Chapter 39

Fashion People into Weapons

Sandra led her companions into Gomorrah, checking their weapons before heading on.

Their holdout weapons hidden safely away, the four of them stepped into the elevator and rode up to the third floor—and when the doors slid open, they emerged in a vacant clearing, containing only four two adjacent elevators, a few openings to the nearby hallways, and a couple of pillars in between.

The third floor lacked the ambiance of the rest of the establishment, and an eerie silence lingered on the air. Sandra took in a breath and marched on, Vulpes close by her side as Niner and Arcade vigilantly watched their six.

They peeked into a few nice suites in passing, venturing down the halls and seeing only empty rooms until they reached the final room in the corner.

Sandra nudged the door open—spotting a suited man on the other side of the room.

Across the suite and past the bed, a man in a dark navy suit sat there, gently puffing on a cigarette with his trilby hat close by. He was bald, about middle-aged, with a heavy face and distant eyes that looked as if they'd seen a full lifetime already.

"Tony," Sandra presumed, stepping into the room.

The man, Tony, slowly nodded, flicking his ashes into the ashtray and slightly straightening up in his seat. "Come on in. No strangers on the third floor."

Sandra strode forward, Vulpes still by her side. Niner sped his pace and joined her, crackling his knuckles while Arcade gently closed the hotel door behind them.

Tony's beady eyes shifted from person to person before landing again on the courier.

"I'm ah… I'm curious to know," he remarked, jabbing at each of her companions with his cigarette. "What exactly brought you all here? I know the courier doesn't tend to travel alone, but… really, seriously, just to break the ice. I wanna hear it. What're your reasons for being here? Each one of you. C'mon."

Niner let out a low, cackling laugh, grabbing a chair from across the room and loudly slamming it down a few feet from Tony's table.

"I'm just tryinna scrape by," Niner said with a devilish sort of smirk, sinking into the chair and sitting in it backwards.

"I happen to enjoy this particular profession," Vulpes rumbled with a sneer.

"I'm working toward a better Vegas," Arcade replied honestly.

Sandra nodded, raising a finger and twirling it around, motioning between her three companions. "And I'm all of the above."

Tony let out a faint, dry laugh, making a nod and inhaling another drag.

"Aha… y'know, I can see it," he commented, exhaling a smoke cloud and gesturing loosely to them. "Bits and pieces… some of it selfless, some of it selfish, and most of it both. I can see that in all of you. Now I'm gonna get to the point, kid… what're you doing here? This about Zimmer? The loot? I thought our illustrious establishment made a deal with you already."

"Dealers get cheated," Sandra replied. "Never been to Vegas before?"

Tony cracked a smirk, tilting his head and giving her a curious, somewhat ominous look.

"No… but I was a prize fighter up in Reno," he told her. "'Cause I knew just where to kick a motherfucker to make him scream and beg for mercy. I could keep that shit goin' for hours… and just when you think it can't get any worse, that's when the real pain starts. And that… that's why I'm the one here waiting for you."

Niner and Arcade both frowned, Vulpes's jaw twitching—but Sandra felt entirely unfazed, returning his stare with an equally unfeeling one.

"And that's why you're in a friggin' ghost town up here, too," Niner observed, jabbing his thumb at the door. "All your mates ran away pissin' themselves when they saw the big bad courier stroll in? Heheh."

"Now that really wouldn't surprise me, Niner," Arcade added with a caustic smile, cocking his head and folding his arms. "Remember what happened the last time she was here—and the last time Mr. Fox was, too. I imagine this business is rather wary of us now."

"Wary—scared shitless—same thing," Niner shrugged with a laugh.

Tony chuckled along with them, snuffing out his cigarette and giving them a look. "Naah… now… you got it all wrong. Nobody's scared of you. We just know how to manage you. We buy and sell people like you on the daily… and there's nothing about you that sets you apart from the rest. Nothing."

"Me? No… you're right," Sandra said, all emotion abandoning her voice as she slowly leaned down, propping her hand on the table and leveling her eyes with his. "What's special about us is that we're us. Not me. Us."

Tony scoffed out a laugh. "You do realize how naïve that sounds, don't you?"

Sandra made a mild shrug. "Don't care."

"And, you came here… what, for the loot? Or for your dead buddy?"

"Both."

"Hah. Okay. You don't realize what you're getting yourself into."

"Don't care."

"Well, since you won't fuckin' listen… fuck you. I'm gonna break you into tiny fuckin' pieces that can't be put back together. You're gonna be broken beyond all repair, beggin' in Freeside and suckin' cock for a living. That's where you're headed, cocksucker—"

"Oh, for…" Vulpes groaned and rolled his eyes—whipping forward and slashing his razor across the man's meaty throat in one swift swing.

