There was something about the men that populated The Tops. Some odd fixation on each of their brows that was directed at each visitor that entered the casino reeked of distaste. These kind of men weren't accustomed to the passive nature workers in the normal world must possess to keep a business in prosperity. But that wasn't what distracted the Courier upon first glance. Each of them, dressed up in fancy suits, resembled no person she would have seen out in the wastes. Not ever,
"Hey, hey, baby doll, welcome to the Tops Hotel and Casino! I'm going to have to ask you to hand over any weapons you might be carrying."
"How come?" The lady didn't mean to question the rules of the place, but something seemed to be off about these men, and her weapons provided a sense of comfort in times where she felt threatened by his like. Besides, if she were to find the target she was after in the first place, a 9mm pistol or two might come in handy,
"Regulations, sweetheart, now if you'd please."
The look upon the man's face was priceless when all of her weapons laid out on the counter of the greeting table. It sure didn't attract any pleasing stairs from any of the guests to see what seemed to be the whole armory of the NCR laid out for their protection,
"Planning on taking on a whole goddamn gang of fiends, Angel? Don't you worry, they'll be safe as kittens till you're ready to leave." He paused, "Oh and a friendly word of advice: if you happen to "stumble across" any weapons during your stay here, well... just don't wear them openly. You dig?"
"Uhm, alright."
"Have a good time, baby." The courier's stare lingered for a moment before she parted from the entrance.
If this was where her attempted murderer was hidden away, it seemed like a task that would take ages to accomplish finding him. An uncountable amount of tables crammed across the lowered floor within inches of each other. Bosses greed if she ever saw it, more tables more money. That's just the way things rolled in New Vegas.
The courier's eyes scanned across the casino room for the image of the man she recalled from her near death experience. The recollection was hazy and dream like, but one thing that was certain was that the suit coat he wore was a blurry black and white checkered pattern. His face, unrecognizable, but with a fancy expensive suit like that it was doubtful that he'd have any other clothes to change into. All these men were dressed up nicely, however, which didn't help the search at all.
She must have looked like a suspicious fraud or an idiot circling the whole gambling hell hole like a lost puppy looking for it's master. It was a surprise someone didn't tell her to buy some chips or leave; it must have been in their loose code of conduct to be respectful as possible when their bosses aren't off shooting innocent middle men.
The search came to an abrupt end when a familiar checkered coat parted it's way from a group of gray backed security brutes, each with a crude rifle of their own. It wouldn't have been wise to confront him with a threatening entrance with those babies on lock, so she trailed him to the elevator hallway. That was when she made her clumsy approach, for he turned before she could get a hold of the sucker. The look on his face was of priceless shock,
"What in the goddamn...?" A few steps forward with a deathly glare was all it took to make him squeal, "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies..."
"Seems you need to work on your marksmanship, fella. It looks like I'm the last baby you're ever going to see." She grabbed a hold of his black tie, yanking him forward to get a better swing at his head. But his wide hand caught her fist conveniently or by skill, he held her back. Who knew the business type could hold their own against a wasteland bred lady,
"Hold your horses, Dolly, you don't want that. See, you lay one hand on me and you'll have this place hopping like rabbits."
"You think I didn't come prepared?"
"No pea shooter you snuck through security is going to do you much luck. Besides, you didn't come for vengeance, you came to get clued in."
The messenger retracted her fist, reluctantly releasing the grip she held on his now crumpled tie. As if it made much of a difference, he pretended to brush off his jacket, mouthing praise to her cooperation. But she did not withdraw from her stance,
"Clued in on what?" Benny mockingly smirked,
"Don't play coy. You wouldn't have followed the Ben Man half way across the Mojave unless you had questions that needed answering."
"I tracked you because you have a package of mine, Genius. I'm as good as fired without it, so there's no point in going back now!" Inside the courier's shirt was a lightweight pistol. Not nearly as efficient as some of the other weapons she possessed, but one quick pop to the head was all she needed. She reached for it, nearly pulling it out and pointing it below his chin before the sound of a deeper third party's voice caused her to freeze with her hand half way up her blouse,
"Hey, Benny, this girl causing you trouble?" She released the handle, pulling her hand back to her side. The look she gave must have been pretty horrified, but who could blame her, the man must have been a whopping seven foot. He towered over the two of them like the way the Jolly Green Giant might,
"Uh, no, Hands."
