July 13, 2268
Winona meandered down the empty hallway sleepily with the heel of her palm rubbing into one of her exhausted eyes. She spent all of last night—right after school and well into 2 in the morning—working on a new little project of hers. Even though she didn't have a name for it yet, Amata (playfully and unofficially) referred to it as the Winona4000. Either way, the new invention was meant to clean up after the messes she made while working, and often enough they consisted of a horrendous amount of clutter and scrap left around her room—as she worked she paid very little attention to tidying up as she went. If she spilled oil on the floor, the Winona4000 would mop it up—clothes lying around? It'd pick them up and deposit them into the dirty laundry chute. Her bed needed to be made, her workbench tidied up, her things needed to be organized? Her new invention would do it all. Maybe even bring her meals when she got too wrapped up in her work to eat... would it be considered cheating if it also did her homework for her, too?
Her father playfully commented on how it'd make Andy jealous; and that if the invention came to successful fruition, he doubted he'd ever see her come out of her room again!
Unfortunately for her now, though, her new invention wasn't proving to be much of a success. The little inventor found that it was riddled with bugs since she was still learning wiring and such, and once she fixed one issue, another two or more problems would come in its place. It made it impossible to get it to properly function for more than a few moments where it'd either crash into something or go berserk until the battery fried itself out, causing it to shut down. The first time it did that, it had crashed into the wall where it fell to the floor in a disgruntled heap, and needless to say, it woke up quite a few very agitated vault residents. Her father had to swing in to rescue her from the growing mob and managed to calm them all down enough so they could turn back to bed.
That was one of the more recent bugs she was having with the dang thing—she'd need to either find, or make, a more stable and powerful battery for it. She wouldn't be able to program it, either, until she had regular access to a terminal and not just the one in the library; there she was quietly monitored and very rarely allowed to go by her father, as he couldn't afford the fine if she accidentally fried one of their computers with her work.
But these were all problems for solve on another day, as her father hurriedly put her to bed at 2:15 AM and she immediately went to sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. The alarm programmed into her intercom by her door woke her up at exactly 8:30, and the calling of her unfinished work encouraged her to climb out of bed rather than go back to sleep for another few hours. She took a shower, got dressed, hastily groomed herself—and as she took a seat down at her workbench, still just as alert as when she woke up, she saw a note from her father lying on top of her tools for easy finding.
come to the cafeteria when you're awake birthday girl
birthday breakfast with Jonas
~love, daddy
So with note tucked into her pocket, off she went—navigating her way down the halls, sleepily, to her destination. She hoped that she'd get some new tools, or better supplies—maybe even that terminal she wanted!
It was all very unlikely, but a 10 year old could dream about having her own soldering iron.
Coming up to the cafeteria doors, Winona didn't realize that the lights weren't on inside, leaving the room in complete darkness. She didn't realize how silent it was on the other side of the door when, normally, the jukebox drawled on calming tunes hand-picked by the Overseer. Winona didn't notice any of these things until her hand came up to the button, the door slid open, and her exhausted haze was immediately assaulted by the bright cafeteria lights suddenly turning on with a surge of white light, making stars in her eyes. She cried out in surprise and rubbed at them as enthusiastic voices carried around her in a disorienting wave. Her father immediately came to her side with his hand on her shoulder, chuckling.
When she could open her eyes again without dots of stars flashing in her vision, she saw balloons scattered around the floor and hanging lazily from the ceiling. Multiple guests were donning polka-dotted party hats and blew noisemakers, and there was a handmade streamer with glittering bubble letters that spelled out 'Happy Birthday!' above the silent jukebox.
"Stanley, you turned on the lights too fast!" Officer Gomez called out. The sight of him in his security uniform with a party hat that looked to be too small for his head made her laugh. "You blinded the poor kid!"
Despite the scolding, another round of "Happy Birthday!"s flooded back to her. Her father and Amata blew noisemakers happily, Mrs. Palmer whispered something to Officer Gomez to where he nodded with a soft smile, and Andy hovered behind the bar with Stanley, who waved happily at her.
