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The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Marisol Gutierrez - Strip Embassy - Morning, October 17th

Marisol held the syringe of ink carefully as she slowly filled the barrel of her fountain pen. Once the ink reached the threads she returned the syringe to the ink pot, applied a dab of grease and then screwed the end of the barrel on. She set the pen down on her notepad and wrote out her name. The ink ran smoothly and she blew lightly on her signature. Even after ten years she found delight in her ability to write. Born to a small tribe in Arizona she hadn’t the luxury of an education and had only received literacy instruction shortly before her employment at the embassy. She had been hired as an assistant receptionist but in the years since her role had expanded to almost every layer of the embassy. She arranged public correspondences, compiled reports to send back West and often ghost wrote the speeches of the last three ambassadors. As the other staff members constantly cycled out due to systemic corruption and incompetence it wasn’t long before Marisol found herself the most senior member of the embassy. It gave her great personal satisfaction to be the last one standing and she knew she would outlast this new ambassador as well.

She’d had only a brief interaction with Mr. Watts the night before when his escort arrived at the Strip. He looked weary from the road but was well dressed and conducted himself with decorum. More so than could be said for Marisol’s co-workers. Many of whom had continued their games in front of the ambassador and several hadn’t even risen from their poker tables to greet him. She didn’t mind their conduct, the worse their behavior the more elevated she would be in his eyes. By being the most competent and disciplined person in the building she had gained the trust of the past ambassadors and planned to do the same with Mr. Watts.

It was nearing nine thirty in the morning and yet Marisol was the only staff member at their post. Heading the large receptionist’s desk at the entrance to the embassy she was the first and last person any visitor saw and spoke to when visiting. She was able to curate who the ambassador met with and at what time She was even able to alter the mood of the interaction by unnecessarily delaying the meeting if she so desired. Through these actions she was always able to play both sides, blaming the guests for their tardiness and then turning around and blaming the ambassador for being unprepared. It had earned her a positive reputation throughout the Strip as the only competent one in the building. She had received offers of employment at several of the casinos, principally the Tops and the Gomorrah. She had rejected them of course but utilized those connections to ingratiate herself with the families of the Strip.

She heard footsteps and looked up from her scribbles. The ambassador was quickly walking down the hallway toward her desk, his expression was dour. She smiled.

“Good morning Mr. Watts.”

His face remained stern. “Good morning. Where the hell is everybody?” His agitation was clear to read on his freshly shaved face. His thin mustache formed a tight black line on his upper lip. He held a large felt hat in his left hand, his hair was slicked and heavily styled with a single pronounced curl that bounced with every step. He put far more effort into his appearance than the last few ambassadors had.

“I would assume they are asleep sir, or out to breakfast.” She held her smile as she looked at the brightly shone leather shoes Mr. Watts wore.

“Why are they not at work? Is this what they call professionalism here?”

“I’m afraid so sir.”

He looked about the empty halls of the embassy before sighing. “Looks like I’ll be after some new staff members.” He smiled at her weakly. “It's a relief to see someone who takes this position seriously.”

“Oh only when the boss is looking.” she teased. His smile grew.

“Well don’t worry I won’t let you too far out of my sight.” He gave her a wink. “Well Miss…” he looked over at the nameplate on her desk “...Gutierrez, would you be able to send a call over to the Gomorrah for me?”

“Of course!” She wheeled her chair closer to the phone and poised herself ready to dial. “What should I tell Lucy?”

Mr. Watt’s expression softened. “You know Miss Lucrezia?”

“It's a small town.” She waved her hand in jest and he chuckled.

“Well go ahead and call her up. Let her know I’ll be over in about an hour to meet with Don Dominic. I had planned to invite him here but,” He looked about the empty, dilapidated embassy. “This place doesn’t exactly scream class. Or professionalism.” He looked back at Marisol. “Except for you of course.”

She smiled and dialed up the reception desk at the Gomorrah and after identifying herself was patched through to the consigliere’s office.

“Lucy? Hey good morning! This is Marisol, just calling in to let you know Mr. Watts will be over within the hour. Yes. Alright. Yes I’ll let him know. Alright take care.” She hung up the phone and jotted something down. She tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to the ambassador.

“These are a few of Don Dominic’s favorite desserts, you can find them at the Ultra Luxe bakery. They’re baked fresh everyday. Lucy suggested you begin the meeting by offering him one. He is known for his sweet tooth”

Mr. Watts read over the paper and a wide white grin grew across his face. “Well thank you so much. Miss Guiterrez, this is most helpful.”

“Please, call me Marisol.”

He tapped his hat to his head before heading towards the door. He stopped after a few steps and turned back around. He pointed to the name she had written at the top of the page.

“Now I recognize these other desserts, but what’s this one?” he pointed to the name Marisol had written at the top of the page when testing her pen.

Dawn Song

“Oh that,” Marisol’s face went red and she moved her hand in a nervous dismissal. “Just something I write down as morning warm up.” She smiled sheepishly. Mr. Watts gave her a wink, folded the paper and walked out of the embassy. Marisol took a deep breath to calm herself. What stupid mistake that had been. She had become too lax over these last few ambassadors who were content to drink and gamble their days away. If Mr. Watts wasn’t so clueless, if he wasn’t so new he may have suspected something. She could have truly put herself at risk and the last seven years of work would be for nothing. Marisol left her desk and headed to get herself a cup of tea, she needed to be more careful, failure wasn’t an option.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Just wanted to pop in and say how awesome it is that you guys are still keeping the Fallout RP alive! I certainly miss it!

