Worst-Case Scenario

Synopsis: Two of the Courier's occasional allies form a dangerous partnership, and Cass goes to excessive lengths to prevent disaster.


The Tops, May 2283.

Sierra sat cradled comfortably in Sage's arms. Named for the city in which the Courier had found her, the acoustic guitar still played like she hadn't been marinating in a cloud of toxic fumes for two hundred years. Sage could barely play, but Tommy Torini asked her over anyway, just for the celebrity of the whole thing.

Sage had asked Tommy not to advertise that she'd be there, but the Aces had drawn an unusually dense crowd tonight. Someone must have let the word out. Her time onstage had come and gone, just as stilted and bland as she'd expected, and now she sat in the front row enjoying the rest of the night's entertainment. Music wasn't one of Sage's talents, but charm was, and she used her charisma to turn her mistakes into their own form of entertainment. It seemed to her like a classless form of theatre, but Tommy asked her back every so often, and she did the same act with the same results.

The woman on the stage was stagenamed Angelface, so named because of the makeup she'd somehow managed to procure for stage performances. It was a pre-war oddity, and she piled it on thicker than Sage assumed had been customary (Veronica would know). Her voice was so thick and syrupy that every change in note sounded like a hiccup. Sage knew she was one of the Chairmen; she'd heard her swear in some extinct tribal dialect when her high heels faltered.

It was important to get out on the town sometimes. CEO, president, empress — she didn't know what she was to these people, but everyone constantly wanted her attention. She missed the days before the Dam, when she'd had time for endless side projects, limitless visits to the needy Wasteland. Now it was all she could do to keep just the Strip happy. Arcade lectured her on delegation, but the prospect of not knowing everything that was going on made her spine tingle in its cybernetic sheath.

Angelface blew kisses at her song's end, then sauntered down the stage's steps toward her seat. Heads moved in whispered conversation in the front table. Then Hadrian got up to perform.

Sage considered stepping out; she was a favorite target of the old comedian, and she didn't want the crowd to see her flush. Some days, it was just too much effort to smile and fire back.

The ghoul took center stage, and Sage realized, too late, the bowtie and sunglasses, the ancient suit, the cocky smile that wasn't just an act. Her heart hammered hard enough that she imagined she could feel the synthetics clicking together. He couldn't be here.

Dean Domino. The survivor. The thief.

His voice was still beautiful, even after such a long period of mutation and disuse. It wasn't exactly news to her, but the crowd was impressed that a ghoul could sing so well. Sage had heard him the night of the Gala — that haunting concert for one — and soon after, she had found out far more than she'd ever wanted to know about the man.

Not that she'd ever trusted him. Every syllable from his rich baritone brought greed, envy, and spite into the atmosphere. In the Sierra Madre, she had known true evil. She'd seen every filthy lust in the heart of man — and woman — for power, vengeance, knowledge, food, beauty, pride, control. Gold. She'd known, in the basest depths of her mind, that everyone she'd met had been entirely willing to kill her, stopped only by the belief that she might be useful to them.

And yet. Dean had likely saved her life, in the end, along with Christine. He'd helped to defeat Elijah, entirely without expectation of gain. She'd been declared a friend.

But then, so had Sinclair.

"While I can't say you don't look lovely in that dress, I'm not sure it belongs to you."

Sage's cheeks burnt when Dean approached her, and she held Sierra protectively over herself. To be recognized was one thing, but getting caught in Vera Keyes's dress was unbearable. She wanted pants.

"Dean," she exclaimed, "I was so shocked to see you up there! How are you?" Her voice lilted prettily, too exaggerated to be convincing. He'd already known her as a desperate, sleep-deprived captive.

"Collar 21." He took her hand and kissed it. "Long time no see, eh? Where have you been?"

Sage smiled. She didn't want to tell him, but he'd know before long. "Well, right here! This is my city, as of a few months ago."

As if on cue, Benny manifested behind Dean, shrugging an arm onto his shoulders like they were old pals. "How's about this, baby? Never thought you'd see talent like Dean Domino at the Aces, did ya?"

