Famous Last Words
"Hey, asshole! You're listening to Raider Radio. Don't like the name? I don't give a shit!"
Gage saw Bossanova visibly wince as RedEye's voice crackled out over a radio on a nearby table. She stopped dead and stared at it, as if trying to will it to explode.
They hadn't spoken a word to each other all the way down the stairs—Gage was furious with her for picking up the stray, and she was mad at him for his— justified —treatment of the kid. But his annoyance quickly made way for curiosity as Bossanova continued to stand and glare as if the radio had personally offended her. "What's up with you?"
Bossanova glanced towards Gage, anger etched in every line of her ravaged face. She jerked her thumb towards the battered old radio. "I hate that man."
"What, RedEye?" Gage frowned. "He's a dumbass, yeah, but you've never met him."
"I don't have to meet someone to hate them for narrating my entire trip through the Gauntlet."
"Oh." Gage started to snicker. "Oh."
"It's not funny!"
"Well, I mean, it really is."
The idea was Colter's originally. RedEye, who already gifted Nuka World with his terrible Raider Radio show, had been drafted in to give commentary to all those stupid enough to fall into the Gauntlet's trap. Fight their way through or die. And with RedEye making quips along the way, the whole thing had been genuinely entertaining for a while. Up until the point where Gage realised Colter was never going to move on and actually take the rest of Nuka World.
Still. The radio show wasn't as bad as it could be.
"...got some news for you all," RedEye went on, his voice rising in pitch as it always did when he was excited. "Word's getting around that the Overboss has been seen meeting up with the head honchos for each of the gangs. No one's told me shit yet, but doesn't take a genius to figure out—"
"That was weeks ago," sneered Bossanova. "He's not exactly quick on the uptake, is he?"
"—we're taking the park! The whole damn thing—"
"I would love nothing better than to kill him," she said, toying with the hilt of her sword. "Introduce me some time, won't you?"
"You just wait—this new overboss is the real deal, man. Getting shit done!"
Gage scowled. "Why bother? You'll just pussy out at the last second or regret it afterwards."
She frowned at him, and he knew he'd gone too far. But he wasn't going to apologise. She'd let the stupid kid take his damn belt.
"I kill people who deserve it," Bossanova said, just loud enough to be heard over RedEye's babbling. "And when they deserve it, I enjoy it. It's a skill; art, almost. And considering where we are, there are plenty of people who deserve it. You'll get to see me in action soon enough, I'm sure."
She turned on her heel and stalked off towards the front door, but Gage wasn't letting this go without a fight. "So why the kid, huh? What benefit is she for us?" He lowered his voice as he followed her into the open. Never knew who was listening.
Bossanova was finally heeding his warnings about the other raiders, because she lowered her voice too. "She could keep things in order while we're away. Like a servant."
"She's a slave, not a servant."
"What's the difference?"
"One knows its place, the other doesn't." Gage shook his head as they walked around the swan pond. "She's useless, and if you keep her, the other raiders will think you've gone soft."
"The girl could be an asset," Bossanova insisted. "I've met her before. She followed me all through Nuka Town without me spotting her until the very end. And if we keep her loyal, she can squeeze into places we can't, find information on people. No one pays attention to a slave. And the other slaves will think she's on their side."
Gage studied Bossanova for a moment. Her face was defiant, set, and absolutely full of shit. "Quit trying to kid yourself. You're doing this because of Oswald." Bossanova blanched and he knew he had her. "You feel bad for killing him, so you're trying to make up for it by looking after the girl. It ain't gonna work. You'll never be able to trust her. She's already proven that by stealing my belt, even if you don't believe it."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure she's taken it," said Bossanova casually.
"What?" He didn't trouble to lower his voice, and a group of raiders looked around at him. "What?" he hissed again, sticking his face close to hers. "You figured she had it, and you didn't try to get it back?"
"I didn't want an argument," she replied with a shrug. "And besides, that old thing was looking a bit tired. Treat yourself every once in a while."
