» Thu Feb 10, 2011 11:05 pm Better than it sitting idly in My Documents, where it can scheme and plot total computer bit domination with all the other stories in there gathering mold. Tasty, delicious, cave mold...
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Part 1: Something wasn't right...
"Wake up!"
"Mmmffpph..." She rolled on her side, pulling her covers up to hide her face.
"Wake up Ihna! We have to go!"
"Go... go where..." A weak mumble from underneath the covers. "I just got to sleep..."
"Something has come up at the Express, they're calling all Couriers in."
She sighed, a heavy and elongated sigh. The chance of quickly falling back asleep was dwindling fast. "Then let the other Couriers handle it, I just got back from Nipton and I'm exhausted."
Her friend wouldn't be swayed, and jerked the covers from her, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her to a seated position, despite a few choice words about his mother mumbled under her breath. "Rumor has it the job is paying in the thousand cap range..."
Well that was a wake up call. The crippling exhaustion was almost instantly flushed from her system. "You're a damn liar, Hector. Jokes like that aren’t funny on the eve of my birthday."
"You know I would never lie to you." He responded, gathering up a worn out tank top, vest that tied together in the front, and a pair of faded jeans, tossing them onto her bed. "Now get dressed, we have ten minutes to get there. Oh, and happy 23rd birthday. It’s after midnight already."
"Thanks." She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as they began to adapt, silently motioning him away so she could change clothes. Something wasn't right, she could feel it. Being a round clock business, Couriers were always on duty to handle customers. There was never any reason to wake up additional ones, much less all additional ones. And the pay... No one had money like that in the Mojave, and even if someone did, they probably would be bad company to keep. But the more she thought about it, the more her curiosity began to seize the wheel and drive her feet. She was awake and dressed now anyway, so why not see what this was about.
Grabbing her trench coat and utility belt, she stepped outside into the cool nighttime desert air, still methodically forcing the bottom trim of her shirt underneath the jeans. Primm was always well lit, and she had to squint again as her eyes adjusted to the bright neon signs. Off in the distance, shadowed figures moved towards the center building, Couriers flocking to this... midnight meeting. Hector was already halfway there, patiently waiting for her to catch up.
"Know anything else about this?" Attaching her belt as she walked was easy, juggling her coat while she did it was not.
Hector reached for the coat, but she jerked it away. "None. They just sent us out to gather everyone up and get them to the meeting hall. Whatever it is, the management is fired up and antsy. They're staying in a tight knit group and keeping everything hushed, avoiding eye contact and arguing only amongst themselves."
"Sounds thrilling." She managed to tighten the belt down, finally able to throw her trench coat on, though having no need to button it up in the front. "Guess we'll find out soon enough." Her hand fell instinctively to her knife, checking it was there as she always did before leaving her shack.
They walked through the double doors into the main building, briefly traversing the mold ridden hallways until they reached the main chamber. So far, the rumors were true. There had to be over twenty Couriers here, all nervously whispering to closest friends or fidgeting as they waited. The bosses were huddled together in a group, alone in a corner with a desk well placed to keep them away from the rest of ears in the room. Only one pair of eyes was out at the crowd, silently counting heads, ensuring that everyone they invited was present, or at least most everyone.
The whispers floating through the air ceased only when one of the men in the corner of the room stood atop the desk, gazing around until the only sound was the creak of rotting boards beneath their feet. "Firstly, I'd like to apologize for lack of planning. We've had a job suddenly come up that I can't... I won't pick which Couriers will participate."
His name was Gerald, and he was always straight to the point. They got along well. "We have been requested to send six packages to six different locations throughout the Mojave. Easy enough, except for the plethora of stipulations that plague these deliveries. For reasons unknown, these packages must be sent out at precisely the same time. We also have no idea who is sending them, just what they are and where they are going. Many warnings were issued about the extreme sensitivity of these packages and the importance they reach their destination. And if that wasn't enough to unease your lunch, the pay upon delivery of these packages is two thousand caps."
The room participated in one simultaneous gasp. Hector nudged her, and she shoved him off. She knew what he was getting at. Two thousand caps would be more than she needed.