Sandra blinked and stepped back, Niner and Arcade giving Vulpes a double-take.

Tony's eyes tore open, his mouth falling agape as he began to choke and sputter, blood pouring down his front, groping helplessly at his gaping throat as the crimson saturated his fingers and palms. He slowly slid from his chair, rolling onto the floor and fighting desperately to breath, croaking and gurgling until he eventually fell still.

The four of them were quiet, everyone's eyes slowly fixating onto the frumentarius.

Vulpes raised his brows, adjusting his hat and sighing. "What? The man wasn't going to tell us anything useful. His talking served no purpose beyond sheer annoyance. So you're welcome."

Sandra stared at him, then down at the body, releasing a cloud of breath. "Damn. I was kinda expecting a big fight, here…"

"Oh… don't worry," Vulpes said grimly, turning and eyeing the door. "I imagine we'll get that as well."

He moved past the others, easing the door open and peeking down the hallway, seeing nothing as of yet.

Sandra, Arcade, and Niner all eyed him from behind.

"Oh," Arcade uttered, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Oh, damn, you're right…"

"What?" Niner barked, glancing between Arcade and Vulpes. "Whaddid I miss here?!"

"The entire top floor was empty when we arrived here," Vulpes reminded them. "The whole floor that's meant to belong to the syndicate."

"Tony said they knew how to 'manage' people like us," Arcade added. "And, if the rest of the syndicate functions anything like Zimmer—then they'd lead their targets into a quiet trap before loudly springing it on us."

"Which means we're gonna see the rest of them any second now," Sandra understood. "Blocking off the exit and backing us into a corner. Just like down in the vault…"

"Yo, Fox—close and lock the door," Niner demanded at once, snapping and pointing at him before turning to Sandra. "Doc—with me. C'mon."

Everyone gave him an odd look.

"Trust me—I been dealin' with thugs and crime families all my life," Niner quickly explained. "This guy was a big-wig in their little club? Then he's got weapons in here. Lock that door and help me find 'em. Now!"

The others sprang into action at once—Vulpes locking the door while Sandra slid the 22 pistol out of her shirt. Arcade joined Niner, both of them searching every drawer in the dresser, the space under the bed, and even the safe in the bathroom. The safe contained several letters between Tony and other members of the syndicate—which Niner pocketed—but there were no weapons inside.

Arcade skidded to a stop beside Tony's body, staring down at it and making a disgusted face. He only just spotted it—a holster on Tony's hip—but he'd have to reach partly underneath the fresh dead corpse to retrieve it.

"Ugh…" Arcade knelt and slid his hand under the man's still warm stomach, hooking his finger around the hammer of a pistol and swiftly pulling it out. "Oh, thank God…"

"I hear them," Vulpes reported, hushing his tone as he pressed his ear to the door. "The elevator just went off in the corridor."

"Then they'll be coming down this hall any second," Arcade said, approaching him. "Do we actually have a plan, or…?"

Vulpes glanced at him, unlocking the door and nodding sideways. "Well… I do."

Then suddenly—Vulpes popped the door open and rushed outside, ripping the door to the adjacent closet open and vanishing into it.

"Wha—hey!" Arcade whisper-yelled, leaning out to the hallway and quickly withdrawing his head, hoping not to be shot by a random syndicate goon somewhere.

Niner—who was across the room and hunching over a pink flower vase—grinned from ear to ear, dumping the vase onto the table as two objects clattered out.

"Ohohooo—yeeea, there we go," Niner beamed, snatching up the detonator and a chunk of C4. "I knew it. Oy, Doc—you and Six hang back. Open fire after I make my move. You'll know when."

Niner pushed his way to the front, Sandra and Arcade giving him a squint.

"Fine. But Vulpes is in the closet across the hall now," Arcade said.

Niner stared at him. "Why?"

"No idea."

"M'kay—just—just work around him somehow. We got this."

"Shh," Sandra hissed, pressing a finger to her mouth. "Listen."

From the corner room, just inside the doorway, the three of them listened intently—and down either of the two hallways beyond them, a couple of syndicate members in dark suits emerged around either corner, raising revolvers and preparing to fire—

And Vulpes flew out of the closet, holding a fire extinguisher and whipping it around in a great swing. He threw it around the corner with all his might just when Niner leaped out of the room, pitching the C4 down the other hallway as hard as he could.

