Charlie paced discretely, but nervously, outside the event tent, recalling Duncan's instructions before she entered the tent to watch the fight.
The moment there is a reaction from the tent…act. Don't hesitate a moment. There will be a rush of people and if you wait, you won't get it and you will fail. Don't fail.
Duncan still wouldn't elaborate what that reaction would be, just "you'll know." So here she was, waiting for a sign…a sign she didn't know what it would be.
Suddenly, she sensed a change from the tent. She tensed, ready to act, but realized it was just the roar of the crowd. They must have entered the ring, she thought. She was going to be sick.
No, no, she wouldn't be. She had a mission and she would fulfill it…successfully. She just wished she knew what was happening and how long she would have to wait. She understood not being allowed in, but it was killing her not to see Connor and Monroe. Just for a little reassurance.
Letting out a cleansing breath, she just reminded herself that they were resourceful and would be OK. They wouldn't die. He wouldn't die. She was having the same dread she felt the night of his execution, but at least on that night she was able to see him one last time before his death.
Of course on that night, she didn't know a plan had been in place to save him. At least this time she knew there was and she didn't feel so helpless. But this time, she discovered, she was feeling that a greater loss was at stake…she wasn't sure what she felt for Monroe, but now she's at least willing to admit she feels something. It may just be too late.
The crowd was deafening. Connor looked around and felt a little overwhelmed. It was like when the crowds at Nunez's place were there for a whipping, only larger and more charged. And for once, unfortunately, he was the subject. He looked over at his father and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Seeing him roll the muscles of his shoulders and back, almost subconsciously, he figured he must have. How many times should this man be made into some spectacle?
He was starting to have doubts about his ability to kill his own father. He thought his father had been dead for years, but it turned out that was just a story. A story about a non-existent man. Now he had his real, live father and now if something extreme and fortuitous didn't happen, he'll have to reaccept the story of his father being dead, but with the cruel twist of him being the cause.
He'd just have to drag this out as long as possible.
He looked back again at his father, who must have sensed his doubts because he was giving him an unyielding look of you have to do this. You promised.
He could tell Connor was having second thoughts, but there was no choice. They had already worked on ways to make the fight entertaining for the crowds, but also to drag it out as long as possible. Give Charlie time to put whatever crazy plan she no doubtedly had into action.
He just hoped trying to save them wouldn't get her killed. But she would try, for Connor if nothing else. His heart skipped a beat with the memory of finding them together, but he couldn't think of that pain right now.
He watched as Gould entered the cage and walked to the center of the ring, raising his hands. The crowd got quiet. He began to shout to the crowd.
"Ladies and Gentlemen! You have chosen a great time to be in New Vegas. We have a special treat. A very special treat. Many of you are familiar with Jimmy King…" He stopped to raise his arm and pointed to Monroe. The crowd cheered again, then became quiet to continue listening.
"But what most of you didn't know is that the supposed Jimmy King is actually General Sebastian Monroe, former president of the former Monroe Republic." Gould taunted Monroe with his words. Immediately the crowd's din rose again, but this time it was with jeers and boos.
Gould took great satisfaction in seeing Jimmy…Monroe…looking uncomfortable. It was obvious the former general was not used to being treated with such open hostility. Behind his back, sure, but to his face? Gould smiled a wide, cruel smile. Monroe just leveled his gaze back at the ring master.
"And tonight, General Monroe's true colors came out. He thought once again he could just take whatever he wanted. But unlike before in his former republic, this time, he tried to take from the wrong person. Me!"
The crowd went wild and thundered again.
"But I stopped him. I caught him. And I leveled his punishment unto him."
Bass couldn't help but internally laugh at Gould's obvious embellishment of his capture.
"A fight…TO THE DEATH."
At this point the crowd seemed fanatical. The sound was thunderous and the bleachers and cage seemed to shake.
Waving the crowd to quiet down, Gould continued. "But who to match him in this fight? He defeated my best fighter…a house of a man…mere hours ago. Nothing seems to be able to stop him. So who can make the great Sebastian Monroe falter in the ring? This man."