"Well, who is she?"
"She's my..." He eyed the girl from head to toe, sneaking his arm around her waste to pull her in, "Escort." No fancy word for prostitute was acceptable in the slightest for the bearer, quickly rebuffing him as she struggled out of his grasp,
"I'm not a-" He leaned in to nearer his lips to her ear. The breaths of his whisper caused chills to be sent down her spine. Her whole body shivered,
"We'll cash out, go someplace private-like, and I'll give you your answers. Just cool it."
While her fists balled in reluctance, she stopped her fidgeting, clamping her mouth shut to prevent any protests on her part. At any moment the mouth of the 'escort' was ready to burst with anger, a quick lunge would be enough to catch him off guard. But if she could just get him alone, in a suite perhaps, that plan would work out much better. For now the beating glare of the black browed man would keep her glued to the chest of the very man she despised,
"She's a bit of a fream for this scene, don't you think?"
"I'd rather have dibs on a cat than a cube, now go bug somebody else."
Benny was a man of authority. He practically owned the chairmen after Bingo went bye bye. As well as a man of great business skill, he could order around even the larger members of the Chairmen. Hands, whom was more than double this man's size, almost cowered in his presence like a Lenny to a George. It took not a second word from Benny's mouth for the man to back off and leave to butt in to some other man's business. When the colossus finally booked it, she clawed the man's checkered arm from her hip,
"You make me sick."
"Call me what you like, I just saved your ass. How about let's call it even Steven and part ways?"
"Funny joke, let's go."
Where Benny took her was far from sweeping her away to a cloud. The place the two arrived at was his suite on the thirteenth floor, and it was far from what a person might expect from a prominent leader of a family in New Vegas's suite to look like. Most of the caps must had gone to the casino itself rather than the homes of the members themselves. Wood paneling showed through the pealing wallpaper clear as day and the furniture smelled of groggy cigarette smoke. The whole room smelled of smoke to be more accurate. The atmosphere was far from pleasant, but neither were her intentions.
His back was turned as he unlocked and opened the double door to the room, and as far as the Courier could tell, this would be a perfect chance to strike. How oblivious he was as he strolled into the decaying room, as naïve as a baby kitten he might say. With no ready weapon at hand, the woman balled her ready fist, and landed a full on punch to the back of the man's neck.
Benny stumbled forward into the room, yelling slightly at the sudden whiplash. The messenger, realizing the short time frame to act, quickly landed a second punch to his cheek before he could finish turning around. But she was quickly caught off guard as well when the collapsed man tripped her from under her feet. She fell, soon feeling the full on sick of his polished black shoe in her stomach. Too stubborn to plea, a moan escaped her lips in stead.
He was to his feet before she had forced any hard spoken words through her coughing, pointing his well decorated pistol to her cranium. It was a moment of unpleasant deja vu,
"You're out of line, sister." He panted, " If you insist on being a crooked bitch, this time I won't miss." The barrel of the gun seemed especially threatening from the floor off a broken down suite. If she didn't play her cards right soon, she might loose all her chips before the game had even started,
"Wait!"
"You had your chance, baby doll, and you lost it."
"I just want answers, Benny." She staggered to her feet, but his pistol never left it's target, "All I need is my chip. To make a delivery. After all, I'm only a Courier." He lessened his grip on the handle, she could tell by the motion of his fingers in the corner of her eye. He was giving in, into the fact that the way she approached him. Her swaying hips proved enough of a distraction for her to hit the gun to the ground and lunge for it herself. From the ground she aimed towards him. It felt especially invigorating to have the tables turned for once, "My, my, how fitting this is."
"Cool your jets, baby doll."
"What a fitting way to die, by the bullet of your own weapon. It couldn't have happened any better even if I had planned it." The words she spoke were sour with a sick sense of justice. Struggling to stand, the former bearer of the Platinum Chip was careful to to let her guard down.
"I'm dead serious, how do you expect me to sing without a head?"
"I don't. I expect you to call off any guards you have waiting to ambush me the second I leave this room, and explain to me what the significance in in this goddamn poker chip."
