Chapter 51: Dinero's Town Part 2

Kyra had finished setting up the tarp over the shattered window, sealing it down as the wind picked up. Satisfied that the shack was adequately weather-proofed, she sat by one of the mattresses and lit the gas lantern. Rubbing her hands together, she pulled out a wineskin and took a drink as she listened to the wind outside. Calm, peaceful, and private, luxuries she never thought she'd experience again. With her… with Frost entertaining the rest of the men, Kyra leaned back and rested her head on her arms.

A series of sharp raps broke her serene trance. Grumbling, Kyra stood up and walked over to the doorway. Swinging it open, she saw the massive frame standing before her, the ominous silhouette taking up the seeming entirety of the doorway. Barabbas pushed past her as he entered the shack, shutting the door behind him and propping his sword against the wall as he took off his helmet. He glanced around the modest shelter. "…Cozy," he offered, diplomatically.

"…I thought you would be rooming with the rest of the men," Kyra asked as he sat on the opposite bunk.

"…Your new pet started to pester me. Asked me some personal questions. I'd punish him for his impudence, but I'm worried it would undermine the morale of the men," Barabbas explained.

Kyra hid a laugh. "Mr. Frost is proving to be rather popular. Perhaps we can offer him an exclusive interview when we return to Dallas?"

"We?" Barabbas immediately caught.

Kyra's words immediately died in her throat. She looked away, her cheeks burning as she tried to find the right response. "…I don't know where else I'm supposed to go."

"…We're on friendly terms with Sunken Orleans. You'll be given a generous payment to begin your life anew. A rare honor for anyone these days."

"…Yes," Kyra replied. "…But everyone I know and kind of trust is here. I like listening to Falco recite history, I like watching Uriah and Damocles bicker, and I think Sulla is working up the courage to come out to Quintas."

"Counterpoint," Barabbas offered. "You won't have to put up with Hypatia anymore."

"Counter-counterpoint," Kyra retorted. "I don't hold Hypatia entirely responsible for her shitty attitude."

Barabbas snorted. "Of course you wouldn't. You're too easy to forgive."

"Oh, not really. I don't hold much against Hypatia. I hold everything against whoever trained her," Kyra corrected.

Barabbas looked away from her. Kyra then realized what she had just said. "…Barabbas… your mother is… kind of a monster…"

"…I know," Barabbas replied, softly. "But she's my mom."

The two sat in silence as the wind howled outside. Kyra was the first to work up the nerve to speak. "…What's she like? The Oracle you know?"

"…Not warm," Barabbas admitted. "But… driven. Can be sweet when she wants something from you, and brutal when she's angry. She liked me," he said with a smile and soft chuckle. "And that was just about it usually. I understood her and she understands me. Sometimes we got together to just get away from Caesar."

"You aren't close with your dad?" Kyra asked.

Barabbas's smile vanished. "No," he answered, flatly.

"I thought so," Kyra admitted. "Weeks on the road and you didn't bring him up once with anyone."

"Well, he liked me more than I really ever liked him," Barabbas snorted. "I was the warrior he always wanted me to be, the spitting image of him in his prime. Nothing but drill, drill, drill. Spar, spar, spar. Train, train, train. Kicked my ass when he thought I was slacking and kept it up until I got big enough or good enough for him to back down."

"And you said he liked you?" Kyra asked, disbelieving what she was hearing.

"…Caesar is a hard man to please, but being able to beat a super mutant into submission is generally the point where he thinks one is "adequately trained." Once I got to that point, he then put all his fatherly energy into making sure that I never put the Legion into a Hoover Dam position again. He wants me to know that my sole duty on this world is to never run from a package carrier," he scoffed.

"I've heard of that," Kyra laughed. "I wasn't sure if I was allowed to bring that up."

"Not to his face," Barabbas agreed. "Mom says he never really regained a part of himself at that place. Not that she ever really figured out what that was, seeing as she came in a couple months afterward. She basically became his lieutenant not too long after, was real popular with the slaves and women at the time, who really dug seeing a woman standing at their leader's right hand.

"Well, that's one way to break the glass ceiling," Kyra said. And use the shards to shred every bitch following you, she kept to herself.

"Yeah, she kept testing the boundaries and getting away with stuff in front of him. She always knew when to push his buttons and when to draw back after-"he stopped and sealed his lips.

