"Number Nine"
Ch. 03: Lazarus.
"Look up here, I'm in heaven
I've got scars that can't be seen
I've got drama, can't be stolen
Everybody knows me now.
Look up here, man, I'm in danger
I've got nothing left to lose."
- David Bowie, "Lazarus"
"Hey, girl, what are you doing?"
The woman, whose name smiled like the morning sun, had been the one patching her up when those oversized lizards called 'geckos' had gotten a taste of her leg. She had concocted an itchy powder with desert plants over a campfire close to another camp, an old caravan surrounded by plenty of rusty tin cans and numerous empty whiskey bottles glistening amidst the desert dust.
"Picking up trash." – she had replied, an old burlap cloth half-filled with crystal and metal containers over her bony shoulder – "I've already cleaned out the ruined houses in town, so I'm tidying up the area around the wells. I don't like so much rubbish strewn about." – she explained – "Where I come from, this level of filth invites sickness and trouble. Leave a population amidst garbage, and there's a good chance raiders might mistake the place for being abandoned."
He had taught her that much. If there had been something truly remarkable about the man, that had been his pragmatism, his uncanny ability to see the bigger picture without neglecting any detail. And she had become, willing or not, an adept disciple of his methods, his way of thinking. Twisted and wrong as the man himself, but always camouflaged with apparent rationale and good sense.
And rationale had been his weapon of choice every single time.
The woman had given her a critical look after starting to pick up tin cans and bottles as well, her dog tilting its head sideways as if asking what all of this meant.
"You know those might be worth a handful of caps if you bring them to Chet, right?"
The friendly woman had cared for her, showing her nothing but kindness, asking her to stay in Goodsprings.
She would help her settle. She would help her earn her bread and find a comfortable place to stay.
But the woman who laughed warmly as the sun hadn't known about him.
Nor did the doctor, the bartender, the merchant, and the old dynamite man sitting on the shaded porch next to quiet, dead motorcycles.
Nobody knew about him, not even the old couple in Primm, who signed contracts with many couriers and negotiated jobs that bore his signature. The old couple wouldn't ask any questions as long as the caps kept flowing.
Not even her new friends, allies she had been picking like drops of water to quench her thirst for friendly company, knew anything about him.
That suited her just fine, she supposed. Because if they had known under whose boot she had been held down under the sand all these years… maybe they would have resorted to violence — no matter his deals with the NCR, no matter his money, no matter his smooth, shady charisma.
Just the same as she was about to do if this bastard didn't relinquish what he had stolen.
After all, she had a job to finish.
An involuntary shudder ran down Six's spine as she confronted the man.
This man, who had been at the center of all the decisions she had made in the past four long months. Chasing vanishing fragments of her already fragmented memories like dry leaves scattered in the wind during one too many solitary evenings outdoors, counting the bullets on her belt, caps in her pockets, and watching as the battery bars on the upper right corner of her new Pip-Boy's screen ran dangerously low when twelve hours of darkness descended on the Mojave. Lying in quiet, anticipating another twelve hours under a scorching sun, blinding sands, and the hissing lizards that would charge back her device.
The months of uncertainty asking every-damn-one who would listen, the weeks of frustration nursing gecko bites and evading raiders and junkies, the days of pseudo-madness plagued by searing headaches, the hours of sadness, fear, and loneliness, as she struggled to retrieve the lost fragments of her mind that were gone — all of it was coming down to this moment, standing in front of this thief.
This thief, who had stolen her life.
Look up here, man. – her dark eyes demanded and pleaded simultaneously, fixing the older man in his chair, wishing he were as insignificant as a tiny bug. Inwardly singing one of the songs, she suspected, that had been at some point amidst her favorites – I've got nothing left to lose.
She wished she had the courage to speak up, to make this man seem a bit smaller, a bit more inconsequential… but the thief's lips were already moving.
"What in the goddamn...?" – he whispered, his tone dumbfounded, his eyes filled with fear, his cigar falling from his lips onto his crotch in slow agony – "Fuck!" – he swore, snapping out of his daze to hastily shake off the offending burning cylinder.
However, a 9mm cannon aimed at his balls persuaded him otherwise.
"Ah ah ah." – Vulpes' calm voice chided in a gentle, downright chilling tone – "Do play nice, Mr. Chairman, and keep your hands where I can see them, far from that shining toy of yours that I'm sure you don't want to draw from your jacket's inner pocket. Not if you want to remain pure and intact throughout this conversation. Are we clear on this?" – flashing a smile full of teeth that didn't quite reach his blue eyes, he nudged the other man under the table with one foot to keep him in place. His right hand wielding the weapon came to rest on top of checkered pants covering quadriceps as a reminder – "Good." – he purred, watching the other man swallow profusely as sweat collected on his tanned forehead – "Six?"
However, the moment her lips parted, the thief interjected.
"Alright then, kiddies, alright." – he said, raising his hands, his voice hushed, as though he were trying to contain a pair of hungry Deathclaws rather than calm down a couple of young people – "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies..."
A tiny fist descended onto the table, effectively silencing him.
"Shut up." – the small girl, the very same small girl he had thought buried six feet under dry soil four months ago, hissed. She pointed at him with one tiny index finger – "I've already had enough of you Chairmen guys and your cheap, silly speech. Dig, asshole?"
"What…?" – oh, but the bastard's tongue was loose, indeed – "Oh, Swank, you finky bastard..."
"I said shut up!" – Six hissed again while her tiny left foot, embedded in a not-so-tiny combat boot, stomped on Benny's toes, earning a pained grunt from the guy – "Now, the Pip-Boy." – she extended her right hand – "Not asking a second time before my friend here blows your balls off." – she emphasized the threat – "Over the table, nice and easy."
Benny didn't have to think twice before starting to work out the gauntlet's clasps nervously. Besides, Yes Man already had all the data copied, so he wasn't losing more than the device itself.
The moment she got her hands on her old device, she was trembling, big eyes full of unshed tears examining it with loving care. The scene reminded him so much of a child getting back her favorite toy that Benny almost felt ashamed of himself. Almost.
Blinking away her tears, she tinkered with it a bit, ensuring that most of her databases (at least at first glance) were still there before unclasping her current device and promptly switching it with the other one.
"Zorro." – she said after securing her old device – "Please, gimme your left arm."
Although grateful she had remembered not to blow his cover, Vulpes found her nickname choice a bit odd yet again. Not that he was complaining, though.
Without taking his eyes or the cannon of his gun from the other man, Vulpes did as requested. He found at first a bit peculiar the new weight and tightness around his forearm, wrist, and knuckles, as she secured on first the gauntlet, then the straps, stretching his fingers in and out to adapt to the new sensation.
