After the Vault: Chapter 10
    
    Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Fallout or anything that 
comprises it. This is a non-profit story written solely for my own 
enjoyment and that of anyone who wishes to read it. The story and all 
original characters are mine. Please don't use them without permission.
    
***
    
    After the Vault
    
    -A Fallout Fan-Fiction by Nutzoide-
    
    
    Chapter 10
    
    Su Casa, Micasa.
    
    
    Ultimately, Abigail didn't known whether to be impressed or 
disappointed when she and her Scav companions reached their destination. 
Although she had not liked much of what she had read and heard about 
Micasa - a town trading in loose morals and varying levels of unsavoury 
entertainment - she had once again expected a little more than she 
looked to get.
    
    In her mind she had seen neon signs - like the one the Corvan 
brothel had sported - decorating every casino and bar. She'd expected 
street lights, civilised suits, and men waiting at the town door to take 
her cloak, and her money for the privilege. Frankly she had expected a 
smaller, more run down Las Vegas. Las Vegas had appeared often on Vault 
42's cinema screen.
    
    Instead what she got was a wild west town, all made of wood and 
complete with a single long, central street that accommodated most of 
the entertainments. It looked very authentic too, with old painted signs 
over every slatted awning, doormen and their shotguns on the decking 
outside, and men and women of all colours and states of dress sitting at 
every window, either hawking their services or simply watching everyone 
pass through.
    
    But she had to admit, the huge sign that stood over the entrance to 
the town was bright and friendly, despite its fading and cracked paint. 
Likewise, behind their weatherworn looks and battered jackets the 
welcoming party beneath that sign were smiling and jovial people. They 
were directing the caravans in and out, pointing out the highlights of 
the town as per the travellers' tastes, and Abigail noted that not one 
newcomer failed to let his or her guard down after a minute's talk with 
them. 
    
    Perhaps, then, Abigail's lack of enthusiasm wasn't because of the 
missing lights. The incident with the floater - the aberrant, wormlike 
mutation which had ambushed her in the motor yard - had left her with 
more emotional baggage than she was comfortable with, not least because 
that baggage did not come from fear or disgust or grief. 
    
    Guilt was a powerful force, and it had always been what kept her 
honest back in her vault. She screwed up, and she overslept, and she 
felt genuinely guilty about letting her family and friends down after 
the fact. Now, she had that lingering feeling that she had let Chopper 
down, and not made the best use of her talents at the scrap graveyard. 
There was nothing she could do about it now, and she had done her best, 
but it had kept her one step out of synch with her friends. 
    
    Or so it felt. Her relationship with Sharn had improved and it was 
nice to chat to her properly again, but by that same token she and 
Chopper had spoken less in the last day and a half. There was nothing 
else to say really, and the make-up sex had been earth shatteringly 
intense, but there was still some sort of strain there. When asked 
Chopper just joked crudely about Abigail's supposed sexual tension.
    
    At least Kyle and Rathley were getting along. Then again, that was a 
little scary in itself, but Abigail counted it among her blessings. It 
was better than having them exchanging insults every half hour.
    
    With all that to think about maybe it wasn't surprising she wasn't 
in the best frame of mind to appreciate the hospitality the greeting 
party had to offer.
    
    "Kyle, Chopper!" The friendly man wearing an open vest raised his 
hand. "It's been a while since we've seen either of you, and now you 
wander back together? And who are the lovely ladies?"
    
    Kyle put his arm around Sharn to show her off. "Long time, Frank. 
This is mine." He pointed to Abigail as Chopper pulled back the girl's 
cloak and finally took her arm. "And she's hers."
    
    The man called Frank laughed and shook his head. "Fair do's. And 
none for Rathley, eh?"
    
    Rathley looked at the two couples with annoyance before he shrugged. 
"At least him at the SpongeBath won't be complainin'."
    
    Frank didn't look so sure. "It'll be about time. He's been getting 
grouchy recently."
    
    "Business bad?" Kyle asked. "You two look pretty chipper, as usual."
    
    Frank shrugged. "Depends on who you talk to."
    
    Frank's partner, her work done with a leaving party, sidled over. 
"We don't get reasons to complain here," she said, "but you know what 
some people are like. Speaking of which, look me up."
    
    She slipped a large, crumpled piece of paper in to Rathley's hand. 
Abigail watched as he opened it with his thumb, just enough to see what 
it was. A bounty notice.
    
    "Thanks Kana, but that's why I'm here. No freebies today."
    
    Frank obviously tried to ignore them and began chatting loudly to 
Kyle again, but Abigail's attention was on Rathley and the woman.
    
    "Seriously Rathley! Dammit, *I* was tempted."
    
    Rathley smirked at her, the scarred split in his lip taking some of 
the humour off his face. "Aww, Kana, are you trying to be sweet? You 
don't owe me *that* much. Not that I'd complain-"
    
    Kana wasn't amused. She was obviously worried. "At least talk to 
Foster. And I don't owe you, but it's not gonna be my fault that the 
first random hero in here takes your head off!"
    
    "It won't be. That's enough chin-waggin' guys. Let's get in there 
and blow some caps."
    
    Kyle shrugged to Frank. "You heard the man."
    
    Frank nodded reluctantly. "Then you four have fun, but keep your 
damn heads down."
    
    Abigail decided to take the warning to heart, and she pulled her 
cloak back over her head. "They're a nice pair."
    
    Rathley nodded. "Yeah, Kana's pretty hot when she's angry."
    
    "Oh give it a rest! I mean, they warned you."
    
    "That's why they've been on the door for the last ten years," Kyle 
said. "It gives a good impression when the first people you meet are 
actually pleasant to talk to."
    
    Chopper seemed to agree. "I'm surprised they haven't left this place 
already."
    
    Kyle shrugged. "They were born here."
    
    "And they still want to stay?"
    
