Steve ushered Boone and me out in short order. Gave us the details on our next body and booted us out. Which worked for me. I'd learned more about Steve's past than I'd been planning to, and it was clear I was starting to dig into something he didn't want to touch.
The next body to add to the pile was that of one Kurt Katil. Another Fiend, and as deserving of his bounty as the likes of Motor-runner, Violet, and Nephi. I'd have put Cook-cook and Eileen in the boat with them, but they were freaks deserving of their own ship. I wasn't far off from lumping Katil in with the latter two either, He was a freak in his own right. It was reported that he would vivisect people, then gnaw on their innards, while they were still alive.
Fucking whack job.
He and the brain-dead fucks he'd been running with had made the mistake of attacking Westside not too far back. The militia had pushed them back, but lost people in the process, Katil's boys apparently took some of them captive. Not to be found lacking, the people of Westside tracked them for a while on their own. They'd probably been planning to mount a counter-assault, but found themselves lacking the man-power. So they put the bounty up instead, let some other idiots get thrown into the grinder while they licked their wounds. They didn't have any illusions about what'd happened to their people.
The militia had tracked Katil back to a burnt-out house in Fiend Territory, just outside the Sunset Sarsaparilla headquarters. The kind of place that'd probably been wrecked during the War, but hadn't rotted away because the climate kept it from happening. Leaving behind a skeleton of sun-bleached wood beams and skin made of crumbling masonry and dry wall. There were a lot of places like that around Vegas in particular, especially in Fiend territory.
Boone and I made the trip from McCarran, running into a few Fiend patrols on the way in. They were still a present danger, but becoming fragmented. With Motor-Runner gone, they were holding together with little more than duct tape and a prayer. I got the impression there'd be bands of them roving around until a concentrated effort was put into policing the area. But they weren't going to be anywhere near the threat they'd been poised to be, now that they were missing a brain. Given time, they might even disintegrate completely. In any case, we only had a short walk from the base to Katil's last known location.
Which was abandoned by the time we got there.
Could only assume as such, I had no idea when the Militia had posted the bounty in the first place. Intel that's more than a day old is about as useful as a radio with a broken tuner. You'll might get something most of the time, but you're stuck on one frequency and at the mercy of the elements. Almost better off sitting in dead air.
Fortunately, Boone and Me were able to pick-up that he hadn't gone far. He had the perfect place to move to not more than a dozen yards away.
We got there late at night, or early in the morning. It was that time where the night seemed darkest, meaning dawn itself wasn't too far off, about 4:30, closer to 5 in the morning. We'd agreed that this would be the time to hit them. Anyone who wasn't in a drug induced coma would be exhausted. Be easy enough to take them by surprise.
I tried to get Boone to wait outside, let me handle it. But he stubbornly followed me in anyway. So, if we both got captured and tortured to death, it was his fault.
We crept through the door to the reception area, finding the room dimly lit with. A barrel fire sitting in the opposite corner of the room from the old animatronic, Festus. The place was as dilapidated as the last time I'd been through there. The only major difference being fresher bits of detritus and used needles and aerosol containers littering the floor.
A part of me wished I hadn't been to the place once before, on business for that bitch McLafferty. The security might've dealt with most of them. Might've been enough to put them down outright. Whoever was left wouldn't have the strength to put up a real fight. But that's hindsight, somebody was bound to set-up shop here again eventually. Just my luck that it turned out to be a Fiend.
Passing out of the door way, we checked for traps. To my surprise, they'd never bothered to set any. Sloppy, either they'd just moved in, or figured manpower was enough. Clearly it wasn't.
Especially since the guy they posted at the front door was high as a kite.
There was a Fiend at the far side of the room. His weapon, a laser RCW, was leaning against the wall beside him. He himself had pulled up a metal chair, and had fallen into it as a gracefully as a Gecko to a gore mound. Head cocked back, jaw slack with mouth lolled open. His arms hung at either side of him, a syrette visibly jammed into the hollow of his left elbow. Given the shape, I had to assume Med-X.