Benny had watched the exchange without uttering a word. Realizing now that she had yet another Pip-Boy in her possession (this kid… where in the hell did she get them so easily?!), he was still too shocked to process anything other than the present circumstance until she spoke again.
"Now, gimme the Platinum Chip, and I might let you run from Vegas with your tail between your legs. Not offering a second time."
"Would you seriously think I can just do that and expect Screen Man on the Shining Tower to forgive and forget, babe? There's a lot of angles to this caper - complexities aplenty, and I've gone too far on his employment sheet to give in now." – Benny replied, feeling unconsciously for his cigar pack on his jacket until the 9mm cannon dug further into his crotch. Blasted brat, not even allowed a damned smoke to steady his nerves, shit – "Besides… you don't wanna do that, baby, not without hearing what I got to say first."
"House is well aware of your double-cross, idiot." – Six spat – "Who do you think sent me here in the first place? I've got carte blanche to blow your imbecilic brains out just like you did to me if I feel so inclined… But let's say I'm humoring you, just for shit and giggles, so you better give me a reason – a damn GOOD ONE - why I shouldn't kill you. Right here, right now."
Vulpes raised a brow, briefly eyeing her with electric blue curiosity. Where was this conversation going exactly? Weren't they supposed to kill him in House's name to set an example? Wasn't that the original plan?
Benny must have thought the same, judging by his perplexed expression.
"You want a reason, babe?" – he asked, leaning over the table, keeping his voice low while not taking his sight off the albino weirdo – "How about four?" – he gestured with his dark brown eyes behind him, where four burly men aligned themselves against the opposite wall, facing Benny. Some were smoking, some were picking their nails – "They're called bodyguards, and no matter what good ol' Swank may have promised you two, kiddies, they're loyal. Their paychecks assure me that much. Oh, and every one of them is packing. Me too, so… baby, that makes five."
Despite his bluff, she seemed unfazed.
"V.A.T.S., Benny, ring-a-ding?" – she retorted, pointing with her index at both Pip-Boys on her and Vulpes' left arms – "I bet the both of us can shoot you and your gangster gorillas in less than ten seconds. Pre-War military technology, babe." – she accentuated with a grimace, clearly despising the stupid adjectives the man was using with her.
Vulpes' eyes were shifting from one another, clearly fascinated by the bluff conversation between the man and the girl. They were gambling a dangerous game, and, despite not wanting to get involved in a gunfight with four armed men, he found himself immensely enjoying this power-play even if he was having, right now, a passive role in it.
The girl was making the night more and more interesting.
"You've just handed the device to him." – the man tried once more, remarkably calm despite his current predicament. Vulpes recognized a snake when he saw one, and a wise fox is a fox that doesn't underestimate a sliding, venomous reptile – "Bet that he isn't familiar with the use of V.A.T.S. Imma right, dollface?"
Uh, oh.
"You willing to take the risk with your balls on the platter, Ben-Man?" – she replied, squinting – "Maybe you're right, and there's just the two of us against four. But we're pretty fast, we have enough distance and cover, and before they can even start shooting, your Pee-Wee will fly bloody and high and mighty into the sky anyway."
Vulpes almost wanted to laugh; this was getting so ridiculously hilarious.
"Really, baby?" – Benny asked, his shirt and jacket's collar damp with cold sweat, not happy with being described so graphically with such glee how he was going to get turned into a eunuch no matter what – "Let's be honest for a second and extend an olive branch here: you didn't come here for vengeance. You came to get clued in."
Six's nostrils flared. She was already sick of dancing in circles with this murdering son of a bitch.
"To get clued in about talking me to death?" – she asked, clicking her tongue cheekily – "Why, Benny, if that's your intention, maybe you'll finally achieve a successful kill this time. And without even having to display that shitty aim of yours!"
Momentarily, Benny's eyes narrowed to thin slits. He was getting annoyed with the gal's unwavering stubbornness. She was way too damn smart for her own good. She wasn't buying any of him or his little charade.
"Listen, honey baby." – he tried one last time – "I know, you figure me for a creep. And you done me a solid already, just by not shooting at me…"
"Yet." – Six warned.
"… Yet." – Benny conceded – "But let cooler heads prevail, hey? No need for violence. I know; I made a bad first impression. You've got every reason to think I'm the least trustworthy bastard in the entire Strip... But baby, this is an 18-karat opportunity!"
Vulpes waited for the agreed-upon signal to shoot off this despicable human being's private parts. Benny was appealing to her curiosity to escape this situation unscathed, and even if he truly had something juicy enough to make any sense of all this, they didn't need him. Swank would grant them access to the entire building, and they had the whole evening to comb through it.
But that signal never came.
"What are you talking about?" – Six asked after a full minute of silence.
"You see, I've got the Chip, but to watch this shin-dig through to the end? I'm gonna need help." – the Chairman said with a matter-of-fact tone – "And, hello! Who shows up but you?" – he then flashed a disarming smile – "It can't be a coincidence, baby. You and me were meant to work together."
The nerve of the guy!
"Says the man who shoots his alleged associate in the head." – interjected Vulpes suddenly, unwilling to hear a single more sugarcoated word from this snake's lips – "Enough. I'm tired of this game. Either you explain to her why the Platinum Chip is so important to House and you RIGHT NOW… or I'm pulling the trigger. You have exactly ten seconds, which start counting NOW. One."
"Whoa, whoa!" – exclaimed the man, all color drained from his face – "Listen, pal…"
"Two."
"We simply cannot…"
"Three."
"… Discuss things like these in here…"
"Nine." – Vulpes purred, enjoying the look of unadulterated terror in Benny's eyes, who watched himself being swallowed into those two blue pools of gluttonous, sadistic enjoyment.
"Okay, okay, OKAY! I yield! You win, babe, you win!" – Benny squeaked, his low voice thin and high-pitched, rivers of cold sweat taking over his now-cadaveric face – "The Chip, it's some kind of data storage device, dig? So it's the data on the Chip that's platinum, not the Chip itself. Trouble is, the Chip don't fit any computer I've found. Must require special hardware. A customized one."
Six and Vulpes exchanged significant glances.
"And?" – pressed the girl.
Momentarily relieved that it was again the gal and not the albino psycho doing the talking now, Benny continued at a more confident pace.
"Baby, this is not the place to keep talking about that!" – he exclaimed, his voice a mere whisper – "What say you and me cash out, go somewheres more private-like? Any more questions you got, I'll answer."
Six leaned over the table, her big eyes hard.
