Zoology

Safari Adventure opened Gage to a world of opportunities—namely watching a loincloth-clad man beating the shit out of a giant lizard with a metal pipe.

Points for effort, Gage thought as he crouched next to Bossanova and whispered, "What is that?" He'd heard rumours of the creatures lurking in Safari Adventure, but never seen them himself. Not that many people came back from Safari Adventure.

Bossanova squinted at it. "Looks like an alligator crossed with a deathclaw."

"The fuck is an alligator?" Gage hissed, irritated by the incredulous look she was giving him.

"Pre-war reptile." She bounced the flat of her sword against her shoulder and smirked. "I think we should call it a gatorclaw."

Gage pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding to save his sanity. "Alright, fine. Gateclaw—"

"Gatorclaw."

"—Gatorclaw then!" he snapped.

There was a crash as Loincloth went hurtling straight past them and landed on a rusted trash can.

The whatever-the-fuck-it-was—gatorclaw, whatever—paused, turning its elongated snout towards them, making a noise like an aggressive drainpipe. Panting and dragging one of its immense legs, it shuffled towards Gage, its small yellow eyes fixed on him. He stood up and took an involuntary step back.

"Hey!" Bossanova yelled, circling it, banging her sword against the gates and attracting its attention. It turned its big head towards her and snarled. Gage pulled a grenade out, primed it, and rolled it carefully to the gatorclaw's feet. It looked down as the grenade bumped gently against its toes, and both Gage and Bossanova retreated.

The explosion rocked the ground, sending meat and pieces of paving slab everywhere. Bossanova poked her head out from the wall she'd taken refuge behind, and grinned. "Nice."

Gage gave her a thumbs up, getting to his feet, and then whipped around as Loincloth came back into view, trailing his piece of pipe behind him. Gage pointed his gun at the stranger, his finger on the trigger.

A warm, dry hand fell on his arm. "Wait, Gage," Bossanova stepped past him, staring at Loincloth with a wry smile on her face.

"Lady!" the man said, smiling broadly. "Cito see you kill monster! You friend?"

"Well," Bossanova replied, still smiling, "I think you did most of the killing. But yes, friend."

The man called Cito giggled at this. Gage rolled his eye. He sounded like a fucking idiot. Gage glared at Cito, and then said to Bossanova, "He can't even string two words together. Why we bothering with him?"

Cito lowered his head. "Cito sorry Cito not talk so good. Cito family not talk. Cito not talk to man or lady in long time."

Gage snorted. "Let me guess. You were raised by apes."

Bossanova shot him a warning look, but Cito piped up, "Cito not know 'ape.' Cito only know 'family.'"

"Oh my God."

"Gage." Bossanova let her glare linger on him for a few uncomfortable seconds, and then hitched her smile back into place as she spoke to Cito. "Cito, what are those things?" She gestured to the dead lizard. "Some kind of deathclaw?"

I thought you were calling them gatorclaws, Gage thought irritably.

"Death? Claws?" Cito's brow furrowed. "Cito not know. Cito only know 'death' bad and monster bad."

Gage was relieved to see a flicker of annoyance cross Bossanova's face, but she quickly quashed it. "Are there any more?"

"Many more monster. No stop."

"This is gonna be more trouble than it's worth, boss," Gage muttered. "Don't get involved with sheep."

"He fended that thing off with just a pole," Bossanova hissed back. "You're suggesting we clear this place out alone?"

"Cito kill monster," Cito went on, oblivious to the hushed conversation between his new 'friends.' "New monster come. Cito kill monster again. New monster come again.Monsters not stop." His face screwed up in frustration. "Monsters hurt Cito and Cito family. Help Cito stop monsters?"

Gage stared pointedly at Bossanova. "I knew this would be a pain in the ass."

"Cito not doctor," Cito piped up. "Maybe find medicine for ass while help Cito?"

Bossanova snorted with laughter, and even Gage felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

"Sure, friend," Bossanova replied, still grinning. "Lead the way."

Cito beamed at her. "Cito happy have strong friend. Follow!" He lumbered off, pipe in hand, leaving Gage and Bossanova to run after him. Cito bounded through an alleyway and into an open cage, but as Gage stepped inside, there was movement to his right, concealed by his eyepatch.

Gage saw teeth. Then his world spun as something slammed into him, sending him flying. His rifle skidded across the ground, and Gage scrambled for it, glancing over his shoulder in time to watch a towering gatorclaw rip Bossanova off her feet. It lifted her up to its open maw.