"If you ask me, this whole operation reeks like the back end of a Brahmin, and the last thing this company needs is to get wrapped up in some political shindig. I have sent enough Couriers to their deaths over the years to have a bad taste in my mouth when I bring this one of all of you. That being said, I will not force anyone to carry these packages. Volunteer only." He reached for the first leather case sitting on the edge of the desk. "So who wants the first package?"
The crowd remained stoic and silent, eyes venturing from body to body as each expected the other to jump at the money, but none wanted to be first. Inevitably, a lone hand was raised, and the Courier stepped forward to claim his package. "Best of luck to you." Gerald's confident voice did well to mask the grave underlying tone that only someone that knew him well would have recognized. "Take this to the Nipton Mayor."
The package changed hands slowly, cradled by the Courier as he was likely thinking and rethinking his decision to take it. Eventually, he clipped it securely to his belt and turned to face nineteen pairs of eyes, a menagerie of worry, pride, support, fear, and pity thrown haphazardly at him. A few of his closest friends patted him on his back as he headed towards the door to wait for the next five to be chosen.
"Next?" Gerald resumed, eyes back out to the crowd.
Hector nudged her again. "What!?" She demanded, shoving him back.
"Two thousand caps, Ihna. That would get you out of this mess and back home. One final job and you can leave the Mojave forever. You're one of the best Couriers here, you can do this."
She sighed, louder than anticipated, thankfully masked by the second Courier raising their hand to be chosen. "I know that. But you heard Gerald. Look at his face, his eyes. There is something seriously wrong with this delivery and he knows it. Everyone knows it. What good does the money do me if this job turns sour?"
"No guts, no glory, Ihna." He shot back, flashing a disarming smile before she retaliated for repeating that line for the thousandth time. "It could take you another couple years to make that if you stay here, and who knows what will happen then, with the Legion knocking on the door."
Gerald called for the third Courier. "I know, okay? I just... You know how I feel about dangerous jobs like this. Besides, who would take care of you if I vanished, hmm?" Her feet shifted uncomfortably. Despite what her mouth was saying, her mind was weighing option after option.
"Oh I think I was getting along just fine before you showed up a couple years ago." His eyes remained locked to the front of the room. "Perhaps the better question would be 'What would you do without me?'"
"Surprisingly enough to you, I would probably manage." A lock of midnight black hair hung invasively in her vision, forcing her hand to drag it back behind an ear. "But I doubt I'd work for the Express if you didn't. Quickest way to earn money, yes, but not the safest." She motioned around the room. "Point in context."
"So..." He leaned towards her, dropping his voice. "If I just got up and did something stupid, something that might remove me from the service of the Express, you'd follow me?"
She both mentally and physically blinked. What an odd question, with even odder timing. "Well... I... Uh... Yes, I suppose so."
"Well then, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to stay here for another couple years. And if I'm the only thing keeping you here..." He only gave her a brief glance as his hand raised, almost simultaneously as Gerald called for the fourth Courier.
"What are you doing?!" She tried to bat his arm down, but he was already moving forward through the crowd, ready to accept the fourth package. "Get back here!" Her demand was lost to the sea of heads floating in front of her, and Hectors was no where to be found.
"[censored]." She muttered. But he was right, wasn't he? He usually was. It would take about two years to accumulate the sheer number of caps this single job offered, and by then the Legion might move in. Powder Gangers, or heaven forbid the Fiends, might go into full revolt. For all she knew, Atomic Bombs would start falling from the sky again. No, there was no staying in this god forsaken desert wasteland. She had been away from home far too long. "[censored]!" She repeated, running dangerously short on excuses and time.
"Four down, two to go." Gerald was beginning to look uncomfortable on his makeshift podium. "Do we have a fifth volunteer?"
When she brought her amethyst orbs from the floor to meet Gerald's, he knew what she was about to do, and he pleaded with her not to take it. His whole body slouched, breath expelled, eyebrows turned up and he even pulled the fifth bag slightly behind him, as if taking it out of her sight would change her mind. It was too late for that, far too late. Her hand was already in the air and she was moving to the front of the room. A seed of fear began to sprout in her gut, but resolve was currently stronger, and it smashed the former into the ground with a vengeance. There was no turning back now.