About as good a guard as you could expect, from a Fiend.
Despite the fact that he was out, and showing no signs of getting up, Boone and me snuck up on him. Say what you want about killing a sleeping man, the guy was a Fiend, he had it coming. Compared to most like him, he didn't even know it was coming, a mercy he wouldn't have given anyone.
Leaving the body where it lay, we to the right path deeper into the building. The place sprawled a bit, but there weren't many places Kurt could use as a personal space. The places that sprang to mind first were either the bottling room, or the loading dock. Both were spacious, had ready access to the outside, and would probably be perfect places for a guy like Katil to act like a freak.
I had my lever-action shotgun level and ready as we stalked down the ruined halls, passing the busted shells of former Protectrons and Mister Handy's. Boone was doing much the same with his hunting rifle. Level at the hip, but ready to snap back to his shoulder at a moment's notice.
"You sure you don't want to trade?" I asked.
"Yes." Boone answered, tone neutral.
"I've got a pistol for back-up." I pressed "Rifle's not suited for close fighting."
"Made it work in the past." He grunted.
"Close calls." I reminded
Boone grunted, shrugged one of his shoulders. He wasn't budging on it. Couldn't blame him, he and that rifle were stuck to each other like glue. Half the reason he was so accurate could probably be chalked up to that. Far as I knew, he'd had it through his entire tour with the NCR. Plenty of time to work out the kinks and make it a custom fit. But a full-length rifle was cumbersome in close quarters. We'd been run up on in the past, before he could get a shot off on all of them. Custom job or no, rifles are a whole lot less effective at punching distance. Most guns were, that's why hand-to-hand combat training was a standard. In my mind, he was taking a stupidly unnecessary risk at the moment. He was opting for it though, so I was going to hope we could compensate.
We passed through the office portion of the building in near silence. It seemed Katil was either sloppy, or careless. He hadn't bothered to set any traps or alarms along what was a mostly straight path. A short one at that. The hall led to what had once been an office, now caved in by age and ordinance. There was another door leading out of the room, in the corner of the far wall. Past experience told me what was beyond it: the bottling room. A cavernous room, filled with machines for processing soda, with no ready exit to the Mojave.
Amber light shown through the door way. Wavering and warbling across the ground the way only firelight could.
I could hear voices too.
Boone and I stopped, sharing a look. Both of us knew better than to just walk right through the obvious entrance. So we took the alternative, and ambled up the caved in portion of the upper floor. I knew the layout well enough to know there were two ways into the bottling room. Since someone was there, going in from the upper floor would give us a better angle. Though the advantage wasn't an excuse to let my guard down. Katil wouldn't be the first bounty to think he could get the drop on me without traps. He wouldn't be the first to do it either, but that just meant I needed to stay cautious. I didn't need any repeats, and I had the sinking feeling that's what would happen if we weren't careful.
We clambered up the ruined piece of construction, and mantled onto the above floor. There was a door that fed into a hallway, with the door to the bottling room a few yards down. The hall conjoined with another to form a T, but that didn't matter. As far as I could remember, there wasn't anything important down that way. Just more office space and a restroom.
As we approached the door leading to the bottling room, I signaled for Boone to take cover at one edge. I took to the other, peering through into the factory beyond. The door led out onto a walkway, overlooking the assembly floor below. During the day, it was a dimly lit place, at night it should've been pitch. But the room was cast with soft light, emanating from the factory below. More burning barrels, three it seemed. Casting warm amber light and long shadows into the grime and dust laden air of the factory.
The light betrayed the three Fiends below.
Two of them lingered near one of the barrels, close to a packing chute on the outer wall. The third was lying a small distance from them. They were conversing, their voices carrying in the cavernous room, just barely loud enough to hear. One was sharpening a combat knife on a whet-stone, while the other worked on a disassembled caravan shotgun. The hinge disconnected and leaving the gun in three pieces. The last of the was reclined on one of the nearby conveyor belts. I could only assume they were in another narcotic stupor. Made more dangerous by the .22 SMG strewn over them, barrel precariously aligned under their chin.
