- JACK OF SPADES -

Ding.

The two doors slid open with a snake's hiss. Stale air filled the elevator, cold as a grave.

The face on Victor's glass pane flickered and sputtered like a torch. "Penthouse floor!"

David rolled his eyes as he inched past the machine, grumbling something on his way out. I couldn't make out a single word, but I imagined it was aimed at Mr. House. It couldn't have been all that flattering, either.

In any case, I had more important things to worry about than David's insults. So, the moment Victor rolled back to let me through, I got out of the elevator as well.

From that cramped little closet I stepped out onto a cream carpet atop a grand staircase of black marble and exotic wood. The crystal chandeliers and the high windows cast their light onto the great hall, with its onyx-and-crimson striped walls, its flamboyant furniture, its perfect plants.

If my fate and that of Daro'sheeva hadn't been at stake, I may have been impressed by the opulence, by the cool air despite the scorching desert sun outside, by the vista offered by those windows.

Since they were at stake, however, I employed a rather efficient defense mechanism: I searched for faults. I had seen more grandiose palaces in Cyrodiil – more sober, too. The air, although chilly, smelled of dust and antiquity, as though confined within these walls for centuries. The vista... well, it spoke for itself. I didn't even want to peer out through the glass, to see miles and miles of dead ruins in all directions.

As I strode down the steps and my armor clinked and clanked about as loudly as David's stomps, I couldn't help but keep on noticing more and more of Victor's brethren. Wherever I turned my eyes, they were there: flanking the elevator's entrance in secluded alcoves, guarding the doors to other rooms, standing by the windows... they were everywhere. Massive, heavy, donning the exact same drawing of a man with a brutish sneer and a flat hat.

The newfound hope that had found place in my heart died out after half an hour and a nap. It was replaced by a lump right under my sternum, a nasty little knot that made it harder to breathe, to swallow, to stay composed.

We were in no position to bargain. We had no leverage at all save for David's big coin, and even that one could be taken by force. These hulking things would crush us if House so wished, if we offended him with so much as a refusal or a moment of hesitation. And what about the weapons they were surely concealing? I refused to believe these robots' only means of offense were those spindly arms. David had described them as an army, after all, and Divines only knew what those armored bodies hid...

No, enough. I was approaching Daro'sheeva's levels of paranoia, and that just wouldn't do. I was a smart and rational man, not a scared kitten. I should bloody well act like one.

First of all, if House had been protecting and running this city for centuries and it had not been conquered or burned to the ground after all this time, then he couldn't be so petty and fickle to begin with. Second, if these machines could hide their weapons, having them pointed at us would certainly help with the intimidation factor, but they were not; he wanted things to be civil. Third, this was a meeting: House had something to earn from this, we had something to earn from this.

Still, that didn't change our position by much. That lump didn't go away, either. Because deep down, no matter how much I rationalized the situation and hoped for House to be an illuminated and understanding ruler, I could only be sure of one thing.

We were at his mercy.

Being a smart and rational man, I couldn't help but sigh.

Taking a good, long look at this entire situation, I was at the mercy of a rather long list of people, phenomena and deities regardless. House's name on that list didn't change matters by much.

I stepped down from the stairs and onto another bone white carpet, at an arm's length from David – who went for the black wood door to our left, guarded by two more of those machines.

Said machines raised their right arms and pointed them straight towards us. Their claws folded back onto their blue bracers, and tiny red lights glared in the holes where their palms would have been.

I had no intention of discovering what those lights were. David, for his part, didn't seem to mind. He reached into his pocket and held up the large coin Victor had called 'the Chip'.

Four endless seconds of silence went by.

Then the red lights went out.

Remembering what David had cawed five or ten minutes ago about the walls having eyes and ears, I didn't sag in relief. Better to seem cocky than scared.

A few more instants and the robots opened the doors for us.

More soft carpet, more expensive furniture, more impeccable and odorless plants.

No robots, however. Not a single one of them. I shot a few glances around, just to be sure. Nothing. Not by the windows, not by the doors we had just come through or by the one on the far end, not behind the railing on the upper floor. None.

Once I had stopped looking for them, I realized why.

Before the windows was a... frame, for lack of a better word. Cast from steel, tall and wide as two Nord men one on the other's shoulders, it was surrounded by all manners of devices: some shone, others buzzed, others yet beeped and many more I could not see a point to. Four smaller panes of glass hung by the sides, green numbers and letters written on them.

Inside the frame was a portrait. Always in glass, black and glowing green, as though painted by the psychotic adepts of a chthonic cult. Instead of a primordial god or a nightmare made manifest, however, the subject was normal. Banal, almost.

A man in his fifties, his hair perfectly combed, his mustache perfectly trimmed, his suit perfectly identical to the purple one I had found yesterday. His might have been black. I couldn't be certain, there were no colors other than sickly green, grayish black and the shades in-between.

What really caught my attention, however, were the confident smirk and the condescending eyes. It was an expression one may only find on a Jarl or a Count, someone who knows the true meaning of power and richness, who knows their will shall be carried out without question, who knows no man or woman can hope to match his greatness.

Mr. House.