"Happy Birthday, honey." James pecked her lightly on the top of the head and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "It's so hard to believe that you're already ten… time's gone by so quickly. If only your mother—…" His words trailed off with a melancholy key, and Winona gazed up at him questioningly. A small smile occupied his lips. "If your mother were here, she would be so proud of the daughter she has."
Winona muttered words of love to him as they hugged tightly, with his hand cradling the back of her head, thumb stroking over her tight black curls. Upon parting, the room had grown still and eerily quiet, and when she looked up the Overseer had entered the room from the opposite door of the cafeteria. He strolled over in a composed gait, jumpsuit crisp and his hair properly parted and combed, and cut between Officer Gomez and Mrs. Palmer to get to them. Winona watched the Overseer as he and her father exchanged a slightly tense greeting and she felt her empty tummy do a flip-flop.
This man was her Overseer, and her best friend's father but his presence made her feel uneasy. She didn't know if this uneasiness she felt around him stemmed from her personal feelings, or because the two—her father and Amata's—seemed to barely tolerate the other's presence when around each other. Exchanges always felt—... hostile.
Her father's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Honey, say hello to the Overseer."
"Good morning, Overseer…" Winona mumbled sheepishly. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course, Miss Parker. As Overseer, it's my duty to the vault and its residents to attend every 10th birthday party—to ensure the child is properly prepared, and given all the tools he or she needs in order to succeed in this delicate food chain that is our beloved home."
Amata stood behind him, annoyance and mild embarrassment reddening her cheeks as she watched her father rattle on about vault responsibilities and what it meant to contribute to society. When his speech was over, he presented to Winona the infamous Pip-Boy 3000 that every child got on their 10th birthday, as a more concrete reminder of their newfound place amongst the adults. She knew some of the basic chores expected of her from what her father had told her; keep your classroom clean, wash dishes at the cafeteria, sweep up the hairdresser's floor of hair clippings. It was mostly simple and tedious volunteer work but it excited her, nonetheless. Winona waited for a very long time to get her own Pip-Boy and to become a part of the higher order known as Adulthood.
The only part about it she didn't like was that the time she spent working was time away from inventing.
After instructing the 10 year old to be at his office the next morning at 9 AM-sharp for her first work assignment, the Overseer turned on his heel and took a seat at one of the cafeteria booths. The only end to the conversation was an unnerving chuckle from him, and Winona looked up to her father, who gazed after the Overseer with a hard, and mildly unsettling, stare.
"Dad—?"
"Here—how about we put on your new Pip-Boy? See if it fits..." He responded, tearing his gaze away to help her put it on. When the screen lit up, so did the eyes of the little inventor like a million igniting sparks as she marveled at it. "There. Now everyone in the vault will know that you're a grown up."
"I have one like you, now!" She smiled and pointed at his own Pip-Boy. His was an older model with a larger, squarer screen so it was bulkier and heavier. "I'm really an adult now, aren't I?"
"Yes but that doesn't mean that you're an exception to the rules," He chuckled with a raised brow. "Now, you remember the basics—don't you, sweetheart?"
Winona huffed a bit under her breath and put her hands on her hips, making herself seem so official and serious. She was an adult now! An adult with some rules, but… an adult, otherwise! Of course she knew the rules!
"No taking it apart. No opening it up to see what's inside. No tinkering with it, no playing with it after lights out—and I'm not allowed to modify it in any way."
Her father laughed at the disappointed tone of voice she utilized. "Good girl. Now, I want you to go and enjoy your party—today will be the only day that you turn 10, and we have the cafeteria until 10:30 so make the best of this day."
"Thanks, daddy." She said as she hugged him once again as Amata trotted over. He detached from her to walk towards the bar so the girls could talk, and the first thing she did was show off her Pip-Boy. "Look at what I got!"
"I know, I saw it this morning when Stanley gave it to my dad. We sure surprised you, didn't we? Your dad was worried you'd find out, so we had to be super sneaky about the whole thing!" Amata giggled before looking back over her shoulder to her father—the Overseer—to make sure he wasn't listening, and then leaned in towards her to whisper. "Did you get your new invention to work? Maybe you can bring it to my apartment to clean my room sometime!"
