"No. You can't do this. I won't let you."

Red whirled back around and closed the small space between she and Butch, eyes flashing in anger. "You won't let me?! This is not your decision, Butch. If I don't go, they'll kill Wernher. You know that as well as I do."

The moment of tense silence that followed was broken by Midea. "She's right, Butch. She can handle herself. And even if we do give them all of our RadAway, we can send someone out to trade once we've deemed it safe to leave and until then we'll just keep administering the cure to those already infected."

"It's not the RadAway I'm worried about," Butch retorted. "We all know what that sick bastard is going to do to her if she gives herself up. Our medical supplies are the least of our worries." He frowned and tossed his hair out of his eyes. "And what about Wernher? Can't he handle himself? I know he wouldn't want you to agree to this any more than I do."

Red sighed angrily and pushed her hair back from her forehead. "It's not his decision either. I'm turning myself in. I'll keep a knife on me so I can use it once that asshole Ramsey gets close enough and then I'll get Wernher and get out of there. You, Everett, Faydra, and Marco will wait outside with anyone else willing to fight and as soon as the Raiders start running, shoot them down. Accept no surrenders."

Butch reluctantly nodded his acquiescence.

"Midea, you stay here with Marie. If all of this goes to hell, then we at least need to keep her safe."

She turned to go before she could change her mind and was stopped by a strong hand on her arm.

"Red, wait," Butch met her gaze with a worried expression and looked almost as if he was planning to kiss her when he reconsidered and dropped her arm. "Just be careful. I don't want to lose you again."

I'm not yours to lose. It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep her thoughts to herself. Now was not the time for Butch to remind her of how he felt. Not when Wernher was in danger.

Shouldering her way out the door, Red made her way back through the twisted streets of Downtown Pittsburgh, ignoring the looks thrown at her by the workers she passed.

"Ramsey!"

He was still on the balcony above the courtyard, leaning casually against the railing and lazily smoking a cigarette. When he caught sight of her, his thin lips curled into a smirk and he ground his cigarette out beneath his boot.

"Red...you came."

She fought down the urge to throw her combat knife at his throat. "You knew I would."

"True enough." He straightened up and gestured toward the door behind him. "Come on up. Second floor, third door on the right. I'll be waiting."

Her heart pounded with each step up the stairs to her uncertain fate and Red tried to calm the fear rising in her chest with each Raider she passed. They all looked as if they knew something she didn't, and, in all likelihood, they probably did. It did nothing to soothe her nerves.

True to his word, Ramsey was waiting in the room he'd directed her to, counting out the piles of RadAway that Nola had already handed over. He looked up when she entered and leered openly, his thin eyes narrowing further.

"You look even better than I remember."

"I can't say the same for you," Red replied drily, looking about in feigned disinterest. The fact that Wernher was nowhere to be seen sent her into an inner panic that she had to fight hard to hide.

Ramsey chuckled and stood up, brandishing the serrated knife in his hand. "You're a feisty bitch, ain't ya?"

"So I've been told."

Suddenly, he was standing in front of her, moving faster than she could've believed was possible. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Not so tough anymore are you?"

He pinched her chin roughly between his thumb and index finger, yanking her head up to meet his lips. Red fought the urge to gag.

She could feel Ramsey's knife slide slowly along the leather bindings of her armor and she was preparing to reach for the knife against her thigh when they were interrupted by a voice from the doorway.

"Wait."

When the word was spoken, she saw red. Every ounce of her being was screaming for her to whirl around and stab the new arrival until he was bleeding out on the ground before her. The only thing that stopped her was the thought of Wernher with a gun to his head.

"Well, if it isn't the other Vault dweller. DeLoria, isn't it? Three Dog had a heyday when both of you up and left."

Butch nodded and avoided Red's seething glare. "I have a proposition."

"Proposition?" Ramsey laughed and lit another cigarette. "What the hell; go for it."

