End Game

Southern California, Benny's Camp

11:26 am, April 5, 2282

Johnny Cash

I suppose I should have counted my lucky stars for regaining feeling in my feet, even if the rest of my body refused to function.

I, however, was still terrified at the idea of being paralyzed in a world that required me to be the top notch of physical and mental fitness.

Slowly, over the course of what I imagined were two minutes (it was hard to tell over the thunderous roar of gunfire from the northern edge of the camp, and the raging inferno of the Officer's Barracks less than a hundred yards from my head) I began to feel the pain in my legs, and then my back, and finally my arms. Benny's shot had for sure dislocated my jaw. Had I not been so loose, my body relaxed and prepared for a fight, I'm positive the shot would have torn my head clean off. It should have, after all. I've shot many a raider in the face point blank with a twelve gauge, and they sure as hell aren't around to talk about it. My only guess, would be that I was caught with a glancing shot, that Benny had jumped the trigger and actually fired between Veronica and I, and I had absorbed maybe half a shot. No, I argued with myself, you took the full shot. He was just using cheap birdshot, and you got very, very lucky.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Get your ass up and kill that motherfucker.

I clenched my fist, the tips of my fingers still numb. It was a start. With great effort, I bent my elbow, but couldn't muster the strength to push myself upright. I'm stuck here until the NCR can scoop me up, I thought miserably, knowing that by then Boone and Veronica would both be dead.

I felt a burn in my right shoulder, like a needle being forced into my skin. A mechanical voice sounded through my helmet, which was a dozen feet away. It was faint, and muffled by the distant shootout, but I managed to catch it nonetheless.

"Stimpack injected. Reserves low."

The Stealthsuit MKII... it had an Auto Doc system...would feed stimpacks through the fibers, and directly into my skin...

I felt my arm get stronger, more confident. I rolled myself over onto my back, hot blood from a cut above my eye streaking down my cheek.

"Stimpack injected. You have no more stimpacks."

I groaned as the fibrous pinpricks stabbed at the base of my neck, the area that was sure to have the most damage.

My reflexes kicked my legs out at odd angles before curling back toward my body like a dying spider. I hurled myself back onto my side, placing a shaky arm underneath me. I pushed myself to an all-fours position. Yes...

I crawled over to Veronica, placing a shaking hand on her chest. Her eyes were open, vaguely focused on me. The shot had been birdshot, as I'd thought, and hadn't gone all the way through, not all of the BBs at least. Had he been using standard buckshot, we'd both be goners, smears on the ground. "John," she whispered, grabbing my hand, "I got hit, didn't I?"

I hid a grimace, seeing that a few pellets had indeed punched through. They looked like flesh wounds, but I couldn't be certain.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound confident. I squeezed her hand, "You'll be alright, V. The NCR is here, they'll patch you up."

She smiled, and closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, I could tell she was fading fast. Her focus was just a little to my right, dazed and drunken through the disorienting stupor of unimaginable pain. "Go kill him, Johnny. Get Boone, I'll be alright. I'm just going to lay here for a while."

I lightly slapped the side of her face, bringing her back into focus. "Hey," I said loudly, my own body aching from the effort, "You stay with me, you hear? I'm not losing you. Don't you leave me, baby girl. You stick it out, and I'll buy you the best dress in the Mojave, alright? Come on, talk to me sweetheart."

She smiled, and patted the back of my hand, "You've got a deal, Cash," She pushed my hand off her, "Go. Go get Boone."

I forced a tear out of my eye, wishing I didn't have to choose between Veronica and Craig. Your friends, they're all you've got. But Craig, he's like family.

I looked behind me, at the spot where my sword had slipped off my back.

I set my helmet on Veronica's stomach, over the wound. "Don't you die on me, Veronica. I'll come back for you, I promise. Okay?"

She smiled, then winced in pain. "Go, dammit."

I forced myself to my feet, my legs feeling much stronger after the stimpaks had set in. I hobbled over, grabbed my sword, and then made for the door. When my hand made contact with the tower, I looked back at Veronica. She was still breathing, but I'd have to do this fast. I let out a war cry of pure rage, punching the door frame with such fury that I chipped away a half inch section of concrete.

Benny's going to die for this.

I let the heavy steel door slam shut behind me, and found myself at the bottom of a wide, spiral staircase that wound upward to the top of the tower. From above, I could hear what sounded like a muffled argument, and drew my katana from its polished black sheath. I dropped the casing on the floor and rolled my shoulders gingerly, ignoring the many pops and cracks. The stimpaks were at work melding the torn tissues, but I was one good shot away from being paralyzed for life. What I really needed was about eight hours under an Auto Doc, but I didn't have those luxuries right now. The prodigious surgeon inside my head knew that I'd likely done irreparable damage to both my spinal column, my C2 through C5 vertebrae, and my jawbone, which felt as if it'd been cracked like pottery. With a defiant grunt, I pounded up the stairs, adrenaline washing away the fatigue of being shot in the face point blank. I could hear. Silent as a jaguar stalking its prey, and equally as lithe and agile, I bounded up the steps two at a time, my trusty katana in hand. As I'd expected, I met a trio of ex-Legionnaires on the spiraling steps, each holding a spear and a machete.

Upon seeing me, the whites of their eyes widened and I saw the nearest two flinch in surprise.

