Chapter 168: In the Line of Fire

Chapter 168: In the Line of Fire

Good morning, chiiiiiiiiiildren! Time to wake up with Galaxy News Radio! We've got a great show for you today, jam packed with all the music and news your hearts can handle! Right now, though, I've got something I know none of you have ever heard before. It's something called "Land of Confusion," coming to us straight from those masters of confusing us with song lyrics themselves: Genesis! Only on G! N! R!

"Good morning, sir," a digital voice cut through the foggy haze of sleep. My eyes snapped open, but it took several seconds for the rest of my body to follow.

"N-huh? Wha?" Cass muttered blearily from somewhere to my side. I felt her hand clumsily paw at the sound, smacking me several times across the chest. "Fuggoff... f've m're minuh..." Her words trailed off, she grabbed hold of me, pulled me close, and proceeded to snore into my neck.

"G'mornin' Jeeves," I eventually managed to grunt out with a cough. "What's goin' on, man?" I tried to lift my Pip Boy, but I was still pretty sluggish. Not all that surprising, really. Last night wore me the fuck out.

And believe me, I chose those words very carefully.

"I am very sorry to disturb sir, but as I recall, sir said that sir wished to be informed of any new information pertinent to the impending visit of the NCR President Aaron Kimball."

"Oh, right..." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and trying to pick myself up. Cass was also stirring, apparently having gotten the message from all the noise that sleep was no longer in the cards. "What's the good word?"New novel chapters are published on

"Yes Man and I have intercepted and decrypted several transmissions regarding the President's forthcoming itinerary. Based on this information, I and m'colleage have deduced that Bear Force One will arrive at Hoover Dam around... roughly... noon-ish. Give or take." There were several odd things from that whole sequence of words that I was having immense difficulty parsing. But what was the oddest thing, rushing to the forefront of my thoughts?

"... Bear Force One?" I asked. "Seriously?"

"Apologies, sir. I am only reporting what was discovered in the course of my intelligence gathering, and passing it on to sir, as sir requested. Do not shoot the proverbial messenger," Jeeves replied. There was a long pause. "For what it is worth, even I find it dreadfully uncreative." And with that, my Pip Boy's radio turned off with a beep.

"Sounds like ye've gotta busy day 'head've ya..." Cass muttered with a weary smile, drumming her fingers against my chest, casual as you like. I nodded, trying to blink away my tiredness. The neurons in my brain were still not quite firing all at once just yet, but it felt like... something was missing. I looked around to get my bearings...

A mostly-transparent, glowing, purple, and completely naked girl was sitting cross legged at the end of the bed. Her purple face was staring at me with wide, unblinking, purple eyes. As soon as it was clear I'd noticed her, she gave me a tiny wave.

"Good morning, my little teddy bears," Dala cooed. "I trust you both had a pleasant rest." Cass grunted something incoherent, and slowly nodded. I, on the other hand, was now completely awake.

"Have... have you been watching us all night?" I asked.

"Of course!" she said with a smile edging right on the border of creepy. "I do not need sleep, but I find the biological process fascinating." Dala leaned forward, and started slowly running her hands on our legs; one hand on Cass' leg, and one on mine. Cass shivered and moaned at the electric tingle of a holographic hand running along her thigh, and I'm not too proud to admit that I made some noises of the involuntary variety myself. "I... I collected an abundance of... data. Last night."

"Yeah... was a helluva party, wasn' it?" Cass chuckled, lightly grabbing the Dala hologram by the shoulder and bringing her in closer. "Was it good fer you?" Dala just started giggling like a schoolgirl. And just like that, I found myself with a girl on each arm.

"So... y'know, I was thinkin'..." I began. But then my train of thought was rather violently derailed as Dala started kissing my neck.

"Were ya now?" Cass whispered huskily, nibbling on my ear.

"Y-yeah..." I managed to squeak out. "I's... thinkin'... President's not gonna get in for a couple hours, right? So... I, uh... I don't have to leave... y'know, just yet." Cass looked up at me with a predatory smile and chuckled.

