Chapter Text
2276
“What’s taking him so long?” Carla hissed, “We’re going to lose our reservation.”
Carla’s family had always lived in Vegas. In the Vault beneath the city, secluded and content. They had all been equals down there, but her father often spoke of the old money they were born from. The high penthouses of Las Vegas. They were rich once. But Vault 21, along with the atomic war, had proved a great equaliser. But it did not stop Carla from dreaming of those pre-war days. It hadn’t stopped her from practising her etiquette. From consuming every book and holotape on old-world finery.
She had rehearsed the fine dining experience many times. As a child in the Vault, in her hotel room last night, in her head as she waited.
And she was not about to let some surface-dwelling squatter like Manny Vargas ruin it.
They'd been standing outside the monorail station for twenty minutes now, on the sidewalk of the New Vegas Strip. Neon lights hummed all around even as the sun beat down on the tourists below. Vegas as it was always meant to be, a luxurious and hypnotising cocktail of colour and lights. Like the posters and postcards from inside the vault. A place that Carla would give almost any excuse to spend more time in. Manny was not one such excuse.
Craig Boone sat on a bench not far behind, his blazer folded neatly in his lap. He cupped a hand over his eyes to shield the sun as he looked up at his girlfriend, “Getting his boyfriend through security?”
“Well they could have just stayed on the Strip last night like we did,” Carla tutted, tapping her heel on the newly resurfaced concrete below, “Then he wouldn’t be late. Like he always is.”
“You know what he’s like.”
A pain in Carla’s neck, that’s what Manny Vargas was like . It was almost as if he were doing it on purpose— another way to spoil her fun. Carla had been waiting for months to get a table at the Ultra-Luxe. Months! Since before it had even opened! And now Manny was going to ruin that just like how he ruined Holotape night. And for what? Just because this was supposed to be his and Craig’s boys' night on the town? How crude. Then he’d gone behind her back to convince Craig to let him bring his boyfriend so he wouldn’t be alone. As if he couldn’t take the hint and just leave her and Craig to it.
“I don’t know how you put up with him. Don’t they value punctuality in the army? Do you not get disciplined if you are late for dinner?”
Craig chuckled, “Do you wanna sit down?”
Carla sighed. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she turned and approached the bench, tucking her dress behind her as she sat as gracefully as one could on a stone bench in the blistering heat. Craig rested his arm along the back of the bench and Carla cuddled into him.
“Do you know anything about this--,” Carla hesitated, searching, “ Other half -- of his?”
“Not really.”
Carla paused, “He’s a Khan , isn’t he?”
“Probably.”
The Khans ruled Vegas before Mr. House did, just over a year ago. Carla did not remember their reign. She was safe under the city, tucked away in Vault 21. But even though she’d never met a Khan, she saw their marks on the city when she first emerged. Months were spent just scraping their garish graffiti from every marginally flat surface. And the smell of their smoke and engines hung in the air for weeks after they’d been driven out. Mr. House had worked so hard. Carla smiled at the glittering lights. No raiders playing like kings could make the city as beautiful as this. If Manny’s little boyfriend had a problem with that, well--
… Well he probably wasn’t little at all. He was likely some big bruiser Manny had picked up just to prove to Carla that he could seduce men far more impressive than her Craig. Big and noisy and muscles for brains. Or worse still, someone with no table manners to speak of. Oh yes, she could imagine it so clearly; Manny picking out a man with the sole intent of annoying her.
Carla sighed through her nose, deflating into Craig’s arm, “Well he’d better behave himself.”
“I won’t let him hurt you,” Craig said, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Carla frowned at that. Manny’s big stupid boyfriend hurting her hadn’t crossed her mind until Craig mentioned it. Being robbed by a Khan and inviting one to dinner were two very different things.
A sharp whistle pulled Carla from her thoughts. She lifted her head in the direction of the sound, only to be filled with anger once again. Manny. At the top of the monorail station staircase, waving with a big nasty grin on his face.
“There he is,” Craig the sharp eyed sniper pointed out.
Manny bounded down the stairs as Craig slipped out of Carla’s embrace and stood to greet his friend. The two soldiers collided with a thud and began slapping one another on the back, laughing. Carla’s brow furrowed as she glanced around for this raider boyfriend of Manny’s. For a moment there seemed to be no-one, and she wondered if perhaps Manny had come alone in a bid for pity. Then she caught sight of the man trailing down the stairs after Manny.
He was noticeably bigger than Manny, but not the hulking raider Carla had been expecting. Taller than Manny yes but only by half an inch. With square shoulders but a soft round face and long, well-cared-for black hair that fell in loose curls behind his head. The suit he wore was not new but it was clean and helped him blend in with the other Vegas locals. Black and simple, with a crisp off-white shirt with the top three buttons undone. The suit didn’t fit him perfectly, it sat a little too high on his ankles and wrists. Borrowed or stolen, if Carla had to guess.
