The Courier let out a gasp, as she slammed her fist into his stomach. She knew just how to hit the soft spots. He had challenged her to a fist fight after her confrontation with the scavengers, and as he staggered back, struggling to catch his breath again, he couldn't help but regret doing so.
He had always considered himself fast. Fast on the draw, and quick on his feet. He was strong enough to overpower most opponents, too. Having all this in the back of his mind, only made it harder to comprehend how Lyannah was able to effortlessly decimate him.
Not only did she move faster than he would have thought possible, but the blows she delivered were certain to give him bruises for days. Even so, he had a sneaking suspicion that she was holding back. There was absolutely no way this was purely physical conditioning.
Still, although the fight was a highly painful and humiliating experience, he couldn't help but admire her. She swirled under and away from his attacks in a flurry of dark colors, and before he could perceive anything more than a blur of movement, she would appear behind him. Magic was certainly involved, but if he was to be honest with himself, he didn't care. Her fighting style was elegant unlike anything he had seen before, and the joyous laughter she let loose as she danced around him, was nothing short of mesmerizing.
She finally halted in front of him, arms hanging casually down her sides and a smirk on her lips. Despite the huge amount of energy it must take to fight with such ferocity, not a single bead of sweat was to be found on her skin.
The Courier heaved in a mouthful of air. If she kept going at him like this, he wouldn't last much longer. Lyannah chuckled to her self, jumping lightly on the spot and raising her hands again, ready for battle. He knew he should be paying attention, be ready for her imminent strike, but as he watched the features of her face for any indication of what she might do, he ended up locking his gaze on her eyes. They were pretty, even when she wore her usual frown. But when she fought, they lit up like stars, and he found that it was easy to get lost in their emerald glow.
Her fist impacted against his face with a loud crack, and as he tumbled backwards onto the ground, he silently scolded himself for losing focus like that:
"Aw, damn it, that hurt!" he exclaimed, as he lay flat on the ground.
Lyannah slowly walked into his field of view, shaking her head and letting out a barely audible sigh:
"If you had been paying attention, you would have seen that coming." She lectured, reaching her hand down to him.
He snorted, as he sat up and grasped it, pulling himself onto his feet:
"Yeah, well... I was distracted." He mumbled, brushing the dust off of his coat. He could practically feel a black mark forming around his eye.
She took a short step back, cracking her fingers, and cockily added:
"Evidently. "
"How'd you learn to fight like that anyways?" he inquired.
"I won a war and saved the world. Several times. Hard to do that without learning a few tricks." She answered, winking slyly as she turned away.
He let out a slight groan, rubbing his face:
"I suppose that makes sense, oh glorious savior of worlds..." he muttered, stepping after her.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, falling into her usual spot next to him:
"You asked. Just be glad I didn't break your nose." She noted.
"Oh I am. Very glad." He said, with some degree of sarcasm.
She apparently didn't feel there was any need for a retort, but chuckled lightly, and then let the air around them settle into comfortable silence as they continued their journey to Vegas.
They had been on the road for a couple of days, and by now he was looking forward to arriving, and finally sleeping in a real bed. By his estimations, which amounted to looking at his Pipboy, they shouldn't be far out.
True enough, before long the monoliths of the old civilization came into view over the horizon. Though she had been there before, he still noted the look of anticipation on Lyannah's face. She didn't mention it, but it was obvious that she was looking forward to being back.
"So what is on the agenda?" she casually asked as they wandered along.
"Not much, really." He started, skipping through the pages on his Pipboy as he continued:
"Gotta talk to a bunch of people. After that, I was thinking it's about time we got you some new gear. I have a feeling we'll need it soon." He said, motioning towards the pistol on her thigh. She had used it well, but it simply wouldn't be enough if his suspicions about the near future were true.
"You mean with the war?" she asked, practically reading his thoughts.
He simply nodded in reply. Talking to the NCR governor would surely yield some answers.
"You really ought to get some more... protective clothing too." He added, with a sideways glance.
She looked down herself, then threw a sharply accusing stare back up at the Courier:
"This armor was gifted to me by the night mistress Nocturnal. Nothing else will let me move as easily and quietly as this." She stated formally.
He chuckled, shaking his head lightly:
"Yeah, alright. But unless your night mistress can stop bullets, you'll need something... harder."
She snorted, but otherwise remained quiet.
Finally, they were coming up to the gate. The local gang members standing guard outside pulled it open with an ear-piercing screech, and they walked through.
"First stop is the Atomic Wrangler. I've got a proposal for the owners, but I'm gonna need some time to convince them. Now don't go all crazy, but I'm gonna need you to stay.. away, while we talk." He explained.
Rather than pouting, she seemed thoughtful:
"What is an atomic wrangler?" she asked, seemingly perplexed.
"It's a... casino. They have what it takes to make medicine, which this place desperately needs." He answered, signalling outwards to the crowded street.
"I see nothing wrong with these people." She noted, scanning her eyes over the crowd.
