Yakety Sax

They were in trouble.

Gage knew it the moment he saw the eggs. The entire lower section of the facility was partially flooded, dirty water seeping straight into his boots. He could hear low, rasping growls echoing around the walls, with no way to tell where they were coming from. Gage gripped his gun tighter, his heart racing. Fights like this got his adrenaline pumping, but it wasn't the same rush as killing people. People were a challenge, but they also knew fear—knew when they'd been beaten. Knew when to kneel.

These things...no. They'd keep going until one side was torn apart. Gage steeled himself for the fight.

The water sloshed noisily around their feet, and Gage winced. If they weren't careful, they could lose the element of surprise...if they even still had it. They drew closer to the egg pile, illuminated by something sparking above, and Gage saw the nest was built from mud and human bones.

Probably says a lot that I like the decor, he thought dimly, just as a rumbling hiss cut across the room. He glanced around, eye darting from the two staircases—one to his right, and one in front of him—and the gated area to the left of the back staircase. His stomach clenched in fear.

Something huge—no, monstrous—was lumbering its way out into the open. It was a gatorclaw, but bigger and older, its thickened hide pitted with battle scars. And it was startlingly white. It turned its narrowed red eyes to Gage, opened its mouth, and let out guttering roar.

Another roar mingled with the first, and Gage snapped his head up to see a second gatorclaw stalking down the back stairs. This one was smaller, and the same green colour as the others had been.

"Run!" he bellowed, grabbing Bossanova by the arm.

The albino gatorclaw barrelled forward, slashing wildly. Bossanova was torn from him as he went spinning back down the corridor. Gage scrambled to his feet in time to see the smaller gatorclaw lunge. He dodged back, but one of its talons caught him, and pain exploded through his midriff as he slammed into the wall, his gun flying from his hands. Before he could right himself, thick claws wrapped around his arm, lifting him from the ground.

Gage saw teeth and reached for the spare pistol at his hip. He fired wildly, and the gatorclaw shrieked, flinging him away. He landed in the water and swallowed a large amount as he slowed to a halt. Coughing and spluttering, Gage glanced up and saw Bossanova and Cito distracting the albino gatorclaw. But he didn't have time to dwell on this. His gatorclaw was shaking its head, its muzzle now a bloody mess. The yellow eyes fixed on him as he staggered to his feet.

Gage was no coward. But he wasn't stupid either.

He ran.

The gatorclaw charged, missing him by inches as Gage skidded around the corridor corner. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to keep going, to lose the thing and double back. He needed to help Bossanova. On and on he ran, hand clamped to his stomach, legs pounding as he sprinted for his life.

Gage crashed through the doors into the atrium and nearly lost his footing. He righted himself at the last second, before a heavy blow sent him flying. Gage hit the floor so hard he bounced, and the pursuing gatorclaw misjudged its lunge. Teeth ripped across his body as the gatorclaw went thundering past. Gage skidded across the floor, managing to roll to his feet, and changed direction, sprinting up a nearby set of stairs. He found himself in the freezer room.

Dead end.

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit fuck!

There was a thud behind him. Gage whirled around to see the gatorclaw jammed in the door, the concrete frame already cracking. He had minutes, maybe even seconds. Gage looked about frantically and saw the open vent again. Too high to reach while all cut up, but maybe if he knocked one of the fridges over…

The gatorclaw hissed as Gage limped over, swiping at him and forcing itself deeper into the room. He ignored it, throwing himself into the fridge, which wobbled, but stayed standing.

"Fucking piece of well-built shit," Gage spat, ramming into it again. This time it teetered, but slammed back down still upright. He shot a look over at the gatorclaw and saw it was almost through. With a bellow, Gage charged into the damn fridge with everything he had.

For one heart-stopping moment, he thought he'd failed. But then like a felled behemoth it toppled over with a crash. Gage didn't pause for breath, vaulting onto it and scrambling up into the vent. His hands were slick with sweat and blood, and his feet slipped everywhere as he inched his way inside the enclosed space.

Crunch.

Gage turned just in time to see the gatorclaw stagger into the room. Its hungry eyes locked onto him, drool dripping steadily from its thick, sharp teeth, and then lurched towards him. With a yell of fear, Gage dragged his legs in. The teeth slammed shut, blocking all light into the vent, and he could feel its hot breath rushing against its face. It withdrew, snarling in frustration, and then slammed its snout in again, trying to push further in.