    Sharn and Rathley were not in the same conversational mood. "Uh, 
hon," Sharn said with a cautious voice, "let's keep our eyes open? If 
these people might just open fire..."
    
    Though he also scanned the street and the windows on either side, 
Rathley didn't seem perturbed. Even without his armour on. "I'm bettin' 
they let us get to the hotels, at least. Who starts a firefight in the 
middle of the street these days? Besides our Abby?"
    
    "That's not funny, Rathley." Abigail was worried enough as it was, 
knowing that she was travelling with a man who had a price on his head 
in this town. And she didn't even know why.
    
    "What did you do for this man to want you dead?" she whispered to 
him a little further down.
    
    But Rathley didn't answer. Instead he had already picked up his 
pace, his eyes locked straight ahead. 
    
    "Rathley?"
    
    Abigail made a move to follow him, but as she did Rathley broke into 
a full run and Abigail's mouth went dry as he reached the man he had 
been aiming for, and swung him around by the shoulder. 
    
    He wouldn't, Abigail thought. But she already knew who this 
bystander was.
    
    The man looked startled as he was pulled to face his attacker, but 
the moment he realised who he was looking at his face contorted with 
rage. "What the hell do..! Rathley! You fucker!" 

    That was all the man was allowed though. Rathley's shotgun was 
already in his hand, and he pulled the man down over it just as he 
pulled the trigger.
    
    "Rathley, don't!" 
    
    "Run Connor!"
    
    But it was too late, and Abigail recoiled as the bang drowned out 
any attempts to warn Rathley's victim or stay his hand. The man, Connor, 
folded like a rag doll as his midsection was blasted out of his back and 
he fell to the floor in a bloody heap.
    
    Abigail could barely believe what she had just seen. Who the hell 
*did* start shooting in the middle of a main street in broad daylight? 
Apparently Rathley did, given the chance. She looked over to Chopper in 
shock, but Chopper was just staring as well, backing away. 
    
    "Hey," Chopper said as the screams started, and both door guards and 
police began to run onto the scene, "you know, that's not our business. 
We're not with him."
    
    Sharn on the other hand was apoplectic. "Rathley! You goddamn 
psychotic fuckwit! What the *hell* did you just do!?!"
    
    "That's right, Sia," Rathley drawled to himself as he wiped the 
bloody end of his gun on his trousers. "Keep trying to get yourself shot 
as well."
    
    He wasn't far from the truth. In less than ten seconds he had 
fifteen guns pointed at him, and another ten pointed at the rest of 
them."
    
    "Seriously," Kyle said, raising his hand, a slight tremble betraying 
his lack of confidence about their sudden situation. "*This* was your 
plan? What happened to keeping your head down?"
    
    The cop in cured leather armour and face mask wasn't so casual about 
it. "Mouths shut assholes! Next one to talk gets shot!"
    
    "What are you waiting for?!" One man in the crowd shouted. "Kill the 
murdering bastard!"
    
    "Why?" Rathley asked, openly baiting the men targeting him. "No 
reason to now."
    
    One of the doormen, armed with a pistol rather than a larger weapon, 
made good on the cop's threat. He lowered his gun and put a bullet 
through Rathley's leg.
    
    "Ahhgh! Fuck!" Rathley shouted as he went down.
    
    "He warned you."
    
    Abigail stared at the spectacle, before a shotgun in her side nudged 
her forwards. "Move girlie."
    
    Thankfully the others were getting similar treatment, and Abigail 
found herself walking next to her lover. "Chopper? What do we do?"
    
    "It's okay," Chopper said. Her voice was filled with that confident 
reassurance that Abigail had missed these last few days.  "Sia's got us 
out of shit like this before."
    
    She looked at Rathley at the front, ten cops on him to their two.
    
    "Not so sure about *him* though."

***
    
    "Look on the bright side. It could have been worse."
    
    Sharn levelled her eyes at Chopper, daring her to explain. "Just how 
could it be *worse*?"
    
    She gestured to the prison cell around them. On two sides were the 
heavy wooden walls of the prison building, while the other two were made 
up of iron bars, separating Sharn, Abigail and Chopper both from the two 
men of their group and from the guards. Sharn sat on the floor with only 
the shafts of metal separating her from Kyle, and Chopper and Abigail 
sat on the rudimentary beds up against the two walls. Kyle and Rathley 
had a double bunk between them and Rathley seemed quite content to lie 
on the bottom and let the rest of them fight amongst themselves now that 
Kyle had stopped trying unsuccessfully to beat on him.
    
    While Abigail agreed with Sharn's sentiment she didn't share the 
woman's anger. She could think of several punishments worse than prison 
right now, and Chopper could too.
    
    "They could have shot us on the spot? They haven't beaten us 
senseless yet?" 
    
    Sharn turned away from her and back to Kyle, still glaring. "You're 
not helping, Chopper."
    
    "They could have stuck you on the other side of the walkway, away 
from him?"
    
    "Chopper!"
    
    Chopper ignored her objections and turned to the guards. "You ever 
had anyone screwing through the bars here? It doesn't look too 
difficult."
    
    Both the men in leathered armour chuckled. "More than once. Makes 
for quite a show."
    
    "An' you're a real exhibitionist, Sia," Rathley added with a laugh 
of his own.
    
    "Fuck you! Fuck the lot of you!"
    
    Abigail shifted uncomfortably on her un-sprung bed. Sharn was right 
to be angry. None of this was her fault, and she didn't deserve to be 
picked on now. "Chopper, stop it. That's not fair."
    
    "Damn right it's not fair! We didn't do anything!! This is his 
fucking fault," Sharn spat pointing at Rathley on his bed.
    
    Kyle agreed, though much less acidly. "Yes, it is. I trust we're 
going to get a chance to tell someone that? At least we could be taking 
in the town while you decide how deep he's dug himself."
    
    The elder of the two guards shook his head. "Not our business. It's 
up to the widow to decide what happens to you."
    