The moment Amata finished speaking, the cafeteria door slid open and Dorothy Horowitz walked in with a thin gift box tucked under her arm. She strut towards the two girls hurriedly, seeming distracted.
"Don't ask," Amata spoke under her breath still, now for Dorothy's sake as she came their way and Winona gaped impassively at the pig-tailed girl, confused by her presence. "Your dad said we had to invite her. And Butch and his friends, too."
"...Why?" Winona shot back with a curious glance, but the only response she was given was an unsure shrug as Dorothy stopped to talk to Mrs. Palmer briefly, seeming more bored than distracted in that instance.
Butch made it very clear to Winona that he wasn't taking her peace offering of Mrs. Palmer's sticky roll—which she was given after winning another 2 rounds of Hunt the Mutant at Wally's party two months prior. The very next day, Butch, walking alone, shoved her against a wall and pulled on her hair, goading her mercilessly to try and make her cry. She stomped on his foot to run away back to her apartment, him hollering 'cry baby!' down the hall after her as he hopped around on his one good foot. The war was on from that day when he refused her peace offering, and the battle had been fought almost daily since, and it especially didn't help that he sat behind her in class.
The two were constantly butting heads; he tried pulling pranks on her with Wally and Paul on his heels, and the ones that succeeded were met with retribution from her side of the battlefield with the help of Amata, and a harmless (but devastating) invention or two. Her father wasn't happy with her, but Winona had tried to be patient and understanding with the DeLoria boy! What was the good in patience if it got pencils threaded through her curls during math tests? What was the good in being understanding if it'd only get her cornered in the hallways during lunch, and taunted about being a 'Goody-Goody'? It caused her to fight with herself, constantly swaying between wanting to walk away and feeling like she had to stoop down to his level to survive just a day in school. She even started wearing her hair tied up in a tight bun in fear that he'd cut it off or stick gum in it after Amata made a joke about such things happening. It just seemed like something he'd likely do.
Either way, the end of their constant warring seemed nowhere in sight. Any peaceful solution was completely out of the question—and she didn't know if it angered or saddened her more. She didn't want to be friends with Butch DeLoria, persay, but she certainly didn't want them to actively be enemies. Winona didn't like the jabbing and pranking and insults any more than he enjoyed finding chocolate pudding in the rump of his jumpsuit, or his intercom ringing his alarm at all hours of the night (Winona felt bad about it a couple days later when she saw how exhausted Butch was, and so fixed it immediately after class one day while he was out with Paul and Wally).
Winona wondered how her mother would feel about all this, and if she'd disapprove of the things she was doing or be proud that her daughter wasn't buckling under a bully's tyranny. Her father didn't seem to have the answer to that, in lieu of his own feelings about it.
"Hey, Dorothy." Winona shyly greeted as Dorothy finally made her way over to them once Mrs. Palmer took a seat at the same booth as the Overseer. "Thanks for com—"
"Just so 'ya know," Dorothy cut in, staring at Winona with darkening eyes. "I'm only here 'cause Butch is here. Butchie doesn't like you, so I don't like you." She shoved the box into Winona's possession and looked around. "There's your gift—hope 'ya like it, Happy Birthday, yadda yadda. Now where's my Butchie?"
"You got some really low standards there, Dorothy." Amata replied in an annoyed voice and an exaggerated eye roll as she pointed to a booth in the far corner where Butch sat across from Wally; they were talking about something Winona couldn't make out over the chatter of the birthday guests.
Why did dad invite him? He doesn't like Butch. She thought in surprise, her eyes widening a little upon seeing the young DeLoria's head bobbing behind the diner booth as he cruelly laughed at something Wally said—who was visually twitching in irritation for being laughed at.
"Gee, next time I'll draw 'ya a map so you can show me where I asked for your opinion!" Dorothy snapped and then briskly strode past them, shoving Winona out of her way and into Amata as she went past. "Butchieee!"
