The elevator dinged and stopped abruptly as it arrived on the third floor of the Tops. Colt stepped out onto the floor, revolver in hand. He was ready to get his revenge on Ivan and finally save Cass from that rat bastard. There was actually a fifty-fifty shot at finding Cass in that room, but, since Ivan was there, those chances grew even more. Colt couldn't wait to see her again… after so long… he didn't think he'd be able to carry on this long with out her… but, now, he wouldn't have to…
The door in front of the elevator was numbered 95. Colt looked left, examining the door numbers; they started to lower by one. Right was where he wanted to go and that's the direction he began to walk, repeating the numbers in his head as he went by.
96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101… 102. Colt stopped in front of the stained oak door; all that was coming out of the room was a muffled Mister New Vegas relating the news. Then, an all too familiar voice spoke.
"Peter," the muffled voice of Ivan called out, "Watch the door; I'm going to have some fun with our… friend." Fury flushed Colt's senses, making every pore on his body burn with flames.
"Yeah, Ivan," the voice of the man named Peter answered. After that, there was a muffled door slam and all that was heard was Mr. New Vegas.
Colt took a step back from the door, tightening his grip on his revolver's handle and bracing his body. He lifted his foot and slammed it square in the middle of the door with all of his might, releasing some of his anger as his foot connected with the wood. The door buckled underneath the impact and splintered in two as it crashed to the floor. Colt entered, finger around the trigger of the revolver. A man jumped up from a couch that was in front of a fireplace in the main room and he threw his hands into the air as Colt quickly snapped the sights of the revolver to the man. The man was scared… he had every right to be.
"Peter," Ivan called out from the other room, "What the hell is going on out there?"
Colt lifted his finger to his lips, signaling Peter to not give him away.
"Uh," Peter hesitated, "Nothing, Ivan. I-I dropped the radio."
There was a moment of silence before Ivan spoke up again, "Well, keep it down! We're trying to have a romantic moment in here!"
"Get the fuck off me!" A third voice yelled… the voice of a woman.
Colt's heart raced, That bastard isn't actually going to… The mere thought just made him ever more furious.
Colt quickly, so as not to give Ivan any time, edged to Peter and removed a .44 magnum from his holster and threw the heavyset weapon into the fireplace, keeping Peter from using the weapon unless he wanted a portion of skin severely burned. Then he forcibly turned Peter around and, using the handle of his revolver, hit the back of his knee caps, making him buckle and fall to his knees in the corner of the room.
Colt grabbed the back of Peter's jacket and put the revolver to his skull, "Okay," Colt whispered, his voice shaking with rage, "I want you to tell me who he has in that room."
"I-" Peter began to say out loud, but Colt pressed the revolver against his skull again, making Peter lower his voice to a whisper, "I don't know."
"What was she wearing? Was she wearing a faded plaid shirt and blue jeans?" Colt asked further, jerking Peter back and forth.
"I don't know."
"Fine," Colt pressed the barrel harder against Peter's head, "Then tell me where the fuck the rest of the Stallions are."
"I don't know," Peter blubbered, starting to cry out of fear, "Ivan said we were done with them because Aleksander was causing more harm than good to the gang. So, Ivan left and I joined him. Please, don't kill me…"
Colt let out a grunt of frustration and released the collar of Peter's jacket, "Stay there unless you want your head blown the fuck off."
With Peter in the corner, crying like a newborn infant, and his weapon out of his service, Colt turned his attention to Ivan and the woman in the bedroom. There were muffled shouts of protest from a woman and the sound of Ivan grunting as he wrestled with her. Colt grabbed hold of the bedroom door handle and turned it, slowly opening the door. In front of the door was a queen sized bed and on the bed was Ivan, back to the door, with a smaller body pinned underneath him. Colt stepped into the room quietly and stood in the doorway, just waiting for Ivan to give him another reason to shoot him.
"Get the fuck off of me," the woman said, muffled by a gag that disguised her voice. Colt couldn't tell whether or not she was who he thought she was.
"No," Ivan laughed, the woman wrestling with him, "Aleksander may keep the good one for himself… but that doesn't mean we can't have fun." He took both of the woman's hands in one of his and slowly rubbed his free hand down her body, ending at the lip of her pants.