Gerald handed her the package reluctantly, unwilling to let it go without giving her its direction. "Courier Number five. Take this package to the Novac doctor. Stay off the roads." He gave her hand a gentle pat as he released it and stood back up, forcefully tearing his gaze from her to return it back into the audience and ask for a sixth and final Courier.
She made her way to join the group at the door, beelining for Hector to deliver a few explicit adjectives, or would have if they hadn’t all escaped her when she got to him, leaving her stumbling and stuttering for the right thing to say. "Why did you do that to me!?" Was what finally came out.
"You'll thank me later." He blew it off in his natural nonchalance tone. "Where are you taking your package?"
"Novac. You?"
"Mojave Outpost."
Damn. She had hoped they might be going in the same general direction. "Will you be alright? He told me to avoid the roads, that will be difficult for you... nothing but roads from here to there."
"Is that concern I detect in your voice?" He playfully mocked.
"It's not funny." She dropped her head, catching a glance at the sixth Courier to raise his hand as her eyes fell to the floor. Hands turned to fists, clenching in an effort to fight the emotions threatening to build inside of her. "You're the only friend I've had out here these last two years. I don't want anything to happen to you, can't have anything happen to you..."
A hand appeared on her shoulder, Hectors hand. "Hey now, I was just playing." The tone of mockery or playfulness was voided entirely, replaced with support and care as if they had been there all along. "After this delivery, we'll meet back up here and I'll buy a round of drinks for us. Sound good?"
It took one last valiant effort to crush the feelings boiling under her skin, but they did finally succumb to her demands. She raised her head, eyes still as confident as always, even if it wasn't entirely how she felt. "It's a promise. Now what is taking that last Courier so long?"
"Good question." Hector looked beyond her to Gerald, who still had the sixth Courier in whispered discussion. He wasn't a master at reading lips, but he recognized two words as they spoke. "That Courier is bound for New Vegas. Lucky him, safest place out of all of ours."
She didn't much care where any of the other four were going, just that it changed the topic of conversation. "Pretty long trip for him. I'm just as happy with Novac. Couple snipers there really know how to handle business, or so I hear."
"Yea..." Hectors eyes were still on the sixth Courier. "But I'd take killer robots over a couple snipers any day."
The final Courier and Gerald finally began to make their way to the group, dispersing the remaining bodies back through the hallways. He stayed close to that sixth Courier, arm around his shoulder as if it belonged there. "You all have your assignments. Be quick and be safe. Remember, these packages are our livelihood. Protect them at whatever cost. Come back with your payment and proof of delivery, or don't come back at all." Solemn words bearing a stark contrast to the support he was offering moments earlier. Yet it gave comfort in consistency. It was the same speech he gave to every Courier, every delivery, every time. Any degree of concern had been conveyed when the package changed hands anyway.
They all nodded in agreement, turning towards the door with no time to waste, quietly shuffling back into the desert air. There was a full moon tonight, and all the Mojave basked in its luminescent glory. "I'll see y'all around in a couple days." She broke the eerie silence, though her comments were mostly for Hector. Just as well, because everyone except Hector only mumbled a response before setting off in their separate directions.
"Friendly bunch." Hector retorted, double checking his equipment before turning south. "It's a cool night, the giant ants will be restless. Be careful, Ihna."
"If Giant Ants are my biggest worry, then I shouldn't have this knot in my stomach. See ya around, Hector." Without another word, she summoned what courage she had buried inside of her lithe form and set her compass due east. So long as she stayed east, the towering Helios One would come into view eventually, and from there she could redirect any pathing errors to Novac. She might even swing in and say hello to Brotherhood of Steel that occupied the technological marvel. Although she hadn't visited them anytime recently, they had seemed like a friendly bunch, if a little antisocial in whatever they did.
She had to walk to the western bridge out of Primm, then North along the road before doubling back around the fence to head easterly. The Vegas bound Courier had taken the same path, but he was moving at a much more brisk pace than hers, almost jogging along the road, and he quickly disappeared out of view after she veered off the beaten path towards her destination.