The screeching of his name made Butch jump in his seat as if the vault's blaring alarm had suddenly gone off, and looking back over the booth divider with wide eyes in horror, he comically ducked down out of sight. It was Wally's turn to laugh now.
"Geeze, Dorothy's such a ditz!" Amata grumbled with a disgruntled shake of her head as she helped Winona to her feet, both girls straightening out their vault suits with Dorothy's present still in Winona's arms. "I honestly don't know what she sees in Butch—he looks like a frog! Acts like one, too!"
"...Ribbit." The inventor muttered under her breath, and her best friend giggled quietly behind a cupped hand. "Dorothy isn't that bad, though—sometimes."
"Dorothy isn't so bad..." The inventor muttered under her breath and her best friend shot her an increduluous look. "...Sometimes."
Amata raised an eyebrow over an incredulous look and folded her arms over her chest, glancing over to watch the 'love birds' as Dorothy held Butch's arm firmly against her side. She nuzzled herself into his shoulder as he grumpily pouted, unable to pull his limb out of her taloned grip. He blew a wisp of his black hair out of his face with a huff of annoyance.
"I dunno why Butch just lets it happen—he's always making sure people know that he doesn't like something, and it's obvious he doesn't like her."
"Who knows why Butch's the way he is." Winona replied with a shake of her head, looking down to the box in her possession. "Looks like Dorothy got me something big, though..."
"Oh, no you don't!" She exclaimed as she hooked a thumb towards herself. "Best friend's present, first!" Then ran over to her father, who was sitting silently with Mrs. Palmer still, and handed something to his daughter with a stern look. Amata ran back with the gift tucked behind her back and out of sight.
"What's that?" Winona asked, pointing at the thing she was hiding.
"You're gonna have to guess before I give it to you! And think carefully, because this is going to be a test of our friendship!" She teased with a beaming smile.
"Is it that new multi-head screwdriver I asked Vault Santa for?" Amata shot her a pressed look but Winona grinned. "I'm kidding—I hope it has something to do with my favorite barbarian?"
"You mean our favorite barbarian?" Amata corrected with a mirrored grin as she removed the comic book from behind her back. The pristine and flimsy cover revealed it to, indeed, be a Grognak the Barbarian comic book with a clean sheen that reflected the diner lighting.
"Is that—? Issue 14?" She gaped in disbelief with wide eyes. "How'd you get this?"
"I got it from my dad. And look!" Amata thumbed the pages rapidly to leaf through them. "And look, no missing pages, either! Can you believe it?"
"I'm surprised that your dad read comic books..."
"He was 10 once, too," She laughed as Winona took the comic book into her possession. "But enough about my dad. You've passed the friendship test! You now have permission to open Dorothy's present."
Winona smiled as she set the box on the floor, kneeling down with the comic book tucked under her arm so she could free up both hands to open Dorothy's present. Peeling away the tape on a few of the sides, she opened up the lid of the box and stared, dumbfounded, at the contents inside it. Amata loomed over her, hunched over with her hands on her knees, all the while blinking repeatedly in shock.
"...Is that—?" Amata began, unsure of how to finish.
"...I think it is..." Winona answered quietly, still gaping down at the present that laid inside its box.
"Have you ever seen one before?"
"Only in old posters and pictures..." She looked up to her friend. "Vault Policy wouldn't allow it."
"Who cares about Vault Policy, it's your birthday!" Amata grinned and then pointed down at the box. "Besides, I'm sure my dad would make an exception. It's just a dress!"
As Amata spoke, Winona pulled the dress forth from its box; the fabric was soft and a spectacular shade of blue, like the skies she'd seen in pre-war picture books and posters. Winona thumbed the white puritan collar of the dress adoringly, hand running down to the knee-length flared skirt—which was layered underneath with white frills to give it more body. It was a simple but beautiful dress, and the little inventor never thought she'd see anything like it in her life let alone get to wear one.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" She sang excitedly, helping Winona pack up the box. Thrusting it back into her arms, Amata helped her best friend up off the floor and shoved her on towards the door. "You have to go put it on! Now!"
"Wha—? Says who?" Winona dug her heels into the floor with the refusal to leave. She looked back to her father at the bar for help, but found him deeply engrossed in conversation with old Stanley.
