Andronicus23

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Don Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah Mezzanine

Dominic took the gracious gift offered by Daniel or “Nines” as he called himself. The potholders were a quaint gift, but none-the-less welcome. The symbolism of the gift was more far important than the practicality of it, and Dominic had certainly gotten stranger gifts from various peoples. He once received a mummified mole rat paw from a friendly Zion tribal shaman who claimed it was “good medicine” and would “bring him luck.”

“Thank you my friend, sincerely,” Dominic said as he handed them to Marjorie.

“Oh aren’t these just darling….” Marjorie crooned as she looked them over, “How very whimsical!”

Dominic then listened intently as Daniel explained his current predicament. Apparently he was having some internal misgivings about how to deal with a couple of heir-apparents within his organization. Two women, both very capable, vying for power. One with the backing of the former leadership, the other with powerful friends: neither willing to give up their ultimate ambition. It was a tale as old as time. Even before they were Omertas, Dominic had seen this scenario time and time again within the old Slitherkin tribe.

He noticed Daniel looking nervously around at the other people seated on the Mezzanine, most were lost in their own reverlies, but he assumed this matter must be a delicate one indeed for his guest and he wasn’t comfortable have an audience: even an inatentive one.

Dominic first turned to Marjorie with a look, and Marjorie nodded in agreement. Business was business, she understood.

“Well I must be off,” She announced suddenly, “ Mortimer is throwing another one of his little soirees later. He’s introducing one of his new dishes….quite the affair you understand. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Floyd. Please stop by the Ultra Luxe anytime you wish, we’d love to have you for dinner.”

With appropriate flourish, Marjorie then left the Mezzanine.

Once she was gone, Dominic raised a hand and snapped a finger. The other guests at the remaining tables immediately stopped their conversations, stood up, carefully pushed their chairs in, and then quietly filed out of the mezzanine without a word. The Omerta thug doorman was the last to leave, and closed the door on his way out.

Now Daniel and Dominic were alone, and the real conversation could begin.

“I have a suggestion for you Nines,” Dominic said after a few moments of silence between the pair, “But I’m afraid you probably aren’t going to like it. That being said, you did come all the way to the King of Sin for advice, so I’m going to assume you’re looking for an answer that one of your fellow compatriots never would think to offer up: or dare to.”

Dominic leaned back in his chair and gave a shrug, “You just explained to me in sufficient detail the strengths and weaknesses of both these women, and what your people might gain from the leadership of each. I may be just an old crook, but it seems to me that the answer to your question is ‘neither’. Neither will ever be happy under the rule of the other, and will no doubt cement distrust and rebellion that could cause fractures within your group. What you need is someone who can take the strengths of both, and blend them appropriately for the betterment of your people. You need a supreme leader at the top, not a pair of bickering sisters unwilling, or unable, to seek compromise.”

“Allow me to lend a sword to your little Gordian Knot…” Dominic gave a devilish grin,

“Have you considered your own claim to power, Nines?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Don Dominic Omerta - Gomorrah

Daniel swallowed, doffing his hat again. "Advice, for certain discreet matters of state."

Clarice narrowed her eyes at the caravaner. She still didn't like him, not after the chaos he caused in her well-organized lobby, but…it ultimately wasn't up to her. She'd just have to grin and bear it.

"As it happens…" she sighed, "Don Dominic was expecting you to come calling. He said that whenever you showed up, I was to send you up. He's currently on the mezzanine…."

---

Clarice led Daniel through the main floor debauchery of Gomorrah before climbing a set of stairs and ascending to the mezzanine level. Here she knocked three times on a door, before an Omerta-made man opened it. The well-dressed thug looked cross for a moment as he eyed the pair.

“Mr. Floyd to see the Don,” She offered simply in explanation.

The thug’s face softened and he nodded in understanding, stepping aside and allowing the Daniel in.

Dominic was seated at a card table with another dapper-looking gangster seated across from him. An array of playing cards had been splayed out in front of them in two distinct neat ‘fans’. The pair of them were taking turns swapping cards and purposely laying them into their own respective groupings.

Behind Dominic, an immaculately dressed and of course white-gloved Marjorie looked down at her now-husband's card playing with a mixture of confusion and interest. A gold ring with a diamond the size of a sugar-cube sat squarely on her finger.

“Slow down Domy-dear, I can’t understand what’s happening when you two move so quick,” Marjorie pouted.

“Ah honey let us play the game eh? Don’t worry I’ll teach you all the rules later…” Dominic replied as he took a puff on a big cigar clasped between his fingers.

“He might need some help at the rate he’s losing….” Dominic’s rival player quipped.

“Quiet youse…” Dominic chuckled, “I still got a chance here.”

The Omerta thug that had let Daniel in cleared his throat audibly, drawing attention to himself and the newcomer.

“Apologies Don….Mr. Floyd to see you.”

“Ahhh Mr. Floyd, a pleasure my friend..” Dominic said as he, still seated, offered his hand, “Good to see you in person finally. Mikey why don’t you vamoose and let Mr. Floyd here take your seat. You won anyway…”

Dominic’s card-playing opponent tipped his hat with a grin, “Better luck next time Dom.”

“Ah get outta here you cheat,” Dominic fired back with a chuckle. He then ushered Daniel to sit in the open seat. Behind him Marjorie placed her hands on her husband's shoulders and gently began to rub them,

“Mr. Floyd,” Marjorie said with a glowing look, “Allow me to say that The White Gloves greatly appreciate the food stocks you sent. It was dreadful what happened with the recent flooding….those poor people. I felt so sorry for them…living in a slum to begin with and then having it all washed away….dreadful…simply dreadful. When my Dominic here suggested our families sent aid…I was all too willing to open our larders. It is the duty of the privileged to help the less fortunate, is it not? And the greater the privilege, the greater the responsibility of course.”

