Note: Warning, torture scene, though probably could have been expanded. Eh.
In the morning, McCrae was paying for downing an entire bottle of vodka. The pain in her head was nothing compared to the pain in her back from having passed out on the bathroom floor. But she was nothing, if not stubborn. In the gloom of the kitchen, she lit a cigarette and scoffed as much buffout as she could fit into her palm.
With a grim smile, she cooked breakfast and made coffee. When she started eating, Boone came into the kitchen and joined her. She felt somewhat back to normal when she'd had the entire pot of coffee. He didn't say anything, though she knew he was up well before she had pried herself off the floor. If she hadn't seen him sleeping last night, she would have wondered if he ever did.
"What's the plan?"
She winced when he spoke. The buffout was a bad idea, she thought. Now, she was in twice as much pain. "I did a lot of thinking last night. I'm pretty sure I ought to gear up better before going out." She sighed. "I don't think we'd stand a chance at Cottonwood Cove if we didn't at least stockpile some ammo." Not to mention I will delay this as long as possible, because I don't want to get killed by the Legion before House loses with patience with me.
She pulled up the map on her Pip-Boy and looked at it, squinting. She thrust it into Boone's face, moving herself closer. "This is where I was thinking we should look for a job," she said, almost breathing in his ear.
He flinched at her voice, and she backed off. He stared at the Pip-Boy, face like a stone.
"I think I saw some pre-war military vehicles up in that area." she said, rubbing her eyes. "I figure we can look around, see what's up. If anything, maybe there will be some loot."
"Alright," he said. "Better get some RadAway."
"Oh, damn," she said. "That reminds me. Here." She rummaged in her haversack and pulled out a few Stimpaks. "For emergencies."
"Never used one." He pocketed them anyway.
"I have, unfortunately. I should have back in Vault 3," she said. Her neck throbbed, and suddenly she was remembering it again.
She tried to push it away, think about anything else, but failed. Her gut began to boil and she dashed for the bathroom.
Her stomach wasn't much better by the time she done and wiped her face of tears. God, what the hell must he think about that, she told herself. Every five minutes, I'm off crying or throwing up.
She sat back on her heels. Gotta keep it together. Shit happens, but you gotta do what you gotta do to stay alive. But she laughed at herself and thought about what Boone had said about talking to Caesar. "No guarantees."
She walked slowly back to the kitchen. "I think that brahmin did not agree with my stomach," she announced, but it fell on deaf ears. Boone ignored her. "So, uh, we'll head east and then follow the highway down. If there's nothing doing there, we'll ask around McCarran again."
He nodded, staring at a spot on the wall opposite him. She sighed to herself and made herself ready to go. A quick inventory showed she had about five hundred caps left. In New Vegas, that would last about 30 minutes, she knew, what with the vendor prices.
They left the Strip, heading north through Freeside. She jammed the dapper hat down on her head and grumbled a little. I wish I could remember, why the hell did I take that delivery job to begin with? She recalled Johnson Nash telling her about the other courier who had walked away from the order. She should have known better.
The two of them walked down the highway, heading east. McCrae picked cactus fruits and ate them noisily while they walked. The day was actually very pretty, the golden sun bringing out the colors of the desert. She admired the view. Maybe this is why? She certainly could feel the attraction of the desert. There was a certain... beauty in the dust and sparkling sunshine, the amount of the distance one could see.
It was boring, walking the highway. North of Vegas they ran into some gang members―Jackals, or Vipers? she wasn't familiar with them―and although they got shot at, they weren't shot through. Her Pip-Boy registered a location near the Nellis Air Force Base but she stayed on the road. They could investigate that later.
They continued south, moving onto secondary roads. She checked her map periodically. Eventually they came to the area where she'd seen the trucks, and found a lot of irradiated barrels. She toed the glowing green liquid gingerly, then backed away carefully when she noticed some geckos hiding in the surrounding hills.
McCrae watched as Boone shot at and disposed of the creatures. She made a note to buy something better than her pistol, for long range targets. After collecting some meat and hides, they looked around more thoroughly.
The vehicles only held barrels of radioactive waste. She held her handkerchief to her nose and mouth and shook her head, disappointed. There was a cave mouth, she walked down into, but found that the radiation was too much for them to handle.
"I haven't got enough RadAway to take this place on." Her Pip-Boy said Vault 34. "I think we ought to look around a bit more. We could go up to the air force base up there, see how to get through. That gambler on the road said he knew how to do it."
Boone looked through her, and she sighed. "I don't know why I bother talking to you."
McCrae walked off, kicking a yucca. On an outcropping looking over the surrounding area of New Vegas, she sat down on a rock and rubbed her face. I don't know what to do, she thought. It should have been easy to get that chip from Benny. Now I have to walk into a Legion stronghold to get it back. And I doubt that will be any easier.