@Prizrak

Feel free to join us! Always accepting new members :)

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Colonel Denver Abernathy - Fort Golf - Mid-Morning, October 17th

Denver rubbed his eyes and sat up from his desk and stretched. It had already been a long day. At this point in his life they all were. Rising an hour before dawn Denver worked through the day, retiring only an hour or so before midnight. If he was lucky he got about two hours of time in his garden before he was called in for meetings, judiciary work and intelligence coordination.The garden nourished him mentally as he found the meditative work grounding and humbling. Warm soil in his hands returned him to his roots as the son of a dirt farmer. The life of the majority of people back in California. It was a brief and treasured respite from his burden of command.

As military governor Denver was expected to not only maintain NCR domination of the region but to oversee all legal proceedings occurring under the Articles of Incorporation. Murders, abductions, robberies and other grand criminal behavior was judged and enforced under his authority. After drafting the AoI he had created an organization of frontier marshals to exert NCR law at a local level without the need for interference by the 3rd Infantry. The bureau of marshals was slow to act at best and corrupt and ineffective at worst. More often than not to achieve the results he desired and maintain cooperative relationships with the towns under the AoI he had to deploy his own rangers to find and bring the perpetrators to justice. Enforcement of NCR law under Colonel Abernathy was short, harsh and too often lethal. Lack of resources and suitable detention facilities required his rangers to enact a brutal form of frontier justice. Summary executions, usually in the form of a hanging, were common punishments for criminal violators in the Mojave.

Denver had received another missing persons report from Mayor Meyers of Primm and a plea for intervention. For weeks he had lacked the personnel required as all available rangers were involved in the hunt for the Brotherhood provisioners. Now with the two young members captured and secured in the basement of his headquarters, Denver had a ranger to spare. He had informed Ranger Richard Holmes that he was to accompany SSG Keyes’ squad from Delta Company on their way back to the Mojave checkpoint. Richard would help ensure the safe delivery of the male Brotherhood provisioner to the NCRCF and then continue with Keyes’ squad south until Primm. There Richard would branch off and pursue leads on finding the cause of the disappearances in Primm.

Richard and Denver had known each other for decades and the old ranger was the only peer of his that Denver considered his friend. They had met as rangers before Denver assumed his officership and after the departure of NCR forces from the region Richard and a small platoon of rangers remained behind to assist Denver in his command as governor. They had proved invaluable and over the years Denver had become fiercely loyal to them and them to him. He trusted Richard would complete his mission as directed and return before the month was out.

The old ranger was spending his morning trying to convince their Brotherhood prisoner to accept food or drink. The young man had been stubborn in his refusal of any refreshment but after two days of captivity severe dehydration was apparent. Neither Richard nor Denver wanted the young man to die. As a corpse he was useless and any chance of negotiation with the Brotherhood of Steel would be critically damaged. Denver hadn’t gotten much information out of their female prisoner but it was enough to help clarify the strength of the Mojave chapter. They had used plain clothed provisioning agents to secure groceries through barter, never resorting to open banditry or raids. It told him that they weren’t desperate for supplies but also that their population remained low enough to be unable to recuperate any losses that may be incurred by such aggressive actions. That they had remained undetected for so long yet still able to raise up young men and women like his prisoners informed Denver that they held a secure location large enough to allow for training facilities. It would have to be located among the mountains, canyons and hills of the central Mojave. Probably between Helios One and Black Mountain but to try and find the entrance would be nearly impossible. Sandstorms, radiation, narrow gulches, deathclaws and now the growing Green prevented any concentrated investigation of the area. This rendered the chapter untouchable and any chance at eliminating them nonexistent.

Denver was divided, his gut told him that the NCR’s occupation of the Mojave would only be secure once the Brotherhood in the region were eliminated as they had been back West. However, all evidence pointed to an unassailable enemy that could hold out indefinitely. Any action against them would at best waste resources and at worst waste the lives of his soldiers.

He rubbed his face and looked out the window of his office at the grounds of Fort Golf. SSG Keyes’ squad would be arriving this afternoon and Denver still had to set up a debriefing for them. He had received radio confirmation last night of the Ambassador’s arrival to the Strip Embassy but a detailed report was needed to ascertain more information about who exactly ambassador Watts was. Denver had heard little about the man’s political past aside from being a vocal proponent of the Van-Graff family corporation. Watts had appeared suddenly on the political stage during the famine and worked to justify the growing corporatization of the republic. It sickened Denver to see his country slowly become the personal property of the Van-Graffs. They were little more than common gangsters, their wealth and influence only serving to allow them to operate more discreetly and thus more sinisterly in Denver’s eyes. He couldn’t express it but within him grew a vague nausea of dread that the greatest threat to the NCR lay not hidden in a bunker in the mountains of the Mojave. Rather it lay to the West, in the presidential office of Shady Sands.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Ambassador Benjamin “Benny” Watts - NCR Embassy - Evening October 16th

Benny smelled the liquor in his glass before taking a small sip. He choked a bit and checked the label on the bottle. It was rum. He hated rum. Benny set the bottle back and pushed his glass aside while the commander offered their assistance in the renovation of the office. Benny smiled at the sentiment. It was rare for someone of power to offer assistance without expecting something in return. Benny was trying to decide exactly what kind of person this Mr. Floyd was. The man folded his hands together and crossed his legs, settling into the chair in a very casual manner. The calmness presented by Floyd made Benny’s assessment difficult. Was the man truly at ease in this encounter, had he really just come by to introduce himself? Or was this commander a representative for a powerful organization that Benny was ignorant to.

"We're an emerging power, and it's better to grow with friendly neighbors than without. I represent an organization that reaches north to the Bishop area. We're a common trade hub.”