"But the grenades—"
"I think Sarah's sensible enough not to use them."
The Fizztop Grille exploded.
Glass rained down on them as fire roared from the windows, furniture and body parts scattered into the open air before landing in the pond with a series of loud splashes. Gage slowly turned to look at Bossanova. She sheepishly met his eye as a crowd of raiders began to gather around the burning tower.
After a few seconds of painful silence, Bossanova said loudly, "Someone must have finally set off the traps I installed. I was wondering how long that would take."
Gage blinked at her, thrown for a second, but then understood when the other raiders began to mutter amongst themselves about the 'traps.' Bossanova was covering her ass and making sure no one got any bright ideas about setting up bombs in the future.
"Let's go see which idiot raider got too big for their boots," Bossanova went on in the same loud voice. She strode back towards the main door, kicked it open, and disappeared inside. Gage jogged after her, hoping the smoke wouldn't be too bad.
"Sensible my ass," Gage snarled as they ran up the stairs together. "I knew she had my belt." Secretly, he thought the grenades might be worth it just to get rid of the girl. But now was not the time. For all he knew, the building was about to come down and that would be an absolute shitshow.
The top floor lobby was a wreck. Black soot coated the walls, and the double doors leading to the outer patio had been blasted off their hinges. Smoke was billowing through, making Gage's eye sting, but most of the damage seemed to have been contained to the outside. He picked his way through the mess, watching as Bossanova pulled a large red canister with a nozzle attached off the wall, turned to the nearest fire, and a jet of white-grey vapour engulfed the flames.
"The smoke's bad enough without you spraying shit everywhere!" Gage yelled, coughing. He backed away.
"It's a fire extinguisher!"
"What?"
"A fire—extinguisher!" Bossanova bellowed. She gestured to the wall behind him. "Get the other one and help me before this gets out of control!"
Gage blinked. The fire extinguisher—or whatever it was called—did seem to be doing the trick. He nodded and sprinted over to the other canister, wrenched it free, and fiddled around with the nozzle. "How do you—?" His question was cut off by a jet of white gas hitting him in the face. From across the room he heard Bossanova laughing, and after a second he managed to get control of the spray and direct it at the fire instead.
The fire flickered and disappeared, revealing a small figure pinned beneath the rubble. "Boss, there's the girl."
Bossanova whipped around. "Free her. I'll carry on with the flames."
Gage did as he was told, pushing and hauling the broken furniture, ceiling, and pieces of wall off her. Despite the chaos around them, the kid looked relatively unscathed. He spotted his belt on her immediately, and saw one of the grenades was missing. "There we go. Told you the little bitch caused this."
Bossanova ignored him. "Is she alive?"
He checked her pulse and found it strong and steady. "Yeah."
"Good. Move her to the stairwell."
Gage grabbed the girl by the arm and began to drag her carelessly across the rubble out of harm's way.
"Properly, Gage."
Gage grumbled and sighed, but obeyed, picking her up carefully and walking away. He was surprised by how light she was, how fragile she felt in his arms. It occurred to him he couldn't have been much older than this when he left home.
A wonder I didn't die.
He set her little body down in the stairwell and checked her over. Bossanova would just give him shit if he didn't. A cut on her head suggested she'd hit it when the explosion went off, but otherwise she seemed okay. Remembering one of the quick fixes Connor taught him, Gage took out a stimpak, lifted her head forward, and injected it where the back of her skull met the neck. She shuddered, and he did another one for good measure. Bossanova was living proof he'd need twice as much medicine to get the job done.
Sarah's eyes flickered open, and she stared up at him, wide-eyed and trembling. "Where am I?"
"Stay still, asshole," Gage snapped. "Or you'll make your head worse." He got to his feet. "I'm gonna go help the boss. Move from this spot, and I'll bring you back up here just to throw you out the window again. Got it?"
Sarah nodded.
"Stop moving your damn head!"