Gage lost all thought of his gun. With a strangled yell, he charged, pulling out the knife strapped to his thigh and plunging it into the thing's eye. It dropped the boss as it roared in pain, trampling blindly. Bossanova rolled out of the way of its tail, which was smashing into the bars of the cage, bending them.

Gage laughed as adrenaline coursed through him, and picked up his rifle. He could smell the blood in the air, hear the universal sound of pain. God, he fucking loved it.

The more the gatorclaw tried to get the knife out, the deeper it went. Gage's racing heart spurred him on, a high like no other, and he emptied a clip into the screaming animal.

Bullets, however, only seemed to piss it off. The remaining eye settled on him.

"Shit."

It lunged, swinging for Gage's head. Its speed took him by surprise, and Gage felt a rush of air as its thick, stubby claws streaked past. He dodged and rolled out of its way as it went for him, aiming potshots with every miss. "Pick on someone else, you fuck!" Gage bellowed.

Bossanova sprinted around it, raising her sword high. "Leave him!" She drove the sword into its back, but the blade bounced off harmlessly.

It turned and swiped at her, its arcing tail nearly taking Gage's head off. Bossanova dodged the blow with ease. Then the tail whipped around again, slamming her into the nearby wall. She slid to the ground, dazed.

"Boss, move!"

The gatorclaw pounced. Bossanova shifted her weight to the side, thrusting her blade up as its jaws came down. The hilt hit the wall, burying the sword deep into the creature's throat.

It reared up, gurgling, and Gage sprinted past it, seizing Bossanova's arm. "Come on," he hissed, shooting a look at the thrashing gatorclaw as he dragged her up. "It still ain't fucking dead. We need to go!"

She nodded, her eyes unfocused. The gatorclaw snapped around, spraying blood from its gushing throat, and Gage threw his hand out, pushing the boss behind him. Just a few minutes, it would die. The sharp, yellow gaze said otherwise.

"Fuck this." Gage centred its big, ugly face down his sights.

Clang.

Cito came from nowhere, bringing the big steel pipe down onto the gatorclaw's head. It tried to snap at him, but the protruding sword pinned its jaw in place.

"Loincloth, kill it!" Gage bellowed, shoving the boss back again as she tried to rejoin the fight.

Cito leapt onto its back, slamming it with the pipe again and again, while the gatorclaw writhed and slashed. There was a sickening crack, and it fell with a tremendous crash. Its skull was split in two.

Cito jumped lightly off the corpse as if nothing had happened, and beamed at them. "Strong friends. Follow Cito. Cito have medicine." He shot Gage a worried look. "Not ass medicine."

Gage ignored him, directing his attention to Bossanova. Slowly, she got up and walked unsteadily to the gatorclaw, placing her foot on its neck. Then she seized the hilt of her sword and pulled it free with a slick, wet noise. She wiped the blood off the now slightly bent blade, and then staggered, her eyes unfocused again. Bossanova sank to her knees, cradling the sword and muttering, "No, no, no no…"

"Boss?" Gage said uncertainly. Any sign of weakness could be a death sentence. Bossanova ignored him, turning the sword over in her hands and pushing on the damaged blade, as if trying to straighten it.

"Boss."

Her head snapped up to look at him. She glanced down at the sword, bit her lip, and then met his eye again. She gave a short nod and got to her feet, looking determined.

Gage settled. "You," he said to Cito, gesturing with his weapon. "Get us out of the open. Now."

Cito frowned, but nodded.

Bossanova limped over to Gage, producing the knife he'd jammed in the gatorclaw's eye. She twirled it through her fingers, offering the handle to him, and he chuckled as he took it. She clapped him on the shoulder. "Good work, Gage. Thank you."

Gage halted, blinking at her as she followed Cito. Slowly, he reached up and touched the spot where she'd laid her hand. It burned, and he gripped it tight, confused. Gratitude was a lie to placate the gullible. But this seemed…

"Gage?"

Gage looked up to see Bossanova waiting for him, a small frown on her face.

"What?" he snapped.

She raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Stand around and get eaten by the gatorclaws."

Gage let out a heavy sigh. "Are we really naming them that?"

"Got anything better?"

He didn't, but he'd rather take on a feral ghoul naked than admit it. Instead, he settled for glowering at her.

