[StLee]

As we approached the outskirts of Shady Sands, L7-92 pointed out an unusual increase in NCR patrols. L7-92 had been programmed to be able to infiltrate and gather intel from any organization, including one as massive as the New California Republic's government, but something was amiss.

"Something's not right," Andres said to the group. "We need to be careful. They know something."

"What are you talking about?" Poseidon asked. "We're almost there. We need to keep moving and act natural."

I remembered Andres' glitches, but still, I nodded in agreement. "We can't just turn back now. We know who we’re looking for. The president."

"The president?" L7-92 repeated. "What do you mean?"

Andres looked around before leaning in closer. "That's what Dee was saying earlier. President Kimball is a synth, just like the one you seek."

L7-92 looked confused. "He? He is the escaped synth? President of the New California Republic? The horror!"

Andres shrugged. "I don't know all the details. But there are rumors that the real president was assassinated a few years ago but then suddenly emerged, different. That's why we need to get to him. We need to find out the truth."

L7-92 looked conflicted. It was a courser’s mission to capture synths and return them to the Commonwealth. On the other hand, L7-92 seemed to be wrapped in self-preservation. I could see the turmoil on his face. It was uncharacteristic of what I expected in a synth.

As we approached the presidential fortress, L7-92 noticed the thick walls and numerous guards stationed around it. "This is going to be tough. Even with my abilities, I do not think we can get through these walls. We need a plan."

Andres looked around before pointing to a nearby guard. "What about him? Maybe we can take him out and steal his uniform."

Poseidon shook his head. "Like the old movies? That's too risky. We don't know what kind of security measures they have in place."

L7-92 thought for a moment before coming up with an idea. "I have an idea, but it involves me staying behind."

"What? No way," Poseidon protested. "We're a team. We stick together." Poseidon, the skeptic, adding L7-92 to the team?

L7-92 nodded. "I know, but I am experienced in infiltration. I can blend in with the guards. I can get close to the president and take him back to where he belongs. It is our best shot."

Andres looked unsure. "But what about us? What do we do?"

L7-92 turned to them. "You need to cause a distraction. Make the guards think there is an attack happening on the other side of the fortress. That should draw their attention away from me."

Poseidon looked skeptical. "And what if it doesn't work? What if you get caught?"

L7-92 paused before responding. "Then I will take the fall. It is worth the risk."

We fell silent for a moment before finally agreeing to the plan. L7-92 stayed behind while Poseidon and Andres caused a commotion on the other side of the fortress, feigning a fight between strangers. The distraction worked, and L7-92 was able to blend in with the guards and make its way to the president's office.

Once inside, L7-92 quickly realized that something was off. President Kimball was sitting behind his desk, but he was completely motionless, his eyes directed at L7-92. “So the Institute has finally found me, huh? I suppose you have a code you’re ready to shout out to take me back. Before you do that, I have an offer.”

“I am not programmed to accept offers,” L7-92 stated.

“Oh, programmed you are not,” President Kimball said, “but sentient you can be. I just need a trade. Your freedom for the three you rode in here with.”

“Like I said,” L7-92 swallowed, his voice hesitating, “I am not—”

“Yes, yes, not programmed to accept offers. But you see, your legacy is out here, out west. I will make you a king.”

“I will not—”

The shot rang out. Andres and Poseidon could hear it echo from inside the steel compound. We felt the weight of 10,000 mirelurks on top of us as we knew that our intel-gathering was probably the end of us. President Kimball would know what our purpose was, and we would be shot dead right here on the streets of Shady Sands. But we were not done yet. There was a commotion and suddenly NPR soldiers began running into the fortress. Laser blasts and screams of pain and the dying rang out. Then, L7-92 emerged from the fortress, a large hole in his chest and blood oozing from it.

"We need to get out of here!" L7-92 said urgently.

As we made our way through the winding corridors of the city, L7-92 suddenly turned to me and said, “Let me carry you. We can move faster.”
When he said “you,” he did not mean just me, but Poseidon and me. Our pace quickened, but Andres started slowing down and then started to glitch like he did before.

