That nuclear power flowing under your skin
Yeah, you make me nervous 'cause my defense is worthless
You get under my skin, hey
What kind of voodoo do you do?
- Allen Stone, "Voodoo"
"What the hell are you doing?" Jordan muttered to herself while she paced a hole into the Ultra Luxe's floor. "You're going to look like a fucking idiot, like some stupid vault girl with a crush. You should leave before-"
Her self-criticism caught in her throat. Across the way, a door opened and Vulpes ambled through, a brooding expression sharpening his features. As he approached the Guest Services desk, concern gave way to delight at the sight of Jordan waiting for him.
"Marjorie said I had a guest," he sauntered to a stop mere inches from her. "She didn't mention it was one as beautiful as you." Lay it on thick like an idiot, too, asshole, he chided himself. It was much too soon for serious flirting, but the line had fallen out of his mouth without warning. Her refusal to back away from the intrusion of her personal space left him uncertain, but the blush creeping into her cheeks gave him hope.
Jordan stumbled through her words. The inability to speak smoothly was already becoming a regular side effect of his presence and she did not like it one bit. "Uh, so some friends and I are headed to Jacobstown for a few days. You're welcome to join us if you'd like."
"Sure," he agreed. Studying her, Vulpes realized her blush was intensifying ever so slightly. "I have nothing else to do." That was a lie. He did have other things to do, but this sounded much more entertaining.
Jordan's elation pissed her off. Damn it. You are a stupid vault girl, she thought. "Okay. Meet us outside the 38 when you're ready."
Thirty minutes later, Vulpes strolled up to the small group waiting on the restricted casino's steps. For the entirety of the last half hour, he had derided himself. He should not have been flirting with Jordan and he should have been agreeing to the trip as a means of persuasion on behalf of the Legion. Yet he could not bring himself to feel guilty for making her stumble through their meeting, clearly nervous about it from start to finish. He did, however, feel a tinge of remorse for agreeing to accompany her without a thought to Caesar. It was an emotion he violently suppressed.
Jordan had given her friends notice that someone else would be joining them and upon his arrival, they eagerly stood while the cyberdog pranced amongst them. The scribe was the first to extend her hand, a warm smile reaching her cinnamon eyes, while the merchant held back a moment, sizing him up. Vulpes knew each of her friends from the Legion's intelligence profiles on them and that one exuded potential headaches for him.
"Fox," he provided, shaking hands with the two women.
"That's it?" the redhead inquired.
He gave a slight nod. "Yes."
"Easy enough." The shorter brunette smiled. "Is Arcade coming?"
Jordan shook her head. "No, Julie needed him today."
"Aw, man. He would have loved this adventure."
/
Vulpes tugged at the collar of his shirt. He had chosen that particular set of armor because of the red top that came with it – a reticent nod to his true allegiance – and despite having often worn it, the turtleneck always bothered him. Each time he donned it, he wondered why he had not cut it away the previous time.
It was growing late in the day, approaching the hour when the sun would fade into the distance. They had been walking since mid-morning, only stopping for necessary breaks, and the snowy peak of Mt. Charleston was coming into view again. During the most recent stretch of their ascent, Vulpes had wondered why Jordan would go to such lengths to prolong the life of a mere dog. Scouring the wastes, procuring a brain, preserving it, and hiking out to the middle of nowhere to have it surgically installed was a bit much for such a replaceable companion in his opinion.
He was enjoying the view of Jordan's ass in leather when he heard the telltale buzzing. Reaching out, he tugged on her belt, throwing a finger to his lips when she turned to him. As she paused, her friends came to a halt, the merchant casting a questioning look. When Jordan finally heard it, Vulpes saw the frustration and disappointment wash over her face and heard the whispered "fuck" from her lips.
"Cazadores," she mouthed as the droning grew closer. The Mojave's favorite bee.
His Ripper already drawn, Vulpes was pleased to see the others ready their own weapons. When the cazadores spilled over the rock formations on the south side of the road, he lunged forward, hacking away at the nearest insect. A moment later, he saw Jordan crash to her knees from the corner of his eye before sprawling onto her back.
With the cazadore in front of him finished, Vulpes sprinted towards her, gutting another monstrosity on his way. While the other two women mopped up the remnants, he dropped beside her, checking frantically for puncture wounds. He always carried antivenom with him, but it was a precious commodity and he needed to be sure before administering it. It wasn't until he scanned her face that he noticed the smears and faded green splatters.
