Ms. Paddywack, I Do Declare!

"Keep stands tidy. Impress customers!"

Sarah sighed, holding Mr. Corbett's crumpled note close loosely between her fingers. It had been written hastily, the ink smeared around the edges as he'd ripped it from the pad and thrust it into her hands with an averted eye. Things hadn't been the same since she returned to the traders, and she wasn't sure if it was for the better.

Mr. Corbett no longer gave her the nasty, horrible jobs, passing them out to Shelbie or Chip instead. They silently accepted the tasks of cleaning up vomit, blood, and bodies without a word of complaint, but muttered greetings to Sarah with bowed heads whenever they crossed paths. None of the slaves would look at her properly anymore—not since Gage's little display in the market two weeks ago. Even Mackenzie seemed strained, hesitant in her hellos and no longer checking on her as frequently.

Sarah hated it.

Where did she belong now? The traders shunned her for being Mrs. Bossanova's "pet," but the raiders remembered the collar weighing down on her neck. She was alone.

There was...one option left. Sarah wrinkled her face, bile spiking her throat as she scrunched up Mr. Corbett's stupid note and threw it away. It bounced into Buttercup's pen, but the old brahmin merely sniffed it and turned from her, as if Sarah's sins lingered on the paper.

There was always Mrs. Bossanova.

No. Sarah got to her feet, her heart heavy but set. She would never go back to her, even if her life depended on it. The wounds were too deep, too fresh. She was drained of tears—beyond them now, drifting through the motions, each day a blur. Oswald's face lingered in the secluded corners of her mind, always on the edges of her thoughts. But at night, when the park devolved into its grudges and the slaves huddled in their little corner of the world, praying for solitude, he visited her.

It was the promise. The words played over and over, his rasping voice mingling with her oath, until they tangled so heavily Sarah couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

Stick a needle in my eye.

It wasn't just the fact her friend had been murdered. He was the conclusion to her long list of griefs.

Sarah moved from stall to stall, fixing them the way Mr. Corbett liked—products turned the right way up, tins stacked in neat little triangles, and dirt and blood scrubbed off the stands. Despite everything Nuka World was, wastelanders still came here to trade. Sarah thought they must be rich, judging by their fancy clothes and armed guards. How the raiders resisted attacking them, and why the visitors weren't scared, Sarah didn't know. She suspected they weren't nice people—slaves surrounded them in filth and misery, and not one batted an eyelid.

The morning passed without incident. Mr. Corbett mumbled a few praises for her neat stacking but otherwise kept away. Even Mackenzie seemed unable to talk to her freely anymore. The despair pressed down on Sarah like a raider holding her head underwater, but she shook it off. This was her choice and she was going to stick with it. The idea of being anywhere near Mrs. Bossanova made her feel physically sick.

"Ms. Paddywack. How good to see you."

"Just call me Jack."

Sarah glanced up at the sound of the familiar voice. Standing feet away from her, arms folded and regarding Mr. Corbett awkwardly, was Jack. But if Sarah hadn't heard Jack's name, she wouldn't have recognised her.

Jack looked a mess.

Her clothes hung off her wasted frame, the body of someone who hadn't eaten in weeks. Her usually bright, confident face was gaunt and dull, the life stamped out from it. Her eyes were drained of their quick, mischievous gleam, and dark shadows hung under them. Her lips were cracked and peeling, as if she'd been biting them a lot, and her skin had a waxen, ashy hue to it.

Sarah shivered, and her eyes strayed to Jack's neck, looking for the collar she was sure would be there. Why else would Jack look so starved? But the collar was absent.

What is she doing here?

Making her mind up on the spot, Sarah blended in with the crowd, sidling closer to the two adults. Whatever they were discussing, she wanted to know.

This was the right decision. Just as she slipped out of sight, the doors to the market opened and Mrs. Bossanova strode in. There was a ripple of whispers, but Mrs. Bossanova ignored them, striding over to where Sarah had been moments ago and picking her way through some of Maddox's wares. Jack visibly paled at the sight of the old woman, but kept up her conversation with Mr. Corbett.

Sarah pushed back the nausea, Oswald's blank eyes obscuring her vision, and drew closer to eavesdrop.

"...two-thousand caps for the pair of them," Jack said, waving a casual hand towards Chip and another slave Sarah didn't know the name of.

"I don't know why you'd want to buy them. They're already...already owned by Nuka World." Mr. Corbett spat out the last sentence.

"Slavery is a business," Jack said coolly, her pallor sickly behind her hard expression. "The boss wants to build a relationship with the traders—put trust in them. What better way to achieve it by bringing you in on the business? They'll be removed from the market and put to work at refurbishing the Grille. New slaves will be brought in to take their place so you can keep things running smoothly here."

"I-I...but then I'd be…" Mr. Corbett stammered, looking horrified. "I'd be part of it."

"Yes. You would." Jack's eyes looked overly bright.

Sarah couldn't take it anymore. After everything Jack told her, after everything she'd suffered, she was pressuring Mr. Corbett to sell Chip? She stepped out from the crowd, shaking with fury. She forgot she was surrounded by raiders—raiders who'd already witnessed an outburst before. Forgot Mrs. Bossanova was just within earshot.

"You told me you'd never do this!" Sarah yelled, pointing a trembling finger at the startled Jack, while Mr. Corbett jumped so hard he staggered back into a nearby stall, sending packets of Mac 'n' Cheese flying everywhere. Sarah stepped closer, her eyes pricking with tears. Jack had given her hope—hope she wouldn't end up like Gage.

Sarah wiped fiercely at her face, glaring up at her. "You're a goddamn liar."

"Enough."

Sarah shrank away as Mrs. Bossanova stepped into the fray. The chatter of the market covered Sarah's shouting, but the old lady must have overheard. Sarah stared into her black eyes, hating her, as the bustle of shoppers and hungover raiders milled obliviously around them.

Mrs. Bossanova bore down upon her. "Go away. Before I deal with you personally."

Sarah made a dismissive noise. "Oh yeah? Like you did with Oswal—?"

She felt the slap before she saw it. The blow rocked her head to the side, cricking her neck, and Sarah hit the ground with a heavy thud, pain flooding through her face, the taste of metal in her mouth. She gasped, the world swaying as she struggled to sit up, and saw Mrs. Bossanova standing still, hand raised. Her gaze was cold and endless, eyes empty of life.

A nearby Operator started forward, but Mrs. Bossanova flicked the wrist of her outstretched hand, and the raider stopped dead.

"Leave her," the old lady said calmly, staring hard at Sarah. "She knows her place."

Sarah remained splayed on the ground, clutching her stinging, tear-stained cheek. And here was the truth. This bitch was no better than Gage.

The rest of the market appeared not to notice—or at least care—about the reprimand, and carried on as normal. Only Mr. Corbett looked at Sarah, his lips trembling in fear as he leaned back into the stall as far away from Mrs. Bossanova as possible. Jack was paying great interest to her own feet.

"Get on with the negotiations," Mrs. Bossanova snapped at Jack, finally turning from Sarah. She gave a small laugh. "As if there's a choice." She shot Mr. Corbett a malicious look and he failed to meet her gaze. Then she was gone, forcing her way through the crowd, hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she hummed to herself.

"Perhaps," Jack said lightly, "we can continue this discussion in private?"

Mr. Corbett nodded glumly, his head down, and motioned for Jack to follow. They left Sarah in the dirt without another word.

Sarah followed their path through the market until they disappeared into one of the few standing buildings. She scrambled to her feet and set off, darting around pairs of legs and outstretched hands of raiders, shrugging off every attempt to be held from her goal. Sarah didn't know what they wanted—didn't care. No one was going to stop her now.

She wriggled her way inside the building through a large crack in the back wall, and then stayed low as she crept forward to the voices on the far side of the structure. Mackenzie had joined the conversation for some reason, the tone low and furtive. Though she couldn't see their faces, Sarah was willing to bet they were glancing over their shoulders at every pause.

Finally, Sarah drew close enough to make out the words, and heard Jack's side of the discussion first.

"...need his expertise," said Jack, and there were footsteps, as if she was pacing around the room. "The old ghoul thinks Chip will be working on the Grille, the brothel, and whatever else she wants, all under my supervision—it's perfect."

"I've seen you rubbing shoulders with Porter Gage," Mr. Corbett said, with the return of his usual sharpened defiance. "I don't trust you."

Sarah inched forward and was granted a full view of the meeting. Mackenzie sat near the door on a rickety old chair, looking tired as she rocked her unstable seat from side to side. Both Mr. Corbett and Jack were standing, regarding each other with ill-disguised contempt.

"You don't have to trust me," Jack replied coldly, folding her arms. "The boss wants Chip moved to another section of the park—you have no say in that. But this is your chance to help me make a difference."

"I still don't understand why—"

"The business I had with Gage is finished," Jack said, and there was a tremor to her voice. She paused, taking a deep breath as she regained her composure. "I realised what I was tolerating in Nuka World, and for all the wrong reasons. I remembered my roots...and how it felt to be a slave."

Mr. Corbett gawked at her.

"Have Chip ready to leave in fifteen minutes. There's a lot to do and not much time to do it. Things are gonna boil over here sooner or later."

Sarah remained lurking in the shadows as Jack hurried from the room, her heart thundering in her chest. Whose side was Jack on? And what kind of trouble was she out to cause?

Mr. Corbett stayed where he was, staring at the door as it clicked shut after Jack, before finally turning to Mackenzie. "What do you think?"

"I think," Mackenzie said slowly, "we don't have much choice in the matter."

Mr. Corbett sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Sarah smiled as she slipped by the patrolling raiders, passing beneath their notice like a shadow. She was a ghost—the shapes that dwelled on the edge of sight, the figure lurking in the corners of eyes. Nuka Town was her playground, the people there to test her skills. Her heart raced as she drew close enough to pull the pins from their grenades, and her breath caught in her throat when they turned, forcing her to dart and duck and hide.

But they never saw her.

Sarah wove through Nuka Town, eyes fixed on Jack. Something was going on, and she wanted to know what. There was no point in asking Mr. Corbett or Mackenzie—they would barely look at her, nevermind tell her their plans. Sarah would have to find out herself, but the thought didn't daunt her anymore. As annoying as it was to admit it, Gage had been right all along—only stupid people trusted, and she, Sarah, was not stupid. She didn't need anyone.

If Wiseman were here he might have told her she was getting too big for her boots. But Wiseman wasn't here. And neither were Mr. Glass or Oswald. She was the one still alive. She was the person smart enough to survive. Small enough. Quick enough. She was the mouse in the walls, the one humans longed to kill but could never quite catch. Sarah felt herself swell with a strange pride—the other traders just accepted their lot in life. Not her. Never her.

There wasn't even anything to gain from prying into Jack's business. But the idea she could if she wanted was deeply satisfying, and so when Jack and Chip left the boundaries of Nuka Town, Sarah followed.

Against all expectations, though, Jack did not continue on to the brothel. Instead, she led Chip to what looked like an old outdoor bathroom block. Jack drew her gun and went inside. A second later, she called to Chip, and he disappeared from sight too.

Sarah scurried forward, scooting along the privacy wall at the entrance of the bathroom and listening carefully. The conversation was a little more relaxed than in the market, and she used the noise to cover her tracks as she slipped over the threshold.

It was an unremarkable bathroom. Dirty, falling apart, and with little space to hide, save one stall that still had a door. Sarah slunk towards it, hoping the shadow was enough to block her from view, and slowly pushed it open, her heart in her mouth. All Jack would have to do is turn around and Sarah would be spotted. Both she and Chip were standing at the far wall, messing around with something on a shelf above the sinks.

"If you tweak it like this…" Chip bent over the thing on the sink shelf and there was a high-pitched beep. "Then it should be ready to test."

"And it'll work like Shank's?"

"Better than Shank's. With some tinkering, it should permanently deactivate them all at once." He passed a small, rectangular device to Jack. "When you use it, it'll fry, but I already have the schematics in my head. I'll get to work on building a reusable model."

Sarah turned to look as she inched her way inside the stall, trying to get a better look at the device, and so failed to spot the skeleton on the toilet, half propped against the door. It slid off with a loud rattle, bones skittering everywhere all over the floor.

Damn it! Concentrate!

Jack seized Chip, shoving the device down her front in one fluid motion, and crushed him against the wall with her mouth, gripping his hair with her other hand. Chip seemed paralysed by revulsion, because when Jack broke away, throwing her gaze towards the toilet for the intruder, he started gagging.

Jack's eyes fell on Sarah, and her whole posture deflated. She released Chip without a second glance, grimacing as she wiped her mouth. "I kissed him for this?" She gestured to Sarah and then shook her head. "Shoulda known you'd follow. How much did you hear?"

Sarah stared at her feet, her heart hammering.

Jack towered over her, and in that moment she surpassed Gage and Bossanova. There was a deep, manic anger in her eyes, cutting through Sarah like a knife. She knew if she didn't answer, she might not leave the building alive.

"A device," Sarah squeaked, tripping over her own words. "I heard about a device. That you're planning something with the slaves. That it'll turn something off. And I heard you mention someone called Shank."

Jack said nothing for a moment, while Chip lingered in the background, his eyes wide and round. Then she nodded. "Chip, get out of here. Now."

"Don't hurt her," Chip said at once, rushing forward. "Don't—" His words were cut off by the barrel of Jack's gun pressing against his forehead. She stared at him, her expression hard.

"Go," she repeated. "I'm going to run my test now. If you tell anyone what was discussed here, raider or slave, I'll hunt you down and bury you alive."

Chip's face paled, his lips trembling. He met Sarah's eye, his expression a plea for understanding. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

He ran from the room.

Sarah did not run. What was the point? Jack would find her wherever she went, and with the collar there were only so many places she could go. It surprised her how little she felt about her situation, now it was set in stone. Her heart stilled and her nerves left her. Fear was neither friend nor foe, but a stranger in some distant memory. Sarah stared calmly up into Jack's face, ready for her punishment.

Jack waited until Chip's footsteps faded away, and then holstered her gun and crouched down in front of Sarah, taking her hands in her own. She studied Sarah, her brow furrowed; not with anger or distrust or irritation, but concern.

After a few moments of silence, she said, "Do you trust me?"

"No." The word was said with conviction, without hesitation.

Jack's mouth turned into the smallest of smiles. She reached down her top and produced the black, remote-shaped device. "That'll have to do," she said gently, and then pressed it to Sarah's collar, hitting the blue button on the top.

The metal around Sarah's neck became molten, biting her, sticking to her skin. She screamed, trying to claw it away, but it scalded her fingers, licking them with its burning steel tongue. The collar began to vibrate intensely, and suddenly there was a beeping noise, growing faster and faster.

Jack's eyes widened and she stared at the device in horror, her mouth a thin line of dread. She gripped Sarah, keeping her in place, and pressed the device to her neck again.

Nothing.

Jack dropped the remote. It bounced away and out of sight, but Sarah could barely think. The collar had been activated. She was going to die. She was going to die.

The fear returned with the force of a charging yao guai, and Sarah crumpled. Her skin was blistering and bursting, her heart screaming for her to run from the danger. There was nowhere to run. Nothing she could do.

Hands seized her, pulling her off the floor. Her cheek was against a shoulder, arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. And as the beeping drew to a crescendo of noise, to that single, deadly note, Sarah realised it was Jack cradling her, head bowed next to Sarah's as she waited to die.

Then all at once, the pain stopped. The beeping ceased. Sarah's yells died in her throat.

Click.

The collar fell away, hitting the floor with a heavy, rolling clatter. Sarah watched it, her mouth hanging open in shock, and then turned to look at Jack. She was gazing down at Sarah, torn between relief and remnants of panic, her eyes full of tears but a wide, gleeful grin spread across her lips.

Jack let go as she sank down into a sitting position on the floor, wiping her forehead with a shaking hand. She swallowed, never breaking her smile, and whispered, "Welcome to freedom, Sarah."