All the syndicate men opened fire—earsplitting gunshots and blinding muzzle flashes filling the halls—then a great boom shook the third floor, bullets striking the fire extinguisher and making a great burst of pressure erupt down the right hall.

The fire extinguisher blasted the syndicate back—and Niner hit the detonator, making an even greater BOOM explode down the other hall, ripping the men to pieces and splattering the walls with red mist.

And just when the survivors in the right hall began to reach their feet—Sandra and Arcade emerged from the room side by side, hammering their triggers and executing the final remaining three, all dead before they hit the floor.

A long silence transpired thereafter—Niner lowering the detonator and wearing a victorious grin, Sandra and Arcade sighing as they lowered their guns, and Vulpes leaning on the wall with one hand, the other cupped around one of his ringing ears.

They all paused for a moment, glimpsing around and surveying the damage—all the fresh bodies and bloodstains, as well as the numerous cracks and chunks of debris missing from the floors and walls—and then, they turned to face each other.

"Aha… tha was… that was fun," Niner breathed exasperatedly.

"Yes, well… we…" Vulpes hesitated, wincing as the painful ringing in his ears began to fade. "We still… have no idea where Zimmer is."

"Ooo—yea we do," Niner smirked, patting his pocket. "Tony had a buncha notes in his safe, and they all came from a place outside Freeside called St. Peter's. I think it's a meat market, Iunno. But that's where everyone else in the syndicate's been contacting him from. Including Zimmer."

Sandra nodded and headed down the hall at once, eyes alit with solid resolve.

Now that she had a destination—there was nothing to keep her here any longer.

Her three friends swapped glances before following suit.

St. Peters resided just beyond the eastern gate of Freeside, down the road and nestled snugly on the corner. It was an inconspicuous place, one no one ever glances at twice—in fact, the courier's bus had driven directly past it on the way to Vegas—but now, a single suited man stood outside, puffing on a cigarette and peacefully watching the sunset.

He seemed well at ease—right up until a bullet struck his skull as if from nowhere, making him instantly crumble to the ground.

Sandra strode down the street, shotgun at hand and companions in her wake.

She approached the building and shoved the double-doors open, surprised to see what looked like an ordinary restaurant inside, inhabited only by a few more suited syndicate men. One of them was behind the counter, leaning lazily on it and cocking his head at the newcomers.

"Paulie, you really need to cut out the smoke break…" the man uttered, slowly standing fully and realizing who'd just arrived. "Fuck… fuck me, it's you!"

"Fuck you—it's me!" Sandra laughed—raising her gun and unleashing a deafening shot, painting the walls with his skull.

The other suited men sprang into action—yet the courier's companions made short work of them, already armed and prepared. Niner and Arcade unleashed countless shots before Vulpes flew between them, smashing his displacer glove into a man's skull and thoroughly obliterating it, a few spots of blood landing on his cheek as he did.

Once they were all dead—Sandra marched on, sunglasses covering her eyes and cigarette protruding from her mouth, and she stepped into the back employee door, finding a single staircase that led down to a darkened basement.

She traded faces with her friends, took a deep breath, and they all braced themselves before marching on—finally ready to face the man at the end of the line.

And that man—Zimmer—was quietly downstairs, around the corner, in his hidden office and seated behind his desk. He'd been writing, but he stopped, glancing up from his papers and gazing off toward the doorway from behind his own sunglasses, hearing all the commotion and releasing a deep cloud of breath.

Robbie—the young red-haired boy he liberated from the Judge long ago—was right beside his desk now, peering up at him with wide eyes, looking totally petrified.

"Back room," Zimmer said calmly and quietly. "Hide under the bed in the back room. I need to deal with something now."

Robbie shakily nodded and rushed out of the room through the nearest doorway, vanishing into the bedroom-like enclosure that was behind the office.

Zimmer remained entirely still in his rolling chair, mindlessly twirling his pen around in his fingers, watching the farther doorway—until the people emerged at last. Sandra, Arcade, Niner, and Vulpes marched inside one by one, and the courier simply sank into the seat across from Zimmer, propping her arm on the rest and giving him a cold, expectant stare.

Zimmer intertwined his fingers, giving her a look of intrigue. "Well, this is… quite the event. I so rarely get to meet a legend."

Sandra said nothing, giving him an icy glare as her three companions stood close behind her.

"And you know what's fascinating? You know what's really, truly fascinating about your ordeal?" Zimmer asked, outstretching his pointer fingers and aiming them both at her. "The fact that I know how many of my people you warred through just to get to where you are now. Just you. Just you four. That is quite unbelievable. Your friends here must either be getting paid an honest fortune, or they're just the most loyal pawns one could have."

