"So what's the diagnosis, doc?" the Courier asked.

Doctor Philemon Tate Henry pushed up his glasses before regarding his patient with an irate stare. "Your sleep deprivation is putting you at greater risk of some very serious ailments."

"I get enough sleep."

"Do you? According to the data from your Pip-boy, you've averaged between five to ten hours of sleep over the past week."

Six was too bothered by his migraine to argue with the elderly physician. "Look, I'll get the damn six to eight hours—hell, even ten—as soon as we get back to Vegas."

"And that is where the second problem lies."

"Vegas?"

"No. Your constant procrastination when it comes to what your body really needs."

"Just tell me if I'm sick with something."

"You are," Doctor Henry grunted. "Stage-three alcoholism, clinical depression, chronic migraines, fatigue, stress, and the classic hardy stubbornness that seems to infect people of your ilk."

"... I just need some aspirin."

"You'll get your aspirin together with a liter of water and the recommended eight hours of sleep provided by the lodge."

"Come on, Doc—"

"No buts, Major. You are my patient and I am your physician and as your physician, I can and will confine you to a night's stay here at Jacobstown pending any improvement or complications. For your sake and the sake of these poor children you have following you around."

The Courier growled. "Great. There goes my itinerary."

"Whatever you have planned, you're going to have to postpone. Marcus and Lily will see to your care. I will have Calamity look after your belongings and do the necessary maintenance on your equipment. That goes for your children as well."

"They're not my—"

"Adopted children, then."

Six massaged his temples; there was no point in protesting anymore. His head was throbbing so much that he was effectively disarmed here. Sure, he still had his guns and he could shoot his way out but that option was only for those who were braindead. In the end, after stewing in his frustration, he sighed and accepted the doctor's terms.

"Alright, Doc. How long do I have to be here?"

"At least a day. That you are to spend entirely resting."

"You really don't think I can hack it back to Vegas, huh."

"Absolutely not. Especially in the state that you are in, barring your modifications."

"Fine. Just knock me out with some booze then—"

"And no alcohol, either."

Blink, blink. Cough. "You're killing me here, doc."

Frown. "You are killing yourself, Major. For the duration of your stay here, you will be served no alcohol and any other substances that are not recommended for your recovery."

"Oh goddamn it," Vickers sighed. "I should've known you'd say that."

"That brings another issue: withdrawal." The doctor scribbled some more notes on his clipboard. "I'll have you listed for detoxification should the need arise."

"Come on, you know the bottle needs me as much as I need it."

"To that I call bullshit."

"Thanks for the professional opinion, Doc." The Courier read through the prescription list he was handed and sighed dejectedly. "So are we done here? Can I get my pills now?"

Doctor Henry reared his head out a little. "Calamity!"

Calamity, the only other non-super-mutant resident of Jacobstown, strode into the clinic in her white scrubs. The supercentenarian ghoul of a nurse, assistant, and all-around handy-woman handed the Courier a packet of aspirin and a set of keys to one of the suites on the fourth floor.

"Lily misses you, by the way," she said.

For some reason, the migraine he was having had gotten a little worse. "She's in charge of housekeeping, right?"

Calamity nodded. "And everything in between."

On the way out, Six flashed a trained glare on each of the Vegas Wonder Kids sitting on stools and folding chairs in the waiting area. They all straightened in their seats, acting all innocent as though they were hiding something stupid they had done. Not that he would chew them out for it because he was actually feeling quite exhausted, he was still in pain, and Calamity was literally pushing him to keep moving until they were out of sight.

Meanwhile, back in the clinical ward, Doctor Henry replaced his clipboard on the shelf and spoke to the curtain that separated him from the rest of the other guests in the waiting area.

"Now you wouldn't have to worry about your father pushing himself too much."

The curtain was pulled slightly by Weiss. "Thank you, Doctor. You have no idea how difficult it was for us to convince him to take a break."

"He's a stubborn fool but he would not be foolish enough to ignore a professional opinion, especially from someone he trusts."

"He doesn't trust a lot of people out here," Ruby remarked. "A lot of them were really professional, too."

"Well, the word 'professional' has often been used very loosely," Doctor Henry replied. "Now, I take it you've all deposited your goods with Marcus?"

"Is he also the trader around here?" Yang asked.

"Not really. Calamity's the one who handles most of our logistics. She usually runs our supply chain to Vegas. Check in with her if you want to exchange some of those gecko skins for something more useful."

The rest of the teens breathed sighs of relief. Then rounded their heads on Nora who had been clearing her throat a little too vigorously.

With a sheepish grin, she asked, "You said something a little bit ago, Doc. Something about Six. Um, what'd you mean by 'modifications?'"

Heads turned again, some apologetic for her prodding but all of them undeniably curious.

