2: This 'Taker, That 'Taker
"I have to speak with the King today."
John simply nodded, busy eating his breakfast of grilled Mirelurk meat and Brahmin milk.
"You're going with me."
That got his attention. Looking up from his plate, he eyeballed Courier who was braiding her hair back. "Why?"
"Because if he decides to play hardball, I want extra muscle at my back." She had heard that the man who called himself the King wasn't really bad but he tended to look out for Freeside, which meant he wasn't above demanding favors before even considering a proposition. If he was smart, he would just listen because she wasn't in the mood to do anyone a favor today.
She had woken up to find her bed empty and a note from Shawn on the pillow saying he had gone out with Jeff, those two were spending more and more time together ever since she had announced her plans. She trusted Shawn, Jeff… not so much, mostly because she didn't really know him.
Nodding, John pushed himself away from the table. "Let me get my gun."
When Courier had walked into the King's School of Impersonation and seen 'Taker, she hadn't even thought twice about shooting him. All that really registered was the fact that the murdering, raping son of a bitch was in her city and sitting at that bar, sipping a whiskey as if he had every right to be there.
She had heard John mutter a muffled 'son of a bitch' and then fired. She had clipped him in the back, towards the right which was a shame as it meant she had missed his heart. He had let out a curse and dived over the bar.
All of the King's gang had backed the hell up, which was smart.
"I know you're not dead, 'Taker." She snarled, aiming just over the bar in case he was dumb enough to pop his head over it. She still owed him for the Sierra Madre, the son of a bitch had raped her, she was going to blow his nuts off first, then his head. "So come on out and let's finish the dance."
"Courier…" John said from behind.
Whipping around, Courier turned the aim of her shotgun from the bar to the woman –no, kid's- head, frowning. This wasn't a kid, but she sure looked like one. She was definitely younger than Courier, that was for damn sure, and oddly pale. Her hair was black and fell tousled over her shoulders and she was wearing… who the hell knew, but it sure wasn't a current fashion here in New Vegas. A pale pink scar marred an otherwise decent face but her attention was soon distracted by eyes the color of mud. Those brown eyes were seriously pissed off.
"Kane?" The other woman growled in a low yet clear voice.
Courier's eyes flickered to the Ghoul, taking in the sheer size of him. He wore a mask over his face but the exposed tendons and muscles of his bare arms were enough to tell her what he was. They didn't get many Ghouls this way and the ones they did had all worked for the casinos. He crouched down behind the bar, obviously checking on 'Taker and that made her grit her teeth.
Who in their right mind, would give two fucks if he was alive? Dead was definitely a much more preferable state for him.
"He needs medical attention."
That meant he was alive but possibly only barely, that made Courier feel cozy inside. If he died, that was one threat eliminated from her checklist.
"I don't know or care who you are, but if my husband dies… you're a dead woman."
Courier's attention was immediately drawn back to the kid, unsure what she was feeling but it wasn't anything good. "Your… husband?" She began laughing, a dry, humorless laugh. "That is hilarious."
A second later gunshot echoed throughout the building and the only reason Courier was alive was because John had tackled her from behind, shoving her down onto the floor. He stretched himself out over her in a protective manner, hands clapped over her head, obviously expecting more gunfire.
But it didn't come. They both risked peeking up at the woman.
She wasn't looking at them but towards the bar where the ghoul –Kane- was now helping 'Taker to stand.
"Is…. Is that 'Taker?" John whispered, doubt coloring his tone, watching as the woman peeled off the man's shirt, revealing a broad expanse of tanned skin.
"Get off of me." She snapped, bucking him away and climbed to her feet once he had moved, aware Kane now held a sawed off shotgun towards her while the woman was nudging 'Taker onto a bench. Surrounding them all were the Kings, staring with wide eyes while the King was just watching everything with a calm expression, as if his place got shot up every day when in fact, he had a no violence policy.
She stared at him, her frown deepening when she met grey-green eyes that were so familiar but… not familiar. There wasn't a single spark of recognition in them and she idly wondered if someone had shot him and caused him to lose his memories. The irony would have made for a seriously twisted but funny joke.
He was tall, check. Muscular, check. And that was where the similarities from this 'Taker and her 'Taker seemed to trail off. Physically, they both looked damn near identical. Except… her 'Taker had long black hair and this 'Taker… his hair fell to just at his shoulders and it was a deep auburn color, with streaks of gold. He wore a mustache and goatee just like her 'Taker. It was his arms that threw her off completely. They were muscular but they were… bare… there were no tattoos.
