewhere... "I'm sure that if you're careful, you'll be fine. Or you'll get your head blown off, and I'll be forced to find someone new. Either way... it is of no concern of mine. Just get the job done."

That ringing was going to drive me mad.

It had been nearly 10 minutes since Elijah's last transmission. Either he could still hear me and had simply decided not to monologue anymore, or he had severed the transmission completely. Either way, I was fine with staying quiet. I didn't want to risk saying anything - the more noise I made, the greater chance I'd alert the "inhabitants" of my presence.

"Turn the noise off!" I heard him growl. So in response, I pulled up the file and hit play.

"DOG! Back in the cage!" As soon as the voice issued from the speakers, the Nightkin stopped rocking. Slowly and methodically, he turned around to look at me... and then he got up. When he turned to face me, I stepped back almost without thinking. Now that he was in the light properly, I could see that almost every inch of his body was covered in scars. The most prominent scars, however, were a set of large scars emblazoned on the center of his chest - spelling out the word "DOG." There were a few white bandages here and there, including two small bandages on his forehead, forming a cross, but there weren't nearly enough to cover up all the scars. The Nightkin stepped towards me, each step thudding and reverberating against the floor, until he was staring at me through the bars.

"What have we here?" The Nightkin spoke, but it wasn't the same low and deep voice as before - but instead, it was the same voice I heard in the basement. "You weren't who I was expecting. I'm... disappointed."

"You're not the only one," I said. The Nightkin let out a guttural grumble, and shook his head.

"Still... even if you aren't my intended guest, you take direction. Good. You can't have been an idiot to figure out how to release me from my cage..." The Nightkin cocked his head, and I followed his gaze - he was staring at my Pip Boy first, and then at the bomb collar around my neck. "... or perhaps you are, with that leash on your arm and the one around your neck... with our collars and manacles, why... we may as well be kin."

"What happened to your voice?" I asked. I had a theory, but...

"I'm the voice of reason," The Nightkin grabbed the bars, and stared down at me. Without thinking, I backed up slightly. "I sleep sometimes... down in the basement, in the cage. Now that I'm awake, Dog goes back in the cage. Dog knows I'm here, but can't do anything about it. I'm his... conscience. Keep him tame. Keep him from hurting us... doing foolish things. I've been trapped in here for some time. Then you come along and let me out. So... you must have opened my cage for a reason." He let go of the bars and stepped back, looking me up and down through the bars. "I want to know why."

"Wait, you're a split personality?" I was thinking out loud, ignoring the Nightkin's question for the moment. "I've seen this before - other Nightkin who've used stealth boys so much and so often that it affects their minds..." The Nightkin grabbed the bars with a metal clang, and I heard him growl at me. I backed up again, but I looked close: the super mutant was really straining, but the bars weren't budging. They weren't even bending. What the fuck is that cage made out of?

"That's the easy explanation. The one humans use." The Nightkin practically spat the word 'human' out, like it didn't taste right on his tongue. He shook his head, let go of the bars, and started to pace around back and forth in the cell. "Pre-War technology... as if it's the cause of all ills, mind and body." He pounded at his chest. "I needed to come out of the cage to protect Dog. From clever humans... like you." The Nightkin shook his head again. "Do you see these wounds of his, covering his skin... the bear trap on his arm?" He held up his arm, and I nodded, letting him continue. "He placed his own hand in it. The name he carved on his chest? To remind him... of who he is." He stepped forward again, snarling at me. "He inflicts pain on himself to silence me, when all I try to... Hrr!" He looked away, and clutched at his head. The Nightkin breathed in and out heavily for a few seconds, and shook his head. "... he cuts, hurts, and tries to murder me out of him. He won't succeed. Just makes me angrier. Dog is the beast. We simply... change cages." He looked around before finally coming to a rest to stare at me. "Like the one here."

"So, why did you lock yourself in this cage, then?" I asked. He just snorted - it was almost like a laugh, but not really.

"No. Why did I lock him in the cage." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but honestly... I was still kind of confused.

"Yeah... I don't follow."

"Don't play stupid," the Nightkin growled at me. "I already have to mind one child. I locked Dog in this cage because I could feel him... getting hungry again. There wasn't much time. If Dog roams, he gets into trouble... eats things he shouldn't, listens to others he shouldn't... so he's safer in here... We're safer in here. I'd hoped that if I locked him in here... the one he obeys would come to fetch him." The Nightkin shook his head again. "Instead, I get you."