    "And lucky for you she's a better woman than you people deserve," 
his partner added.
    
    "That's something then," Sharn said. "It'll do him good to look into 
the eyes of someone he's emotionally eviscerated."
    
    Then question in Abigail's mind was; would he really care? If you 
had asked her a week earlier she would have thought not. Now though? She 
didn't think Rathley was as black and while as all that. He was willing 
to murder this man at the drop of a cap, but surely he wouldn't be able 
to be so blas‚ about it in front of the man's wife.
    
    Then again, the image he had crafted for himself was of the anti-
hero. Not caring was supposed to be his strong point. She turned to the 
guards herself.
    
    "Why did that man want Rathley dead? He was offering a lot of 
money."
    
    The younger guard looked at his superior, but neither one had the 
answer. "Who knows? It's not like most folk need a reason to be pissed 
at him."
    
    "Connor never said?" Kyle asked. Now he was curious as well.
    
    The elder guard shook his head. "Nope. Some folks thought it was 
shame, but Connor wasn't one to keep quiet even if it crapped on his 
reputation. We had *him* in here once."
    
    "Really?" Kyle asked. "Why?"
    
    "Suspected of fixing prices with the other bars."
    
    "And what happened?"
    
    The guard just shrugged, as if it was nothing. "Wasn't him after 
all."
    
    Rathley suddenly chuckled from the bed. "Heh, don't suppose I get 
the bar then? You used to do trial by shootout around here."
    
    "Not likely," the guard said, though he sounded amused as well. 
"That'll be Ben's, once he's old enough to know what he's doing."
    
    Rathley blinked and sat up. "Ben?"
    
    The younger guard nodded seriously. "Connor's kid."
    
    Thankfully, Rathley didn't follow that with a quip. He just rolled 
onto his back and closed his eyes.
    
    "So what did you do that was worth killing that boy's father?" Sharn 
asked spitefully.
    
    "... He'll probably be better off. I can't imagine Connor was the 
world's greatest Dad."
    
    "You're trying to justify this?"
    
    Rathley huffed. "I don't have to justify it. I like to think you'd 
have tracked him down and shot him anyway if he'd offed me."
    
    "Probably," Kyle agreed, "but you're not doing a good job of selling 
it, old man."
    
    "I don't have to. Milla's the one I've got to talk outta killin' 
me."
    
    "You're not doing such a good job of that either, Rathley."
    
    All seven of them, the guards included, sat up and stared at the 
high window the voice had come from. The voice of Conner's widow, Milla.
    
    All eyes turned to Rathley as they heard footsteps disappear. To 
Abigail's relief, and Rathley's credit, he did look genuinely regretful 
for one brief moment. Hopefully for the right reasons.
    
    "What surprises me," said the younger guard, after a moment, "is 
that you survived to see your cell. If I'd been out there I'd have blown 
your head off, money or not."
    
    Rathley huffed. "One of your mates *did* take his pop at me." He 
pointed to his bandaged leg. "Lucky for me everyone wants to make an 
example outta me."
    
    "Not quite," the older guard corrected him. "The chief's just not so 
big on execution. We're not barbarians here."
    
    It was then that the door to the prison block opened, and Milla 
walked in. "Yes, profiteering is enough for us."
    
    Milla's voice outside had made her sound younger than she was. She 
was a well fed woman somewhere in her forties or early fifties if 
Abigail had to guess, and she was less lean than most other women she 
had seen in Corva. Not even close to fat by Abigail's civilised vault 
standards, but better fed than most on the surface. She wore a very 
pretty pre-war dress that must have cost a great deal of caps, and her 
heavily greying hair was long and plaited, hanging in hoops down her 
neck.
    
    The guards both got to their feet as she made her entrance, and the 
elder of the pair gave her a weak smile. "Milla, that's not very kind."
    
    "I have been paying for my late husband's burial," she said as she 
passed the two men. "Kindness isn't a priority of mine right now."
    
    She turned to regard the five Scavs in their cages, and Abigail 
tried to avoid looking away. "Umm, Milla? I'm sorry we couldn't stop 
him. Or find some other way-"
    
    Milla glanced her way and quietened her with a shake of her head. 
"It has been coming for the last eight years, girl. Connor was almost as 
bad at making friends as Rathley. Outside town, at least."
    
    Then she looked at Rathley himself. "Did you know that I didn't 
intend to fulfil my husband's contract?"
    
    Rathley nodded. "It was a very good tip."
    
    "Well, like chief Allan, I don't think this town looks as nice with 
blood splashed all over the street." She glanced at his bandaged leg. 
"So congratulations on disappointing me despite my best efforts to keep 
you both alive."
    
    "I'd have stayed away if he'd kept it inside Micasa," Rathley said, 
but Milla didn't want to hear it.
    
    "And now he's paid the price for his stupid little vendetta. And so 
have I and Benjamin."
    
    At the sound of her son's name Rathley looked away. "Sorry. Didn't 
know you had a sprog."
    
    "You mean you forgot."
    
    "... I suppose so."
    
    "Would it have changed your mind if you'd remembered?"
    
    Rathley shook his head and looked back up to her. "Probably not."
    
    "Then don't pretend it would have." She turned to the guards. "Let 
the rest go. He can stay until I've decided what I want to do with him."
    
    Abigail looked at her in surprise, and realised that she was not the 
only one. "We can go?"
    
    Milla nodded. "This contract was always about my husband and him. 
That's how I want it to end as well."

***
    
    The day was late by the time Abigail could finish her walk down 
Micasa's main street. Perhaps it was because she had spent most of the 
day in a prison cell, but she found herself looking at the place with 
more appreciative eyes. The wooden buildings harked back to time before 
the war in a way that Corva's scrap and clay houses could never have 
done. Also, now that the four of them were regarded with such wary 
suspicion she could see how welcoming they had looked in comparison when 
she and the others had first arrived. 
    
