I left the dorms at a quick pace, trusting memory to lead me down the fastest paths. It really didn't take much, since I had this place memorized by now, but I was on a tight schedule. If I hadn't had to stop and play housekeeper and historian, I could've gotten to work without much issue.
Except that didn't happen. Such is the plans of mice, men, and couriers, I guess.
I wasn't going to let it stop me, and moved like somebody'd stuck me with a hot poker. The last airship wasn't supposed to leave for another fifteen minutes or so, assuming it was running on time in the first place. I can do a lot in fifteen minutes - defuse bombs, do some maintenance, scrap and reload a couple dozen bullets, or speed read, to name a few. I can be very productive when I feel the need.
Except, this wasn't so simple.
Even assuming I could immediately access a terminal and connect to the SDC help desk, there was still the human factor. Snowflake said it herself, there was no guarantee that they would just give me what I was asking for. I can imagine it would be against company policy to go handing out sensitive information to random people. Especially when they were visibly armed, wearing combat armor, obscuring their identity, and all around being like myself. Which meant there was a more likely chance I was going to have to play things in a more cerebral fashion. Which, in turn, meant things could take far longer than I had time for.
It might not be the worst thing; I could always put it off until tomorrow. But I was going to have my hands full as it was without having to push things off. Plus, Snowflake's portion of this endeavor was the one that required the most lead time. Another day off, was another day things could get worse.
On top of that, I was arriving late. I couldn't imagine something as vital as a continent spanning communications system completely shutting down for the night. I could, however, imagine it closing off to the public past a certain point, for maintenance and upkeep. I wouldn't let that stop me, if it came down to that, but Snowflake had also given me a potential means to get in easier. I was much more willing to try that first, rather than waste most of the evening sneaking in and out of an actively patrolled municipal center on top of having to crack whatever systems were keeping me from what I wanted.
I shook my head and focused, I didn't have time for what-ifs.
I double checked my heading, then got moving
The CCT tower wasn't too hard to notice, given it jutted up from the center of Beacon's campus, poking the stratosphere like a giant middle finger to every book regarding architecture, and possibly physics. I'd been there several times now, even if it hadn't been for the purpose of what the tower was intended. I guess it helped that Ozpin had set his office at the top of the damn thing. Though, if you ask me, it seemed a bit compensational.
Him and House both.
I cleared the courtyard in front of the tower at a quick pace, and entered in without issue, passing by reception without so much as a glance. Security might've had eyes on me, but I didn't have time for it. The main floor of the tower was probably meant for basic communications. It was a fairly sparse area. A reception desk off to one corner, some terminals surrounding a pillar in the center of the room, security guards loitering near the elevators. Nothing too fancy. The room was largely devoid of people, so it must've been close to closing as well.
I felt eyes on me as I stepped up to the elevator. It opened with a hydraulic hiss. As I climbed in, I took note that the guards were indeed watching me now.
The doors slid shut though, leaving me isolated for the moment.
I reached to touch the buttons on the control panel but was stopped by the ding of the intercom.
"Hello, welcome to the CCT." A garbled feminine voice asked "How may I help you?"
"Communications." I answered "Soon as you could."
"Certainly, could you please place your scroll against the terminal to verify your identity?"
"…"
Shit, I was expecting roadblocks, but this was fucking ridiculous.
I checked myself quick to see if I could magically pull up an answer. Sadly, my skills as a stage magician were lacking.
Instead, I began examining the 'terminal' for a port to connect my Pip-boy to. Which, sadly, it didn't have. So I resorted to just tapping the two together and hoping for the best. It worked for getting the info off of Yang's scroll, it could work this way too, right?
"… Is there a problem sir?" The voice asked, patient.
Clearly.
"I- uh- appear to have misplaced my scroll." I lied "Is that going to keep me from using the CCT?"
"Not necessarily." The voice answered "You'll still be free to use the communications room. However, without your scroll, I'm afraid you'll need to manually input the contact data yourself. You also will not have the ability to transmit and download any pertinent files or data."
How accurate that was, would be left to whether or not I could connect to the CCT network.
"For security purposes, CCT usage requires you to identify yourself. This would normally be done via your scroll, but in this instance, we will require your name and scroll identification number."
"Uhh…" I flicked over to the data screen of my Pip-boy. If I had an I.D. number, I'd certainly never been informed of it. But, given the information Weiss had given to me in the first place, perhaps I could fudge my way through. I found the I.D. number Weiss had given me near the top of the list. "…63600-32812-80617?"
A silence filled the air. That wasn't my number, if I even had one. If anything, that was Snowflake's number, and if this operator was worth her salt she'd have the means to check that I was lying. However, it was also the end of the day and, more than likely, near the end of her shift. If I know people right, there was chance that-
"Your name?"
"Hm?" I grunted.
"Your name, sir" The voice repeated "I still need you to provide me with one."
"Ah, right- um…"
I had less than a second to give her my name. It was simple, just say Courier Six. That's me, that's my name. Except that I was about to potentially do something illegal. The less I could give to lead back to me, the better. Anything would work here, I just needed to say something not stupid for once. Like-
"Joshua Graham."
Welp, I blew it.
Silence settled over the elevator once more. Of all the names I could have chosen, why did I choose that? Dammit Graham.
"… Very well-" The voice answered after a moment "- Thank you, Mr. Graham"
With a lurch the elevator began its ascent, surprising me a little. I had honestly expected that to fail. Hooray for laziness.
