"We should have killed her," Isaac muttered as the blonde began to move. Sam just grunted; neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. He didn't feel like getting into another argument right now.
She had recovered well from her injuries, the wound healing well the two days since the battle. She hadn't shown any sign of waking, though, but it did give Sam a chance to examine her a little more. After all, there is more that you can learn from a person than just what they tell you.
Her blonde hair was cut short, obvious going for practicality over style, but she had a long lock stretching down the left side of her face, covering up her left eye. It stretched down to her chin and could be spread out to cover that entire side of her face. Why she left that one part long, Sam didn't know. But it was definitely interesting.
They had stripped her of her armour, not wanting her to get the strength boost that came along with it, and so she was dressed in her underclothes; a thin singlet and baggy pants. It displayed a fit and good looking figure, at least in Sam's eyes. But that wasn't the thing that caught his attention the most.
No, it was her face that he found himself staring at more and more. A hard face, with strong cheeks and a chiselled jaw. She looked tough and, for some reason he couldn't explain, Sam was fascinated by her. Which worried him. Greatly.
She was still the enemy. Getting curious, getting close, could be dangerous for everyone.
Her eyes flickered open, cold blue eyes looking them all over one at a time. They lingered for a strangely long time on Sam, perhaps realising he was the leader, or perhaps being as interested in him as he had found himself in her. Or maybe she just thinks I look strange, he thought.
"What's your name?" Sam asked. Her eyes locked on to his and he forced down the urge to shiver. She looked at him almost with curiosity, but with a coldness he had never seen from a woman either.
"Water..." she finally croaked.
"Your name is Water?" Abby asked.
"Give me...water"
Sam nodded at Oz, who knelt down beside her with a water flask, lifting it gently to her lips and tipping it up so the cold contents could pour down her throat. She swallowed it greedily.
"Now...what's your name?" Sam asked again. She turned her eyes back to him but remained quiet. "No? How about telling us who you work for?"
Still, nothing but silence.
"I can get her to talk," Isaac said as he stepped forward, one hand reaching around behind his back. Her eyes flicked towards him and narrowed, contempt etched across her face. A smile began on Isaac's face before Sam's arm stopped him in his tracks.
"No...if she doesn't want to talk, she doesn't have to," he said, "not yet, anyway." He turned to Patrick. "Get her up. We need to keep moving...I don't want her friends catching up to us just yet..."
Abercrombie looked around at his men. They were spread out loosely around a small pool, one of the few natural water springs in the area. Rocks rose up around them haphazardly, likely the remnants of a rockslide, and a small waterfall trickled down on the wall opposite the entrance, the water splashing loudly as it hit the surface of the pool.
The mood was dark as he took in their faces. Julio was sitting on a rock, head in his hands, fighting back tears unsuccessfully. Mike and Hannibal were with him, doing their best to comfort him, but he angrily rejected it. Leon was next to Abercrombie, frowning down at a map in his hand. Beaumont was sitting, cross legged in front of the pool, while Hart sat a few metres to his left, scowling at the ground again. Hollow had left several minutes ago to scout the surrounding area; at least, that's what he had told Abercrombie, but the captain knew the tribal just wanted time alone. Time he was more than willing to give, considering the circumstances.
He cleared his throat loudly, so he was sure everyone heard. They all turned to look at him.
"Everyone...take a moment. Collect yourselves. Then pack your things and get ready to move. We have work to do" he said. He might be willing to give them a little time, but they still had orders. They could mourn the dead when the job was done or when they themselves were dead. He knew it was cold, callous, heartless and plenty worse words besides, but that's just how it was.
"Revenge," growled Julio suddenly. He stood. "How do you plan to track them down, sir?"
Abercrombie locked his gaze with Julio's. "We know where they're going, we'll meet them at our secondary objective"
"But...that's at least a week away," said Julio, softly, "I can't wait that long"
"You can and you will," Abercrombie answered forcefully, then he turned to the others. "This loss is hard for me too, but we can't forget our jobs, we can't forget the mission"
"Fuck the mission!" roared Julio, his mechanic voice echoing around the rock walls. "I want revenge!" He took a step closer to Abercrombie, fists clenched tight. Hannibal and Mike both rose behind him, ready to restrain him if he did something stupid, but Abercrombie wasn't going to give them the chance.
Stepping forward himself he slammed a right hook into Julio's cheek, careful to miss the metallic re-breather that could break his hand. The bald man went down without a sound but landed heavily, moving slowly onto his back.
