ꜰᴀʟʟᴏᴜᴛ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

[BNY]

When Elio awoke in Doc Mitchell's clinic, still covered in dust from the shallow grave she'd been thrown in after being shot in the head, she hadn't considered that she'd end up a critical figure in the New Vegas landscape. Rather, she thought she'd put a bullet in Benny Gecko's head, wash her hands, and go back to lugging packages around the desert. It wasn't a glamorous living, but it kept caps in her pocket and kept her from staying in any town too long. It was all Elio had ever wanted, really.

But in an unforeseen turn of events, she'd ended up owning the Lucky 38 casino. Did she want it? Not really, but the penthouse was pretty sweet. She often dreamed about the penthouse, sliding into clean sheets after an old-fashioned nightcap (or two) and sleeping for a full eight hours, finally. She was trapped in one such daydream as an NCR officer tried to talk to her, his voice growing more frustrated the longer Courier Six went without responding to his apparently pressing query.

A terse "Ms. Hallas" broke through her reverie.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry, Gorobets. I'm... distracted." Elio offered the 1st Recon Lieutenant an apologetic smile.

Gorobets graciously nodded, accepting the apology, but his brow remained furrowed. "It's fine. You've had a long day." She had. The NCR loved their damn bureaucracy. Elio wished she could go back to fucking off who-knew-where in the deep Mojave, but she couldn't. If New Vegas was to remain independent, a quelling force standing against both the ever-expanding NCR and the bloodthirsty Caeser's Legion, she was obligated to entertain the political circus.

"As I was saying," Gorobets continued, "I think it's a spectacularly bad idea to allow even a single member of the Legion within the city's walls." He spoke frankly, leaning on their shared experiences and camaraderie as reason for leaving formalities behind.

Elio, for her part, merely quirked a smile. "You, me, and everyone else." Gorobets took that as an opening to press his debate, but Elio shook her head. "We have to work at least a little with the bastards. The NCR doesn't have the resources to decisively crush them, and neither does Vegas. We barely have the resources to maintain the walls and keep raiders out."

The lieutenant grimaced, no doubt lamenting that New Vegas kept its robot army rather than handing it over to the Republic. "So you think they'll play nice?" He didn't seem convinced.

"I don't know, but I know we can handle them. It'd be easier to acknowledge them and continue the stalemate than it would be to devote dwindling resources to wiping out the remnants." The NCR wanted to aggressively pursue wiping out any trace of the Legion, but Elio rather thought that it would melt away on its own. Caesar was dead. The leadership was fragmented. In Elio's eyes, they were just red-dressed raiders now. Which is why she'd already allowed the Legion into the city. Gorobets' eyes bulged as Elio pushed open the doors at the end of the hall they were travelling, revealing a small handful of legionnaires.

"Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me. I take it that your stay has been pleasant so far?"

 

[Wylrin]

Likewise, when Lepus had been taken from his conquered tribe all those years prior, he had never imagined he'd see himself join the faction who had been responsible. Of course, he had been but a boy then, young, ignorant, and most of all - impressionable. Caesar's Legion was one known to break even the strongest willed of men into submission, so a young child hardly stood a chance.

Who stood within the walls of New Vegas now, however, was hardly a boy. Still young, perhaps, but a man now. In body, at least. Arguably, he was far more of a puppet in mind than anything. A puppet whose strings had once been pulled by the mighty Caesar. His lord, however, was now dead, as impossible as it seemed. The reigns had passed to another, perhaps the Legate, perhaps the greatest of the Frumentarii. He knew not the details, admittedly. Vulpes Inculta had sent him away before the infighting could erupt.

Infighting, of all things. Who would have thought that the Legion could succumb to the same power struggle of democracies? His instinct was to be there in Legion territory, aiding not necessarily a man, but an ideology. But he would obey his orders, and so he was here in New Vegas, not as a spy or an assassin, but an ambassador.

The opening of doors brought him back to the present, his head turning to those who entered to give a proper introduction. His small entourage behind him seemed tense, so he made a small gesture for them to stand down. It would not do to come in baring teeth. No, subtlety and politesse were required here.

Which is why Lepus liked to think why his superior chose to send him.

Smiling gently, more befitting of a rabbit than a wolf, he replied, "Our stay has been quite pleasant." The masks and goggles that his entourage wore would hide any sort of disdain they might have been expressing, thankfully. His own face was completely uncovered, allowing for his facial expressions to be seen by all. He, of course, had no trouble presenting a mask of docility and pleasantness.

"I really must thank you," he said. "This is an opportunity that will no doubt cement a prosperous future for both of our peoples."

 

[BNY]

Elio flicked Gorobets a smug look. He scowled at her, before turning his attention to the crimson entourage. "Well, we're happy to end the fighting."

With that, the lieutenant exited the room. No doubt he would bitch her ear off later, but she admired his decorum in the face of the enemy.

Turning back to the small envoy, she couldn't help but feel just a bit like a lamb before the slaughter. Sure, she might have built a legend around herself, but only few knew it was mostly smoke and mirrors. She couldn't be everywhere at once, after all. Elio pushed a curl back from her face, surreptitiously checking for sweat at the same time. As glittering as the Strip happened to be, the air conditioning was lacking. Thankfully, the conference table in the center of the room held a pitcher of cold water.

Motioning to the table, Elio invited the legionnaires to take a seat. "Do you want to start with pleasantries or jump straight to the main course?"

 

[Wylrin]

"Likewise," said the Frumentarii with a small bow of his head, despite the lieutenant having already turned his back. When he left the room, Lepus left with his entourage and the woman standing across from them, he turned his attention to her.

He felt eyes on him as the once-courier gestured to the table. Turning his head to nod to his fellow legionaries, he then seated himself as they did the same, folding his hands neatly and saying, "Pleasantries, if you don't mind. I know of you from your daring exploits across the Mojave. You may not know me, however. My name is Lepus. I am pleased to meet you in person."