"I see you've finally come to your senses, Mr. Di Carlo. It didn't take you long."

His voice surrounded us, august, bored, mocking. It had the same ethereal quality of a Daedric Prince's to it, paired with the same attitude.

It reminded me of that time my uncle and I had hiked to the Shrine of Meridia west of Skingrad, some ten years ago. We had made an offering to... well, alright, he had wanted to see whether the Lady of Infinite Energies would reply. As a joke.

Suffice to say, she had, and things had only gone downhill from there. Anyway, not a good moment to reminisce, especially once I caught a very interesting detail.

House's voice was distorted and echoing, just like the music David had been listening to earlier on. A trick to make himself heard and sound more imposing. Quite similar to the long-range transmission spells used by mages of the Synod or the College of Whispers, come to think of it: an image was projected, and the caster spoke through it. Usually because they were too far away to attend a meeting, sometimes for safety reasons.

"And you must be Mr. Severus." House continued. I assumed he had focused on me, seeing how he wasn't physically present and I had no eyes or motions to go by. "This encounter is nothing short of historical, a meeting between men of different worlds. I'm afraid this isn't the focus, however. I apologize for making you part of this in such a brusque manner, but you had the misfortune of being found by Mr. Di Carlo here, who's been... refusing to cooperate." He paused, maybe shaking his head in the meantime."I had no way to make him heed me other than the promise of information about you and your associates. I hope you'll understand."

"Thank you, and I do, sir." I said, bowing as procedure dictates. Procedure he wasn't respecting at all, given how he had no qualms about openly insulting David in front of me. "And I wouldn't call it a misfortune. Aside from having saved me, it is only thanks to him that I can..."

I hesitated. He wasn't here in person, could I still say 'meet'? No, of course not. This was no encounter, no matter how he called it. Then what?

"... Communicate with you, sir." I finished. More neutral, better suited for the occasion.

"Of course." House chuckled. "You have a thing or two to learn from him, Mr. Di Carlo. Like manners, for example."

One look at David's face made me realize I shouldn't have bothered with procedure.

"Manners'll hardly change the outcome, Bob, but I'll try." He replied before putting on a very fake and very eloquent smile, cheesy and cheerful beyond words. He fished inside his pocket, pulled out the Chip and headed over to the portrait, where a tiny slot had popped open. "Here's the Chip, oh great and egregious Mr. House. Good as new. I hope you're satisfied with the delivery service and are willin' to forgive the Courier charged bringin' this to you, for I'm nothing before your radiance." He bowed theatrically and inserted the Chip with utmost care. "There, oh magnificent Lord House. Sir, workin' for you's a dream come true! I've been smilin' ever since I got the job, no matter what I've been through and how many times I've risked my life since, 'cause the knowledge of servin' a legend such as you is compensation enough."

If this was how conversations went between these two, I had to admit House might have a point when he said being found by David had been a 'misfortune'. The tension was so high that, if I were to stand between those two, my hair would burst into flames.

"Yes, yes..." House hummed as the slot under the portrait clicked closed, clearly paying no heed to the compliments David had vomited. I could almost see him all over the Chip, a smile on his face, a light in his eyes. "Ah, such a small thing, isn't it? And yet so... capacious. So very dear. Decades of hiring salvagers out west to search for this little relic in the ruins of a place called Sunnyvale. That's where the Chip was printed, on October twenty-second, two-thousand-seventy-seven. It was to have been hand-delivered to me here, at the Lucky 38, the next day. But the bombs fell first. Suffice it to say, the delivery was never made." He snorted, bringing an end to his tirade – most of which was meaningless rubbish to my ears. "And now, after hiring you, I had to wait weeks more to see it delivered to me."

"I'm sorry, but I was kinda shot in the head." David all but shouted, enunciating each word and knocking on his helmet at each syllable. "Recoverin' from that and findin' out who tried to off me took precedence over that artifact of yours, Robbie."

"If that is justification enough to you then revel in it, I clearly can't stop you from doing so." House dismissed him. His tone implied he would have waved him away, had we been able to see the gesture. "Now, we agreed that you'd be paid in information regarding Mr. Severus and his associates. Since I'm a man of my word, I will uphold my end of the bargain. Mr. Severus?"

I pricked my ears and straightened up, wringing hands behind my back. "Yes, sir?"

"Let me begin by saying that the person who employed you wishes to remain anonymous, and that they apologize sincerely for the shock and your eventual treatment at the hands of the locals." House explained. Fingers intertwined to hide a courteous pout, most likely. "They felt that, had they provided you with any more details, none of you four would have accepted."

I heard leather squeak and bones creak as I balled my fists. I clenched my jaw, lest I voiced my thoughts.

An apology? That was the best this bastard could do? Of course none of us would have ever accepted an insane plan, who could willingly join such madness? Instead, he or she had deceived us. We had been taken from our world, dropped onto this hellscape for some secret reason, and were now lost and purposeless. I and Daro'sheeva were forced to work with a megalomaniac, while the Orc and the Elf... I had no idea what had happened to them.

And I was supposed to accept an apology?