"Listen to me, all of you," Abercrombie said coldly, looking each of them over, "I understand you're all hurting, believe me...I am too, but I won't tolerate this" he said, pointing down at Julio, who was now resting on his elbow, looking up at his captain, his eyes narrowed. Abercrombie looked at them all, each of them looking at him like he was somehow different to them, like they had expected better and were more than disappointed. He frowned at that.
"That's enough time for all of you...pack your things, we're moving out."
Nobody moved.
"NOW!" he roared. They grumbled, they moaned, they cursed under their breath, but they all packed their things and headed back towards the trail. Even Julio, although he glared at Abercrombie the whole time. Only Leon stayed behind with the captain.
"That could have gone better" he remarked.
"It needed to happen," Abercrombie said. He hawked and spat. "Mutiny is like a spark; if you don't put it out it'll burn your whole damn house down..."
Leon nodded. "I know. I just doubt you made any friends with that speech"
"It's not my job to make friends" Abercrombie snapped angrily, picking up his own pack and turning towards the trail.
No, my job is to keep my men alive. A job I've already failed...twice.
Isaac looked up, his eyes just briefly glimpsing the morning sun as it was hanging loosely over the eastern mountains. The light blinded him, caused him to look away, but in that moment of blindness he had felt no fear, no doubts, not even hopes. He had just been a perfect, empty, blank slate of a man. And that suited him just fine.
The fist hit him in the cheek, sent his head snapping back with a crack. He would have hit the ground equally hard if it weren't for the two black-coated goons holding him up, smug smiles on their face.
Groggily Isaac's eyes came back up, searching for the sun again and for that blank feeling. But instead he met the stare of a scarred face, the jagged pink flesh stretching from his forehead and ending just under his chin. The scar crossed over one of the man's eyes, leaving the iris white, while the other was a hard looking shade of dark green.
His lips curled into a small smile, the scar moving along with the motion, as he massaged his hand.
"You know, you don't have to suffer through this," he said, absently, "We came for the heretic. The cowering fool you stole from us...but, despite this, I'm willing to let you go," he leaned in closer to Isaac, green eye staring hard into Isaac's, then he turned and looked over the others.
Patrick was tied up, a heavy set man standing beside him. He had a broken lip, a black eye and, at least for now, had decided to stop struggling. Original was curled up in a ball, whimpering. Abby was in an only slightly more dignified position, while the blonde sat, still tied up, the same look of contempt on her face as she'd had for her original captors.
"I'm willing to let you all go," he said, sweeping his hands across the group. "All you have to do...is tell me where the other one is"
"Who?" someone asked. Isaac twitched as Scarface turned towards him. Obviously, then, it was his question.
The wry smile was still on the man's face. "You know who...the one with the grenade launcher. The one who is suspiciously missing from your little group"
Isaac hadn't realised it, but the scarred man was right; where the hell was the Courier? Still, he wasn't going to let them know he had no idea.
"You're looking at him" he answered, nodding towards the blonde.
Scarface turned to look at her, then chuckled. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?" A fist slammed into Isaac's ribs, doubling him over, but he was reefed back to his feet by the goons that had held him up before. He glanced across at one of them, who was now smiling and nodding. Obviously the one who had just hit him in the ribs.
"Don't test me, tanned man," Scarface said darkly, "punches are hardly the worst I can do"
"You're right, I barely felt them," Isaac giggled, grinning a red smile, his teeth covered with blood.
Scarface leant back and delivered another right hook to Isaac's face, cracking his head back again. This time he fell to his knees, but no one bothered to drag him up.
"This one's no use to us," Scarface said to his men. He looked the rest of the group over, finally settling on Abby. "Bring me that one"
"But, sir," one of the black garbed men started, stepping towards his boss, "a woman bruised is hardly a woman at all and the men...well, it's been a while for them sir..."
Scarface nodded knowingly. "Soldier, you're completely right. Take the blonde...she is, after all, the better looking of the two"
The man grinned widely. "With pleasure, sir" he said, striding over to the blonde.
"Don't you get hot in those?" Isaac asked the legs of the man standing to his right, staring at the black leather reflecting the harsh sun.
He was groggy, his eyes seemingly roaming on their own. They passed over Patrick, beginning to struggle again. Then to Abby, screaming as she was wrenched to her feet by her hair, shoved forcefully in front of Scarface. Finally they came to rest on the blonde.
