Texas, USA

Bonita straightened the silverware on the other side of the table as she paced about to ensure everything was in place. It was a waste of time to have someone come visit without the proper preparation, or to have any cause for distractions from the discussions that had to occur. She'd worked for years to overcome the challenges that had been thrown her way--the most difficult of which was being a woman. It always seemed to work against her--with her parents, her brothers, her peers. It always seemed like someone was ready to come to her with a seemingly-reasonable explanation of why she couldn't do certain things. Even when she started out on her revolutionary journey some forty years prior, she was constantly told that she should just head back to her family's hacienda, find a man to marry, and be done with life.

But she was good at shrugging it off. She stayed anyway. It wasn't like her family was going to accept her back after openly rebelling against the law of the land. But she'd dreamed of fighting back someday. As a little girl she'd listen to her family and her older brothers discuss the news of the day--when she'd ask questions she was shushed and told to head back to her bedroom to go play. She laughed to herself as she remembered the time she asked why madre was allowed to discuss things if she wasn't. The answer was simple--las madres needed to understand the things happening inside and outside of the home. But when the eight-year old girl pressed further, asking how was she to learn how to be a good madre later if she can't be allowed to join the discussions, oh, what trouble she was in.

But. She was good at shrugging it off.

She couldn't help but feel a little proud as she absent-mindedly ran one set of fingers over her prosthetic hand. She'd endured years of being told she didn't belong and lost a hand--but she was where she wanted to be. Saving lives, creating an economy, and subverting dictatorial lawmen where possible, and in the best methods possible.

Bonita smiled and slid her thumb across her shoulder, flicking a long silver flame of hair behind her shoulders. She looked at the small clock ticking away on the wall of her well-adorned apartment's formal dining room--7:59. Sherman would be here in seconds. Bonita just loved how predictable he was. She slowly strode to her tall chair, glancing at the small tray of various fruits, vegetables, and cooked game that she'd assembled after a trip to the garden and a short period of time in the kitchen. Sure, madre was tough on her, but she was a mean cook. The bighorn sheep would be cooked plain, but the jalapeno sauce she'd made almost every day with madre was something from her past that she just couldn't leave behind. Instead, it was there on the table. Hopefully it would be enjoyed.

The things that made Bonita sentimental at times even confused Bonita, herself.

Like clockwork, the door knocked and Sherman entered, followed by the dark-haired stranger who'd entered the gates just hours prior. "Bonita," the towering man, even taller than the guest, spoke quietly.

Bonita cast her brown eyes at the young man's cobalt-blue eyes. They reminded her of some of the pretty rocks in the cave not far from where her family stored the cattle's food supply. He was handsome--except for his expression. But even that had a hint of interest about it, as she found herself wondering what could put a scowl like that on such a young man's face. His wild shock of dark hair reminded her a little of Esteban's before he shipped off to Basic.

"Sherman," she answered quietly as she glanced back to him, folding her hands on the table before her. "Thank you." She turned her stare back to the guest after the door shut.

She took a long breath in, and let it out. "Good morning," she said neutrally, an air of calm authority present in her voice. She always made it a point to never falter in eye contact. "I hope you slept well. First order of business," she said as she plucked up the plate of cooked sheep and handed it across the table to him, "is for you to please add food to your plate. Eat. Enjoy. The second," she began as she handed it off to him, gesturing to the fruit quickly, "is that you need a name. 'Null' won't do. You'll find that the pranksters and merrymakers here will have a field day with you. In such close quarters, it'll be obnoxious if they pick a name you don't like. Pick something. Anything. We'll have a lot of unnecessary problems on our hands and I don't 'do' problems. I fix them. Fixing them early is easy. Fixing them later, well... I don't have the patience for it. So, please. A name."

"NO!" The woman sat up in the bed drenched in sweat and tears. Eyes riddled with panic, she tossed her head from side to side. Where was she. How did she get her. What happened!

