First Date
There was a moment—a brief, fleeting, tremendous moment—where Porter Gage knew he'd fucked up. Then it was gone, washed away in a haze of stagnant, stinking blue.
The last thing he remembered was the Bottling Plant. The place was infested with mirelurks—or, as Bossanova dubbed them, 'nukalurks'—and the whole building and each of its giant, crab-like inhabitants gave off an eerie blue glow. Admittedly, the operation went much smoother than Gage anticipated—he'd come to expect disaster as standard with Bossanova, but even when the house-sized queen nukalurk erupted from the nearby lake, they'd held their ground and wiped the monster out. The only real damage had been Bossanova's armour, melted beyond repair. She'd stripped it off and dumped it with a string of swear words before the acid could start on her skin.
A final sweep of the factory revealed Gage's wildest dreams: after a year of nothing, they'd claimed a piece of the park.
Gage couldn't help himself. He whooped, stamping his feet, and Bossanova grinned at him. The grin slid from her face as the metal, rusted platform they were standing on dropped forward a few inches with a loud crack. Gage staggered back, arms flailing, and Bossanova lunged forward to grab him. She caught his hand as the floor collapsed.
The glowing blue river waited for them.
Gage hit it with a heavy splash, the debris lurking beneath the surface painfully breaking his fall. Copper flooded his mouth as he bit his tongue, and he let out a gargled yell, inviting rancid water into his body. Gage swallowed without thinking—it was just water after all, right?
No, not just water. Nuka Cola Quantum. His eyes rolled back in his head as his soul continued to plummet through the floor, leaving his body far behind.
Gage felt warm.
He wiggled his toes, unsure where he was but decidedly unconcerned. His arms and legs weren't bound and he wasn't in any real pain, so it was unlikely he was about to get his skin peeled off by Nisha or have his limbs fed to Mason's yao guai. Still, he should probably open his eye.
Grumbling to himself, Gage slowly sat up. He was in Jack's bed, though the woman herself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Bossanova was curled up in a nearby armchair, reading a book, and glanced over when she heard Gage move. She smiled and nodded. "How's your head?"
"Fine," Gage grunted, swinging his legs out of the bed and standing up. "How did we get here?"
"Judging from numerous eyewitness accounts, we managed to make our way back here in an extremely intoxicated state before succumbing to the effects of...whatever was in that river. I doubt it was just cola."
"So we staggered back here off our tits and managed not to die?"
"Succinctly put, yes."
Gage snorted and looked around for his armour, remembering vaguely that Bossanova's own set was ruined. They'd have to replace it at some point, though when and how, Gage didn't know. Resources were thin enough already. He located his armour in the corner and put it back on while Bossanova continued with her book. "Still reading that 'Iceman' thing?"
"No, I finished that last time we were here." She held the book up so he could see it. "'The Butcher.' I'm a bit of a sucker for factual mafia literature."
Gage stared at her. "Why?"
Bossanova shrugged. "They get so much wrong and ham up all the rest. It's quite entertaining really." She turned a page. "Besides, it's always fun reading about your friends' dirty secrets, even if the details are exaggerated. I never knew Pitera used to get naked when he disposed of his victims."
Gage didn't know who or what a Pitera was, and decided he didn't care enough to ask. Skimming over this detail entirely, he said, "So what's the plan? We need to send one of the gangs to the Bottling Plant before someone else moves in."
"I have to go back there before we hand it over to anyone. I think I lost my gamma gun in the Quantum River when we fell in, and I wouldn't want any of those idiots picking it up and wasting the ammunition." Bossanova snapped her book shut and looked at him, grinning widely. "But I'm glad you asked the plan. I've been thinking…" She paused, as if trying to decide how best to phrase her next sentence. "What if we expand past Nuka World?"
Gage opened his mouth and closed it again. That was one of the future goals for the place, but he'd never mentioned it directly. Baby steps, after all. He decided to test her. "What were you thinking, boss?"
"In my day, the Mafia had a huge hand in the drugs trade. Each boss had their own gripes about drugs—"
"Drugs?"
"Chems. We called them drugs back then. Anyway, it varied from boss to boss, because playing with drugs meant drawing the attention of the cops and getting into fights with rival gangs...and if you were caught with them, it gave the law the excuse to arrest you. But it was lucrative enough that most ignored the rules, and the bosses turned a blind eye. See where I'm coming from?"
"Yeah," said Gage, though he didn't. He couldn't see why security guards would give a shit about chems. The Old World was a strange place.
