Chapter 36: Mourning After
"…because sometimes, it's just about pissing off dad," Kyra exclaimed as she cycled her feet in the air atop the bed.
Rathmore chuckled. "I can drink to that," he exclaimed, taking a sip from his flask. As he was about to put it away, Kyra reached out and took it, taking a sip. Rathmore blinked. Even among the most accepting troopers, most would have at least wiped the nozzle before putting their lips on something that belonged to a ghoul. Kyra, as she finished wincing, caught his look. "What?"
"Nothing," Rathmore replied as he snatched back his flask. It was then that he looked out the window and saw the sunlight slowly creeping above the horizon. "Wow, how's that for time?"
Kyra looked out the window. "…Gonna rain, soon."
"Good, I thought it was just me," Rathmore replied as he grabbed his rainslicker. "Guess this is goodbye?"
Kyra gulped. "…Thank you."
Rathmore came to a complete stop. "…For what?"
"I'm… not at a great point in my life. For a little while, though, I got to feel normal, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it."
Rathmore turned to the girl, grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her in, and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You're too good for this job, kid. Remember that, will ya?"
Kyra blushed. "T-thanks for that, Don. I… really needed to hear that. Hey, before we leave, why don't we go and get some breakfast, first?"
"Nah," Rathmore shot her down. "My Sarge has been holding down the fort for too long. The sooner I get back and relieve him, the better." He stopped as he looked out the window. "…bah, I already smell like rot," he said as he tossed the rainslicker over to Kyra.
"Are you sure?" Kyra asked.
"I got a spare back at camp somewhere, I'm sure, and it would suck if you got wet and gave the boys and girls a free show," Rathmore answered.
Kyra fitted the slicker over her shoulders, finally feeling less exposed. She looked to Rathmore and pecked him on the cheek. "…Ok, now you're starting to creep me out," Rathmore replied.
"You kissed me first," Kyra protested.
"That was, like, a platonic thing!" Rathmore whined.
"So was that!" Kyra decried.
"No, it's not the same, it's just… this is a stupid argument," Rathmore grunted. "Anyway, I'm heading out. You'll be OK?" he asked, pretending not to be concerned.
"…I think I will be," Kyra beamed. "Plus, if I ever come down with radiation sickness, I know who to hit up fi-" the door slammed as Kyra held back her laughter. Looking out the window, she saw Rathmore shooting a V-shaped gesture behind him as he left. Kyra waved as she fell back on the mattress. She'd leave soon, and she knew where she'd return, but if nothing else, last night had been a wonderful night.
Carla sat on the toilet, curtain drawn as Larain snored away. She had imagined that her first time would be something romantic, or at the very least fun. Of course, those silly romance novels never told her how sore she'd feel, nor how hollow. It was strange, though, as she didn't feel like she was ashamed, though as time had gone on, she did feel something close to regret.
It wasn't Larain's fault, she told herself. She pushed him and he tried to give her multiple outs, that much was indisputable. And he'd been generous and patient with her when they had gotten started. At first.
After a while, just when Carla had only gotten comfortable, Larain had gotten his appetite whet right before she was ready. It hurt, but Carla didn't want him to think less of her or think she was getting second thoughts so late after the fact, so she kept her smile on and tried to keep the pace.
For Carla, this night had been an important milestone, the last barrier to adulthood she could think of. For Larain, she began to think to herself, it was just another night of cheap sex, circumstances notwithstanding. Did she think they had a future together? No! Not necessarily. Somewhat. Maybe.
The snoring came to an abrupt stop. Carla once again put on a brave face, psyching herself up for a moment before opening the curtain. Larain blinked himself into focus, the first image he saw being the naked woman standing over him. A great start to his day.
"Hey," he grinned.
"…Hey," Carla replied, not knowing what else she could have offered.
Larain stood up, moving behind her as Carla wondered whether or not to push him away or tell him no. She declined, not saying anything as Larain sat her down on his lap, kissing her neck as a free hand wandered over her chest.
"You were great last night," Larain whispered as he began nibbling on her ear. It was an honest, if generous assessment of her performance. Carla had a great body, but her enthusiasm often gave way to a constant need for affirmation, always shooting him a glance to quietly ask, "Am I doing this right?" or "Does this feel good?" Eventually, Larain just told her to stop being so self-conscious by taking control and having his way with her. As he dwelled on it, he realized he was probably way too aggressive with her. Still, he was looking forward to round two.