"Oh?" Cass said in a mock-surprised tone. "Pray tell, what'd y'have in mind?" The two of us started laughing, and we looked over at Dala; I could swear I saw those holographic cheeks flush.

"Oh y'know. This, that, an' the other..." I chuckled. "Yeah, President Fuckface can keep for a few more hours." Cass leaned over me to show Dala some attention, and immediately the holographic girl went cross eyed and giggly.

"K-kimball..." Dala moaned out.

"Whatever."

The world shifted into focus, and when the dust cleared I saw that the teleporter had deposited me several feet away from my Corvega. It was still parked right where I left it. I laughed to myself, tracing a finger along the hood as I passed.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Y'miss me?" I patted the hood gently. "Don't you worry, I'm not gonna forget you. The teleport makes things easy right now, but I'm always gonna need some wheels..."

I paused, looking back at my Corvega, and I stood there for a few seconds, confused as realization at what I'd just been doing dawned.

"Right, I'm talking to my car now," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "Definitely been hanging around The Sink too much..."

"We could always have the Think Tank design a personality construct for your car," Sue chimed in happily. "You know. If it'll make it feel less weird."

"Pretty sure that'd be worse," I shook my head and kept going. "Now, where the fuck is Boone?"

It didn't take long to find him. He'd set up camp on that same ridge I'd left last night; I couldn't see an actual campsite, but I knew Boone was around, because there was a dead Legion soldier propped up against a nearby rock with a bowie knife sticking out of his head.

"Busy night?" I asked aloud; Boone grunted in the affirmative, and seemed to appear from nowhere. He was still wearing his Desert Ranger armor and had the Gobi Campaign rifle slung across his chest.

"For us both, it seems," he grunted. "You stink like sex."

"D- wh- I uh..." I spluttered out some flustered gibberish before weakly collecting myself. "Hey, c'mon man, I I took a shower!" Boone's expression behind his sunglasses did not change.

"Without Cass?" he asked. I didn't answer, but I could tell from his slowly shaking head that he could read my expression plain as day. "Eh, you should be fine. Most people don't even wash anyway. They won't smell anything beyond the usual funk."

"Moving on swiftly," I coughed out, trying to regain some measure of lost dignity. "What's up with the corpse?"

"He tried to set up a sniper nest here, around one this morning," Boone growled out, moving to the top of the ridge and lying down on top of a blanket. "Never even saw me coming." While he worked, I could see now why he liked this spot. Apart from the clear line of sight to the entire venue outside the Visitors Center below, the fact that he could lay down behind the ridge meant he'd have concealment rendering him practically invisible to anyone who might look up, and the firing platform was quite literally rock solid. A sniper could hardly ask for a better spot.

"How many assassins are here, you figure?" I asked. Boone shrugged from his spot while he adjusted the scope.

"Enough," he grunted. "One less, now." He cocked his head to the side, angling an ear towards the sky. "You'd better get ready. He's on his way."

"You sure?" I asked. A second later, I got my answer: the very faintest whisper of vertibird blades far, far in the distance, but getting closer. Just on reflex, I started to reach for my guns, because it made me think of the Enclave vertibirds on the Moon. Instead, I pulled my helmet off my belt, secured it in place on my head, and I vanished with a shimmering rainbow miasma. "I'll keep in contact." Boone gave me a subtle thumbs-up as I left; his hand barely moved from the sniper rifle.

"You know, you could've stuck up for me, earlier..." I muttered softly as I quietly made my way over to the Visitor's Center... after I made sure to mute my headset mic first.

"And do what, deny the truth?" Sue asked with an edge of indignation to her digital voice. "It's not my fault you two are so horny."

"Chalk it up to stress relief," I grumbled. For a moment, I paused. "It... I dunno. It feels like we're nearing an end to things. The big final showdown is bearing down on us. No matter what happens or who wins when Legion makes their move, nothing is going to be the same. And I... I just... I don't want to leave anything... unsaid. Y'know?" As the words came out of my mouth, it was like I'd been dumped in ice water; as if I hadn't even thought of it like that myself until saying it out loud.