To this, the experienced elderly ex-Enclave officer Doctor Philemon Tate Henry let out a warm laugh as he sat down on his chair and flicked through the papers on his clipboard. "Synthetic augmentations that would make a man more than what he can be. It's not my field of expertise so I don't have much to say on the matter. But what I can say...is that you'd best ask your father about it yourself."

"He won't say," Blake replied instantly.

"And so you're asking me. Tell me why I should break confidentiality?"

"Because the others did," Yang followed up. "Doctor Mitchell in Goodsprings told us a lot and...we wanted to know if you knew the same."

"And why are you so curious, might I add?"

"Because we're concerned," Weiss unusually defended. "He's erratic, he drinks too much, he's sometimes gets lethargic and unfocused and...and..."

"And we're very worried," Ruby finalized. "He's been taking care of us for so long and we want to do the same to him. And you probably know that he doesn't want us to do that for him but...we just can't ignore him suffering."

Doctor Henry laughed again. "I can't say I'm convinced but I guess I could humor you for a bit. But after your clinic hours are done."

He picked up another clipboard left behind by Calamity.

"Now, which one of you youngsters is going next? It says here that one of you has a shattered ankle, another has a fractured ribcage, and...one of you ingested raw mantis eggs..."

Barring the messier quarters of the super-mutants themselves, the entire lodge itself stood to rival the other main casinos on the Strip. While the services and the food were basic—and sometimes unnerving due to the social nature of super-mutants in general—the Vegas Wonder Kids found themselves enjoying the company, accommodations, and modest atmosphere of Jacobstown.

In particular, Weiss was feeling more and more at peace. Perhaps it was the sight of real snow or the high altitude chill or even the fact that the interior architecture reminded her so much of her home in Atlas. Whatever the reason, the heiress walked the halls of the lodge with a faint smile that did not go unnoticed.

"Walking on clouds there, Ice Queen?" Yang started.

"Gliding by the looks of it," quipped Blake.

Weiss sighed but the gleam never left her features. "Please don't ruin my moment."

Ruby snickered. "We're just walking around."

"Feels nice though," mulled Velvet.

Team RWBY-V had opted to wander for a bit after settling in to their new room. Conveniently just across from the team JNPR-S, too. Though, judging by the locked door and the noises coming from within, they had their hands full containing Syrup. Or Nora. Or both.

"It's just...the smell of pine, the peace and quiet, and even the décor," the heiress listed dreamily as they passed into the lodge's vast luxury hall. "Much different than the Strip."

"Now that you mention it, it's not too crowded here," the cat faunus added.

"No noises from the casinos, no flashing lights, no intrusive staff—"

"Oh, hello there!" barked a rather particular super-mutant. The apron, the bonnet, and the trolley of cleaning supplies all screamed housekeeping. "You must be the new guests."

Team RWBY-V awkwardly returned the greeting. The guttural voice and the liberal display of jagged teeth did not really match the whole get-up. In comparison, the five girls were dressed more amicably than before; they had switched out of their shit-stained garbs into more comfortable clothes conveniently provided by Miss Calamity.

"I'm Lily," the super-mutant continued. "And you are all so adorable just like my grandkids."

"Your...grandkids?" Ruby worded uneasily.

"Yes." Lily then made a face that almost looked like she had remembered something important. "Oh, dearies! Forgive an old lady. My memory can get hazy. I should have recognized you sooner!"

The five girls shared confused and worried glances.

"You're my great grandchildren!"

Team RWBY-V's minds collectively went, 'what?'

Team JNPR-S had barely gotten Syrup under control when something heavy repeatedly rasped against the hardened oak of their room door. With Pyrrha helping Nora keep their pet deatchlaw on a leash, and Jaune replacing all the displaced furniture with Ren, the most they could do was to ask who it was.

"It's your great grandmother, dearies!" growled the person on the other side.

Even Syrup paused from being ornery to sniff out the scent of whoever it was in the hallway.

That was when another voice squeaked through. "Guys! Open up!"

Nora reached for her hammer. "Was that Ruby?"

Pyrrha fetched her buckler. "She sounded in pain."

Ren had barely opened the door a crack when it swung open, knocking him aside, and a rather uppity super-mutant—one of the crazier blue-skinned ones—entered with the whole of team RWBY under both arms. Velvet, on the other hand, meekly waved from the corridor.

"Dearies!" the intruder (happily?) remarked. "I never knew my grandson could be so virile!"

"Um, wh-who are you?" stuttered Jaune.

"Your great grandmother, silly! Oh, aren't you just lovely, you! You look so much like Arcade, the poor dearie!"

The super-mutant unceremoniously dropped the four girls and scooped the blond knight up in a hug while sparing a massive hand to pinch his cheeks.

Nora, a little weirded out, looked to team RWBY groaning on the floor. "Explanation?"

"Why don't you connect the dots?" Weiss groused against the carpet.