Stupid, sloppy, and dangerous.
But no sign of Katil. He was one of those rare exceptions that seemed to have his shit together. Probably had something to do with him being naturally crazy instead of just chem addled… maybe. He was the one we needed in our sights before we did anything brash.
We rested there a moment, listening.
"I D-d-don't get it man, w-what the f-fff-fuck is happ-pp-ening?" The one with the knife stuttered, jerkily drawing his knife down the stone
"I don't- HAH- know." The second one, with the shotgun, answered. He jerked and twitched involuntarily, I couldn't quite tell if that was withdrawal or something else "One sec we're all good- RrrrUFF, ROF- then all the shit starts falling apart."
"W-www-wo-wouldn't have ma-m-mattered if it was j-just one of th-he l-lieutenants. B-but i-its-s all of them-m." The knife one jittered "Neph-phi, V-violet, C-cook-cook-"
"I'm glad that fuck-head's gone- AWOOO- he smelled like Brahmin crap." The other snapped, arms jerking as he tried to re-hinge his shotgun. "That- RRrOF- fucking bitch Eileen too."
"Bbb-ut, f-fuckin' M-motor R-runn-er!" The first sputtered, nearly slipping and cutting himself "Hh-ow the Fff-fuck ddi-id they g-get h-hii-m?"
"Started cuttin' his- RRRrrrRRrrRr- Jet with Med-X, that's how. Don't mix your uppers with your downers." The second said, snapping his shotgun shut and returning it to his back. "Probably what got him and his dumb f- ROF!- uck brother killed."
"M-Maybe." The First shrugged "…W-w-hat do you t-think bos-ss is gon-na do?"
"Ask him when he gets- BORK- back. He wants to start making moves, but he's waiting to hear back from Lobo- Arrooo- first. Figure out who's been hitting us. Got an eye on that bitch Queenie too, she's started getting in people's ears."
"What's taking him so long?"
"You- RRruf!- know how he is when he gets -RrRr- bite-y. I'm just glad he hasn't started eat- ROOF- ing people yet- wO-Rk- be like dealing with Cook-cook again."
"…You get what either of these guys are saying?" I asked, turning to Boone.
"…"
"Yeah, me neither. But, safe to say Katil's not here, which doesn't leave a whole lot of room left for him to hide." I whispered, looking to Boone "My guess: he's over in the loading dock."
"It's on the other side of them, right?" Boone asked.
"Kinda, its off that way." I shrugged, motioning off to our right. "We can back track to it, but I don't want to take eyes off these three chuckle fucks."
"You think they'll be a problem?" Boone asked, not quite sounding like a question.
"Normally no, but past jobs have taught me the dangers of not accounting for the hired help. And if they're crazy enough to run with a guy like Katil, there's a chance they're bad news."
"Hm." Boone grunted, eyeing the Fiends with the intensity I'd come to expect of him. Ruthless. "I'll hang back."
"…You sure?" I asked, after a moment "I know we don't have much of a choice, but splitting up never works out well."
"You want to forget about them instead?" Boone asked, deadpan and probably in rhetoric.
" ... Alright." I said, nodding "Assuming I get the drop on Katil, I'll do my best to take him out quietly, then work my way back. Barring that, you'll have the element of surprise on these three. I'm sure they'll come running if they hear something happening with their boss."
Boone nodded, carefully working the action on his rifle. The sound of it nearly lost even at so close a distance amidst the settling moan of the ancient building. "How're you gonna do it?"
"Working that part out." I answered, pulling out a rare and wondrous item. A small circle of steel and glass, a curved mirror sitting atop it, hinged to a pivoting arm. "But I've got one of these."
Boone eyed me warily "A stealth boy?"
I nodded "Hard to find to begin with, probably overkill, and, yeah, I know I promised not to keep them around Lily."
Boone eyed me for a moment, then shook his head. "If it gets the job done faster, do it."
"Right." I agreed, strapping the device to my bounty hunter duster, but leaving it deactivated. "If my memory is right, fastest way to the loading dock is through the door down there, and a sharp left. You'll know it when it happens."
