back again!
a little tension filler because things never run smoothly for long, do they?
The desert in front of him was patched black and orange – the clouds in the deep blue sky above leaving little shadows that slowly slunk across the rockwall's mouth. His scope was steady but his hands were shaking, itching with confusion. Something felt off.
Someone shifted beside him, their elbows digging into the sandy rock beneath them. A radio warbled in the background, drowned by the pinging shots that echoed from deep inside the canyon. People began to file out of an exit – stumbling, huddled masses dressed in rags and dirtied street wear. They moved quickly, quietly, hunched at the stomachs to keep low and out of sight. His stomach rolled at the realisation.
The radio distorted, rustling into white noise. Boone looked at his companion – taken aback by the featureless, fleshy stare; their face scrambled and blank. A shot sounded from behind him, and more followed. The figures, the innocents, burst into a flurry of shouts and screams – taking off into a co-ordinated run. It didn't feel right – hearing the screams and haunted by their facelessness. He picked off what he knew was an old woman. She didn't look like the bad guy.
More people filed out of the exit, scared by the bursts of dust that had been shaken up by trampling feet. Now it was the injured – terrified boys only in their teens paired with hobbling women who had tried to fight. Bodies were falling and the rockwall behind them was now painted with spatters of blood. He felt sick.
A pregnant woman waddled out looking like a beacon. His scope trained onto her, faltering in recognition. Carla. Her face was blank but he knew she was petrified – he always admired how she never seemed to let anyone know how scared she was. She walked proudly, hand on her stomach, head held high as she breezed through the exit row without stopping to look at the horrors around her. She never even turned to face him – she just watched the people fall in front of her with that careless look on her face. She knew her fate… she just didn't know it was him that was going to give it to her.
The shot was made from beside him and he was stuck watching – all over again, bathed with a ghastly sickness he hadn't forgotten yet. She fell and his heart wrenched, twisted in agony as his eye dragged towards another target. How quickly he moved on. He chastised himself for it, feeling the wash of misery that rolled over him.
People were still falling, screaming – the cries of abandoned children wailing up into the afternoon sky. The next woman he found was strolling, looking up at the clouds – as if she didn't know what was going on around her. As if she couldn't see it. Annie. Of course it was Annie.
It was always going to be Annie.
A shot rang out from behind him and it caught her attention – the rock behind her chipping into her back. She looked up at him, head cocking to the side in recognition. He didn't like the way the little chevrons in his sight lined up against her body.
"Hey!" She said, her hand raising to wave hello. He was greeted with a flash of her, naked, writhing against his mouth with her fists dug into the sheets. Annie grinned at him, her look falling into that same soft one she had been giving him a lot lately. Her voice muttered softly in his ear. "I really like you."
Bodies filed in and out of casino doors like ants in a line, lured in by the flashing lights of the dotted entrances to metaphorical hell. It was funny, how Boone was literally on top of the world, but he still craved nothing more than to be back out there - away from all the lights and magic and back into the blooming dust and sullied dirt.
Elbows on the safety rail that lined the Penthouse Suite's gigantic glass walls, Boone stared drearily out into the open space in front of him. He was plagued by all the new notions suddenly planted in his head, as if his current garden of anxiety-riddled thoughts wasn't enough to take care of. The seedlings were growing steadily, fed and watered by the way Annie had looked at him just as she was dozing off not too long ago. She was so tired – he could see it on her face. He was too, but his whirring brain was not having a bar of it.
The passing moment of happiness he had felt when she held him, fingers curled into his shirt, giving him soft, sleepy kisses on his crown, it all still lingered. He was worried – would it wear off? Was the contentment he felt in that moment going to last – and how long would it be until he felt the crushing weight of his guilt and regrets fall back onto his shoulders? Would being with Annie like he was, giving her more of himself each time around, would it ever be enough for him?
Allowing himself to be with her felt so much different than what had come with Carla. Carla was a warm love that wrapped him up and made him feel safe; hiding his insides and closing his sores. She never pushed, never prodded, always let him deal the way he wanted to deal and he loved her so much for that. He felt like life could start again with her. He wanted life to start again with her. So much.
All of her hard work, her toiling in his gardens, letting the weeds grow large, as if they were beautiful brushes, and tending to new flowers – coaxing them up and out of the dark soil… He wanted so badly to be open with her. She gave him so much to live for. Every morning he woke up with her by his side was a day he was willing to fight through.
