Boone had a week to think about what he heard Lucky speak about. The topic was personal, her opinion: twisted and corrupted. For someone to run off after tapping someone in two forms - it had to have been difficult to rationalize the actions. A tool? The words were spiteful, venomous, like she had never experienced bliss in its raw carnal form. It was if she was comparing both people biting at the same apple and one getting a hold while the other was being smacked in the face with the branch.
"I'm glad we didn't speak about it. That was a position I never really wanted to be seen in. I couldn't handle it. I took my first time – which my father had always professed to be the one that wasn't to be toyed with - and used it as a weapon of destruction," Lucky sighed. "It took me years to realize that what had happened to me wasn't of my choosing. That it couldn't be taken by force, that it had to be given. And I did, to complete a task. No affection, no tenderness. I felt just like him. I used sex against Benny to destroy him. I'm no better than - " She muttered under her breath and lit another cigarette. "One mile in my shoes would paint a picture of sacrilege and desecration. And love, there was love. In the most unbelievably violent sense of the word. I learned to love. I didn't fall into it. And I learned to hate and the two became a messy display of despair and violation.
And to this day, I still do love the person who did this. I don't think I'm capable of not doing so. It's why I let him go when I saw him. Why I let him attempt to destroy me when I could have easily killed him. Your concept of love is foreign, a different language. What you and Carla had, I don't think I'm capable of that. Being with an enemy is like drinking mercury. It's poison and death.
So was accepting his brand of love. It became the only thing I understood. He said he loved me and then would beat me again, rape me, cut me and then would acknowledge again that he was using me against my father. He was just waiting for him to screw up, so he could exact his own form of revenge. For what? I don't know." She let out a small laugh and began playing with her lighter again. "He was the lover in my bed and the gun to my head. He taught me how to think, how to breathe, how to feel, how to die. He was my world, the father figure, the teacher. He'd taken everything away from me and placed himself as the only thing I should ever consider caring about.
Boone listened to her speak, cold prickles shivered down his spine as he listened to Lucky describe her youth. She sounded like a slave bereft of her master. As if she only knew concepts that a person would be told, but couldn't understand and yet, he'd seen it. Her opening up to the possibility of genuine affection, but the moment she noticed it she'd shut back down. He understood that completely. He felt that death was following on his heels, but never took him, just he ones he cared about.
"I'm surprised it didn't dawn on you when we were at McCarran," Lucky chortled and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry about what happened. If I could take it back I would."
Boone rubbed his chin remembering what had happened. For a small person she packed a helluva wallop.
"I hadn't been to McCarran in a long time. Not since I was a child. It looked different than when I was there last. You used to find Rangers there and I wondered if any of the people I'd known were still there. Or if they even remembered my dad.
I never returned to tell them of his death. I couldn't bring myself to do it then, not with his blood on my hands. But now, I wasn't scared to do it. I could acknowledge it, give him the respect he deserved. That's why I went, I went to speak to the base commander."
A field of broken asphalt sprawled across the massive expanse that was Camp McCarran. The day was cloudy, cool and breezy as they walked towards the tents that littered the yard. Several soldiers walked about saluting as the pair passed. Lucky nodded politely and saw the large concourse looming ahead.
She looked around and bit the inside of her cheek. She looked almost overwhelmed at the scale of the place. Several soldiers stopped and watched her, waiting for what the civilian was going to do.
"It's smaller than I remember," Lucky murmured under her breath. She turned to Boone and let out a sigh. "You ever been here?"
Boone examined the area in silence. First Recon sharpshooters were looking at him in amusement. It had been awhile since he'd seen other snipers. They exchanged glances for a moment before Lucky tapped him on the shoulder.
"Yeah," Boone finally replied. "A long time ago."
Lucky looked at the unit watching them and smiled.
"Is that your unit?" she asked.
Boone shook his head and uttered, "No."
"Oh," she said with a sullen look. She kicked a pebble and frowned. "You didn't have to come with me."
"I know," Boone replied. "It's – it's just been a long time."
"Feeling nostalgic?" she smirked.
"Maybe," he answered, giving her a strange look. "Or maybe it's because your carrying that damn chip that nearly got you killed the last time you had it." He spit on the ground and the strange look on his face became more intense. "I think you're taking how dangerous that thing is for granted."
The smirk faded from Lucky's face. She turned from him. Her head falling slightly as if trying to shake off her thoughts. She lit a cigarette and blew out hot smoke into the morning air. She let out a soft chuckle and kept walking.
"If it was going to kill me, it should probably try harder," she remarked over her shoulder with a snide tone.