Heart-rate increasing, the machines at her side seemed to go off. It was then when she realized that her health was being monitored. Instantly, she tore herself free of such tooling and apparatus. Flinging the sheets off her, the blonde's crazed, fearful eyes spun around the room. Why was she here! How did she get here! What the fuck happened!

In seconds, a nurse was in the room. Her voice, subdued, subtle, soft, wasn't reaching Bandit's cloudy ears. Gripping the pillow in her hands, Bandit found herself sinking into a corner. Cowering, fearing, trembling, she fought whatever demons ate away at her sanity. The tears came rolling down her cheeks in great waves and she lost herself to the madness that swelled her mind....

She kissed him. It felt so right. So perfect. So real. She needed more. More of his gentle touch. More of his love. More of him. Hand gliding up his face, Bandit gazed into those beautiful crystalline blue orbs of Null's. Booping his nose with her extended index finger, a light giggle passed her lips. "You're cute." Her lips brushed against his, though only for a second. Pulling back, a grin widened on her face. "C'mon, let's go get some breakfast." Her hand intertwined with his. It felt amazing to be this close to someone. To truly hold and be held by someone. Someone you loved and someone who returned the feelings.

Swinging their hands, the pair moved from their humble bedroom into what looked like a small kitchenette affixed to a living quarters. "One delish breakfast coming up," she chimed, still grinning ear to ear. The sex the night prior must have put her in a good mood, for her whole body bubbled with giddy nature.

In no time, they were eating but eating soon became a game of foreplay which lead to some ruffled sheets and 'sexy' hairdos.

With their morning scuffle done, the two could finally leave to wander the streets of Aegis. It was there where the dangers first started to eat away at her. They walked all so unknowingly into a trap laid by her previous fling, Slasher.

"Please, Slash, let me explain," Bandit pleaded on her knees. Eyes full of tears, she stared up into the cannibalistic eyes of the grizzled man. Slasher's grip, iron-tight, and without the looks of easing up, choked the life out of Null. No matter how much she pleaded, Slasher wouldn't ease up or let the man go.

He knew their secret. He knew what they did. He knew that she betrayed him and laid in bed with another man.

Hellbent on making Null pay, Slasher ripped out a knife and pried it into the man's eye socket. The blood the gushed from the new wound instantly spun Bandit's stomach around. Vomiting in the streets, she fought to scream as her stomach emptied itself. She screamed, begged, fought. She did everything and Slasher's rage went on.

Moments later, Slasher was striping Null of his clothing. Nude in the streets, Slasher dug his claws into the male's skin. Every inch he tore at opened into welts and soon his body bleed. Slasher, consumed in the revenge, laughed viciously as he did everything. The look in his eyes was one of sheer fright and terror. The man she once loved became a monster. A true monster among men.

"DIMITRI, PLEASE!" Her voice was fading. Null's blood was draining. Everything was getting so hard. So heavy.

Hand out, she reached for Null's hand. Holding it tight, she pleaded yet again with the man that killed her new dream, her Null.

"Please... please stop. Please... or you'll kill me."

But Slasher didn't care. In one final move, he lopped off Null's head and held the dis-formed trophy in his hands. Hair ripping from the lifeless skull, Slasher flung the cleaved head toward the woman that now looked ghostly white.

"Remember who you belong to," he spat. Between Slasher's saliva and Null's blood, bile, and guts, Bandit lost it. Eyes rolling back, her mind fell numb. Everything. Everything was over. She wanted to die. No, needed to die.

The tears were back. Looking at her hands, she noted some blood caked beneath her nails. Was it Null's blood? Her eyes rolled back and she felt like dying. No, no, no, no, no. That couldn't have been real. It couldn't! She was so helpless! So weak! So pathetic! She didn't even try to hurt Slasher. Why. Why was she so frozen in fear?

A lump formed in her throat. Everything before her faded, save for the blood beneath her nails. There was nothing but silence and ghostly white fear.

"I'm so sorry, Null. I failed you."

A rich, bitter scent wafted into her nostrils. Shaking her head, Bandit's senses came to as she gazed up at a frightful nurse.

