Chapter XXV:

Rock n' Roll Blues


The King


I could feel 'em long 'fore I could even hear 'em. A thousand pairs of shoes and probably thousand more tinny tango feets all dancing long to the sound of the beat. Couldn't help but start dancin' a jig to the sound of the drums and banjo's playing into the night. Flipping round, snappin' big, twirlin' nice and good—

"Very nice, Mr. King," Jeffie came about to spoil my fun, but I know he had the urge to watch me work from the shadows; all boogeyman and like, but hey! What can you do? "Crowds will love it. Well," he smiled all devil-in-disguise with brimstone in the back, "that's if you get on stage. Your denizens are getting restless."

"They ain't mine," I smiled back, givin' the ol' wig a good adjustin' in the mirror, "keep tellin' you. May show them the way. May give them the better path. But that don't make them mine."

"All of them would disagree, sir," he shook his head ol' weary and like, givin' me the smile to sell the image of a beat old dog laughin' ways at his foolhardy owner, "to them, you are their King. If you'd ask, they might even bow to you."

"Aw shucks, Jeffie. You got me mighty flustered. But the day I turn full Jesus is the day I hang this up an' give it to someone who knows what I mean."

"Is that before or after being crucified, sir?"

"Oh, Ima hopin' never comes to that," I laughed all coon-doggy, "don't think I'd make a fine display, hangin' all like that! Gotta have some moves first! Give a little sway and snap!"

"Of course, sir."

Ah, that's good 'nough. Can only aspire to be the coolest of the cool. Sure, can come close. But it's hubris to assume it'll go further. I held up a pair of shades, an' he gave the needed approval. Went to the closet, pulling on the ol' white-as-Snow-White blouse.

"So, any word from Cass an' her compatriots? I'm startin' to get a little worried."

"Nothing yet, sir. But," he stopped, and gave me that ol' uncertain baby face. Gave him a look and he just shook his head, "it's the NCR, sir. The boys are already having a hard-enough time keeping things safe and settled. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"And what? Leave your kids without a great show? Gotta be dumb and blind to think I'd ever chicken out like that."

"Your safety concerns me."

"And I thank you for that. But Jeffie," I sighed, slumping into that chair like that Thinker Statue, complete with my hand on my cheek as I looked ol' crossways at him, "it's been a hard year. We've done and did and beaten to the bone gettin' this place goin'. They need this, y'know? Just a night to shake off the ol' bones and dust, and just be; just have a night to 'em selves."

He cocked the eyebrow at me:

"Sounds like you need this, too."

"Gone are the days of us. Just us performin' and givin' folks a great and grand show to take their minds offa things. And I miss those days, Jeffie. Back when things were simple. Back when we could just be."

He nodded softly, and smiled like a good ol' fresh wind bringin' with it meadows and sunshine, and all that mighty fine goodness in life ever so unpresent:

"Then let's enjoy tonight, then."

Gave him the brightest smile cap's or whatever else worthy and valuable could bring. I took him by the shoulder as the two of us started marchin' out like soldier-boys on the prowl.

"Speaking of which, you seen Pacer? Just 'bout disappeared on me a few hours back."

"Boys tell me he had to settle matters."

There was something unsettlin' and nasty in that tone of his. Gave him a stop, and a hand on the shoulder, plus a good peer into his soul. He just shook his head and returned the gesture.

"Sir," he sighed after a length, "I know you two grew up together, and I know how things are now, but I do not trust him."

"Pacer's been loyal—"

"To you, sir. Not to the King. And not to Freeside. If he was, he'd have cut off his ties to the Van Graffs a long time ago."

"Jeffie, who am I to tell him who he can and cannot swing with?"

"Because Gloria is a snake, sir. She'll bite us just for the pleasure. And to be frank, Pacer's a punk."

"But he's my punk, Jeffie. And don't you forget all the times he pulled our hides outta the fire. After all, you can only get so far with only a kind word. I owe him that much."

"I'm telling you, sir, this isn't going to end well for us."

I could only smile and nod my head:

"Here's to hoping things don't go that way. Now, how eager are the crowds?"

"Well, my boy is about ready to take on his namesake and start eating poor souls."

"Well then," I chuckled like a goon-playin' charades and failin', but laughing anyways, "I ought to get out there, eh? No need to have a late-night cutlery."

Jeffie smiled at me with a warmth beyond the mere friend one could afford. Pacer mebbe what kept me alive, but this handsome-as-gold scarecrow-man is what holds everything I've built together on two solid feet an' some change. I wouldn't be here without either, an' I ain't afraid to admit that. Hubris is the bane of many, something… something I know all too well. I will not join them in the grave.

At least, not yet.

"Well," buttoned my blouse and held my arms all-wide an' such, "how do I look?"

"Like a King."

He then pulled a walkie out from his coat.

"Showtime, boys. The King is coming out," then 'fore I could walk all further he took me by the arm, an' something ol' cold and heavy found its way into my hand. I knew what it was but I looked anyway. I just shook my head as the crisp silver frame of the 44 AutoMag reflecting my looks in their all-finely honed leather.

"I doubt I need this cannon. I have you."

"Sir, just for once give me some peace of mind? At least I know you won't be a duck to a shotgun wedding."

I nodded, and strapped the heavy thing to my middle. Now I could walk free and easy… well, perhaps not easy. Now I could hear that ol' wretched Mr. Gloom sendin' out such provocative and disgusting slurs my ma woulda blushed and cried. Hence, I shall never repeat them; they are along the lines of gobblin' li'l ones and stealin' their candies.

Well, I'm gonna put an end to all evil-doing and hobwashery the only way I know how. At the send of the stage before I hit the curtains, I plucked an all too conveniently placed torch. And when I hit the stage, an' all the glamor and lights came to rest on my all-weary crown-of-thorns, I felt rather than heard the on-rush of concussion makin' cheering of my name, sight, and prowl. But the best part? Mr. Gloom about turned and shrieked like a scaredy-cat out prowl on the walkway 'fore gettin' roadkilled by a run-way automobile:

"Nooooooooooo! It is the King himself! Noooooooooo!"

"Yes!" I bellowed with my shoulders all spread-out like I was gonna pull some King-Kong dance number… kinda glad nobody could see 'cause I had the goofiest grin one could fathom!

"I have come to bring you doom, Mr. Gloom! Your reign of cursing terror ends here!"

"Noooooooooo! Mercy! Mercy!"

"Mercy, you say?" I then turned to the hundreds, no thousands… aw shucks, whatever number, an' grinned like a buffoon as I held the torch high and clear like some mural-god, bellowing, "Well, how 'bout it? Shall we spare the terrible, the almighty Mr. Gloom?"

The response was immediate, jubilant, and thunderous:

"Burn him!"

"Noooooooooooo! Mercy!"

"The people have spoken! You have brought greatmisfortune upon our misbegotten lives! And now! You shall burn!"

I then tossed the torch at the foot of the great ghost-monster. The cloth had been soaked with kero-stuff, and such. So he went up like tinder box at high noon on a stormy day!

"Noooooooooo!" he screamed, waving his arms about as he flailed like black cat in water, "You have not seen the last of me! I shall return! I shall gobble your children up! Ahhhhh!"

Then the last of his screams went out as the flames reach higher, burning and burning like a ring of fire! I then turned to the crowds, arms spread and the like. I smiled and smiled and smiled as the cheered on and on! God… I missed this!

"Ladies! Gentlemen! Children! I am truly sorry for keepin' y'all waitin'! Things are 'nought and tight an' such hard things that we set this good fella on fire for! But tonight… tonight I have a show for you all!"

I snapped my fingers, and from behind me the grand curtains opened an' my boys in stripes and thunderous bass an' teagles stood at my beck an' call. I snapped my fingers once more and from my left a microphone came my way. No sooner than it touchin' my fingertips, the boys started their tune. Already the folks down low started swaying and snappin'. Hey, great start already.

