11: When The Past Comes Knockin'.
Courier stared down at the boy who had introduced himself as The Forecaster, arching an eyebrow when he just smiled up at her. The 188 Trading Post was situated on top of an overpass, a bridge, and thrived both on top of the bridge and underneath it. Melina hadn't been kidding about the place being a swamp of salespeople; Courier could only imagine how many people had lost a shitload of money here.
"Where are your parents?" Melina asked softly, brown eyes scanning nearby for them.
"I lost my folks a long time ago miss," The boy replied sweetly, not seeming too trouble about it. "I've been on my own since, but I'm used to it."
From behind them, John shifted from one foot to the other.
"What's that thing?" Courier asked, pointing to the odd piece of headgear the kid wore.
"This?" His hands flew up to touch it. "This is my medicine."
"Your… medicine?" She shared a puzzled look with Melina.
"Yes ma'am, it keeps me from over thinking, and it stops the headaches."
"Headaches from what?"
"I hear things, thoughts…" He shrugged.
Courier was now fairly certain this kid was insane, whereas Melina seemed to be genuinely interested, probably not helped by the whiskey she was imbibing. Courier pinched the bridge of her nose when her female companion asked for further explanation.
"He's psychic." John spoke up gruffly.
"Oh!" Melina suddenly looked wary herself and took a step backwards, obviously trying not to overly show her sudden change in feeling.
"For 100 caps, you can hear my thoughts." The boy spoke up, unhelpfully.
"A 100 caps?" Melina's jaw almost hit the pavement. "Are you kiddin' me, boy?"
He shook his head. "No ma'am. I got to eat though, and for that, I need caps. So, are you going to pay me or not?" He demanded, suddenly sounding a bit shrewd.
"Sure, here." Courier counted out a 100 caps –she couldn't argue his logic-, shaking her head when he went to remove the headgear. "No, I don't want to-"
"You paid for it, might as well." Melina shrugged.
"I don't-" She fell silent when the boy removed the nullifier, frowning slightly.
"Your face does the thinking –two to the skull, yet one gets up." He said, his eyes rolling in his head.
Courier ignored Melina's sharp intake of breath, her own eyes narrowing.
"Odds are against you… but they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You're playing the hand you've been dealt, but you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble… a gamble that may pay off? But how? The flag of the Old World follows you. Hate and love, which will win? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."
~!~
Boulder was east of the 188 Trading Post, and Courier would only admit to herself that she was more than happy to be leaving the place behind. That kid –the Forecaster- hadn't exactly made her day. She had written most of it off as bullshit, but… she massaged her scarred forehead, that first comment of his about two to the skull had been a bit… much.
All the rest, well, she had no idea and wasn't planning on dwelling too much on it.
~!~
"You can't go in there!"
Courier, Melina, and John all stared at the NCR soldier who had been sitting at a small card table up until the moment they got too close to the gateway he had been guarding. None of them missed the radio on the table, or the pistol in his hand.
"Why not?" Courier asked calmly.
"Why not? Because there's a group of Great Khans in there, holding some NCR men hostage is why not!"
"I have to get in there." She said firmly, her fingers twitching.
"Lady, I said no."
"What if I get your men out of there?"
"How?" he eyed her skeptically. "I've already got a team in there, they're being held off from the hostages though. What makes you think you're going to waltz in there and do what professionals can't?"
"Because I'm going to do something your 'professionals' won't."
"Which is?"
"I'm going to be polite."
~!~
Of all the things Jessup was expecting to come through the door of the store he was holed up in, the courier from Goodsprings was not it. "What the hell?" He demanded, shooting out of his seat, eyes wide as he took her in. It was definitely the same woman, and his gaze moved to her head, taking in the scar before meeting her cold gaze. "You're that courier Shane wasted back in Goodsprings, you're supposed to be dead!"
Her own eyes –as dark and as icy as the bottom of the Colorado river- were narrowed as she stared at him, not moving when a man in a red beret stepped inside behind her. "I got better." She deadpanned.