"What a litter!" the super-mutant continued, eyeing the rest of team JNPR-S. "I hear you like pastries, dearies. Do you like pancakes?"

Interestingly, little Miss Valkyrie was rather hesitant to respond even as Ren and Pyrrha were quickly swept up into the bear hug that was strangling the life out of the rest of her teammates.

Six could barely sleep.

But at least the migraines had subsided for the time being.

Here he was, sitting in a suite at the Jacobstown ski lodge with an unimpeded view of the whole resort and the surrounding forests with a comfortable bed fluffed and cleaned like the ones on the casino-hotels at the Strip. He was even served one of those complimentary meals delivered to him by Keene of all people.

"Don't look at me!"

The Courier ignored the outburst and simply took the tray of biscuits, water, and pills off the super-mutant's massive hands and shutting the door. Why the hell did Lily have him wear a pink tutu? How can anyone not look at him with that thing on?

So he nibbled on some sugarless cookies while watching the sun go down on the Mount Charleston Nature Reserve. Might as well enjoy this while it lasts. Tonight's looking really beautiful though...

Knock, knock, knock.

Again? "Who is it?"

"It's me, sugar!" echoed the (enthusiastic?) guttural reply. "Grandma!"

His tired eyes went wide. Ah shit.

Six hesitated before opening door. And on there in the hallway stood another super-mutant. A friendlier one with an apron, a duster, and an old yellow sorghum shawl. "Hello, Lily. Nice to see you again."

"It's so nice to see you again, too, deary!" howled the nightkin Lily Bowen. "Give grandma some sugar!"

"Ah, Lily, that's not—" Shit!

Maybe it was guilt or his exhaustion that kept the Courier from going against being swept up in the bear hug. He struggled to keep his airways free, wiggling against these massive super-mutant arms, and getting a strong pine whiff off of his old schizophrenic companion.

"Grandma missed you a lot, deary!"

Air! Lungs! "Noted, breathe, please..."

She let go. "Oh, sorry. Grandma just got very excited."

"It happens," he wheezed. Shit, she's not right in the head right now.

"Grandma also found out she has great grandkids!"

Oh God no. "Lily, hold on. I can explain."

Lily did not give him time to explain as she dragged him out by the wrist to the hallway to have dinner with her 'great grandchildren.'

It was a good thing Marcus was around to keep order. Though they were pretty sure he was badgered into letting this happen considering how fragile the nightkin mind was. With regards to Lily Bowen, it was best to let her indulge in her delusions if only to stave off her more dangerous alter ego for a bit longer. Despite Doctor Henry's efforts, the threat of violence had only been mitigated and it would take something as simple as a casual comment to trigger a long-overdue episode.

And Marcus was keen on keeping the peace in both mind, body, and property even at great cost. Well, there were limits to how far he was willing to go but hosting a lavish dinner for twelve was a good enough trade for Lily's continued sanity and Jacobstown's continued peace and order.

The super-mutant herself sat the end of the long table with Courier Six to her right and the rest of the Vegas Wonder Kids arrayed all around. The food at least made up for the rather awkward atmosphere...even though the menu was limited to lentils and bighorner servings.

"Say grace, deary," Lily egged.

The kids nervously eyed Six who by that point was wearing a face of a man resigned to his fate.

With a defeated sigh, he apathetically harked a faithless prayer. "Dear Lord Jesus, we commit to you our daily bread—"

"Amen." And just like that, the super-mutant who had once been a kindly old lady from a long-forgotten vault began digging into her dish with savage gusto. "Eat up, deary. You need to be fat, plump, and healthy if you're going to work yourself to the bone like you always do."

The Courier slowly began cutting up his portion of steak while casting glances at the two teams. "Just eat, kids. Really. Just eat."

"So nice to see my great grandchildren! You all grow up so fast," Lily remarked with bits of meat stuck in her massive jagged teeth.

"Um," Weiss said uneasily. "We're not—"

"Would you like some water with that, deary? My, you're very pale. Have you been indoors for too long? You need to be out in the sun, you know. Good for the skin."

Ruby and Yang stifled a snort while Nora hid hers behind her bowl of bighorner stew.

"Just roll with it, Snowball," Six hissed between bites. "Lily's not in the right state of mind, right now."

The heiress opened her mouth to say something only to have a glass of water shoved into it by Blake. The cat faunus had an almost manic smile as she did so, only shifting to a grim glower when she regarded her teammate.

"We're surrounded by a lot of really unstable people, Weiss, so play nice, okay?"

Weiss glowered back even as she was forced to gulp down her drink.

The Courier nodded his thanks to Blake shortly before Lily forcefully fed him a spoonful of his own meal much to the contained amusement of the Vegas Wonder Kids.

"I do apologize for that," Marcus sighed.