Benny’s ears perked up at the mention of Bishop and he re-adjusted himself in his seat to get some of his anxious energy out. It took him a moment to realize that the commander referred to an area called Bishop and not the Bishop family. Benny wasn’t too familiar with Californian geography. But the name seemed almost an omen and Benny was unsure about what it would mean for this new relationship.

“If you'd like to set up a regional network, feel free to ask us. In the meantime, though, we ask that you refrain from sending a military presence north of the Tools Factory. Be advised that we will be engaging in construction projects, but there's no reason why they cannot be joint development. We can split costs and share benefits. The Mojave needs manufacturing; I'm sure you agree. As for yourself, does your administration have particular intentions? I'd like to relay them back to my superiors, and we can assist as needed."

The man seemed sincere enough but Benny was on edge. He hadn’t expected to be intercepted on the Strip by a representative of an organization other than a casino, especially not on his first night in town. Much less one that would simultaneously offer assistance, opportunities for trade and a thinly veiled warning against sending armed forces near their territory. Clearly these people were ones Benny should be cautious with. Though they dressed differently from the gangs of New Reno and Shady Sands, Benny had met enough gangsters to know they came in all different styles. Benny folded his hands and shifted them about nervously, he needed something to smoke.

“Well uh Commander Floyd, I do so appreciate the kind offers for assistance.” Benny smiled and in almost perfect timing the CSF agent returned with a half pack of cigarettes. Benny grabbed one out, lit it and took a deep breath. “The name of your organization, Pinochle, what is that? A card game correct? Tell me, if you will, how did you all settle on such a name if you’re not in the casino business?” He offered Floyd one of the cigarettes.

“In regards to your construction projects I’m afraid to say that it will be some time before I am able to engage in anything of the sort. With my uh, recent arrival, I’m sure you can see there is much to be done. Not least of which is a deep clean and redecoration.” He motioned to the overflowing ashtray and the drab green rug. “My intentions first and foremost is a formal establishment of public relations with all reputable organizations and businesses operating in New Vegas and the greater Mojave area. I’m sure you’re curious about annexation? Seems about all that I’ve been asked about since my arrival. Unfortunately I cannot divulge anything specific on the matter. Colonel Abernathy remains the military-governor of this territory and until I can speak with him privately a timeline for annexation remains unknown.” Benny knew that was only mostly true, the president didn’t want a timeline for the annexation of New Vegas to be publicly known. She had been concerned about riots in the city and how she may have to rely upon the colonel to put them down. Benny didn’t know much but he knew the president wanted to do everything possible to avoid including the colonel in the process. She simply hadn’t enough CSF enforcers in the region to enact her will. At least not yet.

“In terms of manufacturing in the Mojave I do agree that with the influx of citizens into the territory the concern over gainful employment has come up. I will contact Gloria Van-Graff, the regional manager of the Mojave branch. They are operating out of an old Repconn building just south of the city. She has been looking to acquire custom machined parts and I believe that his tool factory may be a good place to start.” Benny sat up a bit and leveled with Floyd. “Obviously she is a private business owner so any work she is involved in would be separate from our own public works.” He smiled sheepishly. It was a lie but one Benny had to keep repeating for the near future. The Van-Graffs had bought up so much of the Republic during the famine that to try and separate where the family business ended and government work began was nearly impossible at this point.

“Now Commander Floyd I’ll be working with my staff to draft up some more official agreements in regards to our new relationship. Taxation, property rights and the like. Is there anything specific you’d like us to address ahead of time?” Benny shifted himself before motioning for the CSF agent to leave the room.

“And on a more personal matter I was wondering what your impressions have been of New Vegas thus far.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Unknown Radio Signal - 2am - October 17th

Just after midnight on a frequency channel between radio New Vegas and the Mojave Music station a male voice breaks through the crackle of dry static. He is whimpering and mumbling incoherently to himself.

“I’m all alone.” he sobs. “All alone because they left me.”

The broadcast returns to empty static for several minutes. If one listens closely they can hear faint crying.

“Mother! Where have you gone!” The voice is enraged and there is clamoring in the background as they thrash about. “Alone!”

Static returns and there is no longer crying but the sound of something heavy being dragged. The static begins to fade out, replaced by labored breathing.

“All around me the skies weep and I can hear them. Always there. Watching! Waiting.” The voice is agitated and speaks in between breaths. “And so I offer this sacrifice that they might spare me.”

There are the sounds of a struggle and commotion and another muffled voice. The words are nearly incomprehensible but it sounds as if the speaker is fighting with someone else.

“Mother! This blood lays on your hands!” The man screams and the sounds of struggle are replaced with violent wet thrashing like someone whipping a soaked towel against a concrete floor. The sound continues for several minutes interlaced with heavy breathing until finally there is a click and only static comes forth. Static remains.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Ambassador Benjamin “Benny” Watts - Strip Eastside Gate - Sunset, October 16th

Benny couldn’t help but grin as the gates swung open and the full splendor of the Strip was revealed. The crimson haze of the sunset seemed to only enhance the vibrant display of flashing neon lights and extravagant signage that enveloped the entire street. After having trod through the miserable slums of Freeside for close to an hour he had begun to worry that there would be nothing but further poverty and filth to await him. Instead there was fanfare, an audience that had gathered to welcome his arrival with a dozen or so well dressed individuals waiting to greet him.

Benny hadn’t been impressed by what he’d seen of New Vegas thus far; corpses left to rot in the street, armed gangs openly operating their illicit businesses and an utter lack of public infrastructure. The only gem he had found in Freeside was a small ghetto filled with NCR refugees. It was little more than a walled-off street near a casino called the Atomic Wrangler but it hosted a few minor businesses and a small clinic. Benny had wanted to show some face and so his escort had briefly stopped there and they were given a warm welcome. It was difficult to avoid questions about when the annexation would be formalized and what that would mean for them but Benny had tactfully given a politician's answer. He spoke a lot about nothing but it sounded good and the people smiled even if they didn’t understand him.