"Fuck off!" Gage yelled, drawing his knife and jamming it right up the gatorclaw's nostril. It let out a piercing shriek and toppled backwards out of sight. Seeing his chance, he pushed himself deeper into the tunnel, and away from the gatorclaw.

How long he dragged himself for, he wasn't sure, but after a while his arms gave way and he fell on his face. He lay there panting, heart racing, and all at once the pain hit him. Gage groaned, clutching his stomach through his tattered and drenched shirt, hoping it was just water.

No. There was no time for this. He needed to get back to the boss.

Gage coughed, hot blood spilling onto his lips. "Fuck..."

What if she was already dead? He'd left her behind. He hadn't meant to, but when a fucking deathclaw hybrid came charging at you, there wasn't really room for thinking. Stay alive now, consequences later.

With a grunt, Gage forced himself up and began crawling again. Nausea rippled through him as he pushed on, the pain near overwhelming. Frantic thoughts began to whirl around his head. He was injured. He had no gun.

What the fuck was he doing?

Gage stopped again, swaying on his hands and knees. He could use the last stimpak, leave now, and make a break for the Commonwealth. Might even make it. Go into hiding, find a new gang, forget everything that happened here. He'd done it before, when things had gone south with other gangs, and never given a shit. So...why did he give a shit now?

Guilt rose in Gage's throat like bile and he retched. This loyalty—this attachment , or whatever the fuck it was—had burrowed its way in. He'd seen it coming, hated the verythought of it, but let it happen anyway. Now it was nestled in his head, unwelcome but anchored.

Gage bared his teeth in a grimace. He'd only known the stupid bitch a few days, but could say with absolute certainty that Bossanova would never have left him behind. No matter what he thought of her or how many times he told her it was stupid, she would have dragged him out or died trying.

He stared into the darkness, realisation dawning on him. He couldn't leave her. Not like this. "God damn it!"

Fine. If it was gonna be heroics, then he needed to do it now before he regained his common sense. At least he was going in the right direction. He could hear crashes and bangs, and the sounds of a pissed off gatorclaw.

Always promising when you had a fucking deathwish.

The grate at the other end of the vent fell away with a clang. Gage dragged himself to the edge, leaned out to see where he was, and immediately overbalanced. He swore as he toppled out onto the walkway with a crash, and then continued to swear as it buckled. The floor dropped beneath him, and he began to slide towards the end as he flailed for the handrail. He caught it just as he was running out of walkway, and dangled precariously over the waiting gatorclaws, who stared ravenously up at him.

Gage ignored them, scanning the room for signs of life. Judging by the colour of the water below, someone was dead, but he wasn't sure who. Then he felt a rush of elation as he saw Bossanova lying crumpled by the egg pile. She wasn't moving, but she wasn't in bits either. He squinted around. The other two idiots were missing.

A figure came rushing into view, drawing the attention of the gatorclaws. Cito apparently—CLANG—had big balls of steel. The smaller deathclaw staggered, but Cito brought the pipe down again, deftly dodging the retaliation.

"You—" CLANG. "—killed—" CLANG. "—Chris!" he bellowed, swinging the pipe with every syllable.

Gage would have laughed, if it didn't feel like his lungs were being pulled out through the hole in his stomach. He shook his head. Later. He needed to act now, before Cito was overwhelmed. Thankful his hands weren't so slippery anymore, Gage hauled himself back up the walkway, using his legs as best he could. Within a few minutes, he managed to pull himself onto a level section that hadn't collapsed.

Agony consumed him. He had no idea how long he lay there, feeling like his insides were being ripped out of him, but when he opened his eyes, he finally got a good look at himself.

Shit. That's a lot of blood.

Through the gaps in the metal floor, he saw the smaller gatorclaw lying twitching in the water. The albino one was advancing, looking like it didn't have a scratch.

A crackling noise made Gage glance up. Feet from him was a big, thick cable, which was sparking menacingly. He realised he'd seen it when he'd first walked in, just above the egg pile. Gage followed the wire, which ran all along the ceiling. At a guess, it must be powering most of the facility, if not all of it. And it was coming loose.

Gage grinned. Perfect.

Ignoring his trembling limbs, he managed to get onto his hands and knees again, and dragged himself over to the wire. Below he could hear Cito's cries of pain mingled in with the gatorclaw's, but that wasn't important now. Get to the wire. Get to the wire. Get to the wire.