To Oblivion with them and their apology. I would tear apart this grand scheme of theirs and watch them despair as it all crumbled around them. After they had suffered enough, I would run them through and end their miserable lives once and for all.

Then, and only then, I would accept their apology.

I didn't say that out loud. I merely nodded once. "I see."

"I'm truly sorry you had to go through this, Mr. Severus." House added in a tone that suggested otherwise. It was more of a formality than anything. "Were you reunited with your associates after the incident?"

I remained quiet for a moment. I couldn't meet David's gaze, or he would realize something was wrong.

Whatever I told him, my answer would only give him an edge. Lying wasn't a good idea, he might ask for proof, or he might have already observed us and thus know that the Orc and the Elf weren't with us.

Telling him the truth wasn't that much better, to be honest. The knowledge that Daro'sheeva was alone at David's home was bound to give him ideas – especially in case we refused to work for him. Despite the affable façade he maintained while talking to me, I wouldn't put it past him to have his machines storm the place, abduct her, and hold her hostage until we decided to follow his orders.

Poor choice though it may be, honesty might pay off with a man like him.

"Unfortunately, no." I said in the end. "Not with all of them, at least. David only rescued me and another."

"I see, I see." House mused, thoughtful, perhaps caressing his mustache. "The kitten you carried out of Vault Twenty-four in your arms... very knight-like of yours, I must say. Daro'sheeva, is it?"

I did my best to hide the shiver that ran through my spine. It wasn't surprising to discover he knew, but hearing him call her 'kitten' was... unsettling. There had been nothing out there, how had he seen us? Who had informed him? It couldn't have been David, that was for sure.

"In any case, I appreciate your sincerity, Mr. Severus - it's a rare quality these days." House went on, satisfied. In all likelihood with himself, not me. "I will do anything in my power to find your two lost associates, you have my word. You'll forgive me for not disclosing everything right away, but I would rather have all four of you here. We're talking about very sensible information, after all, and it concerns your entire group." At this point, I imagined him to flick his wrist. "In the meantime, I trust you're capable enough to assist me in some... delicate matters."

I closed my eyes and sighed, as opposed to David's very audible scoff. He couldn't tell us everything, or else we would have very little reason to work for him. Hence, not a good deal for him. I had been expecting this moment to come, yes, but it was still frustrating to hear him speak those words. "Of course, sir."

"Of fuckin' course, sir." David echoed, arms folded on his chest, his foot's tapping muffled by the carpet. "We work for you, you give us answers and, as a little bonus, you find the others, who'll have the privilege of workin' for you as well in exchange for intel. Correct?"

"Yes." House stated. After his endless tirade about the Chip's history, curtness came off as a surprise. "Since Mr. Severus has no ties to Earth and would have no reason to see the local civilization rise from the ashes, and since you are simply incapable of grasping the concept of progress, this is the only means I have for you to work with me. I trust you realize this is just business."

Well... he did have a point. We'd have no reason to do as he said otherwise. David hated him, and I wanted to go home. Tragic though the conditions may be, I didn't belong here. Why waste time and energies for a world I hadn't even known existed up until yesterday, one I would never want to set foot on again?

"Fuck it, whatever..." David mumbled to himself. "Like we have a choice."

"I am sure these last days have been tiresome for both of you, so this assignment won't take you far." House began. Giving his back to us and staring out the window, if he could. "It concerns the Omertas and their den of vice, Gomorrah - a local... gambling den and brothel, Mr. Severus. As of late, my concerns about the Omertas have grown. I've never expected loyalty, mind you. A reliably underhanded tribe is just as constant to deal with as one that always runs true." He paused. I was getting used to the lack of gestures by imagining them, but not being able to see him still unnerved me. "But that's just it. Lately, the Omertas' cooperative silence has been deafening. Not a single complaint? They're up to something."

I wasn't sure what he'd meant when talking about tribes, but I could see what the problem was. These people had pledged loyalty to House, but all of a sudden they were acting suspiciously, so we would have to investigate. I wouldn't be surprised if we were to uncover a betrayal of sorts, maybe a plot to overthrow House himself.

Not that he was going out of his way to be loved or trusted, mind you.

"Wait... you want us to check into the Omertas?" David laughed, raising his helmet to scratch at his head. "And you expect that's gonna turn something up? I was a cop, but that don't mean I work miracles. Those fuckers are the closest thing New Vegas got to the Sicilian Mafia, and you think an investigation's gonna work? What, want us to teach the White Gloves the virtues of frugality while we're at it?"

"The Omertas are fanatically loyal to each other, yes." House conceded with more than a little annoyance. I could practically hear his scowl. "Still, among any group, one can find the occasional degenerate. Gomorrah's receptionist happens to be one. For years she passed on whispers of what was taking place at the casino, in exchange for payment. A few months ago, she clammed up. Odds are she's scared, but I've had no way of approaching her. Start with her. And please, let's avoid a repeat of The Tops, shall we?"

... What were 'The Tops'? What had happened there?

David looked like he might continue to rant, but he just shook his head. He turned on his heel and gestured for me to follow. "As you wish, no point in arguing. C'mon Felix, told ya we'd see Vegas someday, right? Well, today's your lucky day."