The well dressed people who now greeted him at the entrance to the Strip would be a more critical crowd. Benny wouldn’t be able to sway them with empty platitudes and patriotic phrases. No, he had heard about the ‘Families’ of the Strip and though he didn’t know much about them he knew they were dangerous. Of the ten men in front of him out stepped a woman. As sharply dressed as the rest and carrying a holstered firearm. It told Benny that the dangers of the Mojave were present even in this neon paradise. Around the men were a few heavily armed mercenaries, equipped nearly identically in armor and weapons to the CSF agents who escorted him. Though these mercs lacked the distinctive black paint job that branded Benny’s security detail as Van-Graff associates they were a grim visage nonetheless.

“Lucrezia,” the woman said simply, offering a wry smile to Benny. He returned the smile with his own wide, white grin. “Or Lucy for short.”. She stretched out her hand “Consilegere to the Omerta Family and a personal representative of Don Dominic Omerta. Welcome to the Strip. Our boss offers his sincere greetings, and hopes you will join him for a chat at the Zoara Club at Gomorrah at your earliest convenience.”

Benny had heard of the Omertas before as the president had offered him an intelligence file about them before he left Shady Sands. From what he read they were gangsters masquerading as business people. Benny knew their kind well, he had history with similar folks in New Reno. They were like knives and no matter how elegant a knife appeared, it was always capable of killing you.

He stooped in the saddle to accept her hand and shook it gingerly. “An absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Benjamin Watts, or Benny for short.” He gave her a quick wink as he tipped his hat. “I do so appreciate the extravagant entrance you all have afforded us this evening. Please do give my sincerest thank you to Mr. Don Dominic.” Benny offered a light bow. “I must see about settling in for the evening, however I would like to speak with Mr. Dominic soon.”

The woman was graceful but Benny could tell there was an edge about her. She was alluring and he could see himself even becoming interested in her but she would need a better hat. Something large and black and felt like Benny’s own hat would do her well. She had real potential for personal presentation with her silvery hair and that was not something Benny considered lightly. She offered the CSF agents and NCR soldiers in his escort vouchers to either gamble or spend at two of the premiere casinos on the Strip.

Benny thought it odd that the Omertas would offer a voucher to a rival family’s casino but it told him there was more politicking on the Strip that the NCR was ignorant to. Not too surprising considering the lack of influence the Republic had here. The soldiers with him broke rank readily at the offer of these vouchers. Their sergeants had to work to get them back into formation but eventually reneged and told the squad they would be allowed to go out after they checked their weapons and gear at the embassy.

Benny knew that Colonel Abernathy had done his best to avoid dealing with the families of the Strip but they had come to agreement upon at least one well understood code of conduct. No NCR troops were to be armed when on the Strip. This gave the families peace of mind that armed soldiers would not be wandering into their businesses. However, it also ensured that Denver had absolute justification to bring his wrath upon the Strip if any of his soldiers were harmed while on leave there. There could be no argument that they were a threat while they were disarmed. It was a tenuous peace but one that ensured not a single NCR soldier had been assaulted or killed on the Strip since Denver’s governorship took effect.

Peter took all the vouchers for the dozen CSf agents under him and stuffed them under his armor. He barked back at his men that they would be allowed leave only when given permission by the Van-Graffs. They were stoic but the disappointment was visible on some of them.

Having made their acquaintance with the Omertas, Benny and his escort made their way down the Strip to the NCR embassy. The street was awash with colors and alive with music, dance and the smell of street vendors and fragrant perfumes. Gone was the unwashed press of bodies they pushed through in Freeside and instead high-rolling gamblers and fashionable socialites swaggered their way in and out of casinos, hotels and bars. Benny didn’t even try to hide his ever widening smile. He had almost started to hate his assignment but this was truly something to be excited about. They glided down the street until they arrived at a squat gray concrete building that looked more like a bunker than an embassy. It was a far cry from the glimmering towers that surrounded it and Benny let out a sigh as he dismounted and entered the gate.

The embassy staff were a nervous looking bunch of civilians with a gaggle of troops for guards. The compound had clearly been neglected by the past ambassadors and Benny would need to do much to bring it back into shape but any hope of making it fashionable was gone. A shame considering how well he was dressed, it was almost an embarrassment for him to be spending the night here. He greeted a few of his new subordinates while SSG Keyes and SG McKinny had their soldiers check-in and disarm before cutting them loose for a night on the Strip. Benny thanked the NCOs for their hard work on the escort and though he could tell neither men had much respect for him they conducted themselves professionally.

Before he could begin to settle in and unpack Peter approached Benny.

“We got a guy here asking for you Mr. Ambassador.”

“Well does he look important?”

Peter shrugged, “Calls himself regional commander of the pinocchio expedition.”

“Pinocchio expedition? What the hell is that?” Benny had hoped it would be another casino head offering him free vouchers.

“Fucking I don’t know Benny you go talk him.”

Benny sighed and lit his last cigarette as he approached the man waiting at the gate to the embassy flanked by CSF agents. He was short, heavier than Benny with a blond beard that lacked a mustache. The biggest offense of the man however were his large brown galoshes. Criminally out of style and unsuited for an environment like the Strip. Benny took a long drag as he looked the man up and down before smiling. The man introduced himself.

"Daniel Floyd, regional commander and envoy of the Pinochle Expedition. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Benny shook the man’s hand, he wore black gloves like a worker and not like the smooth suede ones Benny had stuffed in the pocket of his coat.