A particularly loud bang made Gage look down. Cito had been knocked over, near to the boss. He jumped back to his feet, ready to fight.

"Cito!" Gage bellowed, and both Cito and the gatorclaw looked up. "Move her! Move her now!"

Cito glanced from Gage to Bossanova and then to the sparking wire. Even his tiny brain seemed to understand. He grabbed Bossanova, hauled her over his shoulder in one fluid motion, and sprinted up the stairs before the gatorclaw even knew what was happening.

Gage grabbed the insulated casing and, with all his weight, pulled. It swung free, and he watched mesmerised as it fell gracefully down and hit the surface of the water.

The floor exploded.

There was a brief, piercing scream, drowned out by the electric inferno, and the gatorclaw collapsed, lost in a sea of light. Gage sighed, laying down again. It was dead.

Clunk.

The walkway shuddered as Gage looked up. He saw the frame tilting to one side, felt his body begin to slide, before the other bolt holding the entire thing up snapped. The structure collapsed. Gage fell soundlessly towards the blistering lake, hoping it would at least be quick, when all the lights cut out just before he landed. The world went black, and he hit the shallow water with a painful thud.

For the second time that day, he spat out a stream of disgusting water, and blinked blearily as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Bossanova and Cito were nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, Gage sat himself up and fumbled in the pouch at his belt for the last stimpak—their last stimpak. She had none left, and he knew it. They'd used them all in the park, fighting those goddamn green monstrosities. Why hadn't they thought to return to Nuka Town first, stock up?

Probably because Nuka Town don't have shit at the moment, he thought bitterly to himself. It ain't exactly a trading hub since Colter enslaved all the fuckin' traders.

His trembling fingers closed around the stimpak. He felt cold all over, tired. He'd never seen so much of his own blood before. He'd done his part for Bossanova—stopped her being eaten and nearly gotten himself killed in the process. Just the way she did. She'd never given up one of her stimpaks for him before, and he didn't expect her to. So no one should expect it of him.

Gage wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. Maybe the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He gripped the stimpak tight, anger starting to bubble away inside.

There was a scuffling noise from the staircase in front of him, and for a moment he thought another gatorclaw was here. He reached for his gun, before remembering he didn't have it—Fuck. Probably melted in the lightshow—and stared up, feeling utterly vulnerable and hating every moment of it.

Bossanova came crawling into view. Her left arm trailed uselessly behind her, but he saw her beady eyes fix on the stimpak. Well tough shit. It was his.

He made to inject the stimpak, but then his hand shook violently, and he dropped it.

"Shit," he hissed, trying to get up. He couldn't. His body had hit its limit. Gage stretched his leg out as far as it would go, but his boot merely pushed the stimpak into deeper water. It stopped at Bossanova's knees. He hadn't realised she was so close.

Their eyes met, and Gage knew he was a dead man. She was going to take his stimpak. He didn't blame her. He'd have done the same thing.

Bossanova picked the stimpak up, put it between her teeth, and dragged herself over to Gage. He stared at her. "What the hell are you—?"

"Shut up," Bossanova said as she removed the stimpak from her mouth and pulled the cap off with her teeth, "and hold still."

"But—"

His sentence was cut off as she plunged the needle into his gut. The pain barely cut through the agony he was already in, but he felt the sharp chill of the chem as it spread. Gage choked on his shock and slumped forward, twitching. The pain was fading. After a minute or so, he could sit up again, though everything ached.

Gage looked at his arms and saw the slashes reduced to scabs. Then he lifted his shirt to reveal a mess of fresh scar tissue, still tender and sore. He was a little exasperated she hadn't cleaned his wounds first—stimpaks were a quick fix, but they didn't always prevent infection—but this would do for now. He couldn't really complain. She looked a mess, but she'd patched him up instead. "Boss…"

Gage stopped. Blinked. Bossanova had held up her hand, and was now pointing to the console on the far side of the room. "Check it's off. Check it's destroyed."

Slowly, he got to his feet. Everything felt stiff, the flesh around his stomach particularly tight, but he wasn't bleeding. He edged carefully over to the console and inspected it—computers didn't mean shit to him, but it looked completely fried.

"It's fucked," he called over to her, and she sighed with relief. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped as an odd howl filled the air.