"Welcome to New Vegas, kid."

I made a vague gesture so that he would know I'd heard him, and then I... I just craned my neck, an stared, and blinked as little as possible to take in as many details as I could.

I had never thought a city like this could exist.

Everything was so... so bizarre, so vibrant, so unlike this world. This was the city of lights from last night, miles away from David's home. The buildings were far higher than anything I had ever seen, Dwarven or otherwise. The highest they got back in Tamriel was two, three floors. A little more with castles and towers, quite a lot more with those tree-cities in Valenwood.

The shortest building here must have been ten stories high.

Colossi of glass, steel and cement rose to either side of me, each so wildly different from the last. One far to my left might have been designed by an Altmer, slender and elegant, cyan and blue, almost out of a fairy tale with the conic rooftops and the pelagic fountain; another one, much closer, resembled a Dwemer fortress, squat and solid, gray and brazen, simple and yet striking despite the complexity all around it; yet another was a cheap copy of Imperial architecture, what with the plain columns, the offset arches and the rough bas-reliefs in white plaster. Others yet seemed so strange and outlandish – I think I saw a great black pyramid and an arrow-like tower hundreds of yards to my right.

The afternoon sun struck every window and blinded me with white and gold reflections. On top of that were the artificial lights, so many hues and glows coming from every building, forming shapes, writings, figures, all zany and eye-catching: a green, fat, four-legged dragon was perched atop the sign of the 'Dragon's Lair'; a man in a blue suit, hat and scarf like those on Victor's portrait, leaned against the 'Marston Saloon'; a hideous purple thing with three eyes and viscid tentacles clung to the 'Venusian Outpost'.

What's more, none of these were homes or inns, not even lords' palaces. On the way here, David had told me these were all gambling dens and a couple of them, to some degree, were also brothels. They were called 'casinos'.

They sure were more stylish than the rundown houses in the dark alleyways of Riften I was used to.

And the crowd, by the Nine, the crowd... after seeing David's neighborhood, I had thought the world's population to be distributed among tribal villages, few and far between. Yet here I was, by the ancient man and his rusty behemoth, with hundreds walking back and forth along the sides of the main road, just as colorful and varied as the buildings they entered. Men wore suits and shirts in dozens of different colors, be they plain, striped or checkered; women pranced around in skimpy dresses of all lengths and shapes. There were also small groups of armed people in desert tan clothes and helmets, uniforms or armors of sorts, I reckoned.

The road itself was enormous, twice as broad as either the cardo maximus or the decumanus maximus of the Imperial City. The distance between any two opposite casinos was of a hundred and fifty feet at least, of which some forty in the middle were free of pedestrians, and over a hundred were buried by parallel rivers of men and women.

As was to be expected, the noise was infernal. So many shouts, laughs and cries, so many footsteps, clapping hands and hollers...

David's elbow nudging my chestplate put an end to my wonder. I shut my jaw closed and met his putrid grin. "So, whaddaya think?"

"It's amazing." I breathed out. I wasn't even sure he'd heard me with all this racket. "This is... incredible."

He chuckled and waggled his brows. "Betcha don't have stuff like this back home, huh?"

The best answer I could give him was a nod.

Said nod brought to my attention the large, square shapes sitting by some of the casinos. From this far away, they appeared to be tall and wide as two or three men and twice as long. Everyone kept their distance, the only figures I spotted around them were machines; too bulky to be human, their movements too regular.

Like a little child setting foot inside the Imperial City for the first time, I pointed at them. "What are those?"

"You mean the trucks?" David asked me in turn. I blinked. He rolled his eyes. "Right, no cars or trucks back there... well, they're pretty much, uh... traders' carts. Self-propelled, like mine." He banged a fist on the side of his own vehicle without impaling his hand on anything. "These on the Strip, they make deliveries for the casinos – food, booze, the odd piece of furniture or gamblin' equipment customers thrash. House got everything covered. It's an automated process, only human element's the driver. Pay's good, from what I hear."

So machines handled the near entirety of it... I had to give him credit where it was due, House truly was a brilliant man. That considerably cut down on both times and prices. The organization was excellent for what I'd thought to be a dead city.

As his erratic usual, David went back to being serious all of a sudden and adjusted the straps to the three weapons on his back. "Alright, you've had time to take it all in. Now we've got a job to do." He cocked his head to his left. "That's where we're headed."

I followed the movement, and... well, I did arch a brow at what I saw.

The first thing to catch my eye was the grand, tar black and fiery red sign that proclaimed 'Gomorrah'. I will admit, that was thanks to the silhouettes of two giant women sitting on each side, sensually raising and lowering their legs.

As sensually as a sign can, at any rate.

As for the building itself, it was one of the simplest in New Vegas. About a dozen stories high, a slimmer white tower set into a broader gray base, outlined with orange and red lights. It was massive as opposed to what I was used to, no doubt, yet not as mind-boggling as the rest of the casinos around.

To be sure, the rest of the casinos around didn't have half-naked girls dancing by the entrance, either. I guess they were the reason for the gaggle of enthusiastic men and the few yet equally enthusiastic women nearby.