I gave a wink, an' a smile, and started swinging way:

"I said, 'Take it easy, baby! I worked all day and my feet feel just like lead! You got my shirt tails… Flyin' all over the place! And the sweat poppin' out of my head!'"

I was swinging left. I was swinging right. Hips swaying, fingers snappin'. An' like that ol' Pied Piper himself, I had an audience of copy-catters. So, I smiled like a shoe shine and carried on my fine work:

"She said, 'Hey, Bossa nova, baby! Keep on a workin' child! This ain't no time to quit'! She said, 'Go, Bossa nova, baby! Keep on dancin', I'm about to have myself a fit!'"

"Bossa nova!"

"Bossa nova!"

"Bossa nova!"


Veronica


You know that story where the mouse wakes up in the belly of a snake pit full of sleeping snakes? Has to crawl his way out, squirming through the still, sleepy snakes; trying not to wake them? Well, that's about how I feel right at this very moment. You see, the problem… well, there are several problems here, actually. But I'll go through them one by one anyways.

One, it's dark as… well, I'm not sure what's darker than night, but you get your point. Two, this place is crawling with goons. Oh sure, they're all distracted doing their own thing. Like when I passed by this one room, crawling so low I was practically part of the floor and then rolling past the door: caught a glimpse of about five playing poker. Or what I assume is poker.

Actually, come to think of it, the cards were set up like they were playing Solitaire. But that can't be right. You only play Solitaire by yourself, so why were all five of them playing it? What, were they comparing who could beat themselves upside up first? Ah, it doesn't matter.

So, that leads to my big problem. Quite embarrassingly… I have no idea where I am or where I'm going. Originally, I figured everybody else's cells had to be down the hallway considering… well, I was wrong. It turns out they had an intercom system set up in the walls of my cell, so I could hear what was going on. Yeah, you can probably guess how I feel right now.

I mean… out of all of them. Cass, Gideon and Boone… they picked me to break. I—I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that. After checking both ways, and listening for a bit, I just sighed and slumped against the wall.

"All I wanted was a ride… see the world… maybe learn something… anything… to help those… big, dumb, lovable idiots back home. What do I get out of it?"

I just shook my head at what I was doing. I mean, I was talking to nothing… and yet I figured somebody was listening. I don't know why they should care. I mean, why should they? I'm nobody. I'm not some blonde haircut superman who somehow ended up as the Savior of the Universe.

I'm just—

"Jeez, that woman went ten levels of freaky on this guy. Well Doc, will he live?"

"Yes… but I fear he's in some kind catatonic state. He's breathing, and he possess some cardiac activity."

"But?"

I then heard fingers snapping.

"Aw, I see. One-eye's out of it."

I look up to the ceiling, imagining some wondrous feathery being sitting on a nice, comfy marshmallow cloud looking down at me with a nice big, all-knowing smirk. I just smiled and mouthed thank you. Trust me, girl's got to know to take her breaks with stride! So, I rolled over to the opposite wall, and started creeping up to the ajar door.

"Well, what does Mistress Gloria want us to do exactly? The guy's practically vegetable!"

I got to the corner, and poked my head around. Two black men, one young and the other old and… well, he looked like he should be the minister of some abbey or even better, some grizzled old schoolmaster; long oak ruler within easy reach for its twelfth victim that day. They had their backs turned, and there was… Oh god. What did they do to him?

"Keep him hydrated. I'm not sure, but the rumor is this is the guy that iced Uncle Tulius."

"You're shitting me."

"Hey, just a rumor."

"Guess that's enough for her to… well, do this to him."

Gloria Van Graff… my hands clamped into fists. I felt like crushing something. Her throat will do. Maybe her head, too. I swear I'll…

I sighed silently, and eased myself down. Soon, I told myself. But right now… I've got to get Gideon out. I've got to get them all out. But I have to be focused. When I closed my eyes, I found myself in another world.

It'd been… well, I wouldn't really call it a dojo per say, but Ramos had an Eastern flair to his training. And throwing me onto the floor.

"That was sloppy, Veronica," he tut-tuted me while my back burned like a barbeque but I was the hotdog, "I could practically hear you coming. Your impatience is starting to test mine."

Now, this was before I became the clever, sexy, ass-kicking individual you see before you. I'd been tossed around so many times that morning that I had just about had it. I went at him, all my guns blazing… and I ended up on my ass again, his foot on my chest.

"Your anger gives you power. It can be the difference between you seeing Christine again, or ending up in a cold, dark place; far away from here. But if you let it cloud your reality, as you did here, it will destroy you."

"So," I groaned as I inched off the mat, "what the hell am I supposed to do then? Play housewife? I'm a terrible cook, you know."

He smiled down at me, removing the foot and giving me a boost. When I came back face to face with this literal bear of a man, he gave me the look. Everyone has seen it once or twice in their lifetime. When infinite and awesome wisdom is going to be dispensed, and you've got a front row seat.

"Patience, Veronica. If you are to succeed in combat against the best of the wasteland, you must have patience. You must observe your enemy, foresee their weakness, and plan to every possible degree. Only then will you claim victory… and be alive to return to your family."

Patience wins. Yes, I could go in and beat them right now. I would have surprise on my side, so that always helps. But I don't have my suit, and these guys both will have about forty-pound weight advantage on me. I need to fight smart, not dumb.

So, very quiet like, I trotted back to something I'd made a note of earlier. There was a section of conduit line exposed through the crack wall. Now, considering the lights are out for this entire hallway, I think it's a safe bet that this place hasn't had a life current run in centuries. I got this nice, three-foot length that just jutting out from the crumbling drywood. A good boot wedge and I got me a nice hunk of steel.

I then grabbed a stray brick. Don't know why it's there, but know it will serve my great and awesome purposes… you have no idea how hard it is to resist laughing manically! I got back to the door, and the two jerkwads were still posing there like big dumb gorillas. After doing a good perimeter check and finding that they were trapped with me, I went through with the plan.

I chucked the brick against a wall, and like good little brick, it broke and smash and left a nice thunk!

"What the hell!?"

I heard them coming and I made myself flush against the wall. First jerkwad came through with a flashlight. Checked up and down the hallway, and missed me altogether. Though not by much, I should add. He then saw the brick and started walking.

"Hey," the pastor looker came through the door, "what'd you find?"

As he turned, I smacked him over the head. Unfortunately, as steel to fleshy things are ought to do, it reported loudly and that didn't help when he dropped noisily to the floor. But, here's the fun part. It's all part of the plan!

"What the-?"

I chucked the pipe at him boomerang style and his head went red as the Red Menace poster pieces drool over. As he stumbled back, I made my move. First, I slid to my knee and slammed my fist into the inside of his knee. When he dropped, he hit him right at the nerve cluster between his chest and his shoulder. That made him swing left and open up his throat to my fist.

Finally, as he was choking on his words, I then lunged my knee straight into face. With a good ol' fashioned crack, he dropped like a bad of potatoes. A few check pulses later, and I had me a couple of cold cases. Granted, I now had the job of dragging their useless blobs back into the room.

"Jeez," I groaned as I got mister-possible-pastor by the shoulders and brought him over, "lay off cuisine for a while, big boy!"

I then quietly shut the door behind me. Now I had to figure out what was wrong with Gideon. His head was craned back, and drool was filtering down his chin; his body slack and limp. But the worst part were his eyes. The bandaged one was soaked with blood, and the other was rolled back into its socket.

Now, I'm no sawbones, but I had a sick feeling what had happened. I've seen enough interrogations to know the look of somebody doped out of their mind. But he was alive. His pulse was steady, but weak. Hey, I'll take good news any day.

But there was something wrong here. When I rolled up his sleeves, I expected to find a whole lot of little red pimple like holes. But he was clean! Aside from the—fingernail scratches—fucking bitch, he didn't look like they'd touched him at all!