This was her worst nightmare and she could not wake up. "Well, I thought I did a pretty stunning job, myself!" She laughed self-deprecatingly.

Dean scoffed the best he could manage without a nose. "Maybe leave the music to the professionals next time, hm?"

"But he's right, Dean, your performance was..." Her mind stalled as she considered a worshipful-enough adjective. If Dean's ego was secure, they were safe. "So, uh, where-to next, Dean?"

"Where else is there in this dump?" Dean grumbled. "China really took the world's number, didn't it? It's no Barcelona, but at least in Vegas, the air doesn't taste like a brick." Dean enunciated carefully, making it clear how distasteful the whole thing was to him.

"Looks like Deano and old Benny will be partners in crime so long as the world'll have us!" Benny bared his teeth in a grin. He was dead-serious and Sage could have killed him.

She'd known keeping a serial backstabber like Benny employed in her city had been like using a live grenade as a pillow. She'd never been able to bring herself to kill him — it would have been too easy. When he had smacked down her olive branch, when he had been tied up and defenseless in the bloodsoaked Fort, and now, when every glance at him sent her back to her knees in the Goodsprings Cemetery. It would have been so simple to remove the threat.

And so she never did.

She'd always managed to keep one eye on him, and never gave him an opening. But in close proximity to Dean... they would either tear each other apart, or the city.

Sage stood, beyond ready to excuse herself. "Well, then... play nice, you boys. I'm eager to hear more." And she left the theater, holding Sierra over her exposed leg.

She sat upside-down on the bedroom couch, legs against the headrest, hair brushing the floor. Vera's dress still hung loosely from her shoulders, but she wore comfortable jeans underneath. She considered changing into her longcoat as her friends digested her story.

"So this Dean is... bad," Veronica clarified. "But you're not gonna tell us why."

Sage tapped her feet on thin air. Could she tell Veronica about Dean's life, when it was so tied up with hers? How the catacombs that Elijah had so coveted had been built with him in mind? What he had done to Christine as part of Elijah's scheme — when Sage didn't even know how to broach the subject of Christine in the first place? How Sage had gotten the dress Veronica now treasured — how that woman had suffered due to Domino's arrogance? She didn't think any of the others could understand why she was so afraid of him. Not without being there, under the Cloud, strapped to a bomb.

"Just trust me, he is. He'd maim your grandmother for a pack of cigarettes."

"NOW WHY WOULD YOU SAY A NASTY THING LIKE THAT?"

"Sorry, Lily."

Lily clucked unhappily and went back to knitting. Her shapeless lump of yarn had turned into a shapeless heap in an evening, and she was feeling very proud of it. Despite being their best fighter, she was happiest at home. Until the wanderlust struck.

Boone, off to himself in a corner, spoke up. "If you don't want him in your city, kick him out. Nothing's stopping you."

"You're not getting it!" Sage cried. She swung her legs back to the floor, narrowly missing Arcade's glasses. "This guy is crazy. If I so much as tease him, I'll have a vendetta against me for the rest of his lifetime. Not mine — his. And he's been alive a long time!"

Boone stared for a second, then mimed aiming a sidearm at Raul, who frowned and pointed an actual revolver back.

She shook her head. "No. No, I'm not going to kill someone without provocation. Plus, he's in league with Benny now. Benny wants my city, Dean wants my gold. If I throw off one, I've gotta deal with the other. Match made in Hell."

Cass laughed jauntily. "So you're not trying to beat them. Just break them up."

"If they're both as dangerous as you say, it might be useful to turn them against each other," Arcade agreed.

"Well, how the heck am I supposed to do that?" Sage asked despondently.

Cass rolled her eyes, smirking. "Let's just say you've got everything you need right with you, gorgeous."

Sage slapped her arms around herself immediately. "You mean seduce them? Me? Them?"

"That's not what I had in mind," Arcade muttered.

