Note: Hello! This one is a little short but I've been pretty swamped these last few days. Sorry for the wait! Week off starts tomorrow so whoo! I'll definitely be getting more writing in as I've FINALLY began to delve deeper into the plotline! Thank you for reading, everyone!
"Hm."
The jagged hole of rock that imposingly jutted out before Boone was certainly not what he had expected. The Casino's policy regarding weapons was one touch of Vegas Boone was well versed in; he hadn't stood a damn chance in hell of getting in with his rifle at the front door. Thirty minutes prior he had been fighting the urge to pace outside The Tops main entrance, assuming his calm veneer to avoid any suspicion. As his panic had risen with each passing minute Boone had finally strode off, stealthily making his way to the rear of the building. The back door had been firmly sealed, the snipers only other option being a manhole cover in the middle of the back lot. He'd spent enough time in the Wastes to spur him into hefting the heavy disc out of its place.
What Boone discovered below was not the foul tunnel system he had expected, rather he found himself facing a heavy metallic door, not unlike what he had seen before in Vault 21's own corridors. Allowing himself a brief burst of relief Boone had been further floored when the door swung open on his first try. He'd then wasted twenty damn minutes making his way through the bizarre tunnels, trying each door he came across and looting whatever he could carry from the assortment of lockers that dotted the space. Finally he found himself at his current position, the rocky face clearly not an original piece of the décor.
What are you staring at? Move!
Boone shook his head at his own chiding conscience, stepping through to find himself standing in a tacky tiled room. Crates of explosives and what looked like an elevator door populated the small room, Boone's suspicion of the demolition being fresh cemented in his mind. He approached the rusty elevator doors, hoping to no one in particular that this was a part of the Tops.
Rifle.
Right. Boone double timed it back to a few of the lockers, remembering he had noticed some old denim maintenance jackets within. He threw one around himself hastily, adjusting the shoulders and back in hopes it covered the entirety of his rifle. Once he was satisfied, Craig went back to the elevator, pressing the call button and feeling very aware of the beating of his heart.
You won't make it. Just like last time.
No. He was going to make it. The discretions between himself and Lyra were quickly disappearing in his mind, a deeply rooted sense of guilt presiding over his thoughts. He was supposed to be protecting her, damn it. He wanted to not care. He needed to – shit between he and Lyra was getting out of control. Out of his control. That bothered, Craig. The conflictions were becoming unbearable but try as Boone might; he still had a sense of duty.
And it belongs to her, now.
The sliding of the elevator doors promptly knocked Boone out of his trance, dingy tiled walls now exposed to Boone's vision. As he made his way down the narrow hallway, trying each door he came across, there was only one that successfully opened.
"Oh, wowie! And who might you be? Didn't know Benny was going to be having visitors!"
God damn creepy robots are everywher- wait, Benny?
Boone briefly glared at the bizarre Securitron, its screen slapped with a ridiculous smile.
"You said Benny. Where is he?" Boone growled as he prepared to whip off the denim jacket, hoping his reflexes would be fast enough against the robot.
"Oh, Benny's upstairs chatting with an old friend! Should be executing his murderous ambush soon! I probably shouldn't have told you that – I guess programming me to be exceptionally helpful was kinda dumb, huh?" the Securitron guffawed cheerfully. Boone had heard all he had needed, however.
"Where?"
"Presidential Suite if my security system is working correctly which I am more than pleased to say is a yes!"
"How do I get there? Tell me," Boone demanded, taking an anxious step towards the 'Bot.
"Well shucks, I'll unlock it for you and you just go right along. Take the elevator to the main floor – it's just down the hall you know! Once you're on the main floor, you can't miss it. It's right by all the tables!"
"You've been incredibly helpful," Boone muttered, approaching the only other door besides the elevator and making his way through the suite that was sure to belong to the illustrious Benny. The Securitron left many questions in Craig but that wasn't his priority right now.
Guards. Damn it.
Boone instantly fell into his training, relying on his blending ability to nonchalantly walk by the guards, each giving him a wary glance. When Boone realized it was only due to the beret on his head he sped his pace up, maybe pressing the elevators call button a few times more than usual.
"Come on," He muttered as he waited, watching the lights blink to his floor. When it finally had arrived and deposited him at the main floor, he struggled to resist running his way across the casino.