"The best friend!" Said best friend giggled as she opened the door and pushed her out into the hall. "And don't come back till you put it on!"
As the door closed between them, Winona looked down to the box in her arms along with her comic book and heaved a small sigh, hurrying off to her room to change. Lord knows her father would be upset if she was away from her surprise party for too long...
"This party's so freaking stupid!" Butch growled as he watched Winona cling to her father when she spotted the Overseer walking towards her. He grimaced at the look spreading in her father's face—eyebrows pulled together, a slight frown on his lips. The concern in his face was the type of concern only a father could conjure up for their child… for a daughter, especially.
"Yeah, it's boring." Wally replied as he lazily drummed his fingernails on the tabletop. "There aren't any games or fun things to do. Complete Snore Fest. It's not fair I had to go, but Susie and Stevie didn't have to!"
"So what? And where the heck is Paul?"
"Dunno. Probably late like always." He continued to drum his fingernails on the table, and the boys went back to silence.
The hot-headed DeLoria could not believe that his mother forced him to go to Winona's dumb surprise party! Couldn't she see how much he loathed the vault's resident freak? A couple months ago when Stanley came to his apartment to give away her sweet roll prize, he refused the gesture by dumping it down the garbage chute. His mother was sober enough to be pretty upset by his reaction—so when Dr. Parker sent an invitation for her 10th birthday party, his mother said he'd be going whether he wanted to or not and that was the last she was going to hear about it. Butch didn't have a chance in challenging her when she was sober enough.
But he knew the party was a terrible excuse—his mom just wanted to drink in peace where he wouldn't be a witness to her self-degradation. The only good thing about this lame toddler's party was the cake, and everyone knew Old Lady Palmer made the best baked goods in the vault. He couldn't say no to that! He'd put up with the lame party and being around Winona the Weirdo for a slice or two.
"You ever find that switchblade I gave you?" Wally broke through Butch's thoughts so he could get rid of his own boredom.
"No." Butch grumped. "It musta fell outta my pocket or somethin'—and I can't go around asking people if they've seen it since its contraband."
"True… hey, what're we calling our gang, by the way? I was thinking The Mackers."
Butch laughed mockingly at the suggestion, causing his friend to twitch and bare his teeth in insult. Just as his laughter began to die down, and Wally looked as if he was about to lunge across the table to grab him by his collar, high-pitched squealing lashed at his ears like the sharp crack of a whip.
"Butchieee!"
It catapulted him out of his seat as he glanced back and saw Dorothy run towards him, and in a panic he did the first thing that came to mind—hide. So he flopped back on the diner booth, hoping that Dorothy hadn't really seen him.
"Hi Butch! I missed you, I haven't seen you in two. Whole. Days!" She exclaimed as she plopped down next to him, immediately trapping his arm in her clinging grasp, and snuggled up against his side with a dreamy smile on her face.
There's a reason why! His mind exclaimed bitterly as he tried tearing his arm out of her grip, but to no avail. She only tightened on his limb as if it belonged to her, and so he had no choice but to comply with what she wanted if he desired to get it back.
"So watcha guys talking 'bout?" Dorothy asked.
"About starting a super awesome gang. Only really cool people can join—and we'll do whatever we want without the adults telling us what to do. We'll rule this vault." Wally replied enthusiastically.
"We already do, anyway. We're just makin' it official." Butch replied, and she constricted around his arm again. "Jesus, Dorothy! You're cuttin' blood off!"
"Get used to it, lover boy!" She laughed in an annoying titter and clung even tighter, making him hiss in pain. "You guys come up with a name yet? 'Ya gotta have a swanky name!"
"I was thinking The Mackers. Or Wally and the Willies—Butch and Paul are the Willies."
Dorothy snorted obnoxiously with a wide grin and cocked a thin eyebrow. "You're a willy alright, Wally."