Cass chuckled faintly at Sage's horror. "You don't have to deliver. Just throw their little manbrains in knots until they'd do anything for you. You've got it. Doesn't she, Veronica?"

Veronica hesitated. "Whatever 'it' is, I'm sure she's got it in abundance... and I doubt she wants it anywhere near Shooty McShootface and the Grandma Maimer."

"She's right," said Boone. "Guy's a snake. I don't like this ghoul either. Don't drop your guard."

"So you agree she's got it?" Cass smirked.

"I'm not gonna answer that."

Sage unfurled. "You haven't met Dean, anyway. He'd have no qualms with hurting a girl he's hot for. He's done it before."

Cass looked down as she considered this, shading her face with the brim of her hat. "Well then, we've only got half the job to do."

"I don't know if I should mess with Benny either. I feel like he knows me too well."

"Yeah, you shouldn't. Now that I look at you, you'd end up getting embarrassed. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything." She kissed her fingertips and patted Sage's head as she left the room.

"Cass, what are you doing?"

"See you later, cowards."

Cass showed up on the casino floor in the early afternoon, smelling like cologne, missing her pendant, and assuring Sage that her problems were over.

"Why, what — what did you do?"

"Let's say Benny has been persuaded," Cass drawled, twirling her hat on one hand.

"To do what?" Sage blundered.

"He'll keep his distance from Domino. He says thanks for the heads-up. He said it to me, but I figure I should pass it on."

"What did —" Sage swallowed uncomfortably. "What did you have to do to convince him?"

"Oh, just bat my eyelashes a bit," Cass said. Sage relaxed. "The rest was just for fun."

"Wait, what?"

Cass winked heartily, drinking in her friend's bemusement. "He was eager to thank me."

Sage stared blankly, unable to process what she thought she was hearing. Benny. And Cass. Cass and Benny.

Cass seemed to enjoy the scandal of the whole thing, but Sage's silence wicked the fun out of it. "Come on, Six. We got what we were after. You don't have to approve, but can you just be..." She trailed off upon seeing Sage's face.

"Benny? My murderer? You just thought that would be okay?" Her voice was pearly and brittle, like an anguished mother.

"I thought you'd get over it."

"Benny?"

"Sage—!" Cass exhaled in frustration. "You know what, I should have known you'd get like this. You're always so into everyone's business. Can't so much as walk the dog without you asking where we've been. I'm sick of it!"

"I think I have a right—"

"No. You can either be my boss or my buddy. Don't switch from one to the other when it's convenient for you."

"You're not gonna go over there again."

"Sure I am. I left my necklace."

"No!" Sage couldn't explain what she was feeling, and couldn't temper the way she was acting. She could have remained civil if Cass hadn't gone and called her unreasonable about it. "Are you trying to tell me you're an item or something? My nemesis?"

"You knew who I was when you hired me." Cass's face burned red. "I was trying to do you a favor."

Shrunken, Sage mumbled, "Can you at least tell me when you're about to do something like that?"

Cass had steeled against her embarrassment, angry that she couldn't just laugh it off. Sage knew she was fierce, and knew she hid pain when she wasn't drinking it away. She didn't like being on the cowgirl's bad side, but how could she allow this to wedge itself in the back of her mind unresolved? Even after she'd forgiven Benny, the pain haunted her. In headaches, in nightmares, in the void of her memory. All she remembered from before was that night.

Cass didn't understand that, or her pride was too bruised to care. "This is why we don't tell you anything."

"Nothing goes on in this tower without me knowing about it."

"Oh yeah?" Cass's eyes flashed, pleased to regain the upper hand. "Did you know Boone and I made out?"

"...what?"

"Yeah, it was while you were off on one of your adventu—"

"WHAT?"

Cass relished her shock. "You heard me. He got himself so doped up I thought he was about to keel over dead. Nobody was able to snap him out of it, so I took matters into my own hands."

"So you kissed..."

