Chapter 139: Combat Rock

Chapter 139: Combat Rock

Darlin' you got to let me know

Should I stay or should I go?

If you say that you are mine

I'll be here 'til the end of time

So you got to let me know

Should I stay or should I go?

The music echoed from the speakers in the ceiling of the Penthouse. When I asked Veronica if she had any good 'working' music in her box of vinyl, she suggested I listen to an album by The Clash. As I sat in front of the cluster of monitors plugged into the mainframe up in the penthouse, surrounded by paper covered in notes and nursing the last drops of my coffee, I couldn't disagree. Every record she produced from that box was fantastic, and I'd barely scratched the surface.

Still, I couldn't focus on that now. I needed to finish sorting through all this data I'd been collecting since last night. Between the tracking device I'd slipped into the boot heel of that one thug, the plethora of surveillance cameras in Freeside, and the video feeds from all the patrolling securitrons, I had plenty of intelligence. Now, I just needed to make sense of it all.

I heard some footsteps behind me; even with the music, the footsteps seemed really loud. Like someone wearing tap-shoes stomping on a hardwood floor. Without even looking up from the notes I was scribbling, I nodded my head and gave a wave over my shoulder.

"Morning, Emily," I said, and she stopped in her tracks.

"Uh... hi. How'd you know it was me?" she asked.

"Lucky guess," I shrugged. It was probably impolite to tell her that I heard her coming a mile off. I thought back to the other day, when Cass startled me so badly while I was busy building the grapnel gun. For a woman about as subtle as a shotgun blast to the wedding tackle most of the time, Cass could move like a ghost when she needed to.

"I see." Suddenly a fresh cup of coffee materialized near my shoulder. "Want some more coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot."

"Oh, thanks," I smiled, taking the cup and going back to my notes. Emily pulled up a chair and sat next to me, her eyes darting across my notes and monitors.

"So, what are you doing?" Emily asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "This doesn't look like you're going through House's files."

"That's because I'm not," I said, setting the notes aside. "I'm trying to put together a coherent picture of a gang in Freeside. Los Zorroz." I took a sip of my coffee and went back to the monitors. "It's kind of surprising and just a little bit scary how many cameras are still working out there. There was probably very little that went on in Freeside or The Strip that House didn't know about..."

I thought back to something House said before I killed him: "Intelligence gained from surveillance is the most valuable currency and most dangerous weapon in the world. This was true before the world ended, and is doubly so now... and there is no one better at surveillance than me." I shook it off and took another sip of coffee.

"I think I've found a few places where they operate, but it hasn't been easy. I'm not built for this sort of... gathering-and-sorting-intelligence kind of thing." I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'm no detective, that's for certain." It took all of my willpower and self control to omit the words 'Dark Knight' before 'Detective,' what with all the Batman jokes I'd been making lately.

"Want some help?" Emily asked suddenly. I did a double take, and set my coffee down.

"You serious?" I asked. She nodded.

"Well... yeah. In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty good at making sense of large amounts of data. I was even going to try and bug House's network... you know, back before..." She cleared her throat and looked immensely uncomfortable. "...you know, before Benny cut me loose." Ah. That explains it.

"Alright. But what about the rest of House's files? Wouldn't helping me out with this distract you from that?" Emily shrugged.

"It's mostly automated by now. Whatever is left to decrypt will get taken care of eventually, no input required from anyone else. Plus, Jeeves has been talking with Yes Man a lot lately, and..." She smiled. "Between the files already decrypted, and all the craziness from the Big Empty, you don't need my help with that any more. But all this?" Emily waved at the various monitors and all my notes. "I might be able to help with this. If you let me use one of those earpiece sat-phones you brought back, I can watch out for you whenever you're in Freeside. I could be your Mission Control."

"Alright," I said with a small nod, grabbing my coffee. "Sounds like a good idea..." I smirked. "Alfred." Emily looked confused.

"Wait, what?" Before I could explain, April appeared behind me with Muggy sitting on her shoulder.