My success didn't countermand my shortcomings though. I was going to have to do something about them if I got the opportunity. Honestly, I'd been up to see Ozpin no more than a few hours ago and it hadn't been that difficult before. If I had to guess, Atlas took their security much more seriously than Ozpin did.
The floors for the CCT proper were only about a third of the way up the tower proper, at most. I had to assume the rest of it was reserved for private communications. Governmental, business, or what have you. Might've given me a more direct line to the SDC than the means Snowflake had given me, but it would probably have also triggered a couple dozen alarms and fail-safes in the process. More shit I didn't have time for. Depending on how hairy things got though, it was always an option.
The elevator reached the communications floor and stopped, the doors hissing open once more, revealing a large, semi-circular room, rimmed with large windows. Individual terminals were in rows, spanning the room, divided for what I could assume was a measure of privacy. The room was majorly empty, barring one or two errant stragglers, who looked to be hurriedly finishing their business. Just outside of the Elevator, a few yards away, was a wide reception desk. Seated behind it was the silhouette of a woman - a hologram, much like the ones I'd seen months ago, on the airship to beacon. They reminded me vaguely of the ones from the Sierra Madre. The key difference were the ones here looked mostly human, and weren't pale blue ghosts that shot flaming death from their faces.
The hologram looked to the elevator, a smile working across the woman's face.
"Welcome to the Beacon Cross Continental Transmit center." The holographic woman spoke, smiling "How may I help you?"
"I need you to connect me to the SDC headquarters in Atlas." I answered.
"Certainly." The hologram answered, typing at the keyboard and somehow getting a response "If you could head over to terminal 13, I'll patch you through."
"Much obliged."
With a quick nod, I walked past the front desk and down the rows of terminals. Naturally, they were different from the ones in the Mojave. Themselves appearing to be some manner of holographic display, similar to the 'scrolls' I'd seen around. Kind of a far cry from the gray blocks of steel and glass back in the Mojave.
Questions was, how hard were they going to be to work with?
I found my way to the designated terminal and took a seat. The terminal's screen floating freely in the air as a glass tablet over a holographic keyboard. I was glad I'd been taking the time to read recently, otherwise the key symbols would still look like gibberish to me.
The terminal's screen lit up, and an image blinked into existence across its surface. A close up of a young woman's face, though I could she was dressed professionally.
"Thank you for calling The SDC Atlas help desk, how may I-" The woman said, before abruptly cutting off. Judging by the look of surprised confusion on her face, this wasn't a typical call for her.
"Evening." I said, trying to come across as pleasant as possible "I'm calling on behalf of Weiss Schnee."
"I… I see, sir." The woman answered, scrutinizing me "Do you have a means of verifying that?"
"She presented me with a contact code, if that's what you're asking." I answered, reading off of my pip-boy. "251920791812"
The woman pursed her lips, nodding for a moment. "Well, how may I be of service?"
"Ms. Schnee requires some files and information for a personal project she is working on." I explained "She asked if I could retrieve them for her."
I took note of a port built into the space next to the terminal's screen. I connected my pip-boy to it and waited a moment. The woman's eyes flicked to another section of the screen, looking to read something. If I had to guess, the pip-boy had specified which ones.
The woman continued to stare off screen for time, and I could feel the silence beginning to smother us. I got a sinking feeling about what she was thinking.
"… Is there a problem?" I asked.
"Oh!" The woman answered, as though remembering she was waiting in conference with me. "Not at all… I'm going to need a moment to collect the required information, do you mind being placed on hold?"
"… Not at all." I answered, polite.
With a click, the screen transitioned to a still image of the SDC logo. An audio feed of calming music trickling out over the intercom.
"… Yep, fuckin' saw that coming."
I'd known this wasn't going to go smoothly. The SDC was a privately owned economic powerhouse. If word got out that they were under siege, or it was better clarified how badly besieged they were, it'd be a blow to business. That wasn't even counting that I was a visibly armed, armored, and masked stranger asking for said information, trying to bypass security with knowledge that was impossible to verify as having not been coerced. Or that the information I was providing was linked back to a scroll that wasn't even mine in the first place. All of which could have been avoided if Snowflake had been the one to collect the information herself.
Now I was either being kept on indefinite hold, or I was being distracted while the CCT's security was rallied to come detain me. Neither of which were conducive to me catching the airship on time.
I gave a small groan, slumping my shoulders. "…Oh well, that's why I had a plan B."
I cracked my knuckles, and began jamming button combinations into the keyboard. Intent on figuring out which one would open a command prompt into the CCT's operating system. I wasn't going to assume that Atlas's Military standard programming language was going to be the same as, or even fundamentally similar to, UOS or Termlink Protocol. But, on a basic level, all programming broke back down to 1's and 0's. The only thing that ever really changed was the syntax. Besides, it was always easier to break something than it was to get it working in the first place.
The only real question was if I could break in and out before everyone else decided to stop playing nice.
…
"*Bleh*" Ruby gagged, trying and failing to eat the meal given to her "Why did it have to be fish?"
"It's not that bad sis." Yang said, clearly enjoying the food "It's actually a lot like the stew dad makes around solstice."
"But I don't like fish~" Ruby whined "The smell makes me sick."
"Wow." Yang said, smirking "I'll be sure to tell dad that."
The younger of the sisters gave her elder a grimace, and stared in silent consternation at her bowl. Gingerly, she took her spoon and gently began stabbing at the so-called sustenance. With a grimace, the silver-eyed huntress in training carved off a portion of the meal and lifted it to her mouth. Resisting the urge to gag as she reluctantly began eating. A look of surprise crossed her face as the stew's flavor coated her tongue. She chewed slowly, and swallowed with great effort.