"…I really think we should be heading back," Carla finally said as she managed to pull herself from Larain's grasp. "The pass was only for eight hours, and the others are probably worried sick."
"Aww, they're all probably busy. We can get some breakfast, first," he replied as he spun her towards him, looking greedily down her body. Carla became too self-conscious to continue, pushing him back as she stood up to gather her things. "I think breakfast sounds good," Carla answered, diplomatically.
"…You wanna get a coffee or something?" Larain asked. "I hear it's an exotic drink from down south, I think there have to be some merchants who stock it. I hear it'll give you extra pep, which could be useful the next time we…"
"…Next time we what?" Carla asked.
Larain's face faltered, his heart sinking as he felt a pit open in his stomach. "Oh!" Carla caught herself. "Right! Next time we… right, got it," she continued to flippantly talk to herself as she hiked her pants up her legs.
"…Are you OK?" Larain asked, genuinely concerned.
"Yeah! I'm great! Better… better than great, even. I'm… I feel like a new woman," Carla tried to cheer.
"…I'm sorry if I did anything to hurt you," Larain tried to placate.
"NO! No, it's not you," Carla said, followed up by the words every aspiring couple dreaded. "It's me."
"Was I that bad?!" Larain asked, standing up and grabbing Carla by the shoulders.
"I just said it wasn't you!" Carla snapped, harsher than she meant. Calming herself down, she tried to pick something else out of this mess. "… I don't think we went into this on the same page. I think I wanted something out of this that you didn't. It's my fault, really, and I should have told you earlier and it wasn't fair that I didn't. But I don't think keeping this up is going to do any of us any good."
Larain stared at her. "…So, that's it? That's all this was to you, a game?"
"Larain," Carla tried to interrupt.
"Cold feet? Now?" Larain continued to heckle. "You know what, I did think our wires were crossed. I thought we were on our way to something. I should have known this was about Rosa, as usual."
"What?!" Carla practically screamed.
"Whatever bullshit you and Rosa had going on between the two of you, I couldn't care less about. If this was about putting one over on her, I'm so fucking sorry I got involved."
"It wasn't like that," Carla gritted.
"Well then, which?" Larain mocked, rhetorically. "Was it about me or her? Or was I just the boytoy you settled on for the night?"
Tears began welling up under Carla's eyes. "That's not true…"
"So, I finally get the truth, now? Fine, here's mine. Rosa was better," Larain spat venomously.
Carla shoved Larain away, storming to the back of the trailer with the rest of her things, dragging the curtain across Larain's line of sight in lieu of a door to slam.
Larain turned away, angrily. She led him on all night and now, only after sleeping together did she decide she wanted to break things off. Who did she think he was? Some desert dog who couldn't pass up the opportunity to dive in between a girl's legs, that's what. Well fuck that! He wanted to give a relationship a shot, maybe settle down somewhere in the east… or west. Larain began to realize how naïve he had been.
He heard sniffling from behind the curtain. Larain realized that he had crossed a line in his anger. Carla wasn't Rosa, and he shouldn't have treated her like so. If he had been naïve, so had she, and that was what had been driving her actions as much as his. She probably had similar thoughts about making this work as the night had gone on, and those notions had as much been disabused the morning after as his honestly should have been. Larain knew they couldn't have a future together, Carla just figured it out before he did.
He reached for the curtain, hesitating. He didn't know whether to kiss her, hold her, or scream at her that he never wanted to see her again. The kindest option wasn't obvious, but he had to talk to her. Then the door started knocking.
"BAD TIME!" Larain screamed. "FUCK OFF!"
He heard something slip under the doorway as the knocker seemed to give up. Curious, Larain looked through the shutters of the window to see a red-headed woman walking away. She quickly turned around to blow a kiss in his direction. Larain's eyes widened in horror. He recognized her. Amy had found him, and if Amy was close, that meant…
He rushed over to the doorway to see the photograph laying face down on the bottom stair. He read the message. Meet at NE radio tower ASAP C. Larain gulped at the laconic message. Cade as usual never minced words. As he flipped the photograph over, his heart came to a stop. "You piece of shit…" he uttered under his breath as he saw the defaced Carla staring at him behind the crosshair.