The general opinion of the Mojave was that it was not safe. And now that she was off the road, making it safer was top priority. Attached to her hip was a bottle of Cazador blood. Expensive and difficult to obtain, but mandatory and a standard item on the Couriers list of 'Must haves'. Giants ants were a favorite prey of Cazadors, and the smell of their blood would drive the ants running back into whatever hole they crawled out of. It wasn't a perfect system though, as the blood would also attract nearby Cazadors who thought one of their own was wounded.
Nothing to worry about. Rarely were both creatures found within a half mile of each other, and rarer still did Cazadors fly at night. She just had to remember to close the cap on the lid before dawn broke.
Her right hand continued around her hip, checking pouch after pouch verbally. The suddenness of this was finally sinking it, and she worried she had forgotten something. "Food... Water... Knife..." Then to the other side. "Compass... Binoculars... Package... Hmm..." It suddenly occurred to her she hadn't looked at what precisely she was carrying, what was so dangerous yet so important as to drive six Couriers into the black of the night with nothing more than deadly warnings and a promise of riches. Officially, no, Couriers were not allowed to look at the item. Realistically, there was no locking mechanism on the pouches beyond a button snap, and every Courier when they were out of eye and ear shot let curiosity get the better of them.
The pouch was light, the terrain presently flat and long. No reason she had to slow down or break pace just to slip a peek at what had to be plans for world domination, or something close to it, to be worth this much. She bit her lower lip as her thumb flicked open the flap, reaching into the black abyss, gripping what was nestled comfortably inside, bringing it to light.
Her legs had to stop, there was no way she could walk and comprehend this item at the same time. Had there been a mistake? Was this what had to be delivered with the utmost importance? No, surely this was some sort of test, or sick joke. In her hands held not the plans for world domination, not some miracle plant technology, not even a blueprint to the Lucky 38 building. In her hands dangled a pair of large fuzzy dice. Attached and suspended by a string, they bounced lightly against the breeze. Her free hand squeezed each one, just to be sure there was nothing hidden inside, and eyes strained against the dim light to try to find some sort of marking, yet all that accomplished was noting how clean the dice were.
"Someone... Someone must really want a pair of... of fuzzy dice..." She had to say it aloud, to reassure her that this was real and not some bad dream. They were dropped carefully back into the pouch, and her next step was taken with more blissful confidence than any of the previous had come close too. There was absolutely no way someone was going to go through all the trouble of chasing her down for these. Regardless, she had a job to do, and though she now regretted not taking the road, the scenic route never hurt anyone so long as they knew which path to take.
A couple hours passed uneventfully as she trekked east, checking her compass often, which only served as a distraction to a nagging notion she couldn’t shake. It had started small enough to dodge detection, and since grown to a proportion that proved nigh impossible to dismiss without consideration. She had known Gerald for two years. He didn't make mistakes, he didn't enhance the truth. 'Say it like it is' was his motto. And his face... the entire meeting, even up until they walked away from Primm, was distraught and made no attempt to hide an unusual amount of trepidation.
So, why then. Did he even look at the packages? Stupid question, of course he did. He would of had to. Which could only mean that... there was something he didn't tell them. Or at least tell the first five of them. Why had that sixth Courier spent so much time at his side in hushed conversation? None of it was adding up to the right solution, and it left a bad taste in her mouth for volunteering for this job. It had danger signs plastered all over it, resting on a backdrop of bright neon and flashing danger signs with large arrows pointing to the 'Danger' part of it.
Lots of unanswered questions, and she supposed she had lots of time to contemplate them. Primm Pass was coming into view, and the steady walk she was maintaining would end there. This side of the mountain range was mostly safe, littered with a few ants, some baby Radscorpions, maybe a few Powder Ganger or Viper camps here and there. Nothing a dim witted Prospector couldn't dodge. But that all changes when one crosses through Primm Pass, assuming one makes it through Primm Pass, that is.