But Annie… Christ. Annie had jumped the nice little fence that Carla had helped put up. She tore him open again and pulled all of the shit back out, leaving new little seeds to grow as they fell from her hair – collected over the years by her own ideas, mistakes and blunders that he had grown to find… charming. It felt good to have the festering flesh removed, cut at the tear. Fucking agonising at the best of times, knowing she was playing in the garden that Carla once loved so much. But it helped… Her busied hands digging through the dirt, humming those sad country songs that used to just make him so sad.
He let out a hmmm, wondering how he could thank her again. And again. And again.
Annie woke gently in her own little world, cuddled by the silken sheets of a fresh bed. She felt… new. Clean. Relaxed. She let out a happy little groan, stretching her legs and running her fingers through the sheets. Her mind was peaceful for what felt like the first time in forever; limbs tingly and refreshed, her washed skin sliding between the blankets. She felt a bit squishy, legs jelly, her thoughts ticking over the reasons for the sudden hindrance.
She sat up when it came to her, catching Boone off guard.
"Hi!" She greeted him, swinging her gaze towards the figure lurking on the floor below. Her heart tugged at the sight of him. Happiness. "I fell asleep!"
"You did." He looked up at her; turning his torso to face her as he rested his hip against the rail.
"Oh no," She pulled a face, sliding her legs out from the blankets to place her warm feet to the cold floor. Sitting for a moment, she rubbed her eyes. "I didn't—…" She started, slightly confused as to why he had let her fall asleep in the first place. "I didn't get to—"
"You didn't have to." He replied, watching as she padded down the stairs towards him. She shot him a look, and he shot one back – causing her to break out in a small grin. She faltered at the bottom step.
No man had done that to her before. Sex had always been fast-paced for her. The man was in and out, having gotten his best and made plans to leave straight after. It never was a problem though – anyone who had came before Boone meant nothing in comparison. Even in her old life, the one she was slowly picking from the dust over time, she felt she'd never known something like that before. She would have remembered. Surely.
Never had someone taken the time to give her that amount of pleasure. Her cheeks warmed at the thought, a sly smile sneaking to her face – top row of teeth sneaking out to nip at her bottom lip. She crept over to him, footsteps like fire across the cold tiled floor. Slipping beneath an arm, Annie slid into his chest – embracing the warmth of his body against her cheek. She let out a huff of content, relaxing into him like an old, tired dog.
"Thanks." She mumbled at him, the dirty orange lights of the Gomorrah's neon glowing quietly below. "That was… really good. I'm sorry I didn't get to do more for you."
It was a nice feeling, finally being able to touch him without any restraint. He still worked like an old machine; often slowly chugging into action in response to any stimuli – but it was still good. She knew that there was a great chance that he would never be fully present, so anything felt like a win. Hell, he could have patted her on the head and she would have gone giddy.
"It's okay." He mumbled right back without any discontent, resting his chin on her head. "Are you hungry?"
She thought on it for a moment, wondering if it were a better idea to coax him back to bed. But he wasn't pushing it – maybe he wasn't ready for that quite yet? In his mind, what he had given her was payment for their night at the Wrangler. She pulled back and looked up at him, scanning his eyes for any heat, any remorse, any questions that might have given her any information as to what exactly he was thinking. But he just looked back down at her curiously, an eyebrow ticking gently in query.
Annie just smiled, pushing up a little to give him a kiss. His arm tightened across her shoulders, gently tugging her in closer. "Yeah," She breathed softly when they parted, fingers tickling his sides in anticipation. "I could eat."
So they spent the rest of the night up in that loft – Annie cooking them both some noodles that she'd found stashed under Yes Man's bench, leaning against the kitchenette counter while she babbled on to Boone about something ridiculous. As usual. They turned the bed around so they could gaze out at their grotty little kingdom, eating their stale dinner between the sheets, Annie maybe spilling some broth on her side of the bed.
Things felt right – Boone's thoughts slowing to a stop for the night. For a while it had begun to feel like it used to, back when it was just him and her. She was laughing at something stupid, sipping vodka from the bottle, smoking all of his cigarettes while she threw a leg over his own. She was at ease, and somehow, strangely, he felt it too. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all.
He ran an arm across her shoulders and tugged her in close. Just for the night, he'd let himself feel okay. And tomorrow, maybe he would allow his demons to return.