"… Yeah" Ruby admitted, her grimace shifting into a smile "It kind of does taste like dad's."
"We need to visit him then." Blake said, finishing her bowl of food and re-filling it "This is really good."
"You're just saying that because you like fish." Weiss said snidely, picking daintily at her meal "I personally think it's too salty."
The girls of team RWBY had remained in their room following the courier's departure, choosing to partake in the meal he had prepared for them in the company of team JNPR. They took the opportunity to digest something physical, in addition to the knowledge they'd been given.
"I actually have found it quite enjoyable." Pyrrha said, finishing her bowl.
"Yeah!" Nora hooted, slurping "This beats cafeteria food any day!"
"… quite." The heiress conceded.
The two teams continued eating in silence for a time, choosing to try and enjoy the food given to them. Before long though, the meal was devoured, leaving the young hunters in training in silence. If only for but a few moments.
"… So, uh… does anybody else think it's strange we're friends with an alien?" Jaune asked.
"Finally!" Nora exclaimed "I didn't want to be the one to say it."
"Oh my gosh, YES." Ruby added, brightening considerably.
"And it's pretty freaking awesome!" Yang added, practically shouting.
"Heck yeah it is!" Nora whooped in agreement "Do you think he secretly has nightvision, or acid blood?"
"I'm pretty sure he's human." Weiss said, nonplussed.
"How would you know, have you ever seen him bleed?"
"He literally told us!"
"I won't believe it until I see it."
"It is quite strange to think about though." Pyrrha said, speaking up "To think, there exist other worlds beyond our own it's… incredible."
"… It certainly is." Weiss huffed "But that doesn't mean he's not human."
"Oh let it go, snowflake." Yang said, smirking playfully "Human or not, it's amazing. Plus he's got all this cool stuff he's been telling us."
"And the cool weapons." Ruby chimed.
"AND HE CAN COOK!" Nora bellowed. Immediately following it with a small, unladylike belch.
"Still… some of what he's said has been a bit… dark." Jaune noted.
"From everything he's said though, it doesn't sound as common as he makes it seem." Blake said "If genocidal groups of warmongers and horrific monsters were an everyday occurrence, I don't think Six would be around to tell us."
"But they are frequent enough to warrant talking about." Pyrrha noted, pondering "The mention of an army of… well, slavers certainly doesn't bode well either."
"He also said they got their butts kicked." Yang said "So that's always a plus."
"Yeah…" Ruby said, idly wondering "… I wonder, whatever happened to that burned guy?"
"… Who?" Blake asked.
"Yeah, who?" Nora squawked, parroting the young girl's teammate.
"The- uh… burned man." Ruby said, thinking "I think Six said his name was… umm…"
"Joshua Graham." Weiss supplied.
"Yeah, him."
A puzzled look crept over JNPR and the singularly uninformed member of Ruby's team.
"…He had mentioned something about a 'burned man'." Pyrrha spoke, after a moment's thought "But, he never said much about it."
"Well, he told us about." Yang said, prideful "Back when Blake ran away and we got into that fight at the docks with Torchwick."
"Wait, what-" Jaune began to ask.
"Yeah, he told us this story about that Joshua guy and how he helped found that group of slavers alongside that Caesar jerk." Ruby said, not giving Jaune a chance to finish.
"Really, and I missed that?" Blake asked.
"Funny what you miss when you rush off in a huff." Weiss said, smirking.
The teenage faunus gave her teammate a soft glare.
"… I think we still remember most of it." Ruby said after a pause "We can tell you it, if you want."
"Oh heck yeah!" Nora said, practically bouncing in her seat "All this talking about random info can be soo boring, it's like sitting in one of Port's classes."
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stay a while longer." Pyrrha noted, getting an approving nod from Ren "… what do you think, Jaune?"
"Duh- um- yeah." Jaune agreed "I guess that'd be cool."
The red clad huntress in training shared a look with her heiress partner and sunny sister. A look of devious and mischievous intent, that was returned in similar kind.
"Ok then." Ruby grinned "Well, our story starts a loooong time ago, in a wasteland far, far away…"
…
I've had to hack my way into terminals innumerable times while traveling the Mojave. Sometimes to override Old-world security measures, sometimes to collect information pertinent to an investigation. And, sometimes still, to rig things to my favor. In all of the times that I'd hacked terminals and servers, however, I'd never needed to mess with the programming's 'structure'. If I needed access, I could typically just access Termlink, find the password, and enter the console the traditional way.
There was another way to accomplish that however: opening the command shell and screw with the code directly. Getting into it was often easier than scouring Termlink for the correct password, but infinitely more likely to completely kill the terminal. If I screwed up something, I could completely destroy programming that was several hundred years old, along with rendering everything connected to it down to static, making entering the shell and screwing with a terminal's architecture and incredibly dangerous prospect. That was barring any attempts at 'security' the terminal's previous owners may have come up with to prevent anyone from trying something so boneheaded.
I opened Atlas' command shell on the first try.
Their security broke in less than a minute.
I was more amazed by the fact I'd gotten in without completely downing a continent spanning communications system. Amazement that was only bolstered when I got to dissecting the code, and got a better look at the system proper. The amount of code that had been commented out was sickening. Not even counting the recursive statements to enable a data transfer or call to go through. It was a miracle this place hadn't already lagged itself to hell and back.
No wonder it needed constant maintenance.