Everything about it warned travelers to turn back, to take the long way, that entering such a place was sending a dinner invitation to the Grim Reaper with RSVP tacked onto the back of it. Not only did tall cliff faces and a depressing amount of pitch black shadows make traversing it at night generally a bad idea, it was dangerously close to the infamous Dead Wind Caverns, a Deathclaw breeding ground. One could walk within arms reach of one of those sleeping monstrosities and never see or hear it until it was far too late.
But even that did not deter most travelers. This pass was the only way to get through a long strip of mountainous terrain without having to go miles north or south, which posed its own risks and complications. The ground was always littered with shredded robes and decaying skeletons, a silent testament to the careless wanderer or proud hunter. Occasionally, even a rotting carcass would be draqed over a rock, in case anyone needed a reminder that the Deathclaws were here to stay. She had only been through here once before... with an armed security detail during an uneventful delivery.
Yet... Something wasn't right. Well, beside the obvious. Something else... That same indescribable sense of uneasiness that had terrorized her gut since she had been ripped from her bed. "Oh stop being paranoid." She audibly reprimanded herself. "Deathclaws don't hunt at night. Just take it easy and take it slow." Unspeakable bravery or utter foolishness took the next step for her, which was just as well because her mind was preoccupied wrestling with its own concerns. Her feet drove forward without command, until she was creeping warily onward through the pass. Ears and eyes stayed alert, or at least locked onto the impenetrable black walls, praying that nothing would come leaping out.
No sooner had she begun sneaking slowly across the broken bones, heading out of the sand towards the more firm rocky terrain, when the sudden brush of foliage behind her just about removed her from her skin. There wasn't nearly enough wind to speak of blowing across the Mojave tonight, most certainly not enough to rustle the stoic plants that could actually survive in this remorseless desert.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Cazador? No buzzing, and much too dark for them. Ants? Unless one had just stumbled upon her, the heavy musk emanating from the bottle at her hip would have driven them off long ago. Super Mutants, Deathclaws, Gecko's... What if it was a Radscorpion? "Calm down." She breathed to herself. "None of that could hide behind one tiny little bush, none of it would have any reason too. It's probably... nothing." With abated breath, she carefully took her next step forward, only for her ears to pick up a... cough. No, this wasn't any normal creature of the Wasteland. This was something much worse. A human. She cursed Hector again.
Her hand fell slowly to the dagger nestled tightly to her hip. Whether she knew how to use it or not was a different story. Truthfully, she never had. It was mostly for show, keeping onlookers eyes away from her briasts and down at the polished steel and serrated edges, always kept shiny, sharp, and within arms reach. She removed it from its sheath with a purposeful grind against the metallic clip and turned to face her would be ambusher, holding the weapon up to the glistening moonlight that bathed the Mojave.
"It's a miracle you haven't been eaten by a Deathclaw yet, with all that noise you're making."
The first head to pop up was not from that bush, however. It came from her left, and luckily, a comfortable 10 yards out. "Come now, you only recently heard us. We've been following you ever since you left Primm." The body the head belonged to strolled casually out from cover, maintaining its distance.
It was dark where he was standing, overshadowed by a cliff face, but she could have swore he was wearing a checkered gambling suit. "We?" She inquired, buying time. Start counting heads, start planning an exit strategy, no one follows you for hours just to ask how you're doing. Not to mention there couldn't have been a worse place to deal with unexpected guests. She idly wondered if they knew that too.
"Of course, Courier. Men of my... stature... don't travel alone." With a snap of his fingers, 2 more bodies joined his from the same area, along with the other she had heard previously.
"Uh huh..." She took a step backwards, throwing a sidelong glance at the narrow passageway to the left, quickly weighing possibilities before returning her attention and weapon to the front. "And what can I help you fine gentlemen with tonight?"
"We just have a simple request, doll." He took a step forward to maintain the same distance they previously held. "A few hours ago you were given an item. Just give it to us and tell us where it was going and we'll be on our way. No harm, no foul."
