Walking out of Fizztop Mountain felt strange to Avery. For one, he had just fought with a raider boss, but not in a deadly sense, but a sort of… competitive, even dare say playful sense? He and Nisha hadn't been fighting because they wanted to kill each other - although, Nisha might have wanted to, but Avery didn't any intentions to- but they were fighting for respect.
She was a fairly skilled fighter, likely honed by years of living in the wastes and struggling for survival, but she was still rough around the edges. Avery noticed the finesse in her style that was missing accuracy, a little too much reliance on hoping her opponent would blunder than being able to capitalize on her opponent's weaknesses. Before leaving, he had shown her a few things that he had learned from his past experiences, and she had received them well. Despite her tone, Nisha had seemed appreciative of Avery's advice.
Walking out of the plaza in the direction of the Parlor. The Operators were next on the list for the rounds and, from Gage's explanation, they sounded like the most level-headed of the three gangs. Their objective was clear: make a shitload of caps and do drugs or something. Compared to the Disciples and the Pack, the Operators sounded like a walk in the park for convincing to play nice with Avery.
The Parlor was more or less what it had been before the war, its structure and neon sign still intact but now adorned with the banners of a raider gang. Outside stood one guard with a dirty pinstripe suit underneath typical raider armor, his hair greased back. The man acknowledged Avery and moved to open the door, waving his hand inwards. "Enjoy your stay, Overboss," he said, his tone strangely chirper for a raider but Avery paid little mind.
Inside, the aroma of strong booze and probably toxic chemicals filled the air. The raiders inside motioned Avery into the next room, their mannerisms overly accentuated. A large mostly dilapidated dining table took up the room, a theatre stage at the far end. Avery noticed two raiders by the stage, discussing something, and soon realized who they were. Their presence radiated similarly to back in the arena after Colter's death, but now it was tamer, more withdrawn. The woman turned to Avery, her face expressing nothing, and the man next to her turned as well, and there the feeling of power was again in full force. His face showed nothing as well, but Avery could tell from even where he stood that they were related.
"Mags. William," Avery began, taking strides across the room to close the distance between them. "Your gang has done such a lovely job with inviting me into your fine establishment!" The two simply stared at him, their faces as stoic as when he walked in.
"We owe you for putting down Colter," Mags said.
"Man was an idiot. Made us all look bad," William added.
"A clown, stuck in his own little car. I guess we can take solace in the fact that someone finally gave him what he deserved. What did you feel as you did it?" Mags asked, her tone flat but somehow filled with curiosity.
Avery stood there for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe the feeling. Honestly, he hadn't thought about how it felt to have killed Colter the way he did; it all just sort of happened in a blur. "Truthfully, I just wanted to know if I could actually fit a grenade in between the power armor plating. And hey, it worked!" Avery said, smiling at the two of them. They didn't smile back.
"Hmm, not as interesting as I thought it would feel, but nonetheless. You're the new Overboss, and we can only hope you will work out better than Colter did," Mags said, looking Avery over with still no expression. "You'll come to understand that we are the only gang worth backing around here."
"From how things have been going so far, you're probably right," Avery remarked, his voice falling away as he finished. Mags raised an eyebrow and William looked to Mags. The two exchanged stares before turning back to Avery. "Although, if you don't mind me asking, there isn't some weird telepathy thing going on between the two of you, is there?"
The two actually laughed at that, albeit it wasn't a very long or loud laugh but they actually showed a sense of emotion for the first time since Avery had arrived. "No, Overboss, we do not," Mags said, her face becoming neutral again.
"We've been through everything since the beginning, as siblings and all. We know each other very well," William said, a small smile still on his lips.
"Ah, just making sure. It might have come in handy if you two did though, but I won't complain," Avery replied, his tone cheerful and matching the smile he had. "But, I do have to know why you believe I should back your gang," Avery said, his face dropping into a flat expression. "I intend to get things done and I need reliability and respect from those around me."
"If that's the case, we'd like some assurances that you're going to bring this place back to its true purpose: robbing folks of their fucking money," Mags said, her tone sharpening.
"I'm mostly here for the rides and soda. I said that back in the arena, but I suppose caps are a good thing to focus on too now that you say it. I'll consider your requests," Avery said part jokingly. William muttered something under his breath and Mags reprimanded him swiftly, turning back to Avery.
"Of course, Overboss. We hope you'll make the right decisions sooner rather than later."
Avery left the Parlor feeling content. Mags and William were the easiest gang so far Avery could connect to. Nisha's rule of simply keeping the peace and not getting caught didn't sit well on his shoulders, but the Operators just wanted to make a living. Although that living did entail scamming, robbing, extortion, and the like, there was an apparent lack of murder and torture. Avery wasn't keen on killing or hurting people for sport - which, the Disciples did- but smooth-talking them out of their money? However you needed to survive in this world was fine in Avery's book.