"Of course not. These are all tourists and salesmen. The sick and wounded get hidden away. Wouldn't want the drug addicts and war veterans scaring the customers and hindering business." He explained bitterly.
Lyannah turned her head, and for a while stared curiously:
"At least they have someone like you looking after them." She noted cautiously.
"Yeah, I guess." He mumbled, and let out a sigh as he calmed himself. It wouldn't do to get worked up already. There was plenty of time for that later, when he would be haggling with the Garret twins.
He noted to himself that there were even more off-duty soldiers crowding the city today than what was usual. They had seen several patrols on the way in too, which only helped solidifying his theory about the rising tension.
With some degree of difficulty, they weaved their way through the masses. With so many people in the streets, it was safe to assume that the bars would also be filled to the brim. It might prove difficult to get the attention of the twins.
As they came up to the door, the Courier pulled Lyannah to the side, ignoring the displeased scoff she let off. He rubbed his forehead in premature frustration, and sighed lightly:
"Alright, listen. There's going to be a lot of people in there, and you're going to be alone while I negotiate." He started.
She raised an eyebrow, and customarily crossed her arms:
"What is your point?" she asked.
"My point is... try not to get into a fight, or kill anyone. Just sit down, enjoy the music or something, and I'll be right back. Okay?" he asked.
She looked as if a protest was right on her lips, yet just as she parted them to speak, there was a pause, and rather than words she let out a sigh of defeat:
"Okay." She muttered.
He couldn't help but feel a ping of pride as he let go of her arm, and went for the door.
As he had predicted, the inside of the establishment was utterly stopped full of people. Painfully slowly, the duo elbowed their way through the crowd, and before long arrived at the bar. The twins were stationed behind it, dealing with the flow of customers. Upon seeing the Courier, the brother raised a hand:
"Ah, the Courier! Welcome back, friend. Anything I can get you? What about a drink for the pretty lady?" he called out, throwing a charismatic smile their way.
He shook his head, shoving a few drunks out of his way as he cleared a spot:
"Not here for fun, James. Need to talk business. Preferably somewhere quiet." He stated over the background noise.
James raised his eyebrow in surprise, but then shrugged and clapped his hands:
"Sure. Come on upstairs. This business wouldn't by any chance involve the lady, would it?" he asked, throwing a suggestive glance at Lyannah as he made his way for the staircase.
The Courier shook his head, quickly following after:
"She's not that kind of partner. Unless of course you want mutilated customers, and a whole lot of blood."
The twin brother let out a laugh, as he lead the way into what the Courier assumed was an office:
"Well, we pride ourselves on accommodating for all interests. But that does seem a bit questionable, even by our standards." He said, taking a seat behind the large wooden desk that occupied the center of the room. The Courier allowed himself the freedom of sitting down across from James, placing his elbows on the desk:
"Alright, so here's the deal. You know the Followers need supplies, and I in turn know you can supply them. I want you to set up a deal with them, so they can fix up some of all the problems your place here creates." He stated.
James leaned back in his chair, with an interested look in his eyes:
"Really now? They've been at us before, but not with any kind of solid deal. Yeah, we could supply what they need. But you know we'll need something back."
The Courier sighed. He hated businessmen, but there was no way to avoid them if you wanted anything done in Vegas. At least, if you also wanted to avoid murdering a bunch of people:
"Naturally. What do you suggest?" he asked.
The other man tapped his fingers together, and cleared his throat before proceeding:
"Our stills are one of the things that keep this place going. We create alcohol, and sell it to all these happy citizens. The Followers have the know-how it would take to make the stills more efficient. If we get purer alcohol, our customers get drunk quicker." He started, pouring two glasses of whiskey as if you underline his point.
The Courier nodded his head in understanding, gladly accepting one of the glasses as it was passed to him:
"I see how that benefits you. What's in it for them, apart from more drunk tourists?" he inquired.
The Garret twin sat with his own glass, thoughtfully twirling it around in his fingers before replying:
"Well, my limited medical knowledge tells me that alcohol can be used as a disinfectant. If they take care of the stills, we'll even add in all the Med-X they could ever need."
For what felt like hours, the negotiations went on with both men voicing their respective offers and limitations. The Garret's obviously weren't interested in curing all the drunks, but in the end they managed to reach a compromise, and with a final sigh of relief they shook hands, and sealed the deal by cheering, and downing the contents of their glasses. He still needed the approval of the Followers, and he anticipated there might still be some walking back and forth to do, but this was a good start.
As the Courier got up and left the office, he couldn't help but notice how the volume of the festivities downstairs had increased. He saw that the other twin, Francine, had positioned herself at the top of the stairs, overlooking the business floor below with a satisfied smile. He went to her side, wondering how Lyannah was handling the ruckus.
The woman turned her head to him, grinning happily:
"Courier. Did you and my brother reach an agreement?" she asked.
He nodded his head slowly, looking out over the masses below:
"We did. Not that you need it. Business seems to be booming."
She chuckled, turning her attention back to the crowd of customers:
"It sure does. You should bring that friend of yours along more often. She's really getting the mood going down there."