"Who the fuck are you?" She demanded.
He snorted, flinching slightly when his wife, who was now behind him kneeling on top of the bar, eased a pair of freshly sterilized tweezers into his back. "I was under the impression you knew…" He said, his voice low with the hit of an accent, not the dark baritone of her 'Taker. "Since you tried to fuckin' kill me."
"Stimpak." She held out her hand to the ghoul, who reached down onto the counter which had rather quickly been turned into a type of operating table. "Hold still, old man."
He gripped the sides of the bar stool with both large hands, his eyes closing just as she injected the Stimpak right into his throat.
Even John winced at that, knowing that had to hurt.
"Faith?" Kane murmured, one eye on Courier, the other on the man's back. "Faith…"
"I can't get it out… shit, shit, shit!"
"Well if it makes you feel better, darlin', I can't feel a fuckin' thing."
"Not NOW, Mark!"
"Sugar, why don't you use one of the empty rooms? We got a bed and that'd be easier than out here." The King finally suggested, his eyes darting away from the blood that was now spilling down the stranger's back and onto his floor.
"I need a proper medical kit…" Faith looked towards Courier and Courier frowned, not liking the expression on the other woman's face. "You, make yourself useful and get me one."
"I'll go get Shawn." John offered, already disappearing out the door. It was a mindfuck to be sure but that wasn't the Undertaker, at least, not the one they all knew and despised. That was someone else entirely who looked way to much like the other to be comfortable.
"Kane, I can't…"
Nodding, Kane stepped in to wrap his rotting arms around Mark's waist, beginning to drag him back towards where the King was gesturing.
Courier then realized that this Mark guy… he was unconscious. "Look, I'm sorry." She said, following behind, Faith and Kane, she rolled their names around in her head. And the big guy who was now forever wrapped up in her mind with 'Taker was Mark. "He… he looks identical to… someone I know."
Faith just shot her a dark look.
"What the hell is going on?" Shawn demanded as he was ushered into the school turned gang headquarters. "River, what the-" He stopped when he seen the people gathered about a bed in one of the King's rooms.
Courier was standing against a wall, her arms folded over her chest, an expression of confusion and guilt on her face. The King was standing next to her, looking cool as a cucumber –though Shawn had never even seen a cucumber, he did know the expression. There was also a large ghoul present, hovering next to the bed with a gun in his hand, eyeballing everyone as if they were potential enemies.
On the bed was… at first, Shawn thought it was the Undertaker and he was about to rip John a new asshole for bringing him here. If that bastard was dying, there was no way Shawn was going to try to save him or ease his passage. He could die and die in agony. A second look told him that while damn near identical to the Undertaker, this wasn't 'Taker. It was someone… else… A very, very good look-a-like who was lying on his side, his face towards Shawn and his eyes closed, he wasn't conscious.
Perched on the side of the bed, just behind the behemoth was a woman with black hair and an expression of concentration on her oddly pale face. She was doing something to the man's back and when she raised an arm to wipe sweat off her forehead, he could see blood. He blinked when she looked at him, seeing the anguish in her eyes and then the faded gold, battered wedding ring on her finger.
"This the doctor?" She asked without tearing her eyes from him.
"Yes." Courier whispered.
"Good, get over here and bring that bag." She ordered.
A bit confused, Shawn did as he was told.
Courier watched as the two worked on the man's –Mark- back. She had expected Faith to let Shawn take over and was mildly surprised when the woman instead commandeered his bag, using him as an assistant. It was quickly made obvious that she knew what she was doing.
Shawn just helped her, remaining quiet as they worked, and only let out a soft sigh when Faith declared that her husband would live to be shot at another day. He then followed her down the hall to the bathroom to wash their bloodstained hands while the ghoul cleaned the mess and arranged Mark on the bed to sleep off the after effects of his sudden surgery.
Needing a drink, she turned and headed out for the bar, grateful that the King had basically told everyone to hit Freeside for a while. She was aware John was watching her as she stepped behind the counter, setting out two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey, pouring them each a healthy measure.
"You didn't know it wasn't him." John said, accepting the glass she held out to him and watched as she slammed hers. "It looks like him."
"But it's not him."
"Who the hell is this 'him'"
They both looked up as Faith and Shawn came into the room, the ghoul nowhere to be seen. He was probably still with Mark, making sure no one else tried shooting him.
Courier poured herself another shot.