Larain quickly threw his things on. As he forced himself into his boots, he noticed that Carla's sniffing had begun to stop. He could see in his mind's eye her hand reaching to the curtain as his had done, hesitating for the same paltry reasons his had. Sorry, Carla, he thought to himself. This is the only way I can make things right, he finished as he threw his holster on and barged out of the trailer.
Rosa forced herself awake as she stretched. Looking around, she was half surprised most of her clothes were still on and she was in bed alone. Almost, seeing as the old girl was still passed out at the foot of the bed. Shit, she thought to herself, and here I thought I was gonna pick up some action.
Standing up, Rosa decided to gently wake up the old cowgirl by roughly kicking her boots. "Get up, you old hag!" she sweetly coerced the older woman.
Cass, groggily roused from her dreamless slumber, yawned as she swatted away the younger woman's foot. "I'm up, I'm up. Shit, what time is it?" she mumbled.
"Time to get back to camp," Rosa muttered as she found her boots. She patted her pockets, eying Cass suspiciously. "You didn't steal anything from me, did you?"
Cass looked offended. "I have standards, kid."
"And you didn't take advantage of me while I was out?" Rosa continued.
Cass looked amused. "You ain't my type."
Even Rosa cracked a grin at that. "I'm more than a cute face and a hot body, lady. But I'm not one to make good decisions while inebriated, so I guess you did a great job as a chaperone."
"I'm touched," Cass smiled. Talking to her was just like talking to him. She took after him so much, it was hard to believe so much time had passed. Before she could catch it, a tear streaked down Cass's face.
"Whoa," Rosa laughed. "Save the waterworks."
Cass caught it, laughing it off as she brushed it away. "Sorry, my eyes just get sensitive in the morning," she lied.
"And my head is killing me," Rosa replied as she clutched her skull. "Got any crackers?"
Cass tossed Rosa a bottle of water. "Best I can offer is hydration," Cass replied.
Rosa took a sip, her mind beginning to clear. "…Hey, old lady," she began. "I didn't catch your name."
"You didn't ask," Cass replied.
"I am now," Rosa shot back.
"…Lot of folk call me Silverhair," Cass replied as she looked away.
"And what do you call yourself?" Rosa asked.
"…Sharon will do," the Rose of Sharon Cassidy answered.
"Well, Sharon, I don't remember much about last night, but I hope we had fun," Rosa grinned.
"That's one way to put it," Cass muttered.
"Oh, how bad could it have been?" Rosa dismissed as she reached for her machete to check it. The bloodstains on the blade urged her to put it back in the sheath. Cass shot a wink. "I won't tell if you won't."
"BAD TIME! FUCK OFF!"
Rosa blinked at the voice. "…That sounded like…" She went to the window and watched as a smoking hot redhead blew a kiss towards the next door trailer. "…Nah…" Rosa said.
"Something bothering you?" Cass asked as she got up to join the peeping jane.
"I think I heard Dipshit. He sounds pissed, and if he's pissed, I gotta see what did it," Rosa giggled.
"What's your skin in this game?" Cass asked.
"Personal business. I just want to see him go away," she snickered.
A minute later, Larain came bolting out of the doorway, looking disheveled and distraught as he sprinted past the trailers. Rosa couldn't help herself and started to cackle. "What got up his ass?" she asked aloud.
"Well, the doorways open, what's stopping you?" Cass suggested.
Carla felt like dirt. She just had to say possibly the dumbest thing she could have said in the stupidest way possible. All she had thought about was getting Larain to herself for one night, and didn't even have the slightest thought about what should happen afterward. She acted like a horny pervert, and now only after reality had set in did she realize how much she screwed everything up.
She treated Larain like a hookup, he thought it meant something more. She led him on, he thought she wanted commitment. He treated her the way she had wanted to be treated, and in return, she told him that she wasn't interested in anything else he had to offer. No wonder he snapped at her. It was just as well he treat her like a whore if this was the best she could have done. It was going to be a lonely walk back to the camp, and Carla realized that she was about to experience the "walk of shame" on her own merit. What she wouldn't give for someone, anyone to lean on as she did.
"…has a thing for redheads?" a familiar voice entered her periphery.
"I wouldn't see the appeal," another woman's voice spoke up.
"Course you wouldn't, you were probably a natural blonde back in the day," Rosa laughed.
"Talk like that will lead you fixing to get your mouth popped," the other woman growled.
