Another Unoriginal Oneshot Book

Safe Haven

New Vegas Strip, August 2283.
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Five weeks after Orpheus left for Flagstaff, Joshua Graham appeared at the gates of the New Vegas Strip.

Freeside's midmorning crowd was sparse, a few bums mixed in with locals going about their business. Since Sage had arrived on the scene, the streets had been pretty well cleaned up... metaphorically speaking. She couldn't spot her visitor, though there was no question whose voice Yes-Man had just transmitted to her; she would recognize the menace concealed in that placid baritone anywhere. Water-hardened pieces of paper skated past her feet as she scanned the loiterers.

She jumped, sensing a presence over her left shoulder. The intruder wore a masked biking helmet, a hallmark of Freeside hoodlums, but he stilled her hand before she could grab for her weapon.

"There you are," came that unmistakable voice. The bandages around his eyes were visible, but only to a person who knew to look. A nondescript overcoat concealed his flak vest. The look was incongruous, but not enough to attract attention — Joshua was here on a low profile.

"Morning, Josh. Nice disguise," Sage smirked through her own riot helmet. She nodded up to the looming 38. "Follow me."

He trailed behind her on the way, trying to look inconspicuous. He wasn't one for stealth — in fact, he was about as straightforward a man as Sage had ever met. To her knowledge, the frumentarii had been giving the city a wider berth since the Dam, so it was of little concern.

Sage retracted her steps when Joshua paused to glance at the dancers outside Gomorrah. One of the women, misinterpreting his attention, twirled her hips and beckoned at him. He shook his head deliberately. There was more mercy than wrath in his eyes, though plenty of both. They moved on.

"You can't separate the vice from Vegas, I'm afraid," Sage mused by way of apology. "It's all I can do to root out the cannibalism and sex trafficking."

"It isn't up to you to change the people's hearts," Joshua concluded, and Sage tried not to sigh with relief. "We sent two missionaries down this way a number of years ago, but we couldn't spare any more, and they never returned." They entered the tower. Joshua glanced curiously around its darkened, stale entrance.

"Here it is. La Torre de Courier," Sage announced.

Safe from unfriendly eyes, Joshua began stripping off his gloves, helmet, and outer layer of clothing, revealing his signature flak vest. "Excuse me. My skin doesn't regulate heat very well," he explained politely. Sage saw now how his chest rose and fell with contained exertion.

She led them into the elevator, which Yes Man had kindly readied. "Don't mind my team for getting a little weird. If they recognize you, I mean. Since you're so, uh..." She searched for the word. "Notorious." Feeling awkward, she pressed the floor button a second time.

"No trouble. If you trust them, so do I."

"Yeah," Sage agreed. "Hopefully."

The elevator opened into her dim entryway, and they stepped out onto the once-luxurious rug. Not two seconds had passed before a cannonball of fur and steel rocketed towards them, barking.

Joshua intercepted the ecstatic cyberdog, who jumped up to lick him, wiggling like a puppy. His voice came as a soft murmur. "Rex?"

"Uh. He's usually better behaved," Sage explained lamely.

"I know." Joshua'a fingers ran through the thick scruff on Rex's neck. "He was my dog. Caesar's. I thought of him as mine."

She gaped at the scene — of course Rex had been Legion, but apparently he'd been a pet as well as a war hound. Somehow he'd made it from Flagstaff to the King, but that was a mystery for another moment. Boone's harsh voice emerged from the vicinity of the rec room. "Sage."