It was also a miracle that no one else had made it their business to shatter the security and begin screwing with everything. Barring a few fire walls, almost nothing was protected. The only argument I could make was that most people probably didn't have the time or knowledge to go screwing with something as important as the CCT. Or maybe they just didn't want to piss off one of the World's technological powerhouses. Disconcerting, either way.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
I began worming my way through the lines of code at break neck pace, giving what care I could not to break anything on the way. I skimmed through a dozen different directories before I found my way to the SDC's own portions of the server base. I promptly hit another firewall.
I stopped typing at my terminal and took a moment to check around the room. Most of the people who'd been present were in the process of filtering out. There weren't any guards storming towards me yet, so I had to assume they were either still in route, or too inept to actually know how to work an elevator.
I cast my eyes down to my pip-boy, checking the clock.
My window was closing rather quickly, so if I was going to do this tonight, I needed to get a move on.
I turned back to the terminal and gave the keyboard a few swift, and rather violent, strokes. The firewall stayed mostly intact, but I managed to falsify an account for myself. Gave myself the clearance to bypass anymore security they might put in my way.
If House could've seen the job these guys did, he'd have laughed his ass off before crashing their economy. Whoever designed this was either a hack, or intentionally trying to fuck with everyone in the long run. No, I was not going to take into mind Atlas was Remnant's bleeding edge in computer sciences either. The system as a whole was so porous a mentally impaired mole-rat with an abacus could've broken it.
I flipped through another directory, searching for the appropriate records. There were hundreds of them, which made sense. The SDC was a multigenerational conglomerate. The number of transactions they could've done in a year could number into the tens of thousands, meaning looking for the ones I needed was going to be next to impossible under the constraints I'd set for myself.
So I borrowed the SDC's built-in search engine, and used the info from Snowflake's scroll to search for any pertinent information.
I'm a moron, not stupid.
As the search engine began to compile the requested data, I took the opportunity to re-examine the security I'd passed through. The truth was, aside from breaking it, I'd piggybacked off of Weiss's scroll I.D. to get into the system. Her clearance was something that could be readily authenticated by the system, given who she was and where she'd come from. Getting in from there hadn't been so difficult, just a matter of finding the right bit of code. Except, if I ever needed to come back here, there wasn't a guarantee I'd have Weiss's scroll to do the heavy lifting.
So instead, I took a moment to examine the basic structure of the Scroll's programming. Seeing what had allowed it to have the access and clearance that it did. I didn't need everything, just the right 'keys' to the matching 'locks'.
Once I had a general understanding of the structure I was looking at I began typing feverishly at the keyboard. If I had the right keys, I had a way into the system. I had the power to open any 'door' that might get in my way.
Or, perhaps, create a 'backdoor'.
Obviously, I gave myself the highest possible clearance I could, hoped that the CCT's security was a shot as its structure, and logged into the system.
A moment passed, as I heard the terminal I was at begin spooling like a turbine from Hoover Dam.
Then the screen changed, displaying options previously unavailable to me. Security feeds, Scroll Management, Transfer Logs, dozens of options pertaining to the running and maintenance of the CCT. Along with everyone who was connected to it.
I.E. The entirety of Remnant's governing bodies and branches.
A part of me felt a brief moment of fear wash over me. If I could break into this system, somebody wholly unfamiliar with it, I would hate to imagine what someone better experienced could do. I had my groundings, yes, but completely mastering or building something as complex as this took time. There were probably things I'd missed while throwing myself at the proverbial wall. If somebody experienced with the system broke in, with the intent to cause harm, there was no telling what they could do.
To that end, I began burying my freshly minted proxy into the code. Making sure it was commented out and hidden well enough that nobody else would notice and get any ideas. Or, perhaps, so when somebody came around for maintenance, they wouldn't immediately see it and remove it. Either way, a little forethought on my end would go a long way.
In the midst of burying it though, the thought occurred to me that I could use it to see if security was in fact coming to get me.
I opened the option to view the security feeds and watched as the screen began to split, filtering into dozens of different feeds.
Including two for the elevators. One of them was empty.
The other had a pair of armed guards waiting in it.
'Crap.'
I switched out of the security feeds and back to the options screen. There was one for the diagnostics of the buildings structural systems. I opened it and began scanning for the current status on the elevators. One was on the bottom floor.
The other was less than a floor away.
'CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP-'
I immediately began screwing with the System's diagnostics. These things were meant to keep the building running within 'safe' operational bounds. So, if I tweaked it ever so slightly, something was going to have to give.
Like say, if I registered the weight of the Guards' elevator as being roughly 10,000 pounds over-
There was a juttering, high pitched squeal from the far end of the room, and I could hear somebody cursing.
The elevator's safety brakes had engaged in between this floor and the one below it.
I felt a mischievous, satisfied smile stretch across my lips.
It's the little things that can be the most entertaining sometimes.
Unfortunately that was all the time I had to entertain myself, my window was nearly closed.
The scroll finished compiling itself and I disconnected it from the CCT network. I finished hiding my handiwork and called the elevator through the diagnostics screen. A precious few moments were spent, messing with the security feeds. Making sure my presence up until then and, say, five minutes from then remained unobserved. Granted, anybody who looked at the camera feeds might notice the blip in the system, but I wasn't worried. Given how faulty the elevators were, they'd probably chalk it up to a system malfunction.