"Where…?" He whispered, racking his memory of the Tops, positive he had seen the doors before. As he made his way to the betting tables he stopped cold in his tracks as he watched a group of casino guards hustle into a large set of elevator doors across from him. As the doors closed Boone darted for the door, risking exposure to reach Lyra before she was killed. He slammed his hand against the call button, the minutes it took for it to deposit the first load of men and return an agonizing eternity to the sniper.
I've had just about enough with damn elevators.
Boone felt his lips twitch at the thought, the solid elevator doors spreading open before him. He took a glance around the casino, hoping no one would notice as he darted inside. Gunfire grew in intensity as the elevator climbed closer to its destination, the muffled booms prompting Boone to whip off the jean jacket and get into position. He had to make this count. Close quarters wasn't his strong suite and he silently prayed for the element of surprise to pull him through. As the doors parted he caught a glimpse of one of the guards start to kick down what he assumed was a door. Boone absently noted the bloody guard lying on the floor before him, another's unmoving torso poking out of one end of the bar in the corner. Three men still stood. Boone skirted to his right for a better angle, sighting his first target that stood in the broken door's frame.
Bang!
Down he went; a clean shot through the back of his skull. Between a heart beat Boone had sighted his second target.
"What the fu-"
Bang!
"How the fuck did he get in her-"
The third guard appeared from deeper within the suite, Boone getting a good look at the man's stunned eyes before a .308 round buried itself explosively between them.
Bang!
Last one was down. Boone swung his rifle over his shoulder and charged into the suite.
"Lyra! Lyra, where the fuck are you? Lyra!"
"I'm here…"
Boone leapt over the bodies that littered the floor, his body crashing into the peppered door that stood between him and that pathetic, weak voice.
God damn it.
She was in the tub. Boone's eyes shakily trailed over the dark stains that had spread across her leather, jagged puncture marks shooting waves of panic through him.
"Craig…" she whispered softly.
"God damn it, Lyra," He moaned as he made his way to the tub, his hand instantly clutching her small one as she held it out to him. He swallowed hard as he scanned over her frame, distractedly counting several wounds, "Why did you go without me?" he choked.
Lyra looked as if she was going to explain but a violent cough erupted instead and shook her body, her face grimacing gruesomely as palpable pain sprawled across her pale features. Boone began to shake as he reached down, deftly plucking Lyra out of the tub as best he could, each cry of pain she emitted cracking what little remained of his composure.
"Can you stand?"
Lyra dolefully attempted to stand on her feet but toppled down, Boone's body being yanked at an awkward angle as he was both dragged down while simultaneously attempting to support her.
"You need a doctor," He muttered as he gingerly scooped her into his arms, briskly making his way for the elevator. He heard her mumble something about Benny and the Chip.
"Later," he growled, calling the elevator to their floor. As he climbed in with Lyra hanging limply in his arm and the gate closed, Boone looked down at her face. Blood was streaming from the corners of her mouth, her eyes looking sunken and dark. He shakily brought a hand to her face, carefully wiping what he could of the blood away.
It's on my hands. Blood on my hands. Never clean. Always ther-
"-Craig!"
Boone snapped his eyes up; his head had been hung between his shoulders, his chin nearly touching his chest. Julie Farka's face stared imploringly at his, her eyes confused and panicked.
"Is she okay?" Boone asked as he stood, his hands nervously rubbing down the front of his fatigues.
"There's something I think you need to see."
"I asked if she's okay."
Julie sighed and anxiously scratched the stubble on her scalp, "Craig, I don't know how to explain this. You need to see it."
Boone's mouth pressed into a thin line as he nodded, silently following Julie through the ancient wooden door that lead into her medical facilities. He had been sitting outside the door, unable to think of little else than replaying the last hour of his life repeatedly in his head. As he rounded the separator curtain, he swallowed hard as he stared down at Lyra's unconscious form.
"I've been able to stabilize her… but I'm not so sure that was entirely my doing. Lyra has suffered what would be terminal wounds; a bullet shot at this entry angle would have punctured and collapsed her lung – something I can't… fix," Julie explained as she circled an area around Lyra's ribcage against the sheets thin fabric. Her hand then trailed down to Lyra's leg, "The shot to her thigh would have severed her femoral artery, right about at the superficial femoral."
Boone looked at Julie confusingly.