The girl bit her lip, blinking quickly. Gage took this to mean she understood and he stomped off back to Bossanova, picking up his extinguisher and helping finish the job. He answered Bossanova's searching look with a grimace. "She's fine. I've given her some stimpaks." The boss didn't reply, but set to work on the fire once more with a look of relief.
The flames slowly died. Within ten minutes, the Fizztop Grille merely smouldered. Bossanova wiped her sweating brow, panting, and turned to him smiling. "Good job."
Gage frowned, but didn't reply. They wouldn't be in this situation in the first place had Bossanova not brought the kid back.
"Gage," Bossanova said, peering at him. "Stop sulking."
"I ain't fuckin' sulking," Gage muttered sulkily.
"Sure you are. Is it because of the girl, or because you doused yourself with the extinguisher before you actually managed to— don't you dare!" Bossanova shrieked as the white gas engulfed her.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," Gage said blandly, his extinguisher nozzle pointed at her.
"I swear to Jesus and Mary and all that is holy, if you ever—"
Gage sprayed her again, grinning as her screams for him to stop turned into hacking coughs. Finally, the gas ran out and Bossanova emerged from the cloud holding her own extinguisher like a minigun.
"Porter Gage, you goddamn—!" She emptied her extinguisher at him, chasing him all round the Grille, and then threw the empty canister at his head for good measure. He easily ducked it, his sides aching with laughter.
It was odd, having fun without killing anyone. Gage savoured it while it lasted. Bossanova wiped tears from her eyes, grinning at him, despite herself. Then the situation—the smoking ruins of her den all around her, the implication behind it all—seemed to slide back into her thoughts, and the smile crumbled into a frown as she glanced past him. "You sure Sarah's alright?"
"Yeah," he said, not knowing or caring if it was true. Glancing back to the stairwell, he saw the kid was sitting up, watching them warily. There was something bothering him, and as he stared at her he realised what. "Boss...one grenade wouldn't cause all this damage."
Bossanova wore a grim expression. "That's what I was worried about." She walked across the lobby to Sarah, kicking aside rubble and dislodged furniture as she went, and crouched down. "Can you tell me what happened?" she asked, her voice gentle.
Sarah's eyes flicked towards Gage.
"The boss is askin' you a question," he snapped. When she still didn't move, he added, "Talking won't mess up your head, idiot."
Sarah flushed red and glared at him. Despite himself, Gage bit back a grin. Most of the other slaves wouldn't so much as look at him. Guts was always admirable, even if it was misplaced.
"Raiders came in and planted a bomb," Sarah said, scowling at Gage, while Bossanova's face paled. "They were going to kill you, so I climbed up into the ceiling a dropped a grenade on them." She smiled triumphantly. Bossanova looked horrified.
"Yeah, using my grenade belt, you little shit," he growled.
"Don't speak to her like that!" Bossanova cut in, shooting him a death glare.
Gage snorted. "She's just a slave."
"She's a child!"
"Even worse."
Sarah unbuckled the grenade belt and dropped it to the floor, kicking it towards Gage. "There," she said, glowering at her knees. "If you won't share."
"It's ain't about sharing," Gage retorted, wondering why he was trying to justify himself to a ten-year-old slave, "it's my goddamn shit. I earned it. And I know how to use it properly. You just blew up half the fucking Grille."
"No. The raiders did that. I just made it happen before you guys got back."
Gage and Bossanova glanced at each other. The kid had a point, not that he'd ever admit it. He picked his belt up, noticing she'd gouged out a huge hole in the leather just so she could wear it. "Great. Fucking ruined." He dropped it on the floor again and stormed off back towards the outer section. The damage was worst here, so the bodies of the raiders would be around. With any luck, it would be just one gang. If not, and the gangs were working together, they were in big trouble.