Carla, panicking, moved her feet atop the toilet as she pushed her knuckles inside her mouth to stop her screaming. She could only listen helplessly as two pairs of boots entered the trailer. Rosa saw a slip of film on the ground with lettering. "…There's a radio tower, here?" she asked.
"Northeast of here. It's abandoned and stripped to hell, I think squatters fight over it for shelter," the other woman said as she looked around the spartan hovel. Her eyes fell upon the stained mattress, its sheets thrown about haphazardly. "Looks like he had a great night," the older woman snickered.
"Ha-ha, probably just fooling around with some whore," Rosa scoffed as she approached the back of the trailer, towards the curtain. Carla right now was regretting not having jumped out a window the first chance she had and was looking for a latch of some kind. Then she realized that she had forgotten something, right as Rosa noticed the lone boot laying on the floor.
"…Did he forget a boot?" the older woman asked.
"…Not his size," Rosa murmured. "…This is a marshal boot," she continued, recognition beginning to cross her mind.
The curtain slid open. A thoroughly embarrassed Carla strolled out of the bathroom, not looking Rosa in the eyes as she wordlessly took the boot from her hands. No words were exchanged as Carla quietly fastened the boot to her foot. Finally swallowing the lump in her throat, Carla stood up, her hands wringing together. "…It's not what you think," she managed to choke out, her face burning as she could hear Rosa shaking across from her.
Rosa grabbed Carla. Unprepared, the marshal almost fought her off until she realized that Rosa wasn't going to throw a punch or scream at her. Carla felt two arms wrap around her body, pulling her close as Rosa hugged her as tight as she possibly could. This sudden bout of intimacy caught Carla off guard, and her previous shame and embarrassment began to lift. Once again, Rosa Perez was her oldest and best friend, all the bullshit between them just fell to the wayside as she returned the hug.
"…he's a dead motherfucker," Rosa hissed in rage by Carla's ear.
"Wha- No!" Carla called out. "It was my idea!" she exclaimed as she pushed Rosa off of her, now seeing the contorted fury in her face.
"YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN HIM!" Rosa snarled through her tears. "HE HAD NO RIGHT TO TREAT YOU HOW HE DID!"
"Rosa, it was my idea," Carla sobbed. "I was just trying to make you jealous, it really was that stupid. I already feel awful and just want to go home and forget about this."
"No, Carla, that's not how he works! He used you and left you for some redhead bitch that gave him this," Rosa explained as she pulled up the film to show Carla, now seeing what was on the back. Rosa's eyes widened in horror, hate bubbling in her stomach. "…Stay here, both of you," she muttered dispassionately. "I'm putting an end to Larain for good."
"Rosa!" Carla called out as she grabbed her by the shoulder. "It isn't worth it!"
"Fucking me is one thing," Rosa snarled. "But putting a hit out on my friend? He deserves no mercy!" she threw off Carla's grip as she stormed past Cass. "Sharon! Get Carla back to camp! Don't wait up!" she growled as she charged out of the trailer.
Carla looked over the photo, fear, panic, and confusion all swirling in her mind as she tried to make sense of things. "…I took this photo the night before…" she said to herself. "…Wait!" she looked to Silverhair as the older woman was pondering whether to stay with Carla or go after Rosa. "What was that about a redhead?"
"…We saw a redhead leave right before this Larain fella jumped out and went after her," Silverhair explained.
"And I bet that was the same redhead who took this photo of me last evening," Carla thought aloud. "…MA'AM, YOU HAVE TO HELP ME CATCH ROSA!"
"Trap?" Silverhair anticipated.
"I wouldn't doubt it. I think they're both in trouble!" Carla concurred.
Falco kept compressing the side of his head while the rest of the men packed up their camp. With exceptions, everyone was working to get away from the town as soon as possible. Damocles was currently watching the road to town, keeping an eye on any stray caravans that might come too close to their camp. Hypatia, recently returned, was stitching a wound on her cheek close, having been rather taciturn upon her arrival and refusing to indulge questions of any sort. Barabbas, having pummeled a boulder for a few hours after having returned to camp, had quietly re-equipped his armor and sat by Belua, absentmindedly stroking her snout as he refused to acknowledge anyone.
Damocles readied his rifle. As the stranger approached, he stepped away from his hiding place to accost her. "Keep your hands where I can see them, profligate!" he announced with a growl.