Boone nodded and knelt down, getting into a ready position.
I turned and started back down the ramp we came up on. There were two ways to get back around to the loading dock. One of them was through the factory floor, and the other back the way we came. I could've gone through the factory, start my stealth-boy early. They had an operational range of an hour, and as long as Kurt wasn't planning to play hide and seek the entire time, this wasn't going to be that long. But if I could avoid using it at all, I would.
I crept back out of the office space and back into the hall. The doors to the loading dock weren't far from there, a dozen yards and around a corner, at most. I tried to keep focused on the bottling room for as long as possible, but my perception was rivaled by that of a near-dead fish. Even where I was, disseminating particulars was hard. If the bullets started flying, I'd hear it, but there was no making out any more than that.
It made me dislike the idea of splitting up even more.
This line of work had proven how thoroughly you needed to have your wits about you. Mistakes were costly, and the price wasn't always death.
I hadn't forgotten Steve's story yet. Katil wasn't ghoul, but I'd put him in the same ballpark as the one Steve spoke of. We got caught with our pants down, death wasn't going to be the first thing he wanted.
I crept up to the door of the loading dock and got a firm grip on That Gun. I let my off-hand ghost overtop of the Stealth boy as I eased the door open, ready to vanish at a moment's notice.
The loading dock was a cavernous space, even by the standard of the building. The floor sloped down into the foundation of the building, making it feel like a sunken pit. What little light filtered in was diffused and muted by scratched, dust and grime caked windows high overhead. Massive pallets of soda crates occupied the work floor, intermittently cut by dangling chains from joists high overhead. There was no fire here, only the pale, yellow stained moonlight from beyond the windows.
The air reeked of iron and sewage.
One of death's repugnant bouquet.
I started into the loading dock, keeping low and soft footed. No sound echoed out from the gloom, but that didn't mean Katil wasn't there. I crept deeper into the room, eyes open. Long, deep shadows made for excellent cover as I slunk deeper with every step. More than enough for either of us to get the drop on the other.
I was halfway through and hadn't seen anything. I marked it with the Bottle Cap press McLafferty had me deactivate weeks back. That deep into the room, and I hadn't seen anything.
Then, just beyond it, I saw something looming in the shadows.
Correction, I saw someone dangling in them.
They were strung up in the air. Held in place by chains that cascaded down from the ceiling in rusty tendrils. It was a woman, somewhere in her thirties. Must've been one of the westsiders Steve had mentioned. Her face close enough in shape and hair close enough in shade to remind me of Cass. Blood dried around her mouth. She'd been strung up by chains around each of her limbs, and one on her throat. Hoisted up so her chest and stomach hung lowest.
She'd been cut open.
Innards dangled from her like coils of meaty rope. The reek of iron and death emanating from them. A pool of tacky gore spattered on the ground beneath her. Drying, but still fresh. I avoided getting close, I was too close to begin with honestly. She was dead, and I could only hope it had been quick, for her sake. A part of me wanted to be sick, and my stomach was close to agreeing.
But I couldn't afford to be distracted.
Katil was here somewhere.
I moved away from the woman and closed my eyes. Shifting my focus to hearing my environment. Few people could be dead silent, besides the dead. Even through the settling of the building, I'd hear Katil somewhere, somehow. Breathing, moving, coughing, or whatever depraved noises he made. I wasn't the most perceptive, but listening is easy. Anyone who can stop for five seconds to focus can do it.
I could hear the building around me, let it slowly filter out. Ignoring the shifts of crumbling masonry and creak of old metal. Silencing the light whisper of night wind that blew past broken windows. Let the pinprick drips of blood fade alongside my breathing.
I let my hearing be open to whatever did not belong.
So, of course, this time the gunshots truly did ring louder than thunder.
My eyes snapped open, and I whipped towards the source.
The entrance to the loading dock, further.
The bottling room.
Boone.
A curse hissed through my teeth as I lurched up.
If Katil had been in the room with me, right then would've been the time to strike.