"Can tell you right now, it ain't no poker chip, sweetheart." She lowered the gun slightly, her eyebrow cocking at the confession,
"Then spill."
"With all due respect, Miss, take that goddamn gun out of my face and I might be able to let you in on it." With a roll of the eye, the gun was tossed behind the bar on the other side of the room. All cards were shown, no hidden tricks anymore. It was all about to come out.
"That's more like it." He cleared his throat as if to begin a drawn out tall tale, which it probably was with the man's credibility, "You see that chip you were hired to deliver isn't any old chip, my dear, it's some sort of computerized data storage device. On it there's the key to ruling New Vegas. Mr. House ordered it to be delivered to him before the war some two hundred year ago, but when everything went under it was thought to be destroyed. When word caught hold that it was still intact, he had it packaged and sent to him on the double."
"And you tried to intercept the package?" He leaned against the back of the couch for support. The dizzy sensation clearly hadn't left him, and the same could be said for her. She crossed her arms, walking closer to him,
"Ring a ding, baby. You see, Mr. House is a cool guy and all, but he has some odd sense of entitlement because he hid the city under his skirt for a couple hundred years. His ways are whack, and I say New Vegas leads itself independently under the guidance of the Chairman. With that chip and some help of his little army of robots, this city's gonna have a new swing."
"What makes you think you're more capable than Mr. House?"
"He's got no, class. And as I said before, it's time for some new leadership. Something fresh."
"Sounds like a bunch of Bullshit to me." She spat
"There's limited options here, doll. Would you prefer some slavers or government crooks?" Her eyes shifted uncomfortably. While the truth was painful, the justice in this situation was all wrong. The chip rightfully belonged to the man she had to deliver it to. And she'd do whatever it took to get the caps. There was no way Benny would be convinced out of his mindset,
"I guess that makes sense." She admitted approaching the man to a closer degree. A smirk rounded her lips, " So how are you involved with Mr. House anyways?"
"The man took us out of the wastes and "relocated" us onto the strip. He offered us a pad in style in exchange for our gecko hides and nomadic ways."
"That sounded oddly poetic. What were you before New Vegas?"
"A nobody. We were the Boot Riders, sounds corny but that's how we got around. Then House's Securitrons rolled in one day with boxes of suits and hats, said we were now the Chairmen. It was a step up for all of us, but that's when the nostalgia began to set in. I told them if the shoe fits, wear it. We weren't going back." His expression began to falter in the sense of disgruntled frustration with the Courier. He was cooperating, and on his own accord for now. It only seemed fit for the woman to become interested in his story telling if she were to do a 180 and get on his good side,
"So naturally you repay him by overthrowing his leadership."
"Listen, Baby, House is a nice guy, but a corrupt old geezer if you ever saw one." She bit her bottom lip, surveying the slouching checkered man. It repulsed her, what she was about to do, but it might be her only chance. Suppressing any inner most desire to gag, she neared him without a threatening presence, standing only a foot away,
"And how do you expect to carry out this wonderful dream of yours? Just mosey on into Caesar's tent, chip at hand, and carry on like everything's daisies?"
"I have my ways, my connections. One man's sacrifice ain't much when you're dealing with a plan as unreal as this." What was unreal was his sudden modesty. Her lips pursed in confusion, for it seemed that maybe this rat of a man had some moral undertone to his actions. But not much,
"That's a pretty bold statement."
"Tell me more, babe." She wrapped her arms around his neck. Right now he was slightly shorter than her, sitting on the back of the rustic couch. But it was alright on his side, for his eyes were at the perfect level with her chest. Her waist nestled just perfectly between his legs, his strong hands playfully caressing her hips,
"Maybe my head's still a bit scrambled from that bullet, but I'm finding this space between us pretty nerving." Benny's eyes drifted down her body, from her chin to her waist that he held so gently. He jerked her, grabbing tightly onto her hip bones, his eyes lifted back up to hers, "Maybe we can fix that?"
"What's the catch, baby-doll?"