I just don't—

"Wait," I'd just noticed it all of a sudden, "what's that smell? Is that… incense."

There was an alter behind me. The kind you'd see in some B-Movie about witches and hobgoblins and all that nonsense.

"Well, as far Pagan Worship goes," I chuckled, remembering what Cass had said earlier, "this'll do. But—what the hell?"

There was a doll in the middle of his bowl. And it looked like… Gideon? I picked up the little thing. It kinda reminded me of those cutsie little dolls that blonde… you know, what I mean. I swear, Melissa Watkins can really get me going.

Not my fault she's Taggart's little teacher's pet… in more ways than one.

"So, what are you doing in place like this, little guy?"

I suppose you could call me crazy for being so superstitious. But come on! If angels don't change your perception on things, then you're stubborn to the point of… what's that head reporters name? The one that always wants Spiderman in prison? Heh, Christine would have a feel day with me.

"Oh dear," I sighed, "hey Christie! Guess what? There are angels now, and voodoo… and probably a wholelot of other stuff… what about you? Anything weird?"

What a second. If this is a voodoo doll, and if the needle is jammed through his eye, then…

"Hmm, well, wouldn't be the craziest thing ever—"

When I yanked the needle out, Gideon suddenly shot forward in his seat, gasping and rasping. I practically threw myself at him, my hand clasped on his mouth. I don't need him screaming!

"Shhh, it's me! Gideon, it's me!"

His eye centered on my face.

"That's it. It's okay. Auntie V is here. Did you have a good nap?"

He laughed in my hand. But then he saw the doll in my hand, and his eye lit up again.

"Gft thft fuchking fthing fway from me!"

"Oh, sorry!"

I was about to toss it away, but he squirmed when I moved to do it.

"No dfon't!"

He then deadpanned me like I was some dunderhead bombshell.

"Pfease thake your fand from my fouth."

"Oh," I laughed embarrassingly, "double sorry."

"Thank you," he sighed, "how'd you get out?"

"Very painfully, thank you very much. How about you?"

"Well how do I look?"

"Point taken. So, voodoo, huh?"

"Yup. Strange week. I think Gloria left a key on the altar. Could you be kind enough to get me out of here?"

It took a minute, but there it was. Plus, a ring of other keys. That'll come in handy, so I'm going to hold onto that.

"So," he asked as I got to his handcuffs, "you take these two out? Ah, who am I kidding. Of course, you did. You afterall punched me so damn hard I couldn't breathe for five minutes."

"It wasn't five minutes!"

"It was too!"

"Fine, five minutes whatever."

Something… something was eating at me. It's what these guys said. I don't know why, but—

"I was a cleaner."

I looked up at him, his hands running through his swollen wrists. He looked up at me, his eye… his face… I don't know, it was almost unreadable.

"What?"

"You were thinking about it. I could tell."

"No, no. I get that. But you said you were… a cleaner? What, you ran a laundry shop over in Chinatown?"

He didn't laugh.

"No… I was a… uh, well… a hitman."

I… I didn't know how to take that. All the stereotypes of sleazy men, Irish or Italian accents, plus a good suit and a toothpick planted firmly in the teeth just about went out the window. I didn't realize it, but my finger went instinctually up to my lips. I might've even made a hmm sound for all I know.

"What?"

"Oh, I'm just thinking."

"About?"

"You in a suit. Maybe a clean cut, hair all combed nicely."

"Well, how's that image coming?"

"You definitely look like someone who'd look like the star of some set piece Mafioso movie. I may even call you Scarface from now on."

I really, really wanted him to say that line. Yes, you know the one I'm talking about. But of course, he didn't. I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

"So," I walked over to him for some reason, "this Uncle Tulius…"

"Gloria's."

"Ah," I nodded slowly, looking him up and down. I… really don't know how to take this. Gideon's the kindest man I've met but… no, it makes perfect sense.

"So, why'd you do it?"

"For the money, I suppose. My employers wanted him dead."

"I see."

"Veronica," he took me by my shoulders, his eye boring into mine with a tired, ragged expression, "I know how this looks. Trust me, whatever you're thinking… I'm thinking it too. But now is not the time. We have to get the others out of here. Do you know where they are?"

I sighed deeply, closing my eyes.

Patience, Ramos's words rang through my head, patience.

"Boone… but I don't know about Cass. They rigged up an intercom system to make it seem like we were next to each other."

"Okay, that's a start at least. Did you get a count of the guys on this floor?"

"I dunno, about ten? Maybe more or less. They didn't seem to be packing."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," I rolled the bodies over, showing him their lack of holsters, but finding something else of interest, "they do have these."

It was long and cold from its smooth rubber hilt to the steel finish.

"Stun batons."

I nodded, giving it a good whack for good show-and-tell, the electrical generator giving off a discharge that cooked the air. He nodded solemnly as he took one in his hands, running his fingers over it. Examining it. Hmmm…

"Hmm, well that does level the playing field a bit. But," storing the baton on his belt, he suddenly took the doll from my hand, looking down at it, "we need to destroy this."

"What do you need exactly?"

"Salt, kerosene, and a match."

I raised an eyebrow:

"Any chance you might explain your sudden knowledge on this spooky subject?"

He gave me a look, and I sighed.

"Okay," I nodded slowly, "but you're telling me everything when this is over."

"Fine by me."


Wade


My hands felt the cold, refined steel and polymer of the Twelve-Sevens. Slick and smooth as silk; light and easy in my palms. So damn natural it was like extensions of my hands… Alright. Enough stallin'.

A look left and right, confirmations all around. Let's get this over with.

" Darling I'm killed! I'm in a puddle on the floor, waiting for you to return! "

I swung the doors wide…

" Oh what a thrill! Fascinations galore! How you tease, how you leave me to burn! "

And I found myself staring at least a hundred… kids! They're all kids! Okay, mebbe they're only a few years younger than me, but still!

"Ah, shit," I cursed, quickly puttin' the Twelve Sevens back in their place. From the subtle change in the air and the shifting of fabric, I knew they were doin' the same. So much for going in guns blazin', last thing I need is to get these idiots killed.

" It's so deadly my dear! The power of having you near! "

There were all dressed in all kinds of stuff. Some sorta fanciful, others… well, being a bum never goes out of style I suppose. The room was filled with so much noise, and vocals it was damn near hard to hear. Techno's, jazz and steppin' of a hundred kids dancing and twirling drummed to the beat of the flashing clublights and floods on the ceiling bathing the place in a shifting sea of blues and reds.

" Until that day! "

The shifting bodies swaying and twerking to the beat of the music brought with a shiftin' sense of light shifting lightning. Lights bouncing everywhere, going dark and light in quick recession. Damn stuff was almost hypnotic, and I was tempting to just stand there petrified. But I felt Miam's hand on my shoulder and started wading into the crowd.

" Until the world falls away! "

My eyes started trackin' movement. Left, right, front stage, up and down. Men in complete black like they were attending a funeral. And although it was tough to see, I knew they were packing. And as one was walkin' on the broadwalk, I could see the subtle profile of something strange lookin'.

My guess was plasma. Good thing I brought armor.

" Until you say there'll be no more goodbyes! "

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Miam was looking up. Five of 'em, watching the stage and the crowd. These guys had coats on. I looked at her and she gestured again. I nodded, and she started wading through the masses; her cloak blowin' in the wake like that radio vigilante.

" I see it in your eyes! "

I turned to Illie, and gestured with a hand; cocking my head in that well, shall we? expression. She scoffed at me, and gave me a good slug for good measure. Don't mind. Completely expected it. 'Cause next moment, she was gettin' down like it was nobody's business, and I'd be lying if I'd said I wasn't feelin' a little heat and not from the dozen men lookin' down at us like vultures.

" Tomorrow never dies! "

Now, I'm not the well versed in the smooth moves, but don't it ever be said I don't give it my best regardless. Oh mama. Little surprised I didn't see 'em before. Now, I've seen one or two strip dances in Reno, but mama dearest… Illie saw what I was lookin' at, and I had to dodge a kick aimed for my groin.