"Or undone," Sue said without a moments hesitation, puncturing my melancholy like a needle popping a balloon.

"I should never have taught you sarcasm."

The President sure knew how to make an entrance. I'll give him that much, if nothing else.

The entire venue had been decked out in red, white, and gold banners, and NCR flags were flying from every stick pretending to be a flagpole. Even though the crowd was small, it was impressively packed with soldiers in NCR fatigues and engineers in jumpsuits plastered with the bear logo. Two large cameras were mounted near the back of the crowd, on raised, swiveling platforms, and at least three men that I could see with shoulder mounted cameras were moving through the crowd; I can only assume they were trying to make everything look bigger on TV than it was in real life.

And there were NCR Rangers absolutely everywhere.

By the time I reached the edges of the Visitors Center, the vertibird was no longer a distant speck on the horizon; the pilot seemed to be taking his sweet time getting here, though, and for a few seconds I couldn't figure out why. But then, the aircraft started doing a slow circle of Hoover Dam, high above our heads, while the sounds of trumpets and drums blasted through every speaker. It was a recording of "Hail to the Chief" that started playing, because of course the NCR had appropriated the old world Presidential anthem.

What's that old phrase? Sound and fury, signifying nothing? Yeah, I think that pretty much sums it up.

The crowd erupted in cheers as 'Bear Force One' came in for its final approach, making it even easier for me to sneak up to the landing platform on the roof of the Visitor's Center. I climbed up the side, finding enough handholds for me to get up top almost the same time the vertibird landed.

The side doors on the aircraft slid open, and a pair of Rangers wearing Black Armor leaped out, guns at the ready. I didn't see the President at first because he'd gotten out from the other side, and was quickly rushed into the stairwell. A pair of engineers in jumpsuits approached the aircraft and the Rangers convinced that there was no immediate danger fell in behind the rest of the President's entourage to cover the rear.

I wasn't convinced. And I was vindicated of that suspicion mere seconds later when one of the engineers took the other to the back of the aircraft and shanked him right through the neck.

The pilot didn't seem to notice; he seemed focused on keeping the engines idling presumably, for a quick getaway. Then again, the murder was in the aircraft's blindspot, right beneath the tail boom, behind the fuselage and out of the way of the spinning tail rotor. So it's possible he didn't actually see it.

I had plenty of time to think about all that, thanks to the damn helicopter blades buffeting me with heavy winds, blasting me in the face and trying to knock me down. I was so hampered by the artificial windstorm that I couldn't get to the assassin fast enough; by the time I got in striking distance, he'd already reached into his satchel and attached a small metal box to the side of the aircraft. Quietly, I grabbed the shank out of the dead engineer's neck. I tapped the assassin on the shoulder and decloaked. When he turned around, he looked surprised.

"You're working too hard."

He continued looking surprised when I stabbed him through the eye. He fell to the wayside with a wet thud. I couldn't dwell, because I had work to do.

"Emily!" I said, tapping the side of my helmet. "C'mon, please tell me you're there, Em, I need your help right now!" There was a short burst of static.

The Legion were evil, through and through, that much was true enough... but the NCR weren't exactly saints, either.

In an instant, my mind was flooded with faces and names: all the young men and women who had been sent in droves to die far from home. So many people. So much potential. All of it squandered. All those brave men women, most of them just kids, with nothing to gain and everything to lose... gone. They'd all had their futures taken from them... and for what?

To satisfy the greed of that wretched, pathetic excuse for a man below me.

Aaron Kimball.

All the wars he'd started and dragged on for fucking years... all the bloodshed... all the horror... The blame for all of it could be laid squarely at his feet. That bloodthirsty warhawk that fuckingpolitician! was to blame; constantly urging the NCR ever onward, expanding without heed to the consequences... or to the price paid in blood by far too many.

