"Number Nine"


Ch. 03: Lazarus.


"Look up here, I'm in heaven
I've got scars that can't be seen

I've got drama, can't be stolen
Everybody knows me now.

Look up here, man, I'm in danger
I've got nothing left to lose."

- David Bowie, "Lazarus"


"Hey, girl, what are you doing?"

The woman whose name smiled like the morning sun had been the one patching her up when those oversized lizards that were called 'geckos' had gotten a taste of her leg. She had cooked an itchy powder with plants over a camping bonfire close to another camp, an old caravan, surrounded by plenty of rusty tin cans and many empty whiskey bottles gleaming amidst desert dust.

"Picking up trash." – she had answered, an old burlap cloth half-filled with crystal and metal receptacles over her bony shoulder – "I've already done the town's ruined houses, so I'm cleaning the area around the wells. I don't like this much rubbish littering around." – she explained – "Where I come from, having this level of filth invites sickness and trouble. Leave a population amidst garbage, and there's a good chance raiders might mistake the place for abandoned."

He had taught her that much. If there had been something truly remarkable about the man, that had been his pragmatism, his uncanny ability to see the bigger picture without neglecting any detail. And she had been, willing or not, an adept disciple of his methods, his way of thinking, twisted and wrong as the man himself, but always camouflaged with apparent rationale and good sense.

And rationale had been his weapon of choice every single time.

The woman had given her a critical look after starting picking tin cans and bottles as well, her dog inclining its head sideways as if asking what the meaning of all of this was.

"You know those might be worth a handful of caps if you bring them to Chet, right?"

The friendly woman had cared for her, showing her nothing but kindness, asking her to stay in Goodsprings.

She would help her to settle. She would help her earn her bread, to get a comfortable place to stay.

But the woman who laughed warmly as the sun hadn't known about him.

Nor did the doctor, the bartender, the merchant, and the old dynamite man that sat on the shaded porch next to quiet, dead motorcycles.

Nobody knew about him, not even the old couple in Primm, who signed up contracts with many couriers and negotiated jobs that had his signature. The old couple wouldn't ask any questions as long as the caps kept flowing.

Not even her new friends, allies she had been picking like drops of water to calm her thirst for friendly company, knew anything about him.

That suited her just fine, she supposed. Because, if they had known under whose boot she had been kept down under the sand all these years… maybe they would have resorted to violence — no matter his deals with the NCR, no matter his money, no matter his smooth, shady charisma.

Just the same she was about to do if this bastard would not relinquish what he had stolen.

After all, she had a job to complete.


An involuntary shudder ran down Six's spine as she took on the man.

This man, who had been at the center of all the decisions she had taken all these long four months. Pursuing vanishing pieces of her already broken memories like dry leaves made dust in the wind of one too many solitary evenings outdoors, counting the bullets on her belt, caps on her pockets, and battery bars on the upper right corner of her new Pip-Boy's screen running dangerously low the moment twelve hours of darkness would settle on the Mojave's roof. Lying in quiet, waiting for the unbearable round of yet another twelve hours under a scorching sun, blinding sands, and hissing lizards that would charge back her device.

The months of uncertainty asking every-damn-one who would listen. The weeks of frustration nursing gecko bites and running from raiders and junkies. The days of pseudo-madness drowning in seizing headaches. The hours of sadness, fear, and loneliness, unable to reach for those fragments of her mind that were gone… every second of it was counting now that she was in front of this robber.

This thief, who had stolen her life.

Look up here, man. – her dark eyes demanded and pleaded at the same time, fixing the older man in his chair like the tiny bug she wished he was, inwardly singing one of the songs, she suspected, that had been at some point amidst her favorites – I've got nothing left to lose.

She wished she had the courage to speak up, to make this man a bit smaller, a bit more inconsequential… but the robber's lips were already moving.

"What in the goddamn...?" – he whispered, his tone dumbfounded, his eyes fearful, his cigar dropping from his lips onto his crotch in slow agony – "Fuck!" – he swore, getting out from his reverie to shake off the offending burning cylinder.

However, a 9mm cannon aiming at his balls persuaded him otherwise.

"Ah ah ah." – Vulpes' calm voice chided in a gentle, downright chilling tone – "Do play nice, Mr. Chairman, and keep your hands where I can see them, far from that shining toy of yours that I'm sure you don't want to unsheathe from your jacket's inner pocket. Not if you want to remain pure and intact throughout this conversation. Are we clear on this?" – flashing a smile full of teeth that did not quite reach his blue eyes, he nudged the other man under the table with one of his feet to remain exactly where he was; his right hand wielding the weapon coming to rest on top of checkered pants covering quadriceps as a reminder – "Good." – he purred, watching the other swallow profusely as sweat began to collect on his tanned forehead – "Six?"

However, the moment her lips opened, the robber was quicker again.

"Alright then, kiddies, alright." – he said, upholding his hands, voice down as if, instead of calming a couple of young people, he was trying to contain a pair of hungry Deathclaws – "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies..."

A tiny fist dropped over the table, effectively silencing him.

"Shut up." – the small girl, the very same small girl he had thought lying six feet under dried soil four months ago, sitting in front of Benny hissed, pointing at him with one tiny index finger – "I've already had enough of you Chairmen guys and your cheap, silly speech. Dig, asshole?"

"What…?" – oh, but the bastard's tongue was loose, indeed – "Oh, Swank, you finky bastard..."

"I said shut up!" – Six hissed once more while her tiny left foot embedded in a not-so-tiny combat boot stomped over Benny's toes, gaining a pained grunt from the guy – "Now, the Pip-Boy." – she added while extending her right hand – "Not asking a second time before my friend here blows your balls off." – she warned – "Over the table, nice and easy."

Benny didn't have to think twice before starting to work out the gauntlet's clasps nervously. Besides, Yes Man already had all the data copied, so he wasn't losing anything more than the device itself.

The instant she got her hands on her old device, she was trembling, big eyes full of unshed tears examining it with loving care. The scene reminding so much of a child getting back her favorite toy that Benny almost felt ashamed of himself. Almost.

Blinking away her tears, she tinkered with it a bit, ensuring that most of her databases (at least at first sight) were still there before unclasping her current device and promptly switching it with the other one.

"Zorro." – she said after accommodating her old device – "Please, gimme your left arm."

Although grateful that she had remembered not to blow his cover, he found it a bit odd her calling him in such a way yet again. Not that he was complaining, though.

Without taking his eyes and the cannon of his gun from the other man, Vulpes did as requested; finding at first a bit peculiar the new weight and tightness around his forearm, wrist, and knuckles, as she secured on first the gauntlet, then the straps, stretching in and out his fingers to adapt to the new sensation.