Without a word, David began his march towards the Gomorrah.

Now that we were out in the open and far from his vehicle, it was hard to tell which of the two was drawing more attention to himself.

On one hand, he was armed to the teeth with those noisy weapons of his, wearing his green set of armor which must have been quite the rarity these days.

On the other, I trotted behind him to catch up, dressed in full glass plate and with a sword sheath dangling from my hip when not a single person in this place was neither dressed nor armed like me.

Many whispered among themselves, the less discreet pointed. I could feel every eye on the cobblestone path from the road to the building focusing on us, on every little detail that set us apart from the rest of them and made us an unconventional distraction, a novelty.

The only ones unaffected by our presence were the dancers in black corsets and boots, who giggled and beckoned for us to enter the casino as they would with any other customer. One with red hair and freckles blew a kiss my way, too.

I... wasn't used to this sort of attention. Crowds tended to avoid me, they didn't point because they thought I looked funny. Prostitutes wanted nothing to do with me or, at the very least, ignored me.

This was the exact opposite.

A couple more winks from the dancers and we were under the crude cement canopy of the Gomorrah. We climbed the three steps, found ourselves on a scarlet carpet, and pushed the black glass doors open.

A wave of acrid smoke hit me with physical force, clinging to my nose and mouth like hot tar. My eyes watered, my throat itched, I started coughing.

This stench was new, in the worst possible acceptation of the term. I hadn't the faintest idea what sort of garbage they were burning, I could only tell the two fire pits by the entrance weren't the source. I scanned the sad brown vestibule for any signs, yet I didn't see anything beside tall vases, deep red divans and matching velvet drapes or a curved wooden desk to my left.

Those, and a pair of disreputable gentlemen in striped white suits and white hats.

In the time it took me to cough again, they had placed themselves a scant ten inches from our faces and were all but growling. They could only be described as the human equivalent of guard dogs: flat noses, beady eyes, square jaws.

The one on the left was the taller and thinner of the two. He folded his arms on his chest and looked down on us. "No one but the Omertas are allowed to carry guns into Gomorrah. You're gonna have to check 'em with me and Tony."

The shorter and far broader one, Tony, narrowed his eyes on David. "Wait a sec, I know ya. Don't he look familiar, Louie?"

The tall one, Louie, grimaced. Was that... fear? "Shit, Tony... s'he that ghoul?"

"Really now?" David huffed out, nonplussed. "Didn't think I'd be famous with the mafiosi wannabes."

I frowned. David's presence was... distinctive, to say the least, but I had reason to believe this went beyond his mere appearance. Basing myself on House's recommendation first, and on these two's words now, I somehow suspected he had done something either spectacularly stupid or spectacularly destructive.

"Yer famous on the Strip, shuffler." Tony went on, not even registering the quip. "Yer the one who did in the Chairmen, aintcha? Drove right into The Tops, guns blazing, and sicked 'em all." He bared his crooked teeth in a smirk. "Let me tell ya right away, ghoul: unlike the Chairmen, we Omertas know how to put up a fight. Be smart 'bout this. Ya give us yer guns, we don't shoot ya where ya stand. Deal?"

At this, I couldn't help but shoot a furtive glance towards him, the green cloth armor he wore, the arsenal he carried. Okay, he was always dressed up as though he were ready to go to war, that I could see for myself. But... could he really have slaughtered an entire casino single-handed? And why? He was a strange fellow, yes, not a bloody lunatic. It wasn't something I could picture him doing unless he had an extremely compelling reason to.

Worst of all, David didn't protest or correct them, he didn't bat an eye – in fact, he went so far as to do a courteous bow. He picked the various weapons off his back and, one by one, nestled them between Louie's folded arms. After that, he fished into the pockets of his vest and dropped a couple hand-sized ones over of those. Finally, he took the two daggers strapped to his legs and balanced them at the very top.

Louie went wide-eyed and stared down, working his mouth without a sound. As anyone normal enough would in his place.

Tony whistled while his colleague and David shuffled over to the desk. He tried to look down on me as well – problematic, given he was five feet nothing – and knocked on my chestplate. "Yer turn, sheik."

There were several reasons as to why that was unlikely, yet I needed no more than three.

Number one, I didn't want his fingers anywhere near me or my sword.

Number two, I wasn't too keen on being left defenseless here, inside enemy territory, where even David would be unarmed.

Number three, stupid accents and idiotic insults were starting to get on my nerves.

I narrowed my eyes on him and condensed those three points into three words. And a pair of introductory coughs. "I think not."

Tony let out a nasty laugh and set a hand on his hip, careful to leave the jacket open. A smooth gray handle hung from his belt, all too similar to that of David's weapons. "You sure you wanna play it this way, chump? Odds ain't in the ghoul's favor, and they sure as hell ain't in yers."

I swallowed down the cockiness that came with the threat. Getting rid of him wouldn't be that big of a deal, sure, but gutting someone at the casino's doorstep might not be the wisest decision in this situation. After all, as he had very eloquently put it, there were bound to be more people in white suits in here, all armed with weaponry capable of shattering my armor, all rather angry, and all summing up to a number far higher than two.

