17 Chapter 17

They first went to the Vault 21 hotel to rent their rooms for their stay from Sarah, an obviously socially anxious person with an otherwise bubbly personality. She couldn't help but to pity the hotel owner.

But her pity was short-lived when Vulpes—Mr. Fox—insisted that they stay in separate rooms. She was too stunned to argue. Her first reaction was anger that he would so easily dismiss and abandon her, even under the guise of their fake identities.

But after a moment's consideration, she realized that she would enjoy even a single night alone of pretend freedom.

After their rooms were secured, she caught Sarah's meek gaze linger on her for a judicious moment before she disappeared into the vault's depths.

Alone, Vulpes momentarily dropped his Mr. Fox debonair. His instructions were curt. "Go to the 38. Do some reconnaissance, if need be. We can stay on the Strip as long as you require, within reason. Just get the job done."

"What about you?"

"I've got my own mission with the Omertas at Gomorrah. When you're finished with your job for today, find me at Gomorrah. Don't talk to me, just make sure I can see you and return here."

"Why can't I speak to you?"

"It would be best for both of our missions if we weren't seen with each other."

"But we've already walked into New Vegas together," she pointed out.

"Just because I have hired you for protection does not mean we would share the same political interests."

His expression cleared, forming a coy smirk, and she realized Sarah had returned to the room. Then Vulpes tipped his hat and swept out of the hotel with a proud march. She watched him leave, unable to help the disgusted scowl that she now targeted at his back.

"How did you meet Mr. Fox?" Sarah asked conversationally.

She struggled to recall their fabricated story. "He hired me in Novac."

"You don't know him otherwise?"

She shook her head.

Sarah avoided her gaze, focusing on a spot on her counter. "He has quite the reputation around here."

She perked up, finding this bit of information interesting. She hadn't imagined Vulpes frequenting New Vegas undercover. "What sort of reputation?

"A charmer. Womanizer. A woman who lives here—Martina Groesbeck—often brings him back here at night. He won't leave until morning at least."

This stunned her. Her chest tightened with a sense of insecurity, jealousy as she recalled their marriage vows, promises of fidelity they made to each other the night before the wedding. "When was the last time he was here?" Her head swam as she thought of all the times he had left Fortification Hill.

"Probably a week, no more than two weeks ago."

She felt very sick, and her charged purpose for being there suddenly held no meaning. Though she had been angry with Vulpes as of late, she didn't want to imagine him with another woman.

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked, sounding quite alarmed when she had said nothing and her gaze became unfocused.

She blinked, realizing she was tightly gripping the edge of the counter. She composed herself with some difficulty. "I'm fine." She swallowed. "Thank you for your frankness, Sarah. I'll be back later."

Sarah offered a brief wave before returning her attention to her computer terminal.

Her walk to the Lucky 38 passed without her awareness. Her feet moved as if of their own accord, passing through gates and by drunken patrons and smoking gamblers, until finally, she stood before the grand neon-illuminated stairs leading to the front entrance of the Lucky 38.

She had already heard from various people, common knowledge, and a light warning from Vulpes that no one had ever entered the personal casino of Mr. House, save for the patrolling securitrons of New Vegas. She couldn't begin to imagine how she was going to break in.

Then an eerily familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. "Well, howdy partner. Fancy meeting you here."

She turned at the metallic, echo-y voice with the prerecorded drawling dialect, and she felt an indescribable wave of relief at the familiarity, a token of her life before Legion enslavement. It had been ages since she had seen Victor the securitron, her savior. "What are you doing here, Victor?"

"Had an itching to see the Strip. It's been a while since I've been here." She heard some of his circuit boards whizzing, noticing how the metal sheets of Victor's body casing had started to rust at the edges.

"Boss man is waiting inside." He gestured with his arms towards the Lucky 38 behind him. "He's real anxious to speak to you."

"Mr. House?" She was stunned. A personal invitation into the Lucky 38 by Mr. House was a stroke of luck she had never even anticipated.

Then she became suspicious. "Why does he want to see me?" The last time she had spoken to him was at the bunker under Fortification Hill. His screen had clicked off with a message of 'Connection Lost…' He had been angry when she had told him of the task Caesar had charged her with.

"Don't rightly know," Victor admitted. Then his voice developed a darker tone, an ominous quality. "I wouldn't keep him waiting for long."

She took a deep breath, facing the looming structure of the casino tower. The steps she took toward the doors felt significant, preordained, as if she was meant to take this path all her life, and that the decision placed before her in the penthouse would affect the very fabric of the Mojave Wasteland.

Hours later, she emerged from the building and into the blinking sun. Her work on the Strip wasn't finished yet.