Collection
"Hey hey Babydoll what's the haps?" Nik groaned inwardly, looking over New Vegas through the penthouse windows. As much as she had appreciated Benny's assistance in the past few months, his constant checking up on her was becoming irritating. How was she supposed to convince the people of New Vegas that SHE was running the Lucky 38 when Benny was constantly hovering? How was she supposed to be the ruler of The Strip when he was always checking on her? She wasn't a child anymore…
"Hello Benny." She replied simply. "What brings you here?" Nik hated when she asked questions she didn't want answers to.
"Just you Pussycat, I've come to collect." She could practically hear him smirking.
"Collect?" Nik asked, realizing it was another question she didn't want an answer to, as she starred out the windows over the bustling city bellow her.
"Baby, don't play dumb, you know exactly what I want." He told her, his voice dripping with the Benny brand of smugness. Nik turned to face the man in the checkered suit, fighting to control her anger at what he had said.
"Benny, if anyone's collecting anything, it's me. I'm the one who did most of the work the past few months. And what were you doing? Oh yea, you were managing the Tops and banging a prostitute." Nik smirked at him, self-satisfied.
"Baby, baby, you don't give me enough credit," Benny said, holding up his hands in defense. "I was the one who came up with the plan to take over Vegas in the first place-"
"No, Benny, you don't give me enough credit. I killed Ceaser and Lanius. I took Mr. House out of the picture. I risked my ass at the second battle of hoover dam while you were here in your cushy lap of luxury." Nik said heatedly.
"Baby look around you," Benny told her, gesturing to the massive expanse of the penthouse they were standing in. "and then tell me who's living in the lap of luxury." Benny lit a cigarette for himself, enjoying the sensation of smoke filling his lungs.
Nik glared at him, how could he be accusing her of living an overly cushy lifestyle when he himself was in one of the nicest rooms in the Tops? Benny stood there, arms crossed, cigarette in his mouth, and shook his head. He looked down, removed the cigarette and smiled.
"Babydoll, you seem to be forgetting something," Nik felt her stomach turn. Surely he wouldn't sink as low as to remind her… "You owe me a favor," There was his signature smirk. "After all… I am the reason you're still here." Nik turned away from him, so he couldn't see her face. She felt like she was going to throw up. How dare he mention that. Even though it was years ago, she still bared the scars. She ran her fingers over the scars on her ribs. Nik shook her head, as if she could make the ghosts disappear.
"I owe you nothing Benny. Not anymore." Nik told him, part frustrated part upset, both due to the face that he had brought up her rough past.
"Sorry to burst your bubble Babydoll, but you DO still owe me. We have a contract, remember, Doll?" Nik rubbed her temples and sighed in frustration.
"I remember," Nik turned back to face him. "What do you want? Money?" Benny laughed.
"No doll, nothing like that, if I did I would have it by now cause you just wanna get rid of me. No, I want you," Nik raised her eyebrows, ever skeptical. Benny crossed the room to stand next to her. "Baby, ever since you got here, you've been all work and no play. I'm just saying that I'll show you the tops, Pussycat. One night is all it takes," he kissed her neck. "Whadaya say?" Nik pulled away from him.
"I think you should leave, Benny." Nik turned away from him.
"Another night then. You know where to find me, Baby." Benny winked to her then walked up the stairs to the elevator with a swagger that only the leader of the Chairmen could muster. It wasn't until the elevator doors closed behind him that she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Nik slumped into one of the dirty chairs she had placed by the window and let the memories of her past find their way back into her head. Memories of her parents, The Strip, of a younger Benny, a younger her, of the Fiends, the Legion…
Nik snapped awake, covered in a cold sweat.
"You ok?" Nik jumped again at the sound of Boones voice. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Boone told her as he cleaned his rifle, not looking at her. "You've been up here for hours, everyone was starting to worry," Nik sat there quietly, reflecting on the dream (or was it a memory?), head in her hands as if it had given her a headache. "You talk in your sleep," Boone told her "Just like Carla did after she had had a long day." The sniper mused. Nik looked at him curiously. This wasn't his first time mentioning her, but it was easily the most personal thing he had shared about his late wife.
"Do you miss her?" Nik asked quietly.
"All the time." Boone answered sadly. Nik wanted so desperately to comfort the man sitting next to her, the man who had put himself in danger more times than she could count to save her ass, the man who had to endure a pain everyday with the knowledge that he was the one who had put a bullet in his wife's head. The two of them sat in the peaceful silence of the Lucky 38 penthouse for a few moments, with only the buzzing of the giant monitor in the next room to provide a kind of white noise. Then that silence was suddenly interrupted by the sound of glass breaking followed by Arcade and Cass yelling at each other. The terrified researcher rushed out of the elevator and down the stairs, a drunken Cass stumbling along after him, and a barking Rex after her.
"Cass, put down the bottle!" Arcade yelled the angry, drunken woman. He ducked as Cass threw the empty whiskey bottle at where his head would've been; it shattered against the wall behind him. The cybernetic dog was jumping, barking, and just adding to the general commotion of the room.
"Where the hell did you hide the rest of my whiskey!" she screamed at the shaken researcher, her eyes lighting up like fire. Boone hastily ran to restrain the Whiskey Rose, abandoning his prized rifle on a grimy chair, while Nik hurried over to Arcade to ask what exactly happened. "He took all my whiskey!" Cass shouted hysterically, practically crying from a mixture of her immense drunkenness and rage.
"She drank it all! She thinks I hid it from her because I mentioned that drinking too much is going to kill her, and now she wants to kill me…!" Arcade told Nik, eyes wide with fear of the drunk. She looked back at the struggling woman in Boones arms and placed a hand of her shoulder as Rex licked Cass's hand.
"Cass," Nik said gently. Cass looked up at her from the panting dog at their feet. "You should get some rest. We'll get you more whiskey tomorrow. I promise." Cass nodded slowly, too intoxicated and tired to argue, and Nik and Boone hauled her to bed.