A/N: Apologies I've taken so long to update. I've been pretty ill since May and been on a bunch of medication. I think I'm going to go through the rest of the chapters and look to do a couple more updates to make up for the fact I've been away for so long.
Conscription
Sarah groaned.
The earth spun wildly beneath her, the world so dark she couldn't see anything at all. After a few seconds, Sarah realised it was because her eyes were closed.
Slowly, she opened them. There were people lying still. Dust everywhere. Her head ached, distant noises muffled like she was underwater, and her skin felt tight and sunburnt. Something heavy pressed on her legs, jabbing into her. Sarah tried to think what she'd been doing. Stacking boxes...then a great heat, before being thrown backwards over the stall she'd been carefully arranging.
Wincing, Sarah tried to move. The heavy something was a fallen wall, pinning her legs in place. She wriggled against the stone and brick holding her down, but only succeeded in ripping her trousers and skimming her knees. Grunting with frustration, Sarah felt under her shirt, finding the handle of the knife Gage gave her and sighing with relief. That at least was undamaged. This felt important somehow, though she couldn't remember why.
A hand suddenly clamped down on her neck, wrenching her out from the rubble and holding her aloft. Sarah choked, kicking her scraped and aching legs wildly, dizzy with fear as she gazed into the slitted mask of a Disciple.
"Fresh meat," the Disciple growled, and Sarah recognised the voice as Molly, the raider who skinned a man in front of her. Molly drew her close, the point of her blade slowly pushing into Sarah's shoulder as she breathed heavily behind her mask. "I'll slice you and dice you like—"
Sarah pulled out her own knife and rammed it through the eye slit in Molly's mask.
Sarah landed painfully on the rubble as Molly howled, reeling away and clawing at the blade protruding out of her face. Then she shrieked as Sarah collided shoulder-first into her, sending the raider toppling over the nearby stall.
Sarah darted around and wrenched the knife out of Molly's head with a wet noise, before spotting the holstered gun at her hip. She made to grab it, but the Disciple clamped hold of her wrist, spitting curses at her. Sarah slashed out, and Molly released her, pieces of finger scattering all over the ground like iguana bits.
Sarah seized the gun and ran.
She darted through the marketplace like a molerat in its warren, twisting and turning, ducking outstretched hands, weaving around knives and grenade blasts with ease. Her ribcage felt like it would crack with the force of her beating heart, her lungs begging for her to stop. Sarah carried on running until she reached the far end of Buttercup's pen, clambering over the fence and landing untidily on the other side, before scurrying out of sight.
Wheezing, Sarah blinked the last of the dust from her eyes, and the scene around her finally came into view.
Bodies littered the marketplace, the door to the exit completely torn off, scorch marks searing the walls. Traders were running and screaming, covered in dust and dirt and soot, some of them bleeding, others trying to drag away friends. Some lay still on the ground, missing body parts, their skin cracked and burnt.
The raiders were screaming too: screaming blood lust and threats, the things they would do to each other if they didn't have the good luck to die first. The Operators and Pack worked in unison—something Sarah previously believed they were incapable of—but the Disciples were slashing out at everyone they could reach, trader and raider alike, howling with delight as scarlet flowed over the sand-strewn ground.
"Slit their throats! Claim their heads!"
Sarah watched as the butchery continued, pushing herself back into the walls of the pen as far as she could go. Then her eyes trailed down. Buttercup the brahmin lay in a heap, next to a section of the pen close to the marketplace entrance. Sarah hadn't noticed it before, but now she saw the fencing had been blasted away. Sarah let out a cry of horror and scrambled over, her heart in her mouth. As soon as she touched Buttercup, she knew it was too late. Sarah could feel the crispness of her hide, the lukewarm quality of her flesh. Her body was still—too still—and as Sarah moved around, she saw one of the heads was stripped to the blackened bone.
Tears pricked Sarah's eyes as she stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to muffle her sobs. Buttercup didn't deserve this. None of them did.
