Vulpes squinted against the thick, black smoke that the flames created. The scent of burning flesh hung in the air like a curtain around Nipton's town hall. He never tired of that smell. It meant that justice had been served. Justice was something they'd both loved. Trinity's 'handicap' was that she failed to appreciate the 'purity' of Legion justice.
Hoisting the skewered head of one of the towns' former occupants above him, Vulpes firmly planted the stake in the ground, watching the blood slide down and pool onto the earth. A slow, gentle trickle; like rainfall. Again, he found himself thinking of her. Trinity had loved to bathe in the lake on the scant occasions when it rained in the Mojave, and he'd loved to watch the moonlit drops of water wash over her smooth, light brown skin. He smiled inwardly. The thought of her was.. comforting.
Trinity had wanted out. Badly. He'd always understood that. A young, energetic girl like that…. why wouldn't she want her freedom? Still, Vulpes allowed her to roam the fort unescorted as she saw fit, and he would pretend not to notice her reading Caesar's books on days when she was sent in to clean his tent. He'd severely underestimated her from the start. If someone had told him that she would make it this far from his reach, he would never have given her so much as an inch.
"That's enough," Vulpes called back to his recruits. "I have business to attend to elsewhere."
This Boone guy, was strange. Trinity had decided this just as soon as he'd agreed to accompany her. Why hadn't he stormed off in some blaze of heroism to rescue his wife from Legion slavers? When she'd asked, he'd replied simply that his wife was dead, and offered no explanation for how he would have known this.
Trinity decided to just leave it be. The man was a damn good shot and knew how to follow directions. That was what mattered. His personal issues, she reasoned, should be none of her concern.
"We're getting close," Trinity called back over her shoulder. The man flanking her on her right said nothing. The sound of his boots shuffling along in the sand was the only way she'd known he was still following. It was just as well. The sound of an ongoing conversation was always a sure way to attract some raider or another. Suddenly, she heard Boone stop dead in his tracks.
"There's someone at our six," he whispered.
The three fiends charged toward them, all leather and knives. Looking back over her shoulder, Trinity drew her gun and squinted against the sunlight to try and make them out. She'd only just made out their grimy, sun-baked faces when Boone drew his rifle and fired two shots. Trinity smirked as she replaced her weapon. Boone's first shot had nestled right between the eyes of the leader, while the second passed cleanly through both of his followers.
It had been almost boring walking the wastes with Boone this past week. He hardly ever spoke, and landed most every shot. Trinity had never pegged herself for someone who went looking for trouble, but there was something about going three days without pulling a trigger that just irked her.
Trinity pulled open the rusty gates to East Freeside, Boone holding them open as she stepped through. Two children ran past her suddenly, startling her. They were playing some game that involved an old broken plasma pistol. It seemed to Trinity that the last sort of game they should want to be playing was a violent one. There would be plenty of time for that when they were older and shooting raiders in the kneecaps just to earn the luxury of walking down the road without being robbed. Or maybe they would be the raiders. There was really no telling. Not like there were a hell of a lot of options in the wastes.
"Hey, you guys need a fix?" a male voice asked, interrupting her train of thought. A particularly grimy looking drug dealer emerged from the building to their right and gave a crooked smile. The man reeked of sweat, cheap alcohol and God knows what else. The odor immediately invaded Boone's nostrils. His gorge rising in his throat, he waved the man away hurriedly only to see Trinity take the dealer aside and begin speaking to him in hushed tones. She snatched three large bottles from him and shoved them in her bag, not waiting for him to count the caps she'd given him.
Boone shook his head. He'd known from the start that there had to be a catch to this job. So she was some kind of junkie. Even still, he'd worked for worse people. At least this girl seemed to be reasonably capable of making sound decisions. She didn't function like someone with an addiction. Then again, he'd only known her for a week. Anything could still happen.
The strip was much busier than the last time Trinity had been there. Due mostly to the large number of drunken NCR recruits, likely on leave. Feeling the crowd was getting too close for comfort, Trinity pushed on to the Ultra Luxe. The building seemed larger than she remembered. Its illuminated arches casting a bright aura into the darkening sky.
Eager to get in out of the steadily growing crowd of sweaty soldiers, Trinity and Boone trudged towards the entrance; the fountain mist cooling their hot skin as they made their way towards the staircase.
Boone silently looked on, trailing behind her as she strolled in like she owned the place. Their sun baked faces drew immediate attention from the casino's primped and polished customers.
"Good afternoon….." the greeter trailed off, looking her and Boone up and down. "Ahem… how may I be of service?"
Dumping her bag at his feet with a thud, Trinity squinted against the casino lights. "I would like my things brought up to my suite."
The greeter eyed her incredulously. "Your suite, miss-?"
"Trinity. Bon Vivant suite." The greeter instantly brightened.
"Ah! A thousand apologies madam. I scarcely recognized you."
"Yes, well, I scarcely recognize me," Trinity sighed. "So.. my suite?"
"Oh yes, at once."
Trinity waited patiently at the top of the stairs for the two greeters to bring up her unreasonably heavy bags. With much effort, they hauled in the backpack and duffel bag. Trinity smirked as she realized the caps inside hadn't made a sound. Without hesitation she placed ten caps into each of their outstretched hands for their tip and her hot bath water and sent them on their way. With a contented sigh, Trinity plopped down on the couch and snagged the wine bottle from the coffeetable.
"Ah…" she sighed happily.
Boone frowned as he closed the door behind them. His eyes swept over the room as he took in the two full size beds, immaculate couches and marble walls. So she was a druggie AND decadent. Great. First she'd told him there was a man she needed to find and eliminate with urgency, now here she was, lounging in a posh hotel like she didn't have a care in the world.
"So when are we going after your mark?" he asked.
