A/N: WARNING.

I normally don't add warnings to chapters, but I will for this one. This chapter contains GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND GORE/BODY HORROR at the end. You will know it when you come to it. Feel free to skim over it, because you won't lose total track of the direction/plot of the chapter by not reading it in close detail.

By a Thousand Cuts

Gage blinked the blood away as Disciples filled the room, fighting with Pack and Operators alike. Gunfire roared, knives clashed, and bodies fell. He lived for moments like this—the death, the rush of adrenaline. The victory of survival.

Sarah lay twitching on the floor, her tiny hands trying to stop the red flooding from her open neck. Bossanova was at her side, fumbling under her clothes, while Dixie melted away into the chaos. Gage could see the bitch's wide smile gleaming in the gloom, and tore after her. He was going to rip her throat out with his bare hands—

Gage's feet shot out from under him, and he crashed and skidded on the floor. He was lying in something warm and wet, and realised he'd slipped in a growing pool of Sarah's blood. Gage glanced over his shoulder to see Bossanova pull out a familiar gun with a disc shaped barrel at her belt.

The gamma gun.

There was a lot of blood. Gage watched as Bossanova pressed the gun to Sarah's throat, before a Disciple hooked his arm around the boss' neck and dragged her back. The gun fell to the floor and Gage froze, his eye flicking between the struggling Bossanova and the little girl now suddenly limp in front of him. The kid was dying, but that gun might kill him instead. He had seconds to decide.

It wasn't his problem. Let her die.

"You and me against the world," Bossanova had said. But somewhere along the way, they'd included the kid too.

"Shit. Fuck!" Gage scrambled to his feet to be met by a Disciple swinging for his head with a meat cleaver. He dodged it easily, shot them in the back, and sprinted over to Sarah, throwing himself down next to the gun. Bossanova locked eyes with him, tried to rasp out a warning, as if he didn't know what it could do. But there wasn't space to take a clean, distant shot. There wasn't time.

Gage seized the gamma gun, pressed it to Sarah's neck, and pulled the trigger. Green fire drowned his scream. Every inch of him burned. The world swayed, his head splitting in two. He was shivering, melting from the inside out, cold rushing through his body. Bile and vomit spilled from his peeling lips, his convulsing stomach expelling everything in wave after agonising wave, until all he could do was lie there, waiting to die.

"Get him!"

Hands grabbing his arms, pain so intense the swooping black returned again and again, dangling him over the void. Dark corridors and metal floors to open air and concrete.

A smiling face leaned over him, the eyes missing, but the mouth soft and merry. He pictured Jack in its place. She was a good thing to die to, at least. Better than Dixie.

His thoughts slipped away, becoming muddled as dreams swamped his mind. He was with Jack. The first time they'd met. The way she'd talked to him, and her surprise when he'd listened. Gage hadn't meant to, but he'd wanted to. Jack was kissing him, and it felt different to other kisses.

She'd continued to see him, even when she stopped taking clients. "It's fun with you," she'd said to his questions. "You're a special case." Gage knew she was better than him. Knew it was always just fun. Knew she was the safe option. Until suddenly it wasn't safe, and Jack was the only option he wanted.

The dream shifted. Gage saw Connor smiling kindly at him. Someone he could trust, made him feel needed and useful. Wanted. Part of something. Snatched from him in an instant, leaving Gage to crawl away, bleeding in the dirt. Tears of anger and hurt rolling down his teenage cheeks. He would never tell anyone that.

Gage sat with Colter in a bar, a nuka cola in hand. The guy was big—really big—and none too bright. He listened with rapt attention as Gage talked about the theme park, and his visions for the Commonwealth. He liked the look of wonder in the younger raider's eyes, the way he nodded when Gage spoke, hanging on his every word. And by the light of the gloomy bar, Gage wasn't sure if it was Colter or Connor in his place.

The rugged features of Colter melted away, twisting and warping until Bossanova sat with him. They were eating bacon and eggs in the quiet of the Fizztop Grille. She smiled at him, said, "Thank you," with a gentle incline of her head, and handed him a cup of coffee. Had he ever been thanked sincerely before? Sarah sat nearby, playing with his old belt, her throat a ragged, gaping wound. She never looked at him, her black eyes unseeing as she went through the motions, spinning primed grenades on the floor.