"Now picture this." Bossanova splayed her fingers, a sly glint in her eye. "Chems, far stronger and more addictive than the standard, so that even addictol won't cure the itch. No alternatives on the market. All the dealers under our thumb, pushing only our product."
He could picture it alright, along with the caps they'd rake in from such a scheme. Gage allowed the image to linger for one happy moment and then quashed it. No point daydreaming about things out of his reach. "We'd need a thousand chem labs for something like that—even with all our slaves and men, we wouldn't have enough bodies to get started, let alone maintain it. And that's before we took on the other dealers."
"But we have a huge chem lab sitting right under our noses," Bossanova said, her grin taking on a spike of malice.
"What?"
"The Bottling Plant."
Gage stared at her. Really stared at her. Everything clunked into place, and suddenly she became the most beautiful person in the world. "You think we can…?"
"Why not?" She tossed her book aside and straightened up, buzzing with glee. "Why not?"
Gage couldn't hold himself back any longer. His face split into a wide grin. Yeah, why the fuck not? Excitement carried him away and he paced up and down the room as Bossanova continued to talk.
"With the plant up and running again, we could mass produce our own chems," she said, her voice oddly distant as thoughts raced around Gage's head.
"Take whatever the hell is in that river," he added, catching her eye.
Bossanova beamed at him. "Replicate it—"
"Think we can get that machine in the Safari Adventure working again?"
"Maybe. We'll need to be careful."
"We'll be careful," Gage said dismissively, waving the concern away. He knew he was talking out his ass—the machine was too dangerous to use. But after a year of nothing, it felt damn good to throw out every stupid idea that came into his head. "Then we kill anyone who resists us—" his heart skipped a beat with anticipation at this, "—and recruit the rest."
"Precisely." The word came out in a smart hiss, her smile revealing her crooked teeth.
They basked in silence for a second, lost in the sudden rush of the simple brilliance at it all. Gage broke it with a laugh, and Bossanova joined in. When it subsided, Gage shook his head, unable to stop smiling. "Goddamn, boss. You know your shit." He was getting a little ahead of himself—the rest of the park still needed to be claimed, and without it, the raiders would not follow them. But it was the first good bit of news he'd had in a year. Better to enjoy it while it lasted.
"There's only one gang here with the business sense and patience to make it work," Bossanova said after a while. "The plant goes to the Operators."
"True." Gage dropped back onto the bed, his head spinning. "But...do you trust them with something that important?"
"No."
Looks like she's finally learning, Gage thought. He waited for her to continue.
"Not yet anyway," she went on, crossing her legs, deep in thought. "They need to be loyal for this to work. And I don't mean raider loyalty. I mean full, true loyalty. Fear won't be enough. We'd be handing them the keys to the entire outfit, and once they realise that, they'll be quick to turn on us."
The way she kept saying 'we' and 'us' made Gage feel very strange. It was a flickering, warm sensation in his belly, stoking something deep within his chest. He liked it.
Bossanova rummaged through her pockets and produced a holotape—Gage recognised it as the one she had stolen from Mags, and she held it up so he could see it. "We need to win them over in a way they can never repay."
He dimly remembered the conversation on the tape—Mags telling her mother she was going to collect her caps. "So, what? We're going to give Mags her inheritance?"
"Not the inheritance, no." Bossanova shook her head, the smile never fading from her lips as she set the holotape down on her lap. "Revenge."
Gage plucked at his clothes in disgust as he picked his way through the rubble of downtown Boston. "Why," he said, glancing at Jack, who was slightly ahead of him, "do we have to wear this?"
Jack stopped, balancing precariously on a rusted metal beam and smiled. She looked good in a pink dress, the kind that was floaty and showed off her legs, but clung to her waist. Now Jack in fancy duds he didn't mind, but him?
She grinned. "We can't march into Diamond City dressed like raiders. The boss explained it about sixty times."
"I know she did," muttered Gage, tugging at the collar of his stained white t-shirt with the Nuka Cola mascots grinning stupidly on the front. Thank God Bossanova didn't make him change in Nuka Town. He'd have never lived it down.
"Come on." She jumped down lightly next to him and took his hand. "We're just a young couple looking to see the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, or whatever crap they're calling it now."
"Young?" Gage said, letting her drag him through the streets. He hated not having his armour in such a dangerous area, but they needed to get inside the city without a hitch. His mind kept drifting to his gear, stowed away securely inside a nearby building. With any luck it would still be there when they got back.