Now he was looking closely, Gage could see the body parts scattered around the mess. He picked the pieces up, dumping it all in the centre of the room, and then pawed over it, checking for tattoos and clothing to see which gang was the latest problem. He could have asked Sarah which gang members she'd seen, but he didn't want to ask the little shit for help unless he absolutely had to.
"Body paint and stupid colours," Gage said eventually, holding up a leg with a fluffy pink scrap of fabric clinging to it. "We're dealing with the Pack."
Bossanova approached, a muscle jumping in her jaw. Even in the poor light, she looked and tense. "They tried to kill me...again?"
"You're surprised?"
Bossanova said nothing for a moment and then gave a small nod. "I thought I had everyone where I wanted them. I thought I had control."
Gage rolled his eye. "How many fucking times did I tell you this ain't like the Old World? How many times?" His voice was rising, sharp and full of condemnation. He knew he shouldn't be this angry, but it was Colter all over again. Why did no one ever listen to him? "The raiders don't trust you. You're a ghoul and so far you've done fuck all to keep them in their place." He threw the leg at her feet. "I told you. But you knew best, obviously. And I was stupid enough to believe it."
Bossanova stared at the leg for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet. "It seems I'll be giving a demonstration sooner than I thought."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She ignored him, striding across the room, throwing open a surviving drawer, and pulling out a singed meat cleaver. "Get the bodies out of here. Toss them from the window for all I care. When you're done, you come with me. We're going to pay Mason a visit."
The Bradberton Amphitheater screamed with the roars of the Pack. Mason lounged on his throne as Bossanova strode through the crowd, Gage at her heels. He admired her audacity, but wasn't sure if balls of steel were going to be enough to waltz through this situation. Then Gage remembered the bomb and his temper flared. These fuckers needed to be taught a lesson.
"Get up!" Bossanova bellowed as she strode towards Mason. "Up, now!"
Mason raised an eyebrow, but didn't move. Instead, he waved his hand towards one of his Pack—a tall boulder of a man with long dark hair to waist—and the raider stepped in front of Bossanova, baring his teeth.
"The Alpha don't want to see—" he began, but Bossanova pulled out her sword without breaking her stride and drove the hilt into the man's stomach, catching him by surprise. As he doubled over, she slammed her elbow into his temple, sending him toppling to the ground with a thud.
There was immediate uproar. Mason rose to his feet practically frothing at the mouth.
"Good Alpha," Bossanova shouted, making her way up the stairs and kicking his throne backwards off the podium. "I like obedience."
Gage had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing, settling for a grin instead. He wasn't sure where her attitude had come from, but he liked it. Mason, on the other hand didn't quite know what to do with himself. He was easily two heads taller than the boss, but it was obvious she didn't fear him. He moved down the steps slightly as she strode towards him, blade in hand, forcing him to look up at her.
"Boss," Gage said sharply, noticing the anger rippling through the crowd. Weapons were being drawn, guns being readied. It didn't matter how badass she was, even Bossanova couldn't dodge lead.
"I defeated Colter with a sword," Bossanova called out, turning to face her audience with her arms held wide. "I took him down in his power armour with this." She held her blade high into the air and then gave a mocking bow. "What makes any of you think you could do better?"
No one answered.
Like Gage, Mason knew this wasn't strictly true. The water, not her fighting prowess, had given Bossanova the edge over Colter. But the others didn't know that, and most of them were too stupid to explain it to. Mason looked furious. Gage did his best to keep his face straight.
"Now," Bossanova said, snapping her head back in Mason's direction, "some of your little beasts thought they'd try and rig an explosive in the Fizztop Grille. They're dead of course, but there needs to be payment for this transgression."
"Payment?" snorted Mason. "What payment? None of us have shit and you know it. We've been stuck here for over a year, and judging by what you've been doin', boss, we're gonna be stuck here a little longer."
Gage thought Mason had a fair point, but trying to explain the two areas they'd been to were still infested with gatorclaws and ghouls would probably be pointless. The gangs wouldn't care that things weren't ready—they only wanted results.