Annie stopped her sentence to beam at him, shaking the bottle merrily before burying her face in his chest with a laugh. Warmth bloomed in his chest and he squeezed her in closer. For the night, yes… he'd be alright.
The morning greeted them with a harsh sunlight they did not enjoy. Slightly hungover and feeling like a used ashtray, Annie rolled onto her back – flinging an arm out to smack Boone in the chest. He awoke with a jolt, grappling at her in shock – startled eyes fading to a soft annoyance when he realised it was just her.
"Morning." She greeted, trying desperately to sink into the mattress and never return to human civilisation again. The man sat up, sheets slipping from his chest to pool into his lap. He patted her on the stomach in reply, rubbing the sleep from his face. "I think maybe a brahmin broke in last night and stood on my head. Does that make sense?"
Boone grunted a scoff at her, Annie sitting up beside him only to fall onto his shoulder.
"Do you think we could get away with hiding in bed all day?" She asked, lamenting over her morning schedule. She licked her lips, tasting the final breaths of last night's cigarettes. "Maybe we could sneak back out again – disappear into the wastes before anyone notices."
"Don't think so." He nudged at her, relishing the feeling of having her beside him without the obstructing pillow wall they usually built. A lone hand patted her knee. "This is what you wanted, right?" His voice was gravelly with morning misery. "This is what you've been working for for all these months. No point in stopping now."
"Sure." She hissed at him, no anger in her voice. She really had no intentions of leaving him. The idea of having to pull herself away from her new prized possession felt like she was spitting in the kind face of the big-man-in-the-sky. All she wanted to do was wrap herself around Boone and explore whatever feelings he could give her next. "But is it really all worth getting out of bed today?"
"Yes." Boone answered flatly, unable to stop himself from enjoying the way she threw her arms around his neck. "You've got things to do today."
"Do I have to!"
"Yes."
"Who are you!" She whined, throwing herself back into the pillow. "Bossing me around!" Glancing up at him, Boone found himself caught in the gravitational pull of her doe eyes. Her tongue was tickling at a sharpened tooth, brows raised in question – she rolled onto her side, beckoning him back to her. "Couple more hours… c'mon."
He could barely find time to weigh the options before her fingers pulled at his night shirt. God, she looked good – hair all mussed, tangled in blankets, toffee skin looking so smooth and welcoming. She was biting her upper lip, eyes alight, fully aware of what she was doing to him. "Annie," He started, lowering himself onto an elbow before aligning his face with hers. "Get out of bed."
Calloused fingers dragged themselves up his neck and she drew him in closer, trying to catch his mouth with hers. He caved slightly, letting himself lose a moment with her, nipping at her lips gently. She let out a thankful moan, trying to tug him closer. Boone pulled back.
"The quicker you get it done, the quicker we can come back. And then you have nothing else to do for the day." He deadpanned right at her face. Her brow quirked in annoyance. "Stop putting it off."
"You're a real fucking buzzkill." Annie snapped at him, annoyed by the kiss he left her right between the eyes. She flopped back onto the bed, trying to put out the flames that had started the crawl across her thighs. "Yes Man!" She called.
"How can I help you today!" The computer called back from the other room. Boone rolled himself to his other side to pat around for his pack of smokes, fingers nicking the packet from the bedside. He found Annie's lighter, the pin-up angel curled up on it smiling cutely at him. He studied it, Annie grumbling beside him – wasn't this the one she was supposed to shove up Benny's ass?
"Schedule a meeting with Swank, Cachino and… Margaret? Is that her name?" Annie's voice drew off, pinching her fingers like a puppet at the man to claim his cigarette.
"If you're referring to the White Glove Society, I believe her name is Marjorie, Annie!"
"Okay, Marjorie. Schedule a meeting with Swank, Cachino, Marjorie and Crocker." She counted them off on her fingers, her new smoke leaving little streaks of blue in the stale air. "Urgent, but not serious. Meet in an hour. Cachino's turn to host. Send a securitron, or something. Nothing threatening… Send a Jane, maybe." A big inhale let a plume of smoke bloom above Boone's head, the man running a hand through his short hair. He looked down at her, orchestrating her plans in a comfortable position. "And tell Crocker that I'd like to see him privately later on. Maybe, three o'clock? Four o'clock?"