She couldn't just sit here.
Checking the safety was on—"Unless you want to shoot your own asscheeks off," growled Gage's voice in the back of her head—Sarah stuck the gun in the waistband of her pants. She planted a gentle kiss on Buttercup's unblemished head, and then got to her feet, running out through the hole in the fence. A familiar wail drew her attention, and she looked to see Mackenzie pushing herself backwards along the ground, a Disciple advancing on her, blade drawn.
Sarah set off at a sprint, veering left as another raider lunged for her and missed. She raised her combat knife high, noting the telltale gap in the back of the Disciple's armour, and leaped forward, thrusting her weapon straight into the sliver of exposed, pale flesh. The Disciple screamed, staggering away and turning to see who attacked her.
Sarah backed off quick, her weapon stuck fast in her target. As the raider shrieked obscenities at her, Sarah realised it was Grace, Molly's partner in crime. She had seconds to act.
"You fucking little—"
"Mackenzie, here!" Sarah yelled, pulling the gun out from her waistband and sending it skittering across the ground.
Mackenzie lunged forward, grabbed it, and as Grace swore and whipped around, flicked off the safety and opened fire. The first few bullets bounced off her armour harmlessly, but then one hit its mark in Grace's uncovered stomach. She grunted, dropping to her knees. Mackenzie continued to pull the trigger, but all that happened was a single, empty click.
"Oh, you're in trouble," Grace snarled, wrenching the knife out of her back and starting to get unsteadily to her feet.
A man strode past Sarah, placed a gun to the back of Grace's head, and pulled the trigger. She jerked forward, hitting the ground with a heavy finality. Dust swirled around Grace's body, and when it cleared, Sarah saw red oozing out of the slit in her mask.
"Then it's up to me to punish her," the man said pleasantly, and Sarah realised it was Shank. He regarded Grace for a moment, before losing interest and pointing his gun at Mackenzie instead.
"Wait!" Sarah darted in front of him, her arms outstretched. Suddenly he was aiming at her, but before he could fire, she yelled, "I belong to the boss!"
Shank hesitated, his finger on the trigger. "So?" he said, his eyes filled with a sharp coldness. "Slaves need to know their place."
"The boss told me my place was to help the raiders," Sarah said quickly, plucking the lie from thin air. "She said if anyone ever turned on the others, it was up to us to help you fight!" Sarah jabbed her finger in the direction of Grace, the knife protruding out of her back. "We did as we were told and you finished it. If you got a problem with the boss' orders, kill me later when the Disciples are dealt with!"
Shank stared at her, his hard gaze digging into her flesh, the barrel of his gun still directed at her head. Then he lowered it, laughing. "You're the little ghoul bitch Gage saved last month, yeah?"
"Yeah," Sarah replied, holding her head high. "And now you see why."
Shank grinned. "I do."
He turned, and Sarah realised the fighting had stopped, the Disciples dead, the other raiders watching her and Shank with beady eyes. Shank glanced among them and said, "Leave 'em to it. Extra meatshields never hurt."
There was a ripple of laughter through the crowd, the raiders leering at her and the other slaves. Shank chuckled to himself and bowed his head slightly. "Have fun. Hopefully the Disciples won't get you too quickly." Shank's smile became nasty, and the other raiders laughed and smirked with him. He turned away from her. "Time to wipe the scum from Nuka World!"
Jeers and whoops answered him, and Shank led them from the market to join the fray in the streets. Sarah waited until they were out of earshot, before running over to Mackenzie. "Are you oka—?"
Mackenzie scrambled onto her knees and flung her arms around Sarah in a crushing hug. "Thank you," she croaked, her entire body shaking. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Sarah said, pulling herself free and looked to the other traders. The survivors were huddled close together, frightened and docile. Sarah rolled her eyes, irritated. Now was the time to fight, not hide. "Get a gun or a knife from the bodies. We need to clear this place out." She strode over to Grace as she said this, pulling her own knife from Grace's back and wiping the blood onto her trousers.