She sized up the three men behind him quickly. No uniform, no old fashioned outfits, no ragtag cloth scraps. Suitably dressed for a nomadic tribe, suitably enough to be Khans. Maybe they just killed Khans and stole their clothing. And maybe pigs would start flying tomorrow. She took another step backwards. "I am a Courier for the Mojave Express. My packages are my business, as are their destinations. If you want to deal with the Package, you will have to do so when it is delivered to the proper recipient."
"Bravo, well memorized." He applauded a few times, a rather disheartening and morbid clap. "I couldn't of said it better myself if I were working for them. But as you can probably tell, I don't." His hands did a sweeping motion flush along his attire. "I work for someone with a lot more money and a lot more power, babe. Now I'll ask you one more time," He took another step forward, another correction. "What was given to you and where are you taking it?"
Losing a package meant losing her job, among other even less desirable consequences outlined on every delivery note. She couldn't afford that. She knew the risks before taking this delivery, and as such was regretting it more and more every second. A lifetime of travel assured her conscience she was light enough on her feet to outlast and outrun any of these men. Khans were known for their fighting prowess, not their longevity. "My package. My business." She took two more steps back, diagonally towards the only escape route she could find. "So if you'll kindly excuse me, I'll be on my way."
The man in the checkered suit sighed, dropping his head and splitting his fingers along his forehead as if this conversation alone was giving him a headache. "Doll, I really don't want to hurt you. A gentleman should never hurt a lady. But it seems diplomacy is failing." The three behind him slowly moved past his position... towards hers. "I really need that package. I'll give you to the count of three. One... Two..."
He never made it to three. She turned and darted towards the only direction she would have enough running room and the right terrain to escape. A multitude of footsteps erupted a split second behind her, but she couldn't afford to look back and see which had decided to pursue. Fear began to take a prevailing position over her thoughts as soft leather shoes bounded lightly across the sand, making purposeful steps on harder ground, losing as little momentum as possible to the looser sand. And within a few brief seconds, she had gotten her footing on the rocky passageway and broke into a heart pounding sprint.
The passage was thin, only wide enough only for a single person to fit through. It would keep them from outflanking her while giving advantage to her agile form as she darted down the corridors without once brushing the edges. Their shoulders would not be as forgiving as hers, and every second the Khans footsteps became more faint as they struggled to keep up. Just a few more corners would put her back out into the open, and it would be easy to lose herself in the night time shadows surrounding the REPCONN Test Site.
She rounded the final corner with renewed vigor, her muscles prepared to break back into full stride towards freedom. But as she accelerated, another body stepped from the shadowed exit, turning as if leaning against a rock just out of view, arms crossed, feet planted securely, head bowed, and clearly between her and her exit. She skidded to a harsh stop, shoes grinding against the ground as her body wrestled with gravity to stay balanced.
Breath heavy, she righted her form and stole a glance behind her before turning to the one blocking her exit. Her mind was screaming at her, she couldn't afford to stop. Not now, no matter who that was ahead of her. The knife, still fiercely gripped in her right hand, was brought to bear, and her body leaned forward to charge. Perhaps he would move. She silently hoped for it.
That opportunity was never afforded to her. She didn't make it another couple steps more when someone hit her hard from behind, driving her face first into the earth. She threw her hands forward to cushion what little of the impact she could, a cry of pain drowned by the loud clatter of the steel blade against the granite. Her world spun before her eyes as all the breath was forced from her lungs, leaving her coughing weakly, gasping for oxygen.
Instinctively she tried to stand back up, only to be forced harshly back down onto her stomach. Someone was driving their knee into the small of her back, and they weren't affording any leniency on her behalf. Hands grabbed her arms, tearing her weapon from her and tossing it away before wrenching each behind her back, quickly and tightly tying them together at the wrists. The knee wasn't removed until her ankles were given the same treatment, and only then did a hand grab her by her wrists, effortlessly dragging her to her feet and rolling her over before dropping her down again on her back, knocking what little air she had recovered out of her lungs.
She gazed blurry eyed up into the 3 Khans staring down at her, their faces devoid of any emotion. And between the gasps of air, her ears picked up a slow stepped pace coming from the direction of her exit, and it took fear driven energy to roll her head backwards against the ground to gaze at the one responsible for allowing the others to catch up. He stopped only briefly on his advance, long enough to pick up her weapon and examine it, rolling it over and over in his hand, bouncing the moonlight onto his face and into his eyes... dark hazel eyes.