Walking back to the market, Avery began to spot the neon eyesores that were the Pack. One leaned against the market's walling, a bat next to her. "You," Avery said, his tone commanding and finger pointing at the raider, "give me that bat of yours." The raider looked at Avery, her bird mask hiding her facial expression. She grabbed the bat and threw it to Avery, mentioning that he could have it, Overboss and all. Avery guided his hands over the bat, the smooth aluminium metal just slightly cold to the touch.
The Pack resided in the ruins of the Bradberton Amphitheater, the open areas filled with cages holding various animals and slaves. Upon entering, besides the overpowering smell of shit and sweat, Avery noticed the cage housing several slaves and Pack members poking and prodding them from outside, all while hurling insults. Avery approached the cage, looking in and being met with the looks of broken men and women.
"What ends up happening to these people?" Avery asked the raiders around the cage. One raider stopped their pestering and turned their head to Avery, a helmet with antlers adorning it.
"We usually work 'em until they can't work anymore. Then we see if they can survive against our beasts," the raider said, his voice growing excited at the mention of their beasts. "It's always such a sight to watch one of our own tear the flesh from -"
"That's all. Thanks for the information," Avery interjected, moving to go farther into the amphitheatre. The sight of those entrapped and the knowledge of their fates was too much for Avery to handle reasonably. He promised himself he'd do something to change it all and set them free.
In the middle of the amphitheatre was another large cage, two mangled mutts going at each other's throats while raiders cheered on from the sides. Avery watched for a moment before feeling a strong shiver come over him. It felt as though someone was staring him down and through his soul from nearby. Looking about, Avery noticed a well-built man sitting beyond the cage, a throne raised well above the ground by the amphitheatre staging underneath him. His eyes beckoned Avery to him, his face painted with bright colors of blues, greens, and reds.
Avery approached the man, his red hair coming into focus against the face paint. He wore a light blue stained tank top and furry red-pink pants, a necklace of what looked to be human bones loosely wrapping around his neck. The man stood, towering over Avery from his position; he had to have already been at least six feet tall but the height advantage was even greater due to the staging.
"Now that I get a closer look at you... Not sure I'm buying this new Overboss thing," the man said, his voice confirming that he looked down on Avery both literally and figuratively. "Name's Mason. The Pack's Alpha."
"Step down from that height, Mason. I don't like having to look up when I'm talking to someone," Avery said, planting the bat he still held into the ground before lightly leaning on it. Avery had made the request staring more or less into Mason's abdomen, not making an effort to meet Mason's gaze. Mason laughed at the request, however, and didn't move.
"Don't think so, Boss," Mason replied, his tone beginning to turn defiant. "You'll have to knock me down from here if that's what you want."
Avery stood up straight, grabbing the bat tightly in his hand. "That's not the answer I wanted, Mason," Avery said low and jaded. With speed, Avery swung the bat above and behind him, ready to strike, before connecting it roughly with the side of Mason's left knee. The sound of the metal bat rang out through the noisy amphitheatre, the air growing quiet except for Mason's vulgar swearing.
Avery grabbed Mason's face, Mason now kneeling before him and clutching his knee, and forced him to meet Avery's gaze. "Next time I ask for something," Avery started, his words articulated harshly, "you will do it, Mason. I don't care that you're the Alpha of these goddamn animal-dressing fuckers. I am the Omega here, I am the Overboss. Is that understood, Mason?"
Mason glared at Avery, his hand tightening into a fist before relaxing. "Understood, Overboss," Mason replied through gritted teeth.
"Good, now sit and let me see your knee," Avery said calmly, letting go of Mason's face. Avery turned to the raiders behind him, many who had stopped and been staring in disbelief at the scene, and gently threw the bat in their direction. "Make sure that gets back to the bird mask I took that from. Tell her it made a mess of Mason's knee for me. And stop fucking staring." The nearest raider grabbed the bat and nodded, turning to run off to find the bat's owner. The rest began to go back to their usual business, a few not-so-quietly discussing what had just happened.
Mason had moved to sit and try and stretch his leg out but had been unable to. Avery dug out his medkit from the messenger bag, unzipping it and producing a small plastic jar filled with cream. He rolled Mason's pant leg up above the knee, looking over the swelling and discoloration. "How bad does it hurt?"
"Pretty fucking bad. You hit it like you meant it," Mason said, the pain he was in evident by his voice. His gaze was down at his knee, but Avery could see the anger in his eyes. Avery opened the jar and dipped two fingers in, gathering a reasonable glob of the thick paste before lightly spreading it on Mason's knee. "What is that stuff?"