"Sounds great! Of course I am happy to do that for you!" He burbled right back at her, a hint of painful sarcasm going undetected – only just. "Anything else!"
"No, thank you though, Yes Man."
The computer warbled something back at her but she didn't listen, eyeing her partner sourly. His mouth twitched, enjoying her discomfort a little too much. He remembered how being in this bubble felt when he was with Carla. This time it was different. Annie had been a long-time friend before she had fallen into his bed, so things were so comfortable. It was almost as if it was the right step, rather than just the next. Was this all that was missing from them for all those months? Where would they have been now if he had opened up sooner?
No, he couldn't think like that. Things fell into place exactly how they should have. All the pain, and all the regret and blood and tears and distress they had gone through together had made them stronger. Thinking back, he would never have guessed he would be where he was in that moment. Maybe he didn't deserve it – oh, no he definitely didn't, but god he was lucky. By some divine intervention, the universe had sent him Annie.
Maybe it was a sign that he was allowed to fix himself. Putting himself together again didn't seem so scary anymore. It was still incredibly horrifying, the idea of picking all the scabs to let the festering pus out, but he would do it. This was his final chance. And he would grasp it would both hands. It was hope. That's what he had been feeling, churning in his gut… it was just hope.
"And you," She barked at him, accidentally ashing on the pillow. A messy hand rubbed it into the clean cotton. She craned her neck, not as annoyed at him as she was making out. It wasn't as if he would have cared if she was, anyway. "While I'm in my meeting, I need you to go grab some intel from Freeside. I didn't get to talk to any residents about that brawl – and I have a feeling it was more than just a bar fight. Bar fights don't get that big over a disagreement."
He nodded, a stirring in his gut reminding him how much he liked it when she got bossy. "Sure."
Annie pursed her lips, unable to look as sour as she wanted. It was just nice to finally be with him.
"Happy now?" She bit at him, barely able to fight the grin from her face.
He gave her a smile.
"Yeah."
With an elbow perched on the lightwood table top, Annie watched silently over the rim of her coffee cup. Swank was puffing on a cigar at the other end, deep in a conversation with Cachino about the rising prices of wholesale cigarette cartons. Marjorie, looking as malnourished and ashy as always, sat peacefully in awe of the moment. It was her first proper Strip meeting, after all.
They were waiting on Crocker – who had sent a low-ranking NCR trooper to let them know he would be running late. Annie was a little irritated by that. For a man that spent a majority of his day sitting in his little, sad office, he sure was 'busy'. Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head, sucking on her front teeth in annoyance.
Another ten minutes passed before he finally made his appearance, blustering through the door only to accidentally slam it shut behind him. Cachino swivelled in his chair to take in the new arrival, grinning at the balding man who seemed out of breath.
"You okay there, pal?" He folded his arms after he gave his nose a swipe. "Did Kimball forget to tell you where he keeps your panties?"
Crocker ignored him, skimming past to grab a seat beside Marjorie. "I'm sorry I'm so late," He placed his files down in front of him, his notepad flopping heavily onto the tabletop. "Our holding cells are full. Paper work piled as high as the ceiling. I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon. You've only just returned, haven't you?"
"Yes," Annie nodded, fingers tapping against the porcelain in her grasp. "But no rest for the wicked, right?"
"Right." Cachino grunted. "What is it anyway, woman? What's got you all twisted? It's not a good look when one of your robots bursts into my foyer and asks for me by name."
"I wasn't going to walk around and hand out invitations – if that's what you're after." She snapped back. "There was a riot in Freeside, and my stats are telling me that crime has risen over the past week. Crocker's got a full jailhouse." Her wrist bobbed her mug to punctuate her points. "I leave you all to your own for a week, and the world is burning down. What the fuck is going on?"
"No trouble on my end," Swank said, breaking his silent stare to put in his two cents. "Been pretty good, actually. Everyone's drinkin', droppin' caps - no one's complainin'. Maybe a few tussles here and there, but nothin' out of the ordinary." Annie sipped at her coffee, unimpressed with his usual blasé approach to life. He rested his elbows on the table, grinning slyly at her.
"Marjorie?" Annie asked, silently begging for her input.
"Oh… Well, it's still quiet. No fights or trouble, which is expected." Her voice, prim and demure, tinkled across the dirty room. She looked very out of place in the palace of shame that was Gomorrah's boardroom. "Our usual clientele took a few days to come back, but they've returned. We'll return to normal soon, once everything calms down. I'm not worried."
