- V -
(June 2274)
"Yo, Wally, what do you think my chances are with your sister?"
Wally cringed with revulsion from his spot near the atrium entrance. "That's something I really don't want to think about."
"I mean with takin' her to the dance," Butch clarified, sneering as he walked over and nudged his friend in the ribs with his elbow. "What did ya think I was talkin' about?"
"Urgh, don't even—hold up, you're planning on going to the dance?" his fellow Tunnel Snake asked in disbelief.
Butch smirked and flipped up the collar of his jacket before sliding a hand over his hair. "Yeah. Figured, y'know, it's time for the Butch-man to get his smooth sexy on with the ladies."
Wally's derisive snort popped his bubble with a stab of annoyance. "Well, be my guest. I'm not going to be caught dead at these stupid school functions—"
"I was actually thinking of going, too," Paul chimed in, peering through the open doorway at some of their classmates putting together decorations.
"See? And the rookie is, too. Right, Freddie?" Butch stared hard at the newest member of the gang, who stood attentively next to Paul.
"Sure thing," Freddie replied with utmost enthusiasm. Then he paused and added, "Uh, we're not going to cause any trouble, are we?"
"Nah." Butch stepped around Wally and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he watched the group of girls hanging streamers inside. "This'll be a special Tunnel Snake R&R event. Grab a chick, make her heart melt, maybe get lucky at the end of the night."
Wally's features instantly twisted into a scowl. "If you're going with Susie and that last part happens, let me be blissfully ignorant and spare me the details," he said, ignoring Butch's eye roll. His jacket dragged against the wall as he shifted to poke his head around the doorframe. "Well, since you losers are getting your participation points in, I guess I can take Christine Kendall."
Freddie gaped at him. "Dude, isn't she your cousin?"
Wally barely blinked. "I'm not going as her date, I'm going as her bodyguard. Saving at least one of the girls in my family from punks like you guys."
"Who are you gonna take, rookie?" Butch questioned without turning around, as his eyes were glued to Susie Mack's well-developed chest at the far end of the atrium.
"I dunno, maybe Amata Almodovar?"
The other Tunnel Snakes burst into laughter at once.
"Princess 101? You serious, man?" Butch chortled, shooting an amused look toward the Overseer's daughter, who was busy supervising the set up process. "Oh boy, never mind the five security guards her daddy will assign to her hip. That uptight personality is enough to make you want to keep your hands to yourself."
Freddie scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Aw, come on, she's not that bad," he mumbled defensively. "She's actually pretty nice when you get on her good side."
"Case in point: I'm never on her good side." Still chuckling, Butch swung a playful fist at Paul's shoulder. "What about you, buddy?"
Had it not been for his dark complexion, Paul's cheeks might have glowed red at that moment. His shy gaze settled on his desired date. "I've been meaning to ask Ivy Ashburn."
Butch's grin disappeared. He followed the other boy's line of sight to Ivy's slender figure balancing on a ladder, several rolls of ribbon in hand. She stood out amongst the girls with her long auburn hair and easy smile, but Butch was hard-pressed to come up with any other distinguishing traits that branded her as attractive in his book.
Just from spending hours with her at target practice every week, he had memorized the pattern of blemishes and acne scars on her cheeks and forehead. While her hazel eyes, straight nose, and shapely lips made for an aesthetically pleasing face, the rest of her hadn't filled out enough to offer any sex appeal. He refused to believe he was blinded by his prejudice against her, even as Paul practically drooled from beside him and Wally murmured his agreement that she wasn't a bad choice.
"What the fuck, you guys are makin' goo-goo eyes at Poindexter?" Butch scoffed, suddenly very peeved.
"Hey, what's hot is hot," Wally responded with a shrug.
The Tunnel Snake leader felt a burning need to argue. "You two should get your eyes checked. Rookie, back me up on this."
Freddie's deer-in-headlights look didn't bode well for support. "But, um… the doc's kid has kind of turned out to be a looker…"
"For the love of—you know what? Whatever. Have fun with that, Paul." He shook off his irritation and smoothed his hair one more time before stepping forward. "All right. Let's go get 'em, boys."
When none of them followed his lead after several seconds, he whirled around and found them inching toward the opposite direction instead.
"Sorry, but I really don't want to witness you putting the moves on my little sister," Wally declared, already halfway down the corridor.
Paul, at least, attempted to appear apologetic as he backed away. "I'd rather wait till Ivy's alone to ask her. Quite frankly, Butch, if you're around she'll probably turn me down on the spot."
"And I need to work up the nerve to approach Amata," Freddie added, right behind them. "We'll see ya later."
Butch glared at all three traitors as they retreated to the stairs leading to the upper level. "Ya bunch of wusses!"
So much for brotherhood and shit. Eh, who needs 'em?
He gave his jacket hem a sharp tug and marched into the atrium, chest inflated with self-confidence. The heavy steps of his boots reverberated throughout the wide space and caught the attention of several people, who paused in their work to watch him warily. Edwin Brotch, now the "new Mr. Brotch" ever since his father stepped down as the head teacher, glanced up from the table assemblage section and muttered, "Oh, brother…" as Butch reached Susie's group.