"Miss, are you okay? You fainted and I was worried."

In a jerking motion, Bandit pinned the nurse to the wall where she once sat. Control in her eyes, the blonde woman gave the nurse a good shake. "Tell me, woman, what happened to Null!" Grit teeth and marred eyes, Bandit prepared for the worse and, should such news kiss her ears, this nurse would be the first to die in Bandit's Bloodbath.

"He's out for breakfast. I-I-I... I can sh," the nurse flushed red for in that moment, she received a hug. It came out of nowhere and it was surprisingly gentle, warm, and loving.

"Thank god," Bandit said with a sigh of relief. "I must ask, has a man named Slasher come to...." Where was she? Blinking, the empty room gave no hints. "Where am I?"

"Why you're in Aegis. And no, no Slasher here. Why do you ask?"

"Alert who ever is in charge. Make certain he doesn't get into this city. If he does, there will be much blood and suffering."

Pulling from the nurse, Bandit stripped from her robes and dolled herself back up in her usual getup (which was recently washed, what a nice surprise). Nudge in her cleaned gear, she tipped her head to the woman before bolting out the door. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to find Null. She had to be certain he was safe.

In the barrenness of the Texan Wasteland, a lone man walked, accompanied only by the gun on his back and the guns on his hips. A long, brown greatcoat and a dark grey cap shielded him from the rays of the slowly setting sun, lending him a somewhat mysterious look as he gazed out over the wasteland ahead, glancing from side to side.

"You are quite sure that what you detected was not a singular anomaly?"

The howling wind tugged at the edges of his greatcoat, eddies of dust swirling around his boots as he continued to walk at a sedate pace, eyes scanning the horizon. A burst of white noise from the radio held in his grasp, and a response blared out at him near instantly. The voice, static-marred as it was, was still recognizably that of a female - his employer, the slightly reclusive young woman who made a living tinkering with various machines and experimenting with others in her spare time. As he expected, she responded with her usual aplomb, and he had to hold back a wince at the sheer background noise that erupted along with her voice - did the girl's workshop never quiet?

"Of course I am! The readings don't lie, Cross, no matter how much you might wish for them to, just so you can drop back in here, put your feet up, and down another Cola. If it said a bunch of heat sigs went by, a bunch of heat sigs damned well went by! It could be Raiders, you know."

"Yes, I do." He resisted the urge to point out it could just as easily have been a pack of mole rats or feral dogs, and instead focused his attention on his surroundings - a few close calls had taught him that it was best to keep an eye out in case a Raider decided to pop up and spray a few rounds in his direction, or an Ant would rear it's ugly head out of the sand to try and take his leg off. At least here, in the desert, one could see some distance away in all directions, unlike those pre-war ruins he'd had some time scavenging in. Now those, those were nightmares.

"Will keep you updated." he shut off the radio and hung it on his hip. A silence he was more agreeable to settled on him with that, and he continued onward, his path now meandering to the east, towards the setting sun.

He rounded a particular rock outcropping, a good few dozen meters wide, and paused. Onyx eyes flicked over the large, bulky form ahead of him, and immediately flicked to a glint of something, hidden, or at least, trying to hide, in the boulder cluster a few hundred meters to the northwest. Many options flickered through his mind, none of them good, and in the end he settled for the one that seemed the least dangerous.

"...You know, it is rare that one sees other men out so far in the Texan Wastes. You would not happen to be lost, would you?"

---

Cain

---

The low whine of suppressed servos surrounded Cain like a ghostly aura as he walked across the vast night desert.

The heavy leather cloak concealed his armour, and his helm was hooded, concealing it from view - save for a pair of shining orange lenses, glaring out from beneath the shadows. Dark winds blew across the landscape, lit up in a ghostly burnt-orange glow by his helmet's night vision on a quiet, nigh-moonless night.

He didn't see them, but knew they were there all the same; spaced at five hundred metre intervals, weapons in hand, marching across the landscape resolutely. He could almost feel the safeties click off as a figure emerged from behind an outcrop in front of them, dressed in-

How curious.