"Well that's good." Annie nodded, the wind falling from her sails. Maybe things weren't as bad as she thought they were. "Cachino?"
The man thought for a moment, thumbs twiddling as he dug through the memories. Sometimes Annie wondered if there was a tiny molerat living in his skull, controlling him with little levers and pullies.
"Actually, if I think about it," His voice was slimy but pensive, an odd combination that strangely worked. He kept eye contact with Annie, as if he had finally realised what she was griping about. "I had a lick'a trouble a few days ago with someone sneaking psycho to the girls."
Her brows shot up, interest peaked.
"Okay. That's a start. Psycho, huh? Not your usual gambling drug of choice."
"Yeah." Cachino added. "The jet doesn't bother me, keeps 'em happy. But no one wants to stick their dick in an angry hooker. I've had complaints. And not the normal kind."
"Oh." Annie's voice wavered, making short eye contact with Crocker – the man scribbling every word he could catch into that notepad of his. "Okay. Maybe not feed the hookers jet as well?"
"They're consenting adults." He grunted, waving the issue away with a bulbish-looking hand. "The psycho—" The man started again, leaning back further into his chair. "—Maybe that's what's upping your crime stats."
"Possibly." The courier thought for a second, running a slither of lip between her teeth. "I wonder." A feeling rolled in her gut, an idea brewing in the back of her mind. "The fiends, maybe?"
"Fiends." Swank scoffed. "Smuggling? You think those dead-beats would be able to make it through the gates without already having huffed half the case?" The man sat forward, rolling the peachy liquid around the bottom of his glass. "You know who it is."
Annie's eyes rolled, jaw tensing. She did.
Refusing to make contact with his smarmy gaze, she turned her sight to the dregs of her coffee.
"The Khans." She grumbled, the air prickling with anticipation. Of course they all knew her story by now. It was one of the best bits of gossip the Strip had had in years – the dirty tribal woman who had been shot in the head, only to crawl from her grave to steal the Strip out from under anyone who cared. And the fact she had that NCR sniper trailing behind her like a lost lamb – that was juicy.
Hearing her speak those words gave Swank that same little thrill he only experienced when she was around. He'd been watching her ever since she had arrived – her grumpy face disappearing into a cup of coffee and refusing to speak to anyone but Marjorie. Still the same electrifying woman as ever; a little parcel of excitement that just made things a hell of a lot more interesting. Now that House was out of the picture, it felt like the Strip had flourished big time – and he had Annie to thank for all of that.
He couldn't wait to get her alone after the meeting. Maybe ask her back to the Tops – feed her some drink, give her a show.
"I'll deal with it." She added flatly. "I don't want to up securitron presence at the moment. It just makes people edgy. Maybe, I dunno, do a screening before your customers hit the floor. You don't want them roughin' up your girls, anyway."
"Eh," Cachino waved her off again. "They'll be fine. Might do a room raid or two. Those Follower friends of yours, got any fixer we can use?"
"Probably not." Annie rubbed at her eyes, her insides cringing at the pure lechery that was seeping out of the man. This was the guy House had chosen to run the Gomorrah? What was so bad about Nero and Sal again? "That shoot-out that happened – it was an NCR/Legion debate, apparently. But I'm wondering if chems could be making things tense. It's not as policed as it is in here."
"With all due respect, Annie – Freeside matters shouldn't be so much of a concern." Marjorie piped up. "As long as the gates are protected, it shouldn't be a problem."
"With all due respect, Marj—" Swank cut in before Annie could reply, stubbing his cigar out in a crystal ashtray. "—if Freeside turns to shit, how are our customer's gonna make it to the gate?"
The woman pursed her lips, turning back to the head of the table. Annie shrugged in agreement.
"I would like to expand a little into Freeside – tidy it up a little. It doesn't have to be as fancy and alluring as the Strip, but if it was a little more friendly it'd bring more people in."
"Just the sight of the Strip beyond the walls would be enough to entice people further in." Crocker spoke, looking up from his notepad. "You are aware of the NCR presence in Freeside, correct?"
"Yes. They're not doing too well, are they?" She lit a cigarette, eyeing him off sharply. "It's a waste of resources. You know that, right?"
"It's not my decision to keep them there." He scribbled something down, glancing up to catch her icy stare. "If it's a genuine concern of yours, I will send it in my reports."