Grumbling inwardly, Butch nestled his jaw in his upturned palm as his elbow settled on the table and listened to Dorothy trying to make small talk with Wally. To keep himself occupied from blowing a fuse and taking his anger out on his only present group member, his eyes wandered around the diner; Andy hovered in front of the birthday cake, talking with Stanley about something happening down on the reactor level as Winona's father sat down next to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. The two smiled at each other before James contributed his questions about the malfunction in the water purifier just the day before. Butch's eyes soared over the room again, and was caught by the sight of the two best friends that were at the front of the room by the broken jukebox. Amata was holding something out to Winona, it looked like a thin book of some sort, and she looked down to it with bug-like eyes. He could only make out parts of their conversation.
Something drowned out by the small crowd of party-goers. "—our favorite barbarian?" Amata grinned.
Something, "Issue 14?" Winona asked in shock, then something else as she looked up at her friend.
Barbarian? Issue 14? Is that a comic book? Butch pieced together that it must have been some old comic book Amata found in a box of abandoned belongings, most likely Grognak the Barbarian since that was one of the few comics worth reading. The freak's a Grognak fan?
He watched as they opened up the box Winona was given as Dorothy's offered gift, and they both began squealing about something girls only found exciting. Amata was suddenly pulling Winona up and shoving her to the door and out into the hall, grinning to herself. She then shut the door, marched toward her Overseer father, and scolded him about acting all 'official' at a birthday party. Butch could see that if Amata ever became Overseer, it wouldn't make much of a difference from her father ruling over them. She was just as naggy.
"Hey Dorothy—" Butch began, looking down at Dorothy who was still holding his arm captive. "What was in the box you gave Nosebleed?"
"Her present, silly!" She swooned as she swiped her finger down the tip of his nose playfully, giggling a little. He flinched back with a grimace and brushed his nose clean of Horowitz germs.
"I know it's a present stupid, but what was in it?"
"It's some dress my mom made for me, but I grew out of it. She thought it'd fit Winona since she's so skinny." She cocked her head to the side with a shrug of her shoulders. "I told her that Weirdo Winona makes you mad so she shouldn't get such a nice present, but I had to give it, anyways! Why're 'ya asking?"
"No reason…" He replied, glancing back to Wally to continue talking to him about a name for their up and coming gang. They talked about starting a little something for themselves for the last year now—they were tired of adults telling them what to do! Dictating everything, giving them punishments and detentions and figurative slaps across the face (though it was literal in Wally's case). They'd do what they want and take no trash from anyone. He didn't care if no one else liked what his gang did—they could take a long walk off a short pier!
A few name suggestions consisted of Vault Rebels, Vault Rats, Vault Snakes, Tunnel Rats, and any other suggestions that either had radroach in the name (with Butch immediately vetoing these in disgust), or a combination of Wally's name (such as The Mackers, Wally and the Big Cheese, or Wally and Co.).
"Look who decided to show up—and he's with the spazz." Wally cut in after The Radiated Radroaches had just been shot down by Butch vehemently.
Looking back over the booth divider, he saw who Wally was referring to—Paul had finally shown up to the party, but he wasn't alone. Walking back in with him was Winona, engrossed in light conversation with the Hannon boy where he said something that she smiled shyly at. He meekly waved to her when he noticed that Wally and Butch had their eyes focused upon him, like a nervous actor pinpointed by a sudden spotlight, and he quickly scurried over to sit next to Wally, opposite of Dorothy.
But Butch continued to stare in slight surprise at the young inventor. The dress Dorothy gave her was a vibrant but soft blue that seemed mismatched with her Vault-issued black boots but she didn't seem to mind. She walked over to Dr. Parker to present her new dress, and didn't notice Butch's eyes following her all the way past their table as she went to the bar counter where he sat. She spoke up to get her father's attention and she looked down at her, eyes widening as a pleased smile lit up his face.
"Oh, sweetheart…" Her father exhaled as he placed his hand on her cheek, leaning over to kiss the top of her head "You look beautiful... you look just like your mother."
She turned a burning shade of red and gave him a small smile, her arms folding loosely behind her back in a bashful gesture.
"I suppose that since it's her birthday, she can wear that… but once this party's over she must wear her jumpsuit." He heard the Overseer grumble to Mrs. Palmer behind him.