"Two conditions." – she demanded – "Lose the bodyguards, and I'm going with you now…"
"Sure thing, darling, sure…"
"… And Zorro here is coming with us as well."
To his credit, Vulpes accompanied her words with a sickly-sweet smile that told the other man his not-so-subtle manipulation hadn't worked.
"C'mon, Sugar Plum." – the man replied with his most charming voice – "If I have to lay off all my security, you can do the same as a gesture of goodwill…"
"Why, that is an excellent idea, Mr. Chairman!" – Vulpes replied softly, devious merriment still playing behind his pupils – "Let's take your beautiful golden toy out of the equation, shall we? Oh, and also the automatic switchblade you are hiding in the left sleeve of your jacket." – watching the man going pale again, he added – "Without the Pip-Boy's gauntlet? Easy to discern your null abilities to conceal a weapon."
"We've got a deal, Ben-Man?" – pressed Six, knowing they had already won.
Benny let out a heavy sigh. This girl was a tough cookie.
"If that's what it takes to win your trust, that's what it takes." – he acquiesced – "Just… would your boyfriend here be so kind as to leave his gun behind too? I've got plenty to lose here, and I'd say it's a reasonable enough request, babe."
Six's cheeks and nose turned at least three shades pink before answering.
"You first." – she finally agreed – "Over the table, no funny tricks."
When Benny's 9mm silver and golden gun, Maria, was placed on the table, Six automatically emptied the gun's magazine while the Chairman folded his switchblade in front of Vulpes' penetrating stare.
The 9mm bullets got discarded on the floor.
"And now get up, slowly." – instructed the legionary with an oily quality in his voice that got Benny momentarily nauseous – "Don't try to run away unless you want a hole in your knee… That is a good Chairman. Excellent." – he mockingly complimented after the man complied – "Now, you are going to turn around, and you are not going to move an inch before you hear the safe mechanism of my gun being put on."
The Chairman leader trembled a bit despite himself, waiting impatiently to hear either the goddamned click or nothing at all anymore as his head would explode messily all over the floor coverings. It would serve Swank just fucking fine to have to deal with blood and grey matter staining his fucking beloved carpets, the stupid traitorous fink.
However, the heavenly, life's-been-spared click finally came, accompanied by a soft metallic clunk on the wooden table.
"Follow me." – Benny simply said, taking their silence as a cue to start walking.
If there was something Craig Boone loathed more than Caesar's Legion and the man himself… that was inaction.
"What are we gonna do, Arcade?! We've combed the entire casino looking for her! They even dumped us after Cass attempted to force herself on the lower levels!"
Inaction in the face of need.
"I don't know, Veronica, I just don't know!" – exclaimed the Followers doctor, making a whole showdown of mad fussing with both of his hands – "I don't even know why you guys keep asking me, of all people, about what to do! I am not her, okay?! I don't have much of a strategic mind, all right! I cannot even think with a clear head when she's missing!"
Inaction when the life of a good person is in danger.
"F'ck dis." – Cass growled, starting to feel how shitty it was to stay sober and awake simultaneously – "We should speak wi'tha Victor tin-can fella so 'e can tell House we need 'is pull on thos' Omertas thugs, I say. N'body would argue Big Boss' orders 'n we can search for 'er on tha lower l'vels. They don't wanna priers for a reason, I tell ya."
It wasn't even a half-bad plan… but it was a plan that needed an amount of time and words that Craig wasn't planning to waste sitting on his butt in this tomb of a building, no matter how comfortable the beds and sofas were in here.
So, without sparing the other three arguing adults a single word, he got up and started to walk toward the main bedroom.
"Boone, where are you going now?"
Ignoring the Brotherhood Scribe's calls, he entered the other room, where he found Lily sitting on the queen-size bed, knitting something with those big bluish hands of hers. Apparently, being big as a Deathclaw and having hands that could envelop Craig's entire head from chin to top had nothing to do with being dexterous with big metallic needles.
"Looking for something, sweetie?" – she boomed. Thankfully, Craig was already used to the Nightkin's loud voice tone.
"Did the girlie leave any used clothes of hers over here?" – he asked, knelt over a trunk, rummaging over its contents.
"Oh, I have left all of our dirty laundry in that metallic basket over there, dear." – she answered, not lifting her sight from her current task – "I'm glad the kind, cute little girl left wearing that pretty dress, though. Leo and I agree that the poor thing is young and too insecure about her appearance."
Craig blinked behind his dark sunglasses, unsure about what to do with this kind of information the supermutant was giving him apparently out of the blue; still a bit squeaky around this 'Leo' issue every time she mentioned it, to immediately direct his steps to the aforementioned 'basket': an old paper bin.
Once he found what he was looking for, he went to the kitchen, where Raul was tinkering with a dismantled ED-E over one of the workbenches near the entrance.
"Raul, where's Rex?" – the ex-1st Recon demanded.
The ghoul mechanic spared Craig a dull long look before resuming his work.
"I left the pup resting on the floor cushions in the recreational area, Señor Boone." – he replied – "Poor thing was sore after this old man went unbending his mechanical legs and rewiring the artificial nerve connections to his biostructure." – he went to a halt again, as if in an afterthought – "He would appreciate it if you would bring him some water, though. Consejo de amigo." (1)
Nodding in thanks, Boone got a bowl from one of the kitchen's shelves, filled it with non-irradiated water from the tap - thank God these were still working - and went to the recreational area, catching halfway the attention of the other three, who had been observing him in silent fascination as he went on his plan.
He found the dog napping on the cushions like the king his name suggested he was.
"Hey, buddy." – he whispered – "Brought you some water."
The animal's pointed ears had risen immediately after he had spoken, and took the offering avidly as he got on his fours.
Craig waited until he was sated and spoke again, earning the dog's full attention. Rex was keen on his and the girlie's voices for some reason.
"I need you to sniff something." – he said, pulling the cloth near the animal's snout – "Can you identify it?"
After a brief whiff, Rex barked happily.
"Yes, it's from the girlie." – Craig answered, relieved that the pup could still smell even with the brain damage and all – "I need you to find her. Think you can do that?"
Panting excitedly, Rex went on sniffing the floor, doubting between the master bedroom and the elevator, then shaking his tail, opting for the second.
"He's got Six's trail!" – Arcade exclaimed once he saw the dog panting before the elevator's door, catching up with Boone – "Victor, we need to get to the Casino Floor, please!" – he yelled out toward the immobile securitron.
"Can do, pardner!" – the cheery cowboy AI exclaimed, pushing the flickering button – "All aboard!"
Veronica turned around and made a horn with her hands.
"Lily!" – she called, knowing the old granny had hearing problems sometimes – "You up to hunting some kidnappers?!"