"Goddammit Felix, I take the diplomatic route and you try to get us killed?" David butted in and slapped my pauldron, nearly throwing me into the stocky bastard. "Dontcha worry about this funny fucker right here, he works the mornin' at the Dragon's Lair. Armor's painted tin, sword's for show."

Tony clacked his tongue in disagreement, and pointed at the hilt by my side. "Nice of ya to stick out fer a friend, ghoul, but that don't look for show to me."

Before I could understand what he had in mind, before I could formulate a plan to get out of this, before I could meet his eyes, David replied.

He grabbed my sword and ripped it out of the scabbard with a melodious hiss.

I watched in dismay as he adjusted his grip on it, presented it to an alarmed Tony, and started tapping his fingers all over the blade. "This piece of shit don't look for show to you?" He rapped his knuckles on it. "Cheap-ass stainless steel shinier'n Lake Mead's water, stupid runes and carvings for rule of cool, edge dulled on purpose so no one gets hurt when he swings it 'round?" He ran a thumb over the edge. Somehow, he didn't bleed. "I did in the Chairmen, I know my weapons, and this thing's better off on a wall. Let him keep it, they're gonna fire him if he loses it."

Tony, persuaded by David's insulting analysis, touched and smeared and pinched the blade as well, grumbling to himself all the while. By some miracle, he never got around to testing the edge on his stubby thumb. He pushed it back to David with a shake of his head. "Coulda fooled me."

After five intense breaths and a fit of coughing, my heart had slowed down enough for me to play along. Had this been someone smarter or less humorous, things could have gone differently.

Very differently.

I grabbed the sword by the blade, pulled it out of his hands as roughly as my trembling fingers allowed me, and shoved it back into its sheath. "It was a joke..."

I couldn't keep my voice from shaking. That had been far too close for my liking. What if David had cut him down by accident? What if he had cut him down on purpose? I didn't know him well, and what little I had learned today pointed towards him being capable of the latter.

"Yeah, that joke was about to getcha shot at and kicked out, Felix." David grunted back. He gestured towards Tony, who was now chortling to himself. "I'm kinda famous 'round here for all the wrong reasons, how the fuck's he supposed to know it's a costume prop?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long, shaky breath. Merciful Stendarr, I should have just relinquished my sword. I had decent knowledge of Destruction and Restoration and very rudimentary basics of Illusion, I could hold my ground with magic alone if the situation demanded it.

So I made to unbuckle my belt and scabbard.

"You can keep that piece o' trash, funny guy, long as you don't act funny with it." Tony stopped me with a wave of his hand. "Got anything else on ya?"

I sighed. Again. As much as I disliked the man, I was fine with hostile words. They weren't hostile actions. "No, I don't."

As though I had told him the exact opposite, the little son of a whore raised up my arms, spread my legs apart, and started patting down on my armor. Not content with staining the plates with his oily fingers and palms, he also went for the mail and the leather.

Somewhere between seething and upset, but aware of the fact that fighting him would result in a bloodbath, I didn't rebel. So I let him finish and wipe his hands on his pants. "A'ight, yer clean. Welcome to Gomorrah." After that, he regarded David with pursed lips. "And you'd better remember, zombie: we're watching ya."

David's eye twitched.

Trying not to think too hard about the implications of either the warning nor the reaction, I followed him to the round desk.

Behind it sat a young woman with auburn hair, under her thirties for sure, wearing just a pinch of makeup around her chestnut eyes and her full lips and sporting a white striped jacket, like the two idiots by the entrance. I was sure she had a sprinkle of perfume on herself, but this noxious fog didn't really allow me to smell it.

The woman House had told us about, no doubt.

Once she was done cramming David's arsenal in an undersized box, she looked up at us and smiled. If the figures we presented somehow distressed her, it didn't show. "Hello, and welcome to Gomorrah. What can I help you with today?"

"Hello to you, ma'am." David said with his most impeccable smile. Hers twitched in disgust for a split-second. "And y'know what? There is one thing you can help us with today. Y'see, a li'l birdie told me that you've got all the good dirt on what goes on 'round here."

"I sure do." The girl giggled, as if to say 'not for you'. "But you know the saying... loose lips sink ships."

"Then it's a good thing we're in the desert, darlin'." David retorted, and they both laughed, no matter that the joke was worth a moan at best. "Still, I hoped you could loosen up those lips for me, since..."

A bang and what had all the sounds of a tavern song interrupted him.

Without going for my sword and without drawing more attention than necessary to myself, I turned around to see what was going on.

A pair of men in desert tan uniforms had barged into the casino's vestibule, both holding a black square bottle in hand and both very drunk. A shame, take out the slur and they weren't half bad at singing... whatever it was they were singing. Because those weren't words, that was for sure.

Of course, Tony and Louie met them head-on and snarled at them to get out. They didn't obey and sat down on the floor, raising their bottles higher and singing louder.

I shrugged them off as the guard dogs' problem and focused back onto David.