Kyra rolled her eyes as she lifted up her hands. "Who's the profligate?"
Damocles exhaled. "She's back, everyone!"
When Hypatia had returned, she had told everyone that Kyra had been lost to her after she was attacked by marauders. Falco didn't believe her, but was in no position to punish her considering the misfortune that befell upon him and Barabbas, so they had little choice but to presume Kyra had been taken by other raiders. They didn't expect her to return, under her own volition no less.
Uriah, Quintas, Sulla, and Drago all began to crowd around the returned slave, pestering her with questions as to how she escaped from the Pelt-Brutes. Kyra blinked in confusion. "Pelt-Brutes? No, Hypatia and the others sent me to collect information."
Falco turned to look at Hypatia. "…Well, forgive me for wanting to preserve her honor," Hypatia spat. "I had her sell the only thing she had to offer, and the only one willing to take it was a ghoul."
The five legionaries heard this, and simultaneously all turned to look at Kyra, staring blankly.
"…It's true," Kyra admitted. "Hypatia and her sisters, in their infinite wisdom that is beyond me to question, had me spend the night with a ghoul captain from California. And let me tell you, it was quite the night." Sulla began to feel queasy as he slowly backed away. "Now, I wasn't really thrilled about it, at first," she continued, causing Drago to look away. "But when he showed me what he had to offer, well, one thing led to another," and suddenly Quintas felt like he had to repack his bags. "and then basically we spent the whole night together," Kyra concluded with a shrug as Uriah covered his hand with his mouth as he retreated.
Damocles was undeterred. "…So, you lay with him?" he asked, point-blank.
Kyra did not break eye contact. "What we shared together last night was our business. He bought my silence along with my body, and I was well-compensated and cared for. Before you start, know that I was under the direct command of our sister, Hypatia, and did everything as per her orders. Like all good Legion, I followed my orders. And got some interesting information out of it."
"Still, all that rot…" Damocles muttered, feeling uneasy.
"Just know that he was more of a man that night than any of you could ever understand," Kyra replied. "But I will be merciful and spare you the details. However, I will not stop any of you from… using your imaginations." She turned to walk away, paused, and planted a kiss on Damocles's cheek before she parted. A second passed and suddenly Damocles began to scream, falling to the ground and rubbing dirt on his cheek as the rest of the men rushed to comfort him.
Kyra walked by Hypatia, stopping once she noticed the scar on her cheek. "What happened to you?" she asked.
"Fuck off and die," Hypatia seethed.
"Glad to see you again, too," Kyra replied as she walked by, undeterred.
Falco stood in front of her, blocking her path to Barabbas. "And what, pray tell, was the manner of information you managed to extract from Hypatia's client?"
"…The California army is led by a man named Colonel Gorobets. He is a twenty-some-year veteran and is commanding the several contingents of Californian and Mojave units, alongside Natalie Boone, the commissioner from Mojave."
"Gorobets," Falco muttered. "…A familiar name," he admitted.
"The Californian army consists of five separate units, supplemented by a special detachment of Mojave police. Apart from attritional losses in the wilderness, they've come under attack by a unified group of hostiles," Kyra continued. "Shall I go on?"
"No," Falco shook his head. "I believe that'll be enough for now. We'll continue later. …Thank you, Kyra. Your… services," he bristled. "were commendable."
"Thank you, Falco," Kyra nodded as she returned to her master. Barabbas finally looked up from his brooding to acknowledge the return of his concubine. "…I see your paramour gave you a gift," he muttered.
Kyra looked down at the rain slicker. "It will probably storm later, so I appreciate it nonetheless."
"…Well, it will save us some tarp, so I may have to personally thank him down the line," Barabbas said as he stood up, rousing Belua from her rest. "…We're heading out. Falco and I did not have as pleasant a time down there as you apparently did, and we will have to lay low."
"You two went down there?" Kyra asked. "I'd have thought you two would've kicked up more of a fuss?"
Barabbas paused. "…We would…" he began. "…But the presence of certain… elite Mojave units dissuaded further incursions," he exclaimed, fudging the actual reality of losing a fight to a blind cripple.
Kyra waited until Barabbas mounted the dog, then proceeded to hoist herself behind him, grabbing his waist. "…I'm surprised," Barabbas finally admitted. "When Hypatia said you were lost, I was concerned you'd see this as an opportunity to escape."