She thought about it. So far, all the things she'd had to do were handed to her on a plate, and she'd managed to fuck them all up anyway. She felt like beating her head off a rock.
Boone approached from behind her, and stood silently, watching over the wasteland. And this guy, she thought. Barely know the guy, asked him to come with anyway. Because I can't shoot for shit, because I need a bodyguard to keep my ass alive? She watched him from the corner of her eyes. He's not much for company, that's for sure.
She looked up at the sky. The sun was still fairly high. She stood up and stretched, then motioned for him to follow her. Back on the road, she watched the distance, looking for anything that might be a good chance to make money. There wasn't much out here but the occasional animal, and a merchant or two walking the road. She bought more ammo and watched her caps dwindle.
After a few hours of scouring the area east of New Vegas, she paused for a breather at a small shack north of the Vault. She'd bypassed Camp Golf, didn't feel comfortable walking around a military base without permission. The lake was off in the distance, shimmering in the fading sun.
"Let's make camp here. There's a garden here, the shack probably has some food." Boone looked at her, patiently. "Oh, come on!" She rolled her eyes. "People who keep animals don't usually leave them out for the elements, like that sorry calf over there."
She flung a hand out at the pitiful thing. It lowed sadly. "Besides, I don't want to go back and tell House that I haven't got that stupid chip yet," she added.
"Fine," he said.
She pulled open the door to the shack and looked inside. It was a mess, but there was a bed and a lot of various odds and ends for fixing electronics and other items. She picked through it, looking for anything of value, pocketed a few bottles of turpentine, then went back outside to make food.
It grew darker and she adjourned to the shack, letting Boone take first watch. It seemed like she had just closed her eyes when he was shaking her shoulder, waking her. She took over watch without complaint.
The moon rose over the Mojave. Bored, she drew in the sand with a stick, then amused herself by counting what stars she could see through the clouds. She almost missed the man in the distance, while she was looking up. He was close enough that she could see his NCR armor and helmet when she finally noticed him.
Aw, shit, she thought. Maybe someone does live here and we're in trouble. She checked her pocket for the brass knuckles, then laid her gun down on the ground beside her. She debated on waking up Boone, but decided against it. It was just some soldier from the NCR; she didn't think she'd need any help dealing with this. And she didn't want to have to wake him up after that incident with his beret.
She didn't recognize his outfit other than the NCR trappings. It looked different than the other uniforms she'd seen. When he came closer, he slowed and grabbed the fence around the shack. "Got any water?" he asked, coughing dryly.
She pulled a bottle out and tossed it over to him. He drank it immediately. "You okay?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, yeah. Just fine. I forgot my canteen back at the tent. Patrolling this damn desert, going 'round in circles..." he laughed and then coughed again. "It gets to you." She managed a brief smile. He cracked a grin back. "Are you alone?" he asked.
Her eyes darted to the shack. "No," she said. She moved her hand down to her gun, and furrowed her brow. Something's not right.
"You're pretty far north, what brings you out this way? Most folk avoid this ridge, there's too many critters." He sat down across the campfire from her, leaning back on the fence.
"Better to have a wall at your back, less to watch out for," she said. Is he really a soldier, or am I losing it? Where was his squad, there should have been more soldiers, NCR didn't go anywhere alone, she knew that much.
Something fell across the back of her head, then. She didn't go down, but her head ballooned with pain and she fell forward onto her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her gun get kicked away, out of her reach. She fumbled her hands into her pocket, trying to pull out her knuckles, someone grabbed her hands and slammed them into a rock. She dropped the knuckles and they were tossed away as well.
She swore, and was pushed down into the dirt, her hands pulled behind her and tied firmly. There were two men, both wearing NCR armor, and one grabbed up the bottle of water she'd tossed to him. This was shoved into her mouth and secured in place with duct tape. She couldn't see very well with the dirt in her eyes, but heard them talking.
"Not alone," the first one said.
"Where?" the other asked.
"There," the first one pointed at the shack.
Hah, I hope you bastards like seeing your own insides, she told herself. He's just about as cranky as a mad brahmin when he wakes up.
But, to her surprise, instead of dragging Boone out of the shack, they placed a board in the dirt in front of the door and jammed it into the door. It was effectively held shut by this. She panicked, tried to get up and run away.
She made it a few wobbling steps before she pitched forward. Without her arms to keep her balanced or catch herself, she went down and hit her head on a rock near the campfire. Blood spilled onto the ground.
I am just not suited for guard duty, she thought to herself, blinking blood and dust from her eyes. If I get out of this one, I'm going to get myself five more people to watch my back. ...And a missile launcher.
She tried not to panic again. It wouldn't help.