Benny had watched the exchange without uttering a word. Realizing now that she had yet another Pip-Boy in her power (this kid… where in the hell did she get them so easily?!), still too shocked to process anything other than the present circumstance until she spoke again.

"Now, gimme the Platinum Chip, and I might let you run from Vegas with your tail between your legs. Not offering a second time."

"Would you seriously think I can just do that and expect Screen Man on the Shining Tower to forgive and forget, babe? There's a lot of angles to this caper - complexities aplenty, and I've gone too far on his employment sheet to give in now." – he replied, feeling unconsciously for his cigar pack on his jacket until the 9mm cannon dug further on his crotch. Blasted brat, not even allowed a damned smoke to steady his nerves, shit – "Besides… you don't wanna do that, baby, not without hearing what I got to say first."

"House is pertinently informed of you double-crossing him, idiot." – Six spat – "Who do you think sent me here in the first place? I've got carte blanche to blow off your imbecilic brains just the way you did to me if I feel so inclined… but let's say I'm humoring you, just for shit and giggles, so you better give me a reason – a damn GOOD ONE - why I shouldn't kill you. Right here, right now."

Vulpes raised a brow, eyeing her briefly with electric blue curiosity. Where was this conversation going exactly? Weren't they going to kill him in House's name to make an example of him? Wasn't that the original plan?

Benny must have thought the same, for his face was quite the poem.

"You want a reason, babe?" – he asked, leaning over the table, keeping his voice low while not taking his sight from the albino weirdo – "How about four?" – he continued, pointing with his dark brown eyes behind him, where four gangster-like guys aligned themselves against the opposite wall, facing Benny while some were smoking, some were picking their nails – "They're called bodyguards, and no matter what good ol' Swank may have promised you two, kiddies, but they are loyal. Their paychecks assure me that much. Oh, and every one of them is packing. Me too, so… baby, that makes five."

Despite his bluff, she seemed unfazed.

"V.A.T.S., Benny, ring-a-ding?" – she retorted, pointing with her index at both Pip-Boys in hers and Vulpes' left arms – "I bet the both of us can kill you and your gorillas shooting your faces off in less than ten seconds. Pre-War military technology, babe." – she accentuated with a grimace, clearly despising the stupid adjectives the man was using with her.

Vulpes' eyes were shifting from one another, clearly fascinated by the bluff conversation between the man and the girl. They were gambling a dangerous game, and, despite not wanting to get involved in a gunfight with four armed men, he found himself immensely enjoying this power-play even if he was having right now a passive role on it.

The girl was making the night more and more interesting.

"You've just given the device to him." – the man tried once more, sounding astonishingly calm despite his current predicament. Vulpes knew a snake when he saw one, and a wise fox is a fox that doesn't underestimate a sliding, venomous reptile – "Bet that he isn't familiar with the use of V.A.T.S. Imma right, dollface?"

Uh, oh.

"You willing to take the risk with your balls on the platter, Ben-Man?" – she replied, her eyes squinting – "Maybe you're right, and there's just the two of us against four. But we are pretty fast, we have enough distance and covering, and, before they can even start shooting, your Pee-Wee is gonna fly bloody and high and mighty into the sky anyway."

Vulpes almost wanted to laugh; this was getting so ridiculously hilarious.

"Really, baby?" – Benny asked, his shirt and jacket's collar sodden in a cold sweat, not happy being described so graphically with such glee how he was going to get turned into a eunuch no matter what – "Let's be honest for a second and share a short olive branch here: you didn't come here for vengeance. You came to get clued in."

Six's nostrils flared. She was already sick of dancing in circles with this murdering son of a bitch.

"To get clued in about talking me to death?" – she asked, clicking her tongue cheekily – "Why, Benny, if that's your intention, maybe you'll actually end up with a successful kill this time. And without even having to display that shitty aim of yours!"

Momentarily, Benny's eyes were reduced to thin slits. He was getting annoyed with the gal's unwavering stubbornness. She was way too damn smart for her own good. She wasn't buying any of him or his little charade.

"Listen, honey baby." – he tried one last time – "I know, you figure me for a creep. And you done me a solid already, just by not shooting at me…"

"Yet." – Six warned.

"… Yet." – Benny conceded – "But let cooler heads prevail, hey? No need for violence. I know; I made a bad first impression. You got every reason to think I'm the least trustworthy bastard in the entire Strip... But baby, this is an 18-karat opportunity!"

Vulpes waited for the agreed signal to shoot off this despicable human being's private parts. He was appealing to her curiosity to get out of this situation unscathed, and, even if he truly had something juicy enough to make any sense out of this, they didn't need him. Swank would clear both of them access to the entire building, and they had all the evening to comb it.

But said signal never came.

"What are you talking about?" – Six asked instead after a full minute of silence.

"You see, I've got the Chip, but to watch this shin-dig through to the end? I'm gonna need help." – the Chairman said with a matter-of-fact tone – "And, hello! Who shows up but you?" – then, he flashed a disarming smile – "It can't be a coincidence, baby. You and me were meant to work together."

The nerve of the guy!

"Says the man who shoots his alleged associate in the head." – interjected Vulpes suddenly, not willing to hear a single buttered-up word out of this snake's lips – "Enough. I'm tired of this game. Either you explain to her why the Platinum Chip is so important to House and you RIGHT NOW… or I'm pulling the trigger. You have exactly ten seconds that start counting NOW. One."

"Whoa, whoa!" – exclaimed the man with all color drained from his face – "Listen, pal…"

"Two."

"We simply cannot…"

"Three."

"… Discuss things like these in here…"

"Nine." – Vulpes purred, enjoying the look of unadulterated terror in Benny's eyes, who watched himself being swallowed into those two blue pools of gluttonous, sadistic enjoyment.

"Okay, okay, OKAY! I yield! You win, babe, you win!" – Benny squeaked, his low voice thin and high-pitched, rivers of cold sweat taking all over his now-cadaveric face – "The Chip, it's some kind of data storage device, dig? So it's the data on the Chip that's platinum, not the Chip itself. Trouble is, the Chip don't fit any computer I've found. Must require special hardware. A customized one."

Six and Vulpes exchanged a significant look.

"And?" – pressed the girl.

Momentarily relieved that it was again the gal and not the albino psycho who was doing the talking now, Benny continued in a much more confident pacing.

"Baby, this is not the place to keep talking about that!" – he exclaimed, his voice a mere whisper – "What say you and me cash out, go somewheres more private-like? Any more questions you got, I'll answer."

Six leaned over the table, her big eyes hard.

"Two conditions." – she dictated – "Lose the bodyguards, and I'm going with you now…"

"Sure thing, darling, sure…"

"… And Zorro here's coming with us as well."