"Oh, fiddlesticks! She looks lovely." She shot back gleefully. "She looks lovely! And I think it's about time we stop wearing these silly jumpsuits!"
"Vault Policy clearly states, Lucy—"
"If Vault Policy told you to stick your head in the incinerator on the first Tuesday of every month, would you do it? I thought not, Overseer."
Butch continued to watch Winona, but it was because he couldn't wrap his brain around how the foreign sight was making his stomach feel, and why it made him feel like that. Despite her sheepish appearance as she took in the compliments, her eyes had a different look to them that he didn't really know how to describe; they burned fiercely and he'd never seen this in her before—he'd never seen any fire. Just weird wide-eyed smiles every once in a while or a pure emotionless demeanor 24/7 that convinced him she was actually a robot. It'd explain why she liked building stuff so much.
Forcing his eyes to stay away from Winona, he tried to continue focusing on naming their gang with Wally and Paul, but he found his eyes periodically looking back to the wayward girl that was his enemy. Finally her father told her to greet the other guests who came to the party, and she walked past his booth to speak with Old Lady Palmer first. Butch kept trying, but ultimately failing, to concentrate his attention away from her.
He didn't have to anymore when Amata suddenly cried out in horror.
"Andy, wait—!"
The clumsy robot brought out a large disk saw from one of his arms, excreting a loud mechanical grinding as he turned it on and neared the cake. Before Stanley and Dr. Parker had the chance to tell Andy to stop, the robot sent the disk saw through the dessert and caused it to splatter outward in sticky chunks. Butch couldn't contain his laughter as he watched a rather sizable glop of mutilated cake mixed with white and blue icing land on Dorothy's head, smearing down her forehead. She screeched in surprise, jumping up from the table as she furiously tried to brush the cake out of her hair with her fingers and a napkin she grabbed from the bar counter. She began to cry when the mess only got worse, streaking blue across her forehead, and she ran out of the diner in embarrassment before Old Lady Palmer had the chance to even get up to help her.
"Oh no…" Amata exhaled as everyone watched Dorothy run out of the diner in tears, Officer Gomez immediately getting up to follow after her and make sure she was okay.
Dorothy's gone, and the mute freak's birthday cake is destroyed. Butch thought as he grinned to himself, looking over to see Winona amble over to the bar counter cautiously as Andy still had his disk saw turned on. Now to wait and see the water works of her dumb party being ruined!
"I am just mortified, young miss!" Andy exclaimed in his gentlemanly drawl. "I didn't mean to ruin the cake! Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry! I'm sure Mrs. Palmer and I could whip up another beautiful cake for you in a jiff!"
The young DeLoria watched Winona closely, his grin deepening as he waited for her reply while she examined the cake—he expected her to cry, maybe throw a tantrum—and if he was lucky, even see her run out like Dorothy did! His hope was quickly dashed as she dipped her finger into the remnants of the cake on its plate, sucked off the icing from her fingertip, and then smiled warmly up at the handyman robot.
"It's okay, Andy." She murmured quietly. "It's just cake."
...That was it? 'It's just cake'? The birthday party was lame enough as it was! The balloons, the streamers, the party hats! It was fit for a five year old, not someone who was now going to be seen as a grown up in the vault! How was she not upset that the only upside to the stupid festivities was the cake, which was now demolished?
How did she just not care?!
This ain't over yet! Butch thought to himself determinedly as he spotted a sweet roll in a plastic container in her other hand. An idea began to twist and churn in his brain, and before he had a true plan cooked up or even realized the repercussions (being in a room full of adults, and Winona's father, no less), he was already on his feet and coming towards her. He ignored the concerned look her father had on his face upon seeing the trouble-making boy coming towards his daughter with a crooked grin on his lips.
"Nice party and all," Butch spat in a bitingly sarcastic tone at Winona, causing her to turn and face him with a blank expression. "But the stupid robot destroyed the cake, and I'm starving!"
"S—? Stupid robot?" Andy echoed in a callous tone. "Why I never!"