Gage looked up and saw Cito sat at the top of the stairs, cradling what looked like a large, hairy arm. After a moment, he realised it was the arm of the ghoulrilla. The whole thing was so ridiculous, he almost laughed, but bit it back to spare Cito's feelings. The idiot had just saved the boss' neck after all.

Instead, Gage gingerly made his way back to Bossanova, and stared at her, unsure what to say. She'd saved him again, only this time, she might pay for it permanently.

Bossanova was now leaning against the wall, panting. She waited until he drew close and then pulled a small gun with a little dish shaped barrel from the depths of her clothes. It was the same gun he'd seen concealed on her when she'd held a knife to his throat in the welcome centre. She gave him a knowing look, and then tried to load a glowing round into it. Her blood soaked hand clawed desperately at the reload mechanism, her other arm apparently too injured to lift.

Was she…?

"Boss," Gage said weakly. "Maybe we can find a stimpak. You don't need to...I mean...shit."

"Load it for me," she rasped, holding it out to him.

Gage took the gun. The metal casing felt warm to the touch, and he turned it over, his stomach churning. He knew what she wanted to do. And he knew the amount of shit that would fall on his head if he helped her do it. But she was going to die anyway, and she'd given him the stimpak. If Bossanova wanted a quick way out, he wasn't going to stop her. He loaded it, and tried to pass it back. She shook her head.

"Can't pull the trigger. You need to do it."

Gage closed his eyes, sighed, and nodded. He'd taken the stimpak. Survival before the consequences. He raised the gun.

"Not here, idiot! You want to be poisoned? Get up and stand as far back as you can."

Gage blinked, confused, but obeyed, wondering what kind of fucked up weapon poisoned people. He went to the back wall, as far as he could go, and pointed the gun at her again.

"Don't miss," she wheezed, locking eyes with him.

Gage hesitated, then pulled the trigger.

Green pulses erupted from the gun, hitting Bossanova square in the chest and slamming her into the wall. She grunted and slid sideways, landing with a heavy splash. For a split second, Gage thought she'd given him a plasma weapon, and he waited for her to melt into goo. Instead, the lacerations in her skin knitted back together until there wasn't a wound in sight.

Gage stared, his mouth hanging open. He took a step towards her, wondering what the hell was going on, when she raised her hand and shouted, "Stay there!"

Her left hand.

"The fuck is this?" he yelled, deciding to heed her advice and staying rooted to the spot. "That arm was hanging off a minute ago!"

"Gamma gun," Bossanova said, remaining on the floor, pale and shaken. "Children of Atom carry them. Concentrated radiation for ammunition. They tried to stuff me in some lighthouse back in the Commonwealth and turn me into a deity. I had other ideas."

"But what the—?"

"Radiation heals ghouls," Bossanova said with a bite of impatience, finally getting unsteadily to her feet. "That's why Glowing Ones can heal other ferals. The radiation just...works its magic. I don't really know the science behind it." She nodded to the gun in Gage's hand. "The ammo is rare, so I save it for emergencies only. This fit the bill." Bossanova swayed on the spot and leaned back on the wall.

Despite her warnings, Gage walked over. "You alright, Boss?"

"I'll live."

Gage wasn't so sure. She looked like shit. "So you're completely healed?"

She shook her head. "No. It stops the bleeding, gets the necessities working again—but it's a slow process. These wounds will rip open if I'm not careful. I need to rest up, get my hands on some stimpaks...chems aren't quite as effective on ghouls. Made sense to let you have it."

She'd answered his unspoken question. The why for what she'd done.

He sighed. "Come on. I know a place we can go. A...friend of mine." He paused. He'd never really had a friend in his life, but Jack came close. "There might be some stimpaks to spare—"

An awful, terrible sound cut him short. Gage spun around, his heart in his throat. At the back of the room, through a wide doorway he hadn't noticed before, were two more gatorclaws.

Bossanova grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs. Gage looked over his shoulder to see the gatorclaws sniffing at the albino's body. They nudged it with their noses and then scanned the room, searching for intruders.

"Think they've seen us?" whispered Bossanova.

"Dunno," breathed Gage in response. He gripped hard at her fingers without thinking.

Someone rushed past them, leaping straight down the staircase. Gage caught a glimpse of a metal pipe and a flapping loincloth revealing things he'd rather not see, before the air reverberated with a deafening clang.

