Edited: 10/5/2015, 12:00 a.m.
Dad always said Everything happens for a reason.
Well Dad, what the fuck is the reason behind me getting nearly beaten to death?
Maybe it's because of the things I've done or the people I've killed or maybe it's because this guy has serious issues.
I swayed gently, fists still held up as my forearms 'protected' my face. The addicts rattling the cage high above us hollered in glee as the last Grizzly brother got to his feet. His right eye was swollen shut courtesy of my boot and his left eye was bloodshot, but I blamed that on whatever the fuck he had snorted or injected or inhaled before this fight. I could feel the blood lust oozing off of him and idly wondered if he was on Jet. I was surprised he had lasted this long. Hell, I was surprised I had lasted this long. He had a Hell of a right hook and I know I had been either shot or cut and some point during this fight. It had actually been a non-stop fight with three rounds and rotating numbers of enemies. If I didn't hurt so much, I would really fucking enjoy this.
But a sober Nevaeh is an annoyed Nevaeh and she doesn't like to fight.
"Come on big guy," I crooned. "Show me what a man you are."
The muscles in his right arm rippled in anger and I grinned, licking the knuckles of my hands for some reason; I think I got that from Butch. I watched him sway forward and he scooped up that damn Deathclaw Gauntlet, the blood stained claws made more menacing by the unearthly red glow surrounding us. I would have to steal that from his dead body when this was all over.
I dodged his attack, rolling clumsily to the right before I scrambled to my feet. As I neared the grate he had come in from, I grabbed an old bent pipe from the rocks and twisted, ducking to miss those claws but as I came back up, his bulk slammed into me. I screamed in pain as he forced me into the jagged remains of the pipe behind us and with the last of my strength I swung the pipe into his head.
His skull gave a satisfying crunch and then he crumbled on top of me. The air left my lungs as two hundred something pounds of man gave way on top of me and drug myself out from under him, the open wounds in my back screaming in protest. I grit my teeth and dug my fingers into the ground, dragging my battered and bruised body towards the grate I had entered through.
My head was swimming with the pain and the sound of cheers, the announcer on a speaker somewhere in the Mill cheering me on from the cameras that were strung up high above me. I went slack against the ground, feeling the tingle of radiation slowly mending my back; right. . .right, radiation was actually good for me thanks to Moira. I'd have to kiss that woman if I got home.
I barely registered the two figures scrambling for me but as they carried me out, I noticed the tall, thick shadow of a man looming over the top of the pitt. He was tall and imposing, even with just a waving outline of whatever armor he was wearing. It was familiar, but I lost sight of him when the grate shuddered closed at my feet.
My scream of agony echoed in the room as Charon sewed up my back.
Alex, Genevieve and some bitch I wanted to refer to as Tumbler chatted in the corner, brows deep in serious gestures. I wondered what they could be talking about and then Charon drove the needle through my skin again and I forgot about them. I whimpered and begged to roll my back, fingers wrapping around the edge of the table when he poured disinfectant over my back. It didn't feel good, but the irritation was making everything go numb so eventually, I sighed in relief.
I rested my head against the warm metal of the old desk, wincing as the thread tugged my wounds closed. Alexander cleared his throat but then he went back to whispering to those idiots over there; I had to ignore them.
"I warned you. . ."
"And I told you I didn't have a choice," I grumbled. "Quit bitching."
And he did, as though I had actually ordered him to do so.
I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing for a cold glass of whiskey to dull the aches and voices, the hiss of machinery.
Three hours ago, after being viciously awakened from a cruel and restless hangover, Midea had told me - with a wicked gleam in her eye - that she had figured out how I was going to get access to the Cure. It was held in Uptown under the leader of the slavers home, so they didn't just have signs saying To Find Cure, Turn Right.
