FIFTY-SIX
The Lucky 38
July 16th
13:22
"Penthouse floor."
Oh how she'd missed Victor and his tinny cowboy drawl.
"Afternoon, miss Tessara," Jane the other robot said. Yeah, yeah. "Mr. House is waiting for you."
Yeah, En was sure he was.
"Miss Tessara. I see you return unscathed." The screen was unchanged, still that fifties businessman face.
"Yep, I'm good." Though she doubted the home cinema gave a rat's ass about her physical condition. Healthy associates were useful associates.
"What news of the... rather inanely named Boomers?"
"Yeah," En said, looking up and the screen, trying not to feel dwarfed. "I actually managed to go see them."
"That's more than the two people I sent before were capable of."
"Uh... yeah. Well, they're prepared to help, on one condition."
The speakers let out a sighing noise. "Let me guess, money?"
"Bzzzt, wrong. They want me to recover an old plane wreck. Supposedly sank into Lake Mead. An old bomber."
"I see." The voice sounded pensive.
"So I thought I'd check with you before I went ahead with it."
"Yes, well thought. It seems there's a decently functioning brain beneath all the immature underpants-humour."
"Who'd have thunk it, huh." Asshole.
House was silent, thinking. He definitely wasn't an A.I.. They didn't need time to think. Not like that, anyway. Eventually he said, "Indulge them. Do what they need you to do, but make it very clear that if they intend to use their plane against New Vegas, or any other inappropriate target, there will be more Securitrons rolling at them than they can ever destroy with their artillery."
"Uh, sure. So If I do this, the five thousand – "
"They are yours, and will be well deserved. Make sure they send a representative to the Lucky 38 to discuss future dealings."
"Cool. I think I know just the guy, if you don't mind him making a little detour first."
"See to it. Jane will have a thousand cap down payment ready for you when you leave. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll need to make sure my securitrons are equipped to defend against aerial attack."
"Yeah, figured you'd take precautions."
"I am methodical without being predictable. Good afternoon, miss Tessara."
She found herself back in the scorching afternoon sun, where her friends were waiting. They'd already decided she'd treat them all to a solid dinner. The extra thousand she'd gotten from House would cover more than twenty dinners. Cheyenne greeted her with a cheerful bark.
"So?" Meyers asked. "Got permission to earn five thousand?"
"Yeppers." She scratched Cheyenne behind the ear. "We'll head out to Lake Mead tomorrow. I'll need to work on something to make the dive easier first."
"I help?" Watkins asked. En doubted Watkins was any help in anything technical that involved more than just running a quick script or two, but if she wanted to tag along, fine.
"Uh yeah, sure, I guess. If you w – "
"Oh, no, no, no," Melissa interrupted. "Blondie belongs to me this afternoon."
The apprehension was legible on Watkins' face. "Uh... wha? Melissa, you're not gonna drag me into a dark alley and – "
"Don't flatter yourself. Come on, you an' I got somethin' to do."
"Uh, Melissa?" En asked. "Mind giving us a word of explanation?"
Melissa grinned broadly. "Yes, jillaroo, I do mind. Your fault for always goin' 'you'll see' at us too."
"Agh, I knew that would come back to bite me in the butt."
"C'mon, blondie. Let's go do some naughty stuff."
Watkins' face grew even more uncomfortable. "Uh... guys?"
"Go on," En said. "I'm sure Melissa just needs some clothing advice."
"As if. Come on, buxom."
Watkins looked anything but at ease when Melissa grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her into the street.
"That's... unexpected," Ringo said. He and Sunny had been silent so far.
"Any idea what she's got planned?" Sunny asked En.
"No idea."
"Well," Sunny said, "We're gonna take a walk together. Meet back in our rooms at...?"
"Say, six?" En said. "Should be done tinkering then."
"Six, gotcha."
"Need some company, little lady?" Meyers asked as they watched Sunny and Ringo walk off.
"Sure, but I'll be concentrating so I might not be all that interesting company."