"Hey, are you busy?" April asked. She knocked back the rest of her coffee, and then handed the empty mug to the tiny securitron.

"Uh..." was all I managed to say.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

"Great, quick question," she said before I finished talking. "Do you know anyone who can sing?"

"Oh, not this again!" Emily sighed and buried her face in her hands. She snorted out a laugh and shook her head.

"Not... wait, what? Again?" I said, looking back and forth between the two scientists. "What are you talking about?"

"Veronica wants to start up a band," Emily said just as April opened her mouth to talk. "When she found out April used to play drums in college, one thing led to another, and now they're looking for a singer. They've been bugging everyone about it the last few days."

"Hang on," I said, picking up on something. "You're a drummer?" April nodded and smiled.

"Not a drummer - a percussionist. I played for a band called 'Tuesday Complex' when I was studying at university," she shrugged. "I know the drummer stereotype is someone who can barely think, but those people don't understand how much math is involved in keeping up with an irrational time measure like 11/4. So, do you know anyone who can sing?"

"Uh..." I leaned back in the chair and scratched my head. "Yeah, I don't... Sorry, I don't think I know anybody who sings..."

A thought crossed my mind. I didn't know anybody who could sing per se, but I knew someone who hadthe voice of a singer... only problem is, I couldn't get to her. Not yet. Not until I could figure out how to wipe the Sierra Madre off the map. And more importantly, I needed to do it without using any nukes. After what happened in the Divide... that was one line I was not willing to cross.

Not again. Not ever.

"If I find anybody, I'll let you know."

The sign above The King's place was just as large and neon and pink as it had been the first time I saw it. I was leaning against my car, looking up at it, and tapped my earpiece.

"You really think he's going to help?" I asked.

"Absolutely," Emily responded in my ear. "The intel we've collected so far is good, but if you're really serious about taking on Los Zorroz, The King is your best bet. Freeside is his home. He's bound to help. No one else has the numbers, and no one else has the will."

"Fair enough," I sighed, pulling out my packet of smokes. I flipped the top and realized I was running low again. Before I got the chance to light one, Emily spoke up in my ear:

"You know those things will kill you, right?"

"Yeah, well," I muttered, lighting the cigarette hanging out of my mouth and snapping Benny's old lighter shut with a click. "What else is new?" I looked around, snorting a puff of smoke out my nostrils. "Out of curiosity, how many cameras are "

"Three," she said, not even brothering to let me finish. "Two across the street, and one right above your head." I stared up at the sign, trying to find where it was hidden... but after a few puffs, I shrugged my shoulders, gave up, tossed the spent smoke away, and stepped inside.

"Hey, Pacer," I said, walking through the crowd of Kings. Pacer was wearing that same Jailhouse Rocker outfit, leaning against the wall in almost exactly the same place as the first time I'd seen him. "Is The King around?"

"What'd you mean? Hear what?"

"He was part of that snatch an' grab team that got hit last night." There was a pause, and I heard some shuffling and the unmistakable clatter of poker chips. "The way I heard it, those Omerta fucks set us up. Practically the whole team got wiped out, and the girls got away. Jimmy was the only one left."

"Oh, fuck those assholes!" a fist slammed down on a table. "He get a look at 'em, so we know which wiseguys to fuck up?"

"Yeah... that's th' thing," one of them coughed. "He says it was just one guy. Or... like... a creature. But I saw the place. No way one guy did all that."

"Maybe..." another voice growled, followed by more poker chips. "But you didn't see him. He kept talkin' about that Courier fuck..." By now, I was right next to the door that led into the smoke-filled room, taking cover behind the frame. Even though I was still invisible.

"Fuck sake, man! Don't tell me you really believe that Courier bullshit! It ain't one guy, don't be stupid." Cautiously, I pulled a frag grenade out of my duster, and carefully slipped my finger into the ring, readying myself to throw it...

"Whoever he is or they are or whatever the fuck, the Boss is not happy." I paused, and pulled my finger away from the pin without pulling it out. Yet.