"Why?" said a voice behind her. Sarah turned around to see Mr. Corbett limping into view, his left leg trembling and bloody. He glared at her, his hand gripping his collar. "We could just let them kill each other and take the place back over ourselves afterwards. I'm sure we'll figure a way to deactivate the collars later."
Sarah bit her lip. He had a point, but it didn't sit right with her. The plan relied on all the raiders dying, on no one activating the collars afterwards. And if there were any raiders left...then what? She glanced over to the scorched bodies by the market entrance. The Disciples did this. They were the problem right now, and if they won, they'd turn their butchery back onto the slaves.
"You all know the stories about Nisha," Sarah said, her voice shaking. "That she skins people. That until they came here, the Disciples never left anyone alive." She shivered. "Well the first part is true. I saw them do it the day you sent me to find the collars in Fizztop Mountain. And...and he wouldn't stop screaming." His face flashed into her mind, and she paused, trying to keep her composure. "I think if Nisha wins today, she'll turn on us next. She doesn't want slaves—doesn't need them. But she needs victims, just like the rest of the Disciples. They'll herd us up and pick us off, one by one."
Mr. Corbett's face paled. "You saw…?"
He shot a look to Mackenzie, who seemed equally disturbed. Mackenzie stared at her, looking quite upset. "Sarah, why didn't you say something to us? You shouldn't have to...we wouldn't have let you..."
She trailed off, gently touching Sarah's face. Sarah didn't understand the problem. Were they angry she didn't confirm the rumours sooner? Or were they stupid enough to expect sunshine and rainbows in that place?
Sarah shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you before, but that's not important right now. If the Disciples win, we're dead."
"If the Disciples lose, we're still dead," argued Mr. Corbett, his face still screwed up oddly at her. "The Pack and the Operators have given us their fair share of grief. We aren't human to them."
"But they will do what Mrs. Bossanova says." Sarah glared pointedly at him, her hand tight on her collar. "She is the only chance we have, and if we help she'll be able to tell the gangs how useful we are. How we're on their side, whatever happens."
No one spoke. They were all staring at her. Mr. Corbett looked up to the Fizztop Grille, just visible over the high walls of the marketplace. After a second, he let go of his collar and sighed.
"Fuck it," he said, stooping down and pulling a shotgun out of the hands of a dead Pack member. "Least I'll get to kill a few of the bastards before I go."
Mackenzie's face set at Mr. Corbett's words. She got slowly to her feet and strode over to her little stall, reaching underneath it and pulling out a box. Wrenching it open, she scooped out the contents, and Sarah caught a glimpse of med-x and stimpaks before they disappeared inside the bag on Mackenzie's hip. Mackenzie tossed one stimpak to Mr. Corbett, who caught it with a grin and injected it through a tear in his bloody trouser leg. A fleeting euphoria passed through his expression, and then he tested his weight gingerly. The leg held.
Mr. Corbett stared around at the others, while Mackenzie scavenged ammunition from one of the raider bodies and reloaded her gun. Sarah watched him, holding her breath. Mr. Corbett had always been outspoken against the raiders, even when it earned him a punch or two extra. Now his smouldering defiance burned, the shotgun held loftily over his shoulder, while he gazed down impressively upon them all.
"Stay here and wait for them to come for you," he called out to the surrounding traders. He paused. "Or grab a gun, a knife—whatever you can find—and prove we aren't the sheep they think we are." Mr. Corbett nodded his head in the direction of the street, where the sounds of fighting could be heard. "Time those wasters learned what we're made of."
He held his fierce stare for a moment longer, then strode off towards the exit. Mackenzie gave the group a nod, then followed him, raising her pistol as she went, the satchel full of meds bouncing against her hip.
There was a pause, and then a flurry of movement as the traders dived for weapons, ranging from the dead raiders' arsenal right down to pieces of scaffolding and wooden boards from the broken stalls. Sarah joined in, managing to find a small, loaded pistol in the hand of a dead visiting trader, before following the crowd of slaves. They clustered around Mr. Corbett and Mackenzie, falling into line as they marched out of the marketplace together, a fervour in their faces that had never been there before.