To his credit, Vulpes accompanied her words with a sickly-sweet smile that told the other man his not-so-subtle manipulation hadn't worked.

"C'mon, Sugar Plum." – the man replied with his most charming voice – "If I have to lay off all my security, you can do the same as a gesture of goodwill…"

"Why, that is an excellent idea, Mr. Chairman!" – Vulpes replied softly, devious merriment still playing behind his pupils – "Let's take your beautiful golden toy out of the equation, shall we? Oh, and also the automatic switchblade you are hiding on the left sleeve of your jacket." – watching the man going pale again, he added – "Without the Pip-Boy's gauntlet? Easy to discern your null abilities to conceal a weapon."

"We've got a deal, Ben-Man?" – pressed Six, knowing they had won already.

Benny let out a heavy sigh. This girl was a tough cookie.

"If that's what it takes to win your trust, that's what it takes." – he acquiesced – "Just… would your boyfriend here be so kind as to leave his gun behind too? I've got plenty to lose here, and I'd say it's a reasonable enough petition, babe."

Six's cheeks and nose got at least three shades pink before answering.

"You first." – she finally agreed – "Over the table, no funny tricks."

When Benny's 9mm silver and golden gun, Maria, got over the table, Six automatically emptied the gun's magazine while the Chairman got his switchblade folded in front of Vulpes' penetrating stare.

The 9mm bullets got discarded on the floor.

"And now get up, slowly." – instructed the legionary with an oily quality on his voice that got Benny momentarily nauseous – "Don't try to run away if you don't want a hole in your knee… that is a good Chairman. Excellent." – he mockingly complimented after the man did as told – "Now, you are going to turn around, and you are not going to move an inch before you hear the safe mechanism of my gun being put on."

The Chairman leader trembled a bit despite himself, waiting impatiently to hear either the goddamned click or nothing at all anymore as his head would explode messily all over the floor coverings. It would serve Swank just fucking fine to have to deal with blood and grey matter staining his fucking beloved carpets, the stupid traitorous fink.

However, the heavenly, life's-been-spared click finally came accompanied by a soft metallic clunk over the wooden table.

"Follow me." – Benny simply said, taking their silence as a clue to start walking.


If there was something Craig Boone loathed more than Caesar's Legion and the man himself… that was inaction.

"What are we gonna do, Arcade?! We've combed the entire casino for her! They've even dumped us after Cass attempted to force herself on the lower levels!"

Inaction in the face of need.

"I don't know, Veronica, I just don't know!" – exclaimed the Follower's doctor, making a whole showdown of mad fussing with both of his hands – "I don't even know why you guys keep asking me, of all people, about what to do! I am not her, okay?! I don't have much of a strategy mind, all right! I cannot think with a cold head when she's missing!"

Inaction when the life of a good person is in danger.

"F'ck dis." – Cass growled, starting to feel how shitty it was to stay sober and awake simultaneously – "We speak wi'tha Victor tin-can fella so 'e can tell House we need 'is pull on thos' Omertas thugs, I say. N'body would argue Big Boss' orders 'n we can search for 'er on tha lower l'vels. They don't wanna priers for a reason, I tell ya."

It wasn't even a half-bad plan… but it was a plan that needed an amount of time and words Craig wasn't planning to waste sitting on his butt in this tomb of a building, no matter how comfortable the beds and sofas were in here.

So, without sparing the other three arguing adults a single word, he got up and started to walk towards the main bedroom.

"Boone, where are you going now?"

Ignoring the Brotherhood Scribe's calls, he entered the other room, where he found Lily sitting over the queen-size bed knitting something with those big bluish hands of hers. Apparently, being big as a Deathclaw and having hands that could envelop Craig's very head from chin to top had nothing to do with being dexterous with big metallic needles.

"Looking for something, sweetie?" – she boomed. Thankfully, Craig was already used to the Nightkin's loud voice tone.

"Did the girlie leave any used clothes of hers over here?" – he asked, knelt over a trunk, rummaging over its contents.

"Oh, I have left all of our dirty laundries in that metallic basket over there, dear." – she answered, not lifting her sight from her current task – "I'm glad the kind cute little girl left wearing that pretty dress, though. Leo and I agree that the poor thing is young and too insecure about her appearance."

Craig blinked behind his dark sunglasses, unsure about what to do with this kind of information the supermutant was giving him apparently out of the blue; still a bit squeaky around this 'Leo' issue every time she mentioned it, to immediately direct his steps to the aforementioned 'basket': an old paper bin.

Once he found what he was looking for, he went to the kitchen where, next to the two-hundred-year-old fridges, he found Raul tinkering with a dismantled ED-E over one of the workbenches near the entrance.

"Raul, where's Rex?" – the ex-1st Recon demanded.

The ghoul mechanic spared Craig a dull long look before resuming his work.

"I left the pup resting over the floor cushions at the recreational area, Señor Boone." – he replied – "Poor thing was sore after this old man went unbending his mechanical legs and rewiring the artificial nerve connections to his biostructure." – he went to a halt again, as if in an afterthought – "He would appreciate it if you would bring him some water, though. Consejo de amigo." (1)

Nodding in thanks, Boone got a bowl from one of the kitchen's shelves, filled it with non-irradiated water from the tap - thank God these were still working - and went to the recreational area, catching halfway the attention of the other three, who had been observing him in silent fascination as he went on his plan.

He found the dog napping over the cushions like the king his name said he was.

"Hey, buddy." – he whispered – "Brought you some drink."

The animal's pointed ears had risen immediately he had spoken and took the offering avidly as he got on his fours.

Craig waited until he was sated and spoke again, earning the dog's full attention. Rex was keen on his' and the girlie's voices for some reason.

"I need you to sniff something." – he said, pulling the cloth near the animal's snout – "Can you identify it?"

After a brief whiff, Rex barked happily.

"Yes, it's from the girlie's." – Craig answered, relieved that the pup could still smell even with the brain damage and all – "I need you to find her. Think you can do that?"

Panting excitedly, Rex went on sniffing the floor, first doubting between the master bedroom and the elevator, then shaking his tail, opting for the second.

"He's got Six's trail!" – Arcade exclaimed once he saw the dog panting before the elevator's door, catching up with Boone – "Victor, we need to get to the Casino Floor, please!" – he yelled out towards the immobile securitron.

"Can do, pardner!" – the cheery cowboy AI exclaimed, pushing the flickering button – "All aboard!"

Veronica turned around and made a horn with her hands.

"Lily!" – she called, knowing the old granny had hearing problems sometimes – "You up to hunting some kidnappers?!"

"Who's been kidnapped, Becky dear?" – the Nightkin answered from the main room's doorway, her gigantic Vertibird Blade strapped on her back.