Bossanova smiled sweetly and then laughed. "Thought not." She jammed her thumb in the direction of Cito. "Cito says we're going to meet his family."

Gage groaned. "Fucking wonderful."

They followed Cito around the corner, revealing a large, flat-roofed building with little peaked glass windows on the top, the words 'Primate House' in wonky white letters of the double doors.

To the right of those battered doors was...well. Gage squinted at the statue, wondering if his remaining eye was failing him. It looked like a cross between a hairy deathclaw—which he hoped didn't actually exist, lest Bossanova christen it with something equally stupid as gatorclaw —and a deformed yao guai. As he drew closer, a memory stirred in the back of his mind, and he remembered his mother sitting with a book, teaching him how to read. It was a book about animals—one of the pages showed a creature very similar to this statue. A gorilla, it had said.

Gage stopped in his tracks. He hadn't thought about his mother in decades.

"Gage?" The boss looked over her shoulder at him, concerned. She'd made it all the way to the front door of the Primate House, her fingers resting on the handle.

He shook his head. "Comin'," he muttered, jogging to catch up and bowing his head to avoid her shrewd stare. He thought she might say something, but after a few seconds she turned from him, opening the door for Cito, then following him inside. After a pause, so did Gage.

The smell was overwhelming. It was worse than himself—worse than anything the Disciples could cook up. It was even worse than Pus Pouch Pete, and that was saying something.

Gage immediately regretted remembering the sight of Pete's face. When his retching finally subsided, he heard Cito proudly pronounce, "Family!"

Gage turned his attention into the gloom where Cito was indicating. The light filtering through the cracked ceiling illuminated several gigantic, half-rotting, hairy monstrosities ambling around the enclosure. Gage jumped back with a yell and the beasts scattered, baring gleaming white fangs, eyes glinting in the darkness.

Cito jumped in front of Gage, extending his hands out towards the creatures howling in fright and territorial rage. "Friends!" he bellowed, his voice just audible over the noise. They fell silent at once, their dark, beady gaze fixed on Cito. Then they relaxed, shuffling away as if nothing had happened.

Gage remained pressing to the door, his fingers digging into the wood. He was no coward, but he hadn't been expecting this. The creatures looked similar to the statue out front, except they were...gaunter. He could see patches of raw skin where the fur had fallen away, blisters spattering the peeling flesh, and remembered that the Pack even had one of the damn things in his cages. The things disgusted him.

The boss didn't seem much keener, but her revulsion less so than his, probably because she was near enough a corpse herself. "Gorillas," she said from the blue, confirming Gage's suspicions. "They must have been ghoulified when the bombs fell." Bossanova considered them for a moment, then grinned. "Ghoulrillas."

Gage didn't have the stomach to argue.

Cito gestured for Bossanova to follow, leading her around and introducing her to members of his 'family.' Gage stayed where he was, hand inching towards his sidearm. He didn't trust them, and the second one caused trouble, they'd all be fucking dead.

But the ghoulrillas remained placid, watching Bossanova with mild interest as she tailed Cito, her feet squelching in the shit-strewn floor. By the time Cito started introducing her to a smaller ghoulrilla called 'Chris', Gage relaxed. So long as they didn't do anything stupid, the flea-bitten furballs would remain docile.

The conversation between Cito and Bossanova—if it could even be called that—turned to a holotape left by some asshole who'd died outside the Primate House, and how they had to go to 'the triangle house' for the gatorclaws.

Gage stopped listening. All he needed to know was where to point his gun, and Bossanova could update him on that later. Deciding to see if there was anything worth stealing in this place (though he doubted it), Gage strode off, eyeing the ghoulrillas and waiting for their reaction. They gave none, so he continued on into a side room, where an old mattress lay in the corner next to a faintly glowing bush. The bush lit up a crate besides it. If there was anywhere in this place that had loot, it was sure to be the crate.

Deciding the shit on the floor wouldn't make much difference to his already filthy boots, Gage strode over to the crate— squelch squelch squelch —and crouched down to inspect it. On top of the crate was a small collection of toys, some Nuka World memorabilia, a white Nuka Cola (also glowing), and a letter.

Gage glanced back at Cito through the next room, blinking. He could write? Or read? But who would send the idiot a letter?

For one fleeting moment, Gage's imagination went into overdrive, and he saw the ghoulrillas leaving out instructions for Cito with a shit-tipped finger. Then he shook his head, dragging himself back into the realms of sense and reason.