    It was a shame they couldn't take advantage of that friendliness 
after the fact. Instead they checked themselves into one of the many 
bar-cum-inns that graced the street, rather than tempt providence. It 
would be better to spread the word that they were not a threat slowly, 
rather than going on a shopping spree so soon. Once they had done a 
little bar hopping and made the most of the friends Kyle and Chopper 
already had it shouldn't take long for the newly formed ice to melt.
    
    After paying for their rooms Kyle and Sharn stayed down in the bar 
of the Sundown Dance, while Abigail and Chopper left for their room. 
Kyle was an infrequent visitor to Micasa, but a well liked one. Chopper 
was, true to what Abigail knew of her reputation, both even less 
frequently seen and much less liked.
    
    "I'm surprised that we escaped unharmed," Abigail admitted in the 
privacy of their room. "And that Rathley only got a minor bullet wound. 
The mercs in Corva would have killed him."
    
    "That's the reason he did it," Chopper explained. "Individually, 
people are assholes. Plenty of the people here would have put a bullet 
in him. As a community though, that's different. It's not good for a 
town if it lets its inhabitants blow each other away over every little 
thing. When we were working with the Mercs we were working with lots of 
paid individuals, not a community with community morals and laws."
    
    "So this man Connor put a price on Rathley's head instead of just 
shooting him? That doesn't sound much better."
    
    "Different towns have different ways of approaching the problem. 
Here you have to make it public by taking out a contract. You offer a 
public reward and you let someone else deal with your grievance any way 
they want. And anyone can do it. They can make it as gruesome or 
merciful a death as they want. Do it yourself though, and you're as bad 
as the raiders."
    
    "The thing is," she went on, smirking to herself, "without that cash 
incentive the contract might as well be void. Between them Rathley and 
Milla have made sure he doesn't have to worry about some random cap-
hungry gunman now. He obviously knows the woman he widowed, so he's 
betting on her being the decent sort. Or she might be in his pocket 
already, given the story."
    
    Abigail understood what she meant. It was all a little odd. 
Rathley's supposed crime was committed over a decade ago, but it was 
only eight years or so later that Connor filed a contract with the 
police chief. And Rathley's last visit had been a whole year before 
*that*.
    
    Abigail sighed and began unpacking her things. "So what do *we* do? 
Rathley came here to kill him, and he's done that. But now he's stuck in 
prison, or worse."
    
    "He'll get out. It's like a talent of his. Either that or Milla 
decides to fuck him over anyway, and we get to rescue him."
    
    "Does he deserve rescuing?"
    
    Chopper shrugged, still smiling darkly. "He never did. It hasn't 
stopped us before. I thought he was growing on you recently."
    
    "Yeah. And then he had to do this."
    
    "We *knew* what he was coming here for."
    
    The thought made Abigail feel dirty. It hadn't seemed real before. 
Just a random threat, like so many that got thrown around up on the 
surface. "I know."
    
    Abigail extracted her bottle cap bag to get at the rest of her 
things and it rattled as she let it fall onto the double bed. That made 
her pause.
    
    Chopper stared at her for a moment. "You're not going to count them 
all *again* are you?"
    
    Abigail upended the bag, letting out her flood of material wealth, 
and began to do just that.
    
    "Hey now, Abby-"
    
    Abigail was in no mood to debate with her though. "It rattled. I 
made sure to tie it as tight as possible before we left Corva so it 
wouldn't do that, and again after that motor scrap yard."
    
    Chopper looked impressed, and more than a little baffled. "You did?"
    
    Abigail nodded. "It was loud enough to hear through my bag. I didn't 
want it attracting mantises or anything. Or pissing you off." She 
huffed. "Did the prison warders go through it or something?"
    
    "I'd expect them to, but they took your caps?" Chopper asked 
seriously. "How much? More than a handful?"
    
    "That's what I'm trying to find out. Help me count."

***
    
    "Three hundred?!"
    
    Chopper nodded as Sharn and Kyle looked at the both in surprise.
    
    "Three hundred and seventeen to be exact," Chopper drawled. She 
looked tired, and it was now very late.
    
    Sharn on the other hand seemed fairly unaffected by either how late 
it was or her last few hours of drinking. "You counted them all?"
    
    "Twice."
    
    Kyle shook his head in confusion. "Who the hell has the balls to 
steal three hundred caps left in their own custody? You're bound to get 
caught! That's not pocket change; I could buy another ten mil pistol for 
that, and ammo to fill it!"
    
    Chopper looked at him with an expression that told him to think a 
bit harder about the situation. "But when you're carting around over two 
thousand in hard caps? We'd never have noticed if Abby wasn't so 
fastidious."
    
    Sharn looked thoughtful when it was said like that. "That is a lot 
of bottle caps. I guess they figured we wouldn't miss a couple of 
hundred."
    
    Abigail didn't see it that way though. "But I earned them! That was 
my pay! My... my loot too, I guess. But I didn't fight off raiders and 
mutant monsters to have my money stolen as soon as I leave Corva!"
    
    "We know that, Abby-girl. I mean, now I'm going to have to check my 
stuff too, but..."
    
    "It happens," Chopper finished for her, far too bluntly for 
Abigail's tastes. "We did say it's worth putting your cash into assets."
    
    Abigail couldn't believe Chopper was treating her like she'd been a 
stupid child again. "What!? You never said anything like that! I... how 
was I supposed to know?"
    
    She felt herself wilting, instead of raging. If she wanted to rage, 
that was what the Buffout was for, but Abigail Iseley wasn't so good at 
it when she didn't have a target that deserved her wrath. "No-one ever 
stole in Vault 24. You just... didn't. Everything belonged to everyone. 
Why the hell can't you people make it work like that up here as well!?"
    
    There was a short silence after that outburst. Abigail had a right 
to be angry, and even Chopper wasn't going to take that from her. 
"Simple," the doctor said, after the moment had passed. "People are 
assholes, like I said."
    