The black of her eyes dripped onto the carpet and pooled like blood. It spread fast, snaking up his legs and devouring his body. It was cold. So very cold. Gage lay there, hungry and shivering, the darkness consuming him.

His bedroom door opened, a chink of light falling onto his gaunt face. His mother stood in the doorway, her eyes red and puffy, her smile wavering. His parents had been arguing again. She moved into the room and crouched down next to him, smoothing back his unruly curls, apologising for what had happened earlier. That they'd get him dinner tomorrow. He nodded silently, having heard the excuses a thousand times before.

His mother kissed him on the forehead and smiled. "I love you, Porter."

"Love you, too, mom."

Gage waited until he heard her settle into bed, next to his dad. Waited until the breathing turned to snores. Slowly, Gage got up from his mattress, crept across the room, and picked up his small Red Rocket themed backpack. There was nothing in it, save for a rusty old pipe pistol he'd found and a bent kitchen knife. He had no other clothes. The raiders had taken the last of their food and water.

Gage shouldered the pack and moved to the door of his parents' bedroom, staring at them for a long time. Drinking in their outlines. The softness of his mother's face. The premature crinkles of his father's eyes. The way they held each other tight in the cold of the night. His resolve wavered.

Gage's stomach rumbled loudly, deafening in the silence. He pressed his hand to it and shrunk back from the door, scared it would wake them. The pain clawed at his insides, and he screwed his eyes shut, remembering how his father handed over their supplies without pause or argument. When he opened his eyes again, they were fixed in a scowl.

Gage headed for the front door and out into the night. He could see the lights of the city in the far horizon. Maybe if he was careful, he might make it there by morning. Gage set off down the path away from his childhood home.

He never went back.

Pain.

All Gage knew was pain. It coursed through him, splintering his head so badly he struggled to open his eye. The light was blinding, the cool air like ice on his burning skin, and his raw throat ragged with bile.

A figure moved in front of him, blocking the weak wasteland sun, and for a moment his heart leapt. "Jack?" He tried to move, only to find his arms and legs bound tightly in place, his armour gone.

Shit.

"You're awake?" said a voice that made his stomach convulse. "Good."

Nisha stepped closer, smiling slightly as she gripped him by the hair and forced his head back, inspecting him. Her touch made his skin crawl.

"Jack?" she asked, her face inches from his.

Gage said nothing.

She let go of his hair and hit him hard across the cheek. The blow rocked his head to the side, cricking his neck. He tasted salt in his mouth and spat out blood. For the first time he saw his arms. The skin was peeling, wearing the shiny, seared look of flesh roasted briefly over an open fire. There were tubes feeding into his veins, and when Gage followed the trail, spied bags of radaway hanging up next to him.

Nisha smiled down at him. "You were a little too cooked for my liking, Gage. Where's the fun if the meat comes away so easily?"

Gage gripped the arms of the chair, his heart rate picking up. He was in a lot of trouble. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. They were on the roof of the power plant. On the far side he could see a door leading back into the building, Dixie and Savoy standing guard. On the other side, a door to the control room. The distant sound of gunfire drifted up from the vents at his feet, but otherwise it was quiet.

Nisha was confident she'd won or she wouldn't waste her time. He knew how much she wanted to kill him. And it looked like she was going to savour it.

"Surprised you're botherin' to wine and dine me," Gage drawled, spitting out more blood, "when you ain't cleaned up house yet."

Nisha folded her arms, still smiling. "You always were a poor judge of character. I'd say I'm surprised you stuck by that ghoul through all of this, but I'd be lying."

"Never stopped you before."

"True." Nisha turned her head to Dixie and Savoy. "Go finish the job. Now."

Dixie practically bounced on the spot, wrenching open the door and running off with a loud, gleeful giggle. Savoy hesitated, looking fixedly at Gage, before nodding and disappearing after her. The door shut with a loud clang.

Nisha snapped her attention back to Gage with a swinging punch, knocking him and the chair straight over. The stands holding the radaway fell on top of him with a clatter, but before he could gather himself, she flew at him. Punches and kicks rained down on Gage, until his vision blurred and his ribs cracked and he began to choke as he nearly swallowed a tooth.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, and the world spun as Nisha pulled him upright again. Gage retched and heaved violently, but there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up.