Jordan tried to open her eyes, but the burning sensation made it a struggle. She had been struck by cazadores before and it was never a pleasant experience, but having their poison sprayed in her eyes was new. Summoning a little extra courage, she forced her eyes open.
Everything was blurry. The face hovering above hers could have been Veronica's or Vulpes's, but the warm, calloused hands supporting her head and neck were all Legionary. She could barely make out the movement of his arm behind him, motioning for something from someone.
"Fox?" she whimpered.
"I'm here."
A ceramic bottle pressed against her lips. She knew the liquid inside would be bitter, the kind of taste that lingers in the mouth for hours, but she obeyed.
"Keep your eyes open," Vulpes commanded. Taking a bottle of purified water from the scribe, he slowly poured its contents over her, washing away any remaining venom. She struggled to hold still, fists slamming into the concrete beneath her as she grit her teeth. "How much further do we have to go?"
"30 minutes, give or take," Jordan croaked.
"Can you make it?"
"If someone leads me." She still couldn't see well and it terrified her. Would the vision loss be permanent?
Vulpes slowly helped her to her feet. Taking her by the hand, he led her up the last few climbs, cautioning her against breaks in the road and sections of loose gravel. Two steady gazes bored into his back for the remainder of the way. Jordan's companions were judging him, deciding if he was gentle and patient enough. It was fine with him. The mockery and ridicule that Caesar or Lanius would throw at him for helping an injured woman would have been far worse than their silent stares.
Vulpes slowed them to a stop and Jordan felt the rumble of heavy steps coming towards her. From where she stood, she could make out the figure of Rex bounding forward, barking and playing with the green blob lurching towards them.
"Jordan?" came a thundering voice. "Are you okay?"
It must have been obvious. "Marcus? I need to see Dr. Henry. I can't see very well."
"He's in his lab," a blur extended in front of her. "Come with me."
The Super Mutant's hand swallowed her own and half of her forearm, making the walk awkward, but she didn't mind. The longer Jordan held on to Vulpes and depended on him, the more she could feel herself start to burn from the inside. Jitters had coursed through her, increasing with every ghosting of his breath and squeeze of his hand. Marcus had unknowingly given her a break.
Climbing the steps to the lodge, the Super Mutant paused. Turning to his friend's companions, he addressed them. "You're free to walk around, just don't stare at the Nightkin. They don't like people looking at them. And welcome to Jacobstown, humans."
Jordan squeezed his finger, indicating her gratitude for his welcome. She had told them the settlement was populated almost entirely by mutants, but seeing it up close and in person was likely still a shock to them. Passing through the door and into the lobby, Jordan smiled to herself. Air conditioning was easily the greatest human invention of all time.
Stepping into the medical lab, the group was greeted by the strong scent of chemicals and the usual charisma of Dr. Henry. "Yeah? What is it?"
"Dr. Henry, I believe you have a patient," Marcus rumbled.
The aging man came into view, leaning in to inspect Jordan. "What's wrong with you?"
"Cazadore venom in my eyes."
He whistled, his weathered skin wrinkling in delight. "I bet you can't see worth shit right now, can you?"
"Not really," Jordan chuckled.
Allowing the doctor to help her to the exam table, she listened as Vulpes recounted the steps he had taken immediately following her injury. She hissed in pain and flinched when a bright yellow light passed in front of her face.
"How many fingers?"
"Three?"
"What's the equipment on the other side of the room?"
Jordan furrowed her brows. "You know I couldn't name even if I could see it." Jerk.
The doctor snickered. "I'd say you've got a case of temporary blindness. Should be gone by morning."
"Does she need to do anything else?" Vulpes asked.
"Don't get sprayed again and don't stare at bright lights. All things you shouldn't be doing anyway."
Jordan let herself down from the table, but held on to it for the peace of mind it gave her. "While I have your attention, I have a new brain for Rex. It's from Rey, one of Old Lady Gibson's dogs."
Veronica stepped forward, depositing her pack on the table and removing the jar. A petite brain floated through a thick, gel-like substance, devoid of the black streaks currently adorning Rex's own.
"All right," Dr. Henry said, taking it out and inspecting it under an illuminated magnifier. "Let's see here. Neural pathways look good. Definitely a breed of guard dog." He glanced at Jordan. "If I transplant this brain into Rex, he'll be a bit more ferocious in his attacks."
"Do it."
He nodded. "We'll do it in the morning then. But first, dinner."
Jordan felt Vulpes take her hand to lead her to the kitchen. It was going to be a long night if her vision didn't improve.