"…Barabbas?" Kyra asked. "Are you OK?"

"…Do you know what's stopped me from fucking you?" Barabbas finally asked as he looked at her with a hard glare.

"…You said you never liked sex," Kyra remembered. "And that it was a job you didn't want to do."

"…I was ten at the time. Mother had just given birth to my sister. It was a miracle. Pariah barely survived after the healers had thought she had died, even Mother had given up hope. I didn't and stayed with that tiny and fragile little thing until she coughed her first breath and cried. I have never felt such relief ever since," Barabbas thought wistfully.

"To celebrate, Pariah was handed to the wetnurses while Mother organized a feast to celebrate the birth of her newborn daughter. I had rarely ever seen Caesar and Mother in the same place, so I was thrilled to see them happy together. I sat beside my father at the head of the table, and he let me try wine for the first time in my life," Barabbas continued. "Then I soon realized that Caesar and Mother weren't talking. Not about Pariah, or about me, or anything. They weren't even looking at each other."

Barabbas looked down as he gathered himself. "…My Sight is something that I've never really mastered. Mother trained me, but I cannot master it to a level that can rival hers. There are abilities she has that I will never know, and her understanding of the intricacies will forever dwarf mine. So I cannot understand why I saw what came to me that night."

Barabbas brought his hands to his arms, his fingers digging into his skin. "I saw Caesar before he was Caesar. He was beating down these tribals for some offense I didn't understand at the time. I saw Mother standing aside, smiling at the whole thing. And then… he turned to her and… dragged her to his tent and… and…"

"…I watched him gouge her eye out. I watched him strip and beat her and beat her and beat her and… I watched him…" Barabbas stared ahead, his eyes fixed on nothing. "…I excused myself and puked when no one was looking. I thought it was some sick nightmare. Mother found me sometime later and wondered why I was sobbing. I told her and she… she laughed," he explained. "And told me that whatever she had to go through, it was always going to be worth it so long as she had me in the end. So that's how I learned where I came from. And not long afterward how most legionaries were made. And that's why I don't want to fuck you."

"I… I had no idea…"

"Not something I want to talk about, on camera or otherwise. All those girls back at Fort Wrath were provided to me by my Mother. What Caesar did to her, I'm supposed to do for the bloodline. So forgive me if I never came off as romantic," he spat venomously. "Because every time I'm with a woman, that memory comes back to me as vivid as the first time I saw it. The only way I endure is to make the act as purely physical as possible," Barabbas confessed as he looked at Kyra. "So perhaps that's why you found my performances so lacking?"

"…Barabbas…I…" Kyra looked away as her face burned. "…Why?"

"…Why what?" Barabbas asked.

"Why did you keep me around, then?" Kyra asked.

"…I guess you could say that after some time, I ended up… kind of liking you," Barabbas admitted. "And I didn't want to end up ruining it by forcing myself on you."

Barabbas couldn't even look at her. He trusted his men, and frequently told himself that there weren't any secrets between them. But his twenty-two years of life had told him that there were certain things he couldn't trust them to understand. Vulnerability being one of them. Valor and bravado, duty and discipline were what he was constantly expected to embody. He couldn't fathom explaining all this to them. In truth, he couldn't understand why he told her. Maybe it was because she wasn't Legion, or at least barely. But now that he realized what he told her, the fear began to manifest within him.

Two sets of hands pulled his apart and rested within his. Barabbas looked up, into her eyes as she drew closer. Looking to her, he saw no judgment or pity. They held their gaze for longer than either felt comfortable, but neither wanted to back down. A faint smile played on Kyra's lips. "…Want to do something you've never done before?"

Curiosity got the best of him. Barabbas motioned for her to continue. Kyra drew close and planted her lips on his. Barabbas took his arm and drew her body even closer to his. Kyra then gently pushed Barabbas on his back as she straddled his torso. "Don't worry. I'll only go as far as you want," Kyra playfully teased.

Barabbas placed his hands on her hips. "…Well, I think you know more about these things than I, so… teach me?" Kyra gave him a look. "Please?" Kyra smiled as she began undoing her blouse. "Alright then, pleasure before business. Sounds fair?"