"Wait... you've talked to the Boss?" More poker chips clattered on the table.

"No. No, I ain't talked to 'im. But I heard what he said. That was supposed to be easy money. Safe. Reliable. And somebody fucked with us. He wants to know who."

"Maybe Jimmy was right..." one of them coughed. "Maybe it really was that Courier dude..."

"Man, shut the fuck up! I'm tellin' you, those Courier stories are just bullshit! It was probably those backstabbing Omerta snakes, double-crossin' us. Or maybe it's the King, finally makin' his move on us. Maybe it's that Ghost Vaquero people've been talkin' about, nobody knows! But it ain't the fuckin' Courier, that dude's just a story!"

"Maybe its Batman!" I shouted, loud enough for all of them to hear. In an instant, the five thugs at the table all turned to the sound of my voice, getting up and pulling out their guns. It was enough noise to mask the metal 'clink!' as I pulled out the pin, and tossed the grenade into the room; as soon as it left my hand, it shimmered behind a rainbow miasma and left a trail of multi-colored vapor particles in the air. I didn't see where it landed, because I'd already dove for cover and was covering my ears.

WHHHHRRUUUUMP!

When I looked back, the hallway was filled with a quickly expanding cloud of burning ashes and dust, and the doorframe had been reduced to splinters. I ducked my head inside, and yep. The frag grenade had turned everyone into ground chuck. The sounds of indistinct shouting and the tromping of boots echoed from elsewhere in the apartment complex. I blinked, and I saw the various heat signatures all around me start to converge on my position.

I couldn't help but smile to myself. The trap was sprung. I slipped into the shadows just as the first of the thugs emerged from the stairs and opened up with an assault rifle. The hallway was peppered with bullets, but he didn't hit anything.

"The fuck...?" he said aloud, lowering his rifle and slowly walking down the hallway. He walked straight past my hiding place without noticing me, and I got a good look at him: a huge Mexican dude with a red bandanna covering his mouth... but the thing that stood out was his arm, which was absolutely covered in those stupid, interweaving, spiky tribal tattoos. If it was just wrapped around his bicep, that would've been enough to mark him as an utter douchebag anyway. But it covered his entire arm and the half of his face I could see behind the bandanna!

I knew just how to handle this guy.

He stopped and stared at the carnage spilling out of the exploded room, and he was so confused that he didn't notice my invisible form sneak up behind him, carefully remove the pin, carefully place it in one of the empty ammo pockets hanging on his belt... and then I ran as fast as I could, stomping on the ground and making as much noise as possible.

"What the " he turned and raised his rifle at the sound in the half second he still had a torso. I dove into another room.

BRUUMPH!

As soon as the noise died down, I walked back into the hallway. It looked like someone had thrown a bucket of chunky red paint on the walls. The most identifiable piece of him left was his torn up and twisted legs. A wet chunk of bloody meat fell off the ceiling with a meaty Thwap!

The old Shady Sands Shuffle! Works every time!

"Rob!" I heard a muffled voice cry out from somewhere below. "Rob, what the fuck is goin' on up there?!" I blinked and looked down; a large cluster of heat signatures were in the hallway right below my feet, unwilling to go up the stairs after all the noise. They must have thought safety in numbers was going to keep them free from harm.

I pressed the button on my belt to properly see what I was doing, and started softly humming to myself as I worked. I pulled out the satchel charge, placed it on the floor right above their heads, flipped the switch to arm it, and ran for cover in one of the nearby rooms, diving behind an old sofa.

BRRRAKOOOMM!

The whole building shook from the explosion, and the floor briefly felt like I was standing on a trampoline. Once again, the hallway was filled with smoke, so I switched my eyes back to thermal to cut through the smoke. Even though the large group had been dispersed into swiftly cooling body parts, there were still a few human heat-silhouettes were still standing. So I pulled out That Gun with one hand, the Ranger Sequoia with the other, vaulted over the couch, and ran into the cloud of ash and smoke, down into the hole.