"It's fine," Six waved off. "As long as it'll keep Lily from losing it, it's fine." Not that I'm all for it but better indulge the crazy before shit starts going crazy.

The two were in one of the empty guest rooms in the less populated eastern wing of the lodge. Having endured Lily's dinner—and sufficiently entertained her enough to trigger a memory that caused her to wander off and obsessively conduct her chores in the kitchen—the group eagerly retired for the night with the two teams wandering back to their quarters unsupervised while the leader of Jacobstown pulled the Courier aside for a private conversation. The latter already guessed what it was about.

"Those new arrivals," Vickers said. "Where're they from?"

"Arizona. Specifically, a county in eastern Arizona where the radiation is so thick that the Imperium barely has a presence there."

Six narrowed his eyes. His heart began to pump in anticipation. "Where exactly?"

"Darwin."

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds of slow, labored breathing.

Followed by twenty seconds that the Courier spent rubbing his face and temples.

"I must've heard you wrong. Where are they from?"

"Darwin Village," Marcus answered solidly. "A former scientific hub built—"

"Under the ruins of a dead city," Six completed.

The super-mutant leader nodded, withdrawing a tin box from his satchel. "They brought much of what they could carry from Darwin. Their exodus was not easy and some have fallen along the way but—"

"What's in the box?"

An uneasy pause. "... They stripped Darwin as much as they could to deny the Imperium. Everything from weapons technology to medical supplies and equipment. The rest they had to unfortunately destroy."

Vickers breathed deep. "Marcus. What's in the box?"

Marcus hesitantly unclasped the lid and arrayed most of the contents on the table. "... I was told that you might recognize some of these."

He did.

The world seemed to condense around him as the Courier picked up the first item and held it against the light: a ringed tin star bearing the words 'Desert Ranger.' He ran his thumb over the metal, feeling the cold dig into his skin, then flipped it over and read the name scratched into the back.

The super-mutant wisely kept his mouth shut, leaving Six to peacefully sort through the rest: a black bracelet, a pair of cracked round shades, and a handful of faded photographs of a group of people challenging the cruel world with the biggest, most confident smiles one could have. Four of them, in the prime of their adult lives, bore the proud stars of the Desert Rangers. The other three, still children, wore the hope of becoming like them.

He set the pictures aside, revealing at the bottom of the box a gold ring with an inlet molded into the shape of a diamond. Inside the band were chiseled the letters 'T-N-T.'

T and T.

Theodore Vickers and Tatiana Averis.

To others, the ring was an extra bag of bottle caps from the trader. To former Major Theodore 'Old Green Eyes' Vickers, it was the missing pair to the one he had kept sealed away in a safe underneath the Lucky 38. While the two T's shut down his battered brain, it was the N that stopped the world around him from turning.

N.

Nia Polis Vickers.

My little girl.

Your mother would've hated me for what I've done, for what I've turned into...but you would've killed me first chance you would've gotten, wouldn't you? I'd probably let it happen, anyway. I deserve it. I'd put the bullet in, I'd teach you how to pull the trigger, and I'd tell you to aim at it me...point blank, right between the eyes, no mistakes this time. Your old man doesn't deserve that Heaven you're in, having all the ice cream in the world with no worries about your teeth or your damnable sickness. You and your mother...

He rubbed his thumb over the letters, his mind split between apologizing to ghosts and mocking himself for being so pitiful. At least, of all the pieces of the past to come back to haunt him, the anklet and the bowler hat were left out of the package. Not that they would fit in the box, anyway. Ellie and Alex had probably been buried with them.

A few minutes later, the Courier wiped his face dry and returned everything in the box, clasping the lid on tight with loud thunk.

"They never found this in Darwin," he said.

"Come again?"

"These were salvaged elsewhere."

"How can you be sure?"

Six turned around, baring a face that triggered a moment's worth of primal fear in the super-mutant leader. "The last time we'd ever been to Darwin was a year before the Imperium was formed. Even back then, that place was a radioactive hell-scape. Either some robust legionaries put these back there for these mutants to so conveniently 'recover' or they had gotten their hands on these from someone somewhere who knows way more than they need to."

Marcus raised his hands. "Major, I'm only telling you what I know."

Vickers gripped the box tightly. You're only telling me what you've been told. "Everything in here belonged to my people and no one else. I find that hardly coincidental."

"If you're seeking more definite answers, I don't have them."

"Someone put these together with the knowledge of who they belonged to and who we were."

"Again, I reiterate that I have no prior knowledge of that. You know me, Major."

"But these newcomers don't know who I am, do they," Six retorted. "These Arizona mutants from Darwin who strangely didn't know who we were even after we helped save their asses years ago. Stupid or smart, you super-mutants don't forget faces easily."