"To answer your concerns," Nisha continued, as if there'd been no interruption, and it took Gage a few seconds to remember what they'd even been talking about, "you backed the wrong eyebot. I've seen your boss. My men and women have been stalking you from day one. She's weak. And so are you."

Another punch to the stomach. Gage jerked forward, winded.

"Doesn't matter what clout she brings to this fight. The Disciples are stronger. We have no mercy. We have no boundaries. Where she will hesitate, we will cut and cleave and flense." Nisha shivered at the last word before grabbing Gage by the jaw and forcing his drooping head up. "And what better way to prove it than to start with you?"

Gage didn't answer. His eye was so swollen he was having trouble keeping it open. Nisha picked a fragment of broken tooth off his split lips with her free hand, studied it for a moment, then flicked it casually into his face. "And even if this is the end—if I'm wrong and we all die here today—" She squeezed his jaw hard. "—then at least I dragged you down with me, screaming."

Nisha let go and stepped back, scratching her chin as she began to slowly circle him. "When the ghoul is dead, and Mags and Mason's heads are on spikes, I think I'll rule this place. It was a good idea, Gage. I'll admit that much." She paused, facing him again, her smile quite pleasant. "I promised I'd skin you alive, and I keep my promises. But I'm not an unreasonable woman. This was all your doing. And when it's mine, I'll make sure your skin hangs right above my seat of power. You should be part of the spoils after all."

She resumed her circling, pinching and prodding his arms and legs, muttering to herself. "Not enough fat...muscle might interfere...maybe from the feet?" She paused, looking at him. "Don't worry about bleeding out. A stimpak or two as we go will keep you around long enough to see the fruits of my labour."

Gage stayed still, trying to control his breathing as she resumed circling him. He could feel the hateful fear building, his heart rattling inside his fractured rib cage, demanding him to escape. But the bindings were tight and cruel, the sensation in his limbs long gone.

"What's important to you, Gage?" Nisha purred from somewhere behind him.

Gage shrugged, regretting it as his shoulders flared up instantly. "Nuka World," he grunted. "But some stupid bitch already took that from me."

There was a flurry of movement and a knife handle was sticking out of his thigh. Gage roared as the pain caught up, and Nisha slowly drew it out, wiping the blood onto his trousers.

"Backtalk gets punished," she said, trailing the edge of the blade delicately across his cheek. "Tell me about Jack Paddywack." She crouched down next to him, smiling.

Gage didn't respond. She was playing with him—she had to be. It was Jack's word that set this entire coup in motion. Nisha knew his feelings for Jack, what they were. But he wouldn't follow along like some stupid kid.

"My girls say you spend a lot of time at that brothel," Nisha said smoothly, her breath tickling his ear. "Jack's quite talkative about you after a drink or two. Quite eager to spill the dirt."

Gage resisted frowning. Surely Jack told Nisha their little meets had been rumbled by Bossanova. Why was she going down this route instead of throwing the obvious at him?

He kept his face perfectly blank, denying Nisha the signal she was after. Gage raised his eyebrow, meeting her hidden gaze. "It's a brothel, genius. Can't blame a guy for wanting to get his dick wet. Don't know nothin' about the bitch who runs it."

"I guess you won't mind if I kill her then?"

Gage gave another shrug and immediately winced. He let the pain subside and then said, "Kill 'em all. They're just whores."

God, don't kill her.

Nisha was circling him again, trailing the point of the blade on his neck, bringing it higher and higher as she walked, until it hit the metal strap of his makeshift eyepatch. "I always wondered if this covered anything up," she murmured, "or if you were just pretending." She grabbed it and wrenched it away, the strap cutting the back of his head before snapping.

Nisha tossed it over her shoulder, peering into the mess where his right eye used to be, and then touched it gently with her knife. "Oh, no eye?" she said in a soft voice. "Or maybe it's hiding? Should I dig it out?"

Nisha readied the point above the empty socket and started to slowly push the blade into the mass of twisted scar tissue. Gage grunted with pain, heart hammering again, and she stopped, before drawing it out quickly. "No. I've thought of something better. A matching set."