Veronica smiled sadly, knowing how Lily's mental illness affected not only her memory span, a thing she sadly had in common with Six, but also how she perceived people. Becky had been the name of her missing granddaughter.

"Six, granny, it's Six!" – she informed, making signals with her hands for the supermutant to follow – "My friend, cute small brunette! Don't you remember her?"

"Oh!" – Lily exclaimed while adjusting her monstrous dimensions to the tiny quadrangle already filled with four people and a dog – "The sweet little girl! Isn't her mother taking care of her?"

Veronica laughed as Lily's big arms scoped up her and Rex so all of them could fit more or less.

"No, granny." – she denied, being the one pushing the button to start going down – "She's disappeared, and I'm really worried about what could happen to her."

"Aw, no worries, dearie. Grandma's sure we will find your little friend soon. You'll see."

Rex punctuated her words with an enthusiastic bark before the elevator's doors closed.

"I'm gonna share 'levator with Lily nevermore…" – grumbled Cass' voice while she was sandwiched between one of the quadrangle's walls and the Nightkin's bum.

Once the machine dinged and got the ragtag group floors below, Raul was still quietly sitting in front of the workbench, having some Sunset Sarsaparilla to calm down his sweet tooth… and his nerves.

He wished they would find Boss girl with all his heart before something bad happened to her.

"That, providing that la dulce abuelita gigantesca (2) doesn't suffocate her with one of her bone-crushing bear hugs the moment they find her." – he huffed, cantankerous till the end. Better cantankerous than the teary feeble old man he knew he indeed was – "Meh."


Six's pulse had started trembling as soon as they had gotten inside the elevator, Benny pushing the button to the fifteenth floor. Vulpes was very aware of this, and the moment they had gotten behind Benny's back when the man had started to throw inane comments to the winds, evidencing his much nervousness, the legionary had directed a sideways look to his companion.

And he was astonished when he found the girl's murdering glare directed to Benny's nape while she was unsheathing a tiny switchblade from the depths of her Pip-Boy gauntlet.

So, it had been her plan all of this time to murder the bastard. Vulpes couldn't blame her; after watching the man's display, it was sure as lack of rain that he wasn't showing the common signs of remorse someone with an ounce of shame would have for what he had done to her, probably the only viable excuse that would have redeemed him in her eyes.

However, though impressed at first for not having noticed her hiding such a weapon on her person even when the Pip-Boys' switching had given rise, he had gotten immediately concerned - watching her pulse tremble as he saw how she was preparing herself to bring the coup de grace to the snake giving them his back. Then, Vulpes' hand went instinctively to hers and wrapped with his long fingers her own circling the blade.

A violent tremor crossed all over her arm. Her eyes searched his' for a moment, clearly asking why.

He returned nothing but a warning gaze as the elevator reached its destination.

With a ding, the automatic doors slid to both sides and, following Benny's steps towards the desired room, without releasing her hand, Vulpes pointed with his eyes at the two armed men patrolling the corridors.

Understanding what he had tried to tell her, the girl sheathed her weapon again and, before Vulpes' fingers left her own, she gave them a gentle squeeze.

Gifting her with a most unreadable expression as he retired his hand wordlessly, she and Vulpes entered after the leader Chairman the spacious room he had unlocked with a key.

Benny was still trying to engage in an inane conversation about how suffocating the night felt. Next, he offered the silent duo a drink.

"You've got Vanilla Nuka-Cola?" – she asked, evidently dazzled by the cleanliness and luxury of the vast suite where there were two pool tables filled with the whole set of colorful balls contained inside a wooden triangle with their due poles in pristine condition sitting by their sides, and a double coffee table surrounded by couches on the opposite side of the room invited to relaxation. In contrast, a bar with six impeccable stools sat in front of the pool tables, meticulously arranged with eye-catching shiny bottles containing red, black, amber, and even blue and violet liquids.

Benny raised a brow, guiding them to the wooden bar.

"Does such a flavor even exist, babe?" – he asked, clearly amused.

The girl's momentarily hopeful look dissolved into resignation.

"It did." – she mumbled sadly – "Once."

Scanning the room at high-speed in search of cameras, peep-holes that could be used as gun holes, and exits, the Frumentarius rounded the bar the moment Benny did. Not willing to allow the bastard to be left at his own devices behind a piece of furniture that, possibly, might contain a hidden gun.

"There's Quantum." – he observed, directing a quick glance to the girl.

She smiled, sitting on one of the bar stools, briefly indicating her leg with the hidden 9mm pistol with her eyes. So, she was controlling Benny's moves too. Good.

"Quantum it is." – she acquiesced, dropping an elbow over the counter, directing a cold glare to Benny – "If you would be so kind."

On his part, the Chairman leader chuckled nervously, preparing the drinks as he eyed with caution the goddamned blue-eyed psycho who wasn't cutting him any slack, making his plan a tad more difficult than he had devised originally.

Once everyone got their drinks, Bourbon for Benny and Nuka-Cola Quantum for the two youngsters after Six's rather eloquent 'I'm fucking seventeen, so I am not supposed to drink alcohol, asshole', a tense silence fell upon the trio.

"Can I ask you something, Sugar Plum?" – Benny was the first to break the ice.

Six sipped on her glowing soft drink with delectation before answering.

"Go on."

"How is it that you're still living?"

"A securitron dug me up, and a doc in Goodsprings did the rest."

Benny almost choked on his drink, clearly dismayed.

"So… House was on to me from word 'Go'?" – it was clear that he hadn't digested the notion of House being almost omnipresent despite all these years working for him – "And I thought this was all your doing. I thought I was being so clever..." – another swing to his beverage, and he got bolder - "Once you were vertical, how'd you track me down?"

Vulpes could tell that his flippant way of putting her near-death experience didn't sit well in her graces if her brief murdering stare was of any indication.

The man was a fool.

"You left quite a trail, idiot." – she answered, shoving the engraved lighter and a handful of cigar butts she had kept inside one of her dress' pockets over the counter – "You should consider quitting."

Benny looked appalled.

"Look at me, a big-leaguer or so I claim, making all the mistakes of an original loser..."

"Quit your whining and start talking already, Benny." – Six cut him mid-sentence – "You have wasted enough of mine and Zorro's time dancing around the Platinum Chip subject."

While nursing his drink, Benny started to feel for something behind the counter, angling himself so that the albino freak wouldn't see or suspect anything.

"Alright, honey baby." – he replied – "Which way is the wind gonna blow?"

"Depending on your answers, we'll see if you'll live through this night."

"Ask away then, precious." – shit, the psycho was getting suspicious if his squinting was any forewarning.