As I prepared to log off though, I was met with a dilemma. This backdoor would only be good to me if I had a way to get back into it. If I forgot the password, I'd have to brute force the system again, and run an even greater risk of being caught. If I was going to make use of this again, I was going to need something I knew I wasn't going to forget. It couldn't be something that just randomly popped into my head like-
I typed 'Graham' and stabbed the enter key without even thinking about it.
It took me a moment to register that I'd done it. I immediately regretted having done it. But I didn't know if it spoke more about me that that was the best I could come up with, or that it was first thing I did.
I just shook my head and pressed on. At least remembering it wouldn't be a problem.
Once I was finished, I logged off and bolted for the approaching elevator. With crackerjack timing, the door slid open right before I'd have hit it.
"Ground floor." I directed.
The doors slid shut again and the elevator descended the shaft with little more than a soft hum. I tensed myself for trouble. Just because the guards had gotten caught in the elevator, didn't mean any waiting downstairs were unprepared for trouble.
A small, yawning silence passed before the elevator lurched to a stop. There was a small hiss of hydraulics and the door slid open.
"- What do you mean the elevator's stuck!?" A masculine voice barked.
I felt a smirk spread across my face as I calmly walked out of the elevator.
The guards were preoccupied with their buddies stuck a couple hundred feet in the air. They didn't pay much mind to little old me.
"Alright- ALRGHT!" One of the guards should speaking into an earpiece "We're coming up, just hang on."
The guards turned and began making their way towards the elevator.
"Time to leave kid." The clearly irate guard growled, he and his pals stepping past me "CCT's closing for the night."
"No complaints here." I said, unfailingly polite "Have a good one."
I turned and kept walking, barely suppressing a growing chuckle until after there were several doors and a couple dozen yards between us.
Still wasn't much time to enjoy it though, and I broke into a sprint as I descended the steps outside the CCT tower.
The airship to Vale would be arriving shortly, if it hadn't already, and it would behoove me to be on it.
Mercifully, the tower itself wasn't too far from the main path leading to the airship dock. The only real problem was going to be if I could run the distance fast enough to get there in time.
My feet pounded the pavement as I dodged past groups of gathered and crowding students and transfers. Many of whom were going the opposite direction I was heading. They were smart, they knew better than to get caught off campus at night. Some of them gave me the Evil eye as I cut past or through them. Not my fault if they and their pals didn't understand that Walk ways were for walking.
It might've taken me two, maybe three minutes the get to the docks from the tower. It was a straight shot. The ship was docked there, and I could see people were still disembarking as I continued to fight the current to the ship. As I drew closer though, I stopped pushing as hard to get aboard. I could see that people were still in the midst of disembarking, while others were yet boarding. Likely those that lived off campus, commuters.
I drew into a walk as I approached the ship's gangway. I was right on time.
I stepped onto the ship and milled my way past the few people still disembarking, finding my way towards a set somewhere quiet. Soon as I was, I settled in and closed my eyes. Tonight was going to be a long night.
…
My ears rang, and my head felt like it was ready to split open. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell the world was spinning faster than it was supposed to be. I tried waiting for a moment, hoping it would subside. It didn't, but it was fading, slowly. I gave it as much time as I could reasonably afford, before trying to get up.
I slowly cracked my eyes open, glimpsing the world around me. I was on my back, staring up at a crimson sky and the vague beginnings of an urban skyline. One I immediately identified as not being from anywhere in Vegas or Freeside.
With an effort, I grit my teeth and rolled to my side. Forcing my way past the parts of my brain that wanted me to stay still. It took me a moment after that to force my way to a knee, fighting through the parts of me that were still off-kilter. I stayed there for a moment, eyes closed and breathing as I let my body reset. The air was thick and soupy, every time I inhaled, I could feel something clinging to the insides of my throat and lungs. Smelling and tasting vaguely of something industrial. Somewhere between burning oil and abraxo cleaner. Something Coppery and Sulfuric.
I allowed my eyes to creep open again. Finally coming back to rights, and letting me assess the world.
My weapons and armor were gone.
At some point, someone had stripped me and took them. Hell, they even took my chems too. The only things I had on me were some white coveralls. Judging by the weight, there was something on my neck too. Not that I could see what.
I forced my head to stop swimming, and tried to think. Tried to remember what brought me here.
Retracing my steps, I'd been on my way to Novac. On the way, I'd intercepted a ULF radio signal for a place called the Sierra Madre. I'd decided to investigate it before heading to Novac, passing through Forlorn Hope on the way. I'd made my way out into No-man's-land between there and Nelson, and found what appeared to be a Brotherhood bunker. I went in, saw some graffiti, some scrap, and the corpse of some poor schmuck wearing… white… coveralls.
I looked back down at the coveralls and shuddered. Poor schmuck indeed.
Beyond that, I went down some stairs, and was faced with a long hallway. I saw a radio at the far end. It wasn't any radio I was familiar with though. Too fancy, too ornate to be something to have survived in the wasteland on its own. Especially considering the brotherhood would've probably broken it down for scrap sooner rather than later.
My first instinct had been that it was for some kind of trap. Turns out I was right. The only thing I'd been wrong about was that the trap was armed with flash grenades and chloroform instead of raiders.
Which brought me back to the present. There wasn't much point in berating myself right now though. So I decided to save it for a moment when I wasn't half-concussed and armored in tissue paper.
I finished rising to my feet and took in the world. There were buildings around me, built in a style I was wholly unfamiliar with. All of them tight packed together, making pathways that seemed closer in line with alleyways than streets. Most of them connected back to the area I was standing in now, which was some kind of plaza, with a fountain in the center. All of it was dyed in a hazy, violet-red hue. My ears still rang a bit, but I could hear the crack of thunder in the distance. I blinked, and went to rub the haze from my eyes.
