Note: Thought I was working on a sequel to NOG and MIO but then this came along... Lots LOTS LOTS of cursing. Ah, Jericho.
Jericho was standing up on the railing, looking out over the shit heap that made up Megaton, when he noticed the kid. Sneaky little thing, couldn't have been more than fourteen. Crouching around the corner of Moriarty's saloon, going up to the back door. Kid had a hat down over his head and was picking the fucking lock.
So he watched him working. Was pretty good at hitting the tumblers, looked like. Jericho tossed his cigarette out and leaned forward, looking down and around. No one else was noticing the kid sneaking into Moriarty's saloon, except him. He grinned. An opportunity, if there ever was one.
So he took it. He slowly sauntered over, and waited outside the door. It wasn't five minutes before the door opened slowly, and the kid sneaked back outside, crouching.
"I hope you got rid of my bar tab while you were in there," Jericho said, leaning on the wall beside the door.
The kid jumped about two feet into the air and spun his head around to face him. "Shit!" he said. Jericho stared at green eyes, open wide in a face freckled into chaos, and a few bright red curls poking out of a ratty ball cap. It was a moment before either one spoke.
"Don't turn me in," the kid said. His voice was awful high pitched for a boy. Jericho grinned a little.
"Hell, kid, if you go back in and delete everything on that fucking computer, I'd be as happy as anything."
The kid blinked a few times. "You serious?"
Jericho shrugged, crossed his arms. "Sure," he said. "Go on."
The door opened again, and after a moment the kid sneaked back out and closed it slowly. Jericho looked down on him. "Done," he whispered. "You gonna turn me in, now?"
"Nah." Jericho spat a wad of snot off and pinged the town wall. "You're alright, kid."
"Thanks, man," the boy whispered, in a low voice. "I'm―I'm gonna go now."
"See you around," Jericho said, laughing to himself.
Man, the shitstorm that happened after that one! Jericho had a good long chuckle from the bar, watching Moriarty beat the absolute shit out of Gob. Ah, free entertainment. Moriarty assumed that Nova and Gob had been fleecing him somehow, altering the data on his console. He yelled as much in that fucking cocksucker brogue of his.
Jericho saw the kid sneaking around again, during the fray. Talking to that suited fuck in the corner. He rolled his eyes and went back to watching what was promising to be the bloodiest one-sided brawl in the history of the saloon.
Sometime during the beating, Jericho's eyes slid back over to the kid who was sitting with the suit. Kid was staring at the suit like he was the bee's fucking knees. Idolizing. Jericho didn't know what to make of that one.
The suit was acting a little too forward with the kid, though. When they stood, the suit put a hand on the kid's back and lowered it a little too much. Aw, hell naw. That shit wouldn't fly, some fucking pedo taking little boys. Not in this saloon.
"Kid, hey," Jericho called. "C'mere, kid, I got a question."
The kid looked up with those same wide eyes. Yeah, Jericho understood why the suit was interested. Looked so damn innocent. Too innocent for his own damn good. Fucking faggoty piece of shit! Jericho gestured for the kid to take the stool beside him.
He watched the kid turn to the suit, say a few words. The suit looked disappointed. Jericho thumbed his rifle for a moment. Wasn't needed, the kid turned and joined him at the bar.
"Nice outfit," Jericho said. "You pull it off some whore?"
Kid looked down at the blue jumpsuit he was wearing and shrugged. "No," he said, slowly. "Came from home."
Jericho snorted. "Some home. Here, kid." He thumped down a shot glass and served him up a touch of whiskey.
Kid sniffed it before drinking it, and coughed like a goddamn moron when he did. Eyes teared up, face turned red. Jericho laughed at the sight. What an idiot.
"Listen to me, kid," Jericho said. "That uppity fuck in the corner, he's not exactly your dear old dad." He pointed while holding his own shot glass, right at the suit. The suit ignored him. What the fuck ever.
"I know," Kid whispered. "Was going to talk about the bo―" he clamped his mouth shut and flushed redder than a Brahmin's ass.
Jericho eyed him suspiciously. "What the hell you talking about."
"I―" Kid looked down. "I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it."
"Not in this shithole," Jericho muttered. "Shit, kid. You're gonna get your ass killed. I'm doing you a goddamn favor, saving your ass from that pedo fuck."
Kid started to laugh, mouth jammed shut, eyes squeezing closed, shaking all over. "Thanks, man," he said, "but that wasn't what was going on."
Jericho raised an eyebrow. "Alright, you gonna be a dick about it. I got it. Get the fuck outta here, kid." He shooed Kid away.
Why I even fucking bother, he wondered. Kid left without the suit, though. Score one for red-blooded men everywhere. Jericho drank his whiskey and watched Gob's face turning into an unrecognizable pile of mush.
About a week later, Kid showed back up in Megaton, walking around in a stupid-as-shit looking leather jacket, bloodied and beaten. Replaced the stupid cap with an even stupider-looking Pre-War hat. Walked around with his hands jammed down in his pockets, leaning back, smug look on his face. Jericho saw him talking to Jenny down at the Brass Lantern. Shook his head at the retarded little shit.
He was walking back to his shack on the walkway when Kid came around a corner and stopped short, staring at him. "Hey, man," he said.
"Kid." Jericho nodded at him. "Fuck, you gonna hang around this heap, I gotta get your name or something."