Eyes here, brat, I heard her mouth. Couldn't help but laugh from behind the mask. If only she knew about Reno and Ada Bishop… she was gesturing with her hands as she slid about with her number.

Five… back… two… top… light-stuff… you?

I signed back the details. Four men on the bottom floor, two on the second floor. These guys weren't as well packin' as the guys Miam was gonna go deal with. Still we'd need to move fast before green and red bolts started flying.


Miam


I could only smile y riendo at those two little niños. Playing at things rather than tomándolo and realizing it! But alas, I like them when I was their age. They make me laugh! Let them play, que tengan su lenta diversion, they'll come to it soon enough.

"I'm sorry, miss," un hombre de negro spoke as I neared the foot of the stairs, breaking me from mis pensamientos, "but I'm afraid you'll have to return to the dance floor."

"Oh, I don't think so," I smiled, my eyes wide con deslumbramiento, as I leaned in closer and closer, "you see, I'm a little lost, gran chico, and," I stroked my hand through his hair, up to his nose that I could feel his surprised breath, whispering, "y yo… could use some help."

"Oh," he chuckled. I felt his hand trace around my middle, closing over my back, "well, I could certainly—"

My knife went through his lower ribs, puncturing his corazón. His eyes went wide, his breath hot and brief… y estaba frío como la muerte. I shifted his body around, planting him into a chair. Un nino gave me a look. I simply smiled.

"Could you look after mi amigo? He's dead tired."

I was up the stairs before he could ask. I had business with cinco hombres muertos. My hands felt for the H&K, and my feet mounted the threshold.


Veronica


It had taken us a few minutes of tip-toeing around, but we—well, Gideon really—found what we were looking for. I'm not sure why they have a kitchen in a basement. But the white washed room was stained like it hadn't been cleaned in years. Regardless, Gideon quickly stormed in. He started filtering through cabinets like a tornado after Dorothy, and I cringed a little at the racket he was making.

After a few seconds, he had a salt bag planted on the table and he started going through the rest of the room. Me? I just did the obvious. I went for the Gaslamp, and started pulling on that thread until I found a can. From the sounds of it, there wasn't much left, but considering we're about to set a ragdoll on fire… well, I don't think we'll need much.

Then a second later he plucked it from my hands, and started tossing ingredients into a pan.

"So…" I mused softly, "care to fill me in on what's go on? I am a little fascinated by all the supernatural stuff going on after all."

He looked my way and grunted softly:

"Do you want the short answer or the long one?"

"Which do you prefer?"

"Well," he replied with a chuckle, "voodoo's very, very old black magic. So, it has a few specific rules, and a few counters."

"Like condiments?"

He chuckled.

"Maybe, but salt is one of the purest substances on the planet… well, what's left of it, and can be used to preserve… well, just about everything. It's like acid for the undead."

"Undead? Gideon, I realize my understand of this hibbie-jibbies stuff is limited at best, but it's just a doll!"

He looked at me like I'd said something so stupid he'd considering going a thousand miles away in the exact opposite direction. He sighed, and shook his head wearily.

"V… it's not a doll. It's an avatar."

"An avatar?"

"You ever see the Exorcist?"

"Um, yeah, a girl gets possessed by a demon?"

"Well, imagine this doll is the girl. You see, this thing is like a prison. When Gloria did all her mumbo-jumbo, it attracted something dark and twisted, and then proceeded to trap it inside."

"And freeing it is a good idea?"

"Well, not if you're Gloria. The salt will remove the juju holding it in place, and the flames will destroy the rest. Match?"

"Um… oh, here it is."

Before I could even get it off the table he had in his hand and lighted.

"Um… are you sure about this?"

"Not really," he grimaced, "but I'm sick of this doll."

Then he dropped the match… and I had to cover my eyes when a bright red light came out of nowhere, and I landed on my ass! I coughed heavily… this place smelled worse than Lorenzo on cooking night. And when I opened my eyes, the place was filled with red smoke! Then I heard it. Laughter.

"Hhh… heh heh heh ha ha ha ha!"

It sounded… demented. Crazy. When I opened my eyes… oh god. Oh god! It was like a scarlet colored ghost, twisted and swirling… with eyes of solid gold.

And… it was looking at me!

"Hhh…" it breathed… it was… it was coming at me, "freeeeeee…"

I started crawling away, trying to get away from this thing! It reached out for me and I shrieked:

"Gideon!"

"Hey!"

We both turned and I was suddenly covered in salt! The thing screamed, and it was burning! Smoke was coming off of it… and the air smelled like sulfur. Gideon suddenly stepped between us, the bag of salt held firmly in his hands. It screeched like a banshee, and charged him!

"Back off, spooky!"

He tossed more salt at it and it cowered, cradling on the floor; mewling. Gideon then approached it, the bag held high like he was going to dunk it. He then bellowed at it:

"Listen up, you freaky little bastard! We didn't put you in that doll! Gloria Van Graff did!"

"Hhh… Glow-re-aaaaaahhhhh?"

"Yeah, that's right! So why don't you go bug her instead, and leave us alone!"

The specter rose, towering over Gideon… it nodded?

"Hhh… agreeeeeeed."

Then it filtered up through the vent and it was gone.

"That," I panted, my eyes wide… oh god, I think… I'm soaked to the bone, "that… that..."

"Yeah," he panted back, a hand swiping across his brow, "first time always scares the shit out of you."

"First time!?" I shook my head at him, "I think I'm gonna stop tagging with you! You're way too scary!"

"Heh," he chuckled, pulling me to my feet, "I wouldn't blame you if you did. Me and bad juju seem to be on a first name basis."

What's that expression? Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Because we could hear a lot of boots coming our way. I groaned as I buried my face in my hands:

"Could you guys have not shown up like fifteen seconds ago!?"

"When has anything been that easy, V? Run!"


Wade


It'd been a good five minutes now. Trust me, even travelling crisscross the damn continent, gettin' chased and shot at by Raiders and Tin-Can Zealots for good measure, and going through Cortez's boot doesn't prepare you for non-stop numbers! My legs were burning by the change in the song. But y'know what's worse? Illie ain't even fazed!

I think I'm startin' to get scared. I was starting to pant, and you could hear it even through my mask. I looked up an' I saw her scowl-smirk me.

"What's the matter, brat? Can't keep your two right feet going?"

"Don't make me give you a lesson in cutlery, ikway!"

"Oh, scary big man and his big kitchen knife," she laughed in my face, and I was startin' to get red, "come close to me with that, and I'll butter your hide with it!"

"An' I wager I'll be delicious! Want a taste?"

"Classy. Real classy there, Wade."

"Learned from the best."

"Oh shut up, brat!"

Then the song changed again to something a bit softer. Bit more slow jazz than club-house rock. Trust me, my legs are relieved for this change in pace. And, me being me, I followed the tradition of the club about and took the opportunity to get a bit closer to Illie. She craned her head and scowl-smirked me.

She's so damn cute when she annoyed. Course, didn't lead with that. I just gestured to the crowds, and she just shook her head. Soon enough? We were playing one-foot tango in step with one another, she getting down and doin' stunning moves with her legs, her hands tracing over her thighs.

My eyes traced up and I got a good readin' on the guys above us. So far, same pattern. Now, what about the Miam's guys? As Illie came back up, I took her by the back and spun around in step. Was sure she was gonna slug me for that, but her eyes went to the back too.

" Go ahead, you've… taken me down now! "

Miam was about fifteen seconds from letting Heckler and Koch do the talking.

" Give me, give me, give me, give me what you don't know! "

I looked up left, an' they had the same idea too. And considerin' how tense Illie just got on me: her end must be following suit.

" Go ahead, take me all out now! "

"O.K. Corral," she whispered in my ear. I felt her hand going under her cloak.