She shrugged, challenging the Courier to question it. "Might have even done more, but I had to be a gentlelady and wait until he was sober. Didn't want anything to do with me after that." Her casual taunt ended with a note of bitterness.

Sage felt herself going nuclear, and she felt no more inclination to prevent it. "How could you not tell me about this?"

"Because it doesn't concern you."

"Yes it does!"

"How?"

Sage began to answer, but her voice was reluctant to cooperate. How did it involve her, exactly? She felt entitled to be part of this situation, but coming up with a reason confounded her. "Because... we're friends," she struggled.

"Friends?" Cass asked sharply. "Did we sign up for 24/7 surveillance? You got your eyebot reporting on us?"

"No."

Cass sighed, long and weary. "You're crazy, Sage. I love ya. But you're a nightmare."

"I... I just can't," Sage muttered feverishly. She withdrew to the elevator, half-hoping Cass would stop her, but the older woman just sighed in frustration as Yes Man whisked her away.

Alone in the casino, Cass huffed a grim laugh and turned to go. As she walked, she rubbed the place where her pendant should be, a distant smile on her face.

The cocktail lounge was the perfect place to brood. Sage wasn't the only one who came up here for a moment of privacy, but today it was abandoned. Sage watched her city go about its day, miffed that it could be so calm while she was so upset.

Her anger just didn't make any sense. Surprise, sure, but who had been wronged here? She was sure she had an excellent justification, but none were forthcoming in her court-of-one.

Apparently Boone still broke out the chems when Sage wasn't around. She had thought he'd been getting better, but she didn't know how much of that was solely dependent on her presence. She didn't know how to bring this up to him without telling him what Cass had said — There was no doubt: he saw what they had done as infidelity, and heaped it upon his mountain of guilt. No wonder he'd never told Sage.

And that was the issue. Why, exactly, should they have told her? Sage didn't know; she just knew that they should've, and she was mad about it.

She heard the elevator chime from the other side of the donut-shaped lounge, and she buried herself deeper in the corner of the couch. Whoever it was could find a different side of the room to angst in.

As it turned out, the intruder was Arcade, and he was looking for her. "Hi."

"Afternoon," she said blankly, not looking at him. He paused for a conspicuous amount of time, forcing her attention back to his face.

He was staring with a thoughtful expression, betraying little. "Listen. You know I don't do the heart-to-heart thing. So let's just be frank with each other, okay?"

"About what?"

"That's the opposite of frank," he chided her calmly. "Cass told me you were upset."

"And she sent you?"

"Well," he muttered, looking down at the city, "I have a chronic condition that makes people look at me and say 'That guy probably has lots of time on his hands.'"

That made her laugh, and the wall between them broke down. "Sorry. I'm ticked. I don't know why."

"So I've heard." He sat near her. "You weren't really supposed to find out about that."

"Oh, so this is the sort of secret that everyone knows but me."

"Believe me, I wish it would have happened in private." He broke his eyes from the window and glanced at her. "We had this wild idea that if you found out, you might blow it out of proportion."

"Doesn't sound like me."

"Silly us."

Sage felt shivery, all of a sudden. She shrunk down into her couch, pulling up the collar of her longcoat for protection. From the ground, Vegas was so bright and exotic and exciting. From the tower, it was just a crush of activity within an endless desert. All the work of her hands, so desolate and vulnerable.

"What's wrong with me, Arcade?"

He had prepared for awkwardness before coming to find her, so he kept up his frank demeanor. "Do you want it from your doctor, or from your friend?"

"How about from my friend who's a doctor?"

Arcade considered this. Okay," he assented. "Sage, you know you can be a bit of a tyrant?" When she hesitated, he crossed his arms in self-defense.

"I guess. I just committed a hostile takeover of a pretty large chunk of land, you know." She tried to banter. Banter was easier.

"I don't mean politics... this would be a lot easier if I did.

"But then we'd be here until June."

"Most definitely. Which is why I'll stick to the personal crisis."

Sage sighed, unhappy to be back on track. "Is it because of Benny?"