A loud "click" pierced the air, making Ivan stop what he was doing and slowly lift his head. He slowly turned to the door and his eyes widened at the sight before him; the sight of Colt, the man he thought he killed, standing in the doorway with his revolver pointed at Ivan's head, the hammer cocked back into firing position
"I've been searching for you for a long fucking time, Ivan," Colt said, chuckling softly, "And, I've finally found you… now..."
Ivan, fear in his eyes and voice, let out a shaking gasp, "Please..."
Colt just shook his head, "You reap what you sow, Ivan; force answers force, war breeds war… and death only brings death. You are one of the people who killed my family, Ivan… time to die"
Colt squeezed the trigger, savoring every moment. He savored the moment the hammer of the revolver struck the firing pin in the bullet casing. He savored the moment the firing pin ignited the gunpowder and other chemicals in the casing. He savored the moment the combustion in the casing forced the .357 bullet forward. He savored the moment the bullet left the barrel of the gun. He savored the moment when the bullet was flying freely through the air. He savored the moment when the bullet cut through Ivan's skull like a steak knife through butter. He savored the moment when Ivan fell to the ground, dead, with a single stream of blood pouring out of the hole in the center of his forehead. Colt savored every moment…
Once Ivan came to rest on the floor, a small pool of crimson around his head, Colt felt a portion of the weight he has been carrying around his entire life lift off his chest. Although, there was still a heavy weight pressing hard against his heart… weight that can only be lifted with the death of the rest of the gang.
Colt let the heavy revolver drop his hand to his right side as he breathed heavy and labored breaths. After looking at the body of Ivan for a few moments, Colt turned to the woman who was laying on the bed, looking at Colt in shock. Colt felt a cold tear come to his eye… it wasn't Cass.
"Who the fuck are you?" The woman yelled, pulling the gag out of her mouth and hesitantly getting up from the bed, her brown hair disheveled and her shirt torn.
Colt just looked down and let the tear glide down his face, realizing that he was farther away from Cass than he thought. He had gotten his revenge against Ivan… but, what use was it when what he really wanted was still far out of reach?
The woman let her head fall, obviously realizing the man was hurt in some way, "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I-I just thought you were one of them or something. May I ask, what is your name?"
Colt just looked up slowly, another tear rolling down his cheek, "Colt," he answered, "Who are you and what are you doing here? Did they kidnap you or…?"
"My name's Elisa. Elisa Patterson and, yes, they kidnapped me from a small camp me and my friends set up south of here. They took me while everyone else was sleeping."
"Kidnapping seems to be one of their hobbies. They kidnapped a friend of mine. I thought you were-"
Colt was cut short by another third gruff voice, "Hold it, you two!"
Colt turned to the source of the voice pass the doorway; three men had gathered in the main room, pointing 9mm pistols at him and the woman. All of them wore khaki fatigues, made for the desert environment, metal helmets, and dark leather chest plates. On each of their right arms was a black armband with two white letters in the middle; "MP"… the men were NCR Military Police. Things just went from bad to worse for Colt.
"What's your name?" The leader of the group asked, pointing to Colt.
"Uh," Colt hesitated, wondering what in the world they would want with him, "Colt, Colt Spiritson. Why? What do you want?"
Peter jumped up, seeing his chance to avenge his fallen comrade, "He's a murderer," Peter yelled, pointing to Colt, "He murdered my friend, Ivan! Put him away! Put him away for life!"
"Hey, sarge," a second soldier addressed his commanding officer, "Look at that guy's jacket, right breast."
Colt looked out of the corner of his eye at Peter's jacket. On the right breast was the trademark rearing stallion emblem of the Stallions… he was fucked.
"Fuck," the sergeant said under his breath as he noticed the patch as well. He pointed the gun at Peter and unloaded three or four shots into Peter's torso. Peter shook with every shot and fell to the ground, blood seeping out of his wounds and through his jacket.
"Now wait," Colt protested, "You can't pin his death on me and send me to jail for that."
"You're damn right," the sergeant agreed, pointing his gun back at Colt again, "I'm taking credit for that one and I'm probably going to get a fucking medal for it. Besides, I'm not here to take you to jail."
"Then what do you want?" Colt was relieved that he wasn't going to jail... but, he still didn't want to know why the NCR MPs wanted him.
The sergeant smiled and holstered his pistol, "You've attracted the attention of the NCR brass. Colonel Hsu and General Oliver would like to have a word with you at Camp McCarran."
A/N: Yeah... not my best chapter ever. Sorry, but, I just couldn't think of anything else to put. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviews would be very much appreciated!