The one in front, the only wearing the battered dreadlock headdress of a Decanus, tossed his spear aside and gripped his machete with two hands.

"A profligate like you cannot be allowed to-"

I struck first with blinding speed, tracing a horizontal arc with the tip of the curved Japanese longsword across the man's throat. Blood sprayed red and hot through the air, splattering my bare face and painting the walls in fantastic loops as the man's body collapsed and tumbled down the steps, dousing the floor and walls as he tumbled.

The other two advanced immediately, their war cries echoing throughout the tower.

I ducked a spear jab, swatting it away with the crossguard of my katana, and touched the first man on the hip with the katana's razor edge. He howled, and backpedaled. I lazily sidestepped a downward machete slash, prancing forward like a serpent and driving my sword hilt deep into his solar plexus. With one foot, I pushed the man free of my sword and simultaneously whirled around and planted my boot on the chin of the second deserter, who'd just come in hot with his spear to run me through like a hog. He clearly hadn't expected me to kick him in the face, dropping both of his weapons and falling back against the wall. Two quick diagonal slashes across the torso put the soldier down for good.

The man sputtered, and rolled down the stairs off the end of my blade.

I flicked my sword, removing some of the blood from the end. Above me, I heard the thunder of feet.

"Get down there and kill him!" Benny roared.

In response to their master's call, at least a dozen pairs of feet began to stomp down the stairway toward me, shouting and hollering at one another.

I assumed a two handed stance in the spacious stairway, ready for the worst.

As the men, a various mix of NCR, Jackals, and Powder Gangers, stumbled into view, I watched the wave of fear tear through them at the sight of Johnny Cash standing in a pool of their comrades' blood, grinning like a maniac.

I saw their faces, the faces of prey. I was the hunter here. I was Johnny Cash. I was the Man in Black.

"You boys just stepped into one hell of a ring of fire."

I darted forward, blade flashing in the sunlight that shone through the windows.

..

...

..

Southern California, Benny's Camp

11:44 am, April 5, 2282

Private First Class Adam Sienne, NCR Trooper, Camp Redwing, 3rd Infantry

We'd arrived at the old boot camp via Verti-Crate (a sort of shipping crate towed beneath a Vertibird), which was an experimental form of travel, never before tested. Since Redwing was the only remaining air base in the whole of the New California Republic, we'd had just enough Vertibirds to pull this off. Judging by the fact that many crates, including mine, had detached early and dropped us thirty feet, I doubted it'd be one we continued using. Most of the time, when the NCR army moved from one place or another, we traveled on foot or by brahmin caravan, through a series of checkpoints from point A to B. Here, we needed a fast travel method, and apparently this was Major Polatli's best idea. After we'd landed, me and the other ninety-two troopers bailed out, rifles poised and ready. Turns out that this place had only one entrance, and that was a small trail that wound through the sandstone bluffs that formed a three-sided box around the encampment. Me and my men had decided, fuck that obvious bottleneck, and had taken up position on the tops of the rocky wall, firing down in at the mass of bandits below.

I'd heard of Johnny Cash, the Man in Black, the so called "Greatest Assassin of All Time". Of course I had, everyone in the NCR who didn't live under a rock knew who he was. He was the man who'd made our President and General Oliver both look like brainless idiots in front of the whole army at Hoover Dam. I'd heard that he'd killed over a hundred men singlehanded, that he couldn't be killed and was clever as a fox. Some of the men that had fought beside him during the liberation of Legion slave camps throughout the Mojave had said that he moved like a ghost, invisible and silent as the grave. Others said he could kill a man in his own bed and be gone before anyone noticed anything had happened. I didn't believe a word of it, though. Surely there was no way that a simple courier could rival names like Aaron Kimball, General Oliver, and the legendary sniper-hero from First Recon turned Ranger, Craig Boone.

And then I laid eyes on the encampment below.

Of the eight structures that stood, six were either in shambles or ablaze in a torrent of yellow-orange fire, or both. The field scout in my unit counted almost three hundred units below, but also reported something incredible as well. There was a path of corpses that led from a spot on the western embankment toward the base of the tower, almost in a perfect line. There must have been thirty, thirty-five corpses that clearly spelled out a path of carnage that someone, or something, had carved through the ranks of the enemy forces. At the base of the tower, a single woman lay on her back, probably dead. It hadn't taken long before a runner had come to me with the report that the death trail had been left by House's agent, and I felt my blood run cold.

Thank whatever gods exist that he's on our side this time.

So far, we'd taken some casualties, eight out of my group, of which I was the highest rank.

"Fire on the heavy gunners first!" I roared, "Keep them pinned down so they can't fucking breathe!"

I fired three rounds, unsure if I'd even hit anyone. Beside me, a stream of Gatling Laser fire took out two of my men, reducing one to ashes. Fuck, I thought, searching around in the crowd for the culprit, They've got serious firepower.

I fired a few more times in the general direction of wherever I thought the soldiers might be hiding...maybe. From this distance, about two hundred yards, it wasn't really about hitting anyone, so much as pinning them down until we could gain a foothold and flood the base. I turned my head to look behind me, rounds zinging past my helmet, and shouted, "Rogriss! Get your ass up here with that missile launcher, ASAP!"