"What does the Chip do?" – Six inquired – "And don't bother to try to sell me the cheap 'Dunno baby' crap of an excuse, or I am gonna be very mad at you."

Benny was hyperventilating again. Fuck, where it had been the last time…?

"It has something to do with the securitrons; I know that much. Upgrades their hitting power, gives 'em heft." – he explained, finally hitting where he was aiming – "Might be slightly useful, if you're looking to defend The Strip from Caesar's Legion or the NCR. Or maybe both…?" – however, as his fingers were violently pried from their position with a rough pull, the psycho twisted his hand and knocked him over the carpeted floor while a firm shoe dug on his back – "The hell…?!"

Not moving his foot where he had put it, Vulpes' fingers felt around the spot he had caught the snake raking over until he found it.

"A calling button." – he informed dispassionately to a now standing up Six, her hand already halfway to her hidden pistol – "This cur has called his bodyguards."

Benny squirmed under his shoe, his fevered eyes catching a silver glimpse of something from the last party thrown there.

Vulpes was still talking.

"It would be safer if we just dispos… ARGH!"

His sudden outburst and horrified frozen expression while he looked down his leg quickly informed Six that she should act.

When Benny managed to bring down Vulpes while wielding an ice pick on his raised left hand, Six entered V.A.T.S. Mode with a twist of her wrist.

As the time got slower inside her brain's action capabilities and reflexes, giving her a natural overdose of adrenaline, she aimed with her 9mm at Benny's raised arm twice, getting an estimated eighty-three-success percentage.

She pulled the trigger.

Two red chunks of bloodied flesh and bone fled in the air along with the ice pick after the second bullet abandoned its magazine, the first one missed and firmly embedded in the opposite wall.

Benny's cry was deafening when he got up, jumped over the counter with impressive agility, and went on a mad dash for the room's main door, leaving a trail of red droplets behind.

Six's following three bullets missed their target since she wasn't a great shot outside V.A.T.S. The next thing she knew, it was closed doors in front of her nose plus the sound of the key turning twice from the other side.

Directing an angry roar before kicking the door to no avail, Six's attention got to a nearby table with two cushioned chairs. She quickly picked one and, with no small effort on her part, she inserted its backrest underneath both doorknobs to buy them some time. Then, she went behind the bar to only find a trembling, hyperventilating Vulpes with a frightening double syringe of what looked like Psychojet embedded on his right twin muscle.

"Oh, shit!" – she exclaimed, kneeling to his visual height to extricate the dangerous chem from his leg and throw it as far as possible – "Shit, shit, shit!"

A sudden violent rapping at the door informed them that the bodyguards were on the other side already.

"Oh, damn." – she cursed, searching for a water bottle so he wouldn't pass out from dehydration – "Drink this. Oh, please, drink this…"

The young man's eyes rolled up as he started to get convulsions, a thin trail of red escaping from one of his nostrils.

Six forced the water down his gullet the best she could while trying not to get too jumpy at the insistent rapping at the door.

Loosening his necktie, she partially unbuttoned his shirt so he could get oxygen while putting his right arm over her shoulders, nudging him to stand up so they could reach the next door and hole up themselves behind it.

However, a hand cold as ice got around her throat, not aiming to choke her but, instead, to take her proximity away from him.

"No… no…" – he hissed with a raspy voice, his native Spanish pronunciation totally got her off-guard – "No me… toques…" (3)

The obstacle that had presented the cushioned chair was no more, and the door opened violently.

Six's eyes flooded with liquid fear as the cold hand swept from her neck down her collarbone, shoulder, and arm while a burst of frightening high-pitched shrieking exploded from the young man's lips.

A full round of bullets rained wooden splinters around them.

"Dame…" – he said in-between insane giggling, his gums and teeth partially stained with his own blood, his eyes flooding – "Tu… pistola…" (4)

She stared at his eyes, his otherwise pretty blue eyes now blood-injected and with their pupils so dilated that she couldn't see their actual color. The Psychojet kicking fully into his system.

After the second rain of splinters, she gave him the gun.

But she hadn't been prepared for what followed next.

Disregarding any self-preservation sense he could have had ingrained in his instinct, Vulpes turned around while standing up and started to deliver bullets while cackling madly.

Before she could stop him, he jumped over the ruined counter and turned towards a lying figure trying to drag itself aside amidst a pool of blood and three other bodies with their faces disfigured by the bullets. The moment Six dared to poke her head off the counter, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her: with both his teeth and nails sinking on the dying man's face like some feral canine, the albino was extending the man's agony, digging with both thumbs his closed eyes.

The man howled horribly until the Frumentarius' thumbs managed to slice through his eye sockets, effectively killing him in the most gruesome way Six had ever thought possible.

Trembling, the girl got slowly around the ruined bar, inching towards the door, unwilling to go through him and his bloodbath.

However, as she was getting closer to the door, a sudden white noise came from the intercom next to the main entrance.

"The cleaners will knock twice. Make sure they're thorough."

It was Benny's voice.

Dropping the lifeless body between his hands, Vulpes directed a crazed look to the offending device.

"¡ERES HOMBRE MUERTO!" (5) – he yelled, starting to cackle like a hyena again.

There was a horrified gasp on the other side of the intercom.

"What the FUCK…?!"

After that, grating noise and then communication was over.

Sweating profusely, Six placed both of her palms against the wooden surface. But the moment the door creaked behind her as she attempted to push it silently, the crouched legionary's head turned anatomically awkward and launched himself over her.

She couldn't manage to scream the moment he shoved both of them inside the new room, blocking the door with its golden latch.

Getting his hands at both sides of her skull, he forced her to face him.

"Nunca…" – he hissed again, smearing red against her cheeks and temples; his chin, lips, and teeth gleaming crimson – "Se te ocurra… volver a tocarme… No sin… mi permiso… ¿Entiendes…?" (6)

He wasn't hurting her, but his voice carried a warning she understood immediately. He could be drugged with one of the most potent chem-mixes ever invented… but his words, if altered, spoke of a truth she couldn't argue. She had offended him.

So, she nodded silently.

As her nodding registered inside his brains, he also nodded, frighteningly resembling a broken doll, while his unfocused eyes tried to search for something in the new room.

Six's senses were not so impaired as his, so when she heard feminine screams in the barroom calling for help, she knew the two of them didn't have much time. So, she disentangled from his grasp and tried to move one of the two available armchairs in the small living room connected by a corridor with other rooms she hadn't the time to check on.

"H-help me to move this thing." – she panted, cursing her toothpick-like arms and her laughable strength inwardly – "What are you doing?"

Ignoring her, Vulpes' chain of thought was running in another entirely kind of frequency as he passed through the living room towards a kitchen, then a bedroom, searching for something on the walls.