The Bear grows without structure. Follows a symbol without knowing its history.

Ulysses' words coming out of my mouth.

A chill ran up my spine.

In that single split-second, it was like I could hear the anguished screams of the dead at my heels... and the cold grasp of thousands of hands reaching out for me. Clawing at me from beyond the grave. Urging me to take the shot. I could do it, I thought to myself, my knuckles cracking as I gripped the rifle even tighter. Right here, right now. I could bring vengeance for all those damned souls who had losteverything.

You have a clean shot, they all seemed to say.

End him now.

"Sheason, are you alright?" Sue's voice buzzed in my ear, like she was a million miles away. "Your heart rate is elevated and spiking rapidly. Are you in need of assistance?"

I didn't say a word.

I dropped the rifle in my hands.

"I'm fine..." I muttered through clenched teeth. My voice was thick and hoarse, as if my very throat was made out of sandpaper. I vanished with a rainbow miasma and climbed back down the ladder, away from that fucking sniper nest.

"Nice work up there," Boone's voice echoed in my ear, rattling around inside my skull. "He didn't stand a chance."

"Hrmm," I grunted back. I tried my best to shake it off, and made my way to the edges of the crowd once again; the President was still droning on, apparently giving some kind of award to a young looking and clean-cut soldier on stage next to him.

"Do you think that's the last of them?" Emily asked. "I mean... how many is that, anyway?"

"I count three," Boone grunted. "The one from last night. The fake engineer with the bomb. And the sniper just now."

Three.

A gnawing sensation started pulling at my gut.

Three.

Something felt wrong... but it was a different sort of wrong than before...

Three.

"It's not over," I said, suddenly alert and remembering the dozens of hit squads Vulpes had sent my way the last few months. "Legion assassins always travel in packs of four." Speaking of which:

"Four years ago, we held this dam," Kimball's voice echoed. It almost sounded like he was getting close to the end of his speech. "Four years ago, we carried the weight. Four years ago, we drew a line through the Mojave as clear as the Colorado River, a line that Caesar cannot cross..."

I scanned the crowd as he kept talking, trying to fit all the pieces together. Whenever I'd run into (and wiped out) hit squads in the past, they'd work as a team... which meant these weren't four separate plans, it was all part of the same plan. I tried to work it out in my head...

Someone to plant the bomb on the vertibird, to cut off his escape route. A sniper to take the shot. A backup in case the first one failed. What would the fourth one do? Where would the fourth one

A soldier at the edge of the crowd started looking around, despite everyone else in the crowd still looking at the President. Confident that no one was looking, he very cautiously and carefully stuck a hand in his pocket, and started slowly walking in the direction of the stage.

"Em, question:" I asked, tugging at a thought. "That bomb we defused... can it be remotely detonated?"

"Well, yeah," she sounded confused. "A remote detonator is the primary way of setting it off. The timer was the tampering failsafe. But with the detonation sequencer disabled..." she trailed off, apparently coming to the same conclusion as me.

"Boone, I got a plan," I said. "Get ready to fire on my signal." I made a beeline for the Legion assassin disguised as an NCR trooper walking briskly to the stage.

"You are the great western light of California!" Kimball continued to drone on, oblivious. "Torchbearers in the darkness! Living reminders of all that is best in our Republic! Thank you, thank you!" He gave one last wave, and there was a slight pause as he stepped away from the podium. And then: "Okay, let's get the fuck out of here. What the hell are you waiting for? Do you think I want to get shot? Let's go!"

A ripple of nervous laughter washed over the crowd, while the assassin pulled the detonator out of his pocket. He clicked the button several times, and he looked up at the defiantly un-exploded vertibird in frustration. He looked over at the empty tower, and then back behind him at the ridge, and his eyes went wide before folding into a scowl.

"Damnit!" he growled, tossing away the detonator and pulling a surprisingly large blade out of his left sleeve. He raised the blade high above his head and rushed to the stage, yelling: "Ave, true to Csar!"