“Indeed” Dominic added, giving Daniel a wink and a sly grin that said, Just go along with it bud.

“So Mr. Floyd, or can I call you Daniel?” Dominic continued, leaning in, "What can ol’ Dom do for you?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

This is my stab at the Omerta timeline -

October 19th - Don Dominic calls a sit-down of the Three Families to be held at the Ultra Luxe. Dominic, with the support of Marjorie, accuses Swank of breaking key tenets of The Contract. Swank denies all accusations and abruptly leaves the meeting without further elaboration.

October 25th - The Omerta Family begins a buildup of weapons and illicitly purchased military hardware, increasing their production of small arms across their compounds in Outer Vegas. These weapons are secretly shipped to the Strip. Omerta-affiliated thugs across Vegas are noticeably better armed. Iron Forester Mercs begin actively patrolling Omerta controlled areas of Vegas.

October 30th - Don Dominic Omerta and Marjorie of the White Gloves are married in an overly-elaborate ceremony at the Ultra Luxe. Various underworld figures linked to the Don from across the Southwest attend in a notable gathering of the whos-who of post-war organized crime. The White Gloves and Omerta Families are formerly united by marriage ties. None of the Chairmen attend, nor are they invited.

November 1st - A gunfight erupts between several armed groups in Freeside. The brief but violent skirmish results in 18 dead. Rampant fear and speculation regarding further escalation of the Families’ conflict spreads throughout the city. The Heads of the Three Families all publicly deny any involvement and claim this was an unrelated gang conflict.

November 4th - The Flooding prompts the Omertas to evacuate several of their safehouses in Outer Vegas. In an unexpected move, Dominic publicly announces that the Omertas and White Gloves will be assisting the people of Outer Vegas and Freeside with relief and recovery efforts. Thousands of caps are spent on hiring laborers and opening Omerta-run shelters and soup kitchens to provide aid. The White Gloves agree to open up their considerable food larders to provide adequate stocks to these locations. The Omertas supply a number of makeshift hospitals in the area with medical chems.

November 14th - Legion activity across the Colorado prompts an unusually unified response from the Three Families, who issue summons to the NCR ambassador for clarification on the situation.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah, Abraham “Honest Abe" Rockwood

Rockwood sat brooding within his office on the 4th floor of Gomorrah, the smoldering stub of a cigarette still clutched in his fingers. Since returning from Freeside, he’d been contemplating the information Tommy ‘Quickfinger’ had shared before his very sudden untimely passing. The arrogant conman had told quite the story before he’d died. Now the only question was what was going to be done about it.

His door opened, and Rockwood looked up to see Lucy striding in. The Omerta Family Heir apparent was looking as beautiful, and dangerous, as ever,

“You wanted to talk Abe?” She said as her high heel clapped against the floor leading to his desk. She took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, propping her feet up on a footstool, “I hear you had quite the little adventure in Freeside.”

“That I did Lucrezia.”

“And?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Well don’t keep me in suspense, what’s the bad news?”

He sighed, then took another drag on his cigarette stub, “That conman? Tommy? He was working for Swank.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Don’t be dramatic Abe.I know you hate the Chairmen with an admirable fucking passion, but this isn’t all that surprising. I’ll admit this is a new low but…”

“That ain’t the bad news,” Rockwood interrupted, shaking his head, “The bad news is it isn’t a one-off. The Chairmen are building a network of thieves, with the sole goal of driving away traffic from Gomorrah and stirring up shit with the NCR troopers to boot. He’s directly, blatantly, violating The Contract.”

“Ah, well that’s different then,” It was Lucy’s turn to sigh, “Tommy told you all this then? How can you be sure he wasn’t just making shit up to save his skin?”

“Let’s just say I corroborated his testimony,” Rockwood smirked, then took one last drag on his cigarette before smashing the tiny remnant into his ashtray, “I had a feeling something was off. A lowlife pickpocket like Tommy wouldn’t have had the balls to try something like this on his own. Someone had to be offering him something else.”

Lucy leaned back in her chair, “My father won’t like it.”

“No he won’t,” Rockwood rubbed at his forehead, “I’m not a psychic, but…I can guess what will happen next. The Don will ask for a sitdown of the Families to resolve this, as he well should to be seen as reasonable, and Swank will flatly deny everything. When negotiations fail, we’ll be left to resolve this on our own, which means taking down this little network of Swank’s cell by cell. Inevitably someone, somewhere, is going to do something stupid, and we’re going to end up fighting Chairmen associates if not Chairmen button-men themselves in the streets.”

“The makings of a war,” Lucy finished his thought.

“Mark my words…It’ll only escalate from here.” Rockwood nodded.

“About time,” Lucy smirked, “The Slitherkin and the Mojave Boot-riders have a score to settle, once and for all. This has been a long time coming.”

“You know your father has banned those names.”

“I prefer them…..it's important to remember where we come from, or do you disagree?”

Rockwood smiled, he had to admire Lucy’s tenacity and admirable fondness for the old ways. Even if he couldn’t publicly do so,

“I don’t disagree,” He said plainly.