The leader of Jacobstown likewise hardened his stare. "We don't. We don't forget names and deeds either. And if you plan on interrogating the refugees, then you're going to have to go through the process with me from start to finish. No ifs or buts. Knowing you, I have to be there to keep a leash on everything and I will not hesitate to use necessary force if need be."

Silence.

Then a snort. So be it. "I don't need answers right now. I need a bed."

Marcus let out a sigh of relief but remained wary as the Courier departed the room with the box in his hand.

Six took five steps down the corridor before stopping in front of an unlit room with its door hanging wide open. Complete darkness filled every corner save for the threshold dispelled by the light from the corridor. But he knew they were there and he knew that they had heard some.

"You kids have a bad habit, you know that?"

Silence.

He shrugged at the carpet, too tired to be angry. "But I guess some habits die hard. You're all some nosy little shits, y'know that? Didn't you hear? Curiosity killed the cat an' there're a lotta dead dead cats out there."

Through the darkness, he could feel someone glaring at him.

The Courier reached for his hip flask only to remember that Calamity confiscated it from him when she frisked him for all the alcohol, tobacco, and discouraged chems on his person. He let out a mirthless chuckle, not once bothering to even look into the room where these girls were hiding in.

"Before the Vegas Nine, before the merger with NCR..." Glazed eyes bore into the patterns in the carpet, followed by a hollow voice recalling the distant past. "There was Team Echo. Four o' the best the Desert Rangers could put to the field, they said."

Someone let out a hitched breath muffled behind some hands.

"Ellie an' Alex wanted to be like us...though they were barely in their teens when we found 'em crawlin' out o' their cave lookin' for water... Hell, they weren't even recruits yet when the Legion..."

Something fell.

He chuckled dryly. "I guess puttin' together the Vegas Nine was my last shot at relivin' the days o' Team Echo again. It was great while it lasted."

The floorboards creaked.

"Story time's over, kids. Daddy's tired. So, so tired..."

Slowly, the shapes of five girls meshed against the darker shapes of the furniture. He was sure one of them was trying to reach out to him, the diminutive silhouette almost looking like Nia wordlessly asking when her dad will be coming back from his mission. Vickers lethargically waved the illusion away.

"Y'all should go to sleep. It's late." Then he walked off.

A moment later, team RWBY-V stumbled out of their cramped hiding places in the dark. They peeked around the corner only to be confronted by Marcus who shook his head at them before guiding them back to their room on the western annex of the lodge.

"Somehow, I don't think stalking Six was really a bad idea," Yang mused from her bed.

From the dresser, Weiss scoffed. "And whose idea was that?"

"You all agreed to it!"

The heiress rolled her eyes. "You really need to consider the consequences of your actions."

"Don't you mean our actions?" corrected her partner, her petite frame sprawled over her own bed just across from her sister's. "You joined in, too, you know."

"It was better than leaving you to your detrimental antics, you dolt!"

"Who's idea was it again to explore the lodge after dinner?" Blake droned. "Something about taking in the solitude, the fresh pine scent, the 'fragrance of unadulterated—'"

"We needed a stroll!" Weiss rebuffed as she whirled on her stool and continued vigorously brushing her uncoiled hair.

The blonde snickered. "This place remind you of home, Weiss-cream?"

"I will accede that the layout and the interior are similar in design and structure to the Schnee manor."

"Is that the best excuse you can come up with?"

"We had a haughty dinner. It is unwise not to burning off the fat before retiring for the night." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And we needed it after that experience."

The girls stewed in silence for a moment, each collectively expressing their pity for Lily whose mind had been so broken by technology that the old lady of a super-mutant constantly mistook them for her progeny. And while the food was good, the atmosphere had been intensely awkward and a little unnerving. It was hard to say way whether or not it was a good thing that Lily suddenly lapsed into some kind of fugue state halfway during conversation.

"... So," Yang drawled. "I say we got lost looking for our room and ended up at the wrong place and at the wrong time. What do you think, kitty cat?"

The cat faunus shrugged behind her pre-war book, part of the complimentary reading left still intact at the lodge. "Good enough excuse, I guess."

"We really did get lost," accentuated Ruby. She threw her hands over her head. "And it's not like we wanted to eavesdrop on Six. Like how were we supposed to know he and Marcus were going to be there? I mean, seriously! This place is huge! Like, remember when we got lost at the Ultra-Luxe? So many hallways!"

The blonde shuddered. "The food though..."

Team RWBY shivered, banishing the memories of their lavish feasting there after learning the horrible history of the place as well as the history of the White Glove Society with all their unusual politeness and manners and emphasis on high-class living and etiquette. No wonder people called them creepy.

"What about them?" Velvet asked innocently enough. The sophomore had the irony of being the most uninformed among them, sitting pretty on her bed, the fifth one squeezed into the room hours ago by an exasperated Keene.

"You don't want to know," Blake warned.

"Is there something going on over there? I heard their food is to die for."