"Craig, none of these things happened. Flesh has been punctured and blood has flown… but…" Julie trailed off as she peeled up the sheet covering Lyra's ribs, Lyra's tank top bunching in her hand and exposing thick white gauze. Julie carefully peeled back the gauze and leaned over to reach for a pair of tweezers resting on a medical cart beside her. She slowly peeled back Lyra's flesh, Boone momentarily frustrated she had not applied any stitches before he noticed what glistened beneath.
"What the fuck…" Boone whispered as he stepped closer and knelt at Lyra's side, pulling off his glasses as he got a closer look.
Metal?
Craig shook his head slowly and looked back up at Julie, a helpless frown gracing her normally bright face, "As I said; I've never seen something like this before. At least not on a human. It's intricate cybernetics, Craig. There's only one other… creature I have come across in the wastes that is a fully functioning cross between mechanical and biological components. Until now I had never come across it in a human before, though."
Boone gaped at Julie, her words barely registering in his mind.
"I don't understand?"
"I've heard whispers of beings called Androids being produced in the Common Wealth. Humans that are made from machines. It's the first thing I thought of as I discovered what lay beneath her wounds."
"She's an android?"
"Not entirely. I said she's a cross between biological and mechanical components. I can't know for sure until I run some tests, but I do not believe all of her bioorganic features are synthesized. Androids are not only completely mechanical; their exteriors are wholly synthesized tissue. The wounds she sustained in her left gastrocnemius muscle are very real and I found no metal plating within her flesh there," Julie brought her fingers to her chin, creating a tent, "There's a man here in Freeside. He leads the gang called The Kings. He has a dog that shares striking similarities thus far to Lyra's unique features. Forty five percent of his body is organic tissue; the rest is an incredibly tough steel alloy that expertly protects his delicate inner components. I have a suspicion Lyra's could be the same."
"I don't believe this," Boone muttered as he brought a shaky hand to his chin, covering it and part of his mouth as he crossed his other arm over his chest, "I didn't think something like this was possible."
Julie shrugged slowly, "I as a rule don't presume anything out here. This is surprising, but from what I have heard and witnessed myself, not completely uncommon. The real question rests in the "Four W's"."
Julie shook her head at Boone's perplexed glare and motioned towards a couple of chairs she had tucked in the corner, the two of them taking a seat.
"Whoever did this work possesses skills that are a serious rarity in this day and age - locating that particular individual being incredibly difficult. Whatever Lyra precisely is I won't be able to effectively determine without damn near taking her apart. I have limited recourses at my disposal to determine exactly when this procedure was done. Finally, why someone would do this has too many possibilities to even entertain at the moment."
Boone slid a hand over his face, reaching up to push off his beret as he rubbed the top of his head repeatedly.
"Does she know?" he asked, his gaze perpetually glued to the floor. Julie sadly gazed at Boone, her arms crossing over her chest.
"I doubt it."
"Do we tell her?"
Julie sighed, "I don't know. Lyra's mind is fragile as it is, I'm not sure if now would be an appropriate time. I think she does need to know, but she needs rest first. There are still several wounds on her body that inflicted a considerable amount of damage to her physiology. She'll need rehabilitation for her leg, which is a guarantee. Regarding her metallic features; while the bullets did not puncture whatever metal plating she has, I'm sure the impact was less than delicate. I wouldn't doubt she would still feel soreness and/or stiffness in those areas."
Boone held a fist to his hand and remained silent as his eyes bore into Lyra's unmoving form. He stood from his seat, one large hand grasping its backing as he walked over to beside where she lay. He placed the chair beside her bed and clasped his hands in his lap, silently staring at her. Julie swallowed slowly and rose from her seat, opting to stand a foot or so away from the afflicted man.
"When I feel it's time, I can tell her," she offered.
Boone slowly shook his head, "No. You let me know. I'll do it."
"If that's what you want."
"When is she going to wake up?"
"Hard to say, she's been out for several hours now, with the help of my anesthetic. I would say by morning she should be awake, if not groggy," Julie stepped behind Boone's chair and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, "She's safe here, Craig. I'll take good care of her. Go get something to eat and some rest."
"I'll wait."
Julie bit her lip and nodded, Boone's eyes never leaving Lyra's bruised face. She slowly backed her way to the door, catching the man slowly grasping Lyra's hand in his as she made her way back out into the courtyard. She needed to contact The King and get another look at his peculiar hound, Julie praying she could find some evidence that would hopefully point the two troubled souls in the right direction.