They had found a storage shed that had largely been cleared out. Set near the supply barn where they had stationed the hounds while the bulk of the men was stationed around the saloon, using it for R&R while Falco watched over the other prisoner. Kim was quiet, well-behaved, and as cooperative as one could ask for a prisoner. So, Falco just sat on a chair by the doorway, whittling down a loose chunk of wood into something that had yet to be decided.

"…You're a true soldier, you know that?" Falco said, offhandedly as Kim glanced at him, still bound with her hands behind her and on her knees. "It's not easy to be in such a position and retain your dignity."

"Speaking from personal experience, I presume," Kim replied.

"Yes," Falco nodded as he turned to look at her. "I fought in the Mojave War, and my tenure… resembles your predicament in more than a few ways."

"Bound and on your knees in nothing but your skivvies?" Kim asked, coyly.

"Nothing so interesting," Falco admitted. "I was captured after a botched raid and taken to one of the Bear's forward positions. One of the more aptly named, in my opinion."

"Forlorn Hope," Kim threw out.

"Student of history. I respect that," Falco chuckled. "Back then I was younger, more aggressive… stupid would probably be the best descriptor," he confessed. "I kept trying to do the honorable thing and beat myself to death. I must have been quite the shit to look after, so I can appreciate your demeanor more than you can probably imagine."

"I'm flattered," Kim said as her eyes darted between the window and her guard. Falco caught it and responded by turning down the gas lantern. "…Drago, have you come to relieve my shift?" Falco said aloud to bluff. Expecting any noise he could make to rise above the din of the wind was hopeless, the rest of the men were a solid three blocks away with practically no visibility. He was on his own as he readied his gladius by the doorway. Baxter shifted her wait to a corner, trying to minimize her profile in case the bullets started to fly.

The door kicked open, and Falco rushed to intercept the intruder with his machete, only to find another to answer his. The blades stung at one another in the dark as Kim heard a creaking noise above her. Looking up, the thin roof gave way as a screaming figure toppled from above and collapsed onto the awaiting Kim. Gathering her bearings, the second intruder activated the flashlight on her Pip-boy, shining it onto the two duelists as they locked on another's blades by their necks.

"…Traitor," Falco began, cordially.

"…Lapdog," Dalton responded, in kind.

"You know this guy, D?" the other intruder asked as she picked herself up, her voice instantly being recognized by Kim.

"Another member of the old guard," Dalton admitted. "And one of the few legionaries to keep their balls after the change in management, I presume?"

"This is brazen, even for you, Dalton," Falco sniffed. Another machete blade was held to his neck. "Checkmate," the second voice crowed. Recognizing the futility, Falco dropped his blade and rose his hands. "D, keep an eye on him," the girl replied as she turned her light to Kim. "What the…" was all she got after seeing the state of Kim's undress.

"…I'm fine, Rosa," Kim replied flatly as she motioned to her binds. "Just missing some power armor, that's all."

"…How long have you had such a bomb-ass rack?!" Rosa exclaimed as she moved in to get a closer look. "No wonder I had such a soft landing!"

"Rosa, the binds, please," Kim pressed.

"And here I thought you put on so much muscle that you were just built like a super mutant," Rosa continued as she angled her machete to cut through the ties. "But those are a pair of the finest tits I've ever seen in or around the Strip, I swear to Gomorrah itself. And I'll bet the Wrangler you've got an ass for days. There, all done," Rosa announced as Kim got to her feet and flexed her wrists. "You doing OK?"

"Give me a minute," Kim said as she rubbed her wrist. She then decked Rosa right in the liver, buckling the girl to her knees as she winced in pain. "What the fuck?!" Rosa wheezed out as Kim grabbed her hair by the scalp to look at her at eye level. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused by running off on your own?!" Kim snarled. "Lives are at stake and you're out gallivanting with… who the hell are you?" she turned to Dalton.

"…I'm her lover," Dalton answered.

"…Very funny," Kim sneered as she turned to look back at Rosa. "Not like we chose who we fall for," Rosa tried to laugh as she got back to her feet. "His name's Dalton, he's a professional piece of shit but we're on the same side."

Kim relit the gas lantern and helped herself to a pair of overalls she had seen that had been flung over a nearby beam. She took of her jacket as Rosa turned to Dalton and Falco. "So, what do we do with him?" Rosa asked. "Or is that too obvious a question?"