Winona stared up at him silently before looking down at her sweet roll in its container, seeming to understand what he was saying. With a slight shake of her head, she opened up the box and tore the pastry down the middle, offering him one of the halves. Butch gawked at her in surprise, blinking down at the gesture. He half expected her (and really wanted her) to refuse so he could have a bit of fun and give him a reason to tease her. Snorting at her meek gesture, he knew just how to continue making it entertaining.
"I don't want half of it, freak! I want the whole thing!" He barked, seizing for both halves that were in her petite hands. She quickly shoved the offered half back into the container and snapped it shut on his fingers.
"...No." She muttered, staring up at him with her eyes glinting with some warning behind them; turn back now, you don't have to start a fight today.
But this was where the fun was going to begin... he could feel it.
"What?" He spat with a scowl, advancing her as he saw her father push out his bar stool to get up, but he didn't walk over to them to stop the bully. He looked on, instead. "You sayin' no to me, trynna be a smart-mouth punk?"
"I am saying no to you." She nodded, speaking a little louder, and braver. "This is my present from Mrs. Palmer, and this is my birthday. I was nice enough to give you half of it even though you're rude to me all the time, but if you're just gonna be mean again, then you're not getting any of it and you'll have to leave with your friends."
At her words, her father smiled and proudly put his hand on her shoulder. Winona didn't look up at him, but rather continued her little stare-down with Butch and he was now trembling with rage. He told himself he wasn't going to let this happen again where she looked like a complete hero and an angel and a Goody Two-Shoes; and what he hated the most about the whole thing was not only was he unable to make her upset, but her father looked so proud of her... when was the last time anyone looked at him like that? Even his own mother?
He never received approval from anyone, being the bastard child of a closeted drunk after his dad took a header down a flight of stairs. No matter how deep he walked into or hid in the vault, he was being looked down upon like an insignificant speck with legs—like a scuttling radroach that was smaller than the average. He received all of these dirty and harsh glares like they were boots threatening to squash him as he slunk around the halls of steel.
But why did Winona never look at him that way?
Down to his very rotten core, the thought ignited a white-hot fury inside of him. She was supposed to be his sworn enemy until the end of all days in the vault! He was supposed to be her sworn enemy! They were supposed to hate and irritate one another till another Great War reared its ugly head through the hallways every time they so much as looked at one another! Yet, she offered him half of her birthday present—she was willing to share it with him—even as he laughed in her face.
His rage rose to a boil within him as his face and neck grew increasingly hot. Growling at Winona, he pulled back a curled fist and threw it before the thought of punching her even had a chance to reach his brain. He was allowing his anger to work him, like a battery in a toy. He heard the crunch before he actually felt the pain, traveling from his knuckles and up his arm, when Winona's hands shot up to protect her head from the blow, and his curled fist collided with the screen of her new Pip-Boy instead of her face.
"OW!" He belted while retreating his hand to his body to survey and care for the damage that was dealt. Looking to her, he watched as she peeked out from behind her arms curiously to see what had happened, her eyes widening in alarm when she realized that he was hurt.
"Bu- Butch, are you okay?" She stammered under her usual mutter, but didn't move towards him or take down her arms from protecting her face—still afraid he'd try and hit her again. "The Pi- Pip-Boys can take a lo- lot of damage... you—... you should get some ice on that... you're not hurt, are you? I'm sorry—"
That was it. That. Was. It. He really had it with her this time! It was only months ago Butch swore to never let her win by sending him to Loserville ever again, and yet here he was—his reddening knuckles a literally sore reminder of Hunt the Mutant.
As Officer Gomez returned, the Overseer explained to him what had transpired while he was out, and Gomez frowned with a miniscule glare in his eyes upon the dark-haired boy. Shaking his head, he took Butch aggressively by the collar of his jumpsuit and forced him out of the diner to send him home; all the while scolding him for his actions and praising his 'saintly mother' for putting up with a problem child like him. Sneering back over his shoulder at Winona, he watched as her father spoke to her with concern while she watched him leave with a bothered look on her own face.
Butch knew that if he ever hit her again, he was not going to miss.