Cito flew between his adversaries, swinging the bloodied pipe like a sword, screaming over and over, "You killed Chris! You killed Chris!" He whirled around, delivering a blow so fierce the gatorclaw staggered and fell over. Cito whipped around, pointing up at Gage and Bossanova. "Friends go! Cito not lose more friends! Friends go!"

The other gatorclaw started to advance, but before Gage could warn him, Cito struck out again, forcing it to back off.

"Go! Go!"

Cito threw one sharp look up at them, and then dashed away, the gatorclaws following unsteadily in his wake.

"You heard him," Gage hissed, trying to pull Bossanova to her feet. She showed every sign of wanting to stay. "He told us to go, and if you call him back, they'll hear you and kill us both."

Bossanova watched Cito run down the corridor towards the facility entrance and out of sight, and whispered, "He's just led them to our only way out."

"The fucking idiot." Gage scanned the room and spied a large pipe leading to the maintenance exit just behind the other staircase. With any luck, there wouldn't be a gatorclaw nest halfway down. Gage nodded to it. "That might be our best shot. But we need to leave now."

Bossanova bit her lip.

"He's just cannon fodder, boss."

She looked from the doorway Cito had just run through to Gage, as if weighing her options. Bossanova's expression hardened. She trotted haphazardly down the stairs, and paused, staring at the eggs. Then she raised her foot, stamping through the shells with difficulty until all that remained was goo and half formed masses.

Bossanova looked at Gage and nodded. "Let's go."

Gage wasn't sure how exactly they made it out of Safari Adventure without getting into another fight, but they did, crawling their way up the maintenance pipe at the back of the facility and up into the river above. Gage helped Bossanova, who was struggling more than him, and together they swam and squelched their way to dry land, before staggering to the zone entrance.

By the time they made it over the threshold and into the wilderness, Bossanova's wounds were bleeding again, but Gage's stayed shut. He gripped her arm and kept her steady as they trudged on, praying they wouldn't run into any raiders.

Gage felt slightly disappointed they hadn't cleared Safari Adventure in one go, but when he mentioned this to Bossanova she shook her head.

"You need to know when to cut your losses," she rasped, wincing as she clutched her side. "The replicator is off. We can come back and deal with the gatorclaws later. Take better guns, more stimpaks, and more men."

Gage decided not to challenge her. He knew the raiders wouldn't help her clear the park. This was as much about proving her worth as it was cleaning up Colter's mess. They wanted to see what she was made of first.

"How much ammo you got left for that gun?" he asked, changing the subject.

"One round," Bossanova replied.

"One?"

"I told you the ammo was rare," she snapped, grimacing again. She paused, drawing a deep breath, and continued. "I keep away from the Atom nutjobs as much as I can. It's not worth being their prisoner for a chance to steal their guns. So I make do with what I can find. Take on small groups when I come across them. But they usually stick together in large settlements. So for now, just the one round."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Bossanova said, "Besides, despite the amazing things radiation is supposed to do for ghouls—"

"Like what?" Gage interrupted.

She frowned at him but answered anyway. "Reattach limbs. Reanimate freshly dead ghouls, so long as they aren't too mangled up—"

"Reanimate?"

"Stop. Butting. In."

Gage grunted his apology as she glared at him.

"They're just rumours," she went on, when she'd concluded her glowering. "I don't know if I believe half of them, and I'm not stupid enough to experiment."

"You could try it on other ghouls. Even ferals, if you're squeamish."

"I'm not squeamish." Her tone was curt. "But ghouls are already second class citizens, and I'm not foolish enough to ostracise myself from my remaining peers."

Gage wondered if everyone in her time sounded so fancy-like. She talked similar to Mags, but in Bossanova's case, she made it work. Mags' speeches always came across as rehearsed in Gage's opinion.

"And besides, too much radiation is supposed to make ghouls go feral. I'd rather die than end up like one of those animals. So I use stimpaks when I can, and leave the radiation as a last resort."

Gage couldn't think of anything else to ask, so the conversation died. For a time they limped along in silence, side by side. But Gage's head was whirling, all the events of the Safari Adventure battling for acknowledgement. Sure, Bossanova gave him the stimpak because her backup plan, but that didn't explain the rest of it. The amount of times she'd stepped in front of danger for him, pushed him out the way—even taken the blows.

She risked her life for me.

"Boss," Gage said, before his nerve failed him again.

"Yes?"