"The Legate is desperate," Falco said. "So desperate that he was willing to cut a deal with even you after everything you pulled. Kill me and that falls apart. Ask Ms. Baxter there about how good your chances are against him," Falco motioned to her as she pulled the straps to her shoulders and covered herself with her jacket once more, finishing up with a pair of boots she found by the overalls. It was a snug fit, but it beat bare skin.

Dalton stared down Falco. The renegade in him wanted to blow away Falco purely on principle. The loyalist in him recognized a fellow soldier as one of the few people in the wasteland who actually understood what he valued and believed. The man served the true Caesar and remained alongside the failed pretender.

A large bicep wrapped around Falco's neck and squeezed the consciousness out of him. Kim hosted the load on her shoulders as she looked to Dalton. "Leverage?"

"Leverage for what? We need to get as far away from these guys as we can," Dalton countered.

"They have… another hostage," Kim explained. "We need to find a secure position and then we can make an exchange."

Dalton frowned. "…We don't "…How vital is this hostage?"

"I'm not leaving him behind, it's non-negotiable," Kim shook her head. "We'll fall back, but I'm not going away without him. I'll leave a message and fall back somewhere defensible. Any ideas?"

Dalton swore under his breath. Here he was going out on two simultaneous limbs for two complete strangers. That he lived to see the day when he would grow so soft in his old age was something the younger man he was could hardly comprehend, but at this point, he had given up on pushing back on the ladies' demands. Maybe he really was getting lonely? "…I have equipment and supplies in the mines. We can hold out in there and force a stalemate in addition to exchanging Falco here for this other hostage. Does that sound acceptable?"

"Perfect," Kim nodded as she turned to Rosa. "You. Stay where I can see you."

"Please," Rosa scoffed. "Like I want to risk taking your place here. You're welcome, by the way."

"I'll thank you when we're back at the AEG and you're tied to a brahmin until we reach Dallas or Vegas, whichever comes sooner," Kim welched. "…You two wouldn't happen to have another weapon on you guys, right? I'm not one for swordplay."

"Well, you can feel free to take the LMG off our hands that we found. That thing is a fucking hernia to carry this long," Dalton offered.

"Is he joking?" Kim looked to Rosa. Rosa shook her head. "I offered to carry the damn thing for the old-timer, but he insisted I carry the ammo!"

Kim felt relief flow over her. "Oh, I could just about kiss both of you right now."

"We rescue you and you punch me, we tell you we have a spare gun and you want to kiss us," Rosa grumbled as she made her way to the doorway. She looked to Dalton. "Women, am I right?"

"Just be grateful that we aren't dealing with the Amazons. Keep bickering like this and they'll tear you apart like Denver hounds," Dalton replied as the four headed out into the dust storm. They passed to the entrance of the cave without incident, almost undetected. They sank into the darkness of the mine, right as two Judicial Marshals entered the town limits from one and while a bounty hunter came from another.

"So, explain to me how the math checks out," Frost complained as he shuffled the cards they had found. "Thirty backers, but only two contribute? Ziyi and Rodger may as well be producers at this rate because I'm sick of waiting for the rest of them to offer anything. I mean, bellyaching is what the process is for, but they can't even muster that!"

"It's not like it costs them all that much," Drago said as he awaited his cards.

"No, but I'm starting to think these are people who struggle to breathe and blink at the same time," Frost said as he dealt out the initial cards.

"That's not very nice," Quintas spoke up while he and Uriah were playing a knife game with their fingers.

"I can talk all the shit I want! It's not like they'll ever get around to saying anything," Frost said as he flipped his cards over. Three of hearts and a nine of spades. Drago flipped his over. Ace of diamonds and a ten of clubs. "You win!" Frost announced.

"But I didn't even play," Drago said, confused.

"The ace can be either a one or an eleven," Frost explained as he took the cards back.

"This game is confusing," Drago muttered as he rubbed his temple.

"It's actually pretty straightforward. If you want something complicated, try Caravan. All I know about that game is to only play with tens, nines, and sixes," Frost said as he kept shuffling.

"So when do we start having fun?" Drago asked.

"The game isn't all that fun," Frost admitted. "But with a little gambling, it can be rather exciting!"

"Gambling is for profligates and the dissolute," Drago scoffed as he folded his arms.