Lucy gave a devilish grin, “Good, then when my father puts me in charge of fighting this war, and he will, we’ll be settling this the old way. The tribal way.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Freeside, The Atomic Wrangler - Now Youse Can’t Leave

“Another round for me and my boys James, keep the drinks coming.”

James Garrett eyed his three regulars suspiciously. They consisted of Tommy ‘Quickfinger’ Morales and his two cronies, Jack and Paul. The three of them had been at it practically all night, gambling big at the tables, drinking it up, and rotating between various hookers. They must have blown close to 4,000 caps by now. Tommy was notoriously lazy, so it was hard to believe they’d made those caps doing anything resembling honest labor. Not that it really mattered either way.

“You still good for it?” James asked as he placed three empty glasses on the counter.

“Eyyy who are you talking to here?” Tommy replied with mocking derision as he slammed a small pile of caps on the bar, “.....I’m always good for it.”

“Not always,” James muttered and poured the three their choice drinks, “Just where did you get all those caps anyhow? Didn’t steal it, did you?”

“Steal it? Fuck no. I won this fair and square on the Strip,” Tommy protested, he then gave a sly grin, “A lucky smoother-talker…that’s all I am.”

“Yeah whatever Tommy,” James sighed, “As long as you keep paying…I don’t care.”

Tommy shrugged as James walked away to serve other customers, and he then turned back to his cronies, “Drink up boys we earned it.”

Suddenly Tommy's attention was directed towards the front entrance of the Atomic wrangler where a pair of women entered the casino. Tommy was immediately intrigued, they didn’t look like tourists, in fact, they looked more like wasteland raiders with their punk hair and numerous tattoos. All that only made them stand out more to him though. Of course, the skimpy clothing they wore certainly added to their appeal.

Tommy’s eyes followed them across the Wrangler’s floor until they seemed to turn to look at him. He took a short sip on his whiskey as the pair appeared to chat between themselves, then they sauntered up to the bar and pulled up a couple chairs directly across from him. By this point, Jack and Paul were both looking at the two women as well, and immediately had their full attention. As always though, Tommy took to the lead.

“Ladies,” He said, trying to sound as smooth as he could through slurred speech, “Care for a drink.”

The pair let out a giggle, and nodded eagerly,

“James!” Tommy yelled out, “Two Atomic cocktails for these fine young ladies here.”

“Quit shouting Tommy,” James growled as he returned to fix the drinks. Once he sat the made cocktails on the bar and collected the caps, he was gone again.

“Plenty more where that came from,” Tommy grinned as he scooted close to the two women, “Now what are your names?”

---

Tommy, Paul, and Jack spent the better part of two hours chatting up the girls, each one trying to one-up the other in the tales of their exploits. Before long, Tommy had his arm around one of them, who he’d learned was named Lacy, and was acting like she was already his girl. That just left Jake and Paul to fight over the other girl, who’s name was Marissa.

Their good times were interrupted suddenly when a pair of men with the same sort of raider-look approached the group.

“Stealing our girls? Get the fuck away from them!” One of the men demanded angrily as he strode up to Tommy.

“WHOA WHOA back off asshole,” Tommy snapped back as he shoved the man aside.

Pretty soon Jack and Paul were also on their feet, ready to fight, and certainly it looked like one was about to break out between the five men.

“OUT! ALL OF YOU!” The shrill voice of Francine Garret rang out over the wrangler, “I’ve had enough. Get out or I’ll have you all thrown out.” The Garret twins hired goons immediately began making their way over, eager to do just that..

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Lacy suggested as she pulled at Tommy’s suit-coat.

“Yeah….no problem toots,” Tommy replied, “Jack…Paul…let’s blow this joint. We’ll just take out caps elsewhere.”

“Good riddance!” Francine called out after them as they left the Wrangler.

They stepped out onto the streets of Freeside, and the trio began following where the two women led. The men who’d confronted them appeared to just disappear into the crowd, and didn’t seem to be after them. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief, he talked a big talk, but when it came to actually fighting he was a complete coward.

“Where are we going?” Tommy finally asked Lacy, who was still hanging on his arm.

“This great place down the road, called The Rad Rat. Ever been there?”

“Huh, can’t say that I have,” Tommy said with a surprised look. He knew practically every place in town, so he was shocked he actually hadn’t. “Is it new?”

“Just opened,” Lacy replied with a suggestive look, “You’ll love it.”

---

The girls led them down several winding, twisting streets and back alley-ways until they came to a part of Freeside that Tommy had never been before. The place they stopped at was an unmarked pre-war joint, that looked like an old hole-in-the-wall bar.

“Classy,” Tommy quipped as they strode inside. There was no-one else in the bar, save for an odd looking bartender with a pencil-thin mustache, who was diligently cleaning a few glasses.

“Welcome,” the bar-keep said as they entered, “What can I get you?”

“Whatever drink is the most expensive,” Tommy said as he sat at the bar, “One for each of the boys, and two for the ladies,” he said with a smirk.

“Hmmm coming right-up."

“So baby,” Tommy cooed as he turned away from the bartender and pulled Lacy in closer, “What are your plans for tonight. Wanna shack-up at my place?”

“You’re Tommy Quickfinger ain’t ya?” The bartender suddenly asked, interrupting him as he continued making the drinks.

Tommy gave the nosy-bar keep the side-eye and growed, “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“I hear you got a really good hustle going on the strip.”

Tommy looked back and forth between Jack and Paul, and then turned back to the bartender, “Who told you that old man?”

“Oh…just a friend of mine,” the bar-keep shrugged, “But you have been conning customers at Gomorrah, am I right?”