I heard a vague "Yes, sir!", but ignored it. I returned fire back down into the camp. Farther down, on the west wall, an explosion tossed a dozen NCR soldiers skyward, blood and gore raining down on their comrades. I cast a panicked glance down into the enemy camp, instantly noticing three men huddled around a trio of missile launchers exactly like the one Rogriss was about to bring to bear.

I saw enemy forces hiding out behind an Old World truck, firing accurately on our position. "Third infantry," I bellowed to as many as could hear me, "Fire on that truck, flush em out!"

I emptied my magazine, ejecting it and slapping in a fresh one.

This is going to be a long one.

..

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..

Southern California, Benny's Camp

11:36 am, April 5, 2282

Johnny Cash

"Fuck you!" I spat, tugging my blade free of the last stairway guard.

I wiped spattered blood off my face with my gloved hand, failing miserably and instead smearing it. I panted heavily, and turned to look behind me. After the first group, a second team of three Nightkin and a Super Mutant had tried their luck. They'd been the easiest, actually. After I killed the first group, I searched their bodies for ammo, and found a fully loaded three-fifty-seven magnum revolver and a rather nice Cowboy Repeater. I loaded the rifle with ammunition found on the dead Jackal gangster (a little irritated that I'd scrounged a weapon with only seven shots) and sheathed my sword. I held the rifle, dropping my katana carelessly on the staircase, and booted the door open that led to the tower head.

I darted in, clearing the room in a tactical fashion borne by proper instruction and violent repetition.

Benny stood in front of Boone, holding Maria to his head, and a small black remote in the other.

"Hey, Big Money made it through my guards!"

I took aim on his face, preparing to reduce it to unrecognizable mush.

"Easy, Johnny boy," he cooed, his smooth voice making me want to pull his teeth one by one and force them up his ass while he was still conscious, "This is a dead-man's switch," he wiggled the detonator, "You kill me, the bomb under Boob's chair goes off. Boob...I know, I like it. But all the same, baby, you shoot me, and this goes off."

I glared at him, and for a moment considered shooting the detonator, hoping it would not set off the bomb that might be under Craig's chair.

You didn't come all this way, watch Veronica die, just to fuck it up here.

I threw the rifle across the room to my right, the revolver to the left. "God damn you, Benny."

Benny laughed, and pointed Maria at me. "I really don't know how you do it. I've shot you in the head, twice now, at point blank range."

He squeezed the trigger, the bullet ricocheting off my the carbon fiber weave protecting my abdomen, driving the wind from my lungs. I stumbled back a step, doubling over.

"Damn, Cash, that's some real armor you got there. I'll enjoy using it while I bring House to the ground. I'm kinda mad at you two, ya dig?"

I hit the ground, gasping on all fours, clutching what I deduced was a broken rib.

I looked up at Benny, determined to kill him through sheer hatred if I could. Instead, my eyes fell on Boone, who was sitting awkwardly in the chair. Between his legs, I saw the bottom of the seat.

There was no bomb.

Fucking fake...Don't let on that you know, or you're a dead man.

"Benny," I choked, my voice raspy and shaking with hate. I met his eyes, "I'm going to cut your fucking throat."

Benny sighed dramatically, and loosed another round from Maria with a loud, harsh bark. The bullet struck me in the right thigh, again bouncing off my armor and burying the slug in the concrete wall to my left. I was positive that a basketball sized bruise formed instantly, if the shot hadn't fractured my leg. I clenched my teeth, my breath escaping in a strangled hiss of agony as I wrestled to overcome the worst charlie-horse in my entire life.

"No, you're not."

I looked to my left, at the open door that led to the stairs. I could hear voices below...Arcade Gannon and Rose Cassidy arguing with one another.

"Friends of yours?" Benny asked, his shit eating grin still present.

I spat blood out onto the concrete floor, and muscled my way to a standing position.

"Just your wife and your sisters, looking for payment for the other night."

Benny glared at me, then chuckled. "Never had any sisters, and mom was dead when I was just a babe," His charming face immediately shadowed, his eyes becoming the dark, twisted orbs I usually saw in Caesar's Centurions, men who'd done terrible things to get to their seats of power. Men with black souls. "I had a brother, though. An older one. He had about ten years on me, ended up being one of Caesar's best. But you gunned him down just as you tried to gun me down. Guess I was tougher than him, huh?"

I raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, failing to right myself and stand on my own two feet. The pain in my ribs and my leg were overpowering to the point of nauseating, causing my vision to shimmer and swirl behind a watery film.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded, "Fucking two-faced snake."

Benny's smile widened.

"Boob, tell him."

My gaze flickered between Craig and Benny, both staring at me intently. After a moment's hesitation, Benny slapped Craig in the back of the head, his hand smacking off Boone's shaved head with a loud crack.

Craig glared at Benny with almost as much disgust as I did. "Benny's mother was a former Legion whore," he said, his voice low and strained, and even more gravelly and ominous than usual, "After she gave birth to his brother, she gave the boy up to be trained as a Legionnaire. She eventually got free and came to the Mojave, where she was taken in by a group of scumbags called the Boot Riders."

Benny's smile widened even further, and a manic glint took to his eyes. "Go on, Boob."

Craig's face twisted with wretched dislike, and every word sounded as if he'd had to regurgitate it from somewhere deep in his guts. "She gave birth to Benny about a decade after her first son. When this piece of shit-"

Benny slapped Craig again.