"So... if you locked him... you... in, what would happen if you couldn't get out?" Intellectually, I suppose I could wrap my head around the idea someone with multiple personality disorder... but for some reason, I was still having some trouble with putting the concept into practice.

"Oh, I have the key." The super mutant said plainly. "Always did. Hid it on the chain behind our neck before Dog came bursting out, eating everything he could. Wanted to make sure whoever came to fetch Dog spoke to me first..." He started to step towards me, and he slowly tried to slide his arms through the bars; he only got about halfway through before the gap became too narrow for his forearm to fit through. "... got within reach."

"So, you... or Dog... doesn't know the key is on him?" My eyes never left the mutant's hand. I made sure to keep well out of reach. Guess it was a good thing I stepped back.

"Dog and I don't share everything. What I know, he doesn't. What he knows... what little he knows... I don't. For example: your arrival here is a surprise. I wished that I could have remembered, but I'm sure that Dog knew. And when he's feeding, well... I sometimes have to find out about it later. Now, all there is to do is wait for my intended guest."

"Elijah..." I breathed. I had no idea if he heard me or not. "You asked me what I was doing here. I'm looking for someone with a collar like mine. Not because I want to. But because if I don't..." I tapped the side of my collar, and made a mock-explosion with my hand. "I think you're who I'm looking for. Where's your collar?"

"It's close," the Nightkin backed away from the cell door. "Closer than I like. Dog's been into things. Needs to think before he eats, chew before he swallows. He's... eager that way. Now the collar's a part of me. Inside."

"Wait, you... or, he... ate it?" The super mutant nodded grimly.

"I can feel it's electronic heartbeat, clicking and burning down below... like before. It was cold and heavy before going in the cage... now you're here, and it's pulling and kicking again, tugging like a leash... Interesting..." Well. I guess that means he really is 'Collar 8.'

"I've got to get you out of here," I said, plainly as I could. I didn't think just asking him would work... but it was a start, at least. The super mutant just started laughing grimly - it was a deep, horrible laugh, and it made me very uncomfortable.

"No... no, I don't think so. Even in here, I have more control than you do. I'm not leaving here until the one who controls the collars shows himself." He leaned forward, and gripped the cell bars to stare at me. "Not his voice. Not his hand. Not his lackey. Him. And when he comes to see me..." He let go of the bars, and smashed a fist into his palm with a wet thud. "... we'll settle things. So go on, go back to your master." He waved we off with his hand, like he was shoo-ing away an annoying pest, not worth his attentions. "Tell him I'm waiting for him. Dog may follow him. But I won't."

"Look," I swallowed, trying to choose my next words carefully. "If you don't come with me, he'll set off our collars - yours and mine. An explosion designed to blow your head off will still kill you if it goes off in your gut."

"Then I still win." He said, determination in his voice. "I'd rather die in this cell than have Dog follow him for any longer... follow his orders, his commands, desperate for recognition. The Old Man... he has the need to hold on, to the past... to the Madre... I'd rather be free, let go of this shell, than have it cage me any longer."

"I want my freedom, too. Do you think I like having this collar on me?" With any luck, appealing to him using the truth might just work. Who knows? "I don't want to be here, stuck in this fucking hellhole, where even the air is trying to kill me." The Nightkin pressed his face closer to the bars.

"They all wanted their freedom at first. Then... they realized they could get inside the Sierra Madre. After that... after that, their freedom wasn't important any more. They couldn't let go, just like the Old Man can't let go. So you say you want your freedom... No... even if you feel that way now? It won't last. You'll forget. Get greed-blind. And then you'll turn... just like all the rest." Alright, the truth wasn't working. I had to think of some other way of getting him to work with me. Because if I didn't...

"You know, it sounds like Dog might be more willing to get out of this cage than you." For the first time, I heard the Nightkin laugh - and I mean really laugh. Not a grim chuckle, but a deep, throaty, bellowing, booming laugh that shook the floor.

"Dog? He might... but you're not talking to him now, are you? No... even if you could drag Dog out of his cage -" He pointed at his head. "- you still couldn't get him out of this cage." He tapped the bars with an oversized finger. "I put him in here for a reason. If he could have escaped... he would have. So here he stays."

"But the key is already in there with you - and Dog."