I touched my face and realized, yes, my helmet was gone.
It wasn't much of a surprise though, they'd taken everything else from me, so why wouldn't they take my helmet too? My head was still trying to play catch-up though, and apparently hadn't processed that yet either.
I focused though, and looked ahead of me. On the opposite side of the fountain from me, down a short pathway, was an ornate gate. An equally ornate, gilded sign was set over it. Displaying two words, separated by an odd flourish.
Sierra. Madre.
My eyes trailed up past the sign, to a high standing cliff beyond it.
Far overhead, staring down on the urban sprawl I found myself, was a monolith. A structure of concrete and stone, illuminated in contrast to the darkness I found myself enwreathed. Shining gold like a far-off beacon.
It looked as though the broadcasts hadn't been a complete lie, at least.
I dusted myself off and made some basic moves, making sure I was fit to fight. I had little doubt that I wasn't alone.
I twisted my shoulders, stretching and scanning the immediate area for trouble. It was a good decision on my part, because it let me notice something I hadn't before. The weapon next to me.
It'd been on the ground, next to where I'd been laying. I might've noticed it sooner if I hadn't been busy ungumming everything else. I reached down and picked it up. It wasn't dissimilar to anything I'd used before. In fact, its overall design reminded me of the pump-action grenade launchers I'd seen around McCarran. But this one was… different, to say the least. Most of the receiver and barrel had been re-machined and retrofitted to house tech I couldn't readily identify, hanging off the side of the barrel like an overtly planned tumor of pre-war tech. The barrel was tipped itself with either some form of shroud or compensator, and a scope was affixed to the receiver. Both of which showed signs they shared origins with whatever else had been done to the weapon.
Despite the work though, it was still remarkably well balanced. Despite the hunks of metal hanging to one side, a quick shouldering showed I didn't have any problem aiming. Just holding it though, I wasn't sure what it really was.
But I wasn't going to get any time to ponder it either.
With a hiss of vacuum tubes and static, a light began to glow from the fountain, drawing my attention over to it. The light was rising up from the fountain's pool, refracting and coalescing at a point just over it, forming a flat, screen-like picture unlike anything I'd ever seen in Vegas. Like someone had taken the Screen from House's terminal and removed everything required to actually produce it.
I knew it wasn't magic, but I was at a loss for how it was actually happening right then.
The image it formed, however, was that of a surly old man. He wore a high-collared outfit, that reminded me of something the brotherhood would wear. Like a scribe, or an elder. His hair was thin, pale, and wiry, just barely kept combed back and otherwise unkempt. He had a goatee and moustache to match, thin, pale, and generally a complete mess. His face was pulled into a sour scowl, creasing his face with lines that made his already aged face look even more ancient. His eyes were sunken and ringed with bags and stress. It only served to give his face the overall friendliness of a skull, the still image giving him an overall rictus of anger and ill-will.
The man looked about as friendly as a pissed off feral ghoul.
He had all the decorum of one too.
"Are you listening?..." A gravelly voice hissed, echoing from everywhere around me.
I looked around for a moment, tracking the voice back to speakers set up around the plaza we were in. He must've been able to see me though, as he apparently took my silence as an answer
"Good." He hissed "From now on, when I talk, listen- and follow my instructions."
"Buddy, who the fuck are you?" I asked, sounding every bit as annoyed as I felt.
The man didn't respond. But I could feel his still imagine boring holes into me with its unmoving gaze.
"Man, I am not in the mood for your bullshit, so who…"
I trailed off as a new sound made itself known to me. A small, high pitched beep. Sounding at a slow rhythm.
"What the-"
"Interrupt me,-" The voice continued hissing, sounding as annoyed as I did. "play stupid, play clever, make the mistake of saying "no"? That collar on your neck'll go off and take your head with it."
The beeping began to increase in tempo. I felt my heart begin to move with it as I reach up to my neck and felt at the 'collar' locked around it.
"The hell are you talking about?" I growled, trying to keep the unease I was feeling out of my voice.
"It's like that Pip-Boy on your wrist, except filled with explosives." The man hissed "A little radio of the old world, just needed some tuning."
The speed of the beeps continued to rise. A moment of clarity hit my brain. I'd seen one of these collars before. Or ones like it, at least. Designed to blow people's heads off at the slightest signs of disobedience, or at their 'master's' leisure.
I'd seen how effortless it was.
I dropped the weapon I was holding and gripped the collar with both hands, fumbling over it. Searching for a latch, a release, anything that would let me take it off. I almost knew there wasn't one, there wasn't supposed to be an easy way to remove it. But a drowning man will grasp at straws. With the beeping growing faster, I was practically a lake lurk.
The beeping reached a crescendo and I gripped the collar with both hands. Making one, last, desperate attempt to rip the thing off.
I strained for all of a second. Then realized I was going to die.
The beeping cut off a second later.
The silence that filled the air was deafening, save for my own heartbeat.
It took me a moment to realize I was still alive.
A shaky, terrified breath escaped me.
"Do what I say, and the collar won't go off…" The man hissed "-Refuse, try and run, disobey me? I'll kill you and find someone else… Understood?"
I nodded, slowly trying to pull my wits back. I wasn't dead yet.
"There's no escape from here until I let you go. The sooner you accept your situation, the better."