Who, taking advantage of the situation, had leaned in closer to the girl and placed both hands on the desk. His smile was nowhere to be seen. "Listen here girl, I ain't got time to lose, so here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna tell me what's goin' on here, every little detail about this plan you Omertas are hidin' from House, and I'm gonna be a nice old ghoul, thank you kindly, and you won't see me again."

At this point, the girl sneered. "Or what? You're gonna threaten me? Beat me up? Rape me?" She snorted. "Try harder. Give me a reason not to call Tony and Louie and have 'em kick you out, creep."

In the meantime, the two drunkards changed song. Tony and Louie's threats grew louder.

The corners of David's mouth turned downwards. "You do that, I'm gonna peel off that cute face of yours and wear it, been a while since I last had a face. Then I'm takin' my weapons back from that box by your right foot and I'm gonna murder every single one of you Omerta fuckers, like I did the Chairmen." At the expression of pure dismay on her face, he smiled. Far too wide. "Yeah, I'm that ghoul. I did The Tops, and I can do Gomorrah. And you're gonna play human shield with me while I gun down all of your friends, one by one, right before your eyes. We clear?"

Both I and the girl blanched at David's tone. I had no doubt he was just trying to intimidate her, and yet it had sounded a pinch too heartfelt for my liking. I couldn't help but shiver at the thought of him wearing her face and massacring anyone who stood in his way... mostly because, grisly torture aside, he had already done it once before.

"Oh, shit... shit, I-I-I... I don't know, they... th-they don't tell me their p-plans." She whimpered, trying to shrink and hide behind the desk. Gods, her confidence had deflated in an instant. "B-but I know someone who does – it's Ca-Cachino. I... I-I heard he's involved in some shady business..."

If he was half as sorry for terrifying her as I was, David didn't show. He reached over to cup his fingers under her chin like an old lover. She recoiled and closed her eyes. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Now tell me, where do I find Cachino?"

"The Brimstone." She squeaked, a tear streaking down her cheek. "He... he's at the B-B-Brimstone, with the b-bar and the stage. That's... that's all I know. Please, please don't hurt me..."

It was as though a little clawed hand was clutching at my heart and squeezing. He hadn't just threatened her, he'd petrified her and he was getting a kick out of it as well. By Mara, this wasn't right, he...

He had done the same thing I had with those children under Markarth, I was being a bit of a hypocrite there. Still, it... I don't even know at this point. Maybe it was the chivalrous part of me screaming how dishonorable it was to make a lady cry, maybe this was a bit too cruel for me. I had felt bad after frightening those two kids, at least.

"Ah, don't worry, you're too cute to use as a human shield anyway." David chuckled, rising from the desk and clasping his hands together, leaving her to her fair share of trauma and future nightmares. "Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am. We'll be off to the Brimstone."

With that, he brushed past the two guards as they threw out the drunk men and pulled back the curtain opposite the entrance. With reluctance, I followed him.

This time, I nearly hacked and coughed a lung out.

It felt as though I had just stepped inside a cloud – a shame this one wasn't made of vapor, but of some bloody poison David and everyone else here appeared to be immune to.

Once I had made sure both of my lungs wouldn't go anywhere, I set my gaze upon the immense hall we had just entered.

It was... something. Not my cup of tea, but I could understand the appeal.

To keep with the fire and smoke theme, everything was painted in burnt browns, scorched reds, charred blacks. Everything, from the carpets, to the walls, to the drapes. The only elements that stood out were the white of the guards' suits, the green of the tables, the vivid orange of the lights and the flames.

Pounding, arrhythmical noises pierced the air, accompanied by a feverish handful of horns and lutes. This... music, if it could be called that, only added to the wildness of the place.

This was a casino, a glorified gambling den, and it was plain to see. Scores of people bent over the green tables as if their very lives were at stake. They shouted and hollered, they drank and smoked narcotics I couldn't recognize (which went to explain the miasma), they threw or grabbed small, colorful coins as if they were made of pure gold. A great deal of them just sat in front of boxes and... pulled levers. That was all they did, for no discernible reason, over and over and over again.

Sure enough, the brothel part was much more striking. The women and men dressed in little more than black underwear clearly weren't enough, there were also cages hanging off the roof, like in the most barbaric of fetishes. Cages where more prostitutes of either sex danced as though possessed by Sanguine himself, shaking the bars, throwing their heads back, their bodies flowing like water.

And though the atmosphere may have come as a surprise, the undertones to it all did not. In a place like this, far from the sun and hidden from prying eyes, death was bound to be the most loyal of customers. Accidents with the alcohol or the drugs, frenzy and ecstasy too wild for a heart to bear, plain and simple vengeance or backstabbing... the shadows remembered. They weren't as loud as the noises all around, but they were there, hissing and ticking in tune with the music.

Speaking of unease, as soon as we'd taken a few steps away from the curtain, I blocked David's path. "Can we talk about what happened back there?"

"What, getting' high and mighty all of a sudden?" He all but snapped, shaking my hand off. "You got no idea what these people are capable of. You've seen the mobsters, and they comment themselves. The receptionist? I'm willin' to bet she used to be a hooker, then sold or ratted out enough of the girls to be promoted."