When he finally lowered the weapon, he crouched down comfortably over her head, laying the business end of the blade smoothly along her throat. "This... is a very nice blade. Balanced, sharp, well cared for and untarnished by use." His voice was rough and deep, a testament to his age and experience. "Ironic that it finally finds its purpose, to end the life of its owner."
"Wait! Wait... Wait." It was the well dressed member of this... posse, his voice faint as he approached from a distance, only slightly out of breath with whatever light jog he had taken. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"
"Benny said we could kill them when we found them." The one holding the dagger at her throat argued. She really wished they could have this discussion with that elsewhere. Air was still being taken in in gasps, and each time her body raised ever so slightly, skin depressed against the deadly force at her neck.
"And Benny put me in charge of this group, and I'm paying you, so you'll do what I say." It was the most authoritative tone he had used so far tonight, a very sharp contrast to the playful business banter he had introduced himself with. "No reason we can't be civil about this, dig?"
"Yea... whatever." The Khan reluctantly pulled her blade from its position before taking a step back, disappearing from her view.
As her chest began to catch back up to working order, the desperate struggle for oxygen slowly gave way to the encroaching sense of terror. Caught, bound, and surrounded by nothing short of a small raiding party, with at least one group member having no qualms about ending her life in cold blood. For what? A pair of fuzzy dice? "What... Why are you..." She coughed and stuttered. Still not enough oxygen for talking.
"Relax doll, I'm not going to hurt you." He crouched next to her form, eyes scanning her hip for the bag clearly labeled as the 'Mojave Express'. "I just need... this. Right here." His hands moved slowly, gently gripping the bag and detaching it from her belt, and it almost seemed as if he had made extra concern to not lay a single finger against her. When he stood, eyes finally left her as they followed the pouch in his hands.
"Give it... Don't open..." She had to say something, anything, for whatever it may or may not accomplish.
"Be quiet." The one with her dagger barked, tearing a piece of cloth off of his sleeve, twisting it into a tight long strip before using it to gag her. "Men are talking."
The apparent ring leader continued unabated to open the pouch, reaching in and pulling out the pair of large fuzzy dice it contained, holding them aloft for the group to see. "This is a miss, Gentlemen. She was one of the decoys."
"A decoy? How many of those did they send out?"
With all of the attention still on her package, she attempted to slowly squirm away. Escape now, recover package later. "Six couriers went out. I imagine there were five decoys and one real one."
"Five!?" The Khan exclaimed, hooking his foot between her legs and against the ropes, halting her retreat without even looking at her. "So do we have to track down the rest of them now?"
"Heavens, no." He placed the pair of dice back into the bag, and attached it to his belt line under the jacket. "We have a group on every courier. Benny took the most likely lead, and we got assigned one of the other five. We're going find it, just not on this one."
Perhaps things were looking up after all. They didn't need what she had... whatever it was. Maybe they would let her go, give her back the item, and leave this mess behind. But they had a group such as this one on every Courier? Hector could manage himself in a fight... the notion offered little comfort. She had her own problems to deal with presently, even if they had started to appear better than before.
"So what do we do with her?" The Khan glanced down, yet his eyes were not invested in her face. "My men need payment for services... and..." He left the final note hang in the air as he used his leg to slide her body back into the center of the group.
She thought she had learned the axiom of 'Never say it could be worse' a long time ago. Apparently she hadn't. The faint sparkle of hope was extinguished just as fast as it started, overstepped and annihilated by the terror that now continued to dominate her emotions. "Whfatph?!" A demand lost almost lost against the cloth squelching her voice.
"Don't be coy, Courier." The Khan kneeled back down beside her, pinning her against the ground with a palm flat between her collar bones. The other hand laid flat against her stomach, sliding down along her form until fingers could push purposefully between closed legs. "And don't fight me. You'll regret it."
She was a half second away from jerking her knees up defensively, to try to knock him away, when the man in the checkered suit cut in. "Your payment will be caps, Khan. And caps only."