“Shut up and serve the drinks,” Tommy snapped back, “The fuck you think you are asking me questions like that?” He then turned back to Lacy with a smile, “And what if I did? Not like those assholes don’t deserve it. I gotta better things to spend that money on…like this fine dame here.”

“You ain’t afraid of the Omertas?” Lacy asked, batting her eye-lids, “How brave...”

“Eh, I ain’t afraid of them. But why would they care? Not like I’m robbing them of anything,” Tommy boasted. In his half-drunken stupor, he couldn’t help but keep talking, “Just robbing NCR goons anyway.”

There it was. Big Mistake.

Lacy and Marissa immediately stood up and walked over to a side door. Tommy held out his hands incredulously, “Ohhh hey, where are you girls goin’?”

Lacy just gave him a playful wave in response. The bartender sat down the half-made drink he was working on, and rounded the corner of the bar. Then made his way over to the entrance of the building.

“The fuck you doin?” Tommy demanded angrily.

The bartender pulled out a key, and……locked the door.

Tommy’s heart dropped down right into his stomach. In that moment, he knew he’d fucked up.

Rockwood turned back to the three conmen, a look of pure hatred etched across his face. “Don’t bother trying to bluff your way out,’ The Enforcer said plainly, “We know you aren’t armed.”

Tommy could only look on in horror as Omerta thugs began rushing out the side door, bats and knives in hand.

—-----------------------------

Hours later, three badly maimed bodies had been piled up next to the Strip’s wall in Freeside. A hastily scrawled message had been spray-painted behind them,

DON’T FUCK WITH THE FAMILY

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah Zoara Club, Dominic Omerta

Benny scoffed, “Rebellion? Not at all. While I haven’t met the Colonel personally I can attest he is a loyal son of the Republic. Very few members of the NCR military have been afforded the autonomy and power he was given with his governorship of the Mojave. The fact he hasn’t abused that power is, I believe, a clear indicator of his allegiance to the state. However,” Benny stated uneasily “As I am sure you are well aware through your own experience, when you give a man power and independence. He can sometimes be reluctant to see it lessen.”

“Ah that’s very true. Especially when that man has the complete loyalty, love, and full backing of a own personal army that he has shepherded through trials and tribulations on the frontier,” Dominic leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag on his cigarette, and giving Benny a wry smile as he exhaled the smoke, “The loyalty of such a man, of course, is beyond dispute.”

Benny then talked about how the CSF would have far more discretion in application of force, a fact that didn’t surprise Dominic in the slightest. But a more salient point that Benny almost certainly would never admit to directly was that it also gave the NCR plausible deniability when such force was actually applied in….unofficial ways.

It was a sound tactic, and one he was very familiar with. The mercenaries he hired for Vegas were always a very convenient option when he needed to keep Omerta involvement to a minimum. Sometimes you just needed someone else’s fingerprints on the guns.

“I came here today to do more than just establish a dialogue between the Van-Graff administration and the families of the Strip. I believe, and I hope you’ll agree, that the future stability and profitability of the Mojave relies on a strong central authority here in Vegas. Through your actions you have clearly made strides in securing swathes of this city under the control of the Omerta family. I hope that as things change and we move closer to annexation the Van-Graff administration can rely upon their friends at the Gomorrah to step in when certain misguided individuals show objection to the obvious betterment of the city and territory at large.”

“Oh I completely agree,” Dominic laughed warmly and gave Benny an approving nod, “And of course, of course, you and the NCR can always rely on my family when called upon. I said it before and I’ll say it again, anything you need, you just let ol’ Dom know, eh?”

Dominic took a few more drags on his cigarette, then smashed the remained of it into a nearby ashtray,

“Well that was a fine conversation Benny,” Dominic said with a grin as he stood up from his seat, “Hell I wouldn’t mind sitting and chatting all day, but I’m afraid I’ve got other things to attend to this morning and I’m sure you do as well. Shit I’m sure we could both sit here all day smoking like chimneys and eatin’ some of that fine cake of yours and play hooky on our responsibilities....oh well, maybe another time eh?”

Benny smiled and nodded.

“Indeed Mr. Dominic, I find your company, familiar, to say the least. Please don’t hesitate to contact me again if you find yourself needing some assistance from the Van-Graff administration. We are always happy to assist our friends in New Vegas. Simply send any requests through Miss Gutierrez” Benny paused for a moment as he stubbed out his cigarette. “On that note I would like to ask for a minor favor before I depart. Miss Gutierrez seems to be one of the only competent employees left in the embassy. The majority of them are no doubt holdovers from previous administrations and representative of their failures. If you know of any competent trustworthy individuals looking for employment please do not hesitate to send them our way. I do realize it's quite a big task. After all, finding someone trustworthy in this city is no doubt like finding water in the desert. And yet,” he smiled large and white “Here we are.”

“Now,” Dominic continued, giving Benny a friendly pat on the back, “I hope you know I’m not about to kick you out of my Casino though. Please, stay as long as you like, take whatever food or drink you’d like, and hook up with any working girl, or two, or three, that catches your eye. And of course….you’ve got a complimentary penthouse suit in Gomorrah that you’re free to use whenever, and however you like. Not a bad gig Mr. Ambassador,” Dominic said with a wink, “But if Gomorrah isn’t your speed and you’d prefer the Ultra Luxe…well no harm no foul…hell you’d be making my fiance’ a very happy woman, so just let someone over there know and they’ll set you up right quick. Tell em’ Dom sent ya.”