"Who's been kidnapped, Becky dear?" – the Nightkin answered from the main room's doorway, her gigantic Vertibird Blade strapped to her back.
Veronica smiled sadly, knowing how Lily's mental illness affected not only her memory span, a thing she sadly had in common with Six, but also how she perceived people. Becky had been the name of her missing granddaughter.
"Six, granny, it's Six!" – she informed, making signals with her hands for the supermutant to follow – "My friend, the cute small brunette! Don't you remember her?"
"Oh!" – Lily exclaimed while adjusting her monstrous dimensions to the tiny elevator already filled with four people and a dog – "The sweet little girl! Isn't her mother taking care of her?"
Veronica laughed as Lily's big arms scoped up her and Rex so all of them could fit more or less.
"No, granny." – she denied, being the one pushing the button to start going down – "She's disappeared, and I'm really worried about what could happen to her."
"Aw, no worries, dearie. Grandma's sure we will find your little friend soon. You'll see."
Rex punctuated her words with an enthusiastic bark before the elevator's doors closed.
"Never gonna share the 'levator with Lily again…" – grumbled Cass' voice while she was sandwiched between one of the elevator's walls and the Nightkin's bum.
Once the machine dinged and got the ragtag group floors below, Raul was still quietly sitting in front of the workbench, having some Sunset Sarsaparilla to calm down his sweet tooth… and his nerves.
He wished they would find Lil' Boss Girl with all his heart before something bad happened to her.
"That, providing that la dulce abuelita gigantesca (2) doesn't suffocate her with one of her bone-crushing bear hugs the moment they find her." – he huffed, cantankerous till the end. Better cantankerous than the teary feeble old man he knew he was – "Meh."
Six's pulse began to tremble as soon as they entered the elevator, Benny pushing the button for the fifteenth floor. Vulpes was acutely aware of this and, as they stood behind Benny, who had started to throw inane comments to the winds, evidencing his nervousness, the legionary cast a sideways glance to his companion.
He was astonished to find the girl glaring murderously at the back of Benny's head while discreetly unsheathing a tiny switchblade from the depths of her Pip-Boy gauntlet.
So, it had been her plan all along to kill the bastard. Vulpes couldn't say he blamed her.
After watching the man's display, it was evident that he wasn't showing the common signs of remorse someone with an ounce of shame would have for what he had done to her, probably the only viable excuse that would have redeemed him in her eyes.
However, though impressed at first for not having noticed her hiding such a weapon on her person even when the Pip-Boys' switching had given rise, his initial surprise turned into concern when he saw her pulse tremble as she prepared to bring the coup de grace to the snake giving them his back. Vulpes instinctively reached out and gently wrapped his long fingers around her hand, which held the blade.
Her arm quivered violently, and her eyes questioned why.
He responded with a warning look as the elevator reached its destination.
With a ding, the automatic doors slid open and they followed Benny's steps toward the desired room.
Without releasing her hand, Vulpes pointed with his eyes at the two armed men patrolling the corridors.
Understanding what he had tried to tell her, the girl sheathed her weapon again, and before Vulpes' fingers left hers, she gave them a gentle squeeze.
Gifting her with a most unreadable expression as he retired his hand wordlessly, Vulpes and she entered after the leader Chairman to the spacious room he had unlocked with a key.
Benny was still trying to engage in an inane conversation about the night's atmosphere. Next, he offered the silent duo a drink.
"You've got Vanilla Nuka-Cola?" – she asked, evidently dazzled by the cleanliness and luxury of the vast suite where there were two pool tables filled with the whole set of colorful balls contained inside a wooden triangle with their due poles in pristine condition sitting by their sides and a double coffee table surrounded by couches on the opposite side of the room that invited to relaxation. In contrast, a bar with six impeccable stools sat in front of the pool tables, meticulously arranged with eye-catching shiny bottles containing red, black, amber, and even blue and violet liquids.
Benny raised a brow, leading them to the wooden bar.
"Does such a flavor even exist, babe?" – he asked, amused.
The girl's momentarily hopeful look dissolved into resignation.
"It did." – she mumbled sadly – "Once."
Scanning the room in search of cameras, peep-holes that could be used as gun holes, and exits, the Frumentarius rounded the bar the moment Benny did. Not willing to allow the bastard to be left at his own devices behind a piece of furniture that, possibly, might contain a hidden gun.
"There's Quantum." he observed, briefly glancing at the girl.
She smiled, sitting on one of the bar stools, briefly indicating her leg with the hidden 9mm pistol with her eyes. So, she was controlling Benny's movements too. Good.
"Quantum it is." – she agreed, resting an elbow on the counter, giving Benny a cold glare in turn – "If you would be so kind."
The Chairman leader chuckled nervously as he prepared the drinks, eyeing with caution the goddamned blue-eyed psycho who wasn't cutting him any slack, making his plan a tad more difficult than he had devised originally.
Once everyone got their drinks, Bourbon for Benny and Nuka-Cola Quantum for the two youngsters after Six's rather eloquent "I'm fucking seventeen, so I am not supposed to drink alcohol, asshole", a tense silence fell upon the trio.
"Can I ask you something, Sugar Plum?" – Benny was the first to break the ice.
Six took a sip of her glowing soft drink with delectation before answering.
"Go ahead."
Benny's question took a more serious tone.
"How is it that you're still living?"
"A securitron dug me up, and a doc in Goodsprings did the rest."
Benny almost choked on his drink, clearly dismayed.
"So… House was on to me from word 'Go'?" – it was evident that he hadn't digested the notion of House being almost omnipresent despite all these years working for him – "And I thought this was all your doing. I thought I was being so clever..." – another swing to his beverage, and he got bolder - "Once you were vertical, how'd you track me down?"
Vulpes could tell that his cavalier way of putting her near-death experience didn't sit well with her if her brief murdering glance was of any indication.
The man was a fool.
"You left quite a trail, idiot." – she replied, pushing a handful of cigar butts and the engraved lighter she had kept inside one of her dress pockets across the counter – "You should consider quitting."
Benny looked appalled.
"Look at me, a big-leaguer, or so I claim, making all the mistakes of an original loser..."
"Quit your whining and start talking already, Benny." – Six cut him mid-sentence – "You've wasted enough of mine and Zorro's time dancing around the Platinum Chip subject."
While nursing his drink, Benny started feeling for something behind the counter, angling himself so the albino freak wouldn't see or suspect anything.
"Alright, honey baby." – he replied – "Which way is the wind gonna blow?"
"Depending on your answers, we'll see if you'll live through this night."
"Ask away then, precious." – shit, the psycho was getting suspicious if his squinting was any forewarning.