Jessup snorted, studying the beret thoughtfully. "And here I thought us Great Khans were tough to kill." He said it in an almost admiring albeit grudging tone of voice. "So what happens now?"
~!~
Courier had no way of knowing if this Great Khan was the 'McMurphy' from the letter of Manny's she had read, and quite honestly, she didn't give a fuck. She recognized his voice though. She had heard him telling this Shane guy to 'get it over with'.
Before coming in, she had made the decision to leave Melina behind. Melina was good for a fight, but Courier was hoping to avoid one. Melina's mouth… might not have been conducive to that goal. She had asked John to accompany her, and while he had seemed very reluctant, he had agreed.
She figured if she needed back-up, she wanted the cool sniper over the fiery drunk.
"Where's the Platinum Chip?" She demanded after a moment, kind of enjoying seeing this Khan sweating it out.
"Don't have it." He said instantly. "Shane stole it, right before he stabbed us in the back. He's probably back at the Strip by now, laughing at me."
That was not what she wanted to hear. It meant she was destined for yet another location she had no recollection of. Frowning, Courier closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine, let's get this shit between you and the NCR settled then."
"What's to settle? They back off, we walk out of here, nobody gets hurt."
Somebody was going to get hurt… "Look, free the hostages now, and I'll see to it that the NCR escorts you out of their territory." She offered, ignoring the snort that came from John.
Jessup was silent for a very long time, just staring at her.
She merely stared back.
"I can't believe I'm doing this…"
~!~
"How do we get into the Strip?"
Melina, who had been in the process of taking a very long swallow of her beer, sputtered and wound up choking on it. When she was able to talk, she sounded hoarse. "What the fuck are we goin' there for?"
Courier just arched an eyebrow at the other woman.
Groaning, Melina scratched her bare head, ruffling her already ruffled hair. "We'd have to go through Freeside… and come up with some serious caps…"
"Why?"
"Nobody gets onto the Strip without either a passport or a chip-check."
"What's a chip-check?"
"The Securitrons check to see if you have a minimum of like… five thousand caps, if you don't, you don't get in." Melina shrugged, finishing her beer and tossed the bottle into the fire they were seated around. "Shane's in Vegas, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
John had heard the story about Courier/Katy from Melina, so he could actually follow their conversation, not that he had anything to add to it. He was merely along for the ride. Today had been… hell, on his memory. He had almost told her to go to Hell when she asked him to walk into a Great Khan lair, not needing to face his demons anytime soon.
If the way his mind was throwing up images of the past, he knew he SHOULD have told her to go to Hell opposed to going in with her and sending himself instead. Tonight would definitely be a sleepless night.
"What about my caravans?" Melina demanded, sounding both angry and annoyed. "You promised me we'd look into it, Courier."
"And aren't we coming up on one of your routes?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll stop and look into it."
~!~
He watched as she wound her way up the rocky hillside, leaning against one of the jagged boulders that he had been using for a lean to. He hadn't started a fire, knowing damn well that sniper man of hers would have spotted him, but he hadn't exactly kept his enormous frame out of sight either. He wanted her to catch him.
She halted a few feet away from him, a large hunting knife in one hand, the other holding a handgun. It was impossible to make out the expression on her face, what light would have been provided by the moon was being blocked by overcast clouds. "Who are you?" She demanded in a low voice, a mixture of confusion, wariness, and longing making up her tone.
"You really don't remember…" He didn't lower his own weapon, knowing if she was bluffing him, she'd shoot him. Hell, even if she wasn't bluffing, she might shoot him anyway. "River…"
She jerked as if he had just tossed a bucket of scalding water on her. "That's… not my name."
"It sure as hell ain't Katy either!" He hissed, taking several steps down towards her.
She brought up the gun, digging it into his neck when he halted before her. "Who are you?" She demanded again.
"'Taker." He grunted, dropping his .44 in order to slap the knife from her other hand and then grab her wrist, twisting until she had dropped the gun. "Goddamn it River, you WILL remember me." He vowed, his hand moving to the back of her head and burying itself in her hair, wrenching back. "Even if it kills you."