I bent down and picked up my weapon again. Making sure not to look at the image of the man. He must've been watching me, somehow. I had to make sure he didn't think I was about to immediately make him regret threatening me. That would have to come later. Right now: let him talk, try to keep myself alive. "… Who… who are you?" I asked again, trying to make myself sound compliant.
"… You may call me… Father Elijah." The man hissed.
I maintained my compliant appearance, not looking up to Elijah. In truth, I did it to hide my surprise. I'd heard about Elijah. Veronica had told me about him.
That knowledge made my situation infinitely worse.
"What do you want?" I asked.
I could practically hear the smirk in his gravelly voice "That structure you see above the fountain- The Sierra Madre Casino… You need to break inside. A… Heist, too many years in the making."
I couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow and look at the image of Elijah floating above the fountain.
Seriously?
Elijah, if he noticed, ignored me. "But to get inside, avoid its traps, you'll need to gather the team… as I've found, one cannot do it alone."
"There are others here?" I asked, dry swallowing. Whatever was in the air was making it hard to breathe.
"Around the Villa where you are now, are three other collars like yours. Collars 8, 12, and 14. Find all three and get them here, to the fountain. Then we'll talk more. But, should you get any ideas about killing each other and taking the treasure of the Sierra Madre for yourself: a warning."
I remained silent, and let him continue rambling.
"All of your collars… are linked." Elijah growled "One of you dies, you all die. If that's what it takes to make you cooperate, so be it."
Elijah fell silent, and I took that as a cue that I wouldn't be 'interrupting' anymore. "… Why are you doing this?" I asked.
"Hmph, why?" Elijah spat "I've already explained why, the heist. Sadly, I cannot trust the tasks that must be accomplished to machines, hence why you're here. As for the collars… well, human nature, greed, are hard things to change. I would have it easier breaking into the Sierra Madre. You'll find the Villa is filled with Corpses, some killed by the dangers here, some by me, and others… simply from turning on each other."
I nodded, getting the picture. Some people just couldn't fight the allure of all that glitters. Even if it meant their life. I had some bottle caps with blue stars as testament to that.
"The ones brought here live on only in what they've left behind, their marks- Graffiti on the walls, and victims they've killed. Some tried to help, left supplies and healing for others who came. Their reward? They were tracked down, killed by others with baser instincts."
I wasn't surprised by that either. People can be real monsters when they want to be. Case in point, my current situation.
"You'd do well to keep your eyes open. Some of these murderers went as far as to leave traps behind them. Turning markers for help into deathtraps for anyone following them." A moment passed and I heard Elijah make a nasty sound. Any other person might have confused it for chuckling. "It killed some of them when they forgot where the traps lay… or when they desperately needed the assistance, they had cut others off from."
I nodded, giving a weak laugh, making it sound as though I agreed with the sentiment.
That had been a mistake though.
The laugh quickly turned into a coughing fit. Whatever was in the air was choking me. I could feel it gathering in my throat like phlegm, burning.
I sucked air for a moment, then coughed hard. Spitting a glob of viscous, crimson mucus onto the ground.
"Eugh." I groaned
"Hmm… you would do well not to dally." Elijah hissed "The Cloud that hangs over the Sierra Madre has done well to preserve it. But it decays all that linger too long in its blood-red embrace. I advise not sleeping in it, unless you wish to never wake again."
"This stuff's killing me?" I asked, willing to try and pump him for information.
"It shouldn't prove lethal in the time you are here." Elijah answered "Prolonged exposure however… would be hazardous."
"Right…"
"There are denser pockets of the cloud around the Villa. You would be advised to avoid them. Respirators, Rebreathers, Hazmat suits- none of them are effective in keeping you safe from the cloud. If you step inside one, you'll die. So be careful where you step."
"Great." I grumbled, not at all enthused "Is there any place where this stuff can't get to me?"
"Hmgh… indoors." Elijah grumbled, after a moment "Underground, any place sealed off from the outside air."
I nodded, at least if I needed a place to hide and rest, I wasn't completely screwed. "Understood… is there anything else I should be aware of while gathering my 'team'."
Elijah made another ugly sound you could mistake for laughter. "So much, but perhaps you would prefer to see for yourself what Madre holds for you."
"N-now hold on-" I stuttered "I'm just trying to understand what I'm going into; I'd have better odds of success if I did."
"I know that." Elijah hissed "If you'll remain silent, you may learn something."
I didn't much care for Elijah's tone, but hid it, and let him continue.
"You and your team are not the only thing to inhabit the Madre's Villa." Elijah hissed "There are others."
"There are others here?" I asked, confused. The cloud should've killed them if there were.
Elijah gave a low growl. "The Villa's… inhabitants… You would do well to avoid them. They are not easily dealt with. Something in their physiology, possibly from the Cloud. It's made them… hardier."
I didn't like the sound of that. Judging by the noises Elijah was making, he could see that.
"There is another beast you should be wary of in the Villa." Elijah hissed, though his tone shifted, carrying what almost sounded like fear "The holograms… The Ghosts."
That took me both for his sudden change as much as his words. "… ghosts?"
"The holograms of the Madre's staff from before the war." Elijah hissed, regaining his composure "They fill the Villa, more in the Casino… much more."
"…"
"They carry out the functions the dead once did." Elijah continued "They cannot be harmed… they only perform the same rote tasks until their power dies… They are of no consequence, save for the Security Holograms. The ones silhouetted in the armor of the Sierra Madre's guards."
I nodded, showing I was paying attention.
"They'll kill anyone they detect. They're also immune to weapons, bullets, explosives, emps… even energy weapons, and that holorifle you hold in your hands."