"What does the Chip do?" – Six inquired – "And don't bother to try to sell me the cheap 'Dunno baby' crap of an excuse, or I am gonna be very mad at you."
Benny was hyperventilating again. Fuck, where had it been the last time…?
"It has something to do with the securitrons; I know that much. Upgrades their hitting power, gives 'em heft." – he explained, finally hitting where he was aiming – "Might be slightly useful, if you're looking to defend The Strip from Caesar's Legion or the NCR. Or maybe both…?" – however, as his fingers were violently pried from their position with a rough pull, the psycho twisted his hand and knocked him on the carpeted floor while a firm shoe dug into his back – "The hell…?!"
Not moving his foot where he had put it, Vulpes' fingers felt around the spot he had caught the snake raking over until he found it.
"A calling button." – he informed dispassionately to a now standing up Six, her hand already halfway to her hidden pistol – "This cur has called his bodyguards."
Benny squirmed under his shoe, his fevered eyes catching a silver glimpse of something from the last party thrown there.
Vulpes was still talking.
"It would be safer if we just dispos… ARGH!"
His sudden outburst and horrified frozen expression while he looked down at his leg quickly informed Six that she should act.
When Benny managed to bring down Vulpes while wielding an ice pick on his raised left hand, Six entered V.A.T.S. Mode with a twist of her wrist.
As the time slowed inside her brain's action capabilities and reflexes, giving her a natural overdose of adrenaline, she aimed with her 9mm at Benny's raised arm twice, getting an estimated eighty-three success percentage.
She pulled the trigger.
Two red chunks of bloodied flesh and bone fled in the air along with the ice pick after the second bullet abandoned its magazine; the first one missed and firmly embedded in the opposite wall.
Benny's cry was deafening when he got up, jumped over the counter with impressive agility, and went on a mad dash for the room's main door, leaving a trail of red droplets behind.
Six's following three bullets missed their target since she wasn't a great shot outside V.A.T.S. The next thing she knew, it was closed doors in front of her nose, plus the sound of the key turning twice from the other side.
Directing an angry roar before kicking the door to no avail, Six's attention turned to a nearby table with two cushioned chairs. She quickly grabbed one and, with no small effort on her part, she inserted its backrest underneath both doorknobs, locking the door from the inside to buy them some time. Then, she went behind the bar to find a trembling, hyperventilating Vulpes with a frightening double syringe of what looked like Psychojet embedded in his right calf.
"Oh, shit!" – she exclaimed, kneeling to his visual height to extricate the dangerous chem from his leg and throw it as far as possible – "Shit, shit, shit!"
A sudden violent rapping at the door informed them that the bodyguards were outside already.
"Oh, damn." – she cursed, searching for a water bottle so he wouldn't pass out from dehydration – "Drink this. Oh, please, drink this…"
The young man's eyes rolled up as he started convulsing, a thin trail of red escaping from one of his nostrils.
Six forced the water down his throat the best she could while trying not to get too jumpy at the insistent rapping at the door.
Loosening his necktie, she partially unbuttoned his shirt so he could get oxygen while putting his right arm on her shoulders, urging him to stand so they could reach the next door and hole themselves behind it.
However, a hand cold as ice wrapped around her throat, not to strangle her, but to keep her away from him.
"No… no…" – he hissed with a raspy voice, his native Spanish pronunciation totally got her off-guard – "No me… toques…" (3)
The chair she had used to block the door was removed, and the door swung open violently.
Six's eyes flooded with liquid fear as the cold hand brushed from her neck down her collarbone, shoulder, and arm while a burst of frightening high-pitched shrieking exploded from the young man's lips.
A barrage of bullets rained wooden splinters around them.
"Dame…" – he said amidst insane giggling, his gums and teeth partially stained with his own blood, his eyes flooding – "Tu… pistola…" (4)
She stared into his eyes, his otherwise pretty blue eyes now bloodshot and with the pupils so dilated that she couldn't see their actual color. The Psychojet kicking fully into his system.
After the second rain of splinters, she gave him the gun.
But she hadn't been prepared for what followed next.
Disregarding any instinct for self-preservation, Vulpes stood up, cackling manically, and began firing rounds wildly.
Before she could stop him, he leaped over the ruined counter, his attention focused on a wounded figure trying to crawl away from the pool of blood three other bodies with their faces disfigured by the bullets had created around. The moment Six dared to peer over the counter, she was hit by a wave of nausea: with his teeth and nails sinking into the dying man's face like some feral canine, the albino was prolonging the man's agony, digging his thumbs into the man's closed eyes.
The man's screams were horrifying until the Frumentarius managed to pierce his eye sockets, ending his life in the most gruesome way Six had ever thought possible.
Trembling, the girl slowly made her way around the ruined bar, inching toward the door, unwilling to move past him and his bloodbath.
However, as she got closer to the door, a sudden burst of white noise emanated from the intercom near the main entrance.
"The cleaners will knock twice. Make sure they're thorough."
It was Benny's voice.
Dropping the lifeless body he held, Vulpes shot a crazed look at the offending device.
"¡ERES HOMBRE MUERTO!" (5) – he yelled, cackling like a hyena again.
A horrified gasp came from the other end of the intercom.
"What the FUCK…?!"
Then, there was a screeching noise, and the communication went silent.
Sweating profusely, Six placed both of her palms against the wooden surface. However, the moment the door creaked behind her as she attempted to push it silently, the crouched legionary's head turned his head in an anatomically unnatural way and lunged over her.
She couldn't manage to scream as he pushed both of them into the adjacent room and secured the door with its golden latch.
Grasping her by both sides of her skull, he forced her to face him.
"Nunca…" – he hissed again, his fingers smearing red on her cheeks and temples. His chin, lips, and teeth gleaming crimson – "Se te ocurra… volver a tocarme… No sin… mi permiso… ¿Entiendes…?" (6)
He wasn't hurting her, but his voice carried a warning she immediately understood. Despite his drugged state with one of the most potent chem-mixes ever invented, his words, if altered, spoke an undeniable truth. She had offended him.
So, she nodded silently.
As her nod registered in his drugged mind, he nodded back, his eyes glazed over, resembling a broken doll. His unfocused gaze scanned the room.
Six's senses were not as impaired as his, so when she heard feminine screams in the barroom, calling for help, she knew they didn't have much time. So, he detached herself from his grasp and tried to move one of the two available armchairs in the small living room connected by a corridor to other rooms she hadn't the time to check.
"H-help me to move this thing." – she panted, cursing her toothpick-like arms and her laughable strength inwardly – "What are you doing?"
