[size=4]Epilogue: Viva New Vegas[/size]

[i]Freeside

The King's School of Impersonation

New Vegas, Nevada, Post-war Wasteland[/i]

Night had already fallen over the city of New Vegas, and Sin City was illuminated once more by the giant flashing neon lights that could be seen for miles in the Mojave Wasteland. However, in the outskirts of the Vegas strip, a single building illuminated the streets of Freeside, the King's School of Impersonation. A building enshrined to a man only known as 'The King', where men spent their time singing, dancing, and even talking like their mysterious idol.

The inside of the building was rowdier than usual on this certain night, the cause being a small celebration of two women single-handedly negotiating one-sided deals with every major casino on the strip, which seemed to strike a good chord with Freeside citizens, who had always disliked the fancy casinos that they could not afford to enter.

Around a bar counter, just outside of a large stage room where a man stood before his audience, illuminated, singing 'Blue Moon', was Cetea T'Zumo and Azumi Ian, both had glasses of water, and were watching the show from afar, away from the large crowd that prevented them from hearing each other.

Cetea took a sip from her glass, "This has been a very eventful assignment, do you not agree?" She said, glancing at Azumi. She had worn her armor on top of her disguise, only this time, her hair was now a dark red, and her eyes were green again.

"More or less, I'd say, yeah." Azumi had her helmet on the table beside her glass, picking it up and drinking some of it. She closed her eyes a moment, waiting just a bit before she drank. She wanted to make sure she could savor this, being one of her few times away. "I might be out a while. I've... had trouble that I'd like to deal with on my own. You understand, right? It's not this type of stuff." On that, she looked to the asari.

Cetea nodded, "I understand, although I hope you know that I am always open to talk." She said, taking another sip from her glass. While Cetea respected Azumi's privacy, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly was on the ODST's mind, and if she could help in any way. Though she tried to keep her curiosity stifled, lest she finally succumb and ask an insensitive question.

Azumi nodded slightly, just sitting a bit more. "Hey, I never really asked. What's it like, being a commando, anyway? I mean, I'm not one to talk about psychic powers -- that's how I see them, anyway. But I like to know what I can."

Cetea stared into her glass, wondering if she should answer Azumi's question, sighing, she looked up at the ODST. "Being a commando is considered a great honor, usually. We are considered the most efficient and lethal military force in the galaxy, and the bond that fellow commandos share runs deeper than family blood. Of course, I was always a lone operative, so I am only going by what my historian taught me." She said, leaning back on the counter as she began to remember the numerous assignments she had completed, and the exhilaration of the adventure that had came with each one.

"Would you also care to tell me what being an ODST means? I was fascinated by your motto, but I never really understood it." Cetea asked, having snapped back to reality.

Azumi nodded. "ODSTs are the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. Next to Spartans -- don't ask, emotionless super soldiers from the looks of them -- we're the best the UNSC's got. One of the primary special operations units sent out." She took a breath. "Name comes from how we operate. Drop down in HEV eggs, and if you survive the landing, it's off to do missions behind enemy lines. Some call us crazy, and maybe we are, given how tough those missions get, how hard the training can be. Mostly Covenant, but... some insurgents pop up. Did in my..." She closed that subject, moving on. "Cleaning landing zones, counter-contraband, counterterrorism, long range recon, and some black operations." She looked to her again. "The motto, then. 'Drop feet first into hell.' Feet first comes from how we land in. Hell? War is hell. Stick around a battlefield long enough, and any idealism goes down the drain." She looked down again. "Just wish I could have [i]any[/i]."

Crossing her arms, Cetea frowned at Azumi. "If you were truly as bad as you say, you would not have used stealth to rescue me in the Ultra-Luxe, nor would you have wanted to stay anonymous during our visit to Gomorrah, and you would have killed Benny for the way he insulted you." Cetea then placed a hand on the ODST's shoulder, "I know I am naive at times, and even a little... Immature, but I can see the good in you, the humanity, and the emotion. You are not a mere soldier, but a person that I would trust with my life." Smiling slightly, Cetea felt strange, telling her commanding officer all of this, for the ODST had usually been the one to reassure her.

The woman nodded, sighing with relief. "Thanks, PFC. I just... I have trouble figuring that out sometimes." She sighed. "Though I have to say," a grin did grow. "I did think you were a little freaky back with Benny. Great job, but man, can you be scary."

Cetea chuckled nervously, rubbing her elbows unconsciously, "I-I did not realize that I could act that way, actually. I just got a little angry and lost control for a moment. Believe it or not, I am not too fond of violence." She said, before taking a large sip from her glass, the music then changed to the faster 'Blue Suede Shoes'.

Azumi nodded. "It's alright," she said, looking down...and she saw it. The thin, black collar around her neck, as if a headband of sorts, close to the neck of her armor. She was alarmed suddenly, her voice and tone completely serious, devoid of the emotional quality of before.  "Cetea, where did you get that? Tell me the truth."

Once Azumi had drawn attention to her collar, Cetea paled slightly. It wasn't something she wanted her to know about. "I...I can't speak about it." She said, hoping Azumi would understand her message.

Time to improvise, then. Azumi nodded, waving to one of the people serving drinks. "Hey, man!" she called out. "Can you get me a pad of paper and a pen? I'll pay," she said, pantomiming the act of writing.