Sarah watched them, her heart racing. This could get them all killed. But at least they'd go out on their own terms, not Nisha's. Tucking her new gun into the back of her waistband, Sarah took a deep breath and followed, knife at the ready.
Sarah's feet slipped on the blood-slicked ground as she tore through the alleyways of Nuka Town. She'd long since lost sight of Mr. Corbett and the others, watching them swallowed by the chaos now raging through the streets.
The raiders were in their element, the resentment, malice, and hatred finally swelling over and sweeping through the park like a raging river of violence. The Pack and Operators worked together, cutting down the Disciples without mercy, but Sarah saw them turn on each other more than once, the settlement of old grudges hidden in the pandemonium consuming Nuka World.
Sarah pressed on, a stitch spiking through her chest as her legs worked madly, pushing her through the fighting. She had to reach Mrs. Bossanova, had to make sure she was okay. Her presence would protect the slaves. Mrs. Bossanova would know what to do.
Something heavy hit her from the side, sending her sprawling. The stink of blood and sweat filled her nose cavity, and she realised one of the Pack was on top of her. She struggled to throw the body off, the stupid coloured fur making her face itch, when she saw their killer approaching, face hidden behind a mask, a knife clutched tight in his hand.
Sarah waited, her gun pinned beneath her, but her own knife at the ready. The Disciple laughed and took a step forward, before a deafening bang filled the air, and the raider crashed to the floor, half of his mask and face taken away. Sarah turned her head to see Mr. Corbett standing over her, his smoking shotgun pointed where the Disciple had been seconds earlier. Mackenzie appeared at Sarah's side, dragging the dead Pack raider off her and helping her to her feet.
"Go get the boss!" Mackenzie yelled, before whipping around and shooting another raider in the face. She glanced over her shoulder. "Go!"
Sarah decided not to point out that was exactly what she had been trying to do, but shouted, "Thanks!" as she leapt over the Disciple's body and set off again.
On and on she ran, clinging to her life by the tips of her fingers. Twice she was nearly shot by accident, and another three times on purpose, the bullets whizzing past her, one coming close enough to graze her skin. Sarah ducked blades and ran through legs, dodged knife fights and punch ups, and threw herself past raiders rolling around on the ground.
The Disciples were getting overwhelmed. She could see it as the combined forces of Nuka World clawed their way towards the Fizztop Grille, a beacon in the distance. But despite this, the Disciples kept coming, replacing the ones who had fallen, and Sarah realised with a start there were far more here than she'd ever noticed before.
Mrs. Bossanova's words to Gage erupted into her mind from the depths of her memories, causing Sarah to slow down without thinking.
"Nisha is gearing up for a fight...sending Dixie and a few others out on recruitment drives around the Commonwealth..."
Remembering where she was, Sarah picked up the pace again. She shot glances at the Disciples as she fought her way through the masses, noticing a lot of them didn't quite look the same as the ones she'd seen in and around Fizztop Mountain. Some were missing helmets, others their signature branded metal armour. And quite a lot of them were using normal weapons, rather than the distinctly styled knives Nisha favoured. It suddenly occurred to Sarah these people were simply there to boost the Disciples' numbers, and weren't expected to survive. Meatshields, as Shank would call them.
But then...where were the rest of Nisha's fighters?
One of the Pack lurched into Sarah's path, forcing her to skid to a halt so suddenly she landed flat on her back. The raider cried out as a Disciple lunged for him, using his rifle to block the fierce swings of her blade. The knife skimmed sideways down the barrel, and the Pack member yelled out, dropping his gun and clutching his hand. Blood flowed between the gaps in his fingers, and the Disciple kicked his gun away, laughing. She raised her knife, her prey's eyes wide with fear.