Ignoring her, Vulpes' thoughts were running on an entirely different frequency as he passed through the living room and into a kitchen, then a bedroom, searching the walls.
Six followed him as soon as the resistance of the tiny latch on the living room's door was forced violently.
She managed to secure all the doors between them and their pursuers, starting with the bedroom and then its bathroom. Then, she found that Vulpes had climbed onto the white sink in the bathroom and had dismantled its ventilation grill.
Being tall and agile as a salamander, it was easy for him to jump into the rectangular ventilation hole and disappear from sight, crawling his way inside.
Six followed suit, climbing onto the sink as well… but she wasn't as tall and agile as he was.
The moment she heard the bedroom door getting violently open, she begged.
"Zorro, help me climb!" – she exclaimed, looking at the bathroom's door with fear – "Please, help me!" – terrified, she changed tactics - "¡Ayúdame, por favor, ayúdame a subir!" (7)
Luckily, seconds after the door started to be forced as well, a cold pair of slender arms descended onto hers, and, grabbing her by the elbows, she was hoisted up inside.
Coming face to face with the dilated pupils of her drugged savior as he crawled backward to allow her to proceed, Six followed him into the dusty ventilation shaft. They reached an intersection where he, being careful not to get injured by a working fan, switched positions again and continued down the narrow, dusty passage.
The unmistakable sound of gunfire and bullets ricocheting at the entrance of the ventilation duct confirmed that their pursuers knew how they had escaped.
Fortunately, the casino's muscle was made up of older, bulkier men, and Vulpes was a tight fit in the duct, making it unlikely that they would follow. Bless being young and underweight for once.
They spent half an hour in those ventilation ducts, crawling in slow, quiet agony as they kept an ear on the ground while the entire casino was turned upside down to find them, closing any possible exits to lower levels.
The only viable option was to go up.
So, when Vulpes found the trail of fresh air from above, he climbed outside through a ventilation hood. He helped the girl out before collapsing onto the granite ground of the rooftop.
Trembling from both the exertion and the sudden chill in the air drawing goosebumps along her sensitive skin, Six approached Vulpes cautiously. And she ended up sweeping his sweaty white waves from his forehead when he got on all fours and started throwing up. The product glowed faintly in the dark.
"No… no…" – he hissed as she held him the best she could, ensuring he didn't fall into his own vomit while rubbing his arms in an attempt to comfort him – "No me toques… no me toques…"
"Tranquilo… tranquilo…" – she soothed him as he trembled, his face feverish between her skinny arms – "Shhhhh…" (8)
If inhumanly tense, Vulpes allowed her to cradle his head, shoulders, and midsection in her arms, knowing that his current violent perspiration would only make him colder in the Mojave night.
The last thing he needed was to die of hypothermia soon after cheating death.
Sharing body heat was an acceptable type of physical closeness, he mused; nothing to do with invading personal space, just a necessary measure for survival purposes, he debated inwardly, trying very hard not to recoil from her touch.
His left hand unconsciously dug into his right wrist, scratching in vain to release the pent-up tension and anger.
That Profligate son of a jackal… he would pay for this. For this filth running through his veins, for this cold seeping into the marrow of his very bones, for…
The girl's hand gently grasped his aggressive fingers between hers, calming and advising him softly not to do that.
Hadn't he been feeling so incredibly shitty and exhausted, he would have clawed off her face. He still had this irrational urge that violence would make him feel better.
However, his rational mind, even in its addled state, knew that wouldn't be a wise course of action. Not with Caesar still interested in the cooperation of this little girl to his cause.
Although, had he been in Caesar's shoes, he would have lost interest in her person immediately after this night.
She was friendly and fun enough to have around, yes… but she had no military value, no heroic qualities, and no combat skill. He had concluded that much in their short time working together.
However, her warmth was pleasant, her slender arms were cozy, and the soft curve of her neck was welcoming. She didn't smell of cheap perfume, and her skin was soft.
In less than five minutes, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Six had relaxed as soon as she had noticed his body losing tension under her arms, and his head heavy, placidly resting on her shoulder. No matter his politeness and pretty-boy countenance, he was frightening when angered. So, she was glad to have his much larger body asleep against hers. She could deal with his weight in this position just fine.
With nothing else to do but wait until dawn quieted things down in the casino, Six maneuvered with the left arm of her unconscious companion and accessed wireless data traffic on his Pip-Boy. The archives would, literally, fly at high speed at such a short distance.
She did the same with her Pip-Boy, and when both devices synchronized, Six entered the due passwords she had put on and allowed data exchange.
The first thing she did, just in case he would awake suddenly, was to cut and paste her diary log archives with all the annotations, personal observations, and details on her whereabouts in the Mojave since her awakening. Not that she was happy doing this, but Zorro was a spy, and she wasn't going to feed him more than he was supposed to know.
She liked him; that much she already knew. He was loyal and trustworthy when honoring a deal, and those tiny details about supporting her and trying to make her feel comfortable when she had dealt with Swank and Benny had been very sweet.
But he still was, nonetheless, Caesar's spy. And it was a shame, really; without his allegiances with such a backward culture, he could be a very nice person. In fact, he didn't even sound like the few legionaries she had the dubious pleasure to meet, but that could have something to do with his profession.
She didn't want to think that way, but she barely knew him, and, as much as she wanted to be friends with him, she hadn't any delusions about him not harboring thoughts about her pertaining to the 'weaker sex'. Thus, she being, in his eyes, a sort of second-class civilian/human being.
Not that she had really experienced misogynistic behavior firsthand from the legionaries she had encountered, but Cass, Arcade, Vero, and Boone had told her more or less detailed varying versions about the same: Caesar's Legion looked down on women even if they were the mothers, wives or daughters of legionaries.
That was why she hadn't told them (or any of the NCR Rangers) about her encounter in Nipton, only what she had found there… Sweet ED-E being the only witness, the poor thing. And since nobody but she understood its hybridization between echolocation/sonar/Morse language... She didn't need judgmental arguments from her friends just because of saying that she had found the providential exception that confirmed the rule: a polite legionary who had been nothing but understanding and amiable to her.
A polite legionary who had orchestrated the gruesome wiping of an entire population.
Meantime, as the sensitive data from the Mojave was conveniently stored away from his device, Six took a good look at him: being this close and asleep on her shoulder, he didn't seem like a Machiavellian mind capable of any atrocities. In fact, he looked like the boy she was sure he was. How old could he be? Nineteen? Twenty? She had seen how hardship could make a person look older than they were, so it would be funny if he ended up being even younger than her.