"I don't have pawns," Sandra replied tonelessly. "Just friends."

Zimmer slightly tilted his head, giving her another curious look. "Oh… come now, Courier. I've made a living by moving my pawns in accordance to necessity, and by feeding them whatever they desire so they're complacent where they are. You don't get the numbers and the loyalty I have simply by making friends."

"I can't imagine you'd know," Sandra sighed, sounding almost disappointed in him. "Seeing as how you've apparently thought of people as pawns all your life. I guess that's why you did what you did with Bradley, right? What… did you think you were being Mr. Hero? Did you think you were teaching me a hard life lesson about survival? Because I've been there, I've done that, and I wrote the fucking book on it. And I damn sure don't need a lesson from a fuck like you."

Zimmer slowly lowered his hands, leaning on his desk and observing her with the utmost of attentive captivation.

"You are… so many things," he knew, his voice softening. "You have the years in your eyes, and the experience in your past, and all the heavy damage… all the baggage of someone like me. And yet, you function entirely on the naivety of a child, not on the experience of someone who's been there and done it all. Now… that must be a truly painful way to live. I bet you feel like you're tearing apart inside… don't you?"

"Most people do," Sandra countered. "Doesn't matter. You killed someone I gave a damn about, and you stole from me, too. So yeah. I'm here. The fuck did you think was gonna happen?"

"I collected something that was mine from you," Zimmer corrected. "And as far as killing someone you care about… listen to me. You live in a wasteland. You live in a world post-apocalypse. You live in a world with no law, no mercy, no shred of decency whatsoever. So, when you decided to pursue something that you knew would antagonize and infringe upon me… what on earth did you think was gonna happen?"

"Hey. Lemme make something real clear right now," Sandra hissed, leaning forward and glaring daggers into him. "I'm a bounty hunter, and you're a crime lord. You were probably gonna pop up down my list sooner or later whether you pissed me off or not. I don't give a damn about you. I don't give a damn what antagonizes you. And I sure as hell don't give a damn how you justify all the bullshit to yourself—because that shit doesn't fly in the real world."

Zimmer withdrew for a second, resisting the urge to glance at his back room.

Yes, he truly had garnered a way of justifying his actions to himself. His latest kind deed—adopting Robbie and rescuing him from the abuse of Judge Richter—quite honestly helped him to sleep at night, regardless of what other heinous deeds he would regularly do.

But—the courier was wrong about one thing.

"It does, though," Zimmer remarked, sliding his fingers together again. "What about when it does impact the real world? You and I have both saved lives as well as taken them. What about the lives saved when you intervene? That's how you justify your acts of sin, is it not?"

"See… you're making the mistake of thinking I give that much of a damn," Sandra griped, tossing up her hand. "I honestly don't think about it that far. I try to do right, and I kill the shit that's wrong. Simple as that."

"Aaah… and, all the sudden, it all becomes clear," Zimmer said, nodding and leaning back in his seat, his gaze seeming to coast across her companions. "Because when you say things like that… I can certainly see how it would inspire others to follow in your wake. We really aren't so different, are we? We truly excel at managing other people… and we fashion them into weapons to use at our disposal. And if that wasn't true, Courier… then I daresay you would have never made it this far."

"Yeah. And y'know what?" Sandra glowered, flashing a sly, unfeeling smirk. "Worked like a fuckin' charm, now didn't it?"

Zimmer breathed out a laugh, clasping his hands together and gently thumping them against his chin. "Do you know what I do with my money, Courier?"

Sandra stared at him, making a face. "No. Do I care?"

"If you want the loot, you do," Zimmer replied knowingly. "Some people blow it on booze, or pussy… but me? I buy implants. Not comfortable going in… but so good once they're settled. Now… listen. The vault room in this basement contains the entirety of Bradley's inheritance, and that room is rigged with C4. If my heart stops beating, that room will detonate, and the gold will be buried forever. But… I have a very, very fun proposal for you if you'd like to indulge me."

Sandra leaned back in her seat, waiting for him to go on.

"Legends often die in stupid, pointless ways," Zimmer told her. "Truly a shame that reality humbles us all so heavily. But… I think a grand final battle between two legends would suit either one of us quite well. Don't you agree?"

Sandra didn't reply, managing a shrug.

"So… I will turn off my heart implant," Zimmer proposed. "If you agree to fight me on my terms… with a katana. One-on-one combat. Just you and me. One final showdown."

Sandra's eyes narrowed, sitting up and eyeing him. "Why should I give you your big final showdown? You're not even worth—"

"Sandra," Vulpes spoke calmly from her side.