“Ambassador Benjamin Watts of the NCR.” Benny chuckled a little, Pinochle not Pinocchio. Peter really was a dumb brute. “With a name like that I would assume you a casino man but, well.” Benny motioned to the man’s attire. “You’re not really dressed for the part. So please, why don’t you join me inside and let me know how I can help you.” The CSF agents disarmed the man and Benny led the way as they headed into the embassy.

The interior of the embassy needed just about as much work as the exterior. Clearly the place had become little more than gambling den in the past few years and the staff did little to hide their games from Benny. The two men headed back to the ambassador’s office. It was a moderately sized room dominated by a large wooden desk and deep leather chair. Paintings and pictures of past NCR presidents decorated one wall and other patriotic memorabilia was haphazardly placed around the room. The rug was an ugly army green and overall Benny was repulsed by the space.

“Please Mr. Floyd, do not judge me based on the decor. I assure you my tastes are far more refined than my predecessor.” Benny sat in the large chair and motioned to one of the plush red seats across the desk from it. “Or should I call you commander Floyd?” He extinguished his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray and shuffled about the desk drawers until he found a bottle of brown liquor and two glasses. He poured one for him and his guest and sent one of the CSF agents to find something to smoke.

“How can I help you?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Ambassador Benjamin “ Benny” Watts - Sloan - Evening, October 15th

Benny was surprised with Leonid’s honesty. A lifetime of gambling and politicking had made him suspicious of others. The naked passion with which the private had asked for help and offered up information was jarring to Benny and he had to remind himself the boy gained nothing personally from these actions. Rather he put himself and those he cared about in critical danger by coming forward. Benny would happily provide this information to the president and take credit for its collection as well but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should honor his word. It had been a long time since he felt a duty to be honest.

“Look Leonid, I’ll do my best to watch out for you and Andrew and his mother.” he motioned back to the notebook “and everyone else who had a hand in compiling this. But I want to be clear that I cannot be openly seen providing security to any of you. It’ll raise suspicion about why I’m going outside the parameters of my assignment. The less I interact with any of you, the better. All eyes will be on me when I step foot on the Strip and when that happens you and those you care about need to be far away from the spotlight.”

Benny rubbed his face and took a long drag on his cigarette before extinguishing it on the table top. He knew this assignment would be difficult but he had hoped to spend the majority of his time gambling, trafficking and racketeering. The past three ambassadors had worked this position hard to increase their own wealth and he had hoped to follow in their footsteps. At least until he had enough to pay off the Bishops himself and get out from under the thumb of Brianna Van-Graff and her whole fucking family. Now he had to deal with Denver Abernathy, a man who never shrank from his duty, a man who never took half measures. If the colonel so much as thought that Benny was a threat to him and his soldiers, well Benny had read enough about Bitter Springs and the Freeside riots to guess what would happen.

“I don’t want your apology Leonid. What I want is for you to go back to your unit and keep your mouth shut. Don’t tell anyone, not even your boyfriend. If word gets around about what we discussed in here, then I cannot protect you. Hell, I won't even be able to protect myself. Understood?”

There was a knock at the door and in stepped Peter, head of the ambassador’s security detail and three other CSF agents. The man wore a perpetual scowl but his brow was even more furrowed than usual. “Ah Peter, this is Leonid Tannhauser. We were discussing his interest in politics. I would like you to escort him back to his unit and-” Benny was cut off as Peter scoffed.

“Fuck that. Let the little twerp find his way back himself. One of our sentries spotted Khans on the outskirts of the Quarry. Less than a dozen but we figure they’ve been tailing us since Primm. You needa cut this big brother shit out right now. My aunt didn’t send you here to play with the fucking troops. Now where is your gun?” Benny sheepishly pointed to his bag that lay unpacked on the bed. Peter rolled his eyes “Fucking pick it up and keep it close. You’re not leaving this cottage till sun up.” Peter looked at Leonid “Well? What the fuck are you waiting for? Get the fuck out!” He grabbed Leonid by the collar, dragged him to the door and threw him out of the cottage.

Benny grabbed his pistol and chambered a round. He pulled another cigarette and lit it. Peter was moving with the other agents. Shuttering the windows and pulling furniture near them to use as cover. “You know Peter, that boy’s father works with Brianna.”

“Whooptiy fucking do Benny.”

“You should have shown him a little more respect. Hell you should’ve shown me a little more respect. You think he’s gonna keep quiet about how the ambassador’s men treat him?” Peter stomped towards Benny and punched him hard in the gut. The air was knocked from Benny’s lungs and he collapsed onto the floor of the cottage.

“How’s that for treatment? You’re lucky I don’t start stomping on that pretty face of yours. You think just because you got my aunt fooled that you can flout about and act however you want?” Peter stooped low and grabbed Benny by the neck “We fucking own you Benny and the second, the second I am convinced that you are no longer acting in our favor I will sell you back to the Bishops so fast you’ll be dizzy. Now get the fuck up.”

Benny complied and kept his mouth shut no matter how much it pained him. He had never liked Peter and had heard enough about the man to support those feelings but this was the first time the man had been so violent with him. If he hadn’t been the president’s nephew Benny figured Peter wouldn't have risen so high in the ranks of his family’s company. They utilized his savagery like one might use a wild dog, to enforce discipline and fear in those they distrusted.