The crowd erupted in screams and shouts as people started to flee in every direction, and the infernal racket almost managed to drown out the sound of snapping bone. His arm bent and twisted out of shape in my grip, and I could tell that all this fast movement was making my therm-optic camo flicker and fail something awful. I grabbed him by the collar with one hand, and buried my other fist into his face. I hit him several times, his face becoming more concave with every punch.

The crowd continued to scream and why not? As far as they could tell, a semi-transparent ghost was beating the shit out of a man who tried to kill the President. But I wasn't bothered. I just shifted my weight around, looping the satchel strap around his head, and keeping a firm hold on his squirming, bleeding body with my cybernetic hand. The satchel with the bomb suddenly appeared when it passed through the invisibility cloak.

"Ready?" I asked Boone.

"Pull," he replied. I mustered all the strength I could manage with my cybernetic arm and threw the assassin as high and as far as I possibly could. He screamed as he tumbled end over end, sailing through the air, directly above the dam.

A hush fell over the crowd as they saw this absurd spectacle, and that meant everyone heard the muffled rifle shot... right before the bomb tied around his neck exploded, consuming him in a ball of fire. It was far enough away from the crowd when it exploded, that I'm fairly certain nobody (except the assassin) got hurt. In fact, it almost looked like some kind of fireworks display going off. Almost.

"Nice shot," I said, pressing the button on my belt and returning to complete visibility; the therm-optic camo was still flickering, and with the last assassin dead, I figured I could afford to turn it off... at least momentarily.

"Nice throw," Boone responded. I looked back at the ridge and gave him a thumbs up. I was just about to leave, when suddenly I heard the unmistakable sounds of half a dozen rifles being brought to bear. I looked back, and sure enough, all the Black Armor Rangers in Kimball's honor guard had their guns trained on me.

Oh, right. I'm not supposed to be here.

"Now, now, they'll be none of that..." I heard Kimball say, as he gently put a hand on top of the nearest rifle, and all of them lowered their guns at once. He walked towards me, straightening his tie and trying to smooth his suit. "I think that thanks are in order. If it wasn't for your impressive abilities, that suicide bomber could have seriously hurt someone in the crowd here! So I thank you... whoever you are." He cleared his throat and seemed to pose for the cameras that were focused on him as he extended a hand in my direction. "What's your name, son?"

A very bad idea suddenly sprang into my head.

Punch the head, don't kick the feet.

"Oh, I'm just a Courier..." I coughed out with a laugh, looking around at the crowd. Everyone was looking at me, and I was very, very glad I was wearing this helmet. I took one step forward, but didn't shake his hand. "And I've got a message for you. I may have saved your life... but that doesn't mean I have to like you." Kimball looked confused, and rightly so.

"What?" he asked.

CRACK!

All it took was one solid left hook across the jaw, and the President of the NCR was knocked the fuck out on live TV.

"Message delivered!" I yelled as I ran in the opposite direction. By the time the bullets started flying, I had already vanished behind the therm-optic camouflage. Within seconds, I was well and truly gone.

"Good, you're packed up already!" I said, decloaking as I ran for my Corvega. Boone was already waiting for me in the passenger seat. "I think it's time for us to go, too! Great minds think alike, eh?"

Within seconds of me getting in, I fired my car up we were high-tailing it away from Hoover Dam as quickly as the wheels would allow. For a few seconds, Boone didn't say anything, and just let me get on with the 'getting us out of here as quickly as possible' part of the plan. But then he started to shake his head.

"You punched him," he growled out. "You punched... the President... in the face."

"On live TV!" I gave him a smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat. "I figured it was either punch a dick in the head, or punch a dick-head, so I went with the high road instead of below the belt." Boone just sighed heavily while I started laughing. Somewhere high above us, I could hear the rhythmic thud of the President's vertibird taking off and heading back to California.

"Was that strictly necessary?" he asked rhetorically.

"Maybe not," I shrugged. "Felt good, though."