"- was old enough to carry a gun," Boone continued through gritted teeth, "She told him of his older brother. Benny and his brother eventually met. From what I've gathered it was about a year before he shot you in the head and erased your memories in that Goodsprings graveyard. Apparently they bonded quickly, and after Benny survived the Fort, he found his brother's corpse in the Divide. In the missile silo."

No fucking way.

Benny struck Boone in the top of the head with the barrel of his flashy pistol, and Craig's eyes rolled in their sockets and his body fell limp.

"That's right, motherfucker," Benny growled, no longer smiling or jovial but dark and murderous, "You killed my half-brother, Ulysses. He was the only family I had in this world, and when I was at my lowest and looking for my one true friend in existence, I found him beat to death on the floor of some nuclear launch site. Didn't take me long to find out he died at the same time you traveled to the Divide."

I stared back at him, hoping beyond hope that he was lying. But the truth of his words were plausible, and I could see no reason for him to lie to me about something that affected neither of us in any meaningful way, though there was no way to know for sure at the moment.

"He fought like a champion, a true warrior," I acknowledged grudgingly, "He tried to blow up everything that's left, everything humanity has worked for since the bombs dropped, and I killed him for it. He deserved to die. Our fight...it was legendary. I'm not sure two people have ever had such a face-off."

Benny avoided my eyes, then returned his smile and handsome features, "Well, aint that touching? Even after all that, you got respect. That's classy, baby. Real swingin attitude. But you and I," he grinned darkly, "We're going to settle this. See, I already tried to launch those nukes at the Strip, but the computer said the ignition cores had been removed. My guess is you've got them hidden somewhere. I need those nukes, Cash. With them and the Archimedes laser at Helios One, I'm going to own the NCR, and House, and the Legion," He fixed me with a hungry stare, "I'm going to be God."

He really doesn't know...

I laughed openly, one lone bark devoid of mirth. "Benny, you fucking moron," I bored into his eyes with mine, "I destroyed those ignition cores, and I disabled key components within the rockets themselves. They'll never fire again. Even if you could get someone to fabricate new ignition cores, you'd search for a century trying to find someone who could reconstruct rockets for them," The smile on Benny's face began to fade, "I outclassed you, again, Benny."

Behind me, I heard a racket on the staircase. Benny's grin could not have tightened more.

"You're lying," he hissed, "House wouldn't let you-"

"Fuck House," I snarled, "I didn't trust him or anyone with a cache of nuclear missiles. You've lost again, fucking idiot."

Benny's face was pale as snow.

"You're lying," he repeated, though he sounded very far from convinced.

"You should stick to hustling poker. You can't hang with the big dogs, pup."

Benny fired again, this time the shot landed with a dull thud in the wall next to the door. "Tell your friends to hold tight, and be smooth, smooth like silk."

You aren't killing any more of my friends, you bastard.

I kicked the door closed, pulling the deadbolt across it. Benny cocked his head to one side curiously as I rose to my feet, my breathing labored and heavy. Slowly, I felt my face crack into a wide smile.

"I saw the underside of the chair, dumbass. There's no bomb."

Benny's grin faded, but he did not continue the ruse. He tossed the detonator out the window.

I held my hands out at my sides expectantly, and placed my feet shoulder width apart for better footing. Even that slight movement killed my leg and ribs. "Let's finish this, Benny. Me and you."

Benny grinned again, "I'm down."

He ejected the pistol's magazine tossed both across the room in separate directions, holding his hands out at his sides as well.

"Let's dance, Johnny Boy."

..

...

..

Southern California, Benny's Camp

11:52 am, April 5, 2282

Rose of Sharon Cassidy

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted, kicking the door again.

It wouldn't budge. Johnny didn't want us helping him, the damn fool.

I whirled around, facing the scientist from the Enclave Remnant. "He won't let us in. He wants to kill that guy all on his own."

Arcade peeled his helmet, and blinked a trickle of blood from his eyes. "I'm out of rounds for everything. All I've got are my good intentions. Why don't we run back down, and haul Veronica in here. I can look her over and see what I can do."

I nodded. Arcade had been with the Followers for years and was well educated in medical procedure.

"Alright, let's go. It's all we can do at the moment."

I turned my head to the sound of shouts and crashes coming from the other side of the thick wooden door, "Cash is on his own in there."

..

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Southern California, Benny's Camp, North Wall

11:55 am, April 5, 2282

Manny Vargas

Boone was always the sniper, I usually just spotted.

In the last two years I served in the NCR with Craig, I became more accustomed to a Marksman Carbine than I did a sniper rifle. A Marksman Carbine and a pair of binoculars, that was my loadout. Then, I'd refined my skill by being the daytime sniper in the dinosaur at Novac, and I'm glad I had. It was difficult to land any hits from this distance, and it would've been impossible had I not taken that assignment.

Here, in Cash's attempt to rescue Boone, I was the lead sniper. The NCR had approached me the second they landed here, and within a few minutes I was in charge of the sharpshooters. There were ten: four with me, three over where Cash had been, and three on the other half of the north wall, on the other side of the trail. The common infantry had done a good job so far of taking out half the opposition, without too many losses. The NCR was far better trained and equipped than this makeshift army of deserters and raiders, but we still faced a substantial opposition. Whoever had rounded these guys up and rallied them to a cause had also taken the time to make sure they had an ample supply of weapons and ammunition. We were pinned down right now by a team of guys with missile launchers and a seemingly endless supply of missiles.