Sandra took back, turning and staring at him strangely. Vulpes said her name so rarely, it always rouses her interest whenever he did.

Vulpes gazed down at her with serene blue eyes, gently raising his brows. "I believe that's your best course of action. And your most honorable one."

Sandra fought the urge to ogle him in bewilderment, feeling somewhat stunned. She didn't expect such an assessment from him; most of his tactics were cold and cunning, and she didn't think she'd ever even heard him say the word 'honor' before.

"Oooh—yea, good point," Niner agreed out of nowhere, smiling and waving a finger at Vulpes. "That's the only way we might get the gold, too."

"Aaah… right," Arcade said with a nod. "Well, that settles it. We'll step out and allow you two to settle this however you see fit. All right?"

"Good," Zimmer smirked. "I appreciate your understanding. And I do apologize for calling you pawns. No offense was intended."

"Oooh, no offense taken—you have fun now," Arcade smiled and waved, ushering Niner and Vulpes toward the far doorway.

Sandra turned her head, watching them leave and thinking they all must've gone mad.

They should've known better than to think she'd face Zimmer in open combat; the man was just another criminal to bring down, not someone she should indulge with special treatment. And beyond that—he was a danger to her and everyone else in Vegas, and she wasn't sure she could defeat him on her own. Why would they risk such a loss right now?

The companions stepped into the next room, the dingy storage room connected to the stairway. Niner stood across from the doorway, Arcade deeper into the room—and Vulpes stood directly at the side of the doorway, his back pressed to it, listening to everything in the office room intently, waiting for the precise moment to act.

"This," Zimmer said, holding up a key and snapping Sandra out of her thoughts. "Is the key for the vault room. I'll keep it on my person… and if you best me, it's all yours."

Sandra gulped, feeling terribly unprepared.

She could only hope her friends had a plan in the works. If not—she'd just have to fight him best she could.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed.

Zimmer smiled, pulling a remote out of his desk and flipping a switch on it, powering off his heart implant. He then stood and pocketed the key, motioning over to the locker on the wall. He placed his pistol inside, and Sandra placed her shotgun in beside it.

Once they were both unarmed, Zimmer turned and led Sandra across the room, heading to the doorway farthest away from them.

Niner peeked into the office—then turned to Vulpes and gave him a nod.

Vulpes inhaled—and he whipped around the corner, speed-walking as silently as a shadow across the office room.

He approached Zimmer from behind—cocking his fist back and—

BAN—CRRRSH

A blinding blast of blue illuminated the room—and the displacer glove shattered the back of Zimmer's skull, making him fumble and collapse dead to the floor, blood splattering across the wooden panels.

Sandra jumped and spun around—shielding her eyes from the light. "Whoa!"

Vulpes lowered the glowing glove, cocking his head and straightening up.

"What?" he barked, Arcade and Niner emerging from the doorway behind him. "Did you think we planned to let that fool's errand run its course?"

Sandra heaved several rushed breaths, her gaze traveling between all her companions as well as Zimmer's fresh corpse.

When she looked to Vulpes again, she gave him an odd look. "What happened to honor…?"

Vulpes squinted at her, making a coy expression and straightening his hat. "I hardly think we need to extend honor to someone who's never once practiced it before."

"Yes, and… as cruel as that is, I second that," Arcade chimed in, raising a hand.

"Same," Niner agreed, waving his thumb at the two of them. "Yeah, fuck that guy. He's a crook, and he killed Bradley."

"Precisely," Vulpes disclosed with a nod. "We just needed him to deactivate his little heart monitor before we took any action. Now we have all his funds as well. You did want to rebuild Vegas anew, did you not?"

Sandra stared at them, feeling the strangest sensation of gratitude and relief. She let out a massive breath, smiling and letting out a laugh.

"I love you guys," she sighed.

"Oy—are you gonna stand there gushin' like a baby, or are we gonna get our goddamn prize finally?!" Niner grinned, kneeling at Zimmer's body and digging out the key from his pocket. "C'mon. We're lootin' the future today."

The four of them trekked off to the locker and collected the shotgun, then headed into the vault room—delighted to see several gold bars placed on all the tables along the walls. They spent a very long time trying to fit the bars into their bags, even resorting to dumping items out of one of Zimmer's duffle bags so they could fill it to the brim as well.

The four of them marched off with the entire inheritance in their possession, and they left the defeated syndicate behind at long last—unaware of the mortified boy sobbing hysterically over Zimmer's body throughout the entire evening to follow.