It took the Courier a moment to process what she had said, but as soon as he did he resumed his search of the lower floor, albeit a bit more targeted this time. He didn't have to search long, before he noticed a spot of black standing out. Though he found it hard to believe, it was indeed Lyannah, ind the midst of a group of laughing men. And she was dancing.
"What the hell did you give her?" he asked, turning back to Francine.
She grinned widely, watching Lyannah:
"Med-X. She nearly broke the bartenders arm when he gave her the first, but then she really mellowed out."
He let out an annoyed grunt, rubbing his forehead in frustration:
"Why would you give her drugs?" he snarled.
She turned to face him, finally realizing his mood with a frown:
"We didn't 'give' her anything. She threw a handful of these on the counter, and asked for something good." She explained, producing a rather large solid gold coin from her pocket.
The Courier let out a grunt, pushing past her and rushing down the stairs. Without worrying much about the people that got in his way, he pushed through the masses, until reaching the ring of cheering men that surrounded Lyannah. He shoved a few to the side, giving him a clearing to view how far gone she was. What he saw, made him freeze to the spot.
She was standing on the spot, dancing solo like she was in a trance. Though she seemed utterly concentrated on her performance, every once in a while she threw her head back, letting out a hysterical laughter. In the meantime, her audience were hooing like animals, throwing bottle caps at her feet.
Though there was something captivating about her dance, he knew it wasn't right. However much he wished she was the dancing type, this was the drugs working.
To the annoyance of the other men, he stepped forward and gently grabbed her arm. She lazily turned her head towards him, and a smile grew on her face:
"Courier! Dance with me!" she muttered hazily, throwing her free arm over his shoulder.
He shook his head quickly, and started pulling her with him:
"No more dancing. Come on." He replied.
Her audience did not seem to approve, and they quickly started yelling. One of them placed himself in the Courier's path, and said:
"Hey man, you can't just take her like that. We got her first!" he said, earning approving grunts from his buddies.
The Courier sighed, and let go of her arm. The men nodded in satisfaction, and the one who had gotten in the way saw the chance to place his hand where the Courier's had been.
There was a brief flurry of movement and a horrified gasp, followed by the sound of the Courier's fist impacting with his head.
He took a moment to look over the disgruntled faces, making sure to have eye contact with each man:
"She's with me. And she'll stay with me." He stated, and then resumed dragging Lyannah towards the exit. She'd been giggling the entire time. As soon as they came through the door and out into the fresh air, she threw her arms around him, purring happily:
"You're so sweet, knocking people out for me." She hummed.
"Yeah. I'm a real charmer." He started sarcastically:
"I know I said you should try to enjoy it, but this is not exactly what I had in mind. How many shots did you take?"
She scoffed to herself, rolling her eyes before once again breaking out in laughter:
"Oh who cares. You should lighten up a bit!" she replied.
With a sigh, he grabbed her arm and lifted it up, despite her protests. Rolling down her sleeve, revealed a line of 5 small punctures.
"Great. You'll regret this tomorrow." He said, as he heaved her along towards the strip, and the Lucky 38.
"But I feel great!" she noted, drawing on that last word.
He rolled his eyes, muttering: "I'm sure you do." as he pulled her through the gate, and up the stairs towards the tower. Though she nearly tripped a couple of times, they finally made their way through the doors, and into the elevator.
Lyannah stood at one end of the metal box as it shot upwards, staring at the Courier with a strange look on her face. Suddenly, she shot forward and pushed him up against the wall.
"The hell are you doing?" he exclaimed. He attempted to push her off, but to his unpleasant surprise she managed to keep his arms pinned, with an amount of strength she shouldn't possess.
"I could make you feel great..." she purred, placing a soft kiss on his neck. The breath stuck in his throat, and as she worked her way upwards, feelings entirely different from discomfort bubbled up in him. He knew it was the drugs having their effect on her, that it was wrong to take advantage of her, but at the same time a different part of him wanted this. He couldn't deny being attracted to her. After all this time together, it might even be more than lust. So when her advances finally reached his mouth, he gladly leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
The elevator came to a sudden halt, and the ding as the doors slid open pulled him back to reality. He immediately felt the guilt creeping into his gut, and pulled his head away with a sigh.
She turned her eyes up in confusion, and moved her head back in for another try. Her grip on his arms had slackened, and he gently pushed her away, muttering:
"Stop."
Her eyes flickered from side to side, suddenly nervous. Perhaps even hurt. With her voice trembling, she whispered:
"I thought... I thought you wanted this."
"I do... but I don't." He sighed, feeling a headache quickly building up. He really needed a cigarette.
She shook her head slowly, taking a step back as her eyes got teary. If there had been any doubt before, she was certainly hurt now. With a dip of her head, she turned around, and immediately went for one of the bedrooms. As the door slammed behind her, the Courier finally gathered himself enough to exit the elevator.
For a moment, his more primal side considered following after her. But that was only for a moment, and with a rub of his forehead he instead went into his own suite, intent on trying to get some sleep.
Seeing her state of mind the next day would most likely prove interesting.