Still, he had to know what the letter said now. Double-checking Cito wasn't watching, he picked up the paper and cola, holding the glowing bottle close to the words.

"If you're reading this note, then you've met Marcosito. His father, Marcos, was killed in a Super Mutant attack on our settlement, and I'm afraid my own wounds will be taking me as well. I don't have much time, and I'm terrified to send him out into this world alone, but I don't have any choice. I'm begging you to please take him in and see that he gets the food and shelter he'll need in order to survive. Tell our little Cito that his parents love him, and that if he's looking for us, we'll always be inside his heart.

Cito's Mother,

Imelda"

Gage blinked, scanning over it again. He frowned and looked up. Cito was surrounded by ghoulrillas, who were now picking bits out of his hair and eating it. He wondered if Cito had ever read the contents of the letter.

"We'll always be inside his heart."

Snorting, Gage crumpled up the note and tossed it over his shoulder. After all the effort of Cito's parents, the ones to take care of him couldn't read. Stupid bastard wouldn't understand, even if Gage told him. The note meant nothing, achieved nothing.

Gage knocked the rest of the junk off the crate and opened it, using the bottle as a light to see inside. It was empty. Gage clicked his tongue in disappointment, then studied the Nuka Cola, wondering whether to keep hold of it.

After a beat, he set it back down. Anything glowing probably wasn't worth putting in his body.

"Gage?"

Gage turned so fast he near fell over, hoping Cito hadn't spotted him. Even from across the room he could see the boss glaring, as if she knew exactly what he'd been doing.

Cito, at least, was not paying attention, picking crap from the smaller ghoulrilla's fur while it scratched its ass with great gusto.

"You ready to go?" Bossanova said pointedly.

"Yeah," Gage said, getting to his feet. "Comin', boss."

"God fucking damn it!"

Pain shot up Gage's arm as he slammed his fist into the whirring terminal and he turned away, pretending his hand wasn't throbbing. Frustration burned and crawled under his skin like fire ants. Hours and hours they'd been fighting, following that fucking idiot ape man to the 'triangle house' which turned out to be a building called the 'Welcome Center.' Tired and bleeding, they'd staggered in, hoping to find the answers, only to be met with another goddamn gatorclaw.

The monster lay in a heap at the foot of the stairs, the combined efforts of Gage, Bossanova, Cito, and the ghoulrilla called Chris finally bringing it down. But it had been a hard battle, the day's fighting taking its toll on them. And to top it all off, despite the various terminals inside the foyer indicating the steel door at the back of the room led to a loot-filled facility right beneath their feet, they couldn't crack through the terminal keeping the door sealed shut.

All in all, Cito's trip had been a fiasco. Gage stalked away, shaking his head as he clenched his fist, and headed back towards the helpdesk, where Bossanova stood. She was messing around with another terminal, trying to play the holotape Cito gave her inside the Primate House. Suddenly it crackled to life and Bossanova gave a cry of triumph.

The tape began to play.

"This is...Doctor Darren McDermot, last known survivor...at the Safari Adventure... Replication Facility. This is my final recording. I've done something horrible...the thing I created...the thing I called the gatorclaw…"

Bossanova caught Gage's eye, and her gloating expression made him want to shoot himself in the head right there and then.

"...they must be destroyed. They can't be...tamed, they can't be controlled...their sheer ferocity is like nothing I've ever seen. And now...the Nuka-Gen Rep...Replicator is out of control. It's producing them at an...alarming rate…"

Gage stopped listening. This was not good. This was not good at all. The ones they'd faced were bad enough, but a whole park of them? His eyes drifted back to the sealed door, and he groaned. "They're gonna be below us, aren't they?"

Bossanova nodded.

The gatorclaws were coming from here. And if they weren't stopped, nevermind Safari adventure, the whole park could be overrun.

"I'm guessing you had no luck?" Bossanova said, smartly stepping around the bleeding Cito, who was applying a thick, foul-smelling salve to his ghoulrilla companion. They'd taken the brunt of the gatorclaw attacks in the fight to get to the Welcome Center. Bossanova ignored them, her eyes fixed on Gage.

"No luck," Gage repeated, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. His fingers were still tingling a little. "Needs some sort of passcode. I can't do shit with computers."

"Neither can I." She glanced hopefully over her shoulder at Cito, who was now smearing the salve on the ghoulrilla's wound with his tongue, and promptly returned her attention to Gage. "Seems we have no choice but to find the passcode."