"Freeside isn't mine to care for." Spoken through a rush of smoke, Annie shook her head. "I'd have to get permission from The Kings and The Followers before I made any decisions."
"Like you ain't far up their asses already." Cachino rolled his eyes.
"You can't force help on people," The courier snapped. "That's how you start turf wars." Shooting a look at Crocker, Annie took a long drag. Running a few fingers through the stray curl that was tickling at her neck, she pushed back into her chair. "Can we all just keep an eye out – please? Any trouble, just bring it to me."
"You're not around." Swank said flatly, catching her off guard. "How do you expect us to run to you when you're not home half the time, doll?"
"There's only one of me." She sighed back, thinking a moment before feeling a surge of anger rise up her throat. "Do you not realise how much work goes into this Strip? You all sit in your fucking casinos, but do you know what's actually going on out there?"
"Oh boohoo, some men in skirts are fighting some idiots in uniforms." Cachino bluffed, enjoying the way Annie had tensed up like a cornered animal.
"Yeah!" She barked at him. "And who's gonna protect you from those men in skirts when they take over the dam and cut off our power, idiot?"
"How's that our problem! Ain't that his problem?" He cocked a thumb at the ambassador – Crocker sitting back in silence.
Her fingers twitched, squishing the filter. "It's my fucking problem!"
"You went to Bitter Springs." Swank told her. "Were you brokering for peace with the refugees?"
"How the—What the fuck are you on about now, Swank?" Trying to keep her head on straight, Annie forced herself still in her chair. Her thighs began to bounce, the soft red of an oncoming rage burning at the back of her head. "I'm sorry that I took time out of my schedule to go and deal with something of my own. It's none of your fucking business where I go, anyway. What the fuck did you do while I was out there, actually doing something with my time? Sitting on your ass and counting your caps?"
"What are you doing to protect The Strip, Annie?" Crocker asked quietly, trying to turn the subject to something straighter.
"It's really none of your business, either." Her teeth grit, jaw tensed so hard that an ache began to bloom in the back of her throat. "You should all count yourself lucky that I actually have a plan, and that you're not out there with the rest of us. You don't have to be here with me right now, you know that right?" She asked them, face twisted. Swank had sat forward in his seat, enthralled. "I don't have to tell you anything. I don't owe you anything. Do you want my job? Could any of you handle my job? That's why you're all there, and I'm here – right? Because you know what I do, and you're too lazy to do it. Any of you could have fucked me off by now, but you haven't. Because you know."
The room sat silent, a sick grin sliding onto Cachino's face. It rubbed Annie the wrong way.
"Do you want my job?" She shot at him. "You can have it if you want! I would give anything some days, to just wander back out into the wastes and forget that this shit hole exists. But I stay, because I know that I can make a difference here." She thrust her cigarette at him, the tremor in her hands starting to show. "Better than House. Count your fucking blessings that House isn't still alive, just using you as faces to fill his casinos."
She let herself simmer for a moment, cringing into the quiet that followed her voice. Why did she always end up snapping at them? It was like a babysitting job! Had they all really forgotten what it was like out there, before House had picked them up out of the dirt?
"Meeting over." Looking down into the bottom of her coffee cup, Annie waved a hand. "Crocker, you can fuck off now, I need to talk to these three about their rents."
No one moved bar Annie, whose shoulders were heaving in annoyance. The ambassador soon closed his notepad, having signed off his final words in a luxurious signature. He stood, the chair squeaking on the polished floors. "I'll see you at four, Annie." He reminded her as he packed up his things. "It was nice seeing you all. Thanks for your time."
The courier let a few minutes pass after Crocker had slipped through the door. The further away from the fuckfest that was the monthly Strip meetings, the better. The three casino heads all sat in silence, Swank pouring himself another drink while Cachino rocked on the back two legs of his chair. Marjorie, being a woman that didn't stand for any form of heathenry, was giving Annie a look that would have wilted a cactus.
"Why do you do this to me every time?" Annie spoke when she felt the coast was clear. The Tops sent her a curious look – as if to say 'what? Little ol' me? No…' "Why do you talk down to me when he is here? Do you want him to think us nothing more than stupid tribals? Because it's going that way."
"It's not our fault you get so feisty." Cachino riled her, his sickly smirk making her curl her lip – not bothering to hide it this time.