One of them grabbed her shoulder, hauled her up, and she was forcibly marched forward, away from the shack. Neither spoke, as they walked over the bumpy ground, only stopping once in a while to scan the area for danger.
She didn't know how long they walked. The moon was still in the sky when Camp Golf came into view. Oh, I hope that's where we're going, she thought. Don't know what the hell I did, but please, please let us go there.
They passed Camp Golf, though, and she fought back tears when the hills finally occluded it from her sight. She wondered who these men truly were, now. They weren't acting like NCR were supposed to. She knew there were bad eggs in every group, but this was too much for just some stupid thrill.
They followed the train tracks up until the tracks intersected with a road, then walked the pavement up into the hills. There wasn't a single animal or person on the road beyond themselves. Eventually, the two approached a small shack wedged into the rocks between the train tracks and asphalt.
Inside, she was pushed onto her knees, and she heard a knife unsheathing. Tears fell from her eyes. If this is the way it ends... I don't want to die not knowing who I am!
The knife's edge traced the back of her leather. I'm so sorry, Boone, she thought. I should not have asked you to come with me.
She felt a tug and heard stitches popping. A cold bit of air ran up her spine as she was cut right out of her clothing. She shuddered, the knife slipped, and the cold metal made her gasp.
She shook all over. A voice in her head reminded her repeatedly what had happened the last time she'd been captured and nearly naked. When one of the men put something over her head, she started and was held down, her face covered by what felt like a canvas sack.
It was clothing, they'd put her in some sort of rough tunic. She looked down at it and realized it was a slave outfit. What?
Her armor was discarded in the corner. The two of them gathered up some random junk from the room, then threw open the doors to the cellar. She was practically thrown down the stairs, only managing to stop herself from falling by landing on the bottom step ass-first.
The man who had spoke to her at the camp flung off his NCR helmet and turned her to face him. "You might be wondering why you've been bound, gagged, and brought here," he said, his voice tinged by an underlying anger.
She nodded. The other stared on with cold, hard eyes.
"You've slain our superior," he continued. "Even if we are to be condemned for our actions, you will know the pain tenfold. We aren't afraid to follow him into death, but you... you should be."
He ripped the tape off her mouth then, and she managed a muffled cry of pain. She coughed the bottle out of her mouth and kept coughing for a moment, trying to buy herself some time. Superior? She couldn't think of anyone in the NCR she'd ever killed.
"I have no idea what you mean," she croaked out.
He struck her across the face, then, and she stared down at the corner of the room, trying to distance herself from the pain. Stay calm, she told herself.
"You have slain Vulpes Inculta!" he raged.
A manic titter rose in her throat. Unbelievable.
He threw her to the floor, and rained blows on her head and shoulders. The bandage on her neck tore and the bite wound began to bleed.
The other put a hand out to his shoulder. "Come, Manius. Stop this. There is time."
"Yes," Manius said, standing.
McCrae stared at a tin can across the floor. She laid there, thinking quickly. Legion forces, dressed as NCR, infiltrators. They must be frumentarii, like Vulpes Inculta had described himself. Something in the back of her head clicked together. Couriers. Caesar won't let couriers be harmed, since so many are frumentarii.
"You can't kill me," she said, rising from the floor. "I am a courier."
Manius snorted in disgust. "Once I am finished with you, you will wish I had killed you."
She stared up at them through the loose hair that had fallen into her face. The other man grabbed her arms and bodily put her onto a table, then untied the rope around her hands. She threw an ineffective punch before being tied down to the tabletop. She fought it, but there was simply nothing she could do.
"Aulus, where is that knife?" Manius called out from another part of the cellar. Both men left her alone on the table for a minute. She willed her tears to stop. Don't be here, go away, don't think about it, leave it. She shut her eyes and searched her scattered memory for anything that would take away from the terror.
A knife cut into her flesh, sharp and unyielding. She cried out. Blood was flicked into her face. "Open your eyes, Profligate," Manius said. "Watch the glory of Caesar as we carve it into you."
She sobbed. He cut into her, repeatedly. She began feeling lightheaded on top of the pain. Aulus brought in a hot poker, and she bucked on the table when he began to apply it to her stomach. She must have screamed. She didn't know if she did.
She pushed herself away from the pain. It was like she was watching from the outside in, through a window. They broke her arm with the handle of a machete. Boiling water was poured onto her. Manius choked her into unconsciousness, and she woke up to a battery diode being applied to her face.
Her face began to twitch again, contorting her expression. Manius delighted in this.
When he pulled out the lead pipe and announced his intention of defiling her with it, the room grew hot as fire and smelled so strongly of metal she couldn't stop herself. It felt like a weight on her shoulders was gone.
Death came to the courier, though as with the previous time, it would only be a social call.