If I won the trials of the pitt, I got an audience with the dictator of this fucked up place. No one informed me on what was in the pitt and I have to say, I would rather duke it out with a horde of raiders armed with only a BB gun. But the truth is, none of those I spoke to could tell me what was inside, only that I be prepared. I would have loved a gun, seeing as the guys I had fought had actual weapons. All I had was that hangover, shady advice and my right hook - which wasn't great to begin with.
"Yeah, she's awake."
I looked up at Alex's grumbled confirmation. He was past the curve to the doorway of the room and as he trailed back inside, he was followed by a short, blistered man with blue hair and yellow teeth. The way he walked told me enough, that he was a slaver. But what was he doing in here?
His eyes raked over me and Charon continued his fluid movements, either unaware or uncaring, I knew it was the latter.
"You the new bitch?"
"Yeah," I grumbled and watched two slaves drag in a long foot locker; they set it behind the slaver and then scuttled out of the room. "What's that," I jerked my chin at the foot locker.
He looked back at it then turned to me with a sneer. "Boss is ready to see you, said he was impressed. Make your way to Uptown."
And he was gone, leaving behind an air of annoyance.
"I'll escort you to Uptown," Genevieve cut the air. "I know the way and you could use some more common assistance."
I nodded once, noting the discomfort on Alex's face though he remained silence; he had been brooding since early this morning. But I ignored that and winced as Charon injected me with a stimpak and tossed it to the side. He helped me to my feet and the ache in my back was dull and fluid.
Inside the trunk was all of my supplies and I was mildly surprised they trusted me enough to give my stuff back. Did they know what I could do with all of this? Their arrogance would have been the end of them eventually, even if I hadn't planned to kill them all.
"Alright, when we hit Uptown it's gonna be crowded," Genevieve explained as I strapped my laser rifle to my back. "The slavers live there so keep your mouth shut and ignore them. I do the talking, got me?"
I nodded, annoyed with this plan. "Let's just get this over with."
Genevieve nodded and we filed out into the factory, Charon and Alex disappearing around a corner. I felt the tension ease into my shoulders and steeled my eyes.
No. . .no I couldn't get nervous. Not now.
ALEXANDER
"Think the lass will be fine," I questioned as Nevaeh and Genevieve disappeared from sight.
Charon was tense, focused and venomous. "She can handle herself," he spoke as if he were programmed.
Well, in a sense, he was.
"I don't like just sending her off like that," I grumbled.
Charon didn't speak and I almost asked why he had a stick so far up his ass. But I understood the tension; that was his employer, disappearing from his protection, out of reach of his main reason for living. He was supposed to protect her at all costs and she was forcing him to do the exact opposite.
To not give a fuck.
"She will be fine," he muttered, pushing open the door to the outside. "She will be. . .fine. . ."
"Ready to do your part," Midea questioned as we stepped out of the Mill, her eyes sparkling.
Charon and I looked between each other. "Yeah, I guess so," I shrugged.
Midea nodded fiercely and swept her eyes around us, gesturing for us to follow. I didn't like this plan. . .like, at all. And Charon didn't either, obviously, but we had to cut power and shit like that while Nevaeh snagged the Cure. Midea was to release the slaves like they were attack dogs and Werhner was running the show from his safe house somewhere in the steel yard. Charon had protested to all of this - as we all suspected he would - but he had suddenly clammed up. I guess he figured the more he did, the more efficient he was in his end of the bargain, the faster he could get to Nevaeh and get her out of here.
He was right, I suppose.
"Leave the dog here," Midea insisted as she fumbled with a key from her pocket. "He'll be better use here when everything goes down."
I nodded and looked back at Rex, who was sitting patiently in the middle of the courtyard. Sometimes I underestimated that damn dogs intelligence, it was like he already knew what he had planned for him or he had taken it upon himself to guard the slaves. He looked over at me and his tongue suddenly lolled out of his mouth, a heavy pant starting in his chest. I chuckled and gave him a thumbs up before I followed behind Charon and Midea up a spiral staircase.
Rex yelped.