The other girls shared a look. Then the cat faunus shuffled over and whispered, "I'll tell you later."

"Okay, how about we forget the Ultra-Luxe and talk about how Six actually had a team just like us," Yang started.

"How about we not?" Weiss protested. "We've intruded enough into his personal life. We've uncovered enough secrets about him that, frankly, still disgusts me. And need I remind you how unfavorable he was to our being privy about—"

"Team 'Echo,' huh," Ruby worded loudly. "Echo isn't a color, right?"

"It's a sound," Blake added.

"Should we really be delving into this?" Velvet raised nervously.

The heiress pounded her fists on the dresser. "Will you all stop please? We should set a limit to our curiosity. And you, Miss Blondie, should stop being such a gossip-girl!"

The blonde in question raised her hands. "Chill, Weiss Cream. Just looking for idle talk. Not like we got anything else to shoot the shit with other the usual, you know. Fun as these super-mutants are, it's kinda depressing just thinking about them sometimes. And besides, it's not like any of this stuff is leaving this room, right?"

"Why don't we all just go to sleep?" Blake suggested, clasping her book shut and replacing it on the shelf.

"Idle chat before bedtime?" Yang pleaded.

Weiss manifested a glyph over the blonde that pushed her down on the bed so she couldn't resist while the heiress pulled the covers over her. "Sleep. Now. It's late. We're tired. I'm tired."

"You're no fun."

Ruby yawned. "Sleep sounds good."

"Goodnight, everyone," Velvet said, finally flicking off the light switch.

Winter Schnee jolted awake and, with practiced grace, she whipped the Browning pistol out from under her pillow. She quickly restrained herself from squeezing the trigger at the figure standing inside the tent she shared with Glynda Goodwitch who likewise had her Beretta locked onto the intruder's head.

"Damn, ladies. Fidgety much?"

"Qrow?"

"You buffoon! We nearly shot you."

Qrow Branwen, his eyes weighted by lack of sleep, snickered and kept his hands raised until Winter flicked on the handheld oil lamp on top of the crate squeezed between their cots.

"That thing still itch?" he remarked, pointing to the modified Legion slave collar that remained locked around their necks, the green lights forever glowing brightly in the dark.

She sighed tiredly, replacing the gun under her pillow and adjusting the flame of the lamp to a mild dimness to avoid alerting the NCR sentries. "Not anymore. What do you have for us this time?"

"Straight to the point, huh. Can't I get a 'how are you' ever now and then?"

"They're doubling the number of personnel here at the fort," Glynda said wryly. "Some of whom have been relegated to watch us instead of watching for outside threats as I'm sure you've noticed on your way in."

"Pfft. Half of these guards are asleep."

"And the other half are out there doing their job keeping an eye out for intruders like you! So this better be important that you're taking this big a risk seeing us like this. What do you have?"

He pouted mirthfully. "Man, you're cranky tonight."

They glowered at him.

"This is not the time for games, Qrow," hissed the former Beacon staffer. "General Hsu tries to make it a secret but it's obvious that we're being treated less as guests and more as specimens. To that effect, many of the troopers we've become familiar with have been transferred and their replacements are more obedient to their directives against fraternization."

"You mean Friday poker night is out?"

"There wouldn't be another one according to what we heard."

He shrugged. "Well, shit. They at least letting you in on the loop?"

Winter snorted. "If you call Mister New Vegas a reliable source."

Glynda sighed. "Well, you're keeping us well-informed. Even if most of it is not very savory and could very well be frivolous hearsay."

Qrow gestured at them lethargically. "Don't worry. I fact-checked. Got something solid."

"And that is?"

"The kids are back from their secret mission, bruised but still in one piece. They haven't checked in with the NCR yet though."

Immediately, the drowsiness evaporated from Winter's eyes and she sat bolt upright on her cot. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he replied with equal seriousness despite the swagger in his step. "Been tracking them for awhile now. Confirmed it with the locals, too."

"Does the NCR know about this?"

"Not yet." He leaned in, dropping his voice low. "Courier Six got a hold of the kids before they could report in and this time, he's keeping a tight leash on them. Most likely, he doesn't want them working for the Republic anymore."

"So all this talk about this mailman going rogue is true then."

"He's not just a mailman, Glynda," Qrow hissed, his face crunched in an uncharacteristic display of dread. "He's a very serious player who's been shuffling the deck out here and the cards he's pulling are better than what General Hsu has in his hand."

Winter kept her gaze on the rug, contemplating in silence. In all her years of knowing this drunkard of a Huntsman, she made an effort to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her outside of her steely facade. But now that she was stripped of her Aura and Semblance by this damnable slave collar, now that she was in a foreign land, now that she was in a world where the Grimm was the least of humanity's problems; she found putting on a mask a waste of effort. Other than Master Sergeant Maggie Stonham, Qrow Branwen was the only person outside of their chain-linked fence she could fully trust and she did not need to drive him away by keeping up whatever petty rivalry they had.