As if on cue, Amata wedged herself in the way. "What do you want? If you and your fellow delinquents are planning any juvenile pranks to sabotage this dance, I will personally see to it that you face disciplinary action," she snapped, looking like she wanted to take the clipboard in her hands and break it over his head.
Through his peripheral vision, he noticed Ivy's attention on him as she climbed down the ladder.
He raised his arms in a placating gesture. "Relax, princess. I'll actually be partaking in this thrilling event. I'm just here to offer to make one of these ladies my date."
Amata's skeptical frown persisted even as Mr. Brotch called for her assistance. "I'm watching you, DeLoria."
He bit back a sarcastic reply and proceeded past her, heading straight for Susie. Glitter sparkled from her sable hair as she embellished dozens of hanging ornaments on the floor. Deeply engaged in her task, she didn't acknowledge his presence until he happened to crush one of her crafts under his foot.
"Hey! What gives?" she demanded, glowering up at him.
"Whoops, my bad. So Susie," Butch started, striking a languid pose with his thumbs hooked through his front belt loops, "how would you like to go to this dance on the arm of a Tunnel Snake?"
The glower immediately transformed into a smile. "With Freddie Gomez?"
Butch's suave act faltered as his lip curled. "What? No! I'm talking about me." Jeez, what's with the girls around here liking that guy, anyway?
"Oh." Susie's face fell a little, but she gave him an appreciative once-over. "Well, you're no Freddie, but you are pretty cute…"
"You know what else is cute about him? The way he scratches his balls when he thinks no one's looking," Ivy remarked from the base of the ladder, arms folded in front of her as she regarded them with an unreadable countenance.
Susie wrinkled her nose and scooted away from him. "Eww, what?"
Butch's eyes flashed with malice at Ivy as his temper spiked. "Shut the hell up, you bitch. That ain't true."
"Oh, yeah? Well, it's even cuter that you can spontaneously fall asleep in the middle of conversation… and even start drooling during your nap," his nemesis went on, pulling no punches. "And Susie, if you end up as his date, keep a bottle of hand sanitizer in your purse. Sometimes he forgets to wash his hands after taking a piss."
In fewer than twenty seconds, she had effectively obliterated any chance he had with any of the girls listening in. As Susie's expression grew more and more revolted, Butch lost his cool and lunged for Ivy, fully intending on strangling her. She dodged him and prepared to block any further attacks, but Mr. Brotch chose that instant to holler from across the floor.
"Break it up! You two got a score to settle, take it outside. Away from all the props and décor."
Gladly.
Wasting no time, Butch curled his fingers into the front of Ivy's jumpsuit and dragged her roughly toward the exit. No one interfered even as she dug her heels into the floor and scratched at the exposed skin of his arm. Once outside, he yanked her around the corner and shoved her forward, taking great satisfaction in the sound of her smaller frame hitting the wall. She swore and tried to turn to him, but he slammed her back against the cold surface, catching her wrists in one hand and pinning her body with his so that her backside was pressed up against his front. Possessed by unadulterated fury, he drove a fist into the wall next to her head, denting the metal and prompting a startled cry as he brought his lips to her ear.
"What the fuck was that in there?" he growled, twisting the limbs trapped in his grip. "You got a goddamn death wish with that smart fuckin' mouth of yours, Poindexter?"
"God, I was just messing around, Butch," she gasped as his weight crushed her.
He bared his teeth when the flowery scent of her hair wafted up to fill his senses. "Didn't sound like you were messin' around. You totally had it out for me. Why?"
"I didn't." She started a futile struggle to escape, yielding only after conceding she was no match for him physically. "It was just some fun, and I got carried away. Sorry, sheesh."
The serpent pendant dug into his chest under his shirt as he pressed against her harder. "Well, sorry doesn't cut it. Your 'fun' cost me more than your stupid brain will ever realize. How're you gonna make it up to me?"
Ivy craned her neck to peer at him from the corner of her eye. "Let me go and I'll think of something."
Their faces were so close together that her full lashes brushed against his jaw. He stiffened at the contact and tightened his hold on her when she resumed squirming. "I'm warnin' you—"
She paid no heed to the unspoken threat and kept shifting around, inadvertently rubbing against him. "Butch…"
Something about the way she said his name, voice breathless and husky, elicited an undesired reaction from his anatomy. He felt himself go hard as her ass ground into his crotch, and his hips pushed closer of their own accord to feel more of her feminine shape. In a fit of panic, he abruptly released her, stepping back while trying to disguise the tent rising in his jumpsuit. His ire increased tenfold as she rotated and glared at him, auburn locks tussled and framing her face in a manner all too appealing.
"You're a damn animal," she hissed, massaging the marks on her wrists even as a peculiar gleam shone in those hazel eyes.