"Tombstone."

" Get this, get this into your game! "

My hands closed around the Twelve-Sevens, my fingers easin' over the familiar polymer as my eyes traced Miam's hands and cloak going flying.

" You got me in a heading drop! "

The MP-5 was in hand. Tangos were movin'.

" I never wanna come off! "

Illie broke from me. Her .357 was out like a coilin' snake.

" You got me with your beat of love! "

My hands went straight up, and twisted forward at the elbows, the familiar weights coming to bear.

" I never wanna come out! "

Their coats were movin', their plasma's coming out. My eye traced left.

" Think… of me! "

They were turning. The MP-5 was braced against her hip.

" I'll never break your heart! "

And the world went out in an explosion.


Veronica


We took a turn at a run and found ourselves at the end of a long hallway with no door. Why are there always these convenient dead ends when you're being chased by badguys? Wait, what the hell is that noise?

"Well," Gideon smirked as he looked up at the floor above us, "guess someone's decided to crash the party."

"Gee, I wonder who."

Then we heard them coming. We both turned and there were eight men standing at the end of the hall. Now, I realize this is a really, really bad situation. But hey! Let's look at the positives.

None of them appeared to have firearms. Okay, sure they have stun batons and the like, but at least we wouldn't get shot down like geckos in a well. I looked over at Gideon, and he looked down at me. With a smile, I asked:

"Well? Shall we?"

"Ladies first," he smiled back. I laughed and gestured with my hands, conscious they were now running at us, waving their batons and screaming like goons are ought to do:

"Oh please, I insist."


Wade


" Think… of me! You're always… in the dark! "

Time has a habit of slowin' down in a fight. I'm not sure why exactly that is. Once, some Scribe explained it was because in a do-or-die situation, your brain becomes fully aware. Fully alert, no distractions. All synapses firin', you understand?

The result was that as I was flying forward in a roll, practically swimming through this screamin' crowd of folks, I could see green blobs coming down at me in almost perfect slow motion. The good news for me was that plasma bolts move far slower than bullets, which meant you always have to lead with a moving target. The bad news was that it was going to land where I was standin' less than a few seconds prior.

" I am your light, your light, your light! "

When my back turned and I was on my feet, I was greeted with the sight of kids suddenly encased in an aura of bright green energy. In the splitsecond that followed, their skeleton was highlighted; their scream piercin' and brief as they reached for the heavens. Only for them to then slide down and melt like ice into a gooey, florescent puddle.

"Motherfuckers."

" Think… of me! "

All I could think was that village outside of Chicago. The people marched out to get shot down like rats, their ashes the only thing left over, and even then a mere moment before gettin' blown into the wind to join the rest in the forsaken land. My response was to open fire with the Twelve Sevens, putting new holes into the balcony an' force these jackasses to move.

" You're never… in the dark! "

However, all I had to do was just follow. You see, this building was built some two hundred years ago. Sure, great condition and all that, but balcony floors are not bullet proof. Watching them retreat back gave me a pretty good idea where they were going to be in the next five or so seconds. All I had to do was start firing into the floor above me, and from the sudden thumb that followed, I knew that I hit something.

Now, it's harder than hell to hear anything in this place, but these guys are as subtle as a pissed-off Mirelurk going at full room for your face. I opened fire on the stairwell in front of me, the high caliber rounds ripping new ones into the cheap walls as I moved upward. Unfortunately, these guns only pack exactly seven rounds each, so I went dry in about as many seconds. I had another problem though. I was suddenly on my face, a sudden and terrible heat in my back like someone sticking a five-minute-going iron right under my shoulder blade.

I knew exactly where it had come from. When this is over, Illie will need to answer for her sudden downtempo approach to gunfighting. I looked up and they were coming down. I gritted my teeth, and started rolling. I could actually smell, much less hear or see, the incoming plasma bolts that were either hitting behind me, or to the sides of me.

The good news was that a whole lot of folks decided to volunteer to be my meatshields, running and bumping and generally givin' me the time to vault over a bar counter. When my ass hit the ground, my first move was slip new mags into my handguns. The second was to reach behind my back, and feel where the bolt had hit me. My hand, even with my gloves on, recoiled from the heat coming from there. I just gritted my teeth, and felt again, relieved that it didn't seem like the ceramic-steel plate had melted all that much.

A lesson learned from tangoing with the boys of Bunker Alpha: if you want to penetrate armor, you bring bullets. Because energy is shit against reactive armor plating… well, unless you bury them under so much Gatling fire they light up like a frickin' candle. Case in point, I could feel and smell fresh bolts burning into the hard oak covering my ass. Now, considering the rate of the bolts and the second delay between them, I was able to time their pace and just when they'd get their sorry asses over here. I held the Twelve-Seven at the ready, and waited.

" Now that I'm… making this all up! "

And in about six seconds or so, I had me a face peeking over the counter. In another, that face got a copper leaded present. As he started to slump over, I rose and grabbed him by the collar; just in time for another bolt to smack him in the back, followed by another. I swung over, putting exactly three rounds into the guy on my right. Now it was time to do the same for his budd—

"Oh god."

Before I knew it, the body suddenly shined bright and crumbled into plasma discharge, all in slow motion. I realized my hand, hopin' beyond hope. But I knew… knew as the the prickle of my skin felt the tinges of heat… I knew. I fucked up.

"AHHH! JESU-AGH!"

I crumpled to the floor, my hand clutching… clutching m-mmmy a-aarm! And all I could do was scream!

"Ohhhh... f-ffuuuu—"

I could smell my flesh burning. Feel the green blobs on m-mmmy arm… e-eeaat through my skin. Smoke was trailing… I could see black… my hand ripped at the glove… at the sleeve… t-tttearing it away! I-it was still… eating through!

"F-fffuuu…"

I reached for the knife… jabbed it through the muscle… c-ccaan't let it get to the bone… can't let it… started digging. Started cutting. Started slashing till the frying… bit was out… c-ccan't f-ffeel… can't feel. Darkness hit me… cold… warm… can't… STAY AWAKE! Gotta cut it out!

Went to arm… working… too late. Could see bone! Started working—

"Ohhh g-gggod… oh, g-god!"

Heard it. Heard the shlop. Saw the burning mess on the floor… n-nnot enough. Arm… useless. Seein'… seeing white… stay awake! Gotta… gotta stay awake! Can't… can't…

" Let me, let me, let me, let me into your know! "

Med-kit. Could see it. G-gggotta hurry. Grabbed it… ripped it open… Med-X! Gotta… gotta… Breathe… just breathe.

Feeling cold. Needle went in… hiss! Felt cold again… felt warm, felt like a hot tub… pain… The pain... the pain was still there, but it was… lessened… throbbing… I can manage. Now I could hear the steady thwaps hitting the wood, and I could feel the vibrations in the floor.

I knew the jackass was still shooting at me. But also knew… plasma cartridges got only twelve bolts unless you… mess with it. Didn't look like he did… and I was right. Two more thwaps, two more ash smellin' burnt… and I heard the loud shlink! I rose, Sig-Sauer held in my one good... only good hand. Look up, saw me… saw my eyes.

"Motherfucker."

His nose went with his head. I dropped to my knees… even morphine… can still feel it. Gotta manage, gotta dress it. Looked up… saw the jug. Grabbed it, started dumping cold water on the burns. I hissed, but my teeth took care of the rest... felt blood comin' from my lip… That's fine, I can take it.

" You got me in your open hand! "

Cold should drop the temperature… buy my arm some time. Opened up the med-kit again, removed the disinfectant. Can't let it go septic, gotta kill the stuff… keep it covered. White powder over the burns, followed by the bandages… and I was one-tenth mummy! Can't lose my sense of humor… helps take your mind off things.

" I never wanna come back! "

Things were starting to feel woozy, going lazy town… good slapped to the face solved that. Gotta focus… gotta hold it in… badguys still to kill. But first, gotta secure the arm. Little piece from cloak made a nice sling, nice and tight… I rose to my feet. Why was everything moving?