Her eyes were wide, all of her contempt replaced with pure terror. Isaac wondered why, for a moment, before he noticed the man lying on top of her, fumbling with his belt. He snorted. Typical that he would be on the wrong side when the fun started.
All he could hear now was noise. Patrick grunting as he wrestled with his bonds, Original whimpering quietly, Abby blubbering something, the blonde screaming...no, shrieking, and all of the black clad men chuckling at it all. It was such a noise the he felt himself getting lost in it, swaying with the highs and lows, the screams and the chuckles of laughter. He felt it pulling at him, asking him...no, demanding him to join in.
So he did.
His laugh came slow at first, more of a gurgle through his battered mouth. But it grew, louder and louder, drowning out each noise as it did. It changed, going from high to low and back again, turning from a deep, throaty chuckle to a screeching cackle.
All the other noise had stopped, only Isaac echoing around the mountain. He tipped his head back, stared straight at the sun, felt it's warm embrace, the light sweeping away his essence and he cackled harder, revelling in it.
His head came back down, his eyes fixing on the man on top of the blonde. He had stopped what he was doing, his face screwed up in a mix of uncertainty and curiosity, his hands still down around his crotch. Isaac wondered why he had stopped, why they all had stopped. All except her, the blonde, that terrified look still in her eyes as they focused completely on the man in front of her, her breath coming ragged through her nose. Isaac lifted his finger, levelled it at the man, about to tell him something but finding he couldn't stop laughing.
Suddenly there was a loud crack, like someone breaking a branch from a tree, and the man on the blonde toppled over in a spray of blood, most of his insides spread across the ground around him. The blonde, free of his weight, pushed herself out from under him with her feet, giving him a sharp kick to the face for good measure.
Isaac found he had stopped laughing, staring around like the black clad men, wondering where the shot had come. Another sound, more of a dull thump, echoed around the rocks before a deafening roar rocked Isaac forward, hot blobs of something smacking in to his back as the ground lurched up sickeningly fast to meet him.
He felt his head snap back as he met it with his chin, more grogginess flooding into his mind, his ears ringing like someone had put a bell over his head.
He slowly became aware of other noise; the all too familiar staccato of machine gun fire, more of the loud cracks, even a few more deafening roars. Something heavy landed on top of him, pinning one of his arms beneath his body.
Cursing, he shoved at it more out of instinct than anything else, realising as he did that it was a dead Inquisitor, the man's eyes distant and grey, tongue lolling to the side of his open mouth. With his free hand he managed to push the corpse off.
He heaved himself with great effort back to his knees, the grogginess slowly disappearing. All of the Inquisitors were firing wildly, seemingly without a real target. Scarface was screaming, pointing one way then the other, making things worse for his men it seemed. Still, they bumbled after every order, slowly getting picked off one by one by the unseen assailant.
Isaac leant forward, intending to get to his feet. He was the only one who hadn't been restrained seeing as he was the last to be captured, having walked back from a morning piss right into the butt of a rifle. His hands reached forward, resting on the ground, but also resting on something cold. Isaac looked down. One of his fingers was draped gently over a rifle, likely from the Inquisitor that had died on top of him. Isaac pulled it towards him, wincing as a stab of pain went into his ribs with the movement. When it was close enough he grasped it in both hands and felt...right.
There weren't many Inquisitors now. Scarface was dead, half of his face missing. The rest were spread out, still trying just to figure out where exactly they were being attacked from. Isaac levelled his gun at the closest. Last time they had met he had been ordered to show mercy and it had led to this. So now, there was no mercy. Only death.
The rifle bucked in his hand as he fired, the bullet hitting the Inquisitor in the back and pushing him face first into the ground. He was slumped over, ass in the air, but he didn't move, so Isaac turned his attention to the next one.
Only, there were no next ones.
All of the Inquisitors were dead, some with smoke still rising from their wounds. Isaac looked around disappointedly. Luckily, though, when the fun really began he had been on the right side...for once.
Sam stood up from behind the stone he had used as cover, his rifle and grenade launcher in each hand. He stepped passed it, looking it over. Not a single scratch. He was honestly shocked that they hadn't figured out where he was, but, he had to admit, they didn't seem like the best of the bunch. All of the good ones must have died back in the village.
"Everyone alright?" he called as he made his way over to the ground.
Isaac was on his feet, rifle in one hand while using the other to rub at his forehead. He groaned. "I think I have a headache..."
"Anyone else?"
"I'm good if you can un-tie me" Patrick said sourly. He had gotten to his feet and, laying his weapons on the ground, Sam deftly cut the rope binding the big man's arms. "Thanks" he grunted.