As he passed he squinted suspiciously at the NCR soldiers posted outside the station, and then again at the glamorous gamblers chatting nearby. He ran a hand through his hair as he stared up at the flashing neon lights, then down at the floor as he fiddled with his cuff. Carla started feeling sorry for him. He looked out of place. Uncomfortable. This poor little raider Manny had dragged out of Bitter Springs, stuffed into a suit and dropped on the Strip.
Carla glared daggers at Manny, who was chatting with Craig and not even attempting to acclimatise his love to this strange new environment. Fine! Carla would just do it for him. She trotted up to the Khan and smiled politely as he watched her as suspiciously as he had the soldiers.
“You must be Emmanuel’s companion,” She said, trying hard not to let venom seep into her voice as she spoke Manny’s full name. She considered offering her hand, but decided against it, “My name is Carla Montague, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The raider blinked at her and Carla watched his dark, near-black, eyes study her face. He smelt like a campfire, like how Vegas used to smell, Carla noticed. That, and something sweet. A flower of some kind. Perfume, Carla realised. His expression relaxed into an easy smile.
“Well met,” He said so politely Carla almost forgot he was a raider, “I’m Sun.”
“Sun? You mean, sun like…” Carla gestured skywards.
Sun smiled, revealing even white teeth, “Not exactly. It’s an old family name. Like yours.”
She should have been insulted. That this raider, this symbol of barbaric wasteland that almost swallowed the beautiful city of Vegas, would dare to compare himself to her. But she wasn’t. Whether it was his smile or politeness, Carla wasn’t certain. He seemed perfectly normal. Of course some raiders could blend into regular society, but people like Manny had the excuse of being born in the city.
“You’re not what I expected,” Carla said absently.
Sun laughed for the first time, the sound surprising Carla. It was light, airy, almost shy, hidden behind his fingers. She noticed then that his middle finger was entirely missing, amputated at the first knuckle leaving only a shiny pink-red scar and black stitches. It was rude to stare, and Carla tore her eyes away. It was the first marker of his wastelander status, and one difficult to hide.
“Do you think I want to be shot?” He asked, and though he was smiling, Carla still sensed his disbelief. Like she’d insulted him.
That only asked more questions than it answered, but Sun’s little laugh seemed to pull Manny to his senses. He appeared beside Sun and wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, slapping him playfully in the chest. Manny didn’t look at Carla, but positioned himself between her and Sun, his eyes on Craig. A bid for control over the conversation, Carla noted. Even as Craig crossed the space between them and hooked a protective arm around her waist.
“I told you all about Sun, didn’t I Boone?” Manny asked Craig.
“Some,” Craig said in that tone Carla hated, how he talks in the army. Flat, serious. Like he was accessing a target. Carla swatted him lightly but he ignored her.
“And Sun, this is my spotting partner, Boone,” Manny continued.
Sun didn’t say anything, he just glared at Craig for half a second then nodded in stiff greeting. It seemed that Manny was expecting slightly more than that, he glanced up at Sun and gave him a little squeeze. But Sun held fast, not giving an inch. It was almost respectable if it wasn’t so childish.
Carla cleared her throat to clear the awkward air, “I believe we have a reservation that we are about to lose so, I suggest we head to the Ultra-luxe.”
Manny glared at her, which only made her smile more genuine. His boyfriend frowned and tilted his head to Manny's ear to whisper.
“ Who are they?” Carla read Sun's words on his lips.
“Ultra-Lux uh, I dunno who they used to be,” Manny offered unhelpfully, “Must have been South of Vegas I guess.”
“They're run by the White Glove Society,” Carla chimed in, flexing her superior knowledge earning her Sun's attention and Manny's glare, “One of Mr House's Families. The best cooks in all of Vegas, House hand picked them.”
Sun sucked his teeth, looking unconvinced, “If you say so.”
It was an odd response. Carla couldn't decide if Sun thought there was better cooking elsewhere, or if he didn't believe in their origin. She wondered if Mr House had approached the Khans before kicking them out. If they even knew who he was.
“They're not Slither Kin, though,” Manny said, squeezing Sun's shoulder again with some reassurance, “That's the Gomorrah. We'll stay away from them, yeah?”
Carla wrinkled her nose. It was poor taste to use the Family's old names. They didn't suit the Vegas of today, but she resisted the urge to argue as Sun nodded. Those primitive names were more familiar to these raiders types, she convinced herself. It's not worthwhile to try to change their minds.
“The reservation,” Craig's words shook her from her thoughts.
“Right! The reservation, follow me,” Carla marched away before anyone could argue with her. Craig followed swiftly behind, always her second. She slowed only for him, and gave him her hand. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Manny was watching.
Manny was not watching. He was linked arm in arm with Sun, ambling in their general direction as he pointed up at The Tops casino with a grin on his face. Sun followed his gaze with a strange look on his face. Thoughtful, almost sad. Carla had to wonder what this place looked like under Khan rule. Whether he could truly appreciate the good House had done.