"I can give you Wernher's personal stash of Psycho and Jet. I'm sure you know he's an addict. In addition, I can get you out of here safely and I'll join your gang once you're back out in the Wasteland."

"Gang? We aren't a fucking 'gang', kid." He paused and regarded the younger man through narrowed eyes. "How would you get us out?"

"The workers here, they trust me. I'm the one who's supposed to be leading an attack against you, so if I tell them the wrong place to be to lead the expected ambush, I can take you and the rest of your crew out through the train tunnel. You'll be gone before they even realize what hit them."

Red felt her heart sinking. Everything he was saying was true, and as far as she knew, Butch had no love for anyone in the Pitt aside for herself. Treachery was not out of the question.

"And what are you asking in return?"

Butch finally let his eyes meet hers. "Her. Once you're done, let me have her. The bitch rejected me for that bastard Wernher; it's time she got what she deserved."

"Mmm..." Ramsey snickered and let his eyes linger on the tight leather of her pants. "Somehow, I find it hard to believe that you'd do all this just for a piece of ass, but, I have to admit, this one is nice..." He extended a hand to Butch and tossed his cigarette down onto the floor. "Deal."

Bastard that he was, Ramsey was enjoying putting on a show for Red; letting her know just what was in store.

She was splayed across the bed, her hands tied to the headboard and her ankles secured firmly to the posts at her feet. All in all, completely defenseless.

Her chest was heaving with each angry breath she took and her cheeks were flushed red with shame and frustration at her current predicament. Her bottom lip was still bleeding from where Ramsey had hit her after discovering the knife concealed in her armor. Butch had no choice but to sit by and watch.

Somewhere between his arrival at the door and now, Red had finally figured out that he was there to help her and despite her annoyance at the situation now being out of her control, she had seemed to relax slightly when he'd turned just enough for her to see the pistol he had tucked into the pocket of his Tunnel Snakes jacket.

Ramsey was slowly inhaling the contents of a third container of Jet and lazily sweeping his gaze across Red's exposed body when he finally stood and made his way toward her.

Butch tensed and moved his hand into his pocket, readying himself for the inevitable attack against the Raider's leader. Perhaps he was just patient, or perhaps he was stalling, but whatever the case, Ramsey had been moving surprisingly slow for his intended action and it was starting to make Butch more than a little nervous.

Stealing a glance at Red's naked form did nothing to soothe his nerves and he tried to ignore the look of panic that flashed across her pretty features when Ramsey settled himself down on her stomach, still wearing his armor and the grisly trophies around his waist.

"Such a good girl..." Ramsey purred, brushing Red's hair from her face with a dirty hand. "I knew you would come if it was the only way to save that bastard you're so in love with. The only problem with that is..." he hesitated and then changed his mind, chuckling and squeezing one of her breasts hard enough to make her squirm in discomfort. "You know, I was going to make him watch."

Red must have given some non-verbal reply, seeing as her mouth was gagged with a dirty rag, because Ramsey replied as if she'd responded to his statement.

"Oh, yes. The thought was enticing, no doubt, but somehow, I felt that if he were here, you'd be thinking of him while I fucked you. Not that you won't do that now."

Butch shrugged off his jacket and drew his pistol from the pocket, setting it across his lap where it lay unseen beneath the leather bundle, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.

Ramsey dipped his hand between her thighs and Butch's heart clenched when he saw a tear make its way down Red's cheek. "God, you're dry as a bone." Ramsey gave a harsh rasping laugh. "Do I scare you, little girl?" As if suddenly remembering a question he wanted answered, he addressed Butch when he spoke again. "How did her lover lose his eye?"

"To the Trogs," Butch replied casually, cocking his pistol. Despite his initial uneasiness, it seemed things were going even better than anticipated.

"Trogs?" The Raider abandoned Red's bite-marked throat at the unfamiliar word and she let out a sob.