I took aim on a minigunner, spraying his brains onto the side of a barracks. Sliding the bolt back on the heavy fifty-cal, I loaded another round in, and set about picking off more head shots. After four more victims fell prey to my precision, I slapped in a fresh magazine, my last, and picked my shots more carefully, searching for the men manning the missile launchers. I found one, over by where Cash had hidden behind an old car. I removed the crown of his skull with a well placed round, and bolted in another.

Johnny went into that tower...

Curiously, I took aim on the tower, about five hundred yards out. My scope was powerful, but not enough to make a clear distinction. It looked like two blurred shapes were...fighting. They moved away and toward one another through the narrow window, as two combatants would do. I pulled my eye from the scope, and grabbed the more powerful spotter's scope from the ground beside me, and resumed watching.

It was Johnny, for sure. And it looked like the guy he was now elbowing in the mouth...well, that looked like the man in the checkered coat from so long ago. But that couldn't be right, Johnny killed him at the Fort.

"Vargas!" A voice rang out behind me.

I dropped the scope, and whirled around, drawing my sidearm.

Major Polatli, the man I remembered from Forlorn Hope, had his service rifle in hand, and was waving animatedly at me. "Fire on that pit! The Pit!"

I nodded, and propped my rifle back up.

What's going on at this pit?

I zoomed in, panning across the camp for the pit that was previously full of deathclaws. Eventually, I found it.

It was no longer full of deathclaws.

In fact, the terrifyingly violent and enormous reptilian predators had made their way out towards the walls, running from three guys with thermic lances, who were prodding them away from the raiders below. The twelve foot monsters roared their blood-chilling calls and bounded on all fours across the open expanse between the remaining raiders holed up in their positions and the NCR surrounding the base.

We'll be torn apart by them, I thought, suppressing a shudder, There must be a dozen in there...

I fired round after round at the deathclaws that tried to escape, only killing one before my rifle was empty.

I slung it across my back, snatching the support machine gun off the ground beside me.

Without really knowing why, I shouted, "Cover me!" to the snipers beside me, and charged down the other side of the wall, straight towards the oncoming deathclaws.

This is going to hurt.

..

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Southern California, Benny's Camp

12:03 pm, April 5, 2282

Johnny Cash

I slammed Benny against one of the support pillars, punching him twice in the face before he ducked, and my reinforced carbon fiber knuckles flattened on the concrete post.

He popped up on my left, landing a vicious straight right that buckled my legs and left them wobbly. He rushed forward, head down, and wrapped me up around my waist. He roared, lifting me over his head, and slammed me on the concrete. It took all I had to keep my head from bouncing on the floor, and I covered up, protecting my face from his barrage of punches. Even through my armor, his body shots hurt. He must've seen I had the advantage by wearing armor, because before we'd squared off he'd slipped studded brass knuckles on both hands.

He tried to get the full mount, but I kicked his leg away, wrapping his arms up and rolling us over. I landed in side-guard, and elbowed him hard in the mouth. Benny spat blood in my face, and fired two rapid short punches that broke my nose clean, blood spurting out all over his chest and neck.

My concentration broke, and he threw me off. I staggered to my feet.

So far, I was getting my ass kicked, but just barely. I never fought anyone, other than Ulysses, who could match me hand to hand. After eating a bullet and waking up with no recollection of, well, anything from my previous life, I'd realized I was excellent with a firearm but a bit weak on my feet. Boone had been the first to teach me combative techniques, and later House had procured instructional holotapes containing various sword fighting and unarmed practices used by the Crimson Dragoons, the elite of the Chinese special forces before the War. Since then, there hadn't been a man aside from Ulysses who could hope to stand toe-to-toe with me and survive. And Benny moved a lot like Ulysses did, quick and accurate. In the five minutes or so that we'd been fighting, we'd torn the lookout tower apart. Broken chips of concrete from missed punches and kicks littered the floor, blood was smeared and spattered on every wall, and Boone had been knocked over and his chair lay on its side. It was complete pandemonium, though not quite on the scale Ulysses and I had been on, destroying the entire command area with each other's faces. "You're gonna die, kid." Benny spat, wiping blood off his chin, "And then I'm going to cut your heart out."

I ignored him, rushing in. He must've expected a takedown attempt, planting his feed wide and crouching down, but instead I leapt into the air, shoved off a pillar with one foot, and Superman-punched him square in the forehead, both of us slamming into one another and bouncing off the window-wall. The window was a few feet from us, to my left, and an idea formed in my mind... Though I doubted it would work, Benny was far too talented of a fighter to fall for it.

I pushed him off, and he assumed an old-timey boxer's stance. I put my hands out in front of me, both open and ready for whatever Benny could throw at me. Surely no amount of backyard boxing could compete with the long lost martial art of Shinji-Krah (the art of the Crimson Dragoons). Benny stepped in, snapping a leg kick that thudded painfully against my shin, and followed up with a one-two, which I evaded with the old bob-and-weave technique. Once his arm was fully extended, I fired a short right that connected with his chin, staggering him backwards.

Towards the window.