Sarah acted without thinking. Scrambling up, she threw herself forward, slashing out hard at the back of the Disciple's knees. The Disciple shrieked and turned, and the Pack member took his chance, seizing the raider's arm so they both crashed backwards onto the floor. There was a brief tussle, and then he forced her own blade into her throat. The Disciple jerked, twitching as a gurgling noise rattled from behind her mask, before falling still at Sarah's feet. The winner pulled the knife out, and Sarah saw two of his fingers were now bloody stumps.
"Thanks," he grunted, a strange, manic gleam in his eyes, before diving back into the battle.
Sarah did the same, the Disciple's cry ringing in her head. She couldn't get used to death, even if she hadn't directly killed them. But there was no time to worry about it. Nuka World was on the edge of collapse.
Sarah pushed on, pausing frequently to cut and slice at the enemy, allowing the other raiders to finish the job. One of the Operators gave her a grim smile as Sarah distracted her opponent long enough to shoot them dead, and a group of fighting raiders even let her pass, looking as if they were resisting the urge to throttle her. It was as Gage predicted when he'd given her his lesson: size was her advantage, and the Disciples underestimated her at their peril. The raiders started to pay attention.
A Disciple leaped from nowhere, grabbing Sarah's knife arm and lifting her off her feet. Sarah yelled, flailing for her gun with her other hand, but before she could do anything, a member of the Pack collided with them both, sending everyone to the ground. Sarah rolled and staggered upright, somehow managing to keep hold of her knife, and realised after a split second it was the same Pack raider she'd assisted earlier. His eyes were bulging in their sockets as he tore into the helpless Disciple, and he glanced up at her with a deranged, bloodstained grin.
Run. You'll be next.
Sarah ran, her breath coming out in sharp gasps as the Disciples that tried to get her were picked off one by one. A quick glance over her shoulder saw the Operator with the rifle taking out everyone that approached her. She gave Sarah a mock salute and fired again, hitting another raider that had been sneaking up on her. Sarah waved back and then scurried away, fear snapping at her heels. She'd finally been noticed, and with that, her one scrap of protection broken.
Her legs screamed as she sprinted through the crowd, not daring to stop anymore. She had to find Mrs. Bossanova. She needed Mrs. Bossanova. Only with her would she be safe.
And then Sarah saw her.
In the distance, surrounded by Disciples at the base of Fizztop Mountain, was Mrs. Bossanova. Her sword danced through the air at lightning speed, taking heads off with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Gage was at her side, firing his rifle indiscriminately and kicking out at anyone who came too close. But they were grossly outnumbered. All it would take was one mistake and then—
"CHAAAAARGE!"
Sarah whipped around in time to see a horde of Mr. Handies and an enormous sentry bot barrelling towards her. She dove out of the way with a squeak of terror, but the robots shot straight past. The other raiders backed off at once, their weapons raised, but the robots ignored them and turned their lasers, flamethrowers, and saws on the Disciples. Within minutes the streets were cleared, and the robots seemed to almost relax, returning to ambling aimlessly around Nuka Town, offering chirpy apologies as they bumped into each other.
Cheers split the lull in the fighting, raiders raising their weapons and firing their guns into the sky.
"Boss Nova?" Shank stepped out from the rabble, his soft voice not matching the hardness of his eyes. He jerked his head in the direction of the slaves, who had clustered together, edging away from the celebrating raiders. "They've been killing off their betters. Slaves with backbone are bad for business—useless, in fact. I suggest we cull the lot and find ourselves a fresh batch."
"No," Mrs. Bossanova said, walking over to where the traders were huddled, their shocked faces turned towards Shank. Mr. Corbett looked livid, clutching his shotgun hard, as if he was resisting blowing off Shank's head. Mrs. Bossanova stepped in front of Mr. Corbett, blocking him from view. "Getting new slaves takes time."
"But—"
Leave them," she snapped, pointing her sword at Shank. "Unless all of you want to learn how to trade and keep this place running by yourselves? Because I certainly don't."