Fell to the counter… things getting hazy… no! Focus, damnit!

"Finish… the mission!"

Slap did some wonders… felt a fresh throb in my temple, but I'm fine with that. Hey, ever hear of the guy from one-armed ass kicking contest? Well, I'm gonna make him blush today. A fresh mag for the Twelve-Seven, and I was good to go. Seven rounds so let's make them count, shall we?

" How do we let you never found? "

Ah, stairs. The great vertical coffin. I really should've brought grenades. I then heard movement upstairs. Only one way to do this.

I started running up and firing.

One, my brain kept count, two.

Rounds pinged off the metal going up. Tango above me fired. I ducked, the bolt hitting the wall above as I fired off.

Three.

The 12.7mm round struck him in the knee with loud plop, dropping him down with a scream.

Four.

I shot him directly in the chest, causing him to drop back.

Five.

And one to the head for good measure. Now… needed to move, and fast. I rolled up through the stairs... duckin' tables… duckin' greens bolts… just duckin' things in general. Two thumps at a time. Two tangoes, two bullets.

'kay… challenge accepted. Rose slightly… got a look 'fore duckin' again. One far left… coming my way. One ahead… covering behind a pillar. I'll get him last.

Faster thwaps… keep coming. Getting… bored over here

" You know it's gonna come out! "

Dropped to the floor… kicked the table out. Sure enough, left guy dropped over and I gave him cranial redecoration.

Six.

Rolled forward, got to the pillar as the other guy started shooting. Hit the pillar… gave him a good kick. Weapon went flying; he went to the banister. One look, and his face went out like red chowder.

Seven.

Challenge complete. Now… where's my prize? Where's… heh, where's my woman? Oh, there she is.

" Think… of me! "

Could hear going down. Could see Illie… cross the way… back against the wall, four goons on her. No time to reload. Took out the second, steadied as best I could. I took single shots… missed twice… got a headshot on the third, though.

Now they saw me and started shooting. Good. Illie, you have your opening. Ducked… I heard the high-pitched war cry, fast and rhythmic like a war drum. I looked across, and the Tomahawk was out.

" I'll never break your heart! "

She tackled them… got into them… hacking and screaming as limbs and heads started flying.

" Think… of me! You're always in the dark! "

"Well, well," voice… deep and bassy chuckled… behind me, "that is one crazy woman. Shame she's over there and not here. And shame for you, too. Shame that I just happen to come back, too."

"Yeah… fat lot of shame."

Spun… handgun pressed against my chest… tried to get a shot off. Too late. Too fuckin' slow. Big gorilla hands took hold of mine, and the pistol went flying. Hand was on my throat… squeezing… could feel the banister against my back… now I was facing the dance floor.

"You," he hissed in my face, hot spittle hitting my cheek, "come to my house, and start shooting it up!?"

"Heh," shit-grin coming right up, "place… was a dump… to begin with."

"Yeah?" hand tightening… moving up… can't touch the floor, "Well, fuck you too!"

And then I was Superman… up until I crashed through the door.

"Where you goin', boy? We're just gettin' started!"


Gideon


I've had it. I've had it with these voodoo spewing, death worshipping jackasses! And just about every other thing in this goddamn wasteland that's been trying to kill me this last month! So bring it on, I'm right here!

"Get 'em! Bosses want 'em alive!"

The air crackled with ozone as their batons came to life with electrical discharge, the ground vibrating with the rampage of heavy boots, the walls reverberating their hollering and screaming bloody murder. Well, there's only one way to stop a runaway bull like this: head on! I took off like a rocket, the baton tight in my hand and Veronica at my back. With a roar, the man in the lead raised his club, and I responded by tackling straight into him, lifting him by the legs as I used him to bulldoze my way through my way through his buddies. I swung right as one had the idea of jumping out of the way, smashing his teeth and face in a sudden blue arcing explosion.

I then heard the round of rubber on metal on my left. Veronica jumped to the wall, using it as a spring board as she delivered a vicious spinning hook kick that sent her target careening into the floor. She followed the momentum, rolling across the floor and coming up with the baton crackling to life. On her knees, she struck a man hard in the groin and followed up with an upper cut that sent the man, and his jaw, flying. Now, more were coming my way.

With a roar, I lifted my meat shield high above my head, and hand over hand tossed him right into the lot of them, crumbling them like bowling pins. One jumped over the rest, but he quickly joined them as I delivered a push kick straight into his chest. Veronica was moving like flowing water through the masses surrounding her: raining in thunderously quick punches, kicks and bludgeons in a shower of white and blue while effortlessly—almost inhumanly—dodging their strikes like they were fighting mist. The sounds of boots broke my concentration. One came swinging at me, and I moved to parry in quick recession before I launched him behind me with an elbow to his head.

I quickly charged the second, trapping his striking hand as my knee smashed into his groin before I used his trapped hand to leverage his face in. It exploded in a shower of mire and broken teeth as my knee did its grizzled work. As I quickly finished him off with a club strike, the other three were on me. Speed and first reaction were my allies, so I made good use of them. I ducked low, dodging a strike and retaliating with my own to his gut before quickly smacking him upside the head.

The second swung, and I tagged him in his fighting arm. As he dropped the weapon with a scream, I silenced him with thrust to the mouth and followed up with an axe strike right to skull. Then I felt a hot sudden pain like lightning striking me in my shoulder. As I recoiled, my world went black and white with red all over as I took a head to the side of the head. As I dropped, my first instinct was to grab onto my attacker's shirt and drag him down with me.

As he came down, my knees were planted against my chest, and I sent him over me. I followed with the motion, slamming my baton in an explosion of ozone and heat until he was lights out. A split second later, a guy was flying over me and he hit the wall with a crash! I looked right just in time for Veronica to sweep a guy off his feet with a kick before shooting forward with a masterfully performed hook strike. Her steel toe boot contacted with his head, and sent him colliding into the wall scalp first.

A third man rose, baton in hand and I made ready to tackle him. Veronica however, beat me to the literally punch. The spot where she'd dispatched me when we sparred suddenly ached with remembered pain as he quickly received a good dose of it. However, unlike me, he went down without even a breath on his lips and his eyes suddenly frozen in perfect still pain. As he hit the floor, two more goons were coming up behind her.

I threw the baton with pin-point accuracy, striking one in the face before I was off the floor and leading with a kick for his buddy. He however, was ready for me, and I was not when he ducked under my kick and took me down with a tackle. My back buckled with sudden fire, but my arm shot out to trap his fighting arm. A moment later, a boot flattened his face and as he fell back, Veronica struck his knee with a kick. As He screamed and dropped like a bag of potatoes, she had his arm clenched in her hands.

She yanked it back as he struck his spine with a kick, and with the following krack I knew it'd been dislocated. A moment later and a discharge of electricity he was as cold as the floor he was on. Then before I could move, one last sonovabitch struck her from behind with his baton. I launched myself at him, hitting him with gut shot before opening up a haymaker that sent him spinning and straight into Veronica's roundhouse. He practically spun in the air as he hit the floor face first with loud splat!

He did not get up.

"That was fun!" Veronica laughed cheekily, "We should do that more often! Maybe even start a dojo!"

"Nah," I chuckled back, "I prefer my training down in the dirt and noise, thank you very much. Now, let's go get the others."


Wade


Fighting him was like fighting a pissed off bull. Bigger… stronger… heavier… and I only had one arm to fight with. Kept trying to block, get some distance with a kick… but he just kept coming! The haymakers felt like getting hit by bricks… funny cartoon animals dancing around my head. Dancing… losing conscience…

"Ha ha ha! Now, I know there's a man out there who's gonna beat me… eventually!"

My nose exploded… went flying into a shelf-case.

"But you my man, ain't that man!"

I spat out blood… smirked at him. You know me. Can't let 'em have the last word.