"True... but Dog doesn't know that. We don't share everything, remember. Sometimes, it's a blessing... sometimes... it causes difficulties. Now? I think it's a blessing. It keeps you on that side of the cage. Now... go fetch. Find your master. Bring him here, so we can talk." This was getting frustrating - mostly because he didn't seem to get what I was implying.

"I could just tell Dog he has the key."

"Yes... you could. And once he was out, all starving and hungry... what then? What do you think he would do?" He continued to stare at me, never blinking and gripping the bars of the cell tight. "Be careful what cage you open, because he won't go back in it without a fight. He'll tear you apart, he won't care if it kills you both."

"But it's like you said... Dog obeys. He obeys Elijah - the Old Man. And he can order Dog to open the cage. He can order him not to eat me." The super mutant narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at me.

"Yes... Dog... obeys. Why? Do you have some means of contacting the Old Man?" To answer his question, I held up my Pip Boy, and pointed on the screen - to the file right below the one I'd picked up in the basement. The file that continued an audio message of Elijah's instructions.

"I can play his voice. He gave me an audio log, and I can play it from my Pip Boy whenever I want." For the first time since talking to him, the Nightkin looked genuinely worried - not scared, but worried.

"You - don't play it!" He practically yelled, backing away from the bars. He composed himself and snarled. "If you do, I'll find a way to get out of the cage, end you! I'll murder you, crush your arms and legs until-"

"Calm down!" I shouted, lowering the arm with my Pip Boy. Amazingly, he shut up, so I continued. "Look, I want to get the fuck out of here, and I know you do to. So here's the deal. If you follow me - willingly - then I won't play the audio log."

"No, you wouldn't." He snarled back at me. "If you did, then you wouldn't escape this place alive. I'd shatter every one of your limbs to splinters and leave you here. You think I'm afraid of your collar exploding, killing us? No... I'll leave you breathing. Then I'll keep walking until my collar goes cold. I'll prop your broken body in view of the Sierra Madre - so you can see exactly what you came to steal. Forever out of reach... as you die." I just shook my head.

"I guess I can't convince you that I'm not here for the Sierra Madre, and I'm not here because I want to work for Elijah. So I'm going to prove it to you." The police station was silent for the longest time since I'd turned the radios off. The Nightkin cocked his head, staring back at me.

"Prove it? How? Words are worthless." I tapped the side of my Pip Boy.

"I have the power to let Dog out of his cage. I'm going to prove it to you... by not doing it." He looked me up and down, like he did when he first saw me.

"Hnh... Even though Dog's more docile. Easier to control..." He stepped forward, right up to the cell door, and looked down at me from his considerable height. "You may regret this. This place... this place is where creatures like Dog can survive. The... people that fill its streets.. He is as vicious - more vicious - than them. His hunger can help you more than I can. When I am in control..." He looked down at his massive hands. "When I'm in control, this shell is difficult to... fight in." He balled his hands into fists.

"Even if Dog is more helpful, we can manage. I prefer to talk to and work with people - not order them around." The Nightkin chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I am not sure you belong here... No... No, you certainly don't belong here."

"Glad we can agree on that point, at least," I said, allowing myself a smirk.

"You came this far. And I'm not interested in remaining here any longer." He reached behind his neck, and pulled a key - which looked comically small between his massive thumb and forefinger - out from wherever he'd hidden it. He reached through the bars, and with a dexterity I didn't expect from a hand that massive, unlocked the door.

"Maybe we can work together after all." I said, holding out a hand. "Partners?" I didn't quite know what I was expecting, but the Nightkin just stared at my hand.

"No. Not partners. But we can work together... just so long as I get a shot at the Old Man."

"Get in line," I said with a smirk. "Alright, there are two other people I need to find - there's a fountain in the center of the Villa. We can use that as a rally point, and when I've gathered everyone else, we can plan our next move."

"Very well," the Nightkin walked past me, each footstep rattling the floor. "To the fountain and its Ghost then..."

"Before you leave - what's your name?" The super mutant turned and looked at me with a raised brow. "I know the other voice is called Dog. But what do I call you?" He paused, and looked like he was really deep in thought. I don't think anyone had ever asked him before.

"I guess you could say I'm the mirror image of Dog... If you must call me something, I suppose that you should call me God."

"Right, no ego there then." I said with a smirk.

"HAH!"