"…The thought crossed my mind," Kyra admitted in kind. "But I won't break a deal. As you said, I go free when we find your sister. And seeing as she isn't here, you obviously did not find her yet," Kyra stated as Barabbas took the reins.
"No," Barabbas lied. "We did not." He snapped the reins and Belua took off, the rest of the riders following in short order.
Cade chewed on his oatcake as he glanced at the storm clouds approaching. For once, the merchants hadn't lied about the rainy season. Amy had returned back to her homestead, catching some shut-eye until the next workday. Now, all that remained for Cade was to wait until his quarry reconnected.
Sure enough, Larain came trudging up the hill. Cade swallowed his oatcake as he noticed the hateful glare the younger gunner was giving him. Leaning off the wall, Cade approached Larain, right as the younger man swung at him. Cade decided to let him land the hit, give him a reward for finally being prompt, for once.
"What kind of twisted bastard are you?" Larain hissed as he grabbed Cade by the collar.
"One who doesn't care for whatever you've been up to. I was sent to retrieve you. If you wanted to avoid dramatics, you could have returned yourself," Cade answered, patiently. "I take it Dryxon and Costwood are no longer with us?"
Larain gritted his teeth. Of all the people Kenzie could have sent after him, he had to send the most cold-blooded and self-righteous bastard in the clan. Cade was truthfully less of his own individual and more of a manifestation of other people's decisions. The consummate mercenary, a thug with an alien set of rules and morality, a mistake creation had yet to rectify.
"…No," Larain finally admitted. "They're dead."
"Figured," Cade scoffed. "The rest of the group is waiting at Circle Junction. I'm sure Audrey and Willow won't mind you having been catting around these past few weeks."
"What was that about, anyway?" Larain snarled, angrily. "That picture. Is that your idea of a joke?"
"It was… incentive," Cade explained. "And a reminder. She's the enemy, Larain. I hope you've been squeezing her for information and not the other way around."
Larain glanced around him. "…Fine, I'll go with you. So long as no one gets hurt."
"See how easy this is?" Cade held out his hands. "Now it almost seems wasteful that I got the jump on those troopers a while back. Almost had my number up and everything."
"And we wouldn't want that," Larain seethed sarcastically.
"Well, I suppose it does prove that fate does have a sense of humor. If that black deathclaw hadn't intervened, I suppose I'd finally be dead."
Larain felt the earth leave his feet. "…black deathclaw?" he asked, trepidation in his voice.
Cade was about to further explain when he noticed something gaining speed behind Larain. "…Well, I suppose you'll want to take care of that before you leave," Cade yawned as he unceremoniously traipsed behind the radio tower. Larain didn't check to see what was coming behind him, but in his heart of hearts knew exactly what he would see.
"YOU SACK OF SHIT!" Rosa screamed out as she drew her machete. Larain dove away, barely missing the swipe as a few hairs on the back of his neck were trimmed. Rosa was barely able to stop her momentum from blowing past Larain, swinging her blade down to try and skewer the Liberty Clanner as he tried to crawl away. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU AND THE FLOATER WHO GOT YOUR MOM PREGNANT!" Rosa taunted as she brought her blade down right where Larain had been a moment before he rolled away.
"Rosa, I-I'm sorry," Larain apologized as he saw the look in her eyes. Over the past month, Rosa had made it very well known that she did not want Larain anywhere near her and resented his presence in the AEG. When he began getting close to Carla, Rosa pretended she didn't care and made a big show about how it was none of her concern. Now, Larain could see the genuine hurt and betrayal in her eyes. Legitimate hatred.
"SHE DESERVED BETTER THAN YOU!" Rosa gnashed her teeth as she made another attempt to strike him. Larain had gotten back on his feet, held his ground, and grabbed her arms, wrestling for control of the machete. There they stood, deadlocked, as Rosa unloaded a barrage of curses at the man who represented everything she felt she deserved. Larain wanted something to intervene, to distract Rosa enough for him to finally escape and put everything in front of him behind him. It was only just so that he recognized that someone behind him had drawn out a magnum and was pointing it towards the hyper-focused Rosa. Larain forced himself to tackle Rosa, dragging her to the ground as they barely dodged Cade's bullet.
While Rosa was in shock, Larain stood up, turning his back to Rosa as he angrily confronted Cade. "THIS DOESN'T CONCERN YOU!" Larain screamed.