“Well I am partial to the splendors of life. However, it would be best for myself and my office if I kept my nose clean, at least for now.” Benny gave teh old gangster a wink. “I’m sure once I get settled and sorted within the month I can find the time to fully enjoy the liberties offered at your fine establishments.”

“Pleased to have met you Benny, my door is always open if you need anything. You know your way out?"

“The pleasure is all mine sir.” Benny shook his hand “I’m sure I can trust one of your associates to help me find my way out.” Benny tipped his head toward the Don. “Till next we meet.”

"Goodbye and arrivederci my friend.” Dominic showed Benny to the door of the club and once the Ambassador had left, he turned back to
the red-headed waitress.

“Sally, fill up my plate,” He growled, as he sat back down at the table, “I need to think, and I don’t plan on doing that on an empty stomach.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Freeside - Santelli’s Deli, Abraham “Honest Abe” Rockford - Sniffing out a Con

Rockford took a long drag on his cigarette as he walked down the broken sidewalk of some nameless filth-covered street in Freeside. He kept his free hand stuffed in his pocket fingering the handle of a loaded snub nose .44, a necessary precaution venturing anywhere in the ghetto. Even an Omerta enforcer had to keep his wits about him, because while the Omertas had plenty of friends in Freeside, that was no guarantee that some foolhardy idiot wasn’t going to try his luck anyway.

Generally if you kept to the Boulevard and the area of Fremont Street itself, then you were relatively safe. Plenty of mercenaries and Omerta-hired goons patrolled those two streets escorting tourists to and from the strip. Once you started venturing off from that well-trodden path though? Well that’s where things got interesting.

As he continued down the street, Rockford stepped over the body of some poor schmuck lying face down in a puddle of his own making. Seemed obvious that the guy had OD’d at some point recently, given the empty syringes littering the ground around him. Rockford stooped down and observed the detritus, giving a rueful smile as he realized it was all Omerta-made. That wasn’t surprising though, most if not all the chems flowing into Freeside and Outer Vegas were somehow connected to his family. He felt a twinge of guilt at seeing how young the guy looked, but swiftly pushed it aside. Someone in his position couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for these addicts, otherwise he’d be spilling his heart out all over Vegas.

As he walked away, he looked behind him and saw some opportunistic guttersnipe run over to the corpse and start rummaging through the dead man’s pockets, then the kid kicked the body and ran off having apparently found nothing of value.

Just another day in Freeside, Rockford thought bitterly.

He tossed his spent cigarette to the side just as he arrived at his destination. It was a small red-bricked building that was squashed between two dilapidated apartment buildings. A large red and white sign above it read “Satriale's Pork Store” but that had been crossed out several times by crude streaks of black paint and underneath it, in bright bold red letters, was spelled out the place's new name “Santelli’s Deli”. Outside of the place, a few rough-looking men and women in tattered leather jackets and t-shirts wielding baseball bats were loitering around. They all sported tattoos and a wide variety of garish hairstyles that would not be out of place among raiders. As Rockford approached, one particular thug who looked like the leader of this misfit gang gave him a friendly nod, then opened the door for him.

Wanna-be gangsters, Rockford thought as he stepped inside, Probably somewhere on the Omerta payroll.

“Oh, hey Abe,” A rough voice greeted him as Rockford entered the worn-out interior of the deli. A ghoul in a blood-stained appron stepped around the counter, “Guess you got my message?”

“I did,” Abe nodded as he pulled out his red notepad, “So..what’d you got for me Tony?”

“Well I might have overhead somethin’ a couple nights ago,” The old ghoul said as he scratched at his necrotic chin, “Had a guy in here - well dressed. I figured he was a tourist at first, which was odd because tourists don’t come out this way - I only ever get locals. Anyways…I strike up a conversation with him and ask if he’s new around here: he says that used to live in Westside. I asked him, well then what do you do because you’ve got some fine fancy digs. Then I asked, ‘You workin’ for a casino?’”

“What did he say to that?”

“Eh he kinda chuckled weirdly at that then said, kinda, and that he’s got gig that he runs up on the strip. I asked him what kind of gig: he says ‘the kind that makes me a butt-load of money without having to lift a finger.’ I says to him, well that sounds like a good deal for you then. And he says ‘yeah it is, but not for the suckers.’”

“Suckers?” Rockford asked, eyebrow raised.

“I figured he meant tourists,” Tony replied with a shrug, “You know, gamblers and what-not. So anyway, he pays for his meat and leaves and I don’t think much of it, until I heard your little APB this morning..Got to thinking maybe it was connected.”

“Certainly sounds like it could be,” Rockford nodded thoughtfully as he jotted down a few notes, “Get a good look at him?”

“Yeah I did, scrawny little fuck with blue eyes. Maybe 25 years old, with a scar on his left hand.”

“Was there anyone with him?”

Tony shook his head, “Nah just his lonesome.”

“Alright well that’s something to go off,” Rockford said, giving the ghoulish butcher an appreciative nod, “Thanks Tony, I’ll check into it. Give my best to the Mrs. eh?”

“I’ll do that thank yeh,” Tony said with a grin, “And please, tell Mr. Dominic that business has been good lately. Gotten plenty of customers for that new party chem your Family is cookin’ up. Could use another shipment soon actually.”

“I’ll make sure one gets sent,” Rockford said, tipping his hat, “See ya around Tony.”