    It didn't do much for Abigail's mood though. "Yeah, you'd know 
better than anyone."
    
    Chopper shrugged at the barbed insult. She didn't look particularly 
offended, but she did lose some of her edge. "...Maybe so."
    
    "Easy guys," Kyle said, holding his hands up. "If you two want to 
fight then why don't you just skip straight to the reconciliatory sex 
and save the shooting for the cops, huh? There's a couple of people I 
want to talk to before we do anything, and it sounds like it'd be worth 
seeing if I'm missing any ammunition."
    
    Sharn didn't look happy with Chopper's attitude, but she had to 
agree. "Even better, you might want to skip the sex too. You both look 
terrible."
    
    "It's not everyday I get thrown in prison because one of the people 
I though was trying to be a friend decides to commit murder in broad 
daylight," Abigail replied. It was supposed to be light hearted, but she 
was too tired and it just came out sounding strained. 
    
    "Honestly? It's a first for me too," Sharn agreed, taking no 
offence. "Not that I'd call him anything close to a friend."
    
    "Just get some sleep, and don't worry," Kyle advised. "We'll decide 
what to do about it tomorrow."
    
    Once they had left Abigail sighed, while Chopper climbed onto the 
bed to sit behind her. "Shall we take his advice then?" the older woman 
asked with honey in her voice.
    
    Abigail was not impressed. "You were trying to start a fight just to 
get laid?"
    
    Chopper shrugged, as if unconcerned. "Well, if it won't make you 
feel any better..."
    
    Of course, that was a calculated line if ever there was one. Abigail 
was feeling foolish, vulnerable and exploited, and the catharsis - both 
emotional and physical - would have made the night so much more 
bearable. But Chopper must have known that from the start, and all the 
fighting had just been an unpleasant joke and an unwanted, aloof 
lecture.
    
    Abigail pulled her jacket off and began to strip out of her 
jumpsuit. "I'm not in the mood."
    
    "That's okay," Chopper said softly. She had evidently been 
undressing as well because a pair of bare, heavy breasts pressed 
themselves into Abigail's back, and Chopper gave Abigail's cheek a kiss 
from behind. "You're the one who needs the remuneration."
    
    "Oh, so it's an excuse to apologise?"
    
    "If you like. You *do* look like you need a chance to relax." She 
pulled Abigail onto the bed and pulled both her leather pants and 
jumpsuit trousers from her in one go.
    
    Abigail looked up at the woman sitting between her legs. "And you 
call this 'relaxing'?"
    
    Chopper leaned down over her and gave her a light kiss. Abigail let 
her, but still didn't move to co-operate. "Why not? I'll handle the both 
of us, if you promise not to move a muscle."
    
    Oh, for heaven's sake, Abigail thought. Chopper was really laying it 
on thickly this time, and annoyingly that smirking charm was beginning 
to make her feel tingly inside. "Where's the fun in that? What if I want 
to hold you?"
    
    In reply Chopper took one of her hands held it in her own, palm 
outwards. She traced their index fingers down between her heavy breasts, 
hers guiding Abigail's down to her navel. "I can try and find our hands 
something to do."
    
    Abigail was starting to feel better already, just looking at that 
confident smile on Chopper's face as she played her silly game. And 
there she was lying stark naked on their bed, with Chopper sitting 
comfortably between her legs and waiting patiently for permission.
    
    "Okay."

***
    
    The room was dark, and Abigail couldn't move. She could feel 
Chopper's body, warm and comforting, lying over her right arm, but 
Chopper didn't move to help her. Was she still asleep? Couldn't she tell 
that Abigail was panicking in the dark? Couldn't she tell that Abigail 
couldn't breathe?
    
    Abigail tried to lash out at the weight on her chest, but her arms 
wouldn't respond. It would have been natural for her legs to kick in 
desperation, but they ignored her every urgent request. She was trapped 
in her own unresponsive body while her lungs burned for oxygen.
    
    "She's kind of fat, isn't she Abby?" Gillian asked from on top of 
her. Dim vault lights, a mere 40 watts each, seemed as bright as the sun 
now. Who had been playing with the contrast settings on the monitor this 
time?
    
    "G... Gillian?" Abigail gasped. She flushed scarlet, even as she 
tried to breathe. What was her old crush doing invading her privacy like 
this? Couldn't she at least knock before walking in on her and Chopper. 
And why was she clothed if Abigail was naked. It made Abigail look as if 
she didn't fit into the burningly bright vault, the way the tattered 
double bed didn't. The way Chopper's sleeping form didn't.
    
    "Oh, come on, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before," 
Gillian said with a casual wave of her hand. "But really, look at her 
Abby. Her boobs might be big but look at them sag. And she's got a gut, 
and those are some *huge* thighs!"
    
    "She not... perfect," Abigail wheezed, "but... neither am... I. 
Neither are... you."
    
    "Wow, that's below the belt, Abby. Come on, she's a wreck."
    
    "... So is... everyone... out there."
    
    Gillian's eyebrows fled up behind her fringe of dreadlocks. 
"Really?" She leaned over from her seat on Abigail's sternum and peered 
at Chopper more closely. Now that the colours were fixed she could take 
a proper look at her. "Damn. That sucks."
    
    "Gillian? Why are... you crushing me? ... It hurts!"
    
    Gillian looked back to her and made a thinking face. "You should 
know better, Abby. And I have a right to be jealous! Is she so much 
better than me? She's turned you into a murderer."
    
    Abigail's eyes fell from her friends. "I... did that... to myself."
    
    "Bullshit! I know what you were like. *You* know what you were like! 
You've changed, Abby."
    
    "I thought... you'd accepted me... like this."
    
    Gillian frowned down at her, slapping a hand onto each of her knees. 
"What dream world have you been living in?!"
    
    One that wasn't like this, Abigail realised, and with a shudder and 
a heaving gasp her eyes flew open. 
    