"If they can kill the Disciples, they can turn on us too."
"We just watched them fight for us," Mrs. Bossanova retorted. "They could have attacked any of you, but they didn't. They know what will happen if they disobey me. The slaves can stay here and stop any of the Disciples trying to get a foothold in town."
"We're going to leave them with weapons?" Shank's voice dripped with disbelief. He flicked his gaze to Sarah. "Or maybe you don't have as strong a hold on them as you think. Your little pet has sassed me once already."
Sarah desperately wanted to snark him again, but thought it best not to push her luck while Mrs. Bossanova was attempting to assert her dominance over the crowd. She tried to look timid and owned. Behind Shank's back, Gage watched Sarah, biting his lip as if suppressing the urge to laugh.
"It belongs to me and so it does as I say," Mrs. Bossanova said, giving Sarah barely a glance, as if she wasn't worth her attention. Her attitude irked Sarah, even though she knew it was an act, but she managed to keep her face placid, hastily staring at her feet. She saw Mrs. Bossanova fold her arms out of the corner of her eye and then say, "You have a remote to detonate all of their collars at once." She waved a casual hand in the direction of the slaves. "So who cares what they have?"
It was very good, Sarah had to admit. The carefully placed lack of concern, the almost arrogant dismissal of a man standing right behind her with a shotgun—it really sold the idea she thought the slaves beneath her. But when Mrs. Bossanova turned and stared Mr. Corbett right in the face, Sarah caught the fleeting look that passed between them. Mr. Corbett lowered his gun and gazed at the floor the same way Sarah had, as if afraid to meet her eye. From a distance it would probably be convincing, but Sarah knew Mr. Corbett far too well—she could see the way his mouth twisted to the side to conceal his grin, noting how his body was relaxed and without his usual indignant tension.
Mrs. Bossanova turned back to Shank, her head held high. "They know their place. And so should you."
Shank opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, apparently thinking better of it.
Gage nodded. "Wise move." He turned to Mrs. Bossanova and she smirked at him. Gage snapped his attention back to the crowd. "I don't know about you, but I'm itchin' to put Nisha's head on a spike, and you're wastin' time. Fuck the sheep. They ain't a problem."
"I agree," came another voice. Mags shoved her way to the front, her beautiful face diminished somewhat by her ugly expression. "Nisha and her gang forced themselves into the power plant, cutting through my people to get there."
"They've got the entire place locked down," William added, appearing at Mags' side. "If we lose the power plant, we lose our edge. But Nisha doesn't care if we all burn." His tone became mocking. "Turns out they didn't approve how the park was being run. Thought you were too cozy with the rest of us."
"Ungrateful shits," Gage snarled, shaking his head. "They got better than what they deserved. I expected more from Nisha."
"Her loss is your gain," Mrs. Bossanova said coolly, her expression like carved stone. "We can christen the park with her blood, because I didn't drag this place up from the dirt just for her to bring it back down again."
"I won't be satisfied until it's my hands wrapped around her scrawny little neck," Mason hissed, stepping in front of Mrs. Bossanova and flexing his fingers as though Nisha's throat was right in front of him. "Eyes popping out of her stupid little mask."
Mrs. Bossanova shoved him aside, and strode up a set of steps leading to the edge of the old, body-strewn pond. The move set her a little higher than everyone else, and she stared down at them all, the fury rolling off her in waves. Her scarf had slipped, revealing the brutal scar across her neck.
"It seems this is what I get for treating animals like people." She paused, her black eyes glittering menacingly. "Are the rest of you vermin as well?"
"Don't take this out on us," Mason snapped back, glaring up at her. "We've been as loyal as we know how."
The mood shifted in the crowd, and Sarah shivered, noting the anger at her accusation. Mrs. Bossanova turned her head slowly, as if surveying them all, trying to weed out further traitors. No one moved. Deathly silence hung over the gathering, waiting for the boss' orders.