"It's a homemade paste that acts similarly to a stimpack. It's better for bruises and swelling than wounds, though," Avery said, his eyes looking down at his hands as he worked the paste in. "It's not broken, surprisingly. Usually aluminium bats will break bones, but I guess with all this muscle it padded a lot of the blunt force." Although it wasn't his intention, Avery had noticed the definition of Mason's muscles. His large calves bled into thighs that rivalled that of men Avery had known back in the military. It had been a long time since Avery had seen muscles of this definition, let alone touched them in the slightest.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Mason said, a small, but still angry, laugh exiting his lips. "But I don't get why you're doing all this, Boss."
"I demand your respect, but I'm not going to beat you into submission for it. I knew I would need to show you I wasn't scared to get a small part of your respect," Avery said, meeting Mason's stare for the first time again. His eyes were a hazel color, and his torso was much broader up close than from afar. His skin was lightly touched by the sun, or maybe it was just the filth and grime that made his skin seem as dark as it was. He was an attractive man — Avery shook his head; he wasn't supposed to be thinking about these kinds of things. "Now, your knee should heal nicely as long as you don't stand on it too much or get another bat to it. Are your people going to cause me problems since I threw a hit at you, Mason?"
"The Pack does what I tell them. You don't get in my way - or swing a bat at me again- they won't get in yours," Mason replied, his tone now softer. "You're the boss, for now."
"And what does that mean? Are you looking to run this place?"
"If the other gangs would go along, yeah, I'd run this place in a heartbeat. Might have to, if you pull some shit like that again," Mason said, his voice returning to the smugness it had before. His eyes had a certain fire in them that showed self-confidence or an inflated ego, Avery wasn't entirely sure. He stood up, and Avery followed suit, but this time Mason made sure to be on equal ground. "You can't be any worse than Colter. I hope you'll do right by the Pack."
As the sun set, Avery had made his way back to the Fizztop Grille. Inside, Gage sat in one of the many booths of the place, tinkering with a rifle. Avery slid into the opposite side, Gage barely looking up from his rifle as he asked how everything had gone today. As Avery went on about the happenings of his first day as Overboss, the tinkering came to a painfully obvious stop.
"You did WHAT?!" Gage exclaimed as Avery finished filling him in on the details, his fist slamming into the countertop of the table. "I leave you alone on your first day and you pick a fight with two of the gang bosses!"
"Calm down, Gage. None of them resent me for it, at least not outwardly. Hell, I think I got more respect out of showing up Nisha and Mason than I did talking with Mags and William," Avery said, taking a swig of a stray Nuka-Cola he had found. "And I can handle myself, I don't need babysitting."
"It's not that you need babysitting, Boss, it's that you could have been killed day one! Then what would I do with two dead Overbosses and no one to lead," Gage said, his voice concerned, but for which one of them Avery wasn't sure.
"Then you'd have to get your hands dirty, Gage. If I was dead I'd be absolved from this situation." Avery wasn't interested in the conversation, let alone Gage seemingly being more concerned with his own safety than Avery's. But then again, he was still a raider, just one that was a whole lot smarter.
"Like hell you would, Boss."
"Gage, get out of here if all you're going to do is reprimand me for things I did," Avery said, putting the bottle down. Gage looked at Avery with somewhat of a confused look, but shook his head and shrugged before getting up from his seat, scooping up the rifle that was more or less put together.
"If that's what you want, Boss, so be it. I'll see you in the morning to discuss our plans," Gage said over his shoulder, giving a small nod as he pushed the button to summon the lift. However, the lift had already arrived and off stepped Mason. "What are you doing here, Mason?" Gage questioned.
"I just wanted to chat a bit with the Overboss before he retired for the night. Is that a problem, Gage?" Mason answered back, his tone patronizing. Gage stared at Mason for a few moments before scoffing, walking onto the lift and pushing the button.
"See ya tomorrow, Boss," Gage said as he descended. Avery looked at Mason from his seat at the booth. Mason had removed the skeleton necklace and he was standing slightly more on his right leg than his left. His face paint had been cleaned off as well.
"Knee still hurting?" Avery asked, turning in the booth towards Mason. Mason had approached him and now stood by the booth's side, the lantern lights of the grille barely illuminating Mason's grand stature.
"Just a bit, but you don't have to worry about it, Boss. You've got bigger things to worry about right now," Mason said, his voice a low, primal growl almost. Avery raised his eyebrow questioningly at the tone of Mason's voice before Mason's hand grabbed him by the throat.
"You've got me to worry about right now."
Author's Note: Chapter 4: Primal Encounter will be posted May 27th. Because this chapter is explicit it will only be posted on AO3. I will be on vacation for two weeks after that posting.
Chapter 5: Among Stars and Killer Robots will be posted June 14th.