Gage allowed himself an inward chuckle, and then said, "The old messages mention the 'Angry Anaconda.' Like a ride or something."

"Then that's where we'll go. Cito!"

Cito looked up sharply, mid-lick.

"We're heading out to the Angry Anaconda. Can you lead the way?"

"Friend go to big metal snake?" Cito's brow furrowed. Then his expression brightened, and he nodded vigorously. "Cito know! Lady follow Cito!"

"How about we go back to the Primate House for the night? Let 'em heal up first," Gage called out, earning himself an incredulous look from Bossanova. He shrugged, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. "They ain't no good to us dead."

"True." She grinned at him. "And there was me thinking you cared."

Gage snorted, but didn't bother to retort. Cito looked from him to Bossanova, and then resumed licking the ghoulrilla.

Gage's first thought when he'd met Cito had been something along the lines of shoot him and move on. After all, they'd only have to do it later to finish clearing out the park for the gangs. Bossanova's insistence at talking the matter through pissed him off. But when she'd convinced Cito to bring Chris along for the ride, she'd addressed Gage's scowls with a wink and the muttered words, "Cannon fodder."

Gage wasn't entirely sure what a cannon was, but her tone said it all. Meat shields.

He didn't know how he felt about this. Not sacrificing Cito and his family—that was smart—but things were taking so much longer because of it. If Gage didn't know any better, he'd say she was averse to violence, and far too keen to put others first. That made him extremely uncomfortable.

Bossanova watched them for a moment, her expression caught between revulsion and a smile, and then walked back over to the terminal at the central helpdesk, crouching down in front of it. She tapped her way through the keyboard for a minute, and then pulled another holotape from her pocket.

Gage frowned. "What's that?"

"A little something I borrowed from Mags."

The image of Bossanova's hand darting out to snatch something from a desk in Mags' quarters shot through Gage's mind. His entire body went rigid as Bossanova continued to mess around with the terminal.

"You…" Gage's voice shook, and Bossanova looked up at him. "You stole from Mags?"

"I did," she replied, returning her attention to the computer.

"You coulda got us killed!"

Bossanova shrugged. "But I didn't. So stop worrying."

Gage studied her, his thoughts racing as his temper rose. He wasn't against stealing as a general rule, but stealing from her own when she was supposed to be making a good first impression was an automatic death sentence. After all his warnings, she had stolen from Mags.

For a split second, he wondered if she was worse than Colter. Because despite her experience and clear leadership qualities, she was willing to throw everything away for a reckless urge.

"Boss," he said, struggling to keep his tone light, "you need to be careful how you handle this shit. If you—"

Bossanova looked at him coldly. "Are you telling me how to do my job?"

"I'm telling you how not to get your fucking head blown off!"

The room fell silent. Gage could feel the eyes of Cito and the ghoulrilla on him, but he didn't care. He glared at Bossanova, his hands tight around his gun.

"Noted," she said, scowling at him before dropping her gaze back to the computer screen.

Gage saw red. Letting his gun hang from the strap around his neck, he strode across the room and slammed his fists onto the desk so hard the computer rattled. In a flash, Bossanova pressed a knife to his throat. Gage froze, and Bossanova leaned forward, unclipping his gun from its strap and removing it.

"Back off. Now," she hissed.

Gage didn't move. Instead, he met her eye as his hand slowly drifted to the pistol at his hip and said, "Boss, I get it. You were in charge, back in the day. You know how pre-war gangs work. Well this—" He made a vague gesture to the surroundings with his other hand, but stopped quickly as Bossanova pushed the knife harder to his throat. "—this ain't like your gangs. Nisha, Mags, William, Mason—they will kill you the second they see weakness, and if you're too damn arrogant to listen to my advice—"

"Then I'll be the next Colter?" she replied sharply.

Gage opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it. Finally, he gave a slight shake of his head, wincing as the knife sliced into his skin. "No. You ain't like Colter. You want to make this work as much as I do. But the other gangs won't care about that if you steal from them. Sure, you gotta be the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the park—but you also gotta be on their side."

He gripped at his pistol and tried to carefully unholster it. Bossanova's eyes flicked down, and she smirked.

"Going to shoot me, Gage?"

Fuck.

"Depends if you're going to stab me."

"No, I'm not."