A battered old Enclave greatcoat, Sigma-issue, the same steel grey as the one sitting in Cain's locker. Second Generation; same as Cain. Practically ancient history by now, yet... it couldn't be, could it? Yet the coat was the same - the same tears, the same beaten-up nature. Only one of those coats could exist out here in the Wasteland, and Cain knew its source all too well.

It was said that ghosts walked on moonless nights, but Cain had always thought himself a little better at ensuring that people were dead than that.

"You would not happen to be lost, would you?"

Wariness echoed through the man's voice, like a wild cat, alert yet calm. A young man - not whom Cain thought he was, or at least, not immediately. Nevertheless, this could be interesting.

He held up a fist for just a moment, ensuring that the movement looked more like swatting a fly than a tactical gesture. Stand down. This man posed him no threat - minimal weaponry, no armour - and so he felt comfortable gleaning a little information from this man. He knew the answers to most of the questions, but if this man was who Cain thought he was...

Well, getting his measure couldn't hurt, now could it?

"I rather am, actually," Cain said, with a sigh. "Say, you don't happen to know where 'Aegis' is, do you?"

"Aegis? Ah, I suppose you must be a wanderer, then."

Cross let his mouth do the talking, immediately flicking through his options in the time it took to say that sentence. He recognized those orange lenses, those which once upon a time his father wore and which he died in. Enclave, no doubt about it. And given his prior experience with them, he had absolutely no delusions about their benign intentions. If they knew of Aegis' existence at all, they knew where to find it. It was but a matter of time. Best to give them whatever information they needed, at least for now.

"You're already walking in the right direction. It's about... three dozen klicks from here, give or take." Cross let his eyes glance up and down the other's form, as any normal wastelander would do. It was rare that anyone would even know of the Enclave's continued existence, and they most certainly wouldn't connect it to that particular model of power armor. Had to keep up the appearance of an ignorant, unassuming waster, after all, especially if they questioned him about the coat.

"Going to be a long slog, no matter how you look at it." he half turned to wave a hand vaguely in the aforementioned direction, trusting in his senses to warn him of any sudden movements.

Silently, Cross took a mental inventory. A bolt action rifle, slung in clear view across his back. Same went for the dual submachine guns on his hips, in plain view. Three grenades, tucked in the pockets of his coat, one hunting knife, tucked away in his boot. Nowhere near enough to take out a squad of Enclave soldiers - there was no way this guy was alone. Three others, at the very least. But he did have those custom smoke grenades Emma had cooked up; in the worst case scenario, he could simply pop one and run.

Talk first. he reminded himself. Talk first, and only make a run for it if absolutely necessary.

Wearing a small, friendly smile on his face that nobody alive outside of Arroyo could tell was completely false, he turned back to the other man.

"Looks like you've come a long way from home. East Coast? Vegas?"

---

Cain

---

"The north, actually," Cain said, with a pleasant nod. Calmly, he removed the helm of his power armour and pulled back his hood, revealing a hard but smiling face and buzz-cut, greying hair.

"The weather here is lovely, you know," he said, with a gesture around them. "It's rather chilly where I'm from. Are you from around these parts?"

Of course he wasn't - the accent made that clear enough. But he'd do well to make small talk, find out if he was truly dealing with whom he thought he was. He despised leaving a job undone, even one as sordid as that which had killed this man's parents.

That said, the data emerging from that situation had been most valuable, particularly for their current task. They'd had no indication of the truth of S6-041's defection, but he could feel it; few Graduates understood it, but Cain had lived long enough to learn how to feel. To learn how people acted. Not killing Null when they'd had the chance had, potentially, been a mistake -

But of course, even further combat data was always convenient.

And such a battle with Null would be truly something for the ages. A war to be remembered - the world had grown so dull and grey, and it lay with the enigmatic yet terribly predictable young man to reinvigorate it.

'Reinvigorate' rhymed rather well with 'incinerate', Cain mused.