"Oh, I'm that man! I'm the one-armed man who's gonna kick your ass!"

"Ha ha ha! You funny, little man!"

He swung another haymaker, but I meet it with an elbow. Got knocked down, but's that okay. Gave me the opportunity to shin kick him.

"Gah! Ton petit bâtard!" he hobbled on one foot, "That actually hurt!"

"Good."

My boot met his chest and he went flying for a paint cabinet. Now… gotta close the distance. Get Masayoshi… take his head off. Too late. The paint can hit me hard in the shoulder, and then he had me by both shoulders.

I was flying a second later… bleeding on the floor again. Now I had leprechauns and unicorns and other weird shit doing jigs in front of me. Then a boot hit my face… mask went flying. World was going dark out of nowhere.

"Ha ha ha! Ah, didn't realize I was beating in such a pretty little face! Here, let me help you up!"

Now I was off the floor again… dangling… big hands on my lapels. Smirking fuckin' gorilla man laughing in my face. Smirked… nice and close now.

"And here I was thinkin' you'd be givin' me a good fight, masked man. Evidently not—"

"Fuck you!"

My forehead smashed into his… got revenge for my nose as I broke his. Now he was open… and I haymade him with everything I had. Still felt like hitting a stone wall, but hey it's an improvement. Finally floored him to his knees, and Masayoshi swung silver from her sheath. He screamed as it went through his shoulder… across the chest… gotta finish this.

My blade sung a death note as I lunged, prepared to bury it up to the hilt… oh hell.

"Heh," he had my blade in both hands, blood dripping… still laughing, "you went all old school on me! You're pretty good… but not good enough!"

The backhand felt like a Bighorner, but Masayoshi remained firm in my hand. I righted myself… got back to proper place.

"Alright, frère. Let's see what you can do with that…"

Looked up, and he had a long steel pipe in hand pointed at me.

"…against this!"

He charged… and I smiled. Went for it. Flashes of silver and sparks danced about the room. Recoil heavy in hand… need both to properly use her, but I can manage. 'Sides, ain't his field of expertise. Flash of red against the arm… the leg… aw, fuck! Hit the ground as hit me across the shoulder… got me in my limp arm.

"Bastard!"

Now I was pissed! I hit him with everything, and I mean everything! I swung hard… long… quick! Slashed him across the cheek… pipe went flying. Got him with a kick and he went into another paint cabinet… except this one exploded on him! Turned into a giant blob of every possible color you could imagine!

Yeah, you better believe I laughed my ass off. Stupid. Should've finished him off. 'Cause now he was mean and pissed off now!

"That… that was my favorite suit you just ruined!"

Now he was flying at me. Paint cans in either hand… too fast… feral. Getting broadsided… can't… gah! World went red as I took one across the face… then to the knee… haymaked again. Masayoshi went flying… started rolling down the stairs.

Tried to get up… fists started hitting me… lost track of how many. Just one after another… fuck, why can't I just black out already!?

"Imbécile! Told you… you ain't the one!"

A door exploded behind me as I went flying through it.


Gideon


"C'mon, man, I got you," I grunted as I shifted Boone across my shoulder, "just take it a step at a time. That's it."

They really did a number on him. He was broken and battered to the point he couldn't walk without collapsing into a heap, and even like this he was having a hard time trying to stay conscience. Just gotta keep him talking.

"We'll get you to a nice bed. Good pillows, cold beer…" I smiled as I added, "have V read you a bedtime story."

Felt the weight shift in my should, and the ghost of a smile passed by his lips.

"You…" he groaned softly, "make… lousy… nurse."

I smirked down at him:

"Oh? Would you like me to drop you? There's a nice garbage dump just over there. Make you nice and comfy."

"Fuck… you."

"Buy me dinner first."

"Broke… more ways… than… one."

"Heh, you and me both, man."

Right now, we needed to find Cass, but that was proving easier said than done! Whole place felt like a damn maze. Twice, V got turned around and we had to back track. Right about then, the weight on my shoulder went slack and a little heavier. I was only really surprised it didn't take him longer.

"So, V," I grunted as I readjusted him, "how'd you find me in the first place? Hell, how'd you even get out of your cell?"

She smiled at me in the gloom.

"Our friend helped."

"Well," I chuckled softly, "this is turning into the strangest night I've had in years."

"Yeah, especially Mister Goldeneye-Ghost-Thingie back there. You're sure he won't—"

"Nope. Didn't put him in that doll after all... though the one who did—"

"Good," she snorted, her eyes suddenly taking a vindictive shine to them, "I hope he tears Gloria up a little. Granted, wouldn't mind if he left some for me."

Understand this, Veronica is the most cheerful person I've ever met. In fact, it almost borders on something mentally wrong. But this… her being not just angry but vengeful? That truly scares me.

"Well, can't really blame you."

"Wait," she held up her hand, "did you hear that?"

"What—"

Then I heard it. Screaming. No, wailing. Like… she was crying. Oh no.

"Cass!" V cried when we got to the door, quickly working through the locks, "Hang on, we're gonna get you out!"

There was no response. The door swung open, and what beckoned us was a room darker than night; the light like a foreign invader in a strange land.

"Cass? Cass, it's us!"

As the light creeped in, and the noise carried out, we saw her huddled in a corner in the Fetal position. She cried, and cried, and cried. She was completely oblivious to us.

"Cass?"

As Veronica stepped in, my hand took her by the shoulder. She looked at me strangely, and I gestured to the room.

"I know what this is."

"What do you—"

"She's claustrophobic."

Her hand went to her mouth as she turned back to her:

"Oh Jesus."

Suddenly, Cass looked up at us, her face awashed with tears. But—looking into those eyes—I don't think she was seeing us.

"V-vvvv…"

"Cass?"

"V-vvvanessa… I'm so sorry. So… s-ssso sorry."

"Vanessa?" Veronica asked perplexed, reaching her hand out to her, "Cass, it's Veronica."

"V, wait!"

Suddenly Cass lashed out at her, pouncing and tearing into her like a feral cat:

"You took her from me!" she screamed as she clawed and tore away at her, "You won't take me too!"

"Cass, stop!" Veronica screamed as she tried to hold off the envoy of blows raining down on her, "Stop, it's me!"

Boone was off my shoulder in a heartbeat, and in another, I was on her. My arms took her by the middle as I yanked her off the ground, and off Veronica:

"Damnit, Cass! Stop this!"

"Get away!" she screamed as she writhed in my hands like a wolverine, "Get away from me, you pale fuckers! You fuckin' savages! You killed her!"

Pale savages? Oh, no. White Legs.

"You killed her! You killed her!"

Pain suddenly shot from my knee and I fell to the floor, taking Cass with me. And then she was on me. She ripped into me, making even Gloria pale in comparison. For what I saw here wasn't Cass. It was like looking into the heart of a forge, burning hotter than the stars, taken on human form.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill—"

Strong hands took hold of her, and within a blink of an eye, Veronica had her in a rear naked choke. Long seconds passed as she fought tooth and nail, but V refused to budge even an inch. And in time, she went limp.

"Geez," V panted as she dislodged from Cass, "remind me not to piss her off!"

"You're telling me," I groaned as I rose to my feet. Oh yeah… I'm gonna be sore in the morning, "still gonna have to carry her. I leave that to you."

"I'll take that over dealing with a crazy red-haired badger-lady," she chuckled as she took her by the shoulder and followed me out the room.

"Gideon?"

"Hmm?"

I turned to face her and what I got was something genuinely scared. Well, worried—maybe haunted—than truly scared. But still, it was there. And when her eyes darted to her passenger, it was grim as a nameless tombstone.