I spun on one foot with the lithe agility of a jungle cat, roundhouse kicking him in the face. He stumbled backward toward the wrap-around window, arms flailing wildly to catch hold of something that might keep him upright. I fired a low kick that swept his left leg out from underneath of him and struck him in the sternum just beneath his throat with an open palm. Without skipping a beat, I chopped aside an attempt to grab my face with two lightning fast bursts and landed a solid elbow to the bridge of his nose, breaking it in turn. With my opponent disoriented, I launched a furious blizzard of short, crisp strikes that traced a path of pain from his abdomen to his ears, and finished with a straight kick to the chest that planted him firmly against the concrete wall. Still, a credit to Benny's durability, he remained upright and conscious. I'd seen Legion Centurions and NCR Rangers alike fall before such an expertly executed series of debilitating strikes, and yet a common raider-turned-casino boss managed to keep the lights on upstairs.

And to my further astonishment, Benny ducked beneath a lethal head kick and landed a solid uppercut between my legs, shoving me hard to the floor. I skidded and landed next to my sword. I looked at it, then at him, and kicked it out of the fight. I was going to finish this piece of shit with my bare hands, I was going to watch the lights leave his eyes as I strangled him.

It was then that I noticed he'd picked up the Cowboy Repeater.

"Noble, but dumb."

Cursing my own greed, I scrambled to my feet and headed for the nearest pillar for cover. Benny was chasing me with three-fifty-seven rounds across the length of the room, each shot within an inch of its target. It was only the fact that he was shooting frenzied, not taking time to aim, that he didn't actually hit me every time he pulled the trigger. Benny racked another round in, barely missing my head with the last one, and clipped me in the shoulder, my armor deflecting the slug. The shot still hurt like a son of a bitch. As I wheezed and gasped through the fiery, white hot pain that burned in my shoulder, I saw that Benny's fancy pistol lay at my feet, less than a foot away.

He fired six shots, one left.

I fell on Maria, and then bolted upright, protected by the pillar. I turned the pistol over and almost groaned out loud when I saw the magazine was not present, remembering Benny had ejected it before the fight. I pulled the slide back, and was at least relieved to see that the pistol had one round left in it.

"Come out and drop the gun," Benny called, "And I won't shoot Boob here in the face."

I snorted, insulted that he'd think I was so stupid.

"I've got a gun, Benny. It's got a round in the chamber. You won't shoot him, because then I'll shoot you. You're an idiot."

Benny didn't respond right away. "I'll throw mine out the window, if you throw the bullet out the window, and the gun. No wait, not the gun, it's custom. Just the bullet."

He's in love with this damn gun...

"Alright, I'll do it," I called, a hasty unfinished plan in mind, "I'm stepping out, I'll blow your head off if you try to fuck me on this."

I peered around the corner. Benny had the repeater in one hand, ready to take aim and fire, but also ready to throw it. Thinking I couldn't see, I watched him loosen a boot knife in its sheath, and then slide it around to the back out of sight. I stuck my hands out, and pulled the slide on Maria, ejecting the shell. I stooped down, and picked it up, tossing it out the window. I set Maria down, slide locked back.

Benny laughed. "Moron. Come on, baby, did you really think I'd throw my gun out?"

He held the rifle loose in his hands, grinning.

"Do it, Benny," I dropped and picked Maria up, "Or I toss yours out there. You'll never find it, and you'll never be alive long enough to get a replacement."

Benny snorted, his face clearly trying to impress that he didn't care about some shiny pistol. But his eyes gave him away, and they told a story of a man who wanted nothing more than his old life back. And that pistol used to be his icon of power, along with his suit.

"Fine," he barked, tossing the rifle out the window, "Let's finish this."

I walked around the pillar, slowly closing the distance between the two of us. Ten feet...five feet... three feet. "Benny," I said with a smile, "It must suck, being out here with nothing."

Benny opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.

"When some courier from out of nowhere comes in, survives the mission your brother refused to take, kills you, kills your brother, and inherits your empire."

Benny glared at me.

"In fact, I've made out so well, I don't need this."

I threw Maria out the window. Benny's eyes followed it, longingly.

He turned back to me, and swung at my head, sloppy and inaccurate.

I popped him in the throat with an open palm, and dropped to a knee, striking him in the balls with an uppercut exactly as he'd just done to me. I tugged the knife out of the sheath from his ankle, and stood upright so fast that I actually headbutted Benny in the face unintentionally. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and drove the knife so deep in his gut, that the knuckle of my index finger actually wound up inside Benny's stomach. I stared into his face, watching the pain streak through his eyes. I pushed him to the edge, against the window, and pulled the knife out.

Benny's eyes went wide with both shock and pain. His head cocked to the side, and he bore a puzzled expression. It occurred to me that he'd really, truly believed he would kill me up here in this tower, and that his grand plan would come to fruition. Unfortunately for him, he'd forgotten just who it was he'd chosen to trifle with.

"You almost caused a war that would kill thousands of innocent people, Benny. You almost caused the deaths of everyone in the Mojave, the NCR, an the Legion," I drove the knife in again, "You're no better than your fucking scumbag brother."

I pulled the knife out, and Benny slumped to the ground.

I glared at him, then strode over to Boone. I cut the gag off his mouth, and then cut his hands and feet free, helping him up.

He looked at me, his face as beaten as mine, "You're late."

I snorted, "You look like shit."