"You can call me Kid," he answered. "I never got your name, either, man."
Kid stared him down for a moment, eyes running along his collar. Jericho felt like his skin was crawling. Kid had a weird way of looking at people. "I heard you used to be some badass out in the wastes," he said.
"Used to―fuck you, Kid." Jericho spat onto the walk and pushed past him. Didn't need some idiot kid making him out to be some washed-up asshat. Got enough shit from the jackasses in Megaton.
"Hey, wait," Kid said. "Wait, I was gonna ask if you could come help me out."
"What, out there?" Jericho waved a hand at the town wall as he walked away.
"Yeah," Kid said, stepping quickly to keep up. "Out in the wastes. Running around, killing, stealing, you know. Fun stuff."
Jericho stopped and turned to look at the kid. "What the fuck are you on about."
Kid shrugged one shoulder and knocked his pistol to the ground. The attempt at a casual gesture was made into an embarrassing display, and Jericho chuckled a little. "I need a little help, is all," the kid said. "Can't run amok without some serious firepower."
"I think you need more than a little help," Jericho snarked back. "But yeah, okay. I'll come with ya. Gimme some caps to start."
"What?" Kid's eyes went wide.
"Need money to make money, dumbass," Jericho said. "So c'mon. Pony up some caps. Thousand oughta do."
Kid scrambled in his pack for the caps. Jericho watched. He pulled out a landmine, another shitty little pistol, a wad of pink clothing.
Finally the clinking noise of caps met Jericho's ears and he grinned. Yeah, this kid was a fucking moron, but he was easy to fleece. Might make some real money off him.
"Here," Kid said, thrusting a bag at him. "All I got."
Jericho grabbed the bag and immediately stomped off to his house. After hiding the shit, he came back out to the railing and held out a hand to Kid. "Deal's a deal," he said. "Where we goin'?"
Kid grinned. In combination with that weird gaze, the kid looked ridiculous. Jericho shook his head, scowling. He weirded the ex-raider out, made him feel uneasy. Still, he'd walked around with more than his fair share of creepy fucks in the wastes, before.
"I was thinking this tower down in the southwest," the kid said, starting to walk toward the gate of Megaton. "Mr. Burke said he had a job for me there."
Jericho followed, watching the kid's back and wondering just where in the fuck he managed to find a leather jacket with a snake on the back. Shit, Kid shouldn't trust his grimy old ass, but here they were, striding out of Megaton. Ready to make the wastelanders give up their caps and lives.
Hell yeah. Jericho hadn't been outside the gates in some long time, fuck, he felt like it was all new again. Only this time he did know what to look out for. He wasn't no pansy faggot like that suit in Moriarty's.
"Let's go make some fucking money, Kid," he grinned.
Kid was a more than a little off his rocker. He spent a lot of time staring into the wastes, looking down at the stupid thing on his wrist. Occasionally he would ask a question or two, usually of the "How do I maim someone with this weapon?" variety.
Jericho had a lot of experience with maiming people. He recounted a few stories. Kid started to watch him with those same damn eyes that he'd used on the suit. Made Jericho uncomfortable. After walking around for half a week, he still hadn't got used to it.
"Is Jericho your real name?" Kid asked him.
"Is Kid yours?" Jericho grunted and spat onto his rifle, polishing it. The moon was rising in the distance, illuminating the small stand of rocks the kid had settled down in. Camping in the open wastes, while not exactly smart, was something Jericho knew how to do. No fire, as little noise as possible. All they needed was the moon and the view of a tall tower in the distance.
Kid was staring at the tower, occasionally glancing back the way they came, and fiddling with his pistol. "No," he said. "Jacky."
"You want me to call you Jacky or Kid?" Jericho asked, squinting at his rifle. Fuck, the damn thing was gonna explode, if he didn't clean all the shit out. Been stuck in that shithole too long, he thought, and grumbled to himself.
"Doesn't matter," Kid said. "I don't like Jacky."
"Well, you fucking call me anything but Jericho, I'll gouge your eyes out with a goddamn nail," he replied, pulling the clip from the rifle. Ejected a round, disassembled the rest, put it back together.
Kid watched the whole thing with shining eyes. Jericho felt the crawling under his skin. "That's so cool," the kid whispered. "Wish I knew how to do that."
Jericho glared at him. "You don't know how to fucking repair a weapon?"
"No," Kid said. "...Never had to." He flushed and looked down at his feet.
Jericho shook his head. "You're gonna get me killed, you little shit," he groused. "Fucking playing at being a big bad wolf. Goddamn little fucking lamb, that's what you are."
Kid adjusted himself on the rock and looked up at the moon. "Came from a Vault," he said. He shrugged. "Didn't learn about guns. Didn't need to. Why'd you think I asked for help?"
"Probably 'cause you're a fucking idiot," Jericho grumbled.
"No argument," the kid said. He glanced up at Jericho. Those weird eyes were back again. "You got a scar right here," he said, gesturing to his own neck and chest.
"Yeah, got lots of scars. Why?"
"How'd it happen?"
Jericho threw his rifle over his back. "Listen, you little shit," he started, "most fucking scars you get are because you did something stupid, or because you asked too many questions. Shut the fuck up, and take a damn nap before I decide I'm not running a fucking daycare."
Kid grinned a little. "Alright, alright." He laid himself across the rocks and turned his back to Jericho. "Good night, man."
"What the fuck, ever."