Oz was freed next, scrambling over to check on Original. Neither had a scratch on them, which was a relief. Abby had some blood dripping from her forehead, but that was it as Sam cut her free as well. They all moved about the bodies, Patrick trying to find his equipment, Abby trying to get far enough away to puke without the smell of death in her nostrils. She only got a few more strides before she couldn't hold it in any longer and vomited, loudly.
Finally Sam came to the blonde. She stared up at him, propped up on her elbows. Her look was different. Only subtly so, but it had less contempt and a little...respect? Sam wasn't sure.
"Are you alright?" he asked her. She nodded, never taking her eyes off him. He stepped forward, intending to cut her free, before stopping as he realised what he was doing. "Good," he managed to say, then turned around and began heading back to the others.
"Was it..." she started. He turned back and she glanced at the body of the man who had been on top of her, before turning her head back to Sam. "Was it you?"
He nodded.
"Why?" she asked.
He opened his mouth but found he had no idea what to say. "You're one of us," he finally managed to say, lamely. But if it bothered her she didn't show it. She actually looked away, her eyes drifting over the bodies.
"Thank you," she said, softly. Softer than he would have thought possible for her.
"You're welcome," he managed to croak, his throat suddenly going dry. They were staring at each other again, the silence beginning to get awkward. So he nodded dumbly and turned to head off again.
"My name is Charity" she suddenly said. "Charity Innes"
"Sammael Grant...call me Sam," he answered. She just nodded and leaned back, resting on her back, closed her eyes and let her body go limp.
He decided to leave her be. Maybe Isaac was right about her. But then again, maybe he wasn't. And if he wasn't, those last few minutes, as short and unassuming as they might have been, were progress. At least more progress than they had had with Charity so far. Sam didn't want to do anything that might ruin it.
"Where were you, anyway?" Patrick asked while reloading his rifle, as Sam strode over.
"Up there," he said, pointing at a rock not 10 metres from where they were now standing.
Patrick was nodding approvingly. "Good spot...how'd you know to go there?"
"I couldn't sleep," answered Sam, looking down and realising he was standing over Scarface's corpse, his green eye staring straight up at Sam, accusing-like. He shuddered before continuing. "So I went for a walk..."
"You always take guns with you on walks?"
"Old habit, I guess"
Patrick nodded. "Good habit to have..."
"We shouldn't stay here," said Isaac, striding up to them, a hand still rubbing at his forehead.
Sam agreed. "Scout the trail, we'll be right behind you"
Isaac nodded. He strode over to his pack, dumped randomly on the ground by one of the Inquisitors, shouldered it, then headed north, disappearing around a bend.
"Did you hear him laughing?" Patrick asked when he was sure the man was out of earshot.
"I saw it..." Sam muttered.
"It was unnatural..." Patrick said with a shudder, "just laughing like that, after the beating he took? After what they were doing to the women?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "You should keep your eye on him..."
Sam nodded his agreement. Just like I'm doing with you, he thought, his eyes still on Patrick. Just like it seems I have to do with everyone...
They made good speed during the day and Isaac found an enclosed area for them to make camp for the night. It was small, nothing more than a groove dug into the landscape, but it would keep them out of the wind and their fire invisible from the road, and out in the wastes that was about as good as you could ask for.
Everyone felt glad to be alive, more so even than after the village attack, and they used the time to celebrate. Abby pulled out a flask filled with some of the foulest smelling alcohol Sam had ever seen, but it didn't stop any of them much. They drank, got drunk, told terrible jokes and laughed at them uncontrollably. Even Original, despite not drinking, seemed in a better mood. He still mumbled to himself, but he at least had a smile on his face.
Sam was the first to wake in the morning, mouth feeling like he had just eaten dirt, a rhythmic pounding in the front of his head almost bringing him to his knees. But he forced himself up, to grab a water flask and drink it greedily, before heading a little further away from the camp to take a piss. He hadn't had this kind of hangover since...well, since the night after Hoover Dam. He didn't get drunk often, especially not in New Vegas. If he started showing weakness someone would get the smart idea to come after him.
But out here? Even among strangers, he felt safer than he ever did in the towering Lucky 38 casino he called his home. In fact, the more he thought about it the more he found himself hating everything that had been his life. The endless meetings with casino leaders, caravan owners, people looking for this or that, begging, pleading and offering anything they thought might interest him. The constant unknown threat that Yes Man now represented. It felt suffocating compared to the wide open landscape he'd been in for the last few weeks.