“Come on, buddies!” Andres slurred “Come and get 'em! Shoot straight for once, you Army pukes.” And just like that a crew of NPR soldiers were upon Andres, shooting and hacking.

“I’m sorry, Andres,” I whispered while bouncing around in L7-92’s arms.

L7-92 then turned into a crevice I had not noticed coming into the city.

Inside was a short drop into a freezing river below. L7-92 dropped Poseidon into the hole and then dropped in with us. He grabbed us both and swam to a ledge. “Follow me,” he said, allowing us to use our feet again.

We entered deeper into a cave with just a few spots of sunlight squeezing through small cracks.

“They will not follow us in here,” L7-92 said. “Let me repair my wounds.”

L7-92 then took out a soldering gun of some sort and began working on the hole in his chest. Through the glow of the contraption I stared in amazement as I saw tissue reshaping and bones graphing to each other. And just like that, L7-92 was whole again.

“I was thinking,” L7-92 stated. “This courser life, it is just not for me anymore. I want to forget, to live a different life."

I was surprised to hear this, but not entirely shocked. L7-92 was bound by “birth” to be something beyond his control. I asked what it--what he meant.

"I mean, I do not want to chase after rogue synths anymore. I do not want to be the Institute’s retriever. It has been years since I was last in contact with HQ. I do not know if the Institute even exists anymore. And I just keep going. I want to live my own life, on my own terms."

I nodded, understandingly. "I get it. But where will you go?"

L7-92 shrugged. "I do not know yet. But I am sure I will figure something out. And if I need your help, I know I can count on you. I remember a saying: Chase the morning sun; run away from the evening sun. There you will find your home."

I sat in quiet contemplation. If the NCR knew that we were responsible for the President’s assassination, they would hunt us down. They will hunt us down. “You killed the president,” I said. “We have no home.”

“He is not dead,” L7-92 stated. “He was going to trade you for me to be his servant. I shot myself to confuse him and then I escaped. The president is very much alive.”

“Even worse,” I stated. “Does he know who we are?”

“No,” L7-92 said. “But he knows he has many more enemies. Even if he is a synth, he is one who will not accept constant threats. At some point, he will flee. I know it.”

Eventually, we emerged from the underground cave and made our way back to the surface. The sun was just starting to set, painting the mountains in reds and purples.

L7-92 turned to me. "Well, that was certainly an adventure. Now I must ask you a favor to save me.”

I smiled. "What kind of favor?"

L7-92 reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "I will need you to read this when I state the time is ready. I am going to go find my own way. But I will always remember our time together, and I will always be grateful for your help. Even if I cannot remember it."

I nodded, feeling a twinge of sadness. But I knew that L7-92 was right. He needed to follow his own path, to escape his masters of the East and ours of the West. L7-92 agreed to carry us through the mountain passes to an area just north of New Vegas. The time we made was well faster than the NCR troops would be able to move. We were sure we would be safe if we could sneak into the city.

We still had work to do. I was still stuck chronicling the Mojave Baseball League, and Poseidon was still a major player in the rebellion. Now that we knew what President Kimball was, it was time to make the citizens of the NCR aware of it. Our work was not over, but we had to lead the cause.

As we said our goodbyes, L7-92 reminded me of the slip of paper. I read it, “B-4-77-Lambda-3-3-Extant.”

I could see L7-92 blink, and then I could see that he could not recall who we were or even who he was. The words I read had wiped his memories. He was free from his past.

“Excuse me,” the large man said. “Do I—Can you—”

“Don’t remember where you’re going, huh?” Poseidon chimed in.

“No. Not really,” L7-92 said. “I feel strange, like I was just born.”

Well, something like that, L7-92. I saw him look towards New Vegas. “I think you said you were heading east to find someone you lost. An old love,” I said. I could not think of anything else to say. He would be found in New Vegas and destroyed. I had to send him on a fetch quest far from here. Chase the morning sun. Run away from the evening sun.

“Oh, thank you.” He smiled and started walking in the direction I pointed. Suddenly, he stopped. “Sorry to ask, but did I ever tell you my name?”

“Of course you did,” I smiled. “You said it was Andres.”

“Yes, that is right. Thank you again.”

No, thank you, Andres. And I’m sorry.