"… So if I encounter one, I'm screwed?"
"Hmph, possibly, if you can destroy its emitter or leave its patrol area, you may survive. Though you'd do better to avoid them as well. Besides they only perform their tasks as intended, as they have ever since the bombs fell. There are other technologies here that you will have much more to worry for."
I suppressed another groan, was there anything here that wasn't going to try and kill me?
"The Madre is lined with speakers and radios, much like the ones I'm using now to communicate with you." Elijah continued "Meant to play music for all the guests… Over time though, their signal has decayed. They emit a different frequency now, one that unfortunately connects to the receivers in your collar."
"… They'll set my collar off, won't they?" I asked.
"Careful, not too smart." Elijah growled "… Yes, they'll trigger the detonators prematurely. Though only if you remain close enough. If you begin to hear your collar beep, either step free of the area, or find the source quickly. An unfortunate side effect, I couldn't calibrate the collars to ignore them, so you'll have to make do."
"Great…" I looked at my pip-boy, checking the map. Three ticks had appeared across a currently blank screen.
"That Pip-Boy of yours will locate the other three subjects" Elijah hissed "-it'll have locked onto their collar's frequencies. They've got built in microphones so you can eavesdrop if you are so inclined. It's what they were built for."
More thunder sounded overhead, and a weak breeze blew the toxic Cloud against my skin more readily. It clung to me like oil, carrying a slight burn.
"I'd advise you to get to work." Elijah growled "Dawdling in the Cloud will only ensure your demise. I suggest starting with Collar 8, the FEV reject. He's docile enough… assuming he's fed recently."
"Hold on, isn't there anything else-"
"If there is, you will handle it in your own time." Elijah hissed "The fountain plaza you stand in now is a relatively safe area. The Villa's inhabitants should steer clear of it… mostly. Assuming the Mutant hasn't strayed far from where I last contacted him, he should be in the police station west of here. Meaning weapons and armor. Both of which you'll need, if you want to live. I've uploaded the information to the Pip-Boy on your wrist and, yes, in case you couldn't tell I can freely access it. Now, get to work."
The image over the fountain faded, replaced by a three-dimensional hologram. One of the ghosts Elijah had mentioned, possibly. One of a woman in a low-cut dress.
I checked myself over, just to make sure I hadn't missed anything when initially waking up. Unfortunately, I hadn't. Whoever had brought me here had stripped me completely. Which meant I was going to need to keep my eyes peeled for anything and everything.
To wit, I walked up to the fountain and surveyed it for anything valuable. To my surprise there was at least something. A few brassy-gold casino chips, and a playing card.
Not much, but beggars can't be choosers.
I continued scrounging around the area of the fountain for a bit, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Once again, I wasn't. but I came up with more of the casino chips at least. What value they held; I wouldn't know until I poked around.
Having salvaged what I could, I checked the compass on my pip-boy, and found the heading for west towards the police station Elijah had mentioned. I didn't know what the so-called 'holorifle' could do, but the sooner I got my hands on something I was more familiar with the better. I wasn't even going to entertain the idea of trying to leave. The gate out wasn't more than a few yards from the fountain, but I knew what the collar on my neck was capable of. I also knew Elijah wasn't bluffing. I could hear the madness in his voice.
I turned to stare up at the Madre, still shining gold against the Cloud. I could only guess at what the hell was inside a place like that. I'd never heard of this place until I'd heard the broadcast. So I had to assume, at the least, the inside wasn't stripped of everything valuable… yet.
I shook my head and looked to the west. Into the Dark, crimson haze that separated me from relative safety.
Along with whatever could call a place like this… 'home'.
I started down the path, slowly. Keeping the Holorifle glued to my shoulder as I scanned the dark, cramped streets. Lined with technologies from a bygone era. Yet… even with my time in Vegas, there were things here I'd never seen before. Machines that seemed to dot the walls sporadically, marked by a soft cyan glow amidst the harsh cloud. I stopped to examine one of them while walking. They seemed to accept the Casino chips I'd found in place of currency. I tested it by buying a Fancy Lad snack cake.
That was when I first saw one of the Villa's 'inhabitants'.
They were a dark clad figure, appearing almost as black as shadows in the cloud. But their eyes glowed a sickly green, and I could hear them breathing. A cold, rasping, harsh noise that sounded agonizing. They moved with a loping, shambling gait, as if their limbs were simultaneously too large, and too rigid for them to work properly.
They crossed the pathway in front of me as I bit into my cake.
We both stopped, and there was a moment of dead air between us.
The beast turned awkwardly towards me, as though its body was too stiff to perform the action. Even at a distance, I could hear a hideous cracking of joints and muscles as it did.
We both stood there, appraising each other. I half ready to drop my food and grab back my Holorifle.
But the beast just stood there, as unmoving as a statue. Watching me.
Then it turned, and shambled on, as though I wasn't there. Or wasn't worth its time.
Yet.
I waited until it was down an alley and well out of sight before moving. I crammed the food into my cakehole and gripped my holorifle like it was the only thing I could trust. Because right now, it was. I double checked my pip-boy to see which direction I needed to go.
Straight ahead.
Right on the heels of that… thing.
"… Whelp, Veronica" I said, drumming my fingers against the grip of the weapon "Your 'grandfather' is a maniacal windbag, who's now dropped me into a living nightmare. Thanks for that."
I swallowed, forcing down any remnants of the Fancy Lad, and pressed onward into the gloom.
This was going to haunt my dreams; I just knew it.