"Then you should," Gage said, feeling irritable again. Any raider worth their salt would have finished him off by now.

Bossanova raised a non-existent eyebrow. "I can get nasty if you prefer. But then how would you learn?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Bossanova gave him a long, searching look. Finally, she lowered her knife. Gage stepped back, touching the spot where the blade had been. His fingers came away red. His own fault, he knew, but it pissed him off all the same.

"When I deal with people, I deal with them permanently," Bossanova said, wiping the knife on her pants and slipping it back into a sheath hidden under the many folds of her clothing. As she did so, Gage spied a strange gun with a disc shaped barrel tucked just out of sight. Then it disappeared behind the fabric again as Bossanova said, "But if you're quick to pull the trigger, people will be just as quick with you."

"What, so you don't like teaching people a lesson?" Gage snapped. "How the hell did you run a gang?"

Bossanova rolled her eyes. "That's not what I said," she retorted, equally sharp. "The point is, if you go around killing everyone at the drop of a hat, when it's your turn to be punished, you'll be shown a similar amount of mercy."

"Sounds like you're afraid of doing dirty work." He knew he was being petty, but the bitch just tried to cut his throat, and then not gone through with it. Grateful as he was to still have his head, he was starting to have doubts about her. She had no grit.

Bossanova sighed heavily, looking as angry as he felt. "You're the one who dragged me into this mess without checking my credentials." She threw him a nasty look. "I know how to be cruel—how to enforce. Broken bones, cuts...blow torches were always a favourite." Her tone was amicable, as if she was talking about cooking eggs again. "You don't become the boss without putting the fear of God in others."

She paused. "By the time I reached the top, I had a reputation—didn't need to torture anymore. I only killed when people broke the rules. They used to call me the Docile Don." She laughed to herself, her gaze unfocused.

Gage frowned. "Sounds more like an insult."

Bossanova's eyes snapped back to his. "Oh, it was. The disrespect was addressed thoroughly, but in all honesty, I didn't mind. I let the tales of horror mingle with my supposed 'meekness.' They never saw me coming." Bossanova stared off into the distance, as if basking in a happy memory. "There is nothing like ending a man's life with a smile."

"Why not just shoot them and get it over with?"

"I already told you why," Bossanova snapped. "At the Grille, remember?"

Gage cast his mind back, and vaguely recalled what she was talking about. Ah, yes. He remembered. "You had to do things subtle-like, because of the city guards?"

"They outnumbered us, so we outsmarted them instead. It was a game, in a way. We got on with our business and they tried to stop us. But they never could. Not completely."

Gage shivered. The thought of being outgunned like that was a nightmare come true. And being unable to just shoot a rival in the face…?

Well, it explained Bossanova's caution, at least. Gage felt his anger reducing to a simmer, flickering moodily in the base of his stomach. "Things ain't like that now. You need to show your strength, keep everyone in line. If you don't step up, the gangs will underestimate you. And then…"

"I aim to be underestimated. Because it's the last thing they'll do." She held up his gun and tossed it to him. He caught it, understanding her meaning.

Don't fuck with me again.

Gage sighed. He'd be dead before the end of the week.

Bossanova went back to tapping through the terminal, her posture tense. He stared at her, trying to think of something to fill the billowing silence.

"I thought you didn't use guns," he said finally, remembering the strange-shaped firearm concealed on her person.

Bossanova looked up. "What?"

"That gun you have. The one with the disc barrel. I saw it when you put your knife away."

She frowned for a moment, and then her expression cleared. "Oh, this?" Her hand slipped under her clothes, and she produced the device. When Gage nodded, she continued. "I don't normally use guns, no. But this one is for emergencies."

"Emergencies? It's a gun, not a bomb."

"I know. But it's a special gun, for when I'm truly desperate."

Gage considered asking what was so spectacular about her stupid gun, but she closed the conversation by stowing it away again and returning to the terminal. He couldn't even muster the energy to be annoyed with her. So long as she didn't use it on him, or got him caught in the crossfire, he didn't give a fuck.

After a minute or so, Bossanova picked up the holotape off the desk and inserted it into the terminal port. A few seconds later, the terminal crackled to life as a recording began to play.

"Mother, it's Mags. Thank you so much for your tape. It kept William, Lizzie and I very entertained during our time in the holding cell. We found the part about refusing us our inheritance particularly amusing. Because that money is ours. Years we spent under your thumb. Trying to be the perfect little dolls you always wanted. Both have the scars to prove it. So if you think we didn't earn every cap that's due to us, then you're even dumber than I thought. We're coming for those caps. And there's nothing you can do to stop us."