Rockford stepped back out of the Deli while reaching for another cigarette as he considered what to do with the information Tony had given him. It wasn’t much, and it was entirely possible it was completely unrelated, but he’d heard nothing else from any of his contacts so far. So it was truly his best lead, or rather, it was his only lead.

“Going somewhere Mister?” One of the female gangsters asked with a cock of her tattoo’d head, almost as soon as he stepped out the door, “You with The Family right?”

“Maybe, what's it to you?” Rockford replied. He reached for his lighter and lit up on his cigarette. He puffed steadily on it and narrowed his eyes at the unlikely quartet. All their eyes seemed to light up, and they eager looked to one another with excited expressions,

“Oh man I knew it,” One of the males said with a goofy grin.

“Hey’d we’d be…uh…honored to escort you around Freeside,” the female wanna-be continued, “And anything else we can do for you….just let us know.”

“I don’t need an escort,” Rockford replied, blowing smoke in their direction. Their expressions sunk for a brief moment as they no doubt thought perhaps they’d lost out on a chance to impress their criminal overlords, but then Rockford gave a grin, “But I might have some other uses for you. Interested in a little undercover work?”

The gangsters' smiles returned.

“Anything for the Omertas.”

Zoara Club VIP Lounge, Don Dominic - The Benny Situation

Dominic listened with a bored expression as Benny rattled off a long list of planned bureaucratic changes to the Mojave. He wanted to give Benny the immediate impression that nothing of what he said interested him, or that he simply had no interest in the politics of it all or the machinations of a national scale that far outclassed his own simple criminal ambitions.

The reality was nothing could be farther from the truth. He hung on Benny’s every word as the neurotic ambassador rambled off the so-called 'vision' for the future. Some parts of which were undoubtedly half-truths or even outright lies, but even under that consideration the plans Benny laid out infuriated him to no end. He’d expected Benny to lie, to give some indication of how the Strip and the Mojave wouldn’t *really* change, but the Ambassador had not seemed to bother with that. Or rather, the lie he told wasn’t even attempting to placate or assuage doubts about the continued autonomy of Vegas. If this was what Benny was attempting to spin to him, what was the NCR’s actual plan?

None of that will come to pass, Dominic wanted to growl out. He wanted to punch Benny’s face in and have his men haul him off to a fate worse than death. The Legion used to crucify their victims, leave them up on that cross of wood for days on end before they expired, that seemed a fitting punishment for the little weasel sitting before him. With a snap of his finger it could happen, Benny could disappear, and some excuse could be cooked up to the NCR brass about how their new Ambassador ran into an unfortunate bit of ‘trouble’ after he’d wandered into Freeside unadvisedly. Excuses would be made, apologies would be offered, palms would be greased, and retribution would be forgotten.

Yet, much to his chagrin, he couldn’t, not yet anyway: not now.

So instead he had to play along.

His ears perked up at the mention of CSF security taking over control of key NCR installations in lieu of Colonel Abernathy’s own men. It was a strange bit of information to add, and it immediately got him intrigued. Had Abernathy finally lost the support of the NCR brass back home? Or was something else afoot here?

“I hate to be trouble Mr. Dominic but do you have anything I could smoke?” Benny asked as he patted down his suit in search of a pack of cigarettes.

Dominic smiled and reached into his jacket pocket. He withdrew a long black slender object that looked not unlike the handle of a blade, then offered it up to Benny in one smooth motion which, had it been a knife, could have torn into the Ambassador’s chest. Instead, Dominic pressed a button on the case and a cigarette popped out like a switch. He offered it up to the Ambassador, then took one for himself.

He then stuffed the case back into his jacket and withdrew a gold-plated lighter and flipped it open. He lit Benny’s cigarette before igniting his own. Smoke wafted around them as the two sat in silence for a few brief moments while they both enjoyed the flavor of the pristine pre-war tobacco.

Finally, Dominic broke the silence, giving a slight shrug as he stared at Benny,

“Omerta,” He explained, “Means silence. You have my word, the Colonel won’t hear about it from me. Though I am curious why you’d trust me at all, I’m frankly flattered that you’d think little ol’ me important enough to hear details of what is obviously going to be a very sensitive operation before they even happen,” Dominic drew on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke calmly through the right side of his mouth, “But honestly, why should there would be any cause for concern at all? Colonel Abernathy is a loyal NCR man is he not? A patriot? Surely you aren’t suggesting he’d be capable of some sort of rebellion?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah, Zoara Club - Dominic "Fat Dom" Omerta

“Pleasures all mine Mr. Dominic. I truly appreciate you opening up the Gomorrah to me so early in the day. It was a spectacular experience I was greeted with upon my arrival this morning. Likewise,” he took a drag and exhaled to the side away from the Don. “I want to thank you sincerely for the greeting my escort and I were given upon our arrival to the Strip last night. As I’m sure you are aware we were not so kindly received on our entrance to Freeside.”

Dominic nodded as Sally swiftly returned carrying a tray filled with two large slices of cake which she deposited in front of the Don and Benny. She also set down a cup of coffee in front of the NCR Ambassador.

“Oh yes I heard about that,” Dominic sighed as he excitedly dug into the cake with his fork, “ I assume your man was given some reason to turn that mercenary into all of swiss cheese, but if not, I’m sure he won’t be missed. Luckily those particular guards were not Omerta,” The Don said casually, stuffing a slice of the cake into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, “Although, to be honest I’m not sure Freeside will be as forgiving about it...they tend to be a bit more…tribal…about these things. Well, in any case, I’m still glad we could right that little wrong and give you a proper welcome.”