At this point, Gould now pointed to Connor, who unlike his father, felt less sure and looked it. The crowd noticed too. Their shouts of disappointment and doubt got louder and louder. Gould motioned for silence again.
"I know, I know. The boy doesn't look like much, but he too try to steal from me and this penalty seemed more entertaining than just putting a bullet in his head. And he may just very well be Sebastian Monroe's kryptonite. Let me introduce…"
Gould paused for dramatic effect…
"Connor!"
Slightly anticlimactic, the crowd seemed to think; people looking at each other, confused.
"Sebastian Monroe's SON!"
And the cheers rose up again. It was pandemonium. Gould smiled in satisfaction and walked towards the exit of the cage. That took him close to Monroe, whom he whispered into his ear, "You better make an effort to kill your son. If you think you can just sit back and let him kill you and everything will be fine, think again. I'll slit his throat."
Monroe listened, then whispered into Gould's ear, "No you won't. You'll have someone else do it. Because you are weak…and a coward." Gould, obviously pissed off at his inability to intimidate Monroe, just scowled and walked off. "Enjoy the fight, Jimmy."
As the gate to the cage slammed shut upon Gould's exit, the crowd roared up again. Chants of fight, fight, fight and kill the bastard could be heard. Neither men wanted to start the fight and both appeared to be stalling. Their attention was involuntarily diverted by a loud slam of a metal pipe against the cage from one of Gould's men made it clear stalling was not appreciated.
Bass knew he was going to have to make the first move, or he and Connor would be dancing in circles all night. Swallowing down some bile and regret, he swung at his son. It certainly wasn't one of his harder punches, but it was hardly a love tap, either. Upon contact with Connor's jaw, Bass saw all the horrible things he'd done as General Sebastian Monroe flash before his eyes. He knew he was saving his son, but no father should hurt his own child.
Connor stumbled back from the force, but it managed to kick start him into action. He hoped that was his father's hardest hit because any more than that and all their planning in the world was not going to matter. He'd be immobile on the ground. Like planned, he charged Monroe and they ended up against the cage. Monroe knew that once people learned who he was, they'd be itching to get in on the action. Not necessarily because they had been wronged by him personally, but just so they could boast about it later.
As expected, people were reaching through the bars, but not really causing any damage, though. That wasn't the point, though. Bass acted like he was distracted by the spectators for a second, leaving Connor a window to get in a couple shots across his jaw and cheek. Bass embellished a little, pretending to be thrown off balance and fell to one knee.
They both knew it was important to utilize the crowd in this fight. No one would really believe that Connor would get the jump on Sebastian Monroe, a.k.a. Jimmy King, but Connor plus a rowdy crowd? Maybe that would be believable enough. Now they just had to make the eventual wearing down of Monroe look convincing. Neither man was sure how long that would take, how much abuse Connor could withstand from Monroe during that time, and most importantly, when or if Charlie would make her move.
Little did they know it wasn't Charlie they were waiting for. In the stands, Duncan looked on. As long as it looked like the two men weren't really doing damage, her clan wouldn't rush things. Everything had to be just right. She looked over at Lars and another man, John, both surreptitiously holding beer bottles, but not drinking from them. As they stood near one of the tent's sides, they glanced at Duncan, who indicated they should wait. The smell from the accelerant could, would, attract attention, and she hadn't seen the signal that the others were ready.
She looked back to the fight. Connor already had a split lip and his eye and his jaw were bruised, but what really shocked her was how bad Sebastian was already looking. She could see a lot of extra and unnecessary movement on his part, no doubt to hasten his exhaustion. Unfortunately, neither Gould nor the crowd seemed happy with how long the carnage was taking. This was a death match, not a Golden Gloves fight.
The two men were at a good distance from each other now, both breathing heavily, each bent over and resting their hands on the knees, when someone…likely one of Gould's men, and likely on his order…threw a bat of some kind into the ring, landing near Connor.