"Hey Sweet Tits!" one of the soldiers called out. The two looked at the woman calling to her. "You know how to pick your men. Why don't you come over here and let me show you how it feels to be a woman."
"Sweet Tits?" Lucky muttered. She gave Boone a look and snorted.
"Corporal!" another soldier yelled, diverting the woman's attention from them.
"Sorry, LT," the corporal called plaintively.
She trudged back into the tent and the man in charge offered a look of apology.
"Don't worry about it," Lucky said with a wave.
Boone grabbed the door handle and allowed Lucky to enter. The concourse was cool, flood lights blasted the broken tiles in a heavy yellow glow. NCR soldiers scurried around to different locations. The whole place was buzzing with anxiety and excitement. A couple of soldiers from First Recon were coming from a nearby office. They saw Boone and saluted. They weren't from his unit either; last he'd heard they were back in California doing some stint near Baja.
Lucky looked around and wrapped herself in her arms. She looked nervous as she looked to the ceiling and then to the soldier guarding the door.
"I need to see the base commander," she said.
"He's in his office under the escalator," he answered.
She thanked him and nodded for Boone to follow. The door was slightly ajar and a man's voice came out. He was giving orders to someone else. They both waited until the order of dismissal was given and the soldier left the room. Lucky knocked on the door and again waited. She blew a piece of hair from her face and crossed her arms.
"Do you want to come in?" she asked softly.
Boone shook his head. "I'll wait here."
"You sure?"
Boone shot her a look of frustration and nodded sharply.
"It's open," the commander called. Lucky pressed the door open and stepped inside.
Lucky closed the door and Boone turned to look at the entire building. Not much had changed since he was here last. The place was relatively unscathed from the bombs, but time had done its number on it to make up for it. He could taste the dust in the air along with the faint odor of jet fuel and gun oil. Rank under notes of food wafted through as a researcher carrying a tray to a lab passed by. That was something he definitely didn't miss during his brief stay here.
He was a new recruit, barely out of basic when he'd come to this resort to begin the second part of his First Recon training. Things looked so different back then. He was an idealist, wanting to make the Mojave a better place for his prospective children and their children. The NCR was the key to that in his mind, even though he was some punk kid from North Vegas with a very humble education. But they gave him what he needed, an education, the will to fight. The will to kill. It was a purpose for the betterment of all. And now he still had the will to fight, but the need to kill replaced necessity by far. His purpose didn't fly under NCR's banner, not after Bitter Springs and definitely not after Carla. His only drive was to die.
It was reckless abandon he fought with. No one would mourn him, the action would be self-inflicted. Suicidal. He'd be at peace. Maybe. He'd accomplish what he couldn't before when it came to Carla. He should have died that day. Made the run, even if it meant his death, it would have been honorable. But if he died before he could get to Carla, she would be sold; their child a slave or trained by the Legion. That was worse than death and he would have failed in his ultimate goal.
He leaned against the side of the escalator and folded his arms. No matter how many times he'd argued about the best course of action it ended up with Carla dead physically or just a walking corpse to a man that had outbid a fellow soldier in something that no man should ever be given the chance to. He looked at the door that Lucky had gone through and shook his head. There was something off about her that he couldn't put his finger on, like she knew more about what happened or would happen to Carla than she let on.
Before he could decide whether to question her later, a young private came darting past him. He flung the door open and panted. Lucky looked at Boone, her eyes shimmering softly in the florescent light. Whatever they were discussing had really bothered her. She turned away from him quickly and wiped her eyes.
"Sir!" a soldier yelped running into the room. "We're having a problem with the Centurian's interrogation."
"What's wrong?" the man behind the desk asked, slamming a drawer shut.
"Lieutenant Boyd can't get anything out of him. He just speaks in Latin and then mocks her in English," the soldier replied. "Colonel, I think we might be at an impasse."
"I know Latin. Do you want me to talk him?" Lucky offered with a shuddering sigh.
"Do you think you can talk to him?" the Colonel asked. He looked almost stunned by her admission. Boone felt the same way.
"I don't know. It's rusty, but I can give it a try," she replied as she scratched her head. She gave Boone another glance and smiled softly. "He might just mock me because I'm a woman anyways."
The colonel sat quietly and pondered what he was possibly getting himself in to.
"We don't usually hire out to civilian contractors," he started. He rubbed his finger through his graying black hair and sighed. He glanced at the desk drawer and his eyes shot up to the woman. "Alright. I'll let you have a shot at it. While you are taking care of that I'll see about your request, fair deal?"
"That's all I ask," she replied. "Sir."
She walked out the room, her eyes focused squarely on the tiles in front of her. She wrung her fingers nervously and feigned a smile that Boone could see right through.
