New Vegas, Nevada
November 7, 2284

The Lucky 38 stood proud, an accusing finger glowing brightly in the darkness of the New Vegas strip. Maria took a breath before rushing in, avoiding the glare of a handful of Omertas sitting outside their dark casino.

It had been like this for over a year.

All the deals worked out with the NCR, carefully written to ensure the strip would remain lit, were abandoned within months of the victory at Hoover Dam. The NCR began drawing off more and more power, trying desperately to fill the insatiable demand out west. New Vegas, resistant to NCR rule, was forced to endure daily brownouts and power rationing.

Sometimes it felt like a punishment of sorts, as much a deliberate political statement as anything else. If the people of New Vegas couldn't drop to their knees and welcome the NCR like the heroes they thought themselves to be, well, the NCR would continue to treat them as nothing more than a means to improve life for the more deserving citizens out west.

Only the Lucky 38 remained lit. She could never tell if it was a courtesy to the woman who handed them the city on a silver platter, or just some odd glitch of House's old generators and power routing that the NCR didn't know how to overide.

Mutely, she stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. Mutely, she rode to the upper levels and stepped out. With an unnecessary nod to the man sleeping in the hall, his battered sniper beret pulled down over his eyes, she walked into the master bedroom.

"Boone's passed out again." A woman with red hair pulled back into a low ponytail walked in a moment behind her. "Found him like that when I got in."

"You shouldn't leave him like that," came the reply as she returned to the hall. "I thought he was just sleeping." Returning to the sniper, she bent over and checked his pulse. It was slow but regular. "Give me a hand, we should flip him over."

Once done, the two women filed back to the master bedroom. "Leaving again, Maria?"

"For a bit," came the reply. "I really can't stand being here these days." Maria tightened the buckles on her leather armor, leaving the spring dress she had been wearing in a pile on the floor.

"The NCR treats you like a queen."

"And everyone else treats me like I'm some kind of new supermutant. NCRkin or something." Sitting down, the younger woman sighed. "I should have told them to go fuck themselves and left House in charge." She smirked. "Maybe I should have left myself in charge…"

Rolling her eyes, the redhead leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah, right," she said. "I'm sure the NCR would have smiled, nodded, and gone on their way." It was not the first time they had discussed this. Not even the first time in a week.

Grimacing, the brunette nodded. "Yeah, I know, Cass, I know…"

"The NCR would have gotten New Vegas one way or another," she went on. "You told them no? Maybe there would be more bloodstains on the Lucky 38 today from when they shot their way in. The NCR wants something, they take it."

"Maybe I should have sided with the Legion," Maria said, not able to keep a straight face in front of Cassidy's reaction. "Yeah, I can just see that." Standing up, she shouldered her pack. "I'm heading out now. Keep an eye on Boone?" Maria glanced at the unconscious man with a look of concern on her face.

"I always do," Cassidy replied.

"By 'keep an eye on' I don't mean 'get drunk with,' you know."

"Hey, you want things done your way, stick around and do them yourself."

Sighing, she shook her head. New Vegas was beginning to feel more and more confining, sticking around wasn't an option. She was as likely to stab the next drug addled tourist on the street as she was to give them directions. "Just don't let him choke in his sleep, then."

"That I think I can manage."

With the city in the distance, Maria felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. On days like this, with the desert stretching out before her and no one else in sight, she missed being little more than a courier. It had been, in its way, a good life. She never made a fortune, just enough to keep herself fed and supplied, but it was independence. It let her live her life well below the radar of anyone big and powerful. She was unknown, and liked it that way. That was lost when her final delivery ended up throwing her into the middle of the power struggle between House, the NCR, and the Legion.

Well, no, to be fair it wasn't the delivery itself… it was her response. Apparently normal people, when they get shot in the head, have the courtesy and good sense to stay down. They don't claw themselves out from the grave with the help of a passing cowboy robot. They don't get patched up to basically functional condition, albeit with a few new glitches and some missing memories. They certainly don't set out on foot killing anything in their way as they look for revenge.

Behavior like that attracts attention.

East, she decided as she walked. There was a rumor of radscorpions to the east, and her antivenom supplies were low. A few of their poison glands might give her enough supplies to make it past the damned cazdores and into the mountains. From there… who knows.

She awoke that night to gunfire. Curled up in the hayloft of an old barn, Maria peeked down over the edge. One of the remnants of the Legion was on the ground floor, oblivious to her presence. His attention was focused instead on half a dozen NCR troops taking shots at him from outside. Crouched behind an upturned table, she could see him reach under a headdress of some kind, looking at his blood-covered hand in the dim lighting. He mumbled something, too quiet for her to hear over the laughter of the western military, and stood, firing off another volley of shots from a 10mm automatic.

The cursing from the NCR side of the fight was much louder. A quick glance showed that their numbers had been reduced by two. After a moments debate one separated from the group, pulling a large weapon off his back.

"Oh, fuck no," Maria mumbled as she realized what their plan was. They wanted to burn the barn with the legionary inside it- and her. She had pulled the ladder up behind her, there was no way down without making herself a target of their, or his, bullets.

Left without time to think of a better plan, she scrambled for her sniper rifle and managed to squeeze off a shot just before the ranger with the incinerator reached a pile of ancient dried hay. The flamer hit the ground, putting some brush alight, instead. Her action was pointless: the flames quickly reached his original target on their own.

The surviving NCR fighters began firing wildly towards the hayloft. It was too dark for them to see her without cateye or goggles, evidently. She could see them, though, thanks to the moon. One shot each and they were down.

Dropping the ladder, the woman made it to the barn floor, already coughing from the smoke. Once on the ground she turned to run, stopping only when an object in the dirt sent her flying. "What the…" Glancing at the cause of her stumble, she recoiled in disgust. It was a dog's head.

Looking closer, she blinked to clear her eyes and groaned. It wasn't just a dog's head… it was a headdress: one made from a dog's head. Turning to look back at the unconscious legionary, a memory surfaced.

Doesn't this figure. For a moment she thought about leaving him to die. Would he have done the same? Probably… after all, he was legion. But she would like to think herself better than that, better than them. There was a time he had let her live… more than one time, to be honest. Although it wasn't quite the same, in that he just didn't use the opportunity to kill her. It wasn't as though he had taken any direct actions to keep her alive.

Quite a bit had changed since then, too. She hadn't seen him at the final battle, but had no doubt he would have cut her down without hesitation. She would have done the same to him. They weren't at war now, though… although they weren't what one could even call friends… or acquaintances. In fact, there was a very strong possibility he didn't even know her name.

All of these thoughts raced through her mind as she glanced from the pile of dead NCR troops and the frumentarius.

He was creepy as fuck, but he had always treated her with respect. More than… well, more than pretty much anyone who wasn't part of her immediate social circle. He was also currently bleeding into the dirt from at least one bullet in his head, and a couple surface wounds as well. One of the wild shots near the end must have caught him.

The idea of leaving someone to die of a bullet in the head didn't sit right with her… a bullet in the head that hadn't come from one of her guns, at least.

She pushed down unpleasant memories from years before, briefly squeezing her eyes closed in an attempt to stop the images. Mind made up, she cursed again, this time at herself.

Sparing a final glance at the bodies, Maria hooked her hands under his arms. "Well, come on, Vulpes" she said, despite knowing he was well beyond being able to hear her. "Maybe you and me can be brain damage buddies."

I decided to go back and name chapters after songs. Either something that inspired the chapter, captures the general feeling I was going for, has a fitting title... or, you know, just whatever I happened to be listening to at the time. This one is Jerry Lee Lewis' "End of the Road" (1957)