"Qrow, is...is he treating her well?" she asked softly.

"He's not hurting them," he replied tersely. "Yet."

She bit her lip. Whoever this Courier Six was, he was a man that clearly struck fear into the NCR, a nation that—despite its mediocrity and bureaucracy—was the only stabilizing force in this whole wasteland. And she had survived the Imperium Americana, the NCR's greatest enemy and the most terrifying civilized entity that humanity could conjure as far as she knew. Yet even then, the Courier's fearsome reputation had rattled the Imperium's troops to the core.

"Mind you," Qrow added. "Weiss isn't the only person he has in his custody."

Winter nodded apologetically. "Of course, I...I'm sorry. Your nieces and—"

"Teams RWBY and JNPR," he corrected. "And that sophomore Velvet Scarlatina, too. From team CFVY."

"Yes, yes. I'm aware." She breathed into her hands. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Hey. It's okay. I'm as worried about them as you are. But I have to take this slow. Oz and Ironwood aren't here to give directions. We're all on our own and for the safety of everyone, I'm doing this step by step. It's not my favorite strategy but I can't take any chances right now."

"I understand."

Glynda shifted to sit on her cot. Even for a lady who rivaled Winter in almost every facet, she too bore the same scars from their enslavement by the Imperium. "Qrow, is it true that the children are willingly following the Courier?"

"They're not running away from him as far as I can tell."

"Don't they know that he's a mass murderer?" gasped the former Atlesian specialist. "How can they be so...complacent to such a man?"

The veteran Huntsman took a swig from his flask. "Probably because he's doing a better job taking care of 'em than the NCR is doing to you."

Green eyes narrowed behind thin glasses. "What makes you certain of that?"

He pointed at their slave collars. "Is the NCR still trying to get that off?"

"The last attempt was two weeks ago."

"And what was the reason why they haven't done anything since?"

Winter replied, "They are waiting for more powerful tools from California. With how dangerous the wasteland is, even within civilized borders, that delivery will take some time."

"Not to mention the bureaucracy of the Republic which I find very irksome," Glynda added. "Additionally, until the necessary equipment arrives, we are being put under observation to study the effects of these collars which, General Hsu claims, is unlike anything they had encountered before."

"That what they told you, huh," Qrow grunted. "That's weird. Could've sworn I saw some power tools back at McCarran."

"Qrow, we're not referring to—"

"They're not your average power tools," he continued. "I'm talking advanced thermic lances, surgical titanium rippers, prototype industrial stuff that'll cut through military-grade steel. And they're all picking up dust at McCarran. I've seen them used to take apart decommissioned Securitrons and salvaged Atlesian Paladins."

The two ladies eyed each other.

"What are you saying?" worded Winter.

"I'm saying that it's pretty weird that General Hsu has a whole repository of advanced deconstruction gear being used to reverse-engineer Atlesian tech which, funny enough, according to my source, are made from the exact same stuff that those collars are."

Quiet descended in the tent.

"Where do they keep find our technology?" Winter quietly demanded.

A tired shrug. "All over the place, apparently."

"They're salvaging them," Glynda worded.

He nodded. "My guess is that the NCR's grabbing everything they could find and turning it into a weapon they could use against whoever's going up against them. I mean, you've got at least five Atlas battle suits being recalibrated and rebranded right here at the Fort. There's a bunch more in poor condition being reverse-engineered at McCarran. And it's not just Atlas tech, it's New Vegas tech, too. Securitrons and all the stuff that the Republic doesn't have but the folks here at the New Vegas are using to keep law and order. Just goes to show you what these guys don't have in their arsenal, huh."

"What about us?"

"Beats me. My guess? You're weapons. Me, you, the kids, anybody who's supposed to be impervious to damage because of their Aura and able to achieve more than the Average Joe could because of their Semblances. In a world like this, that's definitely something to kill over."

"With how popular teams RWBY and JNPR are," echoed the former Beacon staffer.

Qrow nodded after another swig. "The NCR saw the potential of people like us. People from Remnant. At least the ones who've been to a combat school anyway. Just so happens that Courier Six got a hold of the first batch before the NCR could. You remember Project Fragment?"

The two ladies nodded. From what they could piece together, Project Fragment was an on-going clandestine attempt by the NCR to establish a connection to Remnant be it by portals or some other experimental design. General James Hsu had made them privy to it as soon as they confirmed that they were indeed from Remnant. When Qrow began his clandestine visits not too long ago, he unveiled much more than they had been led to believe. And despite their differences, Winter and Glynda believed the Huntsman more than anyone else.

"They're still not making a lot of headway," he said. "But they're still picking up a lot of the stuff that's been dropping in this hell-hole over the past several years."