The bloody knife hovered in front of his vision, gleaming in the low light. Nisha tilted her head to the side. "We're going to play a game, Gage. If you keep your eye open, there's a chance I'll change my mind. But if you close it, I'll ram this beauty right in. Got it?"

Gage slowly nodded. He knew he'd be blinded no matter what, but she wanted him to pull away, to close his eye, to blink—any excuse to gloat. He wasn't going to give it to her.

The knife drew closer and closer, his eye watering as Gage fought to keep it open. He didn't dare look at her, focusing everything he had on the blade. When she chose to act, the last thing he saw wasn't going to be her snarling face. He was going to watch this coming, no matter what. His quivering eyelashes brushed against the metal, begging to stop the stinging as his vision blurred.

Something cold and hard gently touched the surface of his eye, and Gage readied himself for the dark.

Nisha drew away, drinking in his fear. "Then again, where's the fun in skinning you if you can't see it?"

Gage let out a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He trembled in his seat, light-headed, dizzy, and coursing with rage. A healthy dose of fear was essential to survival, but this was something else.

Nisha sheathed her blade and pulled a different knife off her belt. It was unlike anything Gage had seen before—flat, rectangular, and polished to a high shine—similar to a cleaver, but smaller and slimmer with an upturned point. She cradled it in her hands lovingly, running a finger down the edge and staining it with red. Nisha shivered, a breathy noise escaping her throat, and sucked on the new cut. Gage noticed for the first time her fingertips were littered with thin, white scars.

She then produced a metal rod from her boot and drew it across the blade in a horrible, metallic noise. "I found both of these in an old butcher's shop, shortly before I made the Disciples my own." She turned to him, drawing the knife across the rod again. "Do you know what a butchers is?"

Gage shook his head.

"They used to cut up and prepare animal meat before the war." The noise sounded for the third time, setting Gage's teeth on edge. "I found books in there on how to repair the knife, how to care for it." She spoke with a soft tone he'd never heard before. "How to skin and bone animals cleanly…I read them all. But that's our little secret." Nisha continued sharpening the knife, slowly, lovingly, her hidden eyes staring into him with a concealed hunger. "I skinned my first man with this. Not cleanly, of course. The first time is always messy. I was a little better with his husband. I practised and practised, until the Disciples bowed to me."

"Fascinating," drawled Gage, rolling his eye. Death was a given at this point. But if he could piss her off enough, she might lose her temper and kill him accidentally. A better fate than the long, drawn out affair she had in store for him.

Nisha placed her rectangular knife down on his chest and drew it slowly across his skin. It cut eagerly through his clothes and bit his flesh, lapping up the blood. Gage's anger mounted alongside his terror. He hated this. Dying didn't scare him, and neither did a bit of pain, but Nisha would keep going until his pride was broken, until he begged. He'd seen it time and time again with wastelanders and raiders who crossed her—it was one of the reasons he'd wanted her to be a part of Nuka World.

Always thought I'd keep her off my back .

She sharpened the knife on the rod, slow and deliberate, right next to his head. Cold shivers raced up and down his spine as the grating shrieks of metal on metal clawed through his ears and scratched inside his skull. Gage didn't want to be reduced to a cowering wreck. He didn't want to be broken.

Just...just a bit of fuckin' dignity. That's all.

Nisha laughed at him as he winced. "So...Jack."

"This shit again?" Gage sneered.

Nisha didn't hurt him this time, but studied him carefully, holding the rod still in her hand. "My men and women have been bedding her, over and over. Fucking her in every way you could imagine. All for a few caps. You're not enough. Suppose that's what you get when you pick dregs from a brothel."

He laughed in her face. "Jack wouldn't do that, you stupid bitch."

Nisha's smirk was triumphant. "So more than just the 'brothel owner,' huh? Sweet on her, are you?"

Too late, the laughter choked in Gage's throat. The damage had been done.

Her smirk widened. "I wouldn't worry too much—I already knew. She's been giving me information for some time. Not as much as I would have liked…" Nisha paused, her mouth twisting to the side. "But the principle mattered more than anything else. Besides, anyone with eyes could see you were chasing something out of your reach. 'Wouldn't touch him with a sledgehammer,' she said."