The fact that I crossed the room and bolted out the door without so much as being tripped proved he wasn't.
I ran down the hall at a dead sprint, gunfire ringing out as I rounded the corner. I could make out the first, a rifle, Boone. It was followed by another blast of near equal measure, and a muted cacophony.
I quickly scanned the entrance to the office space, That Gun at the ready, and dipped into the room. Crouching low as I quickly circled under the collapsed ceiling. Angling for the door that led from the office into the Bottling room. I came to rest against the wall, doing my best to avoid crashing into it. I gave one more quick glance to the office before peering into the bottle room.
Things had happened quickly. Much of the room was still as it'd been, but people had moved. There were five people there now. Two standing, the knife Fiend, and someone new. A broad guy wearing re-enforced metal armor, and a helmet identical to the one Motor-runner had worn. Grime and grease covered it as much as his face. His lips were stained in a dried, cracked brown, likely crimson once. The dim fire light giving the already crazed light in his eyes a further disturbed gleam. There was a lever-action shotgun in his hands.
I found Katil.
But he found Boone first.
He was on the ground, two of the fiends too. They were bleeding, all three of them.
I could at least tell that the fiends were dead. Shotgun Fiend was missing a chunk off the right side of his dome. Boone's handy work I had to guess. The other Fiend was missing the top of their head entirely, but it was also the one who'd had the SMG. Given the wound, I wasn't sure what'd happened to him.
Boone seemed to be bleeding from somewhere on his chest, couldn't see where. Somewhere near his shoulder, but it could've been closer to center mass. I could see the blood though, staining his uniform a darker shade. The armor he wore would've stopped the brunt of it, but something must've got through. I could see him moving, trying and failing to bring his rifle around. The Knife Fiend wasn't waiting for anything though. I sprinted up to Boone and kicked the rifle off of him. Turning the motion into an uneasy stomp, connecting with the growing red patch of Boone's armor.
Boone doesn't make much noise, but he grunts, and I knew when he could feel pain.
He felt that.
The Knife Fiend loomed over Boone's prone form. I could see him preparing to kneel down, put his knife to work.
I was a hair's breadth from blowing his head off when Katil suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Katil hauled him off of my prone companion. Then tossed Fiend aside with all the care you'd give an empty beer bottle. The Fiend stumbled aside, tripping over one of his friend's corpses and smacking into a conveyor belt.
"Tut. Tut." Katil crowed, voice a shrill, greasy mix of lunacy and bloodlust. "You know how this goes Murphy- DON'T FUCK WITH MY MEAT!"
The fiend, Murphy, picked himself up off the conveyor built, head shaking in what could be mistaken for a nod. "Y-yeah, whatever you s-s-say boss, all yours."
Katil lips, a thin waxy pair of slugs, peeled back from his teeth in the mockery of a smile. Then his head suddenly snapped towards the door to the office, and I reeled back, sticking to the shadows.
I waited for a moment, half expecting him to level his shotgun my way. But he didn't. He just stared at the door for a moment, with cold beady eyes.
"… He'll be here any moment." Katil said, voice burbling out like tar
"Wh-h-ho?"
"This one's partner." Katil sneered.
I could just barely see Boone from where I was at the door, peering around the corner. I knew he was probably looking for a chance to strike. Even when half riddled with buckshot, he knew better than to stay down.
Which was probably why Katil planted his boot back onto Boone's wounded side. Unlike the other fiend, couldn't care less what their name was, Katil was sure about himself. He slammed his foot down like he was trying to take root, and began grinding his foot. Boone bared his teeth in a muted snarl, trying to substitute the pain with fury.
"Clever little meat sack." Katil intoned "Smart enough to try and have a plan, smart enough to attack at night… Smart enough to wear body armor-"
Without warning, Katil pushed the barrel of his shotgun into Boone's back, near his lower right ribs. There was a dull, hammer-like thud, a small burst of light, and a jolt of motion that passed up the length of Katil's arm.