/
"Damn it," Veronica muttered. Jordan had informed the group that they would have to stay in the bungalows on the eastern edge of the property, citing Marcus's wish to keep the Nightkin happy. Three of them were not boarded up, but the one closest to the lodge was locked. With her friend's eyesight still not up to snuff, Veronica had offered to try her hand at picking it, but the pins weren't budging. "It's too rusted. I can't get in."
"So who's bunking with who?" Cass asked. She wasn't going to bother offering. Lock-picking was Jordan's thing, Veronica's was technology, and her own was both haggling and drinking. The trio had generally agreed to stick to their strengths after Jordan once shot a computer she failed to hack.
Silence settled over the group. Neither the scribe nor the merchant were in a hurry to share space with the newcomer. He seemed a decent fellow, but they had only met him that morning.
Jordan shook her head and began to slowly walk away from her friends, fingers running along the side of the building as she went. "It doesn't matter to me, but I'm taking this one." Unbeknownst to them, she'd stayed in the cottages before. The one that stood a few doors down was the clean one.
Five minutes later, Vulpes entered the little bungalow, a perplexed expression on his face. Veronica had argued that Jordan needed a good caretaker, something he had already proven himself to be, and threw him a wink when he approached the front door. She was trouble, that one.
Hearing the door shut, Jordan exited the bathroom. Her vision had improved over the course of the evening, but the finer details of things remained hazy enough to give her a headache. Reading anything smaller than a magazine title was impossible, but she'd been able to wash her face and change her clothes for bed. It surprised her, however, when she came into the room to find Vulpes leaning against the door.
Seeing the shock register on her face, the Legionary smiled. "Only one bed."
"You take it. The floor doesn't bother me."
"What? No," he balked. "We can share it or you can take it, but you're not sleeping on the floor."
Jordan sighed. "Rochambeau? Loser takes the floor."
Readying their fists like they did as children, they threw on the third count.
"Paper covers rock," Vulpes announced.
Snatching a pillow from the bed, Jordan shrugged. "Fine by me. See you in the morning."
As she settled into a relatively dust-free spot by the fireplace, she smiled to herself. She could still read him.
/
He could feel the panic rising in his chest as his knees hit the dirt. Jordan was missing, and his mother and sister had already been collared, waiting to be led away. Down the line, he listened as community elders and grown men were executed one by one, the gunshots growing closer to him.
He couldn't stop the flinch that racked his body as his own father hit the dirt, vacant eyes staring back at him. Beside him, John began to beg for his life. He stared ahead, unwilling to follow suit and not wanting to watch the man die.
A rustle in the corn stalks behind his home caught his attention. In a flash, Jordan was out and diving for the cellar, one of the men in red not far behind her. As the man reached for the cellar doors, he bolted from his spot. Even if he died, he had to protect her, to keep these bastards from her.
"No!"
The shout roused Jordan from her sleep, her hand immediately finding the pistol that lay beside her. Scanning the darkened room, she could barely make out the figure of Vulpes, thrashing violently in the bed. He was speaking in Latin now, his voice laced with terror.
Abandoning her sidearm, Jordan moved deftly through the room, turning on the light of her PipBoy as she went. She moved to sit beside him, taking one hand in hers while the other cupped his face.
"Hey, hey," she said softly. "Wake up. You're safe."
Still he struggled and when his fist swung out, the feeling of it connecting with flesh and bone woke him. Vulpes was startled to see Jordan gripping his clenched hand. She had caught it inches from her face.
"You, too, huh?"
He swallowed, his chest still heaving with labored breath. "I'm sorry. It doesn't happen often."
"Mine neither." A twitch of her lips gave way to a soft smile.
He watched with a warring blend of embarrassment and trepidation as she let go of his fist and moved her hand to rest on his neck. The feel of her thumb stroking the edge of his jaw calmed him more than it should have.
She studied his eyes for moment. "Go back to sleep," she whispered. "They won't come for you again tonight."
A/N: I can't help but laugh at Veronica in this chapter. She's such a fun character and I always imagined she would be a blast to hang out with. I was going to comment on the Fallout Science of Rex's predicament, but then I remembered that there is a Russian man who is scheduled to undergo a first-ever head transplant next year. I thought to myself then, perhaps we are catching up and someday swapping out a brain won't be so science fiction-y?
Also, I want to say how amazing it is to see where you all are reading from. Some of you are from countries that are quite literally on the other side of the world from me. It is incredibly thrilling and humbling!
See you next weekend XD