"Yeah. Ugly fuckers. It's what happens to the folks here when they don't get treated for the irradiated shit in the air around the city. Turn into monsters or something. One of them tore his eye right out of his head." He hoped the tale sounded as grisly to the Raider as it had in his head.

"How long does it take for them to turn?" A hint of fear crept into Ramsey's otherwise level voice.

"Oh, not long..." Butch replied with a slight shrug, stretching his legs out in front of him and giving Red a barely perceptible nod when she caught his eye. "Couple of hours at most. And then they come after the others, turn right around and eat their friends alive. And, God, they're everywhere. Out in the Steelyard mostly, but they get into the apartments too, and they're sneaky bastards, so you never see 'em coming until it's too late." He tried to keep his rising excitement from becoming apparent.

"Into the apartments..." Ramsey muttered, his eyes wide and hazy from the drugs in his system.

"Mmhm. Dozens of 'em. They just come swarming in and hell, you'd be lucky if you were killed. Otherwise, they'll tear your throat out while you're still alive enough to watch."

As if on cue, a burst of gunfire could be heard from somewhere on the lower level of the building they were in, followed by a scream of pain and then an animalistic growl.

Ramsey sprang from the bed and looked about in terror, the whites of his eyes flashing as he searched for a weapon with which to defend himself, his prize completely forgotten as she squirmed fruitlessly against her bonds.

"Looking for this?" Butch asked, holding up the Raider's knife from its hilt between his thumb and forefinger.

"Give that to me!" Ramsey snarled, throwing himself at the other man.

Butch leapt nimbly out of the way and shook his head, tossing Red the knife so she could work on the ropes around her wrists and ankles. "I don't think so."

Pointing his gun directly between the Raider's eyes, Butch narrowed his own and then jerked his head in the direction of the sounds coming from downstairs. "Looks like you have two options. Stay here and tell me where you're keeping Wernher, or go down there and join the rest of your men in the slaughter. From the sound of it, they're losing."

In a last ditch effort of defiance, Ramsey spat at Butch's feet and then looked between him and Red, who had stumbled from the bed and hastily thrown on her armor. "It's too late. Wernher's already dead. We killed him as soon as we got her."

"You fucking liar!" Red yelled, finally having managed to free herself of her gag. Butch could hear the break in her voice and shot her a warning look. If she acted too soon, she could end up costing Wernher his life.

"Tell me where he is," Butch said again, glancing toward the door as the sounds of the fight grew louder.

"Rotting in the steelyard," Ramsey spat. "Where he belongs. If he isn't dead by now, he will be before you get to him."

Red had managed to free herself from her bonds and slip back into her armor during their exchange and Butch stopped her with a raised hand before she ran out the door.

"Wait for me."

Turning back to Ramsey, he handed over his pistol and cocked it. "You're not worth it. The Trogs'll be here for you before too long. Just know, this gun only has one bullet, so you'd best be sure to aim first."

With that, he grabbed Red by the arm and dragged her after him. The sound of a gunshot echoed behind them.

"How big is the steelyard?"

Red ignored him and ran past the workers that were cleaning up the mess downstairs, ignoring Everett when he gave her a triumphant grin and a cheerful, "We got 'em all, Red."

"Steelyard," Butch replied in answer to the sniper's confused look. "Get as many people as you can. He's out there somewhere."

The order was obeyed without question and by the time they reached the Steelyard, news had spread and every available worker crowded into the open to join in the search.

"Red, I need you to focus." Butch grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her gaze to meet his. "If Ramsey was telling the truth, then we don't have much time. You know this place better than I do, so if you were trying to hide a body here, where would you put it?"

"They weren't trying to hide him," she whispered, her gaze lifting over his head to something behind him. It took him a moment to realize that all the people around them were looking in the same direction.

Slowly, he turned, not sure what to expect, and it was with the suffocating grip of fear that he raised his eyes to the steel beam high above their heads, and more specifically, to the body hanging limply from its grasp, a writhing mass of snarling creatures circling just below its dangling feet.