After also wiping backup data just in case he ended up knowing more about Operative Systems than he had let on, Six thought it was unfair to leave him with so little: a map and some innocuous random letters, notes, and warnings about dangerous areas, images, and data on people she didn't care for that she had been collecting in various locations from various individuals all over these four months in the Mojave. So, she uploaded her Capitol Wasteland and other updated old U.S.A. maps with all the due locations that she was aware of into his Pip-Boy model: a 3000A version she had managed to upgrade to the 3000 Mark IV software update, Pip-OS v. A bit tricky when reproducing recorded audio from holotapes and slightly slower when loading 4K images or videos… but other than that, it was perfectly workable.
Her old Pip-Boy was the actual 3000 Mark IV model that had been the latest being manufactured before the War, so the Pip-OS software in hers worked 100% debugged. Bless RobCo and their Developing Team, which took great pains to make the military devices' software solid as a rock.
No incompatibility issues, no useless minor updates every ten days, armor-clad scalable Firewall and Antivirus system, real-time satellite (again, RobCo's property and main design) connection with instant loading, almost perfect retrocompatibility with older hardware versions (not counting the Beta 1.0, that thing had been experimental for what she understood, and wasn't even released), no stupid buggy patches. Nothing. Perfection in its purest form.
Feeling like sharing a little more, she also loaded her entire Book Database (comics and visual novels, too), a great deal of her Music Database (excluding specific genres and lyrics she knew he wouldn't appreciate and/or understand), and some film selection from her Movie Database she knew he would enjoy, into his device. Not that she could load everything she had stored on hers; his SD wasn't as big as hers.
It would take a while, but she had plenty ahead, so she was confident the files would be loaded before he woke up. Everything (or almost everything) she was sharing was food for thought mostly. Music and films that would teach him something, make him think, and open his mind. She was sure he would be thankful for these.
And she couldn't wait to discuss them with him. She hadn't been able to discuss much audiovisual culture with almost anyone since…
Shuddering the very instant her thoughts went in that direction, clearly on two minds about opening the chat, Six's lithe frame held a little too tight on the asleep figure between her arms. She knew she shouldn't. After all, it had been four months since…
He would likely think that she was dead, right? If she didn't open that communication channel, he couldn't reach her… True?
However, the familiar pull on her index finger navigating through the Main Menu got the best of her. She danced around the issue for a few minutes, trying to keep her traitorous finger from tapping on the Data Menu.
He couldn't possibly know that she had been shot, right? Maybe he thought she was trying to run away again.
Maybe he was angry now.
Wheeling to the Data Menu, still shuddering, she opened the communication channel and entered her password.
The scarce nine unread messages she found in common with his channel scared her more than if they had been several thousand.
10:23 AM Wednesday, October 12, 2281
Burke: Your contact will be waiting the day after tomorrow morning at 9. Once you reach Camp McCarran, ask for Sergeant Daniel Contreras. He will fill you with all the details you need to know.
10:24 AM Wednesday, October 12, 2281
Burke: Also, remember what we talked about concerning Sloan. My informant told me that the Deathclaw plague is still an issue and not something you should take lightly.
Do take care, fulfill your duties, and we shall talk about that little excursion of yours Northeast. Do this for me, and there's no telling how far my gratitude will get, Birdie.
Birdie, he called her. Never by her actual name. She had forgotten that tiny detail.
She wished she could wipe that pet name from her memory again.
08:04 PM Friday, October 14, 2281
Burke: Birdie, dearest, I would like to know EXACTLY what has happened today. Sergeant Contreras informed one of our contacts that you did not appear at the agreed-upon or any other time this day. And I would like to know WHY.
09:11 PM Friday, October 14, 2281
Burke: Birdie, darling, I would like to know what game you are playing. Report immediately.
10:00 PM Friday, October 14, 2281
Burke: You and I are going to have a very serious conversation about this misbehavior of yours. If I do not see any reports excusing – and you better have a GOOD excuse – this unfortunate circumstance in my inbox tomorrow morning, I will be severely disappointed.
You would not happen to want to see me DISAPPOINTED, do you, Birdie?
01:00 PM Saturday, October 15, 2281
Burke: Birdie, dearest, I am starting to worry about you. And I do NOT appreciate adding yet another worry to my extensive list.
Be a good girl and send me your location if you cannot write to me for whatever reason. I will send for you.
I will be waiting.
04:35 AM Tuesday, October 18, 2281
Burke: Ungrateful girl, after all the pains I have taken to give you a life many would kill for! This is simply unacceptable.
We are NOT done yet, little miss; you WILL hear from me soon.
09:57 AM Thursday, October 20, 2281
Burke: Birdie, precious, I am not mad at you. You do not have to be scared.
Just… do us both a kindness and end this little game of yours by sending me the coordinates of your physical location, would you?
Everything will remain the same between us. No rancor or ill feelings, I promise. And I am a man of word; am I not?
Perhaps you need resting time after this? A nice long vacation here, in Tenpenny Tower, after such a strenuous journey to the opposite end of this country. I did send you because I knew you were the only one I could trust enough to deal with this delicate business.
Return to me, little Birdie, and soon all of this will be a thing of the past.
11:01 AM Friday, October 28, 2281
Burke: You have made a very poor error in judgment, my dear. It is a pity that you have chosen to ignore my attempts to keep things civil between us. Your petty whims will cost you dearly, I am afraid. I have sent an old friend of yours to deal with this unpleasant situation.
But do not worry, for he has orders to bring you back here alive… although your bodily state might not have been specified to him. Quite unfortunate, isn't it?
I do so enjoy a good hunt, Birdie, and I shall have it.
Yours very truly,
Burke.
She didn't know she was crying until tears had started dropping in slow silence from her chin over her collarbone, chilly and piercing as the nightly air cut through her cheeks and soul.
She had forgotten what genuine fear feels like. Now, she remembered.
Again.
She could hear a voice calling her from a distance.
A voice she knew well.
A voice that meant something to her.
A voice that she missed every day of her life.
"(…)!"
The voice called her by a name. A name she couldn't recognize.
"(…)!"
A name she couldn't grasp. A name she couldn't keep.
"(…)!"
A name meant for another time. A name meant for another life.
"There you are, bichilla curiosa!" (9) – with the voice's closeness came a hand, and with a hand came a man… and with that same man came a smile – "I've been looking for you for a good hour! Got yourself lost while getting inside doors that you are not supposed to open, eh?"
She had looked downwards at her two tiny feet. She had been told countless times that nosing around the military compound wasn't allowed.
Especially if you're six and with far too much curiosity for your own good.