Morning came without incident and Benny dressed himself, put on his felt hat and stepped out of the cottage. Most of the CSF agents had already gathered with SSG Keyes and the NCR troops escorting him. Benny nodded to the sergeant and mounted his horse, doing his best to avoid eye contact with Leonid. The party moved out as a group, Peter had informed the sergeants about the Khans and so the whole of them remained vigilant on their way north to Vegas. As they passed Black Mountain Benny was afforded his first glimpse of the Green. Growing upon the sides of the mountain like a malignant tumor the vegetation was dense but low in stature. There were no hardwood trees, only tall weeds, grasses and towering saguaro cacti. Benny smoked nervously as he couldn’t help but shake the feeling of eyes upon them as they skirted the base of the mountain. There had been stories of mutants living there but the NCR had reported their disappearance upon the arrival of the Green. Still rumors persisted of humanoid forms moving quickly on the mountaintop under the cover of darkness.

The ambassador’s party stopped for lunch and a break at the new Headquarters for the Mojave branch of the Van-Graff Company, centered at the old Repconn Headquarters. The CSF agents aside from Peter were relieved and swapped out for those who had been working under Gloria Van-Graff the last few years. Peter spent an hour speaking privately with his cousin and Benny ate alone, keeping his distance from the NCR troops and the CSF agents alike. In the distance he saw dark clouds gathered over the shadow of the Green that stretched from Vegas to Mt. Charleston and beyond. Benny had never seen that much vegetation in one area before, not even when he had gone north to Cascadia. Despite being miles from the dense growth he could see pockets of weeds and grasses creeping their way out into the Mojave.

They arrived at the gates of Freeside just before sunset. The dim lights of the Strip barely visible through the haze of smoke and shade of ruined buildings. Beggars and orphans lined the street. SSG Keyes orderd his soldiers to keep a tight formation and stay on their guard. Several wretched looking individuals hurled insults and bottles at the party before scampering into darkened hovels made from rubble and scrap wood. Benny’s horse paused as it came upon a corpse, stripped naked and lying in the middle of the road. Signs of decay and teeth marks upon it revealed it has been there for at least a few days. Benny had seen more than a few dead bodies before and during the Hunger had seen some truly awful sights in the NCR core region. But he still felt some pity for this poor individual who lay naked and unburied, seemingly unseen by those around. Several mercenaries sporting makeshift armor but wielding fearsome looking weapons stepped towards them from a gatehouse. The CSF agents formed upon Benny’s flanks and Peter put down the visor on his combat helmet and tightened the grip on his rifle. The mercenaries spat on the ground and grinned.

“Welcome to New Vegas Mr. Ambassador.” said the lead one, the man was missing most of his teeth and his forearms were covered in track marks. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“I am glad to hear that my arrival is anticipated in this…fine city.” The lead mercenary laughed at Benny’s last words.

“Finest city in the Mojave Mr. Ambassador. We’ll take you to the Strip.”

“I believe I have enough of an escort as is. Thank you though.”

“I wasn’t asking.” The man’s smile dropped from his face. Peter kicked his horse forward until he stood over the man, the mercenary seemed unimpressed.

“Seems you have more teeth in your mouth than sense in your skull.” The mercenaries tightened their posture at Peter’s words and Benny began to sweat heavily. Several more armed individuals began to gather near the gate. He wanted to move his hand towards his holster but couldn’t do it subtly. Behind him Benny could sense tension in the squad of NCR troopers.

“I had hoped to enter New Vegas peacefully.” Benny managed to utter but neither the mercenary nor Peter paid him any mind. SSG Keyes moved forward, his finger above the trigger of his carbine.

“Peace? With those dogs?” The lead mercenary laughed again as he directed his attention to the soldiers behind the CSF agents. “Tell them to run back to their kennels. We don’t need Denver’s lapdogs stinking this place up.”

“Seems to reek already,” said Peter. “Now why don’t you listen to the ambassador and clear the way for your betters.”

“My betters? I don’t know who the fuck you think you are to talk to me-” The lead mercenary’s head exploded into sickening plume of gore and plasma as Peter leveled his rifle and fired a shot point blank into the man’s face. The other mercenaries were startled and Benny turned his eyes away from the violent mess. Behind him Keyes shouted at his squad to hold their fire.

“Enough!” Yelled SSG Keyes “By the order of President Van-Graff and Colonel Abernathy of the NCR step aside!” The remaining mercenaries shared a stupefied look with each other before slinking away into the guard house and the streets around them. Only one remained, a skinny old man with one eye and a scraggly beard. He spit on the corpse of the dead mercenary.

“Never liked him anyway.” said the old man and Peter laughed coldly.

“Get a move on then unless you’d like to join him.” The old man nodded nervously, stepped forward to grab the dead man’s weapon and then skipped off down the street. Peter turned to Benny. “Shall we continue Mr. Ambassador.”

“That wasn’t necessary.” said Benny when he rode close to Peter. “I’d rather my arrival not be besmirched by wanton bloodshed.”

“They’re lucky I didn’t kill them all.”

Benny rolled his eyes and shakily took out another cigarette as they maneuvered the streets of Freeside heading towards the glow of the Strip. “Aren’t we all.” he said under his breath.

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Ambassador Benjamin “Benny” Watts - Sloan - Evening, October 15th

Benny finished his glass of whiskey in one sip. The private’s actions were surprising to say the least. He had expected the boy to have questions about his father or advice on entering the political sphere. Instead Leonid stood before him holding evidence of espionage and spoke none too subtly about starting a mutiny against Col. Abernathy. Benny knew he had to be careful in his response to the young man. He gingerly took the notebook from Leonid’s hands and flipped through the pages. He couldn’t attest to the accuracy of the information but if even half the information was true it was a damning piece of evidence.