Bone gave a bark of something that the uninitiated would've misconstrued for pain. For no reason in particular, I was suddenly fearing for my companion's life.
Katil raised his shotgun back up, resting it on his shoulder. I couldn't see well from my angle, but it didn't look like Katil had shot to kill. That close, he certainly could have. "-But not smart enough to check to make sure you were alone. I WAS TAKING A CRAP WHEN YOU TWO SHOWED UP."
The gears whirred in my head for a moment, before an image affixed itself in place. It made me feel like an even bigger idiot.
He was using the bathroom. The bathroom right next to where we'd been standing. Of all the literal crap to get in my way, that took the fucking cake. How the fuck are you supposed to plan for something like that?
Boone stayed on the ground, moving in a way that would almost suggest he was writhing. But I knew Boone, he was stronger than that. Must've been the fire light.
"Don't worry about the ribs, they grow back." Katil said snidely "Don't worry about your friend either, he'll be joining you in a minute. Then we can have all kinds of fun together. But don't worry: I'M NOT GOING TO KILL YOU."
The sight of the dead woman began etching itself into the front of my mind.
Katil didn't move from his spot overtop Boone. But he did turn, twisting his boot deeper into Boone's wounds.
The other Fiend was still there, watching as Katil tortured my companion. Either enjoying the show, or too stupid to do otherwise.
"… Well, why are you still standing there, GET INTO POSITION." Katil barked
"R-righ-tt" The knife fiend sputtered "S-sorr-y boss."
The Fiend turned on his heel and started towards the door. Maybe if I hadn't already been overstimulated by the sudden turn of events, I would've given more of a shit about that. But right then, I didn't. I was too busy fearing for Boone's life.
It was right about then that Steve's story roared back through my mind. It was holding hands with the dead woman I'd seen in the loading dock and sprinting for the horizon.
My left hand ghosted over my Stealth-boy, decisions made and dead set to keep them.
I flicked the switch, and disappeared with an electrical hiss. It's always strange, using a stealth boy. They're so rare to find, it almost seems like a waste when I use one, even when the situation calls for it. But beyond the psychological aspect, it's also physically weird. Stealth boys work by projecting a field that distorts the light that would otherwise hit you. Not completely, otherwise you'd be blind while using it, but enough to make you opaque. It's why you can still see silhouettes of the people who use one. While inside the stealth field though, you can feel the distortions passing through you. A sort of high frequency quaking, like a light case of the shivers. It gets nauseating after a while. If you look down, you can still see yourself through the field, but gradually disappear the further down you look. A pretty trippy experience.
There was also the fact that prolonged exposure runs the risk of psychological backlash. Also, y'know, radiation exposure. It was part of the reason I decided to keep from having them around Lily. She knew how to make them last longer, and was kind enough to help do the same. But I also knew damn well the kind of long-term damage they were doing to her and any other Nightkin. Having one on me was like dangling a Jet canister in front of a recovering addict. Even if they weren't going to attack me, the temptation was there, and it was just unnecessarily cruel. Especially to one of my Companions.
But it was an edge I would benefit from.
As long as I kept out of breathing distance, Katil and his lackey wouldn't realize I was already there. Katil seemed intent to keep Boone alive for the moment, and I wasn't inclined to try and change his mind.
He was going to need to be the first to go.
If I got found out, he'd use Boone as leverage, at best, and off him at worst.
Not worth the chance.
I kept low and darted out of the door, slipping under a conveyor belt a few yards from the door. I had to pass in front of the knife Fiend, but he didn't notice me. To him, my movements would've been nothing more than a trick of the light. If I stayed completely still, he probably wouldn't see me at all.
I kept low beneath the conveyor belt, waiting for him to pass. Once he had, I slipped back out from underneath it and continued creeping towards Katil. Trying to avoid moving fast enough to get his attention. Not so hard, he'd busied himself with Boone.
He leaned his weight onto the leg that pinned Boone. Clearly trying to drive as much pain into my companion as possible. "Been a while since I've gut one of you sniper types." Katil crooned "Being honest- I CAN'T REMEMBER IF YOUR INNARDS LOOK THE SAME."