"Hello boys!" I shouted, as soon as I was clear of the smoke; most of the gangbangers still standing were either dazed or clutching feverishly at their faces. I slipped into VATS and everything slowed to a crawl. Even though they were armed with rifles and carbines (and the one in back was carrying an LMG), none of them stood a chance. Five bullets later, and all five of them had been dropped with headshots.

Silence descended all around me, and I scanned the area with my heat vision. Nothing was moving, and the only humanoid bodies were the ones slowly cooling in piles of their own blood all around me.

"That... was satisfying," I sighed, holstering my pistols.

"It certainly sounds like you had fun," Emily's voice sounded in my ear. "What, did you blow up the building, or something?"

"Not all of it," I said, switching my eyes back to normal and looking back at the hole; a piece of blackened ceiling fell down with a crash. "Give Boone the all-clear. The place is ready for us to start looting."

Emily responded in the affirmative, and I made my way to the front door. When I got there, it made me very glad that I hadn't decided to just charge the front door. The doors were reinforced steel, barred with a couple of metal I-beams, and I probably could've punched through it with my cybernetic arm. However: the windows (covered with sliding metal plates), were fitted with machine guns and it was obvious I was looking at mounted gun emplacements. Not only that, but there were plenty of other guns mounted on the walls next to the places where the sentries would sit among the guns was an M32A1 grenade launcher!

Man, no wonder the King was worried about taking these guys on in a stand up fight. This place had been fortified against a prolonged head-on siege... and that had made them complacent. None of them must've expected an enemy to come from above.

I blinked, switching my eyes back to thermal. Something was scratching at the back of my mind, bothering me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. The indistinct blobs of cooling-heat where all the dead bodies (or pieces of dead bodies) strewn all around were still where I left them, but there was something else. I looked down, and realized that there was another heat signature. It wasn't a human it looked like a big box. I blinked and everything became dark blue and white. The box shone like a spotlight. Was it a generator of some kind?

I blinked, and my eyes went back to normal. I unbarred the front door, and shoved it open, so Boone would be able to get inside easily, but I went back to the stairs. I went down the stairs, and I found myself in a dingy, non-descript concrete basement. There didn't seem to be anything of interest down here, and certainly nothing that would create such a disturbance with my heat or EM vision. About the only thing here (except for the structural support beams) was a metal door at the far end.

I blinked, and realized that the door was the thing shining like a flashlight. I blinked again, returning my eyes to normal and walked toward it cautiously. Something wasn't right here, and it wasn't until I reached for the doorknob that I figured it out.

WUM!

"What the fuck?" I looked down, and realized that my hand had glanced off the air above the door. I reached for it again, and, sure enough, there was a blue shimmer of energy right in front of the door that reacted whenever my hand got close.

The door was protected by an energy field?

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Sue began. "But... shouldn't force field technology be slightly beyond gang members?" I slowly nodded.

"Just a bit, yeah..." I said, in what was surely the understatement of the century. Frankly, I was a too confused to say anything else. What was this piece of incredibly high-tech even doing here? I guess there's only one way to find out: open the door. There was a keypad next to the door that must have been there to turn the field on and off, but I had a much easier solution. I pulled out the sonic, aimed, and fired.

BARK!

The energy field sparked, and peeled away from itself in a puff of blue energy particles. I grabbed the door, and pulled it open to reveal... a vault. There were several boxes. One of them was filled with currencies of all types: caps, stacks of NCR bills, and even a whole bunch of Legion coins. Another box was filled with stealth boys. Yet another was filled with those explosive slave collars. And the last was filled with... radios?

This only raised more questions. The amount of money, supplies, munitions, and tools here spoke of a regimental organization and some serious financial backing like what you'd get with a private army. Not to mention the multiple references to this unseen 'Boss' person apparently running the show... But that didn't seem to gel with the 'chaos and mayhem' tactics The King had told me about or the personalities of all the mooks I'd been fighting, which were much closer to gangbangers or raiders rather than an army.

This puzzle was getting more complex the more pieces I found, and I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.