"Young enough." Jack planted a quick kiss on his cheek as the city gate came into view. Gage tensed, ready for a fight, but the guards barely looked at them as they walked past, talking amongst themselves and staring out into the dismal ruins.
Only when they made it over the threshold did Gage release the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Jack gave his fingers a quick squeeze, but didn't let go. He didn't try to pull away either, and they walked into Diamond City hand in hand.
Every fiber of Gage's being wanted to sneer at the settlement and the petty living they'd scratched out for themselves. Instead, he stared in wonder, mouth open. He'd heard it was an old 'baseball stadium'—whatever that was—but wasn't prepared for the reality of Diamond City. There was nothing like this back home.
The buildings stretched high up into the dark, star-spattered sky, crooked and yet somehow standing. Lights hung from every available space, and nestled in the centre of the giant, walled city were shops and places to eat, colourful throws and blankets bringing a beautiful vibrancy to the dullness of the wasteland. People were out in droves, excitement buzzing and crackling in the air. The Institute was gone!
Gage frowned. The Institute seemed like a lifetime ago, a problem for the lesser gangs to deal with. Worrying when he'd been scrubbing among them, but now in Nuka World...what would have happened if a synth took over one of the raider bosses? He felt a cold shiver ripple through his spine. Colter's personality had changed almost overnight after they'd enslaved the traders and made Nuka Town their own. Had he just been a shitbag, or was there Institute interference to stop the gangs succeeding?
Well. Didn't matter now. And it was hard to care surrounded by celebration, people dancing wildly in the streets, the radios on full blast, and free food covering every surface of the noodle bar.
"You okay?" a voice muttered in his ear, before a soft pair of lips pressed gently against his cheek. Gage blinked. He'd stopped dead, gawking. A dull heat crept up his face, which intensified as Jack smirked. Her mouth found his and she kissed him slowly, softly, her arms draped lazily over his shoulders. He clutched at her waist without thinking, pulling her a little closer, lost in the taste of her. No one disturbed them. No one made catcalls or threw shit at them. They were a normal couple in a normal city, and he could kiss her for days just to feel her warm body against his.
The thought sent a snap of fear streaking through him, and he broke away, punch-drunk. Jack gazed into his eye, her own brown ones soft and...and filled with something he didn't recognise. He held onto her, staring, unsure how he felt or what to do. She opened her mouth, possibly to tease him, when something hit a puddle next to them, spraying Jack and a nearby guard with thick, dark muck.
She shrieked, jumping away so violently she nearly slipped and fell over. The guard let out a string of swear words as he pulled out a beer bottle from the mud, glancing up to the distant stands, while Gage bent over double with laughter.
"Fucking kids! The mayor has said no more bottle throwing! We can't afford another spotlight being taken out!"
"Well, at least everyone's distracted tonight," Gage muttered. Jack nodded, wiping muck off the back of her dress, and then took his hand again. This time he squeezed without thinking, and Jack blinked before smiling. There was an odd tightness in his chest, which didn't relax as they carefully made their way to the tops of the Diamond City stands. The rich kept their homes up here, away from the hustle and bustle of the inner city. Jack wrinkled her nose as she looked at the vast houses.
"Bet most of them think their shit don't stink." She spat bitterly on the ground. "People like this were some of my most frequent clients when I was a child."
Gage didn't answer. He couldn't miss the anger and resentment in her voice, but knew better than to comment on it. She'd spoken about her past once before, when they'd first gotten to know each other. Her tone had been nonchalant back then, but only an idiot would take that at face value.
The rest of the short walk to the house was in silence. When they reached it, Jack reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a screwdriver and a bobby pin. She set to work, leaving Gage standing with his hands in his slightly too tight jeans pockets, wishing she'd hurry up.
Boredom set in quick. He wandered around the perimeter, not bothering to hide himself from the windows. Life here was good to be sure, but it left the inhabitants soft, cushy. He couldn't see a single guard inside. Either they weren't home, or they were reliant on the order of the city to keep them safe. Big mistake.
Gage strode back to the front door, glanced at the marketplace to confirm everyone was still milling around celebrating, and then kicked the door in.
"Gage!" Jack fell back on her ass, outraged. "Do you want the guards to—?"
He ignored her, striding inside. A middle aged woman with a petite, pretty face and silver curls drawn elegantly up to the back of her head ran down the stairs, her eyes wide with fear and alarm.