From what I could see of Boone, he shot Katil a scowl, but otherwise said nothing. Normally not so hard, for Boone, but I got the sense it was for a different reason. Boone's never been the type to talk trash, but if he opened his mouth now, Katil would probably take it as a sign of weakness.
Naturally, Katil didn't take kindly to the silence either. He levered his shotgun over his shoulder and into a holster, before dropping his hand to his waist. Most guys in his position would probably be carrying a combat knife, like the other fiend in the room.
Katil was carrying a butcher's knife.
Fitting, and from the condition of it, very clean, and very sharp.
I began crawling faster. There wasn't a great deal of space between myself and them, but if I got caught now it'd be for nothing.
Boone was tough, but he wasn't made of stone. Right now, Katil was just getting keyed in. Once he figured out what hurt Boone worst, he be doing everything he could to make him suffer. As much for his own enjoyment as any other reason. Something Boone was well aware of. He had to know I was coming, and was trying to keep from showing weakness. He'd probably guessed I'd have done something dangerously stupid if I thought his life was on the line.
Clearly, he wasn't wrong either.
Katil knelt down, keeping pressure on Boone's shoulder. One of his hands moving to the back of Boone's head and flicking his beret off with a finger.
"Been a while since I've played barber." Katil grated "Mongol Kid showed me how to do it, a while back. NEVER QUITE HAD THE HAND FOR IT… But your friend seems to be taking his time. And I feel like… POLISHING MY SKILLS."
I kept low, maneuvering under the conveyor belt until I'd gone the length of it. Coming out the other end just a little bit past Katil. He didn't even realize I was there.
I came up to a crouch, levering my Fire Axe from my back. I flipped the axe around, so the bit was facing me, and the butt of the head was away.
I crept up behind Katil.
"I-I don't s-see him." The knife Fiend said, peering through the doorway to the office.
Katil's lips curled back in a snarl at being interrupted "Keep your eyes open, HE'S GOING TO HAVE A STEALT-"
I swung the axe in a sweeping motion. Striking Katil in the back of the head.
All Fire Axes in the Mojave have a spike in the poll of the head. Meant for breaching doors and acting as a fulcrum for prying and levering. It worked just as well for putting holes in armor too.
But I'd learned my lessons, having fought Pullo with it.
Start with the head.
The spike easily pierced Katil's head, the momentum knocking him aside slightly, dragging my axe with it. He was rigid for a moment, able to keep his weight on Boone, His voice trailing off in something guttural and incoherent.
The Knife Fiend turned to look at Katil, before lurching back in surprise. "W-what-t-"
I used the axe as a lead and yanked Katil off of Boone, sending him sprawling to the floor. It was hard to tell if he was actually dead at that point. Severe brain trauma didn't always equal dead.
Had to be sure.
I flipped the fire axe back around again, and brought it down in a wood chop on Katil's head. It didn't pop like a piece of overripe fruit, as much as split like one. Landing in otherwise large, discernable chunks, and spattering blood across me, my axe, Boone, and anything in a five-foot radius.
The blood remained visible on me for a moment, dripping thick and syrupy off my axe. Then it warbled and faded, obscured beneath the stealth field. For the little that mattered anyway, I'd made my presence known rather quick.
Boone shifted from his position on the ground, painfully turning to look at me. I looked to him, for a moment in kind, giving him a nod. There was something like disappointment in his eyes, and he reached around to his wounds. Trying to put pressure on them. I wanted to help him, but it wasn't safe yet.
There were still problems to take care of.
The knife Fiend was still just standing there. Either scared stiff or locked in some confused stupor. He'd just watched his boss bite the dust, and had probably only just registered he was the last one there.
A part of me had to wonder what he saw in that moment. The stealth boy only bends light around a person, leaving their distorted shape behind, if you knew how to look. With the already dim, flickering firelight in the room, I can't really tell just how much of me he could see. But the look on his face screamed that, whatever he saw, it was probably something out of a bad chem trip.
I started towards him, axe hanging low.
The Fiend took a step back, looking like he'd only just kept himself from turning and running. His knife shook in his hand, and his body shifted from foot to foot in quaking motions. There was fear there, and he couldn't tell if this was the time to fight or run.
So, I decided to answer the question for him.
My walk surged into a run, and I cleared the distance between us.
The Fiend stumbled back in surprise, reflexively making the choice he should have moments sooner. But he didn't go far enough.
I drew in close and thrust the blunt head of the axe into his stomach, diving the air from him with a *whuff*. As the Fiend doubled over on himself, I reeled the axe back and twisted my shoulders. Swinging the butt of the around to catch him on the side of his jaw. His head snapped to the side, teeth audibly clacking against each other.
The Fiend reeled, trying to recover "Ff-ff-uck!"
They managed to reverse the knife in their grip, swiping at me in an almost back handed motion.
I let the knife bite into the haft of my axe, then twisted it. Despite the fiend's feverishly fearful grip, the knife spun in his grip, wrenching free with but a twitch of my wrist. The knife clattered to the ground. As he lost his grip, I spun the butt of the axe around, hooking it behind one of his knees. It buckled, and he started towards the ground. I expedited it by digging the handle in and dragging him forward, causing his legs to do a split and sprawl him on the ground.
He started scrambling, desperate to do anything that would turn things around for him.
He had just enough coherency to try and go for his knife again.
But I wasn't going to let him.
Just as his hand slapped down over the knife, my axe swung down to meet it.
The blade bit his arm just above his wrist, bone snapping like dry wood. The sharpened blade slashed through his limb and collided with the concrete floor beneath. The centuries old masonry spraying shards of rock and dust with the impact.
The Fiend didn't react, for a moment. Then he erupted into a howl of pain that echoed off the vaulted walls of the factory. A pool of crimson spread out from his stump, first a trickle, then a stream.
"What's the matter?" I growled "Don't like the sight of your own blood?"
He had a moment to look back up to me, fear and terror in his eyes. For the briefest of moments, I entertained the idea of dragging it out. Stick him with the Axe's spike like some oversized meat hook and haul him over to the burning barrel. Cauterize him.
There were a lot of nasty things I could do to him.
But Boone needed help, I didn't have time to fuck around.
I swung once.
…
After dealing with Katil and his Fiends, I spent some time trying to patch Boone up. I wasn't a doctor; I didn't know the best way to pull bullets out or help close wounds. But I did the best I could, and hoped a stimpack would flush out anything I missed. If it lingered, Boone would need to see a real doctor.
We stayed in the Sarsaparilla plant for another four hours, or there about. Gave ourselves a chance to rest, headed out when the sun came up…
Except… it wasn't going to be us.
We stepped out into the early morning air, and I gave Boone a once over. He was a little banged up, but he didn't look to be fixed for a date with the Reaper man.
Good Enough.
I turned to him. "I think you need to head out, Boone."
Boone's eyes peered at me from the edge of his sunglasses. There was an emotion in them I could place about as well as any that crossed his face. "That so?" He answered, voice rough
"Mm." I grunted "Can't be having a wounded man slowing me down."
Boone didn't say anything for a moment. He just inclined his head. "…I'll make my way back to the 38."
"A'ight." I said "Be safe- and do me a favor?"
Boone quirked an eyebrow my way.
"Don't send anyone looking for me, ok?"
A moment passed, then Boone nodded, again, without a word.
I returned it and started ahead. Needed to get the finger back to Steve before it started attracting Bloatflies.
"… Hey." Boone called, stopping me.
I turned around to look at him, and found him staring me down intently. Not the way I'd seen him when gunning for guys like Katil, or the legion he was so fond of. There was something… different to it. I couldn't put my finger on it.
"If I wasn't there, what would you've done to that last one?" He asked, a presence in his voice I didn't normally hear.
I rolled the laundry list of things I could've done to that last Fiend through my head. Being out of the fight now, it made me cringe a little, some of the things that I'd been planning to let run.
"… Doesn't matter now." I answered.