Mk. III Cyberhound B955883

Around Freeside, the battle had died down.  As a result of the Securitrons, the Kings, the NCR, and the Locals, the Legion had no chance.  The shadow that the King saw earlier was descending, dropping off two very important people at the East Gate; outside the broken doorway, Boone fell to the ground, standing, and caught Andy as she slid from the rope as well.  Carrying the wounded woman, the sniper hurried through Freeside, where he almost immediately ran into Nolan McNamara.  

"Is it-"

"We have ran them away, it is finished," he said in that calm voice, reassuring the sniper.  

"Thank god."

"You mean there was a battle here? This looks like regular old Freeside to me," Andy said jokingly, still in Boone's arms.  She was woozy from lack of blood, and neither Nolan or the man with the red beret laughed at her feeble joke.  The bodies of many lay around them.  The usually dusty gray streets were literally running with blood.  Nolan had an edge to his expression, and Boone caught the nuance.

"What is it? Who?"

"That way," Nolan said somberly, and, Andy holding onto his shoulders, he broke into a jog through the street, seeing the small crowd already forming.  Tesla armor glowing, Arcade had his back to them, as did the gentle mohawked doctor of Freeside.  There was one face missing, and Andy said it first, "The King."

He pushed past the onlookers, the sad and war-torn mass, to see something that made him almost drop the woman he was carrying.  There on the ground sat the King they were looking for, looking not at all regal, looking more like a man about to die.  He sat on the ground, his handsome face screwed up into a very ugly expression, tears cascading down his face unashamedly.  The man spoke only to curse at Julie when she tried to approach; he still had a switchblade lodged into his hand, but he seemed to be focusing on only one thing, the thing that made Andy clap a hand to her mouth and made Boone loosen his grip on the girl.  In the King's lap rested Rex's head, and his eyes were closed.  The dog was dead.

Boone didn't have to loosen his grip; Andy struggled away from him, forgetting that she didn't have legs to walk any more than the King had lungs to breathe with; she stumbled and fell at the man's side, already dissolving into a flood of tears that matched his own.  She reached toward the dog, her hand shaking, and it was Boone that grabbed her shoulder from behind to stop her from touching Rex.

The King ran his hand through his hair, completely and utterly lost, and for the first time since anyone could remember, Boone willingly took off his beret, his own tears sliding down from behind the thick shades he wore.  Somewhere in the distance, the whine of the B29 echoed, and the sobbing of the King was the only other audible noise.