"She… Cass, called me Vanessa back there… and she tried to rip our faces off for it. You wouldn't—"

"No," I shook my head, "but I can guess—"

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and two men came screaming and kicking out into the hallway. In a clatter, they managed to make a general mess of the place with the clatter of falling shelves, barrels, and other items of interest. The bulblight at the end of the hallway ripped from its harness on the ceiling, swinging wildly as a loud crash reported loudly. In the gloom, I could see the outline of the two men: one strangling the other as he was lifted off the ground. The shifting light, and the ensuing chaos had made pretty much impossible to tell who they were, or if I should care that they were killing each other.

That changed when one of them spoke:

"I told you! You ain't the man to bring me down!"

The gorilla man. Then who the hell is—I'm not sure what is was. The shift in the air, a sudden indiscernible sound that only I could hear, or perhaps some undecided sixth sense that prickles at your short hairs. Regardless, something made me turn. Something made the world slow to a near crawl.

Something. For in those precious few moments, Veronica was in the wind. Her hands firm in fists, her posture like some Olympian at full race; the muscles along her powerful frame taut and held like a sudden explosion about to erupt. For when your eyes traced up to her face… it was wrath. Wrath set in a snarl, hair flowing back in a maddened sprawl, eyes ablaze with single intention of purpose.

Kill.


Veronica


Ramos's words rang through my head.

"Anger is a powerful weapon, Veronica. Rage: the spark of pure and utter destruction. But it is also something to be spent wisely. Never to be used frugally, or without discipline. Pick the moment, Veronica. At your most desperate hour. Pick it… and unleash it."

Well… I've chosen my moment. Everything became silent. Everything became still. Even the air seemed frozen as the time around me. That's just fine by me.

"Now why don't you do me the favor of dy—"

I saw him turn. See him see me. See him move—muscle by muscle—in response. Like tuned motors going their fastest. Just… not fast enough.

I breathed in the air; let it fill me up, let my body bathe in the dancing fire. I opened my eyes, and I struck. He screamed as my fist smashed into the subcostal nerve, just above his lower back. Spittle shot from his gaping mouth, his body buckled as no doubt hot fire raged up throughout the left side of his torso. Good… because we're just getting started.

I started moving up. The intercostal nerve, the lumbar plexus… so many places to choose. So many to hurt you with. Why don't we try them all? Soon enough, I stopped carrying and just sink my fist into wherever they took me.

His screams, his body convulsing, his movements slack and frozen were indicators it was doing a fun enough job regardless. Oh, you're going to take a swing at me? Well, that's just fine. I'll just use it as my step ladder. But first, I think I'm going to break your knee.

I dropped, and smashed my fist through the inside of his meniscus. His leg twisted inward, the crack resounding. I frowned. No, not quite broken, dislocated from the angle and pressure. I need practice.

Now, hold out your arm. I used it to the leap above him, and when I came down, my fist found his nose. Now, the sound of his cartilage shattering and the sudden hot sticky blood on my hand and arm? That was deeply satisfying. Now roll with the motion of his body and come up behind him.

Good. Now, deliver a kick to his genitofemorial. Ooh, that's going to hurt. Now how's your head doing? My boot to the back of it soon answer that, and it soon went through a sheen of glass. Hmm, you're going to have some new scars on your face… I think it suits you.

Now, how about we go into the room? I grabbed him by the shoulder, and his groin became a nice jello pile. Not so proud of it, are we? As he hobbled, I prevented him from collapsing by giving him a nice push kick that sent him crashing through the glass. Hey, we're do you think you're going?

Oh, so this is a booze storage, huh? Well, you're sufficiently soaked, aren't you? Down there on the ground amid the broken glass and stinking moonshine and offer shit you given to kids too young for it. Well, I think you could use another drink. Here, how about a nice kick into that cabinet?

Hmm, I don't think it's enough. Not just what your sister did to me, and Gideon. But what you did to Cass. And to Boone...

"Oh, perfect."

There was a fuse box. I quickly ripped the panel open and I had so many fuses to choose from. Ah, but let's pick one that doesn't shock you first, eh Veronica? Ah, here we go.

"You know, you seem to have electroshock therapy down to such a fine art."

I ripped the fuse out and I still had a nice ten-foot length, plus a good amount of charge left over. Sure, the main light went out and the room bathed red like some nightmare movie. But it'll do just better.

"I mean, you handled it so well that even I got broken by it. Shocking, right?"

He was on his knees, looking up at me with bloodied eyes. Desperate. Pleading. That's cute.

"So, care to have a taste of your own medicine, doctor?"

I dropped the fuse. He reached out for it. But he wouldn't reach it. His scream confirmed that. He shot from the ground in an ozone explosion like big floppy fish, complete with the actual flop sound as he hit the floor on the other side of the room.


Gideon


Holy shit.

"Y'know… I take it back."

I turned to the speaker; collapsed against the wall, huffing and puffing weakly.

"Gettin' your…" he groaned as he tried to sit up, "ass kicked by a girl? That's worse… than… gah… by… uh… one-armed smartass."

Glass crackled and crunched behind me as Veronica moved up next to me.

"Well, one-armed smartass, just who are you?"

"Oh, y'know… just your… friendly neighborhood—"

"Wait a second," the light shine bright… and I saw his face, "you're that kid! The clumsy kid from King's Street!"

"What?" he grinned at me with mouth of bloody teeth. I released Boone, knowing V would catch him, as I marched up and took this kid by the lapels:

"Who the hell are you!?"

"Look—"

"Who sent you!?" I practically spat out, "Why have you been following us!?"

"Look," his hand took mine feebly, "could ya just… gimme a break?"

"A break? I don't owe you shit, kiddo."

"No," he grinned as he shook his head, "but been followin' you… while now. You're nice guy. And I've… got the shit kicked out of me… and I'm probably gonna… y'know, lose this arm? So… gimme a break, wouldya?"

"Gideon, maybe we should—"

"Alright, caballeros," a sharp, Latino female voice took me by surprise, "put down los sabelotodo and back off."

I turned my head to see two black dress women holding us at gunpoint, one with a revolver and the other with an H&K. They were wearing masks of somekind. And from the way they were holding themselves: the balance of the weapons in their hands, their rocksteadiness, the proper shooting posture—they were professionals. Professional gunmen? They clearly don't work for any local group I've seen.

They almost looked… military. Veronica quickly read my mind:

"You're not NCR, are you?"

"No," the Latino woman chuckled, "no, not for a long time, mi querida."

"Then just who the hell are you?"

The shorter of the two women snorted angrily, gesturing with her revolver:

"We're the ones with guns, and your not. So, I'd suggest ya listen to the lady and put the useless, stupid-as-hell brat down before I come over there and—"

"Hey," the brat chuckled softly, "just take it down a notch. We're… all friends here. Right?"

I turned around to face him:

"Friends is a bit of a stretch, kidd—"

There was a clunk on the floor… and a black cylinder.

"Oh, come on! Not aga—"

My sentence was finished when everything went loud and white. I don't know just how long I laid there on the floor. But when I could finally open my eye without everything looking like the bottom of a glass… our 'friends' were gone.


Pacer


The duffle bag opened. Air started getting fillin' with slaps of batteries and other techo jumble. The plasma was lighter than I'd give it credit. Sure, prefer good copper over this, but gotta sell what comes later. Now… for the monkey suits, olive tans, an' such.

Jeez, soldier-boys wear this stuff? Almost feel sorry for 'em. Almost. Gave a look around to the boys—boys who knew what true loyalty was—and got the look back.

"These Cali bastards brought this on themselves. They've rolled everybody else comin' here over and then some. But not here, and not with us. What we do here, we do for Freeside. We do for the kids, the wives and the brothers and all others. We do this for us."

I knew they knew. But their eyes told me they respected the word regardless.

"We go in, skirmish line. Fifteen minutes. Shoot many you can, any who come your way. We want to show them they ain't welcome here. Once jig is up and done, leave your guns," I gestured to the two Fiend-fucks, "dump them. And get out fast."

They all nodded. They all heard the plan. Good way goin', 'gardless.

"An' remember—no King speakin'."