"I'm sure some of it is. A traumatic brain injury contributes to a lot of different problems. But I think this runs a little bit deeper."

Curiosity overcame Sage's reluctance, for the moment. "Like how?"

"When a person grows up feeling like they're not in control, they'll try to find that control in other avenues — they'll try to exert undue influence over themselves and others." Arcade's eyes slid over to hers sardonically. "That's how we get raiders, for example."

"And so...?" she prompted.

"So, I'm saying you're not upset at what happened with Benny; you're afraid of losing control of the situation. When you're not calling the shots, you can't predict what's going to happen next. Starting to sound familiar?"

"A bit." The words tasted bitter. Maybe she was just another sinner, greedy for old-world gold.

"We — your knights of the round table here — we know what you've done for us. I don't want to disparage that." His voice softened. "You know how I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything. I appreciated the extra firepower." But they both knew it was more than that. Since the Dam, Arcade had been less guarded, almost sentimental at times. He'd been eager to dispense with the secrecy that had plagued him since he'd been a child, and even more eager to use those secrets to help people. Sage knew it wasn't all due to her, but the example comforted her bruised ego.

"Anyway. I worry that you've got it in your head that you're responsible for us. We're all adults, you know. Older than you, I'm guessing."

Sage looked down. "I'm not trying to be your babysitter. I just feel..." She searched for words, letting out a breath.

"We're in your circle of influence, so you try to control us as a coping mechanism. If you don't know what's going on in your tower, you feel out of control of your life. It's not fair to you, and it really isn't fair to us. Especially Cass. She hates it." Arcade was frowning now, critical without being condemnatory. Sage felt his care for her, and it put her to shame.

She crossed an arm over her face to bury herself inside an elbow. "This person you're describing sounds really awful," she said weakly.

Arcade's lips tightened in a joyless smile. "I wouldn't have told you this if I didn't think you could work past it. There are more pernicious neuroses than caring too much."

"I hate that you're right."

"People generally do."

Somewhat appeased, Sage finally blurted what had gone unaddressed. "What's this about me having a bad childhood?" Finally, a tiny, opaque window into her past. It defeated the purpose of a window, but she was hungry for the blurry square of light it brought her. Hungry and afraid.

Arcade ran a hand through his hair, feeling the conversation drawing to a close. "I don't know. A million things can mess up child development. And again, your TBI complicates everything." He took in her small stature, her ambition, her habitual defiance. "I'm not going to theorize."

Without warning, she collapsed forward, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug. Arcade leaned back in surprise, then reluctantly hugged her in return. "I thought we said no heart-to-hearts. You want Veronica for this part."

"Then you should have sent Veronica."

He patted her back awkwardly. "Okay. Great. Good talk."

She broke away. "Good talk," she agreed, still slightly shamefaced.

"Still, I think we're both glad it's over. Are you coming back to the suite now?"

"Now," she righted herself, "Benny and I need to have a talk."

Benny smoked alone in his bedroom, startling when Sage came in uninvited. Mr. House had owned many keys, and Benny's bodyguards knew that attempting to obstruct the Courier was above their pay grade (the bloodstains in the presidential suite attested to that). She waltzed in and situated herself on his floor, trying to look nonchalant. No dress this time — she was all business.

"How's swingin', baby? Thought we had our what's-what last night," Benny noted. He continued smoking, as calm as Sage was trying to look. It was a strange game they played.

"Hiya, Benny. Guess you got my message."

"Aw, baby, that was you? Nice to have a guardian angel. Wouldn't have known that ghoulie was a creep until the knife was in my back, if not for the alert."

He didn't lay on the gratitude too thickly, which made Sage think it was genuine. Then again, his voice always had a lofty quality, as if he was always in an act. She almost dared to wonder who he was without the persona, and wondered if that person was more or less like the man she'd met in Goodsprings.

"So," Sage drawled. "What are you doing about it? You can't be too careful with his type."

"For now? Nothing. Presently, there's no zero-sum game. All business. Everybody wins."