He finished relieving himself and returned to their camp, putting the water flask back in his pack. He heard a rustling sound and turned suddenly, his heart beating at the chance of danger, only to see it was Isaac, mumbling and turning in his sleep. He sighed, trying to get his heart to slow down.
He let his eyes wander a little, eventually finding Charity. She was wide awake, staring at him with those cold, hard, beautiful eyes. He felt his heart beginning to beat faster again, a mild tightness beginning in his chest. He decided to smile at her and felt rightfully stupid when she didn't return it. Instead, her eyes flicked over to the ground behind him.
Still feeling foolish he turned around, both curios at what she was looking at and relieved she wasn't looking at him anymore. He saw it immediately; an empty bed roll, and judging by the size it had been Patrick's. But where the hell was Patrick himself?
Sam frowned and looked around. There was a chance the big man had left to relieve himself, like Sam had, but the area was small and there wasn't many places he could hide behind, so the fact Sam couldn't see him made him worried. As he was looking his eyes crossed over some other bed rolls; Oz's, located closest to Original's, was empty, as was Abby's.
Sam frowned harder. One of them missing wouldn't have caused him too much worry, but 3? No, something was very, very wrong here.
As if on cue Original sat up, yawned, saw Oz's empty bed roll and began screeching at the top of his lungs.
Isaac groaned. "Shut up!" he growled, throwing his pillow at Original. It hit the skinny man in the back of the head but barely phased him, if anything it made his screeching even louder. A grunt from Isaac and this time a rock, roughly the size of a fist, came hurtling through the air and crunched in to the back of Original's head, knocking him to the ground. He wasn't making any more noise, but he wasn't moving either. Isaac just rolled over and pulled his blanket back over himself, unconcerned.
"Isaac!" Sam hissed. Isaac grunted and waved his hand dismissively. "Isaac!"
"What?" he groaned, rolling over to look at Sam. "You want a rock too?"
"Look!" Sam growled, waving his hand around the campsite. Isaac sat up, a look of annoyance on his face, but it changed to confusion when he saw the empty bed rolls. He swung his head around, as if expecting to spot them. When he didn't he turned back to Sam.
"Where the hell is everyone?" he asked.
Sam shook his head. "I don't know..."
"I do," Charity said. They both looked at her.
"Where?" Sam asked.
"I'll show you...if you release me," she said. Her face didn't change. She wasn't joking or playing around. She looked as serious as ever, but that didn't mean Sam trusted her.
Isaac snorted. "Sure...you want a knife to cut our throats too?"
Sam stepped over to her, pushing her face first into the dirt. Isaac sat up, an eager look on his face. Sam took out his knife, slid it effortlessly down her back, then reefed it away savagely.
Isaac looked disappointed. Charity turned over and held her hands out, rubbing at her wrists, the cut rope sliding from her flesh and dropping to the ground. Sam crouched in front of her, letting the knife hang loosely in his fingers, swaying right in front of her face.
"Know this...you might be good, but I'm better. You cross me, you cross us, and I won't hesitate to put you down. Understand?" It wasn't a great way to make a new friend, but he had to do it. She looked like the kind of person that would respond to it, at least.
She nodded and got to her feet. "Follow me." Then she turned and began walking away from the camp.
"You can't be serious?" Isaac asked him, one eye-brow cocked as he watched the blonde striding away gracefully.
"I am..." he said, then he shrugged. He knew he was doing it on nothing more than a whim and, if he was being honest, his thoughts were likely more than a little clouded by her. But he didn't need Isaac to know that. "Have a little faith"
Isaac clucked his tongue, then shook his head disapprovingly. "Following you is going to get me killed one of these days..."
Sam ignored him. "Get ready to go, it's obvious she's not waiting for us...and get Original up too. You're looking after him until we find Oz again"
"Now I know you're kidding"
Sam shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "You want to get paid, you'll get him moving...oh, and make sure you didn't kill him with that rock"
Isaac grumbled but did as he was told, quickly packing away his bed roll, shouldering his pack, forcing Oz's pack onto Original and then pulled him forcefully after Charity. The skinny man was dazed, stumbling after the blow to the head, but that only seemed to anger Isaac more and caused him to push Original harder.
Sam knelt down, packing up his own bed roll and shouldering his own pack, before doing the same with Patrick's. But he frowned when he came to Abby's. Frowned specifically at what was missing, before quickly looking around for it and not spotting it.
So where in the hell is her pack?