"Doesn't matter." He fished a book from his bag and held it up. "I've got Charles Marlow to keep me company."
"Righto. Veronica told me about some kind of workshop near their old hotel. See if I can rent a workbench there."
"Alrighty."
They set off towards the west side of town. Right now there weren't that many people out yet, and most of them were sober, so they thankfully wouldn't have to shoulder through a throng of drunkards, just the occasional hardcore party animal, and those were easily avoided by keeping a wide berth of anyone staggering with a bottle in his hand.
"Here is it," En announced. "Michelangelo's workshop."
"Sounds like another hack who wants to make himself appear cultured by adoptin' a classical name."
"... Oh yeah," En remembered. "He was like this legendary painter of old, wasn't he?"
With a grin, Meyers said, "It's good to see your parents educated you well."
"Yeah, my parents and my dyke teacher. Nah, just kidding, she's cool. But a dyke."
"Butch or lipstick?"
"Lipstick, thankfully. The boys never knew what to think of her. On the one hand, having a hot teacher is every boy's dream, but what's the point if you can't fantasize about her pulling you behind the blackboard for some highly illegal seduction?"
"I... haven't thought of that, to be honest, little lady."
"Tchyeah right. Because you're totally not in the same situation."
He frowned. "That's different. I don't fantasize about her."
En raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well... not, I mean, it's not what my feelings are about. You can't possibly compare randy teenager fantasies to genuine love."
En couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Genuine love? For her?"
"Yes. I believe we've gone over this. I'd change it if I could, but I can't."
"Seems weird though, that like, a clever bookworm like you would fall for a..." Hm, best not be too blunt about it, "well, you know... a ditz."
"She's not a ditz," he protested a little too quickly.
"She is. She totally is. I like her, but come on, dude."
"I'm not a dude," Meyers said absently. "And it's just... impossible for me to see her negative sides. You're young, but that's what love does to you, little lady."
"Hey. I know what love is and what it does, thankyouverymuch. You condescending ageist," she added semi-seriously.
"That I'm condescending doesn't – "
"... doesn't make it any less correct," En finished in his place. "Yeah, yeah."
He wasn't just talking. From his face, En could see the feelings were weighing on him. God damn, an old grizzled sheriff hardass completely smitten by a dumb blonde who probably couldn't tie her own shoelaces without reading the manual first – and even then. Sure, she was a knockout – truth be told – and En wouldn't have been surprised to hear Meyers had a cannon in his pants every time he saw her, but the guy really was in love. What the flipping fuck. It would be hilarious if it wasn't so sad for the guy.
Because, come on. He didn't stand a chance.
And he knew it.
"Hey um, let's just go inside instead of nattering like two old women, okay?" En said after a moment of silence.
"Of course. I shouldn't be bothering a nice young lady with my old guy troubles."
En decided to keep it diplomatic. "It's not about bothering, it's just..." she shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it, you know?"
"Indeed."
"Come on, maybe your book can take your mind off things."
Meyers managed a wry smile. "Books are known to do that, yes."
Michelangelo's workshop was a big hangar with workbenches all over, and more scrap and junk than En could shake a Pip-boy at. The proprietor, a rather grungy young man in an old vault suit, immediately noticed them and strode towards them, a broad smile on his face. "Welcome, welcome to Michelangelo's workshop! I can tell you're appreciators of fine art!"
"Fine art?" En asked.
His confidence seemed to falter somewhat. "Yes... that is why you're here, right?"
"Uh..."
"Right?"
"No sir," Meyers took over. "We were hoping we could rent one of your workbenches for a day, and use some of your material to fashion a small device."
Disappointment sloughed over his face. "Oh. Sure, I guess. Uh... a hundred for a day and five kilograms worth of scrap. No working electronics included. That sound good?"
Money wasn't an object. "Sure." She counted off a hundred and let the caps fall into a bag he held out.