    It was a dream, she repeated to herself as she lay shivering in the 
spacious double bed. Just a dream. Oh God had that had been frightening. 
She hadn't had nightmares like *that* before!
    
    Next to her Chopper groaned and her eyes creaked open. "What? Abby? 
Since when d'you wake up early?"
    
    Abigail turned to look at her, her breaths till ragged. She pulled 
her right arm from under Chopper, forcing the older woman to lean up and 
let her free. "It's nothing," Abigail replied. She turned away from her 
lover, disappointed that Chopper had to be more than half-awake if she 
was to be any kind of comfort. "A bad dream."
    
    "Bad? How bad?"
    
    "Bad enough." That was the truth. Gillian had always been an ally in 
Abigail's dreams. A friend, a lover and a kind fantasy. Even the memory 
of that dream, of her being so disappointed, angry and cruel, was enough 
to make Abigail shiver again.
    
    Then, to Abigail's surprise, Chopper pulled her over and into a 
close, sleepy embrace. "Fair enough. Was a nasty day. Go back to sleep, 
hmm?"
    
    With her head resting on Chopper's breast Abigail tried to do just 
that. "Thanks, Chopper." 
    
    Hang on, why was she still calling her lover that? Abigail knew her 
real name. She should want to think of her as that, rather than 
'Chopper'. "I mean, Marie."
    
    Chopper hugged her a little tighter. "Don' call me that, okay hon? I 
don' wanna spank you right now."

***
    
    Daybreak was subdued, and in Kyle's mind that set the tone for the 
entire morning. Sia was sulking and didn't want to have her foul mood 
lifted, Abigail was in guilt mode yet again and even Chopper had passed 
on the coffee and bought herself a beer to start the day with.
    
    Then again, Kyle had to admit that he had been looking for a much 
easier visit as well. Say hello to a few old friends, sell their motor-
yard loot, kill someone the night before they leave, move on. Instead it 
was going something like: Meet some old friends, become party to a 
killing in broad daylight, spend the day in jail, have Sia in no mood 
for sex while Chopper does who knows what to Abigail in the next room, 
and now try and find out what shit-head stole Abigail's cash and get it 
back without being thrown back in the slammer with Rathley.
    
    All in all, it was a pretty crappy morning.
    
    "So what's the plan?" Chopper asked between gulps of beer. "Do I 
have time to set up shop?"
    
    Kyle thought that was optimistic, and not particularly helpful right 
now. "I wouldn't, unless anyone asks. They know who you are, and it's 
not like we need the income."
    
    "You *could* come with me and help try and get my caps back," 
Abigail told her. Kyle felt a little pride when Abigail spoke up to 
Chopper like that. If she was showing her backbone it meant she wasn't 
dwelling on Connor's death as much as he had thought. 
    
    "That's probably best," he agreed. "They're less likely to give you 
a hard time if Chopper and Sia are with you."
    
    "You're not coming too?" Sia asked. The idea seemed to break her out 
of her funk, if only to leave her disappointed. "I thought you knew 
these people."
    
    Kyle shook his head. "Not the law. Frank and Kana don't count. 
They're not on the police payroll."
    
    "So who does pay them?"
    
    Kyle knew it was going to sound bizarre, but he told her anyway. If 
she didn't believe it, she didn't believe it. "No-one. The casinos, bars 
and brothels used to pay them for the advertising, but they're pretty 
much figure heads now.  They get a free pass for every business in 
town."
    
    As he'd expected Sia looked astonished. "You're kidding."
    
    Chopper shook her head though, backing him up. "He's not. Those two 
are welcoming committee, lookout and gate guard. Those aren't easy boots 
to fill if they decide to walk out." 
    
    "And they're known for not taking advantage of their freedoms. 
Unlike the real law, it seems."  
    
    While Sia looked impressed Abigail just looked baffled. "So who 
guards the town while they're asleep? It can't be just the two of them."
    
    Chopper nodded, explaining. "True, but they're the ones who stand 
out there and do the greeting thing. There's zero traffic in or out of 
here at night, so the cops just have spotters on the night shift. If 
anyone leaves then, it's because they've done something the cops want to 
know about."
    
    "Anyway," Kyle said, getting back to the point. "I'll have another 
chat with them. It has been a while since any of us was last here, so 
maybe things have changed for the worst. They'll be the ones who know 
about it."
    
    Sia sighed, but accepted with a nod. "Okay. How did you get to know 
them anyway? The guy, Frank, he acted like you were long lost friends."
    
    Kyle smiled inadvertently. Those were some cool all-nighter stories. 
"We can't seem to beat each other at cards. Ever. We ended up passed out 
over the table more than once because of that."
    
    "Though you've had to call it a night while he was ahead once or 
twice," Chopper added with a trouble-making grin.
    
    Kyle grinned right back, and decided to leave it at that while his 
pride was still intact. "So has he. He's good, but I'll beat him 
properly one day."

***

    Kyle could understand the others' dislike of the town. Neither Sharn 
nor Abigail were enamoured by brothels, the beer was too cheap and the 
liquor too pricy, and if you weren't careful either the merchants or the 
many makeshift casinos would end up taking the clothes right off your 
back. To Kyle though, it just gave the place character. The tight bar-
room brawls, the dark faces peering over their cards, the ever welcoming 
lilt of a good whore from her window - it was a place a real explorer 
could relax without making him lazy and dull-witted. 
    
    But he'd never been robbed by town police before, and frankly he had 
expected better than that from Micasa. He had spent enough time there to 
know many people by name, and those people knew him by sight even after 
his years away. His name was even written in the town's tax book, and he 
had a girl of his own - 'girl', he laughed, she'd be in her late 
thirties now, she was older than him - who was his at The Killer Kitten 
if he only asked, and probably even if he didn't. Not that Sia needed to 
know that.
    