"What are you doing in my house?" She marched towards him, waving her hands, suddenly furious. "Get out, you disgusting, unwashed—"
Gage met her in the middle, slamming his fist into those dainty features and relishing the feel of her nose crunching under his knuckles. She let out a gasp, blood splattering all down her crisp, blue dress as she hit the floor. She began to scream.
"Aww, look at how nice and clean this is." Gage hit her again, instantly silencing her. "And I here am, dirtying the place up." He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her knees, shoving his face close to hers. "Now listen good," Gage snarled, unconcerned by the way she recoiled from his breath, "every time you scream, I hit you. And I'll make sure each hit is harder than the last."
The woman spat in his face and shrieked as loudly as she could. Gage threw her to the floor, kicking and punching her until she shut up, a quivering, bloody wreck at his feet. He placed his knee on her back, resting his hand on the nape of her neck and gripping it tight. "Are you gonna be fuckin' quiet like I asked?"
The woman hesitated, then gave a slow nod.
"Good. Because I ain't askin' polite-like again." He dragged her into a sitting position, pulled a slave collar from his pack, and snapped it around her neck. Jack's eyes burned into the side of his head, and he sighed before turning to her. "She ain't a slave. This is jus' for transportation purposes."
Jack nodded, though she still seemed uncomfortable. But she couldn't complain. Bossanova had been straight with her from the beginning and she'd agreed to help anyway. Jack shook her head. "I just...bad memories. Carry on."
"Right." Gage turned back to his victim, taking a small device out of his other pocket. "I'm not gonna fuck around, lady. You're coming with us. Stray too far and this collar will blow your fucking head off. Try to remove it and it'll blow your fucking head off. If you alert the guards when we leave the city, I'll activate it manually and it'll blow your fucking head off. We clear?"
"Yes." Her voice came out in a whisper. She was plainly terrified, and God, how he loved it.
"Then I've only got two more questions for you. First, where do you keep your caps? And second…" He grinned, revealing his blackened teeth. "Where's your husband?"
They made it out of the city with little fuss. Once their captive had cleaned her face up and put on a coat to conceal the collar, no one paid them a second glance as they strolled back towards the city gates. They departed without incident and made their way through the darkening streets of Boston.
"Stand against the wall," Gage snarled, shoving the woman through the dingy doorway of the top floor of an old office block. She'd kept quiet all the way up three flights of stairs, but started to get vocal on the fourth. Who did they think they were? Did they know who her husband was? He'd retorted it was because they knew who her husband was that she was in this mess, and that shut her up for the time being. He could feel a scathing comment building in her though. She'd see his fist when she uttered it.
Gage got back into his armour, sneaking looks at Jack's ass as she changed into hers. He stirred a little, wondering what kind of shit they'd find themselves in if they just fucked here and now. He'd never risk it, but damn it was appealing.
"The girl is smart, y'know."
Gage directed his attention to Jack's face. The mischievous grin she wore whenever she caught him ogling was absent, replaced by a stony seriousness. He blinked, confused. "Girl?"
"Sarah. I know she gets on your nerves—I mean, everyone gets on your nerves—but she's sharp, Gage." Jack shuffled on the spot, her shirt in her hands, and seemed to be avoiding his eye. "Give her a chance."
He frowned at her. "What's brought this on?"
"We...talked." Yes. She was definitely not looking at him.
"About?"
"My...my past came up." She pulled her shirt on, keeping her head down. "After you and the boss left for the Bottling Plant. She had questions. I answered them as best I could. And she said something that really...I dunno. Got to me, I guess."
He was about to ask what got to her, when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. He turned as Jack yelled and saw the old woman lunging for him with a knife. Too late, he realised he'd left the collar control in the pocket of his discarded jeans.
Jack got there first, gripping the woman by the arm and swinging her to the floor. The woman let out a shriek of rage, wrenching her arm free and slashing up at Jack's face. The blade came away scarlet, but Jack was already pummelling her into submission as she yelled, "Don't you fucking touch him, bitch!"
"Jack!" Gage ripped the knife from the captive's hands and threw it away, before dragging Jack bodily from her prey. The older woman was a mess, two beatings doing their intended work. Any more and they might accidentally kill her, along with their one chance to snare the Operators.
"I'm good," Jack panted, holding her hands up. "I'm good."
The woman wasn't going anywhere, so he turned Jack to face him and inspected the wound across her cheek. It was deep, but not deep enough to have hit the muscles or tendons below. "Did you bring any vodka?"
"Yeah, it's in the pack. I'm fine. I'll sort myself out."
Gage ignored her and strode over to their supplies, locating the bottle quickly.
"Gage, I'm fine."
"Shut up and sit down," he said, glaring at her. She obeyed with a sigh, tilting her head away so he could get on with it. Gage uncorked the bottle and poured the vodka directly over the wound. She winced but didn't make a sound, and only closed her eyes when he injected the stimpak into her cheek. Slowly, the wound began to heal and scab over, and within minutes, all that remained was a mess of pink scar tissue.
For the briefest of moments, he felt the urge to kiss her cheek. Then it passed, and Gage put the bottle away.
The woman stayed whimpering on the floor.
"Where did you get the knife?" Gage asked.
"Hid it on me when you kicked my door down," the woman whispered, not looking at him. Gage did his best to ignore Jack's pointed glares as she muttered, "I told you." He grabbed rope from their supplies and quickly tied the woman up, threading the rope through a pipe running along the wall, binding her in place.
"Stay quiet," he said, "and we might even feed you in the morning." That was a lie. But she didn't need to know.
He settled down next to Jack on the other side of the room, where he could keep an eye on their captive. The unspoken question was on his lips—he suspected she sensed it too, and was waiting for him—daring him—to ask it.
So he did. "What did Sarah say that got to you?"
Jack flinched, as he knew she would. She stared at her knees, chewing her lip. Gage waited for her to speak. This wasn't something he could rush. Eventually, she said, "The people who took me, tortured me, violated me—am I just as bad as them?"
He knew the answer he was supposed to give was 'No.' But lying never felt right with Jack. Instead, Gage shrugged. "I don't think you can compare tatos and tarberries."
She laughed a little at this. She'd always liked his funny sayings.
Gage went on, "I ain't never seen nothing wrong with the raider life. Sure, folk tell me it's wrong, but they're dead and I'm not." He stretched out, staring at the crying form of their captive. "I don't think the world is made for good people anymore. Just survivors. We don't accept the shitty hand we're given." He caught her eye. "An' we steal the better cards from those too stupid to keep hold of 'em."
Jack didn't reply at first but dropped her gaze. After a few seconds, she spoke. "I dream about it sometimes. I'm back at Evergreen Mills, and I can't stop it." She blinked rapidly, her body tense as she drew her knees to her chest and gripped them tight. "No matter how many times it happened, it always hurt. And I could never stop it.
"And you know the worst part? When I escaped, when I got my freedom...I went back."
Gage frowned. "Went back to what?"
Jack glanced at him, her eyes suddenly wide and fearful. Then she looked away from him, her expression neutral. "I...I went to a different brothel. Opened my legs for the next person. I hate that I did that. I hate it." Jack took a deep, shuddering breath, then all at once deflated. "I will never be someone's whore again."
Gage nodded. She'd told him nearly all of this before, of course. He never asked her to, because back then he hadn't cared. She was just there to fuck, and he'd paid good money for it. But Jack bared herself without prompt and despite himself, Gage had listened. Even now he couldn't explain why he'd sat there all those years ago without rolling his eye or losing focus while she listed off traumas with a blank gaze and a monotone voice. They'd even fucked again after, like it was nothing.
This time was different. It was hurting her.
Gage shifted his gaze around the room, flicking his eye back and forth to her as she continued to occupy a space, present only in body. What did people do in these situations? He wasn't the comforting kind, and sex didn't seem like it would be appropriate for once. Gage wracked his brains, rocking in his spot on the floor. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then pretended to scratch his ear before dropping it again.
Jack didn't seem to notice, staring ahead with eyes as empty and endless as the metro tunnels.
Gage's face softened. "Jack."
She jumped a mile, as if she'd forgotten he was in the room.
"Come here." He raised his arm awkwardly.
"What?" she said, blinking as she stared at him. He almost backed off there and then, wanting to sink into the floor, but resisted.
"I know your ears work," he said gruffly. "Come here."
She blinked again, then slowly a smile spread across her haggard face. Without another word she crawled into his lap, burying her face into him as she slipped her arms around his waist. He felt her press kisses to his collarbone and an intense, indescribable sensation rushed through him. It was like nothing he'd experienced and the words escaped him. Gage rested his chin on the top of her head, wondering why he'd never allowed this to happen before. Without thinking, he pulled her closer, his fingers running gentle circles through her hair.
Jack tightened her grip on him, hiding herself in their embrace, and pressed her wet cheeks to his skin. She was warm. So very warm.
A/N: Why doesn't Gage take Jack anywhere nice?