"Why...why did you keep saving my ass in there?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and saw her surprise. Bossanova blinked and then shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

Gage stopped so suddenly she nearly fell over. He gaped at her for a full second. "Because you nearly got fucking eaten?"

"True." Bossanova waved her free hand vaguely. "Loyalty inspires loyalty. It was worth the risk."

"Worth being eaten?"

She turned to him fully, her expression stony. "If I'd done nothing and you'd survived, would you have trusted me again?"

Connor immediately sprang to mind. The fucking bastard. Bossanova's gaze never left him, and after a few seconds, he met it. "No."

She nodded. "Your trust is everything, Gage. I can't trust you if you don't trust me." Bossanova smiled brightly, catching him off guard. "Besides, you're my right hand man, and I'm growing fond of you."

Gage blinked, then scowled. Again, the weakness was showing. "We ain't fucking friends, boss. We're in this out of necessity. Don't kid yourself it's any other way."

"Put me down then if that's how you really feel."

Gage opened his mouth to argue, but stopped, the words stuck. That wasn't why… "I'm doing this for Nuka World, idiot. Not for you."

"Someone's cranky today."

"Oh fuck off."

Bossanova wrenched her arm away so fiercely she nearly fell over. Gage finally saw the dark stain spreading through her clothes, the sheen of sweat on her skin. She looked like death walking.

"Yes, okay," she said, her voice as sharp as a shiv. "I get it. Mr. Porter Gage, resident loner, doesn't like to be looked after. Doesn't trust anyone. Would rather be eaten alive out of sheer principle than allow someone to help him." Her lip curled into a sneer, and he saw the predatory gleam in her eyes. The same danger as when she'd presented Nisha with a severed head. "Change your tune for God's sake, because this is getting old fast."

Her words stung. Partly because they were true, but also because he didn't want to hear them. Why was she so damn difficult? Gage raised a clenched fist and snarled, "Why do you fuckin' care?"

"Because I don't understand why you don't understand," Bossanova shot back, patches of red appearing in her pallid cheeks. "You work for me, and I benefit from you staying alive. But I also think you're funny and sharp. You're no idiot, and in a world full of 'em, that means something." She drew a deep breath and went on ranting, as if she'd been holding this in for days. "You know how to make the hard decisions. You know how to look after yourself, and when you were bleeding out and had the means to run,you came back for me. Why wouldn't I care?"

Bossanova was swaying now, her chest heaving with the effort of standing. But Gage didn't move towards her. He wanted to reply, to brush her off with a scathing remark, but it felt like something was stuck in his throat.

"Well?" she snarled.

"This...this isn't the time or the place," Gage snapped, avoiding her piercing gaze. He didn't want to talk about it. Now he thought about it, he'd never talked about Connor properly before. Even with Jack, he'd only mentioned the asshole in passing. What was the point?

"It damn well is the time and the place, because I ain't movin' until you explain yourself."

It occurred to Gage he could just pick her up and carry on his way. She was in no state to resist him, even if his usual instinct was to keep everyone—friend or foe—at arm's length, or at least where he could see their weapon. One look on Bossanova's face told him she'd fight tooth and nail to prove her point, whatever it was, but the bloody patch in her clothes was spreading. He could see small droplets of it pattering onto the dry earth. If they didn't move soon, it might be too late, even with stimpaks.

"Tough shit, boss," he said, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder, where she landed with a grunt on his bulky shoulder guards. "Be mad later."

"Put me down, Porter Gage!" Bossanova shrieked, struggling weakly against his grip, hammering her fists against his back, neck, and head, each blow leaving a dull ache behind.

"You got a knife," Gage drawled. "If you want down, stab me. Otherwise, shut up."

Bossanova let out a snarl of frustration and tried to get free again. Gage jerked his shoulder up into her stomach—her punches hurt after all—and felt a stab of vindictive pleasure as she grunted in pain, taking the hint and falling still. His malice went as quickly as it had come, extinguished by a wave of guilt. He loathed it. Guilt didn't come easily to him, so why now?

Bossanova didn't speak again, and Gage was left to think. He was angry at her persistence, how hard she was trying to get him to warm to her. Sentimentality, or whatever it was. She was supposed to be the Overboss: the meanest, baddest motherfucker in the wastes. Not... this.

Gage sighed inwardly, a hateful rage smouldering in the pit of his stomach. She was fond of him.

And he liked it.

A/N: When I can't think of a decent chapter title I just come up with a stupid one.