Six went after him as soon as the resistance of the tiny latch on the living room's door was forced, first normally, then violently.

She managed to latch all the doors between them and their pursuers, first the bedroom, then its bathroom, to find that Vulpes had climbed on the white sink of this last compartment and had dismantled its ventilation grill.

Being tall and agile as a salamander, it was an easy task for him to jump on the rectangular ventilation hole and disappear from sight, crawling his way inside.

Six followed him, climbing on the sink as well… but she wasn't as tall and agile as he was.

The moment she heard the bedroom door being violently opened, she started to beg.

"Zorro, help me climb!" – she exclaimed, looking at the bathroom's door with fear – "Please, help me!" – terrified, she changed tactics - "¡Ayúdame, por favor, ayúdame a subir!" (7)

Luckily, seconds after the door started to be forced as well, a cold pair of slender arms descended upon hers and, grabbing them by the elbows, hoisted her up inside.

Meeting face to face with the dilated pupils of her still drugged savior as he crawled his way back to allow her to proceed, Six followed his deranged visage towards an intersection. Once there, he, being careful not to get injured by a working fan, switched his position again and went forward the narrow dusty passage.

The unmistakable sound of shooting and bullets ricocheting from the entrance of the ventilation duct informed them that their pursuers knew how they had escaped.

Luckily for Six and Vulpes, the muscle of any casino were older men far more shoulder-broaden and muscled than the two of them… and Vulpes fit on the hole a tad too tightly, so they weren't likely going to follow them inside. Bless being young and underweight for once.

They spent a long half an hour inside those ventilation ducts, crawling in slow, quiet agony as they kept an ear on the ground while the entire casino was being put upside down to find them, closing possible exits to lower levels.

The clear option had been going upwards.

So, when Vulpes found the trail of fresh air from above, he climbed himself outdoors through a ventilation hood. He helped the girl get outside before collapsing on the plain granite ground of the rooftop.

Trembling both from the exertion and the sudden gust of chilly air drawing goosebumps along her sensitive skin, Six approached Vulpes cautiously and got his sweaty white waves out of his forehead the moment he got on all fours and started throwing up. The product glowed slightly in the dark.

"No… no…" – he hissed as she held him, avoiding him going down on his own vomit while rubbing both his arms in an attempt to comfort him – "No me toques… no me toques…"

"Tranquilo… tranquilo…" (8) – she shushed him as he slowly gave in, trembling and feverish between her skinny arms – "Shhhhh…"

If inhumanly tense, Vulpes allowed her to shelter his head, shoulders, and midsection on her arms, knowing very well how his currently violent perspiration wouldn't do him any favors as soon as his body would lose heat out in the cold of the Mojave night.

The last thing he needed was dying of hypothermia soon after cheating death.

Sharing body heat was an acceptable type of physical closeness, he mused, nothing to do with invading personal space, just a necessary measure for survival purposes; he debated inwardly, trying very hard not to lash out of her embrace.

The nails of his left hand dug unconsciously on top of his opposite right wrist and scratched, trying in vain to release too great pent-up tension and anger.

That Profligate son of a jackal… he would pay for this. For this filth running through his veins, for this cold seeping into the marrow of his very bones, for…

The girl's hand gently took the aggressive fingers between hers, hushing and advising him softly not to do that.

Hadn't he been feeling so incredibly shitty and exhausted, he would have clawed off her face. He still had this misleading instinct that whispered that delivering violence would make him feel better.

But the rational part of his addled brain knew that wouldn't be a wise move. Not with Caesar still interested in the cooperation of this little girl to his cause.

Although, had he been in Caesar's shoes, he would have lost interest in her person immediately after this night.

She was friendly and fun enough to have around, yes… but nothing remotely useful related to warfare could be found on her. She was no hero, and she definitely was no soldier. He had concluded that much in their short time working together.

However, her warmth was pleasant, her thin arms were cozy, and the skinny crook of her neck was welcoming. She didn't smell of cheap perfume, and her skin was soft.

He fell asleep in a dreamless state in less than five minutes.

Six had relaxed as soon as she had noticed his body losing tension under her arms and his head heavy, placidly resting on her shoulder. No matter his politeness and his pretty-boy countenance, he was frightening when angered. So, she was glad to have his much larger structure asleep against hers. She could deal with his weight in this position just fine.

With nothing else to do but wait until dawn got things quieter down the casino, Six maneuvered with the left arm of her unconscious companion and plugged on wireless data traffic on his Pip-Boy. The archives would, literally, fly at high speed at such a short distance.

She did the same with her Pip-Boy, and, when both devices synchronized, Six introduced the due passwords she had put on and allowed data exchange.

The first thing she did, just in case he would awake suddenly, was to cut-paste her diary log archives with all the annotations, personal observations, and details on her whereabouts on the Mojave since her awakening. Not that she was happy doing this, but Zorro was a spy, and she wasn't going to feed him more than he was supposed to know.

She liked him; that much she already knew. He was loyal and trustworthy when honoring a deal, and those tiny details with supporting her and trying to make her feel comfortable when she had dealt with Swank and Benny had been very sweet.

But he still was, nonetheless, Caesar's spy. And it was a shame, really; without his allegiances with such a backward culture, he could be a very nice person. In fact, he didn't even sound like the few legionaries she had the dubious pleasure to meet, but that could have something to do with his profession.

She didn't want to think that way, but she barely knew him, and, as much as she wanted to be friends with him, she hadn't any delusions about him not harboring thoughts about her pertaining to the 'weaker sex'. Thus, she being in his eyes as a sort of second-class civilian/human being.

Not that she had really experienced misogynic behavior first-hand from the legionaries she had encountered, but Cass, Arcade, Vero, and Boone had told her more or less detailed varying versions about the same: Caesar's Legion looked down on women even if they were the mothers, wives or daughters of legionaries.

That was why she hadn't told them (or any of the NCR Rangers) about her encounter in Nipton, only what she had found there… sweet ED-E being the only witness, the poor thing. And since nobody but her understood its hybridization between echolocation/sonar/Morse language... She didn't need judgmental arguments from her friends just because of saying that she had found the providential exception that confirmed the rule: a polite legionary who had been nothing but understanding and amiable to her.

A polite legionary who had orchestrated the gruesome wiping of an entire population.

Meantime, as the sensitive data from the Mojave was conveniently stored away from his device, Six took a good look at him: being this close and asleep on her shoulder, he didn't seem like a Machiavellian mind capable of any atrocities. In fact, he looked like the boy she was sure he was. How old could he be? Nineteen? Twenty? She had seen how hardship could make a person look older than they really were, so it would be funny if he ended up being even younger than her.