    As such this added corruption was either a new side to the town, or 
one that he'd never noticed in the past. Hopefully it was the former, 
but either way it was a nasty disappointment.
    
    "Hi Frank. Have you got a minute?" 
    
    Looking out into the desert, it was clear that the greeting guard 
had all the time in the world. It must have been a slow day. "Sure. I 
tried to put in a word for you, man."
    
    Kyle smiled and shook his head, not believing it for a second. "I'm 
not here about that."
    
    Kana wandered over, evidently just as bored as her partner. "I 
warned him, but I can't believe he just shot Connor in broad daylight. 
That man is just... Argh! You're not going to do anything stupid are 
you, Kyle?"
    
    Kyle gave her a look that said 'don't ask'. "That's not what I'm 
worried about either."
    
    "You're not?!" Kana exclaimed. "I would be!"
    
    Kyle sighed. Kana was nice enough, but she did grind her axe a 
little too hard when it was given to her. "Look, Frank, do you know the 
new police at all? They've change since I was here."
    
    Frank shrugged, but it was clear that his guard was up. He knew Kyle 
wasn't asking out of simple curiosity. "Not particularly. Cops don't 
stick around here too long, you know that. One too many guns around to 
make it a secure job. Besides, a lot of them aren't the type I'd want to 
socialise with."
    
    Kana agreed, so Kyle pushed the question. "So, between us, just how 
bent are they?"
    
    Kana stared at him boggle eyed, and her mouth shut very quickly. 
Frank was less obvious about it. "...So they pulled that customs shtick 
on you?"
    
    That wasn't a routine Kyle knew. "Customs shtick?"
    
    Frank sighed, and tried to explain in a hushed voice. "If you can 
confront them about it, that's what they'll say. That's what it is, 
right? They took some of your gear?"
    
    Kyle nodded.
    
    "It's the 'undesirables tax'. Except they usually tell you if you've 
been taxed for wasting their time in prison. I guess someone down there 
decided he wanted a bigger cut this time."
    
    Kyle didn't like the terminology that Frank used there. "You make it 
sound like a scam. This isn't in the town law book?"
    
    "Of course it is! But Chief Allen writes the law book, remember?"
    
    "Frank!" Kana urged him to stop talking, but Frank had a few things 
to make clear.
    
    "It's legal now, so people just don't talk about it. Like they don't 
talk about the deal Layla, Connor and Ratchet had. Or about Sandy's back 
room. But like I said, someone decided they wanted to do it off the 
books if you didn't get told. Allen might do something about that."
    
    "Maybe," Kyle agreed, "but my friend wouldn't see her caps back."
    
    "... Probably not."
    
    Kana broke her silence again, now looking properly distraught. 
"Frank! Stop it! You're going to get in so much trouble!"
    
    Kyle looked at her squarely. "Why? If these customs are legal..?"
    
    Kana faltered. "Because..."
    
    "Because most folks don't stick around here very long," Frank 
repeated. "One too many guns around to make for secure jobs. Because 
those that do stick it out? They tend to get greedy."
    
    Kyle gave both of them a careful look. Frank looked tired for the 
first time in his life, but stalwart and unrepentant after his 
admission. Kana on the other hand, she looked guilty for her part in 
whatever deal had been made between the old hands of the town.
    
    Another disappointment, but one that Kyle couldn't blame them for. 
They were the good people of the town and friends he had spent six years 
of his life with, taking other peoples' money with cards and dice, and 
practicing his aim. He nodded to them.
    
    "Thanks guys. I'll see you, hopefully."
    
    And he left them standing there, not wanting details about what it 
was they had bought into, and hopefully leaving them thinking about what 
he was going to do because of it.

***
    
    "They said we could have kept a better eye out for pickpockets!" 
Sharn was fuming in what Abigail thought was rather cute indignation, 
but she didn't have a chance to enjoy it because she was too busy fuming 
alongside her.
    
    "We weren't even in town long enough to get our pockets picked! And 
I think I would have noticed anyone burrowing into my bag like that."
    
    The four of them sat in Abigail and Chopper's room, away from prying 
ears.
    
    "Did you try to talk to Allen?" Kyle asked. Abigail felt rather 
inadequate under his disapproving gaze. It wasn't anything to do with 
her, she was sure, but it tweaked at her natural guilt reflex.
    
    "Well, we said that pick-pocketing should be their job to sort out. 
But they blew us off."  
    
    "And they had guns," Chopper added with her own special brand of 
bored, condescending venom. "Big, scary shotguns."
    
    She huffed. She'd bought her third beer of the day when they had got 
back from the police shack, saying that it would be the less anti-social 
method of anger management. She had always disliked Micasa's showy, 
shallow atmosphere, and finding some hidden depths to the place wasn't 
improving her opinion now.
    
    "Besides," she said, swirling the beer around in its half empty 
bottle, "I want to know how much they'd want to keep their little theft 
a secret before I push my luck."
    
    "Very secret would be my guess," Kyle said. "Whoever it was is 
probably cutting the rest of the cops out of the deal. Otherwise they'd 
be openly taxing us for taking up their prison space."
    
    "What?" That whole scenario seemed absurd to poor, sensible Abigail. 
"They stole what they could have taken anyway? Legally? Even though we'd 
want to get back at them for it?"
    
    "We would?" Chopper asked, making Abigail pause.
    
    "... Don't we?" Did they consider it too much of a risk? Was three 
hundred caps too little to start antagonising this thieving cop?
    
    Sharn sighed and shot the amused Chopper a look. "Of course we do. 
The question is how and when? We didn't get any idea which one might 
have taken them."
    
    "And it probably wasn't just one," Chopper added. "Three hundred 
splits nicely between three or four when it doesn't have to go into the 
town safe."
    
    Kyle shook his head. "Not the safe. It's a tax because the chief got 
caught doing the exact same thing, so he invented a reason to justify 
it. It'll get shared out between him and the town guard under the guise 
of ammunition allowance or something."
    