“Especially your employee…the lady Lucrezia. She is quite the woman, you should be proud to have her in your staff. She represents your business and your interests well.”

“Why thank you, I’m happy to hear you say that. Hey, I’m told she has quite a high opinion of you as well…maybe a little toooo high… ” Dominic laughed heartily, then slapped the Ambassador lightly on the shoulder, “Ah I’m just bustin’ your balls. Actually I’m more proud than you can imagine my friend. Lucy is a firecracker, a fighter through and through. I’d like to say she gets it all from me, but the truth is her mother was quite the pistol….nearly shot me the day we met if you can believe it. HA! Needless to say, Lucy will make a fine leader for the Omertas when it’s time for her old man to retire and grow old and fat…or rather grow fatter and older. Eh?”

“I hope the cake is to your liking sir. The barista at the Ultra Luxe refused to let me pay for it when I informed him who it was for. I’m assuming you have a connection with that casino as well?”

“Oh you ain’t heard? Bah..I’m surprised, word gets around fast here but maybe not fast enough for the Embassy,,” Dominic replied with a sly wink, “The White Gloves and the Omertas are going to be one big-happy family soon. Marjorie, their leader, is soon to be my wife. Oh boy let me tell you…it’s going to be quite the event. That woman has done nothing but wedding plan since I gave her the ring. Don’t you worry, you’ll certainly get an invite.”

“In any case I hope we can be candid with each other and open up an easy line of dialogue. You’re the first family representative to invite me to a parlay upon my arrival. I’m sure you’re curious about annexation, taxation and what all the NCR has planned for New Vegas. I will answer these questions to the best of my knowledge and as far as my professional discretion allows. However,” Benny leaned in close. “I want to assure you that the president has no intention of dismantling the authority held by the families of the Strip. It is only with mutual respect between our organizations that we can make this annexation a painless process.”

Dominic suddenly sat down his fork and looked up at Benny, his steel-gray eyes boring into the Ambassador with an uncomfortable intensity, as if to subtly warn him about taking the veteran criminal leader for a fool. He did not appear angry, nor even disappointed, but instead just seemed oddly serene. Nobody in New Vegas, not even the Chairmen with all their blind trust in old Not-At-Home, would believe any part of the lie that the Ambassador had just told. The NCR never recognized any authority but its own.

There was probably some sort of wise cautionary tale to be remembered here: about how foolish it was be to try to beat the devil at his own game with a lie….and inside his own home.

All of a sudden though Dominic’s expression lightened and he gave him a smile that rapidly grew into a wide jovial grin, “Ahh, that’s good to hear. Very good to hear. I must admit that we’re all very concerned about what our NCR friends have in store for us. Tell me Benny, man to man, what does the NCR have in mind for New Vegas? What do you see for Sin City in our future?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah Front Entrance, Head of Security “Sonny” Santino - Dealing with the Disturbance

“Bunch’a fuggin’ nutcases,” Sonny couldn’t help but mumble under his breath as he heard the back and forth between caravaners. He even heard a chuckle emanate from behind him from his soldiers as he heard one of the group want to ‘make an example of an Omerta Thug.’ It was all like a bad dream to him, why the hell did he have to have a shift this morning? Why couldn’t Lucky be the one down here right now dealing with these lunatics?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a few deep calming breaths just like that quack Follower therapist said to do, and he breathed in and out a couple times before counting to ten in his head. Back in his Slitherkin days, these yokels would’ve been marked for death the moment they started flapping their yaps and he would have taken his sweet time finishing them off. These days, he couldn’t just go around slaughtering people no matter how much they annoyed him. For all the trouble they were causing, they were clearly harmless, albeit a giant pain in the ass.

“Alright I’ve heard enough. First off: that’s Don Dominic to youse. Only members of the family call him that, of which you clearly aint, ” He said finally after a few tense moments of silence, “ Secondly…look around, what do you see? Does this look like a friggin’ art gallery to you? This is Gomorrah. We deal in only one thing here and that's sin. People come here to gamble, get piss drunk, get laid, get high, or any combination of those together. Understand? So unless you’re looking to take part in any of the above, or your pretty lady-friends there are looking for job applications, then youse got no business here? Capish?”

“I don’t know no Benjamin Watts neither…” Sonny added, “Now….you wanna do business with Don Dominic? Well that’s another matter. BUT you want to talk to the Don? You make an appointment like everyone else. You don’t come barging in the front door unannounced causing a ruckus and scaring my gal over there half to death.” He said, motioning to the Head Receptionist.

“Now since youse are being cordial,” He continued, looking to Daniel, “I’ll let you off with a warning and won’t make you pay out your ass for the crime of ruining my morning. But if any of you pull a stunt like that again I’ll make sure that none of you ever set foot in Vegas again,” he snarled, saying the word “Vegas” with emphasis as if to make a point that the Omerta’s controlled much more than just their Casino, if that wasn’t already plainly obvious, “Now either head back to the embassy or wait at the Vault 21 hotel or something. But you ain’t gettin’ in here unless you do things the proper way.”

---

Gomorrah Exchange Desk, Abraham “Honest Abe” Rockford, Omerta Family Enforcer - Honor Among Thieves

“So let's go over this: you were outside sitting by the Strip on a smoke break. You saw it all go down, but you didn’t get a clear look at him?”

“No Mr. Rockford, but I heard him give his name as ‘John Luciano’ and said he was there on behalf of the family. Then the young lady gave him her caps and the three gentlemen just ran out the north gate like bats outta hell,” The Cashier woman explained with a scowl, “ They looked the part, but I knew something was wrong. We don’t take cheaters' money and leave them be, for starters..”