After also wiping backup data just in case he ended up knowing more about Operative Systems than he had let in, Six thought it was unfair leaving him with so little: a map and some innocuous random letters, notes, and warnings about dangerous areas, images, and data on people she didn't care for that she had been collecting in various locations from various individuals all over these four months on the Mojave. So, she uploaded her Capitol Wasteland and other updated old U.S.A. maps with all the due locations that she was aware of into his Pip-Boy model: a 3000A version she had managed to upgrade to the 3000 Mark IV software update, Pip-OS v. A bit tricky when reproducing recorded audio from holotapes and slightly slower when loading HD images or videos… but other than that, it was perfectly workable.

Her old Pip-Boy was the actual 3000 Mark IV model that had been the latest being manufactured before the War, so the Pip-OS software in hers worked 100% debugged. Bless RobCo and their Developing Team, which took great pains to make the military devices' software solid as a rock.

No incompatibility issues, no useless small updates every ten days, armor-clad scalable Firewall and Antivirus system, real-time satellite (again, RobCo's property and main design) connection with instant loading, almost perfect retrocompatibility with older hardware versions (not counting the Beta 1.0, that thing had been experimental for what she understood, and wasn't even released), no stupid buggy patches. Nothing. Perfection in its purest form.

Feeling like sharing a little more, she also loaded her entire Book Database (comics and visual novels too), a great deal of her Music Database (excluding specific genres and lyrics she knew he wouldn't appreciate and/or understand), and some film selection from her Movie Database she knew he would enjoy, into his device. Not that she would be able to load everything she had stored on hers; his SD wasn't as big as hers.

It would take a while, but she had plenty ahead, so she was confident that the files would be already loaded before he woke up. Everything (or almost everything) she was sharing was food for thought mostly. Music and films that would teach him something, make him think, and open his mind. She was sure he would be thankful for these.

And she couldn't wait to discuss them with him. She hadn't been able to discuss much audiovisual culture with almost anyone since…

Shuddering the very instant her thoughts went in that direction, clearly on two minds about opening the chat, Six's lithe frame held a little too tight on the asleep figure between her arms. She knew she shouldn't. After all, it had been four months since…

He would likely think that she was dead, right? If she didn't open that communication channel, he couldn't reach her… True?

However, the familiar pull on her index finger navigating through the Main Menu got the best of her. She danced around the issue for a few minutes, trying to keep her traitorous finger from tapping over the Data Menu.

He couldn't possibly know that she had been shot, right? Maybe he thought she was trying to run away again.

Maybe he was angry now.

Wheeling on the Data Menu, still shuddering, she opened the communication channel and introduced her password.

The scarce nine unread messages she found in common with his channel scared her more than if they had been several thousand.

10:23 AM Wednesday, October 12, 2281

Burke: Your contact will be waiting the day after tomorrow morning at 9. Once you reach Camp McCarran, ask for Sergeant Daniel Contreras. He will fill you with all the details you need to know.

10:24 AM Wednesday, October 12, 2281

Burke: Also, remember what we talked about rounding Sloan. My informant told me that the Deathclaw plague is still an issue and not something you should take lightly.
Do take care, fulfill your duties, and we shall talk about that little excursion of yours Northeast. Do this for me, and there's no telling how far my gratitude will reach, Birdie.

Birdie, he called her. Never by her actual name. She had forgotten that tiny detail.

She wished she could wipe that pet name from her memory again.

08:04 PM Friday, October 14, 2281

Burke: Birdie, dearest, I would like to know EXACTLY what has happened today. Sergeant Contreras informed one of our contacts that you did not make an appearance at the agreed or any other time this day. And I would like to know WHY.

09:11 PM Friday, October 14, 2281

Burke: Birdie, darling, I would like to know what game you are playing. Report immediately.

10:00 PM Friday, October 14, 2281

Burke: You and I are going to have a very serious conversation about this misbehavior of yours. If I do not see any reports excusing – and you better have a GOOD excuse – this current unfortunate circumstance in my inbox tomorrow morning, I will be severely disappointed.
You would not happen to want to see me DISAPPOINTED, do you, Birdie?

01:00 PM Saturday, October 15, 2281

Burke: Birdie, dearest, I am starting to worry about you. And I do NOT appreciate adding yet another worry to my extensive list.
Be a good girl and send me your location if you cannot write to me for whatever reason. I will send for you.
I will be waiting.

04:35 AM Tuesday, October 18, 2281

Burke: Ungrateful girl, after all the pains I have taken to give you a life many would kill for! This is simply unacceptable.
We are NOT done yet, little miss; you WILL hear from me soon.

09:57 AM Thursday, October 20, 2281

Burke: Birdie, precious, I am not mad at you. You do not have to be scared.
Just… do us both a kindness and end this little game of yours by sending me the coordinates of your physical location, would you?
Everything will remain the same between us. No rancours or ill feelings, I promise. And I am a man of word; I am not?
Perhaps you need resting time after this? A nice long vacation here, in Tenpenny Tower, after such a strenuous journey to the opposite end of this country. I did send you because I knew you were the only one I could trust enough to deal with this delicate business.
Return to me, little Birdie, and soon all of this will be a thing of the past.

11:01 AM Friday, October 28, 2281

Burke: You have made a very poor error in judgment, my dear. It is a pity that you have chosen to ignore my attempts to keep things civil between us. Your petty whims will cost you dearly, I am afraid. I have sent an old friend of yours to deal with this unpleasant situation.
But do not worry, for he has orders to bring you back here alive… although your bodily state might not have been specified to him. Quite unfortunate, isn't it?
I do so enjoy a good hunt, Birdie, and I shall have it.

Yours very truly,

Burke.

She didn't know she was crying until tears had started dropping in slow silence from her chin over her collarbone, chilly and piercing as the nightly air cut through her cheeks and soul.

She had forgotten what genuine fear feels like. Now, she remembered.

Again.


She could hear a voice calling her from a distance.

A voice she knew well.

A voice that meant something to her.

A voice that she missed every day of her life.

"(…)!"

The voice called her by a name. A name she couldn't recognize.

"(…)!"

A name she couldn't grasp. A name she couldn't keep.

"(…)!"

A name meant for another time. A name meant for another life.

"There you are, bichilla curiosa (9)!" – with the voice's closeness came a hand, and with a hand came a man… and with that same man came a smile – "I've been looking for you for a good hour! Got yourself lost while getting inside doors that you are not supposed to open, eh?"

She had looked downwards at her two tiny feet. She had already been told countless times that nosing around the military compound wasn't allowed.

Especially if you're six and with far too much curiosity for your own good.