“Listen son, do you understand the severity of the situation you are in?” Benny placed the notebook on a table behind him out of reach of the young private. “Colonel Abernathy is lacking political support, that much is true but the man has kept the lights on in the Republic even while people went hungry. Now I have never met the colonel so I cannot attest to his personal character but I will admit that the reports I’ve read are concerning, to say the least. But what is it you would have me do? I am newly assigned to my position of Ambassador to New Vegas and have merely a dozen corporate security agents under my command. Colonel Abernathy has an army of thousands of loyal soldiers. Soldiers he has kept fed and paid through the worst famine we have ever seen.” Benny poured himself another glass of whiskey and sipped this one a bit slower. He lit up a cigarette and sat down on an old chair.

“If your father was not a member of the President’s cabinet I would have had my agents outside turn you over to your sergeants with the evidence of your malfeasance.” Benny motioned to the notebook. “Who is your boyfriend and does he know that you are here speaking to me? Whose else lended a hand in compiling this information for you?” Benny tried to reel himself back, he didn’t want to scare Leonid but he had been blindsided by this conversation. He had hoped to make it safely to the Strip before the intrigues of Mojave caught up with him, but this godforsaken place seemed determined to offer no respite.

“I need you to tell me who else is involved with this, who else knows about this and I need to know now. You have done fine work thus far but by coming forward now you have put things in motion that I cannot stop.” Benny leveled with the young man, looking him square in the eyes. “You do realize there is no turning back now, right? You will not be able to return to your post with the rest of your squad and live as you once were.” Benny cleared his throat and gave a slight whistle, the door to the cottage opened quickly and the two agents outside entered.

“Go and retrieve Peter for me, will you.” He commanded one of them, the other he motioned to stay in the room but close the door behind him. The agent locked it as well. Benny turned his attention back to Leonid. “Now I want to help you son, but I need to know who else is involved and how much they know. Or else I cannot protect them once this information comes to light.”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Ambassador Benjamin “Benny” Watts

It was early evening when the escort had to stop at the small mining settlement of Sloan. Benny had wanted to press on but he could see the exhaustion in the faces of the ten CSF agents who had to walk. Even with the cool October breeze the men were sweating hard from the heavy combat armor. It had been a largely quiet hike from the Checkpoint. Benny soon understood the NCR squad escorting them had been given strict orders to not engage in conversation with himself or his entourage. At midday they had all stopped for lunch in the town of Primm and Benny was able to get a better look at the squad escorting them. They were young, obviously very inexperienced but heavily armed regardless. All the privates carried semi-automatic rifles with their corporal toting a light machine gun. Staff sergeant Keyes and sergeant McKinny were armed with carbines, and pistols. Each trooper carried at least a single fragmentation grenade and light body armor. For reservists in a battalion that hadn’t been resupplied in years they were remarkably well equipped. Col. Abernathy had clearly done a fine job ensuring his soldiers remained battle ready.

Benny hadn’t met the infamous colonel yet and was trying his best to delay their meeting as long as possible. Despite Abernathy’s failing support in congress he still held public support. Benny had to give the aged veteran credit, the man had held the Mojave territory together even while the NCR fell apart. Benny had heard that four years ago congress had cut off funding for the 3rd Infantry. Col. Abernathy had been informed that his soldiers would not be paid so long as famine ravaged the NCR. Despite this, Benny heard that the colonel continued to pay every one of his soldiers. Where exactly the money came from was a source of controversy in the politics back west. The Articles of Incorporation had been the legal basis to which Abernathy enforced his taxation. But the validity of this document was contested, to say the least. Benny could harbor a guess as to why. When passing through Primm Benny had made an effort to speak to the local mayor, an old woman by the name of Cynthia Meyers. Mayor Meyers had provided Benny a copy of Primm’s AOI. The terms were generous for the 3rd Infantry, allocating them ten percent of all profit accrued within the township. Meyers was critical of the taxation but had admitted to Benny that since signing they hadn’t suffered a single violent attack on the town. Even while settlements in the core regions were raided, the threat of retaliation by the 3rd Infantry had kept the Vipers and the Khans away from small towns in the Mojave like Primm.

Regardless, the colonel was an obstacle and Benny knew he had to be careful around the man until they could remove him. A staunch republican, Abernathy would resist the corporatization of the NCR under the Van-Graffs. Benny had no love for the Van-Graffs but their extraordinary wealth provided him privileges he would not have otherwise, especially given his relationship with the Bishops.

Benny had ordered the CSF agents with him to find a proper dwelling to spend the night. They had forced out an old quarry worker from his cottage and secured the place for the ambassador. He had undressed in privacy, cleaned himself in a small basin of water and then prepared himself for sleep. Aside from two CSF agents guarding the door to the cottage, the rest were eating dinner with the NCR troopers and workers at the common house. They would have another early day tomorrow and Benny wanted to ensure he was well rested so as not to appear fatigued to the people of New Vegas upon his arrival. He checked himself slowly in the cracked mirror of the cottage. He had gotten some sun while hiking, his nose and cheeks were a bit red. He swore and washed his face again before he looked for his skin cream he had brought with him.

After he applied the white cream the door to the cottage opened and in stepped a CSF agent and one of the young soldiers from the escort.

“Private Tannhauser here would like a word.” The CSF agent closed the door behind them and stood staring at the young soldier.

“Tannhauser huh? You must be the son of Emmanual, correct? I met your father briefly before I was appointed ambassador to the Mojave.” Benny began to search through the cupboards of the kitchen looking for any booze stored away by the old man who lived there. Finding some whiskey he pulled it out and poured two glasses and offered one to the private.

“Here you go.” Benny looked at the CSF agent who was still in the room. “Can a man get some privacy when he speaks to a citizen of the Republic ?” The agent nodded, slightly embarrassed and stepped out, closing the door behind him. “Now how can I help you son?”