"…You there, girl," Cade began. "Your name wouldn't happen to be Perez, would it?"
Rosa began breathing heavily as she grabbed her machete once more, another hand grabbing her sawed-off bound by her leg.
"Cuz there just so happens to be a bounty on you," Cade grinned as he cycled the chamber. "DOA. Contractor's preference."
Larain drew his own pistols as he pointed towards Cade. "I'LL COME WITH YOU, JUST LEAVE HER ALONE!"
"Wha-what's happening here?" Rosa asked as she pointed her sawed-off directly behind Larain's head. "What aren't you telling me?!" she screamed.
Larain fought back a gulp as he could only imagine the murderous intent Rosa had for him. Well, what was one extra reason? "…I'm a Liberty Clanner, Rosa. Always was," he replied as Cade began to smile.
"…A spy?" Rosa asked, incredulously.
"Accidentally," Larain admitted. "More like a scout who got stuck behind enemy lines. I hoped you guys would get turned away and we wouldn't have to fight, but I can see that won't be happening. Rosa, just put down your gun and walk away. I'll hold him off. Just forget about me, that's all you want to do, right?"
Rosa gripped her gun tighter, her finger just off the end of the trigger. There was no way she could off Larain and survive the other guy. Really, this all came down to a matter of principle. How important was it that she had to be the one to execute this dirty motherfucker?
"…The next time I see you, Larain, I'm going to kill you," she hissed as she reluctantly pointed her weapon away from Larain and towards Cade. Cade shot Larain a dirty look as he reluctantly lowered his weapon. "You just took money out of my pocket," he sulked.
"We both know you never gave a shit about money," Larain replied as he turned to join Cade. He almost looked back at Rosa, but caught himself and realized the sooner he left, the better. Rosa couldn't do anything but let the tears fall as she swore to make sure that the rest of Larain's life would be a living hell.
Carla and Silverhair had only just arrived. As they did, Carla was relieved to see that Rosa and Larain were both apparently alive and unharmed, though she wondered who the third person up there with them was. Silverhair felt an ominous sense of dread as they drew closer. Larain quickened his pace to separate himself from this place, as he didn't want to open that old wound either. Rosa turned away from him, ignoring the presence of everyone who had arrived.
Cade took one look at the two arriving women when he recognized someone he could never forget. The massacre in the southern Rockies, as a young rookie who watched as his team of Liquidators was devastated by the single caravan, their three gunners having been a sore spot on the Board's operations for too long. After the destruction of one of their human merchandising centers, the Board cleared the caravan for elimination. Ten elite Liquidators had been dispatched to intercept and destroy them. Thatch, Cade's sponsor, had been killed by the burn victim while the ghoul carried the wounded woman away. From his hiding place, Cade plugged one straight through the burn victim as the rest of the liquidators pursued the two survivors. The search had lasted for weeks, and the rest of his team's survivors were cut down by the experienced wastelanders.
The memory was burned into Cade's mind. The memory of being held at the point of a shotgun by the caravan's leader, bleeding from her mouth as she readied to pull the trigger. Cade remembered how vivid everything was that day, how he lived and saw and felt the world as he never could growing up. The sound of the rain, the taste of his own blood, the smell of the smoking gun before him, the sight of the raw hatred etched on her face as she moved to pull the trigger. That, to Cade, was everything that mattered in life. Unfortunately for them both, the gun had been empty.
Cade immediately drew up his magnum. Larain moved to try and stop him from doing whatever he was planning on doing. Rosa heard the cries behind her and turned to watch everything unfold. Silverhair tried to pull Carla away. Carla had gotten her gun out, pointing it towards the mysterious assailant. Cade was the faster shot.
The shot was one of those freak accidents that is often described by wastelanders in saloons over drinks, exaggerations that make up entertaining stories with strangers. Cade, a man known for his unnatural precision, had made a perfect shot too perfect as only he could have done. He shot at Carla, the bullet zipping straight to her head. It was stopped, however, by her own revolver. This was enough to deflect the bullet, missing her head by a few scant hairs. However, her own damaged revolver had become a projectile in and of itself, the now useless firearm becoming a mass of shrapnel with its own momentum. Carla could literally see it coming, so fast there wasn't anything she could have done.