“No we don’t, they end up as molerat food…” Rockford agreed. The middle-aged enforcer looked the part of a grizzled pre-war detective, with a long black trench coat and matching silver-gray fedora. He thoughtfully pulled at his pencil mustache and then jotted down a few notes in a small red notepad.

“Don’t know what the big fuss is,” A nearby Omerta soldier scoffed as he stood listening to the pair's conversation, “I saw her playing here. Looked to me like the bitch was a cheater anyway. She was too friggin’ lucky at the tables for a first-timer. Why bother?”

Rockford sneered at the man and then walked up to him, getting right into the soldier’s face and making the man shrink back in fear at the imposing enforcer’s stern gaze, “Why bother? WHY BOTHER? Are you fucking kidding me? Someone waltzes onto the Strip, impersonates members of OUR family, steals a customer's money, and then brazenly walks away and YOU don’t think that’s a problem? You wanna go tell that to Fat Dom himself asshole? Maybe see how he feels about that opinion of yours? Or should I just shoot you myself right now and save you the time? “

“No…I mean…” The soldier lowered his gaze, unable to respond.

“That’s what I thought,” Rockford growled, “Keep your thoughts to yourself next time idiot. Now Cindy, anything else you can tell me about these impersonators?”

“No sir Mr. Rockford that’s all. The NCR soldiers seemed pretty shook up, I will say that.”

“Well I’ll pay them a visit at the embassy, see if we can’t sort things out,” Rockford replied with a sigh, stuffing the notepad in his coat, “And we’ll find this asshole and his friends. I’ll send word to every thug in Freeside on our payroll to be on the lookout for anyone spending an unusual amount of caps. They can’t hide forever…if they’re in Vegas…they’re dead men walking.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rockford stepped into the NCR embassy a short time later, tipping his hat to the secretary as he did so, “Good morning Marisol. I’m assuming the Ambassador’s escorts have already returned to Camp Golf? I feared as much....would you please add this to any outgoing mail being sent to the Camp? It’s for Corporal Yazan Mohammad, courtesy of the Omertas. It's not sealed or private, you may inspect it yourself before sending it along if you like.”

Rockford handed an envelope to her and with another tip of his hat, he left the building.

Contents of the Letter:
Corporal Muhammad,

The Omerta Family was made aware of an incident that occurred on the Strip involving yourself and members of your squad. We were told a member of your squad was forced to hand over a substantial sum of caps won at the tables after being approached by a so-called Omerta affiliate. We want to assure you the individuals you encountered were not members of the Omerta Family and did not represent us in any capacity.

You have our deepest apologies for this unfortunate event. Rest assured, the individuals in question will be found and punished.

Should you or your squad choose to patronize Gomorrah again you will all be given rooms for a night, free of charge, and your squad member will be fully compensated for her loss.

Abraham Rockford - Internal Affairs
The Omerta Family

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Gomorrah Front Entrance - Reacting to a Disturbance

“Sonny you better get down here, there’s something…weird going on at the entrance doors. A bunch of yokels trying to get some kind of package through the doors….I don’t like it.”

The frantic voice of Clarice, the head Gomorrah receptionist, caught the security chief off guard. He leaned into the wired phone receiver and whispered his next words a bit more cautiously,

“What you think it's a bomb or somethin’ Clarice, I mean what’re we talkin’ about here?”

“No but its just…odd they’re asking to see the Ambassador and they’re scaring off some customers. I don’t like it one bit. Just get down here as quick as you can, please?”

“Yeah alright I’m on it, be down there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail babe.”

With a frustrated growl Sonny slammed the phone down on the receiver and then quickly picked it back up again, spinning the rotary to dial a new number,

“Mikey? Yeah listen up its Sonny we got a situation at the front desk. Some backwater outfit is causing a ruckus. Clarice is all worked up and it's got some of the customers on edge. I don’t want any trouble with the Ambassador down in Zoara with Fat Dom this morning, so we gotta shut this down fast fast fast, capish? I’m gonna head down there with a few of my boys, but I need you to get off your tail and tell some of those Iron Forester mercs to meet me down in the lobby in 2 minutes. Got it? Good.”

Once more Sonny slammed the phone down and then quickly threw on his body armor mumbling expletives to himself,

“Goddamn it…and I was on break too….”

—------------------------------------------------------

When the sharply dressed head of security arrived with a group of Omerta soldiers and heavily armed mercs in tow, Sonny quickly assessed the situation and began grinding his teeth when he recognized the caravaners clogging up the lobby. The silver lining was that it, probably, wasn’t an assassination plot.

“Ah, I've seen these jokers outside the embassy. They’re with that Pinochle expedition,” Sonny growled as he walked up to the caravaneers, “Oh I’m going to give them a piece of my goddamn mind…” He fumed.

“Hey buddy, just what the fuck do you think you’re doing uh? Whatsamatter cat got your tongue?” Sonny shouted at the Caravan leader as he strode right up to them, “Or are youse all blind and deaf on top of being dumb? What the FUCK do you think you’re doing here blocking traffic with that….what the hell is that thing anyhow?” He said looking up at the tall covered package.

“This your idea of a bad joke? Cause I ain’t laughing. I swear to brahmin shit I’m THIS close to tossing you all out into the nearest deathclaw den with a buncha bbq sauce slathered on your backsides. Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn’t have my boys here toss your sorry ass out of my security perimeter HUH?”