He leaned in to her as they followed the private across the airport
"You know Latin?" he queried.
"Enough to get under a Legionary's skin," she uttered with a snort.
"My uncle used to be one of the Followers. When I couldn't go with Dad, I was with him; sometimes for more than a year at a time. I spent a lot of hours walking through California, Nevada, Utah and the parts of Arizona that Caesar hadn't shit on yet," Lucky said in a soft tone. "He was very smart, even worldly. Spoke with the tribes to learn if they had come up with any new medications from the local flora. Latin was just par for the course and I wasn't very good at it either. I picked up the tribal languages in the North faster and those were a hodgepodge of intermingled languages.
He said I was like my dad. My real dad. I picked up languages easy and could spout them out as if I was born hearing them. He never really spoke about my biological father and even when I would ask he refused every time. You know, he always had this look of shame when he was brought up. All he ever said was he didn't want me to be like him. He wanted me to do good in the world, not turn my back on what was important like my father had.
It's funny, though. I don't really remember him. I couldn't tell you what he looked like, what he did or even his name. Whether I blocked it out like some traumatic experience or time actually washed away that memory I don't really know. I think about him once in awhile; try to force him into the forefront and sometimes certain smells or sayings would incite clarity, but nothing was ever concrete.
I learned from my uncle how to heal, how to care. From my dad I learned how to kill, how to survive. And the bitter lesson from my dad: don't be a fuck up and abandon what matters." She let out a long sorrowful laugh and uttered, "Yeah, apparently I'm still working on that one. But the Legion... they taught me that none of that mattered in the end."
The pair looked through the glass at Centurian. Boone's blood boiled at the sight of him. Lucky just stood there emotionless and fixated on him. The woman in the room was trying to goad him into a confession.
"Come on, Silus, why not come clean? You're already fucked by Caesar," she asked between drags from her cigarette.
"Hardly, you stupid bitch," Silus scoffed. "It's only a matter of time before..." He let out a laugh and shook his head in amusement.
"Something funny?" she remarked.
"No, just thinking," he replied with a sneer.
"What about?" the officer replied.
"How you would look with a collar around your throat," he answered.
He went on to describe in sickening detail how he'd trained his troops to apply the apparatus. How it made the slave feel; that it never let them get used to it. The interrogator just smirked, unphased by his comments.
Boone looked at Lucky. She was rubbing her throat. The more Silus described how it worked how it made him feel, the wider her eyes became. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She gave him a stunned look and returned to listening to the interrogation without a word.
"Are you alright?" Boone asked. He frowned as she continued to trace around her neck. He didn't think she realized she was doing it.
"Yeah," she replied softly and turned from him.
"You don't have to go in there, you know," Boone said calmly. "No one's going to think any less if you don't."
Just as she was about to respond, when the interrogator came out. She looked frustrated. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and snuffed it with her heel.
"You must be the contractor," she grumbled.
Lucky nodded with hesitation.
The Captain let out a sigh and went over the ground rules. No weapons. One person in at a time. No doubles. Don't kill the POW. Just get him to talk.
Boone watched Lucky continue to nod and took off her gear and set it on the table. She gave a final look to Boone and his heart nearly sank as she opened the door and stepped into the interrogation room. He approached the window and saw Lucky pulling a chair to sit across from him. Her whole demeanor changed before his eyes. She wasn't timid and withdrawn now, she was cold, callous. It was like she was planning her moves in a game of psychological chess.
The two stared at each other in silence. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
"What the hell do you want?" Silus barked.
"Answers," she answered coldly. "And you are going to give 'em."
"Hardly," he scoffed.
"Hey, you want to be some pansy ass coward, be my guest," she stated. "You have nothing to fear here. All those silly little rules about how they treat prisoners of war should make you feel nice and safe."
"Fuck you. You're not NCR. Why are you helping them? You don't owe your allegiance to them," he shot with a mouth full of venom.
"You're right, I don't. But I would be more worried about where your own allegiances lie, right now, Silus," she warned. She got up from her chair and came to the window. He could see she was trying to stay ahead of the game.
"You stupid whore! What did we do?! Kill your family?! Take your land?! What is it?! Why do you so vehemently hate us when you know we're right," he spat. "Caesar would have your head on a pike for helping these fools."
"I'm not worried about it. Joshua Graham could come marching in here using the same threats and I still would be unmoved by your asinine questions," she said with a shrug. She let out a sigh and took her seat again. She folded her arms. She knew it was his move now.
"The Burned Man would destroy you with no threat," Silus threatened.
"Are you sure he wouldn't kill you first? I mean you were captured alive after all. Aren't you supposed to kill yourself to evade capture?" she questioned.