"All yours." With that, he stomped off, looking seriously insulted. Geez, the guy looked to be clearly hurting for appreciation. En took a quick look around and figured it was no wonder the guy was under-appreciated. His 'art' seemed to involve welding shapeless hunks of iron onto other chunks of iron. The only sculpture she did recognize as faintly human, looked like it was made up of huge brawling fists, an oversized brain, the legs of a cheetah, the body of a muscled demigod, and a horse wiener. Now that was dangerous. No wonder so few people admired the strange gentleman's art. Meyers seemed to be thinking the same thing, grimacing at the horrible sculptured. Quietly, he sighed to En, "Modern art..."
"Yeah."
They found a work bench that still had a working light, and En plunked down her backpack on it, unhooking her tool belt and making that bonk on the wooden workbench as well. Then she surveyed the junk piled against the walls. Most of it were useless hunks of metal, but as always, several little parts and pieces waved at her, speaking in little high pitched voices. "Ooh, me, me, combine me with him and her and her and we'll be totally awesome."
And as always, they were right. Meyers sat down at the side of the workbench, crossing his legs and opening his book. "I'll leave you to it, little lady."
"Yerp," En answered, and then muttered to herself, "Once again I'll show the world that I had to win the science fair and not that little bitch Marcie Holloway. Third place, bah."
"I believe you, little lady," Meyers said absently, making only a token effort to agree with her.
En quickly picked out a rubber vacuum cleaner hose, an old gas mask, a busted airbag system and a pair of biker goggles. Yep. That was all she needed. This would be easy.
She got to it, borrowing some of that Michelangelo dude's glue and sticking things together. She cut a hole in the gas mask's front, where the filter was, and hooked the vacuum hose onto it. It didn't have any holes, goody. The mask was damaged, so she cut off the top half and instead glued the biker goggles onto it, making sure the seal was perfect. Then it was simply a matter of breaking apart the old airbag and sticking the hose onto the fabric to create an air sack. She snatched up an old leather backpack and cut away the front so she had a harness to tack the bag onto, so it could be carried on the back. Michelangelo came by briefly to see what she was doing, and offered as comment, "It's... practical, I suppose. Not much elegance to it though."
"If it works, it works," En had replied, taking care to sound annoyed enough, and the man had taken the hint and buggered off.
A few tweaks later, and the rebreather was done. "Ta-daaah!"
Meyers looked up from his book. "It doesn't... look that impressive."
"Looks don't matter, shyuh!"
"How very true, little lady."
"Yeah figures you'd agree."
"Watch it, smart mouth," he said with a grin, making to hit her with his book.
En checked her Pip-boy. Excellent timing. "C'mon, let's head on back to the 38."
"Before you go," the owner of the workshop said, "would you mind doing me a small favour?"
En sighed. "Depends what it is." Everyone needed favours it seemed.
He produced a camera. "Could you just... umm, make some photos for me?"
"Photos of what?"
He shrugged. "Anything inspirational you see. I'm mainly looking for special signs or advertising boards. Stuff like that." With that, he pushed the camera in her hands. "You can make a few personal photos too if you want to. Got plenty of film."
It was an old Polaroid camera, one of those that immediately developed its pictures so you didn't have to bring the film to a dark room. It was kinda nice, and En figured this little adventure wouldn't last forever, so they better make a photo or two to have some good memories. Who knew where they'd be a year from now, or five, or ten. Sunny and Ringo might be living in New Arroyo with her, but the others, probably not. "Alright, I guess. If you're cool with us snapping some pics for ourselves?"
"Yes, I just said that was alright, didn't I?"
Meyers ticked the rim of his hat. "You did, at that. We'll be back with some good pictures for you."
"Much appreciated."
"Okay, so the first thing we do", En said when they were out in the sun again, "is to make a few awesome group shots, okay?"
"If you wish, little lady." His voice sounded lukewarm but his grin betrayed his interest.
"You bet I wish. Come on, old geezer. I'll even let you stand next to Watkins."
