4:55. I had been walking, stumbling really, for over an hour. I took the long route, hoping to clear my head. It worked. My terror and sorrow had been replaced with cold hatred. I wanted him dead. Mortimer. He was a dead man. But first, my employer had to be notified that his beloved son wasn't dinner...yet.
"Yo!" I tried to be cheerful as I slid into the seat next to Heck Gunderson. He looked at me from his drink. He shook his head at his guard, whom I presumed was about to crack me in the skull with that shotgun of his. The bartender glanced at me, but ignored me otherwise. Not rich enough, I suppose.
"Listen, your boy's alive" I started after a minute of silence. The bartender was tending to some old lady dressed in a blue dress on the other side of the bar. It was safe to talk.
Heck stopped middrink. He looked at me, to see if I was lying, then broke into a wide smile. "Kid, I'd just about given up hope. Listen, you do what you have to. Just...just get my Ted back" He finished, tears starting to well up in his eyes.
"Heck...people have already died. Good men. No more innocent people are going to die on my watch. I swear it" I grasped his hand and looked into my eyes. He stared back. We stayed like that for a moment before he nodded to his guard. The ranch hand grabbed a black duffel bag from beside him and put it in my hands. Some metal things clinked together. Fuck yes, thank you Mr. Gunderson!
"I'll be back shortly, Mr. Gunderson. And you," I turned to the bartender eavesdropping on us," forget you heard a thing. Actually, just walk away. Now. Shit's gonna be messy" I walked away. I heard the clacking of high heels on tiles as she walked out from behind the bar and towards the doors to the Strip. Smart girl.
I passed the reception desk where Mortimer was. He was gone. Must've heard I survived both his hits. But he wouldn't get away, not after what he'd done. I smiled at the thought.
"Hey! Watch i- oh shit, John? John!" I heard as I ran face first, almost literally, into the drunk from the Mojave Outpost. Fuck, not her. Dressed in a white dress and her signature hat, she looked...good. But she still swaggered like the whiskey-loving gal at the Outpost.
"Hey...Cass. How's it been?" I ask, already edging closer to the Gourmand. I did not need her trouble. I nearly got killed when I took her advice to check out Nipton for Ranger Ghost. Of course, I wasn't even able to get into the town proper. Smoke, crucified skeletons and a crazy Powder Ganger? Fuck that shit. At least Ghost figured out what happened. Didn't even get paid. Thanks Cass.
"Pretty good! You check out the shit they got here? Real fancy. Hey, what's with the bag? Going somewhere?" Damn her, how did she know? Stupid drunk being not drunk.
"Oh, just a...job" I muttered before inspiration hit me. She was good with a gun, right? Which means..."Hey, how'd you like to earn 200 caps real quick?" She just stared.
"I ain't a fucking prostitute!" She shouted in my face. Fuck, people were staring.
"Follow me. I'll fill you in" I grabbed her arm and walked into the Gourmand. She struggled at first, but curiosity won over indignation. We walked past Marjorie, who just looked at us with a sly smile.
"Alright, here we are. Look, let's start at the beginning..." I began as we sat down in the corner of the restaurant. I told her everything. Marjorie, the investigator, Chauncey, all of it. By the end she was staring at me with her jaws wide open.
"Wow...you're in way over your head, you know?" She pointed out, still in shock. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. Didn't I fucking know that?
"Yeah, I know. Wanna help? I split the pay 50-50" I asked, looking her dead in the eyes. The time for fucking around was over. She mulled it over for a minute or so before announcing:
"Hell yeah! Let's do this shit!" She got up and shook my hand. I was glad to have someone watching my back. I bent down and unzipped the duffel bag a bit, just to see inside. A pump action shotgun, ammo and even a pair of dynamite sticks were in there. Holy shit Heck, I fucking love you old man. But they weren't what I was after. The target was a simple, rusty old wrench. I hefted it and zipped up the bag.
We walked over to the counter, weaving around the crowd of people paying for their meals. I walked around the side and to the door leading into the kitchens. The cashiers looked at me, but I showed them the wrench and jerked my head to the door. They nodded and went back to the horde of people thrusting caps at them. Too easy.
We walked down into the bowels of the hotel, alert for any sudden movement. Cass grabbed me suddenly and started rifling through the duffel bag. She zipped it back up, grasping her prize. I shook my head, walking even as I heard her cackle evilly as she loaded her new toy. Same old Cass. I drew the .22, too. The time for subtlety was long gone.
We stopped as we felt a strong, harsh heat across our faces. We stalked into a room with a pair of White Gloves, each wielding a flamer. They were roasting Brahmin carcasses hung up on meat hooks. I nodded towards a counter beside us. It held all manner of knives and cleavers. She grabbed a butcher's cleaver and handed me a solid chef's knife. I held it in a reverse grip as we sneaked up on the Gloves.
I signaled for her to wait. We were less than a foot away. The loud rush of flame masked our presence from them. I waited until the flames were gone and their fingers were off the trigger. We struck.
I grabbed the one on the right and covered his mouth with my left hand. My right brought the knife down into his throat. Cass sunk hers into her mark's skull. He flopped down, cleaver still embedded even as he hit the ground. I pulled my knife out and let my man sink to the ground with a gurgle of blood. I stepped over the Glove and towards the stairs down further into the kitchens. I felt...nothing. No hate, no fear. Just cold.
At the bottom of the stairs we ran into the guard posted to the floor. He stared at us, too shocked to even speak. It was the blood, I bet. Cass tackled him to the floor with a grunt. He struggled against her, thrashing to escape. I shot him in the forehead, not even sparing him a second glance. Cass got up and followed me. I walked down the hall, alert for an ambush. I continued until I saw someone cooking in one of the kitchens.
He was bald, his pale skull reflecting the lights above him as he working. He was like a storm, flittering back and forth from the oven and the counter to his right. He mumbled to himself, something about his recipe. He didn't notice me until my foot stabbed into the back of his right knee. Dropped with a scream, but I caught his throat with my left arm and showed him the bloody knife and .22. He stopped screaming. I tightened my arm around his throat.
"Where. Is. Ted?" I asked, tightening with each syllable. He gagged, but pointed towards one of the freezer rooms behind us. He reached for his front pocket. I tightened again. He gurgled. Cass reached in and pulled out a key. I smiled, muttered 'good boy' and shot him.
I dropped him and took his key. Cass shook her head, but followed me to the freezer. I could hear panicked breathing from behind the door. I smiled and unlocked the door. The slightly chubby teenage boy looked up at me with fear and backed into the corner.
"I-I swear, my daddy's gonna kill all you bastards!" He threatened, taking a step forward. I actually smiled at that. Yep, he was Heck's spawn alright.
"Ted Gunderson, I presume? We're here to rescue you!"