"Until...?"

"Until puppy bites the hand that feeds him, he can dance all he wants for me. It's a sweet deal, dig? He gets his, the Tops gets ours, and most importantly, you get yours." He raised his cigarette in a toast, a smirk across his face. "If things go southwise, I'll operate on your say-so, long as it's all still in the groove."

"You'll come to me?" Sage asked, surprised. Benny enjoyed the Strip's decentralized approach to policy, and Sage usually let the casinos operate without much oversight, at least where business operations were concerned.

"You're the boss, baby. The Chairmen can handle a few rowdy lushes or finks counting cards, but this seems more like your jurisdiction." His eyes studied her for a response, and she reluctantly appreciated it.

"I've got to admit," Sage said, "I didn't expect that. But I like seeing our partnership grow, Benny."

"Yeah..." he trailed off, looking distracted. "Speaking of 'partnership,' that girlie you sent? Something special there."

Sage felt the fire again — righteous indignation, she'd like to think. "Let me get something straight. I didn't 'send' her to you. Not like that. Anything that happened, happened of her accord, and you'll show some respect for it."

"Woah now, baby, cool your jets. Believe you me, Rosie doesn't need any knight in shining armor to defend her. She's got all her bases covered."

"She does. But after everything, I'd have to be a real fool to trust you." Sage didn't dull the hard edge to her voice. She was tired of putting on faces, especially with Benny. She was tired.

Looking wistful, Benny retrieved Cass's pendant from a pocket within his suit. "She left this by accident. Real pretty. I'd hate for her to lose it." He held it out to Sage, who watched him for duplicity.

"Yeah, it's important to her. I think she intends to come back for it sometime."

Benny's eyebrows raised at this news, lips parted in sudden vulnerability. "Ring-a-ding," he murmured under his breath. "Tell her I'll have it ready."

Sage sighed, drawing her knees to herself. She didn't like where this was going, but for Cass's sake, she let it go. "Benny, can I ask you something?"

"Asking is all you've got to do."

"Do you know who I am?"

Benny cocked his head up to the ceiling, unsure. "You're... the high roller of Vegas. You've got a pair of eyes stretching east to west. You've got the army, you've got the people, you've got the Strip. I can't figure what else there is to say, baby. You know who you are." He examined whether she was satisfied with this answer, but drew back at the lost look in her eyes.

"I mean... who I was. You're the only person I can think of who might know."

Benny nodded slowly, understanding. "That's a tall order. During my little crusade, I wasn't interested in the particulars, just the jackpot. I'm sorry." It was the first real apology he'd ever given her. She almost let herself believe he meant it.

She looked at her hands, caution dropped for a moment. "I loved someone once."

"We've all loved people," he whispered, half to himself.

After a beat of silence, Sage stood to go. She hadn't gotten what she'd come for, but maybe it had been enough.

Benny spoke as she made her way out. "You could give Yes Man a go. He's the one who made up the file on you."

Sage turned to him, stare intense. "You mean that?"

"Sure. Robots aren't like me and you. They don't forget."

Slowly, Sage forced her feet to leave the room. Before she could close the door, she called back, "I don't... know if I'll like what I find."

Benny smiled as he lit another cigarette. She shouldn't have given him his lighter back.

"In that case, you can thank me. Ciao, baby."

The streets of Vegas were cast in neon by the time she left the Tops. The night had newly fallen, and the city was ready to awaken for yet more revelry. More drinks and chips would fly, and more caps would end up in Sage's pocket. House had big shoes to fill. Until the last minute, she had planned on delivering the Strip into NCR hands. In hindsight, bureaucracy wouldn't have suited this place.

Finally, a chance to open that tiny window to the past. To a time when she had been just a courier, not the Courier. To a last name that wasn't 'Six.' To finding out whose hand she so often felt in her own. At the top of that tower, next to the room holding the ancient corpse, she could find the answers she'd spent her life wondering over.

Sage took the elevator to her suite and went to bed.