"And it isn't like you have anything worth risking anyway," Frost added calculatingly.

Drago dumped a handful of gold coins onto the table. "Play!"

While the riders had established their own quarters, the saloon, being the largest and most spacious building, was unanimously chosen to serve as the primary R&R facility for the cavalry. The atmosphere was warm, comparatively, and after weeks of hard riding the riders could finally unwind for a brief period of time. Even Frost found himself relaxed now that he understood these people sincerely meant neither him or Kim any harm, Hypatia notwithstanding, and even she volunteered to act as a sentry and stay outside in this wretched weather.

"Wait a minute!" Drago immediately announced. "Aren't you supposed to wager something in return?"

Frost stopped and scratched his chin. "…Well, I had been gifted a copy of "Tight Teen Troopers 4 by a mutual friend," he bluffed.

"Degenerate," Drago snarled. "…How tight are we talking?" he whispered under his breath.

"According to a friend of mine, it wasn't as good as the first three," Frost remembered. "But she thought the one of the new girls really came into her own."

"Wait, she?" Drago asked.

"…My friend Ziyi is something of a… robust connoisseur of the theatrical arts," Frost confessed.

"Of course, California would be entertained by moving portraits of women in all their indecency!" Sulla called out.

"Like you're one to talk, Sulla!" Damocles replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Sulla snarled, instantly outraged.

"You know what I mean, soft boy!" Damocles heckled.

Sulla picked up a chair and threw it at Damocles. Damocles ducked under it and tackled the younger legionary onto the ground while the rest of the men egged them on. Frost sighed as he pulled his camera out again. Boyish shit like this would go a long way to humanize these idiots, or at least provide some good outtake material for the end credits. The studio would eat that stuff up like Sugar Bombs.

Drago put a hand on Frost's shoulder. "We might need an extra hand at reining in those two. Go find Falco or Barabbas, they're the only two they'll listen to," he explained as Uriah and Quintas tried to pull the two apart.

And so Frost found himself outside the saloon, in the dust storm with only a spare t-shirt to protect his face from the elements. The storage shed Kim and Falco were held up in was three or so blocks away, and while he really wanted to check up on Kim and see how she was doing, Barabbas was simply much closer, so he figured it would be best to swing by his place first.

Turns out it wouldn't be particularly far, as there was only one other shack that had a light shining from behind the covered window. Seeing how open the Legate was with his fellow legionaries, Frost assumed that, despite being nowhere near such a structure for some time, the phrase "open-door policy" was rather apropos. So he opened immediately and without pause. "Excuse me, Legate Bara-"

"DID ANYONE TELL YOU HOW TO KNOCK?!" Kyra shrieked at him.

Frost immediately made his retreat, slamming the door behind him and bracing himself against the doorframe. "M-my sincerest apologies, Ms. Kyra," he stammered.

"YOU'RE GOING TO BE REAL SORRY IF YOU DON'T GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, NOW! NO, DON'T ST- don't stop, baby, oh, that's it," her voice gradually grew softer. Frost hadn't gotten a long glimpse of what was transpiring in the shack. What he did see, however, was that Barabbas wasn't in much of a position to respond to his accidental trespassing. As Kyra continued to murmur encouragement and gratitude over Barabbas "returning the favor," Frost decided to put as much distance between him and the shack as possible. To the storage shed he went.

It was as he retreated that he caught the eye of Cade, the man hugging to the shadows of the saloon as the flustered documentarian passed by. He had almost blown his cover by trying to silence the man prematurely and was only held back by the sudden shrieking of one of the occupants inside the shack. Distracted as he might be, Cade didn't want to risk upsetting the Legate, especially now. Rutting made animals especially aggressive. He had to find another opportunity to distract the riders and scope out the caves where she would likely be hiding. As it stood, it looked like plan B was up next; set the barn the hounds were housed in on fire.

He made his way down the abandoned street for a brief while before recognizing the two other figures skulking around the town. Two figures, riflemen, coordinated and well-trained as they checked several of the outlying shacks. Marshals. Cade bristled in contempt. At first. Then a slow and evil smile crept across his lips when he began to formulate the ideal plan. A plan that would result in two dead marshals and distract the riders long enough for him to get into the caves and out with none the wiser. Nothing like solving two problems with one bullet.