"Including our weapons and technology," Winter remarked.

"And our students, staff, and fellow citizens," Glynda added.

Qrow grunted. "This begs the question. If pieces of Remnant are somehow getting wormhole'd here, is it possible of the reverse? Like pieces of the Wasteland popping up in our home turf?"

The former specialist frowned. "I thought we were done conjecturing on that topic."

"Wouldn't hurt to bring it up every once in a while. Makes you think, you know."

"Makes me uncomfortable knowing that the more horrid abominations of this place are terrorizing our friends and family on the other side," mused the former combat instructor.

Winter exhaled tiredly. "We can't dwell on what we know the least of, especially with regards to what's going on back on Remnant. Right now, what do we have to worry about? Have you found anything else from your gallivanting on the outside?"

"Yeah," the Huntsman replied. "I got in touch with the big man himself."

Silent, wide-eyed surprise.

"Can't say he's open to helping us out though. Man lives up to his reputation. Nearly got me when things went south."

"So he can't be trusted," Glynda remarked.

"I didn't say he can't be trusted. I just mean that he's dangerous. Doesn't look like it but, if you ask me, he's the one pulling the strings in New Vegas. So I followed where those strings lead to. Got a hold of his contact at McCarran. Same guy who keeps the tools that are supposed to get rid of those collars easy."

Qrow unfolded his scroll to reveal candid shots snapped from a window sill opening down into a dingy warehouse occupied by a balding man in an NCR uniform checking off a list on a clipboard. Surrounding him were boxes of various sizes, some bearing the stenciled designations of the Republic and the nature of their contents. Most notable, however, were the industrial machinery wrapped in chains and the various heavy-duty equipment arrayed on the tables and on top of the opened containers.

"He's...McCarran's quartermaster?" Winter coughed.

He nodded. "Sergeant Daniel Contreras. Smarmy bastard. Puts a price tag on everything, sells to the highest bidder. NCR nearly put him behind bars until our dear friend Courier Six came along and straightened things out. Now he's Six's inside man. And—"

"He's willing to work for us for the right price."

"Pretty much. He's scared of Six more than he is of the NCR and he wants protection from both in case things go south."

The two women regarded him warily.

"What did you propose?" Glynda slowly asked.

"That I'll keep him safe."

Winter blinked, eyes going wide with incredulity. "Can you keep that promise? You're only one man! How can you—"

"Courier Six is only one man, too," the Huntsman countered. "No Aura, no Semblance. Just some heavy guns, fast hands, and a massive network of the right people."

"Do you have a network? Do you even have a sense of who to talk to and who not to offend!? This isn't Remnant, this is—"

"You don't have to worry about me, Ice Queen. I'm not trying to overthrow him, okay? What I'm trying to do is getting you all some real help. And first thing's first, we need to get those damn collars off."

"Qrow, don't be reckless," Glynda hissed, her brows bending in a rare show of concern. "You're our only contact with the outside. Knowing your habits, you'd risk compromising everything!"

"You think I don't know myself?" he angrily retorted. "You know me, Glynda! You know what I can and can't do. I know I got problems but you know that I'm not stupid enough to do what I can't. At least cut me some slack. Quit trying to be Oz for once, goddamn it."

The former Atlesian specialist was surprised to see the former Beacon staffer deflate at that, almost reeling as though she had been slapped, piercing green orbs immediately moving away to hide some kind of guilt hidden there.

"I need to get going," Qrow muttered coolly. "Got to follow through with this deal I'm working on with Contreras."

"I thought he wanted protection," Winter worded.

"That's the half of it."

"And the other half."

"I can't tell you that yet."

"Qrow," she pleaded. She still had much to say, much to ask, much of her worries that needed to be assuaged. Yet her mouth hung open with the words drying up on the tip of her tongue.

He pulled away from her. "Look, I'm doing my best here. But Contreras is after something really big, something really sensitive. I can't risk you two or anyone else here—"

"He could be leading you into a trap or—"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Winter," Glynda echoed with a resigned sigh, unable to look back up at the veteran Huntsman. "Let him go."

The former Atlesian specialist looked conflicted but nonetheless woefully stepped back. "Be careful then. You're the only one left."

The morose Huntsman exhaled. "I know. You take care of yourself, too. Be seeing you around, ladies."

He then stepped outside and promptly vanished into the early morning darkness.

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: August 5, 2020

LAST EDITED: September 1, 2020

INITIALLY UPLOADED: September 1, 2020

NOTE: Another long one and hopefully one that properly enriches our cast and setting.

Some of you might pick up some references here to another production involving Chris Avellone (Fallout 2, Fallout: New Vegas) and Jason Anderson (Fallout, Fallout 2). I won't be making this into a three-way crossover with that production but I will be referencing it a lot later on.

I'll also try to keep subsequent chapters shorter than this.