The Khan glared possessively into her eyes, holding her down a few seconds more while fingers pressed against clothing, now the only barrier between him and an unforgivable violation. When he did finally release her, it was with a forceful shove. "And what if we don't want your caps, Jones? We may be hired henchmen right now, but there's four of us and one of you. Maybe I want to change the deal."
Her stomach muscles only relinquished part of their grip on her chest, enough to remind her she needed to keep breathing. A simple delivery had gone from bad to worse to terrible within the past ten minutes, and it showed little opportunity to get any better anytime soon. Jones, if that really was his name, had only stopped them once. And based on their recent interactions, she doubted if he really had her best interests in mind.
"You do realize who I work for? And you do realize that if anything happens to me, it puts quite a few of your boys in jeopardy. By my count, that'd be right around twenty." She wondered if the Khans could see his hand itching at the bottom trim of his jacket, where a Magnum rested underneath.
"Oh we know all about your little casino in New Vegas. What is it called, the Tops? I know how gullible the management in there is too. Word travels slowly out here. Perhaps the Courier here overpowered you before we could intervene. Perhaps you got eaten by a Deathclaw. The Wasteland does not tolerate mistakes, anything can happen."
The other three Khans were beginning to follow the lead of their apparent leader, eyes darting from Jones, down to her, and back up at Jones again.
Jones tried to save the degrading situation. "Let's come to a new agreement then, if caps aren't what you want. I'm a reasonable man. Over at the Tops, we have plenty of girls, much cleaner and more refined than this Courier. Two girls for each man here of their picking, one night, on the house. What do ya say?"
"Do you think I'm stupid?" He began to raise his voice, stepping over her to stand face to face with Jones. "Khans aren't allowed to go anywhere near the Strip, that's NCR turf. And you don't have anywhere near the pull to let one girl out of the Strip for one night, much less eight. That's an incident waiting to happen."
As the discussion heated up, she found herself largely ignored again. When the other Khans turned to join in, she leaned forward, slowly bringing herself into a seated position, folding her knees underneath so that fingers could find the knot used against her ankles. It was a bit of a stretch, but with any luck she could work through the bindings.
"We both know Khans go into the Strip anyway." Jones shot back, his hand getting closer to his weapon. "Now I'm offering you a much better deal, and this offer has a time limit on it. Take it or leave it."
"Or what?" The Khan shoved him into the wall, stepping forward before he had time to pull away. "I don't think you're in any position to bargain right now. From where I'm standing, it should be the other way around."
She was watching them intently as slender fingers worked at the ropes around her ankles. They were tight and well knotted, as they should be coming from a Khan.
"Okay. What are your terms then?" Jones straightened his collar, finding wiggle room to step out from between the wall and the Khan, which put him next to her and forced her to stop what she was doing. Too many close eyes again.
"We'll take your caps, this girl, and you can walk away with your package and your life. You go back to the Tops, tell them that she is dead, and we never hear from each other again. We get paid, she disappears, you get what you came for. Everyone wins."
Except her. Jones glanced down with apologetic eyes, of all things. "You do realize you’re double crossing the Tops, and by association everyone on the strip. Do you think they're going to let you get away with that?"
"Let your best come then, see how those ignorant money hustlers and gamblers stand up to Khan superiority." The Khan wasn't backing down, neither were his three friends. They had caught which direction the wind was blowing a long time ago. “That is, if they will come. I really don’t think anyone on the Strip would approve of what you’re doing out here tonight anyway, what you’re looking for, what you’re stealing and who you’re stealing from. Oh, but you didn’t know that we knew that... did you?”
Whatever they were accusing, it left Jones finally speechless, and despite what sense of gentlemen decency he seemed to uphold, it wasn't strong enough to bet his life on. At least not for her. "Sorry it has to end like this, kiddo." Even if it was a sincere apology, it was lost on her ears. "Here's your caps. Don't ever show your face in the strip again, or I'll be the last thing you ever see." With the clatter of the bag of caps that hit the ground, he turned and vanished back down the dark corridors, his footsteps almost immediately lost.
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