"Yes, but you do realize that assuming something and that something being true are a wee bit different, right?" I snarked, aghast by how easily he had justified himself. There wasn't a shred of guilt in his voice, nothing. Did this come normal to him? "How does that make you better than them?"

At that, he outright laughed. "Better than them? I've never said I'm better'n 'em, that I'm some kind of hero. 'Cause I ain't, never have been, never will be." He shrugged a shoulder. "Sometimes I give a shit and try to be humane, but that's as heroic as I get. And, as you mighta guessed, I don't give a shit about the Omertas."

I... didn't know what I was expecting, to be honest. He was right, he wasn't a hero and he'd never claimed to be. And yet he had saved two lives yesterday. I doubted that was just him 'giving a shit', a whim of his conscience he'd indulged in solely to let it shut up - if his conscience did bother him at all.

At least, I hoped it wasn't.

But after that, I had to ask. After what I had heard, after what he had said himself, I had to know. "What about these Chairmen you slaughtered? I take it you didn't give a shit about them, either?"

At that, David's smile disappeared. It didn't turn into a snarl, his expression just... darkened. "Their boss crossed me – they crossed me. Tried to kill me and buried me in an unmarked grave for that fuckin' Chip. I just got my payback, fair and square."

Oh.

That was... personal. Nowhere near rational or sane, but who could stay rational or sane after all that? Not to say he had done well to carry out a massacre, yet he... he'd had a reason to. A valid one at that, questionable though the concept may be.

"Listen, it's great we're having a significant argument about morals and the concept of right and wrong, but we've got a job to do so you and the kitten can go back home." David croaked with a complimentary pat on the back. "And that job is to get to the Brimstone and find Cachino." He scratched the back of his head. "Wherever the Brimstone is."

Yes, he was right. We would have time for this later, once we were back home... his home. We had much to talk about, mostly so that I could understand what went on in his head, but this wasn't the right moment.

As for the matter at hand, my eyes were drawn to the lovely ladies walking among their customers. I cocked my head towards a busty brunette chatting with a slim blonde. "Well, they work here. They're bound to know."

He patted me on the back once again to let me know he approved, and started looking around.

I thought he was choosing one based on her appearance and her movements, someone both friendly and nice to look at. A woman, ideally. It would have been a bit awkward to speak with a male prostitute.

Needless to say, we... had different standards.

Now, many things could be said about David as a person, but I believe it is fair to say he was physically repugnant, no going around it. And repugnant though he may be, I had little problem with him because he was clad in full battle gear, helmet included. The only parts of his decaying flesh I could see were his hands and his face, which were far from a nice sight, but what could I do about it? It wasn't his fault. He had lived as long as a vampire, long enough to rot alive, a victim of the apocalypse and of the tragedy that was life on this world.

Still, out of the untold billions that he'd mentioned to have lived on this world before the Great War of his, he couldn't have been the only survivor to have become... this.

Now I had the proof he wasn't the only one.

Unfortunately, said proof was wearing black leather lingerie, high heels and a spiked collar. A centuries-old ravaged corpse that somehow still breathed and lived who had elected to work as a whore, proudly displaying almost every inch of her festering and sloughed-off skin as she waddled our way, not a hair left on her skull.

The polar opposite of libido.

How could anyone on this Gods-forsaken world find such a sight attractive? Who would pay to have sex with... with that? By Dibella, no, this was wrong on so many levels I didn't even know where to start. I didn't even want to start. It was borderline necrophilia, being aroused by something like that, wanting to shag her or...

I swallowed down bile at the thought.

How hard would I have to bang my head against a table's corner to get those horrific images out of my mind?

Quite hard, I presumed.

I masked a helpless gag as another cough and averted my eyes, setting them on a tall, exotic beauty with skin the color of ebony. She might have been miles away given our current company, but at least she didn't look like she'd been exhumed yesterday. In fact, she was quite a sight. The white tribal paints on her arms and face only helped with that.

"Been so long since I last saw a man of the law..." The ghoulish apparition purred, even though it came out as a cat's death rattle. Ugh, don't glance, don't even think about her. "Hmm, are you on duty, officer? How about you interrogate me?"

Divines have mercy on me. I hadn't eaten anything, but I suspected my stomach wouldn't care. Focus on the ebony girl, on the grace with which she turned around, on the hint of sadness in her dark eyes, on how close to perfection her arse was.

"Sorry sweetheart, got work to do." David stopped her, and thank the Nine for that. "You happen to know where the Brimstone is?"

The... woman snickered. That had sounded almost attractive – almost being the key word here. "'Course I do. Straight down the hall, middle door, can't miss it... sir."

It was David's turn to chuckle. "Thanks, miss..."

"Rosette." She breathed. I wanted to believe she was exhausted, not excited. "Come see me again, officer. You won't regret it."

I closed my eyes and prayed House would reward us handsomely for this ordeal.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" David mused after the sharp click of her heels had vanished. "Even recognized the uniform..."

I might have commented, oh if I might have commented. However, that would have required me to open my mouth, and doing so would have certainly resulted in me ruining the carpets.

I just wanted to go straight down the hall, past the middle door, and be done with this.