The tape rolled in silence for a few seconds longer, and then cut out. Gage stared at her, startled to see she looked pleased by this. "Mags has daddy issues. So what?"

"So," Bossanova said, ejecting the tape and turning it over in her hands, grinning broadly, "if their parents are still alive, and we deliver them to Mags and William…"

Gage blinked. Then he felt a grin spread across his own face. "They'll be in our pockets."

Bossanova nodded, pleased at his quickness on the uptake. "Precisely. This is deep...personal. And nothing is so sweet as settling a personal grudge."

Gage studied her, wondering. He'd never been stupid enough to throw everything away for vengeance, but unless she'd made more in the wasteland, all her enemies would be long dead by now. Why then was there such bitterness in her voice? "Sounds like you're talkin' from experience, boss."

Bossanova's hand moved to touch the scarf around her neck. She paused, letting her arm drop away, and then nodded.

"Was it worth it?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation.

Gage resisted pulling a face. Two hundred years should be enough to get over whatever went on. Personally, he didn't see the point in holding onto shit. Shut up, move on. He thought about Mags and the money she was owed. Would he be quite so apathetic if it was his inheritance? Gage looked back at Bossanova. It had to be caps. He couldn't see anything else keeping her so angry after all this time.

"Hey, boss?" Gage said, before he could stop himself.

"Yes?" she looked at him, as if anticipating his next question.

"Uh." Gage hesitated, noting how tense Bossanova suddenly was. Every muscle in her body seemed to be contracted, her knuckles white as she clutched her arms. "Well...can't help but notice you keep grabbing at your neck there, boss. And your sword. What happened?"

Bossanova bit her lip, her fingers now digging into her skin, and bowed her head. Her discomfort was infectious, and he was starting to regret asking at all.

"Forget it," he muttered, turning away from her. Before he could take a step, though, she spoke.

"I...lost someone." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "He gave me this sword just before he died."

Gage's head snapped towards her. "What?"

"I was betrayed," she continued, louder now, but with a definite tremor. "By those I thought I could trust." Her breathing was growing harsher by the second, and if she'd had nails, Gage bet she would have drawn blood from her palms. Her eyes were distant, searching past him for something no longer there. "I made some...decisions. Bad ones. Nicky advised against it, said it would cause too much trouble. I didn't listen to him, and when it all went wrong…" She pulled down the scarf around her neck, revealing a long, wicked scar. "I survived. Nicky didn't."

Gage didn't know what to say. He wanted to shake her, tell her to get a fucking grip. The guy was dead, and by the sounds of it, centuries ago. What was the issue?

Probably fucking him, Gage thought idly.

He kept his distance as, slowly, Bossanova clawed herself back into control. She breathed deeply through her nose cavity and out through her mouth, her eyes sliding shut. When they opened again, Gage saw nothing behind them. She let go of her arms, red marks pressed into her stripped skin. "Remember what I said? I know you'll keep me alive as long as I work to your benefit. But there are other kinds of trust...if you want it."

Gage looked at her, from her grief-stricken face to her barely contained shakes. No, he wasn't sure he wanted it at all. This was the leader he'd landed himself with: a shitty, pitiful wreck, blubbering over some long-dead fuckhead who couldn't even protect his own boss?

Deciding the smart choice was simply not to answer, Gage strode across the room, pretending to reload his gun. He just didn't get her. One minute she was putting Nisha in her place, threatening to cut off Mags' nose in front of William, and taking down gatorclaws without getting herself killed, the next she was crying over this Nicky.

Gage stared at an old poster without reading it. If he was honest with himself, her emotional outburst didn't trouble him, so much as the fact it resided comfortably next to her bloodthirsty nature. He'd met a couple of people like her in the past. All of them were unstable, and all of them had grown increasingly reckless, until chems or sheer stupidity led to their deaths.

If Bossanova was telling the truth, she was over two-hundred years old. Gage had never met anyone like her.

"Are you ready to move out? I want to get back to the Primate House before dark."

He turned to her. It was as if their conversation had never happened. She looked ready to kill, her weapon gripped in her hand, her eyes sharp with steely indifference. Against his better judgement, Gage felt himself relax. So long as she was like this, things were fine.

"Yeah, boss. Let's go."