"Not money." Bossanova paused, staring out over the crowd. She pulled back a layer of clothing to reveal the meat cleaver in her belt and met Mason's eye. "Your people tried to kill Gage and I. Two lives, two fingers. They're your pets, so you're responsible. Pick someone for the debt, or I'll just pick you."
Gage frowned, feeling a little disappointed. Two fingers was tame considering they'd nearly blown her up. But she'd said he'd get to see her in action at some point and this was his chance. He decided to keep his mouth shut and see how it all played out.
Mason sneered at her and waved his arm around the amphitheater. "There's a room full of us, bitch." His words were met with a cheer, the Pack on the stands and the floor banging their chest plates and stamping their feet, throwing back their heads and howling to the sky.
Bossanova waited until they quieted down and smiled pleasantly. "Yes, but I only need two fingers." She tilted her head and folded her arms. "Hurry up and make your choice, whelp."
Mason flinched, the colour rising in his face. Gage thought she was pushing it, but couldn't deny he was enjoying watching the prick be challenged in front of his own people. Mason gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, his face going from red to purple as his eyes flicked between Bossanova and her sword.
"Haze!" Mason bellowed, turning to the stands suddenly. "This was your fucking idea! Get over here!"
A scuffle broke out in the crowd, followed by muffled screams as a lone figure was thrown into the clearing. He was a big man with purple hair and wearing a bright blue vest. He tried to back away, but met a wall of bodies pushing him towards Bossanova.
"Excellent." Bossanova removed the cleaver from her belt and ran her finger down the blade lovingly as she stared at her prey. "Put your hand on the step in front of me. Now."
The raider hesitated, staring at Bossanova's placid face. She looked at Gage and gave a small nod.
Elation filled Gage's chest as he strode over and snarled, "You heard what the boss said. Now!" He kicked the raider's legs out from under him. Haze yelled in surprise, but Gage was too quick, taking his hand and forcing it onto the step at Bossanova's feet.
"Choose your least favourite fingers." Bossanova crouched down and stared into the man's face, gently touching his cheek with the cleaver. "If you keep struggling, I'll take your whole hand. I'm not picky."
Her victim trembled, his eyes wide with a fear that made Gage's heart sing. Finally Haze submitted, setting two of his fingers on the stone step and looking away. Bossanova trailed the rusted blade lovingly over the man's knuckles, pressing in slightly so that he whimpered and tensed. The amphitheater was deathly silent.
Bossanova raised the cleaver in a sudden, violent movement and brought it down with a sickening clang. The raider's scream was drowned out by the delighted yells of the Pack, a few howls piercing the din.
"Gage," Bossanova yelled over the uproar as she picked the fingers up off the floor, "hold his mouth."
Gage grinned, seizing the shrieking, writhing raider's jaw and forcing it open. Haze hit out at Gage, blood flicking everywhere, but a second later his cries were muffled as Bossanova forced the fingers down his throat. He gagged and Gage let go, his teeth slamming shut with an audible snap.
Bossanova kicked Haze carelessly down the stairs and the crowd howled and whistled with appreciation, while Haze clawed at his throat, his face slowly turning as purple as his hair. She turned to Mason. "Save him if you want. You have my permission."
Mason gazed down at the dying man, his expression one of intrigue and wonder, before looking back at Bossanova with renewed respect. "Nah. Fucker was no good anyway."
She nodded and drew close. "If either myself or Gage are threatened again, you'll be the next to kneel. And I'll make sure something more valuable than fingers ends up down your throat."
Mason didn't seem to have an answer to this. Bossanova smiled, turned on her heel, and stepped smartly over the choking raider on the floor, tossing the cleaver carelessly away. Neither she nor Gage gave him a backward glance as they left the lair of the Pack.
A/N: I'm feeling a little better this week. Going to push on. And I'm trying to do NaNo to see if it gets my writing spark back. We'll see.
Thanks to everyone who sent nice messages. I appreciate it. :) May have read over them several times...