Carla fell to her knees. As Rosa looked at her, she could see blood seeping through her fingers. The dropped revolver's hammer was caked in the stuff. Silverhair huddled over Carla, pulling out her shotgun as Cade readied another bullet. Carla screamed.
"NO!" Larain howled as he immediately swarmed to the downed Carla, blocking Cade's shot with his own body. Cade scoffed at Larain's shiftless loyalties. Collecting him was more trouble than it was worth, but with everyone before him now and truly hostile, it was for the best he made his retreat now. Maybe if he got to Kenzie first, he could be the first to collect the new bounty.
He was only barely able to react to the sudden flash. Putting his magnum before him, he was barely able to deflect the sudden strike of the machete. As he managed to jump back, he looked down at his weapon, the blade having managed to cleave through to the cylinder, rendering it useless.
The girl, Rosa, let out a howl of anger any berserker would be proud of. Cade, liking his options less and less, turned and ran, Rosa hot on his trail.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Larain sobbed over the screaming marshal. Silverhair, this situation having fallen so far apart she couldn't know what or how to fix the mess in front of her, settled for pulling out the medical bag she had wrapped around her leg and tossing it at Larain. "There's gauze and buffout in there," she screamed. "Get her somewhere safe, I'm going after Rosa!"
Rathmore was drawn to the commotion originating around one of the areas that passed for a town square in this motley semi-urban disaster of a city. As he approached, he saw several NCR troopers and Judicial Marshals standing across from a bunch of leather-clad wastelanders. Getting closer, he could make out the lyrics to the musical taunt they were drunkenly singing at the "occupiers."
Come out, ya Brown and Tans!
Come out and fight us like a man!
Show your wives how you won medals down in HOO-ver!
And how the clans of Lib-Er-Tay!
Made you run the fuck a-way!
From the lovely desert wastes of Circle Junk-tion!
Catchy. He finally noticed that Gorobets was among the troopers. Seeing as he wouldn't have to go far to report back, Rathmore brushed his way through the crowd of nervous onlookers as he met with his CO, opening with a salute.
"Colonel, didn't expect to see you here," Rathmore began.
"Oh, thank god," Gorobets exhaled. "I was looking for another officer. We need to defuse this situation now."
Gorobets was happy to see him. That already set off the warning bells in Rathmore's mind. "What's the 411?"
Captain Wallace then approached, the dandy officer now wearing a scarf around his neck. He eyed Rathmore hesitantly, stopping only to acknowledge the look Gorobets shot him to keep the hostilities to a minimum on both sides of the battlefield.
"…There's Legion activity within the city limits," he explained, his voice unusually raspy. "Certain elements have already attacked members of the AEG. Commissioner Boone's kid was almost killed, and I almost got strangled. Save your celebration for later," he spat.
"Oh, what a pity," Rathmore whispered. "And here I spent my night with a beautiful woman."
"So did I," Wallace betrayed an unfriendly grin. "The Legion hires women now."
Rathmore barked out a laugh. "You gypped her for pay, she takes offense and suddenly she's an enemy operative! That's low, even for you!" he crowed. It came to a stop when Gorobets shot him a look. "…We're interrogating her, now. Apparently, they've taken to using sex workers to gather intel."
"…Oh," Rathmore stated. "…How very resourceful." Suddenly, for the first time in decades, he was grateful that a side effect of his condition rendered him unable to sweat. At least, he didn't think Kyra seemed the type who meddled with the Legion. What, was she fucking Caesar himself?
"Well, where's Boone, anyway?" Rathmore spoke up. "These are her boys, anyway. Why isn't she here?"
"Between having her son almost beaten to death, dealing with foreign law enforcement, and her current assignment for trying to locate our VIP along with her daughter, I figured she had enough on her plate and decided to share the burden. We've been trying to collect any errant troopers still in city limits when these guys just showed up," Gorobets answered as he turned back to see the wastelanders once again motioning with their weapons. The Marshals rose their rifles with professional precision, and once again Gorobets found himself trying to mitigate a stand-off. Once again, he and his officers managed to bring things to heel and calm down tensions. Until he arrived.
By the time Gorobets got his men to stand down, he noticed the figure perched atop the roof of the saloon. One look at his face was enough to assault his mind with endless wanted posters and bounty boards. Twenty years and that monster hadn't aged a day. As the opposing crowd got riled up once more, Vulpes Inculta pulled out a pistol, pointed in the air, and fired.