"Why can't you just nod, and say thank you, and agree with me when I make points… instead of just riling me up, every time! You don't even have to mean it! You just can't help yourself, can you?"
"Honestly, no." Swank licked his lips, a cheeky grin forming on his face. "It's just so nice to see you so passionate about it all."
"He will take our squabbling as a weakness. You know that, right? He will see it as an uncoordinated mess, and they will try to take this from us. Do you want the NCR to run the Strip? Because if we keep acting like a bunch of children, they will find a way."
"Oh, if they wanted your job, dolly, they would have taken it the minute you came to power."
"I don't trust them, you idiot! They're sneaky! I fucking hate the bastards, and I don't want him to know that we don't all get along. Can't we just pretend to have some kind of solidarity in the face of a common enemy?"
"You've been reading." Cachino crooned.
"Fuck off," She snapped at him. "Don't make me take you down a peg. I will give your casino to Marjorie and she can turn it into a big, fuck-off ballroom."
He let out a chesty laugh, fists curling at the thought.
"If you don't like him, why the hell did you invite him?" Swank asked, back straightened – ready to fight at the threat of Cachino's beheading.
"I am trying to keep the peace. He knows I don't like him. He knows I want nothing to do with the NCR, but they're good for business so I let them stay. I'm already getting shot at by the Legion every time I leave this god-forsaken place, I don't need to be targeted by the NCR too. Okay?"
"You know what?" Gomorrah started, fingers lacing. "I'd actually listen to your fucking lies if you weren't so obviously fucking around with that NCR soldier you've got buried so far up your ass."
"He's not NCR—" Annie sputtered at him, taken aback at the idea. "Not anymore."
"Oh, he ain't spyin' for 'em?"
"Do you think I'm stupid? I've known him since before I took the Strip. If you'd done any research, you'd know this."
"Right. And he keeps his stupid hat on just 'cause it looks so fucking cool."
A hot breath escaped from her nose, her hands clenching into balls.
"Enough. Enough of this shit." Her eyes, alight, scanned the three of them. "Just remember how you got here. Remember who got you here."
"Remember how we got here?" Swank asked sweetly, the look in his eyes enough to send a thrill through her. A challenge? "Remember how you got here?" He added, softly, his tongue dipping out to swipe his bottom lip – teeth bared a little.
Annie stood, palms slipping on the table. Marjorie leant back into her chair, trying to put as much distance between her and the sudden burst of energy as humanly possible. Cachino leant in, his sadistic side beginning to show. After all, at the end of the day, they were all cut from the same cloth.
"Do you want this seat?" The woman questioned slowly, anchoring herself to the lip of the table – fighting the urge to do something she would regret. "Kill me then." She nodded at him, rising to his challenge. "Kill me now. Right fucking here, in front of them."
The man stiffened, relishing the rush of adrenalin that the idea gave him. The room was alight, on fire, and it was so exciting. How long had it been since they'd all just given in to who they used to be – before all the lights, and all the suits, and all the caps they could have ever dreamed of.
"You won't do it." She shook her head, shrugging at him – big eyes taunting his shortcomings. "Because you know that no one in their right mind would want my job. You're happy just to sit back and watch." She hissed at him. "Don't act like you're above me. Treat me with some fucking respect for doing the work that you're all too much of a coward to do."
He wet his lips, crossing one knee over the other. The smile he gave her made her stomach turn.
"Don't get too cocky now, dolly." He told her, fingers picking into his packet of cigarettes. "'Cause isn't that what Benny did?"
Alrighty, few quick things to address.
1. I just finished re-reading this story! It took me forever, I can't believe what a fucking beast of a thing this story is. I really delved into it - I know I probably should have done it before I published chapter 39 (THE RETURN), but you know how it is when you get an idea in your head. Thanks for making it this far, if you've been reading from the start btw.
2. I made a spotify playlist of this story's aesthetics! It's called independent new vegas / i'd rather be out in the mojave - it's obv not too important but I like to think that someone might like it like I do. It has a little bit of Annie, a little bit of Boone - mostly old music, some new. Oh, and it doesn't have any Radio New Vegas songs on it, cause if you're like me, you get triggered by the first few notes of Jingle Jangle whatever. How many times can we listen to that song before we go insane? WHy are we still here- just to suffer?
Seeya in a couple of days, hopefully!