The boy looked horrified and hesitated. Bass saw this and made a move for the weapon, knowing his movement would prompt Connor into action without further thought. Connor managed to grab the bat from the ground just as Monroe dove for it. Knowing he would never be able to use it if he thought about it, Connor immediately swung it around, catching his father, still on the ground, on the back of the shoulder and arm.
Monroe yelled out in pain and knew this was the beginning of the end.
Duncan knew it was now or never. Apparently, the universe agreed. She saw Marla walk in the front entrance…the signal indicating that her people were in place and ready to attack. Hearing the roar increase, she saw Connor take another, and another, swing at Bass, who was still on the ground and rolling between his side and back. He was barely getting any defensive moves in to block the bat, which was now smeared with his blood. God, it may already be too late by the time they act.
She quickly gave John and Lars the signal and made her way down the stands to be closer to the cage, but out of the aisles. Suddenly, a rumble sounded from within the tent, but it wasn't the crowd. As flames quickly crept toward the ceiling, the crowd noticed and began to panic as people started for the exits.
From the opposite side of the tent, Duncan's clan began flooding in from the bottom of the tent walls…an act that normally would be met with strict punishment, but in the chaos, they were able to make it in.
Most of the clan engaged Gould's men. A few were working on getting the cage doors on each end open. Others had some sort of metal cutting tools. Duncan went for Gould himself.
Charlie watched as many of Duncan's clan crouched by the edges of the tent's bottom, waiting for the sign. Already several of what she assumed was Gould's security team had been killed when they tried to inquire why such a group was loitering suspiciously near the tent and that no way Gould would permit people sneaking into the event. Poor shmucks thought the group was just trying to catch the fight. It never occurred to them that they might be about to disrupt it.
She was knocked out of her reverie when she heard…and felt…a hot whoosh come from the tent. That had got to be the sign. Immediately, she ran into the tent, passing the guards at the entrance who were distracted by the ploy the clan had used. She didn't look, though. The only thing in her mind was
Get in, get Connor, get out;
Get in, get Connor, get out.
She heard screams and sensed a stampede of people coming her way to escape the…holy crap, the tent was on fire! Well, that's a distraction all right…and she guessed Duncan wasn't joking about setting the town on fire.
She made it to one of the cage doors…opposite the one that Connor and Monroe had probably used to enter for the fight. For the first time, she was able to take stock of the situation. Her heart dropped. Or stopped. Perhaps both.
Before her stood Connor, with some sort of flat-faced bat…almost like a paddle for a canoe or what Aaron said principles used to use on students for corporal punishment…in his grip.
Get in, get Connor, get out;
Get in, get Connor, get out.
Connor had definitely taken a beating, his injuries to his face and arms apparent. But her vision was focused back on the bat. It was covered with large stains of blood. Connor was frozen, looking at the mayhem going on inside the tent. But what really got her attention was Monroe, lying prone and motionless on the ground.
Get in, get Connor, get out;
Get in, get Connor, get out.
She dragged her attention back to Connor. Running up to him, she grabbed him by the shoulders and yelled at him to come with her. She discovered that during the commotion, some of Duncan's people had actually cut a large hole in the cage itself. If the two cage doors were at twelve and six o'clock, the hole was at three and it was near an edge of the tent. That was there escape.
Pointing to the newly created exit, she grabbed Connor again, who was now trying to get to his father.
"Come on. Duncan has it covered. They'll get him out," she tried to yell over the panicked clamor of the crowd. He fought her, but his exhaustion from the fight gave Charlie the advantage and she pushed him ahead of her, out the exit and out of the tent. With one last look at the motionless and bloody Monroe, she exited also, but not before seeing a couple of Duncan's people…Lars and John, maybe?...grab him and drag him towards the exit also.
Turning her attention back to her goal, she saw that a wagon was waiting for them. They both hopped in and it took off immediately…likely to Duncan's compound, where ever that was. She watched behind them to see another wagon pull up to the tent. With all the commotion and growing distance, it was hard to see what was happening, but she was pretty sure that something…someone…was loaded in it before it took off in the same direction.
She just didn't know if it was Bass, or just his body.