"Is this your lost rascal, Lieutenant (…)?" – the laughing voice of the woman sitting behind a dark wooden desk came from ahead – "She made quite the impression when she stormed through my door a handful of minutes earlier while hiding inside my locker. I bet the angry voice coming from Captain Céspedes not ten seconds after the issue has absolutely nothing to do with anything, right buddy?" – she had added, winking mischievously at her.
Funny that she could remember some random guy's surname and not her own.
She had smiled shyly. She even had gotten candy from her little adventure. This kind young woman had given her a couple of Gum Drops once the angry man stormed out of her office again.
"I'm… I'm so sorry…" – the man had started to blurt out awkwardly while picking her from the floor and securing her in his arms, patting softly her unruly mess of black hair that she refused to get in pigtails like the rest of the little girls in the nursery. She liked it down and flowing, like a princess – "She's only six, and she has grown a bit adept at evasion maneuvers at the nursery in the last two weeks…"
But the woman had simply smiled.
"When she told me to call her 'Big Bro' to pick her up, I didn't expect you to be an actual Lieutenant." – she had commented while pointing at his silver rank insignia embedded on his uniform – "I dismissed it as a pet name from a smaller sister to a sixteen-year-old rookie. I admit that I am impressed."
"Well… uh… you know how things tend to work here: both military parents, the father gets MIA during a diplomatic mission, the young mother marries a second time… and here we are, just the girlie and me."
"I'm sorry to hear that." – she had answered promptly, as if embarrassed she had prodded too far – "But surely the kid is not always in your custody. Where is your mother or her father?"
Big Bro's face had dropped a bit.
"(…), last year. Same battalion." – he had muttered.
Not even names on places. Her memories were buggy, like a program finished in haste. Not tested enough before its release, dependent on crappy patches… always tricky and incomplete.
"God, I'm so sorry. I have this horrible tendency of asking way too many questions and…"
"It's okay. Many think she's my daughter instead of my lil' sis, and I always get the 'where's her mommy' question. Guess she having six and me being eighteen years older than her does not help my cause..."
"No, no, no, that's not an excuse anyone should bring up to poke randomly at your private life, ever." – the woman had told him firmly – "And, since I happen to have just done so, I believe an apology is in order." – checking a device she didn't remember the name of, she had consulted the hour – "Half-past eleven in the morning. You two hungry? I bet at this hour the cafeteria is still fairly empty, and they're just preparing the chow, so… wanna have some early lunch? I mean the good tasty stuff, not the dull daily grub here. Everything on my account."
Big Bro had squirmed a little after getting all red in the face.
"You don't have to do that…" – he had muttered awkwardly, quick on his usual behavior of letting his opportunities with women go with the wind and his utter shyness… but the little devil in his arms had had other plans.
She had liked this woman. A lot. She had been so nice and understanding… and she hadn't told the angry man where she had been hiding! Plus, she was pretty, with cute long brown hair like a princess, and had a warm voice, warm eyes, and a warm smile.
Bet Big Bro surely would find her as pretty as she did.
"Let's go, (…)!" – she had exclaimed enthusiastically – "Look! She has long hair, like a princess! That's pretty! And she's cool, and I'm hungry! Let's go to the cafeteria with her!" – she had put on her Big Eyes Trick, the one she knew Big Bro would never say no to – "Please?"
Now she couldn't even summon up his name. As much as her brain wanted to reach for the memory… it was like clawing concrete.
"You and I are going to have a conversation about behaving in such an opportunistic fashion, (…)."
Painful and useless.
"Aw, c'mon." – the kind woman had spoken softly – "The kid's hungry, and I owe you an apology. Just take it for what it is and nothing more, Lieutenant (…)."
All those months, she had tried so hard… so hard to keep up with bits and pieces while searching desperately for whatever information that could complete her faulty memories… but, in Primm, she knew she had hit a wall the moment an incomplete data sheet had been thrown onto her lap.
"You can call me (…)."
Her only hope had been finding Benny… so she may point a gun to his fucking head the same way he had done with her and demand he returned what was hers.
However… it seems she wasn't meant to avenge her past self.
"Okay, but only if you two call me (…) as well."
To avenge the memory of those nameless people she knew she had loved. Once.
That day had been a happy one, and she had had an entire box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes as a dessert, her favorite.
That day, her Big Bro had found the woman who, in time, had become the love of his life.
A woman she also had loved. A disappeared woman amidst oceans of time… and the shrilling screams of two bullets.
"Sir, this little shit… she has stolen one of our men's rifles. She has blown the head of one of the other kids off."
She hadn't…
"Really? And how, pray tell, can a little girl outsmart a whole group of armed adult men not just by stealing one of their weapons but also by managing to make us lose a profitable transaction on the way? All of this while still being collared."
She hadn't meant to…
"Uh… Sir, I didn't mean…"
But they…
"No, you didn't. And that is why I am feeling merciful and, in spite of your incompetence in handling a small number of children, I will spare you and your men's lives and careers today. You should be grateful."
They had said…
"T… thank you so much, Sir."
They had said they were nothing…
"Now, leave me and the girl alone. We have much to discuss, and I do not have further need of you or your men. You shall be paid half the agreed percentage, however. This incompetence and inelegant way of conducting business? Not the cleverest move when dealing with Mister Tenpenny's wishes."
That their lives now pertained to third parties.
"But that wasn't what we…!"
Two silenced shots and the man had died — the red right hand wielding the pistol as big and unforgiving as its owner.
"Why do you knuckle draggers always insist on doing things the hard way?" – he had spat, his voice deep and smooth like warm, poisoned wine. Her eyes still on the ground, staring at his brown shoes – "Come here, pretty bird."
He was a god, he was a man, he was a ghost, he was a guru.
"There you are. Jumpy little thing, aren't you?" – he had smiled, his big red right hand under her small chin, forcing her to meet his steely gaze behind tortoiseshell sunglasses – "Color me intrigued. Tell me your name, songbird."
She had answered.
And he had smiled again. His smile, a forty-something years old man's smile, would have made the Devil himself weep.
Many had whispered his name on the far West, miles of dust through this disappearing land.
And they feared, they pleaded, they adored the man in the pristine suit.
Because hidden next to his holster, there was a red right hand.
SPANISH:
(1) - "Friendly advice."
(2) - "the sweet gigantic granny"
(3) - "No... no... Don't... touch me..."
(4) - "Give me... your... pistol..."
(5) - "YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!"
(6) - "Never... you dare... touch me again... Not without... my permission... Understand...?"
(7) - "Help me, please, help me climb up!"
(8) - "Calm down... calm down..."
(9) - "nosy little bug" (a Spanish term of endearment).
A/N: I've dropped little references that I hope you catch easily and enjoy. Every chapter title is a song title.