Nisha grinned. Gage thought he might be sick. He'd been so stupid. So blinded. And Jack had been laughing at him all along.

Nisha sliced him idly with her knife again, and then said, "Took a while to convince Jack, but I broke her in the end. She insisted she wasn't for sale. I reminded her what she really was—what she's always been. Funny, the things Jack will do for her people. She sold you out with little argument. She thinks she's protected."

Nisha laughed to herself at this last statement, her eye fixed on him, waiting for his reaction. Gage said nothing.

"I've got a lot of ideas for that slut of yours—oh, you don't like it when I call her slut, do you?" Nisha bared her teeth in a horrible grin. "Maybe you prefer whore?" Gage could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he stayed quiet. She considered him and then said, "If things were different, I'd show you. But sadly I'll just have to make do. I won't skimp on the details.

"First, I'll let anyone who wants to have a go claim their free ride," Nisha said, twirling her blade absentmindedly between her fingers. She stopped, catching the handle and gripping it tight, throwing Gage a malicious look. "Encourage them to take trophies. Fingers. Toes. Ears...both sets of lips." Her smile grew painfully wide. "Which set would you prefer to go first? The top or the bottom? Your choice. Top would make her less pretty to look at, but bottom would leave her a bit...messier for everyone else. Then again, some people prefer the blood. Dixie, for one."

Gage stared blankly ahead, trying not to listen, his heart in his mouth. Nisha didn't make idle threats. She stuck to her word.

"And then...well." Nisha stuck her thumb in the knife wound in Gage's leg and gave it a twist. He groaned. "Everything I do to you, I'll do to her." She leaned close, her breath tickling his ear again. "I want you to remember that, all the way through. Every scream you make, every drop of blood you spill, every plea for your pathetic little life...think of her. And it will be all your fault."

Gage struggled to stay calm, his imagination pushing into overdrive. His breathing started to pick up, so he held it until his nerves were back under control.

"Dixie told me about the ghoul," Nisha said, circling around him again. She alternated between the rod and his skin, drawing her blade across each one in turn—metal then blood. "Bossanova's made you soft. Imagine, trying to save a child." She chuckled to herself, pushing the knife hard across his flesh as she cut him. "Should have just let her die."

"So she's alive?" Gage asked before he could stop himself.

Nisha stared down at him, an expression of utter disgust curling around her thin mouth. "No. You're here with me for nothing. She bled out, squealing like a stuck pig. And now the same is going to happen to you."

Gage clenched his jaw. He'd hoped...it had been a slim chance, he knew that. But it still felt like a punch to the gut.

Dumb kid, letting herself get caught, he thought, painfully aware of the hypocrisy.

"So about Jack…" Nisha said again.

"God, what about her?" Gage snarled, abandoning all pretense. "What a—fucking— bout her?"

"She's not coming for you, is she?"

His anger died instantly. "I...what?"

Nisha opened her arms wide, gesturing to the empty rooftop. "Where are they, Gage? Your precious boss and your diseased whore? Why aren't they here?"

He stared around stupidly, blinking into his surroundings as Nisha continued to casually carve his skin. Raiders were not loyal people—he'd always expected to be on his own in a sticky situation. And yet his stomach clenched as he realised he'd been with Nisha for some time now and was still alone with her.

Did I really expect the boss to come?

No. Nisha was just trying to break him. Make him believe her bullshit. She wanted him to fall for it, wanted him to suffer. Bossanova was different to any raider he'd ever met. She'd told him she would never leave him behind. Never betray him. But Jack...Jack was…

An uncharacteristic giggle escaped Nisha's lips, as if she knew what he was thinking. "Imagine, selling you out to me and then just running away. She must have really hated you." Nisha pressed the cold, flat side of her knife to his cheek, smearing something wet onto his face.

Nisha thinks I was hoping for Jack to turn up?

"You're just a burnt out raider who should have died decades ago. An angry little man with no one on his side but a walking corpse. Then again…" Nisha straightened up, staring around in mock surprise. "Looks like there's no one here now. Just me." She grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back as she put the knife to his throat. "Face it. You've been used. The Overboss could have cut Dixie down in a second."

No...