"The Chip, perhaps?" He let out a sarcastic laugh, shoving her away by the hip. As she stumbled to reposition herself, he made his way to the door to show her out,
"If you're expecting me to change my mind, save yourself the time and leave." She followed to his side, placing her slender hands gently enough on his shoulders to position him closer to her body,
"Or it could be for the hell of it." His disposition showed that of renewed disgust and agitation at her pass. Which was odd, considering the man wasn't one for hard to get girls. He had his fair share of lowly women in bed,
"Are you making a pass at me, sister? Cause I'm way out of your league." She flashed a smirk up at him, her hands sneaking into his checkered coat as she rubbed his chest,
"I am a Courier, after all. Don't you want me to handle your 'package'?"
It practically sent shivers up her spine to know of what could and probably would happen that night if Benny were to use her to her full potential. The way he cocked an amused eyebrow at her, indescribable. Loathing his touch was all she could recall as he pulled her in, although the tender touch of his lips to her neck was the only pleasurable part of their conference. Hate would not be too strong of a word to describe her emotions towards her attempted killer.
Yet, his body was so warm, and his hands... assuring in some unexplainable way. He began to play with her hair as he kissed up her neck. It was too much passion for a fling with faulty compensation.
He led her out of the parlor and into the even more distasteful bedroom. It took the best of the messenger's ability to avoid staring at the bed she was soon to lay in,
"Let's see what you've been hiding under that checkered suit." His evil smirk was enough to describe his intentions,
"More than you ever dreamed, baby."
"You're platinum, pussycat. You know how to swing!"
Nice Charlies, too! Give 'em a shake for the Ben-man, would you? Hello!"
"That was a nice bit of hey-hey, girlie. Hold me, would you? I swear you wore me out..."
In his arms, she laid awake. With half open eyes the Courier traced the wooden door panel up the wall and back down for an uncountable number of times. All the while the man's breathe beating down on her hair. For now her head rested on his bare chest, awaiting for him to fall into a deeper slumber.
Soon enough he began to snore lightly, providing an assonance to cure the space of it's peaceful silence. A shame, it was refreshing to have a break from the man's constant jabber throughout the whole intercourse. She rarely spoke, or made a noise for that matter. Only the occasional suppressed moan or gasp that could not be contained. Certainly not a helpful stroke to Benny's ego.
The Courier gently wiggled out from behind the man's strong arm. Her eyes never left his face as she inspected for any sign of his awaking. The fact that no signs showed for the duration of her noisy rise from the squeaking mattress made her doubt for his slumber to be broken any time soon. The man at the door had confiscated all of her weapons at the door, but a knife surely had to be in the kitchen. When she searched the cabinets, a rather large butchers knife laid inside clear as day.
It was a moment of heart pounding anger, of power and fury. For in her hands she held the fate of the man she straddled, still bare of clothing. With straight arms she held the knife to his neck, ready to slice at a moments notice. But that moment never came. For minutes she held that blade to his rugged neck. His skin was rough, she remembered, as he hadn't shaved in days. If he were to even move on his own free will he could bring himself to unwillingly slice his neck. Part of her wished that would happen, maybe then his blood would keep it's hands off her conscience.
The moment of truth came when his eyes opened. First blinking, then making out the shocking image of the Courier, on top of him, with a blade to his neck. His eyes widened, and before she had a chance to react he shoved her off the bed. The knife flew from her hand across the carpeted floor, he stepped on her wrist when she reached to grab it. Now she was at his mercy; which seemed to be happening a lot lately. He always seemed to have the better hand dealt to him when it came to life or death situations.
His beating eyes could be felt on the back of her neck despite the darkness, and the crushing sensation on her wrist was enough of a warning that he was still there. She cried out in pain, and he replied with a slap to her face. Many followed, to which he screamed in her face,
"You're a scrapper, kid. A real pain in the neck!" When he aimed to hit her again, she deflected him, weakly forcing herself to sit up and glare at him. He paused only for a moment, staring straight back. Then, he punched her, hitting her with enough force for her to pass out.
In that time that the Courier laid asleep on the floor, Benny hastily dressed. The Courier could hear his whispers to himself in but a hazy combination of noises. He was speaking to someone, but she was too far gone to investigate. His footsteps grew louder as he neared, stopping just short of the door to the parlor. Had he stopped? She forced herself to wake, lifting her forehead from the ground to see him staring back at her. Limply and pathetic like, she reached up to him, grabbing at the air. Then everything went black.