The Long Afternoon of the Mojave (A Fallout Roleplay)

Corporal Yazan Mohammad - Mojave Checkpoint

Yazan rubbed his face and checked his watch; it was almost midnight. The ambassador and his entourage were supposed to have arrived more than six hours ago but aside from a skinny boy chasing a gaggle of goats no one had crested the hill into the Mojave Checkpoint. The rest of his squad sat on the benches beside Yazan, most of them half-asleep while a few played cards. Staff Sergeant Keyes and Sergeant McKinny were chatting between themselves sipping hot coffee. The sergeants had originally ordered the squad to keep formation in expectation for the ambassador’s arrival but after an hour they had let them break for dinner. Then another hour of standing in formation until the sergeants dismissed them again, allowing them to catch a break while they could. That had been nearly four hours ago and though he had been in the army for two years Yazan had yet to become accustomed to the boredom and monotony of waiting that his service so often entailed.

“Aye Yazan, come around and join our game.” It was Emily, a boisterous recruit who had taken on the role of the squad's joker. A perpetual gambler, she was playing caravan with Andrew and Leonid. The cards were laid out over an old shipping container that they were lounged around. Under the colonel’s orders gambling was expressely forbidden when not on leave;but in D Company, those orders were rarely enforced.

“I don’t know how to play caravan.”

“Well we sure as shit got time to teach you. Come on.” Emily smiled and patted the dirt next to her. Her helmet was off and Yazan could faintly see her spider tattoo through her close cropped hair. He had been intimidated by Emily at first but over the past year of deployment that had turned to infatuation. Yazan welcomed the opportunity to sit beside her and joined his comrades in the game.

Emily had just begun to explain the rules of the game when the shriek of the gate whistle was sounded announcing the arrival of the ambassador’s entourage. Yazan and his squad grabbed their helmets and rifles and got into formation. He buttoned his fatigues and adjusted his dust scarf. The gate opened and the squad presented a standing salute to the entourage as they entered. There were thirteen of them, twelve of them sported identical suits of black painted combat armor. Their helmet’s were visored and they held plasma-based energy weapons at the ready. Yazan felt a flash of fear when he saw the casual manner in which they strode up to his squad. The man leading them wore a large brimmed black felt hat and a matching suede jacket. He smiled at Yazan’s squad as he smoked a cigarette and approached Staff Sergeant Keyes. The two men shook hands and the at ease order was given.

“Welcome to the Mojave Ambassador.”

“Thank you sergeant and please, call me Benny.” The ambassador flashed another smile and promptly threw his cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with his heel. “I appreciate your patience, we ran into a little, uh…trouble further back.” Benny waved his right hand around “You know how the road can be, always a little hiccup or three, it makes for an eventful time.”

“Well, I cannot ensure that you won’t run into any more trouble once you get to Vegas, but D Company can take you there safe and sound.”

“Hooah!” Came the resounding call from Yazan and his squadmates. The ambassador nodded as he looked over the unit.

“That I can believe, but I assure you my bodyguards.” he motioned to the corporate security forces around him. “Will be adequate enough.

“Well sir, Colonel Abernathy wanted to ensure your safety.”

“Very well.” Benny smiled. “Tell me sergeant, are there enough accommodations here for my men and I? We had hoped to get some rest before getting on the road.”

“Certainly, I’ll show you to your rooms.” Keyes and the ambassador moved past Yazan’s unit, the corporate security bodyguards tailing them. Once they were out of sight sergeant McKinny informed the squad they could break for sleep and rest, but should be ready to go no later than four hours from now. Yazan caught up to Emily as they made their way to the bunkhouse.

“Still up to teach me the rules?” He smiled, she shrugged.

“As long as you have some caps to lose.”

------------------------------------------------

Ambassador Benjamin “Benny” Watts

Benny rinsed off his razor in soapy water before dunking it in a container of vinegar. He stooped low over the wash basin and cleaned the remaining shaving cream from his face. He checked himself in his hand held mirror, smiled and then spit on the floor.

“How do I look?” He turned as he asked the head of his security detail. The man was reclining on a bed, his eyes closed.

“You look fantastic sir.”

“Oh horseshit Peter, you cannot even get up and look at me when you lie?” Benny dipped his hands in pomade and started to style his hair. “I gotta make a good impression today.”

“It’s four o’clock sir. I’m sure you’re the best looking one here. There is no one to impress today sir. We got a two-day march before we even reach New Vegas.”

“Oh horseshit, I wanna get there by tonight.”

“You plan on running?”

“In these shoes?” Benny motioned to his feet, fine leather boots that he had spent twenty minutes shining this morning. “We’ll need to take a couple horses.”

Peter sat up on his elbows. “That’ll sure send Abernathy a message after he pulled this escort together.”

They dressed themselves and met the other CSF agents in the hall. Together they headed out to the small stable attached to the Western side of the checkpoint. A young recruit and two skinny civilian boys were feeding and caring for the animals in the pre-dawn light. Benny pulled them from their tasks and requisitioned three of the five horses. The boys were confused but compliant when encouraged by looks from the CSF agents. Benny chose for himself a large gray spotted mare. The molting of her coat matched his suede jacket and he thought it the perfect choice for setting a good impression on the people he met on the way to Vegas.

Saddled and ready, Benny and his entourage met staff sergeant Keyes and his squad under the unification monument. Benny had seen the ridiculous monument partially illuminated the night before. But now cast in the cool light of the morning the colossi towered over the Mojave behind them and seemed far more threatening than what Benny had imagined from the stories he’d heard. Keyes stepped from the formation assembled at the feet of the giants. Benny noticed a tinge of disappointment on the sergeant’s face but the officer stilled saluted him.

“Are you and your men ready ambassador?”

“We are indeed sergeant, please.” Benny motioned to the desert beyond them. “Lead on.”