There was a loud pop as Trinity opened the wine bottle. Smiling, she took a moment to inhale it's aroma. "All in good time."
"He's at The Tops, right?"
"Well, yes, but you can't expect me to be seen there looking like this," she said, gesturing to herself. The sand and dirt caked on her was very apparent. "Trust me, it's best if we lay low for awhile. Besides, it's getting late."
Trinity grabbed a slip of paper and a pencil from the nightstand and scribbled down a few sentences.
"Now, if you wouldn't mind taking this order down to the Gourmand while I take a bath?"
Knowing it wasn't really a request, Boone threw his things in the corner and grudgingly took the paper from her. Never in his life had he been anyone's messenger boy. This was beyond humiliating; even more so since he would have to ask for directions to this 'Gourmand' and have these stuck up white gloves look down their noses at him like he was some kind of radroach. Already hearing the bathwater running in the other room, he reopened the door and stepped out. Four white glove members carrying large steaming pots of water filed in behind him.
Trinity sat on the edge of the tub and stuck her fingers into the steaming water. It was a bit warmer than she would have liked, but would soon cool. She rummaged through an old knapsack near the sink until she found a large cake of soap the size of her hand. Holding the slightly misshapen rectangle up to her nose she took in the smell of apples and pears, and the faint scent of Brahmin milk. Trinity shed her clothes and sunk into the warm water.
She was immediately reminded of the loaves of soap her mother and the other women in her village would make every few months; the warm springs they would bathe in. Massaging the soap into her hair and skin, Trinity let out a frustrated sigh. She missed Zion terribly. More so, she missed the life she'd had there. Before she and her parents had been betrayed and her own brother had given them over to the Legion..
The door of the room opened slowly and clicked shut. Trinity could hear heavy footsteps and the fabric of the couch as it gave way to an occupant.
"Boone? Is that you?" she called.
"Who else would it be?" he replied curtly.
"Just checking," she muttered. He could at least pretend he liked this job.
Boone sat on the couch for a moment, staring at the two plates of food the servers had brought up. Brahmin Wellington, as he'd read it from her note. The corn and potatoes beside it on the plate would have been dinner enough, he thought. He shuddered to think how much she would be paying for this meal. Carla had brought him to stay at the Ultra-Luxe once when they were courting, but even she showed some reserve about the caps spent.
"I'm coming out! No peeking!" Trinity called from the bathroom. Boone turned to face the opposite wall, his eyes drifting up to her silhouette on the wall every now and then. She was kind of good looking for a woman who wandered the wastes. He took a small glance over his shoulder once she announced that she was dressed. The bathwater had transformed her hair into a thick mass of dark, wavy coils that looked nothing like the dry, sweat straightened strands she'd been sporting when they'd met.
A pink satin nightie clung to her curves, a reasonably clean old button up draped over her shoulders. With a sigh, she stretched out on the couch with her bottle of wine. The hem of her nightie shifted up her smooth thighs as she moved, exposing more of her flushed, caramel skin.
Absently, Boone licked his lips. Either this girl was a deliberate tease, or it had been far too long since he'd been alone with a woman like this.
Casting her gaze upwards, Trinity noted that Boone was still wearing his sunglasses. Even though he wasn't fully facing her, she was sure he was looking at her. She smiled to herself, secretly pleased.
Trinity sat her plate in her lap and started to eat. She hesitated when she noticed Boone was just sitting there, staring at the wall in front of him. "I'm pretty sure the white gloves have no reason to poison me," she assured him. "You can eat, you know."
Grudgingly, Boone picked up his own plate and began to eat. A tense silence filled with the slight sounds of chewing passed between them. Trinity set her plate down and took the wine to her head, not bothering with a glass.
"I see you don't talk much," she said finally, her lips tinged red from the wine. Boone swallowed roughly.
"Is that a problem?"
Trinity smirked. "No, not necessarily. I take it you like to listen."
"Maybe," he grunted.
"Maybe? Well, how about you tell me more about yourself."
"Like?" he asked. Trinity paused to think for a moment.
"Hell, I dunno. Maybe you could start with why you came with me?"
"You seemed decent," he said shortly. She waited for a moment to see if he would continue. He didn't.
"Decent. Compared to what?"
Boone sat up straight and looked at her. "You didn't have to do what you did. It wasn't your problem. Most people wouldn't get involved."
"Yeah, well I'm not most people. Getting involved is kinda my specialty," she replied, taking another long swig. Pausing to look at the bottle for a moment, she held it up to him. With the briefest hesitation, he took the bottle from her and had a drink himself. He exhaled sharply, surprised at how strong it was.
"Shit like that could get you killed," he said.
" It almost did," she said. More to herself than to him. Boone felt his curiosity get the better of him.
"This guy you're after. What'd he do?"
"Long story," she said, taking the bottle back from him and lifting it to her lips.
"Try me."
"The guy was rich, powerful, the works. Always had a plan. A real smooth talker. I got caught up, I guess. Next thing I know I'm on my knees in a graveyard and he puts a bullet in my skull," she muttered. "I'm lucky like that."
Boone frowned. That bit of info alone meant there were volumes more to the story, but he didn't feel like pushing for it. "Why not storm his place right now?" he asked.
"Benny needs a.. lighter touch. This is personal," she said.
"You make it sound like you needed his money to get by. Doesn't look that way to me," he said, gesturing to the whole room.
"I never needed his money," she started. "I just needed.." she trailed off, looking down into the wine bottle. After a long silence, she suddenly stood.
"I've already had too much to drink. I'm gonna turn in. Big day tomorrow," she said. She was suddenly unnaturally perky. Boone watched as she re-corked the wine bottle and fell into her bed. Yawning, she turned to Boone once more.
"Oh, and one more thing," she said. "You're gonna need a suit."