He shrugged, nodding. "What about him?"

I slowly turned back to Benny. "He's getting exactly what he deserves."

Boone grimaced, and made his way out the door, closing it behind him.

I knelt down by Benny, dropping the knife and placing my hands on his throat, fingers flexing around his windpipe.

I stared at him, coughing and spitting.

Just like Veronica had...

Benny left Veronica to die, so I would to him. It was fair. He had two irreparable wounds to his liver and stomach, not even I could save his life even with the help of a hundred surgeons. It was only fair to Veronica, who I was positive lay dead at the base of the tower, that I leave him to bleed out.

No. You gave him that right once. He survived, and could have done anything with his life. Instead, he killed your friend, tried to kill Boone, and wiped out Happy Trails Caravan.

I squeezed his throat with every iota of strength that remained within my being, staring into his eyes the whole time. Benny's feet kicked feebly and he swatted at my arms with weak, halfhearted attempts at dislodging my gloved hands from his neck. I pressed even harder, watching as the blood vessels in his eyes popped and his pupils began to change colors.

"I'm never going to forget this," I whispered, "I want you to know that killing you is the most satisfying thing I've ever done."

I could feel his heartbeat flutter through the cords in his neck, and eventually fail. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his breath escaped in a gurgling hiss of finality as I released the pressure on his throat and stepped back, breathing hard.

With a second wave of murderous hatred and rage, I grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him over the window's edge, hurling his corpse out onto the ground far below, for good measure.

"So long, Benny."

..

...

..

Southern California, Benny's Camp

12:15 pm, April 5, 2282

Manny Vargas

I hip fired the machine gun until it was dry, then moved to my sidearm. Only a couple deathclaws remained, most brought down by my crazed "lone soldier" approach. Only about fifty or sixty raiders remained, valiantly holding off the NCR, who'd managed to keep their losses to a reasonable minumum.

I dropped to a knee, scooping a hunting shotgun off the body of a raider, and began dumping buckshot into the nearest deathclaw, who was bloodied and battered by NCR gunfire.

The beast turned, staring directly at me.

"Oh shit."

It charged, and I knew I couldn't show it fear. I darted towards it, landing two headshots, though they didn't pierce the skull.

The massive lizard backhanded me in the chest, and I felt my feet leave the ground.

I landed in a crumpled heap on my back thirty feet away, the air rushing from my lungs. Scrambling to my hands and knees, I cast a glance in the direction of the two deathclaws, expecting to see them pounding after me, searching for a meal. Instead, they were both laying face down, bullets still striking their corpses.

I sighed, and looked towards the raider army, expecting to see someone taking aim on me. Instead, I saw something else. Something far more terrifying.

Johnny Cash was walking through the rear ranks of the remaining raiders, devoid of his helmet and armed only with his sword. With every stroke, two men fell. At least a dozen lay behind him, bleeding and lifeless. He danced like an artist, felling Super Mutant and human alike with effortless ease. He showed no fear, only the stone cold, impassive face of a man born and bred for the art of taking lives. He ducked under spears and machetes and gunfire, slaying man after man, mutant after mutant, completely unchecked and unchallenged as he cut a bloody path through the ranks of the bastard army.

The raiders on the far edge, farthest from Cash, began to flee, only to be picked off by NCR sharpshooters.

Meanwhile, in the center, Johnny Cash cut down the bandits with such grace, it appeared as if he was flowing with angelic dexterity, as if he couldn't possibly be human.

Above it all, I heard him laughing. Laughing. Cold, mirthless, and insane, Johnny Cash laughed as the bodies piled up around him.

Now I know why the wasteland is afraid of the Man in Black.

..

...

..

Johnny Cash

"I'm glad you managed to straighten all this out, Cash."

I grunted, wiping at my eyes with a rag, "I'll never get back to Joshua in time. You'll have to march Securitrons in there and take him out."

House's voice remained emotionless over the radio in my buggy. "Actually, no. Joshua Graham has returned to Zion, where I had a chat with him via Securitron. Apparently he's understood that this whole caravan scheme was a setup, and abandoned his army. The army, as it seems, was wiped out by the Legion soon after."

I shrugged, that was Joshua's burden, not mine. "I'll be back in New Vegas in three days, and then I'll give you a proper debriefing, and then I'm heading to Big Mountain. Me and my team will meet up at Mojave Outpost, unload our gear, then I'll hike it back to the Lucky 38, and teleport to my place. House, it'd be really nice if you had a few fine ladies waiting for me in the Presidential Suite. I don't want to cross the breadth of California and the Mojave to go to bed with a dry dick."

House chuckled. "They'll be waiting."

..

...

..

Mojave Outpost, Nevada

9:22 pm, April 5, 2284

Johnny Cash

I loaded the last item, the Gannon Tesla Armor, into the trunk on the back of my buggy, grateful that the NCR had returned my weapons from the battlefield.

I sighed, and walked back over to my group. I stopped first at Arcade Gannon, who was adjusting a gauze wrap on his forehead with blatant irritation. "These NCR clowns have no idea how to properly dress a head wound."

"Probably not," I sighed, "Listen, man. I want to thank you for stepping into the line of fire for me. Lord knows you don't owe me a thing, and to see you have my back like that makes me value our friendship even more. I love you, man, thank you."