Butch cursed the wanton betrayal of his own body, especially when his subconscious began to identify the captivating qualities that had Paul so mesmerized. Despite her lack of glamour and girlishness, Ivy had a natural allure in the way she moved, the way she looked at him. A rose flush had crept to her cheeks, and she tucked a few tendrils of hair behind her ear, gaze fiery and intense. Her lips had reddened from the heat that radiated between them, and he gulped when he caught himself staring, wondering how they would taste.
Fuck… what the hell's wrong with me? This is Poindexter, for cryin' out loud.
His anger had switched from outrage to simmering dismay, and in an effort to escape the electrifying tension, he decided to cut the confrontation short. "This ain't over," he rumbled, words coming out more feeble than ominous.
Without waiting for her to answer, he spun on his heel and hurried away. Confusion and denial trailed him as he stomped through the Vault corridors, silently trying to justify his wayward reaction to the brat he'd never seen in that sort of light before. The physical proximity had to have been the culprit, coupled with the fact that he was a healthy teenage male who had yet to get laid. Plus, his amplified rage might have gotten muddled during the encounter.
Yeah, that's it, he told himself. I'm just all wound up and looking to tap some tail. Not like I find her hot for real or anything.
And as he buried his unsettling emotions deep within his psyche, his spite returned at the thought of her unforgivable transgressions. Her behavior back in the atrium puzzled him almost as much as it provoked his wrath. They had never gotten along in all the time they'd known each other, but that purposeful intent to humiliate him had come straight out of left field. It had been so uncharacteristic of Ivy, whom he'd always considered relatively passive and innocuous. According to him, she had crossed a line, one he wouldn't allow to go unpunished.
He took the familiar path to the generator room, ensuring no spectators were around before slipping inside. The lights automatically flickered on at his entry, and as he trudged to one corner adjacent to the door, he spared a glimpse at the shooting area he and Ivy had occupied just the previous day. Then, climbing a few pieces of dilapidated machinery, he reached up and plucked the hidden camera from its perch atop one of the broken wall fixtures.
Butch examined the small device, glad he had talked Paul into letting him borrow it so he could set it up this year. After they'd taken the G.O.A.T., Ivy had become real cheeky when she found out she'd be on the medical track in her father's footsteps. Her availability for shooting practice also became sparser, and since she kept the BB gun with her at her apartment, he had grown frustrated enough to think of new ways of encouraging her to make more time for him and their practice sessions. The camera had been set to record them while they shot at the targets, but he regularly deleted all traces of his presence in the video segments. He'd kept his lips sealed about the room for years, and as far as he was concerned, she'd broken her end of the bargain.
So now, with the camera and chip of recordings in hand, he was collecting the collateral.
He left the reactor level and proceeded back up through the Vault. Grim determination led him to the admin floor, all the way to the closed door of the Overseer's office. But as he raised his hand to knock, he hesitated. Ivy and her father had this coming for sure. People revered them and held them to higher standards, unaware that the picture perfect citizens broke rules just like everyone else. Butch knew better, and his resentment had never waned. They didn't deserve all that merit. They didn't deserve the widespread respect. And most of all, he and his mother didn't deserve to be considered beneath them.
Butch's antipathy remained constant, yet biased as he was, he still wavered outside the office. His thoughts drifted to the days he'd spent with Ivy, to the competition and rivalry he'd built with her. Amidst the bad blood, they'd forged an implicit connection that linked them together whether they liked it or not. It thrived in their contention, binding them so that their eyes sought each other wherever they went, if only to exchange glares of hostility. Time had flown by in a blur, and he realized he and Ivy had been shooting together for close to six years now.
His hand lowered to his side. Enemy or not, the history between them was there, and the bond was so substantial in its conflicting nature that he promptly rejected the notion of the Overseer's involvement. He would have to think of another way to retaliate.
Butch wandered back to the floor leading to the apartments, snarling, "Fucking Ivy," over and over again under his breath as he racked his brain for an alternative form of retribution.
"Say, DeLoria, what was that about Ivy?" a deep voice asked from behind him.
He stopped in his tracks and turned to find Stevie Mack leaning against the exterior of the rec room, arms crossed and expression oppressive. Butch had never liked the severe look about Stevie, but he paused as he felt the camera through the pocket of his jumpsuit.
"Hey, you're about to switch into the security career field, right?" Butch inquired, already seeing the potential for the new idea that blossomed in his head.
Stevie grunted an affirmative. "Why?"
"If you make it in, I got somethin' that could boost you into a promotion early on." Butch glanced left and right before he produced the camera and tossed it to Stevie.
"What's this?"
"Some dirt on Ivy Ashburn. The stuff you'll see in there? Dr. Ashburn and Jonas Palmer set all of it up. I had a feeling she was up to somethin' so I installed a hidden cam to catch her in the act."
Stevie's eyebrows drew together, creasing his forehead as he stared down at the object in his palm. "Yeah? And what's in it for you?"
Butch sneered and began walking away. "Nothin', really. As long as the bitch pays."
x-x-x-x-x
A/N: Awesome, we're halfway through the story, guys! From here on out, the setting will stop jumping around and will proceed onward from 2276-2277. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, following, and faving! This is the farthest I've gotten in any multi-chaptered fic I've ever written thanks to all of your support!