    "I though Chief Allen was supposed to be a decent guy," Sharn said. 
"The town has a good enough reputation."
    
    That was also the opinion Abigail had got from Celia's PipBoy 
notations. It was supposed to be the spendthrift and self-indulgent 
visitors and card-sharp casino owners who were the ones to look out for, 
and the police who were always trying to keep it all friendly. Now the 
police were the corrupt ones?
    
    "Allen is a decent Chief," Kyle said with a nod, "but he wouldn't be 
in charge if people didn't want him there. He does his job and he lets 
the landlords and madams do theirs, who let the drinkers, gamblers and 
prostitutes do theirs, but it's always in their interests to let those 
above them have that power. If Allen tried to tighten the place up too 
much he'd have the merchants or his own town guards looking to get him 
replaced. So, there's a little give and take either way, and he's 
evidently not above making the most of it."
    
    "This doesn't look like it comes as much of a surprise," Abigail 
noted, as gently as she could. "So why are you so angry about it?"
    
    Kyle gave her a brief, dark look. "Because that's how it always 
worked here, at least when I was around, but you always knew where you 
stood and what the deal involved. Both sides always agreed, or it fell 
apart. Cops stealing from the visitors? That's it falling, right there, 
so someone's going to have to deal with it. Like they dealt with 
Connor's price fixing."
    
    Chopper's attention snapped back to the conversation. "He *was* 
cutting a deal with the other bars?"
    
    Kyle nodded. "And Allen had to call him on it, because that wasn't 
in the town's interests. He took the fall, and the status quo returned."
    
    "So if these guards take the fall..?" Abigail started, until Kyle 
shook his head.
    
    "The shit hits the fan. People will want their share of whatever 
these guys have taken, and the townsfolk will want a lynching. Except it 
won't change anything, except get people looking at that dodgy customs 
tax again."
    
    "And that's not a good thing?"
    
    "Not if they decide they don't like what's been going on. Someone'll 
take the matter into their own hands, even if it's just the twitchy 
casino con-men, and then we're back to merchant warfare."
    
    That didn't sound good, but thankfully for Abigail Chopper seemed 
unconvinced. "As a worst case scenario. People seem settled enough. We 
didn't get as much drama over Rathley killing Connor as I'd have 
expected."
    
    "Maybe," Kyle agreed, if reluctantly, "but why risk it when we can 
simply scare these couple of pricks into behaving again, along with 
getting our stuff back?"
    
    All three of them stared at him. Did he already have a plan? Chopper 
quirked a cautious eyebrow, "What do you have in mind, and how can I get 
out of it?"

***
    
    The simple answer was: she couldn't. The complex answer was that she 
was instrumental to the idea that had formed in Kyle's mind, and as such 
she didn't get a choice this time. Thankfully she didn't put up any real 
protests so the rest of the day was spent planning and plotting, and 
ironing out every possible wrinkle of what soon became more than a minor 
operation.
    
    "Didn't you want to spend some real time here though?" Sharn had 
asked him when the scale of it was becoming clear. "Look up your old 
crowd?"
    
    Kyle had just shaken his head. "We have other things to worry about 
now. Better to get this done and go before they forget why they're being 
robbed. Besides, Rathley'll get lonely if we take too long."
    
    "Bleh, I'd let him rot." 
    
    Except that she wouldn't. Breaking Rathley out of jail would end up 
being the pivot around their revenge, and with the correct help would 
allow everyone to get away without being noticed. Rathley would have to 
give the town a wide berth from then on, but he'd probably banked on 
that anyway since he had gone there specifically to commit murder in the 
first place.
    
    From within Abigail's far too lucid dreamscape, Gillian and Overseer 
Beatrice looked down at the three dimensional map on the Vault library's 
digital tabletop. The bird's eye view showed Micasa's west side in 
stunning detail, and Abigail puffed with pride at her ability to 
digitize it. All three of them wore their special issue Vault 42 covert 
uniforms.
    
    "So, your decoy here," Overseer Beatrice poked a finger at the 
prison building, "makes for your alibi when you actually spring captive 
R. Who becomes decoy number three by escaping, allowing the infiltration 
team out of the police building proper."
    
    The homely older woman pulled her short wavy hair away from her face 
for the umpteenth time. It was one of the gestures that had first caught 
Abigail's eye, before she had become the focus of her most infrequent 
but intense crushes. But in that noir air the Overseer looked clear and 
focused. "But a lot will be hanging on whether you can trust your first 
two decoys and the insider."
    
    Special agent Abigail agreed. "Unfortunately that's out of my hands. 
Agents K and C will be enlisting their aid while I and agent S finish 
our original mission and collect the payment."
    
    "And you trust them?" agent Gillian asked. "They are too close to 
the enemy. Too much past. You can see it in their eyes."
    
    "We have no choice," special agent Abigail replied. "If any one of 
us drops the ball then the mission collapses. We're just as much a 
liability as they are."
    
    Overseer Beatrice looked her straight in the eye. She needed to be 
sure that her own Agent was not being put on the line for nothing. "And 
this 'captive R'... He's worth the risk?"
    
    "Even if he wasn't, he's needed for the operation," Abigail replied. 
She knew she was hedging her bets, but in truth she just didn't know. 
Not yet. But she would find out. "We get his trust at least, and he'll 
be helping us get our money back. If he's going to play double agent, 
I'd rather he owed *us* his loyalty."
    
    Overseer Beatrice and agent Gillian shared a look, before the 
Overseer agreed. "Very well. What's the operation schedule?"
    
    "One day's preparation, and a two hour window once we give our 
infiltration team the go. And we can pull out as long as we do so before 
decoy 2 starts the second phase. After that... it's all or nothing."
    
***

To be continued...

***

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writer than to hear back from the readers.

Many thanks to Richard King for his proofreading assistance.

(c) Nutzoide 2009

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