"She could have stopped you being taken. But she didn't. She's laughing at you, Gage. Made you her distraction while she ran away. And I allowed it, because I wanted your head more than hers. They've abandoned you."

He couldn't bear it a second longer. Gage wrenched himself free of Nisha's grip and spat up into her face. She hit him hard, breaking his nose.

"She's not coming, Gage." Nisha crouched down next to him, whispering into his ear. "No one is coming for you. I will be the last person you ever see."

He hurt. He hurt so bad. Silence reigned on the rooftop, the gunfire below long since died away. There was just Gage and Nisha, alone, unhurried. And finally Gage accepted the truth. His first lesson—Connor's lesson—would be his last. One he was incapable of learning.

Gage hung his head.

"There there…" Nisha stroked his aching cheek as gently as a lover. "I can't promise it will be over soon, but it will be over eventually." Her hand clamped on his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "I'll even hunt down your friends on your behalf."

Gage closed his eye. He didn't even have the heart to be angry anymore. Any plea for their lives would seal their fates—Nisha wanted his last moments saturated with fear and dread. If he stayed quiet, if he denied her, Nisha would exercise her fury on him instead.

Maybe he was being an idiot. He'd allowed himself to become comfortable, to be taken in by Jack and Bossanova—one had betrayed him, the other abandoned him. All Gage had to do was nudge Nisha in the right direction, and she would turn her knives on them as well.

Gage couldn't bring himself to retaliate. He felt so very, very tired.

The sharpening noises stopped. Nisha was ready for him. She loosened the bonds at his left arm, seized it, and twisted it sharply. A loud crack filled the air and Gage choked back a yell.

Somewhere through the pain he felt cold metal press against his wrist, Nisha gripping him tight to stop him struggling. Gage flinched, his head firmly fixed down, and fire erupted as the blade bit into him, hot blood trickling down his skin. Gage let out a strangled hiss through his teeth as Nisha slowly worked her way around.

"If you look," she said in that unusually soft voice, "I'll cut it quick."

Clenching his jaw, Gage forced himself to look. The wound was neat and tidy, blood flowing freely.

Nisha smiled, not picking up the pace as she continued slicing around his wrist. She hummed a little and then said, "Now look me in the eye."

Gage obeyed, staring at her helmet where he thought her eyes might be. Satisfied with the cut, she dragged the knife down his forearm, inch by agonising inch, moving to his upper arm as she worked her way around the restraints. Gage struggled in his bonds, realising what she was doing. Panic rose like bile, but he bit it back, keeping his gaze fixed on her. He'd deny her every step of the way.

Nisha paused, satisfaction rolling off her in waves. "I lied."

"Fucking bitch!" Gage went to spit at her again but she struck him over and over, until he retched.

Nisha waited for it to subside and then placed the knife on his skin. He turned away to spite her and she stopped, using her other hand to grab him by the face. "If you don't watch, I'll cut your eye out. And then I'll carry on anyway."

Gage sat there, panting, Nisha waiting expectly for his answer. The thought of not knowing what she was doing terrified him and after a moment, he nodded, staring into her face.

She smiled, but didn't speak, setting the knife down. Nisha ran her hand up his arm, stopping where she'd made the first cut at his wrist. She paused and then dug her fingers under the skin.

She pulled.

This time Gage's scream broke free, and Nisha licked her lips, shuddering slightly. Slow, deliberate—Gage struggled to stay conscious as he howled to the grey sky, fighting against his bonds.

How long it went on for, he didn't know, but slowly his arm glistened red, skin hanging off his limb like a rumpled sleeve.

Gage could feel the 'please' on his lips. It rose, a noxious bubble, burning through him all the way to his mouth. He held it there, letting it corrode like mirelurk acid. She wanted him to beg, and it was ready, waiting to be released. And as he screamed, his throat raw, his voice cracking, the word grew and grew, a parasite feeding on his pain and misery, fat and bloated.

Gage threw his head back, his howls strangling him from the inside out. Nisha had him. And the word. Oh, the word.

"No!" he bellowed as she reached his elbow, and he saw the smile unfurl across her face, pure, blissful delight. She gripped his arm tight as he thrashed in the seat, pulling on his skin.

"Beg!" she screamed into his ear. The word cut through the pain consuming him, spit flying into his face.

"Beg!"