"I'm not a coward. Those people will die for Caesar. I'm not that weak," he answered with a growl. Lucky rubbed her brow and muttered something so soft that Silus had to lean in. "What are you saying, you bitch? Let your betters hear you, if you have nothing to fear."
"Legum servi sumus, Silus," she repeated louder. "Caesar won't be pleased that you broke his law. I'd pity you if he'd found out. Which he probably has."
Silus fell back in his chair, stunned by what she had said.
"Frumentarius? Decanus?" he stuttered out.
"Does it matter? I'm here now. So speak," she ordered.
Silus thought for a moment, his head falling back slightly. He was weighing his options carefully and then growled loudly in anger. Lucky just stared at him an amused little grin on her face. Her foot bounced as she waited and then looked at Boone and Boyd.
"Alright," Silus uttered. "there's something wrong with Caesar. He sleeps all day, sometimes for days at a time. He complains of headaches and it takes days for orders to be given to anyone in the field, because he's bed ridden. I'm not going to sacrifice myself for inept leadership.
I mean look at what's going on here. If Caesar had been doing what he's supposed to, I wouldn't be here. But then, he sends you, a woman, to taunt me for my failure." Lucky let out a sigh and got up from her chair. Captain Boyd nodded approvingly and left the room. Lucky gave Boone a look and smiled. She started for the door but Silus stopped her. "I would love to be there when Caesar kills you."
Boone saw Lucky's holstered .44 on the table. He saw Silus grinning and Lucky staring at the door.
"Why? He's taken everything else," she murmured. "I've got nothing to lose now. Let him try."
Boone grabbed the gun and opened the door for her. He was going to kill the son of a bitch. The NCR didn't need him anymore; they got what they wanted and he could tell that the Centurion's words had cut his friend deeply. It would be one more Legion asshole to be put down like the mongrel he was.
He rushed into the room and pointed the gun at Silus who did nothing but taunt him with a sneer. He pulled the hammer back, every muscle going still as he began to squeeze the trigger. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur rapidly approaching and then an impact strike him across the face. The sound of the gun discharging cracked through the concrete room. And then felt another smack as his head hit the concrete.
He felt a heavy weight on him that nearly took his breath away and then cold steel on his throat. He looked at the person on him, thinking it was an NCR soldier restraining him, but saw the blue eyes of Lucky staring at him. She looked like a caged animal, the look of frantic terror surging through her eyes. It was a contemptible fire he felt as she pressed the blade tighter to his jugular.
"You can't," she whispered. "You can't kill him."
"Lucky?" he questioned. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed firmly. "This is why I joined you. He needs to die."
Silus began laughing. It was a rage inducing sound that had Boone shaking in anger, but he didn't struggle under his friend.
"Look at her. Defending me, even though she wishes me dead," the centurion snorted. "I know that look well. Seen it many times. It's quite alarming how someone like her is still alive. She'd make a good officer's slave."
"You can't do it. They will kill you," she insisted. "They will take you, give you a blade and make you decide: slit your own throat or let the dogs come. It won't matter; they will come, regardless and all that will be left is your bloody screams. Then you'll wish they had killed you."
"Lucky?!" Boone yelped.
"I can't watch that again. They'll force it. Hit you if you look away," she droned. A single drop of blood ran from her nose. She shuddered forcefully. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't want you to go through that."
She crawled off of him and stood. She slide her blade back into her boot and reached down to help him up. Boone was still stunned by what had happened. He looked at her hand and then at the woman looking down with a pleading whimper. Her jacket was open and numerous slashing scars were ripped across her chest. He took her hand and was almost ready to smack her when she walked over to her gun and let out a sigh. Small droplets of blood fell to the ground as she picked up her weapon and made her way to the door.
Boone followed her in silence, giving Silus a final glare before walking back on to the concourse. Lucky was leaning against a wall. Her eyes closed and the familiar look of pain was written across her face. She rubbed the corner of her eyes and placed a lit cigarette to her lips.
"What the fuck was that?" Boone snapped. Lucky didn't look at him. She pulled her hat down lower over her face and took another drag from her cigarette. "Answer me!"
She looked out of the corner of her eye at him and the intense frown grew.
"I can't," she snapped back. She lifted her eyebrow and pushed from the wall. "We need to get your injuries taken care of." Boone rubbed the side of his throat where her knife had been placed and felt a tacky liquid running down his throat. He pulled his fingers back and saw the small coagulating blood on his finger tips. He shot Lucky a look. She'd cut him, in her frantic panic, she'd actually cut him. "I'd take care of it myself, but I'm the last person you want touching you."