Arcade nodded, smiling gently. "I love you too, John," he paused, a smirk forming, "Not like that, don't get your hopes up. I don't date playboys."

The group laughed together, and I shook my head, moving to Manny Vargas. He'd been battered pretty bad in the fight, but his smile was one of genuine delight nonetheless.

I shook Manny Vargas's hand, "Thanks for covering my back, and for your little slice of heroism with the deathclaws. I admit, I expected Lily or Rex to come to my aid, as we don't really know one another except through Craig."

Manny shrugged. "I happened to have been getting patched up by Gannon in Freeside when House's call came through, actually. After Arcade told me that Lily and Rex were still in Jonestown and Raul was doing your bidding in Legion territory, I figured I'd lend a hand. Besides, Boone might hate me through and through, but he's still my partner, whether he likes it or not."

I allowed the pride on my face to serve as a proper response. "How's the shoulder?"

He rolled his shoulder, "That'll take time to heal, but it was my pleasure. Actually," he turned and looked at Boone, and extended a hand. After a slight hesitation, Boone shook it. "I'm to escort you back to Shady Sands, sir, as I've reenlisted with First Recon, effective immediately."

I grinned, and shook Boone's hand. "Oh boy, that's going to be an awkward ride home," I locked eyes with Boone, who was forcing down a grin.

"Thanks for coming after me, Johnny. Benny would've killed me in a day or two."

I nodded, remembering the story of Benny and his plans for the nukes in the divide, and Archimedes. Despite having been truthful when I told Benny I'd disabled the nuclear warheads and their ignition cores, and having removed Archimedes from the field of play forever, the part about it taking Benny a century or more to restore the warheads was false. The launch silo in the Divide was not the only one left in the world, and with the right amount of time and resources I was sure he could find another. In fact, if he'd been left to his own devices, he just might have found plans to rebuild the missiles and used them in his diabolical scheme. "I think we'd all be dead if I hadn't rolled in. Drinks are on you next time."

Bonne nodded, letting the grin crack his face.

Cass was glaring at me, clearly still mad I shut the door in her face. I pulled her into a hug, and she lost her pissed off look, chuckling. "Don't ever do that to me again."

I grinned at her, "Sure, maybe not. You heading back to headquarters?"

She looked at me that plainly said she wished she'd be able to do anything other than return to the former Crimson Caravan post to do paperwork, then sighed. "Yeah, I've got to get a replacement team to take over the Happy Trails contract. I don't want your deranged friend leaving Zion again anytime soon."

I nodded, then walked back over to my buggy. I retrieved a leather folder, and handed it to Cass. "There's the payment for helping me with Joshua."

She looked at the money, then back to me with wide eyes.

"There's...seven thousand in here...NCR bills..."

I nodded slowly. "You earned it, Cass. I was originally going to pay you two large, but with all the work you put in outside of the agreement, I figured I could arrange for more money. Traded the caps as soon as we got here. The NCR trooper's eyes were like baseballs, he'd never seen seven thousand caps before."

Cass's mouth clamped shut, and she turned away to hide a pair of misty eyes.

Last, but certainly not least, I turned to Veronica. She'd ended up being hit above the hip, in the right shoulder, and four pellets went deep into her abdomen where the combat armor had shattered. Arcade had stabilized her and she was eventually taken by NCR field medics, and was on her feet in a few hours of being under the Auto-Doc and a couple stimpacks. The surgery had been touch and go, and for a while I'd feared the worst, but my tough little Brotherhood girl had pulled through. She still looked battered and beaten, but she was tough, and I knew she'd be alright.

I pulled her into a hug, and she buried her face in my armor. "I knew you'd be alright," I held her at arm's length and glared at her, "But don't ever make me choose between you and Boone again, that's not playing fair."

She grinned, and nodded. "Thanks for caring about me, Johnny."

I planted a kiss on her forehead, and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. It wasn't a romantic gesture (not that Veronica and I hadn't shared a bed a time or two) but one of true affection, of pure love. Veronica was one of my best friends in the world, and the fact that her bright and brilliant spirit would live on to see another day filled me with warmth in the places the recent swamp of murder had left cold, and empty.

"Go to my place at the Lucky 38 and rest up, I'll be back in a few weeks. I love you, baby girl. You know that right?"

"Of course," she said, "I love you too, playboy."

I failed to mention that I'd almost shot her once that day.

I said final goodbyes to the group, and clambered into my dune buggy. I keyed the ignition, more than ready to take off.

Craig came over to my side of the car, and extended a hand again. "Thanks, Johnny. The NCR would never have been able to track me. Benny would have been long gone with me by the time they got there. You ever need anything, anything, you can radio me. I'll be there." He reached into his jacket, and withdrew Maria, handing it to me with a thin smile. "I've also been thinking...about leaving the NCR. I've still got some time to put in, but I might need a job when I get out. I'd...uh...really like to work with my best friend, if that's okay."

I gratefully took the pistol, shook his hand, and donned my helmet. "You're my brother, Craig. There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you, so if you need work, you call me and you'll have as much as you can handle. But right now, I've got to get back to Big Mountain, let myself cut loose a bit."

Boone nodded, then clapped me on the shoulder.

"See you soon, Cash."

With that, I stomped on the accelerator and sped off into the dusty, sunburnt expanse of the Mojave Desert.

...

...