"Is this your lost rascal, Lieutenant (…)?" – the laughing voice of the woman sitting behind a dark wooden desk came from ahead – "She made quite the impression when she stormed through my door a handful of minutes earlier while hiding inside my locker. I bet the angry voice coming from Captain Céspedes not ten seconds after the issue has absolutely nothing to do with anything, right buddy?" – she had added, winking mischievously at her.

Funny that she could remember some random guy's surname and not her own.

She had smiled shyly. She even had gotten candy from her little adventure. This kind young woman had given her a couple of Gum Drops once the angry man had stormed out again of her office.

"I'm… I'm so sorry…" – the man had started to blurt out awkwardly while picking her from the floor and securing her in his arms, patting softly her unruly mess of a black hair that she refused to get in pigtails like the rest of the little girls in the nursery. She liked it down and flowing, like a princess – "She's only six, and she has grown a bit adept at evasion maneuvers at the nursery in the last two weeks…"

But the woman had simply smiled.

"When she told me to call her 'Big Bro' to pick her up, I didn't expect you to be an actual Lieutenant." – she had commented while pointing at his silver rank insignia embedded on his uniform – "I dismissed it as a pet name from a smaller sister to a sixteen-year-old rookie. I admit that I am impressed."

"Well… uh… you know how things tend to work here: both military parents, the father gets MIA during a diplomatic mission, young mother marries a second time… and here we are, just the girlie and me."

"I'm sorry to hear that." – she had answered promptly, as if embarrassed she had prodded too far – "But surely the kid is not always in your custody. Where is your mother or her father?"

Big Bro's face had dropped a bit.

"(…), last year. Same battalion." – he had muttered.

Not even names on places. Her memories were buggy, like a program finished in haste. Not tested enough before its release, dependent on crappy patches… always tricky and incomplete.

"God, I'm so sorry. I have this horrible tendency of asking way too many questions and…"

"It's okay. Many think she's my daughter instead of my lil' sis, and I always get the 'where's her mommy' question. Guess she having six and me being eighteen years older than her does not help my cause..."

"No, no, no, that's not an excuse anyone should bring up to poke randomly at your private life, ever." – the woman had told him firmly – "And, since I happen to have just done so, I believe an apology is in order." – checking a device she didn't remember the name of, she had consulted the hour – "Half-past eleven in the morning. You two hungry? I bet at this hour the cafeteria is still fairly empty, and they're just preparing the chow, so… wanna have some early lunch? I mean the good tasty stuff, not the dull daily grub here. Everything on my account."

Big Bro had squirmed a little after getting all red in the face.

"You don't have to do that…" – he had muttered awkwardly, quick on his usual behavior of letting his opportunities with women go with the wind, and his utter shyness… but the little devil in his arms had had other plans.

She had liked this woman. A lot. She had been so nice and understanding… and she hadn't told the angry man where she had been hiding! Plus, she was pretty, with cute long brown hair like a princess, and had a warm voice, warm eyes, and a warm smile.

Bet Big Bro surely would find her as pretty as she did.

"Let's go, (…)!" – she had exclaimed enthusiastically – "Look! She has long hair, like a princess! That's pretty! And she's cool, and I'm hungry! Let's go to the cafeteria with her!" – she had put on her Big Eyes Trick, the one she knew Big Bro would never say no to – "Please?"

Now she couldn't even summon up his name. As much as her brain wanted to reach for the memory… it was like clawing concrete.

"You and I are going to have a conversation about behaving in such an opportunistic fashion, (…)."

Painful and useless.

"Aw, c'mon." – the kind woman had spoken softly – "The kid's hungry, and I owe you an apology. Just take it for what it is and nothing more, Lieutenant (…)."

All those months, she had tried so hard… so hard to keep up with bits and pieces while searching desperately for whatever information that could complete her faulty memories… but, in Primm, she knew she had hit a wall the moment an incomplete data sheet had been thrown onto her lap.

"You can call me (…)."

Her only hope had been finding Benny… so she may point a gun to his fucking head the same way he had done with her and demand he returned what was hers.

However… it seems like she wasn't meant to avenge her past self.

"Okay, but only if you two call me (…) as well."

To avenge the memory of those nameless people she knew she had loved. Once.

That day had been a happy day, and she had had an entire box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes as a dessert, her favorite.

That day, her Big Bro had found the woman who, in time, had ended up being the love of his life.

A woman she also had loved. A disappeared woman amidst oceans of time… and the shrilling screams of two bullets.

"Sir, this little shit… she has stolen one of our men's rifles. She has blown the head of one of the other kids off."

She hadn't…

"Really? And how, pray tell, a little girl is capable of outsmarting a whole group of armed adult men not just by stealing one of their weapons but also managing to make us lose a profitable transaction on the way? All of this while still being collared."

She hadn't meant to…

"Uh… Sir, I didn't mean…"

But they…

"No, you didn't. And that is why I am feeling merciful and, in spite of your incompetence handling a small number of children, I will spare you and your men's lives and careers today. You should be grateful."

They had said…

"T… thank you so much, Sir."

They had said they were nothing…

"Now, leave me and the girl alone. We have much to discuss, and I do not have further need of you or your men. You shall be paid half the agreed percentage, though. This incompetence and inelegant way of conducting business? Not the cleverest move when dealing with Mister Tenpenny's wishes."

That their lives now pertained to third parties.

"But that wasn't what we…!"

Two silenced shots and the man had died — the red right hand wielding the pistol as big and unforgiving as its owner.

"Why do you knuckle draggers always insist on doing things the hard way?" – he had spat, his voice deep and smooth like warm, poisoned wine. Her eyes still on the ground, staring at his brown shoes – "Come here, pretty bird."

He was a god, he was a man, he was a ghost, he was a guru.

"There you are. Jumpy little thing, aren't you?" – he had smiled, his big red right hand under her small chin, forcing her to meet his steely gaze behind tortoiseshell sunglasses – "Color me intrigued. Tell me your name, songbird."

She had answered.

And he had smiled again. His smile, a forty-something years old man's smile, would have made the Devil himself weep.

Many had whispered his name on the far West, miles of dust through this disappearing land.

And they feared, they pleaded, they adored the man in the pristine suit.

Because hidden next to his holster, there was a red right hand.


SPANISH:

(1) - "Friendly advice."
(2) - "the sweet gigantic granny"
(3) - "No... no... Don't... touch me..."
(4) - "Give me... your... pistol..."
(5) - "YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!"
(6) - "Never... you dare... touch me again... Not without... my permission... Understand...?"
(7) - "Help me, please, help me climb up!"
(8) - "Calm down... calm down..."
(9) - "nosy little bug" (a Spanish term of endearment).


A/N: I've dropped little references that I hope you catch easily and enjoy. Every chapter title is a song title.