"Good," Mrs. Bossanova said quietly, the word cutting through the quiet. "Because I'm going to slice out Nisha's tongue personally. The person who brings me the most Disciple fingers will receive it with my blessing." She smiled cruelly as appreciative mutterings broke out, but then raised her hand, bringing silence.
"William," she said, pointing her sword at him. He straightened up. "Take half your people along with the robots and purge Fizztop Mountain. Try not to burn it down, though. I don't want to almost lose the Grille a second time."
William grinned and nodded to show he understood. "Got it, boss."
"When you're done, head to the power plant." Mrs. Bossanova turned her attention from him to Mags and Mason. "You two, you're with me and Gage. Bring everyone you can muster. If Nisha thinks she's keeping the plant, she's sorely mistaken." Her eyes flicked over to Mr. Corbett and Shank, her sword trailing between the two of them. "Stay here and defend. And if you damage my slaves, Shank, you can pay to replace them."
Mrs. Bossanova jumped down without waiting for a response, shoving her way through the gathering.
The other bosses barked their orders to their people while Gage followed Mrs. Bossanova in silence. Sarah glanced at Shank and Mr. Corbett, who were both distracted organising the slaves, and then slunk away, Gage's bright yellow armour easy to spot. As she drew close, she caught their muttered conversation.
"Sometimes I swear this is like taking care of a bunch of children," Mrs. Bossanova snapped to Gage in a low voice.
"Spoiled little shits," Gage agreed. "But if that bitch thinks she's going to get away with it, she's dead wrong. I'll tuck her in for a dirt nap myself." Gage paused and then glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Sarah. She half expected him to yell at her or tell her to fuck off. To her shock, he smiled. "Speaking of children, boss…"
Mrs. Bossanova stopped and sighed before turning around, looking at Sarah without a trace of surprise. She checked no one else was in earshot and then said, "You're going to tag along even if I tell you to go away, aren't you?"
Sarah considered this, flicking her eyes towards Gage, who was clearly trying not to laugh. She grinned. "Yup."
Bossanova pinched the bridge of her nose wearily, but there was a small smile playing on her lips. "Fine. But if anyone asks—"
"I'm your pet, just a slave, here on your orders," Sarah recited, remembering the speech she gave Shank.
"Exactly." Mrs. Bossanova suddenly looked stern. "But stay out of sight. If anyone gets hold of you, they'll kill you."
Sarah nodded. "I will, don't worry." She hesitated, noting someone was absent from their little group. "Where's Jack?"
The smile slid off Gage's face instantly, something painful replacing it. He turned away without speaking.
"She betrayed us," Mrs. Bossanova replied bluntly, the anger returning two-fold. "And when this is done, she'll be next."
Sarah glanced to Gage, wondering if he would argue, but he seemed determined to avoid her eye. Jack's treachery sickened her, and yet she didn't feel surprised. Sarah had suspected, of course, but always hoped...
Before Sarah could ask further questions, Mags and Mason joined them, accompanied by a horde of raiders. Sarah filed behind Mrs. Bossanova, keeping her head down while the boss tore down the questions about Sarah's presence.
Sarah shivered, wondering how quickly she'd be dead without Mrs. Bossanova, and followed the group in silence on the trek to the power plant. Gage said nothing the whole way, barely bothering to shrug when the other raiders poked fun at him for Mrs. Bossanova dangling him out of the Fizztop Grille's window.
Sarah watched him carefully. While it was clear he'd started eating again, and was healthier for it, he somehow looked worse—like...like the soul had been ripped right out of him, leaving only an empty shell. The pain he'd shown at the mere mention of Jack's name sparked a strong sense of pity within Sarah, but she wasn't entirely without understanding for Jack. Nuka World was a terrible place, twisting all it ensnared beyond recognition. But whatever Jack's reasons, she'd condemned everyone to Nisha's wrath, including the slaves she swore to help.
